Champions of the Force

by Kevin J. Anderson

  The Sun Crusher arced around and began to grow larger in the viewport.

  "Ah ... Han?" Lando said. "He's coming right at us."

  Han felt exhilarated, glad that Kyp was turning around to talk with them.

  "I think he's going to ram us," Lando said.

  Han blinked in disbelief. He bent over the transmitter. "Kyp, don't do this. Kyp! It's me, Han."

  The Sun Crusher hurtled past them, swerving at the last moment to fire a burst of lasers from the defensive weapons mounted on its hull. Han heard the blasts thump against the Falcon, but they caused no damage.

  "Must have been a warning," Lando said.

  "Yeah, some warning," Han answered. "Kyp, why don't —"

  The young man's brittle voice finally came at them. "Han, leave me alone. Go away. I've got work to do."

  "Ummm, Kyp — that's what I'd like to talk with you about," Han said, suddenly at a loss for words.

  The Sun Crusher hurtled toward them as if for another strafing run. As the small craft rushed past, Han worked the controls and yanked out with the Millennium Falcon's tractor beam, latching on to the small superweapon. "Hey, I caught him!" Han said in surprise.

  The momentum of the Sun Crusher was enough to jerk the Falcon around, but the tractor beams held. Han pumped up the power, increasing his invisible grip. Finally both ships came to a relative dead standstill high above the orbital plane of the exploded red—dwarf star.

  "All right, Han," Kyp said. "If this is the way you want it ... I can't let you stop me." The comm system fell silent.

  "I don't like the sound of that," Lando said.

  Kyp's voice returned. "One of these resonance torpedoes is enough to make a whole star blow up. I'm sure it'll make short work of a piece of junk like the Falcon."

  Han looked out at the crystalline shape of the Sun Crusher. The toroidal projector glowed a crackling blue and green, powering up to launch one of its projectiles at point—blank range.

  "I've got a bad feeling about this," Han said.

  The midmorning light shone through open skylights into the temple's grand audience chamber. Golden sunbeams dappled the polished flagstones, reflecting onto the rough—hewn walls.

  From the raised platform behind his motionless body, the spirit of Luke Skywalker watched as Cilghal led the young twins on another visit. Cilghal held the twins' hands, gliding forward with fluid steps. This morning she wore her bluish ambassadorial garment instead of her drab Jedi robe. Behind the Calamarian ambassador came a guilt—ridden Streen beside muscular and supple Kirana Ti.

  Artoo—Detoo hovered close to Luke's body, like a sentry rolling back and forth. The astromech droid had taken it upon himself to guard the Jedi Master after the devastating storm. Luke found the little droid's loyalty deeply touching, though not surprising.

  Han and Leia's twin children stared wide—eyed at Luke, and his spirit watched them back longingly. Unable to communicate, he felt trapped. What would Obi—Wan have done in such a situation? He believed the Force would give him an answer, if he knew where to look.

  "You see, children? Your Uncle Luke is safe. We rescued him last night. Your mother helped. We all helped. We're still trying to find some way to wake him up."

  "I am awake!" Luke shouted into the empty spirit plane. "I've got to find a way to communicate that to you."

  The twins stared at the motionless body. "He is awake," Jacen said. "He's right there." The little boy tilted his dark eyes up to gaze directly at Luke's spirit.

  With a jolt Luke stared back at Jacen. "You can see me, Jacen? Can you understand me?"

  Both Jaina and Jacen nodded their heads.

  Cilghal wrapped her hands around their shoulders and steered them away. "Of course he is, children."

  Thrilled and suddenly hopeful, Luke started to drift after them, but Streen came to the platform and threw himself to his knees, looking so stricken that waves of confusion rippled from him like a physical blow to Luke.

  "Master Skywalker, I am deeply sorry!" Streen said. "I listened to the wrong voices in my head. The Dark Man tricked me. He will never do that again." Streen looked up, his eyes unfocused, flicking from side to side. He seemed to stare at Luke as well.

  "Can you see me too, Streen? Can you hear me?" Luke thought fast, wondering if his abilities had changed.

  "The Dark Man came to me," Streen said. "But I sense you're here too, Master Skywalker. I will never doubt you."

  Kirana Ti squeezed Streen's shoulder. Luke's mind raced. Exar Kun could communicate with the others, if only in subtle ways — and now Luke knew that was possible for him too. He could already speak to the twins. Elation swept over him.

  He began to make plans as the other Jedi candidates filed out of the echoing room. Now he was confident he could save himself, perhaps with the help of his Jedi students, his new generation of Jedi Knights.

  From the stone walls behind him an otherworldly voice said, "How touching. Your clumsy students still imagine they can save you — but I know more than they do. My training wasn't limited by cowardice, as yours was."

  Exar Kun stood black and wavering. "Gantoris was mine, and he is destroyed. Kyp Durron remains under my tutelage. Streen is already mine. The others will also begin to hear my voice." He raised his spectral arms. "It is all falling into place. "

  "I shall resurrect the Brotherhood of the Sith, and with your Jedi trainees I shall form the core of an invincible Force—wielding army."

  Luke rounded on him, still not knowing how to fight this intangible enemy. Exar Kun laughed, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "I came to you first in a dream disguised as your fallen father, Skywalker ... perhaps I should appear to them in your own form. They will certainly follow the teachings of the Sith if the words come from your mouth."

  "No!" Luke said. With his astral body he leaped to tackle the shimmering silhouette of the Sith lord. But though his sparkling body passed smoothly through the shadow, Exar Kun did seem to discorporate momentarily.

  Luke felt a spear of ice plunge through his core as he touched Kun, but he stood firm while the Dark Lord reeled against the stone wall, seeping back into the cracks to escape.

  "I've already been tempered by the dark side," Luke said. "I came out stronger. You are weak because you know only the evil teachings. Your understanding is no greater than that of my apprentices."

  Before he vanished, Exar Kun called back, "We shall see who is stronger."

  The sun had set behind the giant ball of Yavin. With the onset of the moon's half night, the sky was lit only by an orangish glow reflected from the gas giant, giving the jungle a ruddy appearance.

  Colonies of jabbering woolamanders settled down in the high branches for the night. In the underbrush, predators and prey moved through dances of survival. Sapphire—blue piranha beetles buzzed low over the sluggish rivers in search of victims. Other insects hummed their mating songs.

  Far deeper in the jungle, though, night creatures rose out of shadowy caves and flapped their jagged wings. Hissing and mindless, they followed a burning compulsion that drove them toward the Great Temple.

  The creatures' wings made sounds like wet cloth striking stone as they flapped against downdrafts in the rapidly cooling air. Purplish veins pulsed as their black hearts beat swiftly, giving them energy for the long flight.

  Two heads spread out on long, sinuous necks from each muscular torso. A wicked tail dangled behind each creature, ending in a hooked stinger that glistened with crystals of poison. Iridescent scales glittered in the coppery dusk light, as if illuminated by stoked embers. Yellow reptilian eyes widened their pupil slits, seeking their target.

  Alchemical monsters created long ago during the dominion of Exar Kun on Yavin 4, these creatures had lived for generations in the black and dripping grottoes of distant mountains. Now three of them had awakened, called to destroy the body of Luke Skywalker.

  The flying creatures struck the open skylights at the apex of the ziggurat. With metallic claws they scrabbl
ed on the weathered stones that framed narrow windows. Each creature's double heads bobbed up and down, hissing and snapping in anticipation.

  Folding their batlike wings against them, they squirmed through the skylights into the open chamber. Moving together, the creatures descended toward Luke's helpless body, long talons extended…

  Luke's image shimmered but cast no light in the dim chambers where the twins lay sleeping. The door was open. Cilghal sat up studying in her own room across the corridor, but she could not yet hear Luke's voice. The boy Jacen could — and Luke had no time.

  "Jacen," he said with his muffled inside—the—head voice. The boy stirred. Beside him Jaina sighed and rolled over in her sleep. "Jacen!" Luke said again. "Jaina, I need your help. Only you can help me."

  The boy woke up, blinking his dark eyes. He scanned the room, yawned, then fixed his eyes upon Luke's image. "Uncle Luke?" he said. "Help? Okay."

  "Wake your sister and follow me. Tell her to raise the alarm and bring all the other Jedi. But you have to help me now! Maybe you can hold them off long enough."

  Jacen didn't ask questions. By the time he shook his sister, she had already started to awaken. She too saw Luke, and the boy needed only a few words to explain the situation. Jacen trotted down the hall on his little legs. Luke drifted in front of him, urging Jacen faster, faster, toward the turbolift.

  Jaina ran into Cilghal's quarters and screamed, "Help, help!" at the top of her lungs. "Uncle Luke needs help." The Jedi trainees surged out of their quarters.

  Suddenly alarms rang out. Luke realized that Artoo, still standing sentry duty in the grand audience chamber, must have triggered them. He didn't know, though, what the astromech droid could do against the monstrous winged creatures summoned by Exar Kun.

  Jacen hesitated inside the turbolift while Luke showed which button to push. "Hurry, Jacen!" Luke said. The turbolift shot upward and spilled them into the vast, dim chamber.

  Down at the end of the promenade, Artoo hummed back and forth, whistling and warbling shrilly. His arc—welding arm extended, flashing blue sparks, but the reptilian creatures flapped into the air, circling around the sluggish droid as if they considered Artoo to be no threat. Two of the creatures flapped up from the raised platform upon hearing the turbolift doors open. They honked and hissed, spitting at the very small boy who emerged alone to challenge them.

  Artoo squealed, as if thankful for any sort of help. The alarms continued to hammer through the temple. The third creature perched at the edge of the long stone table on which Luke's body lay. Its two heads bobbed forward to let out a dual squeal of annoyance. One of the heads snapped down to tear a mouthful of cloth from Luke's robe. The other head curled back scaled lips and flashed a jagged row of fangs.

  "They're angry," Jacen said as if he had some kind of empathy with the creatures. "They're ... wrong."

  "Chase them away from my body, Jacen," Luke said, eyeing the poisonous stingers on their tails, the vicious teeth, the sharp claws... "Go help Artoo. The others will be here in just a few seconds."

  Without fear Jacen shrieked like a wild warrior as he ran toward the monsters on his stubby legs. He flailed his arms, yelling. Two of the creatures squawked and swooped into the air, then flapped their leathery wings to dive at him. Artoo whistled a warning.

  Jacen ducked at the last moment. The creatures dragged their hooked metallic claws on the flagstone floor, sending up showers of sparks. The boy didn't slow. He ran toward the last of the reptilian creatures, who stared hungrily down at Luke's soft, closed eyelids.

  Jacen reached the raised platform. The third creature rose into the air, thrashing with its scorpion tail and snapping with both heads full of clacking fangs.

  Unable to fight for himself, Luke paralleled the boy as Jacen struggled up onto the raised platform. Grim and determined, the boy stood guard by his uncle's motionless form. Artoo came up beside Jacen, his welding arm still crackling.

  Then Luke saw what to do — if it was possible, if he could manage to use his skills in such a way. Next to his robed body lay a black cylinder studded with power buttons.

  "Jacen," Luke said, "take my lightsaber."

  The three flying creatures circled the chamber, croaking at each other as if receiving instructions from the Exar Kun. Without hesitation the boy picked up the lightsaber handle. It was as long as his small forearm.

  "Don't know how," Jacen said to Luke.

  "I'll show you," Luke said. "Let me guide you ... let me fight with you."

  Talons extended, the three flying creatures plunged toward the boy, squealing with bloodlust in their eyes. Jacen held the smooth handle in front of him and pushed the activation button. With a loud snap—hiss the lightsaber's deadly shaft blazed in the dimness. The little boy planted his feet apart, raised the glowing blade, and prepared to defend the Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker.

  Cilghal scooped Jaina up in her arms and ran down the halls as Dorsk 81 and Tionne joined her at the turbolift. They rose to the highest level, ready to battle for their Master, as they had done against the unleashed storm. But even Cilghal's greatest fears did not prepare her for the astonishing sight that greeted her as she entered the grand audience chamber.

  Little Jacen held a lightsaber in his hand with all the grace and confidence of a master swordsman. The trio of flying creatures came at him, jabbing with their dripping stingers, snapping with long teeth, reaching with hooked claws. But Jacen pirouetted with the energy blade, wielding the lightsaber as if it were an extension of his arm. The blade crackled and hummed through the air.

  Artoo—Detoo, agitated, buzzed back and forth, doing his best to keep the creatures from coming too close to Master Skywalker's body. Jacen continued to fight.

  One of the lizard creatures darted in with gnashing fangs, but Jacen deftly cleaved off a head with one smooth stroke. He left only a smoking neck stump as the other head of the two—headed monster writhed and flailed and spat. The creature crashed to the floor and flopped its leathery wings against the flagstones.

  The remaining two monsters struck with their scorpion stingers. The little boy swung the lightsaber, neatly slicing off one pointed stinger, then rolled out of the way as gouts of black poison spurted from the amputated end. The evil liquid burned on the ancient Massassi stones like acid, boiling with greasy gray—and—purple smoke.

  Maddened with pain, the injured thing flapped in the air until it grappled against its companion, rending with claws and snapping with two heads full of tearing teeth. It struck with the useless stump of its stinger, but the stronger creature stabbed with its own stinger — leaving a burning hole in the torso of its attacker, a hole that continued to burn and sizzle as the poison ate deeper and deeper.

  The stronger flying lizard latched its jaws on to the scaly throat of the other. When its victim had ceased its struggles, the survivor released its claws, flapping higher as the dead carcass fell with a thud onto the floor. Artoo came forward to zap the limp creature, making certain it was dead.

  Cilghal, Tionne, and Dorsk 81 froze on the threshold of the turbolift, watching the impossible tableau. "We've got to help him!" Dorsk 81 said.

  "How?" Tionne asked. "We have no weapons."

  Cilghal assessed the furious battle. "Perhaps Jacen doesn't need our help."

  Jaina snatched her hand free from Cilghal's grip and scrambled down the promenade even as the others hesitated for a fraction of a second. Cilghal ran after her. The last of the reptiles shrieked through double throats, infuriated by the attack of its companion. It dived down in an unstoppable plunge. Jacen stepped back to meet it, holding the lightsaber poised at his shoulder, waiting for the right moment.

  Coolly, as the creature came in with dripping fangs and outstretched claws, Jacen swung in a clean arc with grace and skill, perfectly in command of his reflexes. The glowing blade struck and severed both throats in one sizzling flash. The carcass of the creature, reflexively convulsing its wings, crashed into Jacen and drove him to the floor.

>   Artoo rolled forward to help, bleeping.

  "He is all right," Jaina called, finally reaching the raised platform. "Jacen!"

  "Jaina!" Cilghal shouted, catching up with her.

  The tip of the lightsaber appeared, smoking and blazing through the carcass as Jacen cut his way free of the stiff wings. Cilghal assisted him.

  In surprise Jaina looked up to see the first fallen creature lurch back up, clinging to life with its remaining head, still desperate to kill Luke. With one stump of its severed neck still oozing dark blood, it clutched the edge of the stone table and hauled itself up, snapping its scorpion tail in convulsive twitches and preparing to sting. Its wings flapped, helping it balance on the table where it could rip apart Luke's body.

  In one last moment of defiance, pushed on by the evil spirit controlling it, the wounded creature struck toward Luke's unprotected throat.

  But Jaina arrived first. The little girl jumped up and grabbed its wings, yanking backward with all her weight. Writhing and snapping, the creature tried to bite down on the hands holding its leathery wings.

  A mere second behind Jaina, Cilghal wrapped her powerful Calamarian hands around the creature's long serpentine throat even as Jaina continued to yank backward at its wings. Cilghal let out a high grunt as she wrung its neck, crushing a succession of vertebrae as if they were dry twigs.

  The thing slumped down across the table, finally dead.

  Jaina panted and slid into a squat. Jacen climbed to his feet and looked around as if confused. He blinked his eyes sleepily, then, with a deft movement of one small finger, deactivated the lightsaber. The humming sound of the blade vanished into the sudden silence of the chamber.

  The turbolift opened, and the remaining Jedi trainees rushed out, drawing up short as they saw the carnage. Tionne reached the raised platform. Her silvery hair flowed behind her like a comet's tail. She bent over Luke's body and, with an expression of disgust, gripped the still—oozing reptilian carcass of the last slain creature and flung it away from the Jedi Master.