by James Luceno
Shryne knew that to be true. “Commander Salvo has good instincts. What he lacks is patience.” He turned fully to the helmeted commando. “The war’s changed some of us, Climber. But the Jedi mandate has always been to keep the peace without killing everyone who stands in the way.”
Climber nodded in understanding. “I know of a few commanders who were returned to Kamino for remedial training.”
“And I know a few Jedi who could use as much,” Shryne said. “Because all of us want this war over and done with.” He touched Climber on the arm as the turbolift was coming to a halt. “Apologies up front if this mission turns out to be a waste of time.”
“Not a problem, sir. We’ll consider it leave.”
Outside the antigrav shaft, the deafening hum of the generator made it almost impossible to communicate without relying on comlinks. Prizing his from a pouch on his utility belt, Shryne set it to the frequency Climber and his spec-three used to communicate with each other through their helmet links.
Warily, the three of them made their way down an unlighted hallway and ultimately onto a shaky gantry that overlooked the generator room. Most of the cavernous space was occupied by the truncated durasteel pyramid that fed power to the landing platform’s veritable forest of dish-shaped shield projectors.
Macrobinoculars lowered over his tinted visor, Climber scanned the area.
“I count twelve sentries,” he told Shryne through the comlink.
“Add three Koorivar technicians on the far side of the generator,” the spec-three said from his position.
Even without macrobinoculars, Shryne could see that the majority of the guards were mercenaries, humans and humanoids, armed with blaster rifles and vibroblades, the brigade’s signature weapon. Cranial horns—a symbol of status, especially among members of Murkhana’s elite—identified the Koorivar among the group. Three Trade Federation battle droids completed the contingent.
“Generator’s too well protected for us to be covert,” Climber said. “Excuse me for saying so, but maybe Commander Salvo was right about letting the Gallant handle this.”
“As I said, he has good instincts.”
“Sir, just because the guards aren’t here for medical care doesn’t mean we can’t make patients of them.”
“Good thinking,” Shryne said. “But we’re three against twelve.”
“You’re good for at least six of them, aren’t you, sir?”
Shryne showed the commando a narrow-eyed grin. “On a good day.”
“In the end you and Salvo both get to be right. Even better, we’ll be saving the Gallant a couple of laser bolts.”
Shryne snorted a laugh. “Since you put it that way, Climber.”
Climber flashed a series of hand gestures at his munitions expert; then the three of them began to work their way down to the greasy floor.
Surrendering thought and emotion, Shryne settled into the Force. He trusted that the Force would oversee his actions so long as he executed them with determination rather than in anger.
Taking out the guards was merely something that needed to be done.
At Climber’s signal he and the spec-three dropped four of the sentries with precisely aimed blaster bolts, then juked into return fire to deal with those who were still standing.
As tenuous as his contact with the Force sometimes was, Shryne was still a master with a sword, and almost thirty years of training had honed his instincts and turned his body into an instrument of tremendous speed and power. The Force guided him to areas of greatest threat, the blue blade of his lightsaber cleaving the thick air, deflecting fire, severing limbs. Moments expanded, allowing him to perceive each individual energy bolt, each flick of a vibroblade. Unfaltering intention gave him ample time to see to every danger, and to carry out his task.
His opponents fell to his clean slashes, even one of the droids, whose melted circuitry raised an ozone reek. One mercenary whimpered as he fell backward, air rasping through a hole in his chest, blood leaking from vessels that hadn’t been cauterized by the blade’s passing.
Another, Shryne was forced to decapitate.
He sensed Climber and the spec-three to either side of him, meeting with similar success, the sibilant sound of their weapons punctuating the shield generator’s ceaseless hum.
A droid burst apart, flinging shrapnel.
Shryne evaded a whirling storm of hot alloy that caught a Koorivar full-on, peppering his sallow face and robed torso.
Tumbling out of the reach of a tossed vibroblade, he noticed two of the technicians fleeing for their lives. He was willing to let them go, but the spec-three saw them, as well, and showed them no quarter, cutting both of them down before they had reached the safety of the room’s primary turbolift.
With that, the fight began to wind down.
Shryne’s breathing and heartbeat were loud in his ears but under control. Thought, however, intruded on his vigilance, and he lowered his guard before he should have.
The shivering blade of a mercenary’s knife barely missed him. Spinning on his heel, he swept his attacker’s feet out from under him, and in so doing rid the human of his left foot. The merc howled, his eyes going wide at the sight, and he lashed out with both hands, inadvertently knocking the lightsaber from Shryne’s grip and sending it skittering across the floor.
Some distance away, Climber had been set upon by a battle droid and two mercenaries. The droid had been taken out, but its sparking shell had collapsed on top of Climber, pinning his right hand and blaster rifle, and the pair of mercs were preparing to finish him off.
Climber managed to hold one of his would-be killers at bay with well-placed kicks, even while he dodged a blaster bolt that ricocheted from the floor and the canted face of the shield generator. Rushing onto the scene, the spec-three went hand-to-hand with the merc Climber had booted aside, but Climber was out of tricks for dealing with his second assailant.
Vibroblade clasped in two hands, the enemy fighter leapt.
Shryne moved in a blur—not for Climber, because he knew that he could never reach him in time—but for the still-spinning lightsaber hilt, which he toed directly into Climber’s gloved and outstretched left hand. In the same instant the merc was leaning over Climber to deliver what would have been a fatal blow, the commando’s thumb hit the lightsaber’s activation stud. A column of blue energy surged from the hilt, and through the Separatist’s chest, impaling him.
Shryne hurried to Climber’s side while the spec-three was moving through the room, making certain no further surprises awaited them.
Yoda or just about any other Jedi Master would have been able to rid Climber of the battle droid with a Force push, but Shryne needed Climber’s help to move the sparking carcass aside. Years back, he would have been able to manage it alone, but no longer. He wasn’t sure if the weakness was in him or if, with the death of every Jedi, the war was leaching some of the Force out of the universe.
Climber rolled the mercenary’s body to one side and sat up. “Thanks for the save, General.”
“Just didn’t want you to end up like your template.”
Climber stared at him.
“Headless, I mean.”
Climber nodded. “I thought you meant killed by a Jedi.”
Shryne held out his hand out for the lightsaber, which Climber was regarding as if noticing it for the first time. Then, feeling Shryne’s gaze on him, he said, “Sorry, sir,” and slapped the hilt into Shryne’s hand.
Shryne hooked the lightsaber to his belt and yanked Climber to his feet, his eyes falling on Chatak, Starstone, and Ion Team’s other two commandos, who had rushed into the room with weapons drawn.
Shryne gestured to them that everything was under control.
“Find any patients?” he asked Chatak when she was within earshot.
“None,” she said. “But we hadn’t checked out the entire building when we heard the blasterfire.”
Shryne turned to Climber. “Set your thermal charges. Then contact Com
mander Salvo. Tell him to alert airborne command that the landing platform energy shield will be dropping, but that someone is still going to have to take out the shore batteries on the bridge approaches before troops and artillery can be inserted. General Chatak and I will finish sweeping the building and catch up with you at the rally point.”
“Affirmative, sir.”
Shryne started off, then stopped in his tracks. “Climber.”
“General?”
“Tell Commander Salvo for me that we probably could have done things his way.”
“You certain you want me to do that?”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, sir, it’s only going to encourage him.”
Ras says you made a kill with General Shryne’s lightsaber,” one of the commandos who had accompanied Bol Chatak said to Climber while all four members of Ion Team were slaving thermal detonators to the shield generator’s control panels.
“That’s right. And knowing that you’d want to see it, I had my helmet cam snap a holo.”
Climber’s sarcasm was lost on the small-arms expert, a spec-two who went by the name Trace.
“How’d it handle?”
Climber sat still for a moment. “More like a tool than a weapon.”
“Good tool for opening up mercenaries,” Ras said from nearby.
Climber nodded. “No argument. But give me a seventeen any day.”
“Shryne’s all right,” Trace said after they had gone back to placing the charges.
“I’ll take him over Salvo in a firefight,” Climber said, “but not on a battlefield. Shryne’s too concerned about collateral damage.”
Completing his task, he walked with purpose through the control room, assessing everyone’s work. Ion Team’s comlink specialist hurried over while Climber was adjusting the placement of one of the detonators.
“Has Commander Salvo been updated?” Climber asked.
“The commander is on the freq now,” the spec-one said. “Wants to speak to you personally.”
Climber distanced himself from the rest of the team and chinned the helmet comlink stud to an encrypted frequency. “Spec-zero Climber secure, Commander.”
“Are the Jedi with you?” Salvo said abruptly.
“No, sir. They’re sweeping the rest of the building in case we overlooked anyone.”
“What’s your situation, squad leader?”
“We’re out of here as soon as the rest of the thermals are set. T-five, at most.”
“Retain a couple of those thermals. Your team is to rejoin us soonest. We have a revised priority.”
“Revised, how?”
“The Jedi are to be killed.”
Climber fell silent for a long moment. “Say again, Commander.”
“We’re taking out the Jedi.”
“On whose orders?”
“Are you questioning my authority?”
“No, sir. Just doing my job.”
“Your job is to obey your superiors.”
Climber recalled Shryne’s actions in the generator room; his speed and accuracy, his skill with the lightsaber.
“Yes, sir. I’m just not too keen about going up against three Jedi.”
“None of us is, Climber. That’s why we need your team here. I want to set up an ambush short of the rally point.”
“Understood, Commander. Will comply. Out.”
Climber rejoined his three teammates, all of whom were watching him closely.
“What was all that about?” Trace asked.
Climber sat on his haunches. “We’ve been ordered to spring an ambush on the Jedi.”
Ras grunted. “Odd time for a live-fire exercise, isn’t it?”
Climber turned to him. “It’s not an exercise.”
Ras didn’t move a muscle. “I thought the Jedi were on our side.”
Climber nodded. “So did I.”
“So what’d they do?” Trace asked.
Climber shook his head. “Salvo didn’t say. And it’s not a question we’re supposed to ask, are we clear on that?”
The three specs regarded one another.
“How do you want to handle it?” Ras said finally.
“The commander wants us to blow an ambush,” Climber said in a determined voice. “I say we give him what he wants.”
From the sheer heights above the medcenter, Shryne, Chatak, and Starstone watched the towering building tremble as the shield generator buried at its base exploded. Clouds of smoke billowed into the chaotic sky, and the structure swayed precariously. Fortunately it didn’t collapse, as Shryne feared it might, so the bridges that spanned the bay suffered no damage. Ten kilometers away, the shimmering energy shield that umbrellaed the landing platform winked out and failed, leaving the huge hexagon open to attack.
Not a moment passed before squadrons of Republic V-wing starfighters and ARC-170 bombers fell from the scudding clouds, cannons blazing. In defense, anti-aircraft batteries on the landing field and bridges opened up, filling the sky with hyphens of raw energy.
Far to the south the Gallant hung motionless, five hundred meters above the turbulent waters of the bay. Completing quick-turn burns, Republic gunships were streaking from the Star Destroyer’s docking bays and racing shoreward through storms of intense fire.
“Now it begins in earnest,” Shryne said.
The three Jedi struck west, moving deeper into the city, then south, angling for the rendezvous point. They avoided engagements with battle droids and mercenaries when they could, and won their skirmishes when evasion wasn’t an option. Shryne was relieved to see that Chatak’s curly-haired Padawan demonstrated remarkable courage, and was as deft at handling a lightsaber as many full-fledged Jedi Knights. He suspected that she had a stronger connection with the Force than he had had even during his most stalwart years as an eager learner.
When he wasn’t seeking ways to avoid confrontation, Shryne was obsessing over his wrong call regarding the medcenter.
“A surgical strike would have been preferable,” he confessed to Chatak as they were hurrying through a gloomy alley Shryne knew from previous visits to Murkhana.
“Ease up on yourself, Roan,” she told him. “The generator was there precisely because the Corporate Alliance knew that we would show the medcenter mercy. What’s more, Commander Salvo’s opinion of you hardly matters in the scheme of things. If both of you weren’t so hooked on military strategy, you could be off somewhere sharing shots of brandy.”
“If either of us drank.”
“Never too late to start, Roan.”
Starstone loosed a loud sigh. “This is the wisdom you impart to your Padawan—that it’s never too late to start drinking?”
“Did I hear a voice?” Shryne said, glancing around in theatrical concern.
“Not an important one,” Chatak assured him.
Starstone was shaking her head back and forth. “This is not the apprenticeship I expected.”
Shryne threw her a look. “When we get back to Coruscant, I’ll be sure to slip a note into the Temple’s suggestion box that Olee Starstone has expressed disappointment with the way she’s being trained.”
Starstone grimaced. “I was at least under the impression that the hazing would stop once I became a Padawan.”
“That’s when the hazing begins,” Chatak said, suppressing a smile. “Wait till you see what you have to endure at the trials.”
“I didn’t realize the trials would include psychological torture.”
Chatak glanced at her. “In the end, Padawan, it all comes down to that.”
“The war is trial enough for anyone,” Shryne said over his shoulder. “I say that all Padawans automatically be promoted to Jedi Knights.”
“You won’t mind if I quote you to Yoda?” Starstone said.
“That’s Master Yoda to you, Padawan,” Chatak admonished.
“I apologize, Master.”
“Even if Yoda and the rest of the High Council members have their heads in the clouds,” Shr
yne muttered.
Starstone bit her lip. “I’ll pretend I’m not hearing this.”
“You’d better hear it,” Shryne said, turning to her.
They held to their southwesterly course.
The fighting along the shoreline was becoming ferocious. Starfighters and droid craft flying well below optimum altitudes were disappearing in balls of flame. Overwhelmed by ranged ion cannon fire from the Gallant, energy shields throughout the city were beginning to fail and a mass exodus was under way, with panicked crowds of Koorivar fleeing shelters, homes, and places of business. Mercenary brigades, reinforced by battle droids and tanks, were fortifying their positions in the hills. Shryne surmised that the fight to occupy Murkhana was going to be long and brutal, perhaps at an unprecedented cost in lives.
Two hundred meters shy of the rendezvous, he was shaken by a sudden restiveness that had nothing to do with the overarching battle. Feeling as if he had unwittingly led his fellow Jedi into the sights of enemy snipers, he motioned Chatak and Starstone to a halt, then guided them without explanation to the refuge of a deserted storefront.
“I thought I was the only one sensing it,” Chatak said quietly.
Shryne wasn’t surprised. Like Starstone, the Zabrak Jedi had a deep and abiding connection to the Force.
“Can you get to the heart of it?” he asked.
She shook her head no. “Not with any clarity.”
Starstone cut her eyes from one Jedi to the other. “What’s wrong? I don’t sense anything.”
“Exactly,” Shryne said.
“We’re close to the rendezvous, Padawan,” Chatak said in her best mentor’s voice. “So where is everyone? Why haven’t the troopers set up a perimeter?”
Starstone mulled it over. “Maybe they’re just waiting for us to arrive.”
The young woman’s offhand remark went to the core of what Shryne and Chatak were feeling. Trading alert glances, they unclipped their lightsabers and activated the blades.
“Be mindful, Padawan,” Chatak cautioned as they were leaving the shelter of the storefront. “Stretch out with your feelings.”
