by Troy Denning
Leia felt Saba urging her to return to the Falcon, but she remained where she was. Something did not feel right. The Ackbar’s turbolasers were hammering all five enemy ships coming toward it, but its own shields were barely flickering.
After a few moments, Bwua’tu said, “I think the time has come for our surprise.” He went to the comm and opened a channel to the turbolaser batteries. “All batteries, switch targeting to Bug One. Acknowledge when ready.”
The Ackbar’s turbolaser batteries fell silent for a moment, then the acknowledgments rolled in so fast that Leia could not keep track of them.
When the comm fell silent again, Bwua’tu said, “Fire on my mark . . . three . . . two . . . mark!”
Space beyond the command deck viewport grew brilliant with turbolaser fire, and the deck shuddered with kinetic discharge. They waited, breathless, during the instant it took the barrage to cross the vast distance and land. Bug One’s symbol turned yellow on the holodisplay.
“Affirmative hits,” the sensor officer reported. “Estimate ten percent loss of mass.”
An enthusiastic cheer rose from the survivors in the TacSal and on the command deck.
Bwua’tu spoke into the comm. “Well done, gunnery! Odd-number batteries maintain fire—”
Leia did not hear the rest of what Bwua’tu said, for Mara was suddenly reaching out to her, full of alarm and worry for Luke and Han. Leia frowned, confused, and the image of a Killik ship appeared in her mind. There were several tiny figures on it, creeping across its broken surface, noticeable only because of the pinpoints of light coming from their helmet lamps. Then turbolaser fire began to rain down on it like a Nkllonian meteor storm, blowing huge, ragged holes into the ship’s hull, hurling fountains of stone into space, and hiding the tiny figures behind a curtain of dust.
And then, suddenly, Leia felt Luke’s presence, somewhere near Mara and even more alarmed.
Leia sprang to Bwua’tu’s side. “Stop! Luke and Han are on that ship!”
Bwua’tu lowered his furry brow, as confused as Leia had been a moment ago. “What?”
“Luke and Han are on Bug One!” Leia explained. “That’s why Mara wouldn’t retarget earlier. She saw them!”
Bwua’tu’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”
“I am,” Leia said. “I just felt Luke in the Force—he must have been hiding before.”
Bwua’tu narrowed his eyes. “I see.” He thought for a moment, then returned to the comm. “Batteries ending in five or zero maintain fire on Bug One. All others return to normal targeting.”
Leia frowned. “That’s still ten batteries!”
“If your brother and husband are aboard that ship, they’re either prisoners or stowaways,” Bwua’tu said. “If they’re prisoners, their best chance of escape lies in disabling the ship. If they’re stowaways—”
“—we might draw attention to them by stopping the attack,” Leia finished.
Bwua’tu nodded. “We’ll make a fleet admiral of you yet, Princess.”
They returned to the holodisplay. The tiny triangle of an unidentified vessel was just separating from Bug One and starting to accelerate toward the Ackbar.
“Sensors, give me a reading on that right now,” Bwua’tu demanded. “What is it? A missile?”
There was a short pause, then the image changed to the triangular cylinder of an old Kuat Drive Yards frigate.
“New contact is confirmed as a Lancer-class frigate,” the sensor officer reported. “Affiliation unknown.”
Bwua’tu frowned, then looked toward Leia. “Can your sorcery be of any help, Princess?”
Hoping to sense Luke and Han aboard the frigate, she reached out to the vessel in the Force . . . and found Raynar Thul instead. She immediately tried to break contact, but as she withdrew, he followed, and an enormous, murky presence rose inside her mind. Her vision grew dark around the edges, and a dark weight began to press down on her, so heavy and cold and draining that her knees grew weak and buckled.
“Princess Leia?” Bwua’tu and Grendyl stepped to her side, their blaster pistols cocked to smash the first crawling thing they saw. “Where did it get you?”
“I’m . . .” Leia tried to rise and failed. “Not bugs . . . frigate . . .”
Bwua’tu frowned. “The frigate?” He pulled her up. “What about it?”
Leia wanted to answer, to tell him who was coming, but the dark weight inside was too much. She could not bring the words to mind, could not have spoken them even if they had come.
“I see,” Bwua’tu said. “Grendyl, designate that vessel hostile . . . and make it a high-priority target.”
A few moments later a turbolaser barrage streaked toward the frigate. A deep pang of sorrow washed over Leia as she awaited the coming explosion. Whatever Raynar had become among the Killiks, he had once been a Jedi and a close friend of her children, and she knew that his loss would leave her feeling empty and dismal.
Then, as the strike neared Raynar’s vessel, the dark weight inside vanished, and Leia’s strength surged back. Still gasping, she was about to report who was aboard, but the turbolaser barrage suddenly veered away and blossomed in empty space.
Grendyl cried out in astonishment, a murmur of disbelief rose from the survivors on the command deck, and Leia finally understood why the Killik gunners were such bad shots.
They weren’t trying to hit the Ackbar.
When the second volley of turbolaser fire also veered away at the last instant, Bwua’tu narrowed his eyes and turned to Leia.
“What is it?” he asked. “Some sort of new shield?”
Leia shook her head. “It’s Raynar Thul,” she said. “And I think he’s coming to take your ship.”
TWENTY
The exterior of the nest ship was knobby and shadowed, a broken vista of narrow trenches zigzagging between giant blocks of spitcrete. Han knew that the blocks were almost certainly primitive heat sinks, necessary to keep the hull from cracking open in the extreme temperature swings of space. But that didn’t make navigating around them any easier. The vessel’s surface was like an immense spitcrete maze, stretching ahead almost endlessly, then suddenly vanishing against the blue brilliance of a massive crescent of ion efflux. Han felt as though he were walking into a sun—an impression supported by the droplets of sweat stinging his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. With the four real suns of the Murgo Choke blasting him in the side and shoulders, the DR919a’s cheap escape pod vac suits were not up to the task of cooling their occupants. He was afraid they would start melting soon.
Han stopped at the base of a heat sink—a spitcrete monolith two meters high—that Luke had scaled to study the terrain ahead, then tipped his helmet back so he could look up. There was another nest ship a hundred kilometers or so above, and a constant stream of tiny colored dashes came and went as it traded fire with an Alliance Star Destroyer somewhere inside the Murgo Choke.
Han activated his suit comm. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost, Han.” Luke continued to study the horizon, one glove shading his helmet visor. “There’s a square shadow at eleven that might be a thermal vent.”
“Do you see any heat distortion above it?”
“No.”
“Then we’re not there.” Han tried to keep his disappointment out of his voice—he did not want to encourage any more jabbering over the suit comm from Tarfang. “A hyperdrive for a ship this big is going to release heat for hours. When we get near a vent, we’ll know it.”
“I suppose.” Luke turned to climb down, then suddenly tipped his helmet back to look over their heads. “Incoming! Get—”
Space turned white, and Luke’s voice dissolved into the telltale static that meant a turbolaser strike was all too precisely targeted. Han tried to drop behind cover, but that was next to impossible in a stiff escape pod vac suit. He made it as far as bending his knees; then the nest ship hull slammed up under him, hurling him into the side of the heat sink. He tumbled down the surface and came to a rest a
t its base, the inside of his faceplate so smeared with perspiration that he could not tell whether he was lying facedown or face up.
The hull continued to buck and shudder, bouncing Han’s nose against his faceplate, and the strike static grew deafening. He chinned his suit comm off so he could listen for the hiss that would mean his vac suit had been compromised, then slowly brought up his arms and determined that he was lying on his belly.
Han rolled to his back, then wished he hadn’t. Space above was one huge, blurry sheet of turbolaser energy—most of it incoming—and filled with roiling spitcrete dust and tumbling chunks of heat sink . . . and something that looked like a half-sized vac suit, spinning out of control and waving its spread-eagled limbs.
Han activated his suit comm again and heard even more static. Some Alliance Star Destroyer was hitting them with everything it had. He stood and nearly got bounced free of the ship’s artificial gravity himself, then came down hard beside C-3PO.
The droid turned his head and looked as though he was speaking. Fortunately, Han could not hear a word.
Trying to keep one eye on whoever it was floating off up there, Han rolled to a knee and, through the thickening haze of barrage vapor, found Luke about five meters away. Han scrambled over, then touched helmets so they could speak without the comm unit.
“Someone got bounced!” Han pointed toward the slowly shrinking figure. “We’re losing him!”
Luke looked in the direction Han was indicating. “It’s Tarfang.”
“How can you tell?”
Luke pointed at a pair of shadows tucked behind a heat sink. “Juun and Artoo are over there.”
He lifted his hand and used the Force to draw Tarfang’s spinning form back down. The ship’s artificial gravity caught hold of the Ewok about two meters above the surface. He landed hard, then bounced to his feet shaking his fist and jabbering behind his faceplate. When another close strike launched him off the hull again, Han had to think twice before he reached up and caught the Ewok by the ankle.
Tarfang noticed the hesitation. He glared vibrodaggers as he was pulled back down, but that did not prevent him from grabbing Han’s utility belt and holding tight. Han tried again to activate his suit comm, but with space flashing like a Bespinese thunderstorm, all that came over the helmet speakers was strike static.
Luke did not need the comm. He simply stood and looked toward Han, and Han understood. They had to keep moving. Luke had used the Force, and now Lomi Plo could feel them coming.
They gathered Juun and the droids and started forward, following the spitcrete troughs between the heat sinks, zigzagging their way through the barrage with giant columns of shattered spitcrete and vapor shooting up all around. Within a few minutes, the turbolaser storm faded to a fraction of its former fury, but it remained fierce enough to make them fear for their lives. Several strikes landed so close that everyone was bounced off their feet, and twice Luke had to use the Force to pull someone back down into the nest ship’s artificial gravity. The barrage haze grew steadily thicker, obscuring visibility to the point that Han came within a step of leading Tarfang and C-3PO off the edge of a cavernous blast hole.
Perhaps half a kilometer later, Luke stopped short and pointed toward a billowing column of dust and shattered spitcrete about fifty meters ahead. It was roiling with convection currents and rising at a steady rate.
“We’re there, Han.” Luke’s voice was scratchy but understandable; under the lighter barrage, the electromagnetic static had diminished and no longer jammed their suit comms completely. “But be ready. I think we have a reception committee.”
Tarfang stopped and planted his feet. “Wobba jobabu!”
“Don’t worry,” Luke said. “We’ll have backup.”
“Backup?” Han turned to look, peering through the barrage haze. “Out here?”
“Mara is keeping an eye on us from a StealthX,” Luke explained. “I think she spotted our helmet lamps when she was sneaking up to attack the nest ship.”
“She’s in a StealthX?” Han asked. “And you still want to do this the hard way? Why don’t we let her drop a shadow bomb down that thermal vent and jump this rock? We can trigger our rescue beacons and wait for a ride.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Han,” Luke said. Something that sounded like chattering teeth came over the suit comm, and he turned toward the thermal vent. “I’d like you to take the others and do exactly that. It will make things easier for me.”
“Easier how?” Han asked suspiciously. “I thought all we needed to do was blow the nest ship’s hyperdrive, and Mara can do that a lot easier with a shadow bomb than we can with a lightsaber and two crummy blaster pistols.”
“There’s a complication,” Luke said. “One we can’t hit with a shadow bomb.”
“A complication?” Han put his faceplate close to Luke’s and saw that the Jedi Master was shivering uncontrollably. “You mean Lomi Plo?”
Luke turned to Han and nodded. “I should f-finish her off while I have the chance.”
“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it isn’t me,” Han said. “She’s got ahold of you again, hasn’t she?”
Luke sighed. “That doesn’t mean you should stay.”
“You come with us, and I won’t,” Han said.
“And m-make us all targets?” Luke shook his head. “I’m going to stay here and see this thing through.”
“That makes two of us,” Han said. He turned to Tarfang and Juun. “How about you two?”
Tarfang launched into tirade of angry jabbering, then renewed his grasp on Han’s utility belt and shook his head. Juun merely stood there, blinking at them out of his helmet.
“Well?” Han asked.
When Juun’s expression did not change, Han tapped the side of the Sullustan’s helmet. Juun frowned and shook his head.
“I guess it’s unanimous,” Han said. “Juun can’t risk jumping off this rock with a faulty comm. If his beacon fails, too, he’ll be a goner out there.”
“I wish you’d reconsider, Han.”
“Yeah, and I wish we had a satchel full of thermal detonators and a few kilos of baradium,” Han said. “But that’s not going to happen. Let’s go.”
They started to move again. But instead of traveling straight toward the thermal vent, Luke carefully circled it. Every few meters, he would stop and remain motionless for five or ten seconds, then adjust his course and creep ahead even more slowly.
Finally, he motioned for a stop, then sneaked forward to peer around the side of a heat sink. Han followed and saw several dozen hazy, bug-shaped figures wearing the bulky carapaces that Killiks used as pressure suits. They were all crouching in ambush, still facing the direction he and Luke had been approaching from a few minutes earlier.
“Everybody be ready,” Luke unhooked his lightsaber, then took the blaster pistol out of his utility belt and passed it to Tarfang. “Mara’s making her run.”
“Then what?” Han asked.
“Then Lomi Plo will have to show herself,” Luke answered. “After we finish with her, we trip our rescue beacons.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Han said. He motioned Juun to stay with the droids and keep down—without a comm or a blaster, the Sullustan would be no good in the fight anyway—then twisted around to look up into space. “What’s taking so—”
Luke jumped up and ignited his lightsaber, pointing the tip toward the hiding Gorog. In the same instant, the dark shape of a Jedi StealthX appeared behind the insects and began to stitch the nest ship’s hull with fire from its four laser cannons. A curtain of spitcrete dust, hull chips, and bug parts boiled spaceward, and then the StealthX was gone, vanished against the star-flecked void.
A moment later a small line of pressure-suited Gorog came charging forward between the heat sinks, spraying electrobolts and shatter gun pellets ahead of them. Han returned fire, cursing in frustration as most of his bolts bounced harmlessly off the insects’ carapace pressure suits. Luke simply made a swe
eping motion with his hand, and one end of the Gorog line went tumbling into space.
Then brilliant spears of cannon fire began to stab down from space again, churning what remained of the insect line into an amalgam of chitin and gore. Han continued to fire, more to make sure Mara knew where he was than because he thought he was going to kill anything. In a moment the StealthX’s dark shape swept past only a few meters from their hiding place, so close that Han could see Mara’s head swinging back and forth as she selected her targets.
Han was still watching her when something tinked the back of his helmet. He spun around, half expecting to feel that painful final pop as a shatter gun pellet tore through his head, but there was nobody behind him except Juun and the droids.
The Sullustan pointed toward something on the other side of Luke. Han glanced over and found nothing but the usual barrage haze. Luke was standing just as he had a moment before, his lightsaber blazing and his attention fixed on the few would-be ambushers that had survived Mara’s strafing runs so far.
Juun began to gesture violently, this time a little closer to Luke. Han looked again, saw nothing but dust, then spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
Juun beat his fists against his helmet, then leapt to his feet and raced in the direction he had been pointing.
“Look out, Luke!” Han warned over the comm. “You’ve got a crazy Sullustan—”
Luke whirled, bringing his lightsaber around in a high guard—then stopping cold in a flicker of sparks.
Han scowled. “What the—”
Luke suddenly doubled over in the middle, as though he had been kicked hard in the stomach. Then Juun slammed to a stop about a meter in front of Luke, his arms wrapping around something Han could not see.
Luke brought his blade up and hit nothing but air, then flipped the tip over his shoulder in a back-guard maneuver that resulted in another flurry of sparks. He followed this by dropping into a spinning leg sweep that caught whatever Juun was clinging to. The Sullustan’s arms came loose, and he went rolling across the spitcrete into the side of a heat sink.
