Cannibalism. These X’Ting had eaten their own. There was no lower behavior, no more loathsome foe. The fear of being slain by an opponent was always present, a natural part of a warrior’s life. But the idea of being killed and then devoured … that was something different.
“I suggest we keep moving,” he said.
“I agree,” Jesson said, biting at the words. And they continued across the room.
Something moved. Obi-Wan couldn’t see it, or hear it—he felt it, a displacement of the air around them, a perturbation in the Force.
“I don’t think we’re alone,” he said.
Jesson reached for the three-sectioned staff slung across his back. The sections were of clear crystal or acrylic, connected by short lengths of chain. A club and a flail in one. Obi-Wan thought. He hoped the X’Ting used it superbly.
“That door,” Jesson said, indicating an opening on the far side of the room. This room, like the one above it, had a concave wall, but less sharply angled.
“Let us make our way there,” Obi-Wan said. “Swiftly. But I suspect that that is where our company awaits.”
Jesson’s lips pulled back from his teeth, displaying small, sharp, multiple rows. Obi-Wan would not care to have his arm caught in those jaws. “Let them come,” the X’Ting said.
Step by step they progressed across the floor. They were almost to the doorway when the air’s scent changed. Just a bit, a nose-wrinkling aroma drifting to them on the weakest of breezes. Something that dried tongue and throat, an acid tang reminiscent of stomach gases. Before he could consciously identify the smell, the first glowing eyes appeared. Glittering. Faceted, blinking at them from the darkness.
Then they were under attack.
Jesson dropped his lamp almost at once, and although it didn’t extinguish on hitting the ground, the light it gave was slanted and partial. The sparkle of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was more brilliant, increasing with the hum and flash when he met an opponent’s weapon or body.
These were X’Ting—the Jedi was sure of that—but X’Ting of a different variety than those he had seen until now. These were not specialized for combat: they were diggers, workers. The oversize jaws implied that they might have been the ones who produced the chewed substance that characterized the hive.
Most of them carried hefty metal pry bars. Weapons? Tools? For whatever purpose they had originally been intended, the bars would crack any bone they struck.
There was no more time for thought. The song of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was long and sour. X’Ting diggers fell before him like scythed grain. They hissed and came on, howling.
Obi-Wan measured his response, allowing them to come to him, then taking the aggressive posture when advantageous. Ferociously fast, the cannibal X’Ting attacked in a frightening wave, simply wading in swinging their metal bars, trusting in numbers to carry the day.
Against a Jedi, that was not enough.
The air around Obi-Wan hissed as his lightsaber swooped and twisted. After the first few moments he had adjusted to the pace and style of attack, and was able to determine a bit more about their adversaries. The first thing he realized was that they were nearly blind from years of groping in darkness, doubtless hunting by smell or hearing. His lightsaber’s flare frightened some of them, freezing them in place, making some hesitant to attack. Those who did not hesitate died hissing their hatred and fear.
Between strokes, between breaths, Obi-Wan spared fragments of attention to see how Jesson was faring.
The X’Ting warrior needed no assistance. He performed with a fearless, aggressive, almost weightless agility, kicking and punching in all directions with all six limbs. His weapon whirled like a propeller, almost invisibly fast. He held the three-sectioned staff first by one end, then by the middle, then by the other, swinging it and twisting it into defensive and attacking positions, and every time he moved, one of his enemies fell to rise no more.
He crouched, sweeping the feet of several creatures from underneath them, and when he came up, Jesson coiled into a ferocious attack position that mimicked a spider stalking the strands of its web.
Their attackers circled them, hissing and coiling as Obi-Wan and Jesson put their backs together and surveyed the horde.
“We can’t kill them all,” Jesson said.
“No,” Obi-Wan agreed. “But we don’t have to. Follow me!”
Without another word the Jedi plunged into the mass of cannibals, plowing toward the door. He struggled not to think about what would happen to them—or to Jesson, at least—if they were overwhelmed. It was better to stay in the realm of Form III, the lightsaber combat he had practiced for so long. It was better, and no less effective, for one who understood that defense and attack were two sides of the same coin.
Left, right, left—he deflected blows, shattered weapons, and severed limbs in a blinding, dazzling display that singed blazing lines in the darkness. Their enemies, though ferocious, were hampered by their near blindness; only an unnatural hunger drove them forward.
They seemed to be awakening in waves, crawling out of whatever dark holes they had entered. Had these things scavenged in the darkness, on the waste and garbage that every great city produces? Even Coruscant had its ghouls, gangsters, and homeless creatures who had abandoned the light to live in the fissures between social tissues. But the creatures swarming them now matched the worst that great world-city could offer.
“Run!” Jesson called, and they sprinted toward the doorway. The passage narrowed, and it was a bit harder for the cannibals to reach them, making defense that much easier. He could see the stairway now, only a dozen meters farther away.
Obi-Wan whirled 360 degrees; he glimpsed Jesson as he deflected and attacked, his three-sectioned staff cracking heads and sending their enemies scurrying for safety.
But then a mass of wriggling bodies threw themselves at Jesson all at once, and the warrior went down. Obi-Wan arrived just in time to stop a jagged spear from descending into his guide; his lightsaber flashed, leaving the attacker howling with a missing limb. Using the Force to hurl another aside, the Jedi Knight bent swiftly, helping Jesson up from the ground.
He did not know what fear looked like on the face of an X’Ting, but he was fairly certain that that was the dominant emotion in those faceted red eyes. Fear and certainty of death, and perhaps something else.
Obi-Wan released his grip and Jesson ran at the enemy, leaving his triple staff behind. At first Obi-Wan’s heart sank; then, as the Jedi watched, the X’Ting warrior disarmed the first cannibal who struck at him, wrenching a spear from the creature’s hands. Jesson whirled the javelin until it was nothing but a lethal blur, sending cannibals howling and scrambling into the shadows. He kicked and punched, feinted with his stinger, and then broke heads with his spear. Soon he had broken free and he and Obi-Wan were heading down a ladder, down a long narrow tube, into darkness.
4
Hand over hand, Obi-Wan and Jesson climbed down a hollow stone tube barely as wide as their shoulders. As he gripped each rung of the ladder in turn, Obi-Wan wondered: what would they do if the bottom was sealed? Or blocked? In such a terribly constricted space, there was no room to maneuver. The cannibals could simply drop rocks down on them until—
Then his foot touched the ground. Jesson reached the bottom a moment later, and they were out in a large rocky chamber.
Using his captured spear as a staff, Jesson led Obi-Wan away from the ladder, across a chamber as broad as a Chin-Bret playing field. Dim wreaths of mold illuminated some of the walls: immense statues lined the room, images of gigantic, regal X’Ting in various imperious poses, each of them at least thirty meters in height, some twice that size. He could just barely make out the insectoid features. Most were built into one of the walls in apparently endless array. A few were freestanding.
Despite the spear, Jesson was limping, the Jedi noticcd, and seemed winded. “We can rest, if you need to,” Obi-Wan said.
“No,” Jesson gasped. “I want to get as
far away from the entrance as possible.”
Obi-Wan looked back. “They don’t seemed to be following us,” he said.
Jesson stopped, his brow furrowed. “You’re right. I wonder why?”
Obi-Wan considered the possibilities, and didn’t like what came to mind. Under what circumstances did predators fail to pursue fresh meat into the open? “Are these other statues hollow?”
“Perhaps.” Jesson paused. “I think I have heard of this, yes.”
“Perhaps they live there. They could be watching us now.”
“But why don’t they pursue us?”
“Fear. Of us, or …” Suddenly, the cavern’s open floor seemed far too exposed and vulnerable for Obi-Wan’s taste. “Let’s keep moving, shall we?”
Jesson nodded agreement and led the way across the wide-open space between the ladder and their destination, a cavern wall some hundreds of meters distant. The ground beneath their feet was spongy, more like farm loam than rocky cave soil.
“This way,” Jesson said, and when they had crossed the cavern, he leaned against the wall, gasping for air.
As they took a breather, Obi-Wan looked back the way they had come. The vast statues were so shrouded in darkness that he could barely make them out. What a sight this chamber must be with full illumination! The one statue that had led them down into the chamber was largest of all, its outline fading into shadow. Was this an image of some great leader or Warrior, perhaps the last, great queen who had swallowed her pride to bring her people into the Republic’s arms …?
Jesson paused, taking a sip from a small flask of water. He shook his head, and drops of water flicked from the tuft of fur at his thorax.
“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked.
“No,” Jesson replied. He paused, then added, “Thank you for saving me.” He said it grudgingly, as if the words hurt his mouth.
“We are companions,” Obi-Wan replied simply. “Which way, now?”
“Well … the other entrance, the one that became sealed after a failed attempt, would be through these tunnels.” He pushed himself away from the wall, and they walked along the cavern’s far edge. Obi-Wan’s feet sank into the flaky soil with each step, a not entirely pleasant sensation. The soil grew harder, and suddenly they were on a meter-wide strip of rock climbing along the wall.
Obi-Wan was happy to be away from the soft cave floor. Something about it disturbed him. What exactly had happened here? His puzzle-solving mind worried at the problem from varied directions as the ground beneath them began to tilt up into a steeper incline.
They climbed along the ascending path for several minutes, finally reaching a tumble of rocks that buried the foot-path. There was no way around it. Obi-Wan peered over the side: they were now so far above the ground that his glow rod’s beam simply dissolved into darkness. Jesson poked and prodded at the rocks with the spear. “My brother must have tripped a deadfall here,” he said. A miniature avalanche, designed to protect the secret path. Jesson’s brother had followed a faulty map, or perhaps just made a mistake. Obi-Wan and the X’Ting scrambled up over the rocks and gazed down the other side. Jesson pointed up along the path. “That’s where the other door is. From here, everything looks all right.”
“I hope so,” Obi-Wan said soberly. “I don’t relish the idea of going back up through the statue.”
“Nor do I. All right. Good. We have our path of retreat secure … I think. Let’s follow the map.”
They went back down over the rock tumble, and then farther down the ramp. Gleaming in the lamplight were more statues of various X’Ting in heroic poses. Jesson studied them carefully.
“This is what we need,” he said. Then he began muttering to himself in his people’s clicking, popping speech.
Several of the engraved images depicted X’Ting with primary and secondary arms crossed, legs spread. Some were in male mode, and some in female. Around the heads of these full-size images were clusters of miniature engravings of similar design.
Suddenly Obi-Wan realized what he was looking at: hieroglyphs, images extracted from pictographs of X’Ting and Cestian environments. This was very old, the beginnings of written language. Jesson was reading the wall.
“Sounds and smells,” Jesson said. “Our culture is based on both. There is a code at work here, and if I can only remember my Old X’Tingian will we be able to find the next passage.”
He sniffed along the wall, studied, backed up almost to the edge of the ramp. Obi-Wan looked down into an inky void. They were fifty meters from the ground below. A bad fall.
“Shine the light higher,” Jesson whispered.
Obi-Wan did. There was another level of images up above the lower, and Jesson smiled. “Do you see these images? This says: We are not individuals, but of the hive. We are not to struggle alone, but shoulder to shoulder, and upon the shoulders of past hive heroes.”
Obi-Wan nodded. A fine sentiment.
“Please. Elevate me,” Jesson asked, setting his spear aside.
For a moment Obi-Wan assumed that this was a request for enlightenment, but then realized Jesson was being quite literal. He cupped his hands, and the X’Ting climbed up, balancing himself with all four hands spread against the wall, feeling around. Then his fingers found their objectives, and Obi-Wan heard a sharp clicking sound.
The wall slid back, and an opening appeared. Jesson boosted himself up and disappeared into the hole. For a moment Obi-Wan was worried; then Jesson’s head reappeared. “It’s all clear. A passage between chambers.” He held an arm down, and Obi-Wan passed him the spear Jesson gripped its shaft as Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him and leaped up to the opening. Then the X’Ting disappeared into the hole.
The hole was less than a meter wide, just large enough for crawling, but not much more. Darkness swallowed them completely, but Jesson shuffled ahead of him, and Obi-Wan had no option but to follow.
They were deep in the hive. The walls and ceiling were all of chewed stone. The roughly pentagonal tube branched off into numerous side tunnels. Again and again Jesson sniffed the path and found an old scent marker telling the way.
The roughness of the chewed surface threatened to abrade Obi-Wan’s hands, and the strain of staying up on his toes as they crawled was slowly burning the muscles in his calves and shoulders. The rasp of his breathing echoed in the tube, making the close spaces seem closer still.
Then Jesson sighed, a long, low sound. The X’Ting warrior was outlined by a dim radiance coming from somewhere ahead of them. He made a contented click-pop mutter, and dropped from sight.
5
Cautiously, Obi-Wan crawled forward until he reached the end of the tube, and looked out.
“Come down,” Jesson whispered.
There was no need to whisper. Nothing lived in this chamber. Its walls were crowded floor to ceiling with empty little pentagonal chambers, each just under a meter in diameter. An X’Ting larva hatchery? Obi-Wan crawled out and jumped down to another inclined ledge.
Jesson’s faceted eyes shimmered with tears. “This is one of the old breeding chambers,” he said. “We changed in so many ways after the Republic came. The hive was never the same. But this is as it used to be.”
Here the luminescent fungus was bright enough to give a misty view of the floor twenty meters beneath them. It was covered with broken chrysalis shells, some of which might have lain there for a thousand standard years. Had this place ever known brightness or the shining of a star? As Obi-Wan’s eyes adjusted to the light, he could see spires of rock that rose up irregularly through the soil beneath the cast-off X’Ting shells. Stalactites descended from the cavern’s roof.
“Is this the chamber?” Obi-Wan asked.
“The other side,” Jesson said, pointing across the way. “Through the next wall.”
Astounding. Clearly, only an X’Ting could find his way through this labyrinth. The royal eggs had indeed found safe haven.
The chamber was similar to that of the Hall of Heroes: created by w
ater erosion rather than by machines or the flow of lava. Despite its origin, the cubicles chewed in the rock walls implied that it had been modified by countless eons of hive activity, countless millions of willing workers. A thin, milky fog wreathed the floor, but through it he saw vast heaps and furrows of plowed dirt.
“How was the soil deposited here?” he asked. Usually soil was the result of plant and animal action degrading rock over time. Obi-Wan was surprised to find so much of it underground, away from a nurturing sun.
“Remember,” Jesson said, pointing at the walls with his spear, “thousands of generations of us lived down here. Just as we had builders, and warriors, and leaders, there were also those who chewed rock, their digestive systems creating soil in which we could grow our crops. For eons we lived here, and the interior of Cestus was kinder to us than the surface.”
Thousands of generations. A planet whose surface was sand and chewed rock, its interior rich soil.
Truly, the galaxy was beyond imagination in its variety.
They descended along this second ramp, and Obi-Wan found himself lost in thoughts of what all of this might have been like, back before the time of the Republic. He imagined the hive swarming with life, the royal pair presiding over…
Then Obi-Wan’s skin tingled, and he became instantly alert. A ripple in the Force, warning him. “On your guard,” he whispered.
Jesson’s primary and secondary right hands gripped his spear fiercely. “What is it?”
Obi-Wan held up his right hand, demanding quiet. He felt something, a tremor in the soft soil beneath their feet.
Soft. As it had been in the previous chamber.
Soft. As if it were constantly plowed up.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jesson said.
“Let’s go on to the other side,” Obi-Wan said.
“I don’t think we’ll make it.”
The ground trembled. A quake? “What is it?” the Jedi asked.
“Worms,” Jesson said, his shoulders quivering, his four hands knotting into fists. “I should have known. They were thought to have retreated deep into the ground since the time of …” He seemed reluctant to speak. “Well, that supposed Jedi, at least.”
The Cestus Deception: Star Wars (Clone Wars): A Clone Wars Novel Page 39