Shatterpoint

And yet he fought on, and would fight on. Wounds? Right now he could barely feel them.

Because someone he loved was in danger.

"When this is over," he said, nodding his understanding, "you and I will check into a med center. Together." The smile she gave him showed only a trace of pain. Nick poked his head through the cockpit doorway. "Looks like we're a go-hey, look at this" he said with a sudden frown, staring out through the windscreen.

Through the shadows slashing the landing field loped Kar Vaster. His shields flashed eye- stinging highlights from the glowpanel dayfloods that now, with sunset passing, shone upon the ships. He waved as he ran, clearly asking Mace to wait for him.

"What, does he want to fight again or something?" Nick brightened. "Y'know, we could just shoot him-accidentally, like. One of those senseless weapons-check tragedies-" "Nick." "Yeah, yeah." Without expression, Mace watched Vaster approach. Only moments ago-just before he left the command bunker to come out here-he had pulled aside CRC-09,'571 for a private conversation. "Your orders come only from me, do you understand?" he had told the clone commander. "I want you to be absolutely clear on that." CRC-09,'571's helmet had tilted to a quizzical angle. "But Master Billaba-" "Has been relieved of her duties. As has Kar Vaster." "And his men, sir?" "They have no military rank or authority." "Would the general like them disarmed and restrained?" Mace had grimly surveyed the cramped quarters of the command bunker, crowded with troopers and prisoners. In his mind, he saw twenty corpses in a gunship's troop bay. "No. I'm not sure you can. But watch them. They are not to be trusted. They may become violent without warning. They may try to harm the prisoners. Or possibly even you." "Yes, sir." "And get the prisoners out of here. Away from them. Not all at once. Make up some pretext, and start moving them out as efficiently as possible." "And if there is a confrontation, sir?" CRC-09,'571's dry voice had slowed, as though the commander were reluctant to even consider the possibility. "If they attack?" "Defend yourself, your men, and the prisoners," Mace had told him. "Use all necessary force." "Lethal force, sir?" Mace had stared at his own reflection in the commander's smoked eyeshield. He had to swallow once, hard, before he could reply.

"Yes." He'd had to look away; he'd found that reflection too dark for what he knew he had to say. "You are authorized to use lethal force." Out on the landing field, Vaster didn't bother to come around toward the troop bay doors; without breaking stride he burst into a Force leap that carried him up to the Turbostorm's nose below the cockpit with a clank that must have been his deactivated vibroshields getting in the way of his grab for the nose armor. He climbed up into view, settling himself into a crouch on the nose armor outside the windscreen.

He squatted there for a moment, forearms resting on his bent knees, staring gravely at Mace through the opening.

Mace, Jedi of the Windu. Even his growl was reluctant. Almost contemplative.

"Kar." We have not been friends, you and I. If we both survive this day, I suspect that again we will not befriends.

Mace only nodded.

We may not meet again. I would have you know that I am glad I did not kill you this afternoon. No one else could have done what you have done today. No one else could have brought us so far.

This, also, did not call for a reply. Mace waited.

Vastor's mouth compressed as though sharing this caused him pain, and his growl became almost a purr, low in his throat.

I would have you know that I am proud to be your doshalo. You are a credit to the Windu.

Mace took a deep breath. "You," he said, slow, coldly deliberate, M),? arent.

It was Vastor's turn to silently stare.

"I am not Mace, Jedi of the Windu. Windu is my name, not my ghosh. You and I are not doshallai. The Windu are no more, and what you have done disgraces their memory. My ghosh," said Mace Windu, "is the Jedi." He went back to his preflight checklist. "It would be good," he said distantly, "if you were to be gone when I get back." Vaster had turned his face toward the spiral dance of the starfight-ers as Mace spoke; he did not seem to hear. He stared upward as though listening to the stars. He passed a second or two in silence and stillness, then he nodded gravely and looked back at Mace.

Until we meet again, doshalo. He spun like a startled branch leopard and sprang down from the Turbostorm's nose to sprint away across the floodlit permacrete.

Mace flicked the last ten switches into flight sequence, and the Turbostorm rocked gently as its repulsorlifts brought it up to an altitude of just under a meter.

"Let's go." By the time the Turbostorm roared through the spaceport gates into the warehouse district of Pelek Baw, it was already doing over two hundred kilometers an hour. The lightsaber gap in the windscreen shrieked like a bad wailhorn in a third-rate smazzo band. Immense night-blackened blocks of warehouses crowded the right-of-ways for a kilometer or more north of the spaceport, but the streets themselves were empty. Mace intended to take advantage while he could.

Nick held on to the backs of Mace's and Chalk's chairs, squinting doubtfully up through the windscreen's gap. "Uh, y'know, if you don't mind my asking, are you sure those droid starfighters won't come down for ground vehicles as well?" "I'm sure." "But, I mean, how do you knowT "I'll show you." Mace heeled the Turbostorm over, using its thrusters to help negotiate a tight corner; it bounced jarringly off a warehouse hard enough to dent its armor and knock a steamcrawler-sized hole in the building's wall. He fought the controls and steadied the ship, then nodded forward along the long straight stretch of street.

Half a klick ahead, the gigantic slope-armored hulk of a ground assault vehicle clanked out from a side street.

Mace said, "That's how." Its turret was already rotated the quarter turn to bear on the Turbostorm and Mace said, "Chalk," but she was ahead of him: the quad turrets on both sides of the gunship burst to life and filled the street with streaking packets of energy- Which crashed into the GAV without even scratching it.

Nick was shouting, "You'll never breach that armor!" while Chalk was letting her gaze defocus and her hands relax on the split yoke. "Not shooting at his armor, me," she murmured and she held down the triggers as the GAV's ca

The explosion was gratifying.

It left the ca

"Okay," Nick said. "Now I'm impressed." The GAV's gu