“Come on, Corwin. Let’s get moving!” Darrin Arkanian dragged his human companion after him as they moved through the shadow-drenched alley. Above them, the city spires of Coruscant stretched impossibly high, still visible despite the fact that it was the middle of the night. Running strobes and traffic beacons, starlight and the glow from an endless procession of garish advertisements and glowlamps bathed the city sprawl of Imperial Center in a dim, gray-white light. The alley itself was unusually dark, however; a number of the glowlamps that generally illuminated this particular walkway appeared to be malfunctioning.
The young human - - Corwin Shelvay - - stumbled, gasping apologies to the elder Sullustan. “I’m sorry, Master Arkanian… I just can’t.” Shelvay’s voice was a hoarse, pathetic croak, and the youngster was gaunt, undernourished and wore the scars of a brutal Imperial interrogation.
“Calm yourself, Corwin. Remember your training,” Arkanian encouraged. “If you don’t, we aren’t going to make it out of here.”
Ahead lay a small courtyard, a tiny stretch of ground that was all that separated the pair from a transport station and, ultimately, the freighter that waited to get them away from Coruscant. “Once we meet Captain Rashh, we’re as good as off-planet, lad,” Arkanian said, hoping to coax Corwin to greater speed. “Let’s hope he’s punctual, eh?”
“I shouldn’t worry about that if I were you, Master Arkanian.” The voice that boomed from the courtyard dripped with menace. “I doubt very much that you will keep your appointment with the Rebel pilot.”
The Sullustan Jedi moved toward the sound of the voice, quickly snagging his lightsaber from his belt. At Arkanian’s action, a sardonic smile tugged at the corner of the newcomer’s mouth as he in turn stepped from the shadows into the dimly lit courtyard.
Sketching a mocking salute, the black-garbed figure announced, “I am High Inquisitor Tremayne. I believe your young companion remembers me.” Tremayne met Corwin’s gaze.
Corwin had crumpled to his knees in response to Tremayne’s presence, a low, feeble moan escaping from his cracked and bleeding lips. “No… not again…” he whispered.
“I am most impressed with Shelvay,” Tremayne continued nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather or the results of a recent swoop race. “He withstood the most intensive interview I have ever conducted. I look forward to testing that resolve again.”
Arkanian ignited his lightsaber, the blue-white blade humming as the Sullustan Jedi prepared to defend his student. “Don’t go near him,” he said, with a look of defiance clearly written across his non-human features.
Tremayne ignited his own lightsaber and launched a blindingly swift series of feints and attacks, though his green, shimmering blade was neatly parried by Arkanian’s saber as the twinkling weapons thrummed and sparked in a violent dance of light.
“You’re quite good, Master Arkanian,” Tremayne remarked. “Perhaps even my better with a lightsaber. It is a pity, though, that you won’t join me, alien. “
“My ally is the Force, evil child,” Arkanian shot back. “An ally that is easily capable of ending your reign of terror.”
Shelvay watched in horror, unable to do more than crawl back into the shadows. He didn’t see the armored figures skulking in the alley until they had pointed their Imperial-issue blasters at him and ordered him to remain motionless.
Tremayne had brought reinforcements.
The battle in the courtyard had reached a stalemate as the combatants circled each other warily. “Enough!” Tremayne shouted to the alley. “Troopers, kill the boy if the alien does not drop his weapon.” Turning to face the Sullustan Jedi Master, Tremayne growled, “Your choice, Jedi. Surrender, and the boy lives. Resist, and he dies.”
Reluctantly, Arkanian deactivated his lightsaber. “Let the boy go. He is of no use to you,” Arkanian said quietly. “Free Corwin, and I will come quietly.”
“I’m sure you will,” Tremayne replied. In an almost leisurely movement, the High Inquisitor swung his lightsaber at the defenseless Sullustan. Arkanian fell to the ground, a shocked death gasp escaping from his lips as his deactivated lightsaber rolled away.
At last, Tremayne thought. I have finally defeated a Jedi Master. The High Inquisitor stood over the Sullustan, the human smiling with triumph as life fled from the fallen Jedi. “Well, Master Arkanian,” he taunted, “it appears your journey has ended. And soon, your student will join you. Or perhaps,” he added, a mocking smirk twisting his angular features, “he will join my Master. The Emperor may have use for someone as resilient as Shelvay.”