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“Yes, Jedi Solo.” He spun on his heel and raced off.

Tyria appeared in the nearest doorway, her arms clean, her unlit lightsaber in hand. She paid Jaina no mind. She looked down the corridor as if gauging the strength of the walls, then looked up, examining the rafters and other architectural elements of the corridor’s high ceilings. “I hate defending a position.”

“Me, too.”

The door that Apprentice Geffer had emerged from, the door into the StealthX hangar, rattled in its frame and there was a muted boom from beyond it. Jaina nodded. It would be shaped charges, simultaneously blasting several entry holes for commandos. She raced past the shuttle hangar, was unsurprised to hear Tyria running right behind her. “Inform control. Second attack prong is here.”

“There’s static on the comlinks now! I’m on the intercom.”

“Report the comm loss, too.” The two Jedi ran past the main door into the StealthX hangar. At the next corridor intersection—beyond it were the turbolifts for this level and, at a wide point in the hall, the coordinator’s desk where Apprentice Geffer was now sitting—Jaina turned and lit her lightsaber. Tyria joined her; her blade came alive with a snap-hiss.

The door into the StealthX hangar blew out, instantly transformed into innumerable chunks of durasteel ranging from the size of pebbles to the size of starfighter helmets. At the same instant four places in the wall, two on either side of the door, blew out. And from each hole emerged a Mandalorian warrior, distinctive in their modern armor with classical helmet designs. They were as anonymous as Imperial stormtroopers and yet more individual than Jedi, each set of armor having its own color pattern, its own unique helmet contours.

They turned toward the Jedi. There were no preambles. The foremost Mando gestured and smoke trails, a cluster of them, jumped toward the Jedi—mini rockets.

Jaina and Tyria leapt about two meters. With an exertion of the Force, even as the Mando was aiming, Jaina caused the largest section of wall debris to fly up in front of the commando’s outstretched hand. A wave of mini rockets slammed into the debris and detonated. The blast disintegrated that debris but blew the firer and the two commandos closest behind him off their feet.

Tyria nodded, approving. “Nice.”

“Thanks.”

Tyria looked back toward the apprentice. “Report five-plus Mandos. Tell them to consider sending reinforcements.”

“I’ll reinforce you—”

Tyria’s voice turned sharp. “Abandon your post and you’ll be tasting my boot from a direction you never expected.”

The fourth Mando, blaster rifle in hand, darted diagonally forward. He crossed in front of the fifth commando, and as he passed, Jaina realized that the fifth commando had fired a second spray of mini rockets, using his comrade as a visual block. It was a beautifully timed stratagem. At the point Jaina realized more rockets were incoming, the spray was already too widespread—the rockets were already past the debris—for her to use the same defense.

Tyria leapt to her right, putting her around the corner from the oncoming missiles. Jaina charged straight at the Mandos.

She twisted and let a mini rocket pass by no more than three centimeters from her body. It and the other projectiles slammed into walls, floor, and ceiling behind her, causing the floor to rock. A gust of heated air from the explosion overtook her.

And then she was in their midst, in the middle of the pack of Mandos, where they’d have to fire precisely or not at all to avoid harming their fellows. Three of them were rising, unhurt. One of the two still standing drew a short vibrosword, holding it in a reverse grip, and launched himself at her.

She watched the other one who was still on his feet. Sure enough, he used the direct assault as a distraction, waited half a second, and fired at her from what looked like a line-throwing forearm attachment. But what came at her was a flexible projectile that broadened, expanded into a net.

She grabbed at it with the Force, exerting