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Her own target wobbled, beginning a climb—then suddenly decelerated. Syal yanked her yoke back, assuming his climb was a fake, and hit her thrusters. Her enemy seemed to fly in reverse, passing beneath her, nose now pointed downward. Her reflex had been correct, and he was oriented away from her, unable to bring his lasers to bear. She continued her climb, looping around in a tight 360-degree curve, and saw her target doing the same, coming back toward her for a face-to-face pass.

chapter thirty-four

The Broadside’s captain shouted, “Clear away, clear away! We’re coming in hot, half our systems shot out!”

The crew of the shuttle currently docked at the air lock dead ahead apparently believed him. Through the cockpit door and the viewport beyond, Seyah saw the shuttle thrust free of the air lock.

The Broadside’s pilot did bring her in hot, beginning deceleration at the last possible moment. The shuttle did not so much dock as slam into the air lock and stick. Seyah was thrown forward, held in his seat by the webbing, and a moment later fake GAG troopers all around him were unbuckling, rising, readying their rifles.

He managed to get unstrapped and rose, snapping his visor down. He fell into line behind Kyp.

The side door slid open. Troopers poured into the air lock. The door closed, and the air lock cycled.

The far door opened. Blasterfire poured in through it, hitting two fake troopers, throwing them back and down, smoke rising from their burns. Seyah slammed himself to one side, crushing someone against the air lock wall, and suddenly his entire universe was made up of black uniforms, blaster bolts, screams, and oaths.

A shove pushed him through the air lock doorway. He sprawled on the deck plates beyond and looked up. His comrades were advancing by twos along the passageway wall, sustaining ferocious fire, responding with ferocious fire. Someone stepped on his back in passing.

A hand on his arm yanked him to his feet and Kyp Durron hauled him against the wall to the left. The Jedi grinned at him, white teeth barely visible through his visor. “I suggest you fire your weapon. Don’t hit us.”

Seyah glared and did as he was told.

Firing was good. It was something to concentrate on. Something other than throwing up.

Ben finished cutting the circle out of the durasteel blast doors and, sweating, stepped back. The plug of metal stayed in place, its edges glowing. Ben reached toward it and, with an exertion in the Force, pulled it toward him. It swung open like a hatch, then clattered to the deck plates.

A small object, round and metallic, sailed through the hole. When it hit the deck, instead of rolling, it froze in place.

Ben began to turn, crouching to leap, knowing he might not get far enough in time. He’d seen high-yield grenades before, and many had a blast radius sufficient to reach him in midleap.

He was fast, but not as fast as Saba Sebatyne. The Jedi Master simply reached out and the plug Ben had cut from the blast doors flipped over, coming down atop the detonator. Saba’s hand flattened as though she were holding something down.

As Ben leapt, the detonator blew, most of its force now directed downward, punching a charred hole in the deck. The deck was still vibrating and Ben’s ears had only just begun to ring when he came down again, a dozen meters away.

The three Jedi turned toward the hole in the blast doors.

Blasterfire began to pour through, its density and angle suggesting three or four different sources. These weren’t the narrow bolts of hand weapons, either. To Ben they looked like they had to originate with heavy, squad-level weapons.

Luke, lightsaber lit and up, charged to the hole, batted away a flurry of bolts, and dived through. The barrage became less ferocious.

Saba was next, squeezing through the gap with surprising grace. The noise made by the barrage of fire continued—but no more bolts came through.

Ben gulped, then ran forward and somersaulted through the gap.

He landed