by Timothy Zahn
"Nice move," Mara complimented him, shielding her eyes from the light. This time, she recognized the voice. "Guardian Pressor, I presume?"
"Put down the lightsaber," Pressor ordered. "Then move away—"
He broke off with a gasp of pain, his glow rod twisting wildly in his grip and coming to rest pointed at the ceiling. Mara blinked away the last remnants of the sparkles in her eyes in time to see his blaster wrench itself out of his hand and go flying toward the turbolift. "Sorry," Luke apologized, pulling himself the rest of the way out of the shaft and catching the weapon in his outstretched hand. "But I don't think we've got time for a debate. Something's gone wrong up here."
"Obviously," Pressor growled, rubbing his wrist. "What did you do to the power?"
"It wasn't us," Mara said. "All we did was ungimmick the car you left us in—"
She broke off as a beep came from her belt. "The jamming seems to be stopped, too," she added, pulling out her comlink and touching the switch.
"—ara—Commander Fel," Jinzler's voice came urgently. "Emergency!"
"We're here," Mara said, throwing a sharp look at Luke. There were panicky voices and the sounds of serious commotion in the background. "Report."
"We're in the council meeting chamber," Jinzler said, clearly fighting to keep his voice steady. "Bearsh has us trapped by those wolvkils of theirs—"
"Wait a minute," Luke said into his own comlink. "The wolvkils? What wolvkils?"
"The ones they've been wearing everywhere," Jinzler ground out. "They weren't dead, just in some kind of suspended animation—very slick, very advanced. And they're not Geroons, either. They're Vagaari."
Pressor hissed something under his breath. "Vagaari?"
There was a muffled crash from the background. "What's happening?" Luke asked.
"The wolvkils are trying to get to us," Jinzler said. "We've got them blocked, but I don't know how much longer we can keep them out."
Mara looked at Pressor. "Which way?"
"There," Pressor said, pointing back toward the lighted area Mara had spotted earlier.
"Show us," Luke told Pressor, handing him back his blaster. "Jinzler? We're on our way."
"Watch out for Bearsh and the others," Jinzler warned as they followed Pressor down the corridor. "They left all the wolvkils in here with us, but they've got some nasty-looking stinging insects they use for personal protection. They might have other weapons, too."
"Got it," Luke said. "Any idea where they were heading?"
"They just said they'd be wandering around," Jinzler said. "It seems they also brought a supply of line creepers."
"Terrific," Luke muttered, glancing into a darkened doorway as they passed. "Fel? You there?"
"Right here, Luke," Fel's voice came promptly. "We caught the gist. What do you want us to do?"
"We're on D-Five," Luke said. "Where are you?"
"D-Six, about midway back along the starboard corridor," Fel told him. "You want us to head back to the turbolifts and join you up there?"
"The forward group isn't working," Luke told him. "From the way the lights and power have gone out, I'd say Bearsh has been here already with his line creepers. Guardian, are the aft turbolifts operational?"
"They should be," Pressor said. "I've got everything locked down between Four and Five, but from Six up to here they should still work."
"You copy that?" Luke called.
"Copy," Fel confirmed. "General Drask's calling the Chaf Envoy for the rest of his warriors. If we hurry, maybe we can catch Bearsh and his friends in a pincer."
"Except that Pressor's locked down all the turbolifts from D-Four," Mara interjected. "That was what you said, wasn't it?"
"It was," Pressor confirmed, punching keys on his own comlink. "Maybe I'd better confirm that was actually done. Trilli?"
Someone answered in a voice too quiet for Mara to hear. Pressor lowered his own voice, half turning away and speaking rapidly as he brought the person on the other end up to date.
Luke caught Mara's eye. "What do you think?" he asked.
"We don't have time to be creative," Mara said. "Not with Jinzler and the others under attack. Straight in is about all we've got to work with."
"Agreed," Luke said. "Unless we want to layer the attack, with us leading the charge and the Five-Oh-First, the Chiss, and Pressor's Peacekeepers coming in backup waves."
"We may not have any choice on the layering part," Mara pointed out. They'd reached a section of the ship where most of the permlights were functioning, she noted, as well as the majority of the regular lights. The line creepers must not have gotten a stranglehold on this area yet. "The Chiss in particular are going to have to gear up from stage zero. Who knows how long that'll take?"
"Let's find out," Luke said, lifting the comlink to his lips again. "Fel, did you hear the question?"
"Yes, but it appears to be a moot point," Fel said grimly. "Drask can't make contact with the ship. No answer, on any channel, from anyone."
Mara looked at Luke, her heart suddenly tight in her chest. He was staring back at her, a haunted expression on his face. The flurry of deaths they'd both sensed while they were down on D-l...
"Luke?"
"Yes, we heard," Luke said. "Better get your team up here on the double. There's a good chance they may already have taken out the Chaf Envoy."
"Understood," Fel said grimly. "We're on our way."
Luke clicked off the comlink. "Guardian?"
"Looks like you can scratch most of our help, too," Pressor said darkly as he jammed his comlink back onto his belt. "Six of my Peacekeepers are missing."
"Six out of how many?" Mara asked.
Pressor snorted gently. "Eleven, including me. We weren't exactly a serious fighting force to begin with." He waved his blaster. "But they were here the whole time, either in the turbolift or with my people. When could any of them have slipped away, either back to your ship or to hit my men?"
"The key is that they weren't all here," Luke told him. "We had to leave one of them behind."
"Because of injuries sustained in a mysterious sneak attack," Mara added sourly. "What do you think, Luke? They shot Estosh themselves?"
"It's starting to look that way," Luke agreed, pausing to look down a cross-corridor before passing it by. "But at least they don't have the element of surprise anymore."
"They apparently had it long enough," Pressor said bitterly.
"Don't worry, we'll get them," Mara said. "What did you tell your people?"
"I told the ones who are left to hold position, observe, and stand ready to defend those around them if attacked," Pressor said, his jaw set belligerently. "Two of them were in that room with your people, and I'm not going to risk the others on some bantha-brained attack until I have a better idea what we're up against."
If he was expecting an argument, he was disappointed. "I agree," Luke said. "Actually, right now we need their eyes and ears around the ship more than we need the extra firepower."
"Absolutely," Mara agreed. "After all, how much trouble can four or five Vagaari make?"
She would remember that rhetorical question for a long time afterward. With Pressor in the lead, they rounded a jog in the corridor and ran straight into the Vagaari.
But not four Vagaari. Not even five Vagaari.
There were eight of them, Bearsh and seven others, striding down the corridor toward them about ten meters away. Bearsh was still dressed in his usual robe and tunic, minus his wolvkil, but the others were outfitted like soldiers, with helmets and full combat armor, armed with an eclectic mix of Chiss charrics and Old Republic blasters and carbines. Two wolvkils prowled ahead of them like advance scouts, while five more wove in and out of their formation like a fighter escort.
The two groups spotted each other at the same moment. "Halt!" Pressor ordered, snapping his blaster up to point at Bearsh.
The Vagaari halted, all right, in exactly the way Mara would have expected trained soldiers to. The four in front dropped
instantly to one knee, giving the ones behind them a clear shot as all seven raised their weapons in silent warning. The wolvkils halted more reluctantly, their eyes glaring balefully at the humans, their tails swishing restlessly.
"Easy," Luke murmured, reaching out a hand to gently push Pressor's blaster out of line. At the same time, he subtly eased a shoulder in front of the other where he would be in a position to protect him if and when the Vagaari decided to start shooting. His lightsaber was ready in his hand, Mara noted, but as yet unignited. "Hello, Bearsh," he called to the Vagaari. "I see you've brought some friends."
"Ah—the Jedi," Bearsh said. If he was at all worried by their sudden appearance, it didn't show in his face. "So you survived the turbolift, after all. I'm very sorry for you."
"Why?" Mara asked, a part of her mind studying the Vagaari soldiers and trying to work through the unexpected numbers. Only five Vagaari had been invited aboard the Chaf Envoy; that much she was sure of. So where had the rest been hidden?
"Because it would have meant a quicker and less painful death for you," Bearsh said. "Now it will involve much more suffering."
"Why does anyone have to die?" Mara asked reasonably. "Why don't you tell us what you want? Maybe we can work something out."
Bearsh's eyes flashed. "You fool," he bit out. "You think the Vagaari can be bought off like trinket dealers in the marketplace?"
"Well, you came on this mission for some reason," Mara pointed out. "What was it?"
Bearsh snorted. "The avenging of fifty years of Vagaari humiliation," he said. "The achieving of fifty years of Vagaari desire. Does that tell you anything?"
"More than you'd think," Mara assured him. It did nothing of the sort, of course, at least not yet. But one of the first rules she'd been taught about interrogation technique was that every bit of information that could be coaxed out of an unwary or talkative subject was a piece that might later prove important to the overall puzzle. "And have you achieved those noble goals?"
Bearsh's twin mouths curved in a bitter smile. "Beyond our most optimistic hopes," he said. "The human remnant we leave behind will spend their last hours cursing themselves for how they have unwittingly served us."
"Sounds intriguing," Mara said encouragingly. "How about letting us in on the secret? We're all going to die soon anyway, right?"
Bearsh's eyes shifted to Luke. "Is this Jedi heroism?" he asked contemptuously. "To let your female speak while you cower in silence?"
Luke stirred. "I'm hardly cowering," he said mildly. "I let Mara do the talking because she's better at this sort of thing than I am. Comes of being trained to interrogate prisoners."
The Vagaari's smile turned smug. "You have it upside down, Jedi," he said softly. "And we have wasted enough time with you. Now, die."
He murmured something, and abruptly the two wolvkils in the lead leapt forward. Mara caught a flicker in Luke's sense as he prepared for combat— "No," she told him, brushing his chest with her fingertips as she took a long step to put herself between him and Pressor and the charging animals. "You did all the climbing. This one's mine."
Before he could argue the point she took another long step forward, stretching out to the Force as she gauged the distance and timing. Ears laid back, salivating jaws wide open, the wolvkils' paws hit the deck one final time and leapt straight for her throat—
With a quick sidestep, Mara ignited her lightsaber and cut both of them in half.
She turned to the Vagaari as the remains of the animals hit the deck behind her with sickening multiple thuds. "Now," she said conversationally, holding her lightsaber in ready position. "What was that about someone dying?"
Bearsh's eyes were wide, his face rigid with shock. The smug smile had vanished completely. His mouths worked a moment, and with a sort of strangled gasp he spat something in his own language.
In answer, seven alien weapons opened fire.
Mara was ready. Her lightsaber flashed as she opened her mind to the Force, letting it guide her hands, slashing the brilliant blue blade across the mixture of red and blue bolts. Her sharp focus on the threat in front of her gave her a sort of tunnel vision, but though she couldn't see him she could sense that Luke was at her side with his own lightsaber deflecting the bolts into bulkheads and deck and ceiling. Dimly, she sensed someone else firing nearby, and noticed one of the Vagaari stagger in his armor, his weapon twisted to fire uselessly into the ceiling. Pressor, she realized in a distant sort of way, firing through the defensive barrier she and Luke had set up in front of him. There was another shout of alien language, ringed by a sense of rage and desperation—
The remaining wolvkils leapt forward, apparently oblivious to the blaster bolts scorching the air around them as they charged toward the defenders. Mara took a step forward as Luke took one backward, her lightsaber never missing a beat of their defense as Luke closed down his weapon and dropped to one knee behind her. She might be better than he was at detailed lightsaber work, but even after a long climb he was far and away the best she'd ever seen at this kind of focused accuracy with the Force. If the Vagaari weren't already sufficiently impressed, she thought as she continued to deflect their shots, this ought to do it. The wolvkils reached their jumping-off spot and started to leap straight at her—
They squealed like small lap dokriks, coming to an abrupt and simultaneous halt as Luke stretched out with the Force to momentarily scramble their nervous systems. As they stood stunned, he sent a second, more precise mental jolt into their systems, his mind searching out and focusing on their sleep centers.
With a group sigh, the animals' legs collapsed beneath them and they dropped unconscious to the deck.
Luke got back to his feet. "Well?" he challenged.
Farmboy—the word ran affectionately through Mara's mind. She herself had been trained in ruthlessness, taught never to risk herself for those who threatened her and who, by definition, had therefore forfeited their right to live.
But Luke didn't see things that way. Even as the years had grown and matured and hardened him, the inner core of idealism and mercy he'd brought with him out of that moisture farm on Tatooine had never faltered. Others might sneer at that, she knew, or use his farming background as an insult.
But for her, the title was an acknowledgment of his moral high ground, a large part of what she loved and admired most about her husband. And at the end of the day, she slept better for knowing that even their deadliest opponents had been given every chance they could possibly hope to receive.
But in this case, the chance was wasted. Bearsh's only response was to scream another order. His soldiers' only response was to intensify their rate of fire.
And as the shots began to come perilously close to her face, Mara knew that this particular battle had come to an end.
That end came in the form of a lightsaber whipping through the air beside her, deftly slipping between the frenetic slicing movements of her own weapon. It flashed down the corridor, spinning like a blazing crop harvester disk, slicing through the Vagaari weapons and armor and bodies.
Two seconds later, it was over.
Mara straightened from her combat stance, breathing hard as she studied the fallen soldiers, stretching out with the Force for signs of any surprises still lurking nearby. But Luke had done what was necessary with his usual efficiency.
It was only then that she saw that Bearsh wasn't among the fallen.
"Where did he go?" she demanded, taking another look.
"Who?" Luke asked, looking up from the wolvkil he had knelt to examine.
"Bearsh," Mara said. "He's gone." She turned to look at Pressor. "Guardian?"
Pressor didn't answer. He was staring at the crumpled Vagaari bodies, his jaw hanging open in disbelief. "Pressor?" Mara tried again.
With an effort, he raised his eyes to her. "What?"
"Bearsh," Mara repeated, trying to stifle her impatience. After fifty years without Jedi, these people had apparently forgotten what they were capable of.
&
nbsp; "Right," Pressor said, visibly pulling himself together. "He, uh, he took off right after"—he shot Luke a furtive glance—"after you put the animals to sleep. Or whatever you did to them. The rest cranked up their rate of fire, and he took off back down the corridor."
"We'd better get after him," Mara said grimly. "Luke?"
"Go ahead," he told her, moving to the next wolvkil. "I want to make sure they won't wake up until we're ready to deal with them. Go on—I'll catch up."
"Okay," Mara said, starting down the corridor. "Come on, Pressor—you have to show me where this meeting room is," she added, pulling out her comlink and flicking it on. "Fel, stay on your toes," she called. "It looks like we've got more Vagaari to deal with than we were expecting."
There was no answer. "Fel?" she tried again.
Still nothing. "I would say," Pressor said quietly, "that they've probably already figured that out."
CHAPTER 20
The aft sections of D-6 weren't as well maintained as the corridor between the nursery and the Jedi Quarantine had been. But the aft turbolift tubes weren't very far, the area was passable enough, and the 501st was what the training manuals would have called "inspired." They made it to the turbolift lobby without further incident, and in probably record time.
Fel had keyed the call button, and they were waiting for the car to arrive, when they got their first hint of imminent trouble.
"It doesn't sound right, Commander," Grappler insisted, the side of his helmet pressed against the turbolift door. "It sounds... it just sounds wrong."
"Wrong how?" Fel demanded impatiently. He was all for caution, but at the same time he didn't want to start jumping at moss creakings, either. Not with Formbi and the others in danger up there. "Does it sound old, rusty, cranky—what?"
"It's too heavy," Watchman decided suddenly, his helmet pressed to the door alongside Grappler's. "There's too much weight there for an empty car."
Fel shot a glance at Drask. "Could it be a problem with the repulsorlift generators?"
"No," Watchman said. "There's some of that, too, but not enough. The car is definitely loaded."
