The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  She wasn’t the only one having trouble. The comms were full of whoops and warning cries as troopers struggled to maintain position. Two near-collisions between Imperial and Republic troopers prompted an exchange of harsh words, which Sergeant Ozz put a sharp stop to. The last thing they needed now was an internecine fight to break out.

  Then the emplacements started firing, and all was chaos. Bolts of blue energy flashed past them, searing the air. Two of her troopers died in the first exchange, tumbling out of control in balls of flame. Larin returned fire, even while struggling to fly the jet. She doubted any of her shots hit home.

  Bombardment from above came almost immediately, called in by Major Cha. One emplacement exploded, adding another ball of smoke to what already lay close over the master factory.

  A savage grin split Larin’s face. She had forgotten how beautiful aerial combat could be.

  A blast at close range wiped the smile away. She’d been hit! Her jet guttered, sending her careening across the sky. Her airfoil whipped in streamers behind her.

  Cursing her poor luck, she struggled to control her descent and succeeded only in putting herself into a spin. Her flailing hands reached for the nearest soldier, desperate for something solid to hang onto. The soldier hesitated, and in that fleeting moment, she remembered who he was. Ses Jopp.

  Mouthing off out of misplaced loyalty was one thing. Letting a fellow soldier drop to their death was another. She knew he would change his mind—and he did within an instant. His right hand reached for her, timing his grab to match the moment when her arm was nearest to him. Too late.

  Larin’s jet-chute failed, and she dropped like a stone out of the sky.

  EVEN BEFORE THE alarms started ringing, Shigar knew something was wrong. The transport containing him and Darth Chratis lurched as though hit, and the major in charge of the drop broke off in the middle of issuing a general announcement. Shigar wasn’t patched directly in to the Imperial network, so he couldn’t tell what was happening to the ship in real time. Instead, he was receiving data from the Republic troopers, relayed via neutral command node. The delay between the systems was very nearly fatal.

  “Something’s not right,” he told the troopers packaged up next to him in rows, ready to drop. His instincts were warning him to move. Punching the overrides on his harness, he was on his feet as the first of the hexes burst through the outer hull into the troop deployment bay.

  Shigar was ready for it. He Force-pushed the droid backward, sending it tumbling into space. There were more behind it, scrabbling for claw-holds on the torn metal. He leapt at them with lightsaber swinging, severing legs and stabbing at sense organs before the hexes could activate their electromirror shields. If he could stop them from getting in, he and the other passengers might have a chance.

  The bay wall ripped open at another point, too distant for him to take on both at once. Fortunately, the troopers behind him were ready and brought their own weapons into play. Imperial and Republic blasterfire converged on the invading hexes, knocking several back into the void. Still more came after them, climbing over one another in a horrible swarm. The hexes were returning fire now, those at the back shooting past those in front, and Shigar felt the defense of the bay beginning to turn in the hexes’ favor.

  “Get these troopers out of here!” he told the major between cutting two hexes each in two.

  On the other side of the bay, he saw the orange helmet nod. Orders went out to open the bay doors early and launch the troopers on their way to Sebaddon. Acknowledgment came from two of the other three bays, and the doors below Shigar opened smoothly, jettisoning their precious cargo, the major with them. Several hexes went, too, which would no doubt make the journey more interesting for all.

  Shigar stayed behind, clinging to a stanchion with one hand and kicking another hex back where it came from. It wriggled and spun in free fall, six legs waving frantically.

  How long, he wondered, until it redesigned its innards to match the ones in orbit and “grew” a retrothruster or two?

  He wasn’t sticking around to find out. The fourth and final bay hadn’t sent any kind of acknowledgment. If they were in trouble, he had to help them.

  The ship rocked underfoot as he passed through the air lock and hurried through its empty corridors. Nearing the fourth bay, he heard blasterfire, explosions, and a persistent crackling over his comm. The hexes were jamming both Imperial and Republic frequencies. That was a disturbing development.

  An interior bulkhead breached, sending hexes spilling over themselves into the hallway. He braced himself to meet them head-on, using a Force shield to deflect their laser pulses while stabbing with his lightsaber. They hadn’t expected him to be there; that much was certain. They were firing at someone attacking them from inside the bay, and it took them a moment to bring their own shields to bear. Shigar whipped the legs off three, not stopping to impale the fallen bodies. Immobility was good enough.

  A black figure leapt through the rent in the wall, wielding a red lightsaber. Lightning flashed from his open hand, sending hexes twitching and smoking in every direction. Caught between Shigar and Darth Chratis, the hexes stood no chance. In moments, Jedi Padawan and Sith Lord stood alone in a field of red-dripping droid debris.

  The jamming let up, allowing them to speak.

  “The rest have launched,” said Shigar. “We have to get these bay doors open.”

  “Do not think to give me instructions, Padawan. You have survived this far by luck alone.” Darth Chratis stalked up the hallway. “The mechanism is damaged. Lieutenant Adamek will either repair it in our absence or widen the existing hole. Failing that, she will exit the ship via the other open bays. That is not our concern. Your priority, and mine, is to stop this ship being turned by the hexes into a weapon.”

  “To the bridge, then?” said Shigar, swallowing his annoyance at being spoken to like a child.

  “To the bridge.”

  They encountered three swarms of hexes on the way. Traveling in groups of six, the droids appeared to be scouring the ships section by section, destroying all evidence of Imperial insignia. The appearance of Darth Chratis and his red blade drove them into an immediate frenzy. On two occasions, Shigar was ignored completely, allowing him to flank the hexes and attack from behind. The element of surprise was working for him for a change, turning an impossible situation into one that was merely difficult.

  The Sith Lord swept through hexes with little apparent effort, leaving them for Shigar to finish off. The Sith Lord’s lightsaber had an unusually long reach, emerging as it did from a collapsible staff of some kind. Darth Chratis also had another weapon that Shigar did not. His lightning was much more powerful than Eldon Ax’s efforts and had an effect similar to the electrified nets Stryver had fired at the hexes on Hutta, sending them into paroxysms that left them vulnerable to conventional attack.

  “The Grand Master has taught you poorly,” Darth Chratis said, observing Shigar’s efforts to subdue the last of the hexes. “She allows philosophy of mind to interfere with outcomes in combat. That is how the Sith will triumph over you and your kind, in the end. You will hold yourselves back from achieving your true potential.”

  Shigar blinked sweat out of his eyes. Satele Shan regarded Force lightning as a pathway to the dark side, and had counseled Shigar many times against its use. Now, though, he could see how Darth Chratis might have a point.

  He wasn’t so naïve, however, that he couldn’t see where the Sith Lord was going with this.

  “Save your breath, Darth Chratis. Nothing will tempt me to join you.”

  The Sith’s smile was horribly humorless, even through the glass of his faceplate.

  The bridge was two levels up, sealed behind thick blast doors that even the hexes were having trouble penetrating. Comms were down again, so there was no way to signal the crew within. Darth Chratis tried overriding the locks, but they had been fused into solid lumps of metal by the hexes’ attempts to get in.

  “Togeth
er,” said Shigar, thinking of the huge masses he had seen Jedi Masters move using nothing but the power of their minds and the Force.

  “On my command,” agreed the Sith Lord.

  Operating in tandem, they were able to twist the blast doors aside as though they were made of tinfoil. Shigar considered their cooperation a small moral victory until he broke off the effort and shivered. Something of Darth Chratis had clung to him during the effort. A coldness, and a foulness. His fists clenched as he stepped over the buckled metal and onto the bridge. He wanted to strike out at something, but there were no hexes around. Just Imperials, who were temporarily reprieved.

  The frightened-looking commander of the transport saluted as Darth Chratis closed on him.

  “Tell me the drives are locked” was all the Sith said.

  “I-I cannot, my lord. The engine room is not responding. I ordered a maintenance team—”

  “They will already be dead. Stay here. We will effect the repairs ourselves.”

  Darth Chratis was already leaving.

  “Perhaps you should evacuate,” said Shigar to the commander before following. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

  “Leave my post?” The Imperial looked affronted at the suggestion. “Never!”

  Shigar wanted to argue. The blast doors were down, and the hexes would be back before long. Staying meant certain death for the commander and his bridge crew.

  Instead he shrugged. Who was he to fight the stubbornness of the Imperial officer? That wasn’t a Jedi’s job.

  “It’s your decision, I guess.”

  Putting them from his mind, he hurried after Darth Chratis.

  “You waste time,” said the Sith when Shigar caught up.

  “You waste lives.”

  “Humans are replaceable. Seconds are not.”

  Shigar didn’t have a good answer to that, so he concentrated on what they were doing. Darth Chratis was leading him along the transport’s spine, past endless rows of viewports. Outside, the galaxy turned around them, completing a circuit once every few seconds. The transport was spinning, although thanks to the artificial gravity within there was no way of telling. Several hexes were visible, either swimming helplessly through space or crawling along the outer hull. The sphere of Sebaddon came and went, and Shigar couldn’t tell if it was growing nearer or not.

  A mass of hexes was waiting for them at the far end, at the entrance to the engineering section. Force lightning spread through them in waves, breaking the mass into manageable parts. Shigar leapt into their midst, deflecting laser pulses back at their owners and dismembering anything that came within reach. When he misjudged a sweep and caught a flesh wound on his side, the pain only heightened his concentration. He moved as though in a dream, with the Force guiding his every step.

  Almost with regret he reached the far side. There, Darth Chratis was examining the ion drive controls. They had been partially dismantled by one of the hexes, presumably with the intent to take control and send the transport angling upward to infect the rest of the fleet.

  Darth Chratis worked quickly, rewiring the controls into an approximation of their former state. The deck shook as downward acceleration resumed.

  “You’ve done it?” Shigar asked him.

  “I have.”

  Darth Chratis raised a hand, and a section of the wall peeled in, exposing the space outside. Not space anymore, Shigar realized, hearing a rising howl around them. They were entering atmosphere.

  “After you, my boy,” said the Sith.

  Reluctant though Shigar was to turn his back on one of the Jedi’s ancient enemies, he knew that for now he was safe. His Master had been utterly correct. That bloodred blade was the last thing he had to fear.

  Four running steps took Shigar to the hole. The fifth would take him all the way from the burning ship to the planet’s surface.

  He leapt, vowing, I will never be your apprentice, Darth Chratis.

  A silken sinister voice came back to him in reply.

  Make no rash promises. After all, I may soon be in need of a new one.

  Shigar closed his mind against any further intrusions, and concentrated solely on falling.

  AX TOUCHED DOWN neatly on both feet. The ground was secure: no hidden traps or pitfalls. She punched the button on her harness, and the jet-chute shut down and her airfoil fell away. Sebaddon’s gravity was a little less than standard, leaving her feeling slightly light-headed, but only for a moment. Apart from the yellow jets from the black hole, the sky was red, reflecting the glow of the surrounding lava. Keeping her eyes peeled for hexes, she took two steps forward and looked around for the others who had dropped from orbit with her. Master Satele was one of them. She didn’t like knowing there was a Jedi loose she couldn’t account for.

  The squad she’d been nominally part of had aimed for one of the most complex sections of the CI center. From the air, the island as a whole resembled a giant hedge maze, with long, winding buildings connected by thick cables and pipes. She had landed in what could have been an angular, steep-walled street, except that there were no doors, windows, or pedwalks. The purpose of the buildings was unknown, but it was clear that the site was still under construction. One squad had targeted the machines responsible for expanding the structure, while the rest intended to strike at its heart—or what appeared to be its heart from orbit, at least. There were three possible locations, and she was in one of them.

  Above her, troopers rained from the sky like seedpods, dropping into their own droid-made little canyons. None appeared to be landing near her. She tried her suit’s comlink, but both Darth Chratis and Master Satele were either off the air or being jammed. The former’s stricken transport shone in the sky like a bright star, haloed with black smoke. It appeared to be coming right for her.

  She quickly decided that her landing spot was jinxed, lacking even hexes to kill. So, picking a direction at random, she loped along the canyon, taking what cover she could in blurry-edged shadows. She kept her unlit lightsaber in her hand. Discretion was the better part of valor, particularly on a planet of hexes programmed to kill Sith warriors on sight.

  If only, she thought as she had many times, there was some way to tap into that core programming and turn it to her advantage. It was entirely possible that Lema Xandret had put a little more of herself in them than just her thoughts and prejudices. The biological component of every hex had to mean something, after all. If she could appeal to that something, make it listen to reason—her reason …

  Around a bend came a Republic trooper, swinging his gun back and forth and running lightly on his feet. Ax stepped back into the shadows. Better to run on her own, she decided, until she was sure what lay ahead of her. She didn’t want anyone getting in the way at a critical moment.

  As the trooper went by, she noticed a strange thing. The air was literally shimmering before her eyes. At first she thought it was something to do with her—her sight being interfered with, perhaps. But then she realized that the distortions came from the air itself. It was hot.

  Kneeling down and touching the ground, she could feel the heat even through her gloves. All around the CI complex was lava, so that made sense, she supposed.

  Something dropped soundlessly behind her.

  She was up with lightsaber lit in an instant.

  “Impressive reflexes,” said Master Satele, to all appearances unconcerned by the possibility that Ax might have cut her in half. She hadn’t even activated her own lightsaber. “Your peripheral vision could use some work, though. I’ve been on your tail ever since you landed.”

  “Well, that’s a productive way to spend your time.” Ax lowered her weapon to her side. “It didn’t occur to you to do something about the mission, I suppose?”

  “I’m the first to admit that I’ve got a lot on my mind.” The Jedi smiled. “But not that much. Take off your helmet and tell me what you hear.”

  “But—” It’s hot, she was about to say. Then she noticed that Master Satele was swea
ting inside her own helmet. Clearly she had done exactly as she asked Ax to do—and if she survived, so could Ax.

  “All right,” she said, triggering her neck seals. The helmet hissed, and she tugged it off.

  The air seared her skin and the inside of her nose. It stank of chemicals, and fire, and ozone. In the distance she could hear voices shouting familiar phrases over and over again.

  “We do not recognize your authority!”

  “We ask only to be left alone!”

  “Hexes,” Ax said. “They’re here somewhere.”

  “Not that,” said Master Satele with a quick shake of her head. “Deeper. Behind everything.”

  Ax listened again. Then she heard it: a low-frequency growling at the very edge of her hearing, almost impossible to catch.

  “Is it the ship?” she asked, indicating the transport still falling from the sky. It was larger now, and still coming right for them.

  “I don’t think so. Sounds to me more like drilling.”

  “What’s the CI doing mining at a time like this?”

  “Material for more hexes, perhaps.”

  “This isn’t a factory.”

  “No, but there must be nests here somewhere.”

  “So let’s find them,” Ax said, not hiding her impatience. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

  High above, an orange flare blossomed into life, painting strange shadows across both their faces.

  “That’s what I was waiting for,” Master Satele said. “The troopers have found a way in. Let’s go help them.”

  Satele Shan moved from a standing start with surprising speed. Ax was taken by surprise, and had to hustle to keep up. They followed the base of the artificial ravine to the next intersection, and then leapt to the top in order to travel in a straight line, leaping from wall to wall over the empty spaces below. The maze seemed to stretch forever. Ax was reminded of circuit diagrams or logic flow charts, but this strange landscape lacked any overall order or purpose that she could discern. It was more like the random etchings of a wood-boring insect than anything a sentient might design.