Carida seemed the opposite of Kyp’s peaceful homeworld of Deyer, where he and his family had lived in raft colonies on the calm terraformed lakes—but that peace had been shattered years ago when Kyp’s parents had chosen to protest the destruction of Alderaan. Stormtroopers had crushed the colony, whisking Kyp and his parents to the spice mines of Kessel while conscripting his brother Zeth for the stormtrooper training center.
Now, as he orbited the military planet, Kyp’s face bore the tight, hardened look of a person who has been through the raging fire of his own conscience. Shadows rimmed his eyes. He did not expect to find his brother still alive after so many years—but he intended to learn the truth.
And if Zeth was not there, Kyp had enough power to destroy the whole Caridan solar system.
A week ago he had left Luke Skywalker for dead atop the Great Temple on Yavin 4. He had stolen design parameters of the Sun Crusher from the mind of its naive creator, Qwi Xux. And he had blown up five stars to incinerate Admiral Daala and her two Star Destroyers. At the last moment Daala had tried to flee the exploding stars, but to no avail. The shock waves had been intense enough to blank the Sun Crusher’s viewscreens even as fire overtook Daala’s flagship, the Gorgon.
Since that awesome victory Kyp’s obsession had gained momentum, and he had set out on a hyperspeed course toward annihilating the Empire….
The Caridan defense network spotted the Sun Crusher as Kyp entered orbit. He decided to transmit his ultimatum before the Imperial forces tried anything stupid. He broadcast on a wide range of frequencies.
“Caridan military academy,” he said, trying to deepen his voice. “This is the pilot of the Sun Crusher.” His mind searched for the name of the ambassadorial buffoon who had caused a diplomatic incident on Coruscant by tossing his drink in Mon Mothma’s face. “I wish to speak to … Ambassador Furgan to discuss the terms of your surrender.”
The planet below made no response. Kyp stared at the comm system, waiting for noise to burst from the speaker.
His alarm consoles flashed as the Caridans attempted to lock on to the Sun Crusher with a tractor beam, but Kyp worked the controls with Jedi-enhanced speed, oscillating his orbit at random so they could never get a positive lock.
“I am not here to play games.” Kyp’s hand bunched into a fist and slammed down on the comm unit. “Carida, if you do not answer within the next fifteen seconds, I’ll fire a torpedo into the heart of your sun. I think you’re familiar with the capabilities of this weapon. Do you understand?”
He began counting out loud. “One … two … three … four …” He got up to eleven before a brusque voice came through the comm system.
“Intruder, we are transmitting a set of landing coordinates. Follow them precisely or you will be destroyed. Relinquish control of your ship to the stormtroopers immediately upon landing.”
“You don’t seem to understand what’s going on here,” Kyp said before he bothered to stop laughing. “Let me talk to Ambassador Furgan now or your planetary system is going to be the galaxy’s newest bright spot. I’ve already blown up a nebula to wipe out a pair of Imperial battle cruisers—don’t you think I’d destroy one minor star to get rid of a planet full of stormtroopers? Get Furgan, and give me a visual.”
The holo panel flickered, and the wide, flat face of Furgan appeared, shoving aside the comm officer. Kyp recognized the ambassador by his heavy eyebrows and fat purplish lips.
“Why have you come here, Rebel?” Furgan said. “You are in no position to make demands.”
Kyp rolled his eyes, losing patience already. “Listen to me, Furgan. I want to find out what happened to my brother, Zeth. He was conscripted on the planet Deyer about ten years ago, and he was brought here. Once you have that information, we’ll discuss terms.”
Furgan stared at him, knitting his heavy spiked brows. “The Empire does not negotiate with terrorists.”
“You don’t have any choice in the matter.”
Furgan fidgeted and finally backed down. “It will take some time to access information that old. Maintain your position in orbit, and we’ll check.”
“You have one hour,” Kyp said, then signed off.
On Carida, in the main citadel of the Imperial military training center, Ambassador Furgan looked down at his comm officer, frowning with lips the color of fresh bruises. “Check that boy’s words, Lieutenant Dauren. I want to know the capabilities of that weapon.”
A stormtrooper lieutenant marched in with a precise military stride that sent shivers of admiration down Furgan’s spine. “Report,” he said to the captain.
The helmet speaker amplified the stormtrooper’s voice. “Colonel Ardax announces that his assault team is ready to depart for the planet Anoth,” he said. “We have eight MT-AT vehicles loaded into the Dreadnaught Vendetta, along with a full compliment of troops and weaponry.”
Furgan tapped his fingers on the polished console in front of him. “It seems an extravagant effort to kidnap a baby and overcome a single woman who’s watching him—but this is a Jedi baby, and I will not underestimate the defenses the Rebels may have emplaced. Tell Colonel Ardax to prepare his team for immediate departure. I have a minor irritation that needs to be dealt with here—and then we can go fetch a young, malleable replacement for the Emperor.”
The stormtrooper saluted, whirled on one polished boot, and exited through the chamber doors.
“Ambassador,” the comm officer said, scanning readouts, “we know from our spy network that the Rebels had a stolen Imperial weapon called the Sun Crusher, which can supposedly trigger the explosion of a star. And there was a mysterious multiple supernova in the Cauldron Nebula less than a week ago—just as the intruder claims.”
Furgan felt a thrill of anticipation as his suspicions were confirmed. If he could get his hands on the Sun Crusher and the Jedi baby, he would have more power at his disposal than any of the squabbling warlords in the Core Systems! Carida could perhaps become the center of a blossoming new Empire—with Furgan at its helm as regent.
“While the Sun Crusher pilot is distracted and awaiting news of his brother,” Furgan said, “we shall mount a full-fledged assault to cripple his craft. We can’t let such an opportunity escape us.”
Kyp stared at the Sun Crushers chronometer, growing angrier with each ticking interval. If it weren’t for the hope of learning news about Zeth, Kyp would have launched one of his four remaining resonance torpedoes into Carida’s sun and backed off to watch the system explode in a white-hot supernova.
With a surge of static, the Caridan comm officer’s image appeared before him, contrite and businesslike. “To the pilot of the Sun Crusher—you are Kyp Durron, brother of Zeth, whom we recruited on the colony world Deyer?” The officer spoke with a plodding voice, enunciating each word with unnecessary precision.
“I gave you that information already. What have you learned?”
The comm officer seemed to fade out of focus. “We regret that your brother did not survive initial military training. Our exercises are very strenuous, designed to discourage all but the best candidates.”
Kyp’s ears filled with a roar like rushing water. He had expected the news, but confirmation sent despair through him. “What … what were the circumstances of his death?”
“Checking,” the comm officer said. Kyp waited and waited. “During a mountain survival tour he and his team were snowed in by a sudden blizzard. He appears to have frozen to death. There is some indication he made a heroic sacrifice so other members of his team could survive. I have the full details in a file. I can upload it if you like.”
“Yes,” Kyp said, his mouth dry. “Give me everything.” He recalled an image of his brother: two boys throwing small reed boats into the water and watching them drift toward the marshes—then the look on Zeth’s face after stormtroopers had crashed into their home and dragged him away.
“This will take a moment,” the comm officer said.
Kyp watched the data scroll across his scr
eens. He thought of Exar Kun, the ancient Lord of the Sith who had shown him many things that Master Skywalker refused to teach. The news of Zeth’s inevitable death was like severing the remaining threads of Kyp’s fragile restraint. Nothing could stop him now.
He would show murderous Carida no mercy. Kyp would remove this Imperial thorn from the New Republic’s side and then move on to topple the big Imperial warlords gathering their forces near the galactic core.
He waited for Zeth’s files to finish uploading into the Sun Crusher’s memory. It would take a long time for him to absorb all those words, to imagine every detail of his brother’s life, the life they should have had together….
Emerging from the thin veil of atmosphere at the limb of the planet, a battle group of forty TIE fighters roared toward him. Another cluster of twenty came from the opposite horizon in a pincer formation. The ploy of Zeth’s files had merely been a delaying tactic to keep him preoccupied as the Caridans launched an attack!
Kyp didn’t know whether to be amused or outraged. A grim smile flickered across his face, then vanished.
The TIE fighters came in, firing what must have been intended as crippling laser blasts. Kyp felt the thumps of their impacts against the Sun Crusher, but his special quantum-layered armor could withstand even a turbolaser blast from a Star Destroyer.
One of the TIE pilots contacted Kyp. “We have you surrounded. You cannot escape.”
“Sorry,” Kyp said. “I’m fresh out of white flags.” He used his sensors to track the lead TIE fighter from which the message had come. He targeted with his defensive lasers and let loose a volley that strafed across the ship’s flat solar panel. The TIE ship broke apart in a flower of white-and-orange flame.
The other fighters retaliated from all sides. Kyp targeted with his own defensive lasers, selecting five victims. He managed to strike three.
Using the extreme mobility of the Sun Crusher, he accelerated upward just as the surviving TIE fighters sent return fire through the expanding explosions of his first round of victims. Kyp laughed out loud as two of the fighters hit each other in the cross fire.
The wall of anger rose and strengthened in him, increasing his reservoir of power. He had already given more warning than the Caridans deserved. Kyp had stated his ultimatum, and Furgan had sent out attack ships.
“That’s the last mistake you’ll ever make,” he said.
The TIE fighters continued to fire, missing more often than not. Laser bolts spanged off his armor, causing no damage. The pilots did not seem to know how to target and shoot properly. They had probably spent all their time practicing in simulation chambers, without ever fighting an actual space battle. Kyp relied instead on the Force.
He shot back, obliterating another ship, but decided that further fighting was not worth his time. He had a bigger target. Two fast TIE interceptors streaked after him as he pulled out of planetary orbit and set a course for the star at the heart of the system.
The only damage they could possibly do to the Sun Crusher would be to take out its tiny laser turrets. Daala’s forces had once succeeded in disabling the Sun Crusher’s external weaponry, but New Republic engineers had repaired it.
Another breached TIE fighter spurted flash-frozen atmosphere as it exploded. Kyp darted through the debris, straight toward the sun. The surviving Imperials charged after him, still firing. He paid them no heed.
Over and over in his mind he rolled images of Zeth, imagining his brother frozen and hopeless in a training exercise for an army he had never wanted to join. The only way for Kyp to cauterize that memory was to purge the entire planet with fire, a fire only the Sun Crusher could unleash.
He activated the firing systems for his resonance torpedoes. The high-energy projectile would be pumped out in an oval-shaped plasma discharge from the toroidal generator at the bottom of the Sun Crusher.
Last time Kyp had fired the torpedoes into supergiant stars in a nebula. Carida’s sun was an unremarkable yellow sun, but even so, the Sun Crusher could ignite a chain reaction within the core….
As Kyp swooped in toward the blazing ball of yellow fire, flickering prominences reached out of the star’s chromosphere. Boiling convection cells lifted hot knots of gas to the surface, where they cooled and sank back into the churning depths. Dark sunspots stood out like blemishes. He sighted on one of the black spots as if it were a bull’s-eye.
Kyp primed the resonance torpedo and spared a moment to glance back. His TIE pursuers had split off, unwilling to come so close to the glaring sun.
Fail-safe warning systems flashed in front of Kyp, but he disregarded them. When the control system winked green, he depressed the firing buttons and shot a sizzling green-blue ellipsoid deep into Carida’s sun. Its targeting mechanisms would find the core and set up an irrevocable instability.
Kyp leaned back in the comfortable pilot’s seat with a sigh of relief and determination. He had passed the point of no return.
He should have felt elated, knowing it was only a matter of time before the military academy was finally extinguished. But that knowledge could not wash away the grief he felt for the loss of his brother.
Alarms screamed through the citadel of the military training center. Stormtroopers ran along flagstoned halls, taking emergency positions at strategic points as they had been drilled; but they didn’t quite know what to do.
Ambassador Furgan’s face held a comical expression of shock. His bulging eyes looked as if they might pop out of their sockets. His lips scraped together as he fought for words. “But how could all of our TIE fighters miss?”
“They didn’t miss, sir,” Comm Officer Dauren said. “The Sun Crusher seems to have impenetrable armor, better than any shielding we’ve ever encountered.
“Kyp Durron has reached our sun. Although our readings are scrambled from coronal discharges, it appears that he has launched some sort of high-energy projectile.” The comm officer swallowed. “I think we know what that means, sir.”
“If the danger is real,” Furgan said.
“Sir—” Dauren wrestled with rising agitation, “we have to assume it’s real. The New Republic was pointedly uneasy about being in possession of such a weapon. The stars in the Cauldron Nebula did explode.”
Kyp Durron’s voice broke over the intercoms. “Carida, I warned you—but you chose to trick me instead. Now accept what you’ve brought upon yourselves. According to my calculations, it’ll take two hours before the core of your sun reaches a critical configuration.” He paused for a beat. “You have that amount of time to evacuate your planet.”
Furgan slammed his fist down on the table.
“Sir,” Dauren said, “what are we going to do? Should I organize an evacuation?”
Furgan leaned over to flick a switch, toggling to the hangar bay in the lower staging area of the citadel. “Colonel Ardax, muster your forces immediately. Get them aboard the Dreadnaught Vendetta. We will launch our Anoth assault team within the hour, and I will accompany them.”
“Yes, sir,” the reply came.
Furgan turned to his comm officer. “Are you certain that boy’s brother is dead? Nothing we can use for leverage?”
Dauren blinked. “I don’t know, sir. You told me to delay him, so I made up a story and sent a fake file. Do you want me to check?”
“Of course I want you to check!” Furgan bellowed. “If we can use the brother as a hostage, perhaps we can force that boy to neutralize the effects of this Sun Crusher weapon.”
“I’ll get on it immediately, sir,” Dauren said, and hammered his fingertips on the datapads.
Six of Furgan’s training commanders, summoned by the wailing alarms, marched into the control center and saluted briskly. Standing shorter than his commanders, Furgan clasped his hands behind his back, pushing his chest out as he addressed them.
“Take an inventory of all functional ships on Carida. Everything. We need to download the data cores from our computers and take as many personnel as possible. I doubt we’ll be
able to evacuate them all; therefore, choices will be made on the basis of rank.”
“Are we just going to abandon Carida without a fight?” one of the generals said.
Furgan screamed at him, “The sun is going to blow up, General! How do you propose to fight that?”
“Evacuation on the basis of rank?” Dauren said in a small voice, looking up from his panel. “But I’m only a lieutenant, sir.”
Furgan scowled down at the man hunched over his control panels. “Then that gives you all the more incentive to find that kid’s brother and force him to rescind that torpedo!”
Through half-polarized viewports Kyp watched the surviving TIE fighters pull away and swoop back toward Carida. He smiled with satisfaction. It would be good to watch the Caridans’ panicked scramble as they tried to grab everything of value on an entire planet.
Over the next twenty minutes he watched streams of ships launch away from the main training citadel: small fighters, large personnel transports, StarWorker space barges, and one deadly looking Dreadnaught battleship.
Kyp was annoyed at himself for allowing the Imperials to haul so much weaponry away. He was sure it would eventually be used against the New Republic; but at the moment Kyp took his pleasure from eradicating the solar system.
“You can’t escape,” he whispered. “A few might get away, but you can’t all escape.” He glanced at his chronometer. Now that instabilities had begun pulsing out of the star, he could get a more accurate determination of how long it would take for the sun to explode. The Caridans had twenty-seven minutes before the first shockwave struck.
The flow of ships had petered out, and only a few scrap-heap vessels struggled out of the gravity well. Carida did not appear to be well supplied with vessels; most of their prime equipment must already have been commandeered by Grand Admiral Thrawn or some other Imperial warlord.
The holopanel flickered, and the image of the comm officer appeared. “Pilot of the Sun Crusher! This is Lieutenant Dauren calling Kyp Durron—this is an emergency, an urgent message!”
Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice Page 29
