Steal Away

[Rugs]

“Now, Mr. Farazen, I assure that my partner and I have taken every measure to ensure your safety. The only thing remaining is, of course, the shuttle.”

Locke wiped his hands on the back of his coat, to keep them from knotting into fists. “Just relax, sir. No danger will come to us hence.”

If anyone should have been nervous it was him, or his student, Jazen. After all, here they were, in the sprawling penthouse suite of one stupidly rich man, trying to smuggle him offworld from right under the nose of his stupidly powerful superiors.

Just him and Jazen, two Jedi, trying to get an old man to safety. On Muunilinst, the heart of Sith political power.

By all accounts, Locke should have been sweating out of his suit. But Lucas Farazen, the aging, well-connected banker who'd determined in his old age that he found it best to remove himself from the Sith Empire and his fortunes from its apparatus, decided the last hour before their journey began was a perfect time to start having a meltdown. Now, however, was not the time for frayed nerves. It would make the journey too difficult.

In order to escape Locke and Jazen, who were masquerading as some of Farazen's personal guards, would ride with the old man to a spaceport halfway across the city. As long as no one knew they were in the shuttle, the ride itself would be easy. However, the route forced them to walk through an open space once they reached the spaceport. Finding another way to do it had nearly driven Locke through the four long nights they'd been on world, but Farazen's departure needed to look as natural as possible before he shifted his assets to a ready-to-go shadow account under the Republic's protection.

Farazen was deeply connected with several ship manufacturers and his knowledge and connections provided a great deal of grease to the Sith manufacturing machine. His removal would not be a crippling blow to the Empire by any stretch of the imagination, but there would be quite some inconvenience.

But that wasn't the important part — the information locked away in the old man's head, the names and resources he knew were worth millions, if not more.

“The view changes so much when the hour's nigh,” Farazen said. The old man stood by a broad, curving window, looking out at the city lights that sprawled like a multi-colored blanket in every direction below. He was dressed simply, but elegantly, a tailor made black suit, the jacket with subtle orange accents around the collar and edge of his cuffs. An small orange sun blazed over his right breast, beams unfurling agianst the black fabric. “It's almost enough to make a man turn coward...”

“Now, Mr. Farazen, you mustn't speak like that,” Locke said, working to keep the ire out of his voice. “We've gone over this a hundred times. It will go fine.”

He, and Jazen by extension, was dressed in the typical attire of Farazen's guard—a dark grey double-breasted jacket with matching pants and black boots that had been polished to a shine. Their jackets had orange accents that mirrored Farazen's. Both would have black beaked caps with a polished bill and black gloves, though both of those for Locke were on the table.

His hair was tied up, to fit neatly under his cap, and he'd ordered Jazen to undo his padawan braid to not stand out as obviously Jedi along the way.

“I suppose you are right, Rush,” Farazen said, calling Locke by the false name he'd used since arriving. It was odd to hear the man's normally-powerful baritone voice falter as it did. “There's no turning back now. Not at this point.”

Locke nodded once.

“Yes sir, I am glad you see it that way. In any event, the shuttle will arrive shortly, so now's the time to make whatever final preparations you may have.”

Half an hour without interruptions. That was all they needed to spirit him away.

Half an hour....

[Neology]

The tip had come in only a few hours before – suspicious activity in the financial accounts of one Lucas Farazen, accompanied by a hiccup in the log of the businessman's communications. An Imperial Intelligence analyst had flagged Mr. Farazen's file for investigation and Novus had volunteered her talents to get out of some very tedious diplomatic obligations.

Unfortunately, several hours of waiting here proved hardly more stimulating than hours of waiting there.

Novus leaned against the wall of the tiny room, watching the vidbank over the shoulder of the spaceport's Chief of Security. No sign of the old man yet. She sipped her tea and fiddled idly with the clasp of her cloak.

“Are you sure your people haven't missed him? I should shut this place down.” At least then she could be sure that the treasonous fool was stuck groundside.

“Er ... Yes, my lord. I'll put you through to central control right away.” The security chief turned in his seat and began to reach for the com. Novus vented a sigh and gestured for him to stop.

“No. Scratch that as wishful thinking.” She drained the rest of her tea, set the cup down on the console. “As convenient as that would be, Mr. Farazen is not worth putting a halt on planetary shipping, wealthy though he is. Proceed as planned. Is my team in place?”

“Yes, my lord. They await your orders.”

“Excellent. I'm going down there myself. Something about this feels off.” She turned to leave, cloak swirling in an inky swathe about her ankles.

--

Minutes later she took up a post near the edge of the main concourse, clever fingers working her long hair into a quick braid. Much of the overly dramatic Sith costume had been abandoned in favor of inconspicuous street clothes and sturdy boots. Her synthleather jacket came down to mid-thigh, just far enough to hide the hilts that hung from her belt. Much better. The hood and cloak were very useful for throwing her power around within the Imperial Bureaucracy but damn inconvenient in a fight.

Her com chirped to life, a clipped female voice speaking in her ear. “I've got them in sight, my lord.” Ah, the sniper. ”May I take the shot?”

A breath later and she saw them, too. Two men in gray, likely bodyguards, and another in black with an orange sunburst device on the breast of his coat. Lucas Farazen himself. Novus spoke into her com, sotto voce. “I see them, too. Go ahead.”

[Jazen]

There were long stretches of days where being a Jedi lead to some of the most amazing things in Jazen's life.

Days of combat that many people could only dream of achieving, a skill and speed made possible only through their connection to the great unknown that was the Force. Days of studying in a library that put many to shame in its completeness and detail, a hub of knowledge that could grow even the tiniest mind into something above average. Days of spending time with people that understood the Force as he did, if not more, and learning from them, making friends with them, of the comradeship of their order. And that was just the benefits in one place; all the worlds he got to see as a result of being a Jedi, of the sights he had seen, the places he had been, the things he had learned and the people he had met. Many went entire lifetimes without doing the things Jazen had did and meeting only a fraction of the people that Jazen could wholeheartedly call his "family".

Locke. Elys. Talau. All the other apprentices and teachers over the years that had each in their own way guided him to where he was now. It was, as he'd said before, a life he could not imagine being without.

Of course, being a Jedi also had its downsides, dark and terrifying and insane. Like their current assignment. Oh sure, it was simple enough. Head to a planet. Find a fat, wealthy bureaucrat that had contacted him. Smuggle him off world. Avoid trouble. It was a task that they had done before.

Except those tasks never involved sneaking a defector from the Empire safely away before. Again, that wouldn't have been too great a problem....if it had been your average planet. But they had to sneak the man off of Muunilinst. The seat of the Sith's political power. Two Jedi, one a Knight, one a Padawan working his way to it, trying to get a man out from under the noses of an entire planet that would enjoy seeing them strung up for all to see.

If they were that lucky.

As trying as the mission was going to be, Jazen had to admit, it had gone well enough so far. They'd been here almost five days now, getting on world without attracting attention to themselves. They had found Mr Farazen, the man who had in his old age decided he wanted out of this pile of darkness and into the light of the Republic, without incident and convinced him they were his escorts out. And for the last four nights, Locke and Jazen had plotted their escape plan, with Locke taking the fair share of that burden while Jazen guarded their ward. Now, as the fifth day was upon them, the time was now to put their plan into action...and get out of this corrupt place.

That meant, obviously, that this was the time things would start going wrong. And they did. Starting with their charge losing his nerve at the eleventh hour and Locke having to once again try and calm the man back into sanity. A task that Jazen was quite content to let him handle while he stood across the room, "guarding" the door, which his disguise called for. Both him and Locke had taken up roles as the man's "bodyguards" for this mission, dressing in the man's colors and trying to look un-Jedi like as possible. For Locke that was easy; all he had to do was look like the scruffy man he looked like half the time. For Jazen, however, that took a little extra work...mainly in undoing the Jedi braid that marked him as a Padawan.

Oddly enough, it didn't make Jazen feel all that much different without it. Sure, his hair was free now and spilled out nicely to either side, framing his head nicely. With the scar over his eye, it gave him, dare he say it, a rather rough like look, all things considered. But he had thought there would be a great weight removed or to burden himself with, removing that braid too early for the sake of the mission...and yet things still felt normal.

In any case, Jazen looked as much the part as he could, standing at attention near the door as his Master and their charge argued, Mr Farazen panicking, Locke doing his best to assure him that things were under control. Considering their plan required this to look as natural as possible till the last second, their charge losing his nerve at this point was not going to go well. Jazen had faith that Locke could calm the man again....it was just a question of whether he could keep him calm for this to work.

Finally, Mr Farazen's blood pressure came down and the man seemed to find his balls once again to pull this off. As he headed off to make his final preparations, Jazen stalked over to his Master's side, waiting for the man to head into his room before daring to speak. "Well Master, if this goes south, at least we know you can make a career in taking care of senior citizens. You have such a special touch at keeping them from crapping their trousers.

So...think we should start preparing for the worst now? I mean, this is usually when things hit the fan for us...like they sort of just did?" He was careful to use a voice that didn't carry, words barely above a whisper...but he knew Locke would hear them. Such was the way of the Force; handy for just about everything you could ever need.

[Rugs]

“As fun as that might be, I doubt it’s the life I’d enjoy,” Locke said slyly, picking up his cap as Lucas left the room to prepare for the final parting. “Too sedentary. Too dull and smelly.” He found a mirror as he placed the cap upon his head and straightened it just so before he looked to Jazen with a wink. “Not nearly enough booze.

“But, ah, we can worry about that particular problem, for our carriage awaits.” A gentle whirring swept along the side of the building as their transport pulled up right as he finished the words and again, he winked slyly as he turned around, coat flaring out behind. “But, to answer you’re question,” he said, adjusting his cap ever so slightly, “we’re always ready for that. Now let’s load up and head out.”

/- -\

The trip went about as well as any of them could hope. In fact, the only real disturbance came when some turbulence — straight-line winds blowing out ahead of a storm front that was sure to be an annoyance if it rolled through before they got up into the atmosphere —abruptly rocked the speeder. But the wind subsided and they reached their destination without any further incident.

Locke, the first out of the speeder and waiting beside it as Farazen, Jazen and two of Farazen’s most trusted men stepped out onto the concourse. All we have to do is get in, get to the ship, and get in the air, Locke thought. Well, with a few check ins. Simple.

Why then, as he looked up at the imposing metal spires, lit against the night sky and with the Sith Empire’s crimson banner flying atop them, couldn’t he quiet that little voice that said something was amiss?

“All out?” he asked as the door closed and the speeder zoomed off behind them. He offered a smile, if for no other reason than that people at least appreciated the façade of confidence. “Good. We’re in the final stretch here. Would hate to realize we’d left our favorite toothbrush back at the manor.”

Farazen, himself carrying a briefcase filled with his most important documents, personal and business, smiled weakly. “I… suppose there’s not use in fretting now, is there?” The old man craned his neck up at the flag flapping noisily over their heads. His mouth tightened, lips stretching thin as though he wanted to say something, but he left unvoiced whatever thought troubled him and looked to the two Jedi.

“Well,” he spread his hands slightly, “let’s get to it.”

Locke nodded and took up a position on Farazen’s left. Jazen was to stay by the man’s right. The two other guards were already off into the spaceport to ensure the way was clear and perform a sweep of the ship. Unless something went horribly wrong, the whole group wouldn’t meet again until Farazen boarded the ship.

Still, something gnawed at the back of Locke’s mind. The air seemed to grow thick with ill intent, but this close to their goal and surrounded by potential assailants, he almost thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

Then a spike of danger, clear and sharp in the Force. Locke reacted.

He grabbed Farazen by his frail shoulders and pulled him aside as a shot slammed to the ground where the old man had been standing, scarring the duracrete ground as it ricocheted off into the night.

I’m gonna break this old man’s hips if I have to keep doing this, was, somehow, the first thought that came to mind. Then the reality of their situation set it.

People screamed and ran every which way, like a heard of frightened cattle. “Move!” Locke yelled at Jazen, pulling a loudly-protesting Farazen toward a metal awning that jutted out over part of the concourse. It was cover, at least. “We’ve got to cover him.”

He pulled his pistol from his hip in the rush and the madness.

Of course it was here, so close to their goal, that everything would fall apart. A few hundred feet suddenly felt like a few hundred miles.

[Neology]

The sniper's shot missed, for all that it set the the crowd to panic anyway. Novus swore and pushed her way into the crush, struggling to keep eyes on the old man and his guards. The sniper's voice buzzed in her ear, begging further orders.

“Shoot, if they give you the chance!” Novus growled in reply, then swapped the com channel with a flick of her wrist. “Chief. Where is my team?”

”En route.” The man had the grace to sound nervous, concerned for his job if nothing else.

“Not good enough. Send me whatever you have. Now!”

”Yes, ma'am!”

They would need to get past her, to gain access to any of the shuttle pads. Her backup would be coming in from behind them; she could already see the helmets of the municipal guard, bobbing above the crowd. Better to let them chase the old man, he could hardly get far. Novus drew one of her sabers to hand, igniting the ruby blade with a hiss. At once, the area around her cleared of traffic.

“Lucas Farazen!” She pitched her voice to carry. “You are accused of treason against the Empire! I, Darth Novus, request and require your immediate surrender!”

The guards she had summoned caught up at last, brandishing shock truncheons to clear their way. A nod from her sent them advancing toward the old man and his guards. Surely, if Farazen had any sense at all, he would surrender. If only to preserve the lives of his employees.

[Jazen]

Jazen frowned at his Master as the sound of an approaching transport echoed from outside, moments before the transport itself came into view. Then, with a sigh, he shook his head and shrugged as he fell into step behind him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And to think, just the other day you said you wish things could be quiet for once. Can't get much quieter then this..." Turning to look back as they waited for their charge to finish up and join them, Jazen glanced to the distant horizon, his frown returning as he looked out upon the Imperial world.

"That's what you said last time too Master...and we weren't ready."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It didn't take them too long to travel from Lucas's penthouse to the space port, and, save for some unpleasant turbulence that the headwinds caused by an approaching storm created, their journey was otherwise uneventful. It was nothing compared to the last bout of turbulence that the pair had encountered and as such, Jazen remained almost steadfast in his lack of reaction to it. But it sent a very familiar spike of fear down his spine; the fear that trouble was just ahead, barely out of sight.

As the ship came to a landing, Locke was the first out the door, giving the area a quick once-over before motioning for the others. Farazen came first, Jazen right on his heels, with two men from Farazen's personal detail exiting last. Big and burly they were, professional's who'd been in the care of a wealthy man for a long time and it showed in their mannerisms and clothing. They'd be good in a fight if trouble came along...provided it was trouble of the non-Jedi solution. Considering their limited options for combat if trouble did arise, having the extra man-power would hopefully make their job easier. That was, of course, if they ran into any trouble at all. With the space port just ahead, the path to freedom clear before them, Jazen felt his body tense slightly. If anything was going to go wrong, it was going to happen between now and then. Just like every other time.

While Locke played the talkative bodyguard, Jazen opted to play the more serious looking one, trying to make himself look older then he actually was. His current appearance helped but the last thing they wanted was for someone to take too long a look at him and see something they didn't want seen. As it were, Jazen was already getting the feeling they were being watched, a sensation slowly crawling up his spine, like an itch that you couldn't scratch. Something felt wrong...Jazen just couldn't figure out what it was.

The two other guards had gone on ahead, to scout the way for obstacles and make sure the ship was ready and clear. Now all Locke and Jazen had to do was walk the man to the ship, get him aboard and get the hell off this planet. Hopefully, just for once, they could do that without running into---

Jazen felt it at the same time as Locke, that sudden spike in the Force that screamed danger!. Jazen's feet were moving before his body had caught up, stepping back quickly as Locke grabbed Farazen and pulled him aside...just as an energy bolt struck the ground where the man had stood but moments before. Jazen's eyes shot up, trying to judge where the bolt came from, reaching out with his senses for the danger. "There!"[/color] His eyes focused on a position above them, where the glint of something metal shined in the fading light. Jazen didn't need to confirm that was the enemy; that spot screamed of danger.

The place had erupted into chaos, people reacting as they were expected to react to shots being fired in their vicinity. What had been a place of busy madness before suddenly became a place of chaotic madness; it took everything Jazen had not to be bowled around by the mass of scattering bodies as he turned to follow his Master. Very gently, he nudged the one's directly in his path to follow Locke with the Force, allowing him to catch up to him as they took cover under a metal awning. Locke already had his pistol out; Jazen had one as well, but with the people running everywhere, he opted to pull the shock baton on his hip out instead for now.

He snapped it to life just in time as two things happened. Firstly, a small group of guards suddenly appeared, brandishing their own shock weapons. Their position prevented them from retreating the way they came from. And from the way they needed to go...

"Snap, hisssssssss"

The glowing ruby red of a lightsaber suddenly came to life in the hands of a woman approaching them, her voice carried easily over the sound of the panicking people around them. Jazen felt his blood freeze for a moment as the woman stood there, weapon in hand. Only a Sith Lord was given the title of Darth...and that meant the woman who stood between them and freedom was a very, very serious threat. Against her, the weapons in his and Locke's hands might as well have been made of paper. The only weapon they could use against her was the very one that would drop their charade...and they wanted to keep that up as long as possible.

"Always one step to heaven before taking two steps back to hell. So uh...Rush...any ideas? I don't think we're gonna stand much of a chance here." Jazen shot Locke a glance before he reached one hand into his pocket, the position of his body hiding the motion..and slowly drew out a small flashbang. Lacking the ability to use their lightsabers, Jazen had brought a few extra toys along, just in case. He just hoped it would be enough.

"Do we take the lady up on her gracious offer and hand over our employer? I must say...it's probably a bright idea." He silently waited for Locke to give the signal, his hand ready to toss the item out at a moment's notice.

Jazen just hoped it would be enough.

[Rugs]

Locke sometimes worried his brain would overheat trying to figure out the best way to save his — and his student’s respective hides in hairy situations.

Cover’s blown. Need to move quickly. It felt that time slowed to the Jedi as he struggled against the scattering cloud. Two heartbeats passed. Need to move quickly. Way ahead is uncovered. Dangerous. Windows along the side. Possible shelter.

Locke’s world shuddered as he collided with some man in fine silks and furs who was trying to find safety for himself. He released a few choice swears he reserved for the worst of situations before he saw the fellow half-crawling his way to a run as he staggered back to his feet. Then he just sighed.

Snap-hissssss

Locke sighed again. “Of course.”

“Lucas Farazen!” a voice boomed out. “You are accused of treason against the Empire! I, Darth Novus, request and require your immediate surrender!”

Locke was normally not a man for playing with other’s minds, unless he absolutely had to — well, beyond a little nudge of persuasion, here or there — but he reached out and girded the old man’s will through the Force. The last thing they needed was Farazen losing his nerve and leaving them out to hang.

Still, Locke couldn’t necessarily blame Farazen for feeling some fear, not with the Sith woman and her cadre of advancing bad men. Giving up all that money for an ideal. Locke thought, hand on his pistol as he looked sidelong at the advancing men and the grenade clutched in his student’s hand. An ideal you might not even live to see, old man.

“No, I’ve got another idea,” Locke muttered under his breath to his apprentice. He appreciated the thought Jazen had, but a flash grenade would only prove so useful against a Sith, if it proved useful at all. “Take Farazen and get him inside. Do not stop unless you cannot move anymore. Even if you have to leave me behind.”

He trusted his student didn’t need to be told to use the flash bang when he thought it prudent — Jazen could wipe his own ass without being told to do so after taking a dump, after all.

“In any event, I’ll buy us some time with my undeniable charm,” Locke said, smiling ruefully. “Now go.”

At the same time, he stepped forward, presenting himself to the woman with the lightsaber. “My Lady,” he said, his voice rougher like that of a seasoned guard, but still respectful. “You misunderstand. My liege is taking a trip to Mon Calamari to check on his holdings there and to ensure the factories are ready for a…” he paused, feigning dismay at speaking to openly at what was supposed to a secret project, “well, new ship production for the Empire’s services.”

It was a lie — one Locke doubted would slow the woman much. But if she remained tied up with him, rather than his student…

[Neology]

'Scurry, yes.' Blue eyes combed the backs of fleeing civilians. It was amazing, the fear that a lightsaber inspired. Greater by far than that caused by the sniper's gun or the helmeted security with their menacing clubs. Novus stretched out her senses, browsing those surface thoughts, feeling for the old man. His fears were specific, tainted with the guilt of his treason. She pivoted to face their cover, lightsaber angled down, at rest.

Abruptly, the notes of Farazen's terror fell away, muffled by an artificial calm. Her eyes narrowed, thoughts shifting to accommodate this surprise. There were drugs that could create such effects, though usually not so quickly. Manipulation through the Force was an easier explanation, though her senses could feel no such thing. No matter. The ability to conceal one's self from such senses was not so terribly rare. Either way, now that he possessed no strong emotions, Mr. Farazen became harder to track through the Force. Very astute. When one considered to whom Mr. Farazen was rumored to be defecting to, the picture began to come together.

Two bodyguards. That would not be a coincidence. Master and padawan? Perhaps. Insane to have come here, to the heart of the Empire. She wondered if the old man felt flattered. The Republic obviously wanted him quite badly.

The taller of the two guards emerged from behind their cover, spoke to her. She watched him with renewed interest. Gruff voice. Long in the hair and young in the face – close to her age? Brand new uniform. Good liar, especially for a Jedi. The hesitation in his voice sounded genuine.

“Nothing would please me more than for that to be the case, sir.” She smiled, beckoning one of the guardsmen away from the group with a gesture of her free hand. This one approached the tall bodyguard, slowly, as if expecting a trap. “If you were all to come with me to the security chief's office, I am sure that we could solve this without any further unpleasantness.” The others were nearly upon the old man's hiding place, clubs and cuffs at the ready.

“Arrest them. Now.”


((Action time. (: Feel free to do as you like with the NPCs – I have no further interest in controlling them beyond this point.))

[Jazen]

Originally upon their arrival, the spaceport had been like any other. Busy. Frantic. People moving quickly here, others moving leisurely there, voices being raised at some issue or another regarding a flight or about personal belonging. The place had buzzed with energy, with volume, with such sound that was to be expected. When the sniper bolt had went off, the place had become more frantic as people panicked appropriately to the action, although there was a fair number who were more curious then afraid at the time. It had been a flood of panicked emotions mostly through the Force, understandably mixed with fear and curiosity.

It didn't even come close to the effect the appearance of the Sith Lady had.

Jazen could practically feel the fear double, triple, quadruple in strength, so thick in the air that he swore he could reach out and touch it. The people who had been curious before were now backing away, slowly for sure, as if trying not to draw attention to themselves. Those that were already panicked were practically flailing limbs to get out of the immediate area. And in the immediate area between their two parties, it was if someone had built a barrier people could not pass; they could, of course, for nothing was there. But no one wanted to be in that space, to be between the Sith Lady and her quarry.

And these were the people that wanted to be part of the Empire. It was a sobering thought.

Jazen didn't even look to Locke at his Master's words, his eyes focused on the woman and her entourage. Calmly and carefully, he slipped the flash bang away, the motion easy and hidden from view just as the first one had been. Hindsight in full, the flash bang would probably only anger the woman and make things more difficult. But it would at least deal with her flunkies. Once they were away from her, the flash bang would be a more effective weapon in their escape...which meant they had to get away from her first. Piece of cake. And I'm a Jedi Master.

"Oh. Joy. I get to flee with the man while you flirt with the woman. Don't you always pick the best parts of the job." His tone was humorous as he said the words; he knew that staying behind to distract the Sith Lady was the part of the job Locke would likely rather jump off a bridge to avoid. "So I got a few seconds at best. Gotcha. Maybe try to be less charming this time, she might just believe you then." Smirking at his Master as Locke spoke to the woman, Jazen carefully started searching for an exit he could use. The windows nearby seemed like a good idea...but there was two guys there. Well...nothing was ever easy. He was about to move, his limbs ready for action...when the woman spoke again.

Jazen froze.

Not just a simple hesitation either. One moment, his legs had been ready to pounce. Now they were hard as stone. His entire body went numb. His breath hitched in his lungs and refused to leave. His heart suddenly decided it had to beat loud enough and fast enough to supply an entire band. Widened eyes turned carefully back to the Sith woman...and in a terrifying flash of clarity, Jazen recognized her. A sudden surge of images flushed through his mind, images and the accompanying emotions that had been a part of them. Pain. Pleasure. Relief. Terror. Awe. Joy. Guilt. It all came in a single, crushing flood...and Jazen remembered.

Darth Novus was the woman who had captured him once before. And nearly broken his soul.

The little whimper that escaped him didn't know if it was out of remembered pain...or remembered need.

A part of Jazen knew he had to move. Had to get away...get away from her. Another, a darker side that he'd thought long buried, begged to go to her. And there was another voice, the rational voice that had come to his aid many a times before that had a clear direction. Calm down. Get the fat man to safety. Worry about this new development later. Move now or suffer a face worse then death. The voice may or may not have sounded like that of Locke...of Tylan...of Jazen all merged into one. But it succeeded where the other two failed; it got his body working again.

He shot Locke one more look, tapping into their mental connection to send him a brief warning. Master...I know her. RUN!

And suddenly there were two men reaching for Jazen and his client. Reality smashed back into Jazen like a crashing train and he had a place he could focus to conquer his fear. The first man didn't even see Jazen move; Jazen dropped from his reaching hands, his leg snapping out with a speed no average man was capable of. The sound it made as it smashed the man's knee into his other would have made grown men wince. The man's cry was barely out of his mouth before Jazen moved on the other, dodging the man's attempted grab by slipping past him, the Force guiding his moves. He spun to his feet, pivoted on his right leg and slammed his elbow into the man's back, sending him sprawling in the direction of his approaching allies.

Jazen grabbed Farazen and nudged him with the Force to fun. Then he shoved the man through the window of the building in front of him and dove in after the man, rolling through to his feet and dragging the shocked man to his feet. "Run you daft man! Follow me! Then he bolted off with the man in tow, who was still under the influence of Locke's mental nudge through the nearest door. They had to get away, find some place to hunker down and await Locke before planning their escape...his words or not, Jazen was not going to leave Locke behind. Not now. Not knowing who was pursuing them.

The fear the shook his spine at that thought was piggybacked by just a hint of regret. Jazen tried to ignore it as he bolted through the building and across to another. Hide and seek time. I just hope I'm a far better hider then she is a seeker.

[Rugs]

“Oh… My Lady, I’m sure it would please my liege so to have this matter resolved as quickly as possible,” Locke said, allowing a false tremor into his voice. He added the faintest bit of hunch to his shoulders as he took a wavering half-step forward, putting a false bit of obsequence to the Sith woman that played at odds with his desire to serve his “employer.” He was aware of the man approaching him from behind, but did not look to him. He couldn’t break the façade.

Not until absolutely necessary.

“But my liege is on a matter of business that cannot wait,” Locke continued. He added a note of urgency to his voice that rose just so as the stupid goon with his stupid club drew nearer. “The continued efficacy of the fleet depends on his timely arrival.”

It appeared, unfortunately, that the Sith would not be swayed by his pleading, however. She order her men to arrest Lock, Jazen and Farazen. Locke sighed, shoulders dropping.

A lot of things happened, very quickly.

Locke glanced over his shoulder and yelped as he saw the club man lunging at him—apparently with the full intentions of cracking his skull open and scrambling his brains on the sidewalk. He jumped aside, genuinely surprised at the fellow’s fervor.

Perhaps, he realized as he drew his gun, he’d underestimated these gentlemen’s desire to obey their Lady.

He ducked under a swing at his head and put a shot into the brute’s thigh, then stomach. The man crumpled to the ground, wounds smoldering. He would be hurting, but not dead. Not yet anyway. Locke picked up the club and tossed it away, just for good measure.

“Well that is a shame,” Locke said as he saw Jazen break some poor fellow’s leg and run off with Farazen. That was good. Get to the ship, Kid. I’ll hold her off as long as I can.

“But I guess there’s nothing to help it, eh?” The subservience in his voice abruptly dropped away. In its place rose Locke’s usual confident rough-edged Coruscanti as he grinned and tipped his hat to the woman. “Guess there’s not any need to keep playin’ at bein’ who I’m no though. But I swear, lady, I just wanted to get the old man off the surface and into his spongebath on the way home.” Locke’s lightsaber fell from his sleeve into his palm with a subtle motion of his arm. He did not ignite the weapon yet though.

“I mean, I know you Sith are evil and all, but would you really deny an old rich man his bath? That’s just cruel.”

[Neology]

She was being watched and not only by the hunched man in the cap. A good actor, she'd give him that, but this fascination belonged to someone else. Her eyes tracked the crowd, a flurry of violence. Pale hair and dark eyes stealing a glance, flitting away with the old man through a handful of mundane obstacles. A store front, a door way … The guards followed, too slow, bulky in their armor. The urge to give chase built in her joints, some ancient predator-prey instincts at work. It climbed up her spine, salivated in her mouth.

It wouldn't be the first time she'd hunted that one, Novus realized, memory shaking itself awake. A old detour into cruelty and a question she hadn't been able to answer: what is the worst thing? You couldn't live if you couldn't accept what you were, after all, but that had been a false step. She'd let him go – a mistake if he was here now. With recognition came the familiar dead end weight of irritation. She couldn't give chase, not without leaving herself open to the other Jedi. The padawan's master, presumably, who would have every reason to kill her.

It would be interesting to see him try.

He was still talking. My lady this, and my liege that. An unusual degree of dedication to the lie, up until the unfortunate guardsman with the binder cuffs and club got too close. Mr. Farazen's bodyguard snapped out of the act, and his attacker yelped and fell under sudden blasterfire. Nothing ruined an illusion quite like the stink of burnt flesh. Her empty hand came up, pulled the comlink from her ear.

“Shut it all down.” She intoned into the microphone before dropping it at her feet. A booted heel shifted, crushed down on the fragile assembly of plastic and wire. If the Muunilinst municipal guard and starport security combined could not stop one teenage boy and one old man …

“Oh, no. I agree completely. It's too bad about the treason.” Side-faced, she closed the distance between them with a lunge. She made to strike low, the ruby blade dipping towards the Jedi's legs, expecting to be blocked. Her offhand swiped at his gun arm with a long, straight knife.

[Jazen]

Now that flight over fight was in full effect, Jazen's actions were guided toward that principle, to that purpose. His eyes looked for ways to avoid contact with the enemy, to where the enemy was watching for him, to paths that would take them away from trouble and buy them a moment ro regroup. A normal person would have to rely sorely on their physical eyes and gut intution; Jazen had both those and the Force. He could feel the danger coming, the hostile intents gunning for them and did his best to take routes that took them away from the worst of it.

He could have easily lost his pursuers if he'd been on his own.

Unfortunatly, he was not.

Farazen, although pushed by Locke's influence, was slowing them down, often exposing them in one way or another just when Jazen had ditched the men chasing them. An uneeded squeal here, a slip on his fat face there. It was costing them valuable time, or more importantly, keeping Jazen away from returning to assist his Master. The thought burned heavily in his heart and mind as he dragged the man to his feet again and took another side street near the spaceport to double back towards it. The objective was to get the man to the ship as quickly as possible, where his own guards could take over.

Something had changed though. Jazen could feel it, could see it in the actions of those after them. They were appearing in places that, while only a minor threat to catching him, were constantly forcing him back towards where they'd be caught before. It didn't take a genius to realize what they were doing and why. They're herding us back towards their boss. She must have called for a shutdown.

The thought buzzed in Jazen's mind, along with the brief thought that Locke might have been beaten and that the Sith Lord was coming for them even now. He knew it to be wrong ,for his connection to Locke would have told him if something had happened. But it was there, a flash of concern. It almost cost them both their lives. Farazen tripping once again is what saved them.

Just as Jazen was rounding a corner, the man tripped again, sprawling on his face. Jazen stopped to look, paused, turned around...and the blaster bolt just missed his head as three armed men opened fire on them. Instincts long honed took over and caution be damned, Jazen's lightsaber buzzed to icy light, reflecting the bolts away and back towards his attackers even as he closed the distance between them. One man fell from a bolt to the chest from one of his fellowers, the other two dropped quickly by Jazen's saber strikes, they're weapons in shambles.

Rushing back to Farazen, Jazen grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him down another street and pulled him into the first store he could enter without breaking in. Or rather, the first warehouse, as they're attempt at flight had brought them to the areas where supplies were stored for the ships at the spaceport. The chaos had left several of them abandoned for the moment as the area was locked down and Jazen had no trouble finding an office in the place to hunker down for the moment and catch his breath. He guided Farazen to a corner, sat him down and tapped the man on the head. He looked like an overstuffed red balloon by now, wheezing like an old man.

"Stay there. Be quiet. Catch your breath. And keep your damn head down...sir." Jazen then retreated a bit to cover the door, making sure they were clear before hunkering down to focus on his link to Locke. His Master was okay, he could feel that...but he was troubled. For good reason no doubt. "Master...I've found shelter for now but they're cutting off all the exits but the ones that lead back to the spaceport. Long story short, the only way I can move is back towards you. We need to find a way to re-group. Sooner rather than later."

[Rugs]

“Oh, no. I agree completely. It's too bad about the treason.”

Hmm… Locke pondered, as thought advanced and the world beyond seemed, for a moment, to slow to a crawl, that’s doesn’t bode well.

The lady, it seemed, would not be fooled, even though he’d stuck to his façade with an obscene amount of dedication. He was saddened, surely, that all his good work went to waste, but hardly crushed. It was too much to hope they’d be able to simply board the ship and fly away into the sky without trouble.

She lunged, and he moved with her, taking an instinctive half backstep as his bumbling guard demeanor gave way to Locke the Jedi proper. His yellow-orange blade flared to life as his hand made a wide dipping motion to flick her stroke aside from his legs. The measure was a success, as the tip of his blade took the tip of hers and knocked it wide enough to keep his leg firmly attached to his body. A poor parry, some instinctive part of his mind chirped at him in response to the tip-to-tip, but better than losing a leg.

A flash of steel glinted in the neon lights. Locke reacted, twisting his body away as the knife bit out at him through the crisp night air. He’d acted quick enough to avoid a deep cut, but not to dodge the blade entirely as he felt a line of fire light across the middle of his bicep. He winced, gritting his teeth against a grunt as he retreated again to put further space between himself and the woman.

“Ah, a knife?” he said. “Can’t be satisfied with just burning a limb off, eh? Gotta make it bleed too?” He circled wide, all pretense of subservience gone from his voice.

He could still move his arm. That was a good sign. But the area around the cut felt odd…

No time to worry about it.

"Master...I've found shelter for now but they're cutting off all the exits but the ones that lead back to the spaceport. Long story short, the only way I can move is back towards you. We need to find a way to re-group. Sooner rather than later."

Locke fought the urge to scream in frustration as Jazen’s words came barging into his head. ”No. Don’t come back. Trouble.”

He had faith that the boy could find a way to get the old man off the ground and into orbit. That was all that mattered. They could not risk exposing Farazen to this woman again. ”Even if you have to leave me. I’ll catch up.”

“I guess that can’t be helped,” he muttered, closing toward the woman. He still stalled, still delayed, not pressing to attack. “Tell me, though, now that this is obviously a busted plot,” his blade licked out, a high shoulder-level strike meant more to test her defenses than truly try to bring her down, “how did you know?”

As long as she was tangled up with him, Jazen and the old man had a chance…

[Neology]

The last fleeting hint of the lie dropped away, dying with the characteristic snap-hiss of a lightsaber's ignition. The yellow blade flashed out, meeting her's with an awkward parry that she made no attempt to correct. Still, the knife struck a shallow blow as the Jedi twisted out of her reach, a flash of skin and red plush, seeming suspended for a moment. Gone again in a blink, though the man's face was drawn and tight, an echo of pain.

The duel was over, or would be in minutes. The man's need for banter could serve her well in that regard. After all, breath spent on sarcasm was breath not spent on trying to kill her, another moment for the venom in his blood to sing. She shifted her feet, balance recovered, and watched the Jedi circle. A short laugh came on the exhale, a wide smile that showed her teeth.

“Satisfied is a strong word, my friend, but it is what you would expect, isn't it? That each Sith be a sadist as well.” The smile faded, slowly, as she noticed a slight abstraction in the man's face. The Force thrummed; she could just barely pick out a familiar strain against the drums of onlookers' fear. The padawan? Her eyes narrowed, slits of icy blue, unable to say for sure. Still, it was irritating to have her opponent's attention turned elsewhere.

Yet she allowed him that moment. Why kill what you could catch, after all? A Jedi with a smart mouth; a captivating novelty that she would prefer to examine later. At length.

He moved then, and she lost a few words to his subdued tone. Her posture changed in response, shifting to a loose guard, bloody knife still in her offhand. His question brought a dimple to one cheek, matched by the lift of one arched brow.

“Why, I employ an excellent forensic accountant. Everyone should have one, or a dozen. New guards. A private flight off world. You can't have wealth like Farazen's without someone noticing -” Her words cut off as the Jedi's strike came. Her saber rose high, ruby blade hissing protest against the Jedi's yellow. Unexpected, the blow punished her guard, pressing her own lightsaber painfully close to her shoulder. The synthleather of her coat smoldered, a line of blisters crossing her collarbone. Her booted foot rose in response, aimed for the Jedi's groin. She reached out telekinetically, pushing against the man for balance and space.

[Jazen]

Jazen knew it was a risk to call his Master through the Force. He could have been deep in concentration as he fought the Sith woman...Novus she called herself...and his tiny interruption could be the tipping scale that cost his Master the battle. And his life. Jazen had weighed the pros and cons in his head before making the contact...and decided it was worth the risk.

As much as Jazen was a Jedi, he was still just a Padawan. He had learned a lot under his former Master Tylan and even more under Locke and the other Jedi he spent time with. But there was always more to learn, always more to discover. And then there was the hardest lesson to learn...the ability to make the mature and right decision, no matter how much it cost or hurt. It was something that one didn't simply pick up. It had to be molded through ones experiences, through trial and error, through mistakes and victories. Jazen had been forced to do those kind of choices at times, but lately Locke had gradually started to let him make the decisions more often, only chirping in if Jazen's choice had a truly negative outcome. It wasn't always pretty but when it was the right call, it helped Jazen to grow.

This was one of those times where the choice wasn't there at all. Jazen had two options on the table and he hated both of them. The first was to follow his Master's words and get Farazen out of there and to safety. That was the right choice, the logical choice. But it meant leaving Locke behind and in Jazen's heart, that made it the wrong choice. The man was the closest thing he had to a father and to leave him, quite possibly for dead, made Jazen hate everything that was good and logical.

The other choice was to try and go back for him, to combine their strength and try and drive the woman off to give them a chance to escape together. That choice was what Jazen wanted, to repay the woman for the last time they met, to help his Master, his friend. Jazen knew how strong that woman was and leaving Locke to face her alone...the thought was unbearable. But that meant taking Farazen back or leaving him alone, both of which could result in his recapture and likely, his death. As much as the fat man was grinding on Jazen's nerves, it had taken a lot of courage to decide to turn traitor on the Empire and for that, he earned respect. And in the long run, his intel could help the Republic far more then one Jedi amongst the many. It was a hard call; the life of his Master or the life of a man who could give them something that might spare millions of lives.


Jazen knew the choice was already made. He hated himself and everything for it but he wasa Jedi. He took that rage and shattered it, replacing it with the steely calm of a man who knew what had to be done. That didn't stop him from flinging the nearest crate against the wall in anguish, sending out all the negative emotions with it. Collecting his breath, he sent one final little message to Locke, quick and to the point. I will come back for you Master. So don't let a girl beat you."

The last bit was to hopefully courage him to find a way to win and escape. For now, Jazen turned his own attentions to escape. The clear plan was to force them towards the spaceport, where Novus was waiting. Which meant he needed to do something to distract them long enough to open a hole for him and Farazen to slip into and get away. Something that they couldn't ignore.

It was then that Jazen realized where he was and what was around him. Parts for ships. Supplies to be sent out. And fuel...an entire fueling station. A slow smile curled at his lips as he reached down and took all the detonaters he had out, eyeing some of the other flammable or explosive material around. "Hmmm...the Force provides. Come on sir...I have an idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't long after that a massive explosion shook the port, big enough that even Locke and Novus would be able to notice it from where they were fighting. One of the warehouses had suddenly exploded, gone in flames in an instant. The ship fuel inside had caught fire and the resulting explosion from it and the items stored within had taken out two more warehouses, along with a hangar. It drew the attention of everyone for clicks and brought a serious matter to be attended to down on the spaceport.

It also meant that some of the men that were bottle necking the port had to break away to assist with it, along with allowing the proper emergency services in to contain the fire before it spread even farther. And into that small gap Jazen and Farazen slipped, heading towards the ship that Locke had chartered. As they made for the ship, Jazen smiled a little. His plan, for the moment, seemed to be working. It hadn't been hard to get some of the materials in the hangar together and leave some of his grenades near them. He'd had to backtrack a bit for the hard part, gathering the two fallen guards and bringing them to the warehouse. Evidence of bodies and Jazen made sure that a guard saw him and Farazen, letting him report it before giving him a little suggestion regarding what he saw next. They moved quick after that, getting just far enough away for Jazen to send his last grenade into the hangar, active...and boom went the fireworks.

With any luck, his ploy would create the window for escape. The guard, easily able to mentally suggest, would report he saw them enter the warehouse right before it exploded and the bodies inside would confirm two people were inside. As charred as they were though, it would take time to identify and that would buy even more time. It should, if everything went right, but the brief window they needed to fly to safety. And as Jazen and Farazen arrived at the ship and dashed onboard, Jazen cast one look back at a slight shift in the Force, a dark feeling he couldn't shake.

"Be safe Master. I'll be back as soon as I can."

[Rugs]

“Ah, always the accountants,” Locke said, allowing a rueful smile. His strike rang out, apparently catching the Sith woman off guard as it came tantalizingly close to her flesh. Wouldn’t that be nice? he thought, not for the thrill of killing a foe—an act he took little pleasure in—but for something going right for once. So close.

And yet…

He let out a little cry of surprise as her foot shot out with the obvious intention of ruining his day (and the next few days to come). The blow, he avoided, but the surge of energy that washed over him like a wave, he did not. It pushed him off balance. Rather than fight for his footing, he killed his blade and let the motion carry him through a roll and back to his feet, where he came up out into a crouch. His saber reignited as he studied the woman.

He’d carried that out about as well as he could, but he couldn’t shake a certain dizziness buzzing at the edge of his perception. He squinted slightly, more annoyed by the sensation than anything else.

“I guess it’s only right that an accountant would bite me in the ass after all the times I’ve put ‘em to use,” he murmured, as if the brief exchange was nothing more than a matter of pleasantry in their conversation. Time. Take up time.

Even with the woman’s use of… Force only knew how many accountants, Locke suspected she had to have had some inkling of what she was after. He was no fool, nor was Farazen. They’d taken steps to cover the tracks, as least for as long as they’d need to get the old man offworld. Are the accountants that skilled? he wondered, rising to his feet with a saluting flourish of his sky-orange blade, or is it the hand that directs them?

“But I guess that’s the game,” he said, stepping toward the woman again. The world seemed to go out of, then return to focus very quickly. Locke paused, confused. The dizziness was worse, the buzzing grown to an ever-present pressure somewhere behind his temples.

That’s-

An explosion rocked the night behind them. A second followed, near immediately after the first. Locke glanced back to see the glow of fire rising behind the space port as the screams of panicked civilians filled the night. Smoke belched into the air, highlighted only against the vivid lights of the city’s central business and tourism district before merging into the night sky.

Jazen. Panic ripped through Locke’s gut, but no, the boy was fine. He even felt remarkably resolute, through the bond they shared.

That was almost more unnerving than Locke’s initial fear.

Locke’s attention snapped back to the woman. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on now, but he knew that he still had to hold her at bay. Come on kid. Get that old fart into the air and outta here. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, mind split between too many other things to take alarm at the sudden sweat wetting his skin, and closed in on her again.

[Neology]

Well, that worked – more or less. The Jedi swept back, allowing her push to carry him along. Novus shifted her weight as her foot came back down, correcting for the miss. Pleased to wait for his next attack, she watched him carefully. The flip was something of an academic curiosity; good form, even for someone that wasn't suffering from a dose of tuk'ata venom. Still, she rather thought he'd have been getting dizzy by now.

Perhaps he was. He lingered in that crouch, much the same position he'd landed in, a beat longer than she thought wise, his gray eyes narrowed to slits. When he spoke, his voice was low and indistinct. That she made it out at all was testament to how strangely quiet the plaza had become.

“Hmm.” The soft, inquisitive noise trailed off shortly, though her brows rose in genuine interest. Doctored books, secret missions … This man's vocation within the Order began to piece itself together, forming a path she'd once hoped to take, a skill set she'd brought to the Sith. Really, it was too bad about the way things had worked out: her needing to arrest him, him needing to not be arrested. (Never mind her past acquaintance with his padawan ...)

Still, a chance to compare notes sounded as though it'd have been positively illuminating.

”But I guess that's the game.” His words were a neat enough completion to her line of thought. The Jedi stood and began to close. She rose her saber to guard, though the blow did not come. Instead, the whole terminal seemed to shake. The Jedi turned his head, and they both watched the night sky come to life with wild plumes of flame.

“What have you done?” Her voice lacked tone at first, then began to fill with anger. “Was this the plan?! Get me distracted, get the police distracted ...” She met the Jedi's next advance head on, a two handed block that threw her strength against his. All around them, her senses were quickly drowned out. The fear had become something sharp, primal, and wild, a beast slipping its leash. Real pain, real death, thick and rich and terrible, hid the old man and the padawan from her beneath that depth of sensation even as they fed the Darkside.

“What have you done?!” The Sith demanded again, circling, battering against the his guard. He was slowing, though not nearly fast enough. Frustration mounting, she pushed at him, aiming vaguely for one of the steel support pillars. To her mild surprise, it worked. The man flew back, attempting the same maneuver as before but much too slowly. His shoulder clipped, and he was still. The yellow-orange saber went out. A moment later, she flicked her's off as well.

Novus approached, pale lips setting into a bloodless line. She scooped up the saber hilt, ascertaining with a glance that the Jedi still breathed. A wave of her hand dragged the body of the officer that he'd shot across the pavement. Reaching down, she relieved the corpse of it's radio and brought the transceiver up to her chin.

“This is Darth Novus. Fill me in quickly.”

[Jazen]

A very large part of Jazen didn't want to leave. It felt wrong, to leave his Master behind, at the mercy of a Sith Lord and the entire Empire around him. Jazen's muscles had tensed, ready to spring back out onto the planet and rush to his Master's side, to draw his blade and put their mutual might against a woman that Jazen had every reason to want to inflict pain on. And, though he didn't admit it to himself, a woman that Jazen wanted to see again for completely other reasons. Reasons that sent shudders down his spine; shudders that weren't all from fear and anger.

Jazen had been just about to do that, letting the guards and the pilot to handle Farazen, when he heard that little voice in his head, the voice of reason that came from his old Master. If you take an action in anger, fear or pleasure, you will do it again. It will get easier. And this is how the Sith were born. Sometimes, my Padawan, the easiest path is not the right one. Sometimes the right path is the one that causes us the most pain...but saves the lives of others. You'll understand...one day.


Jazen stopped in his tracks, every muscle in his body protesting the action but his mind was set. It knew what had to be done, even if he hated himself for having to make the choice. In the end, it was looking back to the guards, the pilot and Farazen himself that pushed his choice to the one he made. Tylan had been right. To rush forward as he had been, in anger, with revenge or something far worse in mind, would be forsaking everything he had fought for. That Tylan had taught him. And that Locke was sacrificing himself for. Jazen was a Jedi and his job was to bring this man safety back to the Republic, so that his intel might save many more. Compared to the life of one man, even a friend and teacher like Locke, how could Jazen say saving his Master over him, against his wishes, was the right choice? He couldn't...and he knew it.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt worse then any physical wound.

"Lets get him out of here. There will be ships fleeing the area on request...I made sure that those warehouses put us in the danger zone. I..I wasn't wrong, was I?"

The pilot looked to his co-pilot, then back to the kid, then to the closing ramp behind him. Clearly he was expecting why Locke hadn't come...but one look at Jazen told him all he needed to know. "Yea kid..we're just on the outskirts but its enough. Come on...let's go and get as far as we can before they wise up." The two pilots shuffled back to the cockpit to do just that, while one of the guards ushered Farazen, who was still dazed at how he'd gotten here, into a chair. Jazen himself dropped into his own suit and pulled his hood over his head. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Not after that last little feeling he had as the ship left the ground.


The feeling of his Master in pain.

~~~~~

It didn't take long for them to break away, using the confusion to their advantage. This wasn't the first time the pilots had pulled his off and Jazen stared out at the fading planet as they prepped the final stages before going to hyperspace.

His fingers were tight around his saber hilt, his eyes firm. There would be a time to be upset later. First, he had to finish the mission. Get Farazen to the Republic. As soon as that was done, he would see Master Levin. Locke wasn't dead...Jazen still felt him, albeit weakly. That was the silver lining at the moment. But Jazen knew who had him, had suffered and longed for her touch. And Jazen knew that Locke would soon be wishing, like him, that he was dead.

He'd hold out longer though. Locke would not break. And they'd save him. Master Levin would make sure of it.

"Just hang on Master. We'll have you out of there in no time." He didn't know if Locke heard him or felt his words. But he said them anyway. Then, heart set and determined, Jazen turned back to prepare his report for the Jedi. It was going to take some serious explaining.