The Approaching Storm (звёздные войны)

by Alan Dean Foster

  There was more she wanted to ask him, but he was right. Thrown together for long periods at a time, Jedi and Padawan alike had a need for privacy. Curious and concerned though she might be, she was going to have to respect that. In their time together on Ansion, Anakin had done nothing to make her suspect his competence. Where Jedi teachings were concerned, he was as reliable and aware a fellow Padawan as she had ever met-if a bit strong-headed. What vexed her were these personal problems of his, inner quandaries that he only occasionally allowed to rise to the surface of his self, where others could perceive them.

  She didn't want to quarrel with him, or accuse him. She wanted to help. But in order for her to be of any use, he would have to open up. If not to her, then to Obi-Wan. Clearly, there was much on his mind beyond a desire to do a good job and to eventually be promoted to the status of full Jedi Knight.

  Perhaps with the passage of time, he might choose to confide in her more. Until then, she would try her best to monitor his shifting emotions, and to be there if he needed someone besides his teacher to talk to. Meanwhile, he would remain a bit of an enigma. She moved to join him and the others. If nothing else, he was certainly unique. That uniqueness gave him something to build on. But if he hoped to ever be promoted to full Jedi, he was going to have to sort out those problematic inner uncertainties.

  She had never met such a thing as a conflicted Jedi. But then, she had never before met one who had been raised by his mother.

  Chapter 11

  The chawix outbreak did not last long. Only long enough for a snack, a quick drink, and a brief rest, following which the travelers prepared for departure. It was when she was preparing to climb back onto the saddle of her mount that Barriss noticed the creature digging through the supply pack that was tied across the suubatar's second back. Momentarily startled by the unexpected sight, she froze.

  It looked very much like any other Ansionian. The bright, convex eyes, the bipedal build, and the long, nimble fingers and toes were identical. But instead of the narrow mane that ran from the top of the head down the spine to terminate in a short tail, this intruder was completely covered in short, dense, dark brown and beige fur striped with dull yellow markings. Instead of a twitchy stub, its weaving tail was as long as her arm.

  Most striking of all, it barely came up to her waist.

  "Hey, stop that!" she yelled in all-purpose Ansionian.

  Both arms laden with a trio of flexiwrapped foodpaks, the startled intruder looked up in response to her sudden shout.

  Emitting a defiant squeal, it turned and leapt off the back of the indifferent suubatar. Unhesitatingly, she raced around her mount's front end. If the creature stayed where it was, it would be trapped against the rear of the overhang. If she failed to intercept it and it ran outside, it would be highly visible and therefore easy to track down on the slopes that bordered the gully.

  As she rounded her mount's head, it lifted its snout to sniff lazily at her, then closed its eyes and resumed its resting posture. She expected to see the prowler huddled against the back wall, or racing for the gulch beyond. What she saw instead was a pair of legs vanishing beneath a protruding shelf of rock near the rear of the overhang.

  A quick backward glance showed her companions chatting or preparing for departure. If the little thief thought he could hide in a hole, he was very much mistaken. She was not so easily deceived. Dropping to her knees, she went in after it. If she could get a hand on one of those small feet, she was sure she could drag the intruder back out.

  Unexpectedly, the hole opened into a fissure that ran back into the hill. Light filtered down from above. At that point she hesitated. Cornering the thief in a dead-end recess was one thing; chasing it down a slot canyon of unknown extent quite another. But-they needed every bit of their supplies. And every second she lingered put more distance between herself and the thief.

  Determined not to let the prowler get away, she rose to her feet and raced after it. If the rocky cleft branched off into multiple passages, she would have to terminate the chase and return, defeated, to her companions. On the other hand, if it dead-ended somewhere not far ahead, she would have the furry bandit cornered.

  Though clearly cut by running water, the crevice cooperated by not splitting into different branches. Agile though he was, the intruder was slowed by his ill-gotten burden. He never managed to slip entirely out of her sight. In fact, she was gaining on him noticeably when he suddenly turned to confront her. Jumping up and down, he proceeded to unload on her a series of furious squeals that she struggled to translate. The dialect was far more difficult to decipher than the comparatively sophisticated speech of the city, the idiom spoken by Kyakhta and Bulgan, or even the rough variant that was employed by the wandering Yiwa.

  "Get back, get back, go away, go away, leave alone, leave alone!" In addition to these straightforward exclamations there were also numerous rapid-fire individual phrases that proved beyond her capacity to interpret, but whose general implication could be inferred from the vaguely obscene gestures that accompanied them. On careful consideration, Barriss did not believe any were intended to be flattering. Such imprecations and insults didn't bother her.

  What did were the dozens of echoing comments and cries that emanated from the thief's cohorts, who by now lined both sides of the crevice's upper rim. Yelling and screaming, they hurled, exceptionally inventive epithets down at her while their absconding colleague stood his ground and assumed a posture of unmistakable triumph.

  The sight of them was as astonishing as it was unexpected. Despite their diminutive stature, proportionately slightly larger eyes, and full fur body covering, the similarities to the dominant Ansionian race were unmistakable. Her little thief and his comrades clearly represented a distinct branching of Kyakhta's and Bulgan's species, a dwarf genetic offshoot. Already she'd recognized their speech as a variant of the Ansionian norm. Every one of them, she noted, boasted a different pattern in its fur.

  The cleft in the hill was a dead end, all right. For both thief and pursuer. But he was the one with the swarm of allies. It occurred to her that not only did her companions not know she was in trouble, they didn't even know where she was. Master Luminara would be displeased. Cautiously reaching for her lightsaber, Barriss hoped fervently that she would be able to accept that displeasure in person.

  "Hahaheehee!" With unflagging energy and enthusiasm, the thief was jumping wildly up and down. "Tooqui fool you, fool you! You trapped good now, you big back-bald bully-goo! Squinty-eyes! Syrup-stink! What you do now now?"

  That depended entirely, she knew, on what the thief's com rades did next. If she backed slowly down the crevice, retracing her steps, would they track her retreat from above? Or would they immediately lose interest in lieu of scrambling down to fight one another over a share of their successful colleague's plunder?

  The answer came in the form of a hail of stones. None was particularly big, but she would only have to catch one fist- sized rock between the eyes to be knocked senseless. Derived from her training, her response was pure reflex. Raising a hand, she concentrated hard, hard.

  The flung stones hit the sides of the narrow cleft. They struck the floor at her feet. But none made contact with her. She was too busy focusing on deflecting the missiles to wonder how long she could maintain her concentration. Sweat began to bead on her forehead. She couldn't spare the energy to yell for help. Given the twists and turns in the cleft and the distance she'd come, she doubted her shouts would be heard by her friends, anyway.

  She was on her own.

  Apart from the actual, very real danger, it was a strange feeling. This was the first time she had been attacked by herself, not counting the abduction in the Cuipernam shop. Involving as it had nothing more threatening than a soporific mist, that had been a relatively benign assault. This was completely different. The howling, gesticulating creatures on the gully rim above her were doing their utmost to split her skull.

  Wouldn't they ever get tired? she wondered. The
strain was beginning to tell. She felt herself growing dizzy from the effort. If they saw, or sensed, that she was weakening, they might redouble their efforts.

  If she went down, it was entirely possible that nobody would find her. Words would have to be said over her demise in the absence of a body. Those she had known and studied with would grieve, wondering what had happened to her on distant, suddenly critical Ansion.

  Just as she felt she was going to pass out from the strain, the barrage slowed, to finally cease altogether. Overhead, the assembled creatures turned from attacking her to jabbering excitedly at one another. Occasionally, one would point down at their intended target standing cornered below. At such moments she strove to project an air of complete confidence, even indifference. The pain in her head was beginning to fade. She saw one of her assailants shove another. A couple of fights broke out among the stone throwers-all long slapping fingers and angry tiny fists. Apparently, her assailants were a fractious bunch.

  Hoping she remembered enough of the language course and still keeping a wary eye out for the odd hurled rock, she tilted her head back and addressed them forcefully.

  "Listen to me!" Stunned debaters immediately ceased their arguing. Several dozen wide-eyed faces turned to look down at her. "There's no need for us to fight. My friends and I mean you no harm. We're not from this world, from Ansion. We're humans, and we'd like to be friends. Understand? Friends." Turning slightly, she pointed back the way she'd come.

  "Two of my companions are Jedi Knights. I and one other are their Padawans, their apprentices. We also have two Alwari guides with us."

  She should have stopped with her own identification. At the mention of the guides, the assembled group resumed their leaping and howling-though not quite as vociferously as before, she noted. She struggled to keep up with the meanings of their overlapping cries.

  "Hate Alwari!. . Alwari bad, bad, bad!. . No Alwari here!. . Kill Alwari!. . Alwari go away, away!…" A few picked up and brandished fresh stones.

  She raised both hands. "Please, listen to me! The two Alwari who travel with us are not only from another part of this world, they're clanless! They are completely under the control of myself and my friends and will not harm you. We just want to be friends!"

  The flourished stones were not set aside-but they were low ered. Once more the creatures lining the rim resumed their internal bickering. If not for their uninhibited belligerence, they really were quite attractive, she decided, in the diversity of their full-body fur. Eventually the squabbling diminished, though it didn't cease entirely. A gray-coated individual, clearly an elder, leaned over the rim of the crevice to peer down at her.

  "You strange person, you is. What a 'Jedi Knight'?"

  "What a 'human'?" exclaimed another, interrupting. Suddenly she was inundated by a volley not of stones, but of queries.

  Wrestling with her limited local vocabulary, she did her best to answer them all.

  Meanwhile, the singular thief who had triggered the con frontation stood with his back facing the cleft's dead end, still clutching his cumbersome spoils. "Haja-what about me? What about Tooqui?" He tried to raise one of the big foodpaks over his head but succeeded only in dropping it on his right foot. Now much more interested in asking questions of the tall stranger, his comrades ignored him. Putting down his burden, he began hopping about furiously, waving long- fingered fists at those gathered overhead.

  "Listen to me! Talk to me, not this ugly beady-eyed one! Jnja, I'm talking to you, you noisy stupid heads! It's me, Tooqui! Listen to me!" In his uncontrolled rage at being ignored by his fellows, he was all but bouncing off the narrow enclosing walls.

  Meanwhile, Barriss continued to reply to as many of the thief's now inquisitive companions as her limited knowledge of their language would allow. She learned that they were called Gwurran, that they lived in the caves and crevices that ran through these hills, and that they hated the Alwari nomads.

  "Not all nomads are bad," Barriss told them. "The Alwari are like any other people. There are good people among them, and bad people. My kind, humans, are no different. There is good and bad in everyone."

  "Nomads kill Gwurran," one of the tribespeople informed her. "Gwurran have to live here, in hill country, to survive."

  "Not our nomads," she countered. "Like I told you, they come from far, far away. I'm sure they've never hurt a Gwurran in their lives. They may never even have seen one of your kind." Even as she said it, she fervently hoped it was true. It was hard to imagine the thoughtful Kyakhta or the kindly Bulgan ever showing such unreasoning hostility to a cousin, even in their formerly addled condition. "Why not come and see for yourselves? Come back with me and meet my friends. We'll have a party. You can try some interesting food."

  Her assailants exchanged dawning glances. "Party?" someone murmured hopefully.

  "Food?" exclaimed another expectantly.

  ". . is anybody listen to me?" Having spent some time now bouncing off the walls, the Gwurran who called himself Tooqui was out of breath and out of energy. "This Tooqui talking. You know Tooqui. Tooqui who-" Dumping his ill- gotten gains indifferently to one side, the thief sat down on the gravel floor of the fissure and exhaled deeply. "Ah, moojpuck! Nobody care. Gwurran bunch of brainless bonehead stupids." Thrusting an accusing finger at Barriss, Tooqui raised what was left of his voice.

  "This all you fault, you small-head outland big-lips! You twist word noises, make friends forget Tooqui. I hate you."

  She walked toward the disheartened thief. Everyone on the rim above went suddenly quiet. As for the talkative Tooqui, seeing the much larger stranger approach, he picked up one of the foodpaks and backed up as far as he could.

  "You keep away from Tooqui, you long-leg ugly bean thing! Tooqui fight you! Tooqui kill!"

  Halting, she indicated the foodpak he held awkwardly in a throwing position. "Not with a few packets of dehydrated energy pudding, I don't think." To make herself less intimidating, she knelt, bringing her face as close to the Gwurran's level as she could manage. It was a risk. While concentrating on the thief, she couldn't keep an eye on his rock-armed comrades overhead. If they chose to bombard her while she was talking to him, she wouldn't be able to defend herself. But as Luminara had often told her, it was difficult to accomplish anything worthwhile without the taking of a risk.

  Little did she know that at that very minute, on distant Coru-scant, a group of extremely powerful and very determined individuals were contemplating that exact same conundrum- though for them, the stakes were inconceivably higher.

  "I don't want to hurt you, Tooqui. I want us to be friends." She nodded up at his comrades who lined the top of the fissure. Some still held rocks in their small but strong three-fingered hands. She fought not to show her nervousness. "I want all of us to be friends."

  The Gwurran hesitated, aware that his fellow tribesfolk were following with great interest the confrontation being played out below. "You not hurt Tooqui? You not angry with him?"

  She smiled engagingly. "On the contrary, I admire you for what you did. I imagine it's not every Gwurran who would be so bold as to try to steal in broad daylight from a party of tall, strong offworlders like myself and my companions."

  Though still uncertain and continuing to eye her guardedly, he slowly lowered the foodpak and moved away from the wall. "Jaja, that true so. Nobody but Tooqui brave or clever enough to do it." He came a little closer. "Tooqui bravest brave of all Gwurran."

  "I don't doubt it," she responded, repressing a smile. "Actu ally, I think you're kind of friendly."

  He took immediate offense, standing as tall as he could. This brought his face up to the level of the Padawan's stomach. "Tooqui not friendly! Tooqui most fierce ferocious slayer of all Gwurran enemies!"

  "I'm sure you are," she agreed, reaching out to brush the fur on his forehead from back to front. He stumbled away from her, flailing irately at his head as he struggled to smooth down his ruffled fur.

  "Don't do that! Don't touch Tooqui."
Fur once more flattened and smoothed back, he glared up at her out of bulging, orange-tinted eyes. "Tooqui have much dignity."

  "Sorry." She lowered her offending hand, palm upward. "Now, if you and I are going to be friends, Tooqui, and if you're going to join the party, you have to return what you took."

  The Gwurran eyed the three foodpaks uncertainly. "Tooqui work hard for to steal this stuff."

  "Take my word for it, you wouldn't like it anyway. At least, not until it's been properly rehydrated. If you'll come back with me, I'll see that you're the first one who gets to taste it."

  "First one? Tooqui be first?" His single nostril sniffed at the pak he still held. "Tooqui always first."

  In your own mind, anyway, you sly little sneak. "It's settled, then? You'll come back with me, we'll be friends, and we'll have a party?"