Revenge of the Jedi/Part 3

When the sensors showed no artificial gravity wells in the Eriadu system, Narasi bit the bolt and jumped them in-system to the only inhabited world.

"Chaos take me!" Zaella said. "Did he get every scumbag in the Outer Rim?!"

It looked like it. The Second Chance ' s outdated sensor system couldn't handle it all, but the new display did a great job projecting the Geonosian hive of activity in space all around Eriadu, the spray of sensor blips extending out toward the gas giant Tarastra and its seven moons, and even a cluster drifting in the direction of the primary toward Erinar. Some of it had to be Eriadu's normal traffic—no fewer than five hyperlanes passed through Eriadu, and it was far and away the economic powerhouse for quadrants around—but Narasi had never seen so many vessels at once save at Coruscant and Corellia.

"Easier for us to blend in," she said.

"But harder to do anything subtly," Zaella countered.

Narasi couldn't deny that; even with quadrillions of cubic kilometers to go around, if the scavengers and hunters were scrounging for valuables and potential prisoners, they would all be running every sensor they had. But there were no Sith warships en route, so she had to do the best she could and hope the scum of the Rim hadn't caught anyone. She pushed the throttle forward.

"The Force'll be with us," she told Zaella and Jirdo in a determined voice. More than once Tirien had kept her going by projected confidence and force of will, not least on Guudria; now that duty fell to her, and she wasn't going to let her companions down.

She tried not to think about Tirien, though it was impossible not to sense his mind reeling back in the hold. They had all tried talking to him alone—Zaella had even kicked him—but the black hole of shock and anguish still held him in its gravity. Narasi was terrified that by the time they got back on the Rimma toward Pelagon, he would be past the event horizon. But before the full scope of the Crescentia ' s fall had hit him, he had been very clear that this mission took priority over everything else, including their safety. As his Padawan, Narasi knew it was her duty to see that mission through.

She struggled to put Ayson Sokos even further from her mind than Tirien—not just out of focus, to be attended to as soon as greater priorities were handled, but deep down, locked in a compartment to be opened only when she could scream and beat her fists against the ground at the horrific, evil unfairness of it all. When she pictured fire and shrapnel ripping Ayson apart—and not just Ayson, but all the Jedi Initiates in his circle of friends—grief threatened to blind her with tears even as rage set her blood on fire. Part of her hoped Darshkére would detect them, that tractors beams would tow the Second Chance aboard his flagship. She envisioned him coming down to inspect the prisoners, lording his victory over a couple more feeble Jedi, and the shock and terror on his face as she ripped him to pieces with her bare claws. The sweat on her palms might have been his life's blood running down to her wrists…

Stop this, a little voice whispered; some part of her recognized danger. It was almost too faint to hear, but Tirien's was clearer: Darshkére's turn will come, but the survivors are our first priority.

One thing at a time, she told herself. Darshkére might not even still be at Eriadu, but if any Republic survivors remained uncaptured, their time had to be running out.

"Nobody's hailing us," Jirdo noted.

"Most of them are here for plunder," Narasi said. "The last thing they'll want to do is talk to the competition."

No sooner had she finished than the comms suite beeped. Zaella glanced at the display from her place in the co-pilot's seat; one of her lekku twitched. "Coming from downside."

Narasi took a breath. "Go for it."

She pressed the transmit key. "Freighter Racor's Girl."

She had been the one to realize the Second Chance couldn't go into Sith territory under its real name, so Narasi had let her pick the pseudonym. They had loosened the transponder code card in the ship's engine as much as they dared, hoping to confuse sensors.

"Racor's Girl, we detect an unusual energy signature from your craft," the sharp voice answered. "Identify your cargo immediately."

"We picked up a reactor toward the edge of the system," Zaella lied; she had thought up the answer to the problem of the massive-yield nuclear bomb in the cargo bay too. "Had a bit of a leak, but we patched it. It must've been damaged in the battle."

"What kind of reactor?"

"Well, it's too big to be a fighter's. Did they have gunships here?  Troop transports?"

There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and Narasi realized all three of them were holding their breath. Then Control asked, "You're certain you have the leak patched?"

"Positive." Zaella put a bit of professional annoyance in her voice. "You think I'm gonna put my crew at risk? This isn't my first haul, thanks."

Narasi worried it would be too much, but after a moment the line clicked. Zaella narrowed her eyes. "He hung up on me! Kosoon pah chanakees kabat!"

Narasi didn't ask for a translation of the Twi'leki; she wasn't sure she wanted to know, and Zaella's tone gave her the gist. "All right. Zaella, fly casual.  I'm gonna try to reach the Jedi in the Force.  Jirdo, help me, would you?"

"Sure." He sounded pleased to be included.

"Be careful," Zaella warned. "If you're using your 'active sensors', the Dark Jedi might feel your presence."

Nodding, Narasi closed her eyes and reached into the Force, trying not to think how monumental her task was. She could pretty much sense Tirien as long as they were within a thousand kilometers of each other, but masters and Padawans were supposed to be that way. She had been able to sense the Crescentia at once whenever they reverted to realspace, but there had been hundreds of Jedi aboard then; only the Jedi Temple on Coruscant had a greater concentration of Forceful beings. Here, with infinite space in every direction—and over a week after the battle, when the inertia of explosion really could have sent pieces of ship out to the edge of the system—the sheer scale of the problem was daunting.

I'm a Jedi, Narasi reminded herself. Tirien wouldn't throw up his hands in defeat; he would just close his eyes and point out the way to go. Narasi didn't have her master's raw power, but she was the senior Jedi now. Taking a deep breath, she stretched out with her feelings, searching for flickers of the Force in the vastness of space…

And she gasped, clutching her chest as she pitched forward against the instrument panel. Behind her, Jirdo stumbled into a side panel.

"Ahh!" Zaella said. "What?! What the hell?!"

"C-Can't you feel it?" Narasi asked, wide-eyed.

Distantly, she perceived Zaella reaching into the Force; it felt like listening to someone nearby hum along with an orchestra. It didn't take long before Zaella's eyes opened—slow, and not far. "I feel it…"

"It must be where they…where the ship was destroyed," Jirdo said.

Where they died, Narasi thought. The deaths of hundreds of Jedi, not to mention the hundreds of thousands in the fleet, had marred the Force—a bloodstain even vacuum couldn't wash out. It was that horrible sensation that squeezed Narasi's chest until she couldn't breathe, stung her eyes like she wanted to cry tears that wouldn't come, and twisted her nerves raw. She felt an echo of Tirien's despair here; a place like this leeched off the soul, threatening to drag her down into a pool of misery.

She wasn't sure what version of her would crawl back out of that pool if she went under; with an incredible effort, digging her claws into her palms until they dug in, she forced herself past the wound in the Force. "We have to stay focused. Survivors.  Zaella?"

"I…huh? Oh.  Oh yeah." Zaella shook off her ambivalent look and took the controls. "Yeah. Where do you want me to go?"

"I dunno…just take us around. I'll try again.  You ready Jirdo?"

"…yeah. Sure."

He sounded neither ready nor sure, but Narasi knew it was the best she'd get. Closing her eyes, she tried to think around the echoes of Darshkére's slaughter, searching for any friendly life.

And searching.

And searching.

"I think they've picked this place pretty clean," Zaella said some two and a half hours later.

It was the first time she had spoken in over an hour—after Narasi and Jirdo's hushes, her running commentary on the futility of the mission had finally subsided into sullen silence—but even as Narasi blinked her eyes open, she retorted, "We're not done yet. We have to keep trying."

"And if they're all dead?" Zaella demanded. "Every minute we spend here they're likelier to sense us."

"What if they've caught some of them?" asked Jirdo.

Zaella spared him an acidic look over her shoulder. "What if they have? We don't even have boarding gear on this ship.  And even if we did get aboard, took the ship, killed the crew, and sprang the prisoners, do you think Eriadu Control's just going to sit by and watch?  We'd be lucky to even get done killing people before they dusted us."

The sensors had detected flights of Sith starfighters on patrol through space between Eriadu and Docharvee, its moon. They had so far left the Second Chance alone, but Zaella had seen them doing warning runs past crews that were getting aggressive with one another. There were gunships around too—not as fast as the fighters, but with substantially more firepower. The Second Chance ' s shields could hold off the fighters for a while, but then the gunships would pulverize it; it could outrun the gunships, but only by dropping shield power to max out the engines, and even at top speed it couldn't outrun the fighters. Narasi's inner Jedi Guardian grumbled, but no matter how they swung it, picking a fight was the wrong way to go.

"We're not gonna fight anybody," Narasi decided, "but we'll keep looking. Fly…I dunno, that way, nobody's over there."

"That's because the next closest thing that way is Omwat," Zaella muttered, but she banked the Second Chance anyway.

Another hour and two more frustrated comments from Zaella later, Narasi opened her eyes and leaned toward the viewport. The nearest scavengers were thousands of kilometers away, and she could see all of Eriadu's disc in one corner. Zaella, who was now flying one-handed, picked her face up off her other hand, yawned, and asked, "Now what?"

"That way," Narasi said. "There's something that way."

"A quarter of the galaxy is 'that way'. Think you could narrow it down?"

Narasi switched the controls back to the pilot's seat instead, turning the Second Chance to follow her senses. Jirdo leaned forward, a hand on each of their seats, his frowning face between them. "I don't sense anything."

"I just have a hunch," Narasi replied, but she knew it was more than that. The twist in the Force was too familiar, and it brought with it a host of memories—trading wry quips around Tirien's exasperated expression, the dim of the slaver's hold at Carosi and the dusty cool of a warehouse on Milagro, the vocoder's buzz. It beggared belief that anyone could survive out in vacuum this long, but if any Jedi on the Crescentia had the power…could it be…?

"He's out there," Narasi said, and for the first time since their arrival at Vondarc she grinned. "Go get ready at the ramp."

"What? Narasi, it's hard vacuum!"

"We have breath masks back in one of the cabinets. You'll only need it open for a few seconds."

"Why not just use the cargo bay?" Jirdo offered.

"And risk the bomb falling out?" Narasi would've traded the bomb for Slejux any day, but she could well imagine how Tirien would respond to that after everything that had happened on Circumtore. And in her heart of hearts, she knew Slejux would never make the trade. "Besides, do you know how many megalights we're pulling? I need somebody to cushion his impact so we don't kill him."

The tip of Zaella's intact lek curled. "So why don't you catch him?"

"Because she's the only one who can sense where he is," Jirdo said. He swallowed, then stood up and took a deep breath. "I'll get him."

He turned and set off toward the hold. Narasi saw Zaella wrestling with herself in her peripheral vision, but in the end the Twi'lek hissed and got to her feet. "We let him do it and your friend'll be a grease stain on the hull. We're at a new level of stupid here, Rican; you owe me for this."

But off she went nonetheless, and Narasi felt a surge of affection for her. We'll make a Jedi of you yet, Sabir.

With infinite distance to all sides and nothing on the sensors, Narasi struggled to gauge distance. She didn't want to open the ramp sooner than necessary and leak more oxygen, but neither did she want to miss Slejux—or hit him herself. One thing at a time, she told herself. ''Be a Jedi. Feel the Force.''

And she did. The bright spot only shone as much light into the Force as one of the distant stars, but even in the depths of space, starlight gleamed, and so too Slejux. Without meaning too, Narasi pulled back on the throttle. She realized she needed to talk to Zaella, but the Force knew it too, and a twist of her will turned on the intraship comm. "Ready?"

"To try your catastrophically stupid plan? Yeah, we're all set."

They were closing in; Narasi could feel it. She dropped the throttle, but even as the ship's reverse thrusters fought against inertia, she worried it would be too much. The satellites orbiting Eriadu covered kilometers every second; traversing dozens of megalights at a time to catch up to a Jedi adrift and then suddenly decelerating to slower-than-orbit speed was almost impossible.

Not for a Jedi, Narasi told herself. Holding the control yoke with one hand and the throttle with the other, she closed her eyes, letting the Force guide her. Almost there…almost…

"Open the ramp!"

A second later a roar filled the whole ship; Narasi heard things banging around the hold and Zaella cursing, and the sudden wind pulled her Padawan braid back over her shoulder. Too late, she thought of Gizmo, and her heart skipped a beat, but there was nothing she could do now. The ship rattled as it spilled oxygen, and Narasi cranked hard on the reverse thrusters. "CATCH HIM!"

She sensed a surge of the Force as Zaella and Jirdo bent their powers toward catching Slejux. A metal clang echoed down the corridor; Narasi hoped Slejux had crammed himself into a miniature escape pod, and that it hadn't been the sound of his breathing apparatus colliding with a wall. But she sensed that familiar signature inside the ship, though fainter now; had he been hurt in the rescue? Setting the ship on autopilot, she closed the ramp, unstrapped her crash webbing, and ran to the hold.

Zaella and Jirdo lay on the deck, both panting, tangled together in the safety cables they had clipped to their belts and the ship's internal struts. Jirdo had gone paler than usual behind his breath mask, but Zaella had enough energy to glower in Narasi's direction. Narasi grabbed them by the wrists and pulled them to their feet.

"Where is he?" she asked, ignoring their groans.

Jirdo peeled his breath mask off and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Narasi. He wasn't there."

"He…what? No, I sensed him come aboard!"

Struggling to free herself from Jirdo while also jerking her breath mask up over her lekku, Zaella said, "No, he's right. There was nobody, Narasi.  Just this."

She tossed something, and Narasi caught it reflexively. Purple and green metal wrought in square and hexagonal faces, translucent plates that showed the lattice of crystal beneath, an aura of power even deactivated…it was Master Kwhuel's holocron. "But…"

Words failed her, but the Force gave her the answer. Narasi could feel the echo of Slejux's touch on the cool durasteel, but it was no more than a memory. And even as she stared at the holocron, the last whispers of that memory faded, until all of Slejux Nissatak was gone from the galaxy and she was left with nothing but unfeeling metal in her hand.

Narasi stared a moment more, then hurled the holocron away from her. As it bounced across the deck, she screamed, all her pent-up emotions and anguish gushing out. She clutched fistfuls of her own hair as loose supplies bounced off the walls and a bulkhead nearby buckled inward with a groan of metal. When her rage was spent, she leaned back against a bulkhead, covering her face with her hands.

A warm hand touched her shoulder, and Jirdo said, "I'm really sorry about your friend."

Narasi wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and sighed. "Yeah. Me too."

But that tripped her memory, and she thrust off the wall and stormed into the hold. "Gizmo? Gizmo!"

"He's fine," Zaella said. "He's in his cabinet."

Narasi tugged at it, but found it was locked. Once she released it, she pulled the gizka into her arms. "Oh, buddy, I'm so glad you're okay!"

As he croaked and licked her cheek, Jirdo said, "Yeah, when you said we'd be open to vacuum, Zaella thought to secure—"

"Shut up!" Zaella growled.

Jirdo clammed up in the face of her glare, but Narasi set Gizmo down, crossed the hold, and hugged Zaella. The Twi'lek shuffled uncomfortably, but after a second she sighed and hugged Narasi back. When they parted, Zaella said, "I'm sorry about your friend too."

Narasi nodded, but when she looked around for the holocron she couldn't find it. She felt a spike of fear—on top of losing Slejux forever, had she damaged the holocron in her burst of temper? Then she noticed Tirien had moved; he was still sitting against the wall, but he had raised his head to look at the holocron in his hand. Though Narasi was sure he recognized it at once, no hint of that emotion or any other touched his dead face. After a moment he set the holocron back down on the deck, closed his eyes, and put his forehead against his arms.

Ayson, Slejux…Master La'altac, with his kind eyes and gentle wisdom…Narasi knew it would drag her down too soon. "Let's get out of here. We can go to Pelagon and…I dunno, regroup."

"All this for a holocron?" Zaella grunted as they headed to the cockpit.

"I'm sorry." Narasi buckled herself back into the pilot's seat and sighed. "For what it's worth, supposedly Master Kwhuel's holocron's really important."

Zaella took the co-pilot's seat again. "Why, what does it do?"

"You know, a better question is probably 'Who made it?'" Jirdo said. Zaella turned her narrow eyes on him and he shifted to stand behind Narasi, but he said, "I mean, each holocron just contains the knowledge of its maker. So who was Master Kwhuel?"

"He was this Wol Cabbashite Jedi—" Narasi said, but that was as far as she got before she noticed the cluster of signals converging on Docharvee. Intuition had her turning the Second Chance that way before she fully realized what she was doing. "I wonder what they're all so excited about…"

Zaella looked over the control panels. "Can you slice their comms?"

Pressing the throttle forward, Narasi gave Zaella a look. "I know the new display's really fancy, but take a look at what the sensors are actually picking up, then tell me if you think we've got the hardware to slice comms."

Zaella narrowed her eyes; Narasi returned the look, then stuck out her tongue. Zaella rolled her eyes, but one corner of her mouth twitched. "Right. So what, you think they're after another Jedi?"

A real one, this time? her tone suggested. Narasi grimaced as she turned back to the viewport. "Well, they're all excited about something, and that can't be good."

Zaella played with the sensor display, expanding and contracting the view, splitting the images into multiple projections, until Narasi said, "You're not gonna make the sensor any better."

"Well, what do you want me to do, then?"

"See if there are any open channels—maybe Eriadu Control's saying something."

As Zaella tuned in, Jirdo asked, "What can I do to help?"

"Hop on the guns," Zaella suggested. "If we steal a Jedi from under their noses, they're not gonna be happy about it."

"No," Narasi countered. "If we have to make a break for it, the guns will sap power. We'll need to throw everything into the engines to outrun those gunships."

That still left the problem of the fighters, but before anybody could point that out, Zaella got the comms tuned, and the speaker said, "—peat, unconfirmed reports of a Jedi on Docharvee at coordinates—"

Jirdo repeated the coordinates out loud until Zaella got them plugged into the projector and highlighted a spot on the moon's display. "Here. Looks like it's about a klick outside…some sort of technological clump.  City, maybe?  Geez, you really need to upgrade—"

"Yeah, ship's old, got it!" Narasi kicked up the engines. "Jirdo, go tell my master there's a Jedi down there! We'll need his help."

"I…okay." Jirdo sounded uncomfortable, but he went.

When he was gone, Zaella asked, "Think he'll snap out of it?"

''Of course he will. How could he not? He has to…'' "I hope so."

Docharvee swelled until it filled the viewport, and the scavenger ships swelled from gleaming pinpoints of reflected light to shapes Narasi could identify as spacecraft. There were other flashes, though, and she bared her teeth. "They're shooting at somebody!"

In what passed for atmosphere on Docharvee, the Second Chance ' s repulsors drove it past several other ships late to the party. As the blur of gray and white below started to resolve into individual landforms, Narasi said, "Take the controls."

"What are you doing this time?"

"If there's a Jedi, I'll need to sense him."

"Just open your eyes!"

Narasi glanced at the sensors and realized all the ships were converging on a spot not far from the coordinates Control had provided. As she banked the ship that way, she felt the Force catch her like a tractor beam, pulling her in the same direction. Docharvee flashed past below, but Narasi's eyes were on the conflict in the distance.

Some of the scavenger ships flew strafing runs over the terrain—whether to box the Jedi in or kill outright, Narasi couldn't be sure. Others deployed their own crews—with jetpacks, rappelling lines, and just touching down on the moon's surface and opening the doors—and their parent ships flew interference to protect them, obstructing other scavengers or even shooting at them. Two nimble light freighters danced around the whole mess in a dogfight everyone else ignored, while others circled at the edges of the pack.

"Can we magnify…" Zaella rolled her eyes. "Of course not, silly me. Level out, would you?  I'll see if I can enhance my sight."

Narasi tried to keep the Second Chance steady as Zaella called on the Force. She had reached the outskirts of the conflict, dodging a heavily-armed clunker and weaving around stray laserfire from the dueling ships above, when Zaella blinked and shook her head. "Ugh, flashblind."

"Did you see the Jedi?!"

"Yeah, there's an Arcona—"

"Yan Razam!" Narasi got herself free of the crash webbing. "Get me to her!"

"What?! Narasi—!"

But she was already running, not even stopping to check on Tirien and Jirdo. As she slapped the ramp button, she barked, "Gizmo, hide!"

The wind howling up the ramp billowed her robes and pulling her braid back, but Narasi hooked herself up with one of the discarded safety cables and slid down the ramp until the cable snapped tight. She was a meter short of the ramp's edge, but Zaella was flying only a few meters above the ground. Trying to keep her feet, Narasi squinted into the ferocious wind and spotted a dark figure ahead. "Yan! YAN!"

Tirien had never taught her his trick for amplifying her voice, but she tried to project her mind into the Force instead, a telepathic nav beacon for Yan to follow. She thought she got an acknowledgment, though it was too weak to be sure. As they closed in, Narasi held out a hand, but Yan didn't turn in time and the Second Chance roared by.

As Narasi started to haul herself up the ramp to hit the intraship comm, the whole ship banked up and cranked hard sideways, and Narasi bounced off a support strut. Groaning and rubbing the ribs she hoped she hadn't just re-broken, she heard the comm sputter to life. "Sorry! They figured out what we're doing and took a shot at us.  We won't be able to get that low again, I need room to maneuver."

"Just get me back there!" Narasi hollered, then slid to the edge of the cable as the Second Chance came around for another pass. Yan would know they were coming this time, but Zaella was flying much higher—a Jedi could make it on a leap, but only with the Force, and even then it might be close. Again Narasi stopped a meter from the edge, but this time she drew her lightsaber and cut the cable in one movement. Catching the strut at the edge of the ramp, she hugged her chest to it while she held out her other hand.

Yan deflected blasterfire from the hunters on the ground, but none of the reflected bolts came anywhere near the shooters. For a second Narasi wished she had put Jirdo on the gun after all, but a rival pack of scavengers opened fire on the first batch, catching several by surprise until they rallied and shot back. In the confusion, Yan made a break for it, and this time Narasi sensed her preparations. As Zaella jinked and juked, Yan got a running start and leapt.

Zaella wrenched the Second Chance around to line up on her, but the Force told Narasi Yan wasn't going to make it; she envisioned Yan's claws scratching the end of the ramp like it was happening, only seconds before it did. With no time to spare for thought, Narasi straddled the strut, locked her ankles together, and dropped to hang under the ship. The wind blinded her, but the Force could see, and she reached out in time to catch Yan's forearm.

"GOTCHA!" she crowed, but her celebration was short-lived. The Second Chance rocked back and forth as Zaella dodged fire, and Narasi had to grab Yan with her other arm lest she drop her. As the strut's metal ground against her tibias even through the leather of her boots, and the ramp's edge cut the backs of her knees, Narasi realized she didn't have a plan for getting Yan—or herself—back in the ship. She tried to pull, but even her brute strength was no use against Yan's weight and the breakneck speed tugging them both under the ramp.

"Let go!" Yan howled.

"What?! This was all to rescue you!"

"You'll just get yourselves killed too! Let me go, Narasi!"

"GET IN!" Zaella bellowed so loudly Narasi heard her more clearly than the comm.

"Grab my belt!" Narasi pulled, and she got her elbows bent, but Yan refused to climb up her; she caught Narasi's hand instead, levering against one of her thumbs. "No! Yan!"

Yan's alien features were hard to read, but Narasi sensed some great weight behind her words when she said, "Go and pay 'em back for me later!"

She pried one of Narasi's thumbs loose, and suddenly Narasi only had her with one hand. Pulling with all her might, crying out against the strain on her shoulder and her spine as she tried to sit up, she felt Yan scrabble against her wrist, clawing for her other thumb.

Just as Yan finally hooked her fingers around Narasi's thumb, Narasi sat forward all at once, faster than she had expected—faster than she alone could have managed. The Force propped her up like a recliner snapping back to chair position, so hard that she threw Yan up the ramp. As she hugged the support strut for dear life, she saw Yan roll to a rest at Tirien's feet. That horrible, frightening fog was gone from his face; instead, he wore an expression of startling intensity. Narasi could only stare, wide-eyed, as he strode down the ramp, caught her by the collar, and pulled her up higher to safety.

She hugged him around the waist as he slapped the ramp button—her legs were jelly, and it was the highest point on his body he could manage. But he pulled her upright and barked, "Punch it, Zaella!"

"Now you're awake?!" Zaella snapped, but the Second Chance accelerated in a rush; Yan bounced off a bulkhead, but Tirien kept Narasi on her feet.

"Jirdo, help Yan," he said. "Keep her stable until we get out of here."

"On it!" Jirdo promised, catching Yan under her armpits and pulling her into the hold as Tirien led the way to the cockpit.

Narasi thought he would take the pilot's seat, but he pushed Narasi into it instead. "Narasi, get us out of here. Zaella, up on the gun."

"If we split power—"

"Now."

Narasi and Zaella both jumped, but Zaella sprang out of her seat and ran for the double gun without another word. Tirien slipped into the co-pilot's chair, buckling on his crash webbing, as Narasi asked, "What are you gonna do?"

He typed at the navicomputer, then called up a sensor display of the ships pursuing them. "Give you some cover. Let the Force guide you."

Narasi nodded, then turned her attention to the front viewport, though she was only half-watching the starscape. The Force wanted her to go a dozen different directions at once, and the Second Chance spun crazy corkscrews and loop-the-loops dodging laserfire, though shots still impacted the rear shields. She kept shooting glances at the main power readout; every time the double gun thundered, the shields dimmed just a bit. "Told you we should've put those efficient conduits in."

She expected Tirien's command to focus, or else a verbal riposte, but when she looked over she saw his eyes were closed and his brows tight, like he was remembering something unpleasant. When his eyes opened, he adjusted the sensor display, and it produced a red holo outline of their nearest pursuer—one of the light freighters that had been dueling above Docharvee.

"Zaella, hold fire," Tirien said into the comm. "Aim for the cockpit and wait for my mark."

"What're you doing?" Narasi asked.

"You just keep flying, let me worry about this."

Tirien fixed the holo with a stare, holding one palm toward it as if to take it in hand. Narasi weaved past a freighter trying to intercept them, banked around a transport-sized piece of shrapnel marked with the Republic's spoked wheel, and made for open space. There was nothing to hide behind there, but there was infinite room to maneuver.

Tirien's fingers trembled and his lips pulled back from his teeth; Narasi sensed his enormous concentration, the Force answering his call. Just as she was about to ask again, though, Tirien pantomimed swiping motions at the control panel with both hands, the sensor display flashed, and Narasi saw the pursuing ship drop its fore shields. "What are they—"

"Now, Zaella!"

A heartbeat later the double gun fired, and with no fore shields, the light freighter took the full blast right in the cockpit. Decapitated, all its controls and probably most of its crew dead in a second, it bucked, then started spinning end-over-end. Pieces broke off, striking those ships next in the pursuit. Several more of their tails scattered, and Narasi bottomed out their own fore shields to flood the engines and put some space between them as Zaella cackled over the comm. "HA! Suck on that, sleemo!"

"What'd you do, turn off their shields from here?" Narasi asked, astonished.

Tirien sat back, breathing hard. "Something like that…"

A laser bolt flashed by. The shooter was too far out to have a prayer of hitting a Jedi pilot, but it did remind Narasi they weren't home free yet. "How long until we've got the coordinates to Pelagon?"

Wiping his face with his sleeve, Tirien looked at the navicomputer. "Thirty seconds."

"Yo!" Zaella called. "Fighters incoming, fast!"

In the time it took Tirien to redirect the sensors to the broad field of pursuit, Darshkére's fighters had eaten up half the distance separating them. As freighters went, the Second Chance was pretty fast, but even at maximum speed it would never outrun any starfighter faster than a bomber. The Force turned Narasi's wrists before she was fully refocused, and the Second Chance dodged the first spray of laserfire as Zaella shot back.

"Can you do anything?" Narasi asked. On a sudden inspiration—triggered, maybe, by that bittersweet wisp of Slejux that had clung to Master Kwhuel's holocron—she suggested, "Do what Slejux did on Milagro! Send 'em the wrong way or something!"

"There's no terrain to lose them in here," Tirien observed, but he grimaced as he studied the sensor display. "But maybe 'or something'…Keep us alive another twenty seconds, I'll do what I can."

He bent his will to the Force as Narasi focused on piloting. She had to put some power back into the fore shields as the fighters overshot them and swept around for another pass, but of course that only slowed them further. The Second Chance ' s shields absorbed the first few rounds without much effect, but as more bolts hit home, the shield readout turned from green to yellow. Zaella fired with uncanny aim, scattering attacking flights over and over, but the enemy pilots were good, and Zaella only caught one of them, and even that was a glancing shot that sent the fighter spiraling away into the cosmos instead of killing it outright.

They weren't Jedi—or even Dark Jedi—but they had to be some of Darshkére's best, which made it all the more surprising when two of them suddenly swerved on collision courses and exploded in a single fireball. Another abandoned a strafing run and angled right at them, and this time Zaella hit so dead-center that the cockpit exploded and sent all three wings off in different directions. Narasi glanced at Tirien and saw the tendons in his neck standing out.

The navicomputer beeped. As Tirien gasped, Narasi swerved hard, lining the Second Chance up as the rear shield display started beeping too. When the readout flashed to show her lined up on the Rimma, she said, "Hit it!"

He seized the hyperdrive lever and slammed it forward, and they escaped into hyperspace.