by Timothy Zahn
“Who knew we were coming?” Han countered. No, there was nothing there. Must have been his imagination. “How much of this private storehouse did you see?”
Slowly, Mara turned back to face forward, not looking all that convinced. “Not much more than the route between the entrance and the throne room at the top,” she said. “But I know where the Spaarti cylinder chamber is.”
“How about the power generators?”
“I never actually saw them,” she said. “But I remember hearing that the cooling system pulls in water from a river flowing down the northeastern slope of the mountain. They’re probably somewhere on that side.”
Han chewed at his lip. “And the main entrance is on the southwest side.”
“The only entrance,” she corrected. “There’s just the one way in or out.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“This time it’s true,” she retorted.
Han shrugged. “Okay,” he said. There was no point in arguing about it. Not until they’d looked the place over, anyway.
The cockpit door slid open, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Luke come in. “We’re here, kid,” he said.
“I know,” Luke said, moving forward to stand behind Mara. “Mara told me.”
Han threw a look at Mara. Near as he could tell, she’d spent the whole trip avoiding Luke, which wasn’t all that easy on a ship the size of the Falcon. Luke had returned the favor by staying out of her way, which wasn’t much easier. “She did, huh?”
“It’s all right,” Luke assured him, gazing out at the planet ahead. “So that’s Wayland.”
“That’s Wayland,” Mara said shortly, unstrapping and brushing past Luke. “I’ll be in back,” she said over her shoulder, and left.
“You two work so well together,” Han commented as the cockpit door slid shut behind her.
“Actually, we do,” Luke said, sliding into the copilot’s seat Mara had just vacated. “You should have seen us aboard the Chimaera when we went in to rescue Karrde. She’s a good person to have at your side.”
Han threw him a sideways look. “Except when she wants to slide a knife in it.”
“I’m willing to take my chances.” Luke smiled. “Must be one of those crazy Jedi things.”
“This isn’t funny, Luke,” Han growled. “She hasn’t given up on killing you, you know. She told Leia that back on Coruscant.”
“Which tells me that she really doesn’t want to do it,” Luke countered. “People don’t usually go around announcing murder plans in advance. Especially not to the victim’s family.”
“You willing to bet your life on that?”
Luke shrugged fractionally. “I already have.”
The Falcon was skimming along the outer atmosphere now, and the computer had finally identified a probable location for Mount Tantiss. “Well, if you ask me, this isn’t a good time to be running short odds,” he told Luke, giving the sensor map a quick study. A straight-in southern approach, he decided—that would give them forest cover for both the landing and the overland trip.
“You have any suggestions?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Han said, changing course toward the distant mountain. “We leave her with the Falcon at the landing site.”
“Alive?”
At other times in his life, Han reflected, it wouldn’t necessarily have been a ridiculous question. “Of course alive,” he said stiffly. “There are a lot of ways to keep her from getting into trouble.”
“You really think she’d agree to stay behind?”
“No one said we had to ask her.”
Luke shook his head. “We can’t do that, Han. She needs to see this through.”
“Which part of it?” Han growled. “Hitting the clone factory, or trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know,” Luke said quietly. “Maybe both.”
Han had never liked forests very much before joining the Rebel Alliance. Which wasn’t to say he’d disliked them, either. Forests were simply not something the average smuggler thought about very much. Most of the time you picked up and delivered in grimy little spaceports like Mos Eisley or Abregado-rae; and on the rare occasion where you met in a forest, you let the customer watch the forest while you watched the customer. As a result, Han had wound up with a vague sort of assumption that one forest was pretty much like another.
His stint with the Alliance had changed all that. What with Endor, Corstris, Fedje, and a dozen more, he’d learned the hard way that each forest was different, with its own array of plants, animal life, and general all-around headaches for the casual visitor. Just one of many subjects the Alliance had taught him more about than he’d really wanted to know.
Wayland’s forest fit the pattern perfectly; and the first headache proved to be how to get the Falcon down through the dense upper leaf canopy without leaving a hole any wandering Imperial TIE pilot would have to be asleep to miss. They’d first had to find a gap—in this case made by a fallen tree—and then he’d had to basically run the ship in on its side, a lot trickier maneuver in a planetary gravity well than it was out in an asteroid field. The secondary canopy, which he didn’t find out about until he was most of the way through the first, was the second headache, and he tore the tops off a line of those shorter trees before he got the Falcon stabilized and down, crunching a lot of underbrush in the process.
“Nice landing,” Lando commented dryly, rubbing his shoulder beneath the restraint strap as Han shut down the repulsorlifts.
“At least the sensor dish is still there,” Han said pointedly.
Lando winced. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
Han shrugged, keying in the life-form algorithms. Time to find out what was out there. “You said you wouldn’t get a scratch on her,” he reminded the other.
“Fine,” Lando grumped. “Next time, I’ll destroy the energy field generator and you can fly her down the Death Star’s throat.”
Which wasn’t all that funny. If the Empire got enough of its old resources back again, Thrawn just might try to build another of the blasted things.
“We’re ready back here,” Luke said, poking his head into the cockpit. “How’s it look?”
“Not too bad,” Han said, reading off the display. “Got a bunch of animals out there, but they’re keeping their distance.”
“How big are these animals?” Lando asked, leaning over Han’s shoulder to have a look at the display.
“And how many to a bunch?” Luke added.
“About fifteen,” Han told him. “Nothing we can’t handle if we need to. Let’s go take a look.”
Mara and Chewbacca were waiting at the hatchway with Artoo and Threepio, the latter keeping his mouth shut for a change. “Chewie and me’ll go first,” Han told them, drawing his blaster. “The rest of you stay sharp up here.”
He punched the controls, and the hatchway slid open as the entry ramp lowered, settling into the dead leaves with a muffled crunch. Trying to watch all directions at once, Han started down.
He spotted the first of the animals before he’d reached the bottom of the ramp: gray, with a freckling of white across its back, maybe two meters from nose to tail tuft. It was crouched at the base of a tree limb, its beady little eyes following him as he walked. And if its teeth and claws were anything to go by, it was definitely a predator.
Beside him, Chewbacca rumbled softly. “Yeah, I see it,” Han muttered back. “There are another fourteen out there somewhere, too.”
The Wookiee growled again, gesturing. “You’re right,” Han agreed slowly, eyeing the predator. “It does kind of look familiar. Like those panthac things from Mantessa, maybe?”
Chewbacca considered, then growled a negative. “Well, we’ll figure it out later,” Han decided. “Luke?”
“Right here,” Luke’s voice came down from the hatchway.
“You and Mara start bringing the equipment down,” Han ordered, watching the predator closely. The sound of conversatio
n didn’t seem to be bothering it any. “Start with the speeder bikes. Lando, you’re high cover. Stay sharp.”
“Right,” Lando said.
From above came a handful of pops and clicks as the transport restraints around the first two speeder bikes were knocked off, then the faint hum as the repulsorlifts were activated.
And with a sudden violent crackling of leaves and branches, the predator leaped.
“Chewie!” was all Han had time to shout before the animal was on top of him. He fired, the blaster bolt catching it square in the torso, and managed to duck as the carcass shot past his head. Chewbacca was roaring Wookiee battle cries, swinging his bowcaster around and firing again and again as more of the predators charged at them from out of the trees. From the hatchway someone shouted something and another shot flashed out.
And out of the corner of his eye, moving much too fast to avoid, Han saw a set of claws coming his direction.
He threw up his forearm across his face, ducking his head back as far out of the way as he could. An instant later he was knocked back off his feet as the predator slammed full-tilt into him. A moment of pressure and lancing pain as the claws dug through his camouflage jacket—
And then, suddenly, the weight was gone. He lowered his arm, just in time to see the predator bound onto the ramp and prepare for a spring into the Falcon. He twisted around and fired, just as a shot from inside the ship also caught it.
Chewbacca snarled a warning. Still on his back, Han swung around, to see three more of the animals bounding across the ground toward him. He dropped one with a pair of quick shots, and was trying to swing his blaster around to target the second when a pair of black-booted feet hit the ground just in front of him. The animals leaped upward into a blurred line of brilliant green and crashed to the ground.
Rolling over, Han scrambled back to his feet and looked around. Luke was standing in a half-crouch in front of him, lightsaber humming in ready position. On the other side of the ramp, Chewbacca was still on his feet with three of the speckled animals lying dead around him.
Han looked down at the dead predator beside him. Now that he had a good, close look at the thing …
“Watch out—there are three more over there,” Luke warned.
Han looked. Two of the animals were visible, crouched low down in the trees. “They won’t bother us. Any of them get into the ship?”
“Not very far into it,” Luke told him. “What did you do that set them off?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Han said, holstering his blaster. “It was you and Mara turning on the speeder bikes.”
Chewbacca rumbled with sudden recognition. “You got it, pal,” Han nodded. “That’s where we tangled with them, all right.”
“What are they?” Luke asked.
“They’re called garrals,” Mara said from the ramp. Crouching down, her own blaster still drawn, she was peering at the carcasses scattered around Chewbacca. “The Empire used to use them as watchdogs, usually near heavily wooded frontier garrisons where probe droid pickets weren’t practical. There’s something in the ultrasonic signature of a repulsorlift that’s supposed to sound like one of their prey animals. Draws them like a magnet.”
“So that’s why they were sitting here waiting for us,” Luke said, closing down his lightsaber but keeping it handy.
“They can hear a ship-sized repulsorlift coming in from kilometers away,” Mara said. Jumping down off the side of the ramp, she dropped to one knee beside one of the dead garrals and dug her free hand into the fur at its neck. “Which means that if they’ve been radiotagged, the controllers in Mount Tantiss know we’re here.”
“Great,” Han muttered, crouching down beside the dead garral at his feet. “What do we look for, a collar?”
“Probably,” Mara said. “Check around the legs, too.”
It took a few anxious minutes, but in the end they confirmed that none of the dead predators had been tagged.
“Must be descendants of the group they brought in to protect the mountain,” Lando said.
“Or else this is where they came from originally,” Mara said. “I never saw their home planet listed.”
“It’s trouble either way,” Han said, shoving the last carcass off the Falcon’s ramp to crunch into the leaf cover below. “If we can’t use the speeder bikes, it means we’re walking.”
From up above came a low electronic whistle. “Pardon me, sir,” Threepio asked. “Does that also apply to Artoo and me?”
“Unless you’ve learned how to fly,” Han said.
“Well—sir—it occurs to me that Artoo in particular isn’t really equipped for this sort of forest travel,” Threepio pointed out primly. “If the cargo plat can’t be used, perhaps other arrangements can be made.”
“The arrangement is that you walk like the rest of us,” Han said shortly. Getting into a long discussion with Threepio wasn’t how he’d been planning to spend his day. “You did it on Endor; you can do it here.”
“We didn’t have nearly as far to go on Endor,” Luke reminded him quietly. “We must be about two weeks’ walk from the mountain here.”
“It’s not that bad,” Han said, doing a quick estimate. It wasn’t that bad, but it was bad enough. “Eight or nine days, tops. Maybe a couple more if we run into trouble.”
“Oh, well run into trouble, all right,” Mara said sourly, sitting down on the ramp and dropping her blaster into her lap. “Trust me on that one.”
“You don’t expect the natives to be hospitable?” Lando asked.
“I expect them to welcome us with open crossbows,” Mara retorted. “There are two different native species here, the Psadans and the Myneyrshi. Neither of them had any great love of humans even before the Empire moved in on Mount Tantiss.”
“Well, at least they won’t be on the Empire’s side,” Lando said.
“That’s not likely to be a lot of comfort,” Mara growled. “And whatever trouble they don’t give us, the usual range of predators will. We’ll be lucky to make it in twelve or thirteen days, not eight or nine.”
Han looked out at the forest, and as he did, something caught his eye. Something more than a little disturbing … “So we’ll figure on twelve,” he said. Suddenly it was critical that they make tracks away from here. “Let’s get to it. Lando, Mara, you get the equipment packs sorted out for carrying. Chewie, go pull all the ration boxes out of the survival packs—that ought to do us for extra food. Luke, you and the droids head that way”—he pointed—“and see what you can find in the way of a path. Maybe a dry creek bed—we ought to be close enough to the mountain to have some of those around.”
“Certainly, sir,” Threepio said brightly, starting down the ramp. “Come, Artoo.”
There was a muttering of acknowledgment and the others headed into the ship. Han started toward the ramp; stopped as Luke put a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
Han jerked his head back toward the forest. “Those garrals that were watching us? They’re gone.”
Luke looked back. “Did they all leave together?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see them go.”
Luke fingered his lightsaber. “You think it’s an Imperial patrol?”
“Or else a flock of those prey animals Mara mentioned. You getting anything?”
Luke took a deep breath, held it a moment, then slowly let it out. “I don’t sense anyone else nearby,” he said. “But they could just be out of range. You think we should abort the mission?”
Han shook his head. “If we do, we’ll lose our best shot at the place. Once they know we’ve found their clone factory, there won’t be any point in pretending they’re just some overlooked backwoods system anymore. By the time we got back with a strike force, they’d have a couple of Star Destroyer fleets waiting for us.”
Luke grimaced. “I suppose so. And you’re right—if they tracked the Falcon in, the sooner we get away from it the better. Are you going to send the coordinates back to Coruscan
t before we go?”
“I don’t know.” Han looked up at the Falcon looming above him, trying not to think about the Imperials getting their grubby little hands on it again. “If that’s a patrol out there, we’ll never get the transmitter tuned tight enough to slide a message past them. Not the way it’s been acting up lately.”
Luke glanced up, too. “Sounds risky,” he said. “If we get into trouble, they won’t have any idea where to send a follow-up strike force.”
“Yeah, well, if we transmit through an Imperial patrol, I can guarantee that trouble,” Han growled. “I’m open to suggestions.”
“How about if I stay behind for a few hours?” Luke suggested. “If no patrols have shown up by then, it should be safe to transmit.”
“Forget it,” Han shook his head. “You’d have to travel alone, and there’s a better-than-even chance you wouldn’t even be able to find us.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
“I’m not,” Han said bluntly. “And besides, every time you go off alone you wind up getting me in trouble.”
Luke smiled ruefully. “It does seem that way sometimes.”
“Bet on it,” Han told him. “Come on, we’re wasting time. Get out there and find us a path.”
“All right,” Luke said with a sigh. But he didn’t sound all that upset. Maybe he’d known all along that it wasn’t a very smart idea. “Come on, Threepio, Artoo. Let’s go.”
The first hour was the hardest. The vague, pathlike trail Artoo had found dead-ended into a mass of thornbushes after less than a hundred meters, forcing them to push a path of their own through the dense undergrowth. In the process they disturbed more than plant life, and wound up spending several tense minutes shooting at a nest of six-legged, half-meter-long creatures that swarmed out biting and clawing at them. Fortunately, the claws and teeth were designed for much smaller game, and aside from a nicely matched set of tooth dents in Threepio’s left leg, no one suffered any damage before they could be driven away. Threepio moaned more about that than either the incident or the damage really deserved, the noise possibly attracting the brown-scaled animal that attacked a few minutes later. Han’s quick blaster shot failed to stop the animal, and Luke had to use his lightsaber to cut it off Threepio’s arm. The droid was even more inclined to moan after that; and Han was threatening to shut him down and leave him for the scavengers when they unexpectedly hit one of the dry creek beds they’d been hoping to find. With the easier terrain, and with no further animal attacks to slow them down, they made much better speed, and by the time the leaf canopy overhead began to darken with nightfall they’d made nearly ten kilometers.
