[Legacy Of The Force] - 07(102)

He heard the pilot speak. “Kork. Forgot to set it to stun.” His vision closed in more. “Chinnith to Anakin Solo. You’ll never guess who I just shot.”

Koyan’s vision failed entirely and he drifted through painless void.



Syal’s starfighter rocked. Everything outside the canopy glowed in eye-hurting red, and then she was past her opponent, curving around for another exchange.

Wait-her enemy, designated rogue 6 on the sensor board, was breaking away. And Rakes One and Two were headed in toward her position.

She continued her maneuver anyway, clear sign to her opponent that she was still in the hunt, that she was not relying on her squadmates to end this fight for her. But her opponent chose not to face three Rakes all at once. It turned back toward a cluster of Rogues, doubtless to return when it had a wingmate.

Wedge and Sanola drew alongside her. Her father’s voice came across her helmet speakers. “Four, this is Leader. Report status.”

“I’m intact. Minor damage to my thrusters and starboard topside laser.” As she continued, pain crept into her voice. “A minute ago, I just vaped a Rogue.”

“I did, too. Rogue Leader. A Duros named Lensi. A good pian. They’ve made kills against us: Six is dead, Eight is dead or extravehicular, and Two here is so shot up I’m sending her out of the combat zone.”

Sanola’s voice came across, a protest laced with pain. “I’m still fit to fly…”

“Then you’re fit to obey orders. Get back to our staging vessel.”

“Yes, sir.” Rakehell Two banked away, and Syal could see a continuous stream of sparks emerging from her starfighter’s underside.

“Four, you’re my wing.”

“Yes, D… sir.”





Chapter 35


CENTERPOINT STATION


Seyah slid to a stop, looking intently at the surrounding walls and doorways, at the letters and numbers painted by Corellian mappers, at the symbols incised in the walls by ancient builders or scholars. He nodded. “Here.”

Kyp, alert for more attackers, came alongside. “Here, what?”

“Here I implement my master plan to destroy Centerpoint Station.”

Kyp scowled. “Excuse me, but that’s what you said half a kilometer back. When you made me fight all those CorSec personnel in what you said was the spin thrust control chamber.”

Seyah nodded. “That was my first master plan to destroy Centerpoint Station. This is my second. Cup your hands.” Kyp slung his GAG blaster rifle and did as requested. “Out of how many?”

“Well, I’m doing three. Plus, there are hopes that if the Alliance successfully takes charge of this facility, the remaining crew will initiate some sort of self-destruct plan installed since I left. I’m actually banking on that being the way to kill this place. Let the enemy do the work.” He placed his left boot in Kyp’s hands and stood. Kyp held him high enough that he could reach the passageway ceiling. Rapidly, with tools at his belt, he undid a ceiling panel, revealing wiring above. “At the spin thrust control chamber, I spliced in programming telling the station to count down a certain amount of time, then reverse the spin that gives the station its simulated gravity.” From another pouch, he drew a datacard and began splicing it into the wires above.

“Which, if it did so rapidly enough, might tear the station to pieces.”

“Very good. You’re quite bright for a Jedi.”

“How hard would you like to be dropped?”

“I’m just messing with you. Scientists do that. Problem is, the station’s master programming, which is half ancient stuff, half cobbled together by the best minds Corellia could force to cooperate, and half evolved out of the interfaces between them…”

“That’s three halves.”

“I knew you were bright. Anyway, the programming resists change. It may reject my plan, for all that I worked years setting it up. Just as I worked for years on this one.”

“What does this one do?”

“I’m tapping into data feeds that supply the auxiliary star map databases used by the targeting system. I’m redefining every star and planet in the galaxy-starting with the near ones, graduating out farther and farther-with the same set of coordinates.”

“Which coordinates?”

“Here.”

“Right here?”

“Technically, no. They’re being defined to the exact center of Hollowtown-the geographic center of this station.

But the effect of the hyperspace beam is broad enough that, even as narrowly as I’m defining the coordinates, the station and everything for kilometers around it will be squashed down to a mass the size of a pan of ryshcate, but not as sweet.”