New Republic ships—at last! A wild cry of exhilaration sounded over the comm speakers, followed by a Wookiee roar of challenge. Jacen and Jaina gaped briefly at each other in astonishment.
“Dad?” Jaina said.
“Chewie?” Jacen asked.
“Half of the New Republic fleet,” Tenel Ka said. The warrior girl was not exaggerating. An entire cavalry of friendly vessels had dropped out of hyperspace to engage the Diversity Alliance attackers. A few of Nolaa Tarkona’s ships, apparently not yet ready to give up their quarry, began firing again at the Rock Dragon. A moment later one of those ships exploded into a fireball in space behind them.
Han Solo’s voice came over the comm speakers again. “I suggest you kids get to safety while we handle the heavy artillery out here.”
“But Dad—Lowie and Zekk and Raynar are still on the asteroid!” Jaina objected as turbolaser fire exploded uncomfortably close to their port shields.
“We’re just heading back there.” Chewbacca roared so loudly over the speakers that sparks flew. Han Solo spoke grimly, communicating both his concern for his children and his high estimation of their competence.
“Just stay clear of the crossfire,” Han said. “Wait for an opening, but until then, stick close to the Falcon.”
Tenel Ka pointed out, “Until the Diversity Alliance armada is under control, our safest alternative is to stay with the New Republic fleet.”
Jaina swerved to avoid another turbolaser blast. Then, with a determined whoop, she pulled the Rock Dragon alongside her father’s ship.
18
Jaina’s blast in the subsidiary dome rocked the entire asteroid. The eruption destabilized the munitions depot, knocking out several artificial gravity generators in distinct sections. The shockwave threw Lowbacca to his knees as he fled from Corrsk down a long corridor. The walls shook, and suddenly the tug of gravity went slack and the floor and ceiling spun around him. The Wookiee lost his footing and tumbled, disoriented in the weightlessness. He banged against the wall, flailing his furry arms and legs. Em Teedee clanged on the metal plates with a loud ringing sound.
Lowie’s ears popped from a surge of decompression elsewhere in the asteroid. At the other end of the corridor, Corrsk lurched through an open pressure door, unbothered by the shift. His entire attention was focused on his prey.
The Trandoshan aimed his blaster at the Wookiee—but an aftershock threw him to one side. His shot streaked past Lowbacca and struck the airlock at the tunnel juncture. Alarms rang out after the explosion created a violent decompression. With a grunt, Lowie surged toward the end of the hall, but he was too late. Automatic systems slammed the blast doors closed, sealing off and compartmentalizing sections of the asteroid to stop the loss of air. The heavy door closed shut just as Lowie reached it, pounding his hairy paws against the unyielding surface. He was trapped in a dead end, facing the reptilian hunter. At the far end of the corridor, Corrsk gave a dry rasping laugh, like sandpaper on a raw wound.
Lowie didn’t intend to give the predator the satisfaction of an easy kill. He drew his lightsaber, and its molten-bronze blade blazed brightly as he bounced from one wall to the other, as if dancing on marionette strings. The asteroid’s natural gravity was barely enough to keep his feet touching the floor. Corrsk blasted at him again, and Lowie leaped up, hitting the ceiling, ricocheting back down at an angle to the wall, and then springing off again.
He took the initiative and lunged toward the Trandoshan. Blaster bolts streaked in another haywire pattern, and Lowie swung his lightsaber in the air for intimidation. Its humming, buzzing sound was like a swarm of deadly insects in the enclosed tunnel.
“No escape,” the Trandoshan gargled. Lowie growled something untranslatable in response. He was concerned about his friends, about the explosion that had just rocked the asteroid, about Nolaa Tarkona and the plague—but right now, despite all his training as a Jedi, the primary force surging through him was a bestial hatred of this reptilian species that had slaughtered hundreds, maybe thousands, of Wookiees, taking their fur as trophies. The Trandoshans were Lowie’s natural enemies, and he did not intend to become a prize pelt for Corrsk. Corrsk braced his blaster and fired again, but Lowie ducked out of the way.
The bolt singed the metal wall near a control panel for the environmental systems and the pressurized doors. Lowie crashed into the tall reptilian, and they grappled, hammering at each other. He did not simply strike Corrsk dead with the lightsaber as he could have. He resisted that—for now—but he doubted there could be another end to this battle. He snarled, and the Trandoshan hissed back at him. During the fight, the catch holding Em Teedee onto Lowie’s prized syren-fiber belt snapped, and the little droid sprang free, using his microrepulsorjets to bob into the air.
“Master Lowbacca, please be careful—I could have been seriously damaged!” Lowie rammed the Trandoshan into the wall, and Corrsk struck back, pushing hard and driving Lowie across the corridor. The low gravity made resistance futile, and they bounced and caromed like foam balls in a spin-dagat tournament. Lowie saw that on the other side of the sealed pressure door the dome had been ripped open, leaving only the vacuum of space. He could not take the time to find a different way out; he would have to go back the way they had come. Many corridors reeled out behind them, but other pressure doors had locked down as well—and right now all he could see was the blazing hatred in Corrsk’s eyes; all he could smell was the sour breath of half-digested raw meat that clung between the Trandoshan’s teeth. They continued to fight. Lowie backed off, raising his lightsaber.
The Trandoshan fired his blaster, and Lowie deflected it. Corrsk fired again, stepping closer, raising his weapon. Lowie had no room to move. As the Trandoshan prepared to push the firing stud again, Lowie had no choice but to slash with the lightsaber, severing Corrsk’s arm high above the elbow. The reptilian roared, but before his amputated arm could fall to the floor, he, reached out with his other hand and grabbed his detached wrist, trying to snatch the blaster pistol from its twitching grip.
“It will regenerate,” he said. Em Teedee flew free, spinning up and over to the control panel on the wall. The little droid bounced against it, pushing buttons with his casing. As Corrsk stood up and lunged, a hot blast of steam came from an environmental control nozzle in the ceiling. The reptilian yowled in surprise, and Lowie bent over, pushing against the floor and springing outward. He crashed full force into the Trandoshan’s torso, knocking him backward. Corrsk spun end over end in the low gravity, leaking black blood from the broken cauterized stump of his arm. Lowie fought to regain his footing, his balance. He wasn’t accustomed to struggling in near-weightlessness.
Em Teedee wailed, “Over here, Master Lowbacca! I’m over here, if you’re trying to find me.”
Lowie was more interested in the control panel itself. As he drifted past, he snagged the square box, then held on to a sturdy support pipe that ran up the wall. Staggering and unable to catch his footing, Corrsk drifted to the back of the passageway and slammed into the pressure door on the opposite end. Still clutching his severed limb in his good hand, he tried to wrestle the blaster pistol away from the reflexively clenched dead fingers. At the control panel, Lowie frantically worked to analyze the Imperial codes and the buttons used for fail-safe mechanisms. Corrsk succeeded in prying his blaster free from his dead hand’s grip and held it out in his left hand, aiming at Lowie.
Lowbacca punched in the final sequence and disengaged the airlock mechanism, which popped open the pressure door. The metal bulkhead slid aside right behind Corrsk. He snarled and reached out to grab for support, but his arm was no longer there. Suddenly, with a wail, the vacuum of space ripped him away. The Trandoshan flew backward into open space. Air gushed out, swooping and cold. Lowie fought to lash his syren-fiber belt around the support pipe, which held him firmly in place against the wall.