The medic looked back at Jinzler, and he thought he could detect a hint of fresh strain in her face. "I'm going to run a sample of his blood," she told him. "It might be possible to synthesize at least some of the basic plasma for him. It wouldn't be whole blood, but it would be better than nothing."
"It would certainly help," Jinzler acknowledged. "Thank you."
The medic gave him a flicker of a smile and walked away. Feesa moved into the spot by the table where the woman had been standing, her face etched with worry as she gazed down at Formbi. "He'll make it," Jinzler assured her, knowing even as he said it that it was probably a lie. Maybe Keely was right about him. "He's strong, and they've got the bleeding stopped. He'll make it."
"I know," Feesa said, and Jinzler could hear in her voice that she knew she was speaking a lie, too. "It's just..."
"He's a relative of yours, isn't he?" Jinzler asked, searching for something less painful to talk about. "You know, I don't think I ever heard how Chiss families are set up. Especially those who make up the Ruling Families."
She looked at him blankly. "The Nine Ruling Families are like any other families," she said. "Blood and merit create siblings and cousins and ranking distants. Some are released, others are rematched, others are born to trial. The same as any other family."
She lowered her eyes to Formbi again. "This wasn't supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen."
On the table, Formbi's eyes fluttered partway open. "Feesa," he murmured. "No more."
"What do you mean?" Jinzler said, frowning. "No more what?"
Feesa turned her face away. "Nothing," she said, her voice suddenly sounding oddly muffled.
The back of Jinzler's neck began to tingle. "Feesa?" he prompted. "Feesa, what's going on?"
"Peace, Ambassador," Formbi murmured. "I will tell you... everything... later. But not... now." His head turned slightly to the side.
Toward where Keely was still staring at the deck, muttering to himself.
Jinzler felt his breath catch in his throat, a part of that conversation behind their wolvkil barrier flashing suddenly to mind. You genuinely didn't know who they were? Uliar had asked. Of course not, Jinzler had replied, angry and frightened and indignant. You think we would have let them aboard Outbound Flight if we had? Some of you might have, Uliar had countered. Possibly the heirs of those who tried to destroy Outbound Flight in the first place.
And then, suddenly, Feesa had broken in and changed the subject.
You really didn't know who they were? You really didn't know who they were? "Yes, Aristocra," he said quietly, feeling cold all over. "Later will do fine."
"There!" Drask's voice shouted in Fel's ear. "There!"
Fel glanced to his right in mild surprise. Preoccupied with defense, he hadn't even noticed that they'd reached the access door. He fired two more quick shots down the service corridor, then risked another sideways glance to locate the release control. There it was, half a meter above his head. "Grappler!" he shouted. "Stun grenade!"
"Shak," the stormtrooper muttered back, his voice strained.
The Eickarie word for ready, Fel recalled uneasily. Apparently, Grappler was too far gone to even be able to translate into Basic. Fel could only hope he was alert enough to remember to arm the stun grenade before he threw it. "Ready—" He lunged up and slapped the release "—go!"
The door creaked slightly as it began to slide open. Fel got a glimpse through the opening of armored Vagaari turning their weapons toward the noise; and then Grappler lobbed the grenade through the opening. Fel hit the release again, reversing the door's direction. There were sounds of sudden consternation outside as the panel slid closed—
And then the whole service corridor bulkhead seemed to bow inward toward them as the grenade went off.
"Now!" Fel shouted, hitting the release again as he switched his blaster to rapid fire and emptied it into the Vagaari at the other end of the corridor. The door slid open again, all the way this time, and he dived sideways through it.
He landed on the deck of the turbolift lobby between two groggy Vagaari who lay twitching where the force of the concussion had thrown them. Scrambling to his feet, ignoring the protest of cramping leg muscles, he turned and helped pull Drask through the opening. "What was that?" the Chiss asked, taking a stumbling step over the nearest Vagaari.
"Concussion grenade," Fel said, looking around as he slid his last Tibanna cartridge into his blaster. "Knocks everyone flat for a couple of minutes."
"And then allows them to awaken?" Drask demanded as Grappler staggered through the opening. Fel grabbed the stormtrooper's arm to steady him, grimacing at the dozens of pits and scorch marks discoloring his armor. "What sort of weapon is that for a warrior?"
"The sort a warrior uses when he doesn't know whether or not the enemy has hostages," Fel snapped. Cloud seemed to be having trouble with the door; reaching in, Fel grabbed his arm and pulled him bodily through. "Come on, we need to get out of here."
But it was too late. Even as he turned Cloud toward the turbolift doors and the corridor leading out of the lobby, he saw that the Vagaari in that direction were starting to stagger to their feet, their weapons tracking unsteadily toward the intruders. At the speed Cloud and Grappler were probably capable of, the enemy would be back to full strength long before they could run that gauntlet. The same went for the corridor leading aft and the cross-corridor leading portside.
Which basically left only the option of standing here and taking out as many Vagaari as they could before they were killed.
"Listen!" Drask murmured urgently. "I hear a turbolift car approaching."
Fel grimaced as he caught the telltale sound, too. Approaching full of enemies, no doubt, but he didn't have anything better to offer. If they could clear the car before those inside knew what was happening, they would at least have bought themselves a little cover.
In fact, if the Vagaari in the lobby stayed groggy long enough, they might even have a chance of using the car to get away. "Go," he told Drask, giving a tug on Cloud's arm to get him moving.
They picked their way through the maze of stunned Vagaari, the stormtroopers stumbling drunkenly, Fel doing his best to help and hurry them along. Drask, unencumbered with injured comrades, made the trip considerably faster and was standing ready at the door when it slid open. He swung around the edge to lean into the car, his charric spitting blue fire as he laid down a killing pattern.
The pattern broke off almost before it started. "Empty," he called, swinging back around again to cover the Vagaari still getting to their feet. A shot blistered past his head; shifting his aim, he fired once to silence the gunner. "Hurry!"
The Chiss had shot three more Vagaari, and the room was starting to fill with blaster bolts by the time Fel and the stormtroopers stumbled through the open door. "We're in," Fel shouted as he guided his charges to the rear of the car. The enemy fire was still highly random, but the Vagaari would be getting both their balance and their aim back any minute. "Hit the control—there."
"Storage core?" Drask asked, still firing as he ducked inside.
"Yes," Fel said. Whatever reinforcements Bearsh had would undoubtedly be up on D-4, and Fel had no interest in taking them on just now. "Come on, hit it."
Drask did so.
Nothing happened.
Drask hit it again, and again, then tried the switch to D-4. Still nothing. "What's wrong?" Fel demanded, hurrying to his side.
"It does not function," Drask snarled. "The Vagaari have locked it down."
A burst of enemy fire splattered off the edge of the door. "Come on," Fel said, grabbing Drask's arm and dragging him to the back of the car. So that was it. The enemy had anticipated their final move, and they were now well and truly trapped. Fel had failed his men, failed Admiral Parck, failed Aristocra Formbi and the rest of the Chiss.