More by luck than by skill he managed to deflect the clawed forelegs from his face as he dropped his blaster and thrust his arms forward in a desperate attempt to grab the wolvkil's neck before its teeth could reach him. The animal twisted its head to the side in midair, its jaws clamping hard around Fel's right forearm.
Fel gasped as a stab of pain shocked through him. The animal's momentum shoved him backward, knocking him off his balance and toppling them both toward the deck. His flailing left hand caught a handful of neck fur; tugging hard as he twisted the rest of his body, he managed to turn the animal far enough that they hit the deck side by side instead of with the wolvkil landing on top of him.
Another thud of pain shot through Fel's side from the impact, a jolt punctuated by several sharper, more localized jabs from the bits of broken servingware beneath them. Again, the wolvkil didn't even seem to notice.
Fel tightened his grip on the animal's fur, trying desperately to come up with a plan. His knees and feet were too hemmed in by the wolvkil's body for him to try kicking it, even if he'd had some idea where its vulnerable areas were. His right arm was trapped and useless, and his left hand was effectively immobilized by the need to keep holding on to the wolvkil's neck.
But the animal's eyes were within reach. Maybe.
Fel stared at the dark eyes, trying to push back the agony long enough to think. Letting go of the wolvkil's neck would be dangerous, possibly even fatal. But it seemed to be the only chance he had. If he didn't do something fast, he could lose his right arm entirely, and with only one functioning arm the end would come very quickly. Bracing himself, mentally crossing his fingers, he let go with his left hand and grabbed for the wolvkil's eyes.
That had apparently been precisely the move the animal had been waiting for. With a triumphant growl, it instantly let loose of Fel's right arm; with its head and neck free, it arched its back, its bloody jaws aiming straight at Fel's throat. Fel had just enough time to jerk back, knowing that he'd gambled and lost—
As a white armored hand abruptly appeared in front of the darting jaws.
The wolvkil snarled as it clamped down on rigid plastoid-alloy composite instead of a soft human neck. The snarl quickly turned into a startled yip as it was hauled straight off the deck by its jaws and the scruff of its neck. "Ready?" the stormtrooper called, holding the wiggling animal at arm's length.
"Ready," another voice called back. With a grunt, the first stormtrooper heaved the animal over his head toward the far corner of the room. There was a sputter of multiple blasterfire, and then silence.
"Nice job," Fel said, breathing hard as he started to get shakily to his feet. The stormtrooper still standing over him—Shadow, he was able to identify him now—grabbed his uninjured arm and helped him the rest of the way up. "Perfect timing and everything. Thanks."
"Don't mention it, sir," Shadow said. "How bad is it?"
"I'll live," Fel assured him, studying his arm. It looked terrible, he had to admit, but it didn't feel too bad. Though that could be the effect of the adrenaline still filling his bloodstream. It would probably hurt a lot more in a minute or two. "What happened out there?"
"We got them all," Cloud said, stepping to his side with a bandage and synthflesh tube from his medpac. "Seems their armor wasn't designed with BlasTechs in mind."
"What about General Drask?" Fel asked, trying to look past the two stormtroopers to the door.
"I am unhurt," Drask said, moving into view around Cloud. "I am sorry your rescue was delayed."
"As long as it got here eventually," Fel said, wincing as Shadow tore back his sleeve. "I shot it a couple of times, but it didn't seem to do any good. Look, Cloud, just stop the bleeding and kill the pain, all right? As long as I can use it, everything else can wait until later. So where are the vital spots on these things, anyway?"
"I'm not sure there are any vital spots," Watchman said as Cloud put away the synthflesh tube and concentrated on the bandage. "They look like normal animals, but their internal structure seems to be highly decentralized, with their nervous systems and vital organs distributed throughout their bodies. You have to basically turn the whole animal into chopped meat to stop it."
"I'll remember that," Fel said, eyeing the handful of fresh scorch marks on Watchman's armor. "Anyone hurt?"
"A few nicks," Watchman said, displaying a section of his left forearm where a tiny hole had been punched completely through. "They can wait until we get back to the ship."
Fel looked at Drask. "Assuming there's still a ship to go back to."
"There will be," Drask assured him darkly. "There are still Chiss warriors aboard the vessel. It, and they, will be waiting when we return."
"I hope you're right," Fel said. "Okay, that's good enough," he added as Cloud finished the first layer of bandage and started in on a second. "Is that turbolift car still operational, or did that little entrance of theirs wreck it?"
"It looked all right," Watchman said. "Grappler's doing a more complete check on it now."
"Oh, and the Jedi tried to reach us during the battle," Shadow added.
Fel hadn't even heard the call signal from his comlink. "What did they want?"
"They were warning us there were more Vagaari than we might expect," Watchman said.
"I think we got the message," Fel said, starting for the door. "Did anyone answer them?"
"I don't believe so," Watchman said. "I think we were all too busy at the time."
"Understandable," Fel said, retrieving his blaster from the deck where he'd dropped it. "We'll check in with them on the way up."
Grappler was waiting by the shattered turbolift door, his helmet swiveling back and forth as he kept watch along the various corridors for any other surprises the Vagaari might decide to throw at them. "The turbolift is operational," he confirmed.
"Good," Fel said, leading the way inside. "Let's go."
"What then is the plan?" Drask asked as the car began its slightly tentative rise toward D-5.
Fel braced himself. This went against everything he'd been taught, and was going to be embarrassing besides. But he'd already concluded it was the only way. "The plan, General Drask," he said quietly, "is that I'm requesting you to take command of the Five-Oh-First for the duration of this battle."
It was, he reflected, possibly the most surprised he'd ever seen Drask get. "You are asking... command?"
"As you yourself pointed out, you're a ground officer," Fel reminded him evenly. "I'm a flight officer. This is your area of expertise, not mine."
"Yet they are your command," Drask said. "Do you so easily surrender them to another?"
"Not easily at all," Fel admitted. "But it would be the height of arrogance and pride to risk their lives, not to mention the lives of our companions, by insisting on amateur leadership when a professional is standing by. Don't you agree?"
For a moment Drask just gazed at him, his glowing red eyes narrowed. Then, to Fel's surprise, the general actually smiled. The first genuine smile, to the best of Fel's recollection, that any of the Chiss had given any of the Imperials since their arrival aboard the Chaf Envoy. "Well and artfully spoken, Commander Fel," Drask said. "I hereby accept command of this unit."
He lifted a finger. "But," he added, "whereas I know ground combat, you are far more versed in the design and layout of the particular battleground we find ourselves in. It will therefore be a joint command."
Fel inclined his head. In practice, he knew, joint commands were usually a disaster, spawning conflicting orders, dueling egos, and general chaos. But in this case, he also knew that none of those problems was going to arise. He would be content to feed Drask tactical data and let the general direct the action.