Damned Fool Idealistic Crusader
My former master is here, now.
Tarkin was glowering, attempting to accept the fact that Leia Organa had lied about Dantooine, and Admiral Motti and I were trying to cheer him up. "Look at this," Motti said, pointing to the news-screen; "the Rangalorians have turned in their own Royal House for supporting the Alliance! The initiative is working, Grand Moff, just as you predicted!"
Tarkin nodded somberly. "That's a bit disappointing, really. I had hoped to destroy Rangalor."
That's when Lieutenant Cass reported that we had captured an armored Corellian freighter that matched the description of one that had blasted its way out of Mos Eisley on Tatooine. I rushed immediately to the hangar in order to perceive the tendrils of Force that might cling to ship directly.
The troopers claimed no one was aboard, including droids. I ordered a scanning crew and stood back to survey the battered vessel. The Force hummed, its filigree fingers dancing just beneath the surface of space. There was portent here. I could swear I could taste the spirit of my old master Obi-wan Kenobi in the air, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
I reported to Tarkin, who scoffed. He believes the gifted are extinct save myself and my master, but this is because he is under the impression that a sensitivity to the Force is something that is learned. With the Jedi Order wiped out, Tarkin can see no way for new gifted to arise. As each moment passed I felt Obi-wan's presence with greater clarity, his mind broadcasting out to me from within the station.
He calls to me. He wishes to face me. Perhaps the fool thinks he can turn me, or even more foolishly, destroy me. When we last we met on Mustafar I was but the padawan, but now my powers have increased a hundredfold. Whatever that cunning old liar has in mind, there is but one fate he will meet: being struck down by my blade.
I go now to seek him out. I will write again once he is dead.
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