STAR WARS: Presage of the Force (A Fan Fic by Michael Holiday)

Chapter 4

It hissed open.

Six Imperial Officers snapped to attention, and four stormtroopers swung in unison at the interruption. "Who's there?" A trooper raised his E11 baster to his shoulder, at the ready, and took a step toward the empty doorway. Another converged, covering his approach. The officers did not speak, knowing that unannounced visitors at the detention center were rare.

The two remaining stormtroopers turned to each other and cocked their heads, their faces hidden behind emotionless armor. Without a word, one motioned to the two closest to the door. Using hand signals, the trooper pointed to the pair, then the lifeless eyes of his helmet, and then the hatch. The two confirmed by powering up their weapons as they approached.

They inched forward, each guarding the other's flank. After a three-count, One leap-frogged ahead of the other and out into the corridor.

Empty.

BEEP-BLEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BLEEP.

"Ah. It's just a cleaning droid. Send another request to Control."

The boxy black droid rolled past in a meandering line, buffing the floor where needed. It stopped in front of the troopers. E11's charged, the two pointed their rifles at the cleaner-droid.

A red light atop the tiny robot blinked. It ran itself into the foot of one of the stormtroopers, belched out a series of bleeps and then scurried down the hallway.

"We've got another glitching droid. Level five, section AA-23."

The troopers surveyed the corridor one final time before sidestepping back into the detention center. One hit the red button on the inside and the door hissed shut, ending in a thud and the clanking of the lock mechanism.

"Cleaner droid, sir."

"All Clear," the other trooper reported.

The ranking officer snarled behind the communications console. "That's not good enough for me, trooper." He flipped a switch on the instrument panel. "Maintenance, level five, this is the HSDC twenty-three. Send a tech up to calibrate my entry lock. Now!"

"A tech-droid will be dispatched immediately, sir."

"No! I don't want a droid. Send me a real tech, a human tech."

"Right away, sir." The radio crackled, followed by a short pause. "Sir? Human techs are not as plentiful as droids, the soonest a tech can be there is next rotation."

The officer pressed his lips together, chest heaving as his brows drew together. His underlings shifted in their seats. "Very well. You have one rotation. After that, I will report your inefficiencies to Lord Vader myself. AA twenty-three out."

The troopers returned to their positions, rifles batting their chests in a clap as they straightened to attention. Behind them, the detention center deck glowed red down its hexagonal throat. A blur streaked across the metal grate spanning the width of the corridor.

Aided by the Force, Obi-Wan flitted down the cellblock corridor unnoticed. He snuck down the cramped walkway, masked by a hum of power generators while the officers resumed their duties. The Force tugged at the Jedi.

Obi-Wan stopped suddenly. He waved his hand at the button on the side of the cell, and the door whooshed open. He peered inside.

He found, huddled in the dark corner and curled in a fetal position, a man in tattered clothing. The blood-stained tunic matched his scarred face. He is here!