A Practical Man 3

The Jedi was a middle-aged, solidly square man in dark gray civilian pants and a battered blue jacket. He was slumped against a wall, eyes closed, face blackened and burned. Clutched in one hand was the hilt of a lightsaber. Fett primed his jet pack and slipped a stun round into the dart thrower on his wrist. With any luck, the shock would be enough to subdue the Jedi without killing him. Fett needed the man to be fit enough to make it back to New Republic lines. Fett hit the burner controls and soared over the scorched wall as the Jedi looked up and went for his weapon. For an injured man, his reflexes were sobering: his lightsaber was humming a heartbeat before Fett dropped into the alleyway and fired the stun round.

The projectile streaked past the Jedi's slashing lightsaber and stuck fast to his chest, sending a disruptive charge through his body. It dropped him instantly and the lightsaber fell to the ground, but he still
struggled to reach for his weapon, fingers splayed, hand shaking uncontrollably.

"Don't push your luck," Fett said. He kicked the lightsaber hilt into the air with the spiked toecap of his boot and caught it one-handed. "I'm short of a green one for my collection." The Jedi wasn't in any shape right then to use it anyway. -Pg.55