Survivor's Quest

"They should be," Pressor said. "I've got everything locked down between Four and Five, but from Six up to here they should still work."

"You copy that?" Luke called.

"Copy," Fel confirmed. "General Drask's calling the Chaf Envoy for the rest of his warriors. If we hurry, maybe we can catch Bearsh and his friends in a pincer."

"Except that Pressor's locked down all the turbolifts from D-Four," Mara interjected. "That was what you said, wasn't it?"

"It was," Pressor confirmed, punching keys on his own comlink. "Maybe I'd better confirm that was actually done. Trilli?"

Someone answered in a voice too quiet for Mara to hear. Pressor lowered his own voice, half turning away and speaking rapidly as he brought the person on the other end up to date.

Luke caught Mara's eye. "What do you think?" he asked.

"We don't have time to be creative," Mara said. "Not with Jinzler and the others under attack. Straight in is about all we've got to work with."

"Agreed," Luke said. "Unless we want to layer the attack, with us leading the charge and the Five-Oh-First, the Chiss, and Pressor's Peacekeepers coming in backup waves."

"We may not have any choice on the layering part," Mara pointed out. They'd reached a section of the ship where most of the permlights were functioning, she noted, as well as the majority of the regular lights. The line creepers must not have gotten a stranglehold on this area yet. "The Chiss in particular are going to have to gear up from stage zero. Who knows how long that'll take?"

"Let's find out," Luke said, lifting the comlink to his lips again. "Fel, did you hear the question?"

"Yes, but it appears to be a moot point," Fel said grimly. "Drask can't make contact with the ship. No answer, on any cha

Mara looked at Luke, her heart suddenly tight in her chest. He was staring back at her, a haunted expression on his face. The flurry of deaths they'd both sensed while they were down on D-l...

"Luke?"

"Yes, we heard," Luke said. "Better get your team up here on the double. There's a good chance they may already have taken out the Chaf Envoy."

"Understood," Fel said grimly. "We're on our way."

Luke clicked off the comlink. "Guardian?"

"Looks like you can scratch most of our help, too," Pressor said darkly as he jammed his comlink back onto his belt. "Six of my Peacekeepers are missing."

"Six out of how many?" Mara asked.

Pressor snorted gently. "Eleven, including me. We weren't exactly a serious fighting force to begin with." He waved his blaster. "But they were here the whole time, either in the turbolift or with my people. When could any of them have slipped away, either back to your ship or to hit my men?"

"The key is that they weren't all here," Luke told him. "We had to leave one of them behind."

"Because of injuries sustained in a mysterious sneak attack," Mara added sourly. "What do you think, Luke? They shot Estosh themselves?"

"It's starting to look that way," Luke agreed, pausing to look down a cross-corridor before passing it by. "But at least they don't have the element of surprise anymore."

"They apparently had it long enough," Pressor said bitterly.

"Don't worry, we'll get them," Mara said. "What did you tell your people?"

"I told the ones who are left to hold position, observe, and stand ready to defend those around them if attacked," Pressor said, his jaw set belligerently. "Two of them were in that room with your people, and I'm not going to risk the others on some bantha-brained attack until I have a better idea what we're up against."

If he was expecting an argument, he was disappointed. "I agree," Luke said. "Actually, right now we need their eyes and ears around the ship more than we need the extra firepower."

"Absolutely," Mara agreed. "After all, how much trouble can four or five Vagaari make?"

She would remember that rhetorical question for a long time afterward. With Pressor in the lead, they rounded a jog in the corridor and ran straight into the Vagaari.

But not four Vagaari. Not even five Vagaari.

There were eight of them, Bearsh and seven others, striding down the corridor toward them about ten meters away. Bearsh was still dressed in his usual robe and tunic, minus his wolvkil, but the others were outfitted like soldiers, with helmets and full combat armor, armed with an eclectic mix of Chiss charrics and Old Republic blasters and carbines. Two wolvkils prowled ahead of them like advance scouts, while five more wove in and out of their formation like a fighter escort.

The two groups spotted each other at the same moment. "Halt!" Pressor ordered, snapping his blaster up to point at Bearsh.

The Vagaari halted, all right, in exactly the way Mara would have expected trained soldiers to. The four in front dropped instantly to one knee, giving the ones behind them a clear shot as all seven raised their weapons in silent warning. The wolvkils halted more reluctantly, their eyes glaring balefully at the humans, their tails swishing restlessly.

"Easy," Luke murmured, reaching out a hand to gently push Pressor's blaster out of line. At the same time, he subtly eased a shoulder in front of the other where he would be in a position to protect him if and when the Vagaari decided to start shooting. His lightsaber was ready in his hand, Mara noted, but as yet unignited. "Hello, Bearsh," he called to the Vagaari. "I see you've brought some friends."

"Ah—the Jedi," Bearsh said. If he was at all worried by their sudden appearance, it didn't show in his face. "So you survived the turbolift, after all. I'm very sorry for you."

"Why?" Mara asked, a part of her mind studying the Vagaari soldiers and trying to work through the unexpected numbers. Only five Vagaari had been invited aboard the Chaf Envoy; that much she was sure of. So where had the rest been hidden?

"Because it would have meant a quicker and less painful death for you," Bearsh said. "Now it will involve much more suffering."

"Why does anyone have to die?" Mara asked reasonably. "Why don't you tell us what you want? Maybe we can work something out."

Bearsh's eyes flashed. "You fool," he bit out. "You think the Vagaari can be bought off like trinket dealers in the marketplace?"

"Well, you came on this mission for some reason," Mara pointed out. "What was it?"

Bearsh snorted. "The avenging of fifty years of Vagaari humiliation," he said. "The achieving of fifty years of Vagaari desire. Does that tell you anything?"

"More than you'd think," Mara assured him. It did nothing of the sort, of course, at least not yet. But one of the first rules she'd been taught about interrogation technique was that every bit of information that could be coaxed out of an unwary or talkative subject was a piece that might later prove important to the overall puzzle. "And have you achieved those noble goals?"

Bearsh's twin mouths curved in a bitter smile. "Beyond our most optimistic hopes," he said. "The human remnant we leave behind will spend their last hours cursing themselves for how they have unwittingly served us."

"Sounds intriguing," Mara said encouragingly. "How about letting us in on the secret? We're all going to die soon anyway, right?"

Bearsh's eyes shifted to Luke. "Is this Jedi heroism?" he asked contemptuously. "To let your female speak while you cower in silence?"

Luke stirred. "I'm hardly cowering," he said mildly. "I let Mara do the talking because she's better at this sort of thing than I am. Comes of being trained to interrogate prisoners."

The Vagaari's smile turned smug. "You have it upside down, Jedi," he said softly. "And we have wasted enough time with you. Now, die."

He murmured something, and abruptly the two wolvkils in the lead leapt forward. Mara caught a flicker in Luke's sense as he prepared for combat— "No," she told him, brushing his chest with her fingertips as she took a long step to put herself between him and Pressor and the charging animals. "You did all the climbing. This one's mine."