3639 BBY

SPACE

SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTER RIM

KA-BLAM!

Jack Cordell's head flew forward, smacking hard against the metal console in front of him. He cursed in pain as stars danced across his vision, blending against the field of real stars just beyond the viewport. Gripping the manual steering sticks a little harder than usual, Jack yanked the ship into a downward dive, hoping to avoid more laser fire until that karking droid got the shields back online.

The Nowhere Bound plunged nose-first through the void of space, bolts of green energy lashing at it from all directions. A D5-Mantis patrol craft, its multipronged body made for a difficult target, but with its shields down the Nowhere couldn't take more than a few hits before suffering critical damage. A fair number of scorch marks already dotted its faded, sage-colored hull; flames trickled along the starboard nacelle.

In hot pursuit were more than a dozen Mark VI Supremacy-class Imperial interceptors, all armed to the teeth. They'd been tailing Jack and his crew since Nar Shaddaa, and even after two jumps to lightspeed, he still hadn't managed to shake them. Jack felt confident that one more jump might do the trick, but the hyperdrive didn't seem interested in working anymore—every pull of the throttle now resulted in nothing more than a strained whine and a few clunking noises.

Two of the Sith interceptors accelerated to the front of the haphazard formation, coming to bear on the Nowhere. Both paused their barrage of blaster fire just long enough to launch two high-velocity proton torpedoes at their target, which streaked toward the fleeing starship with malicious intent.

Jack scowled as the console beeped to notify him of the incoming missiles. "Better hold onto something," he said aloud, then twisted the steering sticks hard to the left, sending the ship into a barrel roll.

Seated beside him in the copilot's chair, Mako pushed a hand against the bulkhead to brace herself. The girl was of considerably smaller stature than Jack, and it took all of her strength sometimes not to be thrown around the cockpit. Straining her other arm to reach the console, she jammed a thumb against the intercom button.

"Brace for evasive maneuvers!"

"What in the name of sweet baby Malachor do you think we've been doing?!" a dry, sardonic voice responded over the comm. Mako didn't answer, instead pulling the emergency seatbelt over her chest and strapping it in.

The Nowhere spun round and round, spiraling wildly through space as the torpedoes streaked after it. The radar console beeped furiously as the projectiles closed in, a single message flashing across its viewscreen: EMP GENERATOR OFFLINE. In a final, desperate bid for survival, Jack pulled the steering sticks toward him with all the strength he could muster. The Nowhere immediately swerved upward and the proton torpedoes, too clumsy to follow it, collided with one another in a spectacular explosion that caught the ensuing interceptors in its wake and blew them both to bits.

Jack laughed in equal parts adrenaline and relief, glancing over at Mako. "Pretty good flyin', huh?" he asked.

The girl rolled her eyes, blowing loose hair out of her face.

Just then, the cockpit door hissed open behind them and Gault Rennow stepped through. The Devaronian was nursing a bruised shoulder, his crimson face furrowed in annoyance.

"If you're finished throwing your crew around the ship, you might like to know that the shield repairs are complete, Captain," he said in the same dry voice that had answered Mako over the comm. "Should be back online any second now. The engine's a different story, though. One of the nacelles took a hit from the outside, and now it's busted up pretty bad. Lightspeed is a no-go with that thing offline."

"Well, that explains the hyperdrive," Jack muttered, watching the shield status bar on the console's interface fill up. The bar suddenly dropped as more blaster fire rocked the ship, nearly throwing Jack and Mako from their seats; Gault clung to the open door hatch for dear life.

Swearing under his breath, Jack unfastened his emergency belt and stood up, glancing at the Devaronian

"Say—think you can take the helm for a bit, buddy?"

"And just where in blazes are you going?" Gault asked, hurrying toward the pilot seat nevertheless.

"I've gotta find HK," Jack said.

Gault settled into the chair and grabbed the steering sticks, immediately jerking them to the right to evade more blaster fire. Mako looked back at Jack.

"The killbot? What do you need him for?"

Jack ignored her and left the cockpit, stepping into the upper hold. In the far corner of the room was an access tube that led up and down to the dorsal and ventral laser-cannons, respectively. A ladder ran along the spine of the tube. Jack strode over to it and glanced upward, looking into the dorsal bay. A small, cloaked alien was strapped into the gunner's seat, hooting maniacally as he fired on the pursuing interceptors.

"How ya doin' up there, Blizz?" He called out.

The Jawa didn't seem to hear him. Jack figured he was probably too lost in his work.

As if to confirm his thoughts, a deep, gravelly voice boomed up at him from below. "Heh, heh. I think he's having too much fun."

Jack looked down. Operating the ventral cannon was a tall, hulking Houk clad in heavy body armor. Contrary to Blizz, his demeanor was more serious—if only by a little—as he swiveled around in the gunner's chair, letting loose a steady barrage of blaster bolts.

"Yeah? And how 'bout you, Skadge?"

"Could be better," the Houk grumbled back. "Some real slippery schuttas, these guys, eh?"

"Just keep it up. If we die, you're fired."

"Didn't realize I was being paid for this," Skadge retorted.

"You're not," Jack said, then continued into the main hold and down the stairs to the ship's lower level.

A large, gaping hole had been blown into the bulkhead near the cargo bay, and debris was scattered all over the floor. A shimmering blue forcefield, automatically projected in place of the hull, was all that kept the room's contents from being sucked into space. The ship's repair droid, a red A7 drone, darted back and forth across the hold, rapidly performing repairs with its long arms. It gibbered in frustrated—and alarmingly profane—droid-speak as it worked, its circuits sparking with stress.

Torian Cadera kneeled next to the hole in the hull, peering through the scope of a high-powered sniper rifle. The barrel of the rifle was sticking through the forcefield, allowing him to take aim at the surrounding starfighters.

Jack shook his head. The kid was a talented marksman—the best in the crew by far—but there was no way even he could possibly take down Sith fighters at such extreme velo—

A loud blast boomed from the sniper, and a split-second later one of the interceptors spiraled out of control, smoke pluming from its hull. It slammed into the nearest wingmate, and both ships exploded in a massive fireball.

Jack had to give the Mandalorians credit: they sure knew how to shoot.

Torian turned to look at him, raising a brow.

"Hey, Captain. Thought you were flying the ship," he said, venting the heat from his rifle.

"I'm looking for HK," Jack said.

Torian turned back to his scope, setting his sights on another interceptor. "He's in the engine room."

"Doing what?"

"How would I know? It's your psycho droid."

Torian fired another shot from the rifle, and Jack heard the telltale PWOOSH of an interceptor going up in flames. Sighing, he strode further into the ship, cutting between the med bay and crew quarters to reach the engine room. Sure enough, he found HK-51 just inside, tinkering with a photon missile warhead.

As an HK-series assassin droid, HK-51 was designed to be hyper-lethal. The droid's durasteel chassis was covered in chrome plating, rusted slightly with age. The photoreceptor lenses he used for eyes glowed with a cold yellow hue, lending him a sinister look that matched his personality.

"Mind telling me what you're doing to that warhead?" Jack asked.

HK-51 didn't bother to look up at him. "Statement: Oh, nothing, Master," he mused. "Just installing some simple modifications to increase its effective blast radius by 1.73 percent. Doing so will greatly enhance its destructive potential, allowing us to blow these bothersome varmints out of the sky with even higher mortality rates." HK's disposition was cheery—not unusual for him when on the subject of mortality rates. "Exclamation: The thought of it just warms my circuits, Master."

"Uh … right," Jack said, stepping closer to him and slowly removing the warhead from his grasp. He gently placed it against the bulkhead and grabbed HK-51 by the shoulders.

"Listen, I need you to do something for me."

"Hopeful query: Am I finally being tasked with eliminating the overgrown rodent, Master?"

"What? No," Jack scowled. "And I told you to stop calling him that. He's a Jawa, not a rodent. Now, come on."

Jack rushed back to the main hold and HK-51 obediently followed. Torian was still kneeling by the blasthole, venting heat after another successful kill-shot. He glanced at Jack and HK-51 as they entered.

"What do you even need him for?"

"Actually, I just need his feet," Jack responded.

Torian stood up, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and moving toward Jack. "Hold on. You're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"

"I probably am," Jack said, keying in a code on the panel beside the ship's entry hatch.

"Query: What are you doing, Master?" HK-51 asked.

"He's going to try to repair the hyperdrive from the outside," Torian answered, staring at the back of Jack's head. "Isn't he?"

"Desperate times," Jack offered, shrugging.

HK-51 tilted his head. "Statement: I should warn you, Master, that although I can anchor you to the ship, I cannot guarantee your safety while exposed to blaster fire."

"Safety's overrated anyway," Jack muttered.

At that moment, Mako appeared at the top of the stairwell, looking down at Jack.

"Captain, Gault told me to—wait, what are you doing?"

Jack slammed his fist against a large red button on the panel, and the hatch slid open with a long hiss. A forcefield was immediately projected in its place as the access gangway lowered.

"Ensuring I go well before my time, looks like," Jack said. He grabbed a thick wire coil, a hydrospanner, and his helmet—a Mandalorian design, forged from pure beskar—from a rack on the wall. Pulling the helmet over his face and tucking the hydrospanner into his back pocket, he glanced over at HK.

"You ready?"

HK-51 nodded. "Affirmation: Ready to die when you are, Master."

Jack hooked the wire coil to the back of his belt and handed the other end to the droid.

"You're insane," Mako and Torian exclaimed at the same time.

Jack threw the two of them a quick, haphazard salute, then ran through the forcefield and down the gangway. HK-51 followed close behind, activating the magnetic sensors on the soles of his feet. They latched firmly onto the surface of the gangway, preventing him from being flung off.

When Jack reached the end of the gangway he leapt forward, hurtling through space before coming to an abrupt stop as the wire reached its full length. It twanged under the pressure, but held firm. Sizzling blaster bolts lashed around him; three interceptors were right on their tail and gaining fast.

Jack looked back at HK-51. He was standing perfectly upright, his feet planted securely onto the gangway. He flashed Jack a thumbs-up with his free hand, holding onto the wire with the other.

What the kriff am I doing, Jack thought to himself. He reached down and turned a knob on the side of his shin-high grav boots, activating the repulsorlifts built into the soles. Plumes of exhaust shot out of them as they roared to life, allowing Jack to propel himself through space.

Jack used the grav boots to navigate toward the starboard nacelle, analyzing the damage with his cybernetic left eye—not that he had to. The problem was obvious: part of the outer plating had been completely blasted off, frying the circuit board beneath. Without it functioning, the hyperdrive couldn't communicate properly with the engines.

Jack scowled. He grabbed onto a small orifice in the nacelle to steady himself and pulled the hydrospanner from his back pocket. Bringing it close to the circuit board, he started making whatever repairs he could, occasionally glancing away as sparks flew toward his face.

He was close enough to the hull now that the blaster fire dissipated into the ship's shields before it could reach him, but he knew that if the shields went down again, he could be vaporized in an instant. Pushing the thought from his mind, he braced his feet against the nacelle and increased his pace.

Suddenly, the ship careened sharply to the left, causing Jack to lose his grip on the nacelle and throwing him back. The whiplash from the wire catching him knocked the wind out of his chest. The wire creaked as it strained to keep him attached, threatening to snap from the overextension. Groaning, Jack reactivated his grav boots and pointed his feet away from the ship, thrusting him back toward the nacelle. He had just barely managed to grab hold of the orifice again and steady himself when his commlink beeped in his ear.

"Sorry about that," Gault said. "Trying to keep all the tossing and turning to a minimum, but these boys are tricky."

Jack just sighed and got set to continue his repairs when a shocking realization hit him: the hydrospanner was gone. It must have flown from his hand during the turn.

Oh, no. Oh, kriff. Oh, kriff oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff oh kriff.

The circuit board was too busted to repair by hand; without the hydrospanner, there was nothing Jack could do. Swearing under his breath, he barely had time to think of a plan B before the ship was suddenly enveloped by a flash of blue light.

The shields were down. The Nowhere Bound was vulnerable.

And so was Jack.

Immediately, a blast of green energy slammed into the nacelle's hull mere inches from Jack's head. The blast knocked him unconscious and sent him hurtling off the ship with such force that the wire finally gave way and snapped. The Sith interceptors whizzed past Jack's limp body as he drifted lifelessly through space, now tethered only to fate.