Authors: Troy Denning
“Tendra, what’s all this about?” Ganner asked. This wasn’t in the script, but Ganner knew what was needed—Jacen could feel it. Ganner
always
knew. “Haven’t we been good guests?”
“The best,” Tendra replied. “Fitzgibbon just doesn’t like cowards.”
Jacen did not even feel Yarsroot’s assistant remove his lightsaber; he only saw it go down the chute with the others.
“Cowards?” Ganner asked. “What are you—”
“Talfaglio,” Tendra said simply. A native of nearby Sacorria, she did not need to work to make herself sound angry. “Now shut that fly hangar of yours and stand up. There’s someone who wants to see you—all of you.”
Back to the script. Jacen felt himself stand and turn toward the door, Tenel Ka close behind. She would be his watcher, her one arm strong enough to carry them both. Tendra stepped aside and motioned the strike team through the door. Down the corridor past the guest cabins and up three stairs onto the transfer deck. Things would be crowded—air lock, escape pods, who knows how many Yuuzhan Vong. Would the voxyn be there? Probably not—nobody could feel it yet.
Alema began to tremble, frightened not of the Yuuzhan Vong—she had killed dozens with her own hands, eluded hundreds more—but of herself. She had not expected to encounter a voxyn on the transit ship. Could she face one again, knowing what the first had done to her sister?
Jacen fed her the feelings of Raynar, who was comforting himself with the knowledge that the Twi’lek had done this stuff many times before. She had denied the Yuuzhan Vong New
Plympto. She would get them through this. Alema’s lekku stopped shaking, and Jacen followed the unconscious Jedi—who were being levitated by five of their fellows—past Lando’s suite toward the guest cabins.
A door slid open behind Tenel Ka, and something blunt caught her between the shoulder blades. Jacen dropped to his knees and started to black out, then realized it was Tenel Ka’s body he was feeling and reached out to the others, calling upon their strength to keep them both conscious. When his vision cleared, Yuuzhan Vong filled the corridor.
At the head of the line, Ganner lunged for Lando. “You double-crossing—”
The blunt edge of an amphistaff caught the big Jedi across the back of the head, dropping him into a dark pit before Jacen could call on the others to keep him conscious. Not in the script—but probably for the best.
Point thirty: The crew departs
. Tendra and Yarsroot retreated into the ship, leaving the strike team in the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. There were only six guards on the transfer deck with Lando. The rest were down in the access corridor behind Anakin, flanking the long line of Jedi. Tesar Sebatyne, who was second in line, hesitated at the transfer deck and stared down at Ganner’s unconscious form.
A Yuuzhan Vong warrior, a large one with a spindly fringe of black hair, grabbed the Barabel and shoved him into the boarding suite. “Forward—all of you!”
Anakin suppressed a smirk and stepped over Ganner’s unconscious form. Tesar had played his role perfectly, forcing the Yuuzhan Vong to order the strike team to do exactly what the strike team wanted to. Anakin followed the Barabel to the far end of the deck and took his place across from the weapons locker. Tahiri and the other Jedi crowded after him, packing themselves just tightly enough to make room for the whole team—and not much else.
So far, events were proceeding more or less as planned. True, their lightsabers had been dropped into the flushlock. But Tendra and Yarsroot had taken extra “precautions” during the turnover to give the war droids time to retrieve the weapons. Anakin could
feel the strike team’s confidence growing with every success. The empathic sharing strengthened everyone’s resolve and bound them to a common purpose, just as the Barabels had said it would, and Jacen was keeping him in touch with the group. Anakin sensed Alema Rar’s resolve harden and shared Tenel Ka’s surprise when she was struck from behind, and now he perceived Lowie’s mind stirring. No sooner had Anakin begun to worry about how a groggy Wookiee would impact their plans than he sensed Jacen reaching out to calm their waking friend. This was going to work great.
Once the crew was safely out of sight, Lando turned to a scar-faced Yuuzhan Vong and gestured at a fiberplast crate in front of the
Lady Luck
’s escape pod. “Perhaps the commander of the
Exquisite Death
would allow me to present him with a small gift?”
It was a subtle variation on point thirty-one, but a useful one. No one had expected the commander of the transit ship to supervise the transfer personally. This officer was an eager one.
When the enemy commander did not object, Lando removed several pairs of stun cuffs from the crate. Anakin expelled a long calming breath, using a Jedi relaxation technique to let a spike of anxiety flow out with it.
Lando held the cuffs in front of the commander. “A little something to keep the prisoners in line, Duman Yaght.”
Duman Yaght regarded the cuffs with a sneer. “What are those profanities?”
“Wrist restraints.” Lando opened a metal sleeve and displayed it proudly. “You see, I’ve thought of everything.”
Duman knocked the stun cuffs aside. “We have our own bindings.” He glared at Ganner’s unconscious form, which one of the strike team had levitated and placed in the center of the transfer deck with the other unconscious Jedi Knights. “Bindings that teach as well as restrain.”
Point thirty-two: The enemy acknowledges the offer
. Anakin turned his palm toward the weapons locker and reached out with the Force, buckling the door panel inward. Lando and the Yuuzhan Vong spun toward the
screal
of crumpling durasteel. Ulaha closed the pressure hatch at her end of the transfer deck, sealing the rest of the enemy boarding party out in the access corridor.
Anakin twisted the door free and slammed it into Duman Yaght’s head. One Yuuzhan Vong warrior stepped over to defend his stunned commander, and the others—finding the space too cramped for amphistaffs—reached for their coufees. The strike team counterattacked in a flurry of kicks and blows, taking full advantage of the battle meld to keep the enemy too busy dodging and blocking to actually draw a weapon.
With the Force, Anakin jerked the blaster pistols from their locker mounts and hurled them across the transfer deck into the grasps of ten waiting Jedi. From the other side of the sealed hatch came muffled shouts and metallic thuds as the rest of the boarding party tried to break into the transfer deck, then Tesar half turned, whipping his thick reptilian tail into the ankles of Duman Yaght and his defender and sweeping both Yuuzhan Vong off their feet. He leveled his blaster at the commander’s head.
“Call off your scarheads,” the Barabel rasped.
Duman Yaght’s eyes flared with anger, and his guard, now lying behind Tesar, reached for his coufee. Anakin started to shout a warning, but Jacen had already felt his alarm and relayed it through the battle meld. The Barabel pivoted and brought his heel down, a long spike folding out to pin the warrior’s hand to the durasteel floor.
The tumult on the other side of the hatch suddenly fell silent, and Anakin guessed the situation on the transfer deck had been relayed to the officers of the
Exquisite Death
. He leveled his blaster pistol at Duman Yaght’s wounded protector and began to count. The war droids would need at least a thirty-second distraction to slip out of the
Lady Luck
’s disposal lock with the equipment pod and attach to the enemy shuttle. Anakin would have liked to give them a safety margin of twice that, but sixty seconds seemed like an eternity.
Tesar took his time pulling his heel spike out of the guard’s hand, then pressed his blaster to Duman Yaght’s face.
“Tell your warriorz to drop their weaponz,” the Barabel rasped.
Duman Yaght surprised Anakin and everyone else by responding with an admiring smirk. “Impressive. The reputation of the
Jeedai
is well deserved.”
Tesar’s only response was a hiss. If not for the battle meld, Anakin would have thought the Barabel confused, but he sensed through Jacen that Tesar was only stalling for time.
Two seconds later, Tesar snarled, “This one wantz surrender, not complimentz.”
“Then you are to be disappointed,” Duman replied. “You must know that before allowing seventeen
Jeedai
to escape, I’ll destroy this ship and everyone aboard it—myself included.”
“Wait a second,” Lando objected. He stepped forward, and Anakin’s count reached eight. “There’s no call for—”
“Silence! If you know anything about the Yuuzhan Vong, then you know we have no fear of death.” Duman looked back to Tesar. “You have five breaths.”
Finally, something they had not planned for. Desperate to thwart the deadline, Anakin stepped over and kicked the villips off the commander’s shoulder, crushed them beneath his foot.
“That will not save you,” the commander said. “I have a personal villip on the bridge of my ship, relaying every word I say.” He looked back to Tesar. “Three breaths.”
Though Anakin’s count had barely passed ten seconds, he knew better than to challenge the commander’s word. Having proclaimed his willingness to die, it was now a matter of honor to follow through. He watched Duman Yaght’s chest rise and fall two more times.
Lando must have been watching, as well; after the second breath, he snorted loudly. “Nobody’s going to slag my ship.” He started across the transfer deck to the inner hatch. “Not when there’s no reason for it.”
Alema Rar blocked his way and pointed her blaster at his face, then pulled the trigger as he moved to step past. There was a loud pop of a tripping safety breaker, then she cried out and dropped the smoking pistol.
Lando kicked the weapon aside. “You see? I’ve thought of everything.” He snatched Raynar’s blaster out of his hand, popped a retaining clip, reversed the power pack, adjusted the discharge setting, and dropped Tesar with a stun bolt. “Reversed power packs—standard safety precaution, at least when you’re turning traitor on a company of Jedi.”
Anakin and several others popped their retaining clips, but even Jedi were not that quick. Duman Yaght’s protector caught Anakin in a leg scissors and whipped him to the floor, and Anakin found himself struggling to continue his count beneath a rain of blows.
The rest of the Yuuzhan Vong were also attacking, forgoing their coufees to lash out at the blasters in the hands of their foes. Even Duman Yaght joined the fray, leaping up to hurl Tahiri into an escape pod hatch. Blaster and power pack flew in two directions, and she wisely let herself slump to the deck.
The commander turned to Lando, pointed to the inner hatch. “Open it!”
Lando stepped forward, his hand reaching for the override. By Anakin’s count, they were at twenty-five seconds. The two war droids would be searching the bottom of the shuttle for a place to anchor. Jacen sensed Anakin’s worry, and Ulaha stepped forward to block the path, a long-fingered Bith hand flicking forward as she opened herself to the Force.
Jacen screamed first. Anakin experienced an instant of hot pain and thought his brother had been wounded, but then he heard Ulaha’s whistle and saw the Bith stumbling forward, the handle of a coufee protruding from her back. Shock shot through the strike team like a stun bolt. No one had seen the attack coming, and the sudden pain dazed them badly. Anakin took two hard blows and felt the others reeling, too, and then bodies began to fall.
Across the deck, Ulaha lay facedown, too pained to scream, her fingernails raking the durasteel floor. Lando stood above her, dark eyes dazed with horror, but too much the gambler to show anything more. His knee flexed as though he might kneel down to pull out the coufee. Then he caught himself and stepped over the anguished Jedi and opened the inner hatch.
Another fist crashed down on Anakin, this time summoning misty shadows of unconsciousness. He forgot his count, but it had to be thirty—or as close as they were going to get. The floor began to reverberate with heavy footfalls, the rest of the boarding party rushing onto the transfer deck. Anakin reached out with the Force and hurled a discarded blaster pistol into his
attacker’s head and was rewarded with another blow, then the tip of a coufee touched his throat.
“Done,
Jeedai
!” the warrior hissed. “Understand?”
Anakin did not even dare to nod.
Duman Yaght barked an order. A pair of Yuuzhan Vong lifted Ulaha off the floor and passed her into the air lock, the coufee still protruding from her back. A familiar hollowness came to Anakin then—the same hollowness he had felt on Sernpidal, when he had been forced to raise the
Falcon
’s nose and leave Chewie behind—and a cold fear rose inside him. They had barely made contact, and he had already gotten someone injured. Maybe this mission was too much for them. Maybe everyone was going to get killed just like Chewbacca—Lowie, Tahiri, even Jacen and Jaina. Maybe it would be his fault.
Jacen reached out to him, gently laving him with the emotions of the others. There was fear, anger, guilt. Anakin could not tell who was feeling what, except for Alema Rar.
Alema seemed to be relieved. No one had actually died yet, and she had made it this far without breaking down in terror. Things were going pretty well, it seemed to her.
Duman Yaght’s voice sounded from somewhere beyond Anakin’s feet. “I must admit, Fitzgibbon Lane, that I now understand why you destroyed their lightsabers. Had they gotten to those … well, let us say I am happy they were disintegrated.”
A pair of Yuuzhan Vong jerked Anakin to his feet, and he saw the commander standing with Lando as the boarding party lined the Jedi up for transfer. Anakin fixed his stare on Lando, wondering if there was not some way for the silky-tongued gambler to keep Ulaha aboard the
Lady Luck
.
Lando caught Anakin staring at him and allowed his gaze to linger a moment, then turned back to Duman Yaght. “It’s all in the planning, but next time, I want some warning. If we catch them during a sleep cycle—”
“You will have your villip,” the Yuuzhan Vong interrupted. “That is all I can promise.”