Star Wars 396 - The Dark Nest Trilogy III - The Swarm War

by Troy Denning

  Han rolled again, causing even more crashing in the cabin, and the entry burn grew so intense that Leia could no longer see through the flames. She swung her cannons toward the clawcraft, then forgot about the targeting display and allowed the Force to guide her hand as she squeezed the triggers. The synthetic rumble of the fire-control computer announced one hit, then two, then one more, and suddenly she sensed no more targets.

  Leia checked the display and found the thermal blossoms of a dozen dissipating explosions. Incredibly, for every starfighter she had destroyed, Saba had taken out two.

  “Rodder!” Leia gasped. “Maybe I’ll be able to do that when I’m a Master.”

  “Maybe?” Saba began to siss uncontrollably for some reason no one but a Barabel would ever understand. “Leia, now is no time for your jokez! This one must focuz.”

  The entry burn paled as the Falcon entered the clouds, then faded away altogether as they emerged into a downpour so fierce that Leia could barely see the freight-handling mandibles at the front of the ship. The targeting display showed the eight clawcraft that had followed the defoliator wing down. They were firing at the wing—which was catching updrafts and flittering back and forth so wildly that even Saba would have had trouble hitting it. They were also shooting at an empty area behind the wing, which Leia assumed to be Alema’s StealthX. She felt no shame in wishing them good luck with the latter target.

  C-3PO’s voice came over the intercom. “How helpful!” he announced. “The Chiss appear to be shooting at their own bombs. Perhaps we should withdraw.”

  “They’re not just shooting at them, chipbrain,” Han said. “They’re trying to detonate them.”

  “How odd,” C-3PO replied. “Won’t they detonate on impact anyway?”

  “Only if they’re armed,” Leia interjected. “And obviously they’re not. The pilots weren’t on-mark yet when their defoliator was hit.”

  The fire-control computer began to designate targets in order of threat level, and Leia and Saba opened up with their quad cannons again. A trio of clawcraft erupted in flames before three of the others finally stopped attacking Alema and the wing and rolled out to come after the Falcon.

  Saba switched to the Falcon’s attackers, leaving Leia to stop the other two from rupturing the parasite bombs. Her targets were clever, positioning themselves between the Falcon and the tumbling wing, so that she could not fire on them without running the risk of hitting the bombs. She looked out into the blinding rain and found one of the starfighters in the Force, then focused only on that and released all conscious control of her hand.

  Leia felt the turret shudder as her quad cannons fired, then the fire-control computer announced the target’s destruction with a synthetic rumble. She reached out to the other clawcraft in the Force—and was astonished to feel the familiar presence of Jagged Fel in the pilot’s seat.

  “Han,” Leia said over the intercom. “That last clawcraft, it’s Jag!”

  “What? How do you…” Han caught himself. “Right—forget I asked.”

  Leia could tell by Han’s tone that he was no more eager to kill Jagged Fel than she was, but they did not seem to have a lot of options. Saba was still exchanging cannon bolts with the clawcraft she had not yet killed, and they all knew that it would not be long before the squadron that had chased Jaina and Zekk into the clouds gave up their search and rushed over to help with the wing.

  “I guess the shoe is on the other foot,” Han said. “What are you going to do? We’ve got to shoot him down.”

  “I know,” Leia said. “But give me a hailing channel.”

  “Go ahead, Princess,” Juun said.

  “Jagged Fel, I’m sure you know who this is.”

  “Princess Leia?” Jagged did not seem surprised. “I told them it’s impossible to hold Jedi prisoners.”

  “Well, they know now.” Leia placed her finger on the triggers. “If you can eject, I suggest you do it fast.”

  Jagged sighed. “I’ve been hearing that from a lot of Solo women lately.”

  Leia barely heard him. She was already deep in the Force, focusing all her attention on his starfighter.

  She felt her finger twitch, and said, “Good-bye, Jag.”

  The turret began to shudder and did not stop. Leia felt her hand moving, following Jagged’s evasion attempts, but he might as well have been trying to dodge light. She followed his juking and jinking through the Force for a moment, then began to anticipate him, and an instant later she heard the synthetic rumble of the fire-control computer.

  But Leia did not feel the shock of his death.

  She dropped her gaze to the targeting display and saw the fading blossom of his clawcraft explosion, but the image was not fine enough to determine whether some of the debris she saw fluttering away was an EV unit.

  “Han, did he—”

  “I don’t know,” Han cut in. “I might have seen an ejection flare before you fired, but we’ve got other problems right now.”

  A green blur, as vast as a planet, appeared out of the rain ahead, and then the Falcon pulled up, hard. Leia spun her turret around and glimpsed what was clearly a jungle canopy dropping away behind the ship’s stern.

  “Han, are you telling me—”

  “Afraid so,” Han said. “The bombs are down there somewhere.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Luke found Gilad Pellaeon alone in the Megador’s observation deck, his liver-spotted hands clasped behind his back and his gray-haired head tipped back slightly as he gazed out the center of the dome. His attention seemed to be fixed on the cloud-pearled planet ahead, where the red-flashing shadow of the Killik ambush swarm was spreading steadily outward. The insects were striving to keep the Chiss fleet trapped between them and Tenupe’s surface, and by the looks of things, they were succeeding. If the Grand Admiral noticed his own huge armada sparkling out of hyperspace all around the edges of the observation dome, he showed no sign.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this, Luke.” Pellaeon spoke without taking his eyes off the planet. “The Colony must have a million dartships attacking down there. I can’t imagine the logistics.”

  “You don’t have a collective mind,” Luke said, stepping to the admiral’s side. “The Killiks are an extraordinary species. At times, I’m tempted to believe that they were the ones who built Centerpoint Station and the Maw.”

  Pellaeon studied him out of the corner of one eye. “And you don’t think that now?”

  Luke shook his head. “The nests have a habit of confusing their Joiners’ memories with their own.” He was surprised that Pellaeon seemed to take the Killiks’ claim seriously. “And the technology does seem well beyond them.”

  “You think so?” Pellaeon returned his gaze to the dome, then pointed a wrinkled finger at the Killik fleet. “I wonder how long it would have taken the Galactic Alliance to build that navy.”

  “Good point.” Luke studied Pellaeon carefully, trying to figure out what the cunning admiral was driving at. “But the Killiks don’t even have a true science. How could they have the knowledge to build something like the Maw or Centerpoint?”

  Pellaeon turned to face Luke. “A lot can happen in twenty-five thousand years, Master Skywalker. Sciences can be lost, knowledge can be forgotten, cultural imperatives can change. That doesn’t mean we should underestimate our opponent.”

  “Of course not,” Luke said, taken aback by the sharpness of Pellaeon’s rebuke. “Forgive me, Admiral—I wasn’t thinking on the same level you were.”

  Pellaeon’s face softened. “No apology necessary, Master Skywalker. You had no way to know we were discussing our current attack strategies.” He returned his attention to the Killik fleet, then added in a wry tone, “Since the Rebellion, I’ve become a bit fanatic about keeping an open mind toward my enemy’s capabilities.”

  Luke laughed, then said, “I should have been more alert, especially since I did track you down to talk about our strategy.”

  Pellaeon nodded without looking away
from the dome. “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you,” Luke said. A burst of iridescent light flashed across the dome as the Mon Mothma and the Elegos A’Kla emerged from hyperspace and moved to either side of the Megador. “Our vessels appear to be deploying for an enveloping attack on the Colony fleet.”

  “We are.” A hint of a smile appeared beneath Pellaeon’s bushy mustache. “It’s going to be a thing of beauty, Luke. The Killiks have absolutely no room to maneuver. We’re going to smash them against the Chiss like, well…like bugs.”

  “Forgive me for spoiling your fun,” Luke said. “But that’s exactly what we shouldn’t be doing.”

  “What?” Pellaeon tore his gaze away from the dome. “The Killiks might as well be dead already. They can’t possibly escape us.”

  “Probably not,” Luke agreed. “But we’re not here to destroy an enemy fleet. We’re here to stop this war.”

  “In my experience, they’re one and the same,” Pellaeon snapped.

  “Yes, but your experience doesn’t include Killiks.” Luke’s reply was blunt; he had to persuade the admiral to switch tactics now. Once the fleet started to deploy its fighter wings, changing battle objectives would become impossible. Not even Pellaeon was a good enough commander to recall several thousand starfighters, change formations, and continue the attack with any expectation of success. “Admiral, we have to concentrate our resources on retaking the Admiral Ackbar and neutralizing Raynar Thul.”

  Pellaeon arched his gray brows. “You know for a fact that Raynar is aboard the Ackbar?”

  Luke nodded. “I’m certain. I feel it in the Force.”

  “Then you don’t need an entire fleet to trap him,” Pellaeon countered. “Admiral Bwua’tu’s task force should be more than sufficient to support you.”

  “You’re missing the point, Admiral,” Luke said. “Destroying the Colony’s fleet will delay the war, but it won’t end it. The Killiks will only rebuild and be back with an even larger force next year.”

  “Then at least we will have bought ourselves sometime.” Pellaeon shook his head. “I’m not going to commit everything to neutralizing one man, Luke. If you fail—or if you’re wrong, and removing Raynar doesn’t cripple the Colony—we will have squandered the opportunity for a great victory.”

  “That’s sound military doctrine, of course,” Luke said. The Mothma and the A’Kla were now moving into shielding positions just ahead of the Megador. “But if you follow your plan, Raynar and Lomi Plo will defeat us—because we’ll have lost sight of our true goals.”

  Pellaeon’s eyes remained hard—perhaps even angry—but he did not interrupt.

  “Let’s assume I do neutralize Raynar and Lomi Plo without the fleet’s full support,” Luke continued, “and that you destroy the entire Killik fleet. Your strategy will only prolong the war.”

  “You’re making no sense, Luke,” Pellaeon retorted. “Without Raynar and Lomi Plo, the Killiks won’t be able to rebuild their fleet. You’ve said yourself that neutralizing those two will destroy the Colony’s ability to coordinate its nests. Are you telling me it won’t?”

  “I said removing Raynar would eventually destroy the Colony,” Luke corrected. “And you’re forgetting the Chiss. If you wipe out the Killik fleet here on Tenupe, what do you think the Chiss are going to do next?”

  “Thank us,” Pellaeon said. “Perhaps they’ll finally believe that we’re not siding with the Killiks.”

  “They’ll know that if we focus on recapturing the Ackbar and neutralize Raynar and Lomi Plo,” Luke said. “What they won’t do is use that fleet down there to continue pressing the war against the Colony.”

  Pellaeon’s eyes flashed in alarm; then he scowled and studied Luke as though they were meeting for the first time. Outside, the edges of the observation deck were laced with ion trails; the rest of the fleet was moving into attack formation.

  Finally, Pellaeon spoke in a disbelieving voice. “Master Skywalker, I do believe you’re suggesting that we leave the Chiss fleet to its own resources.”

  Luke nodded. “It would be for the best,” he said. “They were obviously willing to sacrifice much of it anyway.”

  “Before their parasite weapon was compromised,” Pellaeon pointed out. The Megador had barely emerged from hyperspace before the Falcon had commed an update of the situation on Tenupe. “I suspect they’re no longer eager to lull the Killiks into a false sense of security. This battle is going to be bloody.”

  “No doubt. But it might be wise to let the Chiss have a good taste of what the Killiks can do. Otherwise, the Ascendancy will continue pressing the war—they’ll find another way to deploy their parasite weapon.” Luke paused, then continued, “As excited as you are about this battle, I know you don’t want speciecide on your conscience.”

  Pellaeon’s eyes flashed, and Luke thought maybe he had gone too far.

  Then the admiral sighed. “It isn’t the killing, you know,” he said. “It’s the beauty of battles that I love—the choreography and the challenge of executing everything just right—and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent.”

  Pellaeon’s expression began to change from indignant to reluctant. “I guess I carry a little more Thrawn with me than I’d like to believe.” He sighed again, then looked out toward Tenupe, now just as heavily blanketed with dartships as it was with green clouds. “The Chiss will lose a lot of ships, you know—and this is a dangerous part of the galaxy, even without the Colony.”

  “I know.” Luke did not like the idea of abandoning so many Chiss to their fates, but the alternative would have meant killing even more Killiks. “The Ascendancy may have to rely more heavily on its friends for a while—and that will be good for the Alliance.”

  “Yes, I suppose it will be—provided they still consider us friends.” Pellaeon stood staring out the dome for another moment, then sighed regretfully and turned toward the lift. “Come along, Master Skywalker. Before you join the boarding parties, I’ll need a few minutes of your time in TacCon.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The strength of the living Force in the jungle overwhelmed Leia’s physical senses. Her ears hummed with its energy, her skin prickled beneath its warm pressure, even her vision had begun to cast the rain in a soft green glow. She found herself perceiving with her spirit rather than with her body, becoming a part of the jungle rather than a visitor to it.

  Saba was reacting a little differently. She was creeping along the vine-swaddled mogo branches with all the stealth of a hungry rapard, barely stirring the thick foliage except when she suddenly fell on some hissing rodent or popped out of hiding to snatch a passing buzzbird.

  Leia might have been bothered by the trail of death that her Master’s predatory instinct was laying behind them had she not felt like half the jungle was trying to eat her. Through the Force, she could sense everything from tiny bloodbats to packs of Ewok-sized spiders—all of them on the hunt, stalking her through the canopy, watching and waiting for an opportunity to attack.

  The prevalence of predators made Leia worry about Jaina and Zekk, who had gone down in their crippled StealthXs. She could feel them somewhere out there in this same ravening jungle, badly battered, but still alive, together, and apparently holed up in a safe place. They actually seemed more worried about Leia than she was about them, and they were pouring reassurance into the Force, encouraging Leia and Saba to deal with the parasite bombs first and them second.

  That was easier said than done, of course. Han was doing his best to draw the enemy out of the area by flying top cover over a different part of the jungle, but it would not be long before the Chiss realized it was a ruse. Their sensor sweeps would eventually confirm that there was no metal—and therefore no bomb—in the area Han was protecting.

  The soft beeps coming from Leia’s scanner finally fused into a single long whine. She checked the display and saw that the metal signature she had been following for the last half hour was in the center of the small screen, indicating s
he was now on top of the source. She stopped and crouched down on the mossy mogo branch, her lightsaber in hand in case one of the predators stalking her decided to try its luck.

  “Master Sebatyne,” she called. “Perhaps you could tear yourself away from your fun?”

  Saba popped out of a nearby bough, her mouth ringed by half a dozen bloody feathers.

  “Do not be disapproving, Jedi Solo,” she said. “This one can eat and search at the zame time. Who found Alema Rar’z StealthX?”

  “You did, Master,” Leia said.

  Saba had found the starfighter hidden high in a mogo tree, camouflaged as a giant curtain of beard-moss and suspended nose-down with its rear landing struts carefully hung over a thick branch. They assumed that the Twi’lek was doing the same thing they were—trying to destroy the parasite bombs before the Chiss arrived to recover them—but it was not a task that either Master or student wished to entrust to someone else, especially not a Dark Nest Joiner.

  “Have you checked your scanner recently?” Leia asked.

  “Of course.” Saba sneaked a look toward her utility belt, and her dorsal crest rose in surprise. She grinned sheepishly, then said, “This one was merely giving her student a chance to find the bombs first.”

  Allowing Leia no chance to challenge the statement, Saba leaned out of her hiding place and peered down into the jungle—then sissed in frustration. Leia clipped the scanner to her utility belt, then grabbed hold of an offshoot and leaned away from her own branch until she could see what Saba had found.

  The defoliator’s wing lay about twenty meters below, bent backward over a mogo branch. Both weapon mountings were empty, and the bombs were nowhere in sight.

  “Bloah!” Leia yelled.

  Her outburst sent a troop of long-armed monkey-lizards swinging away through the trees, screeching and hissing in alarm. Saba watched them go with a hungry leer, her long tongue flickering between her pebbly lips.