His hands trembled. The air was hot and still and he sucked at it with desperate heavy pants. He stood alone in a wide hanger. His senses gathered and he looked down at the bodies at his feet. There were two of them; one broad, hulking, bloodied and spread-eagled, the other diminutive, pale, and curled up like a stillborn. Like his, their clothes were torn, charred, and stained with glistening crimson. He winced, it was the first time he'd smelt burnt flesh.

A deep thud resounded through a large blast door at the far end of the hanger. He looked up and cast his weary gaze along the length of the room. Near the blast door there was a vacant speeder bay, scored black and smoking where the metal was melted. In the corner, the workshop was in disarray and peppered with bright licking flames. There was a louder thud against the blast door which echoed like a tired old bell.

He dropped to his knees and rested his weapon in his lap. His eyes closed and he poured all of his concentration into breathing, drawing in air softly though his nose and exhaling slowly through his aching mouth. The pain dissipated and the recurring clang of metal faded like a ship lost in the fog. Then the blast door opened.

It creaked and groaned as its metal mass lifted and vomited garish sparks from its control port. Beyond the entrance, two shafts of light hung eerily against the heavy dark of night and in the warm red glow stood the silhouettes of two men. They loomed over a third body, the light of their humming weapons danced in his lifeless eyes. There were footfalls and the looming shadows took on shape and definition. One of them called out, his voice sang with hungry malice.

"This is where your story ends, Jedi."

The boy stood, his lightsaber sprung to life, and he approached his enemy.