I ache from the blaster volley. The Beskar held. More importantly, the kid is alright.

We watch the figure in black together. He slices through dark trooper after dark trooper with a cold precision I’ve never seen. His emerald laser sword deflects blaster bolts with ease, and cuts through armor like it’s not even there. He reaches the turbolift doors.

Grogo stretches out his hand at the figure. What’s he doing? Trying to warn him? It won’t matter. The groan of servos outside indicates that the troopers outside march toward the turbo lift. The monitor’s show there are ten of them left. How is the man in black going to survive this?

The doors open. The troopers open fire. Volleys of scarlet blaster bolts fly toward the black-clad laster swordsman. He deflects them away as easily as all of the others. One swing, a trooper falls. Another swing, another falls. One is knocked back as though shoved. Another floats forward like it’s dragged. And it’s cut apart. The figure spins, light saber above his head, deflecting away more blasts. A gesture, and the decapitated head of a destroyed trooper flies out and crushes another. The blazing blade slices the ninth from head to waste.

The last one remains. The man’s hand extends. The Trooper shudders, paralyzed. The arms of the trooper pin to it’s side. It fires two blasts into the floor. The man’s fingers clench into a fist. The trooper’s black carapace buckles under an invisible pressure. Sparks fly. Then the crumpled body of the last trooper falls to the ground.

The hooded figure in black stands outside the dented blast doors, his light saber still activated. Grogu points at the screen. I tell the others twice, “Open the doors.”

No one does. “Are you crazy?” Fennec Shand says.

Ignoring them, I key in the command to open the damaged doors. They manage to part. Smoke from the destroyed dark troopers follows the hooded figure as he enters. Looking one way, then another, he deactivates his laser sword, clips it to his belt, then withdraws his hood. A young man with a weathered face, light dirty-blond hair, piercing eyes.

I ask him the obvious question. The only one I’m interested in. The one that may confirm Bo-Katan’s earlier pronouncement when she first saw him.

“Are you a jedi?”

life

or something

like it

how odd these unpredicted

deliverances

for Tanka Poets on Site: Gerry Muse #382. Prompt for 18th November 2023