Nineteen days later.
Modified YT-1300 freighter, the Millennium Falcon sat guarded by a pair of Stormtroopers, its spiderweb canopy cockpit glinting in the bright lights of the enormous hangar. Obi-Wan trembled at image of the bloated battle station when the powerful tractor beams had locked-on to the ship. Now tasked with the job to deactivate the tractor beam, he allowed the Force to guide him.
Obi-Wan balanced on the ledge of the tower that housed the tractor beam, scanning the control levers before him. A gaping chasm stretched far below, down through the subdecks of the Death Star. Cylindrical magnets coated in high grade durasteel ran from the heart of the station, stretched past his perch, and continued just as far overhead, gathering at a narrow port where the station's surface touched the blackness of space. When charged with electrons, the two hundred tractor beam shafts magnetized, primed to snare megaton-class vessels in their grasp. The Force told the Jedi that one disabled device would not ping any warnings, at least not until the tractor was activated. And then they could make their escape.
He pulled down the levers one-by-one and turned a pair of knobs. The console hummed in decrescendo as if the energy were being sucked from its core. This was easy.
Before he could celebrate, a patrol of stormtroopers crossed onto the catwalk, boots clanging on the steel bridge. He slipped back into the shadows.
"Over here. Let's check out those readings."
"Roger that," the other replied.
Obi-Wan twisted dial and restored the switches to their on positions. The tractor beam came on-line, humming as it powered up just as the troopers swept past the area, and reported in.
"SA0513 and SA0413 reporting in. All clear. We're moving on to the next sector."
Two deep breaths later, the stormtroopers pounded across the bridge and disappeared into the bowels of the Death Star. Again, Obi-Wan deactivated the tractor beam. He peeked around the tower and then hurried toward the door. Near the end of the bridge, he stopped walking, hands to his chest. Obi-Wan stumbled forward and leaned against the wall just inside the corridor. He stroked his beard. There's a presence here I haven't felt for a long time.
He diverted from his plan to head back to the Millenium Falcon. Instead, he snuck down the hallway, working his way toward the faint blip of consciousness that beckoned his attention. A radio crackled, and he ducked into an alcove.
White and menacing in their helmets and armor, the squad of stormtroopers marched past his hiding place, boots stomping in rhythm. Obi-Wan drew in a long even breath, before dashing across the passageway. Once across, he crept into the shadows behind a column of durasteel.
I'm getting too old for this.
An Imperial Officer strode past. The Officer's polished boots blended with the mirror-shined floor, black on black. Her uniform was neat but snug, and she buried her head in the data pad she carried, so much that she probably would not have realized the Rebel infiltrator if he were standing out in the open.
Obi-Wan gestured with his hand and whispered, "Move along." When the woman disappeared around a corner, he continued his cloak and dagger movements—sector by sector.
Level by level, he drew closer to the familiar signature in the Force. Four levels later, Obi-Wan stopped abruptly. He checked around to make sure he had not been discovered, holding up below the doorway hatch marked HSDC. High Security Detention Center. Just my luck. He pressed the button to activate the door.
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!
Obi-Wan entered the cell. "Master Windu!"
Shaking, a head raised from the crippled mass. "A bit old for an Imperial Interrogator, aren't you?" His eyes darted about his cell and to Obi-Wan. "What'll it be this time, hmm? Torture? Mind probe?" The dark-skinned Jedi clutched his ribs at sat up, eyes staring into an abyss. "I'll not disappoint. Come on, then. Get on with it."
"Master Windu. It's me. Obi-Wan."
***
The captive gazed at one of the polished walls in the holding cell and stared at his reflection. Gray hair flowed over his shoulders, a stark contrast to the clean-shaven style he preferred before his incarceration. He touched his beard and compared it to the one who called himself Obi-Wan. Both were peppered white and gray, but Mace's unkempt facial hair extended down to his chest.
Mace Windu straightened, sparked by an inner energy that he had been protecting for many years. It must be at least twenty years since Palpatine. I knew this day would come.
"Young Ben Kenobi, is that really you?" Master Windu rubbed his eyes and leaned forward on the narrow bench.
"It is I, Master." He gave a slight bow. "I have come to free you, as you told me I would those many years ago." Obi-Wan paused. "Though I must admit, your directions were terrible."
Mace chuckled, grabbed at his ribs and winced. "Yes. I suppose they were." He licked his cracked lips. "It hasn't been long since they transferred me here. I lost track of my time in the Emperor's dungeon on Coruscant. Tell me. How long has it been?"
"Nineteen years, Master Windu. And for a good many of those, I lost track of your presence and feared the worst."
"Nineteen years," Mace said, touching his face and then gazing at his trembling hand.
Obi-Wan reached into the fold of his robe and retrieved a nutrition bar, handed it to the Jedi Master. "Eat it in small bites," Obi-Wan instructed as he pulled out a thin flask of water next. He passed it to Mace.
The newly liberated Jedi's opened his eyes wide when Obi-Wan removed the final object from his robe. The alloys of the cylindrical hilt glistened even in the poor lighting of the cell.
"I retrieved this from your chamber in the Temple, Master. I hope you do not mind."
Master Windu took the lightsaber and grasped it firmly.
A smile formed across Obi-Wan's lips. "I trust you still no how to use it?"
Mace stared at him for a full minute, tears welling in his eyes but refusing to fall. My backup lightsaber.
"Obi-Wan, my friend, I could not ask for anything more. You have done exactly as agreed, all of this according to the Force dreams and plan we derived decades ago.
Windu rubbed his right shoulder, exposing the bandaged stub that remained of his limb. Obi-Wan gasped.
"Now-now. No need for that. Skywalker followed his part in this grand design, his fate far grislier than mine." Windu coughed and stood, knees wobbling. "He was right, you know? Killing Palpatine then would have only delayed the inevitable. I have seen it. Anakin was right."
"As have I." Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment as if sensing something. "It is as we feared. Palpatine had cloned himself before he overthrew the Senate and rose as Emperor. Only by playing out this charade has Master Yoda been able to confirm the existence of the cloning facility. But, as we knew then, the location will only be revealed to his apprentice."
"Let us not dwell on our well-laid plans here and now. We all know what we must do, even the new Skywalker. What's their name?"
"Luke. His name is Luke—but there is ano—"
Mace interrupted. "No. It's not important. We are short on time, Master Kenobi." He stabbed the activation stub on the hilt and a pink blade snapped and hissed to life, brought it up to his ear. The energy blade seared off a lock of his tangled hair. Mace brought the blade in front of his face and skimmed his chin over the humming weapon. "Come, Ben. You will give me my last haircut and shave. These sacraments I bestow upon you."
"As you wish, Master." Obi-Wan lit his own lightsaber, blue-blade following the contours of his comrade's skull until all his hair fell to the floor. "Ah. There you are."
"Now you must go, my friend." Mace gave a nod. "You must fulfill your destiny, as I must fulfill mine. We are one with the Force."
Obi-Wan did not argue. Instead, he bowed in respect and said, "May the Force be with you, Master." He turned to leave, checking back to his friend one last time before shutting the door, leaving the armed Jedi Master to await the next person who entered. That person would be most unfortunate.