"What's happening?" Merish asked.

Shil looked out the window. Flashes illuminated his face, the only light apart from the faint yellow of a glow stick on the floor near Hallena's feet.

"That's the problem with taking down the comm transmitter," Shil said. "I don't kriffing well know. We have to wait for a runner. All I can see is. . . yeah, it's all been held up at the bridge. They've blocked us."

"As long as we keep them busy," she said.

"Why haven't the Seps landed anyone?"

"Maybe they have. We'd never know."

Hallena, handcuffed, sat on the floor with her back braced against the wall. Whatever business took place in this office on a normal day, someone hadn't done much cleaning for a while. A vomit-like smell of sour milk was getting to her.

Funny. I'm going to die-if I'm lucky-and it's a bad smell that's bothering me most.

It was never a good idea to taunt a captor, but at least she was getting some idea now that the rebels weren't quite as savvy as they'd first appeared. They'd stymied themselves by neglecting comms. They couldn't communicate across the city except by runners.

You'd have thought the Seps would have given them a few comlinks that would run off their ship network . . .

But even professional armies did dumber things than that.

Shil didn't look away from the window. "You're not a lot of use to us, Orla, or whatever your name is, so your sole reason for being alive now is so we can hand you over to the CIS."

Oh, you think so?

When she couldn't sleep, Hallena had sometimes spent the dark hours thinking through what she might do in the worst sit-uations. The one that came to mind most often, inevitably, was when she would decide to finish it all and take that capsule. Contrary to popular myth, the fast-acting toxin wasn't in a special compartment in a tooth. She had to remove it from the lin-ing of her escape kit, the small collection of survival tools concealed in a small wallet in the back of her pants. The tooth trick, she decided, was easier.

How will I know when it's the point of no return?

And that was the gamble.

She forced herself to stop wondering if anyone had received her call for extraction. That kind of thinking wouldn't keep her going. She had to rely on her own resources to get out of here. Then she could worry about getting off the planet-it would be easier to go to ground in a world in the chaotic grip of a war, anyway.

See? All the training comes back. Keep planning to escape. Use every second. Don't give despair a chance to paralyze you and do the enemy's work for them. Take control of your situation. They can't get into your head unless you let them.

She was still working out how far she might get if she couldn't free her hands when the floor shook underneath her. The sound was m.u.f.fled; whatever had detonated was big, but not close. Artillery. Did the Regent have much by way of heavy weapons? No, he had the kind of forces he needed to keep a civilian population in line, not the kind he needed to fight a war against a conventional enemy with warships and laser cannons.

"Sounds like the Seps have arrived," she said. "How are you going to let them know where you are so they don't grind you into nerf mince along with the state guard?"

"The deal was to stay out of the city center once they showed up." Merish handed Varti something that looked like a breadmeal snack. "So that's what we're going to do now."

These folks were too organized not to have asked the obvious question of their Sep contact: how will you let us know when it's over? That was the trouble with civil wars-with any wars. They weren't tidy, they weren't easy to get a handle on even if you had good comms, and they didn't end with the final whistle like a bolo-ball match. Hallena was starting to work out that Merish was waiting for some contact that hadn't happened, and now she was getting uneasy.

And it was much harder at night. Getting an idea of what was happening purely from watching from a window-that was impossible. And Hallena could only see the world from a child's height, the movement of legs in front of her, and no view outside other than what was framed in that window.

Merish, Shil, and Varti were as scared and helpless as she was.

Maybe she had some way of exploiting that.

Helpless except for the fact that they've got blasters, and I haven't, and it takes only one bolt to the head to end it all.

She shook her head hard to stop herself drifting back to the insistent thought of whether someone was coming for her. That kind of thing only happened in holovids. There weren't even special forces extraction teams coming to get her. The commando squads were few and far between, and they had too big a galaxy to cover to be spared for jobs like nursemaiding agents who were dumb enough to get caught.

You're talking yourself down again . . .

I will get out of here. I can find somewhere to lay up. They'll be too busy fighting one another or rounding up their neighbors for a spot of retribution to look for me.

"What the stang is that?" Shil asked.

Whoomp.

Another explosion, closer this time, then another. Judging by the way Shil was trying to lean out of the window, he couldn't tell where it was coming from, either. But the thumping sound was getting more frequent, ever closer.

"Sssh. Sssh!" Merish fumbled frantically in her pocket. As if hushing a barrage would make the noise stop; people did the craziest things under stress. "My comlink..."

The device was chirping. Hallena could hear it. Merish flicked the key and listened with the comlink pressed close to one ear and her hand cupped over the other. Even in the near darkness, Hallena could see the expression on her face relax as if she'd just had the news she'd been waiting for.

"The first Separatist droids have landed," she said, comlink still pressed tight to her ear. "The commander's set up a mobile transmitter, so we've all got comms again. The commander says to sit tight while they secure the government building."

Hallena couldn't begin to estimate how long that would take, but it wouldn't be a matter of minutes. She had something to focus on. But the cannon fire was now close enough for her to feel dust drifting down from the ceiling with every explosion, peppering her face.

"I hope they know we're in here," Hallena said again. "I wouldn't put my faith in droid precision if I were you."

"It's taken care of." Merish turned away from her, lips moving, and walked toward the pitch-black corridor outside the office. Hallena couldn't hear what the woman was saying now, but she appeared to be comming various codes and talking as if checking where people were.

From time to time she cursed loudly enough for Hallena to hear, as if something hadn't gone to plan, or someone had been killed, but her body language suggested she was feeling more confident by the moment.

Varti seemed to have relaxed, even though they were probably more at risk now from a stray cannon round than they ever were from the state militia while they were so far back from the front line of the uprising.

"Hard to believe we finally did it," he said, more to himself than anything.

Merish walked back into the room. "It's not over yet. Jarlio says there's heavy fighting around the guard barracks. Who'd have thought they had the stomach for that?"

There was a lot more to taking a planet than just seizing its capital, but Hallena thought it wasn't the right time to give them her opinion on the best way to destabilize an enemy.

"Is the Regent dead?" she asked.

"Why? Was that your mission, to get the sc.u.m to safety before we lynched him?"

"Would you believe," Hallena said, "that we hadn't realized things had progressed this far?"

Shil stepped back from the window. "No. But then you don't seem to have any idea how much the Republic's loathed across the galaxy for the regimes it sh.o.r.es up, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Coruscant leads a coc.o.o.ned existence, doesn't it?"

Yes.

Don't you think I know that?

Don't you think I have my doubts when I end up in places like this and see how people live?

If she survived this, she swore she'd get out of the business. Fifteen years was enough for anyone. It was a little more than simply giving notice because agents never completely retired until death-natural causes or otherwise-ended their career. Even in old age, they could still be called upon to do the occasional job, or a.n.a.lyze intel. They knew too much. But she was getting out, really out, where n.o.body could find her.

First, though, she had to get out of Athar.

REPUBLIC a.s.sAULT SHIP LEVELER, JANFATHAL s.p.a.cE.

The ship's address system boomed. "Safeguard, safeguard, safeguard, ship is now on defense watch."

Well, at least that was working. The Sull.u.s.tan technician crawled out from under the bank of sensor screens and bolted down the cover plates.

"Done?" Pellaeon asked.

"Done," said the technician. He knelt with his arms folded on the desk. "Calibrated, too. Hit the display reset first."

Lieutenant Meriones rushed to obey. Pellaeon had to admit that the little rodent was trying hard, but then it was hard to do otherwise when you were in a ship that was less than ready for combat and within range of the enemy.

"Ten enemy vessels in JanFathal orbit," Meriones said, finger stabbing at the controls. "All in the northern hemisphere, cl.u.s.tering over Athar . . . eight of those appear to be troop carriers."

"Well, Rex, what do you think?" Pellaeon asked.

The clone captain smoothed his palm over his scalp. "Fastest way in is still to merge with their landing craft. Tinnies don't make a visual check. Those crates don't have viewscreens anyway. They'll read any transponder code we choose to feed them and that'll be it." He made a swooping gesture with his hand. "Probably, anyway. Right in behind them, land, do the business, and get out."

"Let's hope our Jedi friends can locate her."

It was hard to say Hallena's name. Pellaeon felt guilty that he wasn't sure why this was so painful; it should have been sim-ple, honest fear for the woman he loved, but now he was worried that it had been tainted by embarra.s.sment at having to admit they were involved and that he was committing a warship and other beings' lives to getting her out. He'd been certain that he'd feel something purer, something less like those dreary little desk-drivers who sat in judgment on his career and didn't think a healthy relationship had any part to play in that. Pellaeon didn't like not knowing his own mind. It was a rare dilemma.

I think I understand why Jedi fear attachment so much.

"Is your young Padawan okay?" Pellaeon asked. "She seemed very disturbed by the Altis people. I rather like the man myself."

"She says they're heretics. Something about their beliefs being different from the Jedi Order's," Rex said carefully. "Skywalker's a lot more soldierly than the others. I understand him just fine."

"I knew very little about Jedi before they were deployed with the army. It's an education."

"I find it helps to think of them as a very complex sensor whose technology is so far above your security clearance that you might as well just press the b.u.t.ton and use it."

"And you're seriously going to take that child on the mission?"

"She's a lot more competent than she looks." Rex checked his chrono. "Better get under way. Let's see how the shuttle's doing." He beckoned to the Sull.u.s.tan. "Come and do your trick with the transponder, chum."

On the hangar deck, ground crew were busy fueling one of the replenishment vessels. They were anonymous-looking craft, not much different from the millions of civilian light transports that could be found anywhere in the galaxy, except Leveler's had a discreet Republic pennant code on the fuselage and defensive cannon. What they didn't have in armor they made up for in modesty; this one would attract far less attention than a LAAT/i gunship.

"You sure you don't need civilian clothing?" Pellaeon tried to imagine a squad of clones remaining unnoticed in that glossy white armor. It would be broad daylight by the time they started moving around the city. "You're rather visible."

"I'd rather trade armor advantages against stealth," Rex said. "And we're not going to be hanging around long."

The Jedi were sitting on upturned crates by the aircraft ramp that moved the Torrent fighters between decks. They all had their heads in their hands, even Ahsoka, looking as if they were locked in some communal act of despair.

"I hope they're playing radar games or something," Pellaeon said. "Or maybe their smashball team didn't win."

Rex gave him a rea.s.suring pat on the back. "We'll find her. Don't worry."

"I'm that transparent, am I?"

"Humor. It has many uses."

"Indeed."

Callista looked up as they approached. She didn't seem the mystic type at all; she didn't even wear the usual Jedi robes, just a normal close-fitting flight suit, like the lad with her. Master Altis looked more like an academic, in scruffy loose-fitting clothes, and all they seemed to have in common with Ahsoka was a lightsaber hanging from their belts. At a less stressful time, Pellaeon would have been fascinated to examine the gulf between the two sects, but it seemed a distraction at the moment. He just hoped they could work together.

He also hoped he hadn't overplayed his hand by risking a less than fully functional ship in a war zone.

Would I have done this if it hadn't been her?

Yes. I was already committed before I knew it was Hallena. Wasn't If "Captain, have you anything personal belonging to Agent Devis, something she's handled?" Callista asked. "It might help us."

Pellaeon thought that kind of thing was just for police tracker akks. But in the very brief time he'd been working with Jedi, he'd learned that anything was worth a try. Each one seemed to have a different technical manual from the next.

Right again, Rex.

He fished in his pocket. Hallena had lent him a stylus and he'd never returned it, sentimental idiot that he was. "I'd like it back if possible."

Altis held the stylus in one hand and closed his fingers around it.

"Not an invasive test," he said, shutting his eyes. "Think of it as calibration."

Pellaeon was never sure where to look when Jedi did that sort of thing. It always smacked of a conjuring trick to him, and he found himself back on Corellia, a youngster watching a carnival show and vowing he'd work out exactly how the guy in the red sequined suit had done the hoop trick. There was no such thing as magic.

Maybe he'd just had the wrong word for it.

Altis opened his eyes again. Then he pa.s.sed the stylus to Callista, who held it for a while with her eyes closed before handing it to Geith. When Geith had finished meditating on it, he offered it to Ahsoka.

Ahsoka clasped it and shut her eyes, but she was clearly uneasy. Pellaeon marveled at the power of taboos over otherwise sane beings. What did Altis's sect do that was so unacceptable?

Just find Hallena. Don't let her die alone down there.

Ahsoka finally pa.s.sed the stylus back to Altis. "That's a great help, Captain," he said. "Thank you. You want to ask, don't you?"

Pellaeon shrugged and pocketed the stylus again. And there I was, thinking I had my sabacc player's face on. "I'm a logical man."

"Just as your sensors scan for thermal profiles and drive frequencies to identify vessels, I look for something very similar in the living Force."

That wasn't what I wanted to ask. "Even for non-Jedi."

"It's harder to detect, but I often find it. We now have, as you say, a fix."

"But is she alive? If she is, can you tell what shape she's in?"

"She's still alive," Altis said. "And she feels-strong."