by Troy Denning
The newcomers appeared less bulky than the battle droids, and they weren’t spraying anything. Vestara extended her Force awareness in their direction—and sensed four angry Jedi, bristling at her touch.
And one of them felt all too familiar …
Ben Skywalker.
Vestara began to reexamine her priorities. Her chance of winning this fight had just plummeted. Defeating Luke Skywalker and Leia Solo would be challenging enough, even with two hundred Nargons and twenty Mandos at her disposal. Ben Skywalker was a different problem. He knew how Vestara thought and what she felt—because he knew Vestara better than anyone did.
And, unlike his father, Ben would be hunting her, his former lover, with far more intensity than he felt for the Qrephs. Vestara knew Ben would not stop until either she or he was dead—or she was beyond his reach. The smart thing now would be to cut her losses and run.
But Vestara had nowhere to run. Her time with the Jedi had made Vestara Khai a pariah among her own people. She did not dare return to the Lost Tribe until she had enough power to rule them, and she could never win that power by doing the smart thing.
Vestara motioned the Qrephs toward the blown hatch at the back of the lounge. “You two, go.”
The Qrephs wasted no time, rushing to the exit so quickly they toppled the 2-1B, who was just finishing up Gev’s dressing. The Mandalorian pushed off the table to test her leg.
And four sharp bangs rang through the ceiling. A breach alarm sounded over the intercom, and automatic hatches started to slam shut throughout the base.
The shriek-and-thud of several different firefights began to echo through the corridors. The Nargon bodyguards hesitated, then turned toward the Columi. Vestara stepped in front of the mob and extended an arm.
“Those of you to this side, hold here to protect the Qrephs,” she said, indicating ten Nargons. “The rest of you, go with Marvid and Craitheus.”
To her relief, the Nargons obeyed—as quickly as they could, anyway. Her orders called for twenty huge reptiloids to squeeze through a small blown-out hatch, one by one, and that took time.
Too much time.
A loud thump sounded outside the lounge, beyond the main entrance, and a Mandalorian officer went tumbling past the doorway with a smoking hole in his chest. Vestara used the Force to hit the control pad and secure the door, then snapped the lightsaber off her belt and spun toward the blown hatch.
The last ten bodyguards were still awaiting their turn to squeeze through. Vestara and Gev used the delay to place the rear guard. Gev ordered two Nargons to take cover behind the wet bar, and Vestara used the Force to create a shield for three others by tipping the heavy table on edge.
All the while, the muffled din beyond the entry grew progressively louder. The shrieking of blaster rifles rose in pitch, and the battle droids’ cannons became a pounding thump-thump-thump, as steady as a heartbeat.
Finally, the last of the Qrephs’ bodyguards escaped through the rear hatch, allowing Gev and Vestara to follow. Vestara sent Gev out first, then reminded the rear guard that they were fighting to protect the Qrephs—their creators. “No one gets past this room!” she commanded, knowing full well that she was asking the impossible.
By the time Vestara had stepped through the hatch, Gev was already limping down the corridor after the Qrephs. It was difficult to see the two Columi ahead of the green mob, but the whole mass appeared to be stopped in front of the third air lock—the one that led through the biot lab to the gate.
“Marvid?” Vestara called. “What’s the problem? Just open it!”
“We are trying,” his voice replied. “But the attack has activated breach protocol.”
An emergency-response system, breach protocol prevented the labs from being accessed if a pressure imbalance was detected anywhere in Base Prime. Vestara pointed to the large sliding door at the far end of the corridor.
“We’ll go through your residence!” she called. “We have to move!”
A deafening blast shook the lounge behind her. Vestara stepped back to the hatch and peered into the room. Through the smoke and chaos, she could barely make out the red eyes of a YVH battle droid glowing out of a jagged hole in the opposite wall. It tipped its dark head forward and stepped through. The droid’s heavy armor was immediately pocked by blaster fire, but its cannon arm continued to blaze, blasting the table apart and dropping one Nargon after another.
“Charge him!” Vestara yelled to the survivors, using the Force to augment her voice. “Rip his circuits—”
The droid’s arm swung in her direction, and she barely managed to withdraw before a cannon bolt sizzled past her head. Deciding there was no time for a counterattack, she turned and started up the corridor, where Gev, the Qrephs, and the Nargon bodyguards were still gathered around the third air lock.
And no one seemed to be entering the lab.
She hurried toward the mob. To her left, the white glow of propulsion jets lit the transparisteel wall opposite the labs. She glanced out and saw two battle droids dropping into the courtyard. Four smaller figures were angling down behind them, drifting over the still-glowing ruins of the hangar to join the droids. All four wore the armored dropsuits of the Jedi Order—and all four were pointing heavy assault weapons in her direction.
Too fast.
The Jedi were coming too fast—before Vestara had a chance to set her trap. Using the Force to shove Nargons aside, she pushed through the mob toward Gev and the Qrephs.
As she moved, she reached out for Ship, calling to him in the Force.
Be ready. Be close.
Lady Khai, am I not always ready? came Ship’s reply. Am I not always close?
When Vestara reached the third air lock, she found Craitheus resting his powerbody on the floor, with his interface arm plugged into a droid socket. Meanwhile, Marvid was hovering beside him, studying strings of code on the control panel’s display.
And just twenty meters away, at the far end of the corridor, was the sliding door that provided access to the Qrephs’ private wing. The door’s status light glowed red for secured, but, unlike the entry to the lab, it had not been sealed by breach protocol. By comparison, it would be child’s play to open.
“We’re out of time!” Vestara used the Force to pull Craitheus away from the air lock and spin him toward the sliding door. “We’ll go through your residence!”
“We will not,” Craitheus answered. His voice was a bit muted, because Vestara kept him facing the door and would not let his powerbody turn around. “We gave you command of the Mandalorians, Lady Raine—not us.”
Vestera ignored the objection and, using the Force to shove Craitheus ahead of her, started toward the residential wing. As she moved, she kept an eye on the courtyard. The Jedi and their battle droids were hovering just above the monolith’s surface, preparing a breach assault. Half their team seemed focused on the ruins of the hangar and the adjoining barracks. The other half—two Jedi and a YVH—were steadily advancing on the transparisteel wall. Judging by their silhouettes and the relative size of their Jedi dropsuits, the advancing pair was a male and a female. They carried a black two-meter rectangle stretched between them, and the YVH followed, partially obscured by the barrier.
The rectangle, Vestara knew, was a breach blanket. Void jumpers and Jedi used them to breach hijacked ships without causing explosive decompression. The invaders would need about ten seconds to reach the wall and attach the device. A couple of seconds after that, the corridor would be filled with Jedi and battle droids.
Twelve seconds. Vestara grimaced. Twelve seconds wasn’t even enough time to reach Ship.
The soft whir of a powerbody drew Vestara’s attention, and she turned to find Marvid blocking her path.
“Savara, stop.” He pointed at the lightsaber hanging from her belt. “The lab walls are not thick. Perhaps you could use that trophy of yours to cut—”
“Are you spacesick?” Vestara gestured toward the viewport. “Can’t you see what’s coming f
or us?”
“Of course we can,” Craitheus said, breaking free of her Force grasp and spinning back toward her. “We can also see that we outnumber them three-to-one. Show some courage, Lady Raine. Perhaps it’s time to make your stand against the Jedi.”
Vestara frowned. When Columi talked about courage—especially someone else’s—they were definitely up to something. She snapped the lightsaber off her belt and started toward the residence.
“I am going through that door,” she said.
Even before she had finished speaking, a string of cannon thuds sounded behind her. The Nargons returned fire, and when Vestara glanced back, the corridor was filled with screaming bolts and flying body parts—all of them green and smoking. Beyond the debris, a figure was emerging from the lounge—the YVH battle droid. His glowing eyes were two red dots, staring straight down the passage toward Vestara.
A heartbeat later, a dazzling light filled the corridor as the breach blanket detonated. A tall rectangle of transparisteel flew across the passage and smashed into the opposite wall. Vestara’s ears started to ring, and Nargons flew through the air like storm debris. Some were missing appendages or had smoking wounds. Others were simply tumbling, looking confused and still spraying blaster fire in every direction.
Vestara spun toward the sliding door and saw Gev diving through behind the Columi. Vestara Force-launched herself toward the opening—and felt a cold shiver race down her spine. Igniting her lightsaber in midair, she twisted around and instantly found herself batting energy bolts aside. The male Jedi was steadily advancing, firing his blaster with one hand and Force-hurling Nargons aside with the other.
She cleared the threshold and landed on her back, two meters inside the Qrephs’ residence. The Jedi’s faceplate was rising into his helmet, and she glimpsed his red hair, his blue eyes—and a handsome jaw clenched in determination.
Ben Skywalker.
His gaze met hers, then he stopped and cupped his blaster with both hands. When Vestara saw the emitter tip drop, she knew he was aiming at her feet—and her lightsaber was in no position to defend them. She started to roll away, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. The door was closing too slowly, her position was too vulnerable …
She spotted Craitheus hovering to one side of the door. As the first bolt screamed, she grabbed him in the Force and pulled. She heard the screech of two more bolts, then the sliding door thumped shut.
The screaming did not stop.
Craitheus’s powerbody dropped to the floor so hard that the larmalstone cracked. The screaming continued, as shrill as a leaking pressure line.
Maybe it was a leaking pressure line.
Vestara rolled to her feet and found Marvid hovering about three meters away, his Columi face an enigmatic mask, his huge dark eyes tracking her every move. But his weapons arms were pointed at the door instead of at her, and there was no anger or hatred in his Force aura, only shock and grudging admiration.
She glanced back at Craitheus. His little mouth was still agape, but the odd screaming had grown fainter. Now it was only a high-pitched whine.
A tremendous boom shook the durasteel door. A red-glowing bulge appeared on its surface where a cannon bolt had struck the other side.
Vestara started toward Marvid. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I just reacted by instinct.”
“You did what was necessary,” Marvid replied. He pointed toward his brother’s powerbody. “Bring him.”
He turned and started down a chromalloy hall, heading in the general direction of the gate. A second cannon bolt struck the door, and this time a small split appeared. Vestara used the Force to lift Craitheus off the floor, then glanced over at Gev, who was now armed with a blaster rifle she had claimed from a dead Nargon somewhere along the way.
“You heard the bighead,” Gev said. She motioned Vestara down the hall. “You did what you had to.”
Marvid led them through a series of three doors—securing each one behind them—then finally stopped in a white workshop filled with tools and spare parts for Columi powerbodies. He pointed to a clamping pedestal on the far side of the room, between a doorway and a row of tall shelves.
“Put him there.”
Vestara lowered the powerbody onto the pedestal. Craitheus continued to whine, and she leaned in for a closer look. He had taken three hits: one in his powerbody, just above his shoulder, and the other two in his own body—one in his torso, and the other in his cranium. His eyes were closed, and the wounds were too charred for Vestara to make any guesses about the damage. But it looked bad.
“Craitheus?” she said. “Can you hear me?”
If the Columi understood her, his face showed no hint of it.
A tremendous bang sounded from the foyer, and Vestara felt the floor jump beneath her feet.
“We don’t have much time,” Gev said. She was standing beside the entry to the workshop, watching the screen of an internal security monitor. “I don’t think they’re even bothering to cut through the doors. They’re just blowing them.”
“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” said a female voice—a very familiar female voice, which sounded a lot like Vestara herself.
Vestara spun around to find a human woman—well, mostly human—standing in the corner. Roughly Vestara’s own height, she had a familiar build and an all-too-familiar face with big brown eyes.
Really big brown eyes, beneath a cranium that was twice the size of a normal human’s.
“Marvid?” Vestara asked, too stunned to tear her gaze away from her … well, her replica. “What the hell?”
“Isn’t she remarkable?” Marvid replied, drifting behind Vestara. “I added a few of Mama’s genes to improve her intellect, but otherwise she’s based on you.”
The biot looked at Vestara. “You’re pretty,” she said, “but you’re redun—”
“You made a biot of me?” Vestara interrupted.
Marvid’s tone grew soothing. “Naturally,” he said, still behind her. “You should be flattered. It shows what I think of you.”
Then he opened fire.
The first bolt hit Vestara in the right ankle. The second destroyed her left knee. She couldn’t tell exactly where the third bolt went; by then, she felt nothing but the pain below her thighs.
She found herself on the floor, with no memory of falling. She was simply on the larmalstone, watching her lightsaber fly into the biot’s outstretched hand. She screamed at Marvid, “You blasted me?”
“And you used my brother for a shield.” Marvid pointed a control arm toward Craitheus. Activated by remote, the powerbody rose off its pedestal and floated toward him. “I’m willing to call that even.”
“Even?” Vestara replied. “Craitheus was going to sell you out!”
“He considered it, but only briefly,” Marvid corrected. “You, on the other hand … Well, you and I both know it was only a matter of time before you tired of me, or I of you. It’s better to end things now.”
Another boom sounded from the direction of the foyer, this time a little closer. Vestara called out for Ship, urging him to hurry, then watched Marvid lead her biot and his brother’s powerbody toward a doorway on the far side of the room. She could not believe how he had betrayed her—or that he had taken her completely by surprise. Under the circumstances, she had no chance of stopping the Jedi.
Unfortunately, escape was almost as unlikely. Ship couldn’t evacuate her from the middle of the Qrephs’ residence. She had to get to an exterior wall, to find a suitable extraction point—and she could no longer accomplish that on her own.
“Marvid, wait!” Vestara called. “I forgive you for making the biot. I can live with that.”
Marvid raised a pincer arm and waved without turning around. “Goodbye, Savara.”
Gev remained standing at the door, watching the security display above the control pad.
“I’d blast him for you,” she said. “But I still have that nanokiller problem to fix.”
“You know better,
Gev.” Vestara’s pain had grown so bad that she was starting to worry about hallucinations. She wasn’t positive that Gev was actually still there—maybe she only needed Gev to be there. “The Qrephs were leading you on.”
Gev’s eyes grew hard. “Says you.”
“Look, I understand,” Vestara said. “Desperation plays tricks on your mind. But I’ve personally explored just about every corner and turn of this base—and I’ll bet you have, too. If the Qrephs were working on a cure for your nanokiller, that lab would have to be here, in their private wing. Have you seen anything like that? Anywhere?”
Gev sighed, then shook her head.
“That’s what I thought,” Vestara said.
The Mandalorian glanced at the security display. “I’d wish you luck with the Jedi,” she said, “but we both know it won’t do you any good.” She turned to limp after Marvid, no doubt determined to see him die first—and as painfully as possible.
Vestara caught hold of Gev with the Force. “Wait,” she said. “Wouldn’t you rather live to fight again? Tell your people to bug out, and let’s leave Marvid to the Jedi.”
Gev turned her head and cocked a brow. “You can get us out of here?”
Vestara closed her eyes, then reached out for Ship … and felt him waiting about thirty meters away, somewhere beyond the walls of the Qrephs’ residence.
“I can.” Vestara pointed in Ship’s direction. “As long as you can carry me.”
Twenty-four
Marvid rounded the corner to find a spidery cleaning droid moving down the corridor ahead of him, also fleeing the battle in the main part of the residence. Its reservoir orb was dribbling blue solvent, and he found himself fighting a sudden urge to blast the droid for damaging the floor.
Of course, that would only have spilled even more solvent onto the delicate larmalstone, and Marvid was surprised to realize how much the stress of the Jedi attack had affected his judgment. Twice already he had caught himself pursuing such faulty lines of thought, and once he had actually considered simply abandoning his poor wounded brother.
