Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith #1: Precipice by John Jackson Miller

Author:John Jackson Miller
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fantasy, Adventure, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780345519382
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2009-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

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Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: Precipice 23

Nothing. He sighed. The story was the same everywhere on the bridge. He switched the transmitter on one last time and stepped back over the debris. Omen was dead.

But Sith had survived death before, and the guts of Omen still held enough spare parts to allow a transplant. His eyes darted to the hallway. Surely, in the workshop—

“Gone, with the armory!” The explosion had vented most of the stores into space. Devore buried his face in his hands, finished.

Korsin wasn’t. “The landing bay. The Blades.” The fighters had been in flight when Omen made its sudden departure, but something in the landing bay might be serviceable.

“Forget it, Yaru. The deck was crushed when we hit.

I couldn’t even get in there.”

“Then we will cut the ship down deck by deck and fabricate the parts we need!”

“With what? Our lightsabers?” Devore rose, steadying himself against the armrest. “We’re done!” His cough became a laugh. The Lignan crystals offered the Sith power—just not the kind to operate a distress beacon, a receiver, or even the celestial atlas. “We are here, Yaru. We are here and we are out of action. Out of the war. Out of everything. We are out of it!”

“You’re out of it.”

Korsin climbed into a hallway and began rummaging through cabinets, looking for something that would help those below. Unfortunately, Omen had been out-fitted for a deep-space mission. Sith provisioners were sparing. No portable generators at all. Another com-partment. Clothes. That would help tonight, but they wouldn’t be staying.

“We have to stay,” Devore said, as if he had read Korsin’s thought.

“What?”

“We have to stay,” Devore repeated. Standing alone, mill_9780345519382_3p_all_r1.qxp:8p insert template 4/28/09

24

John Jackson Miller

a tombstone in the shadows of the hallway, he spoke with a voice that quaked. “It’s been two days. You don’t understand. It’s been two days.”

Korsin didn’t stop his search, passing in front of his brother to another door, jammed by the damage.

“It’s been two days, Yaru. Naga Sadow will think we ran away. To take the Lignan crystals for ourselves!”

“He’ll blame Saes, ” Korsin said, remembering. Naga Sadow hadn’t fully trusted the fallen Jedi who captained the Harbinger. He’d asked Korsin to keep an eye on Saes, to report back. When he did—if he did—

Korsin fully intended to explain how the Harbinger had lost control, how the Harbinger had struck the Omen.

With any luck, Sadow had Harbinger already—

Korsin released the door handle. He hadn’t seen what happened to Harbinger after the collision, but it was a safe bet that Sadow would have the crippled Harbinger already. And Saes, sitting there with only half the shipment of Lignan crystals and unable to deliver, would be bargaining for his life, saying anything about the Omen.

He would sing harmonies the Khil would be proud of.

Korsin looked down the hallway. “Back at Primus Goluud. On the station. You met with Sadow, didn’t you?”

Devore shuffled. “To discuss the Lignan operation.”

“You weren’t discussing something else? Like who should command this mission?”

Devore glared at him with bloodshot eyes.

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