Above, Odion's troop transports descended. Kerra shuddered. It had been exactly like this on Chelloa: Odion, invading from the sky with a contraption of death. There was no mistaking it. This was nothing of Daiman's. Odion's symbol, imprinted on the transports, said it all. Seven chevrons in a circle, pointed outward, on a black field. Arrows reaching outward-but being swallowed from behind by an ever-expanding void.

With an ear-piercing groan, the Spiral's turrets began to move and fire. The void was expanding.

"Quickfire, quickfire!"

Rusher gripped the railing as brilliant streaks erupted along the ridge on either side of him. In just a few minutes, the once-deserted crater floor had become a busy place. It was about to become a hot one, too. Laserfire from Rusher's unit pounded the murderous pillar, towering to the southwest. Seconds later, the Nosaurian's crew opened up from farther along the ridge. Rusher smirked. The Rushies were first on target again.

Some target. Yulan had spoken of Death Spirals, but Rusher had never seen one. And no one had ever seen one like this. The tower must have kept the fabricators on The Spike busy for months. As the flashes dissipated, Rusher could see the Spiral's rings continuing to move, firing at Daiman's forces to the north.

That wasn't good. "Sergeant Wenna'lah! Target damage assessment!"

Rusher barely heard the spotter's voice over the din of another round of outgoing energy. "Damage zero, command."

"Zero?"

"Energy shield went live the second the target landed."

Rusher swore. They'd had a clear shot while the beast was descending, but Daiman's signal had ordered them to hold their fire. The young lord was waiting for Odion to make his appearance. Now that he had, somewhere out there in that swarm of transports disgorging his crack Thunder Guard troops, it was too late. Rusher's most potent weapons were out of play.

"Ripper and Sat'skar! Projectile only, on the tower!" The two battalions had the largest number of proton mortar launchers.

"No shot from the north," called a voice back. Ripper Battalion was on the upper flank, partially screened from the Death Spiral by the buildings of the arxeum.

"Aim high and lob 'em over!" Rusher rolled his eyes skyward. To clear the arxeum, they'd be firing into the clouds. Looks like rain Looks like rain. "Energy weapons crews, target Bad Brother's vehicles and personnel. Rolling barrage-don't let 'em cross!" Odion's forces were moving, now, fanning out. The fliers would be the first across, reaching the arxeum, the transports, and the students if Daiman's ground troops didn't get there first.

The students! Rusher urgently scanned the field. The adolescents had broken from the semi-orderly companies the minder droids had organized, and were stampeding as a crazed mass back toward the transports. The Death Spiral hadn't begun firing in their direction yet, but he didn't put it past Odion. Rusher urgently scanned the field. The adolescents had broken from the semi-orderly companies the minder droids had organized, and were stampeding as a crazed mass back toward the transports. The Death Spiral hadn't begun firing in their direction yet, but he didn't put it past Odion.

And Rusher's employer had put them in this position.

And you went along, to save your neck, Rusher thought. Stars help them Stars help them.

To the south, the rings of the Death Spiral lined up, their guns unleashing their deadly potential. "Give me that blasted fire on the tower, now!"

Skrra-aakt!

Narsk folded his furry ears over and mashed his hands down upon them. Odion's crew hadn't bothered to supply him with a helmet, but this close to the Death Spiral, the Bothan found himself wishing for earplugs.

"That's the way!" yelled Lord Odion, standing in the open drop-gate of the hovering transport. Looking gleefully at the spitting tower, he pulled his cybernetically attached comlink closer to his lips. "Do it! Again!"

Another shrill, piercing scream from above-and to the north, Narsk saw another of the Industrial Heuristics transports explode. Shrapnel showered the ashen mulch for hundreds of meters around, just short of the mob of teenagers. With a third volley destroying another transport, the trapped students turned again in panic, flowing like mercury back toward the arxeum.

Field trip's over, kids, Narsk thought. Sorry Sorry.

Clinging inside the doorway, Narsk watched as Odion gave a booming battle cry and bounded to the surface. Other similarly armored members of the Thunder Guard followed, leaving only himself, Jelcho, and the command crew aboard.

"Look over there!"

Narsk turned to see flashes of artillery fire coming from hidden positions on the crater wall, far to the east. They weren't Daiman's regulars; those were all coming down into the fray from the northern ridge. He thought back to the mercenaries he'd passed on the way out. Part of Daiman's preparations, no doubt Part of Daiman's preparations, no doubt.

Watching several Thunderers blown to pieces ahead of Odion, Narsk spoke his mind. "This is ridiculous! He knew what was down here. Why didn't he just bombard the crater from orbit?"

"Lord Odion wanted to be sure of the Petulant One's presence before dispatching him to the void," Jelcho said. The Givin joined him at the edge of the transport's tailgate, his bony knuckles clasped together excitedly. There was almost color in his freakish face, Narsk saw. Almost Almost.

Narsk found the Givin noxious-and obnoxious. First among Odion's death cultists, they seemed to have nothing in their skinless heads beyond a desire to finish decomposing, once and for all. "My people would prefer that our lord slew us, of course," Jelcho nattered. "But we will happily accept reaching the void through the agency of Death's brother."

Narsk glared. "How about Death's furry pal?"

"What?"

"Nothing." Narsk wished for something to hit Jelcho in the face with, if only to improve his appearance. But Odion had made Jelcho his babysitter for the duration; the wraith was the closest excuse Odion had to an aide-de-camp. Odion had the simplest power structure of any Sith Lord he'd met. There were no ranks whatsoever, and none of Daiman's regimentation, either. Unlike Daiman, Odion knew others existed-and feared them. He kept potential rivals from rising by making sure everyone reported to him.

In practice, the result was chaos. Odion's empire devoured worlds like a space slug, using neither finesse nor, often, good sense. The competent were neutralized or paralyzed. And those closest to Odion were the ones who cared least for their own survival, because so few survived around him very long.

That worked well enough for Narsk, as an outsider. It allowed him to treat Odion's underlings any way he wished. None had any power over him-except to nauseate.

"Jelcho!" one of the pilots called from the back. "Sword of Ieldis just called. Daiman's fleet just arrived from hyperspace! They're engaging our forces now!" just called. Daiman's fleet just arrived from hyperspace! They're engaging our forces now!"

So that's the ploy, Narsk thought. Get Odion here, and don't let him leave Get Odion here, and don't let him leave.

The edges of Jelcho's mouth curled, lending a macabre aspect to his anatomically permanent frown. He embraced the Bothan. "This truly is the day!" he trilled. "And you, Bothan spy, made this all possible."

Narsk shrank from the insipid touch. "Would it be all right if I had a blaster? I promise I won't go anywhere."

The Death Spiral spat again, demolishing the last Industrial Heuristics transport. Kerra slid in the muck, stopping just in time to avoid being struck by flaming debris.

It had been wrong to come this way. She'd hoped to herd at least some of the students aboard one of the transports, but Odion's hateful machine hadn't left them anything. The youthful gaggle had dispersed now, running pell-mell across the northern surface of the crater. At least Daiman's warriors hadn't charged the field yet, or they'd be caught in the middle.

Right now, Daiman was letting others do his fighting. Several cadres of battle droids rushed the valley from the east, engaging Odion's Thunderers-and then there was that artillery. Running again, Kerra thanked the Force for whomever Daiman had on that eastern ridge. Intentionally or not, their shells were screening the fleeing refugees from Odion's charge.

But it couldn't last for long. Looking south, she saw that the Death Spiral had the eastern emplacements zeroed in. She wouldn't have enough time to intercept the crowd unless- Blasterfire suddenly raked the ground ahead of her. Kerra leapt to the side, tumbling in the greasy soil. The flanking edge of Odion's first wave of swoop bike riders soared past, with three of the armored warriors breaking off to circle her. Parrying blaster shots with her lightsaber, Kerra closed with the nearest rider and pounced. Slashing the front control rods from the vehicle, Kerra twirled underneath, watching rider and vehicle plummet downward into an explosive crash.

She spun and spun again as the remaining riders closed with her, trying to get a bead on her while moving. The first rider, a Rodian, lost balance when a deflected blaster bolt knocked him from his seat; the second lost her helmeted head to Kerra's lightsaber.

Ignoring the departing wave of fliers, Kerra approached the fallen Rodian. Armored as one of Odion's Thunderers, he gurgled in agony as Kerra stepped over his body to reach his stalled bike.

"Yeah, that's bad," Kerra said, righting the handlebars. "Trust me, you died for a reason."

"Kellies inoperable, command!"

"Blast!" Lights were going off the board one after another. Now Rusher's best battalion was without its strongest weapons. "Pull out the Gweiths, Tun-Badon-and join in on the tower!"

The leader of Serraknife wouldn't take that well, he knew; the Gweith Brothers concussion missile launchers were some of the slowest-loading pieces in the arsenal, with a fire/disable rating in the planetary core. You could paint a peace mural on them between shots. But he also knew Major Tun-Badon would already be on the job.

Between blasts, word had come from the bridge that Daiman's fleet had arrived and was engaging Odion's forces in orbit. It couldn't have mattered less to Diligence Diligence, doing its best to stay horizontal with all the impacts.

"We're dialed in!" someone yelled over the comlink. Rusher couldn't make out the call signal.

"Repeat! Whose battalion was that? Which battalion?"

Seeing the flares of energy lancing from the Death Spiral, Rusher realized the answer.

All of them.

The signal was unmistakable. Even in the din of battle, Narsk had felt and heard it: a gentle buzz, in the back of his head.

It had been delivered by a tiny implant at the base of his skull, hidden so well that Daiman's scans had never found it. Narsk knew instantly what the signal meant.

His true master was calling. He had to respond.

Narsk searched the ready room of the transport. The implant was simply an alert device; he'd have to make the contact. Any communications device would work, so long as it could reach space. Finding a spare portable commset out of sight of the crew, Narsk sat down and activated it.

Static. He scowled. It was the Death Spiral's energy shield, most likely. Since receiving the news about Daiman's fleet, the nervous transport pilot had parked closer to the tower's base for protection. Narsk figured the untested device was interfering with subspace transmissions inside its protected radius. His implant had gotten its signal-but, as he knew, it was from a technology beyond even the capacities of Odion's builders to foul up.

Narsk stood, feeling the pain of the past week's ordeal. There was no choice. He'd have to go out. Slipping the commset into a backpack, he made for the exit. At least the nasty Givin didn't seem to be- "Where are you going?"

Narsk sighed. He couldn't even run onto a battlefield without permission.

Steeling his stomach, Narsk looked directly at the Givin's face. "I ... I've decided you're right, Jelcho." He pointed outside, where Odion and his Thunderers were dashing between mortar strikes to eviscerate mercenary infantry coming down from the eastern hills. "Seeing all this, I just have to get out and take part."

"Would that I could!"

Narsk stared. "Well, why not?" Wincing inside, he took the navigator by the chitinous arm.

"I cannot," Jelcho said. "Lord Odion wanted me here. If the operation should fail, his transport will need a navigator."

"Failure? What're you talking about?" Narsk stepped down onto the crater's surface and waved toward the carnage. "Odion's changing the map of this place. This is the big showdown. And you're telling me you don't want to be in on it?"

Tentatively, like a wistful bride, Jelcho set a boot gently on the battleground. Another foot followed. The Givin rasped, a full breath coming from deep inside his bony carcass. "There is so so much void." much void."

No need to waste any, freak. Grabbing a pair of blasters from the transport, Narsk returned to Jelcho and spun him by the shoulder. There, a short distance away, sat open airspeeder bays at the bottom of the groaning Death Spiral. "There's your speeder. Here's your gun." He slapped the blaster into the Givin's hands. "Claim some void."

Narsk took his new blaster and began walking around the Death Spiral to the south. It'd be quieter and safer there, with the tower between him and Daiman's forces. He had no desire for a reunion.

Feeling someone looking at him, Narsk turned. The Givin stood limply, gaping.

"Now what?" Narsk could barely be heard over the sound of the tower's rotating, blasting rings.

"A strange thing, Bothan spy," the Givin yelled. Jelcho's triangular eye holes seemed to sag a little. "When you spoke earlier of Odion bombing the crater-you said 'he' 'he' instead of instead of 'we.' 'we.' Isn't Odion's glory your own?" Isn't Odion's glory your own?"

"Shut up and go shoot something!" Before I shoot you Before I shoot you, he felt like adding.

Rusher looked around. There was suddenly plenty of room atop the hull. Each battalion kept three dedicated spotters on the command platform, but with Serraknife, Flechette, and Sat'skar all out of action, their minders had gone down to manage recovery ops.

Not that those who remained were able to do much. The ridge hadn't turned out to be such a good place to set up, after all. Every impact on the hillside rattled upward through Diligence Diligence, nearly knocking the spotters' helmets sideways. And smoke on the range was so thick now they couldn't see their own teams.

Rusher checked the command board on the railing. The display showed five good lights, two north and three south. His battalions were still giving their all, the fires of perdition soaring from the ridge down into the valley. But Odion's forces in the Death Spiral had them dialed in.

In a blinding flash, a part of the ridge to the north vanished, sending debris skyward. Rusher's command crew shielded themselves as the shock pummeled Diligence Diligence, followed by a shower of rocks. No energy shield was going to do much against an avalanche from the air.

"I've lost Rantok Battalion!" Ignoring the fall of pebbles, the lead Rantok spotter bounded from his elevated chair and followed his aide toward the ladder.

Rusher grabbed the third spotter, a young human, by the arm. "Stay here. You're on evac watch now. Port side!"

The pink-faced spotter, all of sixteen, nodded. Rusher headed for the other side. The mission now would be mapping optimum routes back to Diligence Diligence. It didn't do any good for a team to head back to its designated cargo ramp for boarding if there was an impact crater in the way.

Hanging across the railing, Rusher scanned the haze below. He wouldn't be able to check the paths from every ramp; the cameras on Diligence Diligence's belly hadn't worked in years. But he could get direct visuals on the others. A roiling pit had opened near the foot of Starboard Three. That was out. But at least Starboard Two looked nominal- Rusher lowered the macrobinoculars and squinted. Beadle Lubboon, helmet askew and shaking nervously, was driving away from the ramp aboard his tracked cargo crawler. Haphazardly fastened to a chain behind was the long barrel of Kelligdyd 25, the laser cannon infamously loaded up wrong on Whinndor. The Duros recruit had somehow gotten the recalcitrant cannon out of the hold and was dragging it behind, its mass leaving a gouge in the volcanic dirt.

"Kid! Kid!" Rusher could barely hear his own yells. But the newbie didn't seem to be in his right mind, from the look of him. The boy was ducking as low as he could while still seeing over the hauler's hood. Green knuckles had gone pale on the steering yoke.

Rusher pounded his fist against his helmet. He didn't need this now!

Across the valley, the Death Spiral winked-and the whole of Diligence Diligence moved, actually lifting a few meters off the surface before slamming back to the ground. Wrapping his arm around the railing, Rusher looked back. The young spotter had gone over the side, as well as two of the remaining officers who weren't strapped into chairs. Rusher scrambled to the forward railing and looked down. It had been a glancing blow, leveling a zone just to the south of the ship's perch. But he could tell from the redundant command board that the ship's energy shield was gone. And what else? moved, actually lifting a few meters off the surface before slamming back to the ground. Wrapping his arm around the railing, Rusher looked back. The young spotter had gone over the side, as well as two of the remaining officers who weren't strapped into chairs. Rusher scrambled to the forward railing and looked down. It had been a glancing blow, leveling a zone just to the south of the ship's perch. But he could tell from the redundant command board that the ship's energy shield was gone. And what else?

Rusher activated his helmet comlink. "Dackett! What have we got?"

There was no response from down below. He called again, only to hear a voice he wasn't familiar with from down on the ridge.

"Master Dackett's down!"

Rusher swallowed hard. Looking back at the decimated spotter crew, he made for the ladder. Rusher's Brigade was breaking.