Weaponless: The Outer Jedi

Idiots. If you get so lucky as to take a Jedi by surprise, you don’t just throw him in a cell and hope for the best. You sedate him and keep him unconscious. A conscious Jedi, even hurt, drunk, drugged or dying, is still stronger than most other beings. They didn’t even bother with a complicated manacle. Sometimes I feel insulted.
I pried open the control console, the one on the other side of the energy barrier. It came off easily enough and I managed to lay it down on the ground without making too much noise.
Most Jedi are almost like blunt weapons when it comes to force use. They go on about how the Force is this magnificent thing, to be studied, admired and used as guidance. I agree with them on the first thing but it is a field, a medium, a tool to be used. They try so hard to be led by it that they don’t try and lead with it. And at these exact moments, that is where they are lacking, and here is where I pride myself on my skills. What they teach the youngsters is how to push and pull but you can do so much more.
So I manipulated the insides of the console, shorting out a few minor functions before I hit the right one and the barrier disengaged. Poking my head out into the hallway, I saw prefab tunnels, a corridor like one that you would find on old haulers or in an underground bunker. There were only three other cells in this section and the other end of the corridor curved off into the cheaply lit unknown. I snaked down that hallway, slightly touching the reinforced bulkheads so to not trip over my feet. I could sense their presence so I looked right and saw one of the raiders who snuck up on me. He was standing near the security door and he was smoking. Disgusting pig.
I pulled him back, sending him flying across the mesh floor, and closed the door behind him. He skidded to a halt as I jetted forward, leaping above his massive frame so I could face him. He was a Gammorean – I hate those assholes – As thick as AT-AT armor, very little intelligence and almost no manners.
He was recovering, looking around and trying to figure out what had happened when I sent my presence forward and used the Force to grab his skull. It was my variation on the Choke Hold and one of the reasons the Council wanted nothing to do with me but it was damn effective. Since these guys crush bricks on their foreheads as often as some bar goers crush beverage cans, I had to press hard before I saw results.
It’s one thing to be held up by your throat. With good lungs and several practicable techniques, you can hold on for quite a while. The Skull Hold was different. It hurt like being held up by your hairs and having a concussion combined. And since I was pulling almost all the stops, it must also feel like having your head jammed inside the slowest compactor in the quadrant. His legs left the grate as I tightened my grip.
“If you want your brain to still be in your skull by the end of the day, I suggest you tell me where my gear is.”
He grunted in reply. Not one of those angry expenditures of air they are known for but more of a croaked squeal.
“If you tell me now, you might only need minor surgery.”
He unleashed a new series of grunts and whiffs and held his head. The rest of his body was slumped.
“And do I need an access key for the storage room?”
The last squeal sealed the matter for me and I had no further use for him. I released him and he fell to the floor in a mess of entangled limbs. I stepped over him and towards the storage area, where they probably kept all their loot. I knew that besides that guard and the pilot, the ship was empty, everyone else was out. So I could take my time in recovering my gear. They’d better have not touched my light sabre. Did or did not, I will not leave with out saying good bye. I’ll give them a little present… in their intake conduit.


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