Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [37]
Technically speaking, the Ebon Hawk still belonged to Davik Kang, a Tarisian crime lord. But Davik wouldn’t be coming to reclaim it: he was long dead, his body buried beneath the ruins of Taris when Malak bombed the city-world from orbit.
“Be careful out there,” Bastila said.
“I always am,” he answered with a smile, wiping a single tear from the corner of her eye.
They didn’t need to say anything else; they’d said their true goodbyes in private the previous night. Bastila’s years of Jedi training had left her uncomfortable with public displays of emotion, but she stood up on her toes and planted a long, hard kiss on Revan’s lips. Then she turned away and quickly left the spaceport.
Canderous raised a curious eyebrow but showed enough restraint not to ask why she wasn’t coming.
They finished loading the ship in silence. Twenty minutes later the Ebon Hawk took flight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BOSTHIRDA’S ORANGE SUN WAS SETTING QUICKLY.
Scourge, crouched in the shadows of a cramped alley in the warehouse district on the outskirts of Jerunga, the planetary capital, watched it disappear. As darkness fell, the photosensitive streetlamps kicked in, casting the entire district in a pale yellow glow.
The dim artificial illumination was enough to give Scourge a clear view of the two-story building across the street. From the outside, there was no way to tell that the structure was the separatists’ base. There were no autoguns on the roof; no guards patrolled the perimeter. The loading bay doors were ordinary durasteel, rather than the reinforced kind used to construct blast doors. The windows were blacked out, and several security cams panned back and forth, surveying the street, but neither was unusual for buildings in this district.
Instead of military fortifications that might draw unwanted attention, the separatists relied on anonymity and secrecy to protect them. They would be unprepared for the wrath about to rain down upon them.
His comlink beeped softly, followed by Murtog’s whispered voice. “Team is in position.”
“Hold until my signal,” Scourge replied. “Give me time to take out those cams.”
“Could be droids in there,” Sechel chimed in. “You sure you don’t want Murtog’s team to go in first and clear the way?”
Scourge gritted his teeth. Did Sechel know about Scourge’s difficulties in taking down the droids at the UDM plant? Were his words a way of saying, I know your secrets; I know your weaknesses?
On the other hand, if Sechel was just making a joke based on what had happened on their last mission, then Scourge’s paranoid over-analysis meant that the slimy little sycophant had gotten to him.
Neither option sat well with the Sith Lord, particularly since he still wasn’t sure whether Sechel was trying to get him killed.
“Remember the plan,” Scourge snapped. “The two of you stay back until I give the all-clear. We can’t risk a stray blaster bolt taking out our Lord’s favorite adviser; leave the dirty work to me and your team.”
“Understood,” Murtog agreed.
Keeping Murtog out of the battle wasn’t the best tactical choice, but it was worth it to keep Sechel away from the action. Scourge didn’t need to be looking over his shoulder while he was fighting the separatists. Plus, Murtog would be at a safe distance, as well—just in case he turned out to be a co-conspirator.
“I’ll send the signal once I poke out their eyes,” Scourge said, rising to his feet.
Careful to stay in the shadows, Scourge crossed the street to the building adjacent to the base and crept around the back. There he located the utility ladder running up the side of the building and climbed to the rooftop, from which he could look down on the roof of the separatist base. The gap between the buildings was substantial: nearly ten meters. Scourge measured the distance, took a dozen steps back, then ran to the edge and leapt over the precipice.
He pulled his knees up and tucked into a forward roll as he landed, then sprang to his feet, lightsaber