Chapter 32 Decisions Against the Grain

"We are right behind you.
You are proving that we are loyal
in this land and wherever you go.
You will come back victorious and free,
and we will be waiting for you."

Faith
Yukio Ota

"Everyone, get down!"

It was a somewhat unnecessary order, for the moments shots began being exchanged, everyone had gone for cover. The clones, wrists still bound behind them, had run for the ruins of the assembly hall. Sempe and Ajax stayed at Sixer's side until, from under the cover of the brush, two Austeniens raced forward and dragged the lieutenant back into the bushes, which offered no safety at all – only concealment.

Au-Mikiel had snatched up the weapon of a fallen Copian and was trying to herd Au-Gehen towards the bushes as well. The latter was staggering about like a sick Helbit confused by the daylight.

Rex got to his feet and turned to see the Doma coming towards him.

"Take cover!" he ordered, but she paid him no heed.

Instead, she came around behind him and pulled at the cuffs. "How do I get these things off you?!"

"You need a synchronizer from one of the Copian—wait! Where are you—come back here!"

His words again fell on deaf ears as the Doma ran up to one of the dead Copians, dropped to her knees, and began looking for the device.

But, of course, she had no idea what it looked like, and the Copian wore many gadgets on his belt and all over his uniform. Which one was the synchronizer? There was no tell-tale indication among the items she was looking at.

All around her, blaster bolts were flying, men were shouting, the wreckage of the assembly hall was smoking, the ship was sending out more troops and laser fire.

She had no time to dally over which might be the right device; but there lying half-concealed under the dead Copian was something she understood well enough.

A blaster.

She pulled at it until it slid free, and when she whirled around to return to Rex, she was startled to find him right behind her.

"Did you find it?" he asked.

"No, something better!" She grabbed his arm and abruptly spun him around, placed the muzzle of the weapon against the glowing bonds . . .

"Woah—hold it! What—do you know how to—"

She pulled the trigger.

"Fire this thing?" she finished the sentence expectantly. "Yes, I do."

"Some holy woman," Rex said, not sure if he was joking or not. And at the moment, it did not matter.

"Not as holy as I should be, apparently," came the reply, and the tone was as dubious as the one Rex had used.

Rex took her by the wrist and ran her towards the line of the Julpes. Ducking behind them, he dropped to one knee, pulling her down with him. "Go and take cover in the caverns," he said, taking the weapon from her hands.

"Captain, these are my people fighting—"

"Do as I tell you!" he cut her off, the seriousness and insistence of his voice and manner shutting down any further protest the Doma might have been contemplating.

She gave a distressed nod of concession. "What about you?"

"We have a fighting chance," he replied. "Now, go—"

Just to the left of where they were crouching, a broad streak of light pierced the flimsy cover of the leaves and branches and blew the nearby outcropping of rock into a fountain of debris.

Rex knew such a hit had not come from a blaster or a battle droid. That had come from the Perfidio's cannons. As he took a moment to clear his head, an Austenien appeared in front of him.

"Captain Rex, are you alright?"

It was Au-Ogusta.

"Yes . . . yes," he stammered, raising a hand to his head, expecting to see it come back covered with blood. But it was clean. He looked towards Maree. "You okay?"

"Yes—"

"Then go on," he pressed, then seeing the reluctance in her eyes, he went out on a limb and made the sort of statement he swore he would never utter unless he truly believed it. "Everything will be alright. I'll see you soon."

Whether or not she believed him, Rex didn't know; but he felt both a sense of relief as he watched her run back into the woods and an aching sadness that threatened to pervade every thought and every movement unless he returned his attention solely to the battle.

"More soldiers are coming out of the ship, Captain," Ogusta announced. "And more droids, too. The rest of our men should be arriving shortly. We only have to hold them off until they get here."

"The rest of your men?" Rex regarded him with surprise.

"We are only the twenty you asked for," Ogusta replied. "More are coming."

Rex gave a curt nod. "I hope they get here soon."

"Take him to the healing rooms immediately. Leave your weapons here."

Neither Sempe nor Ajax recognized the brother who had just ordered two of his fellow Austeniens to remove Sixer from danger. He appeared to be a somewhat older man, perhaps sixty or sixty-five standard years; but he cut a fine figure of authority and collectedness.

As soon as Sixer was gone, the brother turned to the two clones. "I'm Fels Au-Raphe." He used his blaster to severe their bindings. "It looks like we have our work cut out for us." He handed them the two weapons left behind by the brothers. "I think the first priority is to get to your friends out there in the rubble. We can only defend them to a degree from here. They will need the use of their hands and weapons of their own if they don't want to get cut down." A pause. "You two can lay down cover fire, and I'll try to get over there."

Ajax, taking mental note of the man's age and despite his apparent excellent physical condition, could not help but consider that a younger man might be faster. "Do you think it would be better if one of us ran across?"

"No, I think it would be better for you two to keep the fire coming," Au-Raphe replied. "Are you ready?"

"Ready."

Au-Raphe broke from his position as Sempe and Ajax did their best to clear a path for him. Shots were coming from so many places at so many angles, it was hard to know where to shoot to keep the enemy's head down. When one assailant was forced to take cover, another had an open field.

Even so, Au-Raphe—with the help of some very acrobatic maneuvers—made it to the ruins. Ducking down behind a pile of broken stone and the remains of still smoldering wooden beams, he wasted no time freeing the first clone he came to, who happened to be March.

"Are there any more injuries?" Au-Raphe asked.

"I don't think so," March replied. "I'm not sure."

"Take this and free the other clones," Raphe said, handing him the blaster. "I'm going to try and get some more weapons."

March didn't even wonder for an instant where or how Au-Raphe planned to get those weapons. He had his own task: freeing his brothers, and they were spread out along the edge of the rubble. He began picking his way—not so carefully—from one cluster of clones to the next; and as luck would have it, he came last to Jesse, hunkered down with Pitch and Zinger.

As he cut their bonds, he explained, "One of the brothers is trying to get us weapons. You're the last ones I've made it to. I told the others to stand fast."

"Good job," Jesse nodded. "Did you see Sixer?"

"I saw some Austeniens carry him away," March replied.

"Hopefully, he's safe," Jesse said grimly. "What about everyone else?"

"Okay, so far," March answered, flinching as a flash of laser fire streaked past him, hitting the rocks behind and above them.

"The captain?" Jesse continued, figuring he would gain as much situational awareness as possible while waiting for the ostensible arrival of weapons.

"That I didn't see," came the reply. "There were so many blaster bolts flying, I just kept my head down and hoped for the best."

"But who's doing all the shooting?" Zinger asked. "Are you telling me it's the Austeniens?"

"That's exactly who it is," March replied.

In the midst of turmoil, Zinger managed to find a sly grin. "Now, that's my kind of religious order."

"Apparently, they would rather do this kind of fighting than allow the Doma to do whatever it was she was about to unleash," Jesse noted soberly.

"I think I would have liked to see that," Pitch said shrewdly. "Animal souls against a bunch of battle droids. What would that have looked like?"

"Whatever it might have entailed, it's not going to happen now," Jesse stated. "They talked her down from it, and now we've got a battle like any other on our hands. But that's good, because we know how to fight this kind of fight."

"But we need weapons," Pitch rejoined. "How long before he comes back with weapons? Should we try to get to some ourselves? There's a lot of them out there—"

As he was speaking, Au-Raphe came somersaulting over the piles of stones behind which they were hiding. In his arms, he was carrying at least half a dozen enemy blasters.

"I've already given some to your men at the other end," he announced curtly. "Distribute the rest of these, and I'll go get some more."

Jesse was about to speak, but Raphe was gone before the lieutenant could get a word out.

But what Rex's second-in-command had not been able to voice was right on the tip of Zinger's tongue. "That was impressive."

"And very Jedi-like," Pitch added.

"Yeah," Jesse concurred thoughtfully, but there was no time for contemplation. Referring to the weapons, he ordered, "Take one and get these others to whoever's nearby."

Zinger complied immediately and was off to deliver the remaining weapons.

Pitch adjusted the sights on the enemy weapon; and as he did so, he asked almost reluctantly, "You think Kix is okay?"

Jesse did not have to lie. "I think he's a hell of a lot safer than we are right now."

At least, he hoped so.

"Lay back or I will have someone come in and restrain you!" Sister Anaide insisted, trying to find the right amount of force to use on a man who was still far from recovered but whose adrenaline was giving him strength to push past any pain he might feel.

"I have to get down there," Kix protested. "My brothers—" he winced in pain but continued to try and swing his legs over the side of the bed. "I should be w-with them."

"You should stay here and let them do what they have to do," Anaide reprimanded. "You're in no condition to help them. You can't even get out of bed! You're only going to aggravate your injuries, and endanger your brothers' lives if you go down there. Now, lay back down or by the Creator, I will have you restrained and sedated! I mean what I say!"

Kix stopped fighting against her and sunk back down into the bed. "How did they know?" he groaned, raising a hand to his head. "How did they know we were here?"

"It doesn't matter," Anaide said. "What matters now is that we defeat them, and that we protect the souls."

"What souls?"

It only then occurred to the sister that Kix might not know of the Finirest and Doma's responsibilities. He had, after all, been in the healings rooms, insensible or slowly returning to sensibility; and it could be that his brothers had not told him about the Finirest.

"The animal souls that reside in the temple realm," she explained. "Did your brothers not tell you?"

"I—I think they mentioned something about it, but I was still pretty out of it," Kix replied, knitting his brows. "Some ritual they went to see."

"Until the gates of eternity are opened, the Doma—and others like her—are charged with protecting the souls of those waiting to enter," Anaide explained. "The Doma has been given animals souls to safeguard."

"If they're souls, why do they need protecting? How can they be injured?" Kix asked skeptically, using the conversation to distract his thoughts from the fact that his brothers might be, at that moment, fighting and dying, and he was not able to help them.

"Evil seeks out the good even after death, hoping to corrupt and destroy it, to turn it to darkness," she replied. "Until eternity is open, no soul is completely safe. But the Creator has given the Keepers wonderful powers to keep the evil at bay."

"And when does this eternity open?"

"No one knows."

"I've never seen a soul," Kix stated.

"So, you don't believe in them?" Anaide questioned.

"I didn't say that," Kix replied. "I only said I've never seen one. But I know they must exist." He appeared both deeply moved and deeply troubled by some thought that was going through his head. At last, he said, "When I look at my squad mates, I know there has to be something more than just flesh and bone, more than just personality or character. I've seen a lot of men—dead or dying—and I know that—I can sense that there's something more to them than just consciousness or . . . or brain function. They're more than a collection of their memories and experiences." He cut off abruptly and closed his eyes on a painful remembrance. "This is what got me in trouble on Kamino." He continued speaking but only to himself. "It's why they deemed me to be deficient, not fit to be a soldier." He drew in a deep, trembling breath. "It's why I've spent every day since then trying to prove them wrong."

"Who? Your squad mates?"

The sound of Anaide's voice pulled Kix back to the moment.

"No, not my squad mates. They had my back."

"Then who?"

"The Kaminoans." He hesitated. "And . . . others." He did not allow her time to inquire. "This is why I hate being here while they're out there fighting. Why I hate . . . letting the captain down."

"The captain?" Anaide was surprised, for it was the first time she'd heard him mention Rex.

Kix sidestepped her inquiry. "Can we find out what's going on, what's happening?"

"The brothers will let us know," she replied. "In the meantime, Au-Josat has ordered the healing rooms be evacuated, so we are moving everyone into the caverns. They will be coming soon to move you."

"I don't want to hide while my brothers are fighting," Kix protested.

Anaide was firm and perhaps a bit indelicate. "For you to go out there would only cause them more trouble. You can barely sit up, you can't even walk. You wouldn't even make it to the assembly hall. And if you did, they'd have to spend all their effort protecting you instead of fighting the enemy. Be reasonable. Do you think they would feel better with you in here or out there with them?"

Her words were reasonable. More than that, they were the only viable option.

Kix gave an almost imperceptible nod and searched for something to hang his hopes on. But the only feeble consideration to come to mind was that it was fortunate Flat Top was not with them. This way, Kix stood to lose three squad mates . . .

. . . instead of four.

Maree had told Rex she would head for the caverns – or that was the impression she had given him. But from the moment she had left the battlefield, she had made a direct line for the Taber.

Her reasons for going were many, and she was not sure which one took precedence. If she could not be at Rex's side, she would find a way to be useful still. And if she gave it any honest thought, she had to concede that it was a good thing Rex had sent her away. Away from the battlefield, she could clear her head and focus on her primary task – protecting the souls.

But other priorities pushed and squeezed their way to forefront, each in its turn. Her duty to protect the citizens of the Monastica. Her duty to protect those in the healing rooms. To protect the clones. To preserve any peace that still remained.

To protect Rex.

It was of no small alarm that that last duty played only just below the first duty of protecting the souls. It was continually pinging her consciousness and demanding attention. And she could not attribute such a thing to affection alone. She had allowed herself to fall in love with this man, and despite her petitions for assistance from her god and her own bold pronouncements that she had discovered the proper way to love him, she knew it would be folly at this point to deny that her words had been just that: words.

If the Creator had sent her a message, she had missed it – willingly or not; and now she was attempting to suppress a love that threatened, at that very moment, to draw her away from her life's purpose. If she turned around now and went back to him, it might be only to see him die.

She had to trust to the brothers to go to the clones' aid; and as she headed for the Taber, she passed many of them marshaling towards the assembly hall.

"They will do their jobs, and you do yours."

It might have been her own voice in her head, trying to convince and reassure.

But there was an element to it that seemed to come from without and spurred Maree on to run even faster.

When she came to the Taber, the northern entrance was blocked with rubble from the fallen parapet. She raced to the western entrance, where she still had to climb over debris, but the way was passable. Inside, there were hundreds of sisters and a few brothers digging for survivors. Maree searched for a part of exposed floor and immediately upon stepping down, a wave of relief went through her as the figure below came to life.

She climbed up onto a mound of fallen stone and timber. "Brothers! Sisters! Stop what you are doing!"

All eyes turned towards her.

"Unless you are tending at this moment to an injured person, you will stop what you are doing! Go to one of the lesser shrines and pray! Pray for protection! Pray for the defeat of this enemy! The dead will still be dead when this is over, but the brothers and the clones need our prayers right now!"

There was no questioning her command, and within a minute the Taber emptied out except for those tending the wounded.

Maree looked across the debris-strewn expanse and there, on the far side, the statue of Me'Ente Loge stood undamaged. She began moving towards it, mindless of the growing number of bruises, scrapes and gouges she was incurring. She had only one thought . . .

Falling prostrate before the statue, she implored though not with the usual humility of her petitions.

"My Lord, do something! You can stop this! Why don't you do something?! If this is retribution for my sins, then send your justice down on me, but spare the brothers and sisters! Spare the clones! I have been remiss in my duties, but I can't undo that! The Creator is forgiving! You are his servant! Can you not forgive my transgressions?! You must forgive them! You cannot be something opposed to the Creator! Grant me this, not for myself but for the others! What can I do to make you help us?"

"I have told you: the brothers will do their jobs."

The voice, clear and succinct, made Maree startle and push up onto her hands and knees in fear. Looking up, she saw, standing before the statue and in perfect clarity, the living spirit of Me'Ente Loge; and she was terrified.

This had never happened before. In all the hundreds of years since Maree had joined the order, the Messenger had only appeared during the Finirest. To see him now was petrifying, and she dropped to her knees and hid her face.

"Why do you hide your face from me?" he asked. "Do you fear me now, because I appear when you do not expect it?"

Maree could not find her voice to reply.

"You call upon me, and I have always answered, have I not?" the spirit went on. "I am come in this form so that you may know I have heard your plea. The Creator has heard your plea. You speak as if you wish to bargain or trade one thing for another. Child, you have still much to learn."

"I—I was going to use the souls," Maree stammered into her hands. Her entire body was shaking. What retribution had Me'Ente Loge come to deliver upon her for such a sacrilege?

"So you were. But you did not."

"I would have."

"They stopped you. Where you could not stop yourself, others did."

"I am no longer worthy to be a Keeper—"

"You will remain a Keeper. You are already forgiven. And you will know what to do when you see the result of your actions."

This cryptic statement brought Maree's head up, and she dared steal a glimpse at the veiled face before looking back at the floor.

"All will happen as it must. The signs will be given. You must not choose to ignore them. The past, present, and future are as one eternal present in the eyes of the Creator. This encounter—what you consider a chance encounter—has its place. Every seemingly insignificant event has its part to play." He paused, then repeated his first announcement. "The brothers will do their jobs." He went on. "The sisters will do their jobs. The clones will do their jobs. You do yours."

Fearing the spirit's imminent departure, Maree recovered her courage for one selfish moment.

"What about—what about—" she hesitated to complete the inquiry.

But Me'Ente Loge needed nothing more to know how the question ended.

"He is whatever role you allow him to play in your life," the Messenger said.

"But—but the Creator already knows what role that will be," Maree pressed. "I would rather know now."

"That is not the way of things," Me'Ente Loge chastised. "With love, there are always risks, Doma. But not all loves are the same. You know this."

She did know it. She had even said as much when giving Rex a dissertation on what it would mean for a Vervien or Austenien to fall in love. Her lofty, grandiose words had not been as easy to live by as they had been to speak.

She nodded, then in a meek voice, asked, "Will we survive this?"

"The moment will tell."

With that, the Messenger shot up in a dazzling streak of light

and disappeared.

Maree sat on her heels and took a moment to recollect herself.

A loud, shrill cry pierced through the sudden silence of the Taber, and looking up at the sky through the ruined dome, Maree saw something she had never seen before in the desert.

Soaring in the air was a bird. A huge bird.

A raptor. An eagle of some sort.

"We have to take out those cannons!" Rex shouted over the din. "Ogusta, do you have anything that will work against those turrets?"

"We have concussion grenades, but those aren't of any use unless we can get them inside the ship!" Ogusta replied. "They aren't strong enough to damage the guns, but they can probably damage the controls and whoever is manning them."

"Then we'll have to find a way inside," Rex said, squeezing off a shot that took down a super battle droid that was getting a bit too close for comfort.

"How are we going to do that?" Ogusta asked, wondering if all clones were as ready to chance the impossible as the captain. The idea of boarding the Separatist ship struck the Austenien as nothing short of lunacy.

"The Perfidio has one engineering design aspect that we can use to our advantage," Rex said, drawing closer to be heard better over the increasing noise of battle. "The main propulsion engines have injection hatches for supercharging the thrusters. Pressurized air through is shot through those hatches, and they're just large enough for a man to climb through. It's only air on the other side, and if we trip the hatch, it will depressurize the air and we can get into the tanks. A couple shots will split the seams in the tank, and that'll put us on the gangway below engineering."

Ogusta could barely absorb what he was hearing, but he knew there was no time to quibble over details or even question the likelihood of success. He offered only one suggestion. "Would it not be better to wait for my brothers to arrive?"

"We can't wait," Rex replied. "I can tell you they've already contacted their parent ship, and it won't be long before they send down reinforcements. They're probably already on their way."

"Then what good will it do for us to destroy the cannons?" Ogusta asked. "If more are coming, they will outnumber and overpower us."

He had a point, and Rex was not loathe to admit that even as he'd explained his plan, the ultimate objective behind it had evolved with every word. "I'm not planning on just destroying the cannons anymore, " Rex said in a grave voice. "Because you're right. We can't beat them in a ground battle."

"What—what do you have in mind?"

"I need Hardcase," he said, not answering the question but already shifting his focus to the next step.

"I'll get him," Ogusta offered and was off. He returned in short order with Hardcase following behind him.

"Captain, you wanted me?"

"I need you to go find two of Cody's pilots," Rex answered. "Get them over here and make it fast."

"Change in plans, Sir?" Hardcase asked.

Rex drew in a deep breath. "Yeah."

Hardcase knew better than ask any more questions. He had his mission, and there was no time to waste. He headed off around the perimeter using the bushes and rocky outcroppings as cover. More droids were pouring out of the ship, and the going was getting even more treacherous. At the rate the situation was deteriorating, he only hoped he could carry out his captain's orders before they were completely overrun.

Jesse cursed under his breath. "Damn Separatist piece of crap," he seethed, shaking the weapon in his hands. "A bow and arrow would be more accurate."

"Look out!"

It was Fives calling out from behind a tumble of destroyed wall several meters away. A blast from the ship's cannon hit the ruins behind them, sending a burst of debris out in all directions.

"We can't stay here much longer, Lieutenant!" Pitch shouted, his ears still ringing from the explosion. "They're tearing the place up around us!"

"You two try to make it over to where Fives and Echo are," Jesse replied. "I'll cover you."

Pitch and Zinger ran the ten or so meters, diving headfirst through a maelstrom of fire, with Pitch executing a clumsy shoulder-roll and careening into Fives, knocking him into Echo, who was almost pushed out from behind the rocks. As he came up, he looked immediately back to where Jesse was still crouching down behind his rapidly disappearing cover.

"Come on, Lieutenant!" Pitch called out as the four of them began laying down rapid fire.

Jesse broke free and began to run, but he had only gone a few steps when an explosion blew him off his feet, tossing him clear past the others' hiding place.

"Jesse!" Pitch cried out, His gut reaction was to run to his brother's aid, but Echo held him back.

"Gernot and LR are closer, they'll get him!"

Even as Echo spoke, Gernot had already reached out, grabbed Jesse by the wrist, and was hauling him to safety.

Beyond them, Pitch could see Hardcase advancing, fearless as ever; and for reasons he had never truly understood, he felt better to see his squad mate approaching, breathing fire, and ready to sacrifice his own life, so long as he got to take fair numbers of the enemy with him.

It was part of the dynamic of Saber Squad. Jesse's presence was calming and reassuring. Hardcase, on the other hand, was inspiring and made killing the enemy look easy. He could get the fire burning in his brothers' veins, and that was what Pitch needed at the moment; for seeing Jesse lying injured—apparently unconscious and not moving—Pitch's need for action, for some way to redirect his thoughts and energies, was filled by the sight of Hardcase coming to offer assistance.

But then Hardcase stopped where Bounce and Tip were both hunkered down. He was clearly trading words with them – more than just encouragement or taking a report. And within seconds, the three of them began sketching their way back around the perimeter.

"Something's going on," Pitch said to himself. "Fek and all, whatever it is, I hope it works."

Rex was surprised at how quickly Hardcase made it back with the two pilots, and he did not waste a moment getting down to business.

"You both know something about Perfidios?"

Both men nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Can either of you fly one?"

"We both can, Sir."

"Either of you familiar with the propulsion systems?"

"Like the back of my hand, Sir," Tip replied.

"I think we both know enough to be dangerous," Bounce added.

"Good, then we've got a job to do," Rex stated. He looked to Hardcase. "Get with Ogusta and watch for my signal. We're going around the back of the ship. When you see me, I need you to lay down heavy cover fire."

"What are you going to do, Sir?"

"We're going inside through the afterburner tanks."

Hardcase looked befuddled, too stunned to even respond.

But both Bounce and Tip, as pilots, knew exactly what the captain was talking about.

"We're taking her up," Rex went on. "And with any luck, we'll make sure no Separatist reinforcements get here."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, Sir?" Hardcase asked. "You know you're going to run into opposition once you get inside."

"It looks like they've emptied out most of their troops," Rex replied. "More help should be arriving, if Ogusta is right. Just try to hold things together down here as long as you can."

"Yes, Sir."

Rex turned to his pilots. "Let's go."

"Kriffing . . . agh! Help me with this damned thing!" Bounce was not a weakling, but faced with the hatch rotator lever inside one of the Perfidio's main engines, he could not get enough leverage behind him to turn it to the open position.

Tip maneuvered awkwardly to get his hands on the lever, as well. And together they pulled with all their strength. Behind them, Rex kept an eye out for the enemy.

They were at least ten yards deep into the engine foil, a cylinder barely high enough for them to stand up. The injection hatch was on the left side of the tube, a round door half a meter in diameter. It was possible for a man to climb through, but not if he was wearing chest and shoulder armor. Bounce and Tip had already stripped down to their body gloves above the waist, but they had not expected the hatch to be quite so difficult to open.

At last and slowly, the lever began to give way and the hatch creaked open, the pressurized air behind it escaping in a single abrupt hiss.

Rex slipped past them and stuck his head and shoulders in through the opening.

There were the seams in along the far end of the tank.

"Just like they taught in ARC school," Rex noted, allowing a satisfied grin to flash briefly across his face.

He aimed the confiscated Copian blaster and fired off two precision shots that weakened the seams enough for him to kick out the tank wall with his foot, then he motioned for Tip and Bounce to follow him after they re-sealed the hatch behind them.

They emerged onto a catwalk in the bowels of the ship, surrounded on all sides by everything it took to make such a ship operational. Generation and spinning tanks, kilometers of ductwork and even more kilometers of wiring. Old-fashioned turbines and hydraulic systems. Cooling and communications lines.

And over all, the smell of hyper-ionization and liquid tenphone.

"Good thing they didn't light up those engines while we were in there," Tip said with dark humor.

"I just hope they didn't hear the blaster shots," Bounce remarked. "What now, Captain?"

"We're heading up to the bridge," Rex answered. "Once we get up there, Tip, you need to jam communications first thing. We don't want them signaling the main ship that this one has been commandeered. Once we've got the bridge under control, we're going straight out. The goal is to take out the main ship. If anything else is on its way down, we'll just have to trust the others to do deal with it. The Austeniens were sending more men to help."

"What if they have a whole fleet up there?" Bounce asked.

"It didn't look that way when they came after us before," Rex replied. "Only one ship showed up shadowing us from Pylotta." A pause. "We have to make this a quick take-over. If I'm right and they've sent most of their troops out to fight, there should only be a skeleton crew and security aboard. If we don't do this in the blink of an eye, they'll call them back in, and we'll be trapped." He looked at the enemy weapon in his hands. "These things have a repeat setting. Just go in and blast everything that moves."

The two men nodded and as they moved out behind the 501st captain, Tip leaned in close to whisper in Bounce's ear. "Probably should've brought Hardcase."

Jesse raised his hand to his head. At least, he thought he did. It felt like his arm was moving, but the way things were spinning around him, he couldn't be sure.

"Lieutenant, stay down."

That was . . . Gernot's voice? Keeper? It might even be Ajax. The three of them sounded so much alike, down to intonation and dialectic quirks.

"Huh, that's what happens to all of them who end up getting trained by Bendi-Kah. For a bounty hunter, he sure sounded like a dandy. Not that they sound like that—Force knows they don't act like it—but did they have to pick up his accent?"

"You're injured, Sir," came the unspecified voice again. "Just lie still a bit. We've still got some good protection here."

"Protection? Wait, that sound—that's blaster fire!" His memory cleared in an instant, even if his head was still foggy. He tried to sit up. "Are we still under attack?"

"Yes, Sir. Th'enemy's still comin'."

That was definitely Gernot's heavy lilt and lyrical tone.

Jesse struggled to sit up. Gernot spared a moment to help him.

"Where—where's my weapon?"

"Went flyin' when you did, Sir," came the reply. "We haven't got na' extras."

Jesse fought down the urge to retch and through sheer force of will made a show of authority. "What's our status, Specialist?"

"Holdin' 'em back so far, Sir," Gernot said. "The holy men have brought a lot of weapons to bear. Word's gone round the cap'n is gon' steal the ship and try to cut off reinforcements."

Jesse's eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah, n' he took Tip and Bounce with 'im."

The lieutenant tried to sort through the crush of thoughts that poured into his head, making the already existing ache balloon into a thundering pound. "Did he say how he was going to do that?"

Gernot cocked his head to one side. "No, Sir. But you know the cap'n. E'll find a way."

Jesse closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes, he will." When he looked up again, it was with renewed resolve. "And so will we." A pause as he surveyed his surroundings. "Now, all I need is blaster."