The mood the next morning was tense. Bastila bade them goodbye and sat, cross-legged, on the floor of the apartment to await Carth and Teethree's return. Carth didn't say a word, and Zaalbar kept his claws close to his weapon, and his black eyes darted back and forth between Aithne and Mission as they all walked through the sleepy streets of the Upper City. Mission was pale and jittery. Only Teethree was exempt from the dark mood of the party, rolling along and occasionally beeping nonsense at intervals just as he had done the day before.
They arrived unchallenged to the gate of the Sith military base. Aithne nodded to Teethree. He beeped, rolled forward, sliced the security in five seconds flat, and rolled away. Aithne whistled in admiration. She moved to lead Mission and Zaalbar into the base, but Carth pulled her aside.
Aithne flinched, expecting a last-minute plea to be allowed to come along, but she didn't get one. Instead, Carth only said, "Watch out for Mission, but don't forget to look out for yourself in there. Let Zaalbar help. Be careful, and come back to us with those launch codes."
"Hey, I'm not looking to get captured and tortured or killed by the Sith today," Aithne said. "We'll get it done, and by this time tomorrow, I expect we'll be well on our way to dropping off Bastila at some Jedi Enclave and putting this whole thing behind us."
Carth extended his hand. "I'll hold you to that," he said.
Aithne shook his hand. He turned away to leave with Teethree, and Aithne turned to the others. "Let's get in there before a patrol comes through," she said.
"So," Mission said as they rode the elevator down to the Sith base entrance. "Carth confess his undying love for you or something?"
Her voice was higher than usual, and a little bit brittle. Aithne looked at her. "He did that last night on the balcony," she said. "Asked me to run off to Nar Shaddaa with him the minute we blow this joint. Then he did this whole bit about how we've never been separated for this long before. So embarrassing."
"Right, so he told you to keep an eye on me, then," Mission said flatly. "Don't worry! I'll be fine! I can hold up my end of the team, you'll see. I know I freaked out a little back at the Vulkar base, but those were Tarisians, even if they were Vulkars! These guys are Sith invaders. I'm not gonna have a problem making sure there's a few less of them around before we head out of here."
"Actually, Carth told me not to watch you so much that I get stupid and let myself get stabbed or shot by the Sith medical droid," Aithne said. "I may be editorializing."
"Don't worry," Mission promised again. "I'll protect you from those nasty medical droids."
Aithne smiled to herself. The jokes had worked. Mission already sounded more like herself. The elevator stopped, and the door opened.
A Twi'lek receptionist looked up. Her brows came down, and she demanded what they were doing there, her finger hovering over what looked like an alarm.
Mission immediately held both hands up and took just two steps forward. She and the Twi'lek woman had a rapid conversation in Huttese; Mission's accent was provincial and her grammar even worse than it was in Basic, but she got the point across. The woman shot Mission a sly grin as she got up and quickly and quietly evacuated.
"She won't tell on us," Mission assured Aithne.
"I heard that. Not fond of Sith invaders either, is she?"
Mission made a face. "Right. I forgot you speak or understand every alien language in the galaxy. Uhhh, what are you doing?"
Aithne had sat down in the receptionist's vacant seat and accessed the still-active terminal. "The receptionist terminals in bases like this often have security camera access," she explained. "At the very least, I can check to see what we're up against, and I might be able to . . ." she grinned and held out her hand. "Hand me the bag of spikes in your pack, please? Looks like I might be able to do some damage here to clear the way."
Mission obediently fished out the package of computer spikes from her bag. "Hey, you won't hear me complaining," she said.
Aithne worked in silence for about three minutes. "'Kay," she said, "that's the secondary barracks, medical, and the control center in chaos. The overloads I just set off won't have got everyone, but things should be a bit easier now. There's a massive assault droid guarding the elevator we'll need to access the base commander's rooms. He'll have the codes, but we have to get past the droid to get to him. Fortunately, it was powering its shields through the base computer system, but it has an independent power supply it's using for primary functions. Expect a tough fight there." She handed the bag of spikes back to Mission, who put them back up.
/How do we attack?/ Zaalbar asked.
"Room by room, so they don't sneak up on us with reinforcements at a bad time," Aithne answered, getting up from her chair. "The first guys should be right through that door." She pointed. Zaalbar took up position at her left flank, and Mission moved around behind the desk to crouch in cover there.
The next several minutes passed in a flurry of activity and battle. Aithne led Mission and Zaalbar around the base, and soon the trio were covered in sweat and blood. It wasn't usually their own. Mission kept in cover and out of the heaviest fighting, sniping combatants on the edges of combat and making moves on Aithne or Zaalbar's flanks. Often the enemy didn't even see her, absorbed as they were in fighting the enormous Wookiee with a vibrosword or the not-quite-as-enormous human female with double blades running straight into their faces. Mission winced every time one of her shots felled a man, but true to her word, she didn't break down about it as she had with Kandon in the Vulkar base. Mission, Zaalbar, and Aithne had brought mostly empty packs to the Sith base, but all three of them were soon weighed down with arms, armor, and useful technology. Aithne directed the others to steal everything the three of them could carry. Not only would it make for valuable salvage, it was Aithne's hope that, if enough things were missing, the Sith might view the attack as having been carried out by anarchists or rebel rioters without any definite strategic objective. It could give them another few hours to escape, or even so much as a day if they kicked up enough confusion with their attacks and thefts. Accordingly, Aithne, Mission, and Zaalbar also blew up power conduits, destroyed Sith terminals, and smashed the medicine cases. Camera records would show that there had only been three of them to attack, if Sith away from the base could find a working monitor to play them when they returned, but Aithne thought, with some pride, as they wrecked their way through the base that they were leaving enough chaos behind them for a squad of commandos.
She wondered, too, how much of their good fortune was coincidence, and how much might be Bastila back at the apartment, "meditating on their success." A Twi'lek receptionist who hated her employers; rooms Aithne could easily sabotage from afar before it came to open combat; many of the Sith seemingly already out on patrol or quartered elsewhere in the Upper City so there weren't a quarter of the Sith here that Aithne had anticipated. Was it Bastila? Was it Aithne's own Force Sensitivity, lighting a path forward?
Finally, the three of them stood before the door to the elevator antechamber, the door behind which the assault droid guardian lurked. "I want you both to shield," Aithne said, "and Mission to switch to an ion blaster. Yes, I know you haven't practiced," she added to Mission, as the teenager started to object, "and I know what Carth and I told you in the Undercity. This is different. Remember to stay behind the door frame and time your shots."
Aithne opened the door. A very frightening-looking droid stepped forward, blarting a challenge in a low, metallic voice. It was a couple handspans taller than Zaalbar, with metal arms ending in wicked sharp claws each equipped with a blaster gauntlet and other tech fixtures.
Worse, there were turrets in the room, mounted on either side of the elevator door. An alarm had gone out, or the droid had scanned them, because they were firing.
Zaalbar leapt into action, crossing the room in three huge strides to attack the rightmost turret at close quarters. Aithne maneuvered so the assault droid was between her and the leftmost one and went to work.
Fighting droids wasn't like fighting Black Vulkars or rhakghouls in the Undercity. It was more like fighting opponents in armor. Rather than cutting with her blades, Aithne was forced to use precision thrusts at the joints of the assault droid in order to take it down. Since this particular model had a bigger reach than she did and had been equipped with melee attachments, this was sometimes a dodgy proposition. So, as Zaalbar took on the second turret, thereby leaving the assault droid the only viable threat inside the room, Aithne began to maneuver the droid around again so that its back was to Vao and her ion blaster. Its priority programming kept its focus on her and Zaalbar, who were bashing it with vibroswords at close quarters, rather than on Mission, who was actually best equipped to take it down.
Aithne saw when the teenager had caught on. The droid began to shudder and spark as EMP blasts hit its chassis. Its attacks faltered, the lights on its optical sensors flickered, until finally, it gave a whining, metallic stutter and collapsed.
"Good work, Mission," Aithne said. The girl came out of cover, glowing with happiness and a thin sheen of sweat. She was exhausted. Aithne was tired too, and she could see even Zaalbar breathing heavily, but she knew they weren't done yet. "One last fight, guys," she said. "Then we can all head back to the apartment for a snack and water break before we blow this place."
/The chieftain is below?/ Zaalbar asked.
Mission dug in her pack and switched out to her old blaster without comment. Then she led the way to the waiting elevator. She looked over her shoulder at the others. "Well? You coming?"
Aithne and Zaalbar moved to join her in the lift. "Stay back from the Sith commander, maybe?" Aithne asked. "Sith philosophy dictates that the person in charge is usually the biggest, meanest, cruelest, or sneakiest of them all, and usually some sort of nasty combination of all of the above."
"Aww, you worry too much," Mission told her.
The elevator opened on a short, eerily silent corridor. "Shields up," Aithne ordered. Zaalbar and Mission obeyed, and Aithne strode forward and keyed open the door.
The tall, bald, armored man in the staid, nearly empty chamber beyond was sitting cross-legged, a massive, double-bladed vibrosword across his knees. Aithne closed her eyes briefly in relief. It's not a Dark Jedi, it's not a Dark Jedi. Even if he has powers, he's not fully trained. She hadn't thought they would get so lucky.
His eyes snapped open. "Who dares to break my meditation?" he demanded.
Better yet, Aithne realized. This guy hasn't even realized his base is under attack. Thank you, Bastila.
The man climbed to his feet, hefting his vibrosword. "You will pay for interrupting my . . ." he stopped. His eyes narrowed at Aithne. "Wait. I sense the Force is strong with you. Very strong."
Mission and Zaalbar shot Aithne looks. She grimaced at them. "How is that possibly relevant?" she asked the Sith, instead of responding directly. "Invaders in your base, barging into your private chambers, and you focus in on someone's Force Sensitivity?" She made a disgusted noise in back of her throat. "Launch codes, please."
"Who are you?" the Sith demanded. "You are not the Jedi. Who would have thought another adept in the Force could be found on this insignificant planet? Whatever your purpose, know your talent is no match for a disciple of the Dark Side!"
"Yeah, your Dark Side's doing wonders for Taris," Aithne retorted. "All-out war in the Lower City, and this blockade will kill the economy in another three weeks. You've got that long, maybe, before the citizens turn on you. With morale among your troops low in the first place, and you all hiding like rats up here in the Upper City from the gangs and rhakghouls below; with everything we've just done in your base, you think your Dark Side's going to help you hold this place? Or stop the people who have already taken out dozens of your men?"
It was a slight exaggeration. There'd been maybe a dozen Sith in the base up above. A dozen and a half. But hey, it sounded good. The Sith narrowed his eyes still further at her. "Who are you?" he demanded again.
Aithne shrugged and attacked.
He was off his guard, and it gave her a half-second's advantage. If Aithne had had a blaster, she could have killed him, but Mission had the blaster, and she hadn't learned yet that you only got your enemies talking to distract them, then followed up on the advantage with a quick and lethal strike as soon as it worked. She wasn't a practiced killer, and up until a few days ago, she had probably mostly fought to escape rather than to eliminate her enemies, even rhakghouls. Armed with two vibroblades, Aithne was unfortunately still slower than a blaster bolt. She went for the Sith's head but hit his armor's gorget instead; managed a follow-up prick under the armpit, but then he got his hand up, and suddenly, she couldn't move.
Her every limb was pinioned, as surely as though she'd been frozen in carbonite. There was no pain; she was simply paralyzed. Only her eyes could move, watching the Sith in horror as he leveraged his vibrosword for the killing blow. "My master will surely reward me with my lightsaber for killing you," he hissed.
Zaalbar howled. He tackled the Sith bodily, hurling him off balance and away from Aithne. He railed at the Sith with devastating blows from above. The Sith buckled, protecting his head and shoulders with the crosspiece of his vibrosword, trying to rally. Then he cried out. Mission had shot him in the thigh, the only clear shot she had. Aithne felt some wavering in the power holding her in paralysis. She wrenched her whole body and fell free. Staggering forward, shaking it off, she lunged forward to join Zaalbar's attack. Within seconds, the Sith was down.
Aithne straightened, panting, and wiped a streak of blood from her face. She glanced back at Mission. "Next time, shoot him as soon as you're sure he's invested in my monologue," Aithne told her. "We don't fight fair with Sith. You can see they don't do us that courtesy." She looked across at Zaalbar, held out her hand, and clasped forearms with the Wookiee. "I owe you one, Big Z."
/None shall harm you while I breathe, Aithne Moran,/ he vowed. /What magic did he use upon you to make you unable to strike against him?/
Aithne sighed. "That was the 'power of the Dark Side' he was going on about." She nudged the Sith's corpse with a toe. "He wasn't a fully trained Dark Jedi, thank the stars, but this guy was in training. Probably given Taris to watch because it is a backwater. Without Endar Spire's crash and Bastila's being here, I doubt the Sith would bother with this planet at all. Well. Hopefully we've done enough damage here to make it too costly for the Sith to stay. With any luck, Malak will order a withdrawal. That'd be the smart option, anyway."
Mission looked struck by this. "You really think the Sith might leave Taris?" she asked. "Just 'cause of what we did here? That'd be . . . Gadon was planning an assault on 'em, like you said. Once most of the fighting with the Vulkars had been settled, and since you and Bastila killed Brejik at the race, and we got all those Vulkars at the base, it has been, mostly. If the Sith leave too, a lot of people in the Lower City'll be better off."
Aithne hesitated, stuffing the Sith launch codes from the commander's body as well as some credits from a nearby footlocker into her pack. "They won't die in the Bek-Vulkar gang war or due to a war with the Sith invaders," she said finally, moving back toward the lift to the base's main level. She didn't share her suspicions of what would actually happen, based on years of experience on the Rim and a few times seeing the fallout after a warlord or a crime organization got crushed. The kid didn't need to know.
They all stepped onto the elevator. "Hey, that guy back there. He said you had the Force. Is that why Bastila keeps wanting to talk with you?"
The three of them stepped out of the lift and started walking back toward the exit of the base. "No," Aithne said. "She wants to elope to Nar Shaddaa too when this is done. Or maybe it was that she was trying to confide in me her secret passion for our contact, Canderous Ordo. I forget."
"It's okay if you have Force powers or something," Mission told her. "That's a good thing, right? Maybe you could be a Jedi!"
"I don't want to be a Jedi," Aithne told her. "I'm not a big joiner. Only joined the Republic fleet under protest, and the Jedi have to follow a bunch of rules that don't sound fun to me, and some of them don't even make sense. Besides," she added, "Bastila says I'm too old."
"So, maybe you could've been a Jedi once, but you can't now," Mission summarized. She frowned. "Well, that's not fair. Ageist. Isn't that what they call it? Yeah—ageist. Anyway, you're not that old."
"I am when you consider that Bastila probably started training to be a Jedi when she was three or four years old and hasn't even made Jedi Knight yet," Aithne told her.
They entered the reception area and crossed to the lift out. "I guess that'd make you older than Carth before you ever really got anywhere as a Jedi, huh?" Mission said. "And if being a Jedi don't sound like fun to you, maybe you don't want to put in all that time. It's too bad: it'd sure be interesting being best friends with a Jedi, wouldn't it, Big Z?"
Zaalbar looked down at Mission. /I believe our lives are already interesting enough,/ he answered.
"Aww, you're no fun," Mission complained. "But, I guess we are wiping the Sith and Black Vulkars and rhakghoul plague off Taris. It is a bit of a step up from what we were doing last week."
Aithne grabbed first shower when they got back to the apartment, and afterward, she left Mission and Zaalbar there with Teethree to pack up all their things to leave. Aithne headed Javyar's with Carth and Bastila. Fortunately, the Sith on duty at the shuttle bay to the Lower City had just begun his shift when Aithne and the others had hit the base and had no idea anything had happened yet. He accepted their papers without a fuss, and Aithne boarded the shuttle for what she hoped would be the final time.
The Lower City had a more hopeful air about it than it had had the last times they'd been there. The Hidden Beks were in high good humor, helping families clean up the streets. What Vulkars they met looked defeated and disorganized and slunk around corners as soon as they saw three armed people coming down the road. "Do you realize what you have done here?" Bastila asked Aithne and Carth a block from Javyar's. "A gang war years in the making is finished, because of you. Citizens down here are safer and happier because of your actions this past week."
"You helped cut the head off the snake," Aithne pointed out. "Just like I'm sure you helped us in the Sith base this morning—thanks for that, by the way. But I'm still not sure we should be patting ourselves on the back too hard." She'd hesitated to share her qualms about what they'd done here with Mission in the Sith base, but to Carth and Bastila she could speak her mind. "We've upset the balance of power in half a dozen different ways this week. Gadon and his Beks are ready and waiting to step into the vacuum left by the Vulkars, and I'm not entirely sure they're better. Just have a better PR sense. But they've also got ambitions on the Upper City. Picked that up in their base a couple days back. This here—helping folk rebuild, building up their champion-of-the-people routine—they're laying the groundwork for expansion. The Exchange won't like that, nor will the nobles of the Upper City. Not to mention all the lesser gangs and crime bosses who will see all this confusion as the perfect opportunity to make their move."
Carth looked at her. "Done a lot of work with and around organized crime?" he asked.
Aithne shrugged. "Enough. You pick up the patterns pretty quick. When you take out power without something to replace it with, bad things happen. So, sure. The Black Vulkars in their current form are pretty much done for. We might have made things too expensive for the Sith to continue on here too. But we still might have done just as much harm as good here on Taris."
"You speak wisdom," Bastila agreed. "It's why the Jedi support a position of noninterference, when such a position is at all feasible. It's why Revan and Malak's intervention in the Mandalorian Wars was so ill advised."
"Okay, no," Aithne said immediately, facing Bastila. "That was not the application behind anything I just said. I do not think worlds should be left to themselves to work out their own problems with civil war, famine, or invaders just in case interference or a defiance of pacifist ideals makes things worse. All I'm saying is that getting your hands dirty taking majorly bad powers out of play without a plan for how to replace them with good powers is stupid. I wish meddling here had been avoidable, or that we had the resources to check the Beks and the Exchange now as we leave. That's all."
"You don't get those kind of resources on a world that isn't affiliated with the Republic," Carth said. "And if Taris isn't a good proposition for the Sith right now, it's just as bad for the Republic."
"Yeah, so screw Taris, right?" Aithne muttered, nodding at the bouncer outside Javyar's.
She spotted Canderous at a table near the bar. She led Carth and Bastila over to him, and they all sat down. Carth flagged down a waitress, and they all ordered lunch. Ordo waited, a smug look on his battle-scarred face.
"I figured you'd be back," he said, as the waiter slapped down piles of hot seafood in front of Aithne, Carth, and Bastila. "Neither one of us is getting off this planet unless we work together. Now I know the Sith military base had a break-in. I know it was you. I know you've got those departure codes I need. So, what do you say? We join forces and I can get you inside Davik's base—and right to Ebon Hawk. We can go right now."
Aithne grabbed a forkful of kelp noodles. "Lunch first," she said with emphasis, stuffing her cheeks. She was to the point where she didn't want seafood for another six weeks after they left here, but at least it was better than ration bars. And anyway, wiping out a Sith base was hungry work.
When she'd taken the edge off, she nodded at Ordo. "It's not just these two I want with me," she told him.
"The droid and those other two I saw you with in the Undercity," Ordo guessed. "The Wookiee and that Twi'lek kid. No problem. You can bring your associates when we get out of here. What you all do after our getaway is your business."
Aithne nodded again and ate a few more bites in silence. "Alright, let's join up," she said. "How are we getting into Davik's estate?"
"Davik's always looking to recruit new talent," Canderous explained. "I'll tell him how you won that swoop race and mention that you're interested in working for the Exchange. I'll say I brought you in so he could check you out. He'll have you stay at his estate for a couple days while he runs some background checks on you. That's standard procedure."
"It's risky," Bastila worried. "We should find another way."
"You got another plan, sister?" asked Canderous lazily, "Or are you just objecting because you didn't think of it?"
"No, I don't have another plan," Bastila admitted. "I would rather not place my life in your hands, however."
"I can say the same about you," Canderous pointed out. "That makes us even. Fortunately, we both want to get off this rock, right?"
"Too late to back out now," Aithne told Bastila. She jerked her head at Canderous. "If he's heard about the attack on the Sith base, the Sith who survived the assault because they were on patrol, stationed elsewhere in the city, or whatever are already getting together and forming an effort to hunt us down. Mission, Zaalbar, and I did what we could to slow them down, but there's no guarantee we didn't miss something, particularly if the Sith had working tech outside their base somewhere they can use to make repairs. Besides, it's not like we'll be hanging out at Davik's long enough for him to dig anything up."
Bastila hesitated, but finally nodded. "Understood. Very well. We will follow your plan, Mandalorian."
"What about you, Onasi?" Canderous challenged the pilot. He'd noticed that while the Jedi had relaxed, Carth was still sitting straight as a ramrod, fists clenched on the table, and most of his lunch uneaten. "You in?"
"Carth," Aithne said. "Ebon Hawk's supposedly fast enough to run that blockade, but our odds will be a whole lot better if you pilot. We need you."
Onasi nodded shortly. "I'm not letting Bastila or any of you go with a Mandalorian without me, and I'm not about to be left back here. I don't like it. But I'm in."
"I'm sure we'll all be bosom buddies when we're done here," Canderous sneered. "So. You and me, Aruetii. You're the only one Davik might buy me bringing as a recruit. While Davik's checking you out, we steal Ebon Hawk and escape Taris. Come on, I've got an air speeder nearby to take us to Davik's estate. The sooner we're off Taris, the better."
"Sure," Aithne agreed, washing down the last of her lunch with the last of her drink. She shoved the authorization papers at Carth. "Onasi, take charge of Mission, Zaalbar, and Teethree back at the apartment. You're the best bet to get through the Sith guards and do that, now. Have the comlink on and ready for our signal when it's time for pickup. Expect us in three or four hours."
Aithne looked at Canderous. "The Jedi's with us," she told him. "We'll pass her off as my sister or something, even though I'm clearly the pretty one." Canderous choked, and Bastila scowled, but Aithne didn't give the Mando a time to make a crack or Bastila a time to protest. "She needs the getaway more than any of us," she said, "and when the fighting breaks out, she'll come in handy."
Ordo looked at Bastila. His lip curled. "I guess she fought at that swoop track too," he said. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just go."
Aithne turned and clasped arms with Onasi. "See you on the other side," she said.
"Be careful," Carth told her and Bastila. "I don't trust this guy as far as I could throw him."
Aithne rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but you don't trust anyone."
She let go of his arm, laid some credits down on the table for their lunch and a tip, and with Bastila, followed Canderous out of the cantina.
The estate of Davik Kang was, as Aithne had expected, both large and overdecorated. For whatever reason, crime lords always seemed to have appalling taste. Kang, it seemed, had an unseemly fondness for the color purple. It was everywhere, on the walls, on the floors, on the upholstery of the cushions. The effect was not, as Kang probably hoped, one of opulence and luxury, but made the rooms appear smaller than they were, and the gold and marble inlay did not create an appearance of importance but rather made Davik look like an insecure Republic senator.
Canderous led Aithne and Bastila through the cold, garish halls. Behind Ordo, not one of the guards challenged their presence. There were a lot of guards, Aithne noted. At least as many men as she had killed inside the Sith base that morning.
They finally located Davik in his study, sitting with Calo Nord, the unfriendly, murderous bounty hunter Aithne had noted in Javyar's right before her first meeting with Mission and Zaalbar. She felt the small man's eyes focus on her from behind his opaque goggles. Davik followed Nord's gaze, and his eyebrows rose.
He rose from his large, thronelike chair. "Canderous. I see you have brought someone with you. Most intriguing, if I do say so myself. You usually travel alone."
"It's not like you to take on partners, Canderous," Nord put in. "You're getting soft."
Ordo bristled. "Watch yourself, Calo. You may be the newest kath hound in the pack, but you aren't top dog yet!"
Calo's hand twitched toward his blaster, but Davik raised one of his own. "Enough," he said. "I won't have my top two men killing each other—that's not good business. I'm sure Canderous has an explanation as to why he's not working solo anymore." His tone invited Ordo to provide that explanation—quickly.
Canderous shrugged. "This is a special case, Davik. I ran into someone the Exchange might want to recruit. You may have heard something of her exploits already." He indicated Aithne.
Aithne bowed, but Davik didn't acknowledge her. "And the other?" he asked Ordo, indicating Bastila.
Aithne stepped forward. "My sister," she said. "She's harmless. She just got out of a bad relationship and needs somewhere to stay a while. Annoying, but family's family, you know? But it leaves me somewhat in need of credits. I have certain skills. Canderous said you might be interested."
Bastila looked annoyed at the story Aithne had provided for her, but she cast her glare down to the inlaid stone floor and tried to look suitably humble. A feat for her, Aithne thought, with some amusement. At least they'd stashed her lightsaber up her shirt and out of sight.
And the story seemed to satisfy Davik. "We all run into misfortunes from time to time," he agreed, stepping out from around his desk and walking toward her. He circled her, assessing. "And I believe Canderous is right: I do know you. You're the woman who's been making such a splash in the Upper City dueling ring near here, correct? 'The Mysterious Stranger'? Also, the rider that won the big swoop race. Very impressive. I like your style."
"Aithne Moran," Aithne responded simply, offering her hand to shake. "It's good to finally meet you."
Instead of shaking her hand, Davik turned it over and raised it to his lips. Aithne tried not to let her shudder of revulsion show. "You know, Canderous was right. The Exchange is always looking for new talent. You could have a bright future with our organization. With a recommendation from Canderous—and a thorough background check—you could become part of the Exchange. Many would kill to prove themselves worthy of this honor!"
"And have, I imagine," Aithne responded. "I'm pleased to just have made the first cut."
Davik seemed pleased. "Come with me. I will give you a tour of my operations. I'm certain you'll be most impressed."
Aithne wasn't. Davik was a standard crime lord: egocentric and vengeful, with the usual affectations of hospitality and politeness and the seeming belief that affecting them would make his intimidation factor that much more powerful when he didn't actually bother hiding any of the dirty and unpleasant business he engaged in. Also, he kept trying to hit on her, oozing flirtation and suggestion like a swamp thing despite her subtle discouragement.
She grew increasingly bored and fidgety until Davik finally led her into the hangar. When she saw the ship there, though, Aithne Moran fell as in love as Mission was with the T3-M4 unit. She was a Dynamic-class freighter, white, with red accents resembling a beak on her prow and upon the starward edges. Aithne felt a near-physical pull to the fierce, pretty thing. She felt it waiting, longing to be up in the sky again. She spied two laser turrets onboard; the ship had teeth as well as a beak, and it made her smile.
Aithne shot Canderous an admiring look: he was ambitious. He smirked at her.
"There she is," Davik said, lifting his arms as if to encompass the entire freighter. "My pride and joy: Ebon Hawk, the fastest ship in the Outer Rim! Note the state-of-the-art security system I've had installed to protect her. The shields are completely impregnable. Nobody can get past them without the codes to try and steal my baby. Unfortunately," the crime lord continued in a dour tone, "The Sith military blockade has grounded my vessel. Ebon Hawk can outrun any vessel in the galaxy, but even she isn't fast enough to avoid the auto-targeting laser cannons of the orbiting Sith fleet. I am, of course, working on acquiring the Sith departure codes so that I may come and go as I please. However, progress has been slow." He scowled, a small child deprived of his favorite toy, and completely unaware that the codes were currently on his prospective new hire. "But we should continue our tour."
After what seemed like days but was probably closer to fifteen minutes, Davik led them to spacious quarters in a heavily secured "guest wing." But Aithne could see that all the doors had locks, and not from the inside.
"These will be your accommodations," Davik said. "The slave quarters are just down the hall. If you need anything during your stay, feel free to call upon their services. If all goes well with your background check, you will be invited to join the Exchange. I'd advise you to accept the offer when it comes—or suffer the dire consequences of refusal."'
There were several things Aithne might have said to that. She settled for a wary, "I'm looking forward to working with you, Davik."
"You will stay in these rooms as my guest for the next few days," Davik continued. "I will not accept no for an answer. I must warn you that if you are found anywhere outside the guest wing during your stay—or if you bother any of my other guests—my security forces will deal with you most harshly. I will return after the investigation into your background. Until then, make yourself comfortable. Come Calo," he said to Calo Nord, who'd inexplicably followed them around the estate, glaring alternately at Canderous and Aithne. "Let us leave our guests in peace."
The door shut behind them, but the lock did not engage. Canderous turned to Aithne.
"Okay, we're inside. Now all we have to do is figure out a way to get past Ebon Hawk's security systems, and we can get the rest of your group and get off this planet. No sense waiting around here."
"Not long," Aithne agreed, "but let's at least give Kang and Nord a chance to get out of earshot before we break out the gunfire with his guards. It should slow down his response. I'm not scared of a fight, but I don't fancy taking on ten guys at once. So, Mando: spill. What's your story?"
Canderous snorted. "You want to hear tales of my exploits? Of the wars I've seen and fought, the enemies I've seen die by my hand?" He laughed, seeming to remember something pleasant. "Sure, I'll humor you." He assumed a unique stance that Aithne identified as the storyteller's, the teacher's.
And then he spoke, not in Basic, but in Mando'a. Aithne smiled, actually touched. /My name is Canderous of the Mandalorian clan Ordo,/ he began. /I've been fighting across the galaxy for forty of your years. For my people it is the honor and glory of battle that rules us. It's through combat that we prove our worth, gain renown, and make our fortunes./
Aithne changed her own stance, accepting the implicit challenge both of language and of Ordo's teaching. She set her feet shoulder-width apart and clasped her hands behind her back in a soldier's parade rest. /So you fought the Republic because they are worthy—or were,/ she replied.
/The Sith came to us with an offer,/ Canderous explained—or that was the sense of it. Actually, Aithne thought, the word for "Sith" in Mandalorian literally meant "Not-Jedi," as if the Mandalorians viewed the Sith as inferior. /To fight a worthy enemy in a battle that would be remembered forever. Win or lose,/ he added, in a didactic tone, /as long as the fight is worthy, then honor is gained. The glory of having triumphed over impossible odds is what drives us. If there's nothing at stake—your possessions, your life, your world—then the battle is meaningless. We Mandalore take everything we are and throw it into battle. It's the true test of yourself: the battle against death . . . against oblivion./
Aithne thought she understood what he was getting at. When she was solving a problem, she never got as big a rush on the easy ones as the hard ones. When she was challenged to her breaking point was when triumph brought its greatest pleasure. But something didn't make sense. /Then what are you doing now?/ she demanded.
Canderous almost seemed to wince. "The days of combat and glory and cheating death at every turn seem to be over now," he said, in an abrupt return to Basic and an end to the poetic tone he'd used for the last couple of speeches. His stance shifted, and the formal lecture was over. "I take what I can. Times have changed. The Mandalore clans have been scattered across the Outer Rim, the Republic is in decline, and the Sith Empire rises to take its place. The clans as they are aren't a threat, but the galaxy still fears us," he finished, half in satisfaction, and half in seeming aggravation. "People think we war out of spite, or bloodlust. They don't understand, and fear that. We only wanted the challenge of the battle—win or lose." He shrugged. "And we lost. Now I have no real challenges. Crushing Davik's enemies and the pathetic gangs in the Lower City could not be considered the most glorious of tasks."
He paused. /When I think of the battles I've fought . . . the thousands I've killed . . . the worlds I've burned . . . I weep for my past,/ he added. In Mando'a, the words almost had the rhythm of a battle chant.
Aithne looked down, letting her hair and the shadows hide the expression on her face. She didn't approve of the challenges the Mandalorians had sought, but she could understand the grief of a person out of place, stripped of all the honor he had once gained, thinking his glory days were behind him. /So long as you remember, those days are not truly gone,/ she hazarded. /Isn't that the way of it?/ She repeated the Mandalorian remembrance of the dead, haltingly, and probably with indifferent grammar. She hadn't been sure enough of what she'd heard said to get all the words down perfectly, but Canderous grew intent. /Cannot times be preserved in memory as well as your fallen siblings?/ Aithne asked.
"Where are you from?" Canderous asked suddenly. /Who are your people, Moran?/
Aithne shrugged. /Farmers from Deralia. They're dead now./
"Farmers," Canderous sneered. He turned away. "We will never again speak of this. We've got work to do, so let's get to it."
Bastila had been watching them. "Yes, I think that would be best," she murmured. Aithne glanced at her. The Jedi's eyes looked troubled. Aithne sensed flickers of unease from her direction, and she narrowed her eyes at Bastila, moving her arms in a silent gesture. What's up?
Bastila shook her head, and Aithne shrugged. She rolled her shoulders, loosened her vibroblades in their sheaths, and started toward the door.
The first thing they did was head to the slave quarters. Servants and slaves were often the first to hear what happened in a household, and slaves, unlike paid servants, often had no real loyalty to their masters. It wasn't hard for Aithne to cajole a male Twi'lek into telling her that Davik's pilot had recently been locked up in the torture chambers for trying to lift some spice. Aithne thanked the man and hurried off.
"What's the rush?" Canderous asked, annoyed, as Aithne pulled him away from a busty slave.
"I don't know," Aithne admitted, "But for whatever reason, I think we don't have much time."
"I feel it, too," announced Bastila. "We should hurry."
They left the guest wing, and as promised, Davik's guards duly attacked. And thus began Aithne's second rampage of the day, this time through the mansion of Davik Kang.
Aithne's anxiety mounted every minute as they fought though the purple halls. Not a sense that the Sith were about to come busting through the doors of the mansion, but something . . .
The feeling grew, like a nasty nor'easter blowing in off the sea, black and massive with a bellyful of lightning. What's their next move? she asked herself, as she had done last night. No word of Bastila, except maybe the rumor she escaped from the swoop track. They know she might escape. No real tactical advantage to keeping a presence on the planet, with the population rising. Then they hear about the base. They're out of resources to spend with any practical benefit . . . except to make sure Bastila doesn't escape. No matter what.
Aithne knew what Malak would do a second after they left the torture chambers, the security codes Davik's disgraced pilot had possessed handily copied down to a datapad.
But by then, it was too late.
MISSION
About an hour after Carth'd got back to the apartment, Mission was watching a holovid with Teethree and Big Z. It was pretty fantastic; she'd never had a droid to play holos before and hadn't often had the spare credits to go to the arcade to see stuff like that. T3-M4 didn't have the biggest library; Janice Nall had built him for security and astromechanical repair, not for entertainment. And Carth said he didn't want them on the Taris nets, in case the Sith had tracking programs Teethree didn't have the software to block out. That was a pain, because Mission had never had a droid or anything that could access the nets, either, and she was dying to see what she could find. But just the one vid about the smuggler and the Coreworld prince among Teethree's three-vid library was great. It was pretty cheesy, and Mission could see the plot twists coming so far off she could practically mouth the dialogue with the characters, even though she'd never seen this vid before in her life, but that was really almost part of the experience.
Except Carth kept ruining things, pacing around the apartment like a trapped nexu in a crime lord den. He couldn't sit still for five minutes. It was giving Mission and Big Z bad cases of the secondhand nerves. "Would you relax?" Mission complained finally. "You ain't seen Aithne this morning, but you've seen her in plenty of fights to know she'll be just fine in Davik's house. And Bastila's a Jedi. She has to be even better, right? So quit your worrying. Sit down and watch the holo. She'll signal us in a minute."
"It's not the Exchange," Carth said, without even looking at her. "Hell, it's not even the Mandalorian. There's something else, something I can't put my finger on. Last night, she said, 'What's their next move?' The Sith's. They've lost track of Bastila. They know she's probably alive and about to escape, either from reports from the swoop race or just because they know that a Jedi can't be left for this long without escaping. Then, their base goes dark. A hit on the center of their forces on the planet, and their launch codes missing."
Mission shook her head. "We took plenty of other stuff from that base, just so they wouldn't think we were after those codes and change 'em."
"Right, and we've got a few hours at least before they can get word to all their own planetary patrols about a change," Carth agreed. "But that's not what the Sith do next. That's a defensive move, and it isn't a good enough counter to what's gone down here. No, no, you have to either admit defeat in a system that isn't worth the effort or . . . or . . . Malak."
Carth's whole face went whiter than a human's was supposed to be. He started scrambling for the comlink, like he couldn't turn it on proper, and that's when Mission got scared.
Aithne got there first. "Carth," her voice said through the comlink, metallic and a little staticky. "Carth Onasi, come in. Onasi, give me a status."
Carth managed to complete the connection. "Aithne—it's the planet," he said. "That's what the Sith do next! It's Telos, all over again!"
"That's what I got too," Aithne said, grimly, as Mission tried to catch up to what had both of them sounding as scared as she'd ever heard them. "We've got the security codes for Ebon Hawk, and we're on our way. Keep your beacon on, and stay together! Just stay s—"
The signal from the comlink fritzed out, and the entire planet shook. Teethree staggered, and the holovid stuttered and stopped playing. Big Z jumped to his feet, grabbing up his vibrosword from where he'd set it down on the couch. Mission ran to the window and looked out across the city.
For a moment, she just couldn't believe it. It was too horrible, too evil to even think. Cannon fire from hundreds, thousands of ships in orbit over Taris, raining down over the Upper City. There was no rhyme or reason to the fire, they weren't going for the mayor's hall or the stock exchange or nothing that made sense. That was an apartment building on fire! That was a sushi restaurant exploding! The Sith, they were just killing everything!
"Get back from there!" Carth shouted. Then his arm was around her waist, throwing her back from the window. Glass shattered behind them, and that weren't all: the frakking metal bars to the balcony railing shattered too! Mission saw one cut Carth across the shoulder, and she screamed, but he was moving, he was still alive, hurling her toward Big Z, deeper into the apartment.
"In the fresher, all of you!" he roared. "We have to try and withstand the shocks in the doorway until the others get here!"
Mission couldn't move, so Zaalbar moved her, carrying her by her arms toward the fresher, which was tiny for one person, let alone three and an astromech. But it didn't matter. The ground kept shaking, and Mission could hear screaming and explosions now, fires burning, alarms going off. Cement dust shook loose from the ceiling.
"What if, what if when the comlink went out, that was Aithne, dy—what if the others don't make it?" Mission asked. Her voice was high. It sounded like a little girl's voice. Part of her hated it, but that part felt a long way off. Mostly, all she could think about was all the people dying all over Taris, the cracks in the ceiling and in the floor, the roof or the floor caving in, or a direct hit from one of the ships overhead . . .
"She'll make it! They'll make it!" Carth said. He was gripping Big Z's arm in one hand. His other arm was around her, holding her so tight she could hardly breathe, but she wanted him to hold her even tighter, she wanted not to exist, to be gone, to be dead if it would make the shaking stop and she could just get out of the dying, entombed in apartment ruins or burned alive . . .
She thought about the Beks, about friends she knew from staying in different flophouses around the Lower City. Jenn and Old Gariiesh, and Jomklabba, and all of them. She was whimpering, burying her face in Carth's jacket, and the blood from his shoulder wound was getting all over her head-tails. And she didn't care, she didn't care, she didn't care!
Another bang hit the building. This time Mission actually felt the floor give. She screamed. They didn't fall far, maybe just half a meter or so, but she could see the floor above. To get back out to the balcony, now they'd need to climb. She closed her eyes and reached out for Zaalbar too.
"I don't wanna die, guys, I don't wanna die here like this. We were gonna leave, we were gonna stop the Sith . . ."
"We will!" Carth said fiercely. "We'll stop them, Mission. Just hang on!"
AITHNE
The Force-Sensing thing didn't just work on Bastila. Aithne found out during the bombing of Taris. She could literally feel the planet and everyone on it dying around her. In Davik's mansion, they were out of earshot of most other organics since they'd killed all of the guards, but Aithne could still hear screaming in the back of her head. She could feel pain and fear and death, growing stronger by the moment.
She doubled up in the hallway leading to Kang's hangar. "Bastila . . ."
"You feel it, yes," Bastila said, "but we don't have time to mourn Taris now. If we do not escape, and quickly, we will die with all the others!"
"I can't—"
Bastila reached out and gripped her hand, facing her in the corridor. A sort of envelope expanded around Aithne's consciousness, enclosing her from all the destruction raining down all over Taris. Now she could feel Bastila's fear, Bastila's determination and anger, but little else. "You can," Bastila told her. "Focus your mind on the next five steps. Train your thoughts upon Ebon Hawk, on the enemies that lie between us and the horizon. Let's go."
Aithne felt a surge of gratitude, and Bastila answered it even though she didn't voice it aloud. "You're welcome. Let's go."
Ordo was glaring at them, waiting down the hall by the security console leading to the hangar. Aithne staggered past him and input the codes.
The door opened, and Aithne saw Kang and Nord running in from the entrance on the other side. "Damn those Sith!" Davik was saying. "They're bombing the whole planet! I knew they'd turn on us sooner or . . ." he caught sight of Aithne and Canderous and halted.
The building shook. Aithne saw the entrance behind Nord and Kang collapse, crushed by the weight of the skyscrapers above it. They didn't have time for a fight here, but she could tell from the stance of the crime lord and the bounty hunter that they were going to get one. "Look what we got here," Davik sneered. "Thieves in the hangar! So, you figured you'd just steal my ship and leave me high and dry while the Sith turn the planet into dust? Sorry, but that ain't gonna happen."
"I'll take care of them Davik," Nord growled, and something almost like a smile twitched on his face as alarm lights reflected in the lenses of his goggles. They'd found Nord's room turning over the estate; the little man was a piece of work. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time."
"Make it quick, Calo," Davik told him. "The Sith mean business. If we don't get to our ships and find somewhere safe, the bombs they're dropping will kill us all!"
With the force of desperation, Aithne sprang forward with Bastila Shan toward Nord. Around them, the hangar was falling to pieces. A large section of cement and rebar fell on Davik Kang. He got out one strangled cry before it crushed him. Aithne leveled her righthand vibroblade at Calo, but he had stopped, pulling out a small object from a belt pocket.
"You have me outnumbered and outgunned," he told them all—Aithne and Bastila, right on top of him, vibroblades and lightsaber at the ready; Canderous, farther back, his repeating blaster leveled if Aithne and Bastila maneuvered Nord just the right way. "But if I'm going down, I'm taking all of you with me. This thermal detonator will blow us all to bits!" A large crack resounded over his head. Calo looked up to see the cracks from where the ceiling section had fallen on Davik, spiderwebbing out, heading his way. "Damn those Sith!" he cried. "They'll bring this whole hangar down around our ears!"
"Ordo!" Aithne snapped, grabbing Bastila's wrist and leaping backward. It was all the signal the Mandalorian needed. He aimed his blaster and took the shot. The weakened ceiling caved, collapsing on top of the distracted bounty hunter.
"Come on!" Canderous snarled, turning and barreling toward the mercifully still unaffected Ebon Hawk and the hangar exit. "Let's get this ship fired up! We'll pick up the rest of your friends, and then we have to get off this planet!"
Aithne caught his eye in the middle of the chaos and realized that whatever anyone else said or thought about Canderous Ordo, she'd be his ally whenever he needed one. With the fire raining down over Taris and buildings collapsing, anyone could've made an argument for leaving the others and just getting out. Most people would've. Canderous was abiding by the terms of their agreement, even in the clench. She nodded, reaching out and half-gripping, half-shoving his shoulder toward the cockpit as the Ebon Hawk power systems came online.
"I'll copilot," Bastila promised. "Give me the comlink; I can use its signal and the Force to help him find the others!"
Aithne stripped the comlink off her wrist without protest and handed it to the Jedi. She stayed by the entrance hatch. It stayed open as the engines powered up and life support systems came on, as Ordo maneuvered the ship out of the crumbling Kang hangover and into the skyline among all the fire raining down from the Sith fleet above. Aithne held on to a grip by the exit, looking down. Everywhere she looked, Taris was burning. She could taste the smoke and cement dust rising from the ruins. It burned the back of her throat and set her hacking. She tore a portion of her sleeve and tied the rag over her nose and mouth to filter some of the contaminants.
Cannon fire pelted the city. The horizon was dark red and gray with the blaze. Aithne saw fighters too, flying low over the city and shooting at men, women, and children running below, trying to escape their falling homes and businesses. She saw men protecting their wives and mothers protecting their children, only to be shot where they stood, the entire family turned to ash in a millisecond. She saw buildings topple and aliens running for cover. Taris was dying, all of it, like Telos before her, and Aithne knew the Sith wouldn't stop until the entire planet, above and below the surface, was obliterated. She wondered if even the Outcasts in the Undercity would escape, fleeing to their Promised Land, or if they too would die in the hellish onslaught.
Canderous skimmed lower over the city, and Aithne saw a human boy in an alleyway. He looked no more than ten years old, and he was carrying a little toddler of a Twi'lek girl out of a building. Their clothes were scorched. The girl was bleeding. The boy laid the girl down next to a pile of rubble. He knelt beside her, checking she was alright, or pleading her to be okay. Then the pair looked up. A bomb landed right on top of them. Then Ebon Hawk had passed over.
Tears streamed down Aithne's face. It wasn't even the first time the Sith had done this, she realized, with new immediacy. Carth Onasi had lived through just this before. She could see him on his own homeworld then, as he was out on Taris now, and then she could physically see him, standing on the balcony of a building half-demolished, with Mission, Zaalbar, and T3-M4, all the organics waving their arms like mad. Bastila had contacted them. Canderous had found them.
Ordo brought the ship around to hover. A shot hit Ebon Hawk. Aithne felt the shields hiss as they absorbed it, but the impact was incredible. She had to ignore it. They were ten meters out from the others, five, three . . . close enough.
Zaalbar picked Mission up in his arms and bodily hurled her toward the boarding ramp. Aithne released her grip on her handhold, darted out, and caught the teenager, bracing herself against the deck so as not to go sprawling herself. She squeezed the girl for a split-second, then tossed her down the hallway. "Get to the hold and strap in!" she howled over the sound of the wind and the Sith barrage. "Clear the gangway!"
She caught Zaalbar himself as he landed on the deck, steadying him so he didn't topple, and sent him down the hall after Mission. Teethree landed on the Wookiee's other side, having used his astromech jets to make the jump independently. Then Carth was there, bleeding from a shoulder wound, face twisted in a rictus of grief and fury. Aithne hit the controls to close the boarding ramp.
"Which way to the cockpit?" he asked.
Aithne shook her head, uncertain herself, and Carth gave her up and went sprinting down the hall. Aithne followed him as Ebon Hawk took another hit, then a third.
She passed through a sort of workshop, with a swoop bike lying ready for action, then into the main hold, where Mission and Zaalbar were using emergency straps to harness themselves into what would otherwise be leisure seats. There were corridors leading left, right, and straight ahead, and another passage to the rear. Carth took the one straight ahead, and Aithne pelted after him.
"There you are," Ordo growled, throwing himself from the pilot's seat to make way for Carth. "Get in here. Our shields have already fallen to 70 percent! If we don't get out of here in a hurry, we won't make it!"
Carth began flipping switches, twisting knobs, and Aithne felt Ebon Hawk, which had been stuttering and staggering like a drunk under Canderous, come to life. The engines roared, and a second before the inertial blockers came online, Aithne stumbled back with the speed of the freighter, bumping into the Mandalorian.
She had no idea how Carth was flying; through the front viewport of the ship, all she could see was a landscape of flames and smoke, then a hailstorm of cruiser fire.
"Plot a course for Dantooine," Bastila told him. "There's a Jedi Enclave there where we can find refuge!"
Ebon Hawk left the atmosphere. The actual Sith cruisers came into range, but beyond them, Aithne saw stars. But they weren't out of the fire yet. "Incoming fighters!" Carth reported.
Bastila turned to Aithne and Canderous. "Quickly, to the gun turrets!" she ordered. "You have to hold the Sith fighters off until we get those hyperspace coordinates punched in!"
Aithne nodded, then dove into her pack and pulled out a medpac. She tossed it at Bastila, who caught it. "Don't let Onasi bleed out; he's wounded," she said, then barreled through the Hawk corridors in search of gun turrets, after Canderous this time.
S he had a split-second impression of Mission, doubled over in her seat, sobbing and calling out to Zaalbar across the room, then she was through the main hold once again, into the rear passage, up the ladder to Hawk's right turret. Aithne slid into the seat and engaged the gun. The computer came up and six red dots popped up upon her display.
A sudden, poisonous rage coursed through her. A vicious desire to kill and avenge. It acted like an adrenal stim, focusing her panicked, overwhelmed thoughts on those six pinpoints of light. Light on the display, but in her mind, they were darker than the darkness of space, points of rot and evil with their own gravity amid the Void. Aithne operated the turret automatically. She felt as though she really couldn't miss.
A nd she didn't. In a few seconds, four Sith fighters exploded outward soundlessly, without fanfare, into starbursts of flame and metallic shrapnel, and the flame extinguished as soon as it came into being. Canderous dispatched the final two fighters, and Carth's voice on the shipwide comm reported they were clear.
B ut still, Aithne stayed in the gun turret until the stars lengthened and vanished in the tunnel of hyperspace. The visions from Taris played out before her eyes—families vaporized, buildings falling, that boy carrying his wounded, near-infant neighbor out into the alley, only for all that bravery and goodness to be extinguished in a moment. She thought of Zelka Forn in his clinic and Gadon and Zaerdra in the Bek base; of Deadeye Duncan and his everlasting, hopeless ambition; of Shaleena and the Outcasts down in the Undercity. All that life extinguished in a moment.
For Bastila, against her escape, and against the shame of one Jedi and just two Republic survivors making the entire Sith presence on Taris nonviable. The thought of such reckless hate was mindboggling. Incomprehensible. And Aithne thought she understood all the baggage she'd blamed Onasi for before. She closed her eyes, imagining what this was going to do to Mission.
And then she got up and went to find her. She walked down the corridor back toward the main hold, running her hand along the bulkhead, just to feel the humming of the engines, the assurance that they were alive and flying away from the destruction. That, at least.
Mission was hanging from her harness. She hadn't bothered to unfasten it. Zaalbar was kneeling beside her, holding both her hands, but he looked as helpless as the girl did, in his way. He looked to Aithne as she entered and roared at her, and for once, there weren't words within the roaring. The Wookiee had none, but he didn't need them. His grief and fury and confusion, his anguish for the anguish of his friend were all too clear.
Aithne nodded. She unfastened Mission's harness herself, pushing the straps back from the girl's body, and gathered the Twi'lek up into her arms. Both the girl and Zaalbar were covered in dust and abrasions, and there was blood on Mission's lekku that didn't seem to be hers—Carth's, Aithne thought.
Mission gripped Aithne's vest with one fist and pummeled the seat arm with the other, choking on her tears. "They just . . . they just . . ."
"I know."
"We could've died! Everyone . . . everyone else did die, or worse, they'll be there for days, just . . ."
"I know."
"I wanna kill the Sith!"
"I know."
"Oh, Zaalbar, Aithne, I was so scared . . ."
Mission started to heave, and Aithne was just able to tilt her sideways over the chair so the sick fell onto the deck instead of onto the front of Aithne's vest or into Zaalbar's fur.
"I'm sorry," Mission sobbed when she was done. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."
"It's fine."
The girl smelled of smoke and blood and fire and vomit. The Wookiee, if anything, smelled worse. Aithne breathed it in and thought of what she'd do to Malak. She stroked Mission's bloody lekku, and counted with her in Huttese, and held Zaalbar's claw, ignoring Ordo's contemptuous look from the hallway. What she'd do to Malak!