Apocalypse (13 page)

The Bothan shook his gray-furred head. “Of course,” he said. “But they didn’t manage very well the last time they tried to storm the Temple.”

“I see,” Luke said. “It’s nice to know you have more faith in the Jedi Order.”

“There’s that.” A crooked smile snaked along Eramuth’s muzzle, then he added, “And you
do
work for free.”

Luke cocked a brow, then chuckled and turned back toward the marine brigades. He knew as well as Eramuth did that the vast majority of today’s casualties would be space marines—and that the admiral had made the danger clear before asking anyone to volunteer. That so many had accepted his call to overthrow the Galactic Alliance Chief of State—a mission that was, at first glance, an act of treason—was a testament to the soldiers’ faith in the honor and ability of their beloved admiral.

“… are going to turn Roki Kem’s trap against her,” Bwua’tu was explaining. He stopped pacing and turned to face his space marines, and the corners of his long mouth rose into a cunning grin. “We’re going to launch simultaneous assaults against the Temple at thirty different points, with the objective of forcing Kem to redeploy the bulk of her forces to the Temple perimeter.”

Bwua’tu stopped and extended his new prosthetic arm toward Luke. “Grand Master Skywalker will brief you on the rest of the mission.”

Luke activated the mike on his own collar and stepped to the admiral’s
side. “First, I want to thank you all for volunteering for this mission. As Admiral Bwua’tu has explained, it’s not just the Jedi Temple we are liberating. The Lost Tribe of the Sith has infiltrated every level of the Galactic Alliance government, and our victory today will prevent them from achieving their goal of dominion over the entire galaxy.”

A barely audible rustle rippled through the brigade as the space marines shifted their weight from one foot to another, and Luke realized these soldiers were no strangers to assignments in which the fate of the galaxy hung in the balance. He took a deep breath, and then continued.

“Your objective is to draw the Sith forces to the Temple’s outer shell. Once you have succeeded, I will be able to deactivate the Temple shields and open the blast doors from a central location. When that occurs, Admiral Bwua’tu expects the Sith to stand their ground and continue fighting. Assuming he’s correct, the Jedi will launch a series of attacks from the Temple interior, driving the enemy out onto the Temple exterior, where they will be exposed to fire from your assault carriers’ heavy weapons.”

Sensing a tide of uncertainty rising inside the minds of the veteran soldiers, Luke opened his palm and motioned for patience, acknowledging their questions before the first one could be asked.

“If they don’t do as the admiral anticipates—”

“They will,” Bwua’tu interrupted, drawing a chorus of good-natured chuckles. “Of that, you may be certain.”

Luke smiled, then shrugged. “Of course the admiral is right,” he said. “But if the Sith
do
fall back, make sure that your Jedi liaison makes contact with a Master before dismounting to press the attack. Whether we push the Sith out of the Temple or into it, our goal is to trap them between the fist and the wall.”

Luke illustrated the remark by bringing his fist down into his open palm. He sensed another question rising in a marine standing near him, a Duros female in the third rank. Before she could request permission to speak, he pointed to her.

“Yes, Sergeant?”

The Duros’ eyes widened slightly, then she smiled and asked,
“How certain are you that you’ll be able to bring the shields down and open those blast doors?”

“Not as certain as I’d like to be,” Luke admitted. “But if the first attempt fails, we’ll keep trying.”

“Until?”

Luke grew somber. “Until we can’t anymore,” he said. “And if that happens, there’ll be a baradium strike.”

“
After
I call off the Temple assault, of course,” Bwua’tu clarified. “If I order a withdrawal, waste no time before obeying. We won’t be giving the enemy time to escape, so the missiles will be on the way as I speak.”

The hangar reverberated with the
crump
of thousands of boot heels cracking together, and Bwua’tu nodded in satisfaction.

“Good.” The admiral turned to Luke, then said, “I think we’re ready to assign the liaisons.”

Luke nodded and turned toward the hangar wall, where a line of fifteen Jedi stood at attention. He motioned to the first Jedi Knight in line, Admiral Bwua’tu’s young nephew Yantahar, then turned back to the space marines.

“Your commanders have already been briefed on this, but you should all know that a Jedi Knight will accompany each battalion into battle,” Luke said. “Their role is strictly advisory, but I urge you to pay attention to their advice. You’ll be fighting in a Force-heavy environment, and they will be able to sense many things you cannot—including the location of the Jedi Order’s own assault teams.”

Yantahar presented himself at Luke’s side, standing tall and straight in a Jedi robe over light battle armor, then executed a formal bow to the marines.

“Yantahar Bwua’tu,” Yantahar said, using the Force to project his voice across the hangar. “At your service.”

The admiral beamed at him for a moment, then called, “Brigade one, Battalion One!”

“Here, sir!” answered a dark-skinned human female in a colonel’s uniform.

Yantahar went to stand next to the woman. Luke called out the next Jedi Knight in line, another Bothan named Yaqeel Saav’etu, who
presented herself in the same manner and was assigned to the next brigade. But when the time came to call out the third Jedi Knight in line, Bazel Warv, Luke skipped ahead to the next Jedi.

Immediately a wave of confusion and concern rippled through the Force, and Luke regretted that there had been no opportunity to speak with the big Ramoan before the briefing began. He caught Bazel’s eye and raised a finger, signaling him to remain patient, then introduced the rest of the Jedi liaisons.

When there was only one Jedi left, Luke turned to Admiral Bwua’tu. “I’m afraid your liaison hasn’t arrived yet.”

Bwua’tu frowned and glanced over at Bazel, who was watching the exchange with the lips of his huge muzzle curled into an expression that seemed caught halfway between eagerness and puzzlement.

“Is there some reason that Jedi Warv is unavailable?” Bwua’tu asked. “My nephew says that Jedi Saav’etu holds him in high regard. Apparently, he’s quite resourceful.”

“That he is,” Luke agreed. “But I’m afraid something has come up that will prevent him from taking part in the battle.”

Luke had barely uttered the words before a wave of disappointment rolled through the Force, and he knew without doubt that Bazel had been eavesdropping on the exchange—despite the fact that his big ears had been turned toward the sides of his enormous head.

“That’s too bad,” Bwua’tu said, offering his hand to Luke. “Perhaps I should allow you to go explain the situation. He seems quite disappointed, and we both have a lot to do.”

“Very true, Admiral.” Luke shook Bwua’tu’s hand. “I’ll send Jedi Dorvald to replace Jedi Warv soon. May the Force be with you until we meet again.”

“You’re the one who’s going to need it, my friend,” Bwua’tu replied. “All I have to do is sit in the command post and watch.”

“All the same,” Luke said. “You know how to contact Master Sebatyne, if the need arises?”

“Certainly,” Bwua’tu said. “Just watch for Sith falling out of the sky.”

Luke smiled, fully aware that the admiral was only half joking. Saba was keeping the pressure on the Sith who had not retreated into the
Temple, leading Izal Waz and a small team of younger Jedi Knights on what she called “the never-ending hunt.”

“A comlink will work, too,” Luke said. He started toward the grimy durasteel wall where Bazel Warv stood, at the same time drawing his comlink and opening a channel to Ben. “Is Jedi Dorvald still with you?”

“Affirmative,” Ben replied. “We just got the speeder locked down. But this is a rough neighborhood, so Doran is staying behind.”

“Good,” Luke said. “Bring Seha with you when you join me.”

“Affirmative,” Ben said. “See you soon.”

As Ben signed off, Luke reached the wall where Bazel stood waiting. The big Ramoan was standing next to a doorway, which opened into a dark corridor that led out to the docking balcony. He looked dejected, his huge green shoulders sagging so far that his knuckles hung next to his knees.

“Did I do something wrong, Master Skywalker?” he asked in his gravelly voice. “I just want to—”

“You did nothing wrong.” Luke reached up and placed a hand on one of Bazel’s huge biceps. “But I’ve received a message from the Solos. They’re on their way here to see you.”

“Me?”

Luke nodded. “Yes. They need you to do something for Amelia.”

Bazel’s long ears went out sideways from his head. “For Amelia?” he asked. “What?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Luke replied. “They said they couldn’t explain it over the HoloNet, but that you were the only one who could do it.”

Bazel’s ears swung back flat against his head, and his big bulbous eyes shifted away from Luke.

“Bazel,” Luke asked, putting some durasteel in his voice, “what do they want?”

The Ramoan spread his huge hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “How could I? They’re not even here yet.”

“You have an idea,” Luke pressed. “What is it?”

Bazel let out a sigh that felt like a hot breeze against Luke’s face. “It must have something to do with the secret.”

Luke’s heart rose into his throat. “
Amelia
’s secret?” he asked. “How did you find—”

“The
other
secret, Master Skywalker!” Bazel interrupted, shaking his big head from side to side. “Not her secret name!”

“You know her real name?” Luke asked, stunned.
“How?”

Bazel’s voice grew soft. “Master Skywalker, I can’t tell you that right now.”

Realizing that Bazel was no longer looking at him, but
over
him toward the doorway, Luke scowled. He, too, could sense a trio of presences coming through the doorway behind him—and if Bazel knew enough about Allana’s secret to be
that
careful with it, he probably knew who Allana really was. Fighting to keep his alarm from bleeding into the Force, Luke pivoted around to see his son stepping into the hangar.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ben said, stepping aside to allow Seha Dorvald’s lithe form through the door. “But I
said
we’d see you soon.”

“No problem, son.” Luke nodded to Seha, but continued to watch the door. “Is Vestara—”

“Right here, Master Skywalker,” Vestara said. She entered the room, being careful to avoid looking in Bazel’s direction. “I hope we didn’t miss anything important.”

T
HE ASSAULT WOULD SUCCEED
, V
ESTARA KNEW, FOR ONE SIMPLE REASON:
the Jedi knew their ancient Temple better than its Sith occupiers ever could. Within the hour, the Jedi would penetrate the immense structure in force, and the Circle of Lords would come to understand how badly they had underestimated Luke Skywalker. By the time Skywalker was finished, there wouldn’t be a High Lord left alive on Coruscant, and any survivors back on Kesh would be too busy worrying about him to even
think
about hunting her down.

At least that was Vestara’s hope. If the Jedi attack proved successful enough, she might even consider sending a message to the surviving High Lords, promising to reveal Kesh’s location if she so much as
smelled
a Sith looking for her. Such a threat would work only if the High Lords were truly frightened of Luke and his Jedi—and after today, they would be.

A dull clang echoed through the crowded pumping station, and the large bypass pipe in front of Vestara trembled with an internal pressure change. The upper half rotated away, exposing the damp interior of a
water main roughly one and a half meters in diameter. Ben and his cousin Jaina hoisted a maintenance capsule into the main, then opened the hatch. Inside the capsule was a cramped passenger cabin, complete with dual couches and a pilot’s yoke. Ben activated the control panel and waited while it ran a two-second systems check, then put a foot on the access step and turned to Vestara.

“Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Vestara touched the empty lightsaber hook on her hip. “I just wish I had a weapon—even a blaster.”

Ben’s face fell, but before he could speak, Jaina stepped forward.

“Sorry, Vestara. That’s the way it has to be.” Her voice was firm without being combative. “If being without a weapon worries you, you can always stay behind.”

“Not really,” Vestara said, putting a hint of understanding in her voice. “I need to prove my loyalty.”

Ben shook his head. “Ves, you shouldn’t take—”

“Please don’t, Ben,” she said. “I understand why the Masters find it hard to trust me. Truly, I do.”

“This isn’t just about the Masters,” Jaina said, taking another step closer. Vestara began to have the unpleasant feeling that Jaina understood her game better than she did herself. “Not everyone in the Jedi Order has spent time with you. For a lot of us, it’s hard to trust a Sith.”