by Troy Denning
Abruptly Jacen felt Jaina pouring her anger into their twin bond, punching at that empty place inside him that used to be hers. Never again, she was telling him, never again would she fly with him.
But Jacen had known that before the mission began. He pulled his stick back and climbed for the fiery sky.
SEVENTEEN
As the silver whorl of the Tusken’s Eye swelled steadily in the forward viewport, Luke began to feel a cold ache in the pit of his stomach, a growing sense that he was being studied. He glanced casually around the DR919a’s flight deck and found his companions intent on their work, Juun holding the control yoke firmly in both hands, Tarfang taking sensor readings and calculating hazard locations, Han studying the vessel’s main power-supply grid and muttering to himself in disgust. Whoever was watching him, it wasn’t any of his companions.
“Captain Juun, what did you do with those replicas you had before you came for Han and me?” Luke was sitting cross-legged on the floor, assembling his spare lightsaber from components he kept hidden inside R2-D2. “Are they still aboard?”
Juun shook his head. “I thought the assassin bugs might interfere with your escape.” He kept his eyes fixed forward as he spoke. “So I had Tarfang drop the entire cargo in the marsh.”
“I was afraid of that,” Luke said.
“I could have kept them?” Juun gasped.
“No way,” Han said, looking up from his work on the power grid. “Dumping those bug houses is the first smart thing you’ve done in this mess.”
Tarfang jabbered at Han.
“How unusual!” C-3PO said. “Tarfang agrees with you. He says their first mistake was helping us escape the rehab house. They would have been much better off leaving you and Master Skywalker to be Fizzed.”
Tarfang chuttered an addendum.
“Oh dear—he says you also owe the Squibs a million credits,” C-3PO said. “Captain Juun incurred the nondelivery penalty on your behalf.”
“Fine. Tell ’em to put it on my account,” Han said. He turned back to Luke. “So what’s wrong with dumping the cargo?”
“Nothing. It just means the replicas aren’t what I’m feeling.” Luke still had the cold knot in his stomach, an ache that did not quite rise to the level of danger sense. “Someone’s watching us.”
Tarfang jabbered in Luke’s direction.
“Of course someone is watching,” C-3PO translated. “We’re in pirate space.”
“Not that kind of watching,” Han said. “I think he means through the Force.”
Juun’s face fell. “The Dark Nest?”
“That’s my bet,” Han answered.
“They know we’re coming?” Juun’s alarm began to fill the Force. “The DR-Nine-one-nine-a isn’t equipped for combat. Maybe we should turn around.”
“Not yet.” Luke looked out the forward viewport, where the silver whorl of the Tusken’s Eye was shining so brightly that it really was beginning to look like the goggled eye of a Tusken Raider. “The Dark Nest may know we’re here, but we still haven’t found them.”
Tarfang barked a sharp reply.
“Tarfang says if anything happens to the DR-Nine-one-nine-a, you’re paying for repairs,” C-3PO said.
“Not a problem,” Luke said.
“If there’s anything left to repair,” Han muttered, turning back to the main power-supply grid. “These shields couldn’t stop a micrometeor.”
“I’ll see if I can improve our chances,” Luke said.
He reached out in the Force and immediately felt the crew of a sizable spacecraft closing fast from somewhere ahead. The DR919a was just entering the inner wall of the nebula shell, where a miasma of glowing gas and dark dust limited visibility to almost nothing. There was little hope of getting a visual fix on the craft, or even of picking it up on the transport’s rudimentary sensors. But the presences aboard the vessel were too clear in the Force to be from the Dark Nest, too distinctly individual to be Killiks, and too savage to be Alliance military personnel.
Luke glanced over at Han and mouthed the word pirates. Han’s brow went up, and he nodded toward the entrance to the DR919a’s belly turret. Luke shook his head, motioning for Han to continue rerouting more power to the shields, then began to quiet his mind, shutting out the gentle beeping of R2-D2 running diagnostics on the ship’s power grid, the steady chitter of Tarfang apprising Juun of navigation hazards, even the gentle whisper of his own breath.
Soon Luke was focused entirely on the Force, and he began to sense its ripples lapping over him, coming from the direction of his companions and the pirates—and from another place where he did not feel any presences at all, only a profound uneasiness in the Force. He turned toward the empty place and found himself staring into a wispy red corona that had appeared around the rim of the Tusken’s Eye.
Luke reached into the corona with the Force, searching not for the Dark Nest, but for the hosts he knew it needed to grow its larvae. For a moment, he sensed only the same void as before—an absence too perfect in its emptiness to be genuine, a silence too pure in its stillness even for deep space. Then, gradually, the terror began to wash over him, the despair and suffering of thousands of paralyzed slaves being slowly devoured from the inside out.
Luke shuddered, shaken by his contact with their anguish, and vowed again to destroy the Dark Nest.
Then the corona blurred for a second, and a tiny silver crescent came into view, almost too faint to be seen through the crimson glow. Luke began to feel another set of presences, full of anger and savagery and selfishness—more pirates, no doubt.
No sooner had Luke spied the crescent than the ache in his stomach began to expand into the rest of his torso. The feeling was due to more than just being watched, he realized. Someone was touching him through the dark side, trying to distract—or perhaps even incapacitate—him. He took a few deep breaths, then called on the Force to fight off the growing chill.
“Luke?” Han asked. “You all right?”
Luke glanced over to see Han studying him with a concerned expression.
“I’m fine.” Luke’s answer was only partially truthful. “Somebody doesn’t like me looking for the Dark Nest.”
“Alema?”
“I don’t think so,” Luke said. “Too powerful to be her.”
“I was afraid of that.” Han did not bother to ask whether it was Lomi Plo. “Maybe we should turn back. You’re not looking too great.”
Luke frowned. “Han, are you starting to feel afraid?”
“Me? No way.” Han looked back to his work a little too quickly. “Just worried about you, that’s all.”
“No need,” Luke said. “We’re just going to take a quick look at what’s going on, then run for the Choke.”
The wave of relief from Juun and Tarfang confirmed what Luke had already guessed: the Dark Nest was using the Force to project an aura of fear into the DR919a—perhaps into this entire area of space. Whatever she was doing in there, Lomi Plo did not want Luke—or anyone else—sneaking a peek.
Luke finished assembling his spare lightsaber, then went to the pilot’s station and pointed over Juun’s shoulder toward the silver crescent he had spotted earlier.
“Do you see that?” Luke asked.
Juun squinted out the viewport. “See what?”
Luke touched the Sullustan’s mind through the Force, trying to project the image of the silver crescent he saw. “That sliver of light. It looks like a planet.”
Juun gasped. “Where did that come from?” He frowned at his instruments, then peered over at Tarfang. “You need to adjust the calibration. We’re not picking anything up, and I can see it.”
Tarfang chittered something that sounded atypically like an apology, then studied the sensor controls and began to scratch the white stripe on his head.
“It’s not the instruments.” Luke touched the Ewok’s mind, then said, “Try looking out the viewport first. That will help.”
Tarfang glared over at Luke for a moment, as though
he was suspicious of sorcery, then looked out the viewport and barked something that sounded a little bit like chubba!
Luke looked over Juun’s shoulder at the sensor display. It showed that a white-clouded world lay dead ahead. The planet had more than a dozen moons, and it was orbiting around a fairly standard G-class star—the source of the silver glow that created the Tusken’s Eye.
The screen also showed an old Carrack-class cruiser approaching from the direction of the planet, about a third of the way to the DR919a. It was escorted by a pair of blastboats, and not one of the vessels was broadcasting a transponder code.
“The pirates!” Juun said. “They’ve seen us!”
Tarfang began to plot an evasion route.
“Don’t worry about the pirates,” Luke said. He knew by the deepening chill in his stomach that the Dark Nest was still watching their ship, trying to make it turn back. “I’ll handle them.”
“You sure about that?” Han asked. “We know where the Dark Nest is now. It might be better to go to the Choke and get some help.”
“We don’t have time for that.” Luke turned to Han. “You know those shivers running up your spine? That tightness you’re feeling in your throat?”
Juun spun around, his cheek folds rising. “You feel it too?”
“No—with me, it’s something different,” Luke said. “But I know what you’re feeling, because it’s not real. Lomi Plo is trying to scare you off.”
Tarfang chittered a long opinion.
“Tarfang says she is doing us a favor,” C-3PO said. “And I must say I agree. Our chances of surviving a battle with that pirate cruiser are approximately—”
“Stow it, Threepio.” Han was scowling and looking toward the planet. “She knows we’ve found her?”
“I’m fairly certain,” Luke said. “She and I are having a sort of a shoving match.”
“We know where the Dark Nest is, and she’s still trying to make us turn back?”
“Isn’t that what it feels like to you?” Luke asked.
“As a matter of fact, yeah.” Han’s eye grew angry and determined. “We’d better get close and take a good look, because whatever she’s trying to hide isn’t going to be there long.”
Tarfang looked back and began to harangue them both.
“Tarfang remains very concerned about the pirates,” C-3PO reported. “He points out that the laser cannons in the upper turret aren’t working.”
“The pirates won’t get near us.” Luke used the Force to fill his voice with reassurance. “Lomi Plo isn’t the only one who can use Force illusions.”
Luke opened himself wide to the Force, and it began to pour into him from all sides, filling him with a tempest of power until his entire body was suffused with its energy. Using the same technique he had used to save Jade Shadow from the Dark Nest’s attack at Qoribu, he formed a mental image of the DR919a’s exterior and expanded it into the Force, moving it from his mind out into the cockpit.
Tarfang yapped in astonishment, then stood on his chair and poked a finger into the image.
“Does it look right?” Luke asked.
Tarfang studied it wide-eyed for few moments, then nodded and chortled his approval.
“Good. This next part is going to take a lot of concentration, so you’ll have to follow Han’s instructions for a while.” Luke turned to Han. “You do remember what Mara and I did at Qoribu?”
“How could I forget?” Han answered. “Juun, we’re going to need all the speed this tub can make. Open up those throttles.”
“They are open,” Juun protested. “The maintenance engineer on Moro Three said we’d be crazy to take them past seventy-five percent.”
“Yeah?” Han slipped by Luke and grabbed both throttles, then shoved them past the safety stops. “Well, it’s time to go crazy.”
A low roar rose somewhere in the DR919a’s stern, and the deck began to shudder beneath their feet. Juun shrank in his seat, waiting for the ship to explode, and Tarfang launched into a torrent of angry chittering that left C-3PO at a loss to translate gracefully.
After a few seconds, the shuddering finally settled into a rhythmic rumble.
Juun seemed to relax a little. “That’s enough, Tarfang,” he said. “If Han Solo thinks we need to push the Niner’s drives twenty-two percent beyond spec, then we must take the risk.”
Tarfang snarled a sharp reply, but by then Luke was too focused on his task to hear C-3PO’s translation. He had extended the image of the DR919a into every corner of the vessel and was holding it there, taking his time and drawing into the image all the attributes that made up the transport’s sensor signature. The effort wearied him a little, but he ignored his fatigue and expanded the illusion until it covered the entire ship like an imaginary skin.
The pirates hailed the DR919a. “Turn that kreetle barge around before we blast it out from under you!”
Han rushed to the comm station and took over from an indignant Tarfang. “Turn around? Gorog told us she wanted this load of hyperdrive coolant yesterday,” he said. “You want us to turn around, talk to her.”
“That was yesterday,” a gravelly voice retorted. “You got ten seconds, then we open fire.”
“Go ahead,” Han said. “But I’d talk to Gorog first.”
“Talk to Gorog?” A deep laugh came over the comm channel. “That’s a good one. You got five seconds.”
Luke brought to mind another image of the transport, this time with a stringy blue veneer that resembled the gas shell around them. Instead of drawing the DR919a’s sensor signature, however, he backed the image with a layer of cold emptiness.
Maintaining both illusions began to drain him, and he no longer had the energy to suppress the cold ache in his stomach. The chill began to seep through his body.
Lock-alarms began to sound as the pirates reached targeting range and prepared to make good on their threat.
“Uh, Luke?” Han said. “You do hear—”
“Shut down the drives in three, two . . .” Luke gave the outer skin a little extra push. “Now!”
Juun pulled the throttles back, then the image of the DR919a slid away, the counterfeit glare of its sublight drives forcing everyone on the flight deck to close their eyes. Luke angled the illusion off to port, as though the vessel were attempting to go around the pirates. Meanwhile, the DR919a remained cloaked by the second, camouflaging illusion. The lock-alarms fell silent, and the cold ache inside Luke slowly began to recede.
Tarfang howled in delight, then turned to Luke and began chuttering in excitement.
“I really don’t think Master Luke is interested in giving up his position in the Jedi order,” C-3PO interrupted.
Tarfang yapped sharply.
“Very well, I’ll ask him.” C-3PO turned to Luke and began to translate. “Tarfang would like to know if you’re interested in joining the crew of the Niner. He’s sure that Captain Juun would give you a full share. And with your talent, they could go back to smuggling and make a fortune.”
Luke could barely spare the effort to throw a pleading look in Han’s direction. The Force was pouring through him like fire, and it was all he could do to keep the two illusions intact.
“Threepio’s right, Tarfang,” Han said. “I’ve been making the same offer for years, and he just keeps talking about how much the galaxy needs him.”
A flurry of streaks and flashes filled the forward viewport as the pirates opened fire on the counterfeit DR919a. Luke continued the illusion’s gentle turn, keeping it well ahead of its attackers and drawing them farther away. His skin felt dry and papery, and waves of heat were rolling through his body as the cytoplasm inside his cells began to boil. He did not let up. During the past year, he and Jacen had been working on overload techniques, so he knew could endure the pain and fatigue almost indefinitely. His body would pay a steep price, aging a year in a matter of minutes, but he knew he would not collapse.
Finally, they could no longer see the pirate cruiser in the viewport, an
d the DR919a’s navigational display suggested the ship was well beyond turning back to intercept them. Luke continued to hide their real vessel while moving the decoy ever deeper into the miasma. There were still plenty of pirates ahead—and they were the least of the DR919a’s problems.
Han and R2-D2 returned to their work on the power grid, and the silver crescent ahead swelled steadily to a disk with one dark side, then to a hazy half-orb cloaked in white vapor. The cold ache in Luke’s stomach had diminished to almost nothing, but had not faded completely. He hoped that was just residual, a spillover creeping into him through his connection to the illusion, but it could just as easily have been Lomi Plo trying to lure him into a false sense of security. There was no way to be certain. Luke just did not know enough about what she was doing to him.
As they drew close to the planet, the system’s star assumed the form of an immense silver maelstrom sucking in vast quantities of nebular gas. The planet itself became an alabaster glow with no distinct edge, a cloud of white brightness surrounded by the dark flecks of a dozen moons.
The DR919a’s rudimentary sensor package could not penetrate the dense clouds in the planet’s upper atmosphere, but the heavy concentration of ice crystals indicated an abundance of water below, and the world’s general mass and size suggested a rocky core. The moons were easier to survey. They were all about eight kilometers long, egg-shaped, and radiating heat from a core area near their thick ends.
“Those aren’t moons!” Han said, looking over Tarfang’s shoulders. “They’re nest ships!”
Luke immediately felt like a fool. Until that moment, he had believed the problem with the Utegetu nests was basically a misunderstanding; that Raynar and Unu had become upset over the Fizz and allowed their anger to place them temporarily under the sway of the Dark Nest. But there were fifteen nest ships here: one for each of the fourteen nests the Colony had established on the nebula worlds, plus an extra vessel for the Dark Nest. Even the Killiks could not have built such a fleet in only a couple of months. Either all of the Utegetu nests had been under the Dark Nest’s influence for most of the last year, or Raynar and the rest of the Colony had been a part of the plan from the beginning. Luke felt betrayed either way.
