"Okay," Luke said. "So?"
Mara's reply was a twitch of her head back toward the turbolift lobby. Frowning, Luke followed. She stepped to the Vagaari bodies in the corner and, stretching out to the Force, levitated one of them upright. Focusing her control, she moved its arms and legs, keeping it a couple of centimeters above the floor, making it stride rather shakily across the lobby as if it was still alive.
Or, rather, as if he and Mara had put on their enemies' armor as a disguise.
She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. "Doesn't look all that realistic," he pointed out doubtfully, levitating one of the other bodies for himself and sending it across the deck. His didn't look any more alive than hers did. "But if we keep them moving, the Vagaari may not notice."
"I think it's worth a try, anyway," Mara said.
"Definitely," he agreed. "Let's do it."
Moving their puppets to the blast doors, they settled them into standing position. "Quickly, now," Mara said, crouching down beside the wall where her presence wouldn't be immediately obvious. "We don't want anyone getting a clear look."
Luke nodded. Stretching out to the Force, he keyed open the doors.
Mara's prediction had hit it exactly. The Vagaari who had been firing from just outside the doors were already halfway down the corridor, firing wildly behind them in full retreat. Mara sent her puppet charging after them, its arms and legs pumping madly. Luke's was right behind it. The apparently terrified retreating Vagaari disappeared around the distant corner—
And with an earsplitting blast, the entire corridor exploded in a burst of fire and smoke.
Luke winced, feeling his puppet twist around as it was buffeted violently by the blast before sprawling out of his control onto the deck. His ears ringing, he caught Mara's eye and nodded. She nodded back, and together they sprinted ahead through the smoke and heat.
They met the returning Vagaari just around the corner as the aliens headed back to check the results of their handiwork. The battle was over very quickly.
"Twelve down," Luke commented as he looked down the corridor. There were no signs of trouble or activity, at least not up to the next jog some ten meters ahead. "Plus the four from the turbolift lobby makes sixteen."
"Which might actually be a significant number if we knew how many there were to begin with." Mara nudged one of the bodies with her boot. "Recognize anyone?"
Luke frowned at the alien face. "Is that Bearsh?"
"Sure looks like him," she said. "These guys are a lot more impressive in combat armor than in those silly robes, aren't they?"
"Most species are," Luke said. "Looks like he was leading this particular charge personally. That's a good sign."
"How so?"
"Estosh called him a general," he reminded her. "If he's sending generals to handle field operations, it might imply he hasn't got all that many warriors left."
"Good point," Mara agreed. "Between the dent we made in his troops on Outbound Flight and the people he absolutely has to have crewing the Dreadnaught's duty stations, he may very well be hurting for bodies to throw at us right now."
"Right," Luke said. "Either that, or Bearsh was simply being overconfident."
"You are so very helpful sometimes," Mara said, shaking her head in mock annoyance. "I'm surprised you didn't go into politics. Come on, let's get moving before they come up with something else."
They reached the corridor jog Luke had noted without further incident and paused there, looking carefully around the bend. Still no signs of enemies, but twenty meters ahead another set of blast doors had been closed across their path. "Looks clear," he murmured.
"There are three sets of doors leading off each side of the corridor, though," Mara pointed out. "Perfect place to hide while you're waiting to pounce."
Luke closed his eyes, stretching out his senses. He could feel the malevolent, brooding presence of Vagaari all over the Dreadnaught, scattered through his mind like vaguely defined bubbles of heat in a cold room. But none seemed to be very close. "I'm not picking up anyone in there," he said.
"Neither am I," Mara confirmed reluctantly. "I still don't like it."
"Then let's get through it quickly." Throwing a last look at the empty corridor behind them, he rounded the corner and headed forward.
He was just passing the middle set of doors when the left-hand door ahead of him slid open, and five growling wolvkils padded into the corridor.
He braked to a halt, lifting his lightsaber warningly toward the animals. From behind Mara came the sound of another door opening, and he glanced back as four more of the predators filed in from one of the aft set of doors to block their retreat.
"Well, this is cute," Mara murmured. "You see what the stylish wolvkil is wearing this season?"
Luke hadn't; but now his jaw tightened as he spotted the fragmentation grenade slung under each wolvkil's belly. "I was wondering what they thought this was going to accomplish," he commented, adjusting his grip on his lightsaber as he tried to think. So far the wolvkils didn't seem inclined to attack, but were contenting themselves with growling from a distance. But that could change at any moment.
Mara had come to the same conclusion. "Let's try a strategic withdrawal while we think this out," she suggested, easing up to Luke's right and tapping the release on the door beside him. It slid open, and Luke sensed her concentration as she gave the interior a quick check. "Clear," she said. "Come on."
Together, they eased into the room, lightsabers ready. The wolvkils made no move to follow. Mara touched the inner door control, and the panel slid shut. In the glow from his lightsaber Luke found the light pad, flicked it on, and closed down his weapon.
They were in what appeared to be one of the many pumping stations that were by necessity scattered around any ship this size. Sets of conduits snaked along the walls and high ceiling, most of them running into one or the other of two huge and silently chugging rectangular boxes with rounded corners set against the bulkhead across from the door. "Cozy," Luke commented, looking around. There were no other exits from the room, but of course that didn't mean anything to a Jedi with a lightsaber. "Let's see if we can carve ourselves a back door," he suggested. Stepping to the forward wall, he ignited his lightsaber—
"Wait," Mara said.
Luke paused, looking over his shoulder at her. "What?" he asked.
She was gazing at the wall in front of him, her sense tight and suspicious. "Luke, what's the usual procedure for sealing a hull breach?"
He frowned. "You send some repair droids to the vicinity, close the blast doors behind them, pump out the air to equalize pressures, then open the inner doors to give them access to the leak."
"Right," Mara said, nodding. "The Vagaari have had four days to seal the gash you cut in the turbolift lobby. We know there are housekeeping droids still working, and we know there were enough repair droids rolling around at one time to fix all the damage Thrawn did to the hull. And anyway, even if none of them works anymore, Estosh surely brought a pressure suit or two along they could have used to go in themselves and fix it."
"But they didn't," Luke said thoughtfully. "Why not?"
"Because if we'd come up the pylon and found your gash all sewn up, we might have decided to come aboard somewhere else," Mara concluded grimly. "This way, they could reasonably predict where we'd come in, and could concentrate on making this one corridor as much of a death trap as they could."
She nodded toward the wall in front of him. "So why should this part of it be any different?"
"Good question," Luke agreed, closing down his lightsaber and stepping aside. "In that case, you'd better do this."
It took three delicate strokes for her to tease a scratch all the way through the bulkhead. And it was indeed a very good thing he'd let her go first.