He could sense that Jos was listening; could feel the slightest mitigation of the rage within him, saw that the impact of so many deaths had rocked him. Of course it would-he was a doctor. Merit honestly didn't care, at that moment, just as he didn't care if he was killed by friendly fire in the next minute. All that mattered was the telling.

"All of the Equani, nearly a billion people-our art, our civilization, our hopes, dreams, everything-all scorched to ash in a few moments, Jos. Gone. Dead. Forever."

Jos said slowly, "I'm . . . sorry. But what has that got to do with this?" He gestured with the blaster, to encompa.s.s the situation, and Merit could have killed him easily right then, could have blown open his chest with the hidden hold-out weapon.

He didn't.

"What has it to do with this? Very simple: that solar flare was not a natural disaster, Doctor. The Republic, the glorious, wonderful, benign Galactic Republic's military leaders were testing a new weapon. A planet buster, a su-perweapon for some kind of ultimate battle station being developed. They fired it into our sun, and they miscalculated. They had a base on our moon, the scientists and military who'd created this abomination. The flare got them, too. Small comfort to me and the few Equani who were offworld when our planet was murdered."

"I-I never heard about this."

"Of course not. It's not something the Republic's anxious for the galaxy to know. They kept it quiet, but I made it my business to find out.

"The Republic killed my species, Jos. Even if all the surviving Equani could be gathered together, there's not enough of us left to repopulate another world. Yes, you can say that those who pulled the switch died, too, but what about those who sent them there? What about the bureaucrats who were responsible for allowing it? They continue to laugh, and love, and eat, and sleep-and live.

"You wanted to know why? That's why, Jos."

The hand holding the blaster lowered slightly, and for one instant Merit thought that maybe, just maybe, his former friend and patient would stand down. But then Jos's expression and stance firmed again. "I can't begin to understand how you must feel," he said. "But I know how I feel. Maybe the death of one being can't really compare with the death of a whole world. But loss is loss. Grief is grief. Do you think Zan's parents feel any less pain than you do?"

"They lost a son! I lost a world Hundreds of millions of sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, Jos! You can't compare the two. It was a crime beyond measure."

Jos shook his head. "Whatever your reasons, whatever your pain-what you did is still wrong."

"Obviously, I see things differently." Merit spread his hands. His right arm was now aimed directly at Jos-all he had to do was flex his wrist. "So. What are you going to do, Jos ?

Shoot me ?"

"I honestly don't want to, Klo, even after what you've done. But I can't let you leave.

Barriss went to tell Vaetes. Security will come for you soon."

Merit shook his head. "But I won't be here, Jos."

"Yes, you will."

Only a few moments ago Merit had been sure that Jos would shoot him. But now, after hearing his story, the minder could sense that something had changed. The man's resolve was not quite as adamantine now. "You won't use that blaster, Jos. I know you. You're a doctor, a compa.s.sionate man. You save lives, you don't take them. I've seen you during times when you've been on your feet all day, completely exhausted, barely able to stay awake, just to save the life of one single clone. You can't do this. It's against everything you are."

Jos was not a blasterslinger. Merit knew he could kill the man before he realized what was happening. But he didn't need to. Jos wouldn't fire.

Merit started backing up toward the far door.

"Don't do it, Klo!"

Jos aimed the blaster at Klo.

"Don't do it, Klo!"

The big.Equani kept going.

Jos remembered looking down at Zan, lying dead on the floor of the transport. Jos had been wounded himself, concussed, barely able to move. It had taken everything he had just to crawl across the deck to his friend's side.

Killing Merit wouldn't bring Zan back. Revenge wouldn't bring any of them back. And Klo was right: Jos was a life giver, not a life taker.

But if Klo got away, he would continue to work for the Separatists, continue to do harm to the Republic. How many others might die as a result of his hatred, of his need for vengeance? And no matter if that number was one or a thousand, if Jos allowed him to escape, those deaths would be his responsibility, too. Because he could have stopped Klo Merit. Right here. Right now.

"Klo-!"

Merit backed up another step. The rear door's proximity sensor registered his presence and opened the portal.

Jos took a deep breath, aimed the blaster-And fired.

There was an explosion, a crushing clap of thunder, a blinding light. Pain seared into him. He cried out, felt himself falling . . .

41.

The force-dome blew.

Ironically, it was a lightning bolt, rather than a beam, that finally overloaded the breakers. It was fortunate in a way, Den was to reflect later-though the bolt was powerful enough to stand everyone's hair, cilia, or sensory stalks on end, it wasn't accompanied by the really nasty stuff, like gamma rays. But thanks would have to come later, as well-at the moment Den was too busy cowering under a table in the cantina to think about much of anything except escape. The transports had been ferrying up patients for the past hour, and next in line, he knew, were civilian noncoms like himself. Then came the officers, and finally-a.s.suming there were any left by then-the clone troops.

That order worked just fine for him. He intended to be the first in the noncom line.

I-Five was crouched beside him under the table. The droid's photoreceptors were dark; he'd elected to turn himself off when the play of elemental forces began to crest. While his shielding was usually sufficient to withstand electromagnetic pulses, why take a chance?

He'd just gotten his memory back, and he didn't want to lose any of it again.

Den flicked the master switch on the back of I-Five's neck. "Time to go," he said.

"For you, maybe. The droids are scheduled to depart after the troops, if I recall correctly."

Den grabbed I-Five's hand and pulled him along toward the door. The cantina was just about deserted; the staff and tenders were already at the launch pads, waiting to board. He eyed several containers of vintage wines and liquor that he would love to bring along, but somehow he doubted they qualified as essentials.

"You're not a droid," Den said, as the two emerged from the building into the smoke-filled afternoon.

"I'm not?"

"Nope. You're a diplomatic envoy on a mission for the Jedi. Moves you right to the front of the line." A mortar blast less than a klick away showered them with dirt. "a.s.suming we reach the line," he added.

"Didn't we go through this already, a few months back?"

"Yeah. Except that last time they were just trying to move the front lines back so as to claim more bota. This time they want to wipe us out. They've got little left to lose."

Another explosion, this one entirely too close. There was little attempt being made to dismantle the camp this time, Den noticed; the worker droids were concentrating on saving supplies and whatever viable bota was left.

Den stumbled and nearly fell into a crater. Only I-Five's quick grab for his arm kept him upright.

"The pad's up ahead," the droid said. "Fifteen meters, no more,"

Den tried to respond, but suddenly there was acrid smoke everywhere, filling his nostrils.

He coughed, struggling for clean air, and finding none.

Abruptly, he felt himself being lifted. I-Five was carrying him, moving rapidly in long strides toward the launch pad. Den kept trying to breathe, and kept failing miserably.

He's carrying me a lot easier than I carried Zan's que-tarra case, he thought. It was the last coherent thought he had for a while.

42.

Look-he's coming around," Barriss's voice said. It sounded hollow, as if echoing from a well. Jos tried to open his eyes, but white light seared them.

"Zan," he croaked. "Don't do this. Don't die . . ."

But it was too late. Jos knew that, if he opened his eyes, he would see Zan's lifeless body lying there on the deck. He didn't want to see it, not again . . .

"Jos." He felt gentle hands on him. "Jos, it's Barriss. Everything's all right. Come on back to us."

Jos opened his eyes. The light wasn't so bad this time. He blinked and focused on Tolk, who grinned tearfully at him. "Where are we?"

"Sickbay One, on MedStar," she said.

Jos raised himself on one elbow. "Ow!" His head hurt. He touched the synthflesh bandage on his head. Uli pushed him gently back down. "Easy, hotshot. You're lucky to be alive. The roof came down on you. You've got another concussion."

"Merit," Jos whispered. "What happened? Is he-?"

"He's dead, Jos," Barriss said gently.

Jos saw Colonel Vaetes and Admiral Kersos standing behind Tolk and Barriss. He said, "Merit was trying to get away. I shot him."

Vaetes said, "You did the right thing, Jos."

"Yes," Uncle Erel added. "You stopped a dangerous enemy agent from escaping, at the risk of your own life.

"When Uli and Security and I got there, we found you unconscious, and Merit dead. He had a hold-out blaster up his sleeve, but he didn't get the chance to use it. Uli patched you up on the transport." He raised his right hand in a slow salute. "Well done, Captain." He lowered the salute and added, "I'm proud of you, nephew."

"I'm not sure ..." Jos said.

"About what?"

"Whether I did it because I knew he was going to cause more death and grief, or ..." He trailed off.

"Because of Zan?" Tolk said.

Jos nodded.

"It doesn't matter. He had to be stopped. You did it. You can work out the rest of it later. We'll have plenty of time."

It was true-he did it. He had killed another sentient being. Never mind why, never mind if there was good and proper reason for doing so. He, a doctor, had destroyed a life, Jos knew there would be some sleepless nights for him as a result of that.

But, as Tolk had pointed out, what else could he have done?

Jos started to shake his head in confusion, then groaned. "Easy," Uli said. "Give the glue a chance to set."

"And the Rimsoo? What happened?"

"Take a look." Den's voice came from nearby. The reporter and I-Five had just entered, and Den was pointing at a viewport. Tolk and Barriss carefully helped Jos to his feet.

The lower quadrant of the southern continent seemed to be on fire-thick clouds of smoke spread in the upper atmosphere, drifting out over the Kondrus Sea.

"Bye-bye, bota," Den murmured.

Vaetes said, "The Separatists are also on the run. We managed to save most of our troops."

"How?" Uli asked. "It looked like they were rolling right over us."

"That's how," Vaetes said, pointing to another port. Uli moved to it and looked out.

"Whoa!"

Barriss looked through the port at the gigantic, wedge-shaped ship, bristling with weaponry, cruising slowly toward them. "That's a Republic Star Destroyer," she said. "

Venator-cla.s.s."

"The Resolution. Sent here to mop up and escort us back to the Core systems," the admiral said. "The Battle of Drongar is over. There's nothing left down there to fight for now. We came out of it with about two metric tons of bota, which our droids are sealing in carbonite as fast as they can. No Intel yet on how much the Separatists got."

"Given the intensity of their saturation bombing, I'd be surprised if they got much,"

Vaetes mused.

"I have to lie down now," Jos said. "I'm a little tired."

Barriss and Tolk eased him back down on the bed. It felt wonderful. He closed his eyes, and the various conversations around him merged into a faraway buzz, like the sounds of wingstingers and fire gnats on a hot Dron-garan night. . .

Barriss listened to the various conversations around her with half an ear while she mused on the way things had turned out. Two metric tons of unspoiled bota seemed a small reward for all the coin paid in death and pain. She noticed Den watching her, a slight smile on his face, and smiled back.

I-Five moved over to her. "I a.s.sume my mission to Coruscant is no longer the priority it was," he said, "since you're returning there as well."

"True. But keep the vial of extract. It's still a good many pa.r.s.ecs from here to the Core, and much could happen."