In the garb of a technician I was unnoticeable amongst the crowds of the Death Star. I knew that it would be very easy to steal aboard a ship and escape, but that would throw my past away like a cloak into the wind.
I needed a plan and I was out of ideas.
I suddenly felt the urge to curl up in a corner and cry.
In the legends of old, Jedi are closed-handed warriors of peace. We are famous for our emotionless looks that accompany the technicalities of politics. When battle becomes necessary, we save as many as we can, but many times we face heavy casualties.
During the Clone Wars I had a habit that began on Geonosis. I was part of an elite squad of clone troopers that had been training with Jango Fett for over two years. During this time they had developed their own unique, colorful personalities.
We were an invincible force, carrying out espionage and covert operation throughout the galaxy. Occasionally we faced casualties and we were all pained by the fact, but we continued the fight.
They were second family to me.
During a long siege on Technoran IV we had sneaked into a transport that had landed droid reinforcements a few days earlier. We knew the Sep reinforcements were somewhere planetside, but our sensors couldn’t pick anything up. We were going to sneak in and check out the navlogs of the transport so we could find out and prepare an orbital strike on the Seps secret base.
Unfortunately while we were observing radio silence while searching the ship a massive battle broke out in orbit. A small frigate that belonged to a group of Republic mercenaries fell from the sky into the jungles of the planet. Unfortunately the ship that we were in happened to been in that patch of jungle.
It fell right on top of us.
My whole squad was crushed by the rubble.
I only lived due to pure blind luck but Yoda would probably say it was the will of the force.
Afterward I was forced to fend for myself in a bloodthirsty jungle as the com beacons on the ships in space had evidently been destroyed.
I couldn’t contact anyone, but in the end I survived by attracting a gunship with a flare from a salvaged survival kit.
Two days later The Republic officially retreated from the planet…my clone brothers had died for nothing.
After a week of recovery in the halls of the temple I headed out to another planet as the newly named Jedi General of the recently formed 105th Infantry Assault Battalion.
During the following years I made and lost many new friends among my brothers in arms.
After nearly ever battle in which a close friend or fellow Jedi died I cried in my quarters, away from the assessing eyes of the troops.
I now realize that every one of my brothers would have put a bolt of plasma through my head without a second thought.
I was forcibly bumped out my memories by a stuttering Imperial lackey tripping over his own feet and mine in a barrage of whispered profanity and apologies.
I went into a quiet corner and removed the imperial passkey that I had taken off the Sith back on Naboo. I stuck said pass-key into a information terminal, being gratefully rewarded with a uncomplicated schematic of the battle station, though it was missing several sections, including the prison block and the laser control area.
I was reluctant to use to use the Force to sense my way through, as even the slightest excess use of my power would alert Vader to my return to the mortal world.
Uncertain of what to do, I wandered the massive station until I came across a group of technicians speaking of having to repair a torture droid. I followed at a distance, aware that any moment I could die.
They led me to a set of prison blocks, thankfully uneventfully. It was a circular room that led to a single corridor lined with cells. The technicians that I had tailed were already repairing pointy looking droids in the main room. They didn’t even glance up when I entered the room. I walked towards the massive corridor intending to use a mind probe to find my Jedi colleague without alerting Vader.
Breathing a sigh of relief I entered the corridor and began to walk up it with a purposeful stride, trying to look like I was supposed to be there.
Suddenly a storm trooper with no helmet on and a blaster at his side walked out of a cell carrying a loaded syringe.
I leapt for him, knocking him to the ground with a clatter, cursing myself for keeping my saber in my boot.In reminiscence I probably could have mind tricked him to stand down but I suppose I made a mistake.
We were rolling around on the ground, and I managed to get a grip on the syringe. I jabbed it into his neck, hopefully either killing him or keeping him out of my way.
He went limp after barely a moment.
I had to move quickly. I heard the clatter of stormies coming up the hall, and I knew I was in deep trouble.
Never was anything great achieved without danger.