Battle to the End

by Michael Kogge

  The Inquisitor was speaking the truth. Master Billaba had haunted Kanan for many years after her death. Sometimes he swore he saw her phantom at the edge of his vision. Often during meditation he still heard echoes of her voice.

  “Tell me, Jedi, what was her last word to you?”

  Tears wet Kanan’s eyes. He remembered Master Billaba’s last word as if she had said it just the day before. That one word had defined his entire existence since her death. He couldn’t resist revealing it any more than he could hold back his screams.

  “Run.”

  The Inquisitor’s eyes glinted with delight. He went on with his questions. “And does your loyal and precious crew know you ran as your master fell? That you abandoned her and the Jedi Order when they needed you most? What do you think your rebels would do if they knew their leader was a coward?”

  Kanan trembled. The questions needed no answer. He had been running away from them all his adult life. The Inquisitor was right. He wasn’t a real rebel, just like he wasn’t a real teacher. Having abandoned the Order, he wasn’t even a Jedi.

  He was a fake, a fraud.

  The Inquisitor removed from his belt the two parts that made Kanan’s lightsaber hilt. “You’re even afraid of your own power. You don’t have the courage to wear your full saber out in the open.” He pointed the hilt at Kanan’s throat. “Let me tell you something, Jedi. You’re right to be afraid. You couldn’t save your master then—and you can’t save your followers now.”

  Kanan closed his eyes. He was ready for the Inquisitor to ignite the blade. Then, at least, his pain would end—and his life as a fraud would be over.

  A faint yet familiar presence brushed him. His eyes shot open.

  Ezra?

  “He’s there. He’s alive,” Ezra said.

  Hera toggled switches on the transport’s console. “Sending codes.” Her voice fluttered, barely containing her emotions.

  Ezra sat still. Chopper uploaded the transponder codes Fulcrum had sent weeks earlier in case of an emergency like this. The codes should mask their stolen transport’s true identity.

  But there was always a chance it wouldn’t work. Instead of responding, the Star Destroyer might reduce them to star dust. They might not even see the shot coming.

  A voice came over the comm. “Transport ship six-three-three-seven-eight cleared for docking. We have ten TIEs inbound with reinforcements. Open bay five.”

  Hera cracked a smile, the first in some time. “They bought it, Chop. Send in Sabine’s present.”

  Chopper released a TIE fighter from the transport’s cargo hold and sent it toward the Star Destroyer. Ezra and Zeb had stolen the TIE while they were on a mission to get meiloorun fruits. Instead of scrapping the ship, as Kanan had ordered, they had hidden it behind a giant stone mound on Lothal. The Empire had never found it, though when Sabine learned of their secret, she couldn’t help adding her painterly touch.

  Ezra hoped the Imperials would admire Sabine’s art long enough for the next phase of their plan to work.

  WHILE ON GUARD DUTY, JJR-579 observed something odd about the TIE fighter the Sovereign’s tractor beam had just pulled inside docking bay five. He called over his fellow trooper JTN-303 and pointed out the splashes of color that were painted all over the TIE. “That’s not regulation.”

  JTN-303 peered closer. “I kind of like it.”

  JJR-579 was about to question JTN-303’s loyalty when his helmet comm suddenly emitted a high-pitched squeal. The sound was so piercing he couldn’t hear. He couldn’t even think. His head pounded in pain. He gripped his helmet, trying to get it off, but Imperial regulations made the fit tight.

  As JJR-579 fell to his knees, he noticed the lights were flickering in the docking bay. Then everything went black.

  Sabine wasn’t just a painter. She was an artist. And good artists used all their skills when creating their best work.

  In prepping the TIE fighter, she had taken inspiration from technical schematics she’d found in Chopper’s downloaded files. She rigged detonators inside the cockpit to send out an electromagnetic pulse. The pulse would short-circuit all technology, from stormtrooper helmet comms to the Star Destroyer’s biggest systems.

  When Sabine activated the detonators, the pulse worked even better than she’d imagined. The Sovereign was reduced to using emergency reserves to keep life support running. Every other system was down.

  With the Sovereign’s tractor beam and turbolasers disabled, Hera was able to dock against the side of the Star Destroyer, near the detention area. Sabine looked forward to blowing a hole into the Sovereign’s hull, but Ezra improvised quicker. He carved a portal with his lightsaber. They all went into the destroyer, leaving Chopper to keep the transport’s engines running.

  Sabine was pleased to discover the effect her art had on her audience. Stormtroopers lay unconscious on the floor of the corridor, with their hands on their helmets. But Sabine knew it was only temporary. “These guys’ll wake up soon.”

  “How soon?” Ezra asked.

  “Too soon, I reckon,” Zeb said.

  Ezra led them down a few corridors before Chopper radioed Hera with an urgent message. Reinforcements were on their way.

  “How many troopers incoming?” Sabine asked.

  “At least two transports, minimum,” Hera said.

  “Don’t worry,” Sabine said. “On a ship this big, it’ll take ’em a while to find us.”

  Arriving at a T junction, she saw she couldn’t have been more wrong. Stormtroopers rushed toward them from the corner ahead, firing their rifles. The rebels turned to run back, only to have another squad come at them from behind. These weren’t your average cannon-fodder recruits. Grand Moff Tarkin commanded some of the most disciplined and experienced troops in the Empire.

  Sabine fired back as Zeb, Ezra, and Hera started to do the same. But there was no way they were going to beat the odds. They headed down the only empty corridor and ran for their lives.

  Farther down the corridor, a heavy blast door was closing to trap them. Quickly, each rebel leapt through the shrinking opening. As the door closed behind them, Ezra used his lightsaber to melt its locking controls. That would stall the troopers for a while.

  Sabine was impressed. Ezra had become quite skilled with a lightsaber, considering that only a few weeks earlier he had nearly amputated his arm multiple times. “Pretty clever, kid. So what’s next?”

  Ezra didn’t blush as he normally did when she complimented him. “Kanan is down that hall. I just cut off our only way to get to him.”

  “Might be our only way. But it’s not yours.” Hera glanced upward, at vents that circulated air. “Do what you do best, Ezra. We’ll keep the troops occupied.”

  “You know, one day I’m going to be too big to fit in here,” Ezra said.

  As Ezra climbed into the vent, Sabine almost remarked that he’d always be the Loth-rat of the group. But she held her tongue, because it wasn’t true anymore.

  KANAN SLUMPED in the chair. The Inquisitor was gone, but pain still racked his body. He was beginning to think he had imagined feeling his apprentice’s presence when the door to his cell opened and Ezra stepped inside.

  The boy said something Kanan couldn’t process. It took all Kanan’s breath to utter his next words: “You shouldn’t have come here…but I’m glad you did.”

  Ezra unlocked Kanan’s shackles. “You would have done the same for me. In fact, you have.”

  Kanan tried to stand up on his own, but his body was too weak. He fell into Ezra’s arms. Though half the size of Kanan, the boy somehow found the strength to keep Kanan on his feet and lead him out.

  But it was more than just the boy’s being strong. Ezra was channeling his strength to Kanan. With every step he took, Kanan found his muscles a little less exhausted, his nerves beginning to calm. And that strength came from the Force. The boy was channeling it into Kanan, just as Kanan had helped Ezra heal during their mission to the asteroid base.

  They faced no
trouble in the detention area. All the stormtrooper guards lay on the floor, knocked out cold. Ezra explained that Sabine had built a pulse weapon from stolen Imperial files, but Kanan’s head was too cloudy for him to understand. He leaned on the boy and staggered down the hall.

  Ezra seemed to know where they were going. He had memorized the layout of that section of the Star Destroyer, and said their fastest route was through the engine room. By the time they entered it, Kanan had regained enough strength to stand on his own.

  He would need more than that to go any farther. There, blocking the catwalk in front of them, stood the Inquisitor.

  “A chance to redeem yourself. What more can a Jedi ask for?” The Inquisitor ignited both blades of his lightsaber.

  Kanan had no weapon. His lightsaber hung from the Inquisitor’s belt. Yet even as weak as he was, Kanan wasn’t going to let his apprentice fight the Inquisitor for him.

  “Let me borrow that,” Kanan said, indicating Ezra’s lightsaber.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Ezra said.

  Kanan took it and charged down the catwalk, firing Ezra’s custom blaster extension. The Inquisitor easily deflected each shot, but hitting him was not Kanan’s purpose. He wanted to keep his nemesis busy, away from Ezra.

  When he was within striking distance, Kanan activated the blade and lunged. The Inquisitor repelled the blow, and they began to duel once again. Adrenaline surged through Kanan’s muscles, pulling him away from exhaustion. He forgot about the pain in his body and focused on the fight.

  It was a fight he could not—he would not—lose.

  Their blades clashed back and forth, illuminating the haze with lines of blue and red. Every thrust was dodged; every jab was blocked. Kanan could not gain the advantage, yet neither could the Inquisitor. The two had fought so frequently that each could anticipate the other’s moves.

  Kanan had a new trick up his sleeve, thanks to Ezra. Between slashes, he triggered the blaster extension. The Inquisitor was caught by surprise and found it difficult to block both blaster bolts and Kanan’s lightsaber attack. He was forced backward on the catwalk.

  Then Ezra ran toward them.

  Kanan wanted to tell the boy to go back—to run. But he didn’t—because running was what Kanan had done all those years. He knew it was also what Ezra had done, trying to run from the memory of losing his parents.

  No. Kanan was done running. So was his Padawan learner. The two of them would fight, together. As master and apprentice.

  Kanan locked his blade with the Inquisitor’s. He didn’t need to tell Ezra what to do next. The boy raised a hand and, with the Force, wrenched Kanan’s lightsaber loose from the Inquisitor’s belt. It sailed through the air into Ezra’s hand.

  Ezra activated the blade and leapt into the battle.

  “At last, a fight that might be worthy of my time,” the Inquisitor said.

  Though outnumbered two to one, the Inquisitor appeared to be recharged by Ezra’s attack. He struck back with a relentlessness he hadn’t shown before. His parries seemed effortless, and his attacks nearly bit flesh. Ezra advanced, trying for a jab from underneath, when the Inquisitor made a sharp gesture with his hand and cast him backward with the Force. The thud of Ezra’s fall rattled the catwalk floor.

  The Inquisitor pivoted back to Kanan, kicking him squarely in the chest. Then he used the Force to push Kanan down the catwalk, away from Ezra. It took some effort for Kanan to get up. He was losing his adrenaline boost.

  He might also be losing his apprentice. The Inquisitor sent his dual blades toward Ezra. The boy tried to deflect with his lightsaber, but the other weapon was moving too fast. It slashed Ezra across the face. In pain, Ezra dropped Kanan’s lightsaber and fell from the catwalk.

  Kanan stretched out with the Force. He made a tender, fatherly connection to Ezra for what might be the last time.

  May the Force be with you, Ezra Bridger.

  IN THE DARKNESS, Ezra heard many voices. They all called his name: Ezra…Ezra…Ezra! He heard his mother and his father. He heard the nasal tone of his snouted family friend, Tseebo. He also heard his new family. Chopper’s grouchy beeps. Zeb’s annoyed growls. Kanan’s sober manner that could put him to sleep. Then there was Sabine, who made his heart skip a beat when she called him by his real name and not “kid.”

  “Ezra?” Now he heard Hera’s voice. “Ezra?”

  He opened his eyes, and the darkness disappeared. Hera’s voice remained, loud and clear over his comlink. “Ezra, are you out there?”

  He moaned into his comlink. “I’m…here.”

  He had fallen onto a lower platform that ringed the engine. His face throbbed with a burning pain. He touched his cheek gingerly. There was no blood. The heat from the Inquisitor’s lightsaber had cauterized his wound. He would be scarred forever.

  “Do you have Kanan?” Hera said on the comlink. “Is he okay?”

  Ezra looked up at the catwalk. There Kanan fought with an intensity Ezra had never seen. He must’ve picked up his old lightsaber, because he fought with both blades, one in each hand. The Inquisitor struggled to ward off the attacks and soon teetered on the edge of the catwalk.

  “Yeah,” Ezra radioed back. “I think he’s better than okay.”

  His master’s voice echoed through the chamber. “You were right. I was a coward. But now I know there’s something stronger than fear—far stronger. The Force.” Kanan brought his blade upward. “Let me show you how strong it is.”

  The Inquisitor held up his lightsaber and triggered his blades to spin. They whirled around the axis of his hilt like a propeller, forming a circular shield of energy.

  On his downward arc, Kanan found the narrowest of gaps between the rotating blades. He sliced the Inquisitor’s hilt in half.

  The Inquisitor dropped the two pieces of his lightsaber. Losing his balance, he tumbled backward, saving himself from falling farther by grabbing the catwalk ledge. Below him, the engine core rumbled, shaking the room. Ezra saw that one piece of the lightsaber had lodged itself in the hyperdrive energy conduit.

  The Inquisitor clung to the catwalk, fuming like the engine core. “You have no idea what you’ve unleashed here today. There are some things far more frightening than death.”

  Kanan aimed a lightsaber at the Inquisitor’s throat. For a moment, Ezra thought Kanan was going to kill the Inquisitor. But his master deactivated both lightsabers and glared at the Inquisitor, saying nothing.

  The Inquisitor sneered back, then released his grip on the catwalk. He plunged past Ezra and met his end somewhere below in a loud crash.

  The ship rumbled. The piece of the Inquisitor’s hilt was obstructing the energy flow of the hyperdrive. The engine was erupting, and there was no chance of fixing it. The Sovereign was going to blow.

  Ezra scrambled up a ladder to the catwalk. He found his master on his knees, his head bowed toward where Ezra had fallen.

  “Kanan,” Ezra said.

  His master turned. He looked like Ezra’s parents had when, after a long day of searching, they had found Ezra wandering the spaceport alone. “I thought I lost you,” he said.

  Ezra smiled, even though it hurt to do so. “I know the feeling. Let’s go home.”

  HOME WAS THE GHOST. Going back was not easy. The stormtrooper reinforcements prevented Hera, Sabine, and Zeb from rejoining Ezra and Kanan in the engine room. With the Sovereign shaking from internal explosions, the three sprinted to docking bay five, where they crammed into the multicolored TIE Hera called “Sabine’s masterpiece.”

  There wasn’t any extra room in the TIE; it was designed to fit one human pilot, and definitely not a Lasat. But Hera didn’t want to depart without the rest of her team. “We are not leaving you here on your own!” she commed Ezra. They’d risked everything they had to rescue one of their crewmates, not to lose another.

  Kanan’s voice came over the comm. “I’ve got him, Hera. You take care of Zeb and Sabine. Trust me.”

  Hera was momentarily startled, as she hadn�
�t heard from Kanan for so long. But she was also encouraged. They had made the right choice in disobeying Fulcrum to save Kanan. And the calm confidence in his voice reassured her that he would get both himself and Ezra out alive.

  She elbowed Zeb and Sabine aside and launched the TIE out of the docking bay.

  In space, she found they were an immediate target for Imperial transports and patrolling TIEs. “We had to take the TIE that had a bull’s-eye painted on it,” grumbled Zeb.

  Hera radioed Chopper for help, but there was no response. She couldn’t even see the stolen transport on the scopes.

  She banked the TIE to the side, weaving through enemy fire. As good a pilot as she was, she knew that without Chopper’s assistance, they were doomed. TIEs had no shields, and one lucky shot could end everything.

  “I can’t believe that bucket of bolts abandoned us!” Zeb growled.

  Hera couldn’t, either. But she didn’t have time to think about why Chopper would leave them. A TIE came up right on their tail, in range of making a devastating hit, with two more TIEs close behind.

  Before their pursuer could fire, a barrage of lasers sent him and the other two TIEs careening away. The Inquisitor’s curved-wing TIE took their place.

  “We’ve got your back,” Ezra commed.

  Hera smiled. Through the canopy she could see Kanan piloting the Inquisitor’s TIE fighter. He and Ezra must have taken it from the docking bay. Yet even his help might not be enough. Squadrons of TIEs launched from the other Star Destroyers. The rebels were outnumbered to such a degree that even Chopper wouldn’t have been able to calculate the odds of survival if he had been there.

  A triumphant melody of beeps chimed over the comm. They sounded like…Chopper? Emerging from hyperspace in front of them was none other than the stolen Imperial transport, three blockade runners, and the Ghost.