Chapter 2: The Cantina Incident
POV: Kael Vorn
Three days of paranoid experimentation had yielded mixed results. Kael could move objects—coins danced across his palm like trained pets, datapads slid obediently from shelf to desk, and this morning he'd managed to levitate an entire chair for nearly thirty seconds. The Force Codex tracked each success with mechanical precision.
[FORCE PUSH: 15/1000 USES]
[FORCE PULL: 8/1000 USES]
[TELEKINETIC CONTROL IMPROVING]
The progress felt glacial. At this rate, he'd reach basic competency sometime after the heat death of the universe. Meanwhile, Kael Vorn's inherited credits were evaporating faster than moisture on Tatooine. The real Kael—whoever he'd been—had apparently lived paycheck to paycheck, and Kyle's Earth knowledge of fiscal responsibility meant nothing when you were dead broke on an alien world.
Which brought him to the Rusty Rancor.
The cantina squatted in CoCo Town's deepest levels like a tumor, all flickering neon and broken dreams. The air reeked of cheap ale, cheaper perfume, and the distinctive musk of beings who'd given up bathing along with hope. Conversations buzzed around him—Republic recruitment drives, clone deployment schedules, whispered sympathy for Separatist ideals. Intelligence that would be worth something to the right buyer.
Kael nursed his single drink and practiced suppressing his aura. The silver-gray glow had become less noticeable with conscious effort, though the System helpfully reminded him that any emotional spike would undo his careful control.
[FORCE CONCEALMENT: MARGINAL SUCCESS]
[EMOTIONAL STABILITY: MAINTAINING]
[AURA VISIBILITY: 23% OF BASELINE]
"Not perfect, but better than a lighthouse."
A shadow fell across his table. Three figures loomed over him—a Devaronian with filed teeth, a human with scars mapping his face, and a Twi'lek whose head-tails twitched with predatory interest. The Devaronian's eyes fixed on Kael's datapad—expensive, a remnant of his inherited life.
"Nice hardware," the alien rumbled, voice like gravel in a blender. "You new around here, meat?"
"Just passing through," Kael replied, keeping his voice level. His Earth instincts screamed trouble, but the Force Sense flickered at the edge of his consciousness—danger, but manageable. Probably.
"See, that's a problem." The scarred human stepped closer, hand resting on a vibroblades's hilt. "Grakus here, he runs information through this sector. Strangers with fancy tech, they pay the newcomer tax. Call it... insurance."
Kael's mind raced through options. He could try talking his way out, but three-to-one odds and weapons involved suggested diplomacy had limits. He could run, but they'd blocked the main exit. He could—
"Let's not make this complicated," Grakus said, extending one clawed hand. "Datapad, credits, anything else valuable. Consider it an investment in your continued health."
"Wrong choice of words."
"And if I refuse?"
The Devaronian's filed teeth gleamed. "Then we discuss your payment plan out back. Privately."
The vibroblade whispered from its sheath, ten inches of humming metal that could carve through bone like butter. Kael felt his control fracture. The Force Sense exploded with proximity alerts—weapon drawn, intent to harm, multiple aggressors, escape routes blocked—and underneath it all, the memory of Kyle Ford's final moments. Metal and glass and the smell of his own blood.
Terror flooded his system. The aura suppression shattered.
"I said no."
Kael thrust both hands forward, instinct overriding training he'd never received. The Force erupted from his core like a dam bursting, raw and uncontrolled and absolutely devastating.
The wave of telekinetic energy hit Grakus and his crew like a speeder going full throttle. They didn't just fall—they flew, smashing through the cantina's rear wall in an explosion of permacrete and twisted metal. Every glass in the establishment shattered simultaneously. Tables overturned. Patrons dove for cover as debris rained from the ceiling.
Silver-gray fire blazed around Kael's form, visible to every eye in the room. The Force sang in his veins, intoxicating and terrible.
[FORCE PUSH: EMERGENCY ACTIVATION]
[POWER EXCEEDED SAFE PARAMETERS]
[FORCE PUSH: 16/1000 USES - SIGNIFICANT ADVANCEMENT]
[WARNING: AURA FULLY MANIFESTED]
[JEDI DETECTION PROBABILITY: 87%]
Silence crashed over the ruined cantina like a physical weight. Beings stared at him with expressions ranging from awe to terror. Someone whispered "Force-user" in a dozen different languages.
Through the smoking hole in the wall, Kael could see the three thugs groaning in the alley beyond. Alive, but definitely reconsidering their career choices.
Then he heard the sirens.
Coruscant Security Forces. Coming fast, and probably bringing heavy weapons designed to handle rogue Force-users. Kael bolted for the emergency exit, his borrowed memories providing knowledge of maintenance tunnels and service passages that honeycombed the lower levels.
Behind him, the cantina erupted into chaos. Patrons fled in all directions. Someone was screaming about calling the Jedi. The hole in the wall let in the distant wail of approaching speeders.
Kael hit the fire escape at a dead run, taking the stairs three at a time. The Force enhanced his speed and balance without conscious effort, the System tracking his progress with clinical detachment.
[FORCE SPEED: PASSIVE ACTIVATION]
[FORCE JUMP: 1/700 USES]
[EVASION PROTOCOL ENGAGED]
He reached the rooftop and kept moving, leaping between buildings with inhuman grace. The lower levels' architecture favored escapees—twisted metal walkways, abandoned construction, a labyrinth of shadows where credit-chip surveillance couldn't penetrate.
But something else was following him. Not the clumsy pursuit of security forces, but a presence in the Force like a lighthouse beam cutting through fog. Steady. Powerful. Unmistakably Jedi.
"Obi-Wan." Kael recognized the signature from a thousand episodes, calm discipline wrapped around a core of dry humor and steel. Of all the Jedi who could have responded to the disturbance, it had to be one of the competent ones.
Kael dove into a ventilation shaft, crawling through the building's mechanical systems until he emerged six blocks away in a drainage tunnel. His clothes were torn, his hands bloody from the rough metal, but he'd lost his pursuer. The Force told him he was alone.
He slumped against the tunnel wall, water from a hundred thousand stories above dripping around him. The adrenaline crash hit like a physical blow, leaving him shaking and nauseous.
[FORCE EXHAUSTION: MINOR]
[EMOTIONAL SPIKE SUBSIDING]
[AURA CONCEALMENT POSSIBLE - REQUIRES CONSCIOUS EFFORT]
"Seventeen hours. I managed to stay hidden for seventeen hours."
The System's analysis scrolled past his vision, noting power improvements, measuring the gap between his current abilities and basic competency. All meaningless now. Somewhere in the Jedi Temple, Masters were discussing the disturbance in CoCo Town. Obi-Wan would file his report. They'd investigate.
And when they found him—when they asked who he was, where he'd trained, why he'd never been identified by the Order—what could he possibly say?
That he was a dead man from another universe? That he knew their future? That their beloved Chancellor was the Dark Lord of the Sith orchestrating their destruction?
[META-KNOWLEDGE COMMUNICATION BLOCKED]
[TIMELINE INTEGRITY PROTECTION ACTIVE]
The same gibberish would pour from his mouth. The same cosmic joke that made him the only person who could save them and the least capable of explaining how.
Kael closed his eyes and felt the weight of prophecy settling on his shoulders. Somewhere above, the city hummed with life. Somewhere beyond, clone troopers fought and died for a cause that would betray them. Somewhere in the distance, Anakin Skywalker took another step toward becoming Darth Vader.
"I can't warn them. But maybe I can be ready when everything falls apart."
The Force Codex pulsed in his awareness, patient and alien. Eight abilities unlocked, dozens more waiting in its database. Power enough to matter, if he could survive long enough to master it.
If the Jedi didn't find him first.
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