It was then he suddenly noticed that he couldn't breathe.
He expanded his chest, trying to fill his lungs. But there was nothing there. With the car shredded and the far end of the tube blown open, he and Evlyn had only the planetoid's thin atmosphere available to them.
Steady, Luke told himself sternly, forcing himself to relax. His body's cells contained enough oxygen for at least another half minute, he knew, and Jedi techniques could stretch it to triple that time. He shifted his hand to the back of Evlyn's neck, trying to let his own trust in the Force ease into her and slow her breathing. A few seconds later, the car settled into its place in the turbolift lobby.
The door remained closed.
Luke set his teeth, glaring up at it. But of course it wouldn't open on its own, not with a near vacuum on one side. It would have to be pried past its safety interlocks. Stretching out to the Force, he got a grip on the panel and pulled.
The door quivered once, but remained closed.
Luke tried again, trying to gather more strength. But between the effects of the concussive blast, the pain from the shrapnel still throbbing through his body, and the oxygen deprivation, he couldn't focus the necessary power.
His vision was starting to go hazy. Another few seconds and he would sink into unconsciousness. He stretched out one final time—
And with a thud that shook the whole car, the door slammed open. Luke opened his eyes, squinting through the rush of air blowing suddenly in his face.
Mara, her eyes blazing with fear, concern, and, yes, anger at him, grabbed his arms and pulled him through the door. Pressor was right beside her, lifting his niece through to safety.
The door slammed shut as Mara released her grip on it. "Hi, sweetheart," Luke said, managing a smile. "I'm home."
She shook her head. "Skywalker—"
"I know," Luke said. Still smiling, he let the darkness take him.
The medical bay recovery room door slid open, and Mara stepped inside. "How are they?" Jinzler asked, looking up from his chair by the side wall. "I heard one of the medics say they were in pretty bad shape."
"It looked worse than it really was," Mara assured him. Jinzler's face looked calm enough, she noted, but his hands in his lap were opening and closing restlessly. "Most of Evlyn's injuries were superficial and should heal pretty quickly," she went on. "Luke had some deeper cuts, but they caught it all before he lost too much blood. He's gone into a Jedi healing trance while they finish patching him up."
Fel grunted. "Must be a nice thing to be able to do."
"It can be handy," Mara agreed, looking around the room. They were, she decided, about as sorry a lot as she'd seen in a long time. Formbi was lying on one of the recovery tables, his eyes only occasionally fluttering open, his breathing deep and slow. Beside him on opposite sides of the table sat Drask and Feesa, the former looking drained above his own collection of bandages, the latter merely looking exhausted and apprehensive. Fel and the stormtroopers had gathered together in a back corner beside stacks of their mangled armor and were working their way through their own list of injuries. The alien stormtrooper, Su-mil, she noted with interest, had pale orange blood.
"So," Mara went on, raising her voice a little. "As long as we seem to have some time on our hands, why don't we all have a nice long talk together?" She looked at Fel. "You can start, Commander. Did I hear you say earlier that you caught the Vagaari wiring a recorder into the Chaf Envoy's navigational lines?"
"We didn't actually catch them in the act," Fel said. "Su-mil found the recorder after it had already been planted."
"I stand corrected," Mara said. "So why didn't you say anything to anyone?"
"To be perfectly honest, because we didn't know whom it was safe to tell," Fel said evenly. "We didn't know whether Bearsh had put it there, or General Drask, or Aristocra Formbi, Ambassador Jinzler—" He looked Mara straight in the eye. "—or you."
"I see," Mara said, accepting his gaze and sending it straight back at him. "All right, then, let's try this one. You told us once that you didn't know why Parck had sent you on this mission. You lied. Then you changed your story and said you'd been sent to protect us. I think you lied that time, too. You want to take one more stab at it?"
Fel's lip twitched. "Admiral Parck told us the mission would be going into great danger. We were sent to give added protection to Aristocra Formbi. And that was all we were told," he added firmly. "We didn't even know what direction the danger was going to be coming from." He grimaced. "If we had, I guarantee Bearsh and his friends would be locked up in binders right now."
"Yes," Mara murmured, stretching out with the Force. It did indeed seem to be the truth this time. Or at least, the truth as Fel knew it, which might not be the same thing. "I suppose this clears up the mystery of your missing operational manual, too."
Fel nodded. "Apparently the Vagaari wanted to know everything they could about Outbound Flight before we arrived."
"Right," Mara agreed. "All of which brings up an even more interesting point."
She turned to face the three Chiss. "As I think about it, Aristocra Formbi, you asked for an amazing amount of muscle to accompany you on this trip. First you called Parck and asked for Luke and me, only the message got waylaid. Then, when it looked like we weren't going to show, you called him back and got him to send a unit of the best stormtroopers he had available."
"And it was indeed fortunate all of you were here," Drask said, nodding his head gravely. "We owe you our lives."
"Yes, you do," Mara agreed. "But here's the question. How exactly did you know you were going to need all this help?"
"I do not understand what you are asking," Drask said evenly. But there was a new tightness at the corners of his eyes. "You were invited to take possession of Outbound Flight. That is all."
Mara shook her head. "Sorry, General, but that won't fly. After that incident with the line creepers, the Aristocra gave us specific orders not to use our lightsabers aboard the ship. Even when we couldn't get into the Dreadnaught's docking bay, neither of you asked us to just cut it open, which we could have done in a fraction of the time it took the techs with their torches."
"Yes," Jinzler put in, sounding suddenly thoughtful. "I remember thinking about that myself at the time, wondering if it was some form of stiff-necked Chiss pride."
"That was what I thought, too," Mara said, smiling tightly. "In fact, I thought it right up to the minute Bearsh told me to die and casually sent his wolvkils charging at me... and I cut them in half."
Jinzler inhaled sharply. "Your lightsaber," he said in sudden understanding. "He'd never seen a lightsaber."
"That's right, he hadn't," Mara agreed. "Because Formbi made very sure they never saw us in action. That, plus our Jedi abilities in general—which they also never really saw—gave us an edge they were completely unprepared for."
She looked back at the three Chiss. "So again: how did you know we'd need that edge?"
"I do not appreciate the tone of your words," Drask said stiffly. "You may not make such unsupported accusations against a senior member of the Fifth Ruling Family."
"Feesa," Jinzler murmured suddenly.
Mara looked at him. "What?"
"Feesa," Jinzler repeated, nodding as if an odd puzzle piece had suddenly fallen into place. "In the turbolift, right after Pressor sprang his trap, she was frightened far more than seemed reasonable. It was because we were all alone in there with Bearsh and another Vagaari, wasn't it?"