Refugee: Force Heretic II

by Sean Williams

  Leia wasn’t convinced. “It doesn’t add up, Han. If they really wanted to do that, then why not just let us land first and then attack us?”

  She could almost see the thoughts behind his eyes racing through his mind. What if Panib was telling the truth? A mistake could be extremely costly.

  Then there was the matter of the mysterious intruder on the secure comm channels. He had been silent since the Ssi-ruuvi vessels had launched. If their intentions had been to stir things up between Panib and the visitors, in order to ensure the worst possible reception of the alien fighters, then they had certainly succeeded.

  “The pilots of those ships aren’t human,” Tahiri said, breaking into the discussion softly. Leia turned to face the young Jedi; the girl’s eyes were still closed, as though meditating. “They’re definitely alien. And—” She hesitated for a second, then her eyes flickered open. “Everyone’s heard the stories about the Ssi-ruuk and how awful entechment is. It’s supposed to be agony, right?”

  Leia nodded, still remembering the look on Luke’s face when he had been rescued from the mighty Ssi-ruuvi vessel in which he’d been held captive, years ago. Exposure to the perverted entechment technology, and to the life energy forcibly removed from those taken captive in battle with Bakura, had touched him profoundly.

  “Well, these minds aren’t suffering,” Tahiri said. “They’re clean.”

  “What are they, then?” Han asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tahiri said. “I’ve never touched minds like these before.”

  When Leia stretched out her senses, she, too, could detect no trace of anything malevolent in the approaching fighters.

  “I don’t care if their minds are as serene as Alderaanian snow,” Han growled. “They’re still attacking us!”

  “Are they?” Leia asked. It was all too easy to assume. “We don’t want to start a war by accident—not if there’s an alternative.”

  “And what if you’re wrong, Leia? I don’t want them to end up using Jaina as target practice out there.”

  “Nor do I, Han.” She touched his hand in reassurance, then spoke on the secure subspace comlink to the squadron: “Twin Suns, fall back to flank Selonia and Falcon. You are instructed not to fire unless we are fired upon. Understood?”

  “Understood, Falcon.” Apart from the slight hesitation in Jaina’s voice, the order was accepted and acted upon immediately. In the face of the rapidly approaching swarm of Ssi-ruuvi fighters, the combined Chiss and Galactic Alliance squadron peeled away and swooped back to cover their command vessels.

  Han squirmed in his seat but didn’t say anything more. Leia shifted uneasily in her seat also. She felt reasonably confident that she was doing the right thing, but she couldn’t help feeling nervous at the same time. The last time she had come face to face with Ssi-ruuvi fighters had been on a war footing. She remembered the strength of the fighters’ shields and their maneuverability in dogfights—and perhaps more vividly she remembered how the alien capital vessels would collect survivors with their “trooper scoopers” in order to suck out their life energies and hurl them back at their former allies …

  “Gunners standing by,” announced Captain Mayn on Selonia as the fighters came within range.

  Leia held her breath.

  On the scanner board, she saw the alien fighters break formation and scatter to adopt a defensive wall around the incoming vessels, just as an escort would do. No shots were fired, and they stayed a discreet distance from both Falcon and Selonia. When the second contingent of ships arrived, the A-wings and B-wings slotted into the existing pattern with only a small amount of jostling.

  She exhaled with a heavy sigh.

  “Thank the maker,” C-3PO said from behind her.

  “You can say that again, Goldenrod.” Han leaned forward to trim the Falcon’s course slightly, a motion designed to disguise the relief he was feeling, Leia knew. “We’re not out of the woods yet. In case nobody has noticed, we’re now effectively caught.”

  “But at least we didn’t start a war,” Leia said. “And this way, we just might get some answers.”

  “What if we don’t like what we hear?” her husband asked wryly.

  Leia shrugged. “We’ll deal with that as it happens.”

  Han turned to the comm. Panib, who had been frantically trying to attract their attention over the subspace channel, sounded like he was going to sob with relief.

  “Thank you, Falcon. You won’t regret this.”

  “We’ll reserve judgment on that until we hear what’s going on,” Han said.

  “I understand,” the general responded. “But first I must once again ask that you state your intentions.”

  Han put a weary hand to his forehead. Leia gave in.

  “We’d like to set down at Salis D’aar,” she said, “and meet with Prime Minister Cundertol.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Panib said. “The Prime Minister is unable to meet with anyone at the moment.”

  “I don’t understand, General,” Leia said. “Why—”

  “Bakura is currently operating under martial law,” he explained without allowing her to finish her question. “I shall be in charge until the crisis is over.”

  “Then perhaps we should meet with you,” Leia said. “Whatever this crisis is, I’m sure we can do something to help you out of it.”

  “Your help would indeed be welcome,” the general said, although he didn’t sound overly enthusiastic. “However, Salis D’aar is unsafe for you at the moment. Dock with Sentinel and I shall take a shuttle to meet you within the hour. I’ll explain everything then.”

  “Understood,” Han said. Leia noted the look of skepticism on his face. “Just don’t try and tell us that the Ssi-ruuk are now the good guys, though, because I can tell you now we won’t believe you.”

  “Not the Ssi-ruuk,” Panib said. “The P’w’eck.”

  Realization dawned, then, for Leia—and from Han’s face, she could tell it had for him, too.

  “Okay, General,” she said. “We’ll see you within the hour.”

  The comm went dead.

  “The P’w’eck?” Tahiri repeated. “Weren’t they the slaves of the Ssi-ruuk?”

  “They were indeed,” Leia said.

  “But how—?”

  “I guess that’s what we’re about to learn,” Han said, the tension in his posture already easing. He reached forward to punch a new course into the Falcon’s command board. “In the meantime, let’s show these reptoids how to fly.”

  Leia relayed the situation to Captain Mayn as Han sent the Falcon streaking toward Sentinel. While she could understand his readiness to accept the immediately obvious explanation, she preferred to reserve judgment until she’d heard what Panib had to say. Nothing, she knew, was ever quite as simple as it seemed.

  Only by force of will was Jacen able to hold on to the contents of his stomach as he watched Tekli operate on the injured stormtrooper. The man lay facedown on the operating table, naked to the waist and fed by numerous intravenous drips and tubes. They had barely reached the Widowmaker’s medical bay in time. Had it not been for Luke and himself propping up the trooper’s defenses with large amounts of the Force, the alien invader would have probably overtaken his immune system completely and effectively killed him. As it was, Saba Sebatyne still had to strengthen the stormtrooper while Tekli tried to isolate the organism, carefully cutting through and around delicate tissues with her vibroscalpel. It was difficult and dangerous work, but after almost forty-five minutes of painstaking surgery, Tekli seemed to have finally exposed the problem.

  The centipedelike creature the stormtrooper had been force-fed on Munlali Mafir had turned out not to be a “meal” at all, but rather, as Hegerty had suspected, an uninvited guest. The juvenile Jostran had survived the acids in the man’s stomach long enough to burrow its way into his abdominal cavity and locate his spine. Once there, it had used the tips of its many legs to infiltrate nerves and tunnel into his spinal co
lumn. It had been working its way up to his skull, gradually taking over his body as it went. Tekli had caught it at the very top of the man’s spine, just as it was about to invade his brainpan. Its central body had already sent dozens of hairlike tendrils snaking into delicate neural tissues, and these were making extraction exceedingly difficult. Tekli didn’t doubt that the creature had numerous defense mechanisms designed to discourage removal. The filaments could physically damage nerve cells during extraction, or they could excrete any number of chemicals designed to kill as much tissue as possible around themselves. Only with the help of Jacen was she able, strand by strand, to finally save the stormtrooper from a horrible fate. Jacen attuned his mind to that of the Jostran and kept it docile while Tekli worked, finding it much easier when it was on its own rather than in a pack of eleven.

  Jacen couldn’t shake the ghastly thought of what might have happened as Tekli scooped up the wriggling body of the alien and dropped it into a tissue sample container. Hair-thin tendrils trailed it like roots from a plant.

  “Well done, my friend,” he said. “Master Cilghal would be proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Jacen,” Tekli said, stepping back from the table and removing her gloves, leaving a medical droid to suture the patient’s wound. “But perhaps we should save congratulations until the anesthetic wears off.”

  The Chadra-Fan’s ears were limp with fatigue and her fur appeared dull. It was clear that the intense concentration required for the operation had taken a lot out of her.

  “You’re exhausted,” Jacen said.

  She nodded. “I feel as tired as you look.”

  Jacen acknowledged the comment with a tight smile. He hadn’t had time to change from the gear he’d worn on Munlali Mafir. He’d only had time to wash the dirt and sweat off his face and hands. In all, he suspected he looked as exhausted as he felt.

  They left the patient in the care of Imperial meditechs. Outside the surgery, they met Lieutenant Stalgis waiting in the narrow corridor. He had removed his helmet—revealing a long, lined face that suggested an age much older than his thirty or so years—but like Jacen, he hadn’t had time to fully refresh himself yet.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s fine,” Jacen reassured him. “He just needs time to recover from the surgery.”

  “The thing—the Jostran—” Stalgis’s face contorted into a look of revulsion. “Has it? …”

  “It’s been removed.”

  Relief rolled off the lieutenant in waves. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am, to both of you. Tarl is a friend, as well as a member of my ground team. If he had died—if we hadn’t made it back in time—” Stalgis gesticulated for lack of words.

  Jacen placed a hand on the armor plating of the man’s upper arm. “We were glad to help. But I suggest you get some rest, now. Your friend is going to need you when he wakes.”

  Stalgis nodded almost formally and strode off up the hallway.

  “Perhaps you should listen to your own advice, Solo.”

  Jacen turned to find Danni Quee standing behind him. She was smiling, but there was no mistaking the concern underlying it.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You’re tired,” she said, her green eyes flashing at him. “And don’t even try to deny it.”

  A touch on the back of his hand signaled Tekli’s departure. He sent a wave of gratitude to the Chadra-Fan through the Force, then devoted all his attention to Danni. She stood before him wearing a standard Jedi expeditionary suit with her arms folded across her breasts. Her blond, curly hair had been cut to her shoulders.

  “It’s true,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I am tired. In fact, I’d give anything right now to be able to curl up on my bunk and sleep for a day or two.”

  “Not even an attempted denial,” she said. “I’m impressed, Jacen. Unfortunately, there won’t be time for you to sleep. You’re wanted on the bridge now.”

  Momentary alarm welled up in him, but he pushed it back down. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait ten minutes for you to clean up.”

  “Is it the Chiss?” he pressed.

  “In ten minutes you’ll have all the answers you need. But if you were to meet Commander Irolia looking like this, it would probably be taken as a declaration of war.”

  “She’s not letting us proceed?”

  Danni continued to evade his questions. “… illegal use of biological weapons or something …”

  “At least give me a hint!”

  “… cruel and unusual punishment …”

  “All right, all right!” Smiling, and feeling energized by the brief exchange, they walked along the narrow corridors of the Imperial frigate to the cabin he’d been assigned. “Tell Uncle Luke I’ll be there shortly.”

  “That’s what comlinks are for.” Her expression was mock indignant, but turned into a smile as she turned and headed off for the bridge.

  “The planet is a legend,” Commander Irolia said. Her youthful features were set in stubborn, self-assured lines. “I cannot believe that finding it is your true objective.”

  “I assure you that it’s much more than a legend,” Master Skywalker said. Saba was amazed at his self-control. She knew that he was exhausted and irritated, but all he allowed his face to display was calm and patience. “We have evidence that it once existed; the only question is whether it still exists today.”

  “What evidence is this?”

  “We were told about Zonama Sekot by Vergere, a Jedi Knight from—”

  “Vergere?” Irolia’s eyebrows shot up at the name. “The same Vergere who sabotaged the Alpha Red initiative?”

  Master Skywalker didn’t flinch from the truth. “The Vergere who prevented genocide the likes of which this galaxy has never seen, yes.”

  The commander’s exhalation had a mocking bite. “You expect me to trust her testimony?”

  “No one is forcing you to accept anything,” Captain Yage said, clearly annoyed by the Chiss commander’s mockery. “We only want to go about our business. That’s all.”

  “But what is your business? That’s what I am attempting to determine.”

  The meeting was being conducted on Widowmaker’s bridge in full view of the crew. Irolia carried herself as though it was her own ship and her own crew. Her tone and poise displayed nothing but self-assurance. Saba knew that, should anything happen to the Chiss officer or the small contingent of guards that had escorted her across, then there would be dire consequences for Master Skywalker and his expedition. What’s more, Irolia knew that they knew—and that, presumably, was why she was so confident.

  Saba wasn’t an expert on humanoid appearances, but she imagined that the Chiss commander would have been regarded as quite striking among her own people. Her face was narrow and angular, her blue skin smooth and soft looking. Her wide red eyes contained both character and intelligence, and upon entering the meeting, had quickly scanned everyone on the bridge. She didn’t doubt that the woman’s evaluation of them would have been equally as brisk.

  “All we ask,” Luke said, “is for the freedom to look.”

  Irolia paced three steps to her left, contemplating his words. “This is our territory,” she said. “You do realize that.”

  “We recognize your authority over regions near here, yes. But we weren’t aware that the Expansionary Defense Fleet had specifically annexed this system.”

  “If I were to tell you that we have, would you leave?”

  “We are a peaceful expedition,” Luke said. “Would you bar a trading mission from your territory, or a scientific team?”

  The commander laughed. “Don’t try to fool me, Skywalker! You’re no more a trader than I am. And as for your motives being scientific, I ask this of you: Were you to find this planet, what exactly would you do with it?”

  A new voice spoke up from behind them when Luke hesitated: “It is our hope that Zonama Sekot will help us in our war effort, and in doing so save trillions of lives—including
your own.”

  Commander Irolia turned her attention to Jacen Solo, who had just entered the room. “Then your intentions are clearly not scientific, but rather military. So why should we allow you to pursue such objectives when you so readily interfere with our own?”

  “Alpha Red wouldn’t have won the war,” Luke said calmly. “It would have turned us all into monsters.”

  “That’s the war I’m talking about,” Jacen said, stepping down into the center of the circular bridge to join the others. “The war against ourselves.”

  Irolia took a long moment to consider this. “It surprises me to see Imperials and the New Republic working alongside each other,” she said finally.

  “We are no longer referred to as the New Republic,” Luke said. “We have a new name now: the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances.”

  “And the Empire has freely joined this Alliance?” Irolia asked, glancing at Yage.

  “It has,” the captain said.

  “I suppose the Chiss are welcome to join, too.”

  Luke seemed unfazed by the commander’s sarcasm. “The decision would be yours. But yes, you would indeed be welcome to join in due course.”

  Irolia snorted derisively but didn’t address the Jedi Master’s comment. Instead she said, “What concerns me the most here, I think, is the makeup of your senior crew.”

  Master Skywalker shrugged. “I have already explained that the military contingent is purely defensive.”

  “That might indeed be true. But the intention lies in its leaders. Mara Jade Skywalker, Luke Skywalker, Jacen Solo—all renowned Jedi warriors.”

  “Danni Quee is an accomplished scientist,” Jacen pointed out.

  “Yes, I recognize that name. And Soron Hegerty we know, of course. They fit in with your stated aims.”

  Danni looked both startled and flattered to be recognized; Hegerty, on the other hand, showed no reaction at all.

  “But you also have a Barabel among you,” Irolia continued. “How does it fit in?”

  Saba stiffened.

  “She is a Jedi Knight,” Luke said.

  “Another warrior, then?”

  “Not in the sense that you mean.”