the physical demands of the manufacturing floor’s unexpectedly harsh environment. But he struggled gamely onward, wheezing with every labored step.
The entrance to the records office turned out to be locked.
“Hurry up and get us inside,” Scourge shouted. He wanted to get the information and get out. More important at the moment, he knew the office would probably be climate-controlled.
Too weary to nod, Sechel leaned against the wall and punched in the security code.
The door didn’t open.
“Try again,” Scourge pressed, thinking that in his weakened state Sechel might have hit a wrong key. “Be careful this time.”
With painstaking precision, Sechel tapped out the code a second time. The roar of the engines drowned out any sound, but Scourge could see the control panel turn red. The words ACCESS DENIED flashed on the display.
Sechel’s mouth moved in an inaudible curse and he tried for a third time, but Scourge already knew it was hopeless. The door required a different code than the one they had used to get past the exterior entrance.
Scourge raised his lightsaber and yanked Sechel out of the way. He heard the man shouting, but couldn’t make out the words. Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber with both hands, he brought the blade crashing down on the panel, splitting it in two and carving a long, deep furrow in the wall behind it.
The door sprang open—and suddenly Scourge’s eardrums were nearly shattered by a long, whooping siren. He grabbed Sechel by the collar and tossed him into the room, silently cursing himself for making such a foolish mistake.
“Slice into the network and get what you need. I’ll hold off security.”
Sechel didn’t waste time with an answer: He began frantically typing at one of the terminals.
Scourge could feel the cool air spilling out of the records office and washing over him. He allowed himself a few seconds to bask in its luxury, then turned to face the inevitable enemy onslaught, determined not to make any more missteps.
Two hovering patrol drones similar to the one he had dispatched earlier were the first to arrive on the scene, swooping down to floor level from one of the catwalks near the eastern wall. Scourge charged, moving with the supernatural speed of the Force.
The drones opened fire, but Scourge never changed course, relying on his armor to absorb their blaster bolts. One of the bolts narrowly missed his ear; two more slammed into his chest. He felt the impact, but it wasn’t enough even to knock him off-stride.
He dropped into a forward somersault as the droids unleashed a second volley, knowing they would be targeting his exposed face and head. The bolts flew harmlessly over him as he tucked, rolled, and then came back up on his feet, finally close enough to retaliate.
The patrol drones were not made for close combat. A series of vicious cuts with his lightsaber put a quick end to the encounter. The droids fell to the ground in a shower of sparks, their spindly legs twitching for a few seconds before they shut down completely.
Scourge turned his attention to the next two patrol drones. He dispatched the first by hurling his lightsaber at it, knocking it from the air with a single well-placed throw before it even got close enough to use its internally mounted blaster.
The second took evasive action, dropping down behind the conveyor belt and a line of assembly droids. It skimmed along the ground, closing the gap until it popped up from behind its cover so it could fire at point-blank range. Scourge made sure it never got the chance.
Reaching out to grab the drone with the invisible hand of the Force, he slammed it back down to the ground. Its legs snapped off and went flying; its exterior hull cracked in multiple places; several of the welded plates tore loose. All the lights on its body went dim.
The alarm sirens were still howling; it wouldn’t be long before security droids stationed in other sections of the plant showed up. If the droids
The entrance to the records office turned out to be locked.
“Hurry up and get us inside,” Scourge shouted. He wanted to get the information and get out. More important at the moment, he knew the office would probably be climate-controlled.
Too weary to nod, Sechel leaned against the wall and punched in the security code.
The door didn’t open.
“Try again,” Scourge pressed, thinking that in his weakened state Sechel might have hit a wrong key. “Be careful this time.”
With painstaking precision, Sechel tapped out the code a second time. The roar of the engines drowned out any sound, but Scourge could see the control panel turn red. The words ACCESS DENIED flashed on the display.
Sechel’s mouth moved in an inaudible curse and he tried for a third time, but Scourge already knew it was hopeless. The door required a different code than the one they had used to get past the exterior entrance.
Scourge raised his lightsaber and yanked Sechel out of the way. He heard the man shouting, but couldn’t make out the words. Gripping the hilt of his lightsaber with both hands, he brought the blade crashing down on the panel, splitting it in two and carving a long, deep furrow in the wall behind it.
The door sprang open—and suddenly Scourge’s eardrums were nearly shattered by a long, whooping siren. He grabbed Sechel by the collar and tossed him into the room, silently cursing himself for making such a foolish mistake.
“Slice into the network and get what you need. I’ll hold off security.”
Sechel didn’t waste time with an answer: He began frantically typing at one of the terminals.
Scourge could feel the cool air spilling out of the records office and washing over him. He allowed himself a few seconds to bask in its luxury, then turned to face the inevitable enemy onslaught, determined not to make any more missteps.
Two hovering patrol drones similar to the one he had dispatched earlier were the first to arrive on the scene, swooping down to floor level from one of the catwalks near the eastern wall. Scourge charged, moving with the supernatural speed of the Force.
The drones opened fire, but Scourge never changed course, relying on his armor to absorb their blaster bolts. One of the bolts narrowly missed his ear; two more slammed into his chest. He felt the impact, but it wasn’t enough even to knock him off-stride.
He dropped into a forward somersault as the droids unleashed a second volley, knowing they would be targeting his exposed face and head. The bolts flew harmlessly over him as he tucked, rolled, and then came back up on his feet, finally close enough to retaliate.
The patrol drones were not made for close combat. A series of vicious cuts with his lightsaber put a quick end to the encounter. The droids fell to the ground in a shower of sparks, their spindly legs twitching for a few seconds before they shut down completely.
Scourge turned his attention to the next two patrol drones. He dispatched the first by hurling his lightsaber at it, knocking it from the air with a single well-placed throw before it even got close enough to use its internally mounted blaster.
The second took evasive action, dropping down behind the conveyor belt and a line of assembly droids. It skimmed along the ground, closing the gap until it popped up from behind its cover so it could fire at point-blank range. Scourge made sure it never got the chance.
Reaching out to grab the drone with the invisible hand of the Force, he slammed it back down to the ground. Its legs snapped off and went flying; its exterior hull cracked in multiple places; several of the welded plates tore loose. All the lights on its body went dim.
The alarm sirens were still howling; it wouldn’t be long before security droids stationed in other sections of the plant showed up. If the droids
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