“What others are there?”
“Talk to Master Altis. He’ll tell you.”
Ahsoka didn’t break her fixed gaze on the road, but Callista felt a little jolt in the Force, as if the Togruta was struggling with something. This was the debate Callista always dreaded: the one where she pointed to the real world around her, the evident benefits of love, and expected an ideologue whose entire life had been consumed by an all-or-nothing dogma to notice the evidence and suddenly agree that she had a point.
Being right didn’t matter. I have to be more tolerant. Unless the mainstream Jedi did harm, active harm, then she had no duty or right to argue or oppose them.
Geith, though, felt they were already doing harm.
She glanced down at the remote’s output on her datapad. A wall of light brown moving metal, relentless in its pace and uniformity, marched on.
“Here they come,” Ahsoka said. She ignited her lightsaber, transformed from child to warrior in a second. “No more than ten minutes.”
Callista opened her comlink. “Rex?” It just slipped out. “The battle droids. Ten minutes, maximum. Get a move on.”
“A good explosive Force push can bring down the front two ranks,” Ahsoka said. She was suddenly completely in control of her situation, confident about seeing off a company of battle droids. “If they pack the street, they tend to block themselves in. And if you get close enough to use your lightsaber, the heads come off ever so easily.”
“Thanks.” Callista realized she knew no more about Ahsoka’s world than Ahsoka understood of hers. “I’ve never faced them before.”
“We’re Jedi,” she said. “We can take a bunch of tinnies anytime. That’s what Rex calls them, you know. Tinnies.”
“Tinnies it is, then,” said Callista.
The steady chunk-chunk-chunk of durasteel feet was getting closer by the second.
One Block Away from Hallena Devis,
South Athar
Djinn Altis took the lightsaber from his belt and pressed his thumb on the controls. The blade of amber energy was his personal watershed, the line between who he tried hard to be and what he inevitably became.
And now I’m ready to end a life.
And if I wish there was another way—why don’t I make one?
He felt the clone troopers tense as the blade ignited—the new clones, beings so raw and young that he sensed them in the Force as children. Their commander, Rex, had obviously seen lightsabers used in earnest many times. For the youngsters, this had to be the first time.
“Okay—Joc, Ince, and Ross—cover the exit.” Rex gestured. “The rest of you, with me. We scale the wall, go in via the roof-light. Okay? Usual drill.” He turned to Altis. “You know how we do this, don’t you? We go in and shoot everyone who isn’t a hostage. You can stay here and hold off the tinnies.”
Rex was giving him a gracious way out. Too dirty a job for a Jedi. But Altis couldn’t back out now.
“There are only three others on that floor apart from Hallena Devis. We might find that much force isn’t necessary.”
“Force with a small f.”
“Yes.”
“The aim is total incapacitation of the hostage-takers before they have a chance to shoot their hostage or detonate any devices, and to remove the hostage as fast as possible. That means overkill. That’s why I’ve got six men on this and not tasked to fight the droids.”
“Let me go in first. Just because I’m older than the Jedi you’re used to serving with doesn’t mean I’m incapable of defending myself.”
I’m still complicit in this if I stand outside, and the enemy will be no less dead. So I’ll do it. And perhaps I now understand Yoda’s slide into militarism a little better.
“Okay, but we have to make this snappy.”
“I’ll draw their attention to get past the door,” Altis said, switching off the lightsaber. He concealed it in his sleeve ready for action. “Just an old man looking for a lost daughter in the chaos of civil war. Yes?”
Rex gave him a thumbs-up. “Make sure you leave your comlink open so we hear what’s happening. Wait for the signal.”
Vere fired a grapple over the edge of the roof and tugged on the line to make sure that it would take a man’s weight. Reassured, they hoisted themselves on individual lines and disappeared over the parapet. Geith peered over the edge and nodded. Then the three clone troopers covering the exit waved Altis in.
Go.
It was a rickety old building, and the only way up was several flights of stairs. The turbolift was out of action; there was no power to the building. Altis anticipated a panicky, trigger-happy reception if he startled them, and put on his bewildered-old-man persona.
He made a point of creaking slowly up the stairs, then paused on the first landing to give them enough warning—and enough of something else to focus on beside the noises they might hear from the roof.
“Is there anyone here? Linnie? Are you here?”
He got to the third landing and headed for the office door, feeling Hallena Devis more strongly in the Force than ever. As he reached the door, which was slightly ajar, a woman with a blaster came out and blocked his path.
“I’m looking for my girl,” Altis said, wondering if some mind influence might speed things up. But this woman didn’t look the suggestible type. “I haven’t seen her since the fighting started. Have you seen her? She’s—”
The door opened wide now, and a man came out. Altis got a quick glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned woman being hauled to a standing position from the floor. Hallena. Yes, it was her. “Who is it, Merish?”
“Just some old guy looking for his daughter.” She seemed distracted by the comlink she held in one hand, as if she wanted to get back to a conversation. “Look, we haven’t seen your daughter. We’re moving out of here now, so—”
Bang.
The explosion of transparisteel and permacrete above his head was a genuine shock. Boots hit the floor next to him. Debris rained down.
His reflex was to draw his lightsaber; all he saw was the woman’s blaster lifting to fire—at him, at one of the clones who suddenly landed beside him?—and he simply brought the blade up diagonally in a defensive stroke. It cut clean through her arm and sliced under the chin. Where the blaster fell, he had no idea; the man behind her screamed “Merish! No, Merish!” and someone else tried to slam the door shut before he stepped clear. But Rex and two clone troopers smashed through the door, firing, and Altis followed.
The rattle of blasterfire stopped almost as soon as it had started. In the second—a second, no more—that it took him to enter the room, Rex stood with his blaster to an old man’s head; the man in turn held Hallena Devis around the neck in a stranglehold, with a blaster pressed to her temple.
There was a moment’s standoff.
“Nice to see the Republic finally showed its face,” the man said. Hallena was completely still, hands bound, face impassive, exuding that tension that said she was looking for a way to drop this man herself. “What do you want—want me to bargain, your spy’s life for mine?”
Rex said nothing and simply pressed the trigger.
It was that fast. Altis didn’t expect Rex to do that at all.
The blaster discharge knocked the old man backward, but he was dead before he slid all the way down the wall. Hallena fell, too. Rex, completely calm, hauled her to her feet again and ejected a vibroblade from his gauntlet to cut the cuffs around her wrists.
“Time to go, Agent Devis,” he said. Outside, the chunking sound of droid feet was getting very close. “The droid army’s coming for you.”
Rex tried to push her to the exit. But she tried to stop to check the younger man, sprawled on the floor with a massive blaster burn from mouth to chest.
“He’s not dead—”
“Not our problem. Go.”
“But—look, let me get my comlink back, okay?”
She rummaged in the man’s coat, but Rex just picked her up bodily and almost threw her
to Hil, who ignored her protests and bundled her down the first flight of stairs. Altis went after them. It was a narrow staircase, and they needed a fast exit. Geith—no questions, no orders—leapt down the stairwell and held up his arms. Hil threw her down to him; she yelped. It was as if they’d been drilled to do it all their lives, and yet Geith had never seen the troopers before today, and the trooper could have had no idea how much weight a Jedi could safely take when it was dropped on him. Suddenly there was nobody below, the sound of droids was deafening, and Altis realized he was going to be trapped in this building along with Rex, Vere, and Boro.
“Sir! Get out, we’ll cover you.” Ince’s voice was audible over the open comlink. “Move it!”
Rex grabbed Altis’s arm. “Nice job, Master. Now run. Can’t keep Coric waiting.”
As the four of them reached the entrance to the building, the firing started. Altis couldn’t see Callista or Ahsoka; he had to get out of there. Rex gestured to wait and adjusted his rifle.
“Ince, are you clear? Is Devis okay?”
The trooper’s voice sounded breathless. He was running. “Yeah—heading for the shuttle—she’s running—had to put my boot up her backside, though—”
Rex made an irritated huff, an oddly mild reaction with bedlam breaking loose outside. “Okay, get to Coric and bang out as soon as you need to. Don’t wait for anyone except the Jedi.”
Altis cut in. “No. We take our chances, like you.”
Rex seemed to ignore him, took a deep breath, and burst out into the street, straight into a sea of battle droids.
Chapter Seven
One day, if it pleases some Jedi Master’s personal convenience, the Council will abandon the rule of no attachment completely and have families. Then they’ll build powerful dynasties. Their ends always justify their means on any given day. As do ours—but we admit it, do we not?
—COUNT DOOKU, to Asajj Ventress
Athar,
En Route to the Extraction Point
Hallena was so pumped with adrenaline that she could feel no pain in her head as she ran.
Her lungs were screaming at her to stop, though. She felt the energy ebbing from her because she simply couldn’t seem to get enough air down her throat. She also realized she was nowhere near as fit as a clone trooper, and that was who she was trying to keep pace with.
But she had her comlink. The data on that was too valuable to let fall into enemy hands. She left it on locate-transmit setting, just in case, just so that Control knew where she was now.
Behind her, she heard the shooting. She’d also heard the orders barked over the clones’ audio system.
“We can’t leave them,” she panted.
“Keep going, ma’am.” Ince grabbed her arm. She was slowing. “Coric’s started the drives.”
“We don’t leave until the other guys catch up, you hear?”
“Ma’am—orders are to extract you—that’s what we’re doing.”
She had a long list of questions backing up in her brain like an angry mob demanding answers. Her body told her they could wait their turn and that she had to get as far away from here as she could. But there was Shil maybe not dead, and she cared what happened to him, and there were all these strangers risking their lives to get her out, and she didn’t have any information, anything at all, that made it imperative to rescue her.
“That’s what my toxin capsule’s for,” she said. “So that I don’t need extracting.”
“It’s not a myth, then…”
The sound of gunship drives made them scatter for cover. One of the other troopers, one whose name she hadn’t caught, pulled her down into the shelter of a basement entrance until the vessel passed overhead.
“Ince here, sir.” Hallena could still hear him. Their helmets had external speakers. “Sep gunship, five minutes from you—heading northwest, probably going to miss you, but be aware.” He sprang up from his crouch and waved them on down the street. “Hug the walls, guys. The captain’s going to kill us if we screw up first time out.”
The short breather had given Hallena a second wind. She ran as hard as she could. When she rounded the corner behind Ince and saw the derelict factory, she could already hear the faint rumble of a shuttle drive idling.
“It’s us, Sarge,” Ince yelled. “Got her. Open up.”
The civilian with them—the one she’d been thrown to like a roll of carpet—helped her into the crew bay. She slumped onto one of the bulkhead benches and tried to get her breath back while he checked her head wound.
The pilot turned in his seat. He didn’t have his helmet on, just a comm headset. He was a serious-looking young man with black hair cut menacingly short, and Hallena suddenly realized that she was looking at the face of an entire army.
“The captain’s pinned down,” he said. “You been listening to your comm?”
The three troopers pitched in all at once.
“I can see his HUD output, Sarge…”
“Yeah, come on. We go back and help them, or what?”
“We can’t just sit here.”
“You can,” the sergeant snapped. “And you will. Or else we could end up losing the whole detachment. Give it a few minutes. I’m watching the remote, and if you stopped to think for a second, you could patch into it, too.”
Hallena had no idea what was going on—again. For more than a day now, she’d been effectively blind and deaf. And now she couldn’t see or hear everything that the clone troopers could, just the parts of their conversation they let her hear, and she wasn’t used to being that far out of the loop. The seconds were dragging like hours.
“You,” she said to the civilian. “Are you Intel?”
“Jedi,” he said. “Jedi Knight Geith Eris. I don’t think even a trooper could catch you from that height without breaking something.”
“Have you flashed Leveler to let Pellaeon know she’s okay?” Ince asked the pilot. “He’ll be crawling the walls if he can hear any of the comm traffic.”
“Yes. I have, Trooper.”
The mention of Gil’s name—and his ship—split Hallena down the middle. Part of her felt foolish elation, and the rest was mortified that the romance was now clearly common knowledge even in the ranks.
“How’s the ship holding up?” another clone asked. “No point banging out of here if we don’t have a ride home.”
“Sensors online, drives are fine, but the concussion missile targeting’s not looking too clever. Maybe we can try for Kemla Yard in this crate if the worst happens.”
“Range limited by oxygen, remember? Nah, we’ve got to get back on board.”
It was clear they were talking about a warship. “Are you transferring me to a ship?”
“Leveler, ma’am. Where else?”
Gil was insane. Had he come all this way—from wherever, doing whatever—and risked his ship because she was in trouble, and somehow that emergency comm had reached him? Guilt overwhelmed her. Spooks weren’t supposed to need bailing out. They were supposed to do the bailing. It happened, but she didn’t feel good about it.
“Crazy,” she said to herself. “What’s happening to your men back there?”
The sergeant—he had to be Coric—held his receiver a little closer to his mouth. “Wow. Hey, check your HUDs. Are you blind or something? See, this is why you always have to pack a Jedi or three.”
Hallena couldn’t stand it any longer. “Show me,” she said to Ince. “Show me what you can see.”
The trooper reached into his belt and pulled out a datapad. The small screen showed a jerking, chaotic picture like a holovid chase sequence, but it was obviously a clone’s helmet cam recording what he was seeing. A mass of droids filled the street in front of him. What first looked like a barricade of rubble turned out to be shattered droid parts, and a few meters back from that barrier, two humans and a—a child, yes a child, a Togruta—stood with lightsabers drawn and their free hands extended. Blasterfire ripped into the droid ranks. A couple of white-armored fi
gures appeared for a moment as the cam turned. When the helmet cam tilted—as the clone trooper looked down—she saw another trooper on the ground, his armor shattered, and another trying to pull him clear.
This is all over me. It’s not about vital intelligence. I don’t have any, not now.
It’s never worth all those lives. I’m never worth all those lives.
Hallena caught Ince’s arm to get his attention and had to shake him slightly. He was watching his comrades in trouble, torn between orders and doing what he felt he had to.
“Get them out of there,” Hallena said. “Now.”
Battle Droid Line,
Athar
Vere’s POV icon was still live on the left margin of Rex’s HUD, and he couldn’t shut it off.
He was sure Vere couldn’t see the clouded sky he seemed to be staring at.
“No go, sir,” Boro said. He was still trying to get a line into Vere’s arm, the plastoid plates flung aside and sections of black undersuit peeled back. “No pulse, nothing.”
Every second Boro spent trying to revive Vere put his own life at risk. As Rex drained another clip into the droid lines and dropped behind cover to reload, he struggled with a rising tidal wave of incoherent anger for a kid whose active service had lasted just eight days, from the time he shipped out of Kamino to the moment a droid grenade shattered his last line of defense, his armor.
Eight days wasn’t enough for anyone.
The only things he could make pay for that were massed in front of him. Fine. Even in the few months of this war, he’d lost so many men that it didn’t seem to matter if he joined them sooner rather than later. If he did—he wouldn’t have to spend another second feeling like he’d failed them and wondering how many more he’d lose tomorrow.
“Boro, pack it in.” He caught the young clone’s arm. “He’s gone, kid. You’ll be next if you don’t grab that Deece and start shooting.”
“Sir, I’ve done all the medic training. I can—”
Boro stopped abruptly, sat back on his heels for a moment, and sighted up with his rifle again. Rex heard his outgoing audio click off, so he was either yelling curses or sobbing or whatever he needed to do to cope with losing his buddy. But he got on with it. He laid down fire, and only someone who knew what went on inside the helmet could have guessed what it was doing to him.