Chapter 25

If Venka was going to say anything else, Tilyer didn't give him a chance. He shoved Linia into the side passage just as a storm of blaster fire erupted through the hallway. He barreled after her as blaster bolts scorched and pinged off of the walls around him. Then they were out of sight, once again racing down the hallway with no sense of direction.

"After them!" Venka shouted.

Tilyer didn't look back. He could tell by the sound of booted feet upon the deck that the troopers were in hot pursuit. He grabbed Linia and pulled her to the nearest cross passage before the troopers had a chance to fire again, and then they were off. Moments later, he was about to take another corner when a call from Linia stopped him.

"Wait!"

He turned to see her bent over a computer console mounted in one of the walls.

"Just cover me!" she shouted.

Tilyer growled something unintelligibly and switched directions, trotting past her toward the hallway intersection. He hefted his blaster to his shoulder and chanced a glance around the corner. He briefly caught sight of the white-armored figures down the hall before a flurry of blaster bolts splashed over the bulkhead beside him.

"Damn!" He cursed, pulling back from the corner. "They're right on our ass," he called to Linia. "We gotta go!"

"Hold them off just a minute longer!"

"We don't have a minute!"

Nonetheless, he whipped around corner again, unleashing a trio of shots at the oncoming troopers. One bolt caught the lead trooper just below the chin, searing into the unprotected seam between chest plate and helmet. The eyes of his helmet flashed red for a brief instant, and he collapsed to the floor with a clatter like so much dead weight. The other men returned fire, but Tilyer had already pulled back. Still, the death of their comrade had given them pause, and they began to pull back slightly, moving to what cover they could find in the hallway. He leaned out to unleash another volley of fire, but the shots just impacted harmlessly along the bulkhead.

"Are you done yet?" he shouted back to Linia.

"Almost there."

"Damn it," he swore, tilting outward to trigger another ineffectual blast at the stormtroopers down the hall. They returned fire, but none of the three seemed inclined to advance down the hall again.

And then Tilyer found out why.

A torrent of bolts tore through the air above his head, blasting the walls and spraying his face with hot bits of molten steel. He blinked through the stinging haze just long enough to glimpse the squad of troopers advancing from the other end of the intersecting hallway. He shrunk back, trading shots with the new arrivals as the squad he had pinned down before darted forward.

"They worked another squad around. I can't hold them off!" he called to Linia.

"Just give me another second!"

Tilyer grunted and reached around the corner, blindly pumping the trigger at the advancing troopers. The blaster popped and whined anemically before a renewed volley of fire forced Tilyer back.

He checked the power charge on the weapon. It was dangerously low. "I'm almost out of juice over here!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Okay, I got it!" Linia announced. "Follow me. Lets go!"

Tilyer didn't need to be told twice. He ran after Linia as she dashed down the hallway, pausing a moment to select another passage, and then darting off once more.

"Where are we going?" he wheezed as they ran.

"Escape pod bank," she breathed, "the computer says there are two pods left."

"How far?"

She didn't have a chance to respond as blaster bolts tore through the air around them. Linia reached a bend in the passage, turning back to unleash a barrage of covering fire as Tilyer dashed after her. He had almost turned the corner, and then an icy dagger of pain bit deep into his upper thigh. Before he even knew what was happening he hit the ground, and his senses exploded into fire.


"After them!" Venka shouted, urging his troopers after the fleeing officers. He moved to follow as the stormtroopers raced off down the hallway, but stopped with a sudden premonition. He spun around, shoving his blaster toward the black-clad figure standing further down the passage. His finger twitched on the trigger, but he didn't fire.

"Show yourself!"

The figure moved closer, red emergency lights gleaming off of his bald head.

Venka furrowed his brow in confusion and then relaxed in realization. "Lieutenant Del'Goren!" He gave a relieved sigh and holstered the pistol. "Thank Goodness. You scared me. I thought everyone else would have been off of the ship by now."

Del'Goren shook his head, "There is still business to attend to here."

Venka nodded. "Yes, Raan and Taulin. We have to cut them off before they reach the escape pods. We could use your help."

"No."

Venka frowned. "What do you mean, no?"

"That's not what I'm here for."

Del'Goren stepped closer. Then in one smooth motion, he drew the blaster from his belt and leveled it at Venka's face.

The commander's eyes widened in shock. He started to go for his own side arm, but the steely look in Del'Goren's eyes gave him pause. He wouldn't be able to so much as touch his own firearm before the lieutenant's blaster bolt found him.

"You're in league with them," he spat instead, trying to stall for time. "You're in league with those traitors."

Del'Goren's glower deepened. "You want to talk about treason? You of all people? You bastard, you murdered Captain Ygra."

That comment caught Venka off-guard, but he quickly snarled back"I did only what was necessary."

"Necessary to get you promoted, you sniveling sack of slime," Del'Goren growled.

"Ygra would have had us all killed in his blind quest for glory. His incompetence slew more of his own men than the enemy. He was an old fool whose time had passed."

"Don't give me that line. It might have worked on Dusat, but it sure as hell won't work on me. The Captain was a good man and an Imperial officer. He deserved better. Better than you deserve for damn sure—better than you'll get. I'm here to make sure of that."

Del'Goren made a gesture with his blaster, and Venka took his chance. He surged forward, both hands grabbing for the weapon. Even as he wrapped his hands around that pistol, Del'Goren smashed his knee into Venka's crotch. The commander doubled over. His hands immediately forgot the gun and flew to his groin. Before they could reach it, Del'Goren slammed the butt of his blaster into the bridge of his nose. Venka's vision exploded with stars as he reeled backward, collapsing on the deck.

He started to mumble something through the blood burbling from his nose and down his chin, but a shake of Del'Goren's head made him stop.

"Save it. I don't care what you have to say. You're dead."

The blaster whined, and Commander Venka sank back against the deck, a charred blaster wound smoldering between his eyes.


"Can you walk?"

Tilyer moaned, trying to make sense of her words over a cacophony of discharging blasters.

He craned his neck back, watching as Linia knelt by his side and hooked an arm underneath his shoulders. "Come on, get up!"

He groaned. His legs felt like jelly.

"Get up damn you!"

Tilyer grunted, his rubbery legs kicking feebly as they tried to find purchase upon the floor. Linia discharged her blaster down the hallway as she pulled him around the corner. With her help, Tilyer managed to stagger to his feet, finally standing to lean unsteadily against the bulkhead. His head swam, and he could feel the cooked wound throbbing and pulsing. He staggered backward with Linia's help, looking around for where he had dropped his blaster.

Linia seemed to anticipate his next statement. "Leave it. The escape pods are just ahead. Go, I'll hold them off!"

Tilyer nodded and started to limp down the hallway. White hot flashes of pain knifed through his senses with each step, but he kept going, stumbling toward the bank of escape pods looming ahead.

The corridor widened out, opening into the pod foyer where two other passages emptied out into the foyer from either side of him. Half a dozen hatches studded the wall across from him, the lights on two of which indicated the pods were still attached.

Tilyer breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening and headed toward them as fast as he could. He hobbled past the mouth of one of the side passages just as another figure came tearing through the hallway. Tilyer stopped, perched precariously on his wounded leg as he came face to face with Gabel Thahlwin.

For a moment both simply stared at each other, unsure of what to do. Both thought the other would have been off the ship now. They studied each other in stunned silence. Then Gable lunged. Tilyer shifted his weight, planning to hip toss the larger man into the bulkhead behind him, but his injured leg faltered. He crumpled like a tin can as Gabel's shoulder crashed into him. He reeled backward beneath the larger man's weight, striking the wall behind him with a dull thud.

Gabel took a step toward him, but never got farther than that. A wave of blue energy coursed over him, lighting every nerve on fire as his body jerked spasmodically like an epileptic marionette. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he collapsed to the ground.

Tilyer twisted around to see Linia standing just behind him, blaster clutched in her hands. He started to offer a word of thanks, but a flurry of blaster bolts splashed off the floor around her. She spun back toward the bend in the hallway and unleashed a hail of blaster bolts in the other direction.

"Get him into the pod!" she shouted over the din.

Tilyer looked over to where Gabel lay motionless on the floor. He momentarily thought of refusing. For a moment, he contemplated leaving him there to perish along with the Enforcer as the ship crashed into Belsavis. He actually considered leaving him there to die. And for one tedious second, Tilyer thought he might have deserved it.

But no matter how Gabel had betrayed them, Tilyer couldn't just leave him to die.

He picked himself up off the floor and hooked his arms under Gabel's shoulders. He grunted, heaving with all of his might as he began to drag the unconscious crewman toward one of the remaining escape pods.

Gabel was heavier than he looked, but Tilyer managed to lug his dead weight to the pod hatch. He hit the door release with his elbow and hauled Gabel into the cramped compartment beyond. The unconscious man flopped to the ground, and Tilyer turned back toward the hatch.

"Come on, let's go!"

Linia threw him a glance over her shoulder. She triggered a pair of shots down the hall before she turned and ran. Tilyer's heart pounded in his chest as he reached out a hand, beckoning her forward. She was barely five meters from the pod when a pair of stormtroopers charged out from the hallway. They paused, lifting their rifles to their shoulders. And then the foyer erupted in a hail of crimson. Blaster fire flashed by Linia's fleeing form, scorching the walls and ricocheting off the bulkhead. Then Linia lunged.

Her eyes held a look of desperation, that adrenaline-fed guise of someone who knew her life was riding on one precarious moment. But then her eyes changed, widening with a shock that the rest of her face couldn't mirror. Tilyer reached out with both hands as she stumbled forward, collapsing into his arms as he tumbled back against the deck.

Tilyer lashed out with his foot. His heel connected with door release, and the hatched hissed shut. There was a split second pause, and then the rockets flared, flinging the capsule out into the cold reaches of space. Tilyer lay back, his whole body shaking with relief.

And then he laughed.

He couldn't think of anything else to do. It was like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest, and he couldn't think of any other way to express the feelings surging within his breast. For a long moment he simply lay there laughing, watching the stars spin outside the viewport with intoxicated joy.

But then he realized something. He was the only one laughing. Slowly he looked up. Linia's head lay motionless on his chest. Several strands of hair had come loose, dangling over her face like limp feathers. Her face was white, and her eye had lost that spark, staring sightlessly over his shoulder.

A cold terror gripped him. He wrapped his arms around her back, trying to haul her up. "Linia! Linia, stay with me!"

Then he felt it—a warm, sticky substance smearing the back of her uniform. The open gash beneath his hand did not pulse the hot fervor of wounded flesh. It was deathly still. He didn't need to see it to know what it was, or what had happened.

He let her body sag down against him. His former mirth was gone. Now he just felt hollow inside. He lay back on the deck and watched the stars spin, feeling her dead weight press against his chest.