Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [148]
“This way,” Nova said. “The entrance to the dock staging area is just around the next corner.” He took the lead.
The corridor widened out, ending in a blast door guarded by a pair of stormtroopers in black uniforms.
Nova stepped up to one of them. “We’ve got an emergency medical flight.”
“Your orders?” the trooper said.
“C’mon, Sarge, we’re in a hurry. We got guys dying out there.”
“And if I let you in without scanning your orders, I’m gonna be dying in here.”
The fake orders were logged into the shuttle’s computer. They didn’t have any kind of flimsi or datachip on them. Nova said, “They didn’t give us anything—the orders are on the ship.”
“Fine. I’ll have somebody download and check them.”
Teela saw Nova glance at his chrono, then look at her. They had less than ten minutes before that tractor beam would be shut off, and it was only going to be offline for forty-five seconds.
They couldn’t wait. Something had to be done, now.
CORRIDOR OUTSIDE MEDICAL BAY, DEATH STAR
Nova knew they were out of time. There was only one course left open to them. He glanced at the other guard, then at Rodo, and knew, by that kind of telepathy fighters can sometimes share, that the big man understood.
Nova turned back to the guard and shrugged. “Okay, you’re in charge. Let me get you the comlink code—” and with that, he fired a punch into the guard’s throat, flipped the man’s helmet up with his free hand, then snapped an elbow to the now bare temple.
The guard dropped. He saw the second guard fall as Rodo swept his feet from under him, then followed him down to the deck to bounce the guard’s head against the plate. Excellent—both taken out with a minimum of fuss.
“Let’s go, people!” Nova opened the blast doors—
Just as three squads of black-suited guards came around the corner. Fifteen men, in all. Fifteen armed men.
The lieutenant in charge saw his two fallen comrades. “Hey, what the—”
Nova said, “These men have been poisoned. We were called to take care of them and contain the area.”
That wouldn’t work for long, he knew. Seven medics dispatched for just two guards? The lieutenant would have to be pretty challenged to buy that for more than a few seconds.
Nova looked at Rodo again. “Whaddya say, Rodo?”
Rodo nodded. He looked at the others, particularly at Memah. “Go,” he said, softly.
Memah stared at him, shocked. “Rodo, no!”
Nova looked at Dance, jerked his thumb at the blast doors. “You’re the only one who can do it, flyboy. Go!”
There was a long moment that seemed to stretch to infinity, and then the others started to move.
The lieutenant said, “Hold up there! Let me see your authorization.” He approached, and his men followed.
Nova held up a hand. “You’ll need respirators,” he said. “These two were gassed. Nerve toxin—better not get too close. I’ve got some antitoxin ampoules here, if you’ll let me inoculate you and your men—”
The guards were only a few meters away now. They showed no concern about any possible proximity to nerve gas.
“You gonna take the right side?” Rodo said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah. Watch that little guy on the left—he’s already got his hand on his blaster.”
“Copy. Nice knowing you, Nova.”
“You, too, Rodo.”
70
CORRIDOR OUTSIDE MEDICAL BAY, DEATH STAR
Ratua saw the action begin as if the participants were moving in slow motion. He was no fighter, but as the guards and Stihl and Rodo tangled, he saw one of the guards draw a blaster, and he knew his old jailer and the bouncer wouldn’t be able to stop the man in time.
But Celot Ratua Dil might.
He moved as fast as he had ever moved in his life.
The blaster came up, and the guard extended his arm. Ratua could see the man’s finger begin to tighten, slowly, slowly …
Ratua slammed into him. There was no skill involved—it was just a body block—but his speed magnified the force with which he struck the trooper enough to knock the latter into the corridor’s far wall. The blaster clattered to the floor, followed by the unconscious trooper.
Ratua was momentarily stunned himself, the impact having hit him just