Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [101]
Jax backed away warily, his lightsaber held before him. Sweat dripped into his eyes; at least, he thought it was sweat. When he blinked he realized by its viscosity that it was blood. The sharp fragments of the window panel had left a score of cuts on his face and hands. Blood from his lacerated hands also made it difficult to grip his weapon’s hilt.
Keep it together, he commanded himself furiously. You’re a Jedi; these people are in your care. You cannot let them down!
But how could he save them? Without a connection to the Force, he was blind, deaf, and lame. His fighting skills were weakened, his reflexes dulled … without the Force, he wasn’t—
“Even without the Force, you are still a Jedi.”
The memory hit him almost like a physical blow. It was something Master Piell had told him months before, back when he’d still been a Padawan. Jax’s heart skipped a beat. In the midst of the chaos going on around him—Laranth coolly firing her blasters, I-Five just as coolly using his finger lasers—it was hard to believe such a still, small voice in his head could be heard at all, much less come through as clearly as it did. But there it was. He remembered the conversation, which had taken place in the Temple’s training chamber, vividly:
“The Force aids a Jedi’s power,” Master Piell had told him. “It completes a Jedi’s training. But the Force alone does not make a Jedi. That comes from a deeper place.”
“But—the Force sets us apart, makes us unique,” he had stammered. “Without it, how are the Jedi different?”
The Lannik’s reply had been typically acerbic: “What, am I talking to myself here? Pay attention! The Force abets you. It doesn’t define you. Before it laid claim to you, you were then who you are now; otherwise, it would not have chosen you as its vessel. Understand?”
A shadow fell over Jax from behind; he turned to see another droid looming. He wasn’t even sure what type this one was; he just got an impression of machine bulk, tractor treads, two-pronged pincer hands—and grinning skulls of various species draped all over it. He ducked its first blow, then spun around and hamstrung it with his blade. Servomotors seizing and crackling, it stumbled toward the window and toppled through, carrying the J9 and the asp with it.
Without thinking, simply reacting, Jax spun again and brought his lightsaber up and over. The two halves of a maintenance droid, its interior power cells sparking and smoking, collapsed at his feet. He felt a moment of triumph, of elation—and then he was seized by a powerful grip from behind and lifted off his feet. Another jointed, extensible arm seized his right arm, holding it, and his lightsaber, still. The grip around his neck began to squeeze—
A laser beam drilled through the feral droid’s thorax. It froze, and the holds on Jax’s neck and arm relaxed. He dropped and turned to see I-Five a meter away, index finger extended.
In the sudden, ringing silence, Jax massaged his neck. “Under certain circumstances,” he said, “I could see thanking my nav computer.”
I-Five nodded. “It can make for a safer trip.”
Jax looked around. The floor was littered with still-smoking droids and droid components. Laranth and Den stood nearby. The Paladin holstered her blasters, and the Sullustan carefully deactivated the vibroblade he’d evidently been using to considerable effect.
“What were they saying?” Jax asked I-Five.
The droid shook his head. “Just incoherent nonsense. Word salad.”
“Think that’s all of ’em?” Dhur asked.
“For now,” Laranth replied wearily. Then she suddenly stiffened in alarm. She reached for her weapons again, but before she could clear leather, cold blue fire enveloped