“Just get it done and scatter to the prearranged coordinates,” Ro said. “We don’t want a repeat of Cyclor.”

“We know what we’re doing,” Pan said, cutting the transmission.

At the navigation console the Rybet made a deep croaking noise.

Pan’s eyes bore into the brown markings on the back of his head. “Do you have a problem, Breet?”

The Rybet swiveled to face him.

“No, Tempest … I just …”

“Yes?”

Breet swallowed. “I just wonder if it’s wise to antagonize the Eye. He—”

Pan’s blaster bolt threw the Rybet back against the navigation console where he slid down, landing in a charred heap on the deck.

“Someone clean that up,” Pan said, slipping the blaster back into its holster and breathing in the agreeable reek of burnt ozone, charred flesh, and unmistakable fear that pervaded the bridge. He caught the Morseerian at the helm glancing nervously at him through his breath mask.

“You got something to say, Chell?”

Morseerians famously had difficulty recognizing facial expressions, but even the methane breather couldn’t mistake the corpse cooling beside him.

“No, Tempest,” he said, turning quickly back to his controls.

Pan let his eyes drop back down to the screens and sniffed loudly. Everything was proceeding exactly to plan.

“Communications are down,” Stokes reported as the Nihil fighters swept around for another pass. Stellan could barely hear the Jedi above the screaming, fair-goers running in every direction at once to find shelter. He turned to OrbaLin who, minutes before the attack, had been regaling Sleko with what the archivist considered a fascinating lecture on the ancient texts of Brus-bu.

“Lin, can you get to the comm tower?”

The archivist’s helmet bobbed. “Of course, if I knew where it was.”

“I can get you there,” Rhil Dairo cut in, already running as explosions sounded outside. “This way.”

The archivist waddled after her, T-9 bobbing after them both.

“I’m going to help in the air,” Indeera said, looking up at the Vectors that had already scrambled. “Unless you need me here.”

“No, go,” he told her. “And may the Force be with you.”

Stokes was already running as Stellan turned toward the chancellor and Yovet, the Togruta’s guard forming a circle around them, their kiavene ready for battle.

“We need to get the regasa to safety,” the guard captain said.

“And we will,” Stellan promised, looking up as cries sounded from the other side of the stage curtain. Stellan pushed it aside with a wave of the Force to see the tallest of the three repulsor tiers still in the air. The other two were down, the audience members running for cover, but the last stall was still suspended high above the ground.

A steward ran up. “We can’t get it down. Something has gone wrong with the controls.”

“I can help them,” Sleko shouted, the manager’s wings thrumming as he shot up to the stricken audience members.