Read Online Star Wars: Battlefront: Twilight Company by Alex Freed - Free Book Online
Authors: Alex Freed
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laughed. He had no idea whether he was authorized to open the air lock—whether his codes would open the door.
He might burn to death for nothing.
At least he wasn’t waiting in the mess hall.
He pulled his shirt back into place and punched his access code into the lock. The door mechanisms groaned and stirred.
Guess the captain has some faith in me
, he thought.
The air lock interior was furnished with everything the stores of the
Thunderstrike
had to offer, though that amounted to little more than a trunk, a cot, a stained food tray, and a portable sanitation station. Several datapads were stacked on the cot, and in front of the cross-legged governor hovered a miniature holo-droid, projecting a shimmering blue web of spheres and lines. Chalis’s hands played across the image, extending and rotating the lines, reshaping the web with expert precision.
Chalis was standing and the web was gone by the time the door was fully open. “I see you chose not to let me suffocate,” she said.
Namir knelt and checked the guard’s body as cooler air flooded in from the air lock. Still alive. He recognized her face but couldn’t recall her name—one of the recruits Twilight had picked up on Thession.
He slid his hands under the woman’s arms and half lifted her from the floor. He wanted to scream at the abrasions on his burnt hands. Instead, he gritted his teeth and managed to ask, “You really think suffocation was your worst problem?”
Chalis smiled and stalked forward, then stopped with a wince as she felt the heat of the corridor. Namir felt grim satisfaction at the sight of the governor taken aback.
“Air circulation isn’t functioning,” Chalis said, “so yes, that was my priority. Until you opened the door, I was
safe
from the fire.”
Namir grunted and dragged the guard into the air lock while Chalis eyed the doorway. “Can we run for it?” she asked. Her voice had dropped an octave, all mockery gone.
“
I
could, maybe.” Namir lowered the guard to the floor. He tried to catch his breath while ignoring the pain clinging to his skin like mud. “But I’m dressed for it. You’d roast alive.”
Chalis closed her eyes and lowered her head. Then her neck snapped back up and she looked at Namir. “So we open the air lock’s outer door. We create a vacuum. We cling to the walls for dear life. And when the oxygen has rushed out and the fires in this section have been extinguished, we close the door and get to safety.”
It took Namir a moment to process the suggestion. Then he laughed hoarsely as he stepped back into the doorframe. “You’ve got it all figured.” He edged far enough into the corridor to hit the control panel again, then ducked back into the air lock.
The interior door began to hum shut. Chalis stared and her tone became harsh. “What are you doing?”
Namir gestured at the guard with the toe of his boot as the door sealed with a metallic clang. “We open this section up to space, she’s not in any shape to hold on.”
Chalis’s expression seemed to contort. Namir was sure she was going to shout, to rage. He wondered if he’d need to fight her off.
Instead, she simply said in a voice of dull resignation, “So you’re locking us in.”
“I’m locking us in,” Namir agreed, “and hoping for the best.”
Namir had trouble tracking time inside the air lock. The oxygen felt abrasive against his burnt skin. His head was throbbing, echoing every beat of his heart inside his skull. He tried counting the number of hits the
Thunderstrike
took in battle, but even that became difficult when he could no longer differentiate a new strike from the aftershocks of an old one.
Chalis sat across from him. “This is the second time you’ve come to rescue me, you know,” she said.
“Be grateful,” Namir said, “and shut up.”
“You haven’t earned any favors,” Chalis countered evenly. “The first time, you thought I was someone else; then you shot me. This time, I’m no
He might burn to death for nothing.
At least he wasn’t waiting in the mess hall.
He pulled his shirt back into place and punched his access code into the lock. The door mechanisms groaned and stirred.
Guess the captain has some faith in me
, he thought.
The air lock interior was furnished with everything the stores of the
Thunderstrike
had to offer, though that amounted to little more than a trunk, a cot, a stained food tray, and a portable sanitation station. Several datapads were stacked on the cot, and in front of the cross-legged governor hovered a miniature holo-droid, projecting a shimmering blue web of spheres and lines. Chalis’s hands played across the image, extending and rotating the lines, reshaping the web with expert precision.
Chalis was standing and the web was gone by the time the door was fully open. “I see you chose not to let me suffocate,” she said.
Namir knelt and checked the guard’s body as cooler air flooded in from the air lock. Still alive. He recognized her face but couldn’t recall her name—one of the recruits Twilight had picked up on Thession.
He slid his hands under the woman’s arms and half lifted her from the floor. He wanted to scream at the abrasions on his burnt hands. Instead, he gritted his teeth and managed to ask, “You really think suffocation was your worst problem?”
Chalis smiled and stalked forward, then stopped with a wince as she felt the heat of the corridor. Namir felt grim satisfaction at the sight of the governor taken aback.
“Air circulation isn’t functioning,” Chalis said, “so yes, that was my priority. Until you opened the door, I was
safe
from the fire.”
Namir grunted and dragged the guard into the air lock while Chalis eyed the doorway. “Can we run for it?” she asked. Her voice had dropped an octave, all mockery gone.
“
I
could, maybe.” Namir lowered the guard to the floor. He tried to catch his breath while ignoring the pain clinging to his skin like mud. “But I’m dressed for it. You’d roast alive.”
Chalis closed her eyes and lowered her head. Then her neck snapped back up and she looked at Namir. “So we open the air lock’s outer door. We create a vacuum. We cling to the walls for dear life. And when the oxygen has rushed out and the fires in this section have been extinguished, we close the door and get to safety.”
It took Namir a moment to process the suggestion. Then he laughed hoarsely as he stepped back into the doorframe. “You’ve got it all figured.” He edged far enough into the corridor to hit the control panel again, then ducked back into the air lock.
The interior door began to hum shut. Chalis stared and her tone became harsh. “What are you doing?”
Namir gestured at the guard with the toe of his boot as the door sealed with a metallic clang. “We open this section up to space, she’s not in any shape to hold on.”
Chalis’s expression seemed to contort. Namir was sure she was going to shout, to rage. He wondered if he’d need to fight her off.
Instead, she simply said in a voice of dull resignation, “So you’re locking us in.”
“I’m locking us in,” Namir agreed, “and hoping for the best.”
Namir had trouble tracking time inside the air lock. The oxygen felt abrasive against his burnt skin. His head was throbbing, echoing every beat of his heart inside his skull. He tried counting the number of hits the
Thunderstrike
took in battle, but even that became difficult when he could no longer differentiate a new strike from the aftershocks of an old one.
Chalis sat across from him. “This is the second time you’ve come to rescue me, you know,” she said.
“Be grateful,” Namir said, “and shut up.”
“You haven’t earned any favors,” Chalis countered evenly. “The first time, you thought I was someone else; then you shot me. This time, I’m no
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