“Think about it,” Revan explained. “Mandalore the Ultimate decides to do something none of his predecessors even considered: launch an all-out war on the Republic. Malak and I defeat you. But after that, we mysteriously take our troops and disappear into the Unknown Regions beyond Mandalorian space. When we return, we decide to launch a war against the Republic, too.”
“It does seem like sort of a strange coincidence,” Canderous agreed. “You think you ran across this storm-covered planet in the Unknown Regions?”
“I’m not sure. But something happened to us out there. Something made us turn against the Republic. Maybe it’s connected to Mandalore’s decision to attack the Republic in the first place.”
“And you think whatever this thing is, it’s still out there? And it’s still dangerous?”
“I feel like visions are a warning. Like part of my old self is trying to tell me something I can’t afford to ignore.” Revan sighed. “Sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it?”
Canderous barked out a laugh. “After everything we’ve been through, this just feels like old times.” He looked at Revan. “So what is it you want me to do?”
“I want to know more about Mandalore the Ultimate. But nobody’s going to talk to an outsider like me. I need someone who can talk to the clans and get answers.”
There was a long silence while Revan waited for Canderous to reply. He noticed that the Mandalorian’s fingers were gripping his glass so hard, they were turning white.
“I’ve spent most of the last five years trying to avoid other Mandalorians,” he finally muttered.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”
Canderous took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink, closing his eyes and shuddering just as he had with the previous gulp.
“You know why I’ve been hanging around this kriffing bar for two years, turning down everyone who came to offer me a job?” he asked. He didn’t bother to wait for a reply. “I had a feeling you were going to get mixed up in something interesting, and I wanted to be around for the fun. Guess this is it.”
“I knew I could count on you, Canderous.”
“Let me reach out to some people,” the Mandalorian said. “See what I can dig up. Can’t promise I’ll find anything, though.”
“I’m kind of hoping you don’t,” Revan replied. “But neither one of us is that lucky.”
CHAPTER 4
LOCATED IN A REMOTE SYSTEM far from any major hyperspace lanes, Hallion was a small and insignificant planet among the dozens of worlds dominated by the Sith Empire. Its only remarkable features were the seven small natural satellites that orbited the world, just barely large enough to be considered moons. On this evening four of them were waxing full, their combined glow illuminating the darkness enough for Scourge to clearly make out the details of the Uxiol Droid Manufacturing plant’s exterior even without his night goggles.
“Your blueprints didn’t show a security fence,” he whispered.
He and Sechel were huddled in a small copse of trees on the edge of a field roughly twenty meters from the plant.
“Maybe it’s new,” Sechel replied, also speaking softly. “Shouldn’t be a problem, though. Once you’re on the other side you can just open the gate and let me in.”
Scourge had noticed a remarkable change in Sechel during the mission. The sniveling boot-lick that had greeted him at the spaceport on Dromund Kaas was gone, replaced by someone who was intelligent and self-confident. Obviously, the personality he had displayed on their first meeting had been a ruse; a cover he used to hide his true nature from outsiders. He was still probably useless in an actual fight, but Scourge was beginning to understand how he had risen to such a prominent position in Nyriss’s household. He had compensated for his lack of the Force by developing his mental skills; and apparently Sechel had enjoyed a very successful career with Imperial Intelligence before becoming Nyriss’s chief adviser.
“If they’ve got autoguns on the roof, we’ll be dead before we get anywhere near that maintenance door,” Scourge growled.
“It’s a manufacturing plant, not a fortress,” Sechel assured him. “Most of their security is electronic. You know, stuff I can slice. The worst you’ll have to deal with is a couple of roving security droids.”
“Patrol drones or assault droids?”
“Patrol drones. UDM doesn’t manufacture assault droids. Too expensive for a small company like this.” After a short pause, Sechel added, “Are you always this skittish on a job?”
“Only fools charge ahead without knowing what lies in wait,” Scourge answered through gritted teeth.
It was more than the other’s insolence that grated on him; Sechel’s question had struck a nerve. There was something about this job that made Scourge uneasy. Part of it was being forced to work with a partner; normally he worked alone. Yet there was more to his unease than the presence of the Sith crouched beside him. It wasn’t anything he could put his finger on, but something felt off. It made him hesitant, more cautious than usual.
“You’re sure the entrance code will work? It’s not going to set off some kind of alarm?” he asked, trying to think of anything that could possibly go wrong. “I can handle a few patrol drones, but if a dozen of them come down on us all at once we’re in trouble.”
“The code will work,” Sechel promised. “This is a simple job.”
He was right. This was a simple job, and Scourge was forced to admit that maybe the problem wasn’t the mission.
“Taking things for granted is a good way to get yourself killed,” Scourge told him as he stood up, trying to justify his behavior even as he struggled to push away the self-doubt creeping through the corners of his mind.
He made a final check of his equipment and armor, then slid his night goggles into place. The world took on an eerie green glow as the illumination from the moons above was enhanced tenfold. He drew his lightsaber but didn’t ignite it.
According to the blueprints they’d gone over, there weren’t supposed to be any cams. But there wasn’t supposed to be a fence, either.
“Meet me at the gate,” Scourge said. Not bothering to wait for a reply, he broke from his cover, sprinting toward the three-meter-high security fence. Building speed with a dozen quick steps, he launched himself into the air, his cape billowing out behind him. He cleared the fence by only a few centimeters, close enough that he could feel a tingle in the soles of his boots from the lethal current coursing through it.
At the apex of his leap he hung suspended in the air for just an instant; then gravity reasserted its hold and he plummeted to the ground. He landed in a three-point stance, using his free hand to help absorb the impact.
He turned his head quickly from side to side, looking to see if there was any reaction to his sudden arrival. Fortunately, his entrance had gone unnoticed.
Crouched low to the ground, he ran along the perimeter of the fence, heading to the gate he and Sechel had spotted earlier. As he approached, he noticed a single droid posted as a guard.
It was conical in shape, a little more than a meter tall, and half a meter wide at its base. It hovered a meter off the ground, and three long, thin legs dangled below it, each ending in a trifingered claw. A ring of lights encircled the main body two-thirds of the way up, blinking in some indefinable pattern. Scourge’s night-vision goggles distorted all colors to varying shades of green, but he could clearly make out a two-tone pattern on the droid’s hull—probably gray and orange, Uxiol Droid Manufacturing’s corporate colors.
It was clearly a patrol drone, just as Sechel had promised. Assault droids were much larger—at least twice the size—and were usually designed as two-legged walking units. They were covered in thick plate armor, and tended to have heavy blaster cannons mounted on their exterior—neither of which the floating sentry possessed.
The patrol drone’s sensors were focused on the gate, not on the Sith warrior bearing down on it from behind. Once he closed to within ten meters, Sc
ourge ignited his lightsaber and launched it with a quick flick of the wrist. The spinning blade easily sliced through the unreinforced plating of the droid’s hull and into its control circuits, sending up a shower of sparks before returning to Scourge’s hand.
The hovering drone dropped to the ground, its repulsors rendered nonfunctional. Two of its three legs were pinned beneath the conical body; the third jutted out at a strange angle, mangled by the fall. The row of blinking lights flashed erratically, internal sensors overwhelmed by the catastrophic damage. But still the droid managed an awkward spin that brought it face-to-face with the intruder. A panel on its hull slid open, and Scourge could just make out the circular tip of a small internal blaster taking aim as he closed in for the final blow.
The drone fired, but its targeting systems were no longer operational and the bolt flew high and wide. Scourge was on it before it had a chance to try again. His boot delivered a heavy kick, toppling the droid helplessly onto its side. Two quick chops from his lightsaber finished the job, and the row of flickering lights went dark.
Scourge was breathing hard from the exertion. Defeating a droid never gave him the same rush as killing a flesh-and-blood foe, but he could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, washing away his earlier unease about the mission.
With the sentry dispatched, he was able to focus on the control panel beside the gate, though he kept his lightsaber drawn and ready just in case. Fortunately it was a standard layout, and he was able to cut the power to the fence and open the gate with a few simple button pushes. Sechel was already waiting for him on the other side.
He glanced down at the disabled patrol drone as he passed through the gate, and gave Scourge a look that seemed to say I told you so. Scourge ignored him and headed for the maintenance door. Sechel scrambled after him.
The small maintenance door was made of heavily reinforced durasteel. Scourge doubted even his lightsaber would be able to penetrate it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to try.
Sechel stepped up to the security pad beside the door and entered a long series of numbers. Scourge stood watch, in case any more patrol drones appeared. After a few tense seconds there was a soft beep from the security pad, and the door slid open.
“See?” Sechel said. “No alarms. No assault droids. Nothing to worry about.”
“We’re not done yet,” Scourge replied, shouldering past him and into the manufacturing plant.
They found themselves standing in a narrow, dimly lit corridor. If the blueprints they had were accurate, it should lead them into the plant from the rear. From there they would have to cross the production floor to the records office, where Sechel would slice into the plant’s network to find out who had paid UDM to manufacture the custom-built droid that had tried—and failed—to kill Nyriss.
“Stay close,” Scourge instructed Sechel as he removed his night-vision goggles with his free hand and clipped them to his belt. “If we run into trouble, hide in a corner and try not to get shot.”
“That’s what I do best,” Sechel assured him.
Scourge set off down the hall, Sechel following a few steps behind. It continued straight for about thirty meters, then made a sharp left turn that terminated in a closed door.
Unlike the door that had given them access to the plant, this one didn’t appear to be reinforced or locked. From the other side Scourge could clearly hear the deep, rhythmic thud of heavy machinery churning away.
He pressed the access panel on the wall, his muscles instinctively coiling as he dropped into a fighting crouch. The door slid open to reveal the plant’s main production floor, and a wave of intense heat smacked him in the face, momentarily taking his breath away. But he relaxed a second later when he realized there was no ambush waiting for them on the other side.
The manufacturing floor was massive—at least a hundred meters across and easily twice as long. Numerous doors and passages lined each wall, dozens of exits all leading to different areas of the plant. A network of metal catwalks and stairwells crisscrossed the room. In the center was the source of the intense heat: four enormous vats of molten metal, each ten meters tall and twenty meters in diameter.
Half a dozen long conveyor belts extended from the vats to run the entire length of the manufacturing floor, each covered with thousands of individual parts and pieces waiting to be assembled into functional droids. The giant engines powering the belts crashed and churned, drowning out all other sound.
Hundreds of bipedal assembly droids lined the conveyor belts, but Scourge knew they didn’t present any type of threat. Assembly droids were severely limited in their programming, incapable of performing anything other than the simplest jobs. Unlike the patrol drone he’d dispatched earlier, these would ignore his presence and continue working at their assigned tasks. Apart from the assembly droids, there didn’t appear to be anyone around. The plant’s flesh-and-blood supervisors would have left for the night long before. Reaching out with the Force, he could sense no other living beings in the vicinity.
“Well?” Sechel asked, trying to peer past Scourge’s massive frame to get a better view of what lay beyond the door.
Even though Sechel was right behind him, it was almost impossible to hear his voice over the conveyor belt’s pounding engines. Scourge signaled all clear and stepped through.
The records office was located in the southwest corner of the plant, adjacent to the manufacturing floor. They’d have to cross nearly the entire length of the room to get there, and Scourge was perspiring heavily under his armor after only a few seconds. The heat was oppressive; the air almost seemed to stick in his throat. The deafening clang of the engines was relentless.
He cast a glance back at his companion. Even though Sechel wasn’t wearing armor, he was lagging well behind. Clearly, a life of upper-class luxury had left him thoroughly unprepared for the physical demands of the manufacturing floor’s unexpectedly harsh environment. But he struggled gamely onward, wheezing with every labored step.
The entrance to the records office turned out to be locked.
“Hurry up and get us inside,” Scourge shouted. He wanted to get the information and get out. More important at the moment, he knew the office would probably be climate-controlled.
Too weary to nod, Sechel leaned against the wall and punched in the security code.
The door didn’t open.
“Try again,” Scourge pressed, thinking that in his weakened state Sechel might have hit a wrong key. “Be careful this time.”
With painstaking precision, Sechel tapped out the code a second time. The roar of the engines drowned out any sound, but Scourge could see the control panel turn red. The words ACCESS DENIED flashed on the display.
Sechel’s mouth moved in an inaudible curse and he tried for a third time, but Scourge already knew it was hopeless. The door required a different code than the one they had used to get past the exterior entrance.
Scourge raised his lightsaber and yanked Sechel out of the way. He heard the man shouting, but couldn’t make out the words. Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber with both hands, he brought the blade crashing down on the panel, splitting it in two and carving a long, deep furrow in the wall behind it.
The door sprang open—and suddenly Scourge’s eardrums were nearly shattered by a long, whooping siren. He grabbed Sechel by the collar and tossed him into the room, silently cursing himself for making such a foolish mistake.
“Slice into the network and get what you need. I’ll hold off security.”
Sechel didn’t waste time with an answer: He began frantically typing at one of the terminals.
Scourge could feel the cool air spilling out of the records office and washing over him. He allowed himself a few seconds to bask in its luxury, then turned to face the inevitable enemy onslaught, determined not to make any more missteps.
Two hovering patrol drones similar to the one he had dispatched earlier were the first to arrive on the scene, swooping down to floor level from one of the
catwalks near the eastern wall. Scourge charged, moving with the supernatural speed of the Force.
The drones opened fire, but Scourge never changed course, relying on his armor to absorb their blaster bolts. One of the bolts narrowly missed his ear; two more slammed into his chest. He felt the impact, but it wasn’t enough even to knock him off-stride.
He dropped into a forward somersault as the droids unleashed a second volley, knowing they would be targeting his exposed face and head. The bolts flew harmlessly over him as he tucked, rolled, and then came back up on his feet, finally close enough to retaliate.
The patrol drones were not made for close combat. A series of vicious cuts with his lightsaber put a quick end to the encounter. The droids fell to the ground in a shower of sparks, their spindly legs twitching for a few seconds before they shut down completely.
Scourge turned his attention to the next two patrol drones. He dispatched the first by hurling his lightsaber at it, knocking it from the air with a single well-placed throw before it even got close enough to use its internally mounted blaster.
The second took evasive action, dropping down behind the conveyor belt and a line of assembly droids. It skimmed along the ground, closing the gap until it popped up from behind its cover so it could fire at point-blank range. Scourge made sure it never got the chance.
Reaching out to grab the drone with the invisible hand of the Force, he slammed it back down to the ground. Its legs snapped off and went flying; its exterior hull cracked in multiple places; several of the welded plates tore loose. All the lights on its body went dim.
The alarm sirens were still howling; it wouldn’t be long before security droids stationed in other sections of the plant showed up. If the droids kept arriving in small groups of two or even three, Scourge knew he could hold off several more waves at least. If they arrived in greater numbers, he was going to have a problem.
He was breathing heavily, the sweat so thick on his red skin he felt as if he had been swimming in the ocean. The Force had sustained him so far: protecting him from the worst of the heat and allowing him to move faster than his enemies could react. But he could draw on it for only so long before exhaustion set in. Already he could feel himself tiring. Sechel had to locate the information soon, or they’d have to retreat empty-handed.
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