Reunion: Force Heretic III

by Sean Williams

  The man nodded slowly. “It does make sense,” he agreed.

  The woman at the front turned on him, the look on her face one of perplexity and anger. “Have you gone mad, Tourou? We can’t take them to Senshi! They’ll kill him for sure!”

  “Nobody’s going to kill anyone,” Jacen assured her. “Here, look.” He unclipped the lightsaber from his belt and tossed it to her. “You can hold my weapon for me, if my word’s not enough.”

  The woman stared at the lightsaber pommel with something akin to horror—as though shocked to be given it, but terrified of what it might do.

  Jacen nodded at Saba, who, after an initial hesitation, deactivated her blade and tossed it to the man Jacen had disarmed. If she was unnerved by Jacen’s decision, she didn’t show it. She was a picture of impassivity, awaiting further instruction.

  “Very well,” Tourou said. He gestured, and the group broke apart. Two came cautiously around Jacen’s side to stop him from getting away, while another two did the same with Saba. “Pick up the stretcher,” Tourou ordered his two new captives. “You’ll carry your friend. That way you won’t be in any position to try anything.”

  Jacen did as his captors told him, taking the rear handles while Saba took the front ones. Her tail swished agitatedly, flicking the puddles of water on the ground. Then they were moving again through the tampasi, with three Ferroans leading the way and four at the back.

  Jacen looked down at Danni’s limp form on the stretcher. Her clothes were soaked and muddy, and there was a bruise on the side of her head that looked quite nasty. Hopefully she would wake up soon; if she did, a larger degree of his uneasiness would be laid to rest, and he could concentrate on settling the grievances of the rebellious Ferroans. For now, though, he concentrated on walking, as well as trying to send his uncle some reassurance that they were okay. But he found it difficult to reach through the Force, and the farther they went into the tampasi, the fainter the life signals of the others back at the Ferroan camp became. Not for the first time since leaving them behind at the settlement, he wished he’d brought a comlink with him so that he could have at least let them know what was happening. Saba, he presumed, would have left hers behind, also, probably under the collapsed habitat with all the other gear. With nothing but the clothing they were wearing, they were both grossly unprepared for a mission that would take them farther away from their friends.

  If I handle this correctly, he thought, then maybe we won’t be away for long …

  As they walked, Saba glanced over her shoulder and said, “This one hopez you know what you are doing.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. But it’s uncertainty that make life so interesting, don’t you think?”

  Saba didn’t smile at his attempted levity. She just returned her gaze to the path ahead and continued walking in silence.

  Tahiri’s scream was like a cold knife to Jaina’s heart. She felt the darkness flex around her. Sudden, striking emotions stabbed at her from all directions: fear, pain, surprise, hurt. There was no way to separate them, and no way she could offer succor.

  Then an image came to her of Riina crouched before Tahiri, blood dripping in a steady stream from a wound in her hand. Tahiri dropped, too, clutching her own arm. Her blue-white lightsaber fell from her hand, leaving a broad, black scorch mark as it hit the ground.

  Jaina was confused for a long moment as to what had happened. In a previous memory-image she had seen the two women confront each other. Something had happened, and Riina had been injured. Now Tahiri appeared to be injured, too. Was their mental dueling finally drawing blood?

  Tahiri, are you all right? Sithspawn! You have to hear me!

  Jaina rattled at the confines of her mental cell. As before, Tahiri’s mind was in no hurry to let her out, and she was unwilling to force the issue for fear of doing more damage. There was no one outside who could help, and she wasn’t certain that her presence here was irrelevant. If she couldn’t get out, then something wanted her there, even if both Tahiri and Riina appeared to be ignoring her for the moment.

  Jaina had seen enough of the fight to know that Riina fought with all the skills of an alien warrior plus Tahiri’s mastery of the Force. The ferocity of a Yuuzhan Vong combined with the skills of a Jedi would make Riina a formidable enemy if she ever took over Tahiri’s body. More than ever, Jaina knew she couldn’t let the Yuuzhan Vong girl win this battle. Jaina’s mind urged Tahiri to get up.

  A memory flash showed both women stirring. Blood shone blackly in the blue light. Only then did Jaina realize that Tahiri had inexplicably incurred exactly the same injury as Riina, but on the opposite arm.

  Realization flashed like lightning in her mind. Tahiri and Riina were mirror images fighting each other to the death. What one did to the other, they did to themselves. If Tahiri defeated Riina, then she would defeat herself in the process. Neither could win!

  There was a brief but intense moment in which Tahiri and Riina seemed to be arguing with each other without using words—as though some kind of communication was taking place on an altogether higher plane, one that Jaina was not privy to. Then, in unison, two sets of green eyes turned to look into the darkness.

  The memory-image faded, but for a terrible second Jaina knew that they were talking about her. She felt definitely threatened by the double stare.

  Another image. Both girls had risen to their feet, each releasing the wounds they’d been nursing. Their bloodied hands reached for their lightsabers. Both weapons flew through the air into their hands, the blades leaving identical, shining streaks of light through the dark.

  Anakin is dead. Tahiri’s voice came clearly from the darkness. The grief caught in her throat on the last word. I cannot bring him back.

  The terrible, never-forgotten sadness rose in Jaina again, made all the more terrible in this nightmarish setting. She pushed it back and concentrated on sending Tahiri feelings of love and assurance.

  I’ve run for too long. Tahiri advanced with her lightsaber raised. Riina matched her step by step. It’s time I faced my fears.

  Jaina tensed, unsure what she could do.

  As though from a great distance, she thought she heard Jag’s voice calling to her.

  I love you, Jaina, the voice whispered over the darkened landscape. Please come back to me …

  It was an illusion, she knew, a product of wishful thinking. Jag may have felt such sentiments, but he’d never actually say them. But just the thought of him saying such things was enough to give her the strength she needed.

  Face your fears, Tahiri, she told the shadowy world around her.

  The dreamscape began to tremble, as though about to dissolve away.

  “Krel os’a. Hmi va ta!”

  The darkness firmed at the sound of the harsh alien voice, and the dream tightened once again.

  Leia held on as the shock wave from another near miss rattled the Falcon’s bulkheads. C-3PO’s stiff arms went up in the air as he squawked in alarm.

  “Oh, my,” he exclaimed. “I do believe that’s the closest one yet. It’s only a matter of time before one hits home, and then I’m afraid we’ll all be done for.”

  “Keep it down, Goldenrod,” Han bellowed from a service hatch in the ship’s belly. “The Ryn are easily jinxed, you know.”

  “Only in ships like this,” Droma fired back. The two of them were hastily working on the shield generator power couplings, hoping to gain a few extra points of efficiency.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the Falcon,” Han said as his head emerged from the service hatch. “Hand me that hydroclamp, will you?”

  Droma shook his head as he passed Han the requested tool. “This must be the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”

  “Which part?” Leia asked wryly.

  “All of it! But especially this. The only thing keeping us alive right now are the shields. If we accidentally shut them down while we’re tinkering with them—”

  “We’re not going to shut them down,” Han grumbled.r />
  “And your confidence comes from having done this kind of thing so many times before?”

  Droma’s dig prompted Han to stick his head out from the hatch again and point the clamp at the Ryn.

  “Hey, just because I’ve never actually done this before doesn’t mean I couldn’t do it anytime I wanted.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  “Because I haven’t needed to!” He looked to Leia, who was leaning against the door arch, and said, “Take him back to the cockpit, will you?”

  Then he disappeared again into the hatch.

  C-3PO turned to Leia in despair. “We’re doomed,” he keened.

  “And take Goldenrod with you!” Han called out.

  “Where are they, Princess?” the droid asked, seemingly oblivious to Han’s annoyance. “Surely they should have been here by now?”

  Leia shook her head, not having an answer for him. Therein lay the problem. They’d sent the message to Captain Mayn asking for help, but so far there’d been no reply—nor any sign of the help they’d requested. She was beginning to have one of Han’s “bad feelings.” But she didn’t say anything; it would have only upset C-3PO further, which in turn would have annoyed Han.

  “Try that, Leia!” her husband called.

  She quickly returned to the cockpit and attempted to up the shield strength. It did increase, but only slightly. “Getting there,” she called back.

  Her husband appeared through the cockpit entrance a few seconds later, dropping heavily into the seat next to her and fiddling with the controls as he tried to wring every last megajoule out of the shield generators.

  “Come on, girl,” he muttered under his breath. “Show us what—”

  A violent explosion from somewhere disconcertingly close suddenly thundered around the cabin, almost throwing them from their seats. Out in the corridor she heard the clattering sounds of C-3PO falling over, followed by another plaintive cry. Han furiously punched controls with one hand while clinging on to the console with the other.

  “Doomed, I tell you,” they heard C-3PO moan.

  Droma entered the cockpit. “I’m with the droid on this. The only thing in our favor right now is that the Vong don’t know our exact whereabouts. But if they keep shelling the area like this—”

  “Your concerns have been duly noted,” Han said. “In the meantime, though, why don’t you go back there and have a game of dejarik with Cakhmain and Meewalh or something.” Then, louder, “Threepio? How are our hangers-on out there? They’re a lot more fragile than we are.”

  The droid waddled into the cockpit and proceeded to warble a message to the Brrbrlpp huddled in the Falcon’s protective shield. In the aft screen, they could be seen clustered together, the edges of their flowerlike bodies all touching to form one large, quivering mass.

  “The Brrbrlpp assure me that they are managing well enough,” C-3PO reported after the aliens had replied. “But they fear—as I and Master Droma do—that it will only be a matter of time before destruction befalls us. They would like to know if we have any other plans.”

  “Do they really think we’d be sitting here like this if we did?” Han said irritably.

  “Just tell them we’re working on it, Threepio,” Leia said.

  The droid relayed the message while Leia sat back in her seat to try and think of a plan that might get them out of their predicament.

  “I think the time has come to move,” Droma said bluntly.

  “We can’t move,” Han said. “We’ll melt our guests.”

  “They’re going to be melted anyway when those shields fail—and then we’ll all die.”

  Han nodded. “Drawing the fire of the Yuuzhan Vong seemed a good idea at the time, but it kind of relied on those upstairs getting our message.”

  “Maybe they did get it and just can’t do anything about it right now,” Leia said. “Who knows what might be happening up there.”

  “Can we use repulsors?” Droma asked.

  “We might get a kilometer or two,” Han replied, “but we’ll still be in the blast range—and we’re just as likely to be hit moving as staying still.”

  “Then what about letting our passengers go and blasting out of here once they’re clear? That way we can draw fire away from them and fight back at the same time.”

  “But how many will be killed on the way?” Leia said. “And how many Yuuzhan Vong will be waiting for us?”

  “Okay, then how about digging in?” Droma pressed. “The ground is really just cold sludge here. A good, hot blast would probably melt a sizable hole into—”

  “Yeah, and would stand out like a huge target for any Vong passing over us.” Han shook his head. “Sorry, pal. The same argument stands against sending another message for help: once those scarheads detect it, they’d be onto us in a flash. No, I think we’ve gone and dug ourselves into a—”

  He stopped. A grave, Leia knew he’d been about to say, but the words were too close to the truth. A cold, dark grave on the edge of the known galaxy, with no possible way out.

  Leia shook her head, frustrated. There had to be another solution—a way that didn’t involve killing any more innocent locals, or ending up in a worse position than before!

  “I suppose faking surrender is not an option,” Droma offered.

  “That doesn’t work with the Vong anymore,” Han said. “They’re wise to that game.”

  The Ryn nodded and looked at the floor, his tail dropping limply behind him. Outside, the pounding of Esfandia rolled on like thunder, sometimes close, other times farther away. Whenever the floor beneath her shook, Leia tensed, each time expecting the shields to fail around them. The only other sound was the burbling of the planet’s indigenous life-forms, issuing softly from the speaker.

  “Well, then,” Droma said, “seeing as we have no way out, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

  “Excuse me,” C-3PO interrupted, his photoreceptors glowing. “I think the Brrbrlpp may have the solution to our problem.”

  Han turned in his seat. “They do?”

  “Yes, sir. The Brrbrlpp suggest that we take shelter in their nearby nesting area. It is underground, and easily large enough to fit our vessel. Or so they say.”

  “Why now?” Han interrupted, his expression one of annoyance and exasperation.

  “Sir?”

  “Why are they suggesting this now? Why didn’t it occur to them before? They have a love for dramatic irony or something?”

  “I don’t believe so, sir,” C-3PO answered, unaware of Han’s sarcasm. “It would appear, though, that we have earned their trust. Protecting these few at great risk to our own lives has demonstrated that our past wrongs were clearly committed out of ignorance, not malice.”

  Han turned to Leia. “What do you think?”

  “Can we get there on repulsors alone?” she asked the droid.

  “The Brrbrlpp assure us that the nesting area is only a short distance away.”

  “Then—”

  Her reply was cut off by another explosion, this one so close that it felt as though the entire world was breaking in two. The lights went out for a couple of seconds, then returned, flickering. Leia’s ears rang as Han checked the instruments.

  “One more like that and we’re done for,” he said.

  “I don’t know about you guys,” Droma said, collecting himself from the floor, “but I think the locals’ suggestion sounds wonderful.”

  Leia nodded at C-3PO. “Let’s do it.”

  C-3PO conversed with the Brrbrlpp for a moment. “They will move to the front and guide us. We are to travel in the direction they indicate.”

  Han nodded as the wafting aliens propelled themselves to the fore of the Falcon’s missile tubes. There they arranged themselves into a line pointing ahead and slightly to starboard.

  Han fired up the repulsors and lifted the ship from Esfandia’s surface. Dense air swirled around them, but the Brrbrlpp didn’t appear disturbed. Protected within the shields, their
ride would have been as smooth as it was for those inside the ship. Even when Han nudged the ship forward, their position with respect to the hull remained unchanged.

  As the freighter turned to starboard, the line of Brrbrlpp straightened. Han took them gently through the murk, around a knobby protuberance that bulged out of the ground and vanished high above them, like a mountain. They dipped into a crater left behind by one of the Yuuzhan Vong’s missiles, and out again, across an undulating plain. From their slightly higher perspective, they could see numerous bright flashes in the distance that revealed the continuing Yuuzhan Vong bombardment. It was disturbingly thorough. It was only a matter of time before one of those missiles got lucky.

  “Is it much farther?” Han asked, obviously sharing Leia’s concern. She felt more exposed moving around than they had been in hiding.

  “We should be there at any moment,” C-3PO reported.

  “Does anyone else feel as though we’re exchanging one tomb for another?” Droma asked. “What if the good guys lost the fight up in orbit and we’re stuck down here forever? All the Vong will have to do then is wait us out.”

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Han muttered, his eyes darting nervously across the console before him. Several blips had appeared on the edge of the long-range scanners, dodging the bombardment sites. They traveled in formation at first, but then split up in different directions and zigzagged across the scope.

  “They’re sweeping the area at close range,” Han said.

  “Guess they got tired of trying to flush us out with bombs alone,” Droma said, “and have decided to do the dirty work themselves.”

  Han nodded. “We’re not going to be able to hide like this for much longer.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but the Brrbrlpp are changing direction.” C-3PO pointed at the line of aliens guiding them across Esfandia, which was now angling down instead of forward.