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Try though he did, Rune could not suppress a shiver as he took his first step out of the bacta tank. The inside hadn’t exactly been calibrated for comfort, but the deck felt glacial under his bare feet. The patient room was dim and cramped, most of its space being taken up by the tank and a few other medical devices.
Neatly folded on the bed in front of Rune was a familiar uniform: a dark combat vest with a blood-colored robe, and on the floor before it his boots. Both looked brand new. The absence of his lightsaber was worrying, but even as he stood there shivering, his whole being tingled with glee as he remembered that he was alive!
Not that he hadn’t realized it before. There had been periods of lucidity inside the bacta tank, during which he had been able to recall what had happened. He remembered being alongside a dozen of his brothers, sprinting through the labyrinthine corridors of Cairn Base to deal with a pair of Jedi intruders. He remembered leaping down upon Skywalker and Katarn from a hangar bay catwalk, remembered the bloodthirsty ecstasy of finally crossing blades with the hated Jedi Knights. And he remembered the contest's dreadfully sudden ending: feeling the uncommon agony of lightsaber blades raking his chest and his back, then tumbling against a nearby crate, unable to catch himself, unable to scream or ask for help…
But all that pain was gone now, and Rune was whole again. He remembered the words of Master Desann in the Valley of the Jedi: You have been reborn in the glory of the Force!
Now I’m reborn again, thought Rune as he donned his pants and boots. His satisfaction was short-lived, though, as his ears registered a familiar throbbing, mechanical wail—Cairn Base was on full alert.
A murmur in the Force gave him a few seconds’ warning before the door hissed open and harsh gray light spilled into the room. Having only just gotten into his vest, Rune whirled and snarled against the glare, ready to lash out at whatever idiot nurse or medical droid was disturbing him.
But a heartbeat later, he reined in his anger. The intruder, fully suited in cortosis-melded shadow armor, was not someone to snarl at. As the Artusian Force-crystal embedded in the armor’s chestplate radiated an emerald glow, so it and the tall, broad-shouldered man wearing it exuded dark power. The shadowtroopers were Master Desann’s elite, and as far as Rune knew, only one had been assigned to stay and guard Cairn Base rather than join the assault on Yavin IV.
Instinctively, Rune stood up straighter. “Vrekis? What’s happening? How long was I—”
“Five standard days.” Vrekis' helmet vocoder filtered his voice much like those of the common stormtroopers, but Rune had trained with this man before he’d earned that armor, and knew that he sounded just as gravelly and harsh without it. “The droid says you’re fully recovered. We need you ready for battle. Now.”
“But what’s going on?” protested Rune, still blinking against the harsh light from the doorway. “What happened to Katarn—and Skywalker?
“They both escaped.” Vrekis paused, perhaps taking a deep breath. “Master Desann and Admiral Fyyar are dead.”
“What?”
“Their mission has failed; the Doomgiver was destroyed at Yavin. We are all that’s left.” Vrekis’ manner was like all the shadowtroopers’: stony and dispassionate. He could have been a droid.
Rune, on the other hand, was left reeling and dazed, as though the light from the doorway was a c-beam lamp, burning into his eyes. His jaw went slack, and words fell out of his mouth. “How could—”
“There is no time,” said Vrekis, cutting him off. “We’ve been warned—a Rebel fleet is inbound from Ord Mantell and will be arriving today. Within hours. Cairn Base is evacuating. Be in the briefing room in ten minutes.” He slapped a lightsaber hilt into Rune’s hand.
Rune stared numbly down at the weapon. It was undecorated and utilitarian, nothing but smooth black metal, mass-produced and identical to all of his brothers' lightsabers. His original one must have been destroyed in his duel with the Jedi. In any case, this one belonged to Rune now. He sucked in a breath and asked, “Where are we evacuating to?”
“An outpost near the Aeten system. We’ll receive new orders there.”
“Orders from who?” Rune’s jaw clenched as he raised his eyes toward the optical lenses of the shadowtrooper’s helmet. Emergency or not, he resented being barged in on by his superior before he was even finished dressing—and he was angry with himself for keeping the man here by talking so much.
“No more questions. Be at the briefing,” Vrekis told him, and was gone.
Left alone, Rune’s thoughts whirled until they became a cyclone of dread and agitation. After a moment of indecision, he hurriedly pulled the robe on and clipped the lightsaber to his belt. Urgency ran through his body like an electric current; there was no time for thinking.
Raising the dark red hood to shadow his face, Rune stalked from the medbay and found the asteroid base roiling with frantic activity. Olive-uniformed Imperial workers hauled crates and pieces of equipment on repulsor-sleds. Stormtroopers either sped through their patrols or rigidly stood guard. Officers and administrators strutted about as they always did, shouting to be heard over blaring alarms and crackling intercoms.
Anger stewed and simmered inside Rune as he marched down wide hallways and through chaotic concourses. Stress and determination and fear saturated the Force, and the Force flowed into him, sharpening his senses, if not his mind.
Shadowtroopers may have been the ones with full armor, but the Reborn had masks of their own, and Rune employed his here. His half-shrouded face was a permanent scowl, a fiery sneer. Despite their urgent occupations, none of the base personnel were too busy to notice him; a mere glance was enough to send workers, troopers, and officers alike scrambling out of his way.
Show no weakness, Master Desann had said. Show only ferocity. Flaunt your power before lesser beings—make them all see that you can use it at any moment. Show how little their lives mean to you. They see only a part of the universe, but you have been reborn—stronger. With eyes that see.
The rush to the briefing room gave Rune some sense of balance and clarity. Upon reaching it and finding a seat among his brothers, though, his anxiety soon returned. Addressing them was the base commander, who fretfully paced about before a holomap of the facility.
True to Vrekis' word, the Doomgiver had indeed been lost at Yavin, along with Master Desann and Admiral Fyyar. Desann’s apprentice, Tavion, was thought to be dead as well, and the cursed Rebellion was quickly tightening a noose around what remained of their forces.
Following the Doomgiver's ill-fated departure, the Star Destroyer Resolute II had come to protect Cairn Base. Now it was their only hope of escape, and a small fleet of transports and shuttlecraft were already ferrying personnel and cargo aboard. The incoming Rebel forces promised to be overwhelming, but it was thought that their aim was to capture the facility intact.
Thus, the evacuation depended first upon the Resolute II and its fighter screen. In the event that Rebel forces managed to board the space station, it would be up to its complement of stormtroopers and the Reborn to hold them off. Cairn Base had been critical to the shadowtrooper project, in terms both of research and production. The precious cortosis shipments from Bespin, as well as all other materials related to Admiral Fyyar’s work, had to be kept safe from their enemies.
As for the Reborn themselves, clustered near the front of the briefing room, there were twenty-five left, counting Vrekis and Rune himself.
We are all that’s left, the shadowtrooper had said in the medbay.
Toward the end of the briefing, the base commander spent a moment babbling about rendezvousing with allied forces after reaching the Aeten system. Apparently they were going to see if Fleet Admiral Pellaeon could find a place for them under his command. That answered one of Rune’s questions, but there were still many left over—far too many, and ones that no one in the room could answer for him.
The briefing ended. Men streamed from the room, and the crowd swept Rune out into the base's still-bustling corridors. Suddenly unable to bear all the shouting and activity, he took a random turn and marched as fast as he could, trying to outpace it. The Rebels weren’t attacking them right this minute. If only he could have a few moments to himself to think…