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Tyria Sarkin Tainer nodded. A woman of about Leia’s age, she was lean and blond. It was said that in her youth she’d been a raving beauty, but now her looks had more of an all-mother appeal to them. Her sleeves were pinned up and her arms were spattered with dirty lubricants from fingertip to elbow. “I can have this one up and ready for you in half an hour, too.”

“No need, one’s enough.” Jaina glanced at Tyria’s befouled hands. “I think I’ll handle the sign-out myself.”

Tyria nodded. “The smart choice.” She turned back to the engine compartment. “Don’t ever marry a mechanic. Over the years, you pick up a lot of training, whether you want to or not. And then you’re stuck on motor pool duty whenever you can’t avoid it.”

“I am a mechanic. And I like motor pool duty.” Jaina moved over to the desk by the door and began typing into the console there, checking out the other Lambda. How would she describe the mission for the records? Something dull and Jedi-like to allay suspicions. Delivery of practice lightsabers to Corellia.

It was said that Tyria would never make Master owing to deficiencies in her command of the Force, but she was an excellent flier, hence her current assignment to the Temple. When the StealthX squadrons rose, she’d be in the cockpit of one—

Jaina felt the other woman tense. She looked up. “What’s wrong?”

Tyria was once again looking at the monitor. “It looped.”

“Eh?”

“The recording just looped. There was a little stutter and then it went back to the recording of several minutes ago. But it still says LIVE BROADCAST.” She pointed to the lower right-hand portion of the monitor screen.

Jaina looked. The screen did say what Tyria indicated. It could have just been a mistake by the news provider’s technical personnel, or …

Jaina extended her senses into the Force, settling as quickly as she could into a meditative state that would make her more sensitive to thoughts of anger or vengeance, intrusion or attack …

There was nothing close, but as her range of attention broadened, she felt a quiver of anticipation, felt eyes trained against the Jedi.

She grabbed her comlink. “Comm center, this is Jedi Solo.”

A man’s voice answered. “We read you, Solo.”

“Tell Master Hamner possible attack imminent.” She didn’t bother to add recommendations for security or defensive procedures. Hamner was ex-military. He didn’t need such advice and might resent it.

“Will do.”

Tyria grabbed solvent-soaked cloths from the pavement at her feet and began degreasing her arms.

Jaina, still half in her meditative state, moved back out into the hall. If she could get more of a fix on the contradictory emotions she was feeling …

She heard a succession of clunks as numerous exterior doors on this hangar level were remotely shut.

A teenage apprentice, black-haired and old enough to carry a lightsaber, moved out into the hall from the main starfighter hangar. He didn’t waste time asking what was going on. Obviously he felt something, too. “Should I go up to the Main Hall?”

“Yes.” Just outside the Main Hall, at the main entrance, was where those security agents waited. “But … No. Wait here.” Jaina shook her head. She felt something amiss, not just distant emotions suggesting imminent attack.

A wail cut the air, a keening alarm. The Temple lights flickered for a moment.

Jaina heard no direct sounds of conflict, but her comlink suddenly came alive with traffic. “Alert, alert, Main Hall under attack. The doors are compromised—”

“State enemy strength and disposition.” That was Master Hamner, his voice icy, under complete control.

“It’s Mandos.” The young Jedi speaker sounded overly excited.

Jaina cursed. Mandalorians. The government wasn’t just serious, they were being smart and serious.

She turned toward the distant turbolifts, but a nagging presentiment kept her from moving in that direction. She pinned the apprentice with a look. “What’s your name?”

“Bandy Geffer, from Bespin.”

“Apprentice Geffer, get to a hardwired intercom away from any outside wall. That’s your position until I say different.