Tyria leapt to her right, putting her around the corner from the oncoming missiles. Jaina charged straight at the Mandos.
She twisted and let a mini rocket pass by no more than three centimeters from her body. It and the other projectiles slammed into walls, floor, and ceiling behind her, causing the floor to rock. A gust of heated air from the explosion overtook her.
And then she was in their midst, in the middle of the pack of Mandos, where they’d have to fire precisely or not at all to avoid harming their fellows. Three of them were rising, unhurt. One of the two still standing drew a short vibrosword, holding it in a reverse grip, and launched himself at her.
She watched the other one who was still on his feet. Sure enough, he used the direct assault as a distraction, waited half a second, and fired at her from what looked like a line-throwing forearm attachment. But what came at her was a flexible projectile that broadened, expanded into a net.
She grabbed at it with the Force, exerting herself against it as if it were a bad idea, and flicked it into the path of the vibrosword wielder. It wrapped around him.
Nor did Jaina let go of it then. She maintained her mental grip on the net and yanked it through one of the holes in the wall. That Mando went flying, and the one who’d cast the net, still attached to it by a line, was hauled off his feet. He went flying after his comrade, the sudden lateral movement causing him to drop his blaster rifle.
Three left, but the other two were unhurt and would be back in a moment—perhaps with reinforcements.
The three were on their feet now. One turned away from Jaina, facing back down the corridor, and threw up his arm just in time to catch Tyria’s descending lightsaber blade on it. The beskar from which his crushgaunt was made withstood the impact of the green energy blade, and he was not wounded. But the crushgaunt was scarred and the sheer force of Tyria’s blow drove him back a step.
Jaina spun between the other two, chambering her weapon, ready to kick. One of the two Mandos, a female, wore a rocket pack and ignited it, carrying her up and away from Jaina. That was all right; she was not Jaina’s original target. Jaina leapt, and her kick took the other commando in the side of the head. It was certainly not powerful enough to damage the beskar, but a lot of kinetic force was transmitted through the helmet, rocking the man’s head. He staggered away.
Tyria’s lightsaber found an unarmored chink in her opponent’s plating. She drove the blade, point-first, into his inner thigh. He made a strangled noise, took two jerky steps backward, and fell as the smell of burned flesh joined that of explosives residue. But another commando, the one who’d launched the net at Jaina, leapt out from the hole in the wall and swung at Tyria before she could react. His gauntleted fist took her in the jaw. Jaina heard the crack, saw the jaw deform, and suddenly Tyria was down, unconscious. The odds abruptly went from two against five to one against four. Or three and a half, if the concussion she was sure she’d given one Mando counted for anything.
There was a new boom from farther down the corridor, back toward Apprentice Geffer and the turbolifts. Jaina nodded, comprehending. Another handful of Mandos would be leaving the StealthX hangar the same way these had, using explosives to bypass doors, moving laterally in directions the Jedi wouldn’t normally prepare for.
Now the only thing between this second unit of Mandos and the turbolifts was one apprentice. She saw Geffer’s desk slide through the intersection, picking up speed, propelled by the boy’s use of the Force, and a split second after it vanished from sight down the cross-hall she heard it destroyed by mini rockets. Apprentice Geffer, grimly determined and frightened all at once, stepped out into the intersection, his lightsaber lit.
Jaina swore to herself. She could not retreat to help Geffer. She had to hold here or they’d both be flanked. But the apprentice was no match for experienced Mandos, especially Mandos who had clearly trained and prepared for conflict with Jedi. She had to hope he’d last a few seconds.
The flying Mando female fired down at Jaina with a blaster pistol. Jaina sidestepped the barrage of shots, making it look clumsy when in fact it wasn’t, and launched herself at the commando who had taken Tyria out.
The turbolift door opened and Raynar Thul stepped out into the passageway. He saw an apprentice, lightsaber glowing blue in his hand, facing down a side corridor. Down the main corridor, Jaina Solo was squared off against three Mandos, one of them flying. Correction, four Mandos: another one, casting off ruins of a net, charged out through a hole that used to be a doorway.
Raynar strode forward, told the apprentice, “I’ll take this,” and turned toward the apprentice’s subject of attention.
Subjects. Five more Mandos moving forward through the ruins of some furniture and what once had been sections of wall. They hesitated when they saw him.
For once, people seeing him were not hesitating in the face of his well-healed yet widespread burn scars—but because he was a more formidable enemy than they’d expected to confront.
He ignited his lightsaber and pointed it at them. “I am Jedi Thul,” he told them. “I have not fought for real in many years. I should be a pushover. Come get me.”
They fired—blaster rifles, mini rockets, a flamethrower. It was a coordinated attack, each firing to cover a different portion of the hallway, the gout of flame straight down the middle.
But Raynar had used the moments of his speech to begin some Force trickery, grabbing at a panel of durasteel wall knocked free by the explosions that had put the Mandos’ entry holes into the wall. As they fired, he yanked the panel and held it floating before them.
He knew the panel wouldn’t last a second against their barrage, knew that it wasn’t close enough to them to reflect concussive force back toward them. But in much less than a second he ran forward and leapt.
Fire hit the panel and smoke roiled up from the point of impact. Mini rockets hit it, blew it to shrapnel, and added their own smoke to the visual confusion.
Raynar sailed past above the smoke cloud, using it as cover, executing one lazy flip as he went, and landed behind the two rearmost Mandos.
As their sight line cleared, they saw what Raynar saw: the young apprentice still barring their way, once again alone. They exchanged glances—were probably exchanging comm traffic as well.
With his free hand, Raynar grabbed the arm of one of the two rearmost Mandos, a female with a mini rocket launcher. Before she knew he was there, before she could tense and pull away from him, he aimed her arm at two of her comrades and triggered the weapon.
Mini rockets emerged, traveled a few meters, and slammed into a beskar breastplate and a rocket pack.
The detonation of the rocket pack dwarfed those of the mini rockets. Raynar was staggered back by its force and felt bits of shrapnel cut into his face, chest, and arms; felt himself battered by an unhealthy amount of heat. Pity. More work for the plastic surgeons. He shook his head, clearing his vision.
All five of his opponents were down, but three were moving, rising to their feet and assuming defensive positions. He stepped forward and swung, cutting through a blaster rifle before it could draw a bead on him.
A line wrapped around his ankle. The commando who had launched it yanked, pulling him off-balance. His free arm flailed around and his attacker’s crushgaunt caught it … and squeezed.
Raynar felt and heard his left arm break above the elbow. The jolt of pain was almost enough to cause him to black out. He swung his lightsaber, glanced it off his attacker’s upraised forearm, and brought it down to cut through the line that gripped him. But that Mando still had a hand on Raynar’s broken arm …
The apprentice was suddenly there, racing through the trio of Mandos with Force-augmented speed, striking down at the leg of Raynar’s attacker. The blow was a slash aimed at the back of the man’s knee. A trained Jedi Knight would have thrust rather than slashed, bypassing all armor at that vulnerable spot, but the boy still connected, his blade cutting through centimeters of cloth, skin, and muscle before being a
rrested by the armor at the sides of the man’s knee.
The Mando did not cry out but he did fall backward, losing his grip on Raynar’s arm.
The other two Mandos had reflexively turned in response to the boy’s arrival. They’d taken their eyes off Raynar. Fighting down the pain and the effects it could have on control of his powers, Raynar exerted himself through the Force. The helmet of one of the Mandos jerked and flew upward, yanked clean off the man’s head, then inverted and came down again, hard. The thoonk of the metal against the man’s head was gratifying in a way Raynar knew he should find inappropriate. That Mando fell.
The apprentice turned and rained lightsaber blows down on the commando he’d injured, pressing his advantage, giving no mind to the other enemies present … trusting Raynar to deal with them.
There were new booms from around the corner and down the main corridor. So Jaina was still up, still fighting.
The other fully functional Mando before Raynar, the woman whose mini rockets he had triggered, spun against him, a bare vibroblade in her hand. She thrust; he dodged. He riposted with his lightsaber; she caught the blade on her gauntlet, allowing the blade to skid harmlessly away. Raynar focused on her, could not pay attention to the apprentice’s fight, though he could hear the zat-zat-zat sounds of lightsaber blows raining quickly yet ineffectively against Mandalorian armor.
Raynar feinted with a high-to-low lightsaber slash but spun out of the false maneuver into a side kick that caught his opponent in the helmet, at the jaw. He spun again twice more, kicking twice more, his spinning momentum maintained by the Force, and connected each time. On the third blow, his target crashed to the floor and lay unmoving.
The spinning also caused Raynar’s broken arm to flail around uncontrolled. It hurt, and a groan escaped him. But he’d been hurt worse, far worse. This level of pain wouldn’t debilitate him.
The apprentice was now backing away from his crippled opponent, batting away blasterfire as fast as he could swing his lightsaber. Raynar gestured, used the Force to levitate the Mando, and then slammed him down onto the floor again and again.
Normally that wouldn’t take out an armored commando, and it didn’t this time, either. But the injury to the man’s leg made the impacts hurt him far worse than they would have otherwise. And Raynar just lofted the man and slammed him down until the Mando fell unconscious.
Panting, Raynar looked at the apprentice, who was breathing even harder. “All right, you’ll do.”
“Sir, your arm—”
“Yes, make me a sling, would you?” Raynar tucked his left hand into his belt, partially immobilizing the arm, then trotted toward the intersection, trying to catch his breath as he went.
Jaina’s battle had gone silent. That was either very good or very bad.
Raynar peeked around the corner. Down the way, walking toward him, carrying Jedi Tainer, was Jaina Solo. Her robes had burn marks but she seemed unhurt. Raynar stepped out and gave her a nod.
Jaina did not look happy. “This level is indefensible. There are holes where the StealthX hangar exterior doors should be. There may be more Mandos massing outside.” She swept past him on her way to the turbolifts.
He followed. “Let’s go up one level, lock down the lifts, and hold there.”
She nodded. “How’d the new boy do?”
“Not bad. Not so good at taking orders. I remember when you were like that.”
She finally grinned. “Still am.”
An hour later, it was clear that the raid on the Temple was both a failure and far more damaging to the Jedi than the government could have guessed.
The assault on the Main Hall, which had involved Mandos firing ranged weapons into the hall from fixed positions outside, was, Master Hamner announced, nothing but a feint. “The real attacks came at the hangar level and through the food warehouse areas. Commandos entered with enough explosives and electronics subversion gear to open indefensible passages throughout the Temple and cripple all our communications and coordination. But fast thinking and an early alert from Jedi Solo meant we were aware of the possibility of flanking maneuvers and could counter them.”
No Jedi had died. Losses among the Mandos were unknown; follow-up Mando units had retrieved their fallen comrades. Government forces were now situated around the Temple, preventing traffic from moving to or from the edifice. Mobile artillery emplacements were trained on the main entrance and all known secondary entrances.
Kyp Durron, who had led the defense at the food-preparation level, brought the news to Jaina. “The StealthX launch is scrubbed. No way are we going to be able to get them out of here unseen.”
Jaina, sitting alone at a table in the mess hall, using a datapad to compose her report, scowled at him. “They’re the stealthiest vehicles in the galaxy.”
“In space. In atmosphere, the repulsors and thrusters still make noise … and Master Hamner is certain that the government has directional mikes aimed at every exit. If they hear starfighter engines powering up …”
“They’ll power up their mobile turbolasers and blow the StealthXs out of existence by sight, one by one, as they leave the hangar.” Angry, Jaina sat back. “We can’t reinforce Uncle Luke. We can’t do anything about the Sith or the Maw.”
“We can’t even get Jedi Saar offplanet. The sneaky ways we have to get into and out of the Temple without being seen presume that the parties involved are cooperating.”
Jaina sighed. “Any word from the government?”
“Demands for our surrender. Master Hamner’s on the arrest list, me, you, Thul, pretty much anyone they recognized or recorded during the assault. And Saar, of course. How are Thul and Tainer?”
“Up and around. In casts.” Jaina became contemplative. “It was good to see Raynar in action again. He was … almost … normal.”
“We’ll let him be abnormal. These are abnormal times.”
DATHOMIR SPACEPORT
NIGHT HAD FALLEN. ALLANA HAD BEEN FED, HAD COMPLETED HER studies, had been tucked into bed by C-3PO.
Now that he was gone, she rose and dressed again, this time adding a dark hooded jacket to her ensemble to make her harder to see in the dark, then got Anji and crept to the mini lift. Just as they had the previous night, they exited the Millennium Falcon and descended to the ground. Just as the previous night, Allana saw someone standing night watch in the needleship berthed near the Jade Shadow. This time, the silhouette seemed to be that of a woman, sitting alone in the cockpit and barely visible behind the canopy. Allana didn’t like the way that made her feel—like the woman was watching her. But wasn’t that the way she always felt when she disobeyed?
Instead of heading straight for Monarg’s hangar, Allana led Anji around in the darkness until she could see the Falcon’s cockpit. Through the viewport, she could see C-3PO, sitting in the copilot’s seat, apparently studying the baffling array of controls on the main console.
Allana activated her comlink. “Threepio?”
The droid jerked upright. He looked back along the Falcon’s cockpit access corridor, and his voice came back across the comlink. “Yes, Miss Allana? Have I forgotten something? Would you care for a nice glass of water or milk, perhaps?”
“We can see you.”
C-3PO leaned forward a little, as if to assure himself that Allana could not be crouching at the end of the corridor, out of his sight. “Oh, I doubt that very much. None of the bulkheads between us is made of transparisteel.”
“But the forward viewport is. Turn around and look hard.”
The droid did as commanded, swiveling in his seat, looking first at the monitor screens on the console, then peering out through the forward viewport.
Allana stood on tiptoes, stretched her hand as far above her head as she could, and waved at him.
The droid came to his feet. “Oh, my. Miss Allana, how did you get out there?”
“We walked here.”
“I clearly must have forgotten to lock the exterior hatches. Yet I remember doing so
. Did you decrypt the password? Thirty-four characters long and composed of a baffling array of illogical alphanumeric sequences. You would have to display skills far beyond those you have demonstrated in your studies.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re going out.”
“No, no, you must come back inside. I’ll be right out.”
“We’ll be gone by then. But you can find us at Monarg’s Mechanic Works. We’re going to rescue Artoo-Detoo.”
“Oh, no, miss—”
She switched off her comlink and dashed out of sight of the cockpit viewports, knowing with a child’s certainty that C-3PO would be along to sort things out if she couldn’t rescue her other droid friend.
* * *
Moments later she stood once more in the shadow of the stack of lubricant barrels beside Monarg’s permacrete dome. She knew she didn’t have much time; though C-3PO walked comparatively slowly, it wasn’t all that far from here to the ship.
She hefted an empty container. It was, in fact, almost empty; perhaps half a liter of fluid sloshed inside. She set that barrel aside for the moment.
With Anji shadowing her steps, she carried two others and set them side by side five meters from the shop’s front doors, then brought forward the first one she’d picked up. Once she was adjacent to the others, she uncapped the container, upended it with the awkwardness inevitable when a child manipulates an object light enough to carry but too big to handle easily, and poured its contents out on the other barrels. Then she set this barrel beside them.
Now to commit a crime. She hesitated a moment because she was sure it would be a crime. But it was also the right thing to do, and whenever Han had to choose between obeying the law and committing a crime for the right reason, he committed the crime and said that it was because Leia made him do it for the right reason. Allana nodded, satisfied with that logic.
She pointed at the door beside the shop, then whispered to Anji, “Go sit.”
Fate of the Jedi: Backlash Page 14