[Legacy Of The Force] - 07(97)

Phennir nodded. “Understood. We will stand by for confirmation that obstinacy is at an end.”

Teppler hit a button, and Phennir disappeared. He hit another to transmit to the assistant in the next office. “Get me Koyan, immediately.”



ABOARD THE AN ANAKIN SOLO

“Sir?” This time Nevil’s voice carried some urgency. “We have unsubstantiated reports that there are Jedi and saboteurs aboard. We do know that there is a disturbance in the main hangar bay.”

Caedus, eyes still closed, raised a hand to forestall further words. He needed to concentrate. His forces were taking the Corellian defenders to pieces, and he could afford no distractions.

On the other hand, he could not afford to ignore the possible presence of Jedi, either. He carefully withdrew from the active influence of his ship commanders, then opened himself up to a different flow of the Force.

Yes, there were Jedi aboard. Luke. Ben. Saba Sebatyne.

His mother.

His eyes snapped open and his connection to his commanders faltered, vanished. “Security!”

Tebut, answering from her station below the bridge walkway, port side, sounded composed as usual. “Sir.”

“Confirm Jedi. They’ll be coming here for me.”

“Yes, sir. Initiate Plan Bastion?”

“That’s correct.” Caedus took a deep breath. His ships and boarding parties would have to succeed without benefit of his battle meditation. He needed all his focus now. His focus, and the forces he had assembled against this specific eventuality.

Even now, security teams would be assembling at strategic choke points between the hangar bay and the bridge. Space-tight blast doors would be closing and sealing at other critical points. Backup officers would be entering the auxiliary bridge, ready to assume control of the Anakin Solo if things became too dangerous or frantic for officers here to do their work.

And Caedus’s additional defenders should be arriving…

The bridge doors opened and they marched in, a double column, eight YVH combat droids in all. Two turned to face the stern as the blast doors there shut. Two dropped to the officers’ pits, one on either side, their mass causing deck plates to crumple as they hit. The other four marched forward, then, four meters short of Caedus’s position, turned toward the stern. More would be stationing themselves elsewhere in the ship.

Caedus didn’t think these measures would stop the Jedi. But they might whittle down the numbers of Jedi.

They had to. Jacen could defeat his mother or Ben without trouble; Saba, with difficulty. Saba plus Luke would be impossible odds. One of the Masters had to fall if Caedus was to survive this day.



Moving so fast that they blurred, the four Jedi, breather masks over their faces, emerged from the edges of the smoke cloud.

The security team at the entrance to the turbolift corridor opened fire-too late; the Jedi were already among them, striking with fists, feet, and, in Saba’s case, tail. Six security personnel fell in an instant, their blaster rifles clattering to the deck plates, barely audible over the alarms howling through the hangar bay.

Iella and Han, R2-D2 between them, emerged from the smoke, removing their own masks.

Luke gave them a nod, clapping his hand on Ben’s back. “All right, time to move out. Artoo?”

The astromech wheetled his confirmation, then turned and rolled along the hangar wall toward the nearest datajack.

Ben swung toward the doorway into the corridor and launched a kick. A ship’s security officer, not visible before Ben began his maneuver, rounded the corner and ran right into it, catching Ben’s heel across his jaw, and staggered back into his men. One was alert and nimble enough to jump clear, and aimed his rifle; Han shot him in the gut, the stun beam folding the man over and putting him down.

The other Jedi leapt forward, making quick work of the rest of the squad.

Han bolstered his blaster and smiled at his wife. “Nice not to have to do all the work myself for once.”



Rakehell Squadron approached the stern of a troop transport shuttle. It looked as though it had already sustained damage in this battle-the bow was blackened all along the starboard side, with a fracture pattern on the viewport suggesting that the transparisteel was on the verge of cracking, of venting its atmosphere into space-but Syal knew it was a sham. The battle damage was nothing but a paint job.

The shuttle accelerated away from the X-wings, toward the station and the battle raging all around it. “Just like before.” Wedge’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Shoot, but don’t hit.”

The X-wings closed in, firing.



The shuttle Broadside rocked as a Rakehell near hit grazed its shields. Seyah held on to the webbing across his chest with a white-knuckled grip of death.