THE FORCE WITHIN
© September 2017 Written by David Wicker
Please do not reprint without permission
CHAPTER 21 - "VOICES OF REFLECTION"
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This entry is Rated: EVERYONE
It was not the first time Smite had been knocked down nor he suspected the last.
He was curious as to why he would receive such an unprovoked attack though and stayed on the ground, leading them to believe he was lame and crippled without his walking staff - which was far from the truth.
Three patrons had gathered around him. One started yelling, "You ! You're the one responsible ! Anytime we go on a mission and you're around, people die ! Care to tell us why ?"
Smite smiled. It was the same old argument it had always been. He spoke quietly, "I suspect it has nothing to do with me being an incompetent solder - however as for your fellow soldiers ... ?" and he just let that sentence trail off.
One of the patrons had enough and reached out to kick Smite. Smite was ready though and grabbed his foot and in an expert move twirled it around, breaking it, and slamming him to the ground. He howled in pain and limped away.
Smite then stood up to show the other two, no, he wasn't lame or weak at all. He just kept the staff because it was a comfort to him. And even now he leaned down and swung a leg backwards behind him, catching it by the middle and hurling it in the air - to be expertly caught by him.
The other two looked at each other, surprised. They weren't suspecting the old man to be this limber and dangerous.
However, they each pulled out a blaster and trained it on him.
"Let's cut to the chase shall we ? We both know why our soldiers die in combat with you, don't we ?"
Smite indulged a smile, "You tell me then."
The patron was shaking with rage, "We've seen you in battle - with our own blasters you would shoot down our own soldiers, our own FRIENDS - during combat when they tried to retreat ! Tell me, do you feel anything at all ? What did you feel when you do that !?"
Smite scratched a chin with his free hand and casually remarked offhandedly, "Recoil."
That was it. The other two fired at him, only to have their shots expertly deflected by Smite's twirling staff. The two turned to look at each with both surprised and fear. But only for a moment. Then they fired off a full volley of shots yelling angrily, determined to cut Smite down where he stood.
But not one shot reached him. All somehow were miraculously hitting Smite's spinning staff and and bouncing off to fire into nearby crates and barrels, flinging up their flimsy cargo in an explosion of material.
Seeing their guns were of no use, the pair hurled them down and launched in to attack Smite by hand, but that was a mistake. Smite gave them a woeful look before expertly smashing his staff into their two heads, crushing their skulls in a power not to be believed or belied by such an apparently frail man.
They quivered their limbs for a second or two, one trying to even reach up to touch his caved in and bloody face, but both finally lay still, quite dead. Smite then wiped off the blood of his fracas onto their own clothes.
He sat down for a minute to rub his staff with a special cleaning cloth he carried, humming pleasantly as he did so, until his metallic staff shone like new. Satisfied he was done with this encounter, he entered the bar.
Inside everyone was deathly silent, not wanting to risk his wrath with the understanding this old man could truly hold his own and lethally at that.
"Anglorian Water." he told the barkeep casually, having developed a taste for it back from Mos Eisley. The 'keep nodded and prepared his drink. The club then resumed it's normal volume of music and conversation.
. . .
Luke was traveling in lightspeed on his way back to Yavin when he felt a presence. The same presence from when he was attacking the Death Star. Obi-Wan. It really was Ben Kenobi !
"Ben ... !" Luke called out, tearful of the terrible way Vader cut him down earlier and glad to have contact with the kindly old man again.
"Luke." the voice gently said, speaking beyond his ears. "Hoth. Leia is on Hoth." and then the voice was silent.
"Ben !" Luke called out. "Ben !? What of Yavin !? Do I still go to Yavin !?" he implored. But there was only silence.
The voice told him Leia was on Hoth, but what about the people still on Yavin's moon ? He weighed this in his head. He really did want to see Leia more than anything, and maybe she was being held against her will on Hoth ? There certainly were no plans to go that inhospitably cold and frozen planet.
"To Hoth then." he told himself. He touched a few controls and his X-Wing Fighter craft gently pulled out of its warp speed to hover gently in space. Luke then entered in the coordinates and flightplan for Hoth. In moments his X-Wing had once again entered lightspeed travel, and this time towards Hoth.
. . .
Vader had returned back to his own sanctuary. He touched a switch and a wall panel slid away to show a strange sight. What appeared to be a giant large black egg of immense artistry and construction. He approached and the top opened, showing a squaretooth ragged connection.
He entered within and on the floor was a single pillow with the familiar Empire logo on it. Vader took a knee and the egg closed from the top surrounding him in darkness.
"Vader." a voice spoke a moment later.
"Master." Vader replied respectfully.
The voice was pitiless, "You are weak, Vader. You were ordered to destroy the last habitat of the rebels. You went to their base of operations and did not wipe them out completely. Even after poisoning their atmosphere, they have all successfully fled."
"Master." Vader said, clearly hoping to explain.
"Yes ?"
"Master, my son - was amongst them. It is from the Force I felt his presence there. I did not want to see him destroyed with the rebels."
"So you went against direct orders, what I told you to do, and Instead did as you pleased all for the selfish single act of saving your son ? That is why you spared the last of the rebels ? Is that what I am hearing from your mouth, Anakin !?"
Vader's voice was tight with regret, "Yes, Master."
The voice paused for a moment and then chuckled. "You are not quite the soulless doll I thought you were."
Vader maintained polite silence.
The voice took a tinge of empathy, "Vader, I am pleased this time. What you did was right. Go - find your son, bring him before me. Let us make him one of us. An acolyte of the sith. And then there will be no reason to let the rebels live any longer. It should be you with your son at your side to see their hope crushed and that their destruction is carried out utterly and completely."
"Master." Vader stood and the top of the metallic black egg pulled away.
. . .
Han would've died of frost and hypothermia had he not been equipped with a special digital mapper on his wrist to show where he was, which he did. The frigid wind roared around him and he had to rub the screen free of snow from the blizzard with his free gloved hand several times to see where to go next to approach this magnetic signal.
Finally he saw a clear path up the horizon, just over a snowy embankment. He urged his Taun-Taun to climb and look.
Suddenly he saw a flash of light in the sky. "Spacecraft !" He stopped his Taun-Taun, dismounted, took a pair of high-powered binoculars and quickly and expertly scanned the sky.
There ! Leaving a slight trail in space was some ship, and it was approaching rapidly.
He hoped it would fly away seeing nothing, but no. This particular craft seemed quite intent on finding something on the surface. It could only be the same tie-fighter from earlier had come for another look !
While there was no way any craft could see Han in the blinding snow, nor make out a heat signal, he was more concerned about the rebel base. He watched as this craft turned to their hidden abode and hovered, as if waiting for something.
At the moment, Han was in a far better position to monitor the craft than the rebel base that was still hard at work on their crafts and supplies. It was a well-known fact that sensors worked poorly in extremely cold climates.
He flung down the binoculars to reach for his other wrist where a telecommunicator was worn.
"Echo Seven to Echo Base, do you read me, over ?" he rasped hoarsely, feeling the chill enter his lungs even as he breathed out.
A blast of static, not unlike the sound of the wind around him permeated the frozen air in reply.
"Echo Base, do you copy !?" Han desperately yelled.
More static.
Han picked up his equipment and looked to see the trail of where the craft was. With the arctic winds surrounding the hidden rebel base, there was little chance they would pick up this craft circling around them on their sensors.
He had to make a decision. Press on to find the source of the magnetic signal, or turn back now, and warn them of the craft he saw, perhaps before it was too late ...
(to be continued)
END OF CHAPTER 21
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