Part 41 (2/2)

Her legs were starting to throb now where the girder had landed on her.

Stretching out to the Force to suppress the pain, she headed in a limping run toward the nearest pylon turbolift.

”We made a bargain!” Kav snarled. ”You were to destroy Outbound Flight for us!”

”I never made any such bargain,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. ”I agreed only to do what I deemed necessary to eliminate the threat posed by the expedition.”

”That was not what we wanted,” Kav insisted.

”You were in no position to make demands,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo reminded him. ”Nor are you now.”

There was a sudden hiss from the comm. ”So,” an almost unrecognizable voice ground out. ”You think you have won, alien?” The display came alive .

. . and a cold s.h.i.+ver ran up Doriaria's back.

It was Jorus C'baoth, pale and disheveled, his clothing torn and blood-spattered, one side of his face badly burned. But his eyes blazed with the same arrogant fire that Doriana had seen that day long ago in Supreme Chancellor Palpatine's office.

He groped for Mitth'raw'nuruodo's sleeve. ”Kav is right-you have to destroy them,” he hissed urgently. ”If you don't, we're dead.”

Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyes flicked to him, then back to the comm. ”I have indeed won,” he told C'baoth. ”I have only to give a single order-” His hand s.h.i.+fted slightly on his control board, his fingertips coming to rest on a covered switch edged in red. ”-and you and all your people will die.

Is your pride worth so much to you?”

”A Jedi does not yield to pride,” C'baoth spat. ”Nor does he yield to empty threats. He follows only the dictates of his own destiny.”

”Then choose your destiny,” Mitth'raw'nuruodo said. ”I'm told the role of the Jedi is to serve and defend.”

”You were told wrongly,” C'baoth countered. ”The role of the Jedi is to lead and guide, and to destroy all threats.” The unburned corner of his lip twisted upward in a bitter smile.

And without warning, Thrawn's head jerked back, his whole body pressing back against his seat. His hand darted to his throat, clutching uselessly at it.

”Commander!” Doriana snapped, grabbing reflexively for Mitth'raw'nuruodo's collar.

But it was no use. The invisible power that was choking the life out of him wasn't something physical that Doriana might be able to push aside.

C'baoth was using the Force . . . and there was nothing Doriana or anyone else could do to stop him.

In a handful of minutes, Mitth'raw'nuruodo would be dead.

Lorana was in a turbolift car heading down the forward pylon when she felt C'baoth's attack echoing through her mind like the sound of a distant hammer. For a minute she puzzled at it, sensing his anger and frustration and pride, wondering what in the worlds he was doing.

And then, abruptly, the horrifying truth sliced through her like the blade of a lightsaber. ”No!” she shouted reflexively toward the turbolift car ceiling. ”Master C'baoth-no!”

But it was too late. In his single-minded thirst for revenge, Jorus C'baoth, Jedi Master, had gone over to the dark side.

A wave of pain and revulsion swept over Lorana, as agonizing as salt in an open wound. She had never seen a Jedi fall before. She'd known it could happen, and that it had in fact happened many times throughout history. But it had always seemed something comfortably distant, something that could never happen to anyone she knew.

Now it had . . . and following close behind the wave of pain came an even more powerful wave of guilt.

Because she'd been his Padawan, the person who'd spent the most time with him. The one person, Master Ma'Ning had once suggested, whom he might have actually listened to.

Could she have prevented this? Should she have stood up to him earlier, with or without the support of Ma'Ning or the others, when he first began to gather power and authority to himself? Certainly she'd tried talking to him in private on more than one occasion. But each time he'd brushed off her concerns, a.s.suring her that all was well. Should she have pressed him more strongly? Forced him-somehow-to listen?

But she hadn't. And now it was too late.

Or was it? ”We don't have to kill anyone,” she murmured, focusing her mind toward D-1, trying desperately to send the thought or at least the sense to him. She fumbled for her comlink, only to discover that she'd lost it in the attack on the weapons blister. ”We don't have to kill them,” she continued, pleading with him. ”We can just go home. All they want is for us to go home.”

But there was no reply. C'baoth could undoubtedly sense her protest, but all she could sense in return was his indifference to her anguish, and his determination to continue along the path he'd now set himself upon.

It was indeed too late.

Perhaps, a small voice whispered inside her, it had always been too late.

The turbolift came to a halt and the door opened into the storage core.

For a long minute she stood in the doorway, wondering if she should leave the prisoners where they were for now and try to get to D-1.

But she would never make it in time. And even if she did, it would do her no good. She could sense the rigid set of C'baoth's mind, and she knew from long experience that even if she were standing at his side there was nothing she could say or do now to stop him. He would continue his attack until he had killed Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo, then more, until he had killed all the rest of the Chiss out there.

Her heart aching, she stepped out into the storage core and limped toward the trapped crew members and their families. Even a Jedi, she thought bitterly, could do only so much.

But what she could do, she would.

The bridge crew was on it in a matter of seconds, shoving Doriana roughly aside and cl.u.s.tering around Mitth'raw'nuruodo as they fought to free him from the unseen attack that was killing him. But their efforts were as useless as Doriana's had been.

Standing at the edge of the frantic activity, Doriana looked at the comm display and tried desperately to think. If the Chiss attack had weakened C'baoth enough . . . but there was no sign of weakness in the eyes blazing from that ruined face. Could Doriana shut off the display, then, and at least rob the Jedi of his view of his victim? But Doriana had no idea where that control was, and he didn't speak any language the rest of the bridge crew understood. Besides, he wasn't sure that cutting off the display would do any good anyway.

And then, his gazed dropped from C'baoth's face to Thrawn's control board. The board, and the red-rimmed switch.

It might be nothing. But it was all he had. Pus.h.i.+ng past the crewers who stood in his way, he flipped back the cover and pressed the switch.

And then, even as they continued to pound mercilessly against the Vagaari wars.h.i.+ps, the droid starfighters abruptly turned from their attack and fled.

Car'das frowned, pressing the macrobinoculars tighter against his face. A sizable percentage of the Vagaari fleet was still untouched, the surviving s.h.i.+ps scrambling madly for the edge of Thrawn's gravity projector field. Yet all of the starfighters were leaving. Had they drained their solid-fuel engines already?

He caught his breath. No; the starfighters weren't running away from the Vagaari. They were running toward Outbound Flight.

He was still staring in disbelief when the first wave hit.

Not simply attacking, blasting away with laser cannons and energy torpedoes. They literally hit the Dreadnaughts, slamming at full speed into their hulls and vaporizing in brilliant flashes with the force of their impacts. The second wave did the same, this group striking different sections of the Dreadnaughts' hulls. Through the smoke and debris came the third and fourth waves, these groups pouring laser cannon fire and energy torpedoes into the damaged weapons blisters and s.h.i.+eld generators.

And with a sudden chill, Car'das understood. The first two waves of starfighters hadn't been trying to breach the Dreadnaughts' thick armor plating. Their goal had merely been to create dents in the hulls at very specific points.

The points where the interior blast doors were positioned.

And now, with those doors disabled or warped enough to prevent a proper air seal, the rest of the starfighters were opening the Dreadnaughts to s.p.a.ce.

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