Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order_ Dark Tide 01_ Onslaught - Michael A. Stackpole [106]
Corran’s comlink buzzed. “Horn, go ahead.”
“Jens here. The Yuuzhan Vong are headed back your way. They stopped chasing the probe.”
“Not good. Buzz them. Do something to attract their attention. We need some time.”
“You won’t have much. Trista is inbound.”
“Sithspawn!” Corran’s nostrils flared. “No time to play, no time to think.”
Ganner raised his lightsaber again. “We cut them free.”
“And if one cut won’t do it? The restraints tighten and pop their arms out of their shoulder sockets or tear them clean off. No good.”
“What do we do?”
Corran raked fingers back through his brown hair, then stepped up to Denna and stabbed his stiffened fingers deep into the man’s armpit. Through the Force, he could feel a jolt of pain running through the man. He also saw the rack’s restraints slacken slightly.
“That’s it. They’re being held in a constant level of pain. If the rack senses too much, it lets the pressure off. We have to put them in more pain, a lot of pain, to get the rack to release them.”
The younger Jedi frowned. “How? Beat them up? Break some bones? Stab them with lightsabers?”
“It would do the trick, but it would kill them, obviously.” Corran smiled grimly. “I will just have to make them think they’re in pain.”
Ganner’s head came up, and he gave Corran a respectful nod. “Ah, yes. Get to it.”
“Not that easy.” Corran began to roll up his left sleeve. “It will take some work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ever broken a limb?”
Ganner nodded. “My leg.”
“You remember it hurt, right?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t remember how much it hurt. The mind is like that. You forget the really sharp pains so you’ll continue going on. Women forget the pain of childbirth or we’d all be only children.” Corran sighed. “I can project pain into them, but I’ve got to feel it to get it right.”
“How?” Ganner’s question came very tentatively.
Corran moved between the two racks and stood facing Vil, with Denna behind him. “You face Denna. When the machines slacken fully, you’ve got to make one cut, get the restraint straps. You do him, I’ll do Vil.”
“Okay.”
“Now the hard part.” Corran extended his left forearm toward Ganner, with his hand open and palm up. “One of the other Force abilities I have is pretty rare. I can, under certain circumstances, absorb a certain amount of energy without much damage to myself. To get the pain I need, I want you to press your lightsaber against my forearm. Not too hard—I like the limb just fine. Just hold it out, maybe, and I’ll move my arm up into it.”
Ganner’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“You want to save these two or not?”
“But—”
“But nothing. Are you ready?”
Ganner nodded and extended the lightsaber.
Corran could feel the buzz of it against his flesh as he slowly raised his arm. The blade’s heat vaporized hairs, filling the area with the stink of singed protein. Corran knew that scent was nothing compared to what would follow. He swallowed, once, hard, then flattened his hand and raised his arm another centimeter.
Silver agony flashed right up his arm and into his brain. By reflex he started to use a Jedi technique to shunt the pain away, but then stopped himself. He concentrated, soaking in the energy of the blade. He looked out through slitted eyelids and saw his flesh reddening, then beginning to blister. Smoke rose from it, and the pain built. Then, as he saw the first hint of charring, he latched onto the Force and poured the torment out and into the students.
One second, two, three. Corran let the burning sharpness flow through him and into Vil and Denna. They twitched while he trembled. They shrieked while his flesh crackled. His clenched jaw ground his teeth together, and he tasted blood.
The racks slackened, dropping each student half a meter toward the floor. The restraining straps snapped taut, all glossy and black like wet leather. Corran ignited his own lightsaber and whipped the blade around,