"Makes you wonder," Nick said slowly, eyes still closed, "just what they're doing in there." Mace said, "They're waiting." "For what?" He looked down at the lightsaber in his hand. "To see if I come back." Nick seemed to chew this over. He opened his eyes and pulled himself to his feet. He shook his arms loose and hooked his thumbs over his gunbelts. "Then I guess we shouldn't disappoint them." Mace frowned at the slug pistols holstered on Nick's thighs. "You should borrow a blaster." "Fine with these." "Blasters are more accurate. More stopping power." Mace's voice was grim. "More shots." Nick drew his right hand gun, turning it over as though admiring it for the first time. "Thing about slugs is, they only go one way," he said lazily. "Blasters are all well and good, but I don't particularly care to eat my own shot. Slugs don't bounce." "Off a vibroshield they will." Nick shrugged. "Not off a lightsaber." Mace lowered his head. He had no answer.
The sick weight that had gathered in his chest for so long now threatened to crush him altogether.
"Captain Four-Nine," he said slowly. "No one comes out of there but us. Do you understand? No one." "General, we should go in first-" "No." "With the general's pardon: That's what we are for." "Your purpose is to fight. Not to die uselessly. Master Yoda knew better than to send troopers against a single enemy Force-user on Geonosis; in that bunker may be as many as seven." "Eight." Mace glared at Nick. Nick shrugged. "You know it's true." The Jedi Master set his jaw.
"Eight." He turned again to CC-8,'349. "I will go in first. Your men will enter on my command. Two platoons. Come in shooting: blast anything that moves. But this is not search and destroy.
You're there solely to cover Colonel Geptun. You will take all available measures to protect him, and to ensure that he completes his mission. His mission is the objective of this operation, understood? If he fails, nothing else matters." "Yes, sir. Understood, sir." "The rest of you will remain out here to hold the doorway. If you have to. And if you can." "Um, if I might interrupt-?" Geptun coughed delicately. "Has anyone considered just how we are going to get zR?" "Just like we do everything else," Nick said. "The hard way." "Pardon?" "Shaped charges," Mace told him. He turned to the trooper captain. "Proton grenades. Blow the door." "General-!" CC-8,'349 stiffened to attention. "With the general's pardon, sir, Commander Seven-One's still in there! With more than twenty men. And there are prisoners to consider, sir.
Including civilians. If we use proton grenades, the casualties-" "There is no one in that room except the dead," Mace said heavily. "And the people who killed them." He nodded to Nick. "Cover my back from the doorway." The young Korun drew Chalk's pistol from his left holster. He held both guns low and loose, and nodded back.
"Colonel Geptun." The plump little Balawai pushed himself to his feet. He clamped the armored datapad under one arm but still held it with both white-knuckled hands. One of his kneecaps jumped and shuddered, but his voice was light and steady as ever. "Ready when you are, Master Jedi." "I can't protect you in there." "Lovely." "You won't be using the console. The transceiver unit itself is in a chamber below the bunker.
I will provide access. Stay out here until I call for the troopers." "Certainly. I am in no, ah, hurry, if you take my meaning. I have never been anything remotely resembling a hero." "People," Mace said with tragic conviction, "change." He ignited his blade. He held it with both hands.
"May the Force be with us." He looked at CC-8,'349.
"All right, Captain. Blow the door." THE HARD WAY G
reasy smoke curled from the shattered blast door. It reeked of blood and flesh and human waste.
The smell of death.
Mace stood next to the door, waiting for the smoke to thin.
The command bunker was dark as a cave. The only light was the white shaft that spilled in through the opening that used to be the door. The interior materialized as though it slowly drew substance from the haze itself.
Bodies were everywhere.
Piled along the walls. Draped over the banks of monitor consoles. Facedown on the floor in black pools.
Some wore combat armor. Some wore militia khakis. Some wore no uniform at all.
Some were missing pieces.
Mace's blade hissed in the smoke as he went inside.
As a weapon, a lightsaber was uniquely tidy. Even, in a sense, merciful. Its powerful cascade of energy instantly seared and cauterized any wound it inflicted. The wounds rarely bled at all. It was a clean weapon.
A vibroshield was not.
STAR WARS: SHATTERPOIN1 The floor in the command bunker was treacherously slippery.
Mace trod with care. Behind him, Nick slipped through the doorway and put his back to the wall.
All was silence and death. A whole different world from the madness outside. Inside was a darker madness.
So dark he might as well be blind.
"Depa," he said softly. "Kar. Come out. I know you're watching? me.
His answer was a low, silky predator's growl that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
We don't have to be enemies.
Mace brought up his blade. He moved cautiously around the ruins of the monitor bank closest to the doorway.
Aren't we on the same side? We've won the planet for you, haven't we?
Mace reached into the Force, feeling for the emptiness below that would contain the transceiver. With each step, he worked his feet down, seeking solid footing on the floor before taking the next.
Do you really want to fight us? We are kin, you and I.
We are your own people.
"You were never my people." Mace spoke without emotion. "A man like you will always be my enemy, no matter whose side you're on. And I will always fight you." Why do they name you a Master? You have mastered only futility. You cannot possibly win.
"I don't have to win," Mace said. "All I have to do is fight." A low snarl was the only warning he got.
Nick's guns roared flame at a hurtling dark shape that leaped from nowhere. Sparks clanged in the gloom as Mace whirled instinctively and slashed at the shape and it vanished in a dive that carried it over the console bank. Before he'd even seen what it was.
He'd never felt it coming.
Dark power swirled around him.
He let his blade shrink away and crouched between two console banks, his heart hammering. "Nick!" he called. "Did you get him?" "Don't think so." Nick's voice came out thin and tight. "Sounded like he took both on the shields. You?" Mace smelled smoke: charred flesh. "Perhaps. A piece of him, any, way.
"See where he came from?" "No. I think-" Mace's breath hissed through his teeth. "I thin they're hiding among the bodies. Stay ready." "You better believe it." The low snarling growl became mocking. Your Force can't help yo here. Here there is only pelekotan. And we are only pelekotani dream.
Mace crept his way silently along the console bank.
You didn't feel me coming at you. You can't.
"That wasn't you," Mace said, low.
But it was. One-seventh of me.
Your pardon: one-eighth.
He could feel the transceiver chamber now: two meters away o the far side of this console bank. Its ceiling began a meter and a ha below the floor.
You have lost her. Lost her to pelekotan. Lost her to pelekotan's drean a world free from Balawai.
Mace muttered, "We are all Balawai here." He triggered his blade just long enough to stab into the leg well c the console under which he crouched, and carve an arch out of? back just large enough to crawl through. He pulled the cutaway piec free and laid it flat.
On the far side lay a knot of dead clones. Four. He had to crav over them.
Someone had taken off their helmets. Their eyes were open.
Jango Fett's dead face stared at him four times over.
Dead eyes looked into him and saw nothing but his guilt.
He kept moving.
The spot he needed was just ahead. Mace finally tore his attentio away from the dead clones, and froze.
Someone had been carving the floor there alre
ady. Blackene hunks of the command bunker's armor plating lay strewn around human-sized pit already nearly a meter deep. Beside them, a sl? form in tattered brown robes lay crumpled on the floor.
Her lightsaber was still in her hand.
For one giddy instant, his heart sang: she had anticipated him. She hadn't fallen to the dark-it had been an act, all an act't't She had been cutting through the floor to help him- But it was only one instant. He knew better.
Of course she had anticipated him: she knew all there was to know about his style. She'd known exactly what his target had to be, and she hadn't been cutting into the chamber below in order to help activate the transceiver.
She'd been going there to destroy it.
Looked like the proton grenade blast had caught her just in time. She didn't seem to be breathing. In the blinding swirl of dark power that filled the bunker, he could not feel if she still lived.
You have gone very quiet, doshalo. Do you think silence can save you? Do you think that because you cannot feel me, the reverse is also true?
Too much fatigue; too much pain. He had no room left in his heart for more.
He would grieve later. Now, looking at her corpse, he felt only a vague, melancholy relief that he hadn't had to kill her himself.
Do you think there is anything about you I don't know?
"I think," Mace said, "that if you were all you claim, I'd already be dead." He pushed himself into a forward roll that brought him up to a crouch, and looked down into the hole. She'd done most of his work for him already. He could cut through with a single stroke.
You are not yet my kill.
"No? Whose kill am I, then?" The answer to his question was a lightsaber's emitter jammed against his belly.
Mace had time to think blankly: Oh. Not dead. Faking.
"Depa-?" She screamed as she triggered her blade. And kept screaming as its green fire chewed a tunnel through Mace's guts and speared out his back. His hand seized hers instinctively, locking her blade against his body so that she could not kill him by slashing it free. His own blade ignited- But he could not strike her. Even now. Not here, so close he could kiss her instead; not while her scream spiraled up into a shriek; not while he had to look into her wide staring eyes and see no hate or rage but only stark agony.
He was going to have to do this the hard way.
He struck downward into the pit beside them, his blade slicing out a lopsided ellipse of armor plate that dropped into darkness below and clanged to an unseen floor.
"Geptunf he roared. "NOW Flashes of battle: — shadows fleeing the bunker as swarms of screaming electric blue blaster bolts rebounding off walls shoot them to rags- a flood of troopers spreading into a wave through the doorway, weapons gouting lightning-colored energy, Geptun in the middle of them, head down and running, datapad cradled like a baby in his arms- a buzzing shield of silver flame that sliced through a blaster rifle so that it exploded and took with it the trooper's hands- These images burned in Mace's brain as he fought for his life against the woman who should have been his daughter.
He brought his blade back up from the pit and turned his wrist on the forehand so that his recovery stroke took her in the temple with his lightsaber's butt. Her fingers slipped off the blade's activation plate and it shrank back down through his body. She howled and punched his eyesocket with her free hand, but Mace got his foot wedged between them and he shoved her away with a powerful thrust.
At the same instant both of them backflipped into the air, landing on their feet poised in perfect mirror images, their blades whipping in identically curving slashes almost too fast to see.
Blaster bolts howled around them. The air crackled with streaks and splatters of energy.
Their blades flickered and whipped and no bolt touched their flesh.
Their eyes never left each other's.
Something had torn in his guts when he did the backflip. Smoke trickled upward from the hole in his belly. He could smell it, but he felt no pain. Not yet. His blade whirred through the air.
Hers whirred faster. She advanced.
The slashes never stopped. They would never stop. They flowed one into the next with liquid precision.
This constant near-invisible weave of lethal energy is the ready-stance of Vaapad.
"Depa," Mace said desperately. "I don't want to fight you. Depa, please-" She sprang at him, screaming without words; he couldn't know if she'd heard him. He couldn't know if language still had meaning for her.
Then she was on him. His whole world turned to green fire.
Twenty-four troopers entered the bunker in a wedge around Colonel Geptun. Nick Rostu kept his back against the wall while he watched them die.
Akk Guards leaped over and past them, and with every leap another clone fell. The clones never stopped, never faltered, firing blaster carbines from the hip, forcing their way forward over the bodies of their comrades.
And it wasn't only clones who died.
The Force nudged Nick, and he swung a pistol and fired without thinking. A leaping Akk Guard whirled and the slug banged sparks off his shield, but in the instant his attention was diverted he fell against the muzzle of a trooper's DC-15 and blue energy exploded out his back.
This Akk Guard had been a man Nick knew, as he knew them all. This one's name had been Prouk. He'd liked to gamble, and he once lost sixty credits to Nick on a bet, and he'd paid it.
Another nudge from the Force and another shot took out the knee of an Akk Guard. He crumpled on top of a dying trooper, who still had enough life left in him to hold down the trigger of his carbine and blow the akk to rags.
This was the Guard whose nose Mace had broken. His name was Thaffal.
Nick was waiting for his next shot when a massive shadow rose up right in front of him; intent on the Force, Nick hadn't seen him coming. He said, "Whoops." This one's name was lolu. He had saved Nick's life during a fire-fight, once. A long time ago.
"Hello, Nick," lolu said, and drove his shield's sizzling edge toward Nick's neck.
Depa's blade was everywhere.
Mace backpedaled, parrying frantically, absorbing the shock of her attacks with bent arms and a two-handed grip. He was taller than she, with more reach and weight, and vastly more muscle in his upper body, but she drove him backward as though he were a child. Green flame struck through his guard, and only a frantic jerk of his head turned what would have been a brain-burning thrust into a line of char along his cheekbone.
Still he did not strike back.
"I will not kill you," he said. "Death is not the answer to your pain." Her reply was a scream louder and more savage and an onslaught to match. She broke through his guard again and scorched his wrist. Another stroke burned a slice through his pants leg just above the knee.
Power roared around her, a rising storm of darkness.
Mace got it now: as each Akk Guard died, his share of pelekotan backflowed through the bonds Vaster had forged among them.
She was getting stronger.
And with each stroke of her blade, he could feel himself slipping into the shadows. He had to. She was too strong, too fast, too everything. The only way he could survive was to give more of himself to Vaapad. To give all of himself.
To sink into pelekotaris dream.
He felt it: he had reached his own shatterpoint. And he was breaking.
The vibroshield flashed toward his neck.
Nick's knees buckled and he bent backward like a drawn bow. lolu's fist grazed Nick's nose as the horizontal vibroshield passed over the young Korun's upturned face and bit into the wall so smoothly that the Akk Guard's knuckles hit as well; the unexpected shock loosened his grip on the vibroshield's activator and its hum died, leaving it stuck fast in the wall.
Before lolu could pull it back out, Nick flipped his pistol's muzzle up against the Akk Guard's extended elbow.
The slug didn't quite blow his arm off. lolu swayed, stunned.
Chalk's gun in Nick's other hand came up under lolu's chi
n. "Never liked you anyway," Nick said, and pulled the trigger.
The corpse fell against him. Its shattered arm slipped free of the shield's retaining straps.
Nick pushed himself sideways out from under, looking for another target, and the dead Guard slid down the wall.
Geptun was nowhere to be seen. He was either dead or down with the transceiver. Either way, there was nothing left to do but fight.
A knot of clone troopers stood back-to-back, firing desperately at one lone Akk Guard who leaped and spun and slaughtered with demonic precision.
No: not an Akk Guard.
Shatterpoint (звёздные войны) Page 38