by Troy Denning
Still fighting a sluggish yoke and an out-of-control spiral, Han dropped them back toward Tenupe and continued toward the planet at an oblique angle.
“Uh, Han?” Leia sounded worried. “What are we doing?”
“This d-d-doesn’t make any ssssense,” Han said. The yoke had started to shake again, and he was fighting to keep it from swinging around at random. “They know our plan. They ought to be coming after us hard.”
“Han, this is hard.” Leia’s gaze was fixed firmly forward, where a green sliver of planetary horizon was slowly rolling around the edge of the viewport as the Falcon spiraled toward Tenupe. “There’s a whole task force after us.”
“That’s what I mean,” Han said. “You saw that battle down there! Do you think the theater commander really wants Jag wasting his time chasing us right now? They should just blast us back to atoms and be done with it.”
“They won’t need to,” Leia said. “Han, we’re heading for—”
“Whoever double-crossed us made them promise to take us alive,” Han continued. The boiling red curtain of a Star Destroyer barrage blossomed ahead, jolting the Falcon and spreading spots before his eyes. “Leia, it had to be someone close to us.”
“Okay, Han!” Leia pointed forward, where the hazy blur of Tenupe’s atmosphere was whirling around the center of the viewport. “But what are you doing?”
“Just what it looks like—a planet-skip.” Han activated the intercom. “Hold on back there!”
An instant later, tongues of red flame began to flicker over the viewport as they entered the thin gas of Tenupe’s upper atmosphere. The Falcon bucked so hard that Han slammed against his crash harness, and the clamor of flying gear echoed up the access corridor. Han fought against the sluggish controls, struggling to keep the ship’s spiral from growing any tighter and faster…and that was when the yoke went loose.
Before Han realized it, he had pulled it completely back against his thigh, and the Falcon was flipping out of its spiral in a weld-popping wingover. He quickly moved it back to center…and the wingover gradually slowed.
The Falcon stopped about three-quarters of the way through her roll and hung there, then languidly began to drift back toward upright—now headed straight for a rolling barrage of megamaser blossoms. Han pushed the yoke all the way forward, trying to dive under the fiery wall of death, and could only grit his teeth as the Falcon dropped her nose a mere five degrees.
Leia leaned over and grabbed Han’s hand. “Han, I love—”
The barrage vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving nothing ahead of the Falcon but the blotchy red surface of Tenupe’s moon.
“Yeah, me, too.” Han pulled the throttles back to the overload stops, gripping the handles tightly to keep his hands from shaking. “See what I mean? They killed that barrage to keep from vaping us.”
“Yes. Okay. I believe you.” Leia’s voice was still shaky. “They promised someone not to kill us.”
“Yeah.” Han’s tone was bitter. “I wonder who that could have been?”
“You’re thinking Omas?”
“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Han said. “Cal Omas would sacrifice us in a minute if he thought it would convince the Chiss that the Alliance isn’t at war with the Ascendancy.”
Leia shook her head. “Why would he bother making them promise to keep us alive?”
“Because he needs the Jedi, too,” Han said. The moon ahead had swelled into a lumpy, fist-sized ovoid laced with a spidery web of dark rifts. “And if his double cross ever comes out, Omas would never be able to make peace with Luke if we were dead.”
Leia frowned. “Maybe…”
“Look, it’s either him or Pellaeon or someone in the Jedi,” Han said. “And Pellaeon never double-crossed anyone, even when he was an Imperial.”
“I guess, when you put it like that.”
Leia still sounded doubtful, but their discussion was interrupted by Jagged Fel’s astonished voice.
“I’m finally starting to understand Jaina,” he said. “Insanity runs in her family. Only a madman would attempt a planet-skip in a damaged ship.”
“Han’s not crazy,” Leia said. “Just good.”
“I’m sure you believe that, Princess Leia,” Jagged said. “But I’m warning—no, I’m advising—you not to attempt taking refuge in that moon cluster.”
“Moon cluster?” Han peered more closely at the red lump ahead and saw that the rifts might, indeed, be interstitial spaces. He deactivated his comm microphone, then asked, “What the blazes is that?”
“I’ll find out,” Leia said, reaching for the terrain mappers. “In the meantime, stall.”
“Stall Jag?” Han turned his microphone back on, then commed, “Thanks for the advice, Jag, but we were planning on going around anyway.”
“Really?” Jagged sounded smug. “Then the Falcon must be even faster than Jaina always claimed.”
Han glanced down at his tactical display and saw that the Zark Squadron had taken advantage of his planet-skip to put on their own burst of acceleration. They had stopped firing—a sign that they now felt certain of a successful capture—and were arrayed in a semisphere around the Falcon. The squadron’s escort was not far behind, and the Star Destroyers had already closed to within tractor beam range of the moon cluster’s near side.
Han cursed under his breath, but said, “Just watch, kid. You’ll be surprised.”
“I have no doubt,” Jagged said. “But please believe me about the moon cluster. It’s gravitationally unstable. Every one of our scoutships has been smashed flat. You’ll be much safer surrendering to us, and I give you my word that we won’t torture or humiliate you during your interrogations.”
“Thanks, that’s real good of you,” Han said. “Let me think it over for a second.”
Han closed the comm channel, then experimented with the yoke, pushing it around and feeling almost no reaction from the Falcon.
“How bad is it?” Leia asked. She was still staring at the terrain mapper, frowning and adjusting the controls.
“Bad,” Han said. “How about those moons?”
“Even worse than he said.” Leia looked out at the moons, which were close enough now for her to see that they were all shifting around, bumping against each other. “It looks like something shattered the old moon into fifty or sixty pieces. It must still be in there, because I’m detecting…”
Leia let her sentence trail off, then gasped and stared out the viewport.
“Yeah?” Han asked.
Leia raised her hand to quiet him, then closed her eyes in concentration.
Han frowned and leaned over to look at the terrain scanners. He saw only the shattered moon she had described, with a density reading near the center that suggested a metallic core—probably whatever had shattered it in the first place. He tried to be patient, waiting for Leia to do whatever Jedi thing she was preparing, but they were running out of time. The two Star Destroyers had activated their tractor beams and were already reaching out toward the moon cluster, trying to block any chance the Falcon had of slipping into one of the crevices.
Han activated the intercom. “Somebody back there get to the repulsor beam now! We’ve got some rocks to move out of—”
“Han, no!” Leia opened her eyes and turned to him, shaking her head. “We have to surrender!”
Han frowned. “Look, I know the yoke’s a little sloppy—”
“It’s not that.” Leia reached over and pulled the throttles all the way back. “It’s Raynar and the Killiks—those moons are teeming with insects!”
EIGHTEEN
The Jedi StealthXs appeared—as always—as though by magic, an entire wing of dark X’s hanging against the crimson veil of the Utegetu Nebula. They floated there for just an instant, then drifted over to the black ribbon of a stellar dust cloud and vanished, darkness merging into darkness. It all happened so quickly that any picket ship pilots who happened to be looking in that direction would blink, question w
hat they had seen, and check their instruments. And their instruments would assure them that their eyes had been mistaken.
The StealthXs continued their approach in full confidence that they remained undetected, and soon the bright disk of the yellow planet Sarm began to swell in the forward panels of their cockpit canopies. The Jedi pilots kept a careful watch for sentries—both on their sensor screens and by reaching out in the Force—and easily avoided a single inattentive blastboat operated by pirates. The StealthXs reached Sarm unobserved…and unsettled. The Jedi knew better than to underestimate a foe—especially during a war. The Killiks would not leave themselves exposed like this without good reason.
As the wing drew nearer the yellow planet, a network of ancient, world-spanning irrigation canals grew visible on the surface—all that remained of the beings who had inhabited Sarm before being blasted from the galactic memory by the Utegetu Nova. The Jedi had time to ponder those channels as they closed on their destination, reflecting on the destiny of civilizations in a violent universe, glimpsing the anonymous end to which every culture ultimately came. What did battles matter when a galactic burp could erase whole civilizations? Could any amount of killing ever change the fundamental brutal transience of existence?
Perhaps the Killiks knew the answers. After all, they lived in harmony with the Song of the Universe, killing and being killed as the melody demanded, abounding and vanishing, fighting and dancing as the mood moved them. They did not concern themselves with right or wrong, feelings of love and hate. They served the nest. What benefited the nest, they desired. What hurt the nest, they exterminated.
Not so with the Jedi. They struggled with their fates, worried over whether something was moral or immoral, peered into the future and tried to bend it to their desires. And then, when their grasps slipped and the future snapped back in their faces with all the force of an impacting meteor, they were always so surprised, always so shaken, as though their wills should have been strong enough to steer the course of the galaxy.
And so the Jedi continued toward Sarm in their StealthXs, silent and grim of purpose, readying themselves to kill and be killed, to sing in their own way the Song of the Universe. Their targets came into view just as Admiral Bwua’tu’s intelligence officer had promised, eleven pale spheres in orbit around the planet, each the size of a Super-class Star Destroyer, all but one enveloped by the diffuse Force presence of a Killik nest.
The StealthXs swung wide around the planet, positioning themselves to descend on the nest ship with no Force presence. It was in the lowest orbit, where it would be screened from attack by the rest of the fleet. That was the Dark Nest’s vessel, the one where Lomi Plo would be hiding, and Luke’s plan was simple. The Jedi would sneak into position around the vessel and wait for Admiral Pellaeon to arrive with the Megador and the rest of the Alliance strike fleet. When he did, they would destroy any craft attempting to leave the Gorog nest, and then they would go inside and flush Lomi Plo from her den.
But Sarm was too quiet. There should have been smugglers and membrosia runners flitting in and out of the nest ship hangars, and an entire flotilla of pirate vessels hanging in orbit. There should have been maintenance barges hovering over the nest ships, repairing the damage the Jedi had inflicted at the Murgo Choke. Instead, the fleet looked almost abandoned. Save for the presences they felt in the Force, the Jedi would have believed it was.
Then blue halos of ion efflux appeared around the sterns of the nest ships, and the vessels began to accelerate. Now the Jedi understood the reason Sarm was so quiet. The Killiks had already repaired their battered fleet. They were breaking orbit and deploying to challenge the Alliance blockade.
Luke dropped into a power dive, swinging wide around two nest ships to avoid the sharp eyes of the Killik sentries. Mara and Jacen and the other Jedi followed close behind, grasping the change of plan through their combat-meld. Kenth Hamner took his squadron and circled back behind the first two nest ships, decelerating so their attack would hit at the same time as Luke’s. Kyle Katarn’s squadron peeled off and started for the far side of the planet. Tresina Lobi and her squadron broke in the opposite direction, heading for the front of the Killik fleet.
The remainder of the wing continued toward the original target: the Dark Nest of Lomi Plo. As they descended, Luke allowed his alarm to fill his thoughts and reached out to Cilghal in the Force, trying to impress on her the urgency of the situation. She was still aboard the Megador with Tekli and the collection crews, and Pellaeon would listen if she told him the attack fleet had to jump now. She seemed at first surprised by Luke’s contact, then worried, but quickly focused on what he was trying to tell her and returned his touch with reassurance.
The Gorog nest ship grew steadily larger in Luke’s forward viewport as he drew nearer, and soon its pale ovoid began to obscure Sarm’s yellow surface. The planet took on the appearance of a huge, golden halo behind the immense vessel. Luke pointed the nose of his StealthX straight at the ship’s heart, using its own shadow to shield his squadron from Sarm’s planet-glow.
The strategy did not prove very effective. Insect eyes were especially adept at detecting movement, and barely a moment passed before R2-D2 scrolled a warning across Luke’s display. TARGET ENERGIZING WEAPON BATTERIES.
“Thanks, Artoo,” Luke said. The three squadrons broke in different directions, then broke again and split into shield trios. “Good to have you riding the socket again, old friend.”
IT’S ABOUT TIME, R2-D2 replied. YOUR SURVIVAL HAS BEEN IMPROBABLE WITHOUT ME!
“There have been a few close calls,” Luke admitted.
The nest ship was close enough now that Sarm had completely disappeared behind its pale orb. Luke could see a double row of turbolaser barrels protruding up from among the knobby heat sinks that covered its hull. The smaller weapons that would be attacking the StealthXs remained concealed in a grid of dark shadows.
Luke began evasive flying, leading his shieldmates on a random, wild descent toward the target. Mara and Jacen followed as though their controls were linked to his, entering each roll almost before he did, coming out behind him so quickly their transponder codes looked like a single entry on his tactical screen.
A burst of elation filled the battle-meld as Kenth Hamner’s squadron attacked. The tactical display showed repeated detonations in the sterns of three nest ships, and a string of white flashes erupted in a high orbit behind Luke’s squadron. But none of the vessels seemed to be slowing down.
“Artoo, are they deploying—”
A sharp whistle filled the cockpit as R2-D2 warned that the Gorog had opened fire. Luke was already dodging, his hands and feet reacting even before he saw the laser bolts flashing up from the shadows. He rolled away from the burst and took a flak-shell in the forward shields. Mara reached out to him in concern, ready to move into the lead.
No need. R2-D2 already had the shields back at 90 percent. Luke followed the line of laser bolts visually down to their source, then reached out with the Force and shoved the cannon barrels aside. The deadly stream of color changed direction and began to pour harmlessly into space.
Mara made Luke’s day by seeming impressed—at least that was what it felt like through their Force-bond. Then Jacen redirected a stream of mag-pellets and somehow located the flak-guns and pushed those aside, too. Mara seemed almost awed.
Luke sighed, then checked his tactical display. He saw no indication that the nest ships were doing anything except continuing to accelerate.
“Artoo, any sign of dartships?”
R2-D2 trilled a sharp response.
“Take it easy,” Luke said. R2-D2’s testiness made him wonder whether the droid truly was ready to return to combat service. “I just wanted to be sure.”
R2-D2 beeped a promise to make certain Luke knew the instant a dartship appeared, then scrolled an additional message across the display: YOU HAVE NO REASON TO DOUBT ME. I WAS ONLY FOLLOWING MY OWNER-PRESERVATION ROUTINES.
“I know that, Arto
o,” Luke said. “But you can’t protect people from the truth.”
WHY NOT? THERE ARE NO TRUTH EXCEPTIONS IN MY PARAMETER STATEMENTS.
A turbolaser strike erupted ahead, bucking the StealthX so hard it felt like they had collided with the nest ship—which they soon would, if the squadron did not launch its attack quickly.
“I’ll explain later,” Luke said. “Right now, arm the penetrator.”
R2-D2 beeped an acknowledgment, and Luke sensed the rest of his squadron lining up behind him. Basically a Jedi shadow bomb with a trio of shaped-charge warheads, the penetrator had been specifically designed to unleash a series of powerful, focused detonations toward the interior of a Killik nest ship.
A message appeared on the display announcing that the penetrator was live. Luke dodged past the fiery blossom of a turbolaser strike, then saw a pair of laser cannons flashing up from the dark crevices between a pair of spitcrete heat sinks. He Force-shoved the barrels aside, then released the penetrator and simultaneously used the Force to send the weapon smashing into the nest ship’s hull.
His canopy blast-tinting went black with the first detonation, but the two explosions that followed were so bright that they lit the interior of the cockpit anyway. Luke rolled away, then did a wingover and flew back along the attack line.
With no dartships to worry about, he was free to watch on his tactical display as Mara, Jacen, and the rest of his squadron released their penetrators in one-second intervals. Each bomb disappeared into the crater left by the previous one, driving the hole deeper down through the nest ship’s layered decks, wreaking increasing amounts of destruction and exposing more and more of the vessel’s interior to the cold vacuum of space.
By the time the last weapon detonated, the Gorog were in such a state of shock that all defensive fire had ceased within a kilometer of the impact area. Luke swung his StealthX around and found a cloud of steam, bodies, and equipment tumbling from the crater, so thick it obscured the ship’s hull. He could sense by the exhilaration in the meld that Kyp’s attack on the stern of the ship had also gone well, but there was a certain heaviness in Corran’s squadron that Luke knew all too well: a Jedi had fallen in the assault on the bow.