Tales From The Galaxy
Tales From The Galaxy
Tales From The Galaxy
Matt Wilkins
2
Dedicated to three people:
My Dad (now making us even in book
dedications) My Wife (because she asked me to)
My Mom (if I mentioned Dad I gotta mention her too)
And I know people want to always dedicate their books to Mr
Lucas, but I cant stand that guy so..SUCK IT GEORGE!
Index
Oh Father Where art Thou?
by Matt Wilkins
Knight Errant: Influx
by John Jackson Miller 6
Desert Inconvenience
by Rogue Knight 7
Something of Value
by Seldes Katne 78
Judges Call
by Timothy Zahn 10
The Pen is Mightier Than theSith?
by John Wilhoit 111
The Phlutdroid
by Brian Pacula 153
Storm Fleet Warning
by Jude Watson 177
Equipment
by Matthew Stover 185
Duel
by Timothy Zahn 193
Shades of Grey
by John Wilhoit 200
The Tale of the Headhunter
by Doug MacDonald 312
A Conflict of Loyalties
by Paul Charlton and Matt Wilkins 379
Never Too Heavy
by Westel
3
O Father Where
Art Thou?
By Matt Wilkins
Ken stared at the datapad lying next to him on the bed. The
sheets made that morning were now kicked to the back of the
bed, his pillow lay crammed in between the wall and the head
frame.
With only three droids and pet mooka named Zeeba he was
raised in isolation from the rest of the galaxy, never knowing of
a galactic war between the Rebels and the Empire or that the
Empire ever existed for that matter. The droid that was
assigned to him as a caretaker, DJ -88 had never thought to
inform him of such things. To Ken, the old Republic still ruled
the galaxy and all was at peace. According to DeeJay no
conflict of significant note had taken place in the last twenty
years.
The third droid who Ken counted as a friend was a small droid
named Microchip. Understanding the need for a playmate, DJ-
88 designed the golden droid for one function, to be his friend.
Chip, as Ken would grow to call him, became just that. There
were many times where he and Chip would go explore the vast
underworld of the Lost City. Some areas DeeJay strictly forbid
him to go and H-Cee was very astute in reminding Ken of
where those areas were. If ever the young Jedi Prince
accidently wandered into them that was. But overall his
experiences with Chip had been wonderful. Ken still considered
the small droid to be his best friend even today.
Though he adored all three droids hadnt been enough for him.
Ken still wanted more than the surroundings hed grown up
inand boy did he get it.
The past few months had flown by. He was soon taken on a
huge adventure that would lead him from one side of the
galaxy to the next. In that time the Lost City of the Jedi, had
finally been discovered by the outside world. His new friends
Han and Leia had decided to elope, but the Empire interfered
with those plans. Eventually it all ended with the demise of the
Central Committee of the Grand Moffs and the Prophets of the
Dark Side or at least hed thought.
And now came the real twist, Kadann was not a Supreme
Prophet of the Dark Side, he wasnt even the real Kadann to
begin with. He was an imposter. According to the report, this
unidentified male had assumed the role of the Dark Prophet
for some time. The real Kadann was still at large, hidden
deep within the galaxy.
All this time, a fake, and not a single one of us knew it!
Shaking his head in remorse, Ken could only stare down at the
datapad in disbelief. This whole time, he and his friends
thought they were up against the Supreme Prophet himself,
but hed been nothing but a hoax.
Whoever this Kadann was over the past few months, he had
been good. Good enough to fool the Emprie, good enough to
fool the Rebel Alliance and good enough to fool his father.
His father.
His father was Triclops, son of the Emperor. Though all that
was highly classified by the Rebel Alliance and would likely
never be revealed to the public, Ken knew the whole story.
Stang, he was part of it.
Growing up he often wondered who his father was and why he
had been left under the care of DJ-88. He believed at one time
that he was the son Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, hero of the
Clone Wars and legend to the galaxy. To be the son of Obi-
Wan Kenobi would be a dream come true for young Ken.... but
it was not so.
Only after Luke and his friends arrived did Ken soon
discover the truth. His father was none other than the son of
the Emperor himself. Making him the grandson of Emperor
Palpatine.
It was an emotional moment for Ken after reading the letter his
father left. Knowing why his father decided to keep the secret
to himself for so long made sense. With all that had transpired
over the past few months there never seemed to be a quiet
moment for him to reveal it to Ken. Even after the whole ordeal
with the Dark Prophets was done, his father knew the
genealogy they shared must remain a secret.
The false Kadann escaped in a ship with the help of his father.
His father! That was the part Ken struggled with the most. How
could he have done such a thing?! Why would a man that so
badly wanted to change his life be quickly cowed under the
enslavement of evil again?
Most likely Luke thought it may have been a ploy by his father
to see what secrets Kadann may have led to. Both of them
knew that to be a stretch. Even Ken, with all his high hopes of
seeing his father welcomed into the Rebellion with open arms,
knew what a slaves mentality consisted of.
All the questions Ken had about who his mother was and what
his father was like would never be answered. The dream of
getting to know his Triclops was shattered now all thanks to
Kadann.
Grief for the loss of his father and hate over what the Empire
turned him into was almost too much for him to take right now.
His father was the son of the Emperor. He should have been
one of the most powerful men in the universe. But in the end he
was nothing but a pawn to a phony prophet.
DeeJay told him he was a Jedi Prince, but the title of Dark
Prince seemed to fit him better. Being the grandson of the
most hated man in history was something Ken was not
proud of in the least.
With all his visions and all his power, how could his father end
up becoming nothing but a puppet to a charlatan? His father
should be with him as Ken was approaching his teenage
years. Who would he have to look up to in life? DeeJay? H-
Cee? Chip?
Though the droids were very dear to him, but he did not see
himself going to them for questions all his life. Ken knew even
his best friend Chip wasnt programmed on how to deal with
grief so what would be the point in asking him?!
Ken never left his gaze from the floor. He didnt want to get up,
didnt want to move, didnt want to do anything but stare.
Outside his room Luke continued to speak.
Ken, I know what you must be going through. I felt the same
when my father died. Id really like to talk if I can. , another
knock, then silence. Luke was waiting for a response.
Battling Zorba the Hutt, the Prophets of the Dark Side and
running into his father Triculous had happened so fast. It
seemed like only yesterday when his friends Han and Leia
tried getting married only to have it ruined by an Imperial
attack shortly before the ceremony could take place. Now it
seemed it would never take place due to the rebels having to
move quickly in order to avoid another attack.
Knowing it was wrong to let his good friend stand outside waiting
for a reply, Ken went ahead and slapped the automatic release to
the door where Luke stood carefully waiting.
The fight against the Empire didnt slow down for his friends.
Every moment it seemed they were off saving the galaxy from
the evil clutches of the Empire. The war was far from over, Ken
knew it and he also knew his friends couldnt always be around
because of it. Each one of them played a very important part in
the survival of the Rebel Alliance, even as Ken his did too,
though lately it was reduced to catching up on his lessons from
DeeJay.
Ken could see the look of sympathy Luke was giving him. He
knew Luke had lost many friends in the war as well, one of
them being his father, Darth Vader. Of all the people in the
galaxy who could rival his grandfather as the most hated
man in the galaxy Lukes father would be it.
Before Luke could speak to him Ken turned to his bunk and
dropped back down into the ruffled covers. Datapad still laying
on the floor it took a minute for Luke to form his words.
Being a Jedi Knight had its advantages, but knowing the right
thing to say and when to say it was a whole other matter. He
tried to persuade Leia to speak to Ken, but his sister pointed
out that he was much closer to the boy and any comfort would
sound better coming from someone who shared the same
connection in the Force.
Ken couldnt argue with that. He knew Lukes past was similar
to his own. Alone on a desolate planet, with few friends and
dreams of adventure during his youth, both shared the belief
that their father was a great Jedi, only to discover he had been
an instrument of evil instead.
Lukes father apologized for his actions in the end, so had
Triclops before his disappearance. So more than anyone Luke
should know what Ken was feeling, even if Ken didnt feel it
himself.
Ken knew Luke was right. He was always right. If Ken was ever
to become a Jedi Knight he would have to be better at
controlling his anger. Im sorry He managed to say Youre
right. Youre right! I need to concentrate.
Ken rubbed his temple with the tips of his fingers. But its so
hard Luke, its hard to concentrate when its my own father
were talking about
Luke didnt hide the shock from his face when hearing Kens
response. Ken, our actions dont always imply what were
thinking
Before Luke could finish a voice called out from behind Master
Luke! Master Luke! Shuffling down the hallway was the golden
protocol droid C-3PO moving as fast as his metallic legs could
carry him. To everyone, it was a familiar site to see Threepio in
a hurry. Thank the stars! It is good to see you again sir!
Threepio Luke smiled as the droid rushed down the corridor
to greet them. Its good to see you as well. I was just
explaining to Ken about our last mission at..
Not realizing Luke was in the middle of a sentence C-3PO
continued Master Luke, I have great news! Remember the boy
from Delantine that Artoo and I helped find his father a few
years back?
If C-3POs interruption had bothered Luke, he didnt let it show.
Stuart Zissu? Yes I remember. You and Atroo had quite an
adventure helping him rescue his father from the Empire.
C-3PO shook his head franticly. Dreadful experience too sir, I
can assure you of that. Needless to say I wont be entering an
escape pod with a science droid anytime in the future!
Luke laughed I suspect you wont, Threepio.
Precisely what I said Master Luke, why just the other day I
was telling the Captain Solo
Tell Stuart and his father that I appreciate the invitation and
wed be honored to attend.
C-3PO did a double take. Excuse me sir, but does that mean I
must accompany you as well? Judging from Threepios
obvious panic it was clear to Ken the golden droid had no
wishes of returning back to the planet. Maybe I should have
Threepio tell me that story after all he thought to himself.
Luke smiled. No Threepio, you can stay here and keep an eye
on Artoo. Ken swore he could see Threepio breathe a sigh of
relief.
Besides, I heard that Artoo didnt get along to well with Stuarts
science droid anyway.
Certainly not Master Luke. Why before it was over I thought
Artoo was going to taser the little science droid right then and
there! Had not I stepped in before
It didnt take Jedi senses to see this was turning into another
ramble by the droid, I get the point Threepio, tell them Ken and
I will be attending. That is, if you want he wants to come of
course. Luke smiled back at Ken.
The excitement on Kens face easily shown, Id liked that a lot,
thanks. Lately Ken wasnt allowed to go on any of Lukes
previous mission due the Dee-Jays insistence on him picking
back up his studies. Oh no. Dee-Jay!
But I cant go. Disappointment slumped Kens shoulders,
Putting his arm around him as best friends would Chip pulled
him in tight Sounds fun to me! When do we leave?
__________
Theres still a lot Im trying to figure out for myself Luke told
him. But what I do know I will teach you. The offer was more
than enough for Ken.
Becoming a Jedi was his life long dream. Serving the galaxy as
a Jedi Knight was the perfect way in righting the legacy life had
dealt him. The last thing Ken wanted was to be known as the
Emperors grandson. Luke and Mon Mothma agreed to keep
his lineage a secret for now.
Too much bad blood for them to see the difference between you
and your grandfather. Mon Mothma told him. For Luke its
different, he was a hero in the Republics eyes before we ever
knew of the connection between he and his father. You on the
offer hand are not quite as well known and Im afraid someone
might take retribution out on you because of who you are. For
your own sake, its better we keep your past a secret for now.
Ken didnt argue. The last thing he needed was both sides of
the war looking to kill him. All trace of Kens incidents, even
that of the Lost City of the Jedi were to be kept confidential for
now.
Ken looked at the star cruiser for their trip. An old beat up
looking freighter that barely looked like it could fly. Not the
nicest spacecraft for sure, it was small but would fit the size of
their group.
Looking across the hanger he saw Luke working underneath
one of the s- foils of his X-wing. Problem? Ken called out
approaching the ship.
Luke wiped both hands on his flight jacket. Not really, just
checking to make sure were good to fly. He slammed the
compartment door down and locked it shut. All done, you
ready to go?
Ken was already packed by the night before. The trip was
something he looked forward to. Sure am, do you think the
people of Delantine are going to enjoy seeing you fly in on your
X-wing?
Frowning, Luke didnt bother to hide his disapproval. It wasnt
his decision but Leias to bring his X-wing along for the trip.
What a wonderful idea! Thats just the thing we need to be
doing and encourage other planets to join our cause. If things
werent so busy here, Id go with you. A time for celebration, no
matter how brief would be welcome about now.
Luke tugged his sisters arm Then come, the Alliance can
go without you for a few days.
Leia slipped her arm out of Lukes grip Im attending a
delegation tomorrow in the Mid-Rim. Were meeting leaders
there who are considering joining the Alliance. Leia reached
out and squeezed his hand Were finally doing it Luke, were
finally replacing peoples fears with hope. It wont be long till
peace will be a reality.
Look didnt need the Force to sense his sisters happiness. An
end to the war was something he looked forward to as well. I
know. Are you sure there isnt anything I can do before I go?
No she hesitated a moment, Actually yes, I want you to show
off your X-wing while your there.
My X-wing? Luke wasnt sure where she was going with this
You think the people of Delantine would rather see a vehicle
instead of the pilot?
Leia let out laugh. No, but people do want to see your fighter.
She looked at Luke who still was having trouble understanding,
Thats not just any X-wing you have there, thats the X-wing
that blew up the original Death Star. And I bet thats something
everybody would want to see.
Luke rubbed his chin mockingly It has been feeling guilty ever
since
\ I got a medal. He shot a playful smile her way.
She returned his joke with a punch to the arm. You know what
I mean. No matter what youve done for the Rebellion these
past few years youll always be known for that.
Luke rolled his eyes. Surely theyll have forgotten all about it
by now, right? What about Han and Chewie? The two brave
men who assisted in the destruction of the Death Star. Think
theyd want to come along?
Leia mocked a look of terror on her face, And have Han turn
the whole planet against us? I think not! Besides, she added
Who do you thinks taking me on my little trip?
Fine Luke backed away towards the door But if you need
me, let me know.
I will. Leia replied. And have fun, thats an order!
Luke brushed the side of his X-wing with care, Im not sure
about it, but Leia has a point, seeing this X-wing would inspire
the citizens of Delantine I suppose.
Im just sad you cant ride with us. Ken nodded back towards
the cruiser as DJ-88 and HC-100 approached the entry ramp.
Riding alone with them means more homework and less time
becoming a Jedi.
__________
24
Ken, its important you head to Delantine. Stuart Zissu and
his father are already waiting for us to arrive and I dont want
them to worry if were late. These pirates shouldnt be a
problem. Ill be done in no time and join you on Delantine.
Defeated, Ken sank into his cockpits chair. Ok.
DJ -88 set course for their jump to hyperspace. Now I
believe its time you continue your lessons Master Ken.
With a sigh Ken walked out from the cockpit with H- Cee,
Chip and Zeeba following behind. This was going to be a
longer trip than hed thought.
__________
He knew. Ken didnt know how, but the Empire knew they were
coming. That could mean one of two things, there was an
Imperial spy in the Alliance or on Delantine, Ken guessed the
latter.
Someone had tipped them off. The Imperials had been waiting
for them, for Skywalker. Ken needed to warn him somehow, if
Luke were captured things would get very bad for the Alliance.
But this didnt explain why the Empire sent only a single light
cruiser to the planet. Surely if they were planning on capturing a
leader of the Rebel Alliance, they wouldve brought a couple Star
Destroyers with them. Something here wasnt right.
The Stormtroopers slapped stun cuffs on him and placed a
restraining bolt on Chip as the exited them out the door. What
do we do with him? one of the troopers was holding Zeebo by
the tail as the short mooka scratched and snarled at him to let it
go.
Put it in a cage for now. The other replied. Commander
Thistleborn will tell us what he wants to do with it later. With
that Ken and the others entered the shuttle and headed down
to the planet below.
__________
The cell was dark, not much room to move around in either.
Ken could almost touch both sides of the wall at once. To his
left was a cot two meters wide. It was worn down with rips
along the seams and stains all over the top. But that wasnt
enough to keep Ken from flopping on to it once the cell door
locked behind him.
The humidity in the cell made the clothes stick to his skin and
already Ken could tell this was not going to be a comfortable
stay. Sweat appeared on his chest and back and his brown hair
was beginning to plaster to his head.
The cells only source of light came when a guard made his
rounds through the corridors. The feint light appeared down
the track in front of him, letting Ken know the guard was on his
way. A few seconds after the guard walked by the lights would
dim again, leaving Ken in utter darkness.
My father asked them the same question, they shot him. Ken
could hear Stuarts voice start to break, They told me that if I
didnt do what they said, they would execute everyone on our
planet. I couldnt let that happen!
Just like the Empire, using bully tactics to get their way. You
did what you had to do, I understand. Id have done the same
thing. Not sure of what else say, Ken kept quiet.
They made me send the request to Skywalker. Thistleborn
knew about my connection to C-3PO and R2-D2. He wanted
to use that trust to his advantage. As Stuart went on, Ken felt
a sickness growing in his stomach, I thought about sending a
coded message but they had Stormtroopers there holding our
people at blaster point while I read off their script. There wasnt
anything I could do.
Ken knew the feeling, I lost my dad recently, the Empire
killed. The fact that he was talking about this to a total stranger
shocked Ken. He hardly knew the boy and here he was
sharing his personal life with him. Perhaps the news of Stuarts
father had given him a sort of connection to the boy. Stuart,
who is this Commander Thistleborn and why isnt he here with
a fleet of starships? The question was bothering him ever
since their arrival.
Im not sure and they didnt say. My guess is its a rogue
mission and Thistleborn doing this on his own.
Ken scuffed his shoes across the cell floor There has to be a
motive for all of this. Why would an Imperial Commander come
here alone with such an important mission as this?
Ken clutched the crystal that hung around his neck on a silver
chain. It had been with him all his life, left by his mother
Kenlinda. It was the one thing that gave him strength when
he was in danger.
Ken missed his mother though hed never met her.
Stormtroopers killed her on Kessel shortly after he was born
and whoever it was that delivered him to the City of the Jedi
left the necklace for him to keep.
It was how his father recognized him in the first place. Having
one of his own Triclops easily identified who Ken was. If only
his father had told him then they at least couldve been able to talk
for a moment. Ken couldnt allow himself to think of that right now.
He needed to come up with a plan to get out of here.
Lights in front of the cells began to glow, indicating the guard
was coming back through again. Ken heard the door at the far
end of the corridor creak open and foot steps, steadily
approach his way.
While on Dagobah, Luke and Chewbacca gave him lessons in
self defense. Crouching into a stance Ken raised both arms in
front him, both hands open, and waited patiently by the cell
door.
The guard was much taller than the other Stormtroopers Ken
had seen. He wore a gray officers uniform that looked like it
was bursting at the scenes. On the side of his shaved head
was an Imperial tattoo that gave him an even more menacing
look.
Stopping at Kens cell, he grunted, Whats all this racket?
Keep quiet or Ill make you quiet! Cracking both knuckles
prove the point he glanced into Stuarts cell as well. I dont
want to hear a peep out of the two again, ya got that?!
Looking at each of the boys once more he turned around and
went back out of the hallway. The surface lamps slipped slowly
back into darkness when finally the door slammed shut and
they were alone again.
Ken held his breath as he listened to footsteps fade away.
Whispering from his cell, he continued his conversation with
Stuart. Ive been in stickier situations before, Im sure I can a
way out of this.
He heard a chuckle come from the cell beside him, So have I,
and dealing with the Empire is never something I take lightly.
Me too.
After all I went through trying to get my father back from them
years ago. I can tell you theyre a serious bunch when it comes
to this.
Kens ears perked up, I heard Threepio mention he and Artoo
helped you with that. Must have one wild adventure I suppose.
Remind me to tell you about it sometime.
Will do, but first we need a plan. He placed both hands on the
transparrsteel wall and gave it a hard push, even with the
Force Ken doubted hed be able to break through. So much for
that idea.
__________
In what turned out to be the final contact with his father, Jord
learned the Central Committee of Grand Moffs proclaimed
Triculus as the new leader of the Empire. But dissention had
already settled into the Imperial Navy as Ysanne Isard built her
campaign as rightful leader as well.
A former Director of Imperial Intelligence, Ysanne Isard single-
handedly split the Empire in two. One half serving Trioculus
while the other served her.
Thousands flocked to Isards order believing her to be the one
to restore glory back to the Empire, but older officers as well as
Grand Moffs alike were too indoctrinated with the bias of
women in the navy. His father along with other Grand Moffs
chose to back Trioculus instead.
Jord again sent a request to join his father on Trioculus side
but this time he was greeted with a different message:
Grand Moff Miles Thistleborn has been convicted of treason
against the Empire. He is sentenced to three years of hard
labor on the planet Bnach by Emperor Triculus, rightful ruler of
the Empire. Long live the Emperor!
Jord Thistleborn couldnt believe what he was reading. His
father spent several year serving the Imperial Navy and had
shown more loyalty than anyone else in the Empire. To accuse
the man of treason was outrageous. Bnach was a hot desolate
prison planet that housed an Imperial penal camp. Those
sentenced to Bnach were sent to work in the dangerous
quarries there. No one was rumored to last more than a year in
the quarries. They had issued a death sentence to his father, it
was Jords final straw.
Ignoring his orders Jord made his crew set course for Bnach to
rescue his father from the slave quarry. With only a light cruiser
to aid him however, Jord arrived too late. Within days of being
sentenced to the planet his fathers heart gave out, making
Bnach the Grand Moffs final resting place.
Furious with Trioculus and the committee, Jord convinced his
crew to mutiny from the Navy and head for the throne room of
the Empires chosen one to assassinate him. While on route
however, Trioculus was reported dead and all remaining
Imperial fleet were ordered to Ysanne Isards command.
Fortunately his crew shared Jords view of serving a female
commander and unanimously decided to defect from the
Empire altogether, going out on their own to stop the Rebel
Alliance instead. Over time Jord hoped more would rally to his
cause but none ever did.
Ken sat in the dark silence of his cell. Hours had passed since his
last conversation with Stuart. The boy hinted of a plan but was
refusing to say more for fear of their cells being bugged.
Ken decided the only thing he could do for now was sit
patiently and meditate.
If I was a real Jedi we wouldnt be in the situation Here he
was; grandson of one of the most powerful Force users in
history and he couldnt even lift a speck of dirt from the floor.
He concentrated hard to get a message to Luke, notifying him
of the Empires presence. Sitting in the same position for over
an hour now he was unsure if he was projecting a warning or
not. Luke spent a lot of times going over Jedi meditation
techniques with him, but Ken still wasnt sure what he was
trying would work. In all those lessons of feeling the Force flow
through and around him, never was their a lecture on how to
broadcast a message light years away using a single thought.
Sweat cascaded down his face and his clothes were getting
damp. Ken repeated the warning over and over but wasnt able
to feel a connection.
Giving up, Ken opened his eyes and kicked his foot across the
floor in frustration. This wasnt working. He was wasting his
time. The title of Jedi Prince was a mockery to him.
DJ-88 knew all along who he was. He knew the potential that
was in him, knew the type of power Ken possessed and he kept
it from him. Its his fault! The blasted droid should have been
teaching about the Force from the very beginning!
The more he thought about it the more it made him angry. All
those endless hours of lectures and being hounded by H-Cee
for homework could have been spent teaching developing his
Force abilities. Stang! I could be just as powerful as Luke by
now if Deejay wouldnt have wasted time!
Guilt swept over him, how could he think such selfish things?
Deejay cared the world for him and all Ken could do now was
blame Dee-Jay for his own shortcomings?! It was foolish to
think the droid could have taught him the ways of the Force.
43
The droids view screen blinked twice. Affirmative, scientific
instructor setting has been shut down. Shall I precede with
the escape process, sire?
Yes and dont forget our guest over there as well. Pointing to
Ken, Stuart smiled. Meet my escape plan, 4B-X.
The droid wheeled up to the control panel next to its masters
cell and entered the code for the door then proceeded over to
Ken. Hello 4B-X, I got to admit this is a hell of a first
impression youre giving. 4B-X didnt bother with a reply
entering his code in as well and backing away from the
sliding cell door.
Briskly walking over to Ken, Stuart held out and shook his
hand. Now that were done with all the greetings, what do you
say we get to the comm station and send out that warning?
4B-X lead the way out of the holding cells.
Ken followed them out, Smart droid you have there, howd he
manage to escape being captured?
Stuart smiled, For-bee is very resourceful. Shes saved my life
a dozen times by using scientific methods my father
programmed into her when I was a kid. Theres no telling how
she escaped capture but Im sure shed be glad to give you a
full hour lecture on it when you have the time.
Ken returned the smile. So you knew she was out there
the whole time and would help us escape?
Not exactly, but I know 4B-X and the one thing more important
than instructing me in science is watching out for my own
protection. I knew shed eventually come up with a way to get
us out. Stuart looked back to the droid racing ahead of them
She can find a way out of everything. When I was with
Threepio and Artoo she saved us a number of times. People
underestimate her for being nothing but an instructor droid but
shes so much more than that! The pride in Stuarts voice was
easy to detect. Ken held the same pride for his droids as well.
The similarities between the two of them just continued to
grow. Ken could see now why Luke wanted him to come. In a
lot of ways, Stuart was just like himself. Even more now that
he lost his father too.
The boys raced out of the holding cells and around the corner,
following the silver droid, I think Threepio and Artoo would
have gotten along with her better if it hadnt have been for that
last idea Forbee came up with. Stuart continued, Threepio
would not stop commenting on how it was against his
programming it was to be put into such a position and
44
Artoo.well, lets just say that little droid has quite a mouth on
him at times.
I keep hearing about this adventure but never seem get the
whole story. Ken chuckled. You know, youre going to have to
tell me exactly what happened because this story gets more
intriguing every time I hear about it!
Stuart snorted a laugh Once were out of this mess, you got it!
They approached the door outside of the prison, Ken wasnt
about to ask 4B-X for an explanation as to how shed gotten
them out. Fearing it would result in one of those scientific
lectures Stuart had warned him about. But the Jedi Prince did
have a question he had to ask For-bee, who did you get to
stand watch outside? 4B-X entered another code to open the
door in front of them and Ken got his answer.
Master Ken, its good to see you unharmed!
Chip?! Ken could hardly cover his shock. He reached out for
the droid and pulled him into a hug without even thinking who
he was with. Seeing the familiar face of his old friend was the
most satisfying thing Ken could think of. Youre ok!
Realizing his whereabouts Ken embarrassingly shied away
from the droid This is Chip, he was on board with me
when.. his voiced trailed off. He wasnt ready to talk about
what had happened on the ship yet.
Thankfully, Stuart caught on to his hesitation and extended a
hand to Chip Thanks for the help, good to meet you Chip, Im
Stuart Zisssu. Now we have to hurry and get that message to
Skywalker. I cant imagine him staying much longer with those
miners. We need to reach him before its too late.
Ken nodded Agreed, but what about the guards?
Forbee wheeled herself around All guards on the prison level
have been incapacitated. No one will notice your
disappearance or sound an alarm.
Ken scratched his head Thats nice to know but what about
other guards along the way? Thistleborns bound to have more
of them around here you know.
Not the way were going. Stuart turned to his droid For-
bee, pull up a map of the area and scan for Imperials.
Afterwards I want you to find the fastest route to the comm
station undetected.
For-bees view screen blinked once as the information scrolled
down her screen. Affirmative, locating best route now. Her
45
screen continued to flicker showing diagrams of the palace
determining which route to take. After a few clicks, her blinking
screen showed the route to take. Done
Isnt she amazing master? Chips voice sounded like he
was falling for the science droid, if that was even possible.
Ken dismissed the idea entirely from his head.
Ok For-bee, lead the way and keep a look out for
Imperials. We havent come this far to be caught now.
Affirmative. In a surprising burst of speed 4B-X took off ahead
Follow me.
Ken turned to Chip as they followed the droid down the corridor
Were you able to locate Zeebo? he worried for the safety of
his pet mooka who was still in the hands of the Imperials.
No sir, not yet, would you like me to begin a search now?
No, making it to the comm station comes first. Ken hated
to admit it, but warning Luke came first. I just hope we can
all make it out of here alive.
Chip continued to follow his master down the hallway, As you
wish.
4B-X turned the next corner of the route when suddenly the
droids screen flashed red and she came to an abrupt halt.
Intruder located forty-five feet ahead, re-routing now.
Wheeling back around Forbee flew past them only to come to
another stop.
Ken had a bad feeling about this.
Forbee, what is it? Stuart was getting the same feeling as
well.
Imperial detection ahead, no possible re-routes.
They were surrounded.
Before Ken could think of their next move Stuart pointed
overhead to the corner of the building. Theres a storage room
ahead we can all hide in there, come on!
They followed him to the closet as Stuart frantically pushed in
a sequence of buttons. Stang! he muttered under his breathe
Theyve changed the codes for everything around here, I cant
get in!
Ken stepped in front of him Let me try.
Stuart opened his mouth but decided not to argue and
stepped aside.
46
Ken closed his eyes in concentration. Remembering Lukes
lessons on feeling the Force he hoped it would be able to get
the door unlocked. With eyes shut Ken let all other sounds
around him fade out. Concentrating only on the lock he let the
Force begin to flow through him.
For-bees voice was raised in alarm Warning: Intruder is
twenty-five feet ahead and closing.
Sweat was forming on Stuarts forehead as he anxiously
looked down the corridor. Whatever it is youre doing, you
need to hurry! But his warning went unnoticed by Ken.
His concentration building, Ken started pushing random
buttons on the keypad. After two tries he was able to open the
door.
A gasp of surprise came from Stuart as they crowded into the
dark storage room. The foot steps outside almost immediately
were heard after they shut the door.
They stood silently in the crammed space listening as the
footsteps proceeded off into the distance. Risk of detection
avoided. We can proceed en route. 4B-X re-opened the door
and wheeled on towards the comm station.
Stuart turned to Ken That was amazing! I thought you said
you werent a Jedi?
Im not. To be honest I wasnt even sure I could do it. I just
concentrated like Master Skywalker taught me and the
numbers came to me. Kens honesty stunned himself. Maybe
Luke was right, patience was what was needed when it came
to understanding the Force.
Well count me in for a reference when you need it. Stuart
grinned. Pretty soon the Empires going to have two Jedi to
deal with.
The comment sent redness to Kens cheeks, Let work on
getting out of this first.
Stuart nodded Were almost there, it shouldnt be much
longer.
He was right. After a few more turns and another detour to
avoid detection they made it to the comm station. Just as Ken
suspected were Stormtroopers guarding the door.
He slid back behind the wall to avoid being seen. Ok, now
what? We dont have any weapons and the last time I checked,
Stormtroopers like to shoot first and ask questions later.
47
Stuart pressed a finger against his mouth, a look of
determination shown on his face, Dont worry, Ive got a plan
for this too, For-bee. The droids view screen went to a
mirrored image as she wheeled around the corner and headed
straight towards both troopers.
4B- X wheeled down the hall as the first Stormtrooper held
out his hand. Halt His blaster was trained on the Forbee as
she came to stop in front of them. This is a secured wing. No
droids allowed. Turn around and go back the way you came.
There was a brief pause by 4B-X, Ken worried if the little droid
had shut down. But then Forbee came to life flashing pictures of
them both, projecting each picture on her view screen.
Hey! one of the Stormtroopers moved to capture the droid but
4B-X moved out of the way. Before the Stormtrooper could
take another step, Forbee spun around and took off in the
opposite corridor. Come back here! both troopers followed in
pursuit after her.
Ken looked at the spectacle amazed at what hed seen.
Unebelievable, I thought that only worked in the holovids?!
Guess these Stormtroopers never had time to see them.
Stuart patted Kens shoulder and got up. Come on, lets
move.
Arent you worried theyll catch up with her?
Stuart stood up and walked out around the corner. Nah,
Forbees been in these situations before. She knows these
halls better than anyone. Shell detain those guards long
enough for us to get a message out, follow me.
He raced down the corridor as Ken and Chip followed close
behind. They arrived at the control panel, this time Stuart
stepped aside for Ken, Time to work your magic.
Ken closed his eyes and began to concentrate again, this
time it took a little longer to see the numbers but eventually he
was able to get in. Sorry, guess I still need more practice.
Stuart made his way into the comm station, No complaints
from me. You got us in and thats all I care about.
Ken looked back down the corridor for any sign of Forbee or the
Stormtroopers. Im surprised there were only two guards here.
Youd think the Imperials would have more posted here.
Stuart was already walking towards the nearest comm unit.
Not that surprising seeing as how they came in on that light
48
cruiser. I doubt the Commander has enough men to run his
ship much less worry about what goes on down here.
Ken watched as Stuarts hands move rapidly over the controls.
Just give me a minute while I try to establish a frequency that
will go unnoticed by Thistleborns ship.
Ken looked around the room; much of the technology he found
was way ahead of what was in the Lost City. Learning how new
systems worked was something he still struggled with.
Shall I stand watch sir? Chip realized his uselessness in
the situation as well.
He nodded at Chip, Sure, let us know if those Stormtroopers
come back. Chip walked out the front door and walked down
the corridor.
I doubt they will. Stuart called from behind the comm unit.
For-bee will have those Stormtroopers running around for
hours. Well be long gone by then.
Hows it coming along? Anything I can do? Ken knew hed be
no help but still felt obligated to offer anyway.
Stuart gaze never left the comm unit Not unless you can use
those Jedi senses to help me establish the right frequency.
Im not sure, but I can try. Ken closed his eyes opening his
mind back up to the Force. This time, instead of seeing
numbers he felt a growing sensation of alarm come over him.
The shock caused Ken to cry out, Theyre here!
This time Stuart did look up What?! Are you sure? looking at
the door and then back at Ken Stuarts face went white. Ken,
are you sure?! How long do we have before his sentence
was cut off by the sound of a blaster fire outside the door.
Stuart jerked him behind the comm unit and started working
furiously at the controls Come on come on he muttered
but it was too late. The door slid open showing several armed
Stormtroopers at the door. Behind them Ken saw the
smoldering remains at Chip on the floor.
Noooo! he shouted stepping out behind the comm unit. But
before he made it any further, they were surrounded by white
armored troops.
Impossible. Stuart hissed, The next guard change wasnt for
hours. How did they find us?
Stormtroopers filled the room, weapons pointed at the boys.
Face down, hands in front! barked the lead trooper.
49
Both boys raised their hands and bowed down to the floor, Kens
mind was reeling, another old friend gone. In a single day he lost
almost everyone he cared for.
The Stormtroopers lifted him up but Ken couldnt feel his legs
underneath him. He was numb all over, theyd failed. No one was
coming to save them. They couldnt get a signal off and now Luke
would be captured too.
Beside him Stuart had the same look on his face. Stormtroopers
motioned them to walk outside the comm station. The trooper behind
Ken yelled at him to get up. When he didnt respond to the command
a hand grabbed his collar and pulled him up.
Did you hear me? I said march! But Kens eyes looked backed at the
ground. The trooper raised his blaster. Well do this the hard way
then. with that he shot Ken point blank at stun. Ken felt a sharp pain
pass through him then nothing
__________
A white light pierced Kens vision. He tightened his eyes but the
brightness didnt dissipate. Suddenly he heard a voice calling out to him
in the distance. Get up.my son.
Father? Fighting hard Ken tried to open his eyes in the
blinding light. Father, where are you?
Im here, with you. His fathers voice was calm Where Ive always
been.
Ken felt like a bantha was on top of him. He couldnt stand, much
less move toward the direction of his fathers voice. Father, youve
got to help me, the Empire..
The Empire can not harm you my son, trust in the Force. Ken eyes
started adjusting to the light. He could make out the silhouette of
someone standing before him. Desperately he tried to get to his feet
but his body couldnt move. Father pleaseHelp me!
Stay strong my son, all will be well. The voice was trailing off.
Panicking Ken struggled to get off the ground. Father, NO!
Sitting upright now, he was back in his cell. It was still as cold and
dark as hed left it. Getting his bearings he stood up and walked to
the front.
Ken, you awake?
Rubbing his forehead Ken felt an extreme headache coming on.
Yeah, How long have I been out? The spot where the Stormtrooper
stunned him was still warm. At normal range a stun blast like that was
harmless but closer up it could do a lot more damage. To Kens
estimate this one was going to be hurting for a while.
From the darkness he heard Stuart again, We werent able to get a
message out and Im out of ideas. The sadness in his voice was
unmistakable, They blasted Forbee to pieces, even came in here to
show me the remains while you were still unconscious.
Ken shut his eyes remembering Chip before he blacked out. One more
thing they had in common. The sad similarities between them were
beginning to build. He and Chip shared the same bond as Stuart and
4B-X. Now they were both short a friend.
It sounded like Stuart was also giving up. Im guessing they had an
alarm we must have tripped along the way. He pounded his fist
against the cell. I should have known they wouldnt have made it
so easy.
How long have Ive been out? Ken repeated. Time in these dark
cells could feel like an eternity.
They dragged us back over an hour ago. I was beginning to think
you were dead.
Kens headache started coming on, Part of me wishes I was.
My thought is theyre waiting for you to wake up before they do
anything. Theyre probably even listening to us now. Not soon after
Stuart finished, the security doors opened.
Commander Thistleborn led the way in with two Stormtroopers trailing
behind. Ah, my two boys are finally awake I see. Thistleborn made no
attempt the hide the sarcasm from his voice. The smirk on his face was
enough for them to know they werent going to like what he had to say
next.
I must say, it was a valiant effort trying to warn your friend but Im
afraid youve failed. His smile was starting to make Ken sick. And
because of your little stunt I had no choice but to order the meltdown of
your droids.
Both boys gasped in unison. A complete meltdown meant no hope of
repairing their droids. They were gone, forever. Only an Imperial
could be so callous.
The Commander raised his hands to finish, it was obvious he was enjoying
this, But, I dont wish you to think of me as unkind so Ive decided to
prepare you dinner. He snapped his fingers as a guard entered the room
carrying a covered dish.
Now dont be disappointed Im sure theyll be enough for both of you.
He motioned for the guard to place the plate between their cells. Even
though you intended to dismantle my plans, I want you to know there
are no hard feelings here. he pulled a handkerchief from his tunic and
bent over to grab the lid. So as a way to let bygones be bygones...
Removing the lid he revealed a roasted meat with vegetables around
it. At first Ken was confused. Then in horror he noticed the clawed feet,
it was Zeebo.
Ive never had stuffed mooka, but our chief tells me its quite
delectable. Shall I get you a plate or would you like to take turns? His
attention was now on Ken. He knew seeing the mooka would hurt and
Thistleborn wanted to relish every moment of it.
Anger took hold of Ken; he charged the cell door screaming
The door almost seemed to give for a moment but held. The Imperial
Commander however, didnt. With a short blast of the Force Ken sent
Thistleborn and his troopers reeling to the ground.
Bewildered by the sudden burst of power Ken stood dumbstruck as the
Commander got back up to his feet. He looked at Ken in disbelief, A
Jediit makes sense now. you must be his apprentice. He turned to
the troopers who were adjusting their helmets back on, This one is
Force sensitive, I want guards posted at the doors at all times, watch
him closely. Stepping away from Kens cell Thistleborns eyes were still
on him, It seems we have a little insurance, in case things go wrong.
He smiled and walked away.
Neither Ken nor Stuart said anything as the cells descended back
into darkness.
__________
The silence in his cell was deafening. All his childhood friends were
gone and for the first time he felt alone. Here he was, the Jedi Prince
helpless to prevent what was happening around him.
What shamed him more was the anger he showed upon seeing Zeebo
dead. What would Luke have said? What would his father have said?
He didnt want to think about it. He felt sick on the inside. For years his
father struggled to be free of the Dark Side and here he was headed
straight to it.
He heard the power of the Dark Side calling to him now, enticing him to
give into his rage. With the Dark Side as his ally he could rip through
his cell easily. He would be unstoppable and revenge would be
No. He couldnt think like that. The thought of becoming his
grandfather sent a shiver through him. He heard his grandfather
cackling inside his head. It was Palpatines voice he heard,
beckoning him to the Dark Side.
No. It couldnt be, his grandfather was long dead. Surely his power
did not stretch that far.
Ken turned his thoughts back to his father. Triclops would never want
his son to walk the same path as he had. Ken clenched his fist, he
would not let it happen. Slowly he began to feel the hate wash away
from his body.
They is no emotion, there is only the Force. He repeated the Jedi
mantra to himself feeling calm spread over him. He had to be at peace
with the Force to save from what almost happened to him.
Hate only clouds the mind and right now wasnt the time for it. Luke
would be arriving into orbit any minute now and Thistleborn would be
waiting. With Luke captured the Imperials would have their hands on
the Rebels throat.
Its not your fault you know? Stuarts voice was heard across the
cell. It was my idea that started this, Its my fault. His voice waivered,
Ken knew how bad he felt. In truth it wasnt Stuarts fault. He didnt
need to put it on his shoulders alone.
Its no ones fault. We did what we had to do and now all thats left up
to the Force. The words werent inspiring to Ken himself but he hoped
saying them would offer comfort to his friend. The possibilities of them
making it out of this were thin, but Ken knew if anyone could do it, it
was Luke.
I hope youre right. Stuart mumbled. Ken hoped he was too.
_________
Someone get these bodies off my bridge. Walking past he kicked the
dead ensign on the floor. The officers scurried around the deck to
follow his order. Thistleborn could see he wouldnt need to make any
more examples anytime soon. Good, he didnt have time to waste with
that.
The comm unit behind him crackled to life, This is Luke Skywalker of
the Rebel Alliance, you are ordered to shut down all weapons and
prepare to be boarded I look forward to meeting you too
Commander, Skywalker out.
Thistleborn screamed and blasted the comm unit into a mess of
sputtering sparks and wire. The crew on the bridge went silent again,
What are you all starring at?! Bring this vessel to the ground!
Wasting no time the bridge followed out what they all knew would be
their final orders in the Imperial Navy.
___________
Keeeen!!!
With one quick movement Ken went from laying on the ground asleep
to fully awake, standing in his cell. Something or someone was trying to
warn him. Was it his fathers voice? Ken couldnt be sure, but he did
feel something wasnt right.
A loud clang sounded from down the hallway as light rushed into the
room. Travelling at a brisk pace Ken saw Commander Thistleborn
seething in anger. Ken had no idea what was going on and by the look
on Stuarts face neither did he.
It seems I have to resort to different methods now that your Rebel fleet
has arrived.
Both boys faced each other in complete shock. The Rebel fleet was
here? Ken didnt know how that could be. Stuart told him there was no
warning sent. How did the Rebels find out it was a trap?
Punching in the code, Thistleborn opened Stuarts cell and pointed his
blaster at him, Since I only have use for the Jedi brat, I have no reason
to keep you. Pulling the trigger he shot him in the head.
Ken screamed. Beating on his cell door he watched Stuarts limp form
crumpled to the floor. The Imperial Commander turned to him. Youre
coming with me. He leveled his blaster at Kens and opened the cell.
Laughter came from all sides around Ken. He could hear his
grandfather calling out once again, Kill him. KILL HIM! He shut his
eyes to force the voice from his head. He could feel the anger rising up
within him.
Anger for his friends lost, anger of what his father had become, anger
of what he could never be, it was too much for him bear. His fists
began to crackle with electricity his hate continued to build.
Oblivious to what was going on Thistleborn motioned him to step out, I
said youre coming with me. Move it!
The Commander jumped back as Ken opened his eyes, revealing full
black pupils. Thistleborn tried to close Kens cell back but it was too
late.
Ken stretched out and opened his fist releasing Force lightening at
him, sending the Commander reeling back against the wall, slamming
his head on the unforgiving ferrocrete. The impact knocked the blaster
out of his hand and sent it tumbling to the floor. Ken stepped slowly out
of his cell.
His teeth were snarled in hate as he approached the Imperial
Commander. Before him stood who was man completely selfish, who
used others for his own personal gain. This man deserved neither pity
nor forgiveness, he only deserved to die.
Yes, his grandfathers voice sounded pleased, Strike him down with
your anger. It makes you powerful, gives you strength! Ken made no
effort to shake the voice from his head. It was making sense to him now.
Balling up both hands, he towered over the dazed Commander.
You are stronger than anyone. The voice continued, It is you who
should be the one to restore order to the galaxy! The Empire would
never cease it was clear to Ken they needed a leader, someone who
would put a stop tp the war once and for all.
And why not me? Surely the grandson of the Emperor would go
uncontested in Imperial ranks. With none to oppose him he could
bring the corrupt Empire to its knees, rebuilding it with a just and
honest societyunder his rule.
Behind him Ken heard the voices of Rebel troops calling out for the
surrender of Imperial forces. It sounded like the battle was over.
Youve lost, Commander. Kens voice sounded hollow, Your crew
has been captured, your troop destroyed. Youve failed to stop the
Rebel Alliance.
57
Struggling to get to his feet, Commander Thistleborn lifted his head,
Reb. Rebel scum
He glared down at the Commander and saw him now for the weakling
he was. Nothing but a worm, finish him. Ken could no longer tell if the
voice inside his head was his grandfathers or his own, Finish him
and your power will be complete.
Ken reached out his palms to the Imperial officer, And now
Commander Thistlebornyou will die.
Ken!
He hesitated at the sound of his
name. Ken!
Looking behind him down the hallway he heard Luke calling out to him.
Ken, are you here?
Unsure of how to respond Ken stood in utter silence, listening as
footsteps approached the door. Ken! Luke burst into the holding cells
and saw the Ken standing over Commander Thistleborn. Are you
alright? Why didnt you respond? Luke ran up to him but stopped
when he noticed the look in Kens eyes.
Dont come any closer Luke. He killed everyone.
Sensing something wrong Luke halted his advance, What happened?
He looked across the cell to see Stuarts cold body lying on the floor.
Oh no he knelt by the body and examined the blaster wound on
Stuarts forehead. Ken, Im so sorry, I should have gotten here in
time.
Its not your fault, its his! Ken pointed at the Commander beneath
him, who seemed to be getting his wits about him.
Its because of him this happened. He planned to kill you and didnt
care who stood in his way. He shot DeeJay and H- Cee and melted
Chip to scrap! His bottom lip trembled as his hate refused to go away,
He even had Zeebo murdered. Hes a monster! he was screaming
now, He doesnt deserve to live!
Luke reached out to Ken, Its not the way of the Jedi. Dont give in to
your hate, let it go.
Tears formed in his eyes, Face it Luke, this is who I am. Its who my
father was and his father before him. Its fate, I have no control over it.
Thats not true. Luke carefully made his way out of Stuarts cell, My
father was evil and I didnt become like him.
Rebel troops entered the room only to be waved away by Luke.
Whoever your father was, this isnt what he wanted you to be. You
dont have to follow in their footsteps. You can be different.
58
Like a Jedi?! Ken snorted, I cant do anything with the Force! I
couldnt use it to save my friends. I couldnt use it to stop this from
happening. He gestured around the holding cell, Im useless as a
Jedi. The only way Ill ever be strong is if I access the Dark Side.
Dont you see that? He motioned to the burn marks on the wall, I
did this. Its the Dark Side that gives me power Luke, not the Light.
Youre wrong. Lukes reply was calm, You warned me about the
Imperial threat on Delantine. Without you I wouldve walked right into
a trap.
Ken looked back at the Commander lying who cowered beneath
him, You you heard me?
Yes, youre the reason we were able to capture the Imperials and
free the planet. Luke made sure to give Ken space. You dont need
the Dark Side to control Force, you can do it already.
Slowly Ken lowered his arms and took a step away from Thistleborn,
I want to be a Jedi, Luke. I dont want to be this.
Luke took a step towards him, You wont, I promise.
Luke moved in closer to Ken but suddenly both men sensed
danger coming from the Commander. Ken whirled around to see
the Thistleborn level his blaster and fire off two shots at him.
The first blast Ken deflected with the Force, sending it back into the
throat of the Imperial Commander. Gagging in surprise, he clenched
his neck as dark red blood escaped through his fingers. Ken
watched as he gargled a word too hard to make out and then slump
to the ground, dead.
Ken faced Luke but then noticed a blaster wound on his chest.
Stunned, he brought his hand up to the spot and felt warm
blood oozing out.
Not knowing what else to do Ken looked at Luke to ask for help but
instead his knees buckled and he went tumbling to the ground.
Before he fell Luke caught him in his arms. Ken!
Ken looked up at the ceiling, wondering why it was shifting aal of
the sudden. The world around him started to go dark as he heard
Luke yelling for a medic.
Soon the noises around him faded and everything went to black.
_________
Ken
The blinding light was back, Father?
Wake up, son.
Squinting, Ken tried to locate the sound of the voice, Where are you?
Im right here.
Wait! Dont go. I need to talk to you. His eyes adjusted to the light the
silhouette hed seen earlier was coming into focus, Theres so many
questions I have.
Im not going anywhere my sonwe have all the time in the
universe now.
At that moment Ken saw his father at last.
Knight Errant: Influx
By: John Jackson Miller
66
Vannar's strategic vision; for someone not on the Jedi Council,
there were few Jedi with more influence.
"What?"
"Hmm."
67
get the staging area. What good were flowery words
when people were suffering?
"What?"
"It's bad."
"No, I mean it can't boot up," Dorvin said. He swung open the
cover panel. A gaping hole existed in the device, wide enough
for the Cerean to put his arm through. "See here? It's missing
the activation cylinder!"
Vannar stared.
68
Standing by the doorway where she'd been since fetching
their leader, Kerra hid her clenched fists. It didn't make any
sense. The other transports were already leaving for Chelloa.
This one was ready to go; it was just waiting for its flight
crew. It wasn't under repair.
It should be whole.
That had to be it. Kerra hadn't been the one to shoot down
the little shuttle carrying the expected flight crew, but she had
entered the wreckage to retrieve their cloaks and
identification badges. Weakly, she spoke up. "There was a
case trapped under one of the consoles," she said. "I thought
it was a personal item."
"Or to join the other side," Kerra said, daring to pipe up.
69
indoctrination than his ground crews do. If he's afraid of
anyone stealing a transport, this would address that."
"We have the vehicle we arrived in," Dorvin said. "We don't have
a part that will fit this navicomputer. But can't we do the mission
with our own ship? Without the Daimanite transport?"
70
"We can still go to Chelloa! Maybe we can hijack an ore
transport in route, the same way we ambushed the flight
crew!"
"Or we can go back to the flight crew's ship. I can get the
cylinder this time!"
"It's too far, Kerra -- and you said the ship was crushed.
It might not even work any more."
Kerra looked down the hall to the exit, and back to Vannar
again. "We've come all this way," she said. "We're here. We
can do something. We shouldn't go back."
Kerra held his gaze for a moment before looking away. This
was the Vannar that other people heard -- the voice of
authority. She always heard it from his side, rarely on the
receiving end.
71
rain and darkness, but they certainly knew that the
transport wasn't in the air. "Get moving, or we're coming
over there to get you!"
She had already landed in the mud and bounded off when he
reached the opening. The transport climbing too high to jump
from, Vannar had dashed upstairs to the command center.
But even with altitude and the transport's external sensors,
Oranessan's weather made it impossible to find a single figure
on the ground.
"We can't linger here, Master Treece," Dorvin said. They were
sitting in mid-air, not going anywhere. It was back to their own
ship or nothing. "There are dozens of Sith fighters parked
72
beyond the hangar. If we have to fight, we'll never get off
Oranessan!"
"Wait!"
***
73
"An activation cylinder!" Appearing behind Vannar, Dorvin
reached past him and grabbed the rolling mass. "High
marks to the Padawan! I mean -- to the Knight!"
"I bet it is," Vannar said, helping to steady his student and
ward as the transport gained elevation. "But I thought you
hated posing as Sith."
Shaking the water from her hair, Kerra looked back with
a smirk. "Maybe I should have planned to bring a towel."
74
Desert Inconvenience
By: Rogue knight
Even before Urr'ror'rosh had given the order, the rest of his scouting
party was ready. No one entered the territory of the Tusken Raiders
and lived if discovered by them, and the territory of the Sand People
was basically the entire planet of Tatooine.
Urr'ror'rosh had spotted the intruder as soon as he landed his craft in
the desert. The intruder obviously did not know Tatooine well, or
otherwise he would have thought twice about landing in the midst of the
desert. In the cities of the other invaders that now blighted the land of
the Tusken Raiders at least he would have had others to help defend
him against the Sand People. Out in the open deserts however he was
on his own, and that could be fatal, and it would, as far as Urr'ror'rosh
and his scouts were concerned.
It would be done in the same way as the four always handled lone
enemies. Urr'ror'rosh and his two fellow warriors would sneak closer to
the enemy's back and cut him down with their gadderfii sticks, while
Ru'rrol'urr would keep them covered with his rifle.
It was so easy to sneak through the desert for Tusken Raiders. How
could it not be, since they lived their entire lives in the barren, sand-
filled canyons? The suns were high and baking, and to the Tusken
Raiders' advantage, since their positions would not allow the intruder to
spot their shadows when they got close to him.
The three Sand People silently moved past the intruder's spaceship.
After the being was dead they would loot the craft, looking primarily for
weapons and water. It was a large ship, so Urr'ror'rosh had high hopes
for their reward this day.
Taking his mind off dreams of the spoils of the victors and putting it
back on the task at hand, Urr'ror'rosh gestured at his companions. They
spread out, so that if the intruder spotted them he would have to defend
himself from three directions at once, as the other two warriors would
circle him. Urr'ror'rosh cast a quick glance at the nearby ridge where
Ru'rrol'urr was lying in wait with his rifle. The sniper made a veiled
gesture, assuring Urr'ror'rosh that he was ready for action.
The Sand People moved closer, their gadderfii sticks held firmly in their
hands. A single, quick swing should be more than enough. Few beings
had survived a blow from the strong Tusken Raider, and the short,
robed invader did not look like he would be more of a challenge than a
child.
The weight of the heavy weapon felt reassuring, though Urr'ror'rosh
had no need for reassurances. He was a warrior, a killer, so why would
he feel doubts? There were three possible outcomes: the being dying
without even seeing Urr'ror'rosh, the being dying a split second after
spotting Urr'ror'rosh, or the being spotting Urr'ror'rosh in time, trying to
run or fight (it did not matter which) and then dying.
That he potentially could be killed himself did not cross Urr'ror'rosh's
mind. He was a warrior, and thus death would find him sooner or later.
Worrying about it was futile. Yet some said that Tusken Raiders were
easily startled. That was only one side of the case. To Urr'ror'rosh's
people death was not something to be feared, yet there was no need in
suicidal bravery. Faced with a superior enemy, like the mighty krayt
dragon for instance, most Sand People would choose flight over
combat. Not because they feared death, but because certain death
would prevent them from fighting another day.
With but eight feet to go before he was close enough to crack open the
intruder's skull, Urr'ror'rosh assessed the foe. The small being would
hardly prove even the slightest challenge. It was about five feet and a
half tall, and wore a heavy, black robe, obscuring its form. It might have
hidden weapons under the cloth, yet they would do it no good. It was
hard to use a weapon when one's skull was broken to fragments.
The creature was either stupid or careless. It had from the moment that
the Tusken Raiders had begun sneaking in on it been completely
motionless, staring at the far away cities that other invaders called
home, not even bothering to look over its shoulder once. Maybe it was
meditating. Maybe it was just bored. Or maybe it was so arrogant and
cocky that it did not expect anything to happen to it. The reason did not
really matter to Urr'ror'rosh, who had had an easy time closing in on the
intruder.
Three feet left. Urr'ror'rosh moved like a serpent, not making any sound
at all. His two fellow warriors had stopped a few paces back, letting
Urr'ror'rosh have the honor of making the fatal strike, as it was his
privilege as the senior warrior among the band.
He moved an inch at a time, blocking everything else out. There was
just him and the victim. The fingers of his left hand locked around the
handle of his gadderfii stick, as he grabbed it with both hands for
additional leverage. He slowly raised the weapon, then moved it to his
right and back, to get a perfect swing at the unwitting foe's head.
For a brief second he just stood there, as unmoving as the intruder,
letting the feeling of exhilaration before a kill flow through his body,
intoxicating his mind. His fingers unclenched for a second, then locked
around the handle. His muscles tensed, his teeth gritted, and he drew
in air.
Urr'ror'rosh swung the weapon with a roar of battle, cleaving the air in
half. To his surprise he did not hit the victim, who was now directly
above him, completing his flawless somersault. Urr'ror'rosh was still
staring in stunned perplexity when two crimson blades of energy came
to life in the prey's hands.
The alien invader landed gracefully in the sand, his staff of bright red
energy striking so fast that Urr'ror'rosh barely realized the movement
had taken place. Then Urr'ror'rosh fell backwards, collapsing into the
sand. He was dead before his head touched the ground, a second
before his body, and his empty eyes did not see the intruder cut down
his two companions as if they were children, nor did he see how the
alien calmly parried Ru'rrol'urr's precise shot with one of his blades,
sending the blaster bolt straight back into the face of the surprised
Tusken Raider.
Darth Maul coolly switched off the blades of his lightsaber, not even
bothering to look at the four dead Tusken Raiders. He had important
work to do without being inconvenienced like this.
Something of Value
By: Seldes Katne
"No, sir."
That far from Theed there were only a few farms, and not
much in the way of civilization. The area was at the edge of
human territory on Naboo. It was also, Panaka knew, the
closest human habitation to the territory claimed by the
Gungans. Living almost entirely under water, the non-human
inhabitants of the planet kept mostly to themselves, with only
a few individuals from either race having much contact with
each other.
"Good enough."
"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Ebri, a trim young woman who had only
been with the guards for a couple of years, saluted crisply and
settled herself into the driver's side of the speeder. Lieutenant
Frenz saluted as well and got in on the passenger side.
He needed to get around this pair and see where the voice
was coming from. Only when he had a clear picture of the
whole situation could he even consider a rescue. Although it
was clear that the Gungan was a prisoner, Panaka had no idea
how many comrades the Quarren had with it, how many other
Gungans might be their captives, or what exactly was going
on.
Easing the leaves back into place Panaka slipped out of his
hiding spot and retreated back toward the speeder. When he
was certain he was out of earshot of the Quarren he
unclipped the communicator from his belt.
Panaka rose and skirted around the Quarren and its captive,
far enough away so that (he hoped) neither would hear him.
The brush was beginning to thin, and visibility increased. One
hundred paces past where he had first hidden to watch the
Quarren Panaka got his first good look at what had caused the
smoke.
The Quarren waded into the water and, turning the rifle
sideways, rammed it into Panaka's stomach. As the human
doubled over the Quarren seized the back of his head and
shoved it underwater.
The Gungan threw him a look over his shoulder before diving
below the pool surface, taking the dead Quarren with him.
Panaka staggered to his feet, looking around the small
chamber. A globe of light provided the only illumination in the
cavern. There were a few tools Panaka didn't recognize, an
energy pole, and not much else. He glanced toward the back
of the room, where the light was dimmest, and realized he
wasn't alone.
The first Gungan's head broke the surface of the pool, and
Panaka rose from his place beside the corpse. The Gungan
was panting as he stood in the shallows. "Wesa needsa watch
for a while. There may be more commin."
Tarpals glanced over his shoulder at the dead officer, and then
shook his head. "Not much inta line of supplies down here."
Panaka shook his head. "I don't know. They may still be alive
and mobile, but I have to assume they're not and that
everything depends on us. What we need now is to get from
here back to our speeders. I suspect our smugglers may
have sensors set up around the ship."
"I don't think we should wait that long. Aside from your
people being captives, the smugglers could up ship at any
time." Panaka thought for a moment. "Although at this point
there's not much we could do to stop them, is there?"
"Mesa got that problem solved. Wesa get to land, my'll tekk
care'n the rest. Yousa no worry 'bout that. Shesa still out
there somewhere."
Panaka stared at him. " 'She' who? I thought you said there
were only three of you when you got out here." He glanced at
the body at the back of the cavern.
"Mesa sent one soldier, 'long with one'a the farmers, back to
Otoh Gunga to tell the Bosses what happened, then the three
of us'n headed this way. Wesa found a homestead, abandoned
wesa thought.
89
over his shoulder. "Eldess was killed in the water. By then
wesa both been thrown, and the kaadus fled into the woods."
Panaka looked around. "How did you know this cave was
here?"
"My've got it." Tarpals rose and waded into the pool.
Tarpals shook his head. "Iss no' far to the surface. But wesa
needsa swim as far underwater as wesa can, so's wesa
surface 'way from the ship. Yousa needs hang onto my belt?"
90
When his head broke surface Panaka took a moment to get
his bearings. Only the dimmest light showed that sunrise was
on the way; even better, there seemed to be a fog over the
water. Tarpals had surfaced an arm's length away, only his
eyes showing, his long haillu trailing in the water behind him
like weeds. Panaka suddenly realized how the Gungan could
have spent two days watching the smugglers virtually
undetected; by floating close to shore among the water
plants, Tarpals blended in with the stalks and floating
vegetation.
Tarpals glanced around, then placed one hand over his muzzle
and produced a warbling sound. "Now wesa wait," he
whispered back. Panaka spent a few minutes looking the rifle
over while Tarpals repeated the sound several times.
From the brush to their right came a telltale whine, and the
grass burst into flame. Crouching, both human and Gungan
scrambled in the other direction.
"Deesa way!" Tarpals rose from his crouch and broke into a
run.
"You think you can catch a kaadu like this"" Panaka was running
hard on the Gungan's heels. "They're shooting at us!"
91
"Shesa no be carrin' 'bout that," Tarpals called back. "Shesa
trained for battle - shesa be there." He warbled again, and the
answer came back much closer. "Wesa needsa keep moving!"
The bushes and trees blurred past. In a few minutes they had
outdistanced any pursuit on foot, but Panaka kept looking
back over his shoulder. One of several things could happen
now. The smugglers could break out whatever speeders or
other personal mechanical transportation they had and come
after the escapees, or recall all personnel and take off with
their cargo, or lift off now and leave behind anyone
unfortunate enough to still be out in the woods. Unless
Panaka's two officers were still alive and free, only he and
Tarpals would know what was really happening here. If the
smugglers knew it was just one human and one Gungan, their
best bet would be to eliminate the two witnesses, finish
loading the contraband as quickly as possible, and then lift off.
Not only would killing Panaka and Tarpals buy the smugglers
92
more time, it would also remove the only two people
that could identify the ship and various crew members.
Panaka laid the gun across his lap and reached into his belt
pouch for the tracking device. "Start working your way west,"
he shouted to his companion, and the Gungan nodded. "At
this pace, it won't be long at all."
"You'll have to slow down a little -" Panaka broke off. Once
again the brush nearby exploded into flames, and the kaadu
suddenly swerved to the right to avoid it. Panaka clamped his
knees against the kaadu's flanks, whipped around and
snapped off a shot at their pursuers. He caught a glimpse of a
two-man bike behind them.
"You'll need to slow down. When I'm off, take them around
in a circle and bring them back to the speeder. I've got a
weapon mount - I can get them off your tail." The Gungan
opened his mouth; but Panaka cut him off. "Just do it!" He
twisted in the saddle to fire again at the bike. The driver
swerved and disappeared between the trees. "Now!"
93
With a shout, Tarpals urged the kaadu back to full speed and
vanished into the brush. Panaka heard the telltale whir of the
engine as the bike shot past in pursuit.
The kaadu, rider still mounted, burst from the bushes to his
right and shot past him. Panaka hastily swung the gun around
and opened fire, strafing in a sweeping arc. Someone yelled,
and the speeder bike materialized in the same place from
which the kaadu had appeared. Panaka fired at it, trying to
match the bike's momentum as it passed. The bike slammed
into a tree a few meters away and exploded. Panaka ducked
into the back seat to avoid the heat of the fire.
"Report, Lieutenant."
"Sir, when you didn't check in, I ordered the pilots to wait in
the hanger bay in pairs. We're less than an hour from sending
out aerial search parties."
94
at Tarpals for confirmation and the Gungan nodded, "-
smugglers manning her. They've got hostages, at least five
Gungans and maybe some of our people as well. Tell the
gunners to cripple her on the ground if at all possible. Send a
squad of ground troops to the same coordinates. Once the
ship's disabled, we'll still need help dealing with the
smugglers."
95
"My've been in the water for the last two days," Tarpals
corrected him. "Thesa one main ramp leading to the shore
side of they'n's ship. If'n thesa more exits, my've not seen
them." He pulled back on the reins, bringing the kaadu to a
stop, then turned slightly in the saddle. "Wesa might'n have
problems with dees... sssensors. My could come in by water,
but-"
"I'll get as close as I can, and then wait for the blaster
firing," Panaka told him. "Good luck, Captain."
"Yousa the same," the Gungan replied, and the kaadu rose
and carried him out of sight. Tarpals rode the kaadu straight
for the lake at a dead gallop, pulling to a stop just short of
the edge. Flipping the reins up onto the animal's neck, the
Gungan paused to power up the blaster rifle, then dismounted
and jogged into the water, diving as soon as he was far
enough out.
96
to the two sitting on the bank, and then a fourth, and finally
the fifth. Tarpals stood up, swung the barrel of the rifle at the
guards now leveling their weapons at the prisoners, and
opened fire.
One of the captives rolled to where the dead man lay and
snatched up his weapon, barking an order to the Gungans
still on the ground. All four of them scrambled for the woods
on hands and knees.
97
toward their freighter. Tarpals scrambled up the bank to join
his officer, but both were forced into the woods by covering
fire from the two men crouched at the top of the boarding
ramp.
Conscious of the fact that he'd probably just set off half a
dozen internal alarms, Panaka braced one hand and foot
against the open edge of the hatch and shoved. The door slid
laboriously open. Once inside the hatch he shattered the red
plastic covering of the emergency controls, and a moment
later was drawing his pistol in the dim light of the ship's
corridor.
"Captain Panaka!"
98
"Are you all right, Lieutenant?" Panaka asked as he
crouched beside her.
"Mostly, sir. I'm just bruised in a few places." Ebri was trying
unsuccessfully to slide the bindings over her hands. The cuffs
wouldn't fit, no matter how she tried to tuck her thumbs in.
Finally she gave up and ran one had through her hair; the
blond strands had come loose and were straggling into her
eyes. "I think they kept me alive because they thought they
could sell me off-world after they were done here."
"I - I don't think so, sir," Ebri's eyes closed and she dropped
her hands into her lap. "I haven't seen anyone except these
two." She opened her eyes and turned her head toward the
two small Gungans. The larger of the two drew itself up onto
its elbows and blinked weakly at Panaka. The smaller one
made no movement at all.
99
I have an extra gun for you. We need to get up front and get
control of the ship. You up for it?"
Out in the corridor Panaka and Ebri stepped over the dead
Quarren and headed forward, Panaka leading. Water was
already beginning to slosh along the floor plates.
The freighter's deck design was simple: two decks, each with
a main corridor. Several ladders connected the two decks.
Panaka paused at the bottom of one ladder and peered
upward. He glanced back over his shoulder at Ebri, who
nodded and stepped closer, pointing her weapon up to cover
the opening above. Blaster clutched in his right hand,
Panaka scrambled upwards.
Ebri began firing past him as he neared the top of the ladder.
He gathered himself and sprang over the last two rungs to
land on the deck in a crouch. He could hear Ebri's boots on
the ladder behind him, and a moment later she was crouched
in the corridor with her back to him, firing toward the rear of
the ship.
100
Panaka positioned themselves on the end of the metal piece.
"And those Gungan children -"
"Know how to hold their breath under water, just like the
adults," Panaka finished for her. "If we're in the water,
Lieutenant, I think we have help on the way. Now, push."
With both men out in the corridor Panaka stepped back into
the cockpit, cast around for the intercom controls, and spoke
into the loudspeaker. "Attention all personnel. This ship is
under the control of Naboo security forces. All remaining
crewmembers are ordered to leave your weapons behind and
come to the forward cockpit immediately. Bring all underwater
breathing apparatus with you - the ship is sinking fast and we
will need to swim to shore." He switched off the intercom and
stood peering into the water, which was creeping up the view
plate. "Come on, Tarpals, we could use some help here."
101
"There's another of your people in the room down the hall,"
Panaka told them. He relieved the smugglers of the breathers
they'd brought; there were plenty of the devices to go around.
"Get the last man up here, and get a breather into the mouth of
anyone who's unconscious. Where's the nearest airlock?"
"Yes, sir." Ebri slung the gun strap over her shoulder and
trotted to the ladder, disappearing below decks. A few
minutes later the sound of a single shot echoed up from
below.
"The other one's still down there," she told him as she
stepped onto the deck. "Sir, maybe I should stay -"
"No," Panaka replied. "I'd rather you go with this one. I don't
know if it'll wake up once you're outside or not, but if it
doesn't, you'll need to get it to the surface right away. I'll
take care of the other one." He looked up at the group of
102
smugglers standing warily at the escape hatch. "You. Out. Get
to the surface and go straight to shore. We've got Gungan
allies outside, and they are not happy with any of you right
now. If I were you, I wouldn't do anything to aggravate
them." He nodded to Ebri and put the breather into his mouth.
She copied his motions.
The water was now almost chest-high, and Panaka slid the
breather into his mouth. He made a move to swing himself
onto the ladder - and a long grey shape slid through the
hatchway and plowed toward him. The Gungan surfaced an
arm's length away, bracing itself against a support beam, and
eyed Panaka distrustfully. The human gestured forcefully
down the ladder. The Gungan dove and, ignoring the ladder
completely, dropped through the hole and splashed into the
water below. The wailing of the younger Gungan abruptly
ceased.
"There's -"
"My will take care'n them." The Gungan jerked his head
toward the rear of the ship. Panaka dove beneath the water's
surface and sculled to the hatchway, braced his legs against
the outer hull and pushed out into open water.
103
the two adult Gungans appeared. The unfamiliar one
surfaced briefly and blinked at Panaka a couple of times
before diving again; he caught a glimpse of the youngster
below it in the water. Shortly thereafter Tarpals himself
appeared almost at Panaka's elbow. The human stopped
swimming and tread water. "Is everyone all right?"
"I'm sorry, sir," she said as they sat on the bank, gazing out
over the water and trying to politely ignore the knot of
Gungans off to one side. "I just - it's not fair that the only
reason I'm still alive is because someone thought of me as a
valuable commodity. And the smugglers didn't spare anyone
else, except those two Gungan children, who they kept alive
for the same reason."
104
"First of all, we don't know for certain that you are the only
survivor," Panaka told her. "There's a chance that we may find
one or more of the others still alive out in the woods. And the
fact that you were alive and on that ship meant that there
were an extra pair of hands to capture the rest of the
smugglers, and give those two youngsters a chance to
survive."
Panaka and Ebri sat watching. "Do you know what they're
doing, Captain?" Ebri asked finally.
"No. I don't know any more about the Gungans and their
rituals than you do."
Ebri sighed. "We've shared the planet with them for millennia,
and we still know next to nothing about them. You known,
one of the reasons I asked to be assigned to this area is
because it was so close to the Gungans' territory. I wanted to
get a look at them, maybe even meet one. This wasn't what I
had in mind at all." She gazed at the group out in the water.
"I hope - I hope this doesn't mean the child's going to die.
That would just be too much after everything else that's
happened here."
105
Tarpals sighed heavily and settled himself in the grass next
to the humans. "The littlest one, hesa not doing well. If'n
hesa stays close to hiss parents, mebbe hesa realize hesa
safe now."
Ebri turned back. "I want to go help, sir. He's the only one I
feel like I can do anything for right now."
106
emergency packs and jogged into the woods after the search
party messenger.
107
"Captain? Captain!" Ebri's shout carried across the water. Both
Panaka and Tarpals turned in her direction. "Look!"
The Gungan holding the child was wading slowly back toward
shore. Under the adult's chin, the youngster was moving,
rubbing one hand over its face, eyes still closed. As the
Gungans and Ebri neared the bank the child opened its eyes
and huddled, blinking, against the adult's neck. Then it
extended its neck forward and delicately ran its nose across
Ebri's cheek, sniffing at the human. Finally it tucked its head
back under the adult's chin and lay watching as the rest of
the Gungan adults clustered around it.
108
"Thank you, Captain, for letting me help earlier," she said.
"Thass'n current that flows both ways," the Gungan told her.
He turned to Panaka. "Wesa workin' together again, mesa
thinks."
"I'm glad this is over, sir," Ebri remarked as they boarded the
craft. "I mean, I'm not sorry we worked with the Gungans, and
stopped the smugglers, but what we had to go through..."
109
Judges call
By: Timothy zahn
With a quiet sigh, Mara Jade Skywalker looked at her datapad. These
two had been the twenty-ninth and thirtieth complainants since
Luke had started this session at sunrise this morning. Thirty
complainants down. Five billion to go.
She set the datapad aside, trying hard not to let her simmering
annoyance get the better of her. No, of course the entire planet
wasnt lining up to talk about their problems and get their share
of Jedi wisdom and justice. But today, at least, it sure as
Coruscant vermin felt like it.
The robed Presenter was approaching the platform now, his own
datapad clutched reverently in his hand as he no doubt prepared to
outline the situation and problem of complainants thirty-one and
thirty -two. The last time Mara had looked out in the waiting
chamber, there had been at least fifty of the aliens sitting in stony
silence, either marshalling their thoughts or glaring across the room
at their opposing complainant. Ten or more arguments yet to hear
today, and the sun was already dipping low in the sky.
Mentally, Mara shook her head. Yes, she resented these people for
demanding so much of her husbands time and energy. And to be
honest, she had to admit she even resented Luke a little for his
quick and unselfish willingness to give up that time for them.
But she could also see that his presence here was accomplishing
more than the raw numbers would indicate. At least five of the
110
controversies Luke had delivered judgment on today had been
churning for ten years or more, with neither party willing to budge an
inch. Two of those five had been multigenerational, in fact
stretching back some forty years to disputes between the
complainants fathers. And yet, despite the long histories, in every
one of those cases both sides had accepted
Lukes ruling and agreed to abide by it. Not necessarily happily, but
they had agreed.
They would most likely stick to those settlements, too. The planet
had a long history of honoring Jedi verdicts in such matters, dating
back to the height of the Old Republic. How theyd managed during
the dark days of the Empire she didnt know, but the number of
generational disputes implied they hadnt done it very well.
She looked back at her datapad. And after all, shed known what she
was getting herself into when shed agreed to marry Luke in the first
place. Despite a decade of his equally dedicated work with the
academy, there still werent nearly enough Jedi to go around for
this sort of duty.
I see, Luke said, his voice grave. Even the powerful sometimes
need the counsel of others, I suppose. Where is this retreat?
Thank you, Luke said, standing up. Ive spoken with Master
Cirali before. If he needs us, were more than willing to go to him.
We of the city echo his thanks for your forbearance, the Presenter
said, bowing. I will send the complainants home, to gather again
whenever you are free to return.
Neither of them spoke again until they were well beyond the edge of
the city, heading toward the row of mountains. You say you know
this Cirali? Mara asked.
111
Not really, but Ive spoken to him once or twice, Luke told her.
He handles most of the coordination for the agricultural area east of
the Karrish mountain range.
The second most important one on the planet, Luke agreed. Its
a partially hereditary position, dating back to the days of the old
Sultaries.
Cirali was waiting for them on a large couch, nearly lost amid a
dozen large and vibrantly colored cushions. Ahthe Jedi, he called,
lifting both hands in greeting as the attendants closed the doors
behind them. Welcome, Master Skywalker. And you must be his
blushing bride.
Mara felt something twinge within her. That was the precise
problem she and Luke were having these days: too many
responsibilities, too little time. If a being who coordinated
operations in a major agricultural area like this couldnt solve it, it
wasnt very likely Luke could.
You speak wisely, Cirali said, rising from his couch. Come.
The consulting room awaits.
112
He led the way to one of the hanging curtains behind his couch and
pushed it aside, revealing a metal door built into the solid rock of
the cavern. At a wave of his hand, it opened into a small turbolift
car. I will await your return, he said, bowing.
Luke led the way into the car, and a moment later he and Mara were
moving upward through the mountain. So who exactly are we seeing
in this consulting room? Mara asked as the car slowed to a stop. The
door opened
She caught her breath. Beyond the door was a vast chamber, as
beautifully and luxuriously appointed as the best palaces shed
ever seen across the galaxy. The room had the delicate scent of
dew - sparkled velanie flowers, and one of her favorite kithra
sonatas was playing softly in the background. At the far end of the
room, a huge transparisteel window gave an awesome view of the
mountains and the rivers and valleys beyond, all of it in sharp relief
against the shadows thrown by the setting sun.
And aside from the two of them, the chamber was deserted.
As I said, Luke murmured as he put his arm around her and led
her out of the turbolift car onto the thick carpeting, the trick is to
create the time.
Mara blinked at himand then, belatedly, she got it. You set this
whole thing up, didnt you? she asked. Coming to this system in
the first placeCiralis summonsthis chamber
Formerly the mountain retreat of the Third Sultara, Luke
interrupted, waving a hand over it. Finest accommodations in the
sector. And of course, as long as were officially in consultation
with the Second Agricultural Coordinator, no ones going to come
looking for us.
113
Enough to last us as long as we want to stay. Luke hesitated. I
hope this will help make up for my ignoring you so much lately.
No problem, Mara assured him. And standing here, just the two of
them, it suddenly wasnt a problem. I understand that you also
have commitments to the rest of the New Republic. I just need you
to myself every once in awhile.
I need it, too, Luke told her. Please dont ever let me
forget that.
She tapped him playfully on the tip of his nose. You ever call me a
blushing bride, she said, and youre going to be in serious
trouble.
The still hot blaster was only three feet from his outstretched hand.
Heath Helstrom gritted his jaw; the muscles pulsed defiantly. The
curtain of heat from the boiling lava below him swept his blonde hair
back across his forehead. The durasteel grate underneath him bit
into his muscled chest. All around him were the dead Sith Lord's
henchmen.
"You will die, Helstrom."
A red armored death mask scowled down at him. The Sith lord held a
blazing red lightsaber in one gloved hand; in the other he gripped a
shock of platinum blonde hair. Connected to that hair was the
princess that he had come to Betazius IV to rescue.
"Heath, save me!"
"Borr!"
Walthen Borr's head snapped forward, his reverie broken. His feet hit
the floor.
His supervisor stood in front of him. The squat Rodian shook
his bulbous head.
"Daydreaming again? If I come down here again, and you are
staring out the window again, or playing games, or whatever it is that
you do down here besides your job, you'll be scraping the streets!"
Slamming a green palm down on Borr's narrow desk, the alien
hissed, his face twisting into the Rodian version of a smile.
"As it is," he purred," the Sector Head position has just been filled."
Walthen Borr smoothed his hands over his tight face as it rushed with
blood.
That promotion was supposed to be mine.
His eyes followed the Rodian out of the cubicle, staring ice after the
bug-eyed alien. Settling back in his creaking chair, Borr's gaze
wandered around the claustrophobic workstation. He rubbed his
thinning black scraggle of hair.
Blinking monitors surrounded him on three sides. The twenty displays
scrolled, blinked, and flashed information incessantly. Information that
meant nothing to an average human being.
Walthen let the air out of his lungs.
His eyes locked on the screen in front of him. The green monitor was
the only one of the lot that displayed anything of importance to him
at the moment.
Back to work.
From the 723rd floor of the Tagge East Tower, the cityscape stretched
out below him. Lines of air speeders coasted through the maze of
buildings to destinations unknown. Walthen shook his head.
Must be better than where I am going.
Forcing his head back to the screen in front of him, he sharpened his
focus on the glowing words.
A picture of his character's outstretched form blinked into his mind.
Walthen's hands rolled into white fists. Turning slowly, he looked at Jav
Tamana from under his brow. The tall, lanky human smiled a gap-
toothed grin, laughing to himself.
"What?" Walthen shot back.
"Take it easy, little buddy, I just wanted to let you know we're doing
lunch at Veroon's today. Sheeshtry to do a guy a favorstang."
Walthen turned back to the screen.
"Fine. Fine."
Walthen clenched his eyelids until he saw white. He knew that the
chunky delivery droid had floated up behind him, waiting for
acknowledgement before dropping its bucket load of data chips for him
to sort and catalog.
"Confirm, Borr two-two-seven," he gritted, his eyes remaining shut.
117
When he opened them, the droid had gone. In its place stood a two
foot tall hoverbin full of data chips, waiting for him to upload into the
central core.
"Great."
A strained silence greeted his ears. His face flushed again; he looked
down at the sender's identification.
"I mean, Walthen Borr, how may I help you?"
"YesBorrwe need to see you after shift, you dont mind staying,
right? In my office. That'd be great. Alright."
His boss's transmission flicked off before he could open his mouth.
Now Walthen could feel the blood in his head starting to build. Whirling
on the crate, he settled in front of the monitor again. His finger
hovering over the purge button, he shook his head, reading the words
he had labored so hard to create.
Boring life. Soul-sucking job. Run down apartment. Now writer's
block. Perfect.
"At least I still have my girl."
Pressing the save key, he shut down the screen, turning to the hover
bin. The piles of data chips did bring one ray of hope into his
otherwise bleak day.
Only two more hours to go.
Leaping to his feet, Heath gripped the blaster. The thick weapon
felt good in his strong hand. Pointing the pistol at the Sith, he aimed
the barrel at the red death mask.
"Goodbye, Sith scum!"
118
The tendons in his hands tightened.
"Heath no!"
"W-what?"
"Are you stupid? I dont need saving. I came here to get away from
you, you presumptuous sot!"
The barrel faltered further.
"What?"
How long Walthen had been staring at his hands, he had no idea.
He made himself blink, focusing on the window. It was dark; he was still
at work.
Stacks of data chips were piled around him; eager console slots
awaited their information in the long, cooled room. Reaching for
another chip, Walthen pushed it into the appropriate slot, briefly
reviewing the display screens before encoding the data for storage. His
119
eyes scanned the first few pages of information as each chip
was accessed by the computer core.
Walthen Borr had gone to his boss's office after shift.
He had walked into the palatial office, an office too big for the
barrel shaped man who occupied it.
Cargo manifests for the new mech factory on Kloribu'u.
His girlfriend had been sitting on the middle of his boss's desk.
His boss and his girlfriend had been seeing each other for three
months. The happy pair of corporate climbers felt that notifying Walthen
was the only considerate thing to do. Funny thing, it seemed like the
new couple had actually believed their sincerity.
More requisition orders for Ord Veica.
Walthen shook his head, pausing before sliding the next chip into
the slot.
And I just walked out. I said yes and just walked out.
Keying the console, Walthen delved into the rest of the information.
Several more discrepancies caught his attention.
Sensor equipment. Military rations. Power packs for field rifles. All
shipped, only some delivered.
Walthen Borr looked at his reflection in the screen.
And smiled.
Helstrom reached into his tunic, gripping the cold metal of a thermal
detonator. Ripping it free, he flicked the switch forward, watching
the lights blink. Slow at first, then faster. He tried to resist the urge
to proclaim 'Ha!'
"Ha!"
The explosion knocked the breath from his lungs as he hit the
grated metal. A sheet of wind washed over him, then silence. He
looked up.
The henchmen were gone. Either vaporized or blown off the platform
into the magma below. Jaw pulsing, Heath Helstrom turned to the Sith
lord. The princess was smiling next to him.
"Congratulations, you incredible moron. You just eliminated the backup
team that was sent to help you!"
Helstrom's face went slack. He turned, looking at the charred platform
behind him. The blood drained out of his face as he turned around.
In the dark.
121
He had just turned off the Imperial HoloNet. The noise had hurt his
ears, hurt his head. Twenty minutes prior he had placed a call to his
boss. His ex-girlfriend had answered. Walthen had almost killed the
connection then and there.
As if cutting the transmission would change my realityand my
place in it.
Walthen knew he shouldnt have been surprised. But it wasn't the fact
that his ex-love had answered the comm call, but why.
He breathed, feeling depression sink his chest.
She had been promoted over him. She had taken the position that he
had been in line to receive.
But he had placed the call for a reason.
It didnt really matter. If they were going to the city depths, or to Ord
Veica, or to Tagge resort, it really didnt matter.
Breathing out, he felt his insides sink.
122
I got her the job in the first place.
Digging the remote out of the cushions, he pressed the power button. A
flat hologram folded into existence, lighting up the dim corners of the
close apartment. Leaning back, he let his eyes drift over the brilliant
colors.
"News. Great."
"This just in. A division head at Generis, Faytch and Organa has
uncovered a possible link between several Core companies and rebel
terrorists. Both Kuat Drive Yards and the Atrivan company Hafvia-
Onellin Partners have been named in the investigation."
The employee's picture flashed up in the hologram.
Heath pointed the blaster at the Sith Lord, squeezing the trigger.
Then the power pack fell out. It bounced once on the platform,
spinning into the roiling lava below.
Heath blinked.
"I will return, Sith, and when I do, you'll wish you'd never heard
the name Heath Helstrom!"
Then he did the only thing an intergalactic hero could think of.
He ran.
Walthen Borr eased into the narrow seat, sitting on the hard restraint
buckle. Looking up into the corridor, he struggled to pull the obstinate
strap out from under him. Without looking like he had just sat on it.
"All passengers prepare for debark. Atrivisvia Chengle's Moon Resort
and Casino. Please direct your attention to the front of the cabin for
important safety instructions."
I cant believe I am doing this.
Walthen had used up nearly his entire bank of accrued vacation hours
to book this flight. No less than three times, he had nearly turned
around. Once, leaving his one room apartment. Again at the 8th District
airtaxi station. And not five minutes ago at the hatch of the sleek luxury
liner he was now sitting in. He had possessed the money to fly first
class, but had balked at the ticket counter.
He looked at the two empty seats next to him. Hopefully they
would stay that way.
His sweaty palms gripped a chunky datapad. Holding the unit to his
lap, he stared at the blank screen. Before Walthen had left, he had
uploaded the story he had been writing.
Story?
124
More like the collection of frazzled words he had patched together
between frenzied cups of Genta juice and uploading sessions, when
he should have been working.
Looking out the thick window, he tapped on the datapad.
A thick Twi'lek male flopped down in the seat next to him. It became
evident in the span of a few seconds that the alien hadnt bathed in
quite some time.
Perfect.
Wrinkling his nose, Walthen felt his stomach roll as the liner's engines
kicked in. The deck shuddered, then settled down to a contented hum.
He blinked his eyes shut as Coruscant began to drop away below him.
Flipping on the datapad, he held his breath against the Twileks greasy
stench. Touching a few buttons, he turned the pad away from the alien
as the Atrivis information he had discovered played across the screen.
What in the Core am I doing?
Not only had he stolen the information from his employer, he was on an
intersystem trip that cost him way too much to somewhere he'd never
been.
Walthen shook his head.
The Empire had made a very large media item out of the troop
contingent that they had sent to Atrivis. Not only would his ex-girlfriend-
now-boss take the credit for his discovery, squads of unnamed bucket-
heads were going to get acclaim for his discovery as well.
That's why I didn't turn around. Not at my door, not at the taxi stand, not
at the gate. It's my turn.
Only he knew that the shipments were transferred at Chengle's resort.
But he wouldnt be the only one with that knowledge for long.
"My turn."
"Excusa' me?"
The Twi'lek was looking at him, sharp teeth bared. Tattooed head tails
snaked around the aliens neck.
Walthen shook his head, holding his breath as he looked at the robed
Twi'lek.
125
A corpulent human dropped into the seat next to the Twi'lek, waving a
Stimpipe in his hand. The man scanned the cabin, looking past the line
of customers still looking for their seats.
The Twi'lek hissed at the sight of the human's pipe; his stale breath
made Walthen gag.
Walthen Borr really had no idea what he was going to do when he got
to the resort moon. He had pictures - fantasies - of maybe meeting a
senator's daughter, a princess in need of rescue, or at least an
attractive customs clerk. Solving this little mystery before the Empire's
goon squad could gum up the works.
At this point, I'd settle for a half-decent Rodian waitress and a
breath mask.
As he scanned the data again, a familiar fear clawing across his gut.
When he stepped off the liner at Chengle's, what was he going to do?
What could he do?
He had only ever been off Coruscant once, and he had been an infant
then. He had never even picked up a weapon, much less fired one.
The blue sky beaming in through the window faded into the blackness
of space. The cabin comm buzzed.
"Welcome aboard! This is your Captain. We'll be cruising at point-one
past lightspeed. Sit back and enjoy the trip."
Sudden nausea punched him. Reaching up for the window shade, he
slammed it down, closing his eyes.
The Twi'lek and the human had started to bicker over the possibility of
the Stimpipe being lit.
Great. I'll have to remember these two for my next piece.
Stock characters.
The air quality was quickly dropping as the Twi'lek intensified his
sweaty rant.
Jerking aside, Walthen dug into his pocket. His fingers closed over a
slim plasma torch. Flicking the top, he held the white flame out as the
human smiled, lighting his pipe.
The Twi'lek flushed.
126
A toothy smile spread across the man's face as he sat back, looking at
the ceiling of the cabin and blowing smoke rings. The sweet smoke
masked the Twi'lek's omnipresent odor.
The pair began to bicker again.
Walthen Borr turned his back, letting his head drop into the bulkhead.
Closing his eyes, he sighed.
I can't believe I did this.
The Sith was gaining; his crimson lightsaber hummed at his side.
He knew the answer the minute the question popped into his head.
Beyond the sea of people, through the strata of smoke, he could make
out the multiple levels of the casino. Showgirls from several races -
some he had never before seen-paraded through the crowd in colorful
regalia, drawing all eyes.
His breathing became frantic as the crush of people seemed to close
tighter around him. Pushing his way through the crowd, he collapsed
against the wall near the restrooms.
The pungent odor wafting out of the open hatchways cleared his head.
Walthen wiped a cold sweat from his head with the back of his sleeve.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, gathering his wits.
When he opened them, a Duro stood in front of him, its deep orange
eyes contrasting with a blue-green head. The alien yammered
something at him. Walthen blinked.
"Youa' wanna' good time?"
He blushed.
A female Duro.
128
He looked at her again as she slid next to him.
I hope.
"N-no thanks."
The alien disappeared into the crowd. Walthen squinted through the
haze of sweet smoke.
The five levels of the casino sprawled upwards; quick turbolifts ferried
passengers up from the casino floor. Off to the left, an arched tunnel
disappeared out of sight, probably leading to the many shops in the
massive casino. To the right of the casino, another large bank of
turbolifts stood, disgorging gamblers onto the casino floor from the
expensive hotel above.
Walthen knew that if he stepped a single foot into the casino, his
credits would literally fly out of his pocket. He was also smart enough to
realize he had no business even walking through the high roller's hotel.
That's why he had reserved the cheapest room possible.
What am I even doing here?
Scanning the raucous crowd, he saw that with only one exception - a
passed out Gran - that everyone was having a good time. Everyone
except him.
He shook his head, feeling his chest deflate as the air left his lungs.
I cant afford this. I'll probably get Caridian Flu. I hate flying. I
hate crowds. And to top it off, I've got writer's block!
"Yes?"
"Excuse me?" she said, flipping her hair. "Coruscant? Flight departs
infifteen minutes. Would you like a ticket?"
Ex -girlfriend. Someone that was no longer in his life. A life that he
had let happen to him.
Passed over for a promotion.
"A ticket?"
So this is angst.
His ex-girlfriend, now his boss, had taken credit for his discovery. She
had already garnered a good amount of recognition, and would
probably net herself another promotion before the Imperial
commando team would even fire a shot.
She had taken it from him.
His eyes met the woman's for the first time. Deep, green eyes.
Walthen Borr turned around, his eyes playing over the casino. He
had come here for a reason.
The Atrivis information.
Heath Helstrom felt his way along the dark, dank tunnel. Minutes or
hours, he couldnt tell, but a light began to warm the passage
further up.
Within seconds he was stopped by a thick, rusted grate. The
bars looked to be solid quadanium, crossed and welded together.
"Aha!"
Beyond the grate, a wide room stretched out. In the center of the
space sat a large, towering block of whirring machinery. Cables of all
shapes and sizes ran from the machine into the walls and the ceiling.
A generator.
And no doubt, beyond that, the secret entrance to the Sith's fortress.
Heath gripped the bars with his thick fingers, bracing his legs
against the wall. Inhaling until his lungs were full, he focused his
eyes on the circular grate.
And pulled.
The cords of muscle in his arm jutted out, along with the vein in his
neck. His powerful legs burned as Heath strained at the metal
grating. A guttural grunt grew into a powerful yell.
"Blasted Sithfire!"
His fingers screamed with pain. Hot fire coursed through his
muscles. Rivulets of sweat streamed down his face.
"Ahh!"
His fingers gave; he fell to the stone floor, gasping for breath.
Right now, the princess was with the Sith monster, under his twisted
influence, performing who knew what manner of lascivious acts for
his perverted tastes.
And Heath Helstrom, hero of the galaxy, couldnt get through five
centimeters of metal.
"Curse the Gods!"
Heath dropped his head. He was failing. If he retraced his steps, the
Sith or his henchmen would be awaiting him. If he stayed in here,
he would die. Even if he managed to escape, a hero was supposed
to come home with the prize. Not fall a meter short and give up.
Heath sighed.
"Holowriter Hagall vin Yim wins best new writer of the year award,
presented at the Writers and Scribes annual conference on
Coruscant!"
Walthen Borr stood in front of the wide holoboard, his face a set of
concrete displeasure, not hearing the rest of the HoloNet news.
He had been writing for ten years. Never once had he been
recognized, complimented, published, or even looked at. The stack
of rejection transmissions had grown so large that at one point, he
was forced to upgrade the memory in his datapad.
Palming the pad in his sweaty hand, he turned away from the
wall, looking out over the mall.
132
Humans and aliens from a hundred planets walked the two levels of
the long concourse. The casino mall was lined with shops on both
sides; clothiers, exotic foodstuffs, high-end trinkets, and every other
way in the galaxy for Chengle to reclaim what he had paid out in
winnings. The mall's main attraction was a thick, towering arch of pure
fluid. The Alderaanian river water was held in stasis over the mall with
repulsors, the crystal blue water silently circulating over the heads of
the casino goers.
What a racket.
"I assume you'll be dining," the Bith interrupted, scanning his clothing
again," in the lounge."
"I wanted to ask you a question."
"Sir, I am the host for the finest eatery on Chengle's moon. Not an
information kiosk."
The Bith did his best impression of a huff as he turned back to his
podium, pretending to look busy.
Walthen froze, vacillating between asking again and walking away.
133
"Sir! If you are not here to dine, please move along before
I call security."
The Bith's last word drew a few stares. Walthen felt more blood rushing
to his head. Stutter stepping backwards, he shook his head, turning
away.
Maybe I should have stayed at home.
The first thing that caught his eye was the tension in her forehead. He
identified the lines immediately because that was the way he looked
every morning before he left for work.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, bending to retrieve his datapad. Her short,
round head of black hair contrasted with her pale skin. Deep brown
eyes stared back at him. He opened his mouth.
"Are you okay?" she interrupted.
Walthen nodded. She checked over her shoulder again, sliding close to
him.
"What room?"
He turned, trying to think of something that would sweep her off her
feet. A set of properly uttered words that would make her think twice
about Walthen Borr. An elegant soliloquy that only the mind of a writer
could conjure.
The woman was gone. The sea of tourists had swallowed her whole.
Walthen scanned the crowd, trying to pick out her shiny black crown.
He was knocked from his feet again, harder this time. His pad
went flying, this time bouncing off the carpeted wall, almost into the
restrooms. Catching himself on the railing, he turned around, a
grin spreading on his face.
A grin that dissolved as he faced his assailant.
Walthen slid his room key back into his pants pocket.
His fingers hit something hard and sharp. Picking the object out of his
pocket, he turned a data chip over in his fingers.
"This isn't mine."
135
"Where did you come from?"
Sliding the chip into the port of his datapad, he keyed the power.
Walthen moved over to the wall, looking down at the pad.
Schematics. Invoices. More schematics.
The green wire frame images looked like floor plans. Paging
through the data, he immediately recognized the missing items from
the invoices that he had discovered back on Coruscant.
His sweat turned cold as he realized what he was looking at.
Pleau.
Quickly scanning the crowd behind him, Walthen spotted the white
helmets of the Imperial troops, moving away from him.
Powering down the pad, he jogged for the turbolifts.
His quivering stomach turned his legs leaden as he boarded the empty
lift. What seemed like an eternity later, he stepped out onto his floor.
Running down the hallway, he slid his keycard in the door, falling into
his room. He dropped his datapad on the bed. Pacing, he stared at the
pad, then at the bathroom.
Pleau was being chased by the Empire.
He looked at the pad, then back at the bathroom. His stomach rolled.
Cargo crates of all shapes and sizes rose from the darkness,
ascending on an invisible repulsor field. The wide shaft above him
was dotted with lights, giving him a hazy view of the top of the tunnel
far above.
He had rigged the generator to explode. A simple switch of a few
circuits, and the power buffers were on their way to overload. Soon,
the cavern would be engulfed, and the Sith's palace would be plunged
into darkness.
"Now for you, Sith," he hissed, staring up the shaft. Helstrom's feet
tingled with vertigo as he watched the cargo crates emerge from the
darkness below. It was a dead end. The only way to move forward was
up the shaft.
Helstrom turned from the edge, staring back down the narrow
corridor. His fingers twitched.
Not only was he afraid of the dark, Heath Helstrom, Savior of the
Galaxy and soon-to-be vanquisher of the Sith, was afraid of
heights.
Perfect.
His eyes widened as he fell past the cargo crate into the darkness.
His strangled cry died out on the walls.
Crates continued flowing up the shaft.
But he held as the crate rose up the shaft, passing the landing.
Walthen Borr looked at the turbolift panel, swallowing the taste of fried
N'Quib tentacles.
Sporfthose things almost taste better the second time around.
His fingers hovered over the panel; the door slid shut, leaving him in
silence. In Walthen's other hand, he held his datapad. Shaking his
head, he pressed the button that would take him three floors down. The
turbolift started to hum as it sped him to his destination.
Trying to relax his quivering stomach, Walthen closed his eyes.
He couldn't stay in his room. Not only had the smell begun to wear on
his already weak stomach, but Pleau knew his room number. Two
distinct possibilities had hastened his departure from the tiny,
overpriced suite.
If the Imperial soldiers caught the woman and interrogated her,
Walthen's location would be the first thing out of her mouth.
Or worse yet, Pleau would show up at his door personally.
Crimson light streamed into the lift. Walthen squinted to read the sign.
"Restaurantstorage."
138
He tapped the button again. The door slid shut. Perhaps two
floors up would be where he wanted to go.
And what if Pleau showed up at his door?
Why didnt I just turn over the chip to the Imperial officer then
and there?
His answer took all of a nanosecond to realize.
The girl.
The lift beeped. The door slid open. Starting, he blinked as the noise of
a smaller casino assaulted him. This wide room only lacked one aspect
of the main casino. The air was free of the layers of smoke on the
upper levels.
Shaking his head again, Walthen scanned the turbolift pad, dropping
his hand lower on the panel. Pressing the button, he watched the
door slide shut again.
I'm a sucker for a woman.
Heavy, moisture laden air wafted into the lift. Through the hot fog,
Walthen glimpsed the spa receptionist. The girl glanced up, preparing a
smile.
Walthen jammed the lift button again, looking away. The door closed,
giving him respite.
139
"Good one."
Now, his only hope of redemption would be to locate and identify the
source of the missing Imperial equipment. That would give some
credence with the Imperial authorities.
I hope.
Two floors up, the door opened. A double blast door faced the lift,
sealed. A single guard, leaning on the wall, looked up with little
concern. The human looked back down at his boots, inhaling on the
thin cigar in his lips. A slim pistol rested in a holster on his belt.
Stepping out of the lift, Walthen felt his chest tighten as the door slid
shut behind him.
"Can I help you?"
Think.
"Sub-eight," replied the guard, his bloodshot eyes traveling over the
ceiling lamps. He rounded his lips, puffing out a single smoke ring.
"Good," Walthen announced. "It's about time. How long were you
people going to let me wander around this pit before I finally figured out
where I am supposed to be?"
"Who are you?"
"UhSir."
"How do you think the Emperor will feel when I report that I have
wasted the Empire's time and money traveling to this barely legal
outpost only to be denied bywhat is your name?"
The guard's lips tripped on his reply.
"Well?"
The guard stuttered, jerking towards the door. Tapping the access pad,
he stepped back, looking down at the floor.
The door hissed open; the clang echoed in the short hallway.
"Down the stairs, take a left, another left, past the break room, then two
rights. No wait, take a right after the first left, then pastno no. A left,
then a left, then-"
"Justshow me."
141
The guard raised a finger.
"It's over theresee where the lift is going through the shield? Right
behind that."
Walthen nodded, descending the steps to the warehouse floor. He
became aware the guard was still watching him, turning around.
"Your cooperation," he said, tapping the pad, "will be noted."
So did Walthen.
"Halt!"
The long hallway echoed the droid's command back to his ears. At
the end of the tapestried corridor beckoned the engraved double
doors of the Sith's inner sanctum.
"Identification."
A spherical droid floated three meters from him. The head- sized
droid bristled with weaponry; a caustic red video sensor zoomed in
on his face.
Heath felt the blood rushing to his head. Heard the droid's weapons
charging. Feeling the growing futility of his situation, he scanned
the hallway for anything he could use as a weapon. Besides the
lush tapestries on the wall, nothing caught his attention. The droid
would shoot soon.
"Identify yourself immediately."
"I am the Emperor of the universe, on loan from the moons of Graxo
for an Alderaanian facial scrub."
"Identity notconfirmed. Restate identification."
"I, VatnoThat, am a Sith chef, baking only what I cannot see, smell,
taste or attach to my hyperdrive!"
The droid faltered. Its weapons powered down as it redirected more
energy to its processing core. Helstrom sucked in another frantic
breath, feeling his heart thumping against the inside of his chest.
143
The droid's casing clattered to the tile floor. Sparks erupted in a
quick spray. Another spurt, then the smoking hulk was silent.
Heath fell to his knees, holding his head, bathed in sweat. Collapsing
to the smooth floor, he struggled for breath.
Another obstacle like that, and his mission to rescue the princess
would be a failure.
"The princess."
Walthen Borr eased past the repulsorsled, nodding to the storage tech
pushing the floating palate.
The blocks of freight towered above Walthens head. The stacked
cargo loomed on all sides. He had to be close to his destination.
Walthen ran directly into the worker who had been standing in front of
him. Both spilled to the floor; Walthen's pad skittered across the
smooth floor.
Way to keep a low profile.
Pleau smiled at him from under her black sheen of hair. She was
dressed in a worker's coverall. Walthen opened his mouth.
144
"What are you doinghere?"
His abject fear overshadowed any spark of joy her words brought
as she continued.
"I went to your room, no one answered, and Ididnt even get your
name."
Walthen backed up a step, releasing himself from her grip.
"Ifeel so stupid asking you thishave you seen my data chip? Small,
reddish? I think I dropped it somewhere on the casino floor when we
ran into each other."
You mean the one with the stolen Imperial plans on it?
"Oh come on, Pleau, if that is even your real name. I saw what was on
that chip. I saw the stormtroopers on the upper levels looking for you.
I know you are planning to assault an Imperial installation."
"What? I-"
"And another thing, Pleau, if you think your feminine charms are going
to hold sway over me, you've got another thing coming! I came here to
verify that these military supplies are being ferreted out from under the
Empire's nose, and that's just what I am going to do! And unless you
want the Imperial authorities here in thirty seconds, I'd suggest you
forget about your little plan!"
145
WowI didnt stutter.
Pleau stepped back. A comma of black hair fell down over her face.
"Are you high on StimTar? You think," she stifled a laugh, "you think
I'm-"
"Rebel terrorist."
"Ha."
"I'm an artist."
Yeahright.
"Not in the slightest. What about the plans?" he spurted, jamming the
datapad in her face.
"Plans for an Imperial sub-governor's condominium on Atrivis."
"If you check the plans, I designed his dwelling with a shooting range.
The guy is a gun freak."
"Military ration packs?"
"What can I say," she replied, "the man likes military food. Now thats
strange in anyones book."
Walthen's eyes narrowed.
"Sensor equipment?"
"What?"
"Navy-speak for the bathroom. If you check further down the list of
supplies you are chasing, you'll find a shipment of sewer pipes as well.
Do you think an average Imperial officer knows how to install a toilet
main?"
Walthen began to entertain the thought that she might have been
prepared for his line of questioning.
"What about the soldiers on the casino floor? They were looking for
someone, and I'll bet it was you."
"Was there an Imperial officer with them?"
Walthen nodded.
"Just imperious looking enough to pass for an officer, but not quite
intelligent enough looking to make it all the way to Moff?"
"Uh-huh."
"He's my client. And you're right, he was looking for me. I was
supposed to meet him six hours ago to finalize plans."
Walthen shook his head, tightening his grip on the pad.
Shaking his head, Walthen held up the datapad, scanning down the
list. Everything was exactly as she had said. Upon closer examination
of the floor plan, it became very clear that Walthen Borr was looking at
a residence, not an Imperial garrison.
His face rouged.
147
He had come here for nothing.
Walthen's hands drooped; the datapad fell. Clicking the power off, he
pulled the datacard out of the slot, considering the maroon clearplas
chip. His arm stuttered as it rose in her direction.
This cant be right.
Walthen smiled.
"My client knows where his own supplies are. He paid for them!"
Pleau snatched the chip out of his hand, her faade of tolerance
suddenly abraded.
Walthen let his eyes fall. Rather, he couldnt make his gaze meet hers.
Some climax.
"It's okay. I have to go, I have to meet my client. Unlike you, I am not an
accountant on vacation."
She smiled, disappearing around the corner.
Small life.
Datapad in hand, he stepped away from the counter, taking one last
look at the barely organized chaos that was Chengle's.
Then he disappeared into the boarding tunnel.
Heath Helstrom just stared at the sight his eyes wouldnt let
him believe.
He had leapt valiantly into the room, armed with nothing more
than righteous indignation and his newly discovered rapier wit.
What he had seen over thirty seconds ago had stopped him in
his tracks.
The princess had been-and was still-standing, one leg raised, the
heel planted.
Helstrom blinked.
The Sith was on his knees, his dark helmet pressed against the floor. A
crimson strip of leather had been tied around his voice synthesizer, as
well as his spike-gloved hands. The princess' heel pushed him down
further. A muffled protest emerged from his helmet. Heath opened his
mouth.
"I'm hereto-"
"But-"
149
"But what? You dont get to be the daughter of a king without
learning how to protect yourself. Did you honestly think that I'd let
thisthisSith do as he pleased with me?"
For the first time, Heath saw the thick blaster in her hand. She
scowled at the Sith, pressing him harder with her thin heels.
"Now, if you dont mind, I have some unfinished business to attend to."
"Ibutyou-"
"I'd really rather you didnt see this," she said, pointing the weapon
at the Sith's head. "Go on."
Blinking, Heath turned. Stopped, then started for the open door.
Walking through the doorframe, he turned around one more time.
Heath did just that. He closed the double door, hearing the soft click of
the hinges.
A single shot rang out.
Plopping down in the seat, Walthen Borr looked around the cramped
space liner. Less than seven hours ago, he had sat in an identical seat,
next to an identical window. For all he knew, he could be leaving on the
same ship he came in on.
Flopping his datapad into his lap, he looked at the dark screen.
The deck under his feet began to hum. The liner would be departing
soon.
What a waste.
He hadn't even gambled once. Looking out the window, he laid his
head on the cool pane.
150
The seat moved as someone sat down next to him.
But then again, his fantasies never worked out quite the way he
planned.
"You going back to Coruscant too?"
"I'man accountant."
"Me too!"
"Generis-"
"Six-ninety."
"Wow." Fenia blushed. "What are the odds? I come halfway across the
galaxy to meet someone who has been a few hundred meters away
from me!"
151
Walthen nodded. A flash of Pleau's bobbed black hair flashed into his
head. One of the last things she had said to him nibbled at the base
of his brain.
Unlike you, I am not an accountant on vacation.
"Leaving so soon?"
Suddenly he wanted very badly to smack his own face. He knew, all at
once, why his life had never been as good as the stories he had tried to
write.
What am I thinking?
Easing himself back into his seat, he stared ahead. The flight
announcements blared through the cabin.
"Not at all." He smiled, looking at her face, holding her gaze for a quick,
spine buzzing second. A Rodian flight attendant leaned over the row of
seats.
"Can I getta' you anything?"
Powering up his datapad, he let his fingers play over the keys. His
seat-mate peered over his shoulder.
"You're a writer?"
Laughter.
It was the last thing Heath Helstrom had expected to hear coming
from behind the thick double doors. Leaning closer to the door, he
narrowed his eyes.
The Sith's synthesized peal was overtaken by the shrill female howling.
A stab of humiliation stuck his chest. Turning from the door, he looked
down. The only other thing in the long hallway was the remains of the
guard droid. The smoking silent mass lay defeated on the polished
tile.
"Like me."
No.
153
"I have a princess to save."
"Like it or not."
If the Sith's mask could have worn surprise, it did. The princess'
eyes were agog.
Heath stepped into the room, dropping the droid on the floor with
a clunk.
"There's your guard."
"Oops."
Heath cast around the room for a weapon. The only thing close
enough was the remains of the spent droid.
He reached for the weapon.
Hurling the droid at the Sith, he watched as the dark Jedi sheared
the missile in two. The droid exploded, throwing the Sith into the wall.
He slid to the floor, motionless.
The princess blinked.
"About time!"
Obviously, the Sith's influence over her had ceased. She stepped
forward, sticking a finger in his face.
"What took you so long? Doesn't my father think that his princess
is important enough to send his entire army after?"
"I-"
"And another thing, do you know how long I was held hostage? And
thisfreak, I dont even want to tell you what kind of entertainment
he's into!"
154
"I-"
"I dont care! All I want now is a hot bath and a seven course banquet
des-"
Heath slapped her face. The smack echoed in the high-ceilinged room.
Her surprise thickened the air around them as the sound of his
hand meeting her cheek died on the walls.
The princess' lip quivered. An angry tear raced down her face.
Heath looked her in the face. For the first time, he saw her for what
she really was.
A little girl.
Perfect timing.
"Come on."
"Let's go home."
Blinking, the old man rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Staring at the
datapad for another second, he smoothed over his wrinkled face,
peering into the darkness of the living room. The single light from the
hallway made it difficult to tell if a slight smile ticked his lips.
His crooked finger hovered over the power button a moment before
switching it off.
A groan, and he stood, letting the feeling trickle back into his legs.
With a weak stretch, he turned, hobbling towards the door. His hand
touched a low shelf on the way out. Then he was gone.
155
A small statue stood on the dusty shelf, glittering in the hallway light.
The transparisteel spike was the only item in the collection of
trophies that was free of dust.
A small plaque shone out from the base of the statue.
"Is this the residence of Quint and Madlen Bindo?" asked the
voice on the other end.
She sighed bitterly. Him and his blasted journals, she thought.
And still he loses all the time. The point of their union had
been starting to elude her in the past few weeks.
"I'll double it. I'll give you eight thousand. I'll give you eight
thousand, and I'll give Mogo everything I owe him. I'll make
everybody happy. Just give me three days. Three days, and
I'll have the money. Just three days, that's all I need." Quint
was nearly out of breath by the time he finished his pitch.
IG-72 evaluated the options it was presented with. Eight
thousand credits was considerably more than four thousand,
and its primary objective was to accumulate large numbers of
credits. On the other hand, the offer was being made by a
trapped organic desperate to save its own life, and it was
predicated upon a wait of three days, during which time IG-72
would have to closely monitor Quint Bindo's whereabouts and
activities or else risk letting him escape. Worst of all, breaking
faith with the Hutt would be very bad business practice, and
would most likely reduce its prospects for future acquisition of
credits.
"I decline your offer," said the Phlutdroid, before
shooting Quint Bindo sixteen times in the chest.
162
"Very good, my metal friend," said Mogo. He pointed to his
one-eyed Rodian servant with an empty goblet clutched in his
meaty hand. "Transfer four thousand credits into Phlutdroid's
account right now." The Rodian hurried out of the bridge. "I
think I may already have another job for you," said the Hutt,
turning his attention back to IG-72. "A dangerous one. I think
any other hunter would be too afraid to take it. Ho, ho, ho."
The job was indeed more dangerous than usual. The target
wasn't a delinquent gambler or a double-crossing smuggler or
any of the rest of the Phlutdroid's usual fare. The target was a
well-connected associate of one of Mogo's rivals, Jabba the
Hutt. He was one of Jabba's top lieutenants, a high-volume
spice runner who was cutting into traffic in what was,
unofficially, Mogo's territory. This target, with Jabba's name
and fortune backing him, would probably have enough
defenses and security at his disposal to make an attempted
hit from any organic bounty hunter a very risky prospect. IG-
72 expected no difficulties.
163
(coming out of the Kessel Run), and the identification number
of a six-engine modified bulk freighter he was known to use.
That was all. Mogo wasn't even sure what species the man
was. Some claimed he was human, some said Duros, and
others just weren't sure.
164
Phlutdroid left its ship and headed for docking bay 38, where
the R2 unit had been at a terminal just moments before. It
stayed in the shadows and empty alleys where possible, but
was nevertheless seen by at least a dozen transients and
lowlifes. Most of them barely gave the imposing droid a
second look, so preoccupied were they with their own wants
and troubles. If any of them recognized the Phlutdroid, they
didn't show it.
IG-72 soon found a likely candidate for its R2 unit rolling away
from docking bay 38, headed towards a busy thoroughfare.
The Phlutdroid moved quickly, stepping in front of the little
red astromech and blocking its path. The R2 unit bleated
angrily at the Phlutdroid, and rolled backwards to try to get
around.
"You there. Stop where you are," said the Phlutdroid. "I
need to speak with you, astro-droid." It stepped forward,
backing the rotund R2 unit into a doorframe. Trapped, the
astromech whistled and chirped insults to the other droid.
"Well, R2-D8, I must ask you to do a favor for me," said the
Phlutdroid. "You are owned by Jabba the Hutt, are you not?"
"Whirp-cheep."
"Yes, I knew you would see things my way," said the Phlutdroid.
"Now, tell no-one of our meeting. Come to docking
165
bay 16 tomorrow and upload any information you have into
my ship's computer."
"Beep-whirrt tootle-chirp."
"That's correct. Now, go, and if you carry out your task
properly, I may consider taking off your restraining bolt, and
you won't have to serve the Hutt anymore. Think about that,
R2-D8."
Tatoo II had just begun its crawl over the horizon when an
incoming message on the ship computer woke IG-72 up
from semi-dormancy. The little R2 unit had come through-
IG-72 quickly scanned the contents of the message:
Subject: Gazzo
Chumetz Age: No data
Species: No data
Currently overseeing spice production on Ryloth. Expected
to meet with Jabba at Mos Espa in 4 days to discuss Core
trafficking.
166
On its way to the terminal where R2-D8 was conducting its
business, IG-72 detected a human voice somewhere off in the
distance excitedly exclaiming, "Look! Look! It's IG-88! IG-88!"
but soon vanished around a corner and gave no more thought
to the matter. It found the red astromech still connected to its
terminal, busily feeding data into the network.
"Bleep?"
"Based on the report you gave me, I am going to Mos
Espa tomorrow to lie in wait for Gazzo Ku Metz. Have you
uncovered any additional information since then?"
167
didn't come back and remove the restraining bolt like it
promised, then R2-D8 would see to it that the Phlutdroid
lived to regret it.
168
could not fathom, organics were often entrusted with sensitive
information that droids were not privy to.
169
But the Phlutdroid, who wasn't listening anyway, abruptly
dashed down the alleyway at a full run in the middle of the
rubbery green alien's sales pitch.
The figure in the shadows, who had been only a few meters
away just seconds before, had vanished into the back alleys
of downtown Mos Espa.
And then an organic arm lunged up and out over the power
droid shell, sending a small black object flying in an arc
through the air to land at the Phlutdroid's feet. IG-72 had just
enough time to identify the object as a hand grenade before it
detonated.
170
The attacker gave the assassin droid yet another mild surprise
by standing up and aiming its blaster at the droid's head,
rather than fleeing again and attempting another sneak
attack. Though some of the criminals it had hunted on
Coruscant had stood their ground and fought the Phlutdroid to
their deaths, they only elected to do so when all possible
avenues of escape had been exhausted. Perhaps the creature
was emboldened by the fact that the Phlutdroid had been
disarmed, but the chrome killer considered this to be only a
minor setback.
"Hold it. Don't come any closer," said the hooded creature.
"I've seen some ugly security droids in my day, but you've
got to be the worst. How much did you set Gazzo back? Fifty
credits? Or are you just some reject Jabba lifted off a dead
Jawa?"
"What's the matter, aren't you going to answer me?" said the
organic. "Or isn't there room enough for a voice unit in that
skinny head of yours?"
IG-72 decided that this was the most pleasing organic that it
had ever encountered. It behaved the way IG-72 felt all
organics should behave-fearless of death; and violent, rather
than servile, towards a potential aggressor who was obviously
much more powerful. Believing that killing such a wonderfully
unique organic would have to be a much more enjoyable
experience than killing a non-anomalous one, as the droid had
done so many times before, IG-72 stepped closer.
But, true to its word, the creature fired its blaster at the
Phlutdroid, hitting it in its torso, near the left shoulder. The
Phlutdroid swiveled one eye to examine the wound left by the
shot-a tiny glowing bubble of molten metal.
171
The Phlutdroid's frame was made to withstand low-grade
blaster fire.
The blaster shot changed IG-72's mind. It did not want to kill
the creature yet. It wanted to see what other surprising
things the creature was capable of doing. IG-72 wondered
what the creature might do in other, different, situations.
"I'm telling you for the last time, droid-stand back or I'll blow
your head off."
"First, tell me what you know about Gazzo Ku Metz," said the
assassin droid.
"I am not a security droid," said IG-72. "I have come here to
kill Gazzo Ku Metz, to collect the bounty posted on his head
by Mogo the Hutt."
172
"Well, you've probably scared him away from Mos Espa for
the next year or so," the creature said, lowering the blaster a
little more. "Because you were pretty damn conspicuous,
stomping around Jabba's house all day. Was that pile of
laundry you were carrying around supposed to be some sort
of disguise? Because I don't think you could have fooled a
Tusken Raider with his mask on backwards into thinking that
you were anything but a combat droid."
The Phlutdroid was a bit put out to learn that its ruse had
been a failure. "Who are you?" it asked the organic. "What are
you doing here?"
173
"Tell me where to find Gazzo Ku Metz."
174
"I've never met a droid bounty hunter before. You aren't IG-
88, are you?"
"Good," said Ondine Vega with a slight laugh. "But that was a
stupid question. If you were IG-88, I wouldn't still be standing
here, would I?" She glanced over her shoulder down the alley,
taking her eyes off the Phlutdroid for the first time since their
stand-off began. "What's your designation, droid?"
After winding their way out of the back alleys, the two hunters
stopped at a Whiphid arms dealer's tent to replace the
Phlutdroid's obliterated rifle.
175
"We ought to check the podrace arena. It's practically
deserted right now-they could be there."
"I tried that already. All I got was the tip that led me here. I
had my ship's computer put out a request for informants on
the spaceport network-I only got one reply, late last night.
It was from a little red astromech droid-all he wanted in
exchange for his information was to have his restraining bolt
taken off. Funny little guy."
The Phlutdroid left the arms dealer's tent with the carbine, a
standard-issue DL-44, and a pair of thermal detonators-more
than enough to kill Gazzo Ku Metz, whatever he was.
Assuming he could be found.
Sure enough, the arena was nearly empty. It had been many
months since any races took place at Mos Espa. The only life
forms to be found were scavenging Jawas, a handful or Ranat
squatters, and a Quarren and a Rodian doing spice together
in the middle of the empty bleachers. There was no sign that
Jabba or anyone from his organization had even visited the
place anytime recently.
176
shot. Where else in Mos Espa do you think Jabba might meet
one of his cronies? Maybe we should check out the cantinas."
"We're wasting our time," the Phlutdroid said. "We must cease
further action until we can learn the current whereabouts of
the target."
The Phlutdroid rattled off the idea it was currently working on.
"Infiltrate Jabba's palace. Find a subordinate with access to
the information we need, and extract it from that creature
with intimidation or torture."
177
Footsteps indicating several bipeds echoed through the hall,
as well as the characteristic whir of a repulsorlift device. The
doors slid shut.
"Lots of spice to move at a big race like that." It was the third
speaker again. "You really should consider it."
"I'll tell you a secret, my friend" said Jabba. "The Empire has
told me that if I bring podracing back to Mos Espa, they
might be interested in putting a garrison on Tatooine. For
'security reasons.' Do you see my meaning, Gazzo? We don't
need the races. Now let us talk about the plans you have for
the Core..."
178
"Oh my!" exclaimed the protocol droid.
And then a hand grenade came flying out from the ticket
booth window where Ondine was hiding, and she stood up and
sprayed blaster fire at Fett, forcing the faceless hunter to duck
and cover. The grenade went off, sending Fett sprawling
across the floor. The Rodian, unlucky enough to be locked in
his crouch at ground zero, was killed. The human female
screamed and ran away into the dark recesses of the arena.
Boba Fett lurched to his feet and launched his wrist-rocket at
the ticket booth, but in his haste his aim was off and he only
managed to blast a hole in the nearby wall. Acrid smoke was
beginning to clog the hallway.
179
"Stop, stop!" the Hutt bellowed, thrashing his tail with rage.
"I command you to put down your weapons! The mighty
Jabba has spoken!"
Boba Fett stood perfectly still, but kept his wrist rockets
carefully aimed in the general direction of Ondine and the
Phlutdroid. The Twi'lek stayed where he was, half-hidden
behind Jabba. The Gamorreans crept out warily and looked
at the carnage with wide eyes and blank, porcine faces.
"Ho, ho, ho," Jabba laughed. "This is just the kind of droid I
like-ruthless and bold. But you're not the Phlutdroid I
know. You're not IG-88. You must be IG-72, scourge of the
Outer Rim. Am I right, Phlutdroid?"
Ondine's face turned white and she broke her stare at the
Hutt to gaze with horror at the Phlutdroid. "You're what?"
"Let me kill them, Jabba," said Boba Fett. "Just say the word."
180
"No, my deadly friend," said the Hutt. "First they will tell
us why they attacked."
Jabba started to laugh until drool ran down his belly. "Ho,
ho, ho. You are wrong, Phlutdroid. Gazzo is still alive."
"No, that is Gazzo Chu Metz," said Jabba, waving one of his
blubbery arms towards the Gamorreans, "and his mate, Weeia
Chu Metz." The two portly green aliens gave Jabba a sudden
look of alarm. One of them began to grunt and huff angrily.
"This is your bounty, Phlutdroid, not that worthless human
you shot. Ho, ho, ho."
That was all IG-72 needed to hear. Unable to differentiate sex
between Gamorreans, it quickly drew its DL-44 with its
remaining arm and shot one of them in the forehead, then, as
Boba Fett began to return fire, dispatched the other, now
squealing with terror, with a well-aimed shot to the throat.
181
The Phlutdroid managed to raise itself slightly, but was having
difficulty standing up again due to the loss of its left arm.
"Tell me, Phlutdroid, who sent you to kill poor Gazzo? Was
it my foolish little nephew, Mogo?" asked the Hutt.
"Affirmative."
"Ho, ho, ho. That stupid whelp! I'll tell you what to do,
Phlutdroid. Go ahead and claim your bounty from Mogo. Take
him for every last credit-it'll serve him right for trying to
interfere with my business. But tell the fool you bring a
message from Jabba: if he ever puts another bounty on one of
my men's heads again, they'll be scraping chunks of him out
of the inside of that silly star-cruiser of his for months. Do we
have a deal, Phlutdroid?"
"Ho, ho, ho. You heard me wrong, woman-I'm only letting the
Phlutdroid go. You'll be coming back to my palace to replace the
girl who ran off when Phlutdroid shot her in the leg."
"All right," grumbled the Hutt. "You want to know why you're
leaving here alive, woman? I'll tell you. Gazzo has been
embezzling spice profits from me for many months. I brought
182
him here so Fett could kill him in secret-I didn't want to offend
the rest of the Metz clan. But you came and did the job
instead. These two," he gestured to the dead Rodian and the
red-haired human, "were Gazzo's bodyguard and his
translator." He turned his bulk slightly, to address the
helmeted hunter. "Almost a pity, don't you think, Fett? Gazzo
there was the only smart Gamorrean I ever knew. Ho, ho,
ho." Fett shrugged.
Ondine shook her head. "Looks like we stepped into a real big
mess, here."
"So go-let Mogo take credit for having Gazzo Chu Metz
killed. It's better for me that way," said the Hutt, turning
back to face the others.
"Cross Jabba again and you'll be dead the moment I see you,"
Fett added.
183
IG-72 didn't say anything, just held still while the Jawas
got back to reconnecting its arm.
She smiled. "You want to stick to the original deal? All right.
You know I'll just be paying the credits back to you anyway."
She started to step back. "I guess I'll meet you back on
Mogo's ship. We'll claim the bounty together. Sound good?"
"Affirmative."
Anakin flipped over in a fast roll, and Obi-Wan followed. They split up
and paced the three asteroids, keeping them between their starships
and the fleet.
Anakin watched the first line of ships approach. They were huge,
sheathed in dull black durasteel and advanced weaponry. That wasnt
unusual these days.
Even bulk freighters had to arm themselves now.
But these transports were too well designed to be bulk freighters,
Anakin realized. It wasnt obvious unless you studied the lines of the
ship and the quality of the fittings.
They look like they could be from the Kuat Drive Yards, Anakin said.
The proportions and the lines of the design . . .
Look at the plating on the underside, Obi-Wan said. Something is
odd about it.
Anakin followed the lines of the plating. His Master was right.
Something was off. It took him several seconds to figure it out.
The Kuat Drive Yards . . .
It must be the Storm Fleet, Anakin said.
The Jedi had recently learned that the Separatists had secretly put in
an order for a heavily armored fleet of attack ships. Disguised as
freighters so that they could travel secretly through the galaxy, they
were actually outfitted with so much firepower that smaller planets were
completely defenseless against them.
The Jedi hung back while the transports landed at the spaceport. Then
they commed for clearance and docked at a landing bay close by.
Well never get in to investigate without a battle, Obi-Wan said,
surveying the area quickly. Ive been to this spaceport with Qui-Gon,
long ago. He has a friend who works here. A mechanic. He ended up
here after a brilliant career on the Senate elite security team. Hell be
able to help us.
Should we head to the mechanic shop, then? Anakin asked.
A small smile flickered on Obi-Wans face as he shook his head. The
cantina.
Kronex was so large that it had a variety of cantinas. Obi-Wan chose
the darkest and noisiest. A large holosign outside with missing letters
proclaimed: CHEC
WEAP NS AT DO R, but Anakin could see with one glance at the
holstered blasters and vibroshivs tucked in belts that the directive was
ignored by the clientele.
In a corner a tall being sat, an ale in front of him on the table. He wore
a grimy scarf around his head, and his ten-fingered hands were
permanently stained with grease. Large pouches underneath his
hooded eyes gave him a sad air. He was so still he appeared to be
almost asleep.
Thats your contact? Anakin asked dubiously.
Obi-Wan and Anakin sat down at his table. Can I buy you another?
Obi-Wan asked, indicating his mug of ale.
Thank you, stranger, but two is my limit, the being said. His tone was
friendly, but his sleepy eyes examined the two Jedi suspiciously.
I dont remember you ever having limits, Fizz, Obi-Wan said.
Shaggy gray eyebrows rose. The movement seemed to cost the being
a great deal of effort. Everything changes. Everything goes. Including
my memory. Do I know you?
Weve met, Obi-Wan said. Perhaps you remember my Master, Qui-
Gon Jinn.
The being blinked twice, which for him was a substantial reaction. Qui-
Gon
Jinn, he said slowly. The best of the best. He heaved a sigh. Gone
now, like the best of them are. You must be Obi-Wan. Youve grown
up, I see. And you need a favor, no doubt.
A large fleet just landed in docking bays 1211 through 1222, Obi-Wan
said.
Wed like to know where theyre going. And we dont want it known the
Jedi are asking questions.
I like that kind of favor. I dont even need to move. He took a small
datapad from his pocket, checked it, and frowned. No data. That
means they have special clearance. But if you cant go in the front
door, try the back. He pushed away his glass and stood. Come with
me.
Fizz used his security card to get them into the service area. There,
massive tanks pumped fuel to the receiving stations. With a wave at a
fellow mechanic, Fizz used his card to access the control board.
Quickly he punched in several numbers.
That should do it. Fizz ambled toward the door that opened onto the
hangar.
The fuel gauge will tell them somethings wrong, and theyll call a
mechanic.
The Jedi watched as Fizz grabbed a hydrospanner and approached the
guard standing by the ramp. Fizz waved his arms. The guard checked
187
a datapad at his waist belt. Fizz pointed to the ship, but the
guard shook his head.
He wont let him board, Anakin said. Lets go.
Wait, Obi-Wan ordered.
The guard reached for a comlink. Fizz began to argue and, in a gesture so
graceful it almost looked tender, reached out and tapped the guard behind
the ear with the hydrospanner. The guard slumped to the floor.
Fizz didnt hesitate. With a surprising display of speed and strength, he
leaped over the guard and raced up the ramp. They counted off the
seconds, and Fizz reappeared. He streaked down the ramp, leaped
over the guard again, accessed the service door, and grinned at them.
The fleet is headed for the Cyphar system, Fizz said. But I
dont know why.
I do, Obi-Wan said grimly.
So why are the Jedi so interested in bulk freighters? Fizz asked. Then
he held up a hand. Dont tell me.
Perhaps one day we will need your help again, Obi-Wan said.
No offense, young Obi-Wan, Fizz said. But I hope you do not ask. I
intend to wait out the Clone Wars in the cantina.
They left Fizz at the entrance to the cantina and headed back to their
starfighters.
What is Cyphar, Master? Anakin asked.
A small but strategically located planet in the Mid-Rim, Obi-Wan
answered.
A coalition of Separatists is there right now, negotiating to establish a
base. At least the Separatists are calling it negotiation. Threats are
more like it.
So the fleet will orbit Cyphar during the talks in order to intimidate them,
Anakin said. Cyphar will fear an invasion if they dont comply.
Im afraid that looks like the plan, Obi-Wan said.
We must follow the Storm Fleet, Anakin declared.
Obi-Wan shook his head. And do what?
We cant just let them go!
We will notify the Temple of what we have learned, Obi-Wan said.
Theyll alert the Republic and try to send ships.
You know we are stretched thin, Anakin said. Most likely there wont
be ships to send. And we are here, now.
188
This is one small battle in a very large war, Anakin, Obi-Wan said.
The Council needs us for other things.
Anakin set his jaw stubbornly. And that is all right with you?
No, Obi-Wan said. But I cant see another way at the moment.
A roar filled the air. Theyre taking off! Anakin cried, then raced to his
starfighters docking bay and leaped into the cockpit. He saw Obi-Wan
dashing to his own starfighter. Anakin took off and was followed by Obi-
Wan into the stratosphere.
Obi-Wans voice came over the comm unit. I hope you have a plan.
Just contact the Temple, Anakin said. Ill do the rest.
Within minutes, the Storm Fleet was in sight. Anakin zigzagged in and
out of the formation. He was so close he could count the rivets on the
front panels.
Identify yourself, a voice came over the comm.
Anakin did a quick roll, then zoomed under the belly of a ship to come
up next to another. He flew between the two massive ships, darting in
and out.
Suddenly, the fleet changed direction slightly. That was a good sign.
He was getting to them. Anakin dropped back and slowed his speed.
Three of the ships peeled off from the formation. They executed a
surprisingly sharp turn, considering their size. Anakin took a moment to
admire their maneuverability before he noticed that the armor plating
was rolling back.
Anything to say now? Obi-Wan asked.
Oops? Anakin said.
The first fire from the laser cannons hit empty space as Anakin and Obi-
Wan simultaneously went into a steep dive. The ships followed. The
shock waves of the weapons fire caused his starfighter to dance.
Anakin turned sharply to the left. Obi-Wan turned to the right. The laser
cannons blasted again, missing them by a few meters.
Proton torpedoes coming up, Obi-Wan said tersely.
The torpedoes locked onto the starfighters. Anakin pushed the ship into
a steep dive, then veered left. The torpedoes missed him by two
meters. Close.
More torpedoes on the left! Anakin, watch out!
Anakin kept the starfighter in the same arc but pushed the nose
down. He could feel the controls shudder. He was really pushing the
engines now.
189
The blast almost threw him to the floor. Anakin grabbed the controls.
He checked his warning lights. All clear . . . then a red light began to
blink.
Ive been hit. They got my stabilizer, he told Obi-Wan. They both
knew what that meant. Without a horizontal stabilizer, he wouldnt be
able to maneuver. A series of chirps came through comm as his
astromech droid tried to fix the problem.
Anakin pulled up. Laser cannon fire thundered past his flank. Obi-Wan
darted ahead of him, trying to draw the fire, giving the droid time to
finish. Anakin called on the Force, reaching out for it to make his
decisions fluid.
Anakin, youre pushing it, Obi-Wan shouted. I can see your
stabilizers shaking.
His droid beeped. The warning lights blinked off, and Anakin felt the
ships movement smooth underneath his hands.
Weve got to get out of here, Obi-Wan said. We cant outrun them.
And firing at them would be like pelting them with pebbles.
Anakin studied his nav screen. Theres an asteroid storm up ahead,
coming up fast. I say we fly right into it. With any luck it will be too late
for them to avoid it.
If Anakin had longed for a chance to put his starfighter through its
paces, hed found it. Asteroids careened crazily around him. Engines
screaming, he shaved off centimeters from close encounters, pushing
the ship to its limit. He could not use his instruments. He could only
use the Force. Sweat beaded up on his forehead.
It was too late for the Storm Fleet to turn. They blundered into the
storm.
Asteroids bounced off the surfaces of the ships harmlessly. But even a
capital ship wouldnt be able to survive an impact with a large asteroid.
Anakin saw the first ship begin to turn to retreat.
He changed direction and came directly at the disguised freighter, firing
his laser cannons. The ship stopped its slow turn and reversed, firing
at Anakin.
Anakin dived, heading straight for the massive asteroid ahead of
him. The Force hummed around him as he swerved at the last
possible second.
The enemy ship behind him hit the asteroid head-on.
Chunks of debris flew his way. More obstacles. He could see Obi-Wan
spinning away, diving away from the wreckage. Anakin was too far to
make the same maneuver. He pushed his nose up and climbed. He felt
190
debris knock the ship, but with a quick glance at the instruments he
saw that it hadnt been damaged.
Another explosion sent shock waves against the starfighter. The
second freighter had been caught by the debris. Smoking and flaming,
it spiraled down out of sight.
Anakin saw clear space ahead. With a last surge of speed, he
avoided the last asteroid and sailed into the open atmosphere.
A moment later, he saw Obi-Wan over to his left.
Wouldnt want to do that again, Obi-Wan said.
At least we knocked out two of the freighters, Anakin said. That will
slow them down in time for the Republic Fleet to get to Cyphar.
We were lucky.
This time Anakin didnt argue. Yes.
Lets set our course for the Temple, Obi-Wan said. And hope for a
dull trip.
Their starfi ghters moved gracefully toward their waiting
hyperspace rings. Had it been luck? he wondered. Or the Force?
Obi-Wan was so good at so many things. He could inspire loyalty. Shift
strategies in a heartbeat. Fight harder than any Jedi Anakin had seen.
Yet did he trust the Force enough? If they were truly able to use the
Force at its maximum potential, opposition would be nothing. They
could destroy enemies.
They could claim the galaxy for peace.
You cant do everything, Anakin, Obi-Wan said suddenly, as if he was
reading his apprentices mind. You must choose the battles to fight.
Anakin wanted to fight them all. He wanted to do everything. And he
knew he could.
Equipment
By: Matthew Stover
We popped out of hyperspace above the plane of the ecliptic. Alhars light
was brilliant yellow. Haruun Kal was a bright blue-green crescent. Two
asteroid belts sparkled yellow among the black-and-white star field: one
beyond Haruun Kals orbit, vast and old, spreading toward the gas giants
that swung through the outer system, and a smaller, younger belt in orbit
around the planet itself: remnants of what once had been the planets
moon.
I snugged my helmet and checked my armors life- support
parameters, then dogged the transparisteel hatch of the bubble turret.
My helmets speakers crackled softly. Comm check, Lieutenant Four-
One said.
The Lieutenants our pilot. The 2nd Lou, cl-33/890, handles nav. He
checked in with a Nav is go. I reported my turret as go, and my port-
side partner, ct-014/783, did the same from his.
The Halleck swung down out of interstellar space and inserted into
planetary orbit almost halfway out to the moon-belt, more than ten
thousand klicks from the surface. Intel had reported a rumor that
Haruun Kal might have a small number of planetary-defense ion
cannons, and a medium cruiser is a very large target.
Just before we lit engines and lifted out of the Hallecks ship bay, I
clicked my comm over to the dedicated turret-freq. Take care of the
equipment, Eight-Three.
My partner answered the way he always does: And the equipment will
take care of us, Seven-Four.
Thats how we wish each other luck.
The mag-screen de-powered. The ship bays atmosphere gusted out
toward the star in a billow of glittering ice crystals.
Blue-white pinpoints fanned out before us: ion drives of our starfighter
escort.
The transparisteel of my bubble-turret hummed with sympathetic
resonance as one of the Jadthu-class landers undocked and followed
them, then it was our turn.
Our flight leader took point. We sucked ions on left wing. Five gunships
left the Halleck.
None would come back.
Take care of your equipment, and your equipment will take care of you.
Thats one of the first things they teach us in the creche-schools on
Kamino.
Even before were awake. By the time we are brought to
consciousness for skillsdevelopment, the knowledge pumps have
drilled Take care of your equipment so deeply into our minds that its
more than instinct. Its practically natural law.
We live or die by our equipment.
I am a clone trooper in the Grand Army of the Republic.My designation
is ct-6/774. I serve on a Republic close-assault gunship. I am the
starboard bubble-turret gunner.
I love my job. We all do; were created for it.
But my job is special. Because my partnerct-014/783, the port
bubble-turret gunnerand I are the ones who take care of the
equipment.
Our weapons platform, the rhe laat/i, is an infantry-support weapon. We
soften up and harass the enemy; our targets are bunkers, armored
vehicles, mobile artillery, and enemy footsoldiers. When our infantry
brothers need to get to the enemy, were the ones who blast down the
door.
The laat/i is designed for dropping troops into a hot fire-zone. Were not
fast, but we can go anywhere. Our assault weapons are controlled
through nav; the navigator runs all three antipersonnel turrets, the main
missile launcher and two of the four main cannons. Our laser cannons
can punch holes through medium armor, and the missile launchers
take care of the heavy stuff; theyre mass-driver launchers, so our
loads can be customized for the mission. We carry he (high explosive),
heap (high explosive armor- piercing) and apf (anti-personnel
fragmentation) missiles; we stay away from baradium weaponstoo
unstablebut detonite and proton-core warheads can handle
everything were likely to come up against.
Our jobme and Eight-Three, the bubble-turret gunnersis to handle
everything that comes up against us. Each turret is a sphere of
transparisteel that tracks along with our cannons; my partner and I also
each control a launcher loaded with four short-range air-to-air rockets.
If anything comes at us, we shoot it down.
Thats what I mean about taking care of the equipment.
Lets say were cracking a hardened bunker on a desert planet. We
come in low over the dunes, pumping missiles and cannonfire against
the target emplacement. Lets say youre operating an anti-aircraft
cannon half a klick away, and you open fire on us. The pilot and the
navigator dont even have to look up. Because
Im there.
Go ahead and take your shot. You wont get two.
Fire a missile at us. Ill blast it to scrap. Launch a proton grenade. Ill
blow your head off. Make an attack run riding a speeder bike. But make
out your will, first. Because if you attack us, I will take you out.
Thats what I do.
I love my job, and I am very, very good at it.
I have to be: because sometimes my gunship has to do things its not
designed for. Thats how it goes when youre fighting a war.
Like at Haruun Kal.
We were assigned to the Republic medium cruiser Halleck, on station
in the Ventran system. A regiment of heavy infantry, twenty Jadthu-
class landers, an escort of six starfighters.
And us: five rhe laat/i-s.
We werent supposed to know why we were there, naturally; just as
naturally, we knew anyway. It was clear this would be a VIP extraction
on a hostile planet.
It wasnt hard to figure. Those Jadthu-class landers are basically just
flying bunkers. They go in fast, land, then stand there and take a
pounding until its time to take off again. Nothing but armor, engines,
two heavy laser turrets and an Arakyd Caltrop-5 chaff gun. Theyre
plenty fast in a straight line, but they are the opposite of nimble. There
is no evasive action in a Jadthu.
The Halleck had twenty of them: that meant the landing-zone would be
hot.
Maybe very hot. Maybe nova-class. The starfighters were for orbital
cover. Suborbital and atmospheric cover was our job.
Ventran is on the Gevarno Loop, one of half a dozen systems linked by
hyperspace lanes that run through Alhar. Haruun Kal is the only
habitable planet in the Alhar system.
Haruun Kal is Separatist.
General Winduthats Jedi Master Mace Windu, General of the Grand
Army of the Republic and Senior Member of the Jedi Councilhad
gone dirtside on Haruun Kal, alone and undercover, tracking a rogue
Jedi. Why had a General gone in personally? We didnt know. Why had
he gone in alone? We didnt ask.
We didnt care.
It wasnt our business.
This is what we knew: If nothing went wrong, we wouldnt have
anything to do.
Wed cruise our station in the Ventran system for a week or two, then
jump back for reassignment.
Something went wrong.
Our business was to get General Windu out again.
The moon-belt was where they were hiding. Waiting for us.
The whole system was a trap.
They must have been there for weeks, powered down, clamped to
drifting asteroids. Undetectable. Waiting for a Republic ship to enter
orbit.
Which the Halleck had just done.
Against the glittering weave of the belt, they were close enough
to invisible that
I couldnt pick them out until Lt. Nine-Oh muttered from nav: Hostiles
incoming. On intercept. But not for us, sir! Theyre after the Halleck!
Lt. One-Four: How many, nav?
Calculating. No. Sorry, sir. No hard numbers available. Sensors keep
picking up more.
How many so far? What are we looking at?
Acceleration and drive output profiles indicate starfighters.
Droid starfighters, sir. Automated weapons systems directed by
sophisticated droid brains.
Probably Geonosian. So far, Im reading sixty-four.
Sixty-four!
Strike that. Ninety-one. One-oh-five. One-twenty-eight, sir.
One hundred and twenty-eight droid starfighters streaked toward us: a
vast array of crescent sparks haloed by blue-white ion scatter. Faster,
more maneuverable, and more heavily armed than anything in our little
twelve-ship flotillaand the droid brains piloting those starfighters
have reflexes that operate at the speed of light.
And the Halleck was directly in their path.
Hear that, turrets? This will be hot space. Repeat: we are entering hot
space.
Starboard reads, sir, I told him as I charged my cannon. And I am
go.
Port reads, sir. Go.
Signal from the Halleck, sir! Nine-Oh said. Recall: All ships abort.
The
Halleck is under attackshes all alone back there, sir!
Not for long.
Lt. Four-One spun our ship through a spiral that whipped us around
and aimed us back toward the Halleck. The cruiser was a star-specked
wedge of shadow transiting the grid of droid starfighter drive-streams.
Now turbolasers started blasting out from that shadow toward the grid;
from here the huge particle beams looked like hairlines of blue light. I
195
worked my pedals and swung the fire-control yoke so that the
turrets servo-boom angled my weapon to bear on the grid-formation
of starfighters.
I knew Eight-Three was doing exactly the
same. Fire at will, turrets.
They were still far beyond the effective range of my cannon. I squeezed
the yoke anyway. Even through my armored gloves, the hum of the
yoke buzzed up my arms as four arcs of electric blue energy joined in
front of the cannons oval reflector-shield, then flashed away through
the vacuum. I held the triggers down. Concentrating on evading the
Hallecks turbolasers, a droid starfighter might just blunder into one of
my shots by accident. You never know.
The grid formation began to break up as the droids took evasive
action. Our own starfightersall six of themflashed past us in pairs
that swung and scissored and looped into battle.
We made for the Halleck as fast as our external drives could push
us. Our gunship was never intended to dogfight against starfighters.
That didnt stop us. It didnt slow us down. But we never got there.
They came out of nowhere.
The first I knew of the new ambushers was when our ship shuddered
under multiple cannon-blasts. A droid starfighter flashed past not thirty
meters from my turret. I twisted my yoke and the turret spun and my
bolt caught one of the starfi ghters aft control-surfaces. It broke up as
it spun, but I didnt have time to enjoy the view because they were all
over us. Must have been at least half a wing: thirty-two ships. They
were everywhere.
Four-one had our gunship spinning and whirling and dodging side to
side: from the turret it looked like the whole galaxy was yanking itself
in random directions around me. All I could do was hold on to my fi re-
control yoke and try not to hit friendly ships. My cannon sprayed green
fire and I scored on at least five hitstwo of them killsbut there were
always more incoming.
I saw the lander crack open and then explode: huge chunks of its
armor spun out like ship- sized shrapnel to crush two of the starfighters
that had blasted it. I saw another laat/i drifting through a slow barrel-
roll, its engines dark, sparks spitting out through the twisted blast-gap
where its cockpit used to be. One of its bubble-turrets was shattered; in
the other, a trooper struggled with the turrets access hatch. I never got
a chance to see if that gunner made it out; another flight of enemy
fighters swarmed around us, and I was too busy shooting to watch.
Then I felt a shock that bounced my turret. The spin of the galaxy
changed, and
196
I knew I was in trouble.
That last shock had been a cannon-blast hitting my turrets servo-
boom. It had blown my turret right off the ship. Now it wasnt even really
a turret anymore. It was just a bubble.
Spinning lazily, I drifted through the battle.
I didnt have any illusions about surviving. Turret-gunners dont wear
repulsorpacks; no room in there. My emergency repulsorpack was back in
the troop bay of my gunship. If my gunship even existed anymore.
From inside my slowly spinning bubble, I saw the rest of the battle. I
saw the Halleck absorb blast after blast, until a pair of droid
starfighters streaked in and rammed the bridge. I saw the other
nineteen landers undock from the cruiser and lumber through the
swarm of hostiles. I saw the cruiser streak away into hyperspace.
I saw landers peeled like meatfruit, spilling troopers into orbit. These
were the heavy infantry and the rp troopersthe repulsorpack men.
They knew they were going to die. So each and every one of them
decided to die fighting. How do I know that?
They are my brothers. And thats what I would do.
The heavy infantry opened up on the droid starfighters with their
handweapons and small arms; some of them scattered miniature
minefields of magnetized proton grenades. Others had shoulder -fired
light missile launchers. Some of the rp troopers had nothing but their
dc-15 blaster carbines, which couldnt put much of a dent in a
starfighter, so they used their repulsorpacks to deliberately move
themselves into the paths of streaking enemy ships. At orbital combat
speeds of thousands of kilometers per hour, a starfighter that strikes a
combatarmored trooper might as well be flying straight into the side of
an asteroid.
The landers did what they could to help us out; those chaff guns they
carry shoot out huge clouds of durasteel fragments, intended to
confuse enemy sensors and interfere with enemy cannonfire. Those
fragments dont have the velocity to penetrate the armor of drifting
troopers, but any enemy ship whipping through a cloud of them at a
couple thousand kph just comes apart.
But the landers hadnt come out there to fight for us; General Windu had
ordered the whole regiment down to the surface. I imagine youve already
heard about the Battle of Lorshan Pass, and the firestorm in Pelek Baw,
and everything else that happened planetside.
I wasnt in any of that.
Though I did fire the last shot in the orbital battle.
197
Most of the landers broke through, and pretty much all the droid
starfighters followed them in. After that, things got pretty peaceful there
in orbit.
Most of us were dead.
rp troopers flew from one drifting body to the next, gathering those
whod survived and salvaging life-support packs from the armor of the
corpses. A couple of the rp troopers stopped by my bubble; they
managed to halt my spin, but there wasnt much else they could do
for me, and we all knew it.
I was headed down into the atmosphere.
That was when we saw the last of the starfighters, heading right toward
us. It was pursuing what was, to me, the single most beautiful thing I
should ever hope to see: battered, shot full of holes, one wing gone,
limping along on a single engine at half-power, one bubble turret
missing, the other smashed: an laat/i.
My laat/i.
Missiles exhausted, it was trying to hold off the droid starfighter with
pinpoint fire from its antipersonnel turrets, without much luck.
But I had a surprise. Bubble turrets pack powercells to maintain
weapon-charge for short periods if all enginepower is shunted to
maneuvering.
I still had a couple of shots left.
The rp troopers who had stabilized me rotated my turret and steadied it
for the shot, and I led the enemy ship and squeezed the fire-control
yoke And it flew right into my shot.
I enjoyed the explosion.
Between the rp troopers and my ship, we collected every single one of
the drifting survivors. The gunship was in no shape for atmospheric
flight, so we limped out to the moon-belt and docked on to an
asteroid. The lieutenants put me in fora commendation.
Salvaged life-support packs kept us all breathing for two
standard dayswhich was when the Republic task force arrived.
The first thing they did was pick up
survivors. Because we are equipment, too.
As long as the Republic takes care of us, well take care of it.
198
Duel
By: Timothy Zahn
The battle for this part of the city was over. The Republics forces had
lost.
They had lost very badly.
Commander Brolis woke suddenly from his uneasy sleep as the
proximity alarm buzzed, his hands fumbling for his DC-15 blaster rifle.
Wincing at the pain in his side, he raised his head from his chest and
peered out through one of the gaping holes in the wall of the ruined
building hed taken refuge in.
The day had given way to early evening while he dozed. But with the
remaining daylight, the glow of the fires blazing elsewhere in the city,
and the weapons
flashes from the battles still raging in the distance, there was more
than enough light to see the squad of battle droids making their way
across the remains of the town square toward him.
With a grunt of pain, Brolis forced himself to his feet. On one level, it
seemed a complete waste of time, both for the droids to keep attacking
and for him to keep fighting them off. His entire force was dead now,
the last two squads whittled away as they waited here in this ruined
building for the reinforcements that had never arrived. It was just a
matter of time, he knew, before they got him, too.
Except that they didnt want him dead. They wanted him alive; and they
wanted him badly enough to keep sending in battle droids, hoping to
catch him napping.
Not this time, though. As long as he had a charged blaster and the
ability to pull
a trigger, he would continue to litter the ground with scorched droid
parts.
A slight movement across the square behind the battle droids caught
his eye, and
Brolis grimaced. Eventually, of course, they would get tired of wasting
droids and decide to end the game once and for all. And when they did,
they had the ultimate game-ender waiting in the shadows: a hailfire
droid, towering over the rubble on its two massive hoop wheels, its twin
missile launcher pods pointing idly in his direction.
This particular droid had been fitted with the lower-strength anti-
personnel missiles, he knew, so that it could take out the troopers
without bringing the whole city down on top of it. Just the same, a single
one of those missiles through the wall, and it would be all over.
But until then, Brolis had work to do. Hoisting the blaster rifle to his
shoulder, he centered his sights on the first battle droid.
Your weapon, put away.
Brolis spun around, nearly losing his balance in his haste. The gruff
voice had come from behind him, where there was nothing but rubble
from the row of buildings that had been destroyed in the earlier fighting.
This had to be some kind of trick.
If it was, it was a very good one. The creature standing there was short,
with green skin, large eyes, and even larger ears. Leaning on a gnarled
walking stick, he was dressed in the kind of simple robe worn by lower-
class beings all across the Republic.
And somehow, he seemed familiar.
Commander Brolis, you are? the creature asked.
Yes, Brolis said, frowning. Who are you?
The reinforcements you requested, I am, the creature said dryly. Tell
me: into the Fortress of Axion, you have penetrated?
Brolis grimaced. This was his reinforcements? Briefly, he confirmed.
Thats why the Separatists out there want me alive. They want to find
out how we got in so they can plug that hole in their defenses.
Indeed. The creature smiled, his long ears flattening as he did so.
For that same reason do we also wish you alive. That is why I am
here.
He lifted his stick and pointed to the opening. Aside, stand you.
Deal with the droids, I will.
Without waiting for permission, he hobbled forward. Brolis watched, his
brain too frozen with bewilderment and the pain of his injuries to try to
stop him. The creature paused just outside the gap, letting his stick
drop to the ground and reaching a three-fi ngered hand in front of him.
There was a flicker of motion, and a small cylinder seemed to jump into
it from beneath his robe.
And with a snap-hiss, a brilliant green blade blazed into existence.
Brolis caught his breath as the memory finally clicked. Kaminothe
embarkation of the Republics clone armya small creature distantly
seen across the ordered ranks as he led the troops into the transports.
Reinforcements, indeed. This was Jedi Master Yoda himself.
Perhaps the approaching battle droids recognized him, too, or perhaps
it was the sight of the lightsaber that turned their stealthy approach into
a sudden full- fledged attack. But if they were hoping to overwhelm him
with numbers, their strategy was a failure. Yoda never moved from the
spot where he had planted himself, his swirling lightsaber blade
deflecting away every one of the storm of blaster bolts coming toward
him. Some of the shots ricocheted across the square to impact the
ruins on the far side, but most reflected straight back to the droids
themselves, shattering them into scrap metal.
Half a minute later, it was over. Brolis blinked in amazement,
wondering if it was always that easy for Jedi.
And then, across the square, the hailfire droid stirred and began to roll
forward.
Look out! Brolis called. Theres a
The rest of his warning dissolved into a fit of painful coughing. But
Yoda was already angling across the square away from him, lightsaber
held ready as he slipped from one pile of debris to another. The hailfire
shifted direction toward the small Jedi Master, swiveling to keep its
missile launchers trained on him.
And then, midway between two stacks of rubble, Yoda stopped, facing
the droid as if challenging it to a private duel. The droid stopped, too,
and for a moment they seemed to be regarding each other. Then,
almost delicately, the droid lowered its pods and sent a single missile
sizzling through the air.
Brolis tensed, watching helplessly as the rocket streaked across the
open space.
Jedi lightsabers, he knew, could defend quite well against the bolts
from blasters or plasma weapons. But trying to block a missile that way
would merely cause it to explode. If Yoda didnt do something fast, he
was going to die.
Then, just as it seemed there was no chance left, Yoda leaped almost
casually to the side. The rocket burned through the space hed just
vacated, exploding harmlessly a dozen meters behind him.
From somewhere deep inside the hailfire droid came an annoyed-
sounding rumble, the fi rst time Brolis had ever heard one make a
noise like that. For a second or two it seemed to be pondering its next
move. Then, in rapid succession, three more missiles burst outward,
angling into a tight spread as they flew.
Yoda was ready. He leaped back toward his earlier position to let the
first pass by, dropped flat onto the ground as the second shot over his
head, then rolled and bounded upward in time to avoid the third. He
landed on the ground, lifted his lightsaber again to ready position, and
waited. Brolis strained his ears, listening for a clue as to what the droid
would do.
And then, over the distance, he heard a series of calibration clicks.
Tracking lock! he shouted toward Yoda.
His lungs heaved with a fresh coughing fit, and he could only hope the
other had caught his warning. By activating the tracking system, the
droid was setting its missiles to follow their target no matter what.
Yodas only hope now was to find cover before the missiles got a clean
lock onto him.
But he remained where he was, waiting. Lowering its launchers again,
the droid fired.
Again, Yoda leaped upward as the missile approached. But this time
something was different. Instead of simply arcing into the air, he twisted
his body into a dizzying set of spins, twisting back and forth like a
gymnast performing a complicated aerial routine.
The effect on the missile was startling. It seemed to tremble as it flew, its
nose shaking back and forth as if thoroughly confused. It shot past Yoda,
still shaking, and continued on to explode across the square.
Brolis grinned tightly. It was the same sort of evasive jinking maneuver
hed seen starfighter pilots perform in order to shake off a target-
locked missile. Hed never guessed that any being, even a Jedi Master,
could duplicate such a technique on his own.
Neither, apparently, had the droid. Another growl rumbled across the
square; and then, suddenly, it was rolling forward, filling the air with a
fresh stream of missiles as it charged.
Yoda was already in motion, leaping and spinning, hitting the ground
and bounding off again at unexpected angles, making himself an
impossible target for even a hailfires weaponry to tag. Brolis found
himself wincing as missile after missile slipped harmlessly past the
Jedi Master, shaking the ground and lighting up the square with distant
detonations. One of the missiles, which looked like it couldnt possibly
miss, somehow bent aside from its path just far enough to collide with
another of the salvo, detonating both midway between Yoda and the
droid.
And as that premature explosion momentarily blocked the droids view,
Yoda abruptly switched from defense to attack. He hurled his lightsaber
toward the machine, the weapon spinning into the obscuring cloud of
smoke from the missiles collision and shooting out the other side.
But the intended target was no longer there. Even as the missiles had
collided, the droid had skidded to a halt and reversed direction to roll
rapidly backward across the square. The lightsaber blade sliced
through the space where it had been; and as the weapon hesitated in
midair, the droid fired another missile straight at it. At the last second,
the lightsaber dodged out of its way, streaking back to safety in Yodas
hand. The missile itself shot harmlessly past to add yet another crater
to the distant landscape.
With that the barrage ceased. For a few seconds Yoda and the droid
again seemed to be staring at each other. Then, moving swiftly but
warily, Yoda retraced his steps back to the broken building. It just let
you walk away? Brolis asked, not quite believing it.
Clever, this hailfire droid is, Yoda huffed as he stepped in through the
opening and retrieved his walking stick. Close enough to engage it in
direct battle, it will not allow me. Nor in futile attacks will it expend all of
its missiles. That is why it has stopped now, the situation further to
assess.
So what do we do? Brolis asked.
Yodas ears flattened. Allow it to destroy itself, we must, he said,
closing down his lightsaber and gesturing behind Brolis. Come.
Brolis hadnt been to the rear of the ruined building for three days, not
since hed confirmed that there was no escape route there for him and
his squad. He walked now past the scattered bodies of his troops,
fighting against the pain of his injuries, wondering what exactly the
Jedi Master had in mind.
He soon found out. Where once had been merely stacks of collapsed
wall and ceiling material, there was now a small, Yoda-sized tunnel
stretching back through the rubble. So that was how the other had
appeared so unexpectedly behind him. A series of large caverns
there are, in the cliffs behind this part of the city, Yoda said. Beyond
them, my transport is.
Yes, I know about the caverns, Brolis said, frowning. The Jedi had
stopped beside the entrance to the tunnel and was looking back at him.
Im not sure Im up to crawling that far, Brolis warned him, eyeing the
tunnel. My side
He broke off as, suddenly, he found himself rising gently off the floor,
turning over in midair, and floating head-first toward the tunnel. But the
caverns have no other exit, he added, determined not to show surprise
or panic in front of this creature half his size, so we decided they were
of no strategic use to us. He frowned as he was deftly threaded into
the narrow tunnel. Or is there a way out that I dont know about?
There is no way out, Yoda confirmed as they moved together down
the tunnel. Through the side of the collapsed building, I came. But the
droid will not know that.
The tunnel was suddenly rocked by a terrific explosion from behind
them. The piles of debris they were traveling through shook violently,
the pressure wave sending a fresh surge of pain through Broliss
injuries. What was that? he gasped.
The hailfire droid, it is, Yoda said, his voice sounding faint and distant
through the pounding of the blood in Broliss ears. No longer, I fear, does
it wish to take you alive. Now, I believe, it will be coming to kill.
Another blast shook the tunnel. This time, as the shock wave washed
over him,
Brolis fell again into darkness.
He awoke to find himself lying beside a boulder, staring upward at a
distant and dimly lit ceiling of rock. Rolling over carefully, he got up
onto his knees and eased his eyes above the boulder.
He was in a vast, dome-shaped cavern, one of the group Yoda had
mentioned just before the hailfire droid had attacked. Scattered around
the floor were a handful of glowsticks, enough to show the Jedi Master
standing by the caverns side. He was slicing into the wall with his
lightsaber beneath a wide band of rock that stretched up along the
curved wall to the ceiling and down the other side, forming a sort of
rough arch in the center of the cavern.
Brolis frowned up at the formation. He didnt remember any arch being
there when hed explored these caverns two weeks ago. Could his
eyes be playing tricks on him?
He stiffened. Above the lightsabers hum he could hear another sound:
the creaking wheels of an approaching hailfire droid.
Which meant Yodas plan had failed.
Obviously, hed hoped the droid would try to follow them and get itself
stuck in the collapsed buildings long enough for him to cut an exit
through the cavern wall. But with persistence and probably a few
carefully placed missiles, the droid had managed to batter its way
through the rubble, enlarge the entrance to the caverns, and chase
them down.
It was approaching now. And they were trapped.
Yoda heard the sound, too. Closing down his lightsaber, he leaped
across the cavern to land beside Broliss boulder. Ahawake, you
are, the Jedi said. Good.
Be silent, now, and observe.
Across the cavern, the hail fire rolled into view. Its cyclopean
photoreceptor eye spotted Yoda at once, and it swiveled to face him.
Missile pods aimed and ready, it continued forward.
It had reached the center of the cavern when, from beside the two ends
of the stone arch, a pair of clone troopers suddenly rose from
concealment behind boulders and opened fire.
Broliss mouth dropped open in disbelief as the blaster fi re
raked across the droid. But his troops had all been killed in the
fighting. Where in the world had
Yoda found these men?
The droid responded instantly to the sudden new threat. Swiveling hard
to its right, it fired a missile at the clone trooper there, then rotated to
face the opposite direction and launched another at the second trooper.
The missiles hit their targets dead-center and exploded.
With a horrendous double crack, the bottom sections of the arch blew
apart.
Shock waves raced upward along the walls, shattering the arch into
twin waterfalls of falling stone. The waves reached the top of the dome,
and with a roar the rest of the arch and the entire center of the ceiling
collapsed.
Burying the hailfire droid beneath a massive pile of rock.
And Brolis finally understood. There had been no soldiers, merely
empty sets of armor animated by the same mysterious power that had
earlier carried him through the tunnel. Yoda hadnt been trying to cut an
exit with his lightsaber, but had instead been putting the finishing
touches on a booby-trap of loosened rock that he knew would collapse
under the droids attack.
Just as he had promised, he had allowed the hailfire to destroy itself.
Gabel didn't seem to get the hint. "You waiting for transport,
too? Lemme guess, the Enforcer?"
"Oh, ok. Yeah, I heard that the Enforcer had been refitted
with a small fighter bay. How many craft can it hold?"
"It's big enough for two standard TIE fighters. The Enforcer
is only a Corvette, you know."
Tilyer opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off as alarm
klaxons blared within the landing bay. Blue lights atop the
open bay doors flashed as a mechanical voice announced,
"In-coming landing craft. All personnel, clear landing pad 2B."
The young woman moved past him and toward the Corsuca.
"I just checked the station's travel manifests, that's all."
Tilyer stared out the port side window as the myriad of stars
beyond slowly spun with the shuttle's lazy turn. He could hear
Gabel chatting with that woman in the background.
The other officer turned to the new crew members. He did not
examine them with the practiced eye of the instructors at the
academy, looking them up and down as if the mere passing of his
eyes could register their moral, intellectual, and physical stature.
On the contrary, his eyes barely registered their presence. His
face seemed to be weathered beyond its years, with sunken eyes
that appeared bruised because of the shadows that dwelt there.
His chin was almost non existent, giving him the look of an
elderly fish. He did not at all embody the dashing officers
portrayed in the recruitment holovids, nor did he seem to have
the inner fire that the instructors back at the academy
possessed. Tilyer got the impression that he had spent so much
time in the Imperial Navy that all enthusiasm had fled his body.
He had probably been shuffled around from post to post in one
lackluster assignment after another for years, doing nothing to
make himself stand out nor anything to engender the wrath of
the Fleet Admirals. He refrained from any more musings as the
captain began to speak.
The voice that issued forth from that husk of a man seemed
hollow and empty of emotion. "Greetings, I am Captain
Almund Ygra, the captain of this vessel." He faltered as if
trying to find the proper words.
Commander Venka continued, "I know the three of you are fresh
out of the academy, and we will do our best to make your
transition from training to active duty as smooth as possible.
You will find life upon this vessel to be less strictly regimented
than that of the academy, but unlike your training, perfect
performance is expected. Do your job quickly and efficiently, and
I see no future problems. Understood?"
A chorus of "yes sirs" came from the assembled three.
With a long sigh Gabel flopped onto the lower bunk. He rolled
over onto his back and tucked his arms under his head.
Tilyer was actually quite put out that he had been quartered with
the large crewman. Commander Venka had rather venomously
informed them that no other officer of comparable rank to Raan
had a free bunk, and thus he would have to room with a
crewman instead. Ensign Taulin probably received her own
room. No, she definitely did get her own room. Otherwise this
situation with Gabel wouldn't exist.
Tilyer sighed, studying the faces of his mother and father. His
parents had been staunchly against it when he wanted to join the
navy. He could understand why, though. They didn't want to lose
another son, but Tilyer felt it was something he had to do. His
departure from home was less that happy, and though his
parents had attended his graduation, it seemed to Tilyer that
there was a hint of sadness to their proud smiles.
The male voice on the other end was unfamiliar and officiously
cold, "Flight Officer Raan, you and Crewman Thahlwin report
to the docking bay for further orders."
There was a long pause before the other man replied tersely,
"Look up the ship schematics on your computer terminal, but
be quick about it. Bridge out."
"Orders."
Tilyer ignored the larger man. With a few hurried taps of the
console, he found the information he needed. He printed it out
on a sheet of flimsiplast and dashed out the door with Gabel
intow.
"We shall be departing for the Outer Rim within the hour. We
must stop for further resuply in the Corellia sector, and then
make for Belsavis. There we will aid in rooting out fleeing
rebel elements. Prepare the ship for hyperspace, and man
your stations. That is all." The comm clicked off.
"I'm glad to see you're in such a good mood for your first
day," a rumbling voice announced with a chuckle.
The other pilot gave the pair a dismissive wave, "Don't bother
yourselves with that kind of formality. It takes a bunch of
people to keep a fighter in the air. Without one of us, none of
us would succeed. We're all equals down here." He grinned
and extended a gloved hand first to Tilyer, "Lieutenant Jerrol
Del'Goren."
Tilyer nodded, but the explanation still didn't help his mood.
Tilyer sighed as he sat his meal tray on the mess table. It was
something he'd been doing quite a bit the past four days
sighing, that is. He grimaced with distaste at the various bland
squares and slops on his tray. The serving droids said the
orange one would taste just like roast nerf, but Tilyer had
found that to be a lie the first day. He picked at the
unappetizing food, just trying to sate his hunger for now and
thinking over the events of the past few days.
The young officer smiled and took the seat. Linia followed suit
rather reluctantly, but said nothing in protest. The young man
offered his hand to Tilyer, "I'm Lieutenant Urtis Dusat. A
pleasure to meet you. And you are?"
Dusat shrugged, "I can't complain. It's got its high and low
points, but the bridge can be pretty exciting at timesa lot
more than what I used to get as a computer programmer before
joining up." He chuckled, "It's not very glamorous, but we all
must do our part to help in these times of strife, 'eh?"
"If you can call it that," Tilyer said flatly, poking the orange
square with his fork.
218
"Your ship."
"I heard that it's a tradition among pilots," she said meekly.
She abruptly went back to eating her dinner, almost as if
ashamed at her clumsy statement.
"Really?"
"One of those old Z-95 Headhunters. They were top of the line
back then before the Empire introduced the TIE series. He was
actually pretty good from what I hear."
They shared a laugh at the feeble joke, and once more silence
fell over the table like a palpable blanket.
219
"I joined because of my brother, Mikal," Tilyer said quietly.
Linia lowered her eyes. She reached out slowly and patted his
hand sympathetically. "I understand."
"Yes, we should."
220
hands clasped behind his back gazing out into the molten blue
skies of hyperspace. His demeanor had changed since their
departure from Imperial Center. He seemed like a new man to
just about every member of the crew. Perhaps the promise of
glory had instilled in him a new purpose, a chance to prove
himself before he was inevitably forced into retirement.
"We will find out shortly whether or not this delay was worth
our while or not," Commander Venka said noncommittally.
221
the Enforcer from hyperspace. The molted blue outside the
view port faded into star lines, shrinking down into individual
pinpricks of light as space took form around them. Malastare
hung below the view port, a distant collection of varied greens
and browns surrounded by the black void of space.
"Nothing suspicious?"
"No sir. The first ships of the convoy are just beginning
to cross our bow."
Urtis' voice was frantic, "We were just hit with two
proton torpedoes. I'm counting two fighters and two
space transports. They're making a run for the surface!"
222
Urtis, "We can discuss your performance later, Lieutenant
Dusat. Right now, I want those rebel dogs!"
Linia turned to relay the orders, but she couldn't help from
noticing Commander Venka's red-stained fists and the blood
that dribbled down his chin and onto his pristine uniform.
The sudden jolts that shook the Enforcer had startled Tilyer,
but the call to scramble the fighters shocked him even more.
At first he thought a stray asteroid or perhaps even another
ship had struck the corvette, but all such notions were
immediately dispelled as he rushed for his fighter. He and
Lieutenant Del'Goren had already donned their flight suits as
they had done at least half a dozen times before, only to wait
out the duration of real space flight without incident.
223
their run to the planet's surface. Our orders are to capture
freighters, if possible, but use of lethal force has been
authorized."
"Our targets are at heading zero three mark two seven seven.
Get on my wing and stay there for the approach. We hit the
fighter escorts first, and then move in after the transports."
224
"We're almost on them," Lieutenant Del'Goren said
mechanically.
"Now!"
225
bolts hit the narrow spine that connected the port side engine
to the rest of the fighter. An internal conduit exploded, tearing
the engine from the rest of the body. A short moment later,
another internal explosion went off that consumed the rest of
the Y-wing like a hungry rancor.
Tilyer stabbed the trigger. The deck plating beneath his feet
thrummed as the TIE's paired lasers spewed green death
out into space. Bolt after destructive bolt dissipated against
the freighter's shields as the enemy pilot pulled his craft up
and angled away from the planet
226
Tilyer quickly closed the gap on the fleeing ships, tucking in
behind the trailing freighter. He took care to line up his
shot, watching the crosshairs on the HUD burn with azure
fire. His finger moved to squeeze the trigger.
Captain Ygra turned back to the pilots. Tilyer couldn't help but
notice that his face seemed less sallow than just a few days
before, and his eyes no longer had that hollow look about
them.
227
The dark-skinned pilot ran a hand over his bald pate,
obviously trying to curb his impatience, "First of all, sir, they
were carrying a very large arms shipment."
"But Captain Ygra stated earlier in the debriefing that the Dug
were embroiled in a conflict with the Gran on Malastare. The
smugglers were most likely trying to furnish arms to one side or
the other. Besides, no self-respecting rebel would allow his cargo
to fall into Imperial hands without more of a fight."
228
"Well, Flight Officer Raan did allow the freighters to escape."
229
A harsh clang rang through the pilot's locker room as
Lieutenant Del'Goren hurled his helmet into his open locker,
"Venka is even stupider than I thought he was. Rebels
operating out of Malastare? It's ridiculous! The Gran and the
Dug are too concerned about their own petty squabbles to
worry about a galactic revolution."
230
opposite wall with a metallic clang. Frowning, he reached
over to slap the light switch.
The image that would have normally oriented itself over the
small holo projector was gone, now replaced with a haze of
colors and shapes scrambled beyond recognition. Tilyer
couldn't even make out the faces of his mother and father
amid the morass of muddled pixels. He sighed and
switched off the projector and begin to pick through the
mess on the floor.
231
the planet, turning it into a nearly uninhabitable frozen rock.
In the later years of the Republic, the colonists on planet built
a number of domed enclaves in order to save the native
species that would inevitably be wiped out by the
encroaching ice. Far from coincidentally, the colonists
managed to turn quite a profit by setting up farms within the
environmental domes to produce a rare type of silk plant that
would only grow in its native soil.
So far, the only vessels to venture into the system were a pair
of bulk freighters on their way to Duros and a pleasure yacht
making a sight-seeing trip along the rim. Each had been
boarded in turn, but no contraband or identifiable rebel
operatives had been discovered, so they were allowed to
continue on their way.
232
"Transmit the coordinates to my computer."
"Hold steady Two, I'm coming about. When I give the signal,
dive back planet-side."
233
No sooner had Del'Goren said that, than the flight computer
again shrieked for Tilyer's attention. "Damn, he's got a
lock! Torpedo away!"
"Steady."
"But, Lieutenant!"
"Steady."
"Now!"
"Full speed after them. A few snub fighters won't stop us.
They cannot escape that easily."
Tilyer threw his fighter into a frantic barrel roll as the enemy
fighter behind him spewed bolts of red energy all around his
tiny craft. He ground his teeth together as he hauled back on
234
the yoke, launching the TIE into a tight loop. The X-wing
blazed underneath, matching Tilyer move-for-move.
235
entire view screen, and his inertial velocity was hurtling him
right into its frigid grasp.
236
"Output is already one hundred percent," another
tech answered, but still the X-wings grew closer.
The enemy vessels grew larger and larger through the forward
view-screen until they seemed impossibly close. Linia's heart
skipped a beat as she saw one fighter, the one Lieutenant
Del'Goren had been targeting, suddenly explode into a fireball
of blue gas as its engine ruptured. The other fighter looked as
if it would shoot overhead, but at the last moment it spat
another pair of torpedoes from its forward tubes.
The shields flashed as the first one hit, but failed to stop the
second as it detonated alone the ship's communication array.
The communication dish mounted on top practically
disintegrated in the explosion, and the blast sheered away a
portion of the ship's hull, opening part of the top deck to cold
vacuum.
"Captain?"
237
"Medical team to the bridgethe captain's been
injured. Repeat, Captain Ygra is down!
She sighed. Who was she kidding? He was right. She may
have only been nineteen cycles old, but she still new the
basic tenants of Belsavis economics: if the crop failed, the
family would starve for money while they struggled to reseed
and rebuild the delicate ecosystem contained in those domes.
But that was what puzzled her. This system didn't have an
asteroid belt, and cosmic debris was a real rarity. No matter
how strange it was, though, she couldn't help but think how
238
interesting a find it would bethat is if it hadn't all burned up
in the atmosphere. She cast an indecisive glance at the
weather beacon, then back to the meteor. She could spare an
hour or two to go check it out. It hadn't landed that far away.
Besides, the storm season wasn't for a few more months. The
beacon could wait.
When she finally reached the impact site, her heart jumped
into her throat. Instead of a piece of cosmic rock, the still-
smoking remains of some kind of starship lay before her. A
huge debris-littered furrow had been ripped through the ice
and snow when the ship had plowed into the ground. She
couldn't believe it was as intact as it was given the evident
impact, but there it was.
She popped open the speeder's door and stepped out to get a
better look of the ship. Whatever it was, it was evidently a
fighter. It was way too small to be anything else. What must
have been the cockpit was some kind of sphere, though it
didn't look much like that now because it had been hammered
and dented into a geometric shape Tana could never have
previously imagined. One of its hexagonal wings was still
attached, though badly mangled, and a sparking nub was all
that remained of its mate. Somehow, the design seemed
familiar. A sudden flash of uncharacteristic insight struck her.
It was an Imperial starfighter! Tana hadn't noticed it before
because it was so beaten up, but that's what it was.
Then, another thought struck her. What about the pilot? Was
he still alive? She circled the wreckage, looking for the cockpit
canopy. To her dismay, most of the spider-webed glass was
239
face down in the snow, but there appeared to be some sort of
egress hatch on the crown of the fighter. She struggled to find
a steady perch on the wreckage and reached over to try to
jerk the hatch free. It opened up rather easily, and as she
looked inside, she found out why. A black-clad figure lay
sprawled unmoving against the hull, his thick gloved hands
wrapped around the hatch release.
Venka had seen Captain Ygra fall. When the torpedoes hit,
the captain had lurched for his command couch, but the
resulting concussion knocked him off balance and flung him
headlong into the chair's base. The unforgiving durasteel did
quite a number on his head. The 2-1B medical droid said he
had multiple skull fractures and there was considerable
swelling around his brain. It seemed to believe the Captain
would pull through, but almost as a precautionary measure,
the droid confided in Venka that medical science was "far
from infallible."
He softly pounded his fist against the glass. Gazing upon the
wasted figure slowly bobbing in the bacta, he knew what had
to be done. But did he have the strength to do it?
240
He folded his arms, turning back to the white-armored storm
trooper that stood at attention by the door. He leaned back
against the glass with a sigh, lowering his chin to his chest
in thought. Finally, he looked up to regard the trooper.
"Corporal," he said addressing the soldier.
"Yessir?"
Venka licked his lips before replying. "Go ahead and return to
your quarters, you're relieved."
"Ah, droid?"
"My next recharge will occur in 11.2 hours. If you do not mind
me asking, why do you wish to know, sir?"
241
"Well, I was just thinking. As long as I am here, you could
use the time for a little self-maintenance. I would be sure to
revive you if anything comes up."
"I appreciate the offer, sir, but as I'm sure you know, such
an activity would be a dereliction of duty. Regulations state
that a medical officer or orderly must always be present
while a patient is in sick bay."
Venka walked slowly closer to the droid, "But you are the only
medically trained unit on board this vessel. When you do have
to shut down, there will be no one to attend to sick bay. I'm
here now. Why not take advantage of it?" He plastered a
friendly smile on his face.
242
Empire, he had to make sure Captain Ygra never recovered.
It would be as simple as shutting off the oxygen flow to the
submerged patient, yet despite all his rationalization, he could
not get past the feeling of revulsion that churned his stomach
when he thought about the deed. What if he was caught?
Slaying a member of the Imperial Armed Forces was a capital
offense. He probably wouldn't survive long enough to get a
trial back on Coruscant.
243
"I can't believe he's dead," Linia muttered morosely as poked
at her unappetizing meal. "I mean, Captain Ygra seemed so
full of life. Ever since we undertook this mission he was so full
of fire and determination. I can't believe he could expire so
easily. The doctor even said he should have pulled through."
Urtis nodded, patting her hand with his, "Yes, I know. He was
a fine pilot. His expertise will be sorely missed. Did they ever
say how it happened?"
Linia nodded glumly, "Yes. The battle analysis said his engines
were destroyed but his built-up velocity took his ship straight
into the planet. Sensors lost contact as it entered the
atmosphere, but with the ship's power plant destroyed, he
couldn't have survived the descentif he was even alive to at
all. It would have hit the ground at over a over six hundred
kilometers per hour."
"Gabel?"
She shrugged. "Well yes, but he didn't know Tilyer that well.
To tell you the truth, no one did. I mean, he mostly kept to
himself. It's like he was trying to be that cookie-cutter soldier
you see in all the holovidsstrong, self-sufficient, loyal,
austere. It was like he was trying to live up to that kind of
stylized ideal, but never quite pulled it off. He didn't seem
any of that. He just seemed . . . distant."
244
"Some people are just like that," Urtis said noncommittally.
"He was a fighter pilot," Dusat countered. "He risked his neck
every time he flew. Those guys live for that kind of thing."
"I know, but still . . . Tilyer and then the Captain . . . it kind of
makes you wonder who is going to be next."
And of course, there was the captain. When he first heard the
news, he had his reservations. The captain's death seemed
all-too sudden. Of course he had been injured, but he was
supposed to be recovering. He first pushed away those
thoughts as paranoid delusions wrought by battle stress, but
hearing Dusat and Taulin discussing it brought it all back
again.
245
shelves and cupboards. At the far end of the room sat the
resident 2-1B droid, its skeletal head bowed as it
overlooked the controls to the empty bacta tank before it.
The Lieutenant strolled closer, "I was hoping you could tell
me about what happened to Captain Ygra."
246
A feeling of unease seized upon Del'Goren. "What about
medical records?"
Del'Goren swore.
Pain. That was the first thing Tilyer thought upon groggily
entering into the waking world. It hurt to be alive. Then again
it was better than the alternative, he supposed. It took him
several moments to work past the stabbing pains shooting
through his torso and the dull throbbing that inhabited his left
leg, but he managed to crack his eyes open just enough to let
a sliver of soft gray light filter in.
The light was intense this time, but his eyes gradually grew
accustomed. Trying to blink away the haze that filled his vision,
the only real thing he could make out was the intense
247
spot of light hovering above his head. Everything else beyond
that was shrouded in shadow. He tried to raise his head up,
but all he could get out of his muscles was a feeble twitch.
Then he heard footsteps.
248
Venka's lips peeled back in a predatory smile, "I understand
you have extensive experience with computer systems,
Lieutenant."
"I have a job for you Lieutenant, one that I cannot entrust to
just anyone."
Venka took him by the shoulders and steered him toward the
chair at the security console. Urtis sank into the seat, warily
looking up at the Commander. "Sir, what is this about?"
"I need you to erase several archived files from the security
data logs."
Urtis was taken aback, "Sir, you know I can't do that. Do you
know how many laws and directives I could be breaking?"
His voice softened, "I'm not ordering you to do it. I'm asking
you, one officer to anothera favor for a favor. You do this for
me now, and I will ensure your next promotion, your next
duty assignment, whatever you want."
249
"Okay," he finally said. "I'll do it. Just show me the files,
and I'll get it done."
250
Tilyer sighed and closed his eyes. What if he was the last one
left alive? What if the captain, Linia, Lieutenant Del'Goren,
Gabel, what if they were all dead? What was he supposed to
do? He had to get word to fleet command, that's what he had
to do. They had to know that rebels were operating out of
Belsavis, that they had destroyed the Enforcer. He had to get
out of here, wherever this was. It could have been a rebel
hospital, and maybe they just didn't expect him to wake up
so soon. He had to get escape.
He groaned and tried to sit up, but the position of his body
coupled with his still-tender ribs, made the actual act
considerably harder than the proposition. Finally he managed to
lever himself into a sitting position. He was about to examine
the device on his knee when the room's only door slid open.
Framed in the doorway stood a square-shouldered humanoid
dressed in a white lab coat. Thin wispy orange hair wreathed its
head and chin, but its gray face was dominated by two pairs of
bulbous black eyes and a pair of inwardly pointing tusks that
descended over its mouth: an Aqualish.
251
your ribs, but that knee is proving quite difficult." He
punctuated his remark by tapping the device with a
single taloned finger.
"You see, bacta may be able to mend bone and flesh quite
easily, but when the treatment involves ligaments and
tendons, as in your case, the cure is somewhat more
tedious. But never fear, within a day or so you will be as
good as new." The Aqualish flashed him that unsettling grin
once more.
"Tana?
"Tana was the young lady who found you after your ship
crashed out on the plains. Your craft was quite a mess, but
obviously she managed to drag you back here for medical
treatmentI'm sure it's not what you're used to back on
your ship, but it is still effective nonetheless."
252
The two young humans, both male and female, that ventured
through the doorway looked somehow related with the same
blonde hair, same brown eyes, and same slight build. They even
dressed alike with their rugged overalls and tool belts. The man
bore an intimidating scowl on his otherwise handsome face as
he leaned against the wall, but the girl offered a slight smile as
she approached Dr. Vorst's side.
"Oltan and Tana are the children of the Yin'Baara family, one of
the several families that own this plantation. As you know, Tana
was the one who found your ship, and Oltan here has been
appointed to look after you while you're here."
Oltan gave Tilyer a cold nod, one that made it perfectly clear
how he felt about that duty and the man it encompassed.
Tilyer was crestfallen, all his fears confirmed. "So then that's
it then. They're all gone . . . "
253
"Huh?"
The doctor shrugged, "So far that seems to be the only course
of action left."
Oltan sat down in one of the chairs and fixed Tilyer with a
wordless stare, as if daring him to say or do anything.
Tilyer just lay back in his bed and tried to make himself as
comfortable as possible, but the growing sense of unease
254
fermenting in the back of his mind made that simple
comfort an elusive prospect.
He hit the console again, even though his hand was still
smarting from the last time. He had to do something, but he
couldn't prove anything other than 2 minutes of footage were
missing from the logs and Venka had "coincidentally" been in
sickbay with the Captain at the time.
No, he would just have to wait. It made his skin crawl to think
that Venka would get away with such a heinous crime, that he
would get the best of Del'Goren and every decent Imperial
officer, but there was no way around it. He would have to bide
his time and wait.
255
Lieutenant Urtis Dusat couldn't sleep. He was restless, and no
matter what he did, his mind wouldn't relaxit couldn't. It
just kept going back to one instance, replaying that moment
over and over again.
He should have just sliced into the system, taken out the files
and been done with it. But he didn't. He wanted to know what
this was all about. He wanted to know what he was getting
himself into. As soon as looked into those security logs, he
immediately wished he hadn't. The holocameras clearly depicted
Commander Venka deactivating the Captain's life support and
watching as the life slowly drained from his body. He murdered
him, and now Dusat was complicit in that deed.
After seeing what Venka was so anxious to cover up, Urtis had
been so scared he just deleted it all. He hadn't taken the time to
think about how to rectify the situation, how to turn Venka in to
the proper authorities without garnering the wrath of his superior
officer. He had been fearful that if Venka ever found out that he
knew the truth of the Captain's demise, he would be next to die
at the hands of the ambitious commander.
256
Tilyer took the time to simply bask in the sunlight beaming
down within the agricultural dome Green X; simulated sunlight
to be sure, but it still felt damn good. He leaned on the railing
separating the rest of the compound from the vast silk fields
that constituted the bulk of the space in the agro-dome. As a
literal jungle of thick vegetation, it stood in direct contrast to
the harsh environment outside the dome's protection. Still, it
was nice to be in the out-of-doors for oncesort ofand he
was doubly glad to be out of that detestable clinic; however,
even though his hospital stay was less than enjoyable, he did
manage to learn quite a bit about the facility.
While sitting in his hospital bed for the last day or so, he had
been subjected to that annoyingly academic Aqualish
jabbering on about whatever topic seemed relevant at the
time, mostly having to do with what a great technological
marvel the agro-domes on Belsavis were. In addition to
providing a living habitat for the residents and crops, it was
an environmental recreation of the conditions prior to the
planet's accelerated ice age, not exact, but close enough.
What Dr. Vorst took especial pride in was the fact that the
colonists realized that these so-called "silk trees" held a
symbiotic relationship with several species in their
environment, all of which depended on one another in a
rather large chain. He went into great detail about harvesting
methods, one he evidently devised himself, but Tilyer did his
best to tune him out in those portions.
And all the time, Oltan stood a few meters away with that
perpetual scowl on his face. In fact, he still did. If the shorter
man's gaze had been made of blaster bolts, Tilyer would have
been dead a hundred times over.
Tilyer glanced over his shoulder to where Oltan stood with his
arms folded over his chest. "Are you sure you can't take me to
your comm station? Maybe you're not using the right channel
or hailing frequency."
"For the last time, no," he said angrily. "We've tried every
frequency known to sentient life and it still won't work.
Thanks to your little skirmish up there, the whole
communication grid is down. Now will you shut up about it?"
257
Tilyer felt like retorting back that he would shut up about it
when the people here stopped treating him like a prisoner,
but he thought better of it.
"Oltan," she said, coming to a halt, "Da wants you back at silo
2, says there's some kind of machinery malfunction and needs
you to helpit seems kind of urgent."
258
"The Aqualish?" Tana said in the slightly escalated tone that,
in Tilyer's experience, usually meant he'd said something
wrong.
"Right about what? The fact that I know an alien when I see
one, and I make my own opinions about their annoying
habits?"
"Then why were they hiding on the ice plains on your planet?
Did they just magically appear there without you knowing?"
259
"We're not in league with anyone! We're didn't do anything
wrong."
He stood, taking a step toward her. "You knew and you said
nothing, putting our whole ship in danger. Hell, for all I
know, I'm the only one left, and theEnforcer is just a hulk
floating out in space."
"Then pray tell how you know how 'polite' the rebels are?"
"I don't, ok? Not first hand anyway. They're just stories
that filter in through the core about how the rebellion is
trying to fight the injustices of the Empire."
"How is that for injustice? Does that pull your heart strings
hard enough for you to give a damn about the thousands of
people who have died at the hands of those criminals, those
bastards that killed my brother?"
260
"Because," Tilyer retorted, launching into what sounded like
a rehearsed tirade, "Alderaan was a rebel stronghold. Their
elected representative, Bail Organa, had defied Imperial Law,
and by allowing them to remain in power on that world, the
populace assented its agreement with those actions. They
were all guilty of the same treason, and had to be punished."
She heaved a sigh and turned around just in time to see Tilyer
vault over the railing separating them from the silk fields and
disappear into the foliage.
261
"Hey, Urtis. Wait up." Linia Taulin readjusted the stack of data
disks in her hands as she tried to quicken her pace down the
hallway.
She frowned, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and
the weary expression on his face. "Are you alright?"
He looked up, meeting her gaze, and for the first time, Linia
noticed the haunted look in his eyes. "No. I'm fine," he
stated evenly.
262
Remembering his training, remembering his faith in the glory
that was the Empire, he used it as the rock upon which he
built his fortress of determination.
If he could lose the girl that had been watching him, then
double back, he could perhaps get to the communications
building and try to contact theEnforcer. Then maybe he could
sort through all the lies they had been feeding him. He knew
she didn't have a radio on her, and she had promptly followed
him into the jungle so she wasn't going for help like she would
have it she was smart. He also knew with his military training,
he could easily outpace her.
263
used that moment to scramble to his feet and stumbled away
in his desperate flight away from the creature.
But he was. All he could do was stare down the barrel of that
blaster. She snarled something at him, but he didn't pay
attention. If this was the end, he would do his utmost to die
with the bravery fitting of an Imperial soldier.
And then it spoke. He saw the ignition flash, and then that
searing hot bolt of energy leapt from the muzzle. Tilyer
strove to stay stock still, but in the face of that imminent
blast, his resolve broke. He knew it would be too late to avoid
the inevitable, but his instinct for self-preservation took over.
His knees faltered and he pitched his body forward, raising
his arms to defend his face.
264
She nodded. "Yes sir. The maintenance crews report that
they have been able to repair the Enforcer's short-range
communications."
Venka frowned and clasped his hands behind his back. "In
that case, contact the locals on the planet and see if they
would be willing to furnish the necessary components."
As Linia set about her task, Urtis Dusat stood up from his
station next to her. She gave him a perplexed look, but he
hardly seemed to notice as he approached the Commander at
the forward bulkhead.
"In private?"
265
"Ensign Taulin, you have the bridge. I shall return shortly."
He didn't even wait for a response as he led Urtis out the door
and into the hallway.
Urtis shook his head, "I don't know, but . . . it's eating me
up inside, knowing the truth. It wasn't right, what you did.
The Captain didn't deserve that." He spoke haltingly, unsure
of himself. "You . . . you need to turn yourself in."
"I'm not worried about right and wrong, Lieutenant Dusat. I'm
worried about life and death. Captain Ygra's actions put every
life on this vessel in jeopardy."
"But you didn't have to kill him!" Urtis protested, raising his
voice for the first time.
266
"Don't you dare try to pass judgment on me, you little whelp,"
Venka growled, stalking around the desk toward Dusat.
"You're just as complicit in this as I am."
"What? No!"
"It's the truth. They'll have to believe it. Someone else has to
know."
267
"Then you have to realize that nothing good could come of
letting the truth be known. We've taken a step forward in
bettering the Empire, but to go back now would send us two
steps in the other direction. You're at a cross-roads now,
Lieutenant. You can either face forward and embrace what
must be done for the future of our Empire, or you can turn
away and allow your weakness to undermine the galactic
order we have fought so hard to maintain." Commander
Venka leaned close, his voice a hoarse whisper. "But which
ever route you take, Lieutenant, you must take this secret to
your grave."
"You know what has to be donefor our sake and for the
Empire's sake," Venka intoned softly. "The question is, will
you be man enough to look past your frailties and do what has
to be done?"
Dr. Vorst bobbed his jowled head, "Well Flight Officer Raan,
unlike the last time Tana brought you in here, this time I
can happily say you have a clean bill of health."
"I think I told you this previously, but that mantis really is an
intriguing component of the silk-farming operation here,
268
though I doubt you were listening. Maybe this experience will
teach you to open your ears more, hmm? Anyway, like I told
you before many of the life forms on pre-ice age Belsavis
existed in a symbiotic relationship, the mantis included. So in
order to harvest the silk, it became necessary to include this
rather dangerous predator in the ecosystem. As a species,
they strongly dislike open terrain, so there is no danger of
them ever leaving the silk fields, but for the harvest, their
existence becomes a bit more problematic. To curb their
involvement, we bathe the fields in a type of insecticide
smoke that sends them into a dormant state during which we
can harvest the silk. Quite ingenious, if I may say so."
"You're sorry? That's all you can say after I saved your ass for
the second time?"
Tilyer opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off
with a humorless laugh.
269
playground bully." She took a breathe meaning to continue
her tirade, but Tilyer's soft words stopped her.
"You're right."
"I said you're right, and I'm sorry," he replied. For the first
time since the incident, he met her gaze. "I've been a selfish,
condescending child, when I should have been eternally
grateful. Without you and your people, I'd be frozen
somewhere out there on the ice fields or who knows what and
. . . well, I'm sorry."
Tana sighed and hung her head. She was silent for several
long moments. Then she moved over to the examination
table, boosting herself up onto it next to Tilyer. She looked as
if she wanted to say something, but instead she just patted
his knee. They sat there for a while, both wanting to say
something to break the painful silence, but neither finding the
right words.
270
The pair almost jumped as the door suddenly hissed open.
Oltan strode through, his face its usual stoic mask. The
corners of his mouth quirked in a frown as he saw Tana sitting
beside Tilyer, but he quickly redirected his evident distaste to
other matters.
Oltan rolled his eyes, "What, you think I'm lying to you?"
"Well c'mon. The people over in Green VIII have agreed to let
you hitch a ride on their transport."
"So long as it's not here, I don't care where the hell you go,"
Oltan grunted. "Now c'mon. The transport will be here in
thirty minutes, and I don't want you hanging around here
any long than you have to."
Linia keyed the chime on Urtis Dusat's door for the third time.
"Come on Urtis, the mess hall closes in fifteen minutes!" she
called aloud.
Still no answer.
Tana shook her head, knocking again though she knew it was
probably futile. Urtis was supposed to have met her ten
minutes before, but she hadn't heard a thing from him since
they made agreed to meet for dinner earlier that morning.
She sighed and plucked her comm. link from her belt, calling
up the security officer on the bridge. "Lieutenant Milne, this is
Ensign Taulin. Do you copy?"
271
"Sorry to bother you sir, but do you have any idea where
Ensign Dusat is?"
"I was hoping you could find out something from the
security logs."
"Thank you."
A long minute passed before Milne's voice came back over the
comm. link. "According to the access codes used, he should
still be in his quarters."
"You're sure?"
She frowned and reached out to hit the door release on the off
chance that the door wasn't locked. Too her surprise, the door
hissed open at her touch to reveal Dusat's darkened cabin.
She peered into the darkness, "Urtis? Are you there?" A slight
272
motion in the gloom caught her eye. "Urtis? Is that you?" She
took a step into the room, feeling along the near wall for the
light switch. With a slight tap, the glow panels along the
ceiling flickered to life.
And then Linia saw what had been moving. Hanging from the
ceiling strung up by his own belt, Lieutenant Dusat's blue-
faced body swung lazily to and fro, his eyes and mouth open
in a silent scream that was somehow louder than mere words
could ever be.
Tilyer gazed out the view port from his seat in the copilot's
chair of the old Spacecaster-class transport. The ship
shuddered briefly as it shook off the last vestiges of
atmosphere and leapt into the twinkling blackness of space.
He was going home. He should have been relieved, should
have been happy, but the reality of it was he didn't really
know how to feel.
At first, the things Tana had said about him gnawed at his ego
like a pack of ravenous womp rats. But after a while, he
realized she was right. He had been so caught up with playing
the perfect soldier that he couldn't see past the lauded image
he had projected over himself in his mind's eye. He was like a
selfish child trying to play dress up. He could recognize that.
He could deal with it. He could change it. But he couldn't as
easily come to terms with the questions she raised about the
Empire: his foundation, his rock. She had called into question
the groundwork upon which all of his convictions had been
based.
273
pointed to the latter. One dead brother was proof enough for
him at the moment. But whatever the truth was, he would
have to sort it out on his own.
"I said we're five clicks out from your ship. I thought
you might want to get your things ready."
The pilot pointed out the view port. "See for yourself."
The pilot gave a low whistle, "Looks like your boys took a real
pounding."
274
gone by since he first laid eyes on the ship, and yet both he
and it had changed so much.
"Thank you for all your help." he told the pilot as he rose from
his seat.
The man flashed him a smile and grasped his hand in a firm
handshake, "Anytime friend. Think of it as a favor." He threw
Tilyer a wink. "You'll just have to owe me one."
Tilyer cracked a sad smile and nodded, heading back for the
air lock. The magnetic locks disengaged on the hatch
overhead and a small ladder slid down as the passage
whirred open. The pilot gave one last wave before Tilyer
started up the ladder.
"Yes sir."
Venka turned to go, but a word from Tilyer made him pause.
"Ah, sir?"
275
Tilyer glanced toward Linia, seeking some indication of what
he had said that was so reprehensible. He had little time to
consider the unease evident in her gaze before Venka's voice
called his attention back over to the other officer.
"A lot has happened since you were shot down," she said
softly.
"What?"
"How?"
Linia folded her arms over her chest and shook her head, not
wanting to meet his gaze. "I don't know . . . I just don't know.
He'd been acting strangedistant even, but I never
276
expected this. I never expected to see him swinging from . . .
" her voice faltered and she clamped her eyes shut.
"Two."
"Huh?"
"It's ok. We'll see each other soon enough, I'm sure. I'll talk
to you later." Tilyer turned to go, but Linia's voice stopped
him.
"Oh, Tilyer."
"Yes?"
277
The door to Tilyer's quarters slid open with a soft hiss,
allowing light from the corridor to stream into the darkened
chamber like a sudden dawn rising over a barren world. With
his dark form silhouetted in the squared frame of daybreak,
Tilyer reached inward, feeling around the wall until he found
the light switch. With but a flick, the subsequent flood of light
eradicated the darkness, revealing the clean yet spartan room
he had grown all-too familiar with in these past few weeks.
His bed was still made, his datapads were still sitting upon
the desk, and his uniform was still neatly folded upon the
bunk, but it was as if he was seeing them in a new light for
the first time. Perhaps he had simply been gone for too long
and the cramped quarters no longer felt like home, but for
some reason, the roomand even the entire ship for that
matter didn't feel the same as when he had first left.
278
He stabbed desperately at the button upon the side of the
disk, almost as if trying to plunge his knife-like finger into the
heart of doubt throbbing within his chest. He eagerly watched
for the picturesque portrait that would invert itself above the
device in his hand, hoping that it would once more come into
clear focus and reaffirm the rock his life had been built upon
like it had been before, unlike the last time when he had
come back from the cold void of space to find his room and
his thoughts turned inside out.
This time was different, though not in the way Tilyer had
hoped. The device wouldn't even emit a single faded pixel.
There was no sound, no soft whine to announce the
projector's demise, not even a flash of light as the emitter
died. It just ceased to workif it had even worked correctly at
all.
Tilyer licked his lips, folding his hands in his lap before
beginning. He told him everything, about the crash, about
Oltan and Tana, about Dr. Vorst, even about his flight into the
silk fieldsmost of it, anyway.
279
Tilyer swallowed hard, trying to get past the lump of
dread forming in his throat. "Yes sir."
"But they knew about them. They knew about them, and
they said nothing. Their actions jeopardized the lives of every
member of this crew." He stood, shaking his head angrily.
Venka paused, leveling his ire-filled gaze at him. "I didn't take
you for the stupid type, Flight Officer Raan. It's called criminal
negligence, and it most definitely is something wrong.
280
Whether directly or indirectly, they caused the deaths of
multiple soldiers of the Imperial Navy."
"Very Well. Ensign Taulin, copy down these orders and relay
them to the rest of the crew."
281
"I've made my decision, Flight Officer. Continue with this
nonsense and I will throw you in the brig for insubordination."
282
the utmost of his ability, and my only regret is that his life
had to end so soon."
What made it even more troubling was the fact that the
inhabitants of Belsavis would have to pay for it. What would
Mikal think of it all? His brother had joined the Empire to
make a difference to those who needed it, to be a part of
something bigger than he could ever be by himself. But a
part of this? Was this the grand cause bigger than the man
himself? Tilyer couldn't believe that. If anything, what was
happening around him was beneath the memory of his
brotherthat memory that had spurred him into joining the
Empire in the first place. In some ways, he felt as if he was
cheapening his brother's memory by blindly clinging to the
Empire's lauded image.
Tilyer didn't know who was to blame for the misfortunes that
had befallen the Enforcer, but he knew for sure that Tana,
Oltan, and the rest of the men and women of Belsavis were
not. He had to do something to help them, but what?
283
"Lieutenant Dusat's death came as a shock to us all,"
Commander Venka continued, "but I believe I can safely say
that it will never be forgotten."
Linia couldn't disagree with him. His death had certainly been a
shock, especially since she had been the one to find him. Seeing
that pale body slowly swinging back and forth in the darkness,
she had to struggle to keep from emptying the contents of her
stomach all over the deck; but it wasn't just the sight of the
dead that upset her so. It was the knowledge that this corpse
had once been a man she called a friend. It was the knowledge
that he had expunged his own life while she waited impotently
for his arrival in the mess hall. Most of all, it was the knowledge
that she should have seen it all coming. Suddenly it all clicked:
the evasive attitude, the morose complexion. All the signs had
been there before, and she had innocently brushed them off
without further thought. Perhaps if she had notified the
commander, he could have put him in the infirmary, given him
counseling, could have had him do something other than wallow
in his own depression. It made her sick to her stomach to think
that she had the power to do something, and instead she did
absolutely nothing.
"His memory will live on in each and every one of you, and in
the collective memory of this galactic Empire. We may pause
if only for a minute to recognize the passing of our own, but
after this moment of reflection has passed, we must take up
the sword of war once more. We must continue to struggle
against the foes that would seek to topple this glorious
Empire, but we must also never forget the fellow soldiers who
fell to protect it."
Linia averted her eyes from the casket, looking across the
room to where Tilyer stood, his jaw clenched staring out the
window into space. If Urtis' death had even phased him, the
young officer didn't show it. Still, he had changed. She
couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him was
different. She just hoped this change wouldn't bring the
same end to Tilyer as it had to Urtis.
284
Venka gave a heartfelt sigh. "In the face of this great
tragedy, I ask that you all remain resolute in our cause and
the duties you have sworn to perform. The best way we can
honor Lieutenant Dusat's memory is by seeing to our
responsibilitiesto the defense of this Empireas he would
have done."
But again, he couldn't prove any of it. It was all just a feeling
in the pit of his stomach. Still, he hadn't survived this long
as a TIE fighter pilot by not heeding his instincts. In the
future there would be an opportunity to make things right, of
that much he was certain. He just had to be patient.
Venka turned and activated the airlock panel. The pall bearers
approached Dusat's casket, taking up the steel-gray box and
sanctimoniously inserting it into the airlock. They stepped
back, and Commander Venka closed the lock once more. A
285
grinding clank sounded through the bulkhead as the outer
doors opened and the casket floated forth. The assembled
officers turned toward the view port, watching as Lieutenant
Dusat's earthly remains drifted into view.
Tilyer hit the door release to his cabin. The door hissed open
to reveal the well-lit hallway beyond. Standing in the
threshold, Linia looked up at him with a perplexed
expression. "Ok Tilyer, what is this about?"
286
Gabel looked up from the datapad he was reading in his bun.
A concerned frown crossed his features.
The big man laid aside the datapad and swung his legs over
the edge of the bunk. "Alright, so talk."
Linia frowned and folded her arms across her chest, but
nodded for Tilyer to go on.
"I know okay? They saved me Liniatwice. If not for them, I'd
be stone dead somewhere down on the ice plains. They aren't
rebels. They just want to be left out of all of this mess to live
their lives. Venka can't see thathe won't see that."
Linia narrowed her eyes, "What kind of help? Tilyer, what are
you planning?"
287
He sighed, "I don't knowat least not yet. I haven't thought it
all through, but I have a rough idea."
"If the Enforcer goes down out here, it will cause even more
trouble. The Empire isn't just going to turn a blind eye to the
loss of a capital starship."
288
"Well yeah, but I don't see how that has anything to do with
"
"Okay, good."
"Well, yeah."
"Tilyer," Linia began, "Just for a minute, let's say that what
you're planning actually worksthat we destroy the ship
and everybody onboard survives. How will that solve
anything? When a cruiser comes by looking for survivors,
they will just pick up where we left off and the people on
Belsavis will be facing an even bigger threat."
"So far, you, Gabel, me, and Venka are the only ones who
know about the planned bombardment, right?"
289
"So then if you two are with me, that just leaves one person
we have to make sure never finds his way off the ship."
"Gabel's right," Linia said. "Do I have to remind you again that
even talking about all of this is treason?"
"Because it's wrong, Tilyer. It's dead wrong." All of the former
humor was gone from Gabel's features, replaced instead by a
glower that creased his face in deep furrows as he stared at
Tilyer.
"So what then? You want me to just sit by and let all those
people dieall those people I owe my life to?"
She sighed and ran her hand through her hair wearily. "No,"
she said in a small voice.
290
For a moment he stared straight at Tilyer.
Gabel just nodded weakly and bent forward to cradle his head
in his hands.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Gabel whispered under
his breath.
"So do I."
291
"We need an engineer up on the bridge. Are you the only one
on duty?"
Tilyer holstered the blaster and plucked his commlink from his
breast pocket. "Okay Gabel," he said into the device, "It's
done. Get in here."
Gabel gave the engineer a sad look but dutifully slipped into
the chair.
292
Her voice cracked through, "I read you."
"Understood," she said evenly. There was a click, and then the
connection went dead.
Linia nodded, forcing a tired smile onto her face. "Yeah, I'm
alright. I'm just tired." She stood, placing her commlink onto
the console before her. "I'm going to go get a cup of caf.
Can you hold things down here until I get back?"
The young officer nodded and gave her a wink, "Sure thing
Linia. Take your time."
She nodded her thanks and turned, moving out the door and
past the storm trooper stationed there. Once out in the
hallway, she quickly crossed the short distance to the officer's
lounge and hit the door release.
293
the locker was kept under lock and key for security reasons,
but Tilyer had found another source. The impounded
munitions the Enforcer had picked up in orbit around
Malastare provided a good alternative. She didn't know how,
and perhaps she was better off not knowing, but somehow he
had been able to procure the weapon without anyone
catching on. A momentary pang of doubt gripped her as her
fist closed around the cold black metal, but she forced it down
and headed out the door, hurrying back to the bridge.
She cut him off with another blast aimed in his direction.
Somehow he managed to dive to the side, and the wave of
blue energy coursed by him, blasting into one of the bridge
consoles. A shower of sparks from the ruined console
cascaded over him as he foundered on the deck, knocking
over several chairs in his frantic scramble for the master
alarm. Linia strode forward, squeezing off two more shots at
her fellow officer. The first blast caught him in the legs,
pitching him forward onto the deck. He started to doggedly
claw his way forward, but the second blast caught him full in
the chest. His body shuddered and his eyes rolled up into the
back of his head as he finally fell limp on the deck.
294
Initiating phase two. Stand by for further instructions."
Gabel sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Well, if I've read the
schematics right, you're going to have to go back into the
engine access ports and manually increase the drive output to
the point of meltdown."
"In the access port, there should be three levers. Push each of
them all the way upbut you'll have to do it for each
individual engine."
Gabel shook his head, looking away from Tilyer and back
toward the console. "No, I have to monitor things here to
make sure the meltdown proceeds slowly enough to give the
crew time to abandon ship."
"Sure thing."
Tilyer took a deep breath and wiped away the sweat draining
into his eyes. He reached down, gently easing the third lever
295
on the console into the upright position. "Okay Gabel," he
said into his commlink, "That's the fifth one. You getting any
reaction on your end?"
Still nothing.
296
"Shit!" he shouted, returning fire at the white-clad figure that
emerged from the gloom of the hallway. The blue stun bolt
spread out, impacting along the walls as the trooper pulled
back.
Down below, Tilyer could hear him talking. "I've got contact!"
Tilyer lost his footing and pitched forward down the slanting
walk. He frantically flailed for the railing but his hands couldn't
find a purchase. He let out a scream and tumbled down the
ramp. His shoulder hit the ledge below, sending a fierce jolt of
pain coursing through his arm and into his chest. He gasped,
squeezing his eyes closed against the agony as his fingers went
limp and the pistol in his hand clattered to the deck.
297
Tilyer watched as four more figures appeared at the mouth of
the hallway. Flanked by a pair of storm troopers, Venka folded
his arms over his chest, regarding Tilyer with an icy gaze.
"I never would have picked you for a traitor, Flight Officer
Raan. I suppose we are just fortunate that one member
of your little band actually has a conscience."
The deck grating pushed painfully into the side of his face,
but even so Tilyer managed a look of confusion before Venka
stepped aside and revealed the one person still left lurking in
the hallway.
298
He painfully cracked his eye open, blinking against the harsh
light overhead as the world reasserted itself over his vision.
Linia's face hovered over his, a mix of concern and
annoyance evident upon her features.
Her hair was in disarray and a deep purple bruise had started
to develop over one of her cheek bones. She let her arms
drop to her sides as she gave an exasperated sigh. "We got
caught, that's what happened."
299
real question I have is whether or not he'll wait until we get
back to Coruscant to execute us."
"Ok, look. I'm sorry for getting you into this," Tilyer blurted
out. "It seemed like it would work at the time, but"
She cut him off with a wave of her hand, "Don't worry about it
Tilyer."
"But"
Tilyer didn't reply, lowering his chin to his chest and fixing
his gaze upon the far wall.
He looked up at her. "The plan was fine. It was just the people
involved."
"Gabel."
"Weak-willed?"
"But that's the gist of what you were saying. Face it Tilyer,
you couldn't control him like you thought you could."
300
"Linia, he betrayed us."
She twisted in her seat to face him. "You were right about
Gabelat least partly. He's a follower in every sense word, at
least from what I've seen. He truly believes in the Empire.
Maybe he's just nave, or maybe he actually buys the lines
Venka and the rest cram down our throats every day.
Whatever the reason, he believes in the idea of the Empire
Like you used to. Like I used to before all of this happened.
Maybe to him, going along with us would be an even bigger
betrayal than what he's already done. It would mean
betraying the foundations his life and beliefs have been built
upon."
"It's all I've been thinking about for a while," she admitted
quietly. "There's not been much else to do since we were
captured."
301
Another awkward silence ensued.
With the magnetic lock disengaged, the door to the cell hissed
open to reveal the figure standing on the other side. The dark
skinned man ducked under the threshold and stepped into the
cell, lights glinting off of his bald pate as he straightened to
his full height.
"Old habits, I guess Sir. We, ah, weren't really expecting you."
"Well, I'm sorry for being so forward sir, but . . . what are you
doing here?"
Del'Goren sighed and folded his arms over his chest. "Yes. To
me it does."
302
Tilyer sighed again. "Have you heard about what Venka
is planning?"
"Then you should know why. Those people down there had
nothing to do with whatever else has been going on down on
Belsavis. Commander Venka is going to destroy them for no
other reason than his misguided sense of justice. It should be
our duty to protect those people, not destroy them. He wants
to blast them to pieces on grounds of hearsay and conjecture.
I couldn't let him do thatwe couldn't let him do that," he
said, looking meaningfully to Linia. "Anyway, I wouldn't
expect you to understand."
"What?"
303
cracked open the star fighter's ion engine housing. He
watched without even a hint of surprise as something sparked
within the fighter's innards. The technicians stumbled back a
few steps, exchanging worried glances amongst each other.
Then another spark flashed, and suddenly an explosion
belched forth from the TIE's engine compartment, sending
the mechanics fleeing along the catwalks.
Del'Goren calmly turned to the wall behind him and pulled the
fire alarm located there. Klaxons wailed as red emergency
lights began to flash. He glanced around as one of the
crewmen on the floor started for the fire fighting station
positioned to the rear of the bay. He called out to the man,
waving for him to stop.
"I don't know," said one of them, shaking his head in disbelief.
"We were just about to recalibrate the ionization signatures
when something sparked. I don't know what it was, but it
304
must have set off the fuel tanks to cause an explosion that
big."
"Well get on the commlink and tell let them know that
everyone has evacuated already. The best way to put out the
fire is going to be to depressurize the bay."
"Yes sir"
"Del'Goren?"
"Alright, do it."
305
The small circular room was occupied in the middle by a large
desk console. Security cameras and other devices studded
various portions of the wall, and a short corridor ran down
the rear of the room to a quartet of closed cells. Del'Goren
moved forward toward the security officer seated at the
console, shifting the pack around to his front as he went.
The other man shifted uneasily, "I'm sorry sir, but I can't do
that. Commander Venka has told me to admit no one but
himself."
He quickly found the right cell and hit the door release. Inside,
Tilyer and Linia started as the door slid open, staring in
disbelief at the figure standing in the doorway.
306
Linia and Tilyer exchanged looks.
With nothing else to do, Tilyer and Linia followed him into the
detention foyer. Tilyer's eyes widened as he caught sight of
the guard sprawled along the floor and blaster wound in his
side.
"Setting everything on stun isn't going to get the job done this
time. If you want out of here, you're going to have to man up
and do some things you don't want to do. It's that simple. You
either pull the trigger, or I leave your ass here alone to deal
with Venka and the rest of his goons. You hear me?"
"With this." Del'Goren took the last item out of his pack, a
slim gray device with a pair of buttons on one face.
307
"Sir, there's been some type of disturbance in the brig."
"Someone set off the silent alarm. It was shut off a few
seconds later, but I haven't been able to raise the security
officer on duty. I think it might have something to do with the
fire in the hangar, but I can't be sure."
"Sir?"
Venka folded his arms across his chest and faced back toward
the bridge viewport.
The hangar fire and the brig alarm couldn't be isolated events.
That much he was sure of. He could have brushed them off as
coincidence, but he hadn't gotten this far into his career by
not listening to his instincts. If he had to bet, Raan had
something to do with it, but how he could orchestrate
anything out of that cell of his was a mystery to him. Either
way, Venka wasn't going to take any chances.
308
He lay on the floor a moment, looking around in dazed
stupefaction. One of bridge consoles sparked briefly,
illuminating the motionless form sprawled on the ground
before it. An acrid smell permeated the room, as did a
chorus of groans from the surviving bridge crew.
"I mean it's gone sir! It's not there anymore. Something must
have touched off the fuel reserves, because the explosion totally
demolished it. If we hadn't depressurized the bay when we did,
the whole ship would have gone up." He paused, punching a few
more keys. "We're slowly venting atmosphere, and our orbit
around Belsavis is beginning to decaying. Artificial gravity on
decks five and six is about shot too."
"Propulsion?"
309
Del'Goren ignored her. "Lets get moving. Venka should have
enough to worry about with the ship, but we still need get
out of here before someone comes looking for us." He turned
and headed out the door and down the hallway.
310
and skittered along the floor and into the turbolift. The
lieutenant retreated back, covering his eyes with one arm.
Then the grenade went off with a muffled bang, not nearly the
result Tilyer had been expecting. As he chanced a peek into
the corridor, he could stormtroopers reeling, hands pressed
against their eyes.
"I'll find my own way out. You two just get yourselves to an
escape pod." Del'Goren stood, hefting a blaster rifle to his
shoulder. "I've got a score to settle."
"Sir!"
"Sir, the squad you dispatched has made contact with the
prisoners."
"And?"
311
The crewman paused, listening intently to his commlink.
"I don't know, sir. I've lost contact with them."
Tilyer peered out of the turbolift car into the nearly deserted
corridor beyond. Red emergency lights pulsated epileptically
overhead and an automated female voice repeated
instructions to abandon ship. A pair of crewmen fled down the
hallway, hardly even giving him a second look in their mad
flight for the escape pods.
312
They continued on down the corridor, casting furtive glances
down side passages as they went, but the ship seemed to be
deserted.
313
blaster bolts as Tilyer roughly shoved Linia toward a side
passage, barreling after her with iridescent laser fire nipping
at his heels.
"We gotta keep moving and make our way to the other side of
the ship."
"How do we even know there are any pods left at all?" she
protested.
314
Tilyer turned to run back the other way just as three
stormtroopers appeared from out of the side passage behind
Linia. Almost simultaneously the two troopers who had been
pursuing them previously appeared down the hall from where
he had just emerged. Tilyer put on a desperate burst of speed
and headed in the only direction he could, dodging into
another passage, this one considerably larger than the last. As
he skidded to a stop, he realized where he wasthe
promenade, the main corridor that ran down the spine of the
ship.
315
another blast into it for good measure, then moved over
to Linia and offered her his hand.
"You can bet on it. Come on, we need to get out of here. That
door isn't going to hold them for long."
"Do you know how to get to the escape pods from here?"
"And we can't just sit here either. We've got to keep moving!"
Behind them the blast door shuddered. "They'll be through
any minute, come on!"
316
Ahead of them barely ten meters down the hallway stood
Commander Venka flanked on either side by a quartet of
stormtroopers. His face twisted into a vicious sneer as he
leveled his pistol at the two of them. "The game's up," he
growled. "Now it's time for you to die."
If Venka was going to say anything else, Tilyer didn't give him
a chance. He shoved Linia into the side passage just as a
storm of blaster fire erupted through the hallway. He barreled
after her as blaster bolts scorched and pinged off of the walls
around him. Then they were out of sight, once again racing
down the hallway with no sense of direction.
"Wait!"
317
"We don't have a minute!"
"Almost there."
A torrent of bolts tore through the air above his head, blasting
the walls and spraying his face with hot bits of molten steel.
He blinked through the stinging haze just long enough to
glimpse the squad of troopers advancing from the other end
of the intersecting hallway. He shrunk back, trading shots
with the new arrivals as the squad he had pinned down before
darted forward.
318
"Okay, I got it!" Linia announced. "Follow me. Lets go!"
"How far?"
"Show yourself!"
319
"No."
"Ygra would have had us all killed in his blind quest for glory.
His incompetence slew more of his own men than the
enemy. He was an old fool whose time had passed."
Del'Goren made a gesture with his blaster, and Venka took his
chance. He surged forward, both hands grabbing for the
weapon. Even as he wrapped his hands around that pistol,
Del'Goren smashed his knee into Venka's crotch. The
commander doubled over. His hands immediately forgot the
gun and flew to his groin. Before they could reach it,
Del'Goren slammed the butt of his blaster into the bridge of
his nose. Venka's vision exploded with stars as he reeled
backward, collapsing on the deck.
320
He started to mumble something through the blood burbling
from his nose and down his chin, but a shake of Del'Goren's
head made him stop.
"Save it. I don't care what you have to say. You're dead."
Tilyer nodded and started to limp down the hallway. White hot
flashes of pain knifed through his senses with each step, but
he kept going, stumbling toward the bank of escape pods
looming ahead.
The corridor widened out, opening into the pod foyer where
two other passages emptied out into the foyer from either
side of him. Half a dozen hatches studded the wall across
from him, the lights on two of which indicated the pods were
still attached.
321
Tilyer breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be
listening and headed toward them as fast as he could. He
hobbled past the mouth of one of the side passages just as
another figure came tearing through the hallway. Tilyer
stopped, perched precariously on his wounded leg as he came
face to face with Gabel Thahlwin.
Gabel took a step toward him, but never got farther than that.
A wave of blue energy coursed over him, lighting every nerve
on fire as his body jerked spasmodically like an epileptic
marionette. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and
he collapsed to the ground.
"Get him into the pod!" she shouted over the din.
He picked himself up off the floor and hooked his arms under
Gabel's shoulders. He grunted, heaving with all of his might
as he began to drag the unconscious crewman toward one of
the remaining escape pods.
322
Gabel was heavier than he looked, but Tilyer managed to lug
his dead weight to the pod hatch. He hit the door release
with his elbow and hauled Gabel into the cramped
compartment beyond. The unconscious man flopped to the
ground, and Tilyer turned back toward the hatch.
Tilyer lashed out with his foot. His heel connected with door
release, and the hatched hissed shut. There was a split second
pause, and then the rockets flared, flinging the capsule out
into the cold reaches of space. Tilyer lay back, his whole body
shaking with relief.
323
A cold terror gripped him. He wrapped his arms around her
back, trying to haul her up. "Linia! Linia, stay with me!"
He let her body sag down against him. His former mirth was
gone. Now he just felt hollow inside. He lay back on the deck
and watched the stars spin, feeling her dead weight press
against his chest.
"Sir?"
324
minutes after the general order was issued, as described
by the rest of the survivors. Why the delay?"
Del'Goren shook his head. "I don't see how, sir. They were in
their cells the whole time. They had no access to the fighter
bay. Commander Venka went after them because he wanted
to ensure they did not somehow escape his custodynot
because he thought they actually caused the explosion."
325
With an air of finality, the admiral rapped his gavel on the
desk.
Her face scrunched up in confusion. "So why come all the way
out here?"
326
He shrugged, "Vigilance has a nice ring to it."
Tilyer looked over to where Gabel sat in the cab of the hover
sled staring resolutely forward.
"He'll get over it. He knows I didn't have to do what I did for
him up there. That's what's eating himknowing who he owes
his life to. Anyway, I've already forgiven him. There's no use
in holding grudges anymore, not after what we've been
through. He'll realize the same thing. Just give him time.
Tana shook her head. "I still don't understand what went on
up there."
"So are you going to stay here for a while?" She grinned
sheepishly, "After what you did for us, even Oltan couldn't say
no."
327
"Like I said before, it's complicated."
He sighed. "They're both out for their own interests. They try
to come off as great philanthropists who want to change the
galaxy for the better, but they're all just looking out for
number one. They don't care about the people like your
family, the ones who just want to be left out of the whole
damn mess. I don't want to be a part of that ideology any
more. People can't just flock to whatever banner is flopping
in the wind at the moment and expect things to turn out
right. That's how the Empire started. A man has to find his
own way through the universe, or else he'll become a slave
to someone else's ideals. If I've learned anything from all of
this, it's that in this galaxy, there is no true black and white.
It's all just a bunch of gray."
"Damn. Full stop. Turn this crate around. How are shields?"
"We can't make anything from it, sir, but the ship
is broadcasting a distress signal."
331
too late, its velocity was too great, and both ships
passed each other without inflicting any major damage.
No one appeared.
332
opened, as if hungry, displaying a row of teeth that were
numerous and sharp. Its skin was thick and leathery and
patched with dark green. Mashed between its teeth were the
remains of the two forward guards.
The pilot of the Scour appeared from his ship when the battle
was complete, walking with large hulking feet that smacked
the metal with each stride. The creature held only a wooden
staff with three branches growing from the top. The alien
murmured to himself in that same low bass-rumble the bridge
crew had heard earlier. As he appeared from the shadows of
his ship, it was clear that the creature was a full two feet taller
than the average human. His skin was yellow up the front,
while the back was patched heavily with a darker green. His
exaggerated arms dragged across the floor and his long fat
neck seemed to stretch forever. Crimson eyes scrutinized
everything. It was an Amanin.
The Amanin slipped into the main corridor, mindful of the new
alarms coming from the docking tube.
333
great arms in the direction he had come.
The leader of the squad kept his weapon trained on the alien.
"Take the squad ahead, and shut down this corridor, I don't
want anymore surprises." The humans turned and continued
their race. The squad leader remained behind with another
officer.
"Our men will handle the situation sir, but this area must be
locked down, including all sentients within. When everything is
back under control, you will be sent to your ship until the
captain has a moment to greet you personally. So if you'll just
come with us." The guard motioned with his weapon that he
was serious.
334
as the Star Destroyer let loose another barrage of blasts,
which was keeping a modest distance in order to keep it in
its sights. The Amanin came across several other
crewmembers that met the same demise as the guards.
And then the hunter entered the bridge.
335
the rebel ship, fired a few shots at the Scour without much
success. With coordinates set, the freighter disappeared with
a shudder of pseudomotion leaving behind the fiery
destruction of the Salvation and the death of the seventy-
seven rebel prisoners.
The interior of the ship had been heavily modified to allow for
the comfort of Amanins. The cockpit controls had to be
completely water resistant to be able to withstand the amount
of moisture that Amanins found comfortable. Their wrinkly
skin had to be kept moist for the most part, although most
could live under the driest conditions for long periods of time.
Running along either side of the hallways were small ditches
catching the moisture to be recycled back into the ship's
environment. Water dripped continuously in every room and
every hallway of the Scour.
336
Amanin chose a simple GAT-12j Skipray to be seen in, which
he used for most of his hunts. Satisfied that the ship had not
been heavily damaged, the Amanin slipped from his oversized
pilot chair and swinging from the branches that were growing
across the ceiling, made his way down to the cargo bay.
In the rear of the cargo bay was a tiny cell, the bars of which
were charged with pure energy. Behind it, Captain Merrill sat
trying to ignore the awful crunching of bone that at one time
belonged to his crew. "What's happened to my ship?" he
demanded. "Where are the rest of my crew?" Skr'tee was
silent. "All right then, where are you taking me?"
The bounty hunter ignored the human and began placing the
heads in a metal tub where they would be chemically treated
to remain fresh for years to come. Skr'tee held his two hands
337
together, bringing them to his gleaming ruby eyes. The heads
stared back blankly; the Amanin did not notice the blood on
his hands. These heads were unremarkable as most humans
went, oh there were one or two that caught his eyes, but the
others he would bring back home and add to his collection. It
was Merrill that the Amanin wanted and so there lay the
problem. Jabba the Hutt had put a bounty on the captain,
quite a large one in fact but it only paid so well when the
hunted one was brought in alive. Yes, Merrill would fit nicely
on his new staff, very nicely indeed. The head was a good
size. The eyes would have to be removed of course, but this
human had excellent bone structure, his jaw was long and
the cheeks hollow. An excellent specimen indeed.
Skr'tee switched off the power to the cell and opened it.
Merrill was still quaking in his uniform when the Amanin
338
stepped up to him, his long fingers wrapping around his
head...
Skr'tee arrived on Tatooine late into the night when the planet
was at its coolest, and the court of Jabba the Hutt was full to
capacity. The Amanin arrived in the Skipray, its precious
nahlee back on Maridun where it was free to roam. He had
learned from the past not to bring the nahlee to Jabba's
palace too often. It would always be brought in to fight
Jabba's latest beast, now a rancor. As much as Skr'tee
enjoyed the bloodbaths, both the nahlee and rancor would not
stop until both were dead. To have a dead nahlee was not
profitable in any way, even for its head.
339
They entered the court in the middle of another one of Max
Rebo's improvised songs. Skr'tee could hear the whisperings
already, his presence was legend among a few of them while
others gave the creature no second thought. Skr'tee paused
at the center of the dance floor, mindful of Jabba's infamous
trap door. The apprentice kept a respectful distance away
and followed Skr'tee's protocol instructions to the letter. The
protocol droid and apprentice both nodded twice at Jabba and
then came to one knee and bowed before the great one.
Skr'tee bowed to no one.
The droid and runt both rose and stood still. The protocol
droid came forth at that moment and produced the sack. From
the sack, a body slipped and fell with a smack against the cold
stone, clothes completely saturated with blood. It was the
headless Captain Merrill.
Jabba's roar was deafening, making his rage more than
apparent. "What is the meaning of this headhunter?" the
bloated one spat. The music suddenly stopped, an oppressive
silence descended upon the court. "You continue to disappoint
me. Where is this bounty's head?"
340
The Amanin's head sunk, only slightly as he rumbled
something in his defense. The protocol droid translated. "It
began, mighty Jabba after accepting to hunt down this bounty
for his exhaultedness.
341
"The Empire also caught another unsuspecting animal in its
trap. The starship Salvation which also carried the bounty
I was hunting."
342
In their corner, the two beings conversed in their own
language.
Skr'tee asked.
While the runt sipped his ale, Skr'tee lifted a small satchel he
had draped over his shoulder and put it on the table. Seeing
this, the runt did the same, it was always customary to show
and sometimes trade heads after a hunt story. The runt's
satchel was much smaller, less time worn, made of nahlee
skin. Skr'tee's was much larger and made of some unknown
substance, perhaps the skin of some creature the runt had
never encountered. The runt eyed it with envy.
The anger in his voice was unmistakable. The runt reached for
the last object in the sack but suddenly found himself on the
floor. Skr'tee's backhand had found his head, it was several
seconds before the room came back into focus. The runt did
343
not get up then, for he knew well that more pummeling would
present itself without first getting Skr'tee's permission to
stand.
Skr'tee was silent for a very long time as he pulled the final
head out of the runts sack, a head the runt was trying to hide.
Envy now entered Skr'tee's eye. The creature spoke, voice low
with admiration of the piece:
'I should ask where this was found, but I think the answer is
coming in due time,' he thought.
344
was never seen bringing in a bounty, he always kept to
the shadows, and seemed to do nothing in the way of
entertainment.
'Why does Jabba keep this creature around? What use does he
serve?'
'Some tale Mon must have to receive such graces from the
bloated one. A fine tale indeed. And what a magnificent head
you have, Mon. Far better than any of your races'. Perhaps
one day you will be on the Hutt's wanted list and Skr'tee will
come collecting.'
The nahlee broke from the green and yellow foliage, bringing
down trees with each mighty step.
Skr'tee found himself racing at full speed away from the pet,
under yet another thunderstorm that Maridun was
accustomed to. Each time thunder cracked, the nahlee gave
another triumphant and deafening roar. The Amanin
continued to run, hand clasping his injured side. He barely
kept ahead of the nahlee, for running on both legs was not
easy for Skr'tee. And he needed both hands to swing through
the forest with any speed, but he could not lest he removed
his hand from his side and let his guts spill to the ground. The
bounty hunter chanced a glance behind and could still see
chunks of his yellow-green flesh in the nahlee's teeth. Now
weaponless, the Amanin made his way deeper into the forest,
345
hoping that the thick darkness would provide cover from the
rabid nahlee. Skr'tee continued to fire thought commands at
the rampaging creature, but to no avail. And wherever he ran,
the nahlee followed, which was no wonder at all, for they
could see into each other's minds. But when these creatures
became excited it was difficult to read theirs.
The bounty hunter found a clearing and made his way to it,
knowing that this would make himself open to another
attack. But Skr'tee knew these parts well and if he could
make it past the clearing, the hunter may be able to regroup.
The nahlee suddenly appeared in his path from a mighty
leap; lunging at the hunter, it's mouth came crashing down.
But Skr'tee had moved quicker and the giant mouth found
only a tree. The nahlee ripped the tree out of the ground,
roots and all and thrashed its head back and forth as though
it had found a live prey. Confused, the creature dropped the
tree and continued the chase.
346
The marsh was alive with all sorts of activity and sounds. A
small pinch at the back of the Amanin's neck made him curse.
He slapped at the insect that had attached itself to his skin,
squishing it beneath his mighty palm. Removing his hand, the
bounty hunter saw the large insect that had been crushed.
Just as the hunter had planned, the nahlee's great bulk had
disturbed several hives of garnesh, angering them into a
swarm that attacked the creatures bulk. A thick cloud of
hungry insects hovered around the nahlee, infuriating the
creature. The nahlee crashed to one knee from the thousands
of bites it received. The Amanin dove back under the surface
and swam toward the poor tortured creature. Seeing in its
mind eye, the nahlee saw its master swimming toward it, but
being filled with pain was unable to defend itself. Skr'tee leapt
from the depths, hands reaching for the nahlee's jaw.
347
spewing forth a river of blood onto Skr'tee and making the
garnesh frenzy. Exhausted, Skr'tee waded away from the
dead beast and away from the garnesh, wondering how
he had gotten into this predicament in the first place...
From the hidden section of his staff, a small blaster fell to the
ground. He was about to pick it up when a loud crash was
heard from behind. Skr'tee turned to see his attacker and was
nearly paralyzed by shock. It was the nahlee, no doubt feeling
348
his own rage at the young apprentice. But Skr'tee had been
wrong, there were no thoughts in the nahlee's mind but blind
red rage. Before the Amanin could react, the nahlee had
turned its head and chomped down on the creature's side,
ripping out a large chunk of flesh.
Skr'tee pulled himself onto the far bank of the marsh and sat
for several minutes applying mud to his various wounds. He
was a skilled healer as well as a hunter, although he knew he
would be spending several weeks in a bacta tank after this
hunt was complete. A laser blast rang out, forcing the hunter
to jump to his feet and take to the forest again. Between the
darkness, the thunder and lightning and now the laser blasts,
the Amanin could not concentrate well, nor plan for escape.
He still did not know his attacker; the Amanin had several
enemies undoubtedly, but which one?
The injured creature's trek had brought him full circle, back
to his land. He raced immediately to the Scour where he had
several weapons stored and could defend himself. Skr'tee
raged at the vessel for it would not open to his personal
codes. Each one had been changed. Without another thought,
the bounty hunter made his way to the Skipray. Skr'tee did
not travel very far when his enemy appeared in the darkness,
outlined in a flash of red lightning.
349
Skr'tee corrected. The runt winced inwardly at this, for he
had felt the nahlee's death. Skr'tee continued, stalling for
more time.
Skr'tee asked.
350
Skr'tee was still laughing as he adjusted the setting on his
weapon.
The runt tossed the staff, landing just out of the Amanin's
reach. Skr'tee chuckled at this and reached for it, never taking
his eyes off of the apprentice. The runt turned and ran at that
moment, but another laser blast to the young Amanin's spine
brought him down. Their nervous system differed far from a
human and the blast merely immobilized the creature, instead
of killing him outright. Skr'tee came forward, walking proud
with his staff in his hand once again.
The Amanin took the other's unmoving head into his hands
and with great strength...
'So many monks this day does not bode well at all. I must
speak with Jabba, to be sure that Jabba was not behind this
treachery. And if Jabba is not, then Jabba must hear of Isleff's
evils.'
The droid knocked the Ranat down with its great metal hand;
the creature's spoils scattered across the ground. Skr'tee
continued to walk toward the main audience chamber ignoring
the screams of the Ranat as his head was separated from his
351
body by the protocol droid. Perhaps Fortuna would have some
contacts for him.
The Amanin balled his fingers into a fist, sharp claws drawing
blood from his palms. Standing proud next to Isleff was
another Amanin. The headhunter bore a staff with three
magnificent heads on it as well. Skr'tee could not make out
the creatures face from the glare of the sun, but the bounty
hunter knew that there was more to the runts story that had
not been told. Much more.
352
Very little activity surrounded the Vinsioth system, made up of
three planets in all, and only one supporting life. At the rear of
the system was a tiny, almost insignificant asteroid belt,
which spiraled with chunks of ice and rock, but other than
that, the system was quiet. Quiet, except for the cruising
speed of an Imperial Star Destroyer. It did not appear from
lightspeed suddenly, nor did it come racing in at attack speed.
This ship was here with a purpose, one that would not require
immediate battle stations. The wedge-shaped starship sailed
through the asteroid belt; not a single canon was fired as the
small asteroids bounced off of the ship's shields. The Star
Destroyer Contention converged with slow intent upon the
Chevin homeworld and did not stop until it came into the
planet's orbit.
"Lookit' this mess, Albern D'or. This single crate holds enough
explosive power to send ya back to your ancestors." The
Chevin worker scrambled to repack the crate and move about
his work. Once the crate was secure, only then did Ephant
Mon return to the pilot who had brought this fresh load to
him.
353
The Amanin rumbled something in his language.
"I tried telling him, but would he listen? Well, I did what I
could. Nothin' will change that. So who done 'im in? Tell me
it wasn't Tessek."
The Chevin grew angry with this. "Isleff! That don't surprise
me at all. That Hutt had his filthy hands into everyone's credit
pouch. So what does this mean to me? You're a hunter, not a
smuggler, so there must be some reason why you came
here." Ephant Mon looked up at the Amanin, glaring into its
354
eyes. "Did you come for my hide, Skr'tee? Maybe you found
some buried feelings and couldn't find it in you to hunt me,
so now you're askin' me?" Ephant Mon laughed at this and
barked another insult at some grunts.
Ephant Mon drew himself up to his full height, he did not back
down, nor shiver with fear, when suddenly a large piercing
whine cut off all conversation. "Everybody down!" Ephant
Mon shouted, and then he tackled the Amanin.
355
inferno erupted inside of the Scour's belly. Missiles of
metal rocketed out of the bay, and across the plain. Shards
of Skr'tee's ship skewered some of the fleeing Chevins.
Skr'tee screeched into the back of his staff that held a tiny
computer that was linked directly to the ship. The ship
started to hum and took several more shots to the hull as the
fighters racked its topside with more laser blasts. Skr'tee
raced to his burning ship, leaving Ephant Mon to his fate.
356
The blanket of stars on a black background appeared, the
Amanin still had five fighters trailing him, while a new threat
appeared. The Contention hung in a low orbit on full alert.
It was the very same Destroyer that Skr'tee had fired upon in
the Tanteract system. Four more fighters joined in on the
chase.
"Yes sir, you'll have this scum within moments," Capet's first
mate relayed the orders.
357
The Scour was flying sluggishly with two engines off-line.
The T.I.E. fighters had gained and were hammering the
shields. Skr'tee remained calm in his pilot seat, allowing the
fighters to come closer.
The bounty hunter left the cockpit and raced down the
corridors to the main cargo bay. He surveyed the damage
through a porthole, before entering. The floor decks had
melted and curled upwards, the ceiling supports had
snapped, and hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth
with every lurch the ship made. The walls had no breaches,
but were scarred black. Littering the floor were various crates
and pieces of weaponry left from the Chevins after the attack
had commenced. As the ship shuddered beneath the
creature's great feet, Skr'tee made his way to a storage
locker that had been charred black from the explosion. The
locker was over three meters tall and nearly as wide. Opening
it, the Amanin was pleased to see that the contents were
undamaged. Leaving the locker opened, Skr'tee raced out of
the cargo bay and slammed the door closed.
358
Exactly what Skr'tee was looking for. He slammed his fist
down on the button that opened the cargo bay doors.
Everything that was in the cargo bay was quickly sucked out
into the vacuum of space.
359
calculate the jump to hyperspace. The biggest threat to
jumping to hyperspace in a battle was having a stray laser
blast hit your ship just as you made the jump. Star
Destroyers were notorious for its precision and the destruction
it caused. Skr'tee had to put distance between him and the
enemy in order to jump safely.
The missiles went off, only a meter away from one of the
larger asteroids. The impact wave that followed hurled several
asteroids away from the belt and into an evading T.I.E.
fighter. The Amanin rumbled with laughter.
360
The lieutenant, who was sweating now, nodded.
The order to fire was finally given. Even if the ship made the
jump, it would not do so successfully.
Seeing the fighters turn tail, Skr'tee banked the ship and
pulled it away from the asteroid belt. Now the asteroid belt lay
between the Scour and theContention.
When the missiles had reached the center of the asteroid belt,
they ignited. The middle of the belt erupted from the shock
wave, sending sheets of debris in every direction. Skr'tee's
thick red lips stretched across his face in a satisfied grin.
361
wall of rock, scoring against the freighter's hull.
The Scour shuddered for a moment and then leapt forward,
stars turning into silver lines, as Skr'tee made his escape.
Aboard the Contention, all was silent as all eyes fell upon
Capet. The Captain stood at the front view port, hands
clasped behind his back, staring at the asteroid belt.
Sensors indicate that they had scored some major hits to
the fleeing freighter, but not enough to damage its engines.
Capet shook his head. "No. Recall all fighters and set a course
to the Endor system."
362
"Apparently our destiny."
The Scour did indeed drop out of lightspeed, not in the next
system but several systems beyond. The freighter coughed
and moaned as it gave up its great speed to sublight. The
hyperdrive motivator reverberated with a startling screech
across the ship. The protocol droid raced to engineering with
a quick shuffle, it could feel its gears and joints shaking all
over its body. Engineering was a mess. A thick cloud of blue
smoke gathered in the enclosure, poisonous fumes reigned
above all else. The specially modified atmosphere systems for
the Scour had been damaged, now streams of water
were shooting directly into the motivator, sending sparks
and flames into the air.
The droid put its hands up as though that could ward off the
dangerous fires and then began working furiously at the
layout and managed to shut down the environment systems.
Moments later the ceiling and broken water mains stop
dripping. The ship was still shaking badly as it struggled to
slow down, the walls shook and more water mains broke, but
no water spilled forth. And then slowly, interminably, the ship
slowed down, the shaking subsiding until the only sound that
remained was the screeching klaxons.
The droid could hear the tiny muffled alarm going off. It
turned, head cocked to one side as it peered at the motivator
and realized too late that there was nothing it could do.
363
space. The Scour rocked from the explosion, lights all over
the ship began to wink out as Skr'tee screeched in anger until
he too was plunged into absolute darkness. The ship came to
a full stop and sat there in space, completely dead.
Ephant Mon had introduced the Amanin to this art and he had
not tasted such a fine cigar since the dancing girl had been killed
in Jabba's Palace. There just seemed to be little time to enjoy
these pleasures these days. And Skr'tee did not know when he
would enjoy one again. The coldness of space was already
seeping into the cockpit, as the Amanin exhaled a fine plume of
smoke. It was time to work now, the bitter cold felt like razors
against his lungs. The anger seemed to dissipate into the air with
each cloud of smoke. But Skr'tee knew the anger would be there
when the time came to need it, instead of wasting it, the bounty
hunter hardened it into resolve.
'Blast! I was sure I had it this time. At least I have heat and
food.' He looked at his drying, flaking skin. Skr'tee ran a thick
tongue over his cracked and bleeding lips and grimaced. 'I
must get the environment systems on-line or I will not need
the hyperdrive.'
Some would say that Nal Hutta would be the perfect homeworld
for the Empire that is if the Emperor could withstand the mighty
stench of the Hutts that had seeped into every pore of the planet.
Nal Hutta wasn't a complete swampy bog, it had also sported
several cities complete with numerous levels, much like
Coruscant, cities built on top of cities, and like the bottommost
layer of the Imperial city, Nal Hutta's lower levels were dark and
dangerous. Deep in the bowels of the so-called 'Glorious Jewel'
planet, few sentients made their way to the lower city levels, and
those that did rarely returned
365
with all of their limbs in tact.
Isleff continued his mirth and did not speak until the laughter
had fully run its course. The Amanin stood patiently knowing he
could possibly take hours before the Hutt found control of
himself. "Ho-ho-ho, come now dear Hidda you must learn to
366
appreciate the humor of such things. Imagine the fury of the
Imperial Captain that Skr'tee has defeated twice." Isleff added
another volley of rumbling laughter to the conversation before
continuing again. Absently, the Hutt wiped the green goo from
his face and wiped it on the hair of the scantily clad Rodian
slave girl before him. "Perhaps this Skr'tee would make a
promising addition to my hunters, what say you Hidda?"
Hidda was not the creature's given name; Isleff had given him
this one. In Huttese it simply meant 'Humorless'. The Amanin
bowed respectfully to Isleff, tired of the creature's mirth.
367
"That's right, my dear Hidda. Skr'tee thought you were dead
didn't he? But now he knows the truth and he is searching.
So Hidda, do you believe that this bounty hunter is still after
me?"
A thin, pale Skr'tee let himself fall into his chair. He had
worked on the engines for three days, and for three days he
had not felt a single droplet of cool water upon his skin. Not
even with long stops at Jabba's did Skr'tee ever feel so
parched, so drained of life. A stench more horrible than the
worst Imperial dungeon had sunk into the interior of the ship.
Skr'tee's body was already rebelling against his drying skin
by producing a slick black oil coating his entire skin, this oil
responsible for the odor of the ship that bothered even the
Amanin's senses.
The first thing Skr'tee had done was to check his water
reservoirs located throughout the ships. All of the holding tanks
had ruptured, spilling most of the water across the deck. What
little water remained had been poisoned from the
368
fires and burning gases. Maridun was too far for his ship to
limp to and so relief from the lack of water would have to
wait.
Skr'tee grew impatient as his ship made its way forward, and
there was very little to do except to work on temporary
repairs. But all of that could wait. The Amanin had important
business to take care of first. Since Ephant Mon would not
aide him in his quest, then that did not mean Skr'tee would
end his search for Isleff's majordomo. It was no secret that
Isleff had dozens of palaces scattered across the galaxy, but
what Skr'tee needed to discover was which location the Hutt
was currently residing on.
With his great hands, Skr'tee removed the runt's head from
the staff and set it upon his knees. He dropped the staff and
ran both hands over the runt's face. Black oil smeared across
it. Slowly, he brought the runt's head to his great mouth, and
like the cannibals of his race, began eating the rotting,
decaying flesh of his one-time apprentice. A large piece of
flesh tore from the runt's face and hung loose from the
Amanin's lips as he chewed, almost thoughtfully on the
toughened skin.
369
had tasted such succulence.
'I am tired, too tired. Isleff must not be far or this hunt
shall fail. I must not fail.'
The ancient Hutt swiveled his head and peered at the Amanin
greedily. Isleff slid into the room, and picked up Hidda's staff.
370
Hidda looked alarmed, his skin secreting an oily chemical to
maintain the consistency of moisture along his body. He had
learned long ago not to question Isleff.
"And when you return, you shall have all twelve heads that
sit in on this meeting."
Although the trip to the Hutt homeworld would take five days
if his repairs kept, it was the best possible destination. Skr'tee
also kept several hideouts across the galaxy, not as grand or
magnificent as a Hutt's, but adequate. And more importantly,
Skr'tee's Nal Hutta hideout had a vast reservoir he could bath
in. He could rearm himself for the assault on Isleff's palace,
and perhaps meet up with some old contacts. Excited by this
new development, Skr'tee set in a new course, one that would
take him directly to Nal Hutta. With a new breath of
inspiration, the Amanin dangerously increased the power to
the engines knowing he must get there soon. Five days was a
long time to wait.
371
The red sun quickly sank out of the ship's viewscreens
submerging the ship with darkness, except for the blinking of
lights from the operating systems.
As the freighter drifted deeper into Hutt space, the ship fired
a few low powered laser blasts at any ships that happened to
get in the way of its flight path. A Corellian freighter called the
Shadow appeared directly in front of the Scour. The pilot of
the Shadow felt his ship rock as its shields were hit two,
three and then four times by harmless blasts. The pilot
responded by slowing his ship down and swerving left to right
to keep the Scour directly behind it.
372
to thank the gods when the ship lurched forward with
violence. The pilot of the Shadow had come up behind and
was firing a rapid succession of laser blasts into the ships
remaining engines. The cockpit exploded into a shower of
sparks as every remaining onboard system shorted out from
the latest attack. The remaining engines erupted into a hot
flash of white, creating another furious fire across the
hindquarter of the ship.
The bounty hunter counted off the seconds aloud, and when
he judged he had reached the breathable atmosphere, Skr'tee
pounded his giant fist on the escape pod release. With the last
of his energy spent, the hunter let his head fall face first onto
the computer console in front of him and that was the last
thing he remembered for a very long time...
373
recognition. He was not in the escape pod, nor near the crash
sight of the doomed freighter. Skr'tee was lying beneath a tall
thick and gnarled tree. The tree had once stood for centuries,
providing life for hundreds of creatures through shelter and
food. But today it stood like a rotten tooth, withered and
black, dying but not quite dead. Skr'tee stood on shaking legs,
resting a large palm on the side of the tree. He had known
this tree well for had he not raised it from a sapling so many
years ago? The smells of the area were familiar to him,
although the smells were different somehow, like life gone
bad.
He shook his head and nearly tumbled over from the vertigo. His
last memories left him spiraling toward the planet surface. Had
he made his way here in a daze, fuelled by a fierce
determination to live? Or was it something entirely different?
Skr'tee was weak and his body felt as though his skin was
burning from acid; his bones ached. He dropped to the ground
again and lapped at the puddle of water; his throat rejected
the stale liquid.
374
Although the water was dirty, it was drinkable. He had to
force it down, despite the throat's pained cries. Skr'tee
needed water. He lapped at the water again, sneering at the
awful taste of the liquid. His throat rebelled, but this time his
will was stronger and the water went down, throat fighting
every millimeter of the way. When it was down, and the
creature was certain he was not going to throw it up, Skr'tee
leaned back against the tree with a deep sigh.
The bounty hunter looked down at his left arm, it lay useless
to one side crushed and mashed into a yellow and green pulp.
Three fingers were missing; they weren't severed, but crushed
in the crash. The appendage was crooked and bent at every
angle and was completely useless to the hunter. With his good
hand, he clasped the wrist of the injured arm and began
tugging at it.
When the arm finally ripped from the socket, the hunter
responded with a few oily black tears from his blood-red eyes.
The bodiless arm began twitching, the remaining finger
spasmed with a life of its own.
375
with a stride of confidence wearing a tattered brown cloak
that concealed his missing appendage quite well. The few
remaining scavengers of the night gave the creature wide
birth as he marched down a side street, making his way to
a familiar cantina he knew that served Amanin cuisine.
The interior was very dim, and coupled with the bright
flashing lights of the cantina's exterior allowed everyone
inside to see newcomers before they themselves could see.
This mattered little to Skr'tee since his vision was not based
upon the same as humans. Several heads turned to the
entranceway and then darted back when they recognized the
Amanin. Skr'tee stood in the entranceway, meeting the gaze
of each person before motioning to the bartender to make
room for a table.
376
After several seconds of awkward silence, the Bith's eyes
darted around the cantina; he finally began to speak. He
thought about getting up and leaving, but it was too late for
that now. The Bith had gambled on getting money from the
bounty hunter, and now that it was clear that wasn't going to
happen, it was clear that if the Bith wanted to live, he would
have to give up his information. "Very well then, I can see
you're in a hurry, Gergun will make this fast. The Unseen One
has sent his many minions to every hovel and brothel."
Gergun leaned closer, speaking in a cautious whisper. "The
word is out on you friend, and the word is no good. The Hutt
wants you dead."
It took a long gulp of his ale and then signaled to the serving
droid for another.
"No, no, my dear hunter, that's what the word is. That's not
information." The Bith leaned in even closer, his large
bulbous head, poked through the hooded cloak. His voice
dropped further. "The Hutt's majordomo was in here earlier, I
saw him with my own eyes, this is big, Gergun has heard
much. It's not the Hutt that is searching for you at all."
"It's the 'domo, he's seeking you." A yellow hand shot up into
the air from the Bith's cloak, motioning for the Amanin to not
interrupt. "I don't know why bounty hunter, but I can find
out."
Skr'tee nodded.
377
Returning his attention to Gergun, Skr'tee asked.
The droid set another tankard of ale down and spoke to the
Amanin in his language. With that the droid turned and
returned to its duties. It was several minutes before the
Bith leaned back into the light to continue his message.)
"Isleff wants you, that's clear, but there's talk, if you know
where to listen, that he wants your skills. Isleff is in desperate
need of good bounty hunters."
The door to the kitchen swung open, the serving droid made his
way through with a platter full of meat followed by another
shorter squat droid, carrying a tub of water. The Bith's hands
wrapped themselves around Skr'tee's wrists, they felt like
pistons. Gergun gave a final whimpering screech before Skr'tee
crushed his head completely in his hands. The Bith fell
378
back into his chair, hood deflating.
The Amanin watched as the two droids left. His left arm
accidentally touched the small puddle of water the droid had
spilt; a shiver suddenly ran up and down the creature's body,
his neck gills began puckering greedily. His skin had tasted
the succulent exotic waters of Maridun. Skr'tee ignored the
food and picked the heavy metal tub to his lips and drank
greedily. Fresh, clean water splashed from his mouth and
poured down the sides of his neck. None of it went to waste
as his dry cracked skin sucked in the excess. He left a few
inches behind to wash down the meat, hoping that the
creature had been dead long enough so that no memory
residue was left behind.
379
rumbled another vibrating scream that shook the
walkway. Skr'tee screamed and screamed and screamed.
It was his only defense against the dark images that were
seeping into his mind. The creature he had eaten (leaving not
a single scrap) was revealing its many, many secrets to the
Amanin. Secrets such as where to find hidden guns and
weapons scattered across the galaxy; the life of a mercenary;
hundreds of images of Jabba the Hutt; images of Skr'tee
himself; images of a great temple dedicated to spiritual
pursuits; images of large faces on short stalky legs.
There was only one figure that was searching the skyline,
looking skyward rather than ahead, and he was taller than
the rest - Isleff's majordomo. Hidda.
Skr'tee was still seething with rage. 'This Hidda could have
had taken me in the bar. But instead Hidda mocks me with
homeworld water, followed by the flesh of a friend! He plays
the game in much the same way Isleff plays. But Skr'tee has
played more intricate games than this one.'
380
The Amanin stood on the ledge of the building, showing
himself to the majordomo. Hidda stopped in his tracks. He
was about to shout an order to his men when Skr'tee
suddenly disappeared into the shadows and was gone.
The Filthy Mire made its descent into the 'Beautiful Jewel's'
atmosphere like a shark cutting through the water toward its
prey. Isleff continued to sleep, despite the howling of the
winds and the constant violent rocking of the ship as the
friction of the ship's descent increased.
There was but one place on all of Nal Hutta that Skr'tee could
hope to survive, and that was his home. Through the guise of
night the creature made his way back, with no way of
knowing if anyone had been inside since all of the motion
detectors had been offline for months. The lights did not come
on as he was accustomed to, working to his advantage this
time. Quickly Skr'tee made his way to the decaying tree he
had awakened beneath so many hours ago. Skr'tee seemed to
make a quick search, and then seemingly satisfied left the
area, pushing deeper into the forests.
381
Skr'tee found a small lake in the north end of the warehouse
and slipped into it. A terrible rumble emitted from his mouth
as he sunk into the mire.
The water was dark and indeed thick, like swimming through
mud, but the bounty hunter did not seem to care, he knew these
waters well. Skr'tee dove deeper and found a small tunnel. At
the far end the water led to a small cave buried beneath the soil.
He could not climb out of the stagnant mire fast enough.
Standing upon the banks of the underwater cavern, motion
detectors that were still in operation suddenly sparked to life,
flooding the cave with an uncertain flickering light. A dozen
wompbats screeched and took to the air. The lights revealed the
underground system network that controlled all of the above
ground systems. Skr'tee made his way to the main computer
terminal and slowly began to work.
'But what of this enemy of mine? I know the face well, yet it
can not be! That enemy is dead, I know for I was there...'
...it was a time, before Skr'tee even had a name for names
were not needed on Maridun. A headhunter's entire life was
their name and was easily recognized through eating a
fraction of one's skin. Memories were exchanged and so the
need for names was unnecessary. It was a time when Skr'tee
was considered the most successful of headhunters. This
creature had traveled the globe and had heads of every
known species of Maridun.
382
The Amanin turned with great speed at the voice of the Gran
that had suddenly appeared from the shadows.
The Amanin nodded and turned from the Gran. Within seconds
he was already out of Krue's vision. The Gran followed quickly.
"Damn. We are also prepared to offer you the heads of any
creature you chose from Jabba's own pens!"
"Damn. Then you can have that, whatever you want. Just
name your price! Jabba is wealthy, he can give you anything!"
He was losing this deal, too quickly. Jabba was not going to
like this.
383
The laughter of a Gran is most unpleasant and Krue's was no
exception. "It doesn't work that way headhunter. This is a
deal that you can't refuse. Jabba won't accept that. And there
is very little room to negotiate. You can't try a Hutt's patience
like this. You'll be lucky if you get the original offer out of
this. Now be sensible. You may be quick, and a great hunter,
but do you think you can outrun a blaster?"
"Damn."
A pale blue bolt lanced out across the clearing, jabbing the
Amanin on the side felling him in an instant. Normally, such a
blast would knock any creature into unconsciousness, but the
Amanin struggled on. He reached out pitifully at Jabba, his
mighty hand grabbing a handful of blubber, but before he
could do anything a sharp pain raced across the creature's
backside.
A leg was cut off, while another of Jabba's guards hacked off
the foot. One of the arms was nearly pulled off too. "But there
are several theories as untested as of yet that if you were to
be cut in half, say," the other leg was now removed, the
Amanin's protests drowned out the Hutt, "the other would
regrow as a separate individual. It's time to put this theory to
rest."
"How goes the hunt?" The Hutt began his usual jocularity all but
absent. Hidda stood, covered in a dark soiled cloak, head
searching to the left and then to the right. A few trackers stood
a short distance away, anxious to complete their task.
Hidda found himself searching for his cloak that had fallen off.
Picking himself up he draped the cloak over his back.
386
'Very well, My Lord,' he mocked, 'This part will all end tonight.
But after that, you shall follow. Enjoy your last night on your
homeworld, slime. For it will be your last.'
"Yes, yes." The tiny creatures spun around and were gone.
'Jabba, the one responsible for all of this. At least his justice
came for him. I can still remember the Gran, and the torture.
Yes even the torture...'
387
sensation overtook him, a feeling that would never abate.
Hidda could feel the tiny kernel-like teeth of the Rodian
against his flesh. The Rodian had cut off his arm and then bit
off one of Hidda's fingers. And although unattached, his arm's
memories were his own.
'As black and as filthy as this night. But I did not die there,
Jabba may have been a successful crimelord, but he did not
always hire competent help.' The blast from the ship that was
meant to destroy Hidda had actually blown a large bit across
the clearing. A bit large enough to grow again. 'It took years
to regrow to maturity, and in that time, no one knew that I
lived, not even that abomination Skr'tee. That creature
relished in my abilities, and would not have been a success
without my skill. Skr'tee is no longer me. Jabba stole him and
molded him into a mockery of all headhunters. That creature
isn't even a true Amanin; he is an embarrassment to what I
was. '
Hidda had eventually found Isleff the Hutt and began working
for him, scheming to bring about Jabba's destruction, as well
as Skr'tee's. But Isleff was demanding and time was scarce
for Hidda to conduct his search. It did not take long to learn
that one does not refuse a Hutt (he had already been killed
by one for that same reason), and when Isleff promoted him
to majordomo, there was no choice to be made. But now that
Isleff sought the bounty hunter, Hidda now had the full
resources of a wealthy criminal empire behind him.
'But it still comes down to this. Skr'tee has been found, but
we have been unable to capture him on the world were no one
388
is your friend, and everyone is your enemy. No one has ever
entered Skr'tee's home and we cannot search every hole on
this accursed planet. Perhaps after a swim, my mind will
have relaxed enough so I can resume the search.'
"Come."
Hidda stood impatiently as the pig guard took its axe to the
doors that led to the warehouse that presumably held Skr'tee.
The axe shattered after making a small dent in the reinforced
steel. The trackers were restless and jumped around
incessantly.
It could see the layout of the place quite well, even in the
darkness, and it was immediately clear to his eyes that this
was truly the home of an Amanin. Trees from his homeworld
were scattered throughout the place, complete with springs
and a small river.
"Close! Close!"
389
The majordomo had little faith in the Gamorreans, and so
slipped away into the darkness to aid in the search. Hidda
leapt to the trees swinging from branch to branch.
The guard, feeling the waters rising to its mouth thrashed all
the more, succeeding in tangling himself further, the
waterweed pulled the creature down into the depths. Another
cry echoed across the plains, and Hidda went chasing after
it. While he had been distracted here, Skr'tee must have
attacked the other guards.
390
his lungs. Hidda quickly wrapped his hands around Skr'tee's
head and began to squeeze.
Skr'tee could only grasp with his good arm, which was not
strong enough. The growing one, was covered with blood, and
thrashed useless in the air. He closed his eyes, fighting back
the pain and the beckoning call of unconsciousness. Minutes
seem to pass when Skr'tee suddenly felt the tightness around
his neck loose their grip, and the pressure from his chest
disappear completely. His red eyes opened and saw that
Hidda had fallen backwards and was wrestling with
something.
Skr'tee stood and tore a pointed branch from the dead tree
and turned to the Amanin. Hidda was rolling on the ground; a
large yellow hand that was not attached to the Amanin was
choking the life out of him. The hand had belonged to Skr'tee
and was actually starting to heal and grow again where the
bounty hunter had left it. Skr'tee stumbled over to the
Amanin, brandishing a branch from the dead tree.
Skr'tee raised the branch above his head and thrust it down.
Hidda wriggled and screamed madly, unable to lift himself
from the ground, now that he was skewered to it. Skr'tee's
arm continued to choke the creature. Squatting, Skr'tee
watched hungrily as the creature died. But Hidda was dead.
With a red fanged smile, Skr'tee lifted Hidda's arm and began
eating it.
"Torture her first! Don't just kill her outright. I want to hear
her screams for the ride home. When we reach the docking
bay...kill her." The sail barge lurched forward as the rear
392
repulsors ignited, pushing the transport forward. Isleff sighed
once more wishing things had ended differently.
Using his one good arm and both legs, Skr'tee raced down the
street, swinging from overhangs and signs, lumbering on his
short feet when needed until he caught up to the speederbike,
grabbing one handle, Skr'tee leaped from the ground and
pulled himself up onto the bike. The wind battered his face,
throwing back his hood. He howled a curse into the night and
sped off after the barge.
393
The barge had tremendous speed, far more than that of a
speederbike, but could not use it in the cramped streets of the
Hutt homeworld. If it were out in the open, not even a
landspeeder would hope to catch up with it. But as such,
Skr'tee quickly found the barge and rode alongside it. With a
flick of a switch, the speederbike flew on automatic, while the
bounty hunter stood on the seat, balancing precariously,
trying to find the best handhold.
It was Hidda.
Hidda heard the quiet noise and turned to face the intruder. His
face looked surprised as well but after a few moments the
muscles relaxed and the creature turned back to the streets.
Unsure if Hidda was speaking to him, Skr'tee remained
394
hidden.
Skr'tee was now using his feet to pin the other Amanin's
body against the railing but before he could get both feet
firmly planted, Hidda had recovered from the shock and
slipped a knee under Skr'tee's belly.
Hidda felt hiss neck nearly snap as Skr'tee fell over the side.
He gasped for breath but to no avail. His crimson eyes
darkened with the pain. He clawed at Skr'tee's fingers.
Through his own skin Hidda could smell Skr'tee's rage, could
taste his adrenaline like a sweet nectar.
The bounty hunter was using his legs to climb up the railing,
still pulling Hidda's neck back. His mouth was only inches
away from Hidda's ear.
395
Skr'tee climbed back onto the deck, pulling Hidda with him.
He straddled the Amanin, pushing his neck against the
deck; hid grip loosened, but only fractionally.
With a hiss, Hidda bit into Skr'tee neck with his fangs
drawing thick black oil and blood. the majordomo screamed,
396
him back toward the edge with each blow.
Skr'tee glared into Hidda's bloody eyes, still gripping his fist.
With that, Skr'tee yanked Hidda's arm, hurling the Amanin over
the railing and into the darkness below. He watched the body
disappear far below and did not move until Hidda was
completely gone from sight. Skr'tee slumped his shoulders with
exhaustion, and yet the night's work was not done.
He could feel the power of the thrust engines from the other
side of the deck plates. Quickly he tore into the plating,
creating a hole large enough for him to slip into. The noise of
the machinery was deafening, but he did not care, for he
would not be there long. His red eyes pierced the darkness as
if it was the middle of the day. He was searching for the
coolant lines that ran to the thrust generator to prevent it
from overheating. The pipes ran below the generator in a
maintenance shaft that made up the ceiling to the decks
below. Skr'tee ripped another deck plate off and slipped into
the maintenance shaft.
397
Screaming could be heard, echoing thorough the corridors. The
scream of a female was being broadcast across the ship's
communication system. Minutes passed and the screaming did
not abate, Skr'tee found himself pleasantly moist from the
leaking lines, as he made his way to the personnel quarters. It
was not a difficult task to find Hidda's personal quarters, for it
was the only room that had a wading pool full of rich Maridun
water. There, he found Hidda's staff and a fresh cloak.
The guard stared into those ruby eyes and felt his courage
falter. "All right. It's your head." The rest of the company
broke into a fit of laughter allowing the Corellian to appear to
walk away from the confrontation with the upper hand.
398
The Amanin pulled the hood over his head before entering
Isleff's audience chamber. The Hutt was alone, still searching
a datapad for Hidda's replacement. The headhunter entered
the chamber, head bowed in a respectful manner. As
expected, the Hutt did not acknowledge the creature's
presence for several minutes. The Amanin was only a meter
away; the Hutt had never looked so vulnerable.
Isleff finally peeled his eyes away from the datapad to look at
the visitor. His anger surfaced immediately. "Who permitted
you inside?" As always, the Hutt offered a question with a
most difficult answer. And should the answer displease him,
then death was rarely swift. The female's voice screeched
across the overhead speakers.
The Hutt's eyes bulged imperceptibly from the surprise, and then
began chuckling. "Hidda!" he said, still chuckling, as he stared at
the Amanin, Isleff's chuckle turned into a deep laugh that quickly
grew out of control. "By all that is indecent on Nar Shadaa!
Hidda! I thought you were lost for good this time."
399
"This charade has grown quite tiresome, has it not Skr'tee?"
Before the bounty hunter could reply, The Hutt swirled on his
dais, swinging his tail in a furious arc.
The tail caught the Amanin across the skull, sending him across
the chamber. The blow was hard enough to crush most, but
Amanin's were made of something stronger. Skr'tee rolled with
the blow and came up standing. Isleff slid from his dais and onto
the cold stone floor. His tail lashed out again, this time Skr'tee
dodged it, when the tail smashed the wall into a shower of
concrete, he realized he made a fatal error.
Isleff was now close enough to grab the headhunter with his
bare hands. "Did you really think you could take on Isleff the
Hutt, bounty hunter?"
Isleff had the Amanin by both arms, clasped tightly against its
sides. Their noses were only inches apart. Isleff inched himself
forward the bulk of his stomach was slowly crawling over the
Amanin's feet, trapping him beneath the great weight.
400
He could not bring himself to swallow the morsel. Skr'tee
focused on the injured area and began gnawing at the
opening, a few seconds later, the Hutt was swatting his
pudgy arms at the Amanin, suddenly in great pain. Blood
began pumping from the wound, drowning the Amanin in its
dark filth.
And still the creature dug, deeper into wound until finally Isleff
rolled off and he could breath again.
Isleff's tail thrashed at everything, while raging in every
known tongue and every obscenity he had learned during his
long life.
Skr'tee was pulling with all of his might, the Hutt's neck
stretched with each tug, his foot dug into Isleff's stomach,
the other braced itself onto the dais. With a sickening snap it
was over. Isleff's head tore from his body, sending a deluge
of blood across his body. Skr'tee stumbled backwards with his
prize. And what a prize it was.
401
meal away.
'I would thank Ephant Mon if I could. There was far more
deception to the Chevin than even Jabba realized.' Skr'tee
pulled the cigar out of his mouth, studying it. 'Hutt flesh is a
most horrid taste, as vile as a Hutt mind if not prepared
properly. I would not know this most excellent taste were it
not for Ephant Mon. Now I understand why Mon kept this
recipe secret. How many of these did the Chevin and myself
enjoy in front of Jabba?'
Once the cigar was finished, Skr'tee reached over and sliced
another piece of Isleff's flesh and rolled it into another cigar.
Like Hoth he has, Ill get him another, he can finish it later
when he wakes up. Kerrigan argued. With some effort, he
raised himself to his feet and walked to the bar. Curzon
raised three fingers and Kerrigan nodded in assent.
You men can keep drinking all night as far of this lot are
concerned. Curzon answered. After what you three did
today, getting those boy out of that hell-hole youll be hard
pressed to find a trooper in this sector who wouldnt buy you
a drink. Curzon was careful to keep his voice and manner
steady. However, these guys tend to get a little surly when
theyve had a few and your friend over there a nod in the
direction of Kessler, is wearing a cap that isnt likely to
make him very popular once these guys have had enough to
drink. He carefully placed the last drink of Kerrigans tray.
Someone might get themselves the notion that he thinks
hes being funny, if you know what I mean.
Curzon noded. Fair enough. But I know what this lot are
like. He resumed polishing glasses. Dont say you
werent wanred and you better pick a side quick when it
happens, because these boys dont give as much warning
as I do.
Surely the brave men of the Hammers Fist will drink with
me to the memory of Arbiter Squadron? Well, they lost sixty
percent of their men on the first damn day of fighting trying
to stop those bombardments and they still volunteered to fly
cover for us even when the garrison troopers were spitting on
their boots every time they ran past to scramble against the
latest bomber raid.
The first trooper squared himself off in front of their table and
looked Kessler up and down. Word has it you boys did the
Legion a proud service today, for that you get some slack.
He leaned down and brought himself face to face with
Kesslers eyes. But dont puch your luck, flyboy. He leaned
back, crossing his arms. And as for your choice of headgear,
I reckon its a little inappropriate. Id suggest you get rid of it.
Now.
Kessler smiled and pushed his Tie Corps forage cap further
back on his head. And whos going to make me, you
steroid sucking, sorry-ass, stack of huttshi..
Sith-spit.
Well I dont have a lot of news to tell you that you probably
dont already know just from watching the news, but here goes.
Dad made Admiral at last, hes taken command of the Aggressor
Strike Force, uhh, I guess that was what used to be the
Aggressor Wing when you were second in command there.
Whatever, anyway, hes real busy of course, so we dont see as
much of each other as wed like, but you know how it goes I
guess. Same with Uncle Sen, did you know he made full
Admiral? Hes in charge of the Vattle Groups, which is
basically what hes always wanted, so were all happy for him.
Of course, that means I get to see my second favorite Uncle
almost as little as my first, which brings me to the point of
my message. I know youre still alive Uncle Kyle. I saw you
on the news last night. II know youre here an Aurora this
time, and well, Id like to see you again if I could. I guess
youll be here if you can make it. You know my address, I still
live in the same place.
It was later that same night when he ran into Kerrigan again.
The bar was called Safe Landings. He hated that name, but it
was a spacers bar and he knew he could blend in there.
Kerrigan took a seat at the bar next to him and waited for
him to speak.
Kess, you are an old joke and youre the only one who
doesnt get it. The two raised their glasses again, the same
old ritual of greeting complete.
Yep.
Dont give me a hard time Kess, when are you reporting for
duty and what are you going to do with the Dream? I could
give you a good price for her. Ive been looking for a cheap
ship to expand my line.
Theres a lot of stuff about me you dont know you ugly old
fighter jock and answer the fragging question. Kerrigan eyed
him suspiciously. Youre not are you? Youre not going
to report in at all are you?
Yeah, well, first of all, thats Rebel space not New Republic
and secondly, Im happy to take that chance. But thats not
exactly what I mean to do, I might need some help doing it.
He sat his glass down and turned to face Kerrigan directly.
You still have contacts who can set me up with false ID
codes and papers?
414
Maybe so Kess, but I prefer to deal with my regrets from the
right side of the prison stockade. Youll have to prick more
than conscience if you want to get me interested.
Kessler moved his glass around the table top. Okay, I figured
it might take more than relying on your spirit of human
compassion. If I dont make it out, you can have the Corels
Dream. Ill sign my ownership papers over to you in the event
that I drop the ball somewhere along the line, shes yours.
Lock, stock and barrel. Deal?
Kerrigan thought about it for a while, but not too long. Deal.
Okay, but you front the money for the fake IDs and
transponder codes. Kessler grinned. Im outta cash. That
cargo I dumped when we got jumped by that Reb blockade on
the way in was all the collateral I had.
Asshole.
415
They were going in as profiteers, hoping to make a killing
from selling emergency medical supplies, bacta and field
hospitals to the Rebel forces on the surface. Once theyd
gotten clearance to land, they hoped to play it by ear. With a
great deal of luck, the Rebellion would be too busy fortifying
and preparing for possible Imperial counterattacks to worry
about two civilians snooping around the prison stockades. The
plan had holes you could drive a Death Star through, but it
was the best Kessler could come up with on at short notice.
416
IFF transponders worked on a relatively simple principle. A
signal was sent out to the ships transponder on a frequency
agreed by interstellar law, querying the identity of the ship
being scanned. The transponder automatically replied with a
transmission containing registration details. The was sufficient
to identify any civilian vessel. Military transponders operated
on secret frequencies that were changed on a daily basis,
however. The signals were also encoded and the transponders
wouldnt reply to any signal unless they received the correct
coded query of whichever frequency was being used at that
particular time. Therefore, if a military ship queried your
transponder and didnt get any reply, civilian or military, you
were the enemy until proven otherwise. Hence IFF, Identify
Friend or Foe.
417
Kessler waited nervously for the airlock to cycle. His DL-44
blaster lay holstered in his gun belt, slung over his shoulder;
his arms raised, palms open, facing the airlock. The light
above the lock flicked to green and the hatched hissed open.
He found himself starring down the barrels of half a dozen
blaster carbines. Rebel troopers surged from the hatch, one
relieving him of his weapon, another forcing him face down
on the deck with the barrel of a blaster pressed upon his
neck. Others took up covering positions on both entrances to
the cargo bay.
Papers. The Reb officer had cold, blue eyes, like two chips
of ice. He seemed professional about his business. Kessler
hoped that meant he could rely on him to follow procedure.
Hed been boarded before, he knew how this was supposed to
work.
418
Okay private, get the ships computer hooked up and run a
match on these papers.
Yes sir!
Captain?
Kessler gave his very best sharks grin. Got to keep body and
soul together somehow, Major. He deliberately overestimated
the officers rank.
419
superiors dont decide to just confiscate your stock out of
hand, youll be met on the surface by an officer with whom
you may negotiate prices. You may power up your engines
and follow our fighter escorts to the surface.
420
he didnt know the location of the colony and that meant
relying of the surface navigational beacon, unless the X-
wings were going to shepherd them in all the way.
This was serious trouble. The one thing that had never
considered was that the Rebs would be able to get a shield
generator up and running in the short space of time allowed
to them. This changed everything.
421
returning to their patrol stations. Off to his right, Kerrigans
ship flared its breaking thrusters and began to decelerate.
Kessler started the landing cyle himself, possibilities
coursing through his brain. No matter which way he looked
at it, their options were severely limited.
422
Fleet analyst were frantically trying to predict exactly where
the strike would fall. Quietly, the ISDs of the Battle Groups
and Auroran Home Guard were deployed to defensive
positions around the core worlds, while the ISD Challenge
returned to Argimiliar at flank speed, her orders to prepare for
defense against possible Rebel attack. What happened next
was history.
Argimliar had been the Rebels true objective all along. Upon
her arrival the Challenge had been jumped by an entire Rebel
Sector Defense Fleet. Hopelessly outnumbered and with her
three escort frigates destroyed long before her arrival, Rear
Admiral Torres was forced to order a fighting withdrawel.
The Dream slowed over the starport, the TIE lauch cradles in
ruins but otherwaise, mostly intact. It occurred to him that
the colony center hadnt been too badly damaged at all. Most
of the devastation was confined to the perimeter. It appeared
the Rebellion wanted to take the core colony complex intact.
That would explain why they hadnt asked twice about his
medical supplies, the fighting around the center must have
423
been savage if they hadnt wanted to risk using heavy
assault equipment.
Kessler shifted his gunbelt and shoved his gloves behind his
wasteband. Sure thing Major, Ive got a ship full of bacta,
surgical supplies, three field hospitals and half a dozen FX-
7 medical droids in storage. Think you can use all of that?
424
Look, Captain, were not going to rip you off. Youll get the
standard market prices for your cargo. Were the New
Republic, not the damned Empire after all.
Kessler nodded and the two of them slipped away from the
noise and bustle of the unloading process.
425
Maybe.
Kerrigan gaped.
Kerrigan gave up. Damn it, okay, okay. But thats it alright?
Youre just going to have to admit the TIE Corps screwed
these guys over and left them to dry and theres nothing
you can do to make yourself feel any better about it.
Im with you.
Are we clear.
426
Crystal.
427
Rebel soldier stood over them, looking lost and forlorn.
Kesslers heart leapt, then he realized the bodies were Rebels,
not Stormtroopers.
Thats me.
428
The soldier nodded, starring at the blue patterns of smoke
from the cigar before they were dispersed by a slight breeze.
You could say that, got a bit like a starship boarding
operation at one point.
Kerrigan waited for him in the cockpit of the Far Trader when
he returned just before dark. He sensed there was something
wrong instantly.
429
You okay, you look aweful.
Kessler looked up, alert and hopeful. Calm down Kess, they
were civilians, engineers mostly, no more than a dozen of
them. Theyre still here because all the Reb transport
capability is being used to stock this place up with war
supplies and so onthe weird thing is, they say they didnt
see any Stormtroopers being ferried offworld at all and I didnt
see that looked like it was guarded heavily enough to be a
Stormtrooper prison facility.
Its not that. I know what youre thinking but its not that this
time. Somethings wrong.
430
Kerrigan hissed in disgust. Leave it, will you? Even if we had
found prisoners here, we still havent come up with a way of
getting them out of here in one piece. Its over! Why cant you
just admit that?
Okay Kess.
431
Thats it! Kessler awoke from his slumber with a start. The
cockpit was almost pitch black, illuminated only by the glow
of instrumentation on standby and the insistant winking of the
Message received light on the Comms Array. The alarm
accompanying it must have been what startled him awake.
432
Kessler let loose a string of curses. Kerrigan, what have you
done to me?! He frantically flipped switches, bringing essential
systems to life. Kicking the nav computer on, he began the
calculations needed to make a jump to hyperspace. Panicking he
remembered something important. Shields!
Master alarm warnings were going off all over the cockpit. The
Dream seemed to hover in mid-air for a second, then he was
thrown back into the pilots station as if by a giant hand, nose
first. With a desperate effort he grasped the controls and
heaved back, killing throttle power and willing the repulsorlifts
to respond. Come on baby, dont let me down!
433
Without landing lights and with most of his instrumentation
trashed, he had no idea how close to the ground he was. Pilots
instincts told him he was approaching level flight, when a second
lurch rattled his striken ship and he almost lost the controls. A
shower of foliage briefly obscured the canopy and the engines
shrieked in protest. Metal screamed as it reached breaking point,
he was caught onsomething, but what?
Landing struts!
His engines chose that moment to cough and die. The Corels
Dream became very silent, save for the sound of wind
whistling against the spiders web cracks on the cockpit
canopy and the crackle and pop of burning wires. All alarms
died and the internal cockpit instrument panel winked out at
once. You sabotaged me? He began pulling at the restraints
on the pilots seat, clipping them into place onto the quick
release catch. With seconds to go he braced for impact.
Kerrigans voice floated back to him, seeming to mock him
from a distance. You deserve better friends than me
goodnight, old warrior
434
She hit the surface.
He had no idea how long hed been out, but didnt appear to
be in any immediate risk of capture. Escape from his burning
ship was his immediate priority. A quick glance at the thick
smoke billowing from the fire raging deep within the Dream
confirmed that there was no getting out the old fashioned
way. He drew his blaster, thankful to find it was still holstered
and fired a burst into the canopy. It shattered, already
weakened by the multiple impacts of crashes, he followed up
with a kick from his booted feet and struggles through to
clean air.
435
He would have killed for Stormtrooper battle armor right now,
the armored suits werent just designed to protect their
wearers in battle, they also contained night vision scopes,
navigational aids, limited sensor packs, and most importantly,
they filtered out chemical and thermal waste elements,
making their wearers virtually impossible to detect with
typical battlefield sensor equipment.
Halt. Drop your weapon and lie face down on the ground.
Indentify yourself.
436
Kessler straightened his aching back with some difficulty and
turned to address his captor, a Stormtrooper captain. Im
Colonel Kyle Kessler, formerly Wing Commander of the ISD
Challenge and currently of the Fleet Reserve Corps, and son,
am I glad to see you!
Colonel Kessler?
Yes Colonel?
437
Rebel facilities and slipped away, leaving me to take the
blame.
Donner chuckled. You came back for us? Hell, Colonel, well
make a trooper out of you yet! He sobered abruptly. But
you came back in vain, the gesture is appreciated, but were
not going anywhere. We still have a mission here.
Donner stood and faced Kessler down. Have you ever killed
a man with a knife Colonel? Ever twisted it in his guts and
watched his face as the life drained away?
When you kill a man, face to face, you know what it means
to be a warrior. Every man here would give his life just to take
one enemy of the Empire with him. Were the last, best
defense of the Emperors Hammer. When all your fancy
starships have given up and run for cover, when the enemy is
438
knocking right on your front door, were the ones who take his
hand and rip it off by the shoulder, then beat him to death to
the bloody end. We do not retreat, we do not surrender and
we sure as hell dont give up when we still have a breath in
our bodies to curse the enemies name and strength in our
arms to smash his face into a bloody pulp. Do you get me?
Crystal, sir.
439
Something occurred to him. You know something General?
Apart from myself, my entire family were Stormtroopers. I
was the first in my family to apply to TIE Corps training.
He died at Hoth.
Donner nodded. Well, heard more about the battle than your
father per se, it wa a fairly pivotal event in the history of
Imperial ground warfare, Im sure youll agree, but yes, I
thought your name was vaguely familiar when I first met
you. Strange that your father should be one of ours.
Donner gave Kessler a long hard look. You still dont get it do
you? Were Stormtroopers. We stay out here, doing whatever
440
we can to harass and confuse the enemy without giving away
the fact of our exsistence, for all long as it takes our Fleet to
return in force, sweep the skies clear of our enemy and give
us the opening we need to storm that garrison and kill every
last one of those Rebels. Do you get it now?
Im not sure.
441
Donner was beginning to make sense.
442
The trooper manning the communications unit looked up, one
hand pressed to the auditory speakers on the other side of his
helmet.
443
orders were conveyed by hand signal, it was eerily efficient.
Every man seemed to know exactly where to be and what
to do, for the first time in his military career, Kessler felt
like excess baggage.
Donners men were making full use of that fact, moving with
exaggerated slowness at anytime they were in the direct line
of sight of the Reb positions, their outlines broken up by
their customized camouflage paint applied to their armor.
444
target. Five dead Rebels lay about him. Sightless eyes starring
accusingly at the stars.
445
He fumbled with the seal on his helmets neck fastenings and
it came free with a hiss of air. Kessler smelled burned flesh
and vomited.
Light.
This ones still alive, facial burns are pretty bad, he lost
his helmet somehow, looks like he got caught in the blast
of whatever created that crater.
446
Grunts.
Nah just a lot of dead Rebs, sayisnt this guy one of the
Third?
Laughter.
Darkness.
Swimming.
Cool darkness.
Eyes open.
Soft light.
Faces.
447
Voices. Familiar. Disturbing.
Cursing?
Major, you and I both know the truth of the matter, this man
did what he did out of pure unselfish motives. He did it for his
brothers in arms. But I wouldnt expect a treacherous
backstabbing, little intel nerf-herder, like you to understand
that.
More cursing.
That may be true General, but soldiers like you need people
like me to do your dirty work for you. People who arent afraid
of getting their hands dirty from time to time. And I repeat,
he will never be officially recognized for what he did. His
involvement will remain a secret, we wouldnt want him
setting a bad example to anyone else with a conscience now,
would we?
Silence.
Darkness.
448
His cell was bare of all ornament except for a steel bench
jutting out one bulkhead. A simple iron grey box, he slumped,
withdrawn in the corner. The door opened and someone
entered. The hiss of the door closing behind him was the only
sound.
Kessler raised his gaze to look him in the eyes. For a while
he matched wills with him, Kerrigan didnt blink. You knew
they were there the whole time, didnt you?
Major Kerrigan smiled, thin lips drawn wide across his perfect
teeth. Of course, its now standard policy when a world is
overrun by the enemy. Fleet Admiral Kawolskis idea, I
believe. Secret of course, but standard.
449
sins in the world as you saw them. I figured I could use
you just like you were using me. You made it too easy.
Figured as much.
450
all about your family, youre as thick as thieves, I couldnt
guarantee one of your bloody House Cantor Admiral cousins
wouldnt pull strings to have you released, so I kept you along
for the ride. As it turns out, you were the perfect fall guy for
the sabotage we planted on Argimiliar and your escape
provided endless distractions for the Rebels on the surface.
Exactly, those things will kill you one day you know?
451
Captain Striker looked up from the training report with barely
concealed annoyance. What is it?
Sorry sir, dont know, but hes looking over the ships in
the hanger. I just saw him talking to Chief Tech Toranaga,
they seem to know each other.
On your locker sir, and all I can say is hes pretty old looking
and had a chestful of medals and battle ribbons. Striker gave
Horn a sideways glance. Not as many battle ribbons as you
have though, sir. Horn quickly added. Whatever hes here
for, it looks official.
452
The very same son, made it to Colonel and Wing Commander
before I retired. He waited while Striker studied his papers,
Strikers eyes boggled.
Kessler put his arm around Strikers shoulder and led him off
to the bar. More people than you ever met in you entire life,
son. But anyway, I was wondering if my old quarters were still
available? You know, the cabin next to the Officers Mess
turbolift?
The one with the en suite shower and toilet facilities that
didnt get taken out of our last refit? Well, we have Lieutenant
Hemm in there at the moment but
Striker began to get the feeling that things were only starting
to get complicated.
453
Never Too Heavy
By: Westel
He was hanging upside down, his feet frozen into the ceiling of
the creature's lair. Strewn around him was evidence of the
beast's ravenous appetite, starkly red against the blue-
whiteness of the room. The air reeked of fresh blood; he
recoiled at the smell of it.
Sounds from the other part of the cave told Luke the ice
creature was coming, its movements ponderous and slow.
But Luke knew firsthand its strike was lightning fast - he had
never heard nor seen it until it had attacked him. Now,
however, his sense of the creature was strong, so strong that
his stomach lurched at the mental vision he saw of the
creature's blood and saliva-stained mouth and fur.
Night began to fall fast as Han built the shelter - half of pre-
form which folded out from a compact box to form a shell of
sorts, half of packed snow - which proved more difficult than
he had anticipated because of the high winds. By the time
he had finished, his hands and face were numb; if he didn't
get into shelter soon he himself would suffer from severe
frostbite.
Luke opened one eye - the other was swollen shut - and
watched Han close off the opening to their makeshift shelter.
He tried to swallow but his tongue felt like a belsa ball in his
mouth. An attempt to sit up was worse; his body not only
wouldn't cooperate, but seemed frozen to the floor despite his
struggle to rise. He coughed with the effort and saw a spray of
blood fan out across his chest and arm. A vision of the
slavering ice creature, ribbons of flesh and gore stringing from
its jaws, tore through Luke's mind, and his stomach roiled.
"Do you hurt, buddy? Your ribs, your legs, arms. Anything
hurt you?" Han was going over Luke's torso, realizing that he
probably wasn't going to get much help from the injured
young man.
"What did this, Luke?" Han asked, jamming his hands under
his armpits in an attempt to warm them a little.
"I'm all right, Han. You rest." Han leaned forward, craning a
look at Luke's face. His color was a little better, and Luke was
looking directly at him. Han's frown transformed into a grin.
"Hey, Kid! Welcome back! You had me scared for awhile." Han
released his hold on Luke, who crawled to the opposite wall,
facing him. Luke's movements were slow and faltering, but at
least he was moving. He leaned back wearily, pulling the
blanket around him.
"We all were. We knew when you didn't come back after
spotting that meteor that something had happened to you.
We couldn't just leave you out here..."
"So you..." Luke grimaced. The pain was increasing in his face
and head. "took a chance on a Tauntaun? Han, you
could've..." Luke's body shivered convulsively. "could've
died."
"Ben... Ben, don't go... I don't know where it is... Ben, wait..."
Luke stirred in Han's arms, waking him. It was pitch black, the
survival lamp having cut itself off while the two men slept.
Han listened to him for a moment, wondering if he was
dreaming. It was more of the same talk he'd been spouting
when he found him. Luke talked about Ben (he assumed Ben
Kenobi) as if he were still alive, as if he had just been talking
to him.
Luke had turned onto his back, throwing off the blanket
completely, digging his fingers into the packed snow in his
delirium. Han was shocked to see that the bandage on Luke's
face was completely saturated and blood had seeped down
under his jaw and across his neck. Looking down at his left
arm, Han saw for the first time where Luke's blood had flowed
onto the sleeve of his jacket as they had slept. Force! As if he
could afford to have anything else go wrong!
Not wanting to move his jaw, which felt like a Bantha had
stepped on it, Luke nodded, which proved even worse. His
face contorted with pain and he bit his lip to keep from crying
out. Though his eyelids were squeezed shut, a tear escaped
from the left one and rolled down his cheek. Han gripped his
arm, waiting for the spasm to pass, offering his silent support.
As the pain eased a bit, Luke let out a breath and reached up
to wipe the tear away.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"You don't believe me? Okay, Kid, as soon as we get back I'm
gonna tell you some stories that will make your hair stand
up."
Luke stared at him a moment, then closed his eyes, his mouth
shut tight. Han knew that look. When you were in that much
pain, you wanted to die. You knew it was a crazy thing to be
thinking, but you still wanted to die. You'd pay money for
someone just to hit you over the head, cut your throat -
anything to stop the agony. But you got through it somehow.
The best way was with someone who cared about you.
For so long, Han only had Chewie to care about him. The
friendship was mutual, and Han had been there for Chewie
many times. But that had been the scope of his
understanding, because until he met Chewbacca, Han had
never experienced true friendship. There was Lando, of
course, but he didn't quite rank as a friend - not in Chewie's
class, anyway. At least, his friendship hadn't been proven yet.
Luke, now... He watched the youth fight his pain, saw his
shame in giving in to it. Was his embarrassment because he
was afraid Han would think less of him? Why did that matter
so much to the kid? Was it because Han's friendship was that
important to him?
Sure, they all referred to each other as friends, even Leia, but
what did that mean? They'd been through a lot together since
the destruction of the Death Star; there was a certain
fellowship that naturally developed between comrades-in-
arms. But where did real friendship - that indescribable link
between two people - fit in all this? In the cold confines of the
haphazard shelter, Han looked at himself and his relationships
as he had never done before.
It wasn't long before the comm came to life again. Han was
never so glad to hear another human voice as he was that
very minute.
"I've found them!" he heard from the other end, then saw his
morning ride appear over a nearby hill. He waved and
hurried back into the shelter to get Luke. He glanced around,
picking up a few items to put back in his kit, waking up Luke
in the process.
"Hey, Kid, I told you we'd get outa here. Our ride's about to
land."
"You don't want it, Luke. We'll get another one for you." At
Luke's puzzled look, Han continued, "Trust me!"
465
arm and slipped his right arm around Luke's shoulder,
supporting him. Han could feel him trembling beneath the
blanket.
Han looked at Luke, who had closed his eyes and leaned
heavily on his friend. He shook his head. "That's all right,
we'll make room. I know what to do."
Han climbed into the back of the fighter and the pilot helped
Luke climb in to sit between Han's legs, toboggan style. As
they flew back to the Command Center, Luke kept leaning
forward and bumping his head on the canopy. Han reached
up and pulled him back.
"What?"
Han couldn't believe his ears. The kid surprised him at every
turn. He patted Luke's shoulder awkwardly.
"You let me worry about that. You're not heavy, Luke." His
thoughts drifted for a moment, his look far away. "That's what
it's like with friends, anyway," he continued. "They're never
too heavy."
466
His back to Han, Luke's face lit up in surprise, then he
smiled despite himself. But he hardly noticed the pain,
because he had just been witness to something that would
remain precious to him for the rest of his days - the
cementing of a lifelong friendship.
"You all right?" Han asked, though it was obvious Luke had
fully recovered.
"Yeah."
Luke was recalling the long hours they had spent together in
the shelter, that first revelation of friendship, and couldn't
help but think back to the first time they were separated,
when the Rebels were preparing to attack the Death Star and
Han was leaving with the reward. They had parted angrily
then - at least Luke had - yet Han had called the blessing of
the Force upon him. Luke had been too upset then to notice
the change in Han. Not until later, after Han had gotten Vader
off his tail, did he realize it. He understood now that Han
wasn't leaving because he wanted to, but because he had to.
The bounty hunters were everywhere, and Han knew that not
only was his life in danger, but everyone's around him, as
well.
Han watched the boy turn away, couldn't let him leave
without saying something.
467
Luke turned back, his eyes eager and grateful. "You, too,"
he said, and walked away.
Chewie shook his head and went back to work, but his
shoulders shook with a deep chuckle of understanding - and
approval.
468