@[member="Mia Monroe"] @[member="Penumbra"]
There had been, in his life, one occasion where rage absolutely overcame him, turned his mind still and clear, made his Force connection a matter of straight lines between A and B, with no regard for the cost of the course required. That one occasion had been his wife's kidnap and brutalization.
Now was such a time also. If there was one thing J.Q. Merrill cared about in the galaxy, apart from his wife and daughter, it was the starship Gypsymoth.
That had been mistake number one. Mistake number two had been grappling with a man who grappled as easily and as powerfully as Zaiden cloaked. The Dark Master found himself grabbing absolutely nothing tangible. Oh, sure, his momentum slammed all three of them through the hull and into space-
"GET OFF MY BOAT."
That was him breathing out. Anyone would think that one should hold one's breath in vacuum, but that was a faster way to die. Mia, whether or not her suit had some leaks, would be less vulnerable. Penumbra, who had spent his entire life on the Force and invention and combat, didn't have a thousandth of Jorus's experience in hard vacuum or zero-gravity. Kicking free of him was easy, the impact notwithstanding.
Jorus, as the only person who knew what was coming -- good luck precogging something that was performed with the kind of precog that let Jorus fly blind through hyperspace and podrace courses -- grabbed the edge of his poor torn hull with one hand, and Mia's armored glove with the other as the three Forcers tumbled. The Gypsymoth jumped to hyperspace without a hyperdrive, as it had done many, many times before. Such was Jorus's control over the starship in hyperspace that it rivalled that of a Jedi Master with his lightsabre. The vessel ripped itself from realspace and into a blue-white tunnel as cold air and snow -- water vapor gone solid -- buffeted him and Mia. He hung from the edge, clinging to her, one frozen hand away from letting her evaporate to constituent atoms. His body glowed with hyperlight -- this realm, not realspace, was where he had power -- and with a soundless grunt he shoved her inside and came in after, eyes tight shut. The airflow ceased -- this particular compartment had gone to vacuum, though the other compartments had sealed automatically. Mia had been on this ship often enough to hear his safety lecture -- she knew where the cofferdams were, and the airlocks, and how to get him safely into a pressurized zone. Because he was pretty much done.
Not even Jorus Merrill could survive deep space without a space suit. Penumbra was, at a guess, even less capable of getting spaced and walking away, Dark Side of the Force or no Dark Side of the Force.
That, and right now he'd be reconsidering the wisdom of trying to tackle the Lord of Hyperspace on his own ship outside of a gravity well.
That just left Penumbra drifting in space, no ship in sight, ripped away from the Gypsymoth he'd so foolishly abandoned by bulling through the hull.
