Star Wars: Darksaber
Page 19
These mind-linked creatures would have to work together, knowing the details of the entire design. If everything worked right, the superweapon would be built in a fraction of the time that space construction normally required.
As he looked out and saw the long, girder-sheathed tube being assembled before his eyes, Lemelisk was awed. It was so different, so fantastic to have enthusiastic construction workers for once.…
The convicts from the penal planet Despayre had proved totally inadequate for the rigors of constructing the first Death Star. They were untrained, physically challenged, mentally unstable—a lousy workforce in every sense. Finally, after their repeated and costly mistakes, Lemelisk expressed his disgust and displeasure to Grand Moff Tarkin, who took appropriate action.
After Tarkin had finished executing the entire work crew, Lemelisk and six hundred stormtroopers accompanied him on a “recruitment drive” to the planet Kashyyyk.
“The Wookiees are animals,” Tarkin said, his face pinched, his eyes flinty. “They are hairy and violent, and they smell … but they’re intelligent enough. If properly broken, they are acceptable workers, as well as expendable in the usual sense. Their planet is out of the way and barely inhabited. A few human traders visit and do a little business, but nothing that will be missed. That’s why we’ve enslaved some of the Wookiees before.”
“I know,” Lemelisk said. “We used a group of the beasts to help construct Maw Installation. Didn’t have much contact with them, though.”
“Ah,” Tarkin said, nodding, “then you know what brutes they are.”
“Yes, but they’re certainly strong.”
While the Star Destroyers rode in high orbit, Lemelisk accompanied the Grand Moff as the assault shuttles dropped through the atmosphere, weapons blazing to get the attention of the natives. They searched for a place to land on the canopy, and Lemelisk looked out the passenger window in dismay at the leaves and branches swarming with insects and vermin. It turned his stomach to think that this world’s inhabitants had done so little to improve their environment: no developments, no civilization, just primitive tree dwellings. The forest itself was unexploited—Lemelisk could barely believe it, and he lowered his expectations of Wookiee intelligence.
The stormtroopers found a crude landing pad on the canopy, supported by thousands of meter-thick branches. Though it looked rickety, the platform proved to be sturdy enough as the assault shuttles settled down with a blast of repulsorlifts.
The Wookiees they encountered had a blatting, growling language that was completely incomprehensible. Luckily, they understood blasters. A number of their leaders also understood Basic, so that when Tarkin issued his demands, the leaders translated the words into barks and snorts. When they roared in defiance, the Wookiees made it clear they understood completely.
Lemelisk sighed. Tarkin would have to do it the hard way.
So the assault shuttles circled, firing with laser cannons until sections of the towering forest gushed with flames. Pillars of smoke rose, spreading like black bloodstains on the sky. The Wookiee animals wailed in betrayal.
Lemelisk had already begun planning how best to use the brawny brutes in the Death Star construction, calculating how many human guards would be needed per group of Wookiee workers, what the optimum size for a Wookiee labor gang would be. Such administrative and construction details always nagged Lemelisk in the middle of difficult projects.
The Wookiees were lashed with force whips, their offspring herded into hostage camps, adult males and females shoved into cargo compartments. One large bull with silver-tipped fur rebelled, knocking stormtroopers right and left. In moments the other Wookiees joined in the fight, but Tarkin didn’t hesitate. He ordered his men to cut down any beast who resisted.
The silver-fringed bull went first, falling off the platform with a smoking hole in his chest. His body crashed through the canopy until it finally came to rest, caught in the thick branches far above ground. Other unruly Wookiees were shot, and the resistance ended quickly. From that point on, all the Wookiees wore binders clamped tightly to their wrists.
Lemelisk wished Tarkin would hurry back to the construction site so they could begin training the new workers. The project did have a deadline, after all, and the Emperor was counting on them. Didn’t these Wookiees understand? Probably not, he thought. They were just dumb animals.
On the trip back and during the interminable days of indoctrination, the Wookiees’ resistance was further broken with sonic negative-stimulation transmitters, drugs in their food, and threats against the hostages Tarkin had abandoned on Kashyyyk.
Once they got started and trained, though, Lemelisk was proud of the progress the Wookiees made. The work crews were strong and competent, so long as they were carefully watched to prevent sabotage attempts.
It was good to see the Death Star moving toward completion again.…
* * *
As far as Bevel Lemelisk could tell, the Darksaber construction was correct, but he had a bad feeling as he watched the Taurill working with such speed. He recalled the difficulties he had experienced with the unwilling Wookiee work crews, and he did a telescopic scan, comparing the lines on the holographic blueprints with what he could see of the durasteel latticework forming the large cylindrical skeleton.
The Taurill were hard workers, amazingly speedy—but their greatest flaw, Lemelisk had found, was that they were distractible. The hive-minded Taurill had thousands of different facets of attention, and when an asteroid soared too close to the construction site or a smuggler’s ship flew within view, the Taurill focused their attention on the new sight. As the Overmind became intrigued with the novelty, more of the multiarmed components turned to look, scrambling for a better view, climbing to new positions, viewing the intriguing event from a new and well-woven perspective.
Unfortunately, this changed the positions of the Taurill bodies, and when the fuzzy creatures returned to their work, many hung at new stations, connecting different girders together, hooking the wrong circuits.
As he studied the lines, Lemelisk felt his heart sink into his paunchy stomach: a large section of the Darksaber outer framework was indeed assembled wrong, girders welded to incorrect counterparts. The computer core receptacle was connected to the waste-heat exhaust. The superlaser anchor points were offset ninety degrees from each other, as wrong as they could possibly be.
Lemelisk immediately stormed out of the peaceful womb of Durga’s observation blister. He had to find one of the Taurill and shout at it, explaining where the construction had gone wrong. It didn’t matter which of the creatures he talked to; they were all the same, and the Overmind would hear him—oh, yes, the Overmind would hear him.
He felt his stomach churning in dread that Durga would find out about the delay and order Lemelisk’s execution after all. Lemelisk didn’t want to be killed again.
He was relieved the Hutt crime lord was gone. Lemelisk would order the Taurill to work double time to rip apart an entire section of the Darksaber and start all over. The hive-minded creatures had to pay closer attention, though he feared that was probably impossible. But perhaps the situation could be salvaged before anything worse happened.
In all likelihood, General Sulamar wouldn’t even notice the mixup.
HOTH
CHAPTER 28
The ice world of Hoth hung beneath its coterie of moons like a cracked snowball. Callista piloted their space yacht, following the coordinates Luke had given her.
He leaned forward in the passenger seat, tingling with anticipation. “Down there,” he said, “that’s where Obi-Wan’s spirit first came to me, when I was near frozen in a blizzard. He told me to go to Dagobah, to find Yoda. Han tried to convince me it was just a hallucination.”
Callista sat subdued, gripping the controls. She had been reluctant to tamper with her locked Jedi powers ever since her brush with the dark side on Dagobah. Luke was concerned that her reticence and anxiety would do more damage than any of her actual failure
s had, because now she was afraid to try. Somehow Luke had to dispel that fear.
Callista stared at the ice planet as they skimmed through the misty atmosphere. “I wish my master Djinn Altis would come to me in a vision,” she said. “I’m sure he could offer some insight.”
Luke didn’t know how to respond, so he squeezed her hand.
She looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and frustration. “I’ll be all right, Luke. Maybe I can’t have everything I want, but I’m going to do what I can. I haven’t given up.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “And down there is the next place to try.” Luke indicated the white-pocked glacier fields beneath their soaring yacht. “This is where I really learned to fight. I had flown my X-wing against the first Death Star, but here during the battle of Hoth is where I learned to be a warrior. I left the wreckage of Echo Base to find Yoda,” Luke said, smiling wistfully at the memory, “and one of the first things he told me was that wars don’t make a person great.”
“He was wise, your Master Yoda,” Callista said. “But sometimes you have to fight. Sometimes it’s all or nothing. That’s the only way to win.” She swallowed. “That’s why I made my sacrifice in the Eye of Palpatine.”
Luke said, “Let’s hope you don’t ever have to face that all-or-nothing choice again.”
She forced a smile. “I’d prefer that.”
Callista skimmed low under the afternoon sunlight where ice chips burned bright below the whitish sky. She darkened the viewport shields to cut down the glare.
“I don’t know what shape Echo Base is going to be in,” Luke said. “It suffered some pretty extensive battle damage, and it’s been abandoned for years. Don’t expect luxury accommodations like the Mulako quarry.”
Callista looked across the frozen snowfield. “At least it won’t have any bugs or bats.” She sat up straight. “Hey, what’s that ship?”
As they approached the line of rocky hummocks, Luke spotted a blackened hulk lying in the snow, surrounded by a starburst of greasy soot and slagged wreckage. “Can’t be a leftover crash from the battle,” he said. “That was nine years ago. This is something new.” Luke stared at the burned debris, reaching out with his sense. “Nothing alive there that I can tell. It’s recent, but not too fresh.”
Callista brought their yacht down near the wreckage, close to the hidden shield doors that sealed off Echo Base in the solid ice. She double-checked with her scanners. “Yes, the metal’s all cold. Ambient temperature. It’s been here a few days at least, maybe as much as a couple of weeks.”
Luke opened the uniform locker and removed the two insulated jumpsuits hanging beside a pair of full environment suits. Luke and Callista pulled on the uniforms, activating the body heaters and tugging on gloves. Luke clipped his lightsaber to his belt and handed the second smooth black handle to Callista. “Here, you’d better take yours.”
“I don’t want to,” Callista said, glancing away.
“But you should do it anyway,” Luke answered. “You always have the option of not using it.” White-lipped, she took it, still refusing to meet his gaze.
They climbed out of the yacht into the blinding cold of Hoth, leaving the door closed but not sealed, so they could reenter in a hurry. Callista shivered as she walked beside him. “It’s chilly here,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows and felt frost already collecting on the skin of his cheeks. “Chilly?” he said. “But this is the hottest part of the day.”
Their boots crunched on the ice-crusted snow as they walked to the wrecked ship. “It was a single transport,” Luke said, bending over a scorched hull plate. “Probably a blockade runner or a light freighter, the kind smugglers and poachers use.”
Callista picked up a twisted lump of metal, turned it over in her gloved hands, then let it drop. Her breath curled in white steam from her mouth. “Do you think they crashed?” she said. “I don’t see any bodies.”
Luke shook his head. The icy air sliced into his nostrils like razors. “No, look at the pattern. The ship landed safely and then exploded on the ground. See, none of the snow is plowed up. There’d be a long crash furrow if it came down from orbit.”
Luke looked over at the snow-camouflaged opening of Echo Base. “Maybe they took shelter there.” He pointed out the blaster cannon turrets on either side of the shield door. “Let’s check this out—but be careful.”
The wind picked up, skirling around the rocks in transient whirlwinds that whipped ice crystals into the air and scoured the snowdrifts. The opening to the ice cave was flanked by rocks, though most of Echo Base had been chewed into the centuries-old packed snow and ice.
As they approached the shield doors, the pair of silent blaster-cannon emplacements standing like sentinels suddenly came to life. The turrets swiveled, the long deadly barrels seeking a target—and finding one.
“Look out!” Callista shouted, and shoved Luke out of the way.
He dived to one side, using his Jedi powers to fling him farther. Callista rolled, hitting the ground as the first blast seared out. Steam boiled from a fresh crater in the ice.
Luke began to run back toward her, but Callista rolled aside and moved out of range. The turrets swiveled, targeting on Luke, and fired again. He leaped into the air, and the beam missed him, exploding one of the frozen rocks.
As the blaster cannon fired a third time, Luke drew his lightsaber and deflected the beam with blinding speed, countering the bolt with the energy blade. The sheer power of the blaster cannon made Luke reel, and only the strength of his synthetic hand allowed him to withstand the blast.
“Must be motion detectors, Luke. They’re tracking us as we move!” Callista shouted. “I’m going to run and draw their fire. You use your Jedi powers to rush forward and knock out both weapons.”
“No,” Luke shouted. “It’s too—”
But Callista was already on her way. Luke knew this was how she did things: she made up her mind and then took action without considering the risks or even alternate ideas. For better or worse, Callista was in it now, sprinting in a zigzag pattern across the snow. Both blaster cannon emplacements swiveled, locking in on her.
Luke plunged forward until he landed in front of the cannon. Holding the lightsaber in one hand, he scrambled up the tower and slashed with the glowing blade, severing the barrel of the weapon. He threw himself onto the snow and scrambled to the second turret just as the damaged one fired. With the barrel gone and its end fused, the cannon blast blew up the entire turret.
The second weapon targeted Callista. She danced to one side, throwing herself into the snow half a second before the beam struck the glacier with an explosion sufficient to hurl Callista into the air.
Luke didn’t take the time to climb the second blaster turret. He used his lightsaber to hack at the emplacement itself as if it were the trunk of a giant tree. He chopped through the armored plating, and a smoking square of durasteel tumbled to the ice. Luke stabbed inside with the yellow-green blade, slashing the power conduits and computer interlinks, slicing the heart out of the weapon. Above him the ominous barrel stuttered to one side, seeking another target, then went dead.
He looked up and noted that the weapons themselves had been jury-rigged, sensors wired in with automatic targeting systems, linked to motion detectors. He hurried over to help Callista to her feet, wondering why someone would go to all that trouble on this empty world.
“Good work,” she said as they brushed each other off. “We’re a team even without my Jedi powers.”
With a reluctant grinding thud, the shield door split in the middle and began to spread apart. Icicles flaked off, and chunks of snow crashed to the ground. Figures appeared, shadowy forms standing in the crack of the partially opened door.
Luke tensed and turned around, the lightsaber gripped in his hand. Callista held her weapon, but did not ignite it. Luke waited to see what their mysterious enemies would do.
“Don’t just stand there,” a gruff human voice shou
ted. “Get inside quick, before those creatures come back!”
A dark-eyed man wearing the shadowy stains of beard stubble and remnants of white plasteel armor stepped outside, holding a blaster rifle. Beside him came a hairy feline alien with tufts of fur sprouting from his chin and fangs protruding below narrow black lips. A Cathar, Luke recognized. The feline alien also carried a blaster rifle and sniffed the cold air, tense and ready to fight. They did not point their blasters toward Luke or Callista, though. Instead, they seemed to watch for some invisible threat from the snows.
Another human man, tall and broad shouldered, stood within the main tunnel, gesturing for them to hurry. Luke looked around at the bleak, seemingly lifeless surface of Hoth; then he felt a sudden uneasiness. He grabbed Callista’s arm and rushed with her into the shelter.
Only five of them had survived.
“Seemed an easy way to make a few credits, since I was looking for a new occupation,” said Burrk, a former stormtrooper who had deserted the Empire in the turmoil following the battle of Endor. Ever since that time, he had been on his own, surviving through shady dealings and illegal activities.
“I hooked up with these two Cathar, Nodon and Nonak.” The two feline aliens growled and flashed their teeth, glaring through slitted eyes at Luke and Callista. They appeared identical except for slight variations in fur color.
“They’re both from the same litter,” Burrk continued, “and they were great hunters—at least they said they were.” The two Cathar snarled, extending hooked claws from their hands. Burrk didn’t even seem to notice. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. His eyes were sunken, haunted by unrelenting tension, as if someone had beaten him repeatedly and might return at any moment. Together, his group had managed to get only a dozen or so glowpanels functioning again, and none of the heater units.