Luke shook his head. “Care to surrender?”
“If I did, I’d never be able to have more fun with Ben, like the last time he was here.” Caedus fired the taunt like a blaster bolt-a pair of them, one at Luke, one at Ben.
And yet, in the Force, he felt not one flicker of anger from either of them. That was. … surprising. Distressing. Time away from him appeared to have undone all the good he’d done Ben during their last session.
Caedus sighed. “All right. Kill.”
The combat droids snapped into motion, all eight firing simultaneously, their streams of blasterfire converging on the Jedi.
CORELLIA, CORONET, COMMAND BUNKER
Teppler walked into the situation room. There, over a broad triangular table, floated a holographic display of the battle being waged insystem. At the center of the display was the image of Centerpoint Station, surrounded by a large number of red Alliance ships, a shrinking number of Corellian ships.
Admiral Delpin, standing at one point of the table, surrounded by advisers, caught sight of him. “Where have you been?”
“Dealing with allies. Demands of state, you know.” He worked his way through the crowd to her side. “We have the authority to fire the station weapon and full control over all insystem resources until Koyan gets here.”
“Where is he?”
“I’m not sure. He said he was looking for a fast transport home … But I think he may have missed his shuttle.”
“And reinforcements?”
“General Phennir is sending them now.”
He wasn’t quite through saying those words when the hologram updated. Suddenly there were many more green ship images than there had been a moment before. Teppler nodded toward the display. “Friends from Commenor.”
The admiral heaved a sigh of relief. “If we can win this one straight up, we may not have to fire the weapon. Not yet, anyway.”
“Agreed.”
CENTERPOINT STATION, FIRE-CONTROL CHAMBER
The head technician sat, restless, and listened to the intensity of the firefight outside the open chamber door. The noise grew and grew.
It had started with the shouts of CorSec troopers retreating to this location and setting up a choke point in the corridor outside. More had joined them.
The enemy had arrived, from somewhere off to the left. Now the two forces were exchanging fire. Blaster bolts kept flashing by outside. Sometimes there were screams. It was all very annoying.
And the technician had a secret. Several, really. One was that his real name was Rikel, and that he despised it; his nickname, Vibro, suited him far better, especially after his eighth cup of caf of the day. Another was that he had been married, in secret, concealing the news from his family and hers because they didn’t approve. Still another was that he had been widowed in secret, his wife picked up on Coruscant on a security sweep early in the war, never to be seen again. … until the day her body was positively identified.
Hatred was his biggest secret, not the flippant disregard for pain or death with which he concealed it. Hatred for the Alliance. Hatred for the Coruscanti.
And his newest secret was only a few minutes old. He hadn’t been able to listen in on the holocomm exchange between Sadras Koyan and Denjax Teppler, but he had been able to use security cams to follow Koyan’s rapid flight from this chamber.
Right up to the point that the Alliance shuttle carried Koyan away.
Had Koyan defected or just been monumentally unlucky or stupid? It didn’t matter. He was gone. Leaving Vibro in charge of the weapon.
And he could have told Vibro anything before leaving. Anything. Like .
… Destroy the people who killed your wife. Go ahead, it’ll make you feel better. Vibro could almost hear the words, spoken in Koyan’s flat, none-too-intelligent tones.
Idly, he punched up the astronomical coordinates for the world of Coruscant. Idly, he transferred them over to the targeting input of the station’s primary weapons system.
A female technician at the next station looked over at him. “Vibro. What are you doing?”
“Obeying orders. From the big guy. Getting things set up for him to push the big button. He’ll be back in a minute.”
Satisfied that all proprieties were being observed, she nodded and returned her attention to her work.
Now to activate the power source…
From the relative cover of a doorway into a darkened office, Kyp and Seyah looked down the corridor toward the fire-control chamber.
Closest to them, thirty meters up, were rows of GAG troopers and Alliance commandos, many of them protected by riot shields, more of them firing blaster rifles over and around the shields, concentrating fire on a distant enemy.
The enemy: lines of CorSec troopers, and two hovering combat droids, their metal skins a bronze color. Seyah jerked a thumb toward them. “A lingering part of Thrackan Sal-Solo’s legacy. Not quite a match for the Why-Vee-Aitches, but still formidable. Or so I’m told.”