Star Wars: The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance (51 page)

"Can't
it be?" Jet shot back.

"I
think you're doing yourself a disservice. If people knew what you and
your ship could really do..."

"No
one would ever let me dock anywhere. If they think I'm a hopeless
bum, that gives me an edge. It keeps me safe. Like Tassaa Bareesh. If
she'd known that I could've taken my ship back anytime, she wouldn't
have let me hang around to see what happened. And if I hadn't hung
around, I wouldn't be here. Granted, here is not looking so
comfortable at the moment, but that could change. Life is surprising.
I think we'll pull something out of the hat. "

"It
just seems dishonest. "

Jet
said, "You should talk. "

Ula
bristled. "What do you mean?"

"Come
on, mate. I know what you are. I've known from the second I saw you.
Why do you think I asked you for a drink?"

Ula
drew the hold-out blaster and pointed it at Jet. "Tell me what
you think I am. "

"I
think you're a braver man than you're letting on, " Jet said
without flinching. "To your superiors you're just a pawn. To
your enemies you're worse than evil. You're caught between wanting to
do your job and trying to keep your job hidden. It drives you crazy,
but you can't confide in anyone. You have to keep it all locked away,
and no one ever appreciates how hard that is. We're expected to just
keep on going, blokes like us, because if we trip, there's no safety
net. "

Ula
bristled. "I'm nothing like you. "

"We're
more alike than you think. I've been a pawn, and recently, too. Why
do you think I was working as a privateer? It wasn't for the good
times, let me tell you. "

"You're
unprincipled, amoral. "

"I'm
glad you think so. That means the cover's working. "

"You're
not making any sense! Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to
shoot you or not?"

"I
want us to work together exactly as we have been. "

"How
can we possibly do that now?"

"You're
speaking like one of them, " said Jet, gesturing at the holo-
projector. "You're not human, but you look human to me. What
does it matter who we really are? It's what we do that matters. "

"But
what am I supposed to do?"

"You
can put the blaster down, for a start, before I ask Clunker to take
it from you. "

Ula
stared at him for a long, tortured moment. They had a battle to
coordinate, and what had really changed? Jet could have revealed
Ula's secret at any time-just as Ula could have revealed Jet's,
making them even. Nothing was causing the confrontation between them
except his own uncertainty and doubt. If Jet thought him brave,
perhaps it was time to be.

"All
right, " he said, lowering the blaster. Clunker, who had
approached somehow without Ula noticing, stepped away.

"Thank
you, " said Jet with a loose grin. "You know what the weird
thing is? I can't tell who you're working for. I mean, I know how
it's supposed to be playing out, but on a practical level you've got
me beat. As far as I can see, you're just trying to do the right
thing. "

A
series of alarms began to sound.

"Uh-oh.
" The smuggler's carefree mood evaporated. "This is what
happens when you don't pay attention. "

Ula
hurriedly scanned the telemetry. More launches. More agglomerations
forming to target the combined fleets. Still no good news from the
ground, and no word at all on Larin or her platoon. A mixed squadron
of Republic and Imperial fighters had suffered an internal
disagreement, leading to an exchange of fire, and a Turbodyne 1220
drop ship had collided with a Republic NR2 during an assault run.
Fierce recriminations were being exchanged by the two sides, and
neither Captain Pipalidi nor Colonel Kalisch responded to his hails.

"Now
what?" asked Ula.

"Well,
if we're not going to run, " said let, "I suggest we turn
the full capacity of our scheming minds to finding a way to
survive...

"Wait
a minute. Where's Stryver?"

"I
can't see him. He could be around the back side of the moon, or..."

An
urgent beeping joined the already strident alarm calls. The map of
Sebaddon turned red at the south pole. Ula stared in amazement as the
defensive shell of hexes began to part, creating an opening.

"They're
letting us in?"

"Don't
bet on it, " said Jet.

Through
the opening in the orbital defenses flew the familiar silver
quarter-moon of Stryver's ship, rising up in a perfectly vertical
line.

"What's
he doing there?"

"Running,
I think. "

Close
on Stryver's wake came a monster bursting from the heart of the
planet.

CHAPTER
38

Larin
ignored the shrieking of alarms and the flashing red lights filling
her suit's helmet. The unlucky shot appeared not to have damaged the
fuel line to her jet-chute, but its gyros were completely destroyed.
If her airfoil had been intact, that would at least have had a
stabilizing effect, but it was nothing but tatters now. Kicking and
skidding wildly across the sky, she was completely out of control.

She
refused to give in. There had to be a way to bring the jet-chute down
safely, and her with it.

First
thing first: to get manual control of the jet. It was behind her, but
by letting out the restraints she could wriggle around so it was
thrusting from her chest. The noise was deafening. She darkened her
visor so the flashes wouldn't blind her.

At
least she still had her instruments. It was hard to get a sensible
altimeter reading, so she didn't know exactly how much time she had,
but the temperature outside was clear: well below the line. Any
exposed flesh would freeze solid in just moments. All the better to
work quickly, then.

Tugging
off her left glove, she used the artificial digits of her prosthetic
to pull at the thruster casing. It fell away behind her-up or down,
she couldn't tell. The horizon was turning wildly around her. Just
glancing at it made her feel giddy.

She
concentrated on the wiring inside the jet-chute casing instead. Steam
hissed into the thin, cold air. Luckily, her fingers weren't affected
by heat, either. The jet-chute was an uncomplicated machine, designed
to be rugged rather than versatile. There would be all sorts of
safeties and overrides, but she didn't need them. She just wanted the
switch that turned the thrust on and off.

A
sharp tug on a particular component had the latter effect. Suddenly
everything was still and she was weightless. The world below still
turned, but at least it wasn't changing direction three times every
second. Now that she had to look at it, she could see how much closer
it had come. Perilously so.

That
wasn't what mattered. At the moment, she had to correct her spin. She
counted furiously under her breath, judging the correct burn by
instinct more than conscious calculation. She shoved her artificial
fingers into the hot innards and switched the thrust back on, just
for a second.

She
jerked across the sky, slewing madly. Too much, too long. She had to
be more precise. Counting again, she tried a second time, with more
success. She was still tumbling afterward, but not so badly that the
thickening air couldn't get a stabilizing grip on her. She spread her
limbs in a star shape until she was falling steadily face-forward.

The
complex at the planet's south pole was coming up at her with
frightening speed. She activated the jet-chute and kept it on full,
fighting it at every moment to keep it pointing straight down. It was
like trying to balance on a pin: the slightest wobble threatened to
tip her over and put her back where she started. She gritted her
teeth and held on.

Slowly,
steadily, her downward plunge began to ease.

She
had time to examine where she was landing. It was a broad, flat
plain, crisscrossed with deep cracks that looked too straight to be
natural. A door was her first thought, leading to something
underground. Around it stood a number of cannon emplacements, all
aiming for targets elsewhere, fortunately. It was hard enough just
coming down straight, let alone dodging. She wanted to look behind
her, to see where the others were, but the merest attempt to do so
threatened to upset her delicate balance.

Slower
and slower she fell, until she was traveling barely more than running
speed. The ground was just dozens of meters away. She began to feel
relief. Against all odds, she was going to make it!

With
a guttering cough, the jet-chute ran out of fuel.

"No!"
she yelled.

But
words weren't enough. She was falling again, and rapidly gaining
speed. Just seconds lay between her and being squashed like a bug
against the hard face of Sebaddon. Nothing could save her now.

Strong
limbs wrapped around her chest. With a gasp, she felt herself
squeezed tight and pulled backward. She couldn't see what had
happened, but she recognized the gloves gripping together in front of
her. They were standard Republic issue. The jet-chute belonging to
the owner of those gloves strained and whined, slowing them so they
landed with a tumble, not a splat.

Larin
couldn't believe her luck. Clambering to her feet, she helped her
savior free of his jet-chute and airfoil harness. His faceplate
cleared and she recognized Hetchkee.

"Couldn't
let you go like that, " he said matter-of-factly. "Equipment
failure is inexcusable. "

"Thank
you, " she said, meaning both syllables with all her heart.
"What happened to Jopp?"

"Called
me for help. Didn't you hear him?"

Larin
hadn't, but she didn't press it. She had been a little busy at the
time. The important thing was that she had survived. As long as Jopp
stayed out of her way, they need never talk again-about how his
hesitance had almost cost her her life.

"Right,
" she said, slipping her glove back onto her frost- and heat-
blackened hand. "We've got some regrouping to do and hexes to
kill. Any idea where our squads came down?"

They
ran together for the rendezvous point, jumping over two of the deep
cracks along the way. They were definitely machined into a
ferrocrete-like surface, with some kind of black sealant at the base.
If they weren't the edges of a massive door, then they could have
been canals. But for what? Any water lying around would be frozen
solid. They could conceivably have been roads for hexes, only none
were in sight.

The
rendezvous point was a mess of weapons-fire. Republic and Imperial
troopers had dug in and were either setting charges or laying
covering fire, hoping to take out the cannons in range. Major Cha
barked orders over the patchy comms as bombardment rained down from
above. Imperial combat droids lumbered in perfectly straight lines
across the battlefield, spitting fire at distant targets. Larin
hadn't grasped how large the master factory site truly was. Standing
on top of it, she couldn't see the edges.

"Moxla!
Take a squad and put tower number five out of business. I'll send
someone after you once you're laid in. "

"Yes,
sir. " There was no easy way to tell one squad from another, so
she picked a sergeant at random and assigned him to the mission. He
was an Imperial, but that didn't matter. On the ground, under enemy
fire, troopers were all the same.

Several
supply sleds had come down nearby, and she helped herself to all the
launchers and charges she could carry. With the sergeant and his
squad in tow, she loped across the flat dome, carefully watching the
orientation of the cannon emplacement. At some point, they would be
noticed.

She
crossed another crack and dropped down inside. It was just deep
enough for her to crouch out of sight. She followed the crack until
they were as close as they needed to be, and there she ordered the
squad to stop.

"Get
those launchers unloaded and ready to fire. Sergeant, I want three of
your best shots to go on ahead to provide distracting fire, another
three to go back and do the same. Spread out, and space your rounds.
Keep that emplacement busy. "

"Yes,
sir. "

The
launchers were lightweight and easy to assemble. They were ready in
moments. As a broad field of fire converged on the tower, more potent
punches attacked it at regular intervals, shrouding its uppermost
reaches with thick, black smoke.