Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [104]
“It might be safer to climb higher above the tree line,” Lord Qordis observed from his seat at Githany’s side in the cockpit.
“I don’t want the Jedi picking anything up on their scanners,” she explained, her attention focused on keeping the ship from smashing into the ocean of wood mere meters below the hull. “The Brotherhood hasn’t secured this region. If a squad of seekers locks on to us, these transports aren’t equipped with enough firepower to hold them off.”
Far in the distance half a dozen small fighters came into view, their trajectory bringing them on a direct line to intercept the Interlopers’ path. Qordis swore, and Githany braced herself to begin evasive maneuvers.
A second later she recognized the distinctive outline of the Sith Buzzards and breathed a sigh of relief. “Our escort’s here,” she said.
They’d be at the Sith base camp in a few minutes, and with the Buzzards there to pick off any incoming Jedi fighters there was no need to fly so dangerously close to the treetops anymore. She could have eased back on the stick to bring the ship up to a safer altitude.
Instead she held her course. She enjoyed the thrill of being one tiny miscue from an instantaneous and fiery end. From his rigid posture in the copilot’s chair, it was clear Qordis didn’t share her opinion.
Once they cleared the forest she throttled back their speed, then brought the ship down gracefully in the landing field at the edge of Lord Kaan’s encampment.
A small collection of Sith Masters, Kaan standing at their head, waited to greet the reinforcements as they disembarked. They might have been only fifty in number, but each one of them was a Sith Lord: more powerful than an entire division of soldiers.
As she made her way down the ship’s exit ramp, Githany was quick to understand why their presence had been so urgently requested. Beyond the assemblage of Dark Lords the rest of the camp spread out to the limits of her vision, and all she could see was a picture of grim despair. Ragged, ramshackle tents arranged in tight rings of five housed the bulk of the army: cloth domiciles stained and torn by wind and rain. Scattered among them were repulsorcraft, heavy turrets, and other instruments of war. The equipment was caked with dried mud and spots of rust, as if efforts to keep it properly maintained had been abandoned.
The troops were spread out in small pockets, huddled around cook fires built in the circles of tents. Their uniforms were covered in dust and grime; many wore dirty bandages over wounds they had given up all hope of keeping clean or sterile. Their faces were all scarred by the bitter taste of far too many defeats at the hands of their enemy, and it was the hopelessness of their expressions that made the greatest impression.
Lord Qordis seemed similarly taken aback at the dismal scene, and he grimaced as Lord Kaan approached.
Kaan appeared thin, his face drawn and etched with lines of worry. His hair was bedraggled and unkempt. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his chin, making him look old and weary. He seemed physically smaller than Githany remembered him. Diminished. Less commanding. The spark she had found so compelling when she’d first met him was no longer there. His eyes had once burned with the fire of a man absolutely confident of his imminent success. Now they burned with something else. Desperation. Madness, perhaps. She couldn’t help but wonder if Bane had been right.
“Welcome, Lord Qordis,” Kaan said, grasping the newcomer’s arm in greeting. He released his grip and turned to address the rest of them. “Welcome, all of you, to Ruusan.”
“I didn’t expect to see your army in such sorry shape,” Qordis mumbled.
A look that might have been anger flickered across Kaan’s features. Then it was gone, replaced by the beaming confidence Githany remembered. He threw his shoulders back and stood a little straighter.
“You can’t judge the victor