Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [190]
Vader’s sensor-enhanced olfactory system detected mineral components, the rasping metallic sharpness of swarf from milled parts, even Quara and human sweat: the mundane events of the last hour here replayed themselves for him. Equipment had arrived, probably, and had been moved by maintenance staff.
And there was something beyond the immediate physical impressions of the facility. Vader could feel anxiety, the tension just before conflict.
Someone else was waiting for him. Several people.
He scanned the length of the blue durasteel ribs that formed the structure of the hangar’s walls and roof, looking for a door, a gantry, any access point for the threat. It was above him. Someone was coming for him.
Two doors were set into the upper walls with just a ladder beneath. Access hatches. Corridors behind.
They’re moving around up there. Five, six…seven of them.
The barely perceptible ripples in the Force also let Vader taste something else at a very great distance: his Master.
It’s inevitable. You knew he would do this, didn’t you?
Vader reached carefully into his black robe and slid his gloved hand down the hilt of his lightsaber. He tightened his grip. He had no sense anymore that the mechanical hand was any less his own than the flesh-and-blood one had been. The lightsaber felt a continuation of his own arm again, natural and complete.
“Lekauf,” he said quietly to his aide. “Lekauf, withdraw. Now.”
“What’s wrong, my lord?” Lekauf was looking up at the stark walls, too, following Vader’s lead. He reached for his blaster and held it two-handed, eyes darting. “I can’t see—”
The managers and technicians stood rooted, shoulders slightly hunched and looking around frantically to spot what they imagined Vader could see. They ducked. They couldn’t have seen anything. They were reacting to him.
“Lord Vader—”
“Get clear. I can deal with this.”
Vader felt he would need Lekauf one day, but not now. He thumbed the hilt and a shaft of brilliant red energy seared the air, sending the facility technicians suddenly scattering for nonexistent cover. The staccato thud-thud-thud of boots running on durasteel flooring echoed suddenly above and to both sides of the hangar and Vader spun around, lightsaber raised in both hands.
He faced the hangar doors.
Rappelling ropes paid out with a loud slap and the opening was instantly blocked from outside by a line of four hooded men with Thunderbolt repeating blasters. Vader felt the Force ripple with the presence of three more about to enter through the doors at his back.
Lekauf stepped in front of him to block their shots, blaster raised. Vader struck him aside with one armored blow, sending him to the floor and to safety as the stream of bolts flew at his chest plate in a concentrated V of blue light. Then he whirled his lightsaber in a neat circle at arm’s length, two-handed, blocking the shots in one economical blur of energy.
The assassins paused for a frantic reload.
“Lord Vader—” said Lekauf, but he was pinned flat by the Force, arms flailing.
“Stay down,” snapped Vader. I’ll need you one day. The other three hit men were still at his back, hidden behind the door. He could sense it. He backed toward it, beckoning one-handed to the four strung in a ragged line now across the entrance, taunting them, buying time. They tracked their blasters and tried to settle on a clear shot that would beat the slowly sweeping lightsaber. They didn’t seem able to find one.
“Come to me.” They’re behind me. I feel them. Oh, a little right, a little more to the right…“I’m not in the mood to chase today.”
They knew where their comrades were, he was sure of it. And so did he.
It was just a matter of timing to bring this to a quick end.
“Now!” yelled one man.
Vader dropped and spun as the doors behind him snapped open. From his crouched position he saw legs run at him and he swung left, right, left again,