The Trandoshan had lost both its arm and its shield, but that didn’t stop it using its thick head as a battering ram. Bony ridges thudded into Stellan’s gut, knocking what little wind was left from his lungs. He fell, the back of his head cracking on the floor, stars exploding behind his eyes as his lightsaber flew from his fingers. The Trandoshan was on him, its one remaining hand tight around his throat, the grip like durasteel. Stellan gagged, unable to breathe, his only defense his smog-stung hands that tried to pry the monster’s fingers from his neck. No. There was something else. There was always something else. He was Jedi.

Stellan pushed out with the Force. There was no focus, no aim. His senses were too dulled for that, his strength fading. Instead, the Trandoshan shot into the haze as if caught in a tractor beam, its claws raking Stellan’s throat as it was forced to let go. Stellan’s cry was drowned out by a crump of muscle against metal, followed by a second terrible crash that shook the ground beneath him. He jumped up, clutching his throat, knowing what he had done even before a keening wail cut through the smoke. Stellan stumbled forward, trying to part the mist in front of him, all too aware of what he would find.

The Trandoshan had flown back, striking the walker’s ladder with such force that the metal steps had toppled over, clattering into the ground.


Star Wars The High Republic The Rising Storm Chapter 38