ULA WATCHED THE repulsor platform rising from the planet’s south pole with something approaching awe. The skyhook was huge and well defended, and the hexes had built it in almost no time at all. If Stryver still needed to convince anyone of the reality of his geometric growth theory, the proof was right there in front of him.
“What’s a skyhook doing at the pole?” Jet asked. “It’d be useless, floating there.”
“Why?”
“Because the best place to get to higher orbits is at the equator, and that’s what they’ll be wanting to do. Isn’t it?”
Ula just shrugged. Skyhooks had many uses, not just as a staging point to orbit, as they were usually employed, hanging motionlessly over points on a planet’s surface. They could provide defense or act as displays of wealth. Who knew what the hexes wanted? He was still learning what they could do.
“Target that thing,” he ordered the combined fleet, just to be sure. “Bring it down!”
The Paramount sent a halfhearted salvo in the skyhook’s direction, but it was clear Kalisch was keeping significant firepower in reserve. The Commenor sent nothing at all.
“Didn’t you hear me, Captain Pipalidi? We need to stop that thing from reaching the upper atmosphere.”
“And I need to ensure the security of what ships we have left,” said the leader of the Republic contingent. “If the Paramount turns its weapons on us while we’re looking elsewhere, we’ll be defenseless.”
“If the hexes escape, we all lose.”
“On Kalisch’s head be it.”
He punched the instrument panel in frustration.
Jet looked at him in reproach. “Hey, take it easy.”
“It’s just so—so pointless! What’s the point of fighting each other? All they have to do is cooperate a little longer and we stand a chance.”
“They’re too alike. That’s the problem. You see that in primitive cultures when schisms divide religions into similar but not identical sects. They hate each other more than the enemy.”
“What are you talking about? The Empire isn’t a primitive culture.”
“No, but the principle still holds. Similar hierarchies, with a dominant high priest caste; similar beliefs but different practices; competing over the same territory—”
“Stop it,” said Ula. “You’re not helping.”
“Just trying to point out why it was never going to work.”
“So we shouldn’t even have tried?”
“Everything’s worth trying once. And I have been known to be wrong on occasions. Unfortunately, this isn’t turning out to be one of them.”
“So how do we turn it around? What can we do to stop the hexes from getting out?”
“There’s always Plan B.”
“Which is?”
“I was hoping you might have one.”
Stryver was heading north, away from the south pole. Ula projected the Mandalorian’s progress across a map of the planet’s surface and found the likely CI location at the end of it. That portion of the map was a mess of activity. Ula used satellite and fighter data to zoom in closer.
Something was rising up from a lake of lava, filling the crater where the landing site had been.
“Another skyhook?” he said, pointing at the image.
“It’s in the right spot,” said Jet, “but I don’t think so. The design isn’t right, and it doesn’t appear to have the repulsorlift capacity it would need to get off the ground.”
A circular hatch opened on the top of the thing, like an enormous iris. Another space opened up among the hexes directly above.
Ula waited, but nothing emerged from the hatch.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said.
“There’s Stryver again,” Jet said, pointing at a solitary blip circling the new arrival.
“I guess he’s chasing those subspace foci,” Ula said. “That one must be a biggie.”
“Like the skyhook’s.” Jet pointed at the south of the planet. “Which is moving, by the way.”
He was right. The skyhook had drifted away from the pole and was accelerating ponderously northward.
Ula thought fast. If the skyhook kept accelerating at that rate and stayed on that heading …
“They’re two halves of one thing,” he cried. “The skyhook was at the pole because that’s where the master factory built it. Now it’s coming to pick up the CI and take it offworld. I bet the drives are being built on the moon, as we speak. They’re getting ready to break free. We have to stop them!”
“I think you’re right,” said Jet, “and I agree that this is serious. Try Kalisch and Pipalidi one more time. Maybe they’ll change their minds.”
Ula knew it was pointless. The fleet was breaking up. Shots were being fired by fighters passing perilously close to the opposite side’s capital vessels. It was clear that lines were being drawn and beads taken. All it would take was one mistake for open warfare to erupt.
“If there was only some way to make them do what’s needed,” he said.
“I knew you had the makings of an emperor.”
“How can you joke at a time like this?”
“Who’s joking?” Jet turned in his seat and said to Clunker, “Time for Plan B.”
The droid inclined its battered head. A series of new screens flickered in and out of the main holoprojector as the droid sent a series of commands through the Auriga Fire’s main computers.
“Don’t tell me,” said Ula. “You cracked the hex code but have been sitting on it, waiting for the rest of us to figure it out for ourselves.”
“Believe me, I wouldn’t have waited. Also, there’s nothing to be gained in doing that. Once the code is cracked, the hexes are dead, and I’m out of pocket.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Something noble and probably quite stupid. In return, I need you to do something for me.”
“Just ask.”
“I need you to pretend it never happened.”
Ula stared at him.
“Watch the screens,” Jet said.
The combined fleet was breaking up, but not down faction lines. The Paramount was leading one mixed contingent down to a lower orbit, there to target the CI with greater precision. The Commenor was heading for the moon with a smaller retinue and two squadrons of fighters. All internecine squabbling had abruptly ceased.
Comms weren’t down, but they were suspiciously quiet. No one was giving orders to coordinate the fleet’s movements. It was just happening.
“You’re doing this,” Ula said, appalled.
“Clunker is. He’s got a very good head on his shoulders.”
“You used me to infiltrate the Imperial and Republic networks. You cracked their codes. Now you’ve taken over!”
“The end justifies the means, right?”
“That’s what Stryver said. I’m not sure I agree.”
“Being alive is always better than being dead. That’s my golden rule.”
“But what comes afterward?”
“The fleets change their codes. Business goes back to usual.”
“If you let them go.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I’m not power-mad like you. There might be money to be had in empire building, but never at the top. You only end up on the wrong end of a coup, or an invasion, or a sniper’s rifle. Your Emperor will learn that eventually, the hard way.”
Ula was trapped. He had betrayed the Republic, after all, but he had betrayed the Empire along with it. And now he was utterly powerless. All he could do was sit back and watch—and wonder if he would intervene if the opportunity arose. Jet was, after all, doing the job that he had failed to do. Who was he to get in the way?
Maybe Jet, too, was defying his baser instincts and trying to do the right thing.
A voice crackled from the planet on a Republic frequency. Ula recognized it instantly.
“—higher now so the jamming might not be as effective. This is Lieutenant Moxla calling Director Vii. I’ve hitched a lift on the back of the skyhook and I’m placing transponders on the vulnerable points. Strike them as hard as you can. Please respond. Let me know I’m getting through. We’re higher now so the jamming might not be as effective. This is Lieutenant Moxla calling Director—”
“It’s a recording.” Jet reduced the volume. “I see the transponders. If she’s done her job properly, we can hit the skyhook with everything the Paramount has and take it out of commission before it reaches the equator.”
“What about Larin?”
“Maybe she’s already ditched.”
“We can’t know, can we?”
“No. So what do you want to do?”
“Are you really giving me the choice?”
“Not really. Just seeing if you could come up with a decent argument.”
Tiny points of light flared in the holoprojector as the Paramount sent every missile it had on the way.
LARIN RAN LIGHTLY over the uppermost dome of the skyhook, keeping low to avoid the occasional potshot. The structure was made entirely out of linked hex bodies. Some of them retained a modicum of individuality and raised a limb to fire as she went by. She couldn’t watch everywhere at once, but she had managed to avoid any serious injuries thus far.
That would change the moment her message was received, or the fleet opened fire regardless. There was no way off the skyhook now that it was in flight. If it went down, so would she and all her squadmates. Not all of them had jumped aboard with her, but those who had knew what they were getting into. There were perhaps two dozen troopers like her scattered across the moving skyhook, all operating independently.
Comms came and went; she had set her transceiver to broadcast at the earliest opportunity and let it spool on without her hearing. Each transponder she placed pointed to an air vent or sensor array, or anything else that might suffer from an accurately placed hit. She hadn’t wasted time on trying to sneak inside the skyhook. There would have been little benefit in getting herself killed that way.
It was ironic, she thought. Telemetry told her that the skyhook was bringing her closer to where Shigar should have landed, but she probably wouldn’t make it, and neither had he, most likely. His transport had gone down in flames. She might share the same fate as he had and never know it.
Blue light flashed to her right. A trooper had been pinned by three widely spaced hexes, all firing simultaneously. He returned fire, crouching low to present a smaller target, but he couldn’t fire at all of them, and he had nowhere to retreat to. As she watched, taking the measure of his predicament, a shot clipped the neck seal of his helmet, triggering a jet of precious air. He went down, thrashing about to reach the leak, but his shoulder joints wouldn’t flex that far.
She came in low and fast, shooting the nearest hex first, before getting a bead on the others. They shifted their sights to her, but she was practiced at fighting hexes now. She aimed for the sensor pods first because they were easiest to hit. Without eyes, how could they shoot back?
Two other hexes joined in before she reached the fallen trooper. She scooped him up with one hand under his left underarm and kept moving, firing as she went. Using gravity and her own momentum, she took him down the dome as if they were running down the side of a hill.
When they were out of range, she skidded them to a halt. The edge was in sight. Beyond that point, there was nothing but Sebaddon, far below.
He was still thrashing about. She reached for the repair kit in her thigh pocket and urged him to stay still. He obeyed. As she applied the fast-acting sealant to his damaged neck joint, they recognized each other.
The trooper looking up at her was Ses Jopp.
His voice traveled clearly through the material of their suits.
“You’re the last person I expected to see.”
She didn’t want to say that the feeling was mutual. “I couldn’t just leave you there.”
“And I’m grateful, believe me. Thank you, Lieutenant.”
She couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not, but it was something.
“There,” she said, smoothing down the last of the sealant. “You’ll live to fight another day.”
His eyes tracked to her right, over her shoulder.
“Probably not,” he said. “Look.”
She turned and stared up at the sky. Clearly visible were the white streaks of Imperial artillery coming their way. It looked as if the crew of the Paramount were giving it all they had—precisely as they ought to, she thought.
Rather than craning awkwardly up at the approaching missiles, she turned and sat down next to Jopp.
“Best seats in the house, eh?” she said.
He laughed. “Yeah. People would kill for ’em.”
She thought of her former colleagues in the Blackstars, of the bravado and the bonding and the sense of belonging that she had missed so deeply.
“Grunts like us never learn. Fireworks are only pretty from a distance.”
Jopp nodded soberly. “Makes a pleasant change to have an officer down here with us.”
He turned to look at her.
“Guess you’re not so bad after all, Toxic Moxla.”
She smiled. That was as close to an apology as she was likely to get, but in the service it amounted to a vow of loyalty that would endure until they died. It was a shame, she thought, that that wasn’t going to be very long.
EXHAUST TRAILS DREW complex hieroglyphs across the sky. No less than fifteen missiles were converging on the object that had risen out of the lake. The blast radius was going to be so huge, there was no point running.
Shigar braced himself for the explosion. There was a small chance that he could shield himself from the worst of it, but what happened afterward was the great unknown. There might be no island left at all. He couldn’t float about forever on a sea of lava.
On the brink of death, he caught a glimpse of how his life would have played out, had he lived. He knew, intellectually and viscerally, that he had earned the rank of Jedi Knight. Master Nobil couldn’t deny him that now. He had fought and made deals with enemies. He had wrestled with the dark side. He had conquered his one remaining weakness. And, most important, he was willing to fight.
You are a product of your time, he heard his former Master saying. You must confront the times ahead with great care. The Sith are the enemy, but we must not become like them in order to beat them. We must remain true to all that we stand for.
He couldn’t tell if her voice was in the present, or an echo of the future that would never be. Similarly, he couldn’t tell if she was reproaching him or offering him encouragement.
I cannot stand by while politicians play their games, he said in reply. It was an act of thievery that led us here—an act conducted on behalf of the Republic. Even in this corner of the universe, privateers and false treaties have endangered billions of lives. When the whole galaxy is at stake, who can stand idle?
Not you, Shigar Konshi. Not you.
I don’t understand. Are you telling me that I’m wrong, or that I’m right?
Perhaps both. The answer is beyond my sight.
He snapped back to reality.
A powerful roaring filled the air. The lines in the sky converged on a point. The hieroglyph was complete.
Darth Chratis vanished behind a shimmering Force shield.
Shigar stood unprotected, at one with the other troopers staring up at their deaths. He wasn’t afraid to die.
There was a bright flash, then another, then so many they became one simultaneous assault.
Shigar shielded his eyes with his hand.
That he still had a hand and eyes surprised him.
He squinted through his fingers.
The massive structure had generated a broad electromirror shield, and was deflecting the full force of the blasts back out into space.
Relief flooded him, then dismay. He was still alive, but the plan had failed. What now?
Darth Chratis emerged from his shield as superhot clouds radiated above them. He looked as surprised as Shigar felt.
“Unacceptable,” he said.
A second series of flashes came from the south, where something else was undergoing bombardment from above. They turned to see another work of mega-engineering from the hexes drifting across the sky, trailing explosive streamers in its wake. An identical electromirror shield protected it, too.
A skyhook, Shigar realized. The other half of the thing looming over him, undamaged by everything the Empire and the Republic could throw at it.
He almost laughed. “It was all for nothing,” he said to Darth Chratis. “You, me, Larin—everything.”
“Do you find this amusing, boy?”
He didn’t, but the moment had a hysterical edge all the same. He could agonize all he wanted about the choices he had made and would make, about the Jedi Order’s role in the Emperor’s plans, and about the Republic’s feet of clay when it came to taking decisive action—but if nothing stopped the hexes, there wouldn’t be a war at all. The future of the galaxy ended here.
You win, Lema Xandret, he thought, wherever you are.
CINZIA XANDRET STARED out of her tank at the girl she might have been.
“Don’t look at her,” whispered her mother.
“Why not?”
“She’s not real.”
“She looks real enough.”
“But she’s not you.”
“She’s me as I might have been.”
“You are not her. You will never be her. She is a lie and she is evil. She is—”
“Shut up, Mother.”
The whisper ceased. Cinzia’s attention returned to the two people outside the tank, a mature woman with gray-streaked brown hair and her more youthful companion, both dressed in bloodstained armored suits, both strangers, at least to the complex. One she recognized. She had seen that face all her life. It was her own.
“Who are you?” The more senior woman of the two looked shocked and surprised. “Are you Cinzia?”
“I’m her clone,” she said. There was nothing to be gained by hiding the truth, and there was no harm in just talking. “My mother took a tissue sample from me before I was taken away. She made me all over again. The same daughter, but better, purer.”
“That explains why you look younger,” the woman said. She glanced at her companion, who seemed incapable of speech. “My name is Satele Shan. What do you mean—purer?”
“The fluid I’m breathing suppresses my Force abilities. There’s something in it—a metal, I think, or an extract from something that feeds on metal. It keeps me safe.”
“Safe?” Now the other Cinzia spoke. “Dead, more like it.”
The sneer on her own face—beautiful, she was pleased to see, with the addition of a couple more years—was simply horrid to behold.
“See?” her mother whispered. “She thinks you a monster. Call the droids, now. She must be stopped!”
“No,” Cinzia said. “Let me talk to her first. I want to know what happened to her. I want to know why she’s here.”
“She’s come to destroy everything. That’s what they do. They take and they destroy. They will show you no kindness, just as they showed none to her.”
“I told you to be quiet, Mother. Besides, I don’t trust the droids anymore. You know why.”
That did the trick. The eddying swirls of the fluid around her grew quieter.
“Have you lived here all your life?” the woman called Satele Shan asked.
“Yes. I can access all the complex’s cams. Much of it’s automated, you know. The droids are my eyes and ears.”
“You control them?”
“If I want to,” she said, although she was less sure of that now than she had been.
“So you’re responsible for what’s happening out there?” asked the other Cinzia.
“To be honest,” she said, “I don’t know what’s going on out there. They do seem rather busy, though. They’re designed to protect me, and the definition of protect is a bit vague. I guess at the moment that means not telling me stuff. Whatever they’re up to, I’m sure they mean well.”
“You should take a look, Cinzia,” said Satele Shan. “The hexes are killing people.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“They would only do that if they were attacked. Why did you attack them?”
“They are a threat to the entire galaxy.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. The thought was entirely too preposterous. “You’re just trying to distract me. This is a momentous day. The two Cinzias finally meet! I’ve been waiting for this, well, ever since I was born. At last we are together! I want to hear everything about your life. I want to know if we like the same things, think the same thoughts—”
“I’m not you,” said the older version of herself. “My name is Eldon Ax.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’ll say whatever I like. You’re a freak, a mistake. I should kill you now, just for existing.”
The other Cinzia produced a glowing red sword and held it up between them.
“See?” hissed her mother. “She will do you great harm if you let her, perhaps even kill you!”
“Don’t be cruel,” said Cinzia to both her mother and her twin. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“She’s right,” said Satele Shan, putting a hand on the other Cinzia’s arm. “Don’t act rashly.”
“Yes.” The red blade came down. “We need what she knows—about the hexes, about Lema Xandret.”
“How did your mother die?” asked Satele Shan.
“The droids killed her,” Cinzia said, “and the others as well, but she’s not really dead.”
“Don’t tell them,” whispered the voice in her ear. “Don’t tell them!”
“Why did the hexes kill her?”
“They didn’t want to sign a treaty with anyone. When the ship left—”
“The ship named after you?”
“Yes—Mother built that before she made me, and she never came up with another name. The droids didn’t want people coming here, ever. It wasn’t safe for me.” She almost shied away from the thought of what had happened next, but she forced herself not to. The disclosure was important, if she and herself were ever to become one. “The droids killed my mother to stop her sending any more ships. The others tried to stop them, so the droids killed them, too. It was all very stupid, really. Mother should have known how the droids would feel.”
Satele Shan nodded slowly. “So she wasn’t on the ship?”
“No, that was Kenev and Marg Sar.”
“Why didn’t she go with them, if she was their leader?”
“They had no leaders. They didn’t want to live like they had before. They wanted a change.”
“All right, but Kenev and Marg Sar never came back, did they? They killed themselves when the ship was intercepted by a privateer. They blew up the ship.”
That was a shock. The fluid rippled all over her skin, and she hugged herself tightly. “They would’ve wanted to keep the cargo a secret,” she said, thinking it through.
“The droid factory?”
“The plant. That’s what we call them.”
“Something interfered with the explosion,” said Satele Shan. “The plant wasn’t destroyed.”
“It must’ve been one of the droids. They wouldn’t want to die, even though they had to.”
“That’s what led us here, Cinzia. We came to find your mother, to ask her what she wanted to tell the outside world. That’s all.”
Cinzia waited for her mother to say something. For once, though, she was quiet.
“I don’t think she wants to talk to you,” Cinzia said.
“You said she was dead.”
“She is, mostly. The droids took her body away, probably for recycling. But she’s still here, talking to me.”
“Don’t tell them!”
“She doesn’t want me to talk to you, either.”
The two women outside the tank exchanged a concerned glance.
“I’m not mad,” Cinzia said, feeling affronted.
“I don’t see how you could be anything but.”
“We just don’t understand,” said Satele Shan, shushing the other Cinzia.
“No, you don’t. My mother protects me. That’s why the hexes are the way they are. She put herself into them, too.”
“We worked that out. Both her flesh and her philosophy. They are flexible and single-minded at the same time, combining the very best qualities of machines and organics in one creature. Your mother must have been quite brilliant to think of doing that.”
“I still am,” whispered Lema Xandret.
“She says she still is.”
“Don’t you see how the hexes could be a threat?” said Satele Shan, ignoring her comment. “They acknowledge no leader and they want to be left alone. They don’t want to die and they want to protect you. How better to keep you safe than to destroy everyone else, including your mother?”
“It’s logical,” she admitted, remembering how they had disobeyed her, too. Cinzia had begged them to leave the original Lema Xandret alone, but there had been no turning them back, not once their creator had betrayed them. Cinzia’s mother had programmed them too well.
“It’s insane,” muttered the other Cinzia.
“You have to understand them,” she insisted. “If what you say is true, then it does make sense. It’ll be hard to talk them out of attacking your friends.”
“Do you think you could?” asked Satele Shan.
“I could try. But you’d have to promise to leave and never come back.”
“I don’t think that would be possible.”
“Why not?”
“Your world is too valuable. Too many people know it exists now.”
“So? They don’t have to come here. You have the whole galaxy. I just want one world. Is that too much to ask?”
“For some it is.”
“Well, then. We’re at an impasse.”
“Yes. I’m afraid so.”
Cinzia didn’t like the way her other self was looking at her. There was such fury and hurt in those familiar features. She could never imagine looking that way, having that amazing hair.
“Why do the hexes protect you,” the other Cinzia asked, “and not me?”
“Because they don’t know you. You don’t look exactly like me, or live like me, in here. You look like one of the people who took you away.”
“I am one of the people who took me away.”
“But you’re me, too, even though you try to deny it. You don’t have to be the way you are now.”
“How else can I be? I don’t remember anything else.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And what’s the point of trying? The droids will kill me anyway.”
“Maybe if we gave them a taste of your genetic code. Maybe then they wouldn’t kill you.”
“So it’d just be me and you in a galaxy full of hexes. Is that what you want?”
She shook her head. “I just want everyone to go away. Everyone else, I mean. Not you. We’ve got so much to catch up on.”
“I’ve got nothing to tell you.”
“But you have! Where you live, what you do. I don’t know anything about anywhere. All I know is Sebaddon, where I was cloned. You can tell me about where I was born.”
“I don’t remember any of that,” said the other Cinzia. “All I know is the Empire.”
“The what?”
Satele Shan stared at her in frank surprise. “You’ve never heard of the Empire?”
“No. Should I have?”
“What about the Sith? The Republic? The Mandalorians?”
Cinzia shook her head in irritation. “Stop showing off. You’re making me feel stupid.”
“I’m not showing off. I’m just amazed that you’ve been so isolated here. It doesn’t seem fair to me that your mother did that to you.”
“She’s trying to turn you against me,” whispered the voice. “Be careful of that one.”
“Mother says I should be careful of you. Why is that?”
“Maybe she’s afraid I’ll take you from her. I promise I won’t try to do that, Cinzia.” Satele Shan’s face was as expressionless as someone trying very hard not to have an expression. “Is your mother with you now? In the tank?”
“Yes.”
“Is she another clone?”
“Not exactly.”
The fluid swirled around her, agitated and wild. Cinzia was pulled away from the glass, into the center of the tank.
“I said, don’t talk to them! Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
“I always listen to you, Mother.”
“But you never do as I say. I told you not to tell them about me!”
“They’d guess anyway. Why make it harder for them?”
“They won’t understand, Cinzia. You have to tell the droids to take them away. They’ll obey you this time. You know they will. When there’s a clearly defined threat, they have to act against it.”
“Just like they acted against you.”
“Yes! Even me! The logic was impeccable. I was stupid to try to fight it.”
Cinzia remembered the days leading up to that terrible moment all too well. There was no suppressing them entirely.
“I think you saw it coming, Mother. You were afraid of the droids. You gave me the overrides in the hope that they would listen to me, but I didn’t use them.” She remembered her passivity with painful keenness. Sometimes she felt bad for not intervening. “The droids are my protectors. You are my protector. I still have both. Was it wrong to do nothing?”
“I’m still here, Cinzia. That’s right. We’ll all protect you, together.”
“But what if you were right, Mother? What if the droids have grown too powerful? That means you agree with Satele Shan and shouldn’t argue against her. I should listen to her, too. Maybe I should use the overrides to stop the droids now, before it’s too late.”
“No, Cinzia, you mustn’t!”
The fluid coiled around her tighter than ever. Even though she struggled, she couldn’t get a grip on the glass.
“Mother, let me go!”
“No!”
“I can’t stand by and let innocent people be hurt. You wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“I must keep you safe!”
“But I have to—you have to—”
Thick currents closed around her throat and filled her mouth, silencing the words. She choked and coughed, unable to fill her lungs.
“Cinzia!”
The cry came from outside the tank.
Help me, she tried to shout. Save me!
With a shattering of glass and a great rush, the tank exploded. Cinzia was tossed and flung on a wave of writhing liquid. Her mother was screaming. She was screaming, too. Something hard smacked against her flesh all down her back and legs. For the first time in her life, she felt her full weight. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. The pressure around her throat eased, only to be replaced with another.
“She can’t get enough oxygen,” someone said. The sound was all wrong. So was the light. “She’s not used to breathing air.”
“What do we do?” That was the other Cinzia. “We have to keep her alive.”
Cinzia flapped weakly with one hand.
“Gene … sampler …” She pointed to the machine that would feed the other Cinzia’s genetic pattern into the hexes’ collective memory. “Promise … save …”
“We’re doing everything we can for you,” said Satele.
She shook her head. “Save … Mother …”
“She’s in the blood, right?” said the other Cinzia. “I thought she was killing you. I thought you were drowning.”
“Promise!”
“All right, all right. I promise.”
Cinzia couldn’t lift, but she could still grip. “Her daughter … her daughter …”
The other Cinzia came closer, dragged into focus by the last of her strength.
“Tell me … everything.”
THE BODY OF THE hairless, emaciated girl became still. Master Satele shook her head. Apart from the trickling and dripping of crimson fluid, the laboratory was silent.
Ax fell back onto her haunches and put her hands over her face. What had just happened? Had she been trying to kill the girl or save her? Not just any girl, of course: her own clone. Did that make it murder, suicide, or fratricide?
She suspected she would never know.
“I’m sorry,” said Master Satele, touching her lightly on the shoulder. “The shock killed her. With the right equipment, we might have—”
Ax shrugged her off and stood too quickly. Her head swam. She imagined she heard a voice from the far depths of her memory, weeping and demanding her attention. She ignored it.
The gene sampler was exactly where Cinzia had indicated it would be. Ax crossed to it and stuck her hand into its diagnostic chute. The cold machine pricked her, drank her blood, hummed to itself, and then beeped inquiringly.
Ax felt a brief moment of panic. The machine wanted confirmation of something. A password? A command phrase? A code?
She remembered everything Cinzia had said in her final moments. She’d made Ax promise to save what was left of Lema Xandret. Was there anything else she’d emphasized? Anything at all?
“ ‘Her daughter,’ ” Ax said.
The machine beeped confirmation.
“What does that mean?” she asked the room in general. “Do the hexes now think I’m her? Am I immune to them? Will they obey my orders now?”
Master Satele had no answers, and neither did anyone else. The way the fluid from the tank tugged at her ankles told her nothing she wanted to know. It had nurtured and smothered Cinzia at the same time—just like Darth Chratis had Ax herself. Cinzia had broken free the only way open to her. Ax hoped to have more options.
There was just one way to find out how the hexes would react to her.
“Let’s go get one and see what happens.”
LARIN WAS BEYOND surprise. After escaping the rain of artillery from the Paramount and riding the skyhook all the way to the equator, it was with only a mild sense of concern that she felt the structure beneath her begin to drop. What now?
Jopp echoed her confusion. “I thought this thing was taking off, and now it’s coming in to land. I wish the hexes would make up their minds.”
The skyhook lurched beneath them, and they gripped each other for support.
“This doesn’t feel like landing,” she said. “Something else—”
She didn’t finish that thought. Every hex in the structure chose that moment to let go of its neighbor, causing the whole structure to slump and sag downward. She was suddenly riding an accelerating wave of individual hexes, not one solid structure. It was like surfing, but without a board, and a sea of molten lava instead of a beach at the other end.
“Hang on!” she cried as the wave of hexes carried them downward.
Jopp clung to her arm as long as he could, but the tide inevitably swept them apart. Larin crouched down and gripped the leading edge of a single hex with all the strength of her prosthetic left hand, hoping to ride out the wave without tumbling or being crushed. The hex didn’t object. It seemed utterly passive. That surprised her, but she didn’t complain. It was just another surprise on the heels of so many.
The torrent of hexes was sufficient to fill the crater that was all that remained of the former CI site. She flinched as a mass of red fluid rose up to meet her, but it wasn’t lava at all. The bloody fluid came up to her knees, then stopped rising. She let go of the hex and found that she could stand.
Feeling like she was walking in a dream, she stepped from hex to hex toward the nearest crater wall. There was no sign of Jopp, but she did make out a figure watching her progress on the edge of the lake, waving encouragement. As she drew nearer, she recognized the forbidding black shape of Darth Chratis. It wasn’t him waving. That was the tall, slender figure standing next to him.
Her heart tripped. It was Shigar.
She increased her pace. Dream or no dream, she was going to take advantage of this development while it lasted.