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“We don’t want any trouble,” Luke declared, his hand moving reluctantly to the pommel of his lightsaber.

“In a couple of minutes you won’t have to worry about it,” his assailant assured him. He dove with a yell toward Luke, who dodged both kicks and arm swings agilely.

“Look out, Luke!” the Princess shouted … too late. One of the other men had come up behind Luke and now pinned both arms to his sides. The knife-wielder was approaching leisurely, the smile gone from his face, making entwining motions with his fists. The blades gleamed like his eyes.

“Fancy dancer, ain’t you, boy? I’m tired of chasing you.”

“Do him slow, Jake,” one of the onlookers advised. “Wise-mouth kid.”

“I said,” Luke began, keeping his eyes on those nearing, weaving blades even as his right hand moved to his waist again, “we don’t want any trouble.” He pushed the stud on the hilt of the saber.

Activated, the backward-pointing, meter-long beam of blue energy materialized, straight through the right thigh of the man who was holding him. Howling, the man let go of Luke and dropped to the ground, clutching at his leg.

Knife-wielder froze for a moment, then started forward. With the saber, Luke described an intricate series of interweaving arcs and circles in the near darkness that caused his attacker to hesitate. A steady moaning came from the man on the ground.

Luke lunged at the knife artist, just enough to make him retreat. “All of you, now … clear off.”

Instead of clearing off, the grim-faced quartet exposed more blades and other hand weapons. They began maneuvering to encircle Luke, staying just out of range of that darting, lethal beam of light.

Leia evened up the odds by leaping on the back of the man nearest her and clawing at his face. The three remaining men continued to probe at Luke with their own weapons, testing his speed and reflexes with professional acumen, talking among themselves and comparing notes on Luke’s abilities while planning the best way to take him. If they were waiting for their fourth companion to join them, they’d be disappointed. He had his hands full with the Princess, who was cursing them at the top of her lungs.

Halla was looking on anxiously when movement further up the street drew her attention from the fight. A knot of efficient figures clad in black and white armor was moving at a fast trot toward the tavern. From the approaching Imperials she looked back to the stalemated battle.

One man lunged at Luke from behind. Luke jumped above the charged prod the man was wielding and swung downward simultaneously. Off came a hand, cut and cauterized neatly at the wrist, to land in the mud and lie there smoking slightly. The man fell backward, speechless, staring at his carbonized stump.

The troopers were close now. Halla left her hiding place and, gesturing for Artoo and Threepio to follow, slunk off down the access-way between the buildings, vanishing into the night. After a second’s pause to see they could do no good by getting themselves captured, the two ’droids followed.

Both remaining assailants continued to stalk Luke, more cautiously now. Having dispatched her single opponent with judicious pressure in the right place, the Princess was looking to take on another when something sun-bright and loud exploded in their midst, stunning everyone. They all turned, blinking against the lingering glare, to see a number of energy rifles focused on them.

“Put up your weapons,” the sergeant in charge ordered them sharply, the angular markings on his armored sleeve showing triple in the dim light. Matching marks crossed his helmet. “You are remanded to custody, in the name of the Emperor, for fighting with weaponry in a public place.”

As soon as the miners had retracted or otherwise holstered their various weapons, Luke shut off his saber. Two troopers came around and collected the small arsenal. The Princess noticed her one victim recovering consciousness and kicked him soundly.

“You there, stop that!” the sergeant ordered.

“Sorry,” she replied sweetly.