Timothy Zahn - Outbound Flight

“No, because that’s where they use hedges instead of walls to mark the land boundaries,” Obi-Wan said. “You’re not going to bury a lightsaber inside a stone wall without somebody noticing. If we don’t find her there, we’ll move on to the wealthier areas, then move on to other districts.”

Anakin took a deep breath. “All right. I’m game if you are.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan said. “Then clear your mind, my young Padawan. It’s likely to be a long night.”

They’d been tramping the streets for hours when Obi-Wan finally felt the tingle he’d been waiting for.

The Ilum crystal in Lorana’s lightsaber was close at hand.

He looked sideways at Anakin, waiting for the boy to sense it as well. Even in the middle of a serious situation, training exercises were part of a Padawan’s life.

They got three more steps before Anakin’s steady footsteps suddenly faltered. “There,” the boy said. “Just ahead, on the left.”

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said approvingly, letting his eyes drift around the neighborhood. It was still a good two hours till dawn, and the houses around them were dark and silent, their inhabitants fast asleep.

Or at least, most of them were. The particular inhabitants they were interested in would be very much awake.

“No, don’t go to it,” he told Anakin, catching the boy’s arm as he started toward the hedge where Lorana’s lightsaber lay hidden.

“Here, around on the other side—quickly, now.”

Together they moved around the end of the hedge and ducked down out of sight. “Is someone watching us?” Anakin murmured as Obi-Wan led them in a crouch to within a few meters of the lightsaber.

“We’ll find out in a moment,” Obi-Wan said. “Tell me, what would you do if you were guarding a prisoner in the middle of the night and suddenly something strange happened outside your window?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin said, frowning in thought. “I suppose it would depend on how strange it was.”

“Let’s find out.” Stretching out to the Force, Obi-Wan reached his mind across the distance and triggered Lorana’s lightsaber.

With a muted snap-hiss the green blade lanced out, startlingly bright in the nighttime darkness. A few small leaves showered down where they’d been cut loose from their branches, but the handle was wedged solidly in place and stayed where it was. “Now, let’s see who in the neighborhood is still awake,” he commented.

They didn’t have long to wait. Less than a minute later a door in one of the houses across the street opened, and a lone Brolf peered anxiously out, his eyes darting around. Seeing noone, he lumbered across the street to the blazing lightsaber.

For a moment he stared at it uncertainly. Then, gingerly, he reached into the mesh of branches and pulled the weapon free. Holding it at arm’s length, he turned it carefully in his hand, clearly trying to figure out how to shut it off.

“Allow me,” Obi-Wan spoke up, rising to his full height behind the hedge. Reaching out with the Force, he closed down the lightsaber.

The Brolf was fast, all right. Almost before the blade had vanished he leapt into action, jumping sideways and hurling the lightsaber straight at Obi-Wan’s face as he hauled a blaster out of his tunic.

Fast, but stupid. Obi-Wan was a Jedi, with Jedi reflexes, and he had his own lightsaber ready in his hand before the Brolf even started his leap. Reaching up with his free hand, he caught Lorana’s weapon and then ignited his own, casually catching the Brolf’s shot on his blade and sending it ricocheting off into the night sky.

Stubbornly, the Brolf kept at it, firing again and again with the single-minded foolhardiness of a battle droid. Obi-Wan settled into battle mode, his attention focused inward as he let the Force guide his hands, deflecting the shots as he strode toward his attacker.

And then, through his tunnel vision, he dimly sensed something happening across the street. The Brolf heard or saw it, too, and for a split second his attention wavered as his eyes darted that direction.

It was all the opening Obi-Wan needed. Taking an extra-long step forward, he gave a short, controlled slash that sliced the Brolf’s blaster neatly in half.

The Brolf had been quick to attack. Now, with equal speed, he dropped the remaining half of his blaster and took off down the street as fast as his stubby legs could carry him.

Obi-Wan considered chasing him down, decided against it, andturned toward the house the other had emerged from.

It was only then that he realized Anakin was no longer with him.

“Blast!” he bit out under his breath, breaking into a run. There was a diffuse blue light flickering from somewhere inside the house, and as he headed up the walkway to the open door he heard the familiar hum of his Padawan’s lightsaber.

Picking up his pace, he charged inside.

He found Anakin in one of the inner rooms, standing over Lorana’s limp form, his lightsaber held in guard position toward a pair of Brolfi cowering in the corner. A third Brolf lay motionlessly on the floor, the remains of a blaster beside him.

“Master,” Anakin said, clearly trying to sound casual but not entirely succeeding. “I found her.”

“So I see,” Obi-Wan said, closing down his lightsaber and kneeling down beside the young woman. Her breathing and pulse were slow but steady. “What did you use on her?” he demanded, turning toward the Brolfi in the corner.

Neither answered. “I didn’t see anything when I came in,” Anakin offered.

“Then they must have it on them,” Obi-Wan said.

Stepping past Anakin, he ignited his lightsaber and started deliberately toward them.

As with the Brolf he’d dealt with outside, neither of these two was interested in being a hero. “He’s got it,” one of them spoke up hastily, digging a thumb into his partner’s side.

“Yeah, here it is,” the other agreed, digging a hypo from inside his tunic and lobbing it at Obi-Wan’s feet.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said politely. “Let’s add your comlinks to the pile, shall we? And any weapons, of course.”

A moment later two comlinks and a pair of long knives had joined the hypo. “What do we do with them?” Anakin asked.

“That depends on what they’ve been dosing her with,”

Obi-Wan said ominously, closing down his lightsaber again and picking up the hypo. It was unlabeled, of course. Running through his Jedi sensory enhancement techniques, he squirted a small drop of the liquid onto his sleeve and held it up to his nose.

One sniff was all it took. “It’s okay,” he assured Anakin as he let the enhancement fade away. “It’s a strong sedative, not a poison. She’ll be all right once it wears off.”

He gestured toward the two Brolfi. “Which means they won’t be facing any murder charges.” He cocked his head. “At least, not until their homemade missile goes off.”

Both of the prisoners jerked noticeably at the word missile. “We had nothing to do with that,” one of them insisted.

“It was all Filvian’s idea. His, and the human’s.”

Obi-Wan frowned. There was a human mixed up in this? “What human?” he demanded. “What’s his name?”

“He calls himself Defender,” the Brolf said. “That’s all I know.”

“What does he look like?”

The Brolf looked helplessly at his companion. “Like a human,” the second Brolf said, waving a hand vaguely.

“Do they need more persuasion, Master?” Anakin asked, letting his voice harden.

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. In his experience, threats from fourteen-year-olds were seldom very convincing.

His eyes dropped to the dead Brolf on the floor. On second thought, in this case maybe they were. “Don’t bother,” he told Anakin. “They probably really don’t know how to describe him.”