Alliances (Star Wars: Thrawn, #2)(114)
The First Legion made a point of keeping their armor in perfect condition, and as a result it was usually able to block almost anything except a point-blank shot from a seriously and probably illegally enhanced blaster. Unfortunately, they’d already seen that Grysk lightning bolts didn’t have to penetrate the armor to take a stormtrooper out of the fight.
In fact, Kimmund decided, being left alive but unable to help as he watched his force gunned down in front of him would be worse than being killed outright.
And that was most likely the exact scenario that was about to unfold. Whether all the missing Grysks were waiting behind that hatch, or whether they were planning to waylay the stormtroopers on the way back to the Darkhawk, in the end it would all add up the same.
All for a couple of children. And not even Imperial children.
Kimmund was prepared to give his life for his stormtroopers, his commander, and his Empire. He wasn’t thrilled about giving it up for alien children.
Curse Thrawn, anyway.
They were three paces from the hatch, and Kimmund had a door-popper blasting cap ready in his hand, when the hatch suddenly slid open to reveal a triple line of Grysks: two lying prone, two kneeling, two standing. All six had their weapons leveled; and even as Kimmund squeezed his E-11’s trigger the aliens opened fire at the stormtroopers.
Or rather, they tried to.
Even before the hatch was all the way open the two prone gunners’ weapons inexplicably jerked to either side, one left, one right, their blasts arcing harmlessly into the corridor walls instead of their targets. A split second later the two kneeling Grysks’ heads simultaneously snapped backward, the backs of their helmets slamming into the torsos of the soldiers standing behind them, all four blasts also going wildly off target as their lightning guns were knocked out of line.
And suddenly Kimmund got it.
“Head shots!” he snapped at his men, shifting his aim to the leftmost standing Grysk. The alien, who had been starting to recover from the earlier impact against his torso, collapsed in a heap on the deck as two blaster bolts shattered his faceplate and sizzled through his skull. The two prone Grysks likewise went limp as Elebe and Sampa fired simultaneous blaster bolts into their helmets. A blaster bolt sizzled past Kimmund’s helmet as Drav opened fire from the corridor intersection, dropping the remaining standing Grysk. The leftmost kneeling alien jerked to the side, his weapon twisting toward the ceiling; Kimmund shifted his aim to the other kneeler and sent him flopping backward with his fellows. Before he could turn his E-11 toward the last Grysk the alien’s back twisted around and he fell to the deck.
And then, to Kimmund’s complete lack of surprise, Rukh popped back into sight, his electrostaff still pressed against the last Grysk’s throat.
Kimmund did a quick scan of the room behind the crumpled remains of the Grysk defense. It was a control area of some sort, its walls lined with consoles marked with curved arcs and circles of subdued light. In the center, half hidden behind a large console, a pair of blue-skinned Chiss girls were peeking anxiously toward him. There were no other hatches he could see in the compartment, and no more Grysk. “I thought your gadget was out of juice,” he said as he stepped over the alien bodies and strode toward the children.
“That was what I wanted you to think,” Rukh said, falling into step beside him. Kimmund sniffed, a whiff of burning skin making its way through his air system. Apparently, despite his attempt to keep the Noghri clear of the shooting by ordering head shots from his soldiers, Rukh had caught the edge of one of the blaster bolts. “As I likewise wanted any Grysks monitoring our progress to assume.”
“Nicely done,” Kimmund said, glancing at him. Now that he was looking, he could see a slight limp in the Noghri’s right leg that hadn’t been there before. “You okay?”
“I can travel,” Rukh said.
“Traveling without getting gunned down would be nice, too,” Kimmund pointed out. The two children had stood up, but were still half hidden behind the console, as if that offered any real protection. “It’s all right,” he called to them. “We’re friends. Grand Admiral Thrawn sent us to rescue you.”
Not even a flicker of a response. Clearly, this pair didn’t understand Basic, either. “Come with us,” Kimmund tried again anyway, beckoning them toward him. “Come on, we don’t have all—”
Abruptly, both girls’ glowing red eyes widened. One of them half turned and jabbed a finger toward a section of wall between two consoles. Kimmund shifted his gaze, frowning as he followed her finger—
A hidden gunport suddenly opened and the muzzle of a lightning gun poked through.
Cursing, Kimmund swung his E-11 toward the gunport. But Sampa was already on it. Even as the lightning gun tracked toward the three stormtroopers he sent two blaster shots into the opening. The lightning gun jerked, pointed briefly at the ceiling, then slid out of sight.
Kimmund turned back to the Chiss, to see the other girl point suddenly at the wall behind her. This time, Kimmund made sure his blaster was lined up with the gunport when it began to open, firing through it before the Grysk could even get his own weapon into position.
“They see the future,” Rukh grated.
“So they do,” Kimmund said, his lips curling back from his teeth in a macabre grin. “So they do.” He beckoned again. “Come on, kids. We’re getting out of here.”