From the crowd, more blasterfire as the remaining marauders saw their chance and fought their way toward the gates. It was turning into chaos, a full-on battle, as families of refugees fought back—clearly some had their own weapons, carried in case of emergency.

And still, every moment, the larger disaster loomed. The longer these people remained on the planet, the greater the chance they all died when a projectile impacted the surface. In fact, it seemed like something already had.

Far to the west, a huge, dark cloud was swelling up into the sky on a gigantic column, spreading out into a thick disk as it reached the upper atmosphere. Moans of terror rippled through the crowd of refugees. Massive clouds of darkness on the horizon were rarely a good sign.

“This has to stop,” Loden said.

“I agree…” Bell said. “…but how?”

His master looked out at the fighting. Then he glanced at the sky, where the Nova still circled slowly high overhead. Or maybe he was looking for fiery trails spearing in from space, signifying doom falling on the planet, nothing a lightsaber could knock back no matter how good its wielder might be.

It turned out he was evaluating, deciding. Making a plan.

“Apprentice,” Loden said. “Protect me.”

Without waiting to see how his Padawan would interpret this order, Loden deactivated his lightsaber. Just in time, Bell deflected a bolt that would have blasted a hole right through his teacher’s chest.

Favor repaid, Master, he thought.

Loden closed his eyes, holding his hand up in front of him, palm out. He snapped his fingers out, spreading them like a star.

That was all Bell could see—he stepped in front of his master, his lightsaber in a guard position, snapping blaster bolts back toward the guards on the wall.

Nothing will get through, he thought. I will protect my master.

He felt a surge in the Force behind him, and eight figures shot up from the crowd, rising into the air. The remaining marauders. Most dropped their weapons, but some sent a few shots wildly into the air, hitting nothing, yelling in fury, their limbs flailing, before their blasters were yanked from their hands.

Bell was in awe. This was the power of the Jedi. This, someday, could be him. Would be him.

Even the Ranoraki guards stopped firing as all eyes watched the attackers rise into the air. Higher, higher, three meters, five, ten…and then they dropped. They fell, like rocks thrown off a cliff, screaming, for perhaps a second and a half. Then they hit, and the screams changed to moans of pain.

They weren’t dead. Bell would have sensed it. But these people would kill no one else. Not today, or perhaps ever.

Cheers erupted from the crowd, which both Jedi ignored. They did their work because it was right, and for no other reason.

“Thank you, Bell,” Loden said.

“You’re welcome, Master.”


Star Wars The High Republic Light of the Jedi Chapter 13