Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 06_ Vortex - Denning Troy [90]
This last question, she knew, was pushing the boundaries of journalistic ethics. But considering that the man was pointing a blaster at her chest, she was going to allow herself some leeway.
“Is it possible, Commander Rhal, that your true employer is Chief of State Daala?”
Madhi saw Rhal’s eyes narrow, and she knew that she had pushed things farther than was safe. The lightsaber tips at the bottom of the stairwell became lightsaber blades and began to cut through the thick stone as though it were flimsiplast, and Rhal’s companions spun around, preparing to open fire on the two Jedi that the Freedom Flight agent had promised were on the way.
Rhal merely pulled the trigger of his blaster pistol … twice.
The bolts caught Madhi in the torso, knocking her back onto the stairs with a chestful of fire. She heard someone screaming and saw Shohta flying down the stairs toward her, his brutish Chev features twisted into a mask of grief, his big fists flailing in anger.
Meanwhile, Rhal’s escorts began to pour fire toward the bottom of the stairs. Their efforts were, of course, useless. No sooner had they opened fire than the Jedi used the Force to send the lightsaber-weakened wall flying inward, knocking the Mandalorians over backward. In the next instant, a pair of young Jedi Knights, one a furious-looking Chev and the other a handsome young human, were standing at the bottom of the stairs, using the Force to slam the armored Mandalorians first against one wall, then against the another, denying them any chance to bring their weapons to bear … and making them suffer terribly for the attempt.
In the same instant, Shohta reached Madhi’s side. Her vision was already starting to narrow and darken, but she saw her assistant tearing at her tunic, first exposing her wounds, then covering them with hands that her flesh was already too cold to feel.
Then Madhi saw Tyl descending the stairs, the vidcam still on his shoulder and focused on the bottom of the stairwell. He stopped beside her and turned the lens on her face, tears pouring out down his cheeks. He knelt beside her but made no move to lower the vidcam and help her—and there wouldn’t have been any sense in it. Madhi could feel what had happened to her, how much of her had been burned away by the Mandalorian’s bolts, and she had been a journalist too long to deny the truth of her situation.
She looked up at Tyl and smiled. “Did you get the shot?” she asked. “Just tell me you got the shot.”
WITH A LINE OF CORUSCANTI SKYTOWERS GLEAMING ON THE HORIZON and the lush gardens of Fellowship Plaza spread out a thousand meters below, the view from Pinnacle Platform was breathtaking—even to a Barabel. The platform was the Jedi Temple’s highest landing pad, an elegant blonstone deck large enough to receive diplomatic shuttles. On a clear day, a being with a predator’s keen eyes could stand at its sankewood balustrade and watch bureaucrats taking lunch in Peace Park, or gaze down the Grand Promenade and ponder the security sleds swarming the silver cylinder of the Galactic Justice Center.
But the beings gathered on the platform that morning had no more interest in the spectacular view than the sleek Incom CrewComet descending to land. The shuttle was carrying Zekk, Tekli, and a handful of recovered Jedi Knights returning from temporary exile on Shedu Maad. Hoping to make the group feel comfortable and welcome after their recent bout of psychotic illness, the Masters had arranged an enthusiastic reception at the Temple’s most prestigious entrance.
Unfortunately, a crisis on a faraway world had erupted just as the shuttle entered the atmosphere, and now all eyes were locked on the nearest datapad. It seemed to Saba that events on Blaudu Sextus were already shaping the future of the Jedi in ways she did not comprehend.
“Stun bolts, yes?” asked the Council’s newest member, Barratk’l. “No officer would kill a reporter on live HoloNet.