Star Wars - Lost Tribe of the Sith 01 - Precipice

undeterred. “This is not going to do any good, any of you. We wait here until it’s safe to return to the ship. That’s all.”
    Seelah straightened, emboldened by the supporters around. “When will it be safe? In days? Weeks?” Herchild wailed. “How long must we last—until it’s safe enough for
you
?”
    Korsin stared at her and breathed deeply. He threw Marcom’s lightsaber to the ground. “Tell Ravilan there’s one more for the pyre.” As a begrudging crowd gave him room to exit, he said, “We go when I say. That ship blows up, or tips into the ocean, and we really will have problems.
We go when I say.
”
    The world spun. As Korsin stepped backward, Gloyd stepped forward, keeping a wary yellow eye on the grumbling masses. He’d missed the fun.
    “Commander.”
    They looked past each other, watching Sith in all directions. “Not really happy here, Gloyd.”
    “Then you’ll want to hear this,” the hulking Houk rasped. “As I see it, we’ve got three choices. We get these people off this rock in whatever will fly. Or we look for cover and hide until they all kill one another.”
    “What’s the third choice?”
    Gloyd’s painted face crinkled. “There isn’t one. But I figured it’d cheer you up if you thought there was.”
    “I hate you.”
    “Great. You’ll make someone a fine Sith someday.” Korsin had known Gloyd since his first command. The Houk was the kind of bridge officer every Sith captain wanted: more interested in his own job than in taking someone else’s. Gloyd was smart to spare himself the trouble. Or maybe he just loved blowing things up too much to want to leave the tactical station.
    Of course, with that station left roughly a kilometer up the mountain, Korsin had no idea how useful his old ally would be. But Gloyd still had fifty kilos on most of the crew. No one would move against them while they stood together.
    No one would move alone, anyway.
    Korsin looked back across the clearing at the mob.Ravilan was there now, huddled with Devore and Seelah and a couple of junior officers. Devore spotted his brother watching and averted his gaze; Seelah simply stared back at the commander, unabashed. Korsin spat an epithet. “Gloyd, we’re
dying
here. I don’t understand them!” “Yeah, you do,” Gloyd said. “You know what we say: You and me, we’re about the job. Other Sith are about what’s
next.
” The Houk plucked a scaly root from the ground and sniffed it. “Trouble is, this whole
place
is about what’s next. You’re trying to keep ’em together—when you’ve really got to show ’em there’s something after this rock. There’s no time to win people over. You pick a path. Anybody won’t walk it …”
    “Push ’em off?” Korsin grinned. It really wasn’t his style. Gloyd returned the smile and sank his teeth into the root. Wincing comically, the gunnery chief excused himself. They wouldn’t be living off the land—not
this
land, anyway.
    Looking back at the teeming crowd, Korsin found his eyes drifting up toward the dwindling tendril of smoke drifting from the heights above.
    Above. Gloyd was right. It was the only way.

Chapter Three
    The Massassi had died on the mountain. Korsin had left at dawn with three bearers: the healthiest of the Massassi, each passing around the remaining air canister. It hadn’t lasted, and neither had they. Whatever it was on this planet that didn’t like Massassi existed up above as well as below.
    It was just as well, Korsin thought, leaving the blood-colored corpses where they fell. He couldn’t run Massassi. They were pliant and obedient warriors, but they answered to force, not words. A good Sith captain needed to use both, but Korsin leaned more on the latter. It had made for a good career.
    Not down the mountain, though. Things were going to get worse. They already had. It had been cold in the night—chillier than he had expected from what seemed like an oceanic climate. Some of the heavily injured had failed from exposure or from lack of medical care.
    Later, some kind of animal—Gloyd described it to him as a six-legged mammal, half mouth—vaulted from a burrow and tore into one of the injured. It took five exhausted sentries to slay the beast. One of Devore’s mining specialists cast a chunk of the creature’s body into the campfire and sampled a piece. Shevomited blood and died within heartbeats. He was glad he hadn’t been awake for that.
    Whatever relief there was in knowing there was