Free Yoda by Sean Stewart Page A

Force.
    Scout dropped her lightsaber on the ground.
    Pax stopped, puzzled. Scout held out her hands, palm up, and bowed.
    Understanding dawned. Pax clipped his lightsaber to his belt and returned her bow respectfully. Now that the combat fire was draining from him, Scout could tell he was anxious that she not lose face. “Well fought,” he said. And then, taking a step nearer, he whispered, “This isn’t going to mean they send you to the corps, is it?”
    Scout tried to smile reassuringly, and held out her hand to shake. “Don’t worry about me,” she said soothingly, as his hand entered hers. “I’ll be—”
    In the middle of her sentence, as soon as his grasp was in hers, she flipped it over into a wrist lock. Pax blinked in surprise, then went quickly to his knees as Scout upped the pressure.
    â€œOh, man,” he breathed. “You got me.” And with his other hand he tapped three times on the floor.
    Scout instantly let him out of the wrist lock. “Sorry!” she said.
    Hanna Ding, an Arkanian apprentice Scout’s age, shouldered past her to get to Pax. “That was ill bred,” she said. At the best of times, Hanna had more than her share of Arkanian hauteur, and now a single glance with her milky white eyes made it clear that, as little as she had ever expected from Scout, she had expected more than this.
    Master Iron Hand approached Pax. “Are you all right, Chizzik?”
    â€œMy pride is a little bruised,” he said ruefully, shaking the tingles out of his right hand, “but otherwise I’m fine.”
    â€œOf course you’ll disqualify Enwandung-Esterhazy,” Hanna said.
    â€œWith all due respect,” Scout ground out, forcing herself to meet Master Xan’s eye, “the conditions of the match were plainly laid out.”
    â€œCombat to continue until one competitor surrenders, or receives three cuts,” Pax said. “It’s not Scout’s fault I was dumb enough to forget the rules. She tricked me fair and square.”
    â€œI see no reason to overturn the result of the match,” Master Xan said, and she walked back to the center of the room.
    Hanna Ding watched her go. “Well done, Scout. You proved you can beat up little boys, as long as you are allowed to cheat.” She turned her milky eyes on Scout. “How proud you must be.”

    Somehow Scout wasn’t surprised to find she would be sparring with Hanna in the second round. It was so very much the Jedi style to throw the two of them together and see who would be able to retain her composure the best. Hanna’s proud, pale features took on an expression of distinct pleasure when she heard Scout’s name called after her own. “I am looking forward to this,” she said.
    I bet you are,
Scout thought grimly. Realistically, Hanna was much the better fighter. Physically, Scout gave herself a very slight advantage in speed and strength, thanks to her extra training. Technically they were comparable—Hanna possibly stronger with the lightsaber, while Scout was definitely ahead in the unarmed techniques that Master Iron Hand taught. But when the Force was added into the equation, the contest wasn’t even close. Hanna was fourteen, and her use of the Force was on an entirely different level from Pax Chizzik’s: polished, strong, and supple. Scout watched her warm up across the chamber, leaping ridiculous distances into the air and then drifting down, light as a snowflake falling.
    â€œGood luck,” Lena murmured, watching Hanna warm up.
    Scout grunted. “On the bright side, at least I’ll be fighting someone I really want to hit.”
    It was time for their bout. They bowed to Master Xan, presented weapons, got them back, bowed to one another. Master Xan said, “Some of the apprentices were very vocal in lobbying for a tournament that was ‘more like real life.’” Was Scout imagining