Porter scored the edge of his lightsaber along the line of Viess’s vambrace. It fizzed and crackled as he threw his weight behind it, trying to knock her off balance.

Viess was having none of it, however.

She sidestepped, grunted, then shoved him back with a mighty push, lunging with her sword. The tip nicked the fabric of Porter’s tunic, and he danced back, opening the gap between them again.

Around them, Viess’s ship was crumbling. The stress of the damage he’d caused driving the drill ship through it was proving fatal. Its spine was broken, and it was in the final throes of its existence.

Porter’s hopes of getting off the wreck were dwindling. Whole hunks of the back end had already broken free, drifting away into space, and if it hadn’t been for the drill ship itself, ironically holding this part of the vessel together, they’d already be long dead.

The ship groaned again, shifting beneath their feet. Somewhere close, an explosion. A scream.

“Looks like we’re going down together, General,” he said, wheeling, striking, skipping back.

There was a certain elegance to things ending this way, a sense of closure. They’d both lived long, extraordinary lives. Viess had chosen to spend hers differently from Porter, in pursuit of power, at the expense of others’ lives. He supposed the work he’d tried to do as a Jedi had at least offset that in some way, bringing balance to it.

He would have liked to have seen Coruscant again. To spend one last evening in conversation with Master Yoda. To walk the markets on the lower levels and take in the rich scents of exotic, sizzling food. To see Bell Zettifar and Ember, and to check in on Indeera Stokes.

But the Force would embrace him all the same, and he was grateful. He wasn’t in a hurry to die, but neither was he scared of it. And this felt like an end to things. Like the circle would be closed. The general had driven Barash away all those long years ago. Now she would pay.

Whatever happened next, that he had bought Avar the time she needed to escape was a comfort. He only hoped it had worked. He supposed he might never know.

Viess came on again, edging forward, her blade low by her side. The ancient sword wouldn’t last a moment in a clash with his lightsaber, but she knew that well enough. Instead, she was fighting smart, getting in close, using her beskar-inlaid armor to batter away his blade while she tried to find an opening for her own weapon.

It had almost worked, too. Several times.

Porter prided himself on his skill with a blade, but in Viess he’d met one of the few people who could stand against him and walk away. And she wasn’t even a lightsaber wielder. He liked that about her, even if he disapproved of pretty much every other choice she’d made.

“Damn Jedi,” she hissed. “You’ve always managed to get in my way.”

Porter smiled wryly. “You’ve always made it so easy.”

She rushed in, throwing her left arm up in a feint, then using her right to block his swing. She ducked low, tossing her blade to her other hand, jabbing again at his gut. He pivoted as the blade slid past, bringing his knee up to catch Viess in the chest.

She fell away, gasping for air.

Almost got me that time.

He barged, shoulder-first, but Viess was ready and skipped out of the way. They circled, both of them predator, both of them prey.

A rending sound from above. A sudden drop in temperature. The drill ship shifted, grating against its host’s shell.

This was it. The ship was coming apart around them.

“It’s over, Viess,” he said, still circling warily. “We could lay down our weapons. Go in peace rather than battle.”

Viess laughed. She was edging around, positioning herself for something. Porter tensed. “Even now, after all these years, you’re so naïve. You Jedi think you understand how the galaxy works, but you know nothing. Strange rites and meditation will only get you so far. The galaxy is far bigger than you imagine.”

“There’s virtue in a small life, too,” he said. “Anyone can make a difference.”

“No. The strong survive. They’re the ones who make a difference. The Nihil understand that.”

Porter sighed. “I wish you’d opened your eyes. I wish you’d seen them for what they really are. But it’s too late now. It’s about to end.”

The ship lurched, and Porter staggered, trying to retain his footing.

Viess saw her opportunity and struck, launching herself into the air, bringing her blade down in a tight arc.

It slid into Porter’s left shoulder, burying itself deep in muscle and sinew.

He yelled in pain, taking a step back just as the floor tilted, the two parts of the ship prizing apart. Viess shoved, and he toppled backward, striking the shifting floor hard, his lightsaber rolling from his fingers and stuttering out. Viess’s sword was still buried in his shoulder, and he could feel hot blood streaming down his arm.

The wreck gave another almighty groan. The floor plating buckled, cracking, falling away. Porter rolled, tumbling, dropping, striking a newly formed ledge of ragged metal. He slid, throwing out his good arm, fingers finding desperate purchase on a jagged fold of metal. He clung on, his other arm hanging limp by his side, now slick and red with blood. Slowly, he dragged himself up onto the ledge, grimacing with the effort. He yanked Viess’s sword out of his shoulder, tossing it away, ignoring the sharp bloom of pain. The weapon disappeared over the ledge, tumbling and turning.

Beneath him was nothing but the stark void of space, now held at bay only by the last stuttering remnants of the vessel’s shields. Soon it would swallow him up. There was nowhere to go.

So, this is it.

Go well, Avar.

He glanced up. Viess was staring down at him from the broken floor above, now out of reach. “Goodbye, Porter Engle.”

He watched, blinking blood and sweat from his eye, as she turned and ran.

Star Wars The High Republic The Eye of Darkness Chapter 64