Me and my big mouth, Orla thought, not for the first time, when she realized the Nihil freighter was docking with the station only fifty meters down that arc of the airlock corridor, past the nearest arch. I bragged about our having lightsabers, and what happens? More enemies than the three of us could ever cut down.

Probably this was the Force teaching her about humility. Orla hated humility.

Her consternation lasted only as long as it took her to turn toward their oncoming attackers, because at that moment, something detonated with a mighty roar. The flash-bang of the explosion sent Hague staggering backward, and even the Jedi rocked on their feet. At least some of the Nihil fell, but through the roiling black smoke just beyond the arch, other warriors continued rushing toward them, ignoring their fallen comrades.

Had a Nihil weapon gone off accidentally? Was this ancient station finally starting to break down after all the mayhem of the past several days?

Doesn’t matter, Orla figured. You caught a break. Use it.

She launched herself toward Hague, who had righted himself—but only just. Orla landed almost at his feet, as if she were kneeling before him. Maybe he thought she was about to surrender. Instead she ignited her double-bladed saber—blades parallel, handle still locked—and slashed upward to slice his blaster rifle into three parts. Plasma sparks sprayed around them as Orla snapped her saber handle open so the two blades shone from either end.

Hague winced, but his anger was greater than his caution. With the smoldering piece of the blaster rifle still in his hands, he swung down at Orla’s head. She managed to dodge, then leapt backward several meters to get a better look at the unfolding conflict.

Cohmac faced the archway, blocking fire with his lightsaber at such speed that Orla could hardly make out the blade; he seemed to be holding a swirling shield of brilliant color. Because of that, the Nihil couldn’t advance past the archway to infiltrate the station at large.

That wasn’t a victory. Only a stalemate. Even if Orla joined him, two Jedi could only hold that many armed warriors at bay for so long.

She looked around and saw, embedded within the various arches of the outer ring, what looked like emergency doors, probably put there in case of atmospheric breach. Their structure appeared compromised by both the explosion and time; the centuries-old frame was showing strain and even fine patterns of small holes. They wouldn’t keep anything airtight any longer. But that didn’t mean the doors couldn’t be put to use.