Star Wars: The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Around the tower was a narrow alleyway that led to the tower’s main door. The door’s frame had collapsed, and in the mouth of the opening—

  Kueller swung his blade at Luke, smashing the mental image. Luke leaped aside. He wasn’t certain if he should go for his blasters. That would only give Kueller a target. The blasters were no match for a lightsaber.

  “Give up, Skywalker,” Kueller said. “You lack the strength to defeat me. I will kill you this time. And then I will slaughter your sister.”

  Leia! She had her lightsaber. Luke extended his hand, and Kueller brought his blade down at it. Luke dodged as Leia’s lightsaber sailed in the air toward him, landing neatly in his fingers.

  Immediately he ignited the blade and its reassuring hum echoed in the growing darkness.

  “Ah,” Kueller said. “So you have chosen to fight me. Careful, Master Skywalker. If you do so with the wrong attitude, you might join my side.”

  “I’ve fought better than you, Kueller,” Luke said. The lightsaber felt odd in his hand. “And won.”

  “Years ago, Skywalker. You’ve become complacent.” Kueller slashed at Luke. Luke parried, the electric clash of blades ringing in the night air.

  Then Kueller whirled and blocked several bursts of blasterfire. Leia peeked out of the bay doors.

  “Leave him alone, Kueller. It’s me you want!” she yelled.

  His death mask glowed from an internal light. It made his smile even more sinister than usual. “Actually, President, I want your entire family. Without them, there are no true Jedi.”

  Luke inched closer. His blade was still out, still humming. He wanted Kueller to fight him, not Leia. Leia wasn’t ready yet. “Actually, Kueller, there are dozens of Jedi now.”

  “But not Jedi Masters, Skywalker.”

  “There are more than you imagine,” Luke said, thinking of Callista. She would provide quite a battle against Kueller, even without the Force.

  Kueller turned to Luke, and Leia fired again. Without even looking at her, Kueller blocked the blaster shots. The shots flew harmlessly to the sides. Then her blaster rose in the air, and exploded a few feet above her head.

  “Use another of those, President, and it will explode in your hand.”

  “You like explosions, don’t you, Kueller?” she said. Luke suppressed a smile. She was trying to distract him so Luke could attack. But it wasn’t that easy. Kueller had pushed Luke far enough that Luke’s feelings were confused. He wasn’t certain if he was going after Kueller out of anger or hatred, instead of in defense. That would only make Kueller stronger.

  He seemed to be stronger anyway, giving credence to Luke’s theory.

  “Small explosions, President,” Kueller said, his blade still locked with Luke’s. “Large ones destroy wealth.”

  Leia stepped out of the bay. She was unarmed. “Even if you kill us, Kueller, you won’t get the rest of us. The explosives you put in the droids won’t work. We shut the droids off.”

  “Did you, now?” Kueller’s tone was mocking. Luke could feel the physical pressure Kueller was putting on the blade. They were locked in a battle of wills, their strength holding the blades together in a haze of light. “You managed to tell all the developed planets about the droids, President? Because if you didn’t, then I will still get enough strength from one single order to defeat you all.”

  A chill ran through Luke. All those lives. All those billions of lives. They meant nothing more to Kueller than a breath of air, a surge of adrenaline, a swallow of food. Anger flowed through Luke, deep and fine and rich. He had created this monster. Luke, through his arrogance, had given Kueller all the tools he needed to destroy the entire galaxy. If Luke hadn’t taught all his students about the dark side, if he hadn’t warned them repeatedly and in detail about the quick and easy path, then Kueller would still be Dolph, not this hateful being who wore a death mask proudly and dealt in lives as a smuggler dealt in stolen goods.

  Kueller turned toward Luke and grinned. His lightsaber broke free from the enmeshment and whooshed near Luke. Luke jumped aside, pain shivering through his back, and down his arms.

  Kueller had suddenly gotten stronger.

  “Kueller!” Leia shouted. She held another blaster. He turned his attention to her, and Luke thrust his blade toward Kueller’s side, drawing blood before Kueller swirled away.

  Easy blood. The lightsaber moved with a sureness Luke had never felt before.

  Leia’s blaster was turning red. She tossed it aside before it exploded, and rolled in the opposite direction.

  Kueller had turned back to Luke, thrusting, parrying, thrusting, their sabers locked in a battle as loud and spark-filled as Luke’s battle with Vader. Kueller’s breath hissed through the mask, but it wasn’t Vader’s stentorian breathing that it imitated.

  It was the Emperor’s greedy gasping.

  Luke staggered under Kueller’s next blow, and barely managed to roll aside. His ankle kept buckling under him, but he forced himself to put weight on it. They had moved into the alleyway Luke had seen in that strange moment of vision. Stones littered the ground all around them, and the light only came through a small opening on either end. Luke could no longer see Leia.

  Use your aggressive feelings, boy! Let the hate flow through you.

  Kueller struck at him, his blow shattering a nearby rock. He was stronger. Much stronger. And his strength seemed to be increasing. Luke’s arms were growing tired battling the power of Kueller’s blade.

  Then Kueller laughed, a gurgling, familiar laugh. The Emperor’s laugh, the unamused choking of a slave to the dark side.

  Fueled by hatred, anger, and fear.

  Luke was making him stronger. Luke’s response, his hatred, his own self-loathing at creating this thing, this student who had become a horror, was making the thing even stronger.

  Kueller slammed his blade against Luke’s, and the sparks lit the area all around them. Luke parried. Parried again. And again. He was trapped in a cycle of hatred and anger. If he fought, Kueller got stronger, and if he attacked, Kueller got stronger still.

  Luke glanced at the mouth of the alley.

  No Leia.

  He was alone with this thing he had created. The rogue student. The Vader to his Ben.

  Vader.

  Ben.

  Luke grinned. He suddenly knew what he had to do to break free.

  Wedge watched as the Falcon disappeared over Almania. The space yacht, identified as the Wild Karrde, had come into the fray, firing all laser cannons, on the side of the New Republic. Wedge wasn’t sure who owned the yacht, and at the moment, he didn’t care. He was losing this battle. He could use all the help he could get.

  His ship had sustained massive damage. There were fires on several decks. Somehow the command center had avoided the worst of it.

  There were no more A- and B-wings to deploy and the TIE fighters seemed to have multiplied. General Ceousa’s ship seemed to have lost all weapons systems, and was floating in space.

  The Tatooine had exploded. The death screams had been hideous.

  Wedge had come up against more firepower, but never this fierce determination, this desire to win at any cost. It was almost as if Kueller’s soldiers didn’t care if they lived or died, only that they won in the process. He had no idea what kind of creature could create a response like that. Not Thrawn, nor Daala, nor the Emperor had ever aroused such mindless devotion. It was almost as if the ships were being piloted by droids.

  Wedge glanced at the hunched droid near the console. Luke’s odd message had warned them to shut off all droids. “Sela,” he said. “I want that droid disassembled now!”

  “But sir, we can’t spare the personnel!”

  “We can spare it all right, and more if we have to.” The secret lay in the droids. He would find it as he fought.

  The TIE fighters circled the Wild Karrde like flies over spoiled meat. The Karrde was blasting them, exploding fighter after fighter, but the others kept coming. The Star Destroyers we
re closing in on General Ceousa.

  If Wedge were a droid, he would follow a set battle plan, and not give up until the end was achieved. No creativity, no deviation, no care for the losses.

  The mistake had been his. He was following a set battle plan when everything had erupted in his face.

  “Ginbotham, I want you to shoot at the Wild Karrde.”

  “Sir?” Ginbotham said as if he hadn’t heard the order correctly.

  “Shoot the Wild Karrde. Miss, but make it clear you’re aiming for the space yacht. Then whirl this bird around and do the same to the Calamari, General Ceousa’s ship.”

  “Our ships, sir?”

  “Yes, our ships, soldier,” Wedge said. He grabbed on to the railing, wishing he could send the other commanders the insight he had just received. They would simply have to react to it.

  The first shot went out, and went low, narrowly missing both the Wild Karrde and the TIE fighter below it.

  “Keep going,” Wedge said.

  Shots streaked red across the blackness of space, missing both the Wild Karrde and the TIE fighters, but not by much.

  “We’re getting a message from the Wild Karrde, sir.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Wedge said, bracing himself because he knew what it would be.

  “What are you doing? I’m trying to help you, you stupid fool!” The voice was male and angry. Very angry.

  “Response, sir?”

  Wedge moved away from the communications controls. “Shoot at General Ceousa’s ship.”

  “What? Sir, have you gone mad?”

  Wedge turned to the offending officer. “Whether I’m mad or not is none of your concern. I’m your commander. You do as I say.”

  “But, sir, the new rules established by Admiral Ackbar state—”

  “That you can force me to step down if you can prove I’m unfit. They also state that simply because the commander gives orders you disagree with does not mean the commander is unfit. Fire now, or I’ll have you all relieved.”

  The Hig turned back to his screen, and shots went off at the Star Cruiser, narrowly missing, as before. A TIE fighter got nicked in the ricochet and fell, twisting, away from the Tatooine.

  “Wedge? Wedge?” General Ceousa’s voice came over the communicator. “Wedge, are you still there?”

  “Present and accounted for, General.”

  “You’re firing at the Calamari.”

  “Sorry, General, just doing my duty.”

  “Wedge, are you all right?”

  “Fire again, soldier, and this time aim at both ships.” Wedge had clasped his hands behind his back, trying to hide his glee. It was working. The TIE fighters had actually stopped firing on the Wild Karrde and on the Calamari. It was the Star Destroyers that concerned him more.

  The shots went out on all sides, hitting two TIE fighters and bouncing off the Wild Karrde’s deflector shields.

  “I told you not to hit the ships,” Wedge said.

  “Sorry, sir,” Ginbotham said. “Precision shooting is for A-wings.”

  “Missing a target the size of a moon shouldn’t be difficult, Ginbotham.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fire again.”

  “Wedge!” Ceousa’s voice echoed over the speakers. “Wedge!”

  “I’m here, General. Forgive me, but President Organa Solo put me in charge of this mission.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Wedge, but you’re firing on our people.”

  “Am I, General? Am I really?” Wedge ran a hand over his throat, severing all communications. That was all the hint he would give Ceousa. Either the general trusted him or he didn’t. It didn’t matter. The next few moments would decide everything.

  The Star Destroyers came closer.

  “I have them in range, sir,” Ginbotham said.

  “I have the targets set up for the Star Destroyers, sir. If you’ll allow me to—”

  “No, soldier. I want you to fire on both the Wild Karrde and the Calamari again.”

  “Sir—”

  “And this time, when you miss, take out a TIE fighter on one of the ricochets. They’re beginning to look like they want to fight again.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ginbotham seemed subdued. The shots went out. Wedge watched, clutching his hands together. The first shot hit a TIE fighter’s solar panel, ricocheted off, and hit another fighter. The Wild Karrde swerved away, and headed toward the Calamari.

  At that moment, the Star Destroyers started for Wedge. The TIE fighters continued to trail the Wild Karrde and Calamari.

  “We can’t defeat two Star Destroyers on our own,” Sela said.

  “I know,” Wedge said. He hoped they wouldn’t have to.

  Fifty

  Almania looked deserted. Han emerged from the Falcon with his blaster in one hand, and the ysalamiri in the other. He hated the things. They reminded him of Corellian grass snakes, except they were big, they were furry, and they had claws.

  No one had told him about the claws.

  They also weighed a lot. Their nutrient cages, made with frames of pipes to support and nourish the creatures, weighed even more. Mara had kept her distance. Both Han and Chewie had agreed to allow her to stay far behind them—far enough so that she wasn’t caught in the ysalamiri’s anti-Force bubble.

  But Han wished she were closer. He should have known better than to rely on her Force abilities when she had been so close to ysalamiri. Obviously she had been wrong. Leia couldn’t be nearby. This place was deserted.

  He had landed the Falcon in a wide plaza. Around him were towers, most of them partially destroyed. Rubble everywhere. No bodies, though. For that he was grateful.

  Then he heard rocks tumble beside him. He and Chewbacca whirled at the same time. The ysalamiri cages swung out and back, nearly making Han lose his balance.

  The tower’s main door had been smashed open, and the door’s frame had collapsed. Something white and ghostly moved in the doorway.

  “Great,” Han said. “Just great. Not only does she fail to find Leia, she leads us to a ghost.”

  Chewbacca growled softly. Han squinted. Chewie was right. That wasn’t a ghost. Something was alive in there. He pulled out his blaster and moved forward.

  Then a woman yelled in the distance.

  Han raised his head as his heart jumped. That wasn’t Mara. That was Leia.

  “Through the alley, Chewie. We’ll get this thing later.” Han turned and ran for the alley as a male voice answered Leia’s. They were too far away to be heard clearly.

  Behind him, Chewie grunted, followed by a massive thud. Han glanced over his shoulder. Chewie was on the ground. A huge, furry creature had one paw on Chewie’s back. With its other paw, it was holding the ysalamiri cage and was trying to suck the ysalamiri through it like a piece of spaghetti. When that didn’t work, the creature swallowed the ysalamiri, cage and all.

  Han swore and leveled his blaster at the big creature. Chewie was yowling, and it took Han a moment to realize that Chewie was telling him not to shoot.

  Han decided to ignore his partner. The creature’s throat swelled and bulged as the ysalamiri cage slid down. Then the creature looked at Han. Its eyes glowed red as it eyed Han’s nutrient cage.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Han said. He tried to hide the cage behind his back. Chewie was still yowling, but the creature had taken its paw off him.

  Han fired his blaster, but as he did, the thing leaped for him, grazing him with its massive paws. He landed on his back, knocking the cage from his hand. He raised his blaster, but it was too late. The creature already had the nutrient cage in its mouth. With a quick shake of its jaw, it tumbled the cage to the back of its throat, and swallowed it.

  Blood from a scrape was running down Han’s shoulder, staining his shirt. The creature tilted its barn-sized head at the blood, then its fur-stained tongue came out. Han crawled backward, away from it, on his hands and feet, trying to stand at the same time.

  Chewie was getting up, but he hadn’t pulle
d his bowcaster.

  Through the alley, Leia yelled again.

  “You can’t eat me,” Han said to the big furry white creature. “That’s my wife. And you just swallowed my plan.”

  Chewie yowled at him.

  “I’m not shooting at it,” Han said.

  He scrambled to his feet. The creature hadn’t moved any closer. Chewie gave it a small wave as he ran past it. Then Han flanked Chewie, and they headed into the alley.

  The creature did not chase them.

  “You mind telling me why you’re suddenly friendly with a giant turbali? Is it a cousin?”

  Chewie wailed, the precursor to his angry yell.

  “All right, all right. Forgive me,” Han said. “I got a little upset when that thing ate the creatures that would ensure the rescue of my wife.”

  Chewbacca didn’t respond to that. He kept pace with Han as they hurried through the alley.

  His shoulder hurt something fierce, and the air on this planet was a bit thinner than he was used to. He tripped on a rock, but regained his footing after a moment. Rubble was strewn all over this alley.

  He hadn’t heard Leia yell again.

  Something thudded behind them. Han glanced over his shoulder again, to see the giant creature try to squeeze into the alley, fail, and turn away, dejected.

  “Great,” he mumbled. “The thing’s feelings are hurt because it’s too fat to fit into the alley.”

  Chewie growled a warning. Han grimaced. How did Chewbacca and that thing become such fast friends?

  He was nearly to the mouth of the alley when Leia yelled again. This time, though, the word was clear.

  It was Luke’s name.

  And she said it in a voice that Han had never heard before, but he knew what it meant.

  It meant he was too late.

  Her hands were useless, and Kueller was no longer listening to her arguments. He was watching Luke.

  Luke, who looked like a man possessed.

  Luke, who had always warned her not to give in to anger, was giving in to his.

  And Kueller was smiling. He seemed to be growing taller, and broader, the aura of power around him so great that it made him seem invincible.