Siege Page 32

  “General, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m trying. But what you’re asking me to do—virtually remake the formula—it’s difficult. You know how long it took to perfect it in the first place. Now you want me to start over. It means rebalancing the central matrix, it means—”

  He struck her again, so hard this time that she nearly blacked out. “I don’t care!” he bellowed. “Do what I ask or I’ll bring those puling little bloodsacs here and peel them while you watch!”

  He had to believe the threat terrified her. He couldn’t suspect she knew her nephews were safe. So she groveled at his feet, sobbing, and begged for their lives.

  He kicked her. “Get up, get up, your promises mean nothing. I want results. I want to test my new formula tonight.”

  Tonight was too soon. She was nowhere near close to reworking the weapon so it would kill on initial release—and then render itself inert after three minutes’ contact with oxygen. It had to be three minutes, even though a lot of people could die in that short space of time. She couldn’t risk him discovering her duplicity.

  Wincing, letting Durd see and hear her pain, Bant’ena clawed to her feet. “General, I will do what you want, I swear I will. But by tonight? I don’t think—”

  He thrust his flat, moist face into hers. “I don’t care what you think. I want my new formula and I’m locking you in here until I get it.” He stepped back. “Since I can’t trust Barev out of my sight, I’m returning to the spaceport. You’ve got until morning, Doctor. If you don’t have something for me then…”

  “You can’t leave.” she said. “What if there’s a problem? What if I need you to—”

  He shoved her. “The only thing you need is a miracle. I suggest you start working on one. Don’t forget—those little pink bloodsacs’ lives are depending on you.”

  The door closed and locked behind him. Spitting out blood, smearing her mouth clean on her sleeve, Bant’ena stared at it. Then she banished the pain and got back to work.

  HOURS PASSED. Day dragged into night. Durd didn’t return—which was fine by her. She’d only protested to fool him. It was easier to concentrate when he wasn’t pacing and bellowing and knocking her around. No food was brought to her, but that didn’t matter. There wasn’t time to eat. She needed every minute, every second, to sabotage her own creation.

  When she heard the clunking in the air vent over her head, for a moment she thought she was dreaming. And then the vent’s grille kicked out, landing with a clatter on the lab’s floor, and a lithely muscular human woman in a dust-smeared black bodysuit landed lightly on the balls of her feet beside it.

  “Bant’ena Fhernan? I’m Taria Damsin.”

  A silver-hilted lightsaber was belted at the woman’s hip. Bant’ena backed up till her legs bumped her lab stool, then sat. “You’re a Jedi.”

  “That’s right,” said the woman, flicking her long, blue-green braid off her shoulder. “Doctor, I know this is a surprise but I need you to focus.”

  But that was easier said than done. “How did you find me? How did you get in here?”

  “Like you said, I’m a Jedi.” The woman grinned. There was dried blood on her cheek and one hand. “We’re sneaky.”

  “Please, don’t—”

  “Fine. The very short explanation is that your mother made sure we got your message, and thanks to the embedded code in the recording we were able to pinpoint your exact location. Because of my… previous experience… I was chosen to infiltrate the planet and this facility.”

  Dazed, Bant’ena shook her head. “Oh. I see.”

  “I like your mother, by the way,” the woman added, brushing dust from her bodysuit. “She’s feisty.”

  Really? And then some instinct pricked her. “You’re the Jedi who rescued her.”

  Another grin. “There were two of us, actually.”

  Bant’ena couldn’t breathe for a moment. “Thank you,” she said at last, her voice rough. “But—you’re not here to rescue me. Are you?”

  “Oh, I’m more than happy to rescue you, Doctor,” said the Jedi. “But first I need to blow up this compound and every last particle of that weapon you invented.”

  “You’re serious?” she said blankly.

  “After Chandrila?” said the Jedi, her face twisting. “Absolutely.”

  Oh, Chandrila. “I’m sorry for that,” she whispered. “So sorry.”

  Taria Damsin looked at her in silence, her tawny-golden eyes very cool. “Are you? Then what say you prove it by answering my questions. Where is the bioweapon stockpiled? How many droids and Sep officers do I have to go through to get there? Where’s our dear friend Lok Durd? And last—but not least—where are Obi-Wan and Anakin? I thought I’d rescue them, too, since I’m here.”

  Heart thumping, Bant’ena stared at the exotic woman in front of her. “You mean that? You can rescue them?”

  “I never say what I don’t mean, Doctor,” said the Jedi, and glanced at the lab’s ceiling. “Quite a way above our heads there’s a Republic battle group waiting for my signal. Once I’ve done what I came here to do they’ll mop up the Seps while I go after Masters Kenobi and Skywalker. From what I can gather they’re in a bit of hot water.”

  Anakin. So solemn and trusting, so compassionate. Life had made him older than his years. Suffering, too. She’d seen that in him. Felt it. And she’d betrayed him—to his death, if Durd had his way.

  “How are you going to blow up the compound?”

  The Jedi patted the small satchel slung across her chest. “I have explosives here that will do the trick nicely. I’ve already seeded most of the air vents. Now I just need to take care of your lab and wherever the bioweapon’s stored.”

  Just like that? How… efficient. “I see,” she said, her mouth dry. “But look—about Anakin and Master Kenobi? They’ve been hiding in a mining village called Torbel. It’s somewhere southwest of Lantibba. Hours away. But Durd found them and now they’re out of time. He’s sending more droids and ammunition to break through their defenses. Master Damsin, he’s determined to hand them over to Count Dooku.”

  “Really?” said Taria Damsin, her voice soft. “Well. We’ll see about that.”

  Bant’ena looked at her. Like Anakin, like Master Kenobi, this woman was surrounded by an aura of otherness, a quality that set her apart from normal beings. There was power in her, a great coiled spring of it. The lab’s chemical-tainted air seemed to vibrate in her presence. And like Anakin, and Master Kenobi, she inpsired an instinctive trust.

  If she says she can rescue them, then I believe her. But right now she has to leave.

  “Master Damsin.” What am I doing? What am I doing? “You must know my life is over. I created a weapon that killed thousands of innocent beings. I’m a mass murderer.”

  “Yes—from a certain point of view you are,” Taria said slowly. “But not by choice.”

  Bant’ena shook her head. “That’s not true. That’s a story people like me tell ourselves so we’re not the villain. I did have a choice, and I chose the lives of my family and friends over the lives of strangers.”

  Something softened in Taria’s gaze. “Most people would.”

  “I can’t speak for most people,” she said. “I can only answer for myself.” Her heart was pounding. She felt cold and ill. But I have to. I have to. “Leave the explosives with me. I’ll prime this lab and the bioweapon production and storage units, I swear. I’ll see this compound reduced to a smoking crater. You find Anakin and Master Kenobi. Get them off this forsaken planet. And please, tell them I’m sorry.”

  “Bant’ena—” Taria frowned. “No. We can both get out of here once the explosives are set.”

  “No. We can’t.” She touched the collar around her neck. “If I cross the compound’s perimeter this will kill me.”

  “Then I’ll get it off you.”

  Bant’ena smiled. “There’s no time. Besides—how often do we get the chance to put right our worst mistake?”

  A long silence, the
n Taria tugged the satchel over her head, opened it, and pulled out a small black sphere.

  “Each charge is self-contained, with a polybond grip,” she said briskly. Her bruised face was a mask, all emotion locked behind it. “They’ll stick to anything. Use two in here, the rest on the bioweapons. The charge will vaporize the toxin.” She unzipped a pocket in her bodysuit and pulled out a remote. “This is the detonator. See the toggle here? Press it once, then press it again and hold it down. Detonation occurs five seconds later.” The mask slipped, then, and she caught her breath. “Bant’ena—”

  She held out her hand—and saw with pride it was perfectly steady. “That sounds quite straightforward, Master Damsin. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  Taria dropped the charge back into the satchel, then handed it and the detonator to her. “Is Durd in the compound?”

  The satchel was quite heavy, the detonator surprisingly light. “No. He’s gone to harass Colonel Barev—the Separatist liaison officer. They’ve been quite at odds, lately, what with one thing and another.”

  Taria grimaced. “Stang. I was hoping—”

  “It’s for the best,” she said. “His absence will make it much easier for me to do this. Without him here the facility is practically deserted. He took his personal droid with him and sent the compound’s remaining battle droids after Anakin and Master Kenobi.”

  “All right,” said Taria. Her tawny eyes had gone dark. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

  “You won’t reach Torbel in time without a fast groundcar. You’ll find one parked around the right side of the building. If you wait until this place explodes, you should be able to steal it without attracting attention.”

  Taria smiled. “Seems feisty is the Fhernan women’s trademark.”

  Mother. “Taria—”

  “Don’t worry,” the Jedi said, her voice shaking. “Mata Fhernan will know what kind of daughter she had.”

  Tears blurred Bant’ena’s vision, but only briefly. “I need one last thing from you. Durd’s locked me in here. Can you—”

  “Sure I can,” said Taria, and with a wave of her hand opened the lab door. “There you are.”

  Bant’ena clasped her arm. “Thank you. Now go and save Anakin and Master Kenobi.”

  With a nod, and a half smile, Taria leapt up to the air vent. Wriggled her way in through the open grille and was gone.

  Bant’ena placed two charges in the lab, then tipped the rest down her shirt, buttoned her lab coat to hide the bulge and slipped the detonator into her pocket. Then she let herself out of the lab and hurried along the empty corridor toward the weapon’s production complex and the storage unit.

  For the first time in a long time she felt… utterly free.

  LOK DURD LEANED FORWARD, reached over the driver’s seat backrest, and slapped at KD-77’s metal arm. “What are you dawdling for, you stupid machine? Drive faster! I want to see where that woman’s up to with my weapon.”

  The droid turned its head, revealing a flare of orange photoreceptors. “I am driving at the permitted speed limit, General.”

  “Do I look like I care about speed limits? Do you think speed limits apply to me?” If he didn’t need the droid he’d rip its insolent head off. “Drive faster!”

  “General,” said KD-77, and increased the groundcar’s speed.

  Slumping in his seat, Durd folded his hands over his belly. Stupid droid. Feeling rankled and hard done-by, he brooded through the groundcar’s armored side window at Lantibba’s dark, empty streets. Stupid droid, stupid Barev, stupid everything.

  I am too important to be suffering like this.

  “I cannot believe that barve of a colonel tried to argue with me about sending the rest of his super battle droids to Torbel,” he said. “I cannot believe he stood in that spaceport and told me to my face that his security needs supersede mine. What security needs? The spaceport’s in no danger—General Grievous is seeing to that. No, I’m the one in danger, with those two Jedi still on the loose. I tell you, Kay-Dee Seventy-seven, he wants them to escape Torbel. He wants them to kill me. Don’t you think so?”

  “It is a plausible scenario, General,” said the droid.

  This time he rapped his knuckles on the back of KD-77’s head. “It’s not plausible, you idiot. It’s a fact. Colonel Barev is plotting to destroy me. But he’ll fail. They always fail. Because I am Lok Durd.” He pressed his nose to the window beside him. “I can’t see a thing out there. How far to the compound?”

  “Eight hundred and forty-two me—”

  But the rest of the droid’s answer was lost in a brilliant red-and-white explosion that lit up Lantibba’s night sky in a false and burning dawn.

  KD-77 slammed the groundcar to a halt.

  “What was that?” Durd said. His voice was squeaking like a grub’s, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t the compound. It can’t have been the compound. “Get out! Get out and tell me what that was!”

  KD-77 idled the groundcar to stationary hover and got out. It was so obedient. If only Barev would follow orders with the same mindless alacrity.

  After a moment, Durd activated the window and stuck his head out. “Well, droid? Don’t just stand there!” Then he coughed, because the cold night air was full of smoke and stink. “What’s going on?”

  The groundcar’s headlights bleached KD-77 from dark red almost to white. It turned, its photoreceptors eerie, its metal body backlit by plumes of smoke and leaping flames.

  “General, the compound has been destroyed.”

  Hive Mother protect me. The Jedi.

  “Kay-Dee Seventy-seven, get back here!” he shrieked as bile rose choking into his throat. “Drive me back to the spaceport! Hurry! Hurry!”

  They passed two emergency response vehicles on their return journey. Durd stared at them, his stomachs churning. Only two? Was that how little Barev counted his safety?

  I could be dead right now. A matter of minutes and I’d have been in the compound when it blew. I could be scattered across Lantibba in pieces. And would Barev care? I’ll lay short odds he wouldn’t.

  He felt sick enough to vomit. This was a disaster. His compound—his weapon—his captive scientist: all gone. When Count Dooku heard the news he’d be furious, he’d—but no. No. He had to stay calm. Panic wasn’t the answer. He had to think. There was a way out of this. There was always a way out.

  The weapon’s not all destroyed. I can delay the attack on Bespin and retrieve a sample. I can kidnap another scientist to rework the formula. I can recover from this. I will recover from this. Barev, on the other hand…

  Ignoring the human Separatists in the spaceport security complex, Durd ordered KD-77 to kick in Barev’s office door.

  “Barev!” he snarled, marching into the room. “Explain to me how you let this happen!”

  Jaw dropped, the human stared. “Durd! You’re alive!”

  Idiot. “Obviously. Disappointed, Colonel?”

  “What? You’re blaming me?” Barev leapt up from the chair behind his desk. “You think I had something to do with your compound’s destruction?”

  He sneered. “Not directly. You don’t have the guts. No, the Jedi did this—but since you’ve failed to capture them then yes, I do hold you responsible!”

  “The Jedi?” said Barev, incredulous. “The Jedi are still trapped in Torbel, you fool. This is your doing, Durd! Through ignorance or incompetence—probably both—you ignored safety protocols and jeopardized an entire city sector. Believe me, I’ll be making a full report to Count Dooku and telling him what a useless joke you are, and—”

  Fingers fastened tight around Barev’s convulsing throat, laughing aloud at the terror in his ashen face, Durd dragged the human across the desk until their foreheads were almost touching.

  “Barev,” he said softly, “I’m afraid you won’t be telling Count Dooku anything.”

  Watching the life drain out of Barev’s pale, ugly eyes was a visceral pleasure.

  Letting the body drop, Durd s
natched up a comlink from the office’s console and tossed it to KD-77. “Make sure that’s secure, then raise General Grievous for me.”

  The droid was a communications genius. Moments later it gave the comlink back to Durd.

  “Grievous, this is General Lok Durd,” he said, staring at the stinking pile of flesh and bone that had been Colonel Barev. “My safety cannot be guaranteed on Lanteeb. I am coming to you, with urgent information for Count Dooku. I believe he’s ordered you to cooperate with me fully? Good. Then stand by to receive my ship.”

  Without giving the disgusting creature a chance to reply, he disconnected the comlink and looked at his droid.

  “And I think that’s that.”

  KD-77’s photoreceptors flared. “What about the Jedi, General?”

  He smiled. “What about them? They’re not going anywhere. I’ll send Grievous to collect them once those Republic ships are taken care of.”

  “An excellent idea, General,” said KD-77. “But I would be remiss not to point out that Grievous has been known to fail.”

  True. Durd felt his face twist with revulsion. “Then I’ll give the order to kill them. Either way, droid—the Jedi are dead.”

  OBI-WAN WAS TRYING TO SNATCH a few minutes of sleep when he was jolted upright by a familiar but totally unexpected presence.

  Taria.

  “Obi-Wan,” said Greti, and stopped rolling the bandage she held. “Are you greensick?”

  He’d given up trying to send the child home. “No. I’m fine. Greti, put the bandages away and get some sleep.”

  “You look funny,” she said. “Are you sure it’s not greensick, you are?”

  He clambered to his feet, every muscle and bone protesting. “I said I’m fine. Now do as you’re told.”

  “But—” Pouting, she slumped on her cot. “Where are you going?”

  “Not far. Just into the street. I need some fresh air. Come and get me if a patient wakes.”

  Nights were long on Lanteeb. Plasma blasts splattering against Anakin’s shield lit up the persistent darkness in fits and bursts. The bombardment’s boom and blat shuddered through his bones, but he hardly noticed it. After all this time he’d grown numb to the angry sound.