Chapter 18: The Duel in the Melting Pit — What Arthur Cannot Prevent

The guard's name was Foss. Arthur learned it later. At the moment the man came running down the northern corridor with his particular quality of movement — urgent, not emergency, which meant the crisis had already resolved itself one way or another — Arthur knew only that he had a young face and was breathing carefully, the way soldiers learn to breathe when the news they carry is not tactical.

The generator complex. Darth Maul. One Jedi down.

Arthur heard the words. He heard them the way he had learned to hear casualty reports from Camlann's outriders: completely, without the buffer of disbelief, because disbelief was a luxury that cost you the seconds you needed to function and he had already paid that price once and understood its interest rate. He kept his hands still. He did not look at Padmé. He said, clearly: which one.