Project Boussh: The Single Step
by Brad Corletti

My eyes are at last opened.

I see the energy washing about, a golden liquid that arcs electrically from 
all places, to all places, a fractal geometry of ordered chaos. A million 
supercomputers running for a million years could not begin to describe the 
luminous tempest before my vision. It is at once both tranquil and ferocious.

I obbserve the hallway through changed eyes. Ahead are the stormtroopers, 
each brightly lit by the flowing energy, each hotspots of living power.

The cloned Jedi stand before me, their backs throwing furious bolts of 
luminescence at each other, the sparks near blinding me. The Jedi gather 
themselves, and I can see the tendrils of energy being coiled, focused. 
Arcs of energy from the walls, the cieling, the floor; all are merged into 
a single ball of focused force.

The Jedi send the ball down the corridor. It hurtles along, forcing the 
golden sea to break in half at the sheer force being channeled. The ball 
crashes through the approaching men, pummeling them, splintering apart, 
severing connections.

Is this the Force, I wonder, or something else? Something more infinite, 
more beautiful? How could a power so wondrous be used so crudely?

The Jedi then advance and begin the slaughter.

Energy flickers and dies, as first one, then many of the white-clad 
enforcers of the New Order die beneath the hungry, flashing blades of the Jedi.

I, with my new perspective, am shocked by the dimming of so much light. I 
feel each blow as if it had been delivered to me personally. By necessity I 
begin erecting defences, mental shields. Soon I am observing as clinicly as 
before, my rational mind reasserting itself.

The Jedi leave the corridor, their task complete.

Then everything fades from sight.

--

I float in the void between stars. The light around me is brilliant in 
intensity, a sight the likes of which I've never seen or imagined. Stars 
flood my vision, so densely packed I wonder that they do not collide with 
each other.

Across from him sits a glowing blue old man.

"Where am I?" I ask. "Is this the afterlife?"

The man nods his bald head. "You are at the center of the universe." He 
laughs. "Where you always thought you belonged."

"I do not wish to be here," I say.

"Look around you," the old man says, so I do. The universe is revolving, 
spinning. Stars are dying and being reborn.

"Here you are safe from those you left behind. Everything that has come 
before is rendered mute. No ghosts will haunt you."

I shake my head. "But I cannot do anything here. I am powerless."

"And that is your true fear," the old man said. "I am glad to see I was not 
mistaken about you. Go. Live. You have much to learn."

--

And so the power leaves me. My limbs are afire with the aftereffects of the 
power that was leant to me, it feels like the return of blood to a 
compressed limb, only stronger. Whoever my benefactor, it was he who kept 
me alive when I resolved to die fighting on the _Admonitor's_ bridge.

As I gaze once more upon the corridor, I do not feel the same revulsion as 
I once would have. I see now that the lives of these men were not their 
own; they had sacrificed them to something as hollow as words on a page, 
and affirmed that sacrifice with the lives of others.

I clench and unclench my fists, and the last of the fire leaves them.

--

The doors to the bridge hiss open, and four Rebels emerge. Sci, Dorset, and 
two women I do not recognise, although I suspect one of them to be Winter, 
due to the shock of white hair and general resemblence to Carrie Fisher.

Sci looks at me calmly. I cannot read his expression. I get the general 
feeling that I am being sucked into a black hole, although I cannot explain 
why.

"You were working at cross purposes to us--or at least, skewed purposes-- 
so as to keep your droid-building business a secret. You assisted the 
Imperial units in crewing their ships, providing them with droids that they 
then provided to Atner. You had a major inside route to the Admonitor, and 
probably came within delta--within _epsilon_--of
killing us all, and yourself, several times over. You also seem to be able 
to dodge blaster bolts--"

As Sci gets to the part about my power, I decide it would be impolite to 
correct him. I hadn't dodged blaster bolts - blaster bolts had dodged me. 
Still, it surprises me that Sci had noticed at all; he had been busy with 
his own engagement.

Sci pauses for dramatic effect.

"Next time you do that, at least have the good graces to tell me first."

I blink. It just didn't parse. "What?"

"You heard me. You deactivated your droids at just the right moment,
managed to take out the ysalamiri, and killed Thrawn personally. It'll 
probably take some fancy verbal footwork, but I'll try not to get you 
executed or anything. Your punishment will be... you'll be stuck with
us for a while to come. How does that sound?"

He wants to work with me? After what I've done? He doesn't seem to 
understand. I've contributed to the Imperial war machine. I have blood on 
my hands. Contemplation of my sins freezes a grimace on my face.

The Rebels are probably a better place than many to atone.

"Stuck with you? Sounds worse than death." Then I grin, remembering how 
enjoyable it is to bait Sci. My mood transforms. Poor bastard doesn't know 
what he's just enlisted.

"Fine, I accept. Now then, let's get back to your ship and get the hell off 
this hunk of metal."