COMMANDER JERJERROD

There was little to no sleep to be had that night as the rebels awaited the dawn and the combined trek and overland speeder ride to the shield generator bunker. It would be a tedious journey and they would arrive just on time, which put pressure on the terms of the negotiations, but the speeders they had acquired from the overtaken outpost could not carry many at once and those who needed to be present at the beginning all had to cram into or onto the speeders with many sitting on each others' laps. General Solo had passed command to the secondary group who would be bringing up the rear about an hour behind the front lines. The idea was that if the Imperial forces attempted to cut the rebels off from retreat, the remaining rebels would then come up behind while the frontmen doubled back to press in on the Imperials and make their escape all the same.

That was all assuming, of course, that their initial plans worked, and retreat was not in the initial plans. So much relied on the uncertainty of putting their trust in people who they had fought against the last time they had all been present at this location. The structural mind of an architect that Jerjerrod possessed was reluctantly curious to see how the Imperial forces had managed to move their men about since blowing the bridge, but the part of him that had put aside his affiliation with Empire wanted no part in returning to the site of watching so many men die by his orders. It was also to be the site where he would make the most selfless act that a man could make and Jerjerrod knew he would have to internally force himself to climb into that speeder to meet his doom.

Piett was not to be appeased by Jerjerrod's reassurance that the exchange would never take place and spent the entire night protesting and keeping an unsettlingly watchful eye on Jerjerrod as if afraid Jerjerrod would steal away into the night to hand himself over in secret to the Sith. Anyone who did not know Piett might have been fooled into believing that he had not just come out of a mental coma of sorts with how strongly he voiced his opinion on the matter, but even as his words glossed over Jerjerrod's mind, Jerjerrod could both see and feel the pain in Piett's fear of losing him.

His passiveness had given way to something wild and unsure behind those eyes that had once trusted Jerjerrod completely. It made Jerjerrod experience a swooping pang in his stomach every time he looked Piett in the eye and lied about his intentions because he knew that Piett was grasping onto reality by the skin of his teeth and the understanding that Jerjerrod would not give himself to the fate that Motti had. Not often–if ever–did Jerjerrod consider Piett or anyone else a lesser being if they were not attuned to the ways of the Force, but because Piett did not feel the dark side attempting to seep in at every opportunity, he could not understand the decisions that Force-sensitive beings had to make to avoid the temptation. The Sith had only used Piett to make Motti compliant and Motti's resolve had ultimately been Piett's death sentence and now that the Sith had no way to make Motti bend, they would use Motti to make Jerjerrod do the same.

Jerjerrod was responsible for Motti in a way that he was not for Piett. The true irony was that the Emperor had given Jerjerrod that responsibility. Had he known even then that both Jerjerrod and Motti were gifted in the ways of the Force? Had that been his reasoning for assigning Motti to Jerjerrod in the hope that Jerjerrod could somehow tame Motti's insubordinate proclivities? If so, Jerjerrod had failed dismally, for which he was proud, otherwise Motti would not have survived his encounter with the Sith. Motti simply did not follow orders and if he did, they were followed loosely. The dark side wanted his rage, but was unprepared for the obstacle it would find in Motti's bull-headedness. Motti would defy the dark side for the simple fact of being able to oppose something. He was not a shining example of a man, but neither was he evil, and that was what made all the difference. Motti had always known what he was and even going from an Imperial officer to a rebel to a Force-sensitive rogue, he had stayed the same and remained true to his nature.

Not like Jerjerrod who had had to reinvent himself twice now and still was unsure of what his place in this universe was. If he had conceived such a terrible idea as a Death Star, where was his comeuppance? He had created it to prove his passion and skills for creating something previously unseen by any living beings with the idea that the sheer size of it would be enough to make nations and planets surrender willingly to the Empire, yet the alterations made to it had massacred billions of lives and as atonement, he had been forced to create another one. Then, the Force chose him, chose the individual who had caused such imbalance, and what did it expect of him? It had opened his eyes to the evils of his former masters and driven him from his duties, but it had brought him right back to them now as a choice being given to him rather than being forced upon him. If he surrendered, would the hunt for Skywalker end as the Sith focused on him, thus allowing Skywalker to assist in destroying the shield generator? If he refused to make the exchange, would the Sith be able to make Motti into an apprentice even stronger than Vader who would then seek Jerjerrod out to destroy him?

How much depended on Jerjerrod's decision on the morrow? How much would he have to suffer and lose to give the rebels a chance to restore that balance? He had spent nearly ten years in the Academy having the point stressed to him that it was not his place to question the outcome of war, only to do his part and nothing more, but what was his part now? Did the rebels' success rely on his decision, or was he just a means to an end?

/ /

Morning did not bring an answer and neither did the journey to the hill overlooking the site of what used to be a bridge to the Imperial bunker. They had to leave the safety of the treeline behind as they marched into the open field between the forest and the hill and Jerjerrod recalled that the last time he had been here, he had been on the other side of the bridge, watching the rebels descend onto the bridge and fearing what would happen if they reached the bunker. Now, he was too far back to see the amendments that had been made in the several weeks he had been gone.

The difficult part about anticipating an ambush from the Sith was that they all knew to expect one, but they could not pinpoint from which direction it would come from since their scanners were reading movement in all directions anyway due to the heavy traffic of scouting parties. The only thing they had going for them was their own element of surprise which could very well end in failure since it was all riding on one factor.

As they stood there waiting for the Sith host to come up over the hill to greet them, Jerjerrod tried to block out Piett's emotions since they were feeding into his own and making it increasingly difficult to face the decision before him. After much arguing the night prior and Jerjerrod almost needing to get violent to advocate for Piett's involvement in their plans, General Solo had made the decision that Piett was not mentally equipped to be in the middle of a situation where he could relapse or something could trigger him to lose his head and endanger other rebels. Piett then insisted on being allowed to accompany them to the exchange with the threat of putting a venomous reptile down the general's pants and the promise to stay out of the battle if it came to one. It went against logic to allow Piett to be put in such close proximity to the Sith again, but when Skywalker stepped in with a vote to let Piett accompany them, no further objection was raised on the subject. If Skywalker could sense that Piett was going to be needed to some degree, General Solo was not one to question him.

And so Piett stood beside Jerjerrod armed with two blasters, a handful of grenades, and unbeknownst to the others, a capsule filled with concentrated cyanide that Piett could easily access if he somehow found himself back in enemy hands. Piett made it clear that he would not be taken captive again at any cost and if he was unable to shoot himself or did not have access to one of his blasters, he could swallow the capsule. It did not sit well with Jerjerrod to offer Piett a means of suicide, but he understood that Piett would never survive another encounter with the Sith anyway and that allowing him to end his own life was far kinder than making him last through another several weeks of torture.

A glance skyward to the west told him that a heavy and dark thunderstorm was on its way. What a fitting turn of weather to meet him. The pressure in the air warned of an impending accompaniment of lightning that would make it extremely dangerous to be out in the open and the bunker would act like a rod to catch the lightning, which did not bode well for the rebels who needed to get inside the blasted thing.

The wildlife was taking flight now, clearing the area as if they sensed the looming battle and leaving only humans behind who were responsible for all the destruction about to take place. Jerjerrod would have liked to flee with them, but this entire operation was happening because of him and he could not run from such a heavy responsibility.

"Are you still sure about this?" asked Skywalker at his side and Jerjerrod lifted his chin in the only form of a nod that he could muster since he thought he might be sick if he opened his mouth. The Jedi could sense the unease in him, but his offer to turn back now was doing nothing for Jerjerrod's nerves.

"I hope you know what you're doing," added Leia from Skywalker's other side.

Jerjerrod hoped so as well, but he was not the deciding factor here. Everything had to fall perfectly into place and since things so rarely worked out that way for him, he was holding onto a very thin hope that he would be so lucky this time.

"Here they come," General Solo announced, but before they saw the enemy approaching, they heard what sounded like an army of AT-ST walkers scaling the hill and no less than twelve of them appeared one by one to create a formidable and impenetrable wall between the rebels and the bunkers. Filling in every space between them was a collection of white-armored stormtroopers and red-streaked troopers who had come in full force to escort the Emperor.

Surprised though he was at the Emperor's arrival, Jerjerrod was both relieved and terrified to see the Sith in the flesh, for he would have thought that the Emperor would send Vader to do his bidding and not risk exposure to the rebels. Having the Sith here would give the rebels a chance to end him, but the only person who could even last a second against him was Skywalker and Jerjerrod didn't care for the Jedi's chances if he had to duel both Vader and the Emperor at once.

As the Imperial host came to a halt with several dozen yards between them and the rebels, Piett took an unconscious step backward that did not go unnoticed by Jerjerrod. The mere sight of the Sith was enough to frighten him now and Jerjerrod could see tiny beads of sweat collecting on Piett's forehead in anticipation and memory of what the sight of the Sith used to mean for him. Just now when he likely was reluctant to accept touch, Piett unexpectedly did not flinch in the slightest when Chewbacca laid a massive paw on his shoulder as if the Wookie knew Piett needed to be calmed but would not take kindly to human touch. Piett reached around and patted the Wookie's fur as if to reassure him, but there was also a note of gratitude there.

"There he is," Leia pointed out, and Jerjerrod snapped his neck back around to see the troopers parting down the middle to make way for Vader who was personally hauling Motti forward by the scruff of his neck due to the fight Motti was putting up in trying to not go where he was bid. Jerjerrod and Piett collectively drew in breath as they saw proof that Motti was–at the moment–alive and whole.

As with Piett, a trooper announced over a projected vocalization device, "The admiral will be sent on his way once Commander Jerjerrod begins his approach."

There was no use in delaying the inevitable, and so Jerjerrod gave warning as he handed over his blaster to Skywalker, "Keep watch from behind, but be prepared for them to open fire as soon as they take me. You have your orders and I have mine and all we can do is hope. I have your word that you will protect them until the end?"

"You have it," affirmed the Jedi.

Jerjerrod shook Skywalker's hand effusively.

"You said you wouldn't," said Piett in panic beside him as he took hold of Jerjerrod. "You looked me in the eye and swore that this was not your plan."

"I had just pulled you back from the brink of insanity and needed to keep you calm," said Jerjerrod apologetically. "But you have to trust that I know what I'm doing, even if you don't understand my reasoning."

Piett had an uncomfortable grip on Jerjerrod's arm and was putting his full weight into leaning away from the open field as a measure to make Jerjerrod stay, but even that did not equate to enough to do more than make Jerjerrod pause for a moment. Piett had lost too much weight during his imprisonment and was positively skeletal in stature. "Tiaan, don't you fucking do this. Please, don't."

Of everything Jerjerrod wanted to tell Piett, only one word came to mind as he told his friend, "Anticipate."

Struck dumb by this, Piett's hold on Jerjerrod faltered and Jerjerrod took advantage of Piett's lapse by wriggling free, grasping the back of Piett's neck and setting his forehead against Piett's for a brief, meaningful second. How he hoped that this was not his last interaction with his friend, how guilty he felt for not saying more before this moment to give Piett the tools necessary to continue on if Jerjerrod's fate was already closed.

Hating himself, he made a sign to a few rebel soldiers and said quietly, "Hold him."

He was not prepared for the screams that would come from Piett the moment the rebels took hold of him. Unlike the sounds Piett had made under interrogation by the IT-0 droid, these were cries of fear and madness. They were enough to make Jerjerrod hesitate on the threshold of the rebels' boundary line, but Skywalker stepped in, cupping Piett's shoulder and somehow subduing him enough to quiet his screams.

A hand at his back told him that Leia was encouraging him forward and then he heard her move toward Piett to add her sense of calm to her brother's. They had him now and he had to trust in their word, no matter the outcome of the day. There was nothing else for it but to do what he set out to do, and so he took that one step forward, followed by another and another until he found himself walking toward the Sith.

One or two droplets fell upon his face as he went, head bent against the incoming storm that he was literally and figuratively walking into. The rain would escalate into a full-blown nightmare by the time he reached the Sith and he could appreciate the humor in the situation in how the moon seemed to be fighting against the technology that had made it into the shell it now was. The weather itself was forcing both rebels and Imperials to overcome the limits of their tools.

When he had gone some fourty feet, he saw Vader give Motti a shove between the shoulder blades and then a trooper had to probe him with the shock prod at the end of his blaster to force Motti to move. With his wrists bound together in front of him, Motti staggered forward but unlike Piett who had seemed uncoordinated, Motti was clearly walking with purpose despite being unable to do so properly from lack of using his legs for the past several weeks. Jerjerrod did not know what sort of reunion to expect from his friend, but given the trembling, barely concealable rage on Motti's face, he anticipated that it would not be a pleasant one.

Coming to a stop in front of Jerjerrod a minute later with his eyes wide and furious, Motti spoke through gritted teeth as if trying not to be seen or heard by the rebels watching, "Tiaan, you are not about to-"

"Keep walking to the other side," said Jerjerrod firmly without looking at Motti.

"You absolute raging idiot, what the hell are you doing?"

"Walk to Skywalker, Conan, and do not argue with me."

Motti refused to move, looking thoroughly prepared to use his body to block Jerjerrod from continuing on. Sighing that even now at the end, Motti was refusing to obey the orders that Jerjerrod always gave in Motti's best interest, Jerjerrod sidestepped and walked around Motti to continue on his way. It seemed that calm conversation was not the order of the day and that Motti decided to go straight to violence as he ran at Jerjerrod, ramming his shoulder into Jerjerrod's chest and tackling him to the ground. Despite having limited use of his bound hands, despite being malnourished from his time as a prisoner, Motti was still able to hold Jerjerrod down and Jerjerrod had not expected this sort of reaction and had been thoroughly caught off guard.

"Conan, let me go–"

"No, for once you are going to listen to me and if you don't, I'll do what I have to," Motti promised.

What he had to? What lengths was he willing to go to just to prevent Jerjerrod from walking those last couple dozen yards to the Sith? Jerjerrod had not figured this into their plans and Motti was about to ruin everything now that he had decided to demonstrate his unwavering dedication to Jerjerrod's preservation.

Reserved to the fact that he would need to get equally violent with Motti to accomplish his goal, Jerjerrod made to activate one of Motti's pressure points, but the slightest sign of self-defense from Jerjerrod apparently told Motti that he would have to go beyond the extreme. He delivered an unforgiving punch to Jerjerrod's jaw that rattled his brain around his head and blindsided him long enough for Motti to wrap his hands around Jerjerrod's throat.

Jerjerrod tugged at Motti's wrists, but the strength he found resisting him was incredibly powerful. Spittle dropped down onto his face as Motti strained to squeeze tightly enough to make Jerjerrod's vision blur. Motti was desperate enough and willing to kill him just to spare him from the Sith. What a cruel cosmic joke for strangulation by the Force to be the thing Motti feared most and to then turn that method onto Jerjerrod all in the name of mercy.

Jerjerrod could not convey his intentions to Motti who had jumped to conclusions in assuming the worst of the exchange, and so he knew Motti would hate him forever for what he was about to do, but he had only been pushed to use the Force against Motti by Motti's own hand and this time was no different. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think, and his hand reacted of its own accord to push Motti backward.

The pressure between the two of them was broken as Motti went violently tumbling backward into the grass and mud. He made contact with the ground with a wince-inducing thud and though he laid there for several seconds in obvious pain, he recovered far too quickly as he leaped to his feet now fuming.

Jerjerrod blanched at the sight of Motti wielding what appeared to be a modified riot baton except this one had black and purple energy emitting from its live end and Jerjerrod had no desire to experience what sort of nasty shock this new weapon could administer. He did know this: the dark blade had been planted on Motti in the hope of this very outcome. The Emperor hoped to flush out both Jerjerrod and Motti's inner rage about their positions, their competitiveness, and their mutual animosity toward the other when having the Force used against them. Their resolve against the dark side was to be tested.

"Don't do this now," Jerjerrod pleaded.

But he knew that this had been the only reason the Emperor had agreed to the terms in the first place. The Emperor would claim whoever was victorious in this fight and the loose end of having two Force-sensitive beings would be eliminated. Everything was telling him to draw his lightsaber from underneath his poncho to protect himself, but he refused to let the Emperor goad him into a fight with Motti. His anger could not be brought to the surface to harm his friends; it only showed itself when they were in danger, and Motti was not in danger so long as Jerjerrod did not fight back.

"You use your powers against me and expect me not to retaliate?" Motti thundered.

"You forced my hand every time I've used them against you and I've only ever used them defensively. You are interfering with the necessary trade to ensure your survival right now and if you're trying to make me duel you to the death, you'll be standing there for a very long time."

"Draw your blade, you coward," Motti spat.

If Motti was trying to cut Jerjerrod where it would hurt deepest, he was succeeding. To question Jerjerrod's courage right here and now when Jerjerrod was willing to embrace death to spare Motti and Piett was the lowest of low blows to deliver. As only Motti could, he was finding a way under Jerjerrod's skin in a wildly out of character act of selflessness to do the very thing for Jerjerrod that Jerjerrod was trying to do for Motti. They were at a stalemate with neither conceding and the only way forward was for one of them to be too injured to continue on.

If it came to blows, Jerjerrod did not like his chances. He could barely hold his own against stormtroopers, evident in how he had come off worse in a fight when ambushed by them before, which was how Motti ended up a prisoner of the Empire in the first place. Jerjerrod had mindfulness where Motti had action; Jerjerrod was calm where Motti was unbalanced; Jerjerrod could use the Force as an extension of himself and Motti was the superior fighter in terms of technique, strength, and willingness to strike a blow. This fight was one in which Jerjerrod would not win and what's more, Motti knew that fact damn well.

"You have to trust that I have a good reason for doing what I am about to do," Jerjerrod tried to reason as he had with Piett. Neither of them understood how his mind worked and both of them were already going through every stage of grief in anticipation for what they believed he was about to do.

"You don't have the foresight or skills that you think you do to make that call. You would call it wisdom, but you've always held that over me as if that makes you superior. Skywalker may have taught you how to calm your mind before you act, but you're no wiser than you were before. You are not better than me."

That last statement had real truth and hurt to it. Jerjerrod had not considered that in his steps to protect Motti from his own self-destructive nature, he had inadvertently been degrading his friend. Motti was always seen as less-than compared to Jerjerrod, forever living in the shadow of the man who was a leader, an inspiration, a skilled craftsman, and also the more attuned Force user. Now that Motti knew that he was the better fighter, he was using that to whittle Jerjerrod down to size in a grand display in front of all the rebels and Imperial soldiers who stood witness as well as the rebel leaders and the Sith. The true essence of Motti's constant wayward behavior, the burning jealousy and resentment he always seemed to harvest for Jerjerrod, it all came to light now.

"I never made such a claim before and you will never hear me say so. I am older and that is simply all there is to it," said Jerjerrod, not quite believing that he was having this conversation now. "I outrank you in years of existence in this universe and that is all. We no longer belong to the Empire and so I am not your commanding officer, but I am making this decision for myself by my own authority and you cannot interfere with what I choose to do with my life."

"I have every right to interfere," Motti snapped back. "I gave my life for yours; that was what was supposed to happen, but since it didn't and you and I are both here to dispute it, your life is still mine, you are still indebted to me, and I will not allow you to throw my sacrifice away out of your damnable sense of nobility."

"I took a blaster shot for you that same day that should have blown a hole clean through your stomach. If anything, we are even, but I am not the one being exchanged against my will in this moment, and so by default, I am the one who can make the ultimate decision here. I will ask you one last time to walk away and retreat to the rebel lines. I am asking you to not interfere."

He could sense Motti's answer before he had even finished speaking and bent double to avoid the horizontal blow Motti delivered as he made a running dive for Jerjerrod. He gave his body over to the Force and allowed it to guide him as he dodged and weaved around every strike Motti tried to land on him. Fighting the impulse to draw his own blade to defend himself, he waited for an opening in Motti's attack, for even though the Force was also guiding Motti's movements, Motti would have to tire soon.

Motti's technique used to be a mixture of adrenaline, anger, and haphazard hacking, but someone (and Jerjerrod had a strong suspicion of who) had helped him hone his skills, whether by his will or not. There was more fluidity to his attacks now and less jarring movement. He fought closer to the style that Skywalker did, as someone with experience did, and again, Jerjerrod was not keen to pit himself against Motti in this lightsaber duel. While the Sith had been sculpting Motti into a pupil of the dark side, Jerjerrod had done nothing to practice his own skills with the lightsaber. He only had his own flexibility and the gift of anticipation through the Force to protect him against Motti's onslaught.

Get ahead of his blade, came Skywalker's voice. Find an opening and put him down.

That was all well and good for the Jedi to tell him from halfway across the field, but if Jerjerrod made one wrong misstep, he would be on the receiving end of the dark blade in Motti's hands and he knew that whatever sort of injury it would inflict, it would lay him flat long enough for Motti to try and strangle him again.

Jerjerrod stepped inside Motti's range, too close for him to swing. He knocked Motti's arm aside and brought his elbow up into Motti's chin where he could feel Motti bite down on his tongue. Disarmed by the pain, Motti faltered and grabbing a fistful of the front of Motti's tunic, Jerjerrod slammed him down onto his back and held him in place with the aid of the Force. The dark blade had gone flying out of his hands to land some ten feet away and now Motti had nothing to fight back with nor indeed a leg to stand on. The vein in his temple was throbbing with his attempt to sit up and Jerjerrod struggled to hold him with the oversight that this required much more energy than simply pushing Motti away from him. Holding any individual in place would require more energy, but holding a fellow Force user was ten times more difficult, for they could call on the Force as well to counter the energy being used against them.

"Let me up, damn you," Motti swore. If the sun were shining, Jerjerrod would have blamed a trick of the light upon Motti's eyes, but there was no mistaking the yellowish-red glow he saw there. He had seen that color before in his own eyes when pushed too far and he could not let Motti be tempted in the same way.

"Only if you let me go."

"In hell."

"This is my decision. You made yours and I couldn't do anything about it; now you have to accept the same terms. I don't know how this day will end, but it won't end with me in the Sith's hands, I can promise you that."

The fight went out of Motti as he considered the hidden meaning behind Jerjerrod's words and Jerjerrod took his hesitation to tell Motti hurriedly, You will see. Wait, and you will see.

Though Motti gave no affirmation that he understood, there was no more feeling of rage coming from him and so Jerjerrod released him. He had drained himself considerably more than he ought to have done, but that could not be helped now.

Do not follow me. Stay where you are, and you will know when the time has come.

He was taking a risk in turning his back on Motti, but he had to continue on and could not delay any longer. Hoping that Motti would not rush him from behind, he tore his eyes away from the sight of Motti laying there in a jumbled, confusing heap and resumed his walk to the Sith's front lines.

Tunnel vision showed him only the two black cloaked figures waiting for him and as he drew closer, his stomach sent warnings to his brain that he was about to be sick. His heart was beating at twice the cadence it should have been beating, begging him to turn back. He couldn't take another step. The fear he had known once before as he watched the Emperor decide Motti's fate in trial returned now, except this time, he was the target for the Emperor's attention, and he knew that there was only one outcome.

Don't look back, encouraged that same youthful voice he had heard when last the Emperor had baited him. Do what you came to do.

Half a step forward, then a full one, and a few more, each one more difficult than the previous, and finally, he found himself standing just a few yards from the Sith. The Emperor regarded him with satisfied triumph despite his plans to have Jerjerrod or Motti finish the other off backfiring.

"I acknowledge your sacrifice. Noble, but foolish," said the Emperor. "And all for nothing. I will have Admiral Motti back under my control by the day's end."

The wind was whipping about Jerjerrod's face and making it almost impossible to hear the Sith, but he felt the voice in his soul as the rain came on heavy.

Over the roar of the thunder, he returned, "Perhaps I am foolish for my actions, but you will not touch him again, of that I am certain. You could attempt to take him back, but even you can't survive the force directed at you right now. If you go back on your word, the rebels will fire upon you with everything they have and all three of us standing here will die, but if you do as you promised, it need only be me. Now, are you really willing to risk your life just to break good faith? Or are you willing to put every man under your command in front of you to shield you like the pathetic coward you are?"

His impudence cost him dearly. The Emperor did not even need to lift a finger to launch an attack on him. It was instantaneous with the next breath Jerjerrod drew.

The pain was nothing like Motti had once described; it was much worse. The immediate pressure he felt at his temples was excruciating and it sent him to the ground, clutching at a pain he could not reach. He curled inward, bringing his chest down to meet his knees.

"The first thing you will learn is that you will never speak out of turn against your master, you insolent fool."

His temples were pounding, his throat throbbing, his lungs screaming. On his knees, he held his hand to his neck, surprised to find that he could touch it without feeling an invisible barrier there. He knew he had to make contact before he blacked out and they dragged his body away from the battlefield. As he hunched over nearly kissing the forest floor, he reached out with his mind, hoping, praying, desperate to find the presence upon whom everything depended on.

Now, he projected.

He heard the nearest AT-ST cannons shifting and with blood squeezing from his tear ducts, blinked through the red to see the walker fire upon the Emperor and Vader. The pressure around his head was gone and he collapsed back on the ground with his head still feeling like a giant had been attempting to crush it between its hands. He inhaled a noseful of dirt and gave himself ten seconds to gather himself before he knew he would have to move, otherwise he risked being trampled to death.

One, two, three…

Somewhere behind him, he hoped that the rebels had gotten to Motti in time to undo his binders, arm him, and surround him to swallow him with their numbers so as to shield him from a direct attack by the Emperor. If the rebels had not yet advanced that far, Piett would have broken free by now to get to Motti, of that Jerjerrod was absolutely certain.

Four, five…

Wiping the heel of his hand on his pant leg to clean it, he then dabbed at the trail of red tears running from each tear duct and at his chin where foaming saliva had collected following the attack on him by the Emperor. He had to look like a sad, sorry mess of a man, but he knew that regardless of whether or not he was ready to assume the role, soldiers on both sides were looking to him to follow his lead. He had initiated this attack and this was his plan; they would succeed or fail with him at the helm.

Six, seven, eight…

Thunderous footfalls passed on either side of him as the rebels surged forward. There came the unmistakable searing clash of two lightsabers meeting and through his closed eyelids, he could still see the green and red lights dancing before him. If Skywalker was facing both Sith alone, he would need help, not that Jerjerrod had much to offer. If Jerjerrod doubted his skills against Motti, he would get himself killed in two seconds flat against an experienced duelist.

Nine…

Lifting his head, Jerjerrod peeled his eyes open. It seemed incredible that what appeared to be more than half of the gathered forces of stormtroopers were turning on the Red Battalion who were taken by surprise and immediately tried to fall back, but had nowhere to run to. The rebels joined forces with the stormtroopers, colliding with the Red Battalion on both sides and then from the trees to the far right, arrows and stones rained down on the red troopers who were attempting to flee.

Ten.