Free Yoda by Sean Stewart

ashamed of all her scheming. It was hard not to wish Pax well.
    I could let him win.
    Scout blinked, turning over this new idea. She could throw the match. If she made it just obvious enough that she had “let” him win, it would imply that she
could
have beaten him, if she really wanted to. It wouldn’t be as if she’d actually
lost.
    I could let him win.
    Relief flooded through her. Pax would advance to the next round, enjoying himself hugely, and for the first time in six weeks Scout would be able to stop worrying about this tournament and join in the celebration of his victory.
    Pax cut a little flourish in the air with the humming green blade of his lightsaber. “Ready, Scout?” he said, and he let his tip drop just a little, as if inviting her in.
    I should let him win.
    The humming silence was broken by a small horking noise from the corner of the room: Master Yoda’s testy snuffle.
    Scout blinked again, as if waking from a dream. “By the black stars,” she whispered. “You almost had me.”
    Pax had been using the Force on her.
    She shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. Pax was no sly manipulator—he probably wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. But make no mistake, he
willed
people to like him. Always had.
    Scout laughed and made a mystical pass with her fingers. “This is not the victory you were seeking.” Pax looked at her, baffled. “Yeah, I’m ready,” she said. Then she attacked.
    She ran in fast on a slant, testing his footwork. She got in with a bind that locked their blades together and let her use her size and weight to shove him hard. He stumbled backward, and she tried to drive home her advantage. He let his body go loose and tumbled backward, his blade slipping out of her bind and slashing up at her neck. She barely managed an awkward parry. It wrecked her balance and she pitched forward over his tumbling body. She somersaulted over him, hit the floor with a shoulder roll, and bounced to her feet, whipping her lightsaber around in a high parry that caught his blade in a shower of sparks.
    Oh, boy. That was too close.
    He fell back en garde, grinning hugely. Clearly this was the best fun he’d had in ages. It was only a game to him, of course. Nobody was ever going to send Pax Chizzik to the Agricultural Corps. No, twenty years from now they’d all be reading breathless accounts of his daring deeds as a Jedi Knight. Written by love-smitten journalists, no doubt.
    It was enough to make her want to spit.
    He attacked.
    Usually they were evenly matched, but Pax was clearly feeling the Force today. His attack was long and fluid, a series of feints and cuts that came blindingly fast, each disguised as the other, so the real attacks melted in and out of the fake ones. Scout parried the first three with increasing difficulty, gave ground, felt herself becoming lost in the swirls of humming light, and finally broke back in full flight, using her speed to plain run away until she could escape the maze of humming green light he had almost trapped her in.
    Another pause.
    They stood five paces apart. Scout was breathing hard. Glancing down, she saw a char mark on her tunic where his blade had come too close. The smell of burned cloth tickled the back of her throat.
    Pax looked down at his own saber, wide-eyed. “Did you recognize it, Scout?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe Mrlssi half-hitch. The knot you taught me. I was feeling for you with the Force, you know, the way they teach us, and suddenly it was like I was making the Half-Hitch around you, but all in light.”
    Murmurs throughout the room, and scattered clapping.
    So much for trying to beat him straight up,
Scout thought grimly.
Time for Plan B.
    Pax looked up at her in wonder. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” he said, delighted. And he stepped toward her with renewed confidence, eager to dissolve once more into the calm fury of the