He sighed, shook himself, blinked. First light would be in a few minutes, then dawn. Usually he loved this time of day, before the rest of the world was awake, and everything was quiet, clean, peaceful. He shivered.

The nights in this part of Praesit-lyn were very cold and the days scorching hot. He looked down at Odie. She had drifted off to sleep as soon as it was her turn. He smiled. She could've been out there with the recon troopers, doing what she did best, riding free like the wind, but instead she had volunteered to stay with him, and here she was in this hole, the only thing between her and the invading army a thin wall of rock. When they got out of this mess...

Erk's heart fluttered. Something out there had moved! His palms on the aiming handles suddenly grew sweaty. He nudged Odie with his toe, and she snapped awake instantly.

"Something's out there," he whispered. He was fully alert now, as every fiber in his body reacted to the adrenaline surging through him. He was surprised to hear himself chuckling in antic.i.p.ation. "Come on, come on, "

he whispered, focusing the gun's optics, impatient for the action to begin. He could see as clearly as day through the sighting system. Then the entire field of vision through the firing port seemed to heave up and come at him.

"Izzy Six! Izzy Six! Hope Five. Here they come!" he said urgently.

Erk began firing into the ma.s.s of oncoming battle droids. He was aware of Odie at his side, monitoring the power surges as the blaster roared.

A tiny voice inside his helmet asked, "Hope Five, Izzy Six here. What is the enemy strength? Repeat, what is the enemy strength? Over."

"Thousands of them!' Erk shouted. "Thousands!"

14.

"My Dearest..." No, that wouldn't do, too impersonal. He started over.

"My love..." No, no, too, too ordinary. He thought uncertainly about what to say next. Try this: "I miss you more than I can say. My heart is overflowing with love for you, my dearest, sweetest..." He wrote in this vein for a while on a sheet of flimsiplast, then paused and reread the paragraph. No, no, no, he sounded like a lovesick adolescent! This was his wife, a Senator, a heroine, a woman who was the life mate of a Jedi Knight, or a man who soon would be one-or dead.

a.n.a.ldn Skywalker sat in his cabin on board the Ranger. In a few hours he would transfer from the Ranger to the Neelian, a corvette accompanying the transports. Halcyon would remain on the Ranger to lead the attack while Anakin commanded the landing force. Then Halcyon and the heavy cruisers would smash a hole in the enemy blockade, a hole through which Anakin and the ground forces would make planetfall on Praesitlyn. They knew through IFF-identification-friend-or-foe - systems unaffected by the communications blackout that at least some of Slayke's fleet had survived the initial contact and were still in orbit around Praesitlyn, in contact with the remaining Separatist ships.

When Slayke had been pardoned for raising his own force to attack the Separatists and commissioned to act on his own as a privateer, he had been given his own set of IFF codes. These codes contained all the information on file about each ship in his fleet, its name, cla.s.s and armaments, ship's complement, and so on. Each ship had been equipped with a transponder that, when queried with the appropriate IFF code, would respond with its proper identification, thereby establishing that it was a friendly vessel, hopefully avoiding the kind of "friendly fire"

incident that all too frequently occurred in the heat of battle. Halcyon was confident that once the attack commenced, Slayke's vessels would join them, and together they'd overwhelm the blockading force. So far the cordon placed around Sluis Van did not appear to have been disturbed. If those ships moved to partic.i.p.ate in the battle, things could get complicated.

The landing zone on Praesitlyn had already been marked out: a piece of rugged terrain behind a dry riverbed on the plain just below the plateau where the Intergalactic Communications Center sat. Halcyon had picked that spot rather than one on the plateau itself because he felt a pitched battle that close to the center would be more likely to result in its destruction and the death of the technicians who were presumed to be prisoners of the Separatists.

Halcyon, Anakin, their commanders, the troops, and the crews who staffed the fleet had done all they could to prepare for the coming battle. Now it was time to rest. In a few hours the fleet would arrive at its initial point, the sector of s.p.a.ce surrounding Praesitlyn that the captains had selected as the area where they would bring their ships into attack formations. The enemy fleet had to know they were coming by now; they had been inside the dead zone where communications had been cut off with the rest of the galaxy for some time. In fact, Halcyon had been in the middle of a report to the Jedi Council when the equipment had gone dead, a sure sign that they had entered the hostile zone of influence.

Anakin crumpled the flimsiplast and fed it into the shredder. He pulled out another. A Jedi did not feel fear, despair, loneliness. He knew that the coming battle would be won and that his division would acquit itself well: Grudo had told him so many times, and Grudo knew armies and commanders. In fact, Anakin had been a phenomenally quick study in the art of command, throwing himself into the task every waking hour of each day the fleet was in transit. He had immersed himself enthusiastically in all aspects of military management, as well. Neither did he feel despair; he looked forward to the coming battle. They had right and justice on their side, and they would prevail. He eagerly antic.i.p.ated meeting the legendary Captain Slayke. And he didn't feel lonely, either. His relationship with Halcyon, who treated him like a younger brother, had grown even closer. And Grudo, the faithful, solid, reliable old Rodian, had stuck so close to him during the voyage that they had become inseparable companions.

Anakin Skywalker was no stranger to fear, pain, despair, and rage, but all that was behind him now, in another life. He began to write again: "You are with me now, my love. I feel the warmth of your breath on my cheek and smell the scent of your hair and clothes as you press your body close to mine. We faced death together, my love, and conquered it.

Tomorrow, though I face death again, your love is with me and will sustain me..." He wrote for some time. Often on this voyage he had wished he could use his considerable Force sensitivity to look in on Padme. But even if he could, he knew he wouldn't: that would be an inexcusable abuse of his powers as a Jedi, and because he had already broken his oath by marrying Padme, he was determined not to do it again to satisfy his personal desires. Still, as he wrote, in his mind's eye the walls of his spartan compartment seemed to fade away, and once again he was reunited with his beloved Padme by the beautiful lake on Naboo where they'd consecrated their vows of eternal love and companionship.

A lump had formed in his throat by the time he finished the letter. He reread it. His handwriting was not easy to decipher, but something like this could not be committed to an electronic medium that might be read by someone else. It was private in the extreme and would remain that way. He shook his head and smiled. "I can't believe I wrote this." He brushed away the tear that had formed in the corner of his eye, then blinked and looked around. Well, there they were again, the steel bulkheads of his tiny compartment. The gentle throbbing of the Rangers drives coming up through the deckplates warmed the soles of his feet. Reality. Carefully, Anakin folded the sheet of flimsi-plast several times and then sealed it tight. He wrote across both sides, PERSONAL FOR SENATOR AMIDALA, and placed it lovingly inside his cloak. Before he left for the a.s.sault, he'd leave it and his other personal things in the custody of the captain of the Neelian, to be delivered in the event of his death.

He lay on his bunk and closed his eyes, but sleep just wasn't there for him now. Halcyon had agreed that instead of taking a shuttle to the Neelian, Anakin could take his customized Delta-7 Aethersprite. Well, if he couldn't have his Padme, he'd have his starfighter and spend the next few hours tinkering with her.

A battle fleet never sleeps. Crew on board the ships might sleep when off their watches, but a battle fleet is always awake, always alert, and on the eve of going into action soldiers sleep in shifts at their battle stations. A tension runs through a battle fleet so that the individual vessels and their crews are like the components of a vast living creature, a predatory animal on the verge of leaping onto the prey it has tracked through the depths of s.p.a.ce. But in this case the prey could fight back. Perhaps even the clone troopers felt the tension-not that it affected their mental states significantly-and Grudo felt it, too. For Jedi Master Halcyon, it was a familiar and exhilarating sensation, but nothing to lose any sleep over.

Halcyon had finished his last war council with his captains, and they had departed to their separate commands. All was ready. Now the final waiting had begun.

When Halcyon woke from a brief sleep he sat in his quarters and wrote, "My Dearest Scerra and Valin..." This was just the latest in a series of letters he had written to his wife and son to be delivered in case of his death-but hopefully in person once this expedition was over. He was writing them by hand, to protect them from prying eyes and to keep safe-for now-the secret of his violation of the Jedi oath. Finished, he folded and sealed the letter and added it to the packet he'd been keeping, a dozen letters in all. The thought of his wife and son warmed him.

He put the thought of his loved ones out of his mind. He had endured the separation from them for so long now that the pain had subsided into a dull throb deep in his vitals. It was no good to think of such things. He stretched. He'd go find Anakin, give him a last-minute pep talk, bolster both their spirits. The young Jedi was proving to be a commander in his own right. Oh, everyone knew he was brave-what he'd done at the Battles of Geonosis and Jabiim and m other desperate situations had proved that.

On Jabiim he'd been personally ordered by Supreme Chancellor Palpatine to leave the battlefield after more than a month of hard fighting, forced to leave his friends, to help with the evacuation. And Anakin had obeyed the order, however reluctantly. He was no stranger to pain, death, defeat. He knew he had a destiny. He was destined to command. The young Jedi possessed a great Force sensitivity; he was bright, bright to the point of genius. Halcyon was sure Anakin would be a Master someday and even sit on the Council. And now he had demonstrated his apt.i.tude for command, the ability to lead, that ineffable quality of personality that convinces others that one knows what one is doing, and if they follow, they will succeed. Observing him daily, Halcyon was sure Anakin had put his emotions behind him.

Halcyon stood. There was only one place Anakin would be at this late hour.

"How's it going, Anakin?"

Startled, Anakin stood up in the c.o.c.kpit of his starfighter, Azure Angel II. "Just making some last-minute adjustments." He hopped down from the fighter and wiped his hands on a rag. "I'm ready."

It was quiet in the docking bay; the other machines, shuttles mostly, had been secured against the impending action. The pair sat on some empty crates.

"Just a few hours and we'll be in it," Halcyon said. "You have ten thousand troops under your command. How do you feel?"

"Ready" Anakin slapped his knee. "Ready."

"Is your arm all right?"

"Never felt better." Anakin flexed his fingers to prove it. "Master Halcyon-I've been meaning to ask you something..."

Halcyon looked closely at Anakin. "Sure. What is it?"

Anakin hesitated, then blurted, "Grudo told me about your run-in with Slayke and, well, I thought I'd ask you..." He shrugged. "Why-that is, why did you fight him that day? Not so much why did you fight him, but why did you fight him the way you did?"

"I've wondered about that myself." Halcyon took a deep breath. "I never wanted to go after Slayke, you know. Others thought him a rebel at best, a pirate at worst. But I thought he was only doing what the Republic should have been doing all. I had plans to go home to-" He caught himself. "-to with friends, take a rest, but the Council appointed me to lead the judicial corvette they were sending after Slayke, and I had to follow my orders, do my duty, do what I am sworn to do.

We Jedi have no personal lives, no families like other people." His voice took on a tone of bitterness that surprised Anakin. It was a bit how he felt himself right now. Unconsciously he touched the spot beneath his cloak where he was carrying the letter to Padme.

"So," Halcyon continued, "when we got to the clearing where Slayke's ship had landed I knew he was not aboard, and I half suspected that Grudo standing there with his knives was part of some kind of diversionary scheme. At the time I thought it was designed to draw me away from the woods where Slayke and his crew were hiding." He laughed harshly. "But at that point I just didn't care," he said with feeling.

Anakin was taken aback by the emotion in the Jedi Master's voice.

"Anakin, can I trust you?" Halcyon blurted then.

The Jedi Master sounded terribly serious, and his eyes looked shadowed by sadness. Anakin wanted to tell him, Of course you can trust me, but suddenly he didn't know if that was a rea.s.surance that was his to give.

"Go on," he said uncertainly.

After a moment, Halcyon continued. "You know the reason we Jedi aren't supposed to have any emotional connections with other people, don't you?"

Anakin didn't answer: the question was rhetorical. "It's because emotions cloud a Jedi's judgment, make it difficult for him to see his duty, to do the hard and difficult things he's sworn to do. Well, I failed the test."

Nejaa Halcyon told Anakin about his wife and son.

At first Anakin couldn't speak, could only gape mutely at the man who had become a mentor. Halcyon chuckled and tapped Anakin under the jaw.

"Dropped so fast I thought you'd dislocated it," he said. He sighed. "So there it is. You're the only one who knows. Are you going to tell the Jedi Council when we get back?"

Anakin didn't know what to say. "No," he croaked, trying to control his voice. "I suspect Yoda already knows, or guesses. Not much gets by him. "

Then guilt and honesty overcame him. "Besides, if I report you, you can retaliate by reporting me," he said all in a rush. And then he told Halcyon about his marriage to Padme.

It was Nejaa Halcyon's turn to gape. When he could talk again he said, "Married? You?" He shook his head wonderingly. "So you married her when you went to Naboo together, didn't you?" he said slowly. "And even Obi-Wan doesn't know?"

Anakin reddened as the shame of his lie rose up from its hiding place deep in his heart. "It has been... difficult," he admitted. "Obi-Wan is my Master-and my friend. I hate lying to him!"

Halcyon just nodded. "I know, I know. We have gone against everything we have ever been taught-against what it means to be a Jedi..." His voice trailed off.

"But it doesn't feel wrong!" Anakin burst out. "I mean-the dishonesty, yes, but not the love! Not the caring! I feel no less a Jedi for my love of Padme!"

"I, too, have struggled with that." Halcyon frowned. "I wonder sometimes if Yoda does know about me-about us. But if that's the case, then why did the Council pick me to lead this expedition? And why did they allow me to take you as my second in command, when they knew it would throw us together-two who share such a secret? It's not because we Were the only Jedi available. There were others at the Temple - or they could have recalled some from other commands. So why do it this way?" He looked at Anakin, and his shoulders straightened. "I'll tell you what I think. I think we're being given a chance to prove ourselves-they as much as told me that. And I've come to think this a.s.signment maybe more of a trial even than that." He seemed to be about to say something more, then clamped his mouth shut and stood up. "It's about time for you to shove off, young friend." He stood. "Time to show them all what we're made of."

"I guess so." Anakin also stood, and as they shook hands warmly, he wondered what greater trial the Council might have in mind.

15.

Attack! Attack! Attack!"Tonith pounded the control panel. "Attack ah1 along the line! Throw in as many battle droids as we need to break their defenses! We've already captured their forward bastion; press on now, press on!"

Tonith had established his command post near the communications center on the plateau that overlooked the battlefield. This gave him a commanding view of what was going on, while it placed him and his staff far enough behind the lines to avoid serious danger from the fighting.

But Admiral," B'wuf, the senior control technician protested, we've already lost upward of one hundred thousand droids in our previous attacks. And we've taken the forward bastion twice before and lost it twice. Our losses have been enormous.

I'm sorry, sir, but I seriously advise that our better course is to ld the line here until we're reinforced, and then overwhelm them with sheer numbers."

"My dear B'wuf, a.s.sets that just sit in the bank only earn interest. You must invest to make a fortune." He regarded the controller carefully.

B'wuf had the annoying habit of speaking in a slow drawl, as if always looking for just the right words to express himself, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting himself into trouble. InTonith's experience, he was typical of the technical breed, out of his depth when dealing with anything in the real world of business affairs. This man would give in when he should stand firm, and he'd stand firm when he should give in. Tonith had dealt with his kind before, but despite his shortcomings he had his uses.

"I-" B'wuf began.

Tonith cut him short. "Do you own these battle droids? Did you pay for them? You're acting as if they're your own personal property. They're a.s.sets, my dear B'wuf, a.s.sets in an active market and worthless unless invested wisely, do you understand? It's my job to make that investment and yours to obey my orders. To the letter, B'wuf, to the letter. Now-"

Tonith noticed that the entire control center staff had stopped work and was listening to them. "You, get back to work!"

As one, the technicians spun back to their consoles. Tonith turned back to B'wuf. "We are being reinforced very shortly. When they arrive I want this situation cleared up. Keep your infantry moving forward, closely supported by armor and artillery-"

"But sir, our air a.s.sets were severely depleted in the battle with General Khamar's army. You know success is possible only if guaranteed by, well, full employment and integration of arms."

"They don't have any air a.s.sets, either!" Tonith clutched his hands together in frustration.

"But sir, our fleet-"

"Our fleet is useless. Our ships watch theirs and none dare engage the others, because if just a few are lost, the balance of power will swing to one side or the other; and none dare come to our aid here, because if any are taken out of orbit, the other side has an advantage. Blasted credit pinchers," he swore. "So none can interfere, we're on our own until reinforced. When reinforcements arrive, their ships will overwhelm what's left of the enemy fleet-"

"But sir, we have ships blockading Sluis Van. They could lay mines and come here to-"

"We don't need them. Now get-"

"But sir, for every one of them we kill, they knock out hundreds of our droids!" B'wuf protested, his face coloring.

"Well, do the math! How many of the enemy are there? How many of our droids? Once we crack their defenses, their casualties will increase, and when they're at last routed, we'll wipe them out to the last fighter. Now hop to it!"

"But, Admiral..." B'wuf drawled.

"Blast it, stop arguing with me!" At the end of his patience, Tonith signaled for two guard droids to approach. "B'wuf, see that corner over there? Sit down there. You," he said, turning to the droids. "If he moves, kill him."

"Yessir. How much movement before we kill him?"

Tonith shook his head in desperation. "If he tries to, oh, get up, kill him. Otherwise I don't care if he scratches his back all day long. Oh, and B'wuf, while you're over there, keep your blasted mouth shut. Now move. "

White-faced, B'wuf trudged over to the corner and sat down. The two droids placed themselves directly in front of him.

Slowly, B'wuf raised a hand to his head and scratched. Nothing happened.

He sighed.

Tonith strode into the center of the control room. "You heard my orders.

Carry them out. As of right now I am taking personal control of all operations. Now press on, press on! Never mind casualties. A little more effort and we'll crack their lines. Victory is almost ours!"

A serving droid rolled up with a pot of tea. Eagerly, Tonith poured. "A spot of tea, anyone?" he asked, holding out the pot to the technicians at their arrays. Everyone pretended to be busy. "Very well."Tonith shrugged and sipped from his cup. He grinned. His teeth were as purple as ever.

"Eeeeyaaaaaa! Get some, get some! Come on, get some!" Erk yelled, firing indiscriminately through the bunker ports. He couldn't miss. Every shot disintegrated an infantry battle droid. But they kept on coming, rank after rank. Artillery lanced into them, but they just closed ranks and marched forward, firing at the muzzle flashes ahead of them, laying down a withering field of fire as they advanced.

"Erk! We have to go! They're overrunning us," Odie screamed, but Erk just shook his head as if she were an annoying insect and kept on firing. He had never seen such a target-rich environment, and it drove him into a frenzy of wild destruction.

She seized him by the shoulder and tried to pull him away from the blaster. He bounced her off with his hip and kept firing.

She could see hundreds of droids surging around their bunker.

"They're flanking us! Get off that blaster and get your belt on. We've got to get out of here," she shouted. Scrabbling noises came from the bunker entrance. Odie s.n.a.t.c.hed up her weapon and ran to the entrance just in time. Two droids came clanking down the short steps; she blasted them both. Erk never noticed. He yelled and cursed and fired and fired and fired.

"Tank droids," Odie shrieked. "Tank droids!" She could see two of them through the firing ports, lumbering along behind the infantry. The tank droids-"crawlers," because they moved so slowly over the surface of the ground-were heavily armored, fully automated tracked weapons platforms used to support infantry in combat. Their two synchronized forward-mounted blaster cannons had a 180-degree arc of fire and were used with deadly effect on troop concentrations, vehicles, and bunker complexes.

Dorsal anti-aircraft weapons and grenade launchers supplemented the cannons. Ideally they were employed in echelon, like a set of stairs, as they moved forward, the machines farther back protecting the flanks of the ones farther forward.

The ground shook beneath the tank droids as they rolled toward the bunker.