cold. He grimaced with pain. Trying to resist, he opened himself fully to the Force, but the clone’s power was too much.
He screamed, took his lightsaber hilt in both hands and spun it before him, winding the Force lightning back up along its blade and away from his body. But his focus on the lightning cost him, and a renewed push from the Katarn-clone slammed him against the wall. The side of his face hit the duracrete and he sagged to the floor, struggling to maintain consciousness.
The Jaden-clone, Soldier, walked toward him.
“Just let us go, Jedi,” he said.
Jaden’s tongue and lips would not make words, so he shook his head.
The lightning sizzled again, the power pushing him along the floor, burning his flesh, searing his spirit. He was still holding his blade, still managing to deflect the bulk of the energy. He just needed to regain his wits, his clarity of thought.
The other clone, the Katarn-clone, appeared before him. Jaden had not seen him approach. His red blade cut down to split Jaden’s head. Jaden blocked awkwardly with his blade, which was still enmeshed in Force lightning. The clone snarled, then loosed a Force-augmented kick to the side of Jaden’s face that caused him to see stars and sent him careering down the stairs. He hit the next landing, and, fearing a follow-up attack, staggered to his feet, wobbly, weaving, unable to see clearly. He saw them above him, tried to ready himself, but a misstep sent him tumbling down the next flight of stairs.
He hit his head again. Blackness beckoned and he could not resist it.
Marr fought to keep calm as he darted through the medical facility’s hallways. He sprinted past a few doctors, nurses, patients on gurneys, medical and maintenance droids.
“Who are you?” someone shouted.
He left unanswered questions and alarmed glances in his wake, holding his purple lightsaber in one hand, his blaster in the other. He could see the building’s schematic in his mind and headed directly for the stairwell access door.
He shouldered through it, blaster and blade ready, and nearly tripped over Jaden’s prone form.
“Master!”
He heard footsteps on the stairs far above them, voices, but saw no sign of the clones. He considered following, but only for a moment. His Master had ordered him not to engage them alone.
He knelt over Jaden. The side of his Master’s face was discolored, his lip split, his right eye filled with blood from burst capillaries. But he was breathing. Marr tapped Jaden’s cheeks but got no response.
He squeezed his comlink and raised Khedryn.
“Jaden is down, Khedryn. The clones are heading for the supply ship. Get it airborne or get everyone out of it.”
“Jaden is down? What does that mean?”
“Go, Khedryn,” Marr said, “Go, now!”
Cursing, Khedryn strapped on his blaster, jumped out of his seat, and tore through Junker, through the cargo bay, and down the landing ramp. He ran straight for the medical supply ship. When he got near the cockpit, he started shouting and waving his hands.
Through the transparisteel of the cockpit, he saw the crew still in their seats, probably going through some postlanding checklist, or perhaps trying to raise the medical facility—to no avail.
The three cargo doors hung open and the treaded loading droids were beginning to unload the materials. Khedryn hated droids—the blasted things performed their tasks without exercising judgment of any kind. The building could have been falling down and they’d continue unloading throughout.
“Raise the crew!” he shouted to the nearest droid. “Tell them to take off.”
The droids either did not hear him or wouldn’t acknowledge him.
He cursed and ran into the ship. The droids protested behind him—now they noticed him—but he ignored them. He pelted through the cargo bay, loaded with stacks of shipping containers, and made his way to the bridge, shouting the entire time.
Nyss slipped from the shadows and followed the freighter pilot onto the medical supply ship. He trailed him through the cargo bay and toward the cockpit, trying to determine exactly what was happening. “I’m on the supply ship,” he whispered to Syll.
Unable to rouse Jaden, Marr ran out of the stairwell and into the main hall of the medical facility. Wide eyes and alarmed glances greeted his appearance. Someone screamed, perhaps thinking him one of the attackers.
“I’m here to help,” he said absently, looking for a medical locker. He found one mounted on a nearby wall, cut it open with his blade, and removed a packet of Quickwake. He hurried back to the stairwell and cracked the Quickwake