Star Wars: Knight Errant (19 page)

“Load up, folks! Pick any cargo ramp. We’ve got eight of them, no …”

He stopped. Standing at the crest of the crumbling formation, Rusher looked down upon a multitude. Students from the Industrial Heuristics transports swarmed up the hill, inundating his beleaguered forces.

Rusher rocked back, raising his cane in a futile attempt to bar the way. “Now wait!” Younglings and adolescents from practically every species in the Daimanate flooded past, pouring over the hill toward
Diligence
and its “eight ramps, no waiting.”

Amazed, Rusher looked toward one of his armored gunners, doing her best to keep moving. “Zeller! Did you bring these people?”

“Negative, Brigadier. They came with
her
!”

Rusher looked back to the horizon. Pulling up the rear was a brown-clad human woman on a speeder bike, chivvying the refugees along. Young, but older than most of the students—and holding a lightsaber.

Zeller lifted her sidearm and gestured toward the ship’s ramps. “You want us to turn them back?” Rusher’s sen
tries stood at the ramps, holding their rifles and looking urgently toward him for guidance. The students were almost to the ship.

Rusher removed his helmet and rubbed his eyes. “I think we’re outnumbered.” He didn’t honestly expect his people to turn back a bunch of kids fleeing a war zone. But the woman on the speeder bike was another story. The stragglers all ahead of her, she deactivated her lightsaber.

“Right,” Rusher said. Throwing the headgear to the ground, he began to march over the hill toward her, flanked by Zeller and three of her crewmates.

The running refugees simply parted, flowing around him. Rusher ignored them, too. “Hold on right there! Who are you? What are you trying to prove?”

“And you are … ?” The woman’s voice was husky, matching her dark features.

“Jarrow Rusher.
Brigadier
Rusher.” He pointed down the hill. “That’s my ship.”

“Aha. Kerra Holt,” she said, stepping off the bike. She pointed in the same direction. “That’s our ship.”

“Like blazes it is,” Rusher said, “What’s this about?”

“What do you mean, what’s it about?” Kerra said, lifting the young Sullustan off the bike. “I should think it’s obvious.” She jabbed a thumb over her right shoulder toward the crater floor. The fireworks were beginning again, with Daiman’s and Odion’s personal forces engaging directly. “You’re here. We’re here. We’re leaving.”

“We’re a military vehicle on assignment,” Rusher said, trying to block her path.

“Not anymore,” she replied, bowling past him.

Rusher’s troopers to either side started to move, but he bolted first, following the young woman. “I don’t think you understand, girl. We may not have room for … how many have you got here?”

“I didn’t have time for a head count.”

Neither did I
. Rusher shot a glance at
Diligence
. The crowd had reached the ramps, streaming up all of them, past the cannons waiting outside to be loaded. The woman stopped, staring at the main body of the ship perched above the twin cargo landers. “That looks to me like a spaceliner.”

“It was!”

“Good,” she said, adjusting her backpack. “It is again.”

Rusher grabbed at her jacket. The leather was worn and dingy, caked—as she was—with the ashfall. Intense hazel eyes glared back at him. Not the perverse golden irises of Sith Lords, but just as bright. “No Sith on my ship!”

“Do I look Sith to you?”

“You look crazy. That’s enough!”

Kerra yanked free from the brigadier’s hold. “You see a lot of Sith carrying green lightsabers?”

“Depends on who they kill!” Rusher knew plenty of Sith who had collected them, back when Jedi had still been active out here.

Fingering her unlit weapon, the woman stopped and studied Rusher’s face. “You work for Daiman. I’ve seen you before—in his palace.”

Rusher stared. “I can’t imagine how.”

“No, you probably can’t,” she said. Watching the lines of students moving up the ramps into
Diligence
, she gestured for the Sullustan girl to step to her side. “These people are from Daiman’s territory. He brought them here.”

“I know.”

“Well, now you can take them out of here,” she said. “Before they get killed.”

“I sympathize. But we’re only here to provide fire support against Odion,” Rusher said, straightening. Would Daiman really send someone to test him in the middle of
a war? He wasn’t going to get caught. “He doesn’t bring us here to evac civilians.”

“You don’t look like you’re providing fire support. You look like you’re leaving.” The woman gestured beyond the throng, where the remaining soldiers of Ripper Battalion were breaking down its artillery pieces. Turning back, she approached Rusher. Boot-to-boot with him, she looked urgently into his eyes. “Look, take them out anyway. You already know: if he approves, Daiman will tell you it was his intention all along.”

Rusher blinked.
She’s met Daiman all right
. The woman was barely half his age, maybe a little older. What was she doing out here? She wasn’t one of Daiman’s people, not dressed this way. And worried about the kids?

Can she actually be a Jedi?

Kerra stepped away to where the Sullustan was helping the smallest refugees toward the cargo ramp. Seemingly satisfied with their movement, she looked back to Rusher. “Look, if you don’t want me aboard, I’ll stay.” She shot a glance toward the ascending crowd. “Just get them away from here.”

A screeching sound from high above preempted Rusher’s response. Through roiling clouds now beginning to spill their polluted rain, those outside
Diligence
saw ever-darkening shadows.
Several
shadows. Rusher’s shoulders sagged. “Now what? This place is busier than a spaceport!”

“You’re not wrong,” Kerra said, pointing up.

Two huge warships pierced the clouds, descending toward opposite ends of the crater. Rusher recognized one as part of Daiman’s attack force; the other sported an Odionite symbol. Separated by mere kilometers, the two vessels hovered over the crater. Facing each other—and waiting. “That … doesn’t look like air support.”

“No,” Kerra said, biting her lip. “Something has changed.”

“Not changed enough.” Looking fruitlessly for his helmet, Rusher reached into his pocket for his spare comlink. “Novallo, are we in shape to move?”

His foulmouthed engineer responded with several epithets regarding the new guests in the accessways.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Light her up.” He turned to Zeller. “Push everyone into the barracks and tell them to hunker down.”

Rusher turned back to see Kerra kneeling next to the Sullustan. “Don’t worry, Tan. This man will take you out of here.” She grasped the girl’s tiny hands. “I’ll find a way out of here, too.”

“Yeah, kid. Don’t worry. She will,” Rusher said. Tossing his cane up the ramp, he scooped up Tan and addressed his remaining ground crew. “Forget the equipment. Get these stragglers on!”

Kerra lingered outside, watching the general and his tearful, writhing cargo disappear up the ramp. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to look at the new arrivals setting down in the crater.

“What are you gawking at?” Rusher stood on the ramp. “I said you’d find a way. You might be suicidal like an Odionite, but you sure don’t work for Daiman.” He pointed. “Come on. Carry someone!”

Narsk looked at the descending Sith vessels and smiled. He had made his call, as ordered—and they’d heard his message all right. Now events had been set in motion; the Battle of Gazzari would end far differently than either Odion or Daiman had imagined.

After the past couple of weeks, it was nice to be the puppeteer for a change.

Making his way to one of Odion’s transports, he cast his eye across the rainy battlefield. So many lives. So
much material. The corpses and wreckage would just be another layer in the ooze soon. He was overjoyed to be leaving. It would be a simple matter to get back to
Sword of Ieldis
.

But that would end his sojourn here. He’d studied the schematics of Odion’s flagship while aboard, earlier. Once back aboard it, a one-person, hyperspace-capable fighter would be within easy reach.

And then, to his
real
master’s side.

“Something’s wrong!”

There were actually quite a lot of things wrong, from Kerra’s standpoint on the “bridge” of
Diligence
. For a warship, the command deck looked ridiculous. She’d been joking outside about the main fuselage resembling a commercial liner. Now, inside, she could see that was exactly what it was. Posh bridge chairs bore the emblems of a cruise line from the Republic colonies; judging from them,
Diligence
’s crew compartment had evidently begun life as
Vichary Telk
out of Devaron. How had it wound up out here, toting artillery for Sith?

But that wasn’t the problem that had caused her to open her mouth for the first time since reaching orbit. Standing on plush carpet long since beaten into submission by combat boots, Kerra studied the conflagration raging outside the viewport. Odion’s hulking capital ships vied with Daiman’s smaller destroyers and snub-fighter fleets for control of Gazzari; from the number of flaming derelicts, the battle had been raging for some time. And judging from the near hits
Diligence
had experienced during the ascent, it was clear neither side was yet willing to yield a cubic meter of space to the transit of the other.

So why had the two big cruisers, the ones that had ar
rived while
Diligence
was loading, been allowed to descend earlier, unmolested?

During liftoff, she’d gone to one of the lower viewports hoping to see the results of Daiman’s duel with Odion, postponed by her destruction of the Death Spiral. Instead, she’d seen the lone Odionite and Daimanate cruisers settling closer to the surface, with no one taking a shot at either. And she’d seen none of the telltale signs of the final, fraternal showdown.

Kerra walked down the soft steps to the railed-off command pit. The place was ludicrous. No tactical setup here; the bridge was designed so tourists could walk around the perimeter of the deck and look out to space—or down to observe the captain and his crew doing their work, like figures in a museum display. She found Rusher there, leaning over a crewmate and looking generally dumbfounded. “Captain, something’s wrong!”

“Yes, it is,” Rusher said. “I’m a brigadier.” Without asking her pardon, Rusher pushed past Kerra to another command station. “The zoo’s closed. Visit when we’re not being pursued.”

“Pursued?” The design of the ship made it impossible to see aft from the bridge, and Kerra hadn’t noticed anything resembling a tactical map. “You mean, by Odion?”

“I mean, by everyone,” Rusher said, looking up at her. Lit by the screens below, he looked older than she’d remembered. “Odion’s people think we’re with Daiman. Which we
were
—only Daiman wasn’t expecting us to pull out, so the ships he’s brought in don’t know
what
we are,” he said. He flipped sweat from his short mop of auburn hair. “There isn’t exactly anyone running traffic control right now.”

“They just took out
Remorseless
,” his Mon Cal navigator reported.

“See?” The general winced. “It’s not just us. That was
an infantry carrier. All the irregs coming off the ridge are getting it.”

Kerra walked back up the steps to the huge observation window on the starboard side. The battle was dazzling, almost too much for the human mind to process.
Vichary Telk
’s tourists had never seen a sight like this from here. With
Diligence
weaving, it was difficult to find a steady point of reference. Except for one …

“Wait,” she said. Squinting, Kerra saw a small flotilla of ships hanging in the nebula near Gazzari’s sun. “Who’s that over there?”

“Lord Bactra’s people,” Rusher said, looking back over the displays. “They delivered the arxeum. The, uh,
former
arxeum.”

“And Odion’s ignoring them?”

Rusher turned to face her. “I don’t give history lessons, you know.” Behind, someone on his crew muffled a chuckle. Rusher looked back and sneered. “Not right now, anyway.”

Kerra ruminated. What she saw squared with what she knew from Republic intel: Bactra dealt with both brothers. Whatever deal he and Daiman had, he’d be unlikely to get involved in the fight—and they would likewise steer clear of him. That was it! “Make for over there,” Kerra said, pointing to Bactra’s forces. “Maybe we can hide among the neutrals.”

“Maybe they’ll adopt us and take us home,” Rusher said, rolling his eyes. He threw up his hands. “Do it,” he instructed his helmswoman.

Diligence
quaked, lurching to the right so quickly that Kerra had to steady herself against the window. Listening to the metallic groan as the ship yawed, she looked down at the colossal cross-shaped cargo lander that served as the ship’s right foot and wondered whether it would stay attached. Any shipwright in the Republic would call this slapdash.

The navigator spoke. “We’re made, Brigadier!”