Jedi Apprentice 1: The Rising Force (звёздные войны)

by Дэйв Волвертон

A blinding flash as bright as a solar flare lit space as the proton torpedoes struck the Togorian gun ship.

  Obi-Wan shielded his eyes from the intense light. Si Treemba cried out.

  Half of the gun ship disintegrated, hurtling debris into space. A second blast followed the first, as the gun ship’s arsenal exploded.

  Bits of metal riddled the Monument. A huge section of the blown gun ship hurtled into a second Togorian warship.

  Obi-Wan didn’t plan to wait and see id the pirates would shoot him down. While they recovered, he hit a button, loading more torpedoes into his launch tube.

  With the navigation console out, the only way to fly the ship was manually. Obi-Wan grabbed the control, pulled back hard, and hit the thrusters. He heard the harsh sound of metal rending. Had he just ruined the engines?

  Quickly, he consulted the display terminals. He saw the source of the sound. Two Togorian cruisers were latched to his docking bays. By blasting off, Obi-Was was ripping away from the ships — tearing apart seals to the doors.

  All the air by the docking bays would rush into space.

  Qui-Gon had gone to stop the pirates’ boarding party.

  Obi-Wan gritted his teeth and fervently hoped that only pirates would be swept out into space with the wreckage.

  Ahead of him, a Togorian warship opened fire.

  * * *

  The floor lurched under Qui-Gon’s feet as he met the pirate captain. The huge Togorian weighed four times as much as a man.

  Even under normal circumstances, it would have been all the Qui-Gon could do to fend off the pirate. He tried to catch his footing as he blocked the monster’s blow.

  The pirate almost fell, but recovered in time to raise the vibro-ax. The blade bit deep into Qui-Gon’s right shoulder, driving him to the floor.

  Qui-Gon gasped from the searing pain. His shoulder burned as if it were on fire. He tried to lift his arm, but it was useless.

  Behind the pirate, Qui-Gon heard the sound of peeling metal. The seals to hold had ripped apart. Wind howled down the hall as the ship’s air screamed away. Qui-Gon saw droplets of his own blood stripped away like rain in a storm.

  Debris came hurtling down the hall — blasters and helmets of dead Togorians. They battered the huge Togorian pirate, and he raised his shield, fighting forward, pressing the attack.

  Qui-Gon let the wind pull him, so that he slid along the floor toward the vacuum of space, closer to the pirate captain.

  If he died, he would take the monster with him.

  * * *

  Heavy blaster fire ripped through the hull of the Monument. To Togorian warship had taken aim at the bridge, but with the sudden thrust of the huge ship, the blaster bolts had struck the ship behind their mark.

  Obi-Wan pushed away the thought of who might have died in the attack. He reversed thrusters.

  The warship’s next salvo fell short, blasting harmlessly into space. Obi-Wan took half a moment to aim his proton torpedoes, the launched them down the warship’s gullet.

  As he was sucked toward the space vacuum, Qui-Gon called his lightsaber to his left hand. He aimed a blow at the pirate captain’s feet. The Togorian grabbed a handhold and leaped high, evading the cut, then landed directly on Qui-Gon’s left arm with his booted feet.

  Fighting the pain, Qui-Gon tried to bring up his lightsaber, but the huge Togorian had him pinned. Qui-Gon twisted desperately, but he couldn’t get away. With his left arm pinned and his right arm badly wounded Qui-Gon could do little to fight the monster.

  The pirate captain roared madly in triumph, and the wind seemed to roar with him. It tore down the corridors like a tornado. Qui-Gon could hardly breathe.

  Suddenly the pirate’s head disappeared. The huge Togorian hurtled backward, grabbed by the fury of the wind.

  Qui-Gon looked up the hall. Clat’Ha crouched on the floor, desperately clinging to the handle of a locker door with one hand, her heavy blaster in the other.

  In the heat of battle, the Togorian had forgotten all about the woman.

  Down the hall was a bulkhead door that should have closed automatically when the air pressure dropped. But with all the damage to the ship, it was no surprise that it hadn’t worked.

  Qui-Gon was bleeding badly, and could hardly breathe. Weakly, with the last of his will, he reached out with the Force and moved a bit of debris, touching the controls to the door and sliding it closed. As the wind stopped screaming through the ship, everything became deathly silent.

  All that Qui-Gon could hear was his own heart beating, and Clat’Ha gasping for air.

  The Togorian warship exploded in a burst of light.

  Si Treemba worked at the communications console, launching distress beacons. It might take days for a Republic ship to respond, or one could arrive in a matter of seconds. It was impossible to know who would be traveling the space lanes.

  Suddenly the Togorian warships peeled away from the Monument. Their gun ship and warship were destroyed. Their captain’s cruiser and second boarding vessel had ripped away from the Monument’s hull, and dead pirates could be seen littering space.

  The last of the pirates blasted off into hyperspace, never guessing that they’d been bested by a twelve-year-old boy.

  Obi-Wan piloted the Monument among the glimmering stars. Warning claxons were ringing everywhere. Monitors showed air leaks from a dozen holes.

  “It looks like the shi is falling apart,” Obi-Wan said to Si Treemba.

  Si Treemba nodded his triangular head worriedly. “We have to land now, Obi-Wan.”

  “Land where?” Obi-Wan asked, looking ahead at nothing but empty space.

  Si Treemba bent over the nav computer. “It’s not working,” he said.

  “I know,” Obi-Wan replied. “That’s why I’m flying manually. Where are the crew? Why isn’t anyone coming to help us?”

  “They’re probably dealing with the wounded or maybe they are wounded themselves.” Si Treemba peered ahead through the view screen. “Wait! There!”

  Obi-Wan could just glimpse the planet ahead, a blue marble the color of water, shot through with white clouds.

  “How do we know we can breathe the air?” Obi-Wan asked. The atmosphere might be poison, the planet might be hostile.

  “It had got to be better than breathing in a vacuum,” Si Treemba suggested.

  The Arconan’s faceted eyes met Obi-Wan’s. The great ship shuddered, and another warning monitor went off, signaling that the air pressure was dropping.

  “We don’t think we have a choice,” Si Treemba said softly.

  Grelb and his men hurried down the hallways through the Arconan side of the ship. Jemba the Hutt’s miners had fought well against the pirates on their side, but dozens of stout Hutts and Whiphids had died.

  There was a good chance that the Arconans would be dead, too. Grelb was hoping to steal some loot from the bodies.

  But when he reached the doors to the Arconan hold, he found that the Arconans hadn’t fought at all. Instead, they’d let their pet Jedi protect them.

  Grelb glanced around a corner and saw the hated Clat’Ha helping Qui-Gon off the floor. The Jedi had a deep wound in his right shoulder, and his left arm was sore and swollen.

  The Hutt smiled, and jerked his head back from the corridor before anyone looked his way.

  He whispered to the Whiphids at his back, “Go and tell Jemba: the Arconans are all cowards who dared not come out of their rooms to fight. And their precious Jedi looks as if he’s barely alive. Now is a good time to strike!”

  Obi-Wan flew over a watery world from daylight into darkness, to a night lit by five glowing moons that hung in the sky like multicolored stones. Beneath him, enormous creatures flew in great flocks. They were silvery in the moonlight, with long bullet-shaped bodies and powerful wings. They looked like some strange species of flying fish whose wings had evolved to a remarkable size. They stretched their wings wide, half-asleep as they rode the wind. Some of them looked up at his ship curiously.

 
Clinging to the manual controls, with the ship buckling and rattling, Obi-Wan could see only ocean in every direction. Then, at last, on the horizon ahead he glimpsed one small rocky island, waves breaking against its shore.

  He aimed the ship at the rock, held tight to the controls, and groaned with effort as he tried to slow the ship’s fall.

  Chapter 14

  Dozens of miners had been killed or injured in the attack, so the sickbay was full. Yet few of those injured were Arconans. As Clat’Ha had predicted, all the Arconans but Si Treemba had locked themselves in their rooms at the first sign of danger. Most of the injuries fell to the ship’s crew and to some of Jemba’s miners.

  Qui-Gon’s injuries would have been severe to a common man, but the Jedi waited until others were attended to before requesting the medic droid to bandage him in his room. Clat’Ha refused to leave his side, no matter how he urged her to rest.

  “Not until I know you’re okay,” she told him steadily.

  Obi-Wan landed the ship only a few meters from the rocky beach. Night hung like a mist over the island. After determining that the atmosphere was stable, a dozen of the ship’s crew had gone outside to begin repairing the damage to the hull, and others were checking the surroundings. The silvery draigons were everywhere, riding the night sky, apparently asleep on the wing. Many of them also perched on the island cliffs. It wasn’t safe to stay outside, and the captain said that no one would be allowed to work in the daylight, once the beasts awoke. The ship’s engineer reported that it might take two nights to get the ship running.

  Obi-Wan reached Qui-Gon’s cabin just as the medic doid finished spraying a disinfectant bandage over Qui-Gon’s ghastly wound. Then he began to glue the wound closed. The pirate chieftain’s vibro-ax had slashed Qui-Gon across the back of his shoulders, down to the ribs. Obi-Wan felt dizzy just looking at the wound, but Qui-Gon sat quietly, letting the droid do his work.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,’ the medic droid told qui-Gon. “But your wounds should heal in time. Are you sure you don’t want something to ease the pain?”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” Qui-Gon answered, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to Clat’Ha. “Now will you get some rest?”

  She nodded wearily. “I’ll check back on you later.” Clat’Ha left with the medic droid. The door hissed closed behind them.

  Qui-Gon eased himself into a chair. Obi-Wan waited for him the speak or acknowledge his presence.

  Qui-Gon’s blue gaze studied Obi-Wan keenly for a moment. “Obi-Wan, when you accelerated the ship, what thoughts did you have?”

  “Thoughts?” Obi-Wan asked doubtfully. “I wasn’t thinking about much of anything. I was afraid of the pirates, and I just knew I had to get away fast.” He was too exhausted to care too much about giving the wrong answer. Better just to speak the blunt truth. Qui-Gon would approve of his actions or not. He was tired of trying to please him.

  “So you didn’t think about the fact that you would tear the ships from the docking bays and kill hundreds of pirates in the process?” Qui-Gon asked in a neutral tone.

  “I didn’t think about what I was doing,” Obi-Wan replied. “The Force led me.”

  “Were you frightened? Angry?”

  “Both,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I… fired on the pirates. I killed, but I didn’t do it in anger. I did it to save lives.”

  Qui-Gon nodded, just the smallest of movements. “I see.” It was the answer Qui-Gon had been looking for. It demonstrated that Obi-Wan was growing stronger in the ways of the Force.

  Yet Qui-Gon felt strangely dissatisfied. He tested his heart. Had he actually wanted the boy to fail his test? That would be a grave flaw for a Jedi.

  But he couldn’t help himself. True, Obi-Wan had not let him down. He had bravely accepted the task of piloting the ship. Hundreds of lives had been in his hands, and he had not hesitated. He had done honor to his training.

  Why was it so hard for Qui-Gon to trust him still?

  Because I trusted another. I trusted Xanatos completely, and disaster was the result.

  The sense of loss was so great that even now Qui-Gon felt it like a living wound. He’d rather have taken a dozen blows from the pirate chieftain’s vibro-ax than to ever feel such loss and pain again.

  Obi-Wan stood before Qui-Gon, confused. He was tired he was almost weaving on his feet. Had he answered badly ot well? He didn’t know. All he could sense was a struggle in Qui-Gon that he didn’t understand. They had worked together to save the ship. A bond should have formed between them. But Obi-Wan felt they were farther apart than ever.

  Should he speak? Perhaps if he asked Qui-Gon what he was thinking, the Jedi would tell him.

  But before Obi-Wan could raise his nerve, a vicious pounding sounded at the door. Obi-Wan hurried to open it.

  Si Treemba rushed in. The Arconan was out of breath, panting.

  “What’s wrong?” Qui-Gon asked. He stood and tenderly stretched his shoulder, to see how well the glue had set.

  “Please come quickly,” Si Treemba panted. “Jemba the Hutt has stolen our dactyl!”

  Chapter 15

  “You won’t get away with this,” Qui-Gon warned Jemba the Hutt. He spoke calmly. Behind Qui-Gon, dozens of Arconans stood silent. Obi-Wan stood among them, watching the Jedi’s back Qui-Gon was sorely wounded, and seemed on the verge of collapse.

  Jemba shook in amusement like a giant grey worm. “What can you do, puny Jedi?” he boomed gleefully. “No one can stop the great Jemba! You Arconans were too frightened to face the pirates. They hid, while my men fought and died. Soon these cowards will be my slaves!”

  Jemba and his men had taken over the Arconans’ lounge. A wall of Offworld miners — Hutts, Whiphids, Humans, and droids — backed Jemba. The Offworlders stood ready for battle. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Arconans stared down the barrels of at least thirty blasters. Some of the Offworld thugs also held shields and wore armor. Jemba’s men obviously held more than just the Arconans’ dactyl. They held most of the ship’s weapons.

  Obi-wan felt outraged. Beside him, Clat’Ha was livid. She held her hands down loosely, ready to draw her weapon. But she and the Arconans were greatly outgunned.

  “It is not justice you seek, Jemba,” Qui-Gon tried to reason. “You hope only to satisfy your greed. Nothing will be solved this way. Put down your weapons.”

  Qui-Gon called on the Force, trying to coax the Hutt to stop this madness. But for hours now he’d been focusing on his wound, trying to speed its healing, ignoring his own pain. He was too weak to persuade the Hutt.

  Jemba waved a hand, as if testing the air. “Ooh, is that your powerful Force I feel? Ha!” he spat. “Your Jedi tricks are so puny, they make me laugh. They cannot work on the great Jemba. And look at you, Jedi. You’d don’t have the sense to stay out of the way of a vibro-ax. Anyone can see you are too frail to fight. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Fury filled Obi-Wan at the Hutt’s taunting. He leaped past Qui-Gon, directly in front of Jemba.

  “I can stop you!” he shouted. He brought up his lightsaber.

  Jemba’s huge eyes narrowed in anger. The thugs who surrounded him stood their ground. They weren’t afraid of a mere boy.

  “What, Jedi?” Jemba said contemptuously to Qui-Gon. “You send a child to fight me? Is this some insult?” Jemba looked to his right and left, and raised a huge fist. If he let it fall, Obi-Wan knew that it would be the signal foe his men to open fire. Obi-Wan would not be able to deflect more than a few blaster bolts.

  Qui-Gon reached out and touched Obi-Wan’s elbow. “Put your lightsaber away,” he said calmly. “You can’t win like this. If he opens fire, people will die needlessly. A Jedi must know his true enemies.”

  Obi-Wan was shaking. He suddenly felt confused.

  “What do you mean?” he asked. Sweat streamed down his face. “Which one of them is our enemy?”

  “Anger is our enemy,” Qui-Gon said reasonably. He shot a glare across the room to Jemba. “Greed and fear a
re also our enemies. The Arconans can live without dactyl for awhile. You do not need to fight now. Haste is another enemy.”

  Obi-Wan saw the wisdom in Qui-Gon’s words. He powered down his lightsaber, bowed to Jemba as if to a worthy opponent, and stepped back.

  “A wise move, little one,” Jemba said. Then the Hutt broke into a deep laugh. He shouted across the room to the Arconans, “I want workers. And I am willing to pay well.”

  The Hutt’s voice created a small echo. Behind Qui-Gon, Arconans began to mutter restlessly, almost a humming sound.

  Clat’Ha shouted, “Offworld doesn’t pay its workers well!”