Star Wars: Death Troopers

by Joe Schreiber

  “Hold this for me.” Kale handed him the blaster rifles he’d been carrying. “Here we go.” He removed a loose panel from the wall, reached inside, and slid out a pair of power packs. “Right where Dad left them.” Sticking his hand deeper, he groped around for a moment and came up with another blaster, a pistol. “Here, you take this one.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Did I ask if you wanted it?”

  Trig realized his brother was right. Whether or not there still was something following them, he was going to need a weapon. He inserted the power pack into the blaster, clicked it home, and tried to find a way to carry it that didn’t feel awkward or self-conscious before realizing that there was no way of doing that. His father’s voice spoke to him: When you’re carrying a blaster, whatever else you’re doing comes second.

  Kale gestured forward, up the walkway. “Let’s go find that other escape pod.”

  “How do you know there is a second escape pod?”

  “It’s here because we need it to be here.”

  Trig just shook his head. Circular logic: their father would be proud. “Seriously, though.”

  “Seriously?” Kale said. “The Imperials build everything symmetrically. They’re not creative enough to do anything else. So where there’s one, there’s got to be another, same location, opposite side.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, what do you want me to say?”

  Trig just nodded. He’d liked the first explanation better.

  Fifteen minutes later, Kale let out a small but energetic whoop. They had reached the opposite side of the barge’s admin level. “What did I tell you?”

  The pod looked exactly like the one that Sartoris had taken. Trig wondered how they were going to activate it without the launch codes, but he didn’t want to puncture Kale’s enthusiasm. It was nice to see his brother smiling again. He walked over to the pod’s hatch and put his face against the viewport, peering into a darkly luminous chamber of softly glowing lights.

  He felt a wave of coldness slip over him and turned around fast.

  There was someone coming up the hall.

  It wasn’t his imagination this time, no chance; Kale heard it, too, Trig saw it in his brother’s face, both of them registering the deep-chested growling noise getting louder as whoever it was rounded the corner.

  “Stay behind me,” Kale murmured, raising both his blasters up to chest level. “If anything happens, shoot first and then run, got it?”

  “Wait,” Trig said, fumbling with the pistol, “where’s the stun switch?”

  Kale said something in an even lower voice, but Trig could hardly hear him over the beating of his own heart. He realized he was about to fire a blaster for the first time and his life would depend on how well he used it. If it was another guard they might have to kill him. This was why he hadn’t wanted to carry a blaster in the first place, but that didn’t seem to make a difference now, because—

  A man in an orange inmate’s uniform came around the corner with a Wookiee next to him.

  “Hold it!” Kale shouted.

  When the man and the Wookiee saw them they stopped walking, but neither of them appeared particularly surprised. The man raised his hands, but the Wookiee growled louder, shoulders hunching up, looking like it still hadn’t ruled out attack as a possible response.

  “Easy, kid, put the blasters down.”

  “No way.” Kale shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

  Han’s eyes flicked over to the escape pod. “Looks like we both came looking for the same thing.”

  “There’s not enough room,” Kale said. “So why don’t you and your friend turn around and go back where you came from.”

  “What are you guys, brothers?” Han didn’t move, but he shifted his attention to Trig, the corners of his mouth twisting upward in an odd grin, crooked but genuine. “You ever use one of those things before?”

  Trig didn’t know if he was talking about the blaster or the pod, so he just nodded. “Sure.”

  “Yeah, I bet. Come on, kid, give up the heat, huh?” Stretching out both hands, that casual, crooked smile on his face, he started sauntering toward them again, as if he’d already decided how all of this would transpire and it was only a matter of going through the motions until everybody else realized it, too.

  “You take another step and I’ll shoot!” Kale cried out in a voice that broke high at the end, but by then it was too late. Both he and Trig had been watching the man when they should have been watching his partner.

  The Wookiee made it look easy, closing the gap in what felt like no time at all, plowing straight into Kale and knocking him flat, both blaster rifles clattering to the floor, rolling and pinioning one huge furry leg out so that it caught Trig in the side. Trig heard himself make a noise like uff! and felt all the air leave him like it had been sucked out of a vacuum. He went down, too, hand at his side, and realized he’d dropped his blaster. It had somehow already materialized in the man’s hand.

  The Wookiee kept the blaster rifles pointed at them, and Trig felt the last vestige of hope draining out of him like dirty water from a bathtub. What had ever convinced them that they could hold off a pair of career criminals with nothing to lose?

  The man, meanwhile, walked over to the escape pod. “Well, we’d love to take you boys along, but as you pointed out, space is at a premium, so—”

  “You’ll never make it,” a voice said.

  Trig looked around and saw the woman standing there. It took him a moment to realize it was Dr. Cody, the Purge’s medical officer. He hadn’t seen her since the day their father died, but now her pretty face—normally smiling, usually amused about something or other—looked gray and strangely lifeless, aged twenty years since the last time they’d met. Even her voice had changed. It lacked that easy, pleasant twinge of irony that he’d heard before, that tone of I’m working on an Imperial prison barge, how much worse can it get? Now she only sounded tired and resigned.

  “What do you mean?” Han said.

  “Go ahead,” Dr. Cody said, in that same oddly inert and shrugging voice, “try to get inside.”

  The man pulled on the escape pod hatch, but it didn’t open. “What, it’s locked? How do you know?”

  Zahara pointed at the steady red light next to the SECURITY SYSTEM ACTIVATED sign by the pod’s hatch. Trig hadn’t noticed it until now, either. “It’s locked down.”

  “So how do we get in?”

  “There’s a manual override up in the pilot station.” Dr. Cody turned to the Wookiee. “And enough with the blasters, all right? I hardly think either of you has anything to fear from a couple of teenage grifters.”

  “Hey, they pulled ’em on us,” Han protested, and the Wookiee barked out a contentious whinnying rejoinder, but both lowered their weapons.

  “The pilot station’s directly above us,” Dr. Cody said. “I’ll go up and see about unlocking the pod.”

  “Chewie and I’ll go up with you, take a look at the thrusters.” Han glanced at Kale and Trig. “You kids tagging along?”

  “We’ll stay here,” Kale said, “you know, stand watch.”

  Han shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “What …?” Trig glanced at his older brother, uncertain, but felt Kale reaching down to squeeze his arm gently yet firmly.

  “Here.” Dr. Cody handed Trig a comlink. “I’ll call when I get it open so you can check it before we come back. We’ll come back as soon as we can.”

  “Leave us the blasters,” Kale said.

  Han snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “Go ahead,” Zahara said, “you can spare one.”

  Han looked expectantly at Chewie. “What? He’s not taking mine,” but the Wookiee just continued to stare back at him. “Great,” Han muttered, thrusting the weapon back at Kale. “Here you go, boy. Try not to shoot off your own foot.”

  Kale took it and nodded, and Han, Chewbacca, and Dr. Cody started to walk away.

  “Dr. Cody?” Trig asked.
/>   She stopped and looked back.

  “Is there anyone else left besides us?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, and Trig could tell from her expression that she’d been anticipating a different question. It wasn’t until they were gone that he realized what he should have asked her.

  What happened to all the dead bodies?

  23/Inside

  THEY’D BEEN WAITING FOR FIVE MINUTES WHEN THE FIRST ALARM WENT OFF.

  Kale had been explaining the plan for why he’d volunteered both of them to wait here. “When Dr. Cody gets up to the flight deck and unlocks the pod, we climb in and comm her back to tell her it’s asking for launch codes like the ones that Sartoris had. She puts them through and we’re out of here.”

  “She’s not stupid,” Trig said. “Besides, we can’t just leave her here.”

  “The Imperials will send a rescue ship.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She’s high up,” Kale said, gesturing vaguely in the air. “You know, connected.”

  “That still doesn’t mean they’ll come back for her.”

  “You’re really creased about this, aren’t you?”

  “She helped out Dad in the end,” Trig said. “That means something.”

  “Look.” Kale regarded him with a maddening smile. “I know you’re sweet on her, but—”

  “What?” Trig felt his face and the tips of his ears growing hot. “Yeah, right.”

  Kale shrugged, the very picture of fraternal indifference. “Whatever you say. It’s pretty obvious, though, just the way you stare at her. Not that I blame you—she’s not bad looking.” His expression darkened. “Just don’t forget who she works for.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Kale started to say something and that was when a high, shrill squeal cut through the hallway from the other side of a sealed doorway, some kind of localized alarm system. They both jumped and Kale swung the blaster rifle around a bit too brazenly, Trig thought—he was getting used to carrying a weapon.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  “Wait here,” Kale said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before Trig could argue, his brother started down the corridor, the blaster held up by his chest. The sealed doorway in front of him opened with a soft hydraulic gasp and Kale stepped through it, paused there, and threw one last look over his shoulder at Trig. “Stay where you are,” he said, and the doors sealed behind him.

  A moment later the alarm fell silent. It was like something at the end of the hall had woken up crying, eaten Kale, and fallen back to sleep again. Trig shuddered at the image, trying to shake it out of his head and having no luck. He stood with his ears ringing, wondering what he was supposed to do, how he was even supposed to mark the time that everyone was away.

  Restless, trying to keep his mind occupied, he turned back to the escape pod. The little red light was still on, but he tried the hatch anyway, tugging on it just in case Dr. Cody had already sprung it by remote. It didn’t open. What had he expected? He put his nose to the viewport again, cupped his eyes, and squinted, trying to see if anything had changed in the arrangements of the glowing instrument panel, but he couldn’t make anything out clearly.

  Then, inside the pod, something moved.

  Trig jerked his head back, his entire body stiff with shock, and he stumbled backward on unstable legs. His nerve endings seemed to have been replaced with thin hot copper wires, pulse racing so he could hear it clicking in his gullet. I didn’t really see that, his brain whirred, the lights inside are just making it look like I did, but—

  He held his breath, listening.

  There was a faint scratching sound coming from inside the pod.

  Trig took another step back, until he felt his shoulders make contact with the opposite wall. His eyes rolled over to the doorway that Kale had gone through a few minutes earlier, but Kale wasn’t back—there was no sign of him. And the scratching sound inside the pod was only getting louder, an irregular but insistent scrape of fingers—or claws—against the inside of the hatch. As Trig listened he realized it was becoming faster as well as louder, more eager, as if it knew he was out here and wanted to get out with him.

  Trig realized he was squeezing the comlink hard enough to make his hand cramp. He lifted it up and thumbed the power switch. “Dr. Cody?”

  There was a long pause, and then her voice came back, clear and strong. “Trig?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re up on the bridge now. We’re still looking for the override to open the pod. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “Wait,” Trig said. “Hold on. There’s something inside the pod already.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s something in it. I can hear it scratching.”

  “Hold on, Trig.” Another long silence, this one stretching out until Trig thought he’d lost the signal. Then at last, Dr. Cody’s voice said, “Trig? You there?”

  “Still here.”

  “I’ve got the bioscan running up here for the entire barge.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re not picking up any life-form reading inside that pod.”

  Trig stared at the hatch, where the scraping had become maniacal clawing, and he could hear something else along with it, a wet, slobbering, toothsome sound, as if whatever was inside was almost trying to gnaw its way out.

  Should have asked her about the dead bodies, he thought again, a little hysterically. Yeah, that probably would have been a good idea.

  The words drifted out of him like smoke: “There’s something in there.”

  “Missed that, Trig.”

  “I said—”

  “Okay,” Dr. Cody’s voice said, “here we go, I found the lock override.”

  “No, hold on, wait—”

  There was a click and the hatch swung open.

  24/Futureproof

  WHEN KALE CAME BACK, TRIG WAS GONE.

  The hatch to the escape pod stood open, and he crouched down and crawled inside, the green display lights glowing across his face.

  “Trig?”

  His brother wasn’t in there, either, but the gassy, festering smell was bad enough that Kale didn’t linger for a closer look. It reminded him of some kind of predator’s den, the kind you might find littered with the picked-clean bones of its last meal. He supposed he’d have to put up with it if the pod was their only means of getting out of here, but for now he had to find his brother.

  Stepping back out, he bumped his foot against a small flat object. It let out a little electronic gurgle. He looked down and saw that it was the comlink Zahara had given Trig. Kale frowned. It wasn’t like Trig to leave something like that, any more than it was like him to wander off for no reason.

  He picked up the comlink and switched it on. “Dr. Cody? This is Kale.”

  “I hear you, Kale,” she said.

  “Listen, something happened to my brother.”

  “Say again?”

  “An alarm went off and I went to go check it. When I came back, he was gone. The pod hatch is open, but he’s nowhere in sight.”

  “Just a second, Kale. Let me check something.”

  Kale waited, and looked back down at the inner wall of the escape pod door. It was scored with dozens of scratches, some of them deep enough to gouge into the metal itself. He reached down to touch it and discovered it was wet. When he drew back his fingers, they were dripping with blood and something sticky and warm. He wiped it off on his pant leg with a shudder of revulsion.

  “Kale, the scanner’s showing a life-form about fifteen meters up the corridor to your immediate right. Do you see it?”

  He turned around but there was nothing but the same dirty familiar walls, dim lights, and low cramped ceiling, yellowing and dingy, as if stained by the doomed and hopeless breaths exhaled by thousands of inmates over the years. “No,” he said, “there’s nothing here.”

  “You’re positive? The signal’s strong.”

&
nbsp; “No, it’s just an empty hallway, I—hold it.”

  He put the comlink down and raised the blaster, walking over to the wall for a closer look. In front of him, at shoulder level, he saw a separate wall panel and the words:

  MAINTENANCE ACCESS SHAFT 223

  Kale placed the barrel of the blaster rifle against the spring-loaded panel and pushed it open to reveal the widemouthed shaft within. A gust of foul-smelling air rushed up into his nose and he groaned, almost gagging, covered his nose and mouth with his free hand, and leaned back into the ripe blackness, looking down.

  “Trig?”

  The sound of his voice reverberated down the metallic emptiness, ringing shapeless in the void. Kale thought back to what he’d seen when he’d gone through the doorway to investigate the alarm. It had been nothing special, nothing at all really, probably just a malfunction somewhere, although one particular aspect of it had stuck with him—a single bloody handprint on the wall, half smeared and still so fresh it was dripping. When he’d seen that, he’d realized it wasn’t a good idea to leave Trig alone, even for a few seconds, and that was when he’d come back to find this.

  He decided to try once more, leaning back into the shaft. “Trig, are you there?”

  His brother came vaulting up and out of the shaft with a scream. He smashed face-first into Kale, knocking him to his knees with a speed and momentum that probably saved his life. If it had happened any slower—if Kale had been given any time to get his blaster back up again—he probably would have shot his brother on pure reflex. As it was, Trig was already on top of him, still screaming, fists flying, clawing, kicking, and sucking in great drafts of air. He was crying, too, Kale could see, sobbing in a high, choking, desperately frightened voice that made him sound much younger than his actual age.

  “Easy,” Kale said, holding on to him, noticing now how badly torn Trig’s uniform was, like an animal had been at it—the collar ripped to expose Trig’s slight, hairless chest, one sleeve torn completely away to show his skinny arm. Parts of the cheap fabric were damp and clammy, like the inside of the escape pod hatch. Kale held on to him. He hugged Trig tightly to his chest until he started to feel, if not the fight going out of him, at least a kind of exhausted fatigue slowing the panicked thrashing, and kept holding on to him after that until Trig was quiet except for the occasional hitching breath.