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He slowed but didn’t stop; if he had he would’ve exploded from adrenal overload—that’s how it felt, at least. He headed down the street.

“That was pretty incredible piloting,” she told him. “Just in time, too—the gas chambers are dry.”

Den stopped the weaver and turned to stare at her. “You mean we’re unarmed? Great. What do we do if the other PCBU—”

The second PCBU dropped down out of the night, directly behind them.

“—shows up …,” Den finished weakly.

Laranth quickly reached behind her head, under her truncated lekku. From beneath it she pulled a small vibroknife and hurled it, the motion too fast for even Den’s eyes to follow. The dagger flew directly into the unit’s revolving weapons belt and disappeared. Den couldn’t see what it did in there, but whatever it was, it was effective. The weapons belt began spitting sparks, and he could hear a rising whine. The unit shuddered, heeled to one side, and Laranth shoved Den at the controls, yelling, “Get us out of here!”

He did, barely. They were about a hundred meters away when the second PCBU exploded. For a split second everything turned to black and white, and there came a sound he remembered all too well from the Clone Wars: chunks of hot metal screaming past him.

He ducked, but there was no need; the few jagged fragments that reached them Laranth easily deflected with a wave of her hand. Then she looked down at Den.

“I’m never unarmed,” she said.

twenty-nine

The second PCBU hovered in front of Jax and I-Five. “It appears,” the droid said, “that my sensors are in need of recalibration.”

“Wonderful.” Jax could plainly see the Zed inside the cockpit, lining up the shot, making sure he couldn’t possibly miss. Jax reached for the Force, hoping he would have the strength to deflect the powerful energy bolt that would be—

His mind froze in shock.

There was nothing there.

Where usually the strands of the Force would be waiting to enmesh him, there was only a void. He didn’t know how, or why, but he could not access the Force.

He willed his suddenly racing heart to slow. This happened before, he reminded himself. In his conapt. And it had come back then. It would come back now. Remember the teachings: “The Force will always be with you.”

But it wasn’t. And the Zed was ready to fire.

There was only one tiny chance, he realized. He grabbed I-Five and shoved the droid toward the weaver’s controls. “Straight ahead,” he said. “Full speed!”

To the droid’s credit, it didn’t hesitate. It twisted the accelerator and the weaver shot forward, straight toward the hovering unit.

As Jax had hoped, the apparently suicidal movement caught the Zed pilot by surprise. Before the police droid could recalibrate, the weaver was shooting under it. As they passed beneath the repulsorlift array, enough to one side to avoid being flattened by the waves, Jax pulled and lit his lightsaber. He slashed over his head three times, turning the projector vanes to molten slag. Then they were out from under its shadow.

I-Five slowed and turned the weaver, and they watched as the unit tilted vertically, shot up about ten meters, then plunged directly downward. It hit the pavement edge with enough force to crack the duracrete, actually rolled a meter or so, and then toppled over onto the fused area that had been its propulsion system.

There was a sudden silence, save for the hissing and sparking of the PCBU’s disrupted repulsors.

Jax deactivated his lightsaber, and was about to clip it to his belt when the cockpit opened. The 501-Z rose from it and turned, its movement sensor scanning the area. Jax sighed, and was about to ignite his weapon again, when I-Five said, “Allow me.” The droid aimed its right index finger at the Zed. An intense crimson beam sizzled from it and through the droid’s optical sensor, into its primary processor. It shuddered for a moment, arms twitching—then collapsed.

Jax and the droid looked at each other. “Don’t expect any gratitude,” Jax said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I