General Kenobi walked from shadow to shadow, bending to wake
the refugees huddled under frigate hulls and transport crates. When
Anakin and Arcadia emerged from the _Perceptor_, he sent a yawning
cadet toward the remaining sleepers. "Restful night?" he asked the
pair.
Arcadia did not meet his gaze. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"And how about you? All patched up?" When Anakin flexed his
healed arm in demonstration, Kenobi nodded. "Nice work, Dia. Though
you don't seem to've finished yet."
"Sir?"
"That's a nasty bruise on Anakin's neck. Bang into something,
did you?"
"Now see here, Ben," Anakin began.
Kenobi narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to. Are those
toothprints?"
Anakin made an indeterminate sound, caught between indignation
and preening. Less ambivalent, Arcadia reached over his collar and
erased the marks. "Sir. How did Denis come here?"
Kenobi was successfully deflected. "It'd be better for him to
say, as soon as we're all gathered." He indicated the corner where
Denis was waiting. With a last flicker, he added, "You should have
time to finish fastening your uniforms before we start."
Anakin grinned and began to realign his fasteners as he
sauntered ahead. Arcadia followed more slowly at Kenobi's side. "You
told me to win his trust, didn't you?"
"His trust, yes. But this?"
She flinched away as if slapped. Anakin and Denis both looked
up at the sudden movement; Kenobi nodded pleasantly and joined their
conversation. Arcadia retreated to one side, her shoulders taut
against the wall. In bleary-eyed clusters, the others trickled to join
them.
When the assembly was complete, Denis repeated the Nechti
terms of surrender to them and withdrew toward his sister. He spoke to
her under cover of the debate erupting behind him. "I have news from
Alderaan, but it seems General Kenobi already told you."
She cradled her brother's face, smoothing the bruises from his
skin. "Told me what?"
"Castra Gatou is pregnant."
Her hands fell away from him. "I didn't know that."
Denis edged his chin in Anakin's direction. "No? Bail said he
wanted us to know before Danah finds out. To give us time to prepare
ourselves, he said. Not that it matters now."
Both turned back to the assembly as Kenobi's voice rose. "We
have no supplies in this hangar, not even water, and the air will go
stale within days. If we had any other options--"
"Don't we?" Anakin said. "Denis, how do these teleporters
work?"
"I hardly think this is the time for a technical discussion,"
Kenobi began.
"I'm not asking for ion-flow charts. All I want to know is,
are they more like a ferry or a gate?"
"What?"
Arcadia ventured, "Denis, does the beam lock onto a single
target and teleport that, or does it establish an open portal for a
set amount of time?"
Denis tensed, brushing against her arm, but her attention
remained fixed on Anakin. Reluctantly, Denis said, "Maybe more like a
portal. On the _Dovecote_, they all poured onto the bridge at once."
Anakin's face kindled into a grim smile. "So what's to stop us
from going through with you? How do they know where to open the
portal, anyway?"
"They gave me this." Averting his eyes, Denis pulled aside the
collar of his uniform. Embedded in the hollow of his throat was the
crescent insigne of the Nechti. The crystal pulsed crimson as his
blood rushed through it.
Arcadia examined it with revulsion. "How did they-- no, I
don't want to know. Do you want me to remove it?"
This time, instead of merely touching her arm, he took hold of
her wrist and compressed it. "There's nothing else I can add to this
conference. I'd like to rest." While he spoke, he stared into his
sister's eyes. She saw him give the familiar warning signal: one
blink, two. One blink, two.
"Denis, I really think--" Kenobi began.
Denis released her arm and pulled a data pad from her
pocket. Unclipping his comlink, he spliced it into the pad and
displayed the linked devices. Quickly, Arcadia said, "He does need
rest, and I'd like to examine him further. Denis, go to the
_Perceptor_ and wait for me."
As Denis stumbled toward the research frigate, Anakin took two
long strides toward Arcadia and shook her. "What are you doing? He's
got the only information we have for escape. Or do you *want* to
surrender?"
She twisted away. "There's something he wants to write
down. If that crescent transmits a homing signal, what else can it
do?" Exchanging Denis' handiwork for a fresh data pad, she disappeared
into the frigate herself.
It took a few minutes to match the data frequencies. The words
from the pad in the _Perceptor_ flashed onto the screen in Kenobi's
hands, and the coupled comlink read them out in synthetic tones. The
group clustered around to listen. "The crescent is sending anything
within hearing range back to the Nechti. The teleporter locks onto the
crystal's carrier alone, unless they decide otherwise."
"Can we slip through by maintaining physical contact?" The
data pad transcribed Kenobi's voice and sent the question back to
Denis.
"They tried that on the _Dovecote_. Captain Sherrin lost his
fingers that way."
Anakin leaned over Kenobi's shoulder. "Couldn't we just remove
the transmitter and put it in a box?"
"I wouldn't want to try it," Denis replied by proxy. "When one
of us tried ripping it out, it exploded. Took his head and hands off."
Undiscouraged, Anakin asked, "A Jedi could probably map out a
diagram of the thing, right? Deactivate the self-destruct mechanism?"
"Perhaps." Kenobi grimaced. "Electrical engineering is not a
Jedi forte. Not that Jedi engineers don't exist, but the only one we
have-- has Rannis revived yet?"
"No," Nisca said. "And Lisel was the Jedi half of their team."
The data pad scrolled on. "And if the Nechti retrieve the
transmitter without me, they won't treat us any more kindly for
outwitting their technology. I take it you don't want to surrender,
then."
"Why, do you want us to?"
Although the transcription had no way of conveying Anakin's
tone, Denis apparently deduced it for himself. "Not particularly. You
have to admit it would make things easier, though."
"We don't join the fleet for easy."
"But if there's no way to escape, why not accept the Nechti
terms of surrender?" As the others turned toward Kenobi, their
expressions ranging from anger to dismay, he continued, "Once they've
extracted us from here, other captives might help us escape."
"With Nechti listening devices sunk into our flesh? What good
would we do to the Republic like that?" Nisca unconsciously fingered
his throat as he spoke.
"We might have a chance if they don't implant the devices
right away. Denis?"
Denis erased what he had begun to write. He did this several
times. Finally, he responded, "If you surrender without a fight, they
might be less harsh. But when they finally defeated us on the
_Dovecote_, they hacked some of us apart on the spot to patch their
cyborgs. We had casualties they might have used instead, but they said
fresh parts were better. I can't imagine it was a coincidence they
chose our command crew for parts.
"The rest of us they lined up against the wall and shoved the
devices through our skins. They weren't too careful about it. One of
the younger cadets-- I think her name was Sariene-- bled to death when
they pushed hers through an artery."
Nisca swallowed painfully. "My daughter."
As Kenobi turned to Nisca, Anakin fiercely rounded on the
others. "How kindly do you think they'll treat us? We imploded an
entire squadron of theirs. You think they'll consider that a peaceful
action?
Sweeping his hand around at Kenobi and Nisca, he continued,
"If we surrender, we officers'll become spare parts, just like so many
gaskets. And what'll happen to the rest of you? You cadets may have
to invade your own home systems, with Nechti crescents sunk into your
blood. But if there's no military use for the noncombatants, do you
think the Nechti will waste any resources on them? Where do you think
they get the skin coatings for their cyborgs?" He flung out one arm
toward one of the gutted transports, hull peeled away and coolant
reservoirs seeping out. "If we surrender, we'll end up like *that*."
* * *
In the _Perceptor_, Denis peered at the data pad. Arcadia
rested her hand on his arm, sluicing blood under the skin to wash away
the bruises and dark scars. "Does anything else hurt?"
Intent on keying his latest response, he merely brushed the
Nechti transmitter before returning his hand to the data pad. Arcadia
touched the wafer of crystal in his throat. Although it appeared to be
a narrow crescent, that was only the visible portion; she could feel
the remainder of the disk within the crescent's inner curve, buried
under his skin. When she extended her senses through it, she could
feel the minute channels and circuitry, fine veins of metal and space.
Denis winced. "Sorry," she murmured, and took her hand
away. The transmitter was now perched on her fingertip like a bird,
the disk's edge slicing down into her bloodstream. As he stared at it,
she wrapped a fold of her robes around her hand to muffle off
sound. "I couldn't tell you beforehand, after all," she said
quietly. "If you can find a volunteer to go back in your place, I can
put the transmitter into someone else when the time comes."
* * *
"Denis?" Kenobi said questioningly, tapping the data pad. "Are
you--?"
Denis screamed. Not through the spliced comlink, but his own
voice reverberating through the _Perceptor_'s walls. "Dia, no!" A
pillar of light leapt from the frigate's hull, leaving it as
featureless as before.
Anakin reached him first, Kenobi and Nisca close behind. Denis
was holding Arcadia's lightsaber hilt, a fragment of her belt still
caught in the clip. There was no other trace of her. "Where is she,
Denis-- if that's who you are?"
"He can't answer you unless you loosen your grip," Kenobi
said. He tucked the coupled data pad and comlink into his pocket,
freeing his hands to pry the cadet away from Anakin's vengeance. "So
you defected after all."
Gasping, Denis said, "No. The Nechti sent me to find her, but
I didn't know they'd do this. How could I know she'd take out my
transmitter?"
Kenobi's face was grim. "So the self-destruct killed her
instead of you."
"We'd both be shreds if she triggered it. They ported her up,
I'm telling you."
Anakin straightened. "That does it. We're getting out of here,
and we'll need a ship to do it. Any other engineers with us? No? Get
Rannis up."
Nisca protested, his voice still frayed. "He's barely
breathing as it is. If I give him enough stimshots to revive, he'll
be dead within hours."
"Then we'd better hope he can patch a ship together by then,
hadn't we?"
* * *
In the command center of Ikatya base, Siona Brabanconne buried
her face in her hands. She had spent thirty years in the fleet, only
to come to this. Despite herself, she saw her ship as it had been, the
hull's proud arc gleaming with distant starlight. But now the
_Despoena_ was gone, a crippled derelict left adrift; the remnants of
her crew were confined to Ikatya until the Nechti flagship could join
the captured Alderaani fleet.
She heard approaching footsteps and looked up at two recent
recruits with a captive between them. "Captain Brabanconne? We caught
her."
"Where's our bait?" she asked. "I thought you caught her
giving him a transfusion."
"That's what we thought from the cell readings. But it looks
like she transplanted the crystal somehow."
"We have her now, at least. They've probably killed him as a
traitor," Brabanconne said, dismissing the matter. "Bring another
chair, and something hot to drink. Then get back to your posts, or
Commander Danville will never finish repairs in time."
Newly seated, Arcadia chafed her wrists, unobtrusively
shifting the transmitter disc from fingertip to palm. She saw her
hands trembling and thought of Lisel. Brabanconne's lean, weary
features were intent on the pot of tisane; even when the two cups were
full, the Nechti captain did not turn to her. "Captain," Arcadia
finally said. "I was told you wished to question me."
Brabanconne extracted a cluster of gems from one pocket, a few
pale facets held in broken links. "Arcadia Antilles? This was in your
quarters. Where can we obtain more?"
Arcadia glanced down at her torn belt, where her saber had
hung. "Isn't six years' booty enough for you?"
"Booty?" Brabanconne repeated. "No. Each of our ships requires
a compound lens of one hundred stones for its translight drive. Each
planetary mantle has yielded three or four."
"Three or four lenses? How many ships do you *have*?"
"I meant three or four stones," said Brabanconne. The lines in
her face seemed to deepen with the words. "Admiral Jordan will bring
the flagship to rendezvous here in a few hours. If you give us more
crystals, we will take them and go. If not, she will continue to strip
planets with the _Rahab_."
Stalling, Arcadia asked, "Why did you come here at all?"
Brabanconne set the broken necklace on the table between them,
staring at it as if trying to read fate from the facets. Despite her
obvious strain and exhaustion, she related the journey to Arcadia. "My
ship _Despoena_ was testing the new drive system that brought us to
your Republic. Two others followed us, but at the same cost: the
long-range leap shattered the energy lenses. The crystals salvaged
from all three ships were only enough to rebuild two lenses, and we
would not leave _Despoena_.
"Admiral Blackthorn took the _Empresa_ to Erenat to seek more
stones for _Despoena_, and she and her crew were slaughtered. As her
successor, Circe Jordan destroyed the _Empresa_ and its lens when
Erenat used them against us. You will understand that Admiral Jordan
prefers firepower to parleys now.
"_Despoena_ was lost in our last battle, but we brought her
crystals to this ship. The ones from your quarters nearly complete our
lens. Will you give us more stones, or must we put you to further
questioning?"
"I can't obtain more stones for you myself," Arcadia warily
said. "But there is a person on this base who knows how to construct
them."
"I see. Do you know if she's still alive?"
"If the group I was taken from is still alive, yes."
The Nechti did not quite smile. "I see. And you'll identify
her only after we port out the entire group. I expect I would do the
same." The crescent in her throat glowed as she touched it. "Commander
Danville," she said. "Move the remaining survivors to a holding cell
on the _Sphinx_."
Danville's voice replied through the crescent. "Bevan already
has his full inventory there."
"I meant the ones in that other hangar. Can you get them out?"
"It'll be tricky to focus the beam into there."
"That was not my question."
Danville grumbled under her breath. "Yes. But we're in the
middle of incorporating those new stones into the lens, and if I leave
it the whole dome will collapse. One of my aides will have to port
them out."
"You know their skills better than I. Which one?"
"I'd have more trust in Malison to bring them out alive, all
things considered."
"Very well," Brabanconne said. "Send Malison in. And bring me
more tisane while she's at it."
* * *
The crystal in Malison's throat was sunk in a nest of bruises,
as were her eyes. Her cropped hair was the same muted russet as the
gashes in her uniform. "Follow me, please," she said to Arcadia.
They moved from Ikatya's command center into the hangar, which
now bore little resemblance to Arcadia's former view of it. The
once-gleaming support pillars and walls were splashed with char and
blood. As Malison led her onto one of the captured vessels, Arcadia
asked softly, "Which ship were you taken with?"
Malison glanced around them, at the ship's scarred corridors
and the Nechti crew members passing by. "The _Sphinx_. We surrendered
when our planet was destroyed."
"Can you help us?"
Malison touched the crescent in her throat, wincing as she did
so. "No." They entered the bridge of the _Sphinx_, where a faceted
coil floated in one corner. She examined the stone set in Arcadia's
hand and lowered the crystal helix around her. "You'll have two
minutes to gather everyone in a ten-meter radius, and then I'm porting
you into a holding cell."
* * *
Anakin glared at the restraining field, or the space it
occupied in the doorway. "I still think this is a terrible idea."
"Perhaps if you ask the Nechti very nicely, they'll port you
back into the hangar," Arcadia said, taping a metabolizer kit to
Rannis' arm. The engineer leaned against the wall, shaking and
painfully alert.
"Or you could have chosen to stay there in the first place,"
Kenobi helpfully added. "Although Dia hasn't yet told us why the
Nechti have this sudden concern for our welfare."
She relinquished Rannis to Nisca's care and surveyed the cell,
some twenty organics and droids crammed into the space of a middling
turbolift, then told them Brabanconne's demands.
Kenobi stared back at her. "I see."
Malison returned with several heavily-armed Nechti. Unlike her
attentive escort, she barely glanced at the prisoners in the cell. In
the same dead tones as before, she said, "Captain Brabanconne wishes
to speak with the collaborator you promised, Antilles."
"I didn't promise--" Arcadia began, only to be interrupted by
Anakin.
"Votary? Is that you?"
Startled, Malison looked up. "Anakin? How did you get here?"
"I think we both know that already," Anakin coolly said. "On
the other hand, you're the one who dedicated yourself to Leucothea's
service. And here you are, outside my cell again."
Votary Malison went pale. "Leucothea was destroyed five days
ago. We engaged one of the Nechti ships, but their flagship arrived on
the far side and razed the entire planet. They took the _Sphinx_ as a
replacement for their own casualties. I thought I'd never--" The
crystal in her throat flared to painful brightness, and she clutched
it, gasping.
A man in blue entered the antechamber, shaking his head. "I
hope you're not changing sides again, Votary. It'll take us forever to
replace you. Now, have you identified the one Siona wants?"
Kenobi stepped forward, his face grim. Behind his back, he
unclipped his saber; Denis promptly hid it away. "I believe I'm the
one you're looking for. General Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Aldea sector
fleet."
Malison's chider nodded cordially, entering a code on a
keypad. "Doctor Bevan Meda, at your service." He beckoned Kenobi out
as the barrier invisibly hummed down.
The Nechti guards trained their weapons into the cell. Kenobi
remained where he was, blocking the doorway. "Do I have your assurance
that the rest will remain unharmed?"
"I can't authorize that, I'm afraid," Meda smiled. "You'll
have to speak with Captain Brabanconne about that. Among other
things. But now that you mention it, I'd be much obliged if the rest
of you would disarm."
Kenobi glanced back at Arcadia as he stepped out of the cell
and out of the guards' massed line of fire. Reluctantly, Anakin and
the others relinquished their weapons. Meda regarded the pile at his
feet with satisfaction, glancing back at the prisoners to prompt a few
laggards. "That's a very nice thermal detonator you have there, but
we can't allow you to keep it. Thank you. We wouldn't want you to get
hurt, after all."
"We already have casualties."
As he resealed the barrier, Meda countered Kenobi, "The sooner
you cooperate with us, the sooner I can help them. Let's not keep
Captain Brabanconne waiting, shall we?" The guards incinerated the
pile of weapons before escorting the two men away.
Malison lingered by the cell a moment longer. "I'm sorry to
have things end this way, Anakin," she whispered. "In spite of
everything you did, I'm sorry."
Anakin watched her flee down the corridor, beyond the smoking
pool of blaster slag. "You're not the only one," he muttered in her
direction before turning back to the others.
* * *
No flicker of expression betrayed Palpatine as he refused the
engraved card his aide proffered. "I'm afraid it will be quite
impossible for me to meet with Her Highness of Alderaan, especially in
light of what took place this week."
"Yes, my lord," the man said, but remained where he was.
It took a few minutes for Palpatine to deign to notice him
again. "You may go now," he said pointedly.
"My lord, it's not my place to say this, but--"
"It certainly isn't."
"Will you at least read the card, my lord?"
Palpatine looked up from his Senate notes with a fine look of
martyrdom, and the aide knew he was doomed. Quickly, he left the
gilded tray on the table and slipped out. No doubt to compose his
suicide note, Palpatine thought with minor satisfaction. He glanced at
the card on the tray with somewhat less complacence. Didn't that
trollop have any more sense than morals? Or was this an attempt at
blackmail?
He lifted the card with the very tips of his fingers and
without really looking at it, as if it were a laundry item of dubious
hygiene. Regardless of her personal laxness, she would stint no
formalities on her visiting card: Her Royal Highness Castra, the
Vicereine and Princess-Consort of Alderaan. When he actually read the
card, his grasp tightened considerably. Instead of the closely-spaced
lines he had imagined, the card held only two words. "Danah Antilles,"
it said.
He emerged into the antechamber just as Danah was concluding a
conversation with the doomed aide. Bowing deeply, Palpatine said, "You
honor me with your presence, Your Highness."
Danah settled back into her chair. "I had been led to believe
otherwise. A misunderstanding, I trust?"
"A tragic one, alas," Palpatine told the aide as much as
her. "I hope it is a happier cause which brings you here," he said
truthfully.
"Perhaps. You may have mixed feelings to hear that my son's
consort has stepped down from the Senate."
"I may indeed. I trust she is well?"
"Yes, and no," Danah said thoughtfully. She looked up at the
young Coruscanti hovering by them. "Please don't let me keep you from
your duties."
As the aide fled, she continued, "I shall occupy the Alderaani
seat until Bail returns. A fete will be held for Castra's resignation
tomorrow evening. We would be honoured if you could attend."
"Your Highness, I fear you mock me," he said. How much did she
know? "Her disgraceful behavior toward me has passed all bounds of
propriety."
"If your schedule permits your attendance, we should be
delighted. As for amending her transgressions, we shall broach that
subject anon. As your schedule permits, of course." She rose and
inclined her head, not quite curtseying. "You have a strong
resemblance to your father."
"You flatter me," Palpatine said, his mouth tense. "It will be
a pleasure to see you again in the Senate this afternoon, Your
Highness."
* * *
Anakin was doing his best to pace within the cell's narrow
confines when the Nechti guards returned. He took up Kenobi's former
posture across the doorway.
"Your general asked us to bring this to you," one guard said,
displaying a small sack. She hooked it over the end of her plasma
rifle and dangled the package in front of Anakin's chest as she
unkeyed the cell barrier. He gingerly reached for it, expecting
ionized death, but she allowed him to take the sack.
The reclosing barrier singed the sack's fabric as he snatched
it back within the cell. The Nechti laughed amongst themselves as they
left, and he regarded the sack with deep suspicion. "I hope it's not
Kenobi's head."
Arcadia had returned to tending Rannis with Nisca, and did not
look up at Anakin's words. "It's not," she said quietly. "I'd know if
he were dead. What did they bring?"
"Nechti rations, I think," Anakin said, shaking a foil
pouch. He parcelled out the glossy tubes and packets, leaning against
the wall at Arcadia's side to consume his own portions.
Slumped in the corner, Rannis tremblingly waved at a droid
which whirred about before beeping a reply. "One vidcam at the other
end of the hall," the engineer interpreted. "But no surveillance ports
in here. Improvised from a storage compartment and field generators,
I'd say."
Arcadia glanced at the cell's control pad, but Anakin shook
his head. "Maybe you could lower the barrier from here, but that
vidcam would raise the alarm. We wouldn't have a chance against them
with our blasters gone, and we don't know where they've taken Kenobi."
Denis slipped forward from the back of the cell, pushing his
way through the other cadets' fluster and murmuring. The objects he
took from his pocket looked like his rations at first glance. "Would
these help?"
Anakin leaned down and intercepted the two lightsabers,
ignoring Denis' other offering. He hefted the hilts, Arcadia's and
Kenobi's. "They might. You could fight our way out of here, right?"
"No. I could not."
Her timbre set him aback, but only for a moment. "Why not?"
Nisca answered for her, still crouched beside the gasping
Rannis. "The Healer's Oath forbids any deliberate injury, except when
necessary to aid a patient."
"And this wouldn't aid us? What about when you stepped in for
Lisel?"
She saw Rannis and Nisca flinch at the woman's name. "That was
purely defensive work. I will not do this, Anakin."
He stepped close to her then, bending his face down to
hers. Softly, he murmured, "Your scruples are going to leave us penned
in here for the slaughter." From his close vantage, he could see the
pulsebeat just behind her ear, where he had kissed her last night. He
did so again.
Denis and the others only saw Anakin whispering to her, and
thought he had persuaded her when her hand rose to grasp his
arm. Anakin may have thought so as well, but when he backed away, she
shook her head. "I will not do this," she repeated.
He absently wrenched his arm away from Arcadia as he turned
toward Nisca. "I suppose this means *you* won't help us either," he
said to him.
Nisca smiled tightly. He said past him to Arcadia, "He learns
quickly, doesn't he?"
Her face went very blank. "Yes, he does," she said.
The same thought had occurred to Anakin, and he whirled back
on her. "You won't cut our escape for us, and neither will Nisca. Then
I will."
She took a deep breath. "You have no training with the
lightsaber. You can't possibly launch an offensive with it by
yourself. Who's asking for his death now?"
The reckless light in his eyes precluded any thought of
that. "Don't have much of a choice, do we? Once we secure the bridge,
we can be under startrails in no time." He surveyed his cadets. "Once
we deactivate the field, advance just like that last drill I put you
through, except for getting yourself shot, Rouvel. Damesta, Anset, get
your units in order."
He looked down to see Arcadia taking Kenobi's lightsaber from
his hands, leaving him with her own. "I knew you'd come 'round," he
grinned at her.
She looked resigned, but not utterly so. "If you're determined
to do this, I'll employ defensive measures. But nothing more."
His grin faltered a fraction. "So I'm still leading the
charge, am I?"
"Thought you could completely bluff me into it?" Arcadia said
lightly. Seeing a flicker of anger, and perhaps a little fear, she
reached out to him with more tenderness, tracing his wrist with her
fingertips, and the edges of his mind with hers. "You don't have to
rush into your death unprepared. There is another way."
Before he could ask how, she fanned out her memories before
him. As he absorbed them in a rush, he *experienced* her lightsaber
training, from the first stumbling days of singed hands, through
sessions of attack stratagems she had later forsworn, until the time
she was presented with the saber Anakin now held, one which Kenobi had
made for her. Anakin blinked away the flood of images, Kenobi's face
in memory overlapping Arcadia's before him, and flexed his shoulders,
sensing the proper stance fall over him like a cloak.
She glanced behind him, at the cadets falling silent in
anticipation of the sortie. "It'll only persist in your mind for a few
hours. Will that do?" she asked him.
"It will have to, won't it?" The recklessness had returned to
him with new fire, as bright as the blade springing up from his
hands. She lowered her lids, and the cell barrier evaporated as the
watching vidcam spattered into sparks. By the time she looked back up,
Anakin was halfway down the corridor. "Nisca, drape Rannis over that
droid, and try to stay in the middle of the group. Now let's get the
hell out of here."
* * *
"You must understand what this means for both our people and
yours," Captain Brabanconne said. "If you have a reliable source for
these crystals, you must tell us."
Kenobi gazed calmly back. "Must I?"
At Brabanconne's side, Doctor Meda inspected an array of fine
tools. "Oh, I really think you must." He held up a curiously whorled
blade. "Most of these instruments are probably unfamiliar to you. If I
were you, I'd want to keep them that way."
They were seated in a medical bay of _La Belle Dame_. Now that
Kenobi knew of the ships' capture, battle damage to the _Sphinx_ had
been obvious when he was escorted from the cell on the Leucothean
craft. The _Dovecote_ bore similar scars, but he was perplexed that of
the three vessels, the _Belle_, the former Alderaani flagship, seemed
scarcely bruised. Brabanconne saw him inspecting the walls from his
pinioned chair and said, "If you're looking for the lens, it's several
decks away."
"Near the ion-drive chambers? You're using this ship?" Kenobi
asked her.
"It's in the best condition. And perhaps it might buy us more
time. You cleared it to enter Ikatya, after all."
"So I did." He examined his binders as if lost in thought,
then shrugged. Freeing himself unarmed would mean only a quick death:
perhaps something to be sought in a few hours' time, but not yet, nor
alone. "How many crystals do you need?"
"As many as you can provide." Meda casually gestured with his
scalpel, and Brabanconne eyed him sharply.
"Bevan, please," she said. "Just finish that patch for
Danville's aide." Meda industriously bent to work, his hair gleaming
red above the red flesh pinned before him.
Brabanconne turned back to Kenobi. "In theory, we may only
need a few from you. Antilles had an enormous number of them in her
quarters: sixty stones spliced into a cable. They weren't aligned for
a teleportation or weapons coil; I don't suppose you can tell me what
the cable's function was?"
"Its function?" Kenobi's pale eyes darkened. "It didn't
accomplish what I intended when I made it. How can I say what it was
good for?"
"You made that many crystals?" Brabanconne gave each word its
own emphasis. "What materials do you need? How long does the process
take?"
He seemed to face a distant vision, not the Nechti captain at
all. "That chain took me one year and my heart's blood. All of it was
wasted."
"If you can make one crystal every few days, you must be using
more common elements," Brabanconne said. "And yet their optical
resonance is nearly identical to the stones we have already."
Kenobi snapped back to the present. "Can I examine your
scanning equipment? If I'm to make these stones, I'll need to check
the matrix continuities."
Captain Brabanconne nodded, satisfied. "I knew you would see
reason. We'll bring you to Commander Danville. She can supply you
with whatever materials you need." She looked at the chrono on the
wall and amended, "Or rather, Doctor Meda will take you to her. It's
nearing the rendezvous time, and I must return our ships to orbit
before I can join you."
As Brabanconne left, Kenobi turned his attention back to Meda,
who was still at work. Eyeing the thin layer of flesh pinned to Meda's
tray, he asked, "Is that what's intended for me once your lens is
complete?"
Meda made a few final adjustments before tucking the tray
under his arm and pulling Kenobi to his feet. "Oh no. Why should you
stop at one lens? Admiral Jordan might want a few more ships before
we return home."
* * *
The _Sphinx_ shuddered underfoot as a Nechti sentry tapped the
crystal in her throat. "Comm systems on this level are crashing, both
audio links and vidcams. Requesting permission to investigate."
"You may not leave your post," the reply came. "It may be only
energy drain from the ongoing launch. If the problems persist after
we've achieved orbit, you may be given further latitude."
The Nechti's grudging assent was cut off by a lightsaber
hurled through her throat, burning the crystal away with her life. As
Anakin retrieved his saber, he took the sidearm from her belt. He
beckoned the others into the turbolift alcove. "Anyone else still need
a blaster? The bridge should be three levels straight above us."
Rannis' support droid communed with a data socket; the
engineer watched the display panel with feverish eyes. "It's a small
turbolift. We'll need two trips," he said.
"Even better," Anakin said. "Seal off the bridge except for
this shaft. Some of us can secure it while the rest of you wait
here."
"I'll just short the shipwide comm backbone while we're here,"
Rannis muttered, nearly to himself. "And the Nechti transmitters are
on a different frequency than ours-- I'll see what I can do about
those."
Troubled, Arcadia checked the metabolizer on his arm. Over her
shoulder, she said to Anakin, "They're launching the _Sphinx_. What if
General Kenobi is no longer on this ship?"
Anakin had already stepped into the turbolift with most of the
cadets, blasters in hand. He clipped her lightsaber to his belt,
setting it aside for the more familiar weapon. "We'll worry about that
later. Colton, come on."
Denis examined the last item from his pocket. "I'd like to
wait here, sir."
The turbolift slammed shut and shot upward. Arcadia looked
questioningly at her brother, who showed her the datapad in his
hand. Still coupled from afar to the comlink in Kenobi's pocket, it
bore a rolling transcript of his conversation with the Nechti.
* * *
His binders in Meda's grip, Kenobi watched Danville and her
aide anneal the new facets into the lens. Captain Brabanconne closed
her eyes against the whirling refractions as she entered the ion-drive
chamber. "Is the lens complete? I'd like a demonstration for Admiral
Jordan when she arrives."
"We're still a few crystals short," Danville said. "If you
really want a demonstration, we can borrow a few from the
teleportation coil. You can make up the difference in a few days,
can't you?"
Kenobi nodded, his expression curiously serene.
"Very well," Brabanconne said. "I see Malison's patch is
done. Commander Danville, before you disassemble the coil, send your
aide over to the _Sphinx_. Their comm systems were breaking down and
seem to've failed altogether. Maybe he can straighten things out."
* * *
On the bridge of the _Sphinx_, the last Nechti officer raised
her hand a second too late. Her features crumbled into ash as her dead
fingers touched them. Three seconds later, the intact crystal in her
throat detonated, leaving a smoldering crater in the wall where her
upper body had been.
Another flare of light burst from the far corner. Anakin
ferally grinned, anticipating renewed combat, but relaxed as he
recognized the newcomer. "Votary!" Anakin called over the din,
lowering his blaster and nudging a cadet toward the turbolift.
"You! How did you--" Malison's face was obscured by a shower
of sparks as the aide limped through the debris, wiping a trickle of
blood away from her cheek. "Where are you going?"
"Out." He idly twirled his blaster. "Do you know where General
Kenobi is? The man they took from our cell?"
"They're still questioning him." Her voice was lower than
before, and one hand went to the silent crystal in her throat. "Where
are the others? You didn't leave them there, did you?"
The turbolift returned, disgorging the other escapees. Rannis
immediately stumbled toward the drive controls, escorted by the two
healers. Denis joined the Leucotheans, ignoring Anakin's contemptuous
look. "Can't you port him over from the _Belle_?"
Malison averted her face from Denis. Her attention seemed
fixed on Rannis, all but buried under a cascade of control cables;
Arcadia knelt beside him while Nisca reprogrammed a crashed medical
droid. "This ship isn't going anywhere. It wasn't much better than a
cruiser-sized escape pod from that planet we seized it from. And
besides, he doesn't have a transport key."
"The teleportation coil in the corner is still intact," Denis
pointed. "The captain's key must be coded into the system. If you pull
in a ten-meter radius around her, we're sure to get General Kenobi as
well."
"Holding the captain hostage won't buy you anything but time."
In an undertone, Anakin said, "Denis, don't press
her. Votary's been through enough already."
"You're right." Denis began to turn away, but suddenly seized
her throat. As Anakin moved to defend her, Denis shoved hard with his
datapad. Caught by the edge, Malison's face slid off in a bloody,
crumpled shroud.
Denis repeated to the not-Malison, "Bring your captain and
General Kenobi onto our ship."
Anakin took the unmasked Nechti agent from Denis' grasp. The
eyes were still eerily human in their frame of stripped flesh. Hilt
pressed firmly into his captive's wrist, he reactivated Arcadia's
lightsaber. The blade sprang out like a striking snake, incongruously
soft blue light welling up through the reek of burnt bone. As the
agonized scream rang out, Arcadia and Nisca sprang up from Rannis'
side. Frantically, the captive appealed to the healers. "Lady Arcadia!
Help me!"
Arcadia swallowed hard, glancing at its erstwhile disguise and
back at the masquerader's ruined features and the brown hair above
them. Where Malison's had been kissed by flame, this shone in randomly
gilded streaks. "Justin, Lord Semble."
Anakin said coolly to Semble, "I am holding you firmly enough
to support your weight, but not enough to fully restrain you. If you
make any sudden moves, the blade will likely burn off your hand, and
whatever other parts you place in my way. Now, would you care to fetch
General Kenobi for us?" The pair moved gingerly toward the
teleportation coil.
Rannis crawled out from the hyperdrive console, his blast
helmet a tapestry of scorch marks. Denis tapped his sister's
arm. "Dia, snap out of it," he said in an undertone. "Rannis isn't
going to make it, is he?"
She knelt down again, easing the blast shield back from
Rannis' face. "We've pushed his nerves too far. There's nothing more
I can do for him."
Rannis himself answered her, straining for breath. "Just give
me a little more time. Malison--" his eyes flicked to Semble in the
corner, reluctantly shifting levers. "Malison must have kept them
ignorant of the hyperdrive. It's still functional, but the control
couplers are inverted."
Denis donned the blast shield and burrowed under the console,
whistling Rannis' droid to his side. "Reversion's going to take more
power-- maybe I can reroute some from the other systems." As an
afterthought, he ducked his head back out. "Even if Semble does fetch
General Kenobi, he'll probably port himself back to the _Belle_."
Arcadia closed her eyes, trying to ease Rannis' pain, but the
engineer struggled to speak. "Don't let me die like this. No
reason. No meaning..."
Nisca appeared at her elbow. "I've got the medical droid
working again, but without osmotic filters, we can't--"
Rannis sat up in a last surge of strength. Beyond them, the
teleportation coil was just beginning to spin. "Not like this," he
said clearly. "Send me back to Lisel. Help me up."
Arcadia bowed her head in understanding. She folded her hand
over his; when she withdrew it, the Nechti crystal she had taken from
Denis was a fading rose inlaid into Rannis' skin. Ghostly whispers
curled out from the crystal as Denis' repairs progressed, drawing
energy away from the field that was jamming the Nechti comm
signals. With Nisca's help, she half-dragged the engineer to Anakin
and Semble, who were too intent on the coil to notice them.
As Denis had predicted, Captain Brabanconne materialized with
Kenobi in her periphery, as well as Doctor Meda. The cadets swarmed
around the newly-arrived Nechti officers. Anakin turned to watch the
prisoners, and Semble tore out of his grasp. Pressing one last lever
with his remaining hand, he bore out Denis' further prediction by
darting into the teleportation coil himself. Nisca pushed the
faltering Rannis in beside Semble. The coil's glow erased them both.
A low rumble and burst of static came from Brabanconne's and
Meda's crystals. Anakin peered out the bridge port at the _Belle_, and
saw smoke and a reddish glow inside the other ship as it began to turn
toward them. Evidently bemused, and just as evidently not intending
to admit it, he said, "Well, that's that. Denis, what are you doing
down there?"
Denis emerged and began, "Rannis said--" before realizing
Rannis had vanished, and Kenobi and the two Nechti officers had taken
his place. "General Kenobi, sir?"
Anakin cut him off. "Can that hyperdrive be salvaged or not?"
"I restored the polarities," Denis said. "All we need to do is
set a course."
Kenobi stepped forward. "There's a starbase at Galliae. We can
gather reinforcements there and send a delegation to the
Senate. Commander Skywalker, how do matters stand with your squadron?"
"Sir," Anakin said through gritted teeth, "This is hardly the
time for a formal report, is it?"
Kenobi folded his arms. "Is it any better a time for
insubordination? Cadet Colton, arm all shields-- the _Belle_ has
heavy turbolasers. And set coordinates for Galliae."
Denis conveyed an excellent mixture of diligence and
invisibility as Anakin glowered down at Kenobi. Before further
escalation occurred, Arcadia stepped between the two men. Without
looking at either of them, she said, "Crescent Squadron began with
thirty-five cadets, of whom we still have eighteen. We also have four
other personnel and one each of medical and technical systems droids."
Kenobi nodded. "Thank you. That wasn't difficult, was it?"
Captain Brabanconne spoke up, directly addressing
Kenobi. "Thanks to your stones, our drive lens is now complete. The
_Belle_ will follow you, and bring the _Rahab_ after it to destroy
whatever harbor you find."
The bridge reeled as the _Sphinx_'s tattered shields were
breached. "Coordinates set, sir," Denis reported to Kenobi.
"Punch it!" Anakin barked, then looked at Arcadia and
Kenobi. "What stones? Your necklace?"
It was Denis who answered him. "Our mother's necklace. The
crystal matrices were unstable to sustained coherent energy. Nice
jewelry, but too flawed for anything useful."
Brabanconne looked up in horror. "Flawed?"
The _Sphinx_ shot into hyperspace. Framed by streaked petals
of stars in the rear viewscreen, the traitor _Belle_ kept pace with
them for less than a minute before blooming into flame. The shouts of
panic, made tinny from their transit through Brabanconne's crystal,
fused into a single bright sound before evaporating in the void.
(
geocities.com/hollywood)