“I’m…. I’m bleeding. I’m trying to hold it together.”
“Where?”
“Thigh…. the blood’s just pumping out…. my suit’s caught…”
Femoral artery. She’d be dead in a couple of minutes. He could Force-lift her.
“Here’s a trick we can learn you, son, “a voice below snarled. “Breathe vacuum. We can. We’re well ‘ard. It goes like thisThere were Mandalorians below Tahiri, in the tube.
A power tool began whining, and Caedus smelled metal being ground. Air rushed past him, whipping small scraps of flimsi down the tube.
They’re cutting open the docking tube.
“I’ve caught my suit…” Caedus could see Tahiri now, the blood-soaked leg of her environment suit bunched up in one fist-maybe to seal the cut, maybe in some futile attempt to stop the hemorrhage. “My suit’s caught on something sharp…”
Tahiri didn’t scream, but Caedus felt her terror and heard little gulping sounds as she struggled to release her suit from whatever had snagged it. She was ripping it as she pulled.
I could stop the bleeding.
I could seal the breach.
I could pull her clear.
He could Force-push their attackers, or grab her to free her, or snatch the cutters, but that would just open the rip in the docking tube, too. He couldn’t do it all. He was still exhausted from the effort of the battle link and bringing down Fondor’s defenses.
No, I am not omnipotent.
And he could pull up into the body of the med sprinter to save himself, and leave her to die.
But he needed Tahiri.
“Don’t you dare die on me.” Caedus slipped into the tube, catching onto the handholds. “Grab me when I’m in reach and hang on.”
He’d Force-jump when he had hold of her, and pull free of the docking ring. It was fine. He could do that.
And then something above made the med sprinter shudder. The tube creaked and strained at his end. The hatch slammed shut overhead.
He was shut in a docking tube that was venting atmosphere, with a dying woman beneath and some psychotic Mandalorians bent on suicide.
“They’ve…. got vacuumproof suits…” Tahiri said. It had never crossed Caedus’s mind to wonder how Mandalorian armor and their undersuits worked. It was obvious: they were like trooper suits. The battered and archaic appearance masked the best technology that could be built into armor.
If I push hard, I can open that hatch again. The air wasn’t venting as fast as he’d feared; the men below were using some kind of powered saw on the tough material, and the aperture they’d managed to create was small compared with the volume of air rushing to escape. Caedus dropped down into the tunnel, and something grabbed his leg. He thought it was Tahiri, but it was a gauntleted hand, and it hurt.
It was crushing his ankle. Someone grabbed him around the waist, too.
But that was Tahiri, he hoped. His ankle twisted. That was not Tahiri.
“Hi there, Jacen. I feel like I know you already, you hut’uun.”
There were only so many competing elements that even a Sith Lord could handle at once. Caedus had to choose, and fast.
Chapter 18
What’s a hut’uun? A coward. Physical coward, moral coward, any kind of scum without the spine to stand their ground or do the right thing. We don’t have a word for hero. Being prepared to die for your family and friends, or what you hold dear, is a basic requirement for a Mando, so it’s not worth a separate word. It’s only cowards we had to find a special name for.
-Baltan Carid, explaining the finer points of Mando’a and Mandalorian culture to Jaina Solo over a buy’ce gal-a large ale
DOCKING TUBE, MED SPRINTER: CLINGING TO THE HULL OF IMPERIAL STAR DESTROYER BLOODFIN
I can’t leave Tahiri.
But I might not get out of here alive, either.
Caedus was staring into the Mandalorian’s face now, or at least his helmet. There were no eyes to fix on, just a T-shaped nothing set in a pocked and scarred violet metal visor.
It seemed to go on for minutes, but it could only have been seconds. The man had a tight grip on his ankle. The muzzle of his blaster was in Caedus’s belly.
And then the man didn’t fire.
Caedus didn’t even need a second; a fraction’s hesitation was all he needed to get free. It was a trick that had bought him time with Mara, not a full illusion but enough to check someone at the reflex level-the face of a loved one even though they knew the identity of the enemy they were fac-ing.
He had no idea what might stop a Mandalorian.
He opted for Ailyn Vel’s face.
“Doesn’t suit you, dar’jetii, “said the Mandalorian wearily, and then simply held his blaster to Caedus’s kneecap as Tahiri clung to him in the tangle of limbs and weapons. “Ah, Fett, you spoilsport, I have to have some fun…”