Luke gathered strength from somewhere and stood without her help. He pulled out two blasters. So did she. Then she crept in the shadows toward her ship.
A triple tone sounded. When the ship reached five tones, it would explode. Her throat was dry. The Alderaan was their only way off this empty husk of a planet.
She peered into the hangar, and saw no one. Footprints obscured her own near the Alderaan, half a dozen footprints, maybe more. A blaster scorch on the door told her what had happened.
Where were they now?
“You see anyone, Luke?”
He shook his head. He looked distracted, as if he were hearing faraway music. She had seen that look before, when he had lost his hand below Cloud City. She had never known if the look meant that he was in great pain or if it came when he was listening to something inside his head.
That time he had been feeling Vader’s presence.
Did he feel Kueller now?
Four tones chimed from the Alderaan. It was now or never. Either she saved her ship or she saved herself.
She ran into the bay, both blasters out, and launched herself at the Alderaan. Her ship scanned her handprint, her retina, and her voice as she spoke the internal code. The door swung open just as the five-tone chime began.
And stopped.
Her heart was pounding. No one had shot at her. Whoever had disturbed the Alderaan had touched it, and left when the auto-destruct had started.
She opened the internal control panel near the door and shut off the auto-destruct.
Then she leaned her head out the door, and shouted, “Luke!”
But he didn’t respond. She couldn’t see him in the shadows in the bay.
“Luke! Now!”
Still nothing. Had he collapsed out there?
She would have to go back and get him.
She stepped out the door when she heard the hiss of a lightsaber. She tapped her belt. She wore hers. Luke hadn’t been wearing one.
Her heart pounded harder. There was only one other person adept in the Force on Almania.
Kueller.
Forty-eight
Leia’s message said that she was taking the Alderaan to Almania, and then later she added a note about Wedge and the fleet. But try as he might, Han couldn’t locate the Alderaan in the swarm of fighting ships not far from him. He didn’t want to think about all the debris floating around them.
He was seated in the cockpit, Chewbacca beside him, and Mara Jade in the seat behind. She was still pale and weak. She claimed that the ysalamiri were affecting her Force sense even though they were as far from her as they could be.
He liked that.
“Chewie, hail someone on the New Republic fleet,” Han said. “I need to know where Leia is.”
“Her ship wasn’t here when we got here,” Mara said.
Chewbacca ignored her and punched the communications relay. Han hovered near the Wild Karrde. Talon still hadn’t gone into hyperspace. Something was keeping him nearby.
“I thought he was out to save his hide.”
Mara smiled. “I think he’s still interested in mine,” she said cryptically.
“Great,” Han said.
Chewie mumbled something about no one having seen Leia since the battle began.
“Long shot, then,” Han said. He swerved away from the Wild Karrde and headed toward Almania. “Scan the surface, Chewie. The Alderaan has a distinctive signature. We’ll find her if she’s there.”
Chewie’s large paws moved on the console. Mara leaned back in her seat. “You’ll die before Kueller allows you on the surface.”
“I doubt that, sweetheart,” Han said. “He’s wanted me there all along.”
Mara had no reply to that. Chewbacca continued searching. Han piloted the Falcon high over the fighting.
It looked ugly down there. The Star Destroyers had sustained a lot of damage, but they hadn’t given up. There were too many TIE fighters, and no X-wings, only A- and B-wings. One of the New Republic’s battleships was already destroyed. Only two were left.
“Don’t think about it, Solo,” Mara said. “Either you get your wife or you save the fleet.”
He knew that, but watching made him feel helpless. Then something zoomed in his periphery. “TIE fighter at two-oh-nine. Chewie, man the controls. I’m going for the guns.”
“I’m coming with you,” Mara said.
Han climbed to the topside gunport as Mara climbed to the bottom gunport. He adjusted his headset as he sat before the controls of the laser cannon. Stars and fighters swarmed around him.
“You in there, Mara?”
“Ready.”
“Okay,” Han said. “Stay sharp.”
The TIE fighter went over them, shooting. Han swiveled his chair and aimed the cannon, shooting as he did so. Mara’s fire from below shone red against the blackness of space.
The fighter exploded in a brilliant white flash.
“Got him!” Mara yelled.
Two more TIE fighters appeared to his gunport’s starboard. Then three shot overhead as three crossed below. Two more appeared port.
“Chewie!” Han shouted as he shot cannon fire in all directions. The Wookiee knew better than to let this sort of trap set up. The Falcon continued moving forward and then, suddenly, it flipped on its side and slipped between the fighters.
The fighters, used to shooting at the tinier A-wings, took a moment to recover.
“Chewie, circle,” Han said.
Chewbacca executed a perfect parabola. Han and Mara aimed and shot at opposing TIE fighters. Both exploded as five more came to their rescue.
“There’s a multitude of those things!” Mara said.
“Kueller sure spent a fortune,” Han said. “Not even the Empire deployed this many at once.”
Chewbacca yowled from below. More TIE fighters were coming their way.
“What’d he say?” Mara shouted.
“He said we’re pulling fighters from the battle. Your ugly little nightmare friend must know we’re here.” Sweat was pouring down Han’s face. His shoulders ached from pulling on the cannon. He was swiveling and twisting so much in the chair that he didn’t know which direction he faced in relation to the cockpit. He supposed it didn’t matter.
“I thought you said he wanted you alive.”
“He did!” Han was shooting at five TIE fighters. He winged one, and it rolled off in the distance. Another flew over, firing as it went. Most of the shots bounced off the deflector shields.
A third fighter fired a round. The shots connected, and something exploded on the Falcon.
“Chewie?” Han shouted.
Chewbacca growled something about losing a deflector shield.
“Chewie, that was more than a shield!”
Chewie growled again. He nearly had the shield fixed but he didn’t have time to say any more. It was Mara who finally reported.
“That was my cannon,” she said.
“You okay?”
“If you call third-degree burns okay,” she said. “My hands’ll five.”
“Get up there and help Chewie, then,” he said, uncertain whether or not she was making up the burns. “We’re going to have to pass right over one of those Star Destroyers. Let’s hope it doesn’t see us.”
“Hope is a dangerous thing, Solo.”
He didn’t answer her. His arms were rattling his entire frame as he kept shooting. The TIE fighters were swarming around the Falcon, but their shots kept bouncing off the deflector shields. Chewie must have fixed them.
Or maybe not.
Another shot connected. The Falcon twisted in space. Chewbacca was yelling, Mara was swearing, and Han found himself upside down from his previous position. If he hadn’t been strapped in the chair, he would have been thrown all over the gunport.
“Damage, Chewie?”
Chewbacca yelled back.
“I know it’s not your fault! Just let me know the damage.”
“The concussion-missile tubes.” Again i
t was Mara who answered. “And you’d better thank Chewie for his quick thinking. He dumped the missiles as the shot hit.”
“Oh, great,” Han said. “I’m supposed to thank him for dumping our weaponry.” He kept shooting, though, and took out one TIE fighter that exploded and spun away from the pack. “Get that shield back on line.”
The Falcon righted itself and headed for the Star Destroyer.
“Hey, Chewie,” Han said, “abandon that last plan. Just head for the planet.”
Chewbacca growled back.
“There are no straight lines in space,” Han said. “Go over it, around it, or under it if you have to. I don’t care that it’s in your way.”
Chewie growled again.
“They can’t have us in a tractor beam, Chewie,” Han said, not wanting it to be true. “Check the instruments again.”
“Looks like it doesn’t want us to get to Almania, Han,” Mara said.
Han wiped the sweat from his face with the back of one arm. He could see the open hangar bay on the destroyer. They would be sucked inside, facing stormtroopers and who knew what else.
If only he could get to Leia.
Luke had done something with his X-wing against a Star Destroyer once. He had shot proton torpedoes into the tractor beam. The torpedoes had gone on board the destroyer and exploded.
But the Falcon no longer had that kind of fire power.
The laser cannon wouldn’t do enough damage. But it might stun them for a moment, maybe break the tractor beam, and keep them from chasing the Falcon. It might give him the opportunity he needed to get to Almania and Leia.
Chewbacca shouted from below.
“One ship at a time, Chewie. We only have to pay attention to the new one if it shoots us.” At least, Han hoped that was true. The new ship that Chewie had spotted coming up behind them might be even more of a threat.
“Haven’t you got any other weapons on board this thing?” Mara shouted.
Han swiveled in his chair, shot several bursts at two passing TIE fighters, and then yelled, “We’re down to one laser cannon, sweetheart, and a whole lot of blasters. You want to open the top hatch and climb onto the roof and fire a blaster from there? I’m sure Chewie has enough spare time to rig you up a wire to keep you from falling off.”
Chewbacca growled.
“No need to be sarcastic, Solo,” Mara said. “Just trying to be useful.”
“Then scan for Leia’s ship. I’m not going to Almania if she’s not there.” He pointed the cannon upward—for him, anyway—so that his chair tilted him onto his back. He concentrated on one TIE fighter, blasting, blasting, blasting, until the thing fell away in a smoking heap.
“How soon till we get to the destroyer?” Han yelled.
“Almost there!” Mara yelled back.
Chewie growled a countdown to the futile shot. Han’s shot wouldn’t have the one-in-explosive power that Luke’s miraculous destruction of the Death Star had. If anything, Han’s blast would smash a few transparisteels inside, knock a few officers out of their chairs, and scorch a bulkhead or two.
For this, though, he turned on the targeting computer. With his right hand, he punched in the coordinates while he kept shooting at TIE fighters with his left. They were swarming him now, flanking, surrounding, and threatening the Falcon. They probably thought they had him, this close to the Star Destroyer.
Chewie growled the end of the countdown.
Han watched the targeting computer.
“You’re going to miss the shot!” Mara yelled.
Han ignored her, his concentration great. The lines on the computer converged into a single point and he issued a burst of fire from the cannon. Then he shoved the targeting computer away. The shots went along the tractor beam and sank into the open hangar bay. There was a muffled explosion, enough to rattle the entire Star Destroyer.
“That’s the best we get,” Han said. “Let’s take advantage of their surprise and—”
Then the Star Destroyer exploded into a thousand pieces. Light and sparks flew everywhere and debris pelted the Falcon.
“Chewie! Get us out of here!”
The TIE’s were moving out of the debris field too. Han slipped out of the gunport and into the cockpit, yelling a victory cry all the way.
“You didn’t do it, Solo,” Mara said. She pointed at the space yacht streaking overhead. “Better say thank you!”
Han slapped his hand on the console. “Karrde! Thought you were leaving!”
“I hate missing a good fight, Solo.” Karrde’s voice came over the speakers in crackles. “Go to the planet. I’ll cover you.”
“He doesn’t make that offer every day,” Mara said.
“And he doesn’t have to make it twice.” Han slipped into the pilot’s seat. “Found Leia yet?”
“Nope,” Mara said. “We’ll have to go on feeling.”
“I thought the ysalamiri are interfering with your Force sense.”
She shrugged. “Let’s hope they aren’t.”
Eeeeooo-whit!
The droid in the lead had seen him.
“Artoo!” Threepio yelled. “Artoo-Detoo, is that you?”
The lead gladiator droid shook him. “I told you to shut up.”
“I would, sir, if I thought you still had control, but I daresay you’re in for a spot of trouble.”
The gladiator droid swiveled his head. His henchmen, the ones who had gone to investigate, were being crushed against the wall, their guns still trapped in their stomachs, as hundreds of astromech units rolled past.
“Artoo!” Threepio yelled.
“Send for backup,” the gladiator droid said to the droid nearest him. “And hurry. The rest of you—fire!”
Laser cannons went off, and shots reverberated all over the corridor. Droid screams filled the air. Smoke rose as components burned. But the little astromech droids continued moving forward.
“Artoo!” Threepio screamed. He could no longer see Artoo in the sudden haze of smoke. “Artoo-Detoo, where are you?”
“One more word,” the lead gladiator droid said, “and I will use this scrambler.”
Threepio had had quite enough of threats. “No, you won’t!” he said, and wrenched himself backward as the gladiator droid fired the scrambler. Its shot hit the other gladiator droid holding Threepio. That droid screamed and glowed neon green, a beacon in the haze. Threepio’s right arm was free. He yanked his left loose and disappeared into the fog.
Shots ricocheted around him. The gladiator droids flared like flames in the smoke. Threepio shoved several from behind, making them lose their balance and fall forward.
“Artoo!” he continued to yell as he headed in the direction where he had last seen the astromech droids. “Artoo!”
Eeeeooo-whit!
The whistle came from his left, from a corridor that matched the one he had just come through. It might be a trap, or it might be Artoo.
He hurried into that corridor, arms raised. The gladiator droids were still shooting into smoke that seemed horribly unnatural. No matter how many astromech droids got shot, there wouldn’t be that much smoke.
Unless …
Unless something was burning.
“Oh, dear,” Threepio muttered. “Oh, dear. Why is it that everything always gets worse?”
More blaster shots ricocheted around him. The air was full of smoke and screams, but the screams no longer came from astromech droids. The screams came from gladiator droids being hit by ricochets.
Eeeeooo-whit!
Threepio made it into the corridor, and there Artoo was waiting for him. The little droid immediately began rocking and beeping. His clawed arm came out and pulled Threepio in deeper as the door behind them slammed closed.
The smoke cleared instantly. It hadn’t been smoke at all, but hundreds of astromech droids emitting some kind of foggy chemical.
“Artoo, I’ve been looking for you,” Threepio said. “Master Cole thought we were going to go together. You shouldn’t go off
on your own like that. It isn’t—”
Artoo gave him a raspberry, swiveled, and started up the corridor behind all the other astromech droids.
“You can’t leave now,” Threepio said. “They’re going to kill Master Cole.”
Artoo stopped and beeped an inquiry.
“Why, he had to cover that little escape of yours. There were signs, you know, warning that droids couldn’t leave a ship. And then you go off on your own. He thought you actually had a plan. He sent me after you, hoping that some good would come of it. I can see now that our concern was misguided.”
Artoo blatted at him, and continued forward.
Threepio followed. “Ungrateful? Ungrateful? How can you call me ungrateful?”
Artoo bleebled and continued forward. The other astromech droids swarmed ahead like a sea of mechanicals.
“I don’t think Master Cole can wait, Artoo. I daresay he’s in a difficult patch. If you’re not going to help him, I will.” Threepio turned on one foot and started down a side corridor.
Artoo whistled at him, not the friendly whistle from before, but a summons. Threepio ignored him.
Then Artoo blatted, and Threepio stopped.
“Good point,” he said more to himself than Artoo. “I really don’t want to face the Red Terror alone.”
Threepio scurried back to the original corridor. Artoo and his astromech friends had already moved far ahead. Threepio glanced over his shoulder. So far, no Red Terror. But there was no telling whether or not they’d make it through that door.
“Wait for me!” he shouted. “Wait! For! Me!”
Forty-nine
Luke backed away from Kueller’s lightsaber. So far, Kueller wasn’t really swinging it, but he was holding it steady before him, his black robes flowing backward in the wind. His body was slender, almost too slender, and in that—in that only—could Luke see the beginnings of the disintegration the dark side caused.
Twilight was falling. The light that had seemed so bright when he came out of the tunnel now seemed dim and shadowy. Only the blade of Kueller’s lightsaber gave off any light at all.
Luke didn’t have far to back. If he went too far, he would hit the wall of the tower he had escaped from. Then he got a flash, a mental picture, so clear that it looked like a holo:
Star Wars: The New Rebellion Page 42
