Quinlan rolled his eyes when he saw the holding cells. "Seriously?" he complained. "Dark, dingy rooms with metal bars on the doors – kinda old-fashioned, don't you think?"
A Trandoshan guard hit him across the shoulders with the barrel of his rifle.
"Ow."
Hunter, looking dizzy and disoriented, cast him a brief look of disbelief, and Quinlan shrugged, falsely apologetic.
The female Weequay in front of them stopped at the second cell door and unlocked it. "Alright, in you go."
Hunter's guard shoved him inside.
The Trandoshan forced Quinlan towards the door, and he braced himself briefly, raising an eyebrow as he studied the room. "Oh, wow, you've got water dripping from that pipe and everything. Classic."
A hard shove sent him reeling against the opposite wall, and the door boomed shut.
Quinlan returned to the door and leaned against the bars. "Tell Dverik his security's bad, okay?" he yelled after them. "Thanks! A damaged pit droid could get through this lock!"
A second door slammed.
Quinlan examined the lock. It was true – a damaged pit droid probably could get through it without trouble – but Quinlan was not a pit droid.
More to the point, he didn't have an electronic door-probe with him.
Finished with his observations, he turned to Hunter, who was sitting cross-legged near the wall, looking ill but otherwise alive. "You doing okay?"
"Yeah." Hunter rubbed at the side of his head. "What about the –?"
Quinlan's sharp hiss of warning cut him off. "You never know who's listening," he whispered. "Give me a sec."
He examined the first wall carefully, searching for any sign that listening devices had been planted nearby.
"There's nothing," said Hunter.
"Oh?" Quinlan eyed him. "You can, uh, 'see' that kind of thing?"
"For lack of a better word – sometimes, yeah."
Quinlan thought about it. "That's neat."
Hunter snorted. "So, what about the others? Thought I saw you talking to them."
"I was." Quinlan dropped into a cross-legged position. "I told Crosshair not to come get us out."
" . . . I'm guessing that didn't work."
"Nope." Quinlan stretched painfully. "I dunno how he and the others intend to free us, though. I mean, they know which level we're on, and Tech's got my comlink's last position marked, but that's all."
Hunter shook his head. "Hope they don't get themselves caught. How did we even walk into that one, Vos?"
"I don't know. We should have pulled back farther or attacked Dverik right away. I feel like a complete idiot."
Hunter, very kindly, did not agree with him – at least, not out loud. "No," he said. "I meant how did we get beaten so fast?"
"I can't give you the play by play . . ." He squinted. "But Dverik got backup within the first three seconds of the fight. Then he whacked me, and then some numskull got you with a stun round, so that was probably a big factor."
"That shot barely skimmed me." Hunter sounded disgusted. "None of the others would even have noticed it."
"Yeah, well . . . I guess any special ability has its downsides."
Hunter looked thoughtful for an instant before smirking. "You mean like your ability to keep annoying people? Downside seems to be you get hit a lot."
"I was actually thinking more along the lines of my psychometry." Quinlan got up and twisted slightly to one side. "But – yeah, that too."
Several quiet minutes passed before Hunter spoke again. "I don't suppose there's any way you can get through this door."
"Not realistically." Quinlan's shoulders were aching from that last blow, so he leaned back and touched the ground. He'd done this same thing dozens of times over the years, always noting that it didn't help and then doing it again the next time. Still upside down, he added, "Even if I could somehow blow it off its hinges, we'd still have to break through that big door at the end, and then we'd have to get past all the guards, and then . . ."
Hunter eyed the thin metal pipe that ran along the upper wall. "We could break that off and try smashing the lock's control panel."
"Good idea," said Quinlan, straightening up. "But it's not worth it."
Hunter tilted his head questioningly. "We should at least give it a shot. Maybe we can meet the others half way."
"Uh, no. If we get caught, we'll be moved or put under heavier guard, or both – but not until after we've been beaten half to death, which . . . is obviously problematic. And it would make the others' job a lot harder."
Hunter gave him a wry look. "Speaking from experience?"
"Some things you just don't forget." Quinlan paced from one end of the cell to the other. "And I'd rather be bored than dead, or even half-dead. Speaking of which, we need to decide what we're going to tell Dverik."
Hunter shook his head once, probably trying to figure out how being bored or dead reminded Quinlan of speaking to Dverik. He apparently thought better of it, though, because he leaned back on his hands and said, "What do you mean?"
"He's bound to ask us who our employer is. Our stories need to match."
"But why do we need to answer him at all?"
Quinlan stopped and turned to face him. "You're kidding."
". . . No." Hunter gave him a confused look. "Primary interrogation protocol: don't acknowledge the interrogator."
"Seriously?" Quinlan appealed to the ceiling. "You know what, this whole mission, I keep feeling like I'm teaching a bunch of padawans."
Hunter raised a dangerous eyebrow. "I keep feeling like I'm dealing with a cadet instead of a general."
Quinlan flopped to the floor. "Okay, but – Hunter. We are hired bounty hunters. We have no loyalty to anything except money and ourselves."
"You think we should answer his questions."
"Yeah, in an intermittent way. He'll only keep us alive if he thinks we've got more information." He smiled complacently. "But we've got one good thing in our favor. We can mislead Dverik easily, because we never saw our employer's face."
"We – don't have an employer."
"Exactly."
"Right. . ." said Hunter, and leaned sideways against the wall. "You know what, Vos, I think I'll just let you do the talking."
Crosshair leaned his rifle against a crate and stared at it for a moment. He had never directed a mission before. He was the one Hunter sent to scout, or to cover the rest of the team while they completed the objectives and retreated.
"Hey, Cross," said Wrecker uncertainly. "How are we supposed to get 'em out?"
Crosshair frowned. He had no real answer, but saying that would hardly help anything. "Tech? We'll need every bit of information you can get."
"I'm already on it," replied Tech. "This will take a few minutes to compile. I will infiltrate their security while waiting."
Crosshair folded his arms and turned to face him. "Might be simplest to shut the whole place down and get them to come after us."
"Sounds good to me!" Wrecker agreed, punching one fist into the opposite palm.
Tech pursed his lips, but didn't stop working. "Well – it would be effective, but it sounds unnecessarily dangerous. What if Dverik has some backup safety protocols that we are unaware of?"
"That's why you're looking into them," said Crosshair impatiently.
"Yes, but I cannot guarantee I will find them all. And remember, Quinlan Vos said that Dverik is more powerful than he'd anticipated. There are currently many men dispersed throughout twenty-four levels of this sector, all of whom could likely be recalled within minutes."
Crosshair had forgotten that part. After an unwilling pause, he nodded. "Then we need to find another way."
Wrecker tossed his blaster from one hand to the other. "We know where Hunter and Vos are, mostly. If we found a speeder or something, we could head outside, cut our way through the outer wall, and get 'em out that way."
"That wouldn't work." Crosshair went to the tiny window and stared out into the lanes of traffic. "Too much visibility from potential hostiles."
"Well . . ." Wrecker trailed off. "We could take Dverik hostage, or – I know! We could set off the explosives as a distraction and then sneak down."
Crosshair studied the buildings across the airway. There was a completely unlit one just opposite him – that was odd. Empty, perhaps? Maybe it was old, too dangerous for occupants.
"We could split up," Tech mused. "Wrecker can keep setting off explosives while I jam any outgoing communications – then you, Crosshair, can get the others out."
"No." Crosshair turned. "If something were to go wrong, we'd be in even more trouble. We move in together."
Wrecker cracked his knuckles. "Okay, but can I set the other explosives first?"
Crosshair raised an eyebrow at Tech, who said, "The top two levels are still devoid of lifeforms. It should be safe."
"I'll move fast," Wrecker added, already jogging across the room.
Crosshair rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, but if you get caught, I'm not coming after you."
"You won't have to!" Wrecker called back. "I'll get out by myself!"
Once he left, Crosshair sat down next to Tech. "What have you got?"
"The security measures I've located so far are relatively harmless, though they could potentially slow us down a good deal. Electronic locks, intruder alarms set across specific doorways . . . I suspect that there are more localized measures as well."
He scrolled through screens at a dizzying rate. "For example, I'm picking up a faint signal here, but it doesn't tie into the main power grid. It could be a motion-detector."
Crosshair took the datapad away and flicked back to the schematics. "What about the prison level?"
"Interestingly enough, it contains very few security features. I suspect that is because many of Dverik's hired thugs live there. See the number of lifesigns?"
He nodded. "Which one is Dverik?"
"I'm not sure. I suppose I could run a thermal scan and attempt to narrow down the results – after all, Devaronians do have a higher average body temperature than humans, but there are other species to take into – no!" He snatched the datapad from Crosshair. "I should have remembered. Devaronians' blood is silver-based, which is a trait very few species share!"
When he started typing at more than his usual breakneck speed, Crosshair left him to his work. Once Tech really got going on some task, he wouldn't hear a thing until he'd solved whatever problem had his attention.
"Hey, Crosshair?" Wrecker said. "I'm on my way back."
"Good for you." Crosshair returned to the window and stared at the dark, tall building. Something about it kept drawing his attention, almost as if he'd seen it before, but of course that was impossible.
"There are guys on the second level now," Wrecker added.
"So keep quiet," Crosshair retorted, hardly noticing what Wrecker had said. A tall, empty building, opposite where the commandos were stationed –
"That's what it is," he muttered. "Wrecker, remember that building we investigated back at the airfield?"
"You mean near Grakkus' palace?"
"Ye –"
The door opened, and Crosshair whipped around, reaching for his pistol.
Wrecker barged in with a grin. "Ha, scared you!"
Crosshair hissed. "Do that again, and I might just shoot you."
"But you sneaked up on me last week," protested Wrecker.
"You only use your fists, which I can dodge."
Wrecker shrugged and gave him a friendly punch to one shoulder. "Sometimes you dodge. Not always, though."
Crosshair pushed him away. "Stop fooling around and listen."
"To what?" Wrecker gave him a confused look. "Why were you asking about that building, anyway?"
Instead of answering, Crosshair studied the building and the surrounding airspace.
"I have located Dverik," announced Tech, hurrying over to them. "What building are you talking about?"
Crosshair stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture towards the tiny window.
Tech stood on his toes to peer out, then looked up at him. "Why does that particular building matter?"
Crosshair smirked. "It's empty, flat-roofed, and lower than the one we're in now. This hangar door would make a good exit point."
"Ah," said Tech, casting a wary look at Wrecker. "That –"
Wrecker frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Tech listened without interrupting while Crosshair finished explaining his plan, but, the moment the sniper stopped talking, Tech crossed his arms and told him, "That plan is insane."
Crosshair smirked and put a toothpick in his mouth. "Nothing new there."
Wrecker had been surprisingly calm, only protesting once, but Tech did not feel calm at all. As a matter of fact, he felt somewhat jumpy. "There are too many variables involved."
His next-oldest brother cast him a calculating look. "It's better than trying to get through all the guards. Those guys were good enough to take down Vos and Hunter."
"But they were caught by surprise," protested Tech. "We have a fairly good chance if we just break through the outer wall. If one of us finds a speeder beforehand –"
Crosshair shook his head. "You already looked for vehicles."
"Yes, but . . ." Tech looked at his datapad again. Crosshair's plan made the most sense, logistically speaking, but they'd never used this plan before. Bad Batch had, of course, used non-predesignated plans in the past, but they'd always been Hunter's plans, and he'd always spearheaded them.
Crosshair raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
Tech frowned and scrolled quietly through screens of data without actually seeing them. My hesitation is incongruous. It is merely an insecurity, and makes very little sense, especially when taken in context. We have to get Hunter and Quinlan Vos out.
His field of vision was suddenly cut off as Wrecker shoved his cap down over his goggles.
"Don't worry," Wrecker said. "It'll work fine."
Tech squirmed away and adjusted his hat. "We don't know that."
Crosshair tapped his fingers uneasily against his gunstock. "Maybe there is a better way. If we had more time –"
"Oh, come on!" Wrecker folded his arms. "If we keep going around in circles, we won't get anywhere."
Tech glanced down at his screen, at the orange dot that showed Dverik's current location. Wrecker was right, and so was Crosshair, but so was Tech. And, unlike their usual disagreements, this one was important. "Yes, but if we get this wrong . . ." he began.
Crosshair's eyes flickered uncertainly to one side.
"Listen," said Wrecker, looking between them. "We've got to get Hunter and Vos out before something bad happens to them."
The other two watched him silently.
"Crosshair's plan is crazy, but we've done crazier things, right?" Wrecker went on.
But Hunter was there, Tech thought.
Crosshair seemed to be thinking the same thing. "We're trying to pull this off with three people."
"That's 'cause we only have three people" Wrecker frowned at him. "Come on, it's your plan! Why are you backing off all of a sudden?"
Crosshair shifted and flicked his toothpick across the room. "Tech's right. If we get this wrong, all of us could be killed."
"So we get it right!" Wrecker looked like he couldn't believe his own senses. "I'm not gonna let Dverik kill Hunter or Vos just because you don't have the guts to carry through with your own plan!"
Crosshair's cheeks flushed and he took a quick step forward.
Tech darted in front of him, lifting his hands. "Don't start fighting!"
There was a tense pause; then, with a visible effort, Crosshair stopped glaring at Wrecker and looked impatiently down at Tech. "What, now you're fine with the plan?"
Tech pulled off his hat, fidgeted with it, and jammed it back over his head. "Well, Wrecker's right. We don't know what Dverik's plans are, and we may have very little time."
" . . . Fine." Crosshair turned and stalked off, speaking over his shoulder. "Let's get moving."
Tech hurried after him, pistol in one hand and datapad in the other. It was a pity that he didn't have his vambrace with him, but he'd just have to make do for now. And besides, he'd carried out plenty of drills and simulations with less. It was possible he was getting too used to having all the information he might need at his fingertips.
Crosshair reached the door ahead of the other two and slipped out without waiting for them to catch up. Tech increased his pace. "Come on, Wrecker!"
"Right behind you," Wrecker said. "Just had to grab the explosives."
Tech twisted just enough to see that Wrecker had, indeed, hoisted an entire metal crate of explosives to one shoulder and was running along with it. "Don't drop that."
Wrecker grinned. "Yeah, wouldn't want to set these off early!"
Tech ran from the room and looked around for Crosshair, who was already at the far end of the cantina. Breaking into a sprint, he caught up with the sniper. "I thought you said to stay together."
"Then keep up," muttered Crosshair.
"Wrecker's carrying explosives. We can't rush this first phase, Crosshair."
The sniper didn't reply, apart from an impatient sigh, but he hadn't immediately set off again, so Tech knew he had decided to slow down. He held up his datapad to show Crosshair the schematics. "We are quite close to the first master terminal."
"Okay," whispered Wrecker, joining them. "I've set two new ones. Forgot to check about comms."
"We should keep them off for now," Tech said.
Wrecker shut off his comlink, then gestured to the explosives. "I'll keep setting these. You guys go ahead."
Crosshair set off at a run, and Tech followed, eyes fixed firmly on his datapad as he watched the green lines of the map move with him. When the blinking red dot that was the terminal drew alongside his current position, he skidded to a halt and turned to look at the door. "Hm, this looks to be a triple-sealed room. No entry code."
Crosshair pulled a plasma cutter from his pocket. "What will set off alarms?"
Tech ducked around him to reach the panel and carefully unfastened it. "One moment. I will disconnect the alarms connected to the door itself . . . there. As long as you do not cut through or break the physical lock, we should be all right."
Crosshair activated the cutter and set to work engraving a large circle in the metal, about two feet from the ground.
Tech glanced behind him at Wrecker, then checked Dverik's position. "Dverik is still in the same location," he reported quietly. "There are approximately sixteen lifeforms in the room with him."
"Approximately?" Wrecker asked in a loud whisper.
"Well." Tech zoomed in on the display. "There are several lifeforms that keep shifting back and forth between various rooms."
"Oh. How many on the whole level?"
"Thirty." Tech frowned. "And two of those are Hunter and Quinlan, but I can't identify which two they are. There are several rooms with only two or more people present, and of course I am not certain that they were even imprisoned together."
Crosshair finished cutting, stepped away from the door, and launched a sideways kick into the circle of metal, which fell inward with a muted clang.
Tech checked his sensors. "No hostiles inside, but there may be traps present I cannot detect."
Crosshair slipped through the opening anyway.
With an exasperated huff, Tech clipped his datapad to his belt and followed. "You could have –"
Crosshair hushed him with an impatient movement of his hand. "There's the terminal. How long will you need?"
Tech powered up the computer. "That is entirely dependent on the methods used to secure it."
The dim light from the hallway was blocked as Wrecker looked inside. "Don't take too long, Tech – I hate standing guard."
"Good thing you won't have to." Crosshair tossed him the plasma cutter. "I'll stay while you get to the lift shaft and cut us an entrance and an exit. Fourth floor down."
"Might take me a few minutes," Wrecker said, pulling back. "I'll set the rest of the charges while I'm at it."
"Fine." Crosshair studied the dark room for a moment, then leaned over and pushed a button. A rather outdated glowpanel buzzed to life.
Tech blinked. "Oh. That's better."
Crosshair smirked. "I'll be just outside. Keep me updated."
"Copy that." Tech removed a cable from his pocket and connected his datapad to the terminal. "Now, let's see – this shouldn't take too long . . ."
For the past several minutes, Hunter had been sitting motionless, leaning against the cool durasteel wall with his eyes closed. Vos hadn't spoken in that length of time, so Hunter presumed he was trying to sleep.
Hunter's thoughts drifted to his squad mates. Crosshair would have come up with some sort of plan by now, Wrecker was probably fine with it, and Tech was most likely doubtful. It always drove Wrecker crazy, how Tech could do something insane one moment and hesitate the next.
Hunter had long ago realized that most of Tech's crazier ideas were spur-of-the-moment. Whenever he had time to really consider, his mind would map out all the things that could go wrong, and then he'd start trying to compensate for all the variables.
A soft, metallic creak interrupted Hunter's thoughts. The atmospheric temperature had probably dropped, causing the walls to contract slightly.
Two more creaks followed, from exactly the same spot, and Hunter realized that it had nothing to do with temperature. He opened his eyes. "What are you – Vos, what the frag."
Quinlan Vos, who was hanging by his knees from a thin rafter and had his arms folded across his chest, shot Hunter an upside-down look of confusion. "I'm meditating."
"You're –" Hunter got to his feet. "Jedi don't meditate like that . . . do they?"
"I do." He swung gently back and forth, looking contemplative. "Well, I don't when I'm actually meditating. I do when I'm trying to bother my fellow Jedi. I've gotten some really good reactions out of them."
Hunter shook his head. "We haven't even been here very long."
"And your point is –"
"You're that bored already?"
". . . Yes?"
Hunter shook his head. "You're reminding me of Wrecker."
The Jedi snickered, but the amused expression promptly faded. "Uh-oh, Dverik's on his way."
With a quick, sharp swing, he flipped off the rafter to land on his feet, then sat down and leaned back against the wall, crossing both arms over his knees. He glanced up at Hunter, expression deadly serious. "Follow my lead. We might get a chance to take him down."
"Right." Hunter leaned against the opposite wall and waited.
Heavy footsteps slowed to a halt just outside their door, which swung open to admit Dverik. The Devaronian was completely surrounded by an invisible something that buzzed vibrantly in Hunter's mind.
"I suggest you don't try to attack," Dverik said. "I have activated a ray shield. If you doubt that, feel free to attack."
Vos exchanged a look with Hunter, who gave him a slight nod in confirmation.
The Devaronian turned and called, "Turn the lights on in here!"
When the panels brightened, Hunter got his first good look at Dverik – he'd caught sight of him from a distance the first time; then, when they were captured, it had been too dark to see much. The Devaronian was easily as tall as Wrecker, and had orange eyes and leathery skin that was mottled black and brown. The two curved horns protruding from his head were covered in a gleaming bronze metal. On his left wrist was tattooed an orange, rectangular mark with inverted triangles at either end.
Dverik considered his two prisoners for a long moment before pressing a control on his belt. The ray shield vanished abruptly from Hunter's mind, and Dverik crossed the cell in two steps. Before Hunter could move, Dverik had grabbed the Jedi by the throat, lifted him into the air, and slammed him back against the wall. "Who do you work for?"
Vos brought both hands up and stabbed his thumbs into the underside of Dverik's wrist. Dverik released him abruptly and smashed a huge fist into his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. "Nice try, human."
"Th – thanks." Quinlan coughed, then sluggishly pushed himself onto his hands and knees and added, "What was the question again?"
"I think you remember." Dverik glanced at Hunter, as though ensuring that he wasn't a threat, then dragged Vos to his feet, closing one large hand around his wrists and pushing him back against the wall.
Hunter considered attacking, but it was pointless, unless the Jedi could give him a good distraction. If he could manage to keep Dverik from activating the shield, then they might stand half a chance.
"You had better answer my questions." Dverik drew a knife with his free hand and rested the tip against his prisoner's cheekbone, directly next to his eye.
Quinlan jerked away, and the flash of panic in his eyes sent a chill down Hunter's spine. Vos might have been acting, but Hunter doubted it.
"Talk," Dverik repeated. "Do you work for Black Sun?"
"No! We don't work for–" The Jedi froze as the knife nicked his skin.
"You don't?" Dverik leaned closer, light glinting across the bronze covering of his horns. "You seem . . . frightened, little human."
Hunter didn't dare attack outright, not when the knife was so close to Quinlan's eyes, but he knew he'd have to act in the next half-minute. He could tell by the set of Dverik's shoulders that he was already losing patience.
Vos, who seemed to have regained some of his composure, raised an eyebrow at his captor. "If we talk, our employer will have us killed."
"True," said Dverik unconcernedly. "On the other hand, if you talk, I might allow you to live."
Vos glanced at Hunter, then back at Dverik.
He had only been silent for about three seconds, but that was apparently too long for Dverik, because the Devaronian released his prisoner's wrists and backhanded him into the adjacent wall. Before Vos could recover, Dverik threw him down and pinned his forearm to the ground, raising the knife for a blow.
Hunter hurled his full weight against Dverik's shoulder blades, knocking him off-balance.
Dverik shouted in anger and pressed the control on his belt. Hunter tried to roll away, but the ray shield had already activated.
His vision flashed red, and a high-pitched ringing drowned out everything for an instant. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he'd been thrown across the cell and was lying on his side. The Jedi was a few feet away, on his hands and knees, saying something. He vaguely hoped that it wasn't something annoying. Surely Vos had learned his lesson by now.
Hunter's hearing returned in a rush just as Dverik stepped between the two prisoners and said, "Let's try this again."
Apart from the sounds of Tech's muttering and typing, this area of the building had been silent for nearly five minutes. Wrecker would be returning shortly, and then at last they could get on to the next phase – if Tech found what they were looking for.
Crosshair checked both ends of the hallway and stopped himself from questioning Tech about his progress for at least the fifth time. Tech wouldn't hear him anyway.
Wrecker entered the hall and started towards the computer room just as the typing sounds cut off abruptly.
"Done!" Tech whispered triumphantly. "I'll just check this scan, and then we – wait."
Wrecker came up beside him. "All set. You guys ready yet?"
"Crosshair?" Tech scrambled out through the opening, eyes wide with apprehension. "I think I know where Hunter and Quinlan are."
Crosshair snatched the datapad. The schematics were zoomed into a small room, and the orange dot that marked Dverik's position was directly between two green dots.
"They – could be anyone," Wrecker said encouragingly.
The orange dot stopped next to one of the green ones, which then moved abruptly and hit the line denoting the wall.
"I don't think Dverik throws his employees around for fun," said Crosshair, giving Tech the datapad. "Let's move."
As they sprinted towards the lift shaft, Tech said, "I shut down the locks and all the other automated security measures I could locate – apart from the alarms, of course – but as I mentioned earlier we might –" He paused for breath. "– still have to deal with independently powered traps."
"What about the ship?" Crosshair skidded to a halt beside the huge hole cut into the lift shaft.
"All set," Tech responded. "Are we altering the plan?"
"We're skipping the third level entirely." Crosshair leaned inside and felt for the cable, which Wrecker had already fired into the ceiling. "Either Vos is being an idiot and getting himself beat up, or they're running out of time."
He stepped into the blackness, swung down, and landed lightly forty feet below.
Tech shimmied down the cable and dropped next to him. "It's a good thing they sealed the shaft off," he commented, examining the rough edges that marked where the second opening would be. "It would have been nearly impossible to cut this while hanging on from a cable."
Wrecker landed with a thud. "We were supposed to leave the lift and head up a staircase to the third level. New plan?"
Crosshair readied his rifle. "We go straight through to the cells after we set off a couple alarms."
"But –" Tech hesitated. "What if Dverik suspects an attack? He'll kill them!"
"It's just a small explosion," Wrecker assured him. "Watch, you'll barely feel it."
He pressed the detonator, and the wall vibrated beneath their hands.
"Tech," Crosshair said. "Give them a reason to move."
Tech obeyed with a quick nod; a few seconds later, there was a shout from somewhere nearby. "Hey, we've got a fire warning on thirty-one!"
Crosshair leaned against the shaft wall and closed his eyes, listening. He counted at least six people running by, towards the nearest stairs. . . And another – three, maybe four – in the distance, running for the second stairway.
He gave them thirty seconds, then stepped aside.
Wrecker slammed a shoulder against the metal, converting his forward momentum into a somersault that brought him to a halt ten feet from the lift.
Crosshair stepped out into a wide, brightly lit, empty room. "Directions, Tech."
"We head straight," replied Tech. "No lifeforms in our immediate vicinity." He clipped his datapad to his belt, then drew both pistols.
Wrecker jumped up, ready to charge forward.
"Wait!" Crosshair snapped. "Rush in like that and Dverik probably will kill them outright. I'll go first."
He ran from the room and down a long hall, keeping to the right – it would give him a better angle on the cell once he reached it. Tech followed closely, while Wrecker mirrored him on the left.
One hundred meters later, close to the end of the hall, Crosshair skidded to a halt and held up a hand, then sidled forward, rifle held diagonally across his chest.
Dverik's deep tone, so close that Crosshair almost jerked back, rang out. "The Black Sun is against my rise to power."
"See?" groaned a familiarly raspy voice. "Even they have some standards."
Crosshair and Wrecker exchanged looks. Wrecker was grinning, and Crosshair couldn't help a smirk of his own.
There was a heavy thud, silence, and then Vos let out a breathless cry.
"Stop!" Hunter ordered.
Crosshair froze reflexively at the order, then continued when he realized that Hunter couldn't possibly see him yet.
"It's – not Black Sun," said Hunter.
Crosshair crept to the very edge of the hall and leaned out.
Dverik was standing over Vos, who was on his knees, bent double. Hunter stood a few feet away from Dverik, arms folded as he stared calmly up at the massive Devaronian.
Why isn't he attacking?
Tech ducked beneath his elbow, datapad out again. "Dverik has a shield," he whispered. "A ray shield."
So much for his original plan of shooting Dverik through the arm. Careful not to make a noise, Crosshair set his rifle against the wall and signed for Wrecker to activate the other explosives.
With a murderous grin, Wrecker complied. The floor shook, much more noticeably this time, and Dverik looked up at the ceiling with an angry snarl. "If it's not Black Sun, then who is it?"
Crosshair darted across the hall in two steps and approached the doorway, moving in utter silence. One hand closed around the hilt of his thin, sharp blade.
Hunter spoke again. "We're working for Grakkus the Hutt."
"Grakkus?" Dverik laughed. "He'll pose a minor threat at most. Well, then – that's all I needed to know."
The three commandos burst into action.
Tech let out a volley of shots from both pistols, battering the door's lock, which disintegrated just in time for Wrecker to smash through the door and slam it straight into Dverik. The shield held up under the onslaught, forcing the Devaronian back as Crosshair slipped into the cell.
Hunter grabbed Vos by one arm and shoved him toward the door.
Crosshair caught the Jedi's other arm and shoved him out into the corridor. "Go," he told Hunter, stepping aside. "We'll handle Dverik."
With a roar of effort, Dverik flung the door – and Wrecker – back, then got to his feet.
"Hurry!" shouted Tech from outside. "The others are coming back!"
Dverik caught Crosshair's gaze, deactivated his shield, and took a step forward; but even as the Devaronian reached for the vibrosword he wore over one shoulder, Wrecker tackled him.
"Want to play rough?" he roared, flinging his blaster aside. "Come on, you scum!"
And he proceeded to throw punch after punch with reckless abandon, completely ignoring his gun. Idiot.
"Incoming!" shouted Hunter, already heading for the lift. "Come on, we've got to leave!"
Crosshair pulled his pistol and shot Dverik with four stun rounds.
"Aw," muttered Wrecker, seeing his enemy go limp. "Crosshair!"
"We're leaving," Crosshair informed him, and went to fetch his rifle.
Tech, who was leading Vos along by one elbow, was twenty meters down the hall, casting darting looks in all directions and waving his pistol emphatically as he urged Vos to hurry.
Two Weequay rushed into the hall from a side room.
Hunter broke into a sprint, launched himself into the air, and caught the first Weequay square in the chest, immediately somersaulting and spinning to knock the second enemy's feet out from beneath him.
Crosshair caught up with him and stunned both enemies, just to make sure they stayed down.
