Edge of Victory 2 Rebirth

by Greg Keyes

  clenched her eyes shut.

  Luke sprang from his seat. "Get an MD droid, now," he yelled toward the

  droid.

  In the Force, he felt Mara slipping away.

  "Hold on, love," he said. "Please hold on."

  SIX

  Anakin was busy underneath the supply transport Lucre, micro-adjusting

  the repulsor pads, when a pinkish pair of bare feet appeared. He couldn't

  see the person the feet belonged to, but he knew who it was immediately.

  "Hi, Tahiri," he called.

  "Hi yourself," the indignant reply came. Knees squatted down onto the

  feet, then a pair of hands braced against the floor, and finally green eyes

  surrounded by a cloud of golden hair appeared. "Come out from under there,

  Anakin Solo."

  "Sure. Just let me finish up."

  "Finish up what? You have some reason to be tinkering with this ship?"

  Uh-ob. Anakin sighed and pushed himself out from underneath the

  transport.

  "I was going to tell you," he protested.

  "I'm sure. When, just before you smoked jets out of here?"

  "Tahiri, I'll be back. Corran and I are going for supplies, that's

  all."

  She was staring down into his face now. He could bump her nose with his

  own by raising up a few centimeters. Her eyes were huge, and not all green,

  but striated yellow and brown along her iris rims. Had they always been like

  that?

  She punched him in the shoulder, hard. "You could have told me

  yesterday."

  "Ow!" He pushed farther away and sat up. "What was that for?"

  "What do you think?" She straightened, too, and the rest of her face

  came into focus. Her forehead was etched by three nasty vertical scars, like

  crouching white worms. The

  Yuuzhan Vong had tried to make her into one of their own. The scars

  were the most superficial reminders of the process.

  "Look, I know I promised you I wouldn't leave you yet, but this won't

  take long. I'm getting jumpy."

  "So what? Who cares? Didn't it ever occur to you how I might feel?"

  "I thought I had considered that," Anakin speculated. "Come on, Tahiri.

  What's really the matter?"

  She pursed her lips. In the background, Fiver whirred and bleeped

  happily at his task of preparing the ship, with a strident note or two aimed

  at Corran's astromech, Whistler. Across the broad bay, one of Terrik's men

  cursed as something clanged against the ground. The pain of an insulted

  thumb wisped by the two Jedi.

  "They don't like me here," Tahiri said softly. "They all act like my

  skin is about to split open and a krayt dragon will step out."

  "You're imagining things," Anakin soothed. "Everyone understands you've

  been through a rough time."

  "No. No one understands it at all. Except you. Maybe not even you.

  They're either afraid of me or repelled."

  Anakin tried a sentence or two in his head, didn't like the sound of

  them, and tried another.

  "Have you thought about having those scars removed?" he asked.

  "Booster's MD droid could do it."

  Oops, Anakin realized he should have replayed that one a few times

  before speaking, too. He saw Tahiri was about to erupt into a full-out

  verbal assault, and he braced for it.

  Wrong again. Her face calmed, and she shook her head. "I paid for

  them," she said. "I won't give them up."

  "Maybe that's what worries people," Anakin said softly.

  "Let them worry, then. I don't care."

  "But you just-"

  "Hush. You don't understand anything after all,"

  "I don't understand what you're asking me to do. You want me to stay

  here with you?"

  "No, dummy," Tahiri said. "I want you to take me with you."

  "Oh." He felt a profound confusion, and suddenly a lot of his father's

  complaints about women made more sense.

  [Image002]

  Or less, as the case might be. Tahiri had been his best friend for five

  years, since she was nine and he was eleven. They had a strong bond in the

  Force, and were together far more powerful than either was alone. The Jedi

  Master Ikrit had seen this long ago, and lately had been proven correct. Due

  to this bond, Anakin and Tahiri could communicate at a level far beyond

  language.

  So why did he spend more than half of his time bewildered in any

  conversation with her?

  "You're sure you're ready for that?" he asked.

  "For what? It's just a supply run, right? Minimal danger? Nowhere near

  Yuuzhan Vong space?"

  "Right," Anakin said cautiously. "But there's always danger."

  "Especially when you don't trust everyone on your ship."

  Anakin's eyebrows dropped. "Okay, now you're being dumb. You know I

  trust you."

  "Really? I almost killed you back on Yavin Four, you know."

  "I know. And I know that wasn't really you."

  "No?" Tahiri's face went curiously blank. "I'm not sure. Sometimes I

  don't know who I am anymore."

  Anakin put his hand on her shoulder. "I do," he said. "You aren't the

  same as you were before the Yuuzhan Vong captured you. Neither am I. But

  you're still Tahiri."

  "Whatever that means."

  "If you want to go with us, I'll talk to Corran. I honestly didn't

  think you would want to get out so early."

  Tahiri shook her head emphatically. "I've spent enough time crying and

  curled up in a ball. You think you're the only one the walls are closing in

  on? Whoever I am, I'm not going to figure it out moping around here." Her

  voice took on a softer, pleading note. "Let me go with you, Anakin."

  He mussed her hair, the way he had done a hundred times. It suddenly

  seemed too familiar, and he felt his face warm. "Okay," he said. "Next time,

  just ask, though. You don't always have to come after me like I've done

  something wrong. We don't have to fight everything out."

  She smiled. "Sorry. You never mean to do anything wrong. But most times

  it just turns out that way."

  SEVEN

  R2-D2 tootled and bleeped as he went about the task Jacen had assigned

  him. The little droid had extended his linkage and repair arms into one of

  the compact missiles floating near the narrow trash-exhaust tube. In the

  faint light of the glow stick, the squat, domed cylinder of the little droid

  looked very much the antique he was.

  A clumsy clank sounded behind Jacen as C-3PO struggled

  with weightlessness.

  "Oh dear," C-3PO said excitedly. "I wasn't built for this, you know.

  Zero gravity confuses my circuits."

  "Just hang on to something," Jacen muttered. "When Dad gets the power

  back on, we'll have gravity again. Just make sure you're on the floor and

  not the ceiling when that

  happens."

  "Good heavens. Who can tell the difference? I'm going to need a good

  overhaul when this is all over. This will be all over soon, won't it, Master

  Jacen?"

  "One way or the other."

  "I almost wish you had left me deactivated."

  "Just be thankful you've got good surge overload circuits, or you might

  have been deactivated permanently." He closed the panel on the final

  missile. "Well, that will either work or it won't," he
said philosophically.

  "I don't understand," C-3PO said. "What will work or

  won't?"

  R2-D2 whistled something vaguely condescending and

  derisive.

  "Well, of course I shouldn't be expected to understand, you little

  trash sweeper," C-3PO retorted indignantly. "I'm

  a protocol droid, not a metal-grubbing screw turner. Oh! No offense to

  you, Master Jacen."

  "None taken. I wish someone a little better at this than I were

  here-Anakin, for instance. If I've made a mistake, I may well blow us out of

  the sky."

  "Oh, no!"

  "Okay, time for your part, Threepio. I need you to cycle this lock

  manually."

  "But, Master Jacen, all of the air will evacuate."

  "True. But I won't be here-I'll be on the other side of the outer

  pressure lock. The vacuum won't hurt you."

  "I suppose not. But why, Master Jacen?"

  "I need you to take each of these missiles to the end of the dump vent

  and give them a good shove in the direction of that Yuuzhan Vong

  interdictor."

  "Me, handle a concussion missile?"

  "If it's any comfort, if it exploded it wouldn't make any difference to

  you if you were holding it or a meter away, like you are now. There still

  wouldn't be enough of you left to plate a spoon with."

  "But--but-what if I fall out of the ship?"

  Jacen smiled thinly. "Don't," he said. "Once all the missiles are away,

  you and Artoo seal the vent up, cycle the lock again, and get back inside.

  I'll keep in touch by comm."

  "Master Jacen, I am a protocol droid!"

  "And I would rather he meditating. C'mon, Threepio. You've done more

  dangerous things than this before."

  "Not willingly, Master Jacen!"

  Jacen slapped the droid on his metal back. "Show me what you're made

  of, Threepio."

  "I will gladly submit to an internal inspection," C-3PO said.

  "You know what I mean. Go."

  "Yes, sir." The droid had a noticeable quaver in his voice. Jacen

  pushed out, plugged in a portable power source, and cycled the inner lock.

  It closed under protest, its hydraulics used to a more robust diet of

  electrons.

  He made his way to where his mother was keeping watch from the cockpit.

  "All quiet?" he asked.

  "For now. Surely they must know something has gone wrong, though."

  "Maybe, maybe not. We don't know what their procedures are in

  situations like this. Yuuzhan Vong warriors are proud-maybe they're giving

  these first guys every chance to deal with the situation before sending

  reinforcements. Maybe they're so confident we can't get away they aren't

  really paying attention. We're about to see how closely they're watching,

  anyway. I just sent some concussion missiles floating their way. With any

  luck, they'll think it's flotsam until it's too late." He concentrated

  briefly. "There. The first is a way."

  C-3PO was slow. It was a good five minutes before he got the next one

  out. The third took even longer. Jacen didn't stay to watch. He went down

  and finished welding auxiliary plating over the holes the Yuuzhan Vong had

  cut into their ship. It was too thin to have a good chance of holding, but

  it was all they had at the moment that might do. It would at least give them

  a few minutes. If worse came to worst-and neither this nor his other plan

  worked-they could always seal off the cockpit or put on vac suits. Of

  course, then they had to find a habitable planet or space station, fast.

  His father came drifting up from beneath. "Are we ready?" he asked.

  "As we'll be," Jacen replied.

  "Let's go forward and give it a try, then," Han said. "The Yuuzhan Vong

  won't wait on us forever."

  When they rejoined Leia in the cockpit, however, the enemy ship was

  still quiet.

  Jacen activated the intercom. "How's it going, Threepio?"

  "Dreadful, sir. I have two more to go."

  "More coralskippers detaching," Leia observed suddenly.

  "Negative, Threepio," Jacen said. "Get out of there, now."

  "With pleasure, sir."

  "Ready, everyone?" Han asked.

  "Go," Leia replied.

  Han worked his fingers across the instruments, and with a sudden snap,

  gravity reasserted itself. Jacen's stomach settled back where it was

  supposed to be, and he felt a wave of dizziness.

  "Hang on." Han engaged maneuvering thrusters, and the Falcon began

  spinning like a coin on its side.

  Jacen craned for visibility. Below and above, at the extreme edge of

  his vision, he could make out the coralskip-pers, still stationary. The

  living couplings were cinched in the middle, like balloons twisted and tied,

  and they were still twisting.

  "Four times around is going to have to be good enough. Where are your

  missiles?"

  "The first one is ready to go."

  "Good thing I had the launchers reinstalled, I guess. Send the

  detonation signal on three. One, two-"

  Jacen held his breath as he keyed the signal on three and blew it out

  when the distant concussion missile became a small white nova. At the same

  moment, Han kicked space with the ion drive, and they were going, as only

  the Millennium Falcon could go. The attached coralskippers whipped out

  behind them like braids, and Jacen couldn't see them anymore.

  "They're trying to get a lock with their dovin basals," Leia reported.

  "Jacen!"

  "Yes, sir!" Jacen sent another signal, and the remaining missiles

  surged to life, burning their propellant cores and hurling their noses at

  the Yuuzhan Vong ship. Gravitic anomalies appeared and sucked all but one

  in, but the fourth impacted in a brilliant display.

  "They blinked!" Leia whooped. "They missed their lock. Han, get us out

  of here!"

  "What do you think I'm doing?"

  The ship suddenly shuddered and yawed.

  "What was that? What hit us?" Han demanded, just as it happened again.

  "The coralskippers tearing loose," Jacen replied. "And

  speaking of coralskippers, there are a couple headed our way. I'm going

  down to the turbolaser."

  "Forget it. If those patches go, I want you up here. We'll outrun the

  skips."

  "They're gaining."

  "As soon as we're out of the interdictor's mass shadow, I'm going to

  lightspeed."

  Jacen considered. "They'll catch us before that. I'm going down."

  "Jacen-"

  He left his father's protest behind him.

  C-3PO was just returning to the safe, enclosed ship when the

  acceleration slapped him against the side of the waste chute. The last

  missile, which he had been pushing ahead of him back into the ship, suddenly

  tripled its weight and, as the vector of the force changed, went hurtling

  out into open space. It banged against C-3PO as it went by, and with a

  soundless cry of terror he realized he was going to follow it. Clawing

  desperately, he managed a handhold on the lock mechanism, but his golden

  legs dangled out into open space. Looking between them, he saw the stars

  churn around his feet.

  . "Artoo!" he broadcast frantically.

  His digits were slipping.

  Well, he th
ought to himself. This hasn't turned out to be a good day at

  all. If only I had stayed on Coruscant with Master Luke.

  EIGHT

  Mara had slipped into unconsciousness by the time the island's MD-10

  medical droid had been activated. Luke gripped her hand as she lay on the

  grass near their table. Around them the cool air was fragrant with night

  perfumes and the gentle music of insects. Kenth Hamner stood by, restless

  but silent.

  Luke summoned Master Yoda's voice. A Jedi knows not fear.

  It helped, a little, but the fear didn't lurk far under the skin. He

  couldn't lose Mara, not now. Not ever.

  He tried to push that away, as well. There was danger in thoughts like

  that. And yet the harder he tried, the more difficult it was, and all of his

  Jedi training seemed suddenly pale before the force of unfamiliar emotions,

  Hang in there, Mara. I love you.

  He felt her stir. She was in pain, but the Force told him she was still

  strong. And yet beneath that vitality was the undeniable feeling of

  wrongness. Not like when she had been so terribly ill with her Yuuzhan

  Vong-created disease, exactly. Could the organism have mutated again? Had

  her long, hopeful remission ended?

  He watched, taut, as the medical droid dispassionately checked her

  vitals, using sensors to probe into his wife's body.

  In the midst of it, her eyes fluttered open again, and he saw his own

  helpless fear reflected there.

  "It's okay," he said. "It'll be okay. What happened?"

  "It's the baby," she said. "It's our baby. Luke, I can't-"

  "And you won't," he promised firmly. "It's going to be fine."

  The MD droid reached a diagnosis a moment later.

  "Toxic shock reaction in the placenta," it burred. "Indicates four cc's

  of cardinex."

  "Do it," Luke commanded.

  He watched as the hypo delivered the dosage. Within seconds, Mara's

  breathing calmed and her color began to return.

  "What caused it?" Luke demanded of the droid.

  "Unknown chemical agent."

  "Poison?"

  "Negative. Placental reaction unusual. The substance is not otherwise

  toxic. Substance is complex saline compound, partial analysis ..." It listed

  a sequence of chemicals.

  "Vergere's tears," Mara said softly. She tried to sit up.

  "Just hang on. Stay down for a minute."

  "I'm feeling better. Let me up, Skywalker."