There really is no way to guarantee my capture if there are no Stormtroopers on the planet.

Fortunately—I guess I should say unfortunately—I know that there are. Little squads have been sent out. From the one mind pry I was able to get on a trooper in the past, they're searching for Jedi. They have the intent to kill, I assume. Why would anyone want to capture a Jedi when they know what they can do?

All I need to do is get arrested. Cayden's right; I sound a little bit insane. But insane for a good reason.

I spot them, a squad of three. They part crowds like smelly garbage, nobody wants to be around them. People shrink at their presence, afraid if they look into the helmets the wrong way they'll get punished.

Maybe I don't have to provoke them and risk injury. Perhaps a little Force influence can do the trick. I'll go after any trooper that tries to harm an innocent—I wouldn't mind exposing my true identity for that cause.

Pulling a hood over my head, I slip into the crowds, following the flock of white armor. At first, I maintain a distance—not that the troopers will notice unless they turn around to look. Witnesses notice, though; I feel their worry and suspicion ebb as I pass. All I need to do is get the troopers relatively alone. I'm not sure how well-received a Jedi will be in this day and age if more than the troopers see me.

The armors move in sync, never falling out of step. They're too methodical, almost robotic even though I'm well aware of what lays underneath all that white.

Keep it together, Amara. You can do this. If you can peek for a second into one of their minds, commanding them shouldn't be too difficult.

After a time, I begin to grow restless. They haven't secluded themselves enough for me to make a move on them.

Until they do.

I tail the one at the rear of the three, tapping him—or her, they could be a tall woman for all I know—on the shoulder. The trooper stops, the other two keep on going in ignorance.

Before the trooper can speak, I allow the Force to do its magic: "You will arrest me."

At first, I don't think it's worked; the trooper says nothing. I want to assume they have a blank stare behind their helmet. I grimace slightly. Don't make me use force with a lowercase f. I really don't want to injure myself going into this.

"Step back!"

Ah, the other two troopers have finally noticed one of their pack is missing. The two, a little further away from me, raise their blasters in my direction. I lower my hood carefully, and the two troopers look at me—or at least, I assume so.

"I'm not harming him, calm down," I snap.

"Go about your business."

"This is my business. Just—just hear me out!"

"Why should we?"

"Unless you'd like to be cut down where you stand, you will listen to me." I put a bit of Force behind my words.

The two troopers lower their blasters. The trooper I stand in front of continues to remain silent.

"Thank you." I flatten out my robes. "You will arrest me, on the charges of murder. I've slaughtered a few of your fellow troopers. Instead of killing me, I will be taken prisoner to be judged fairly by whomever you see fit." For emphasis, I hold my wrists out, ready for the cuffs to get slapped on.

None of them move. Are they stupid? Is there a delay? Why must this go so slowly? I could easily snatch cuffs and arrest myself much faster.

"I gave you a confession, slap on the cuffs, come on," I say impatiently.

Finally, whatever stupor they seem to be in shuts off. The trooper closest to me throws me rather aggressively against the wall. I grit my teeth, feeling my hands forced behind my back. Every instinct is telling me to fight back, but I resist. This is part of the plan. This may not be ideal, but this is step one.

The trooper grabs me roughly by the back of my shirt, peeling me from the wall. They push me towards the other two, who grab an arm each of me.

"Wait a second," says one trooper. I kick at his shin as he gropes me, reaching for my weapon. "She's a Jedi."

"Gold star for you," I mutter. One points their blaster at me. I start to panic. This isn't part of the plan. I'm not supposed to be executed! "Wait, wait—"

I don't get wiped off the face of the planet with the blaster shot to my chest, I just get zapped pretty hard. My legs give out from under me, but the troopers force me upwards. Everything goes fuzzy in my vision.

This is not how I wanted this to go, and this is the easiest part of the plan.