The bearded man looked up from his cook fire to the night sky. He could visibly see the glowing ship moving across the sky. It couldn't be missed, really. It was the biggest, brightest object up there, standing in stark contrast to the rest of the stars and space junk.
He'd seen many ships orbiting various planets in his time, but this one was massive, and that was unusual for this back water planet.
He picked up his crutch. It was old and almost polished, worn smooth from years of use. He placed it under his good arm and hobbled through the entrance of his home then struggled up the wooden stairs and into the cargo bay of the old space craft.
The ship hadn't moved in years, not since it first landed, and it was nearly covered with jungle growth, both inside and out. Once it would have taken him anywhere in the Galaxy had he chosen to leave... but the reality was that this had been just as good of a place as anywhere else.
He knew that eventually they would come for him, he just thought it would be sooner than this.
Jonas sat down at the controls in what once was the shuttle cockpit and wiped away the grime from the main computer screen. He began entering the start-up sequence, not to fire the engines as he knew that would have been useless although it did cross his mind anyway, but just to check the scanners. He wanted to double check what he was sure he already knew.
It took a few moments to coax the circuits back to life after lying dormant for so long, but eventually the readouts came. Sure enough, the ship overhead was a Republic... Imperial now, he corrected himself, star cruiser... a large capital ship which identified itself as a "Star Destroyer," whatever that was.
He sat watching the readouts for a few minutes, noting that the Imperial ship's sensors were now scanning his location. He had forgotten that active scans of a ship, as opposed to passive, usually got its attention. Especially one that big which had crew working around the clock.
The crippled man sighed. No sense in lying to himself. He hadn't been careless about the scans. Deep down, he had known exactly what he was doing. There was really no sense in delaying the inevitable at this point. All he had done was shorten the waiting period. The man struggled to his feet and made his way back down to the main living quarters, crawled into bed and, his mind no longer worried about how long it would take to them to find him, he went to sleep.
The sounds of the repulsor lifts passing overhead woke him from his restful slumber a few hours later. He sat up, scratched his beard and reached for his ever-present crutch, then made his way down the stairs and outside. He watched the shuttle land a few kilometers off and noted that it wasn't all that different from his, despite the years.
They came a short while later. The clone troopers. No, not clone troopers... at least not dressed like he remembered. The armor was similar, yet different. He wondered if those faces underneath the gleaming white helmets were all the same or if there were real people under there.
They were led by a massive man dressed in nightmare black armor with a flowing cloak billowing behind and he could hear some sort of respirator assisted breathing coming from him as well, but what stood out the most was nothing visual. The man... or thing... was a Force user. Except not a Force user like any he'd ever sensed before.
Somehow the Force surrounding the figure, while powerful indeed, was tainted and twisted, coated in corruption. Just the mere presence nauseated the crippled man, although he tried not to let it show. Yet there was something familiar about the man that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He stood up as they approached. "May I help you with something?" he asked, still holding out some slim hope that maybe they weren't here to arrest him. His body had never healed right after the fall and the explosion, and he knew he'd never be able to handle prison.
The black figure stopped several meters away. "Zan Jonas, I presume." It wasn't a question.
"Do I know you?" Jonas replied.
"Once perhaps," the black demon said waving his hand, dismissing the subject as of no consequence. "You disapoint me. I was expecting much more of a challenge from someone who has managed to elude me for so long."
The ever present intake and expulsion of each breath was disconcerting. "Challenge?" Jonas said, confused. "I offer no challenge. I will let myself be arrested, I'm in no condition to resist."
"I'm not here to arrest you," the man in black replied.
Jonas let out a sigh of relief, misunderstanding the meaning of the statement.
Suddenly, realization dawned on him. He knew who this was... but it couldn't be! "I know you!" the crippled Jedi exclaimed. "I recognize you now... but why?"
At the same time, the black figure raised his gauntleted fist and slowly began pressing his fingers closer together, making a squeezing motion.
At the last second, Jonas tried to defend himself, shielding himself with the Force, but the Imperial representative blasted through his defenses almost as if they weren't there. He was entirely too powerful.
Slowly, Jonas could feel his windpipe and trachea constricting. Breaths were harder and harder to draw until his air supply was completely choked off. He pulled reflexively at his throat as if he might be able to loosen the grip of the unseen force that was slowly killing him.
Finally, unable to struggle any longer, Zan Jonas felt the world around him slip into darkness.
-------------------
Darth Vader held the grip for a few minutes more until he felt the life force completely leave the pathetic Jedi's body before finally dropping his hand. Wordlessly, he gestured to the Storm Trooper squad leader to clean-up before spinning on his heel to head back to the ship.
"All too easy," the Sith Lord said to himself.
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