"It's starting to look that way," Luke agreed, pausing to look down a cross-corridor before passing it by. "But at least they don't have the element of surprise anymore."
"They apparently had it long enough," Pressor said bitterly.
"Don't worry, we'll get them," Mara said. "What did you tell your people?"
"I told the ones who are left to hold position, observe, and stand ready to defend those around them if attacked," Pressor said, his jaw set belligerently. "Two of them were in that room with your people, and I'm not going to risk the others on some bantha-brained attack until I have a better idea what we're up against."
If he was expecting an argument, he was disappointed. "I agree," Luke said. "Actually, right now we need their eyes and ears around the ship more than we need the extra firepower."
"Absolutely," Mara agreed. "After all, how much trouble can four or five Vagaari make?"
She would remember that rhetorical question for a long time afterward. With Pressor in the lead, they rounded a jog in the corridor and ran straight into the Vagaari.
But not four Vagaari. Not even five Vagaari.
There were eight of them, Bearsh and seven others, striding down the corridor toward them about ten meters away. Bearsh was still dressed in his usual robe and tunic, minus his wolvkil, but the others were outfitted like soldiers, with helmets and full combat armor, armed with an eclectic mix of Chiss charrics and Old Republic blasters and carbines. Two wolvkils prowled ahead of them like advance scouts, while five more wove in and out of their formation like a fighter escort.
The two groups spotted each other at the same moment. "Halt!" Pressor ordered, snapping his blaster up to point at Bearsh.
The Vagaari halted, all right, in exactly the way Mara would have expected trained soldiers to. The four in front dropped instantly to one knee, giving the ones behind them a clear shot as all seven raised their weapons in silent warning. The wolvkils halted more reluctantly, their eyes glaring balefully at the humans, their tails swishing restlessly.
"Easy," Luke murmured, reaching out a hand to gently push Pressor's blaster out of line. At the same time, he subtly eased a shoulder in front of the other where he would be in a position to protect him if and when the Vagaari decided to start shooting. His lightsaber was ready in his hand, Mara noted, but as yet unignited. "Hello, Bearsh," he called to the Vagaari. "I see you've brought some friends."
"Ah—the Jedi," Bearsh said. If he was at all worried by their sudden appearance, it didn't show in his face. "So you survived the turbolift, after all. I'm very sorry for you."
"Why?" Mara asked, a part of her mind studying the Vagaari soldiers and trying to work through the unexpected numbers. Only five Vagaari had been invited aboard the Chaf Envoy; that much she was sure of. So where had the rest been hidden?
"Because it would have meant a quicker and less painful death for you," Bearsh said. "Now it will involve much more suffering."
"Why does anyone have to die?" Mara asked reasonably. "Why don't you tell us what you want? Maybe we can work something out."
Bearsh's eyes flashed. "You fool," he bit out. "You think the Vagaari can be bought off like trinket dealers in the marketplace?"
"Well, you came on this mission for some reason," Mara pointed out. "What was it?"
Bearsh snorted. "The avenging of fifty years of Vagaari humiliation," he said. "The achieving of fifty years of Vagaari desire. Does that tell you anything?"
"More than you'd think," Mara assured him. It did nothing of the sort, of course, at least not yet. But one of the first rules she'd been taught about interrogation technique was that every bit of information that could be coaxed out of an unwary or talkative subject was a piece that might later prove important to the overall puzzle. "And have you achieved those noble goals?"
Bearsh's twin mouths curved in a bitter smile. "Beyond our most optimistic hopes," he said. "The human remnant we leave behind will spend their last hours cursing themselves for how they have unwittingly served us."
"Sounds intriguing," Mara said encouragingly. "How about letting us in on the secret? We're all going to die soon anyway, right?"
Bearsh's eyes shifted to Luke. "Is this Jedi heroism?" he asked contemptuously. "To let your female speak while you cower in silence?"
Luke stirred. "I'm hardly cowering," he said mildly. "I let Mara do the talking because she's better at this sort of thing than I am. Comes of being trained to interrogate prisoners."
The Vagaari's smile turned smug. "You have it upside down, Jedi," he said softly. "And we have wasted enough time with you. Now, die."
He murmured something, and abruptly the two wolvkils in the lead leapt forward. Mara caught a flicker in Luke's sense as he prepared for combat— "No," she told him, brushing his chest with her fingertips as she took a long step to put herself between him and Pressor and the charging animals. "You did all the climbing. This one's mine."
Before he could argue the point she took another long step forward, stretching out to the Force as she gauged the distance and timing. Ears laid back, salivating jaws wide open, the wolvkils' paws hit the deck one final time and leapt straight for her throat—
With a quick sidestep, Mara ignited her lightsaber and cut both of them in half.
She turned to the Vagaari as the remains of the animals hit the deck behind her with sickening multiple thuds. "Now," she said conversationally, holding her lightsaber in ready position. "What was that about someone dying?"
Bearsh's eyes were wide, his face rigid with shock. The smug smile had vanished completely. His mouths worked a moment, and with a sort of strangled gasp he spat something in his own language.
In answer, seven alien weapons opened fire.
Mara was ready. Her lightsaber flashed as she opened her mind to the Force, letting it guide her hands, slashing the brilliant blue blade across the mixture of red and blue bolts. Her sharp focus on the threat in front of her gave her a sort of tunnel vision, but though she couldn't see him she could sense that Luke was at her side with his own lightsaber deflecting the bolts into bulkheads and deck and ceiling. Dimly, she sensed someone else firing nearby, and noticed one of the Vagaari stagger in his armor, his weapon twisted to fire uselessly into the ceiling. Pressor, she realized in a distant sort of way, firing through the defensive barrier she and Luke had set up in front of him. There was another shout of alien language, ringed by a sense of rage and desperation—
The remaining wolvkils leapt forward, apparently oblivious to the blaster bolts scorching the air around them as they charged toward the defenders. Mara took a step forward as Luke took one backward, her lightsaber never missing a beat of their defense as Luke closed down his weapon and dropped to one knee behind her. She might be better than he was at detailed lightsaber work, but even after a long climb he was far and away the best she'd ever seen at this kind of focused accuracy with the Force. If the Vagaari weren't already sufficiently impressed, she thought as she continued to deflect their shots, this ought to do it. The wolvkils reached their jumping-off spot and started to leap straight at her—
They squealed like small lap dokriks, coming to an abrupt and simultaneous halt as Luke stretched out with the Force to momentarily scramble their nervous systems. As they stood stunned, he sent a second, more precise mental jolt into their systems, his mind searching out and focusing on their sleep centers.
With a group sigh, the animals' legs collapsed beneath them and they dropped unconscious to the deck.
Luke got back to his feet. "Well?" he challenged.
Farmboy—the word ran affectionately through Mara's mind. She herself had been trained in ruthlessness, taught never to risk herself for those who threatened her and who, by definition, had therefore forfeited their right to live.