"No," Dorsk 81 said, pounding his fist on the table and astonishing everyone there. "Fifteen minutes will be enough--if you listen to me."
Kaell 116 sniffed. "Of course we will listen. We always listen."
Dorsk 81 leaned over the table and fixed his yellow eyes on the politician. "But this time you must hear. You must understand this, because the fate of our world and of the galaxy may be at stake."
Kaell 116 squirmed uncomfortably and then sat down. "Yes, yes, of course. We'll take detailed notes."
Before Dorsk 81 could speak, the door opened again, and a flood of outside light shone into the white chambers, sparkling off the crystal-embedded walls. Dorsk 81 turned to see the older and younger copies of himself, his predecessor and his successor at the cloning facilities. Both wore the uniforms of their profession and appeared confused at being summoned away from their daily tasks.
The older Dorsk 80 saw him and snorted. "I might have known."
The younger version looked first at the elder clone, then at Dorsk 81. "Why have you come back?" Dorsk 82 said.
Kaell 116 motioned for them to sit down. During the interruption, an assistant came in bearing cool beverages. The others gratefully took theirs and sipped, nodding their thanks.
Dorsk 81 ignored the sweating glass in front of him. "Kyp Durron and I just returned from the Core Systems," he said, speaking slowly and carefully.
"You should not go there," Dorsk 80 said.
Dorsk 81 looked at his predecessor and jabbed a finger at him. "Be silent and listen. This is important." Offended, the elder clone glowered.
"Kyp and I found a full Imperial fleet massed and ready to launch. We infiltrated one of their rallies and learned their plans. The Empire is back under the command of Admiral Daala. They will attack the New Republic within a matter of days. Until now, no one has suspected, and Khomm"--Dorsk 81 spread his arms to indicate the world--"is right on the fringe of the Core Systems. The Empire could strike here. You must prepare. Engage your defenses. Establish emergency plans."
Kaell 116 leaned across the table, putting his elbows on the salted surface. “Khomm has always remained neutral in these galactic conflicts, and we've never had problems before. I don't see why this should be any different."
"You don't have to see why," Dorsk 81 said. "Listen to me. Admiral Daala intends to attack where she is least expected. She knows Kyp and I heard her plans. This entire world is in great danger."
"Yes ... well." Kaell 116 stood up with a vague smile of dismissal. "We'll see what we can do, then. Thank you for bringing this to our attention."
"You can't risk this continued complacency,” Dorsk 81 said, growing impatient. "I have done and seen things you cannot imagine. Trust me in this: there is great danger."
Dorsk 80 stood to rebuke him. "You left us. Ages ago our predecessors determined that our society was the perfect model, but you felt you knew more than our forefathers. You've forsaken our ways for your own independence. Why should we listen to you? You have not listened to us. In all your escapades, where is the voice of wisdom? You'll never accomplish anything more important than what you could have done here."
Dorsk 81 turned to him. It was obvious that his elder presumed the vindictive words would destroy the younger clone's composure--but Dorsk 81 felt nothing but a sad pity at the narrowness of his elder's viewpoint.
"You're wrong," he said coldly to his predecessor, "and you will never see how wrong you are, because you are blind."
Dorsk 82 came over to him, and it appeared that the younger clone might actually believe part of Dorsk 81's warning. "We don't know how to make defenses," the younger clone said.
"But you've had that experience, you've had the training." Dorsk 82's yellow eyes flashed. "Perhaps you could stay here and help us establish our defenses? Then you would be here to defend us if you are indeed correct. If you're wrong, you could still stay and perform your old duties in the cloning facility ... until the threat has passed."
The younger clone's face held an ocean of hope. Dorsk 81 heard the plea and thought of his beautiful, peaceful homeworld, of the years he had spent as part of an enormous machine working smoothly, without worries, without threat. How could he abandon this place to its fate? But what if Dorsk 82's words were just a ploy, a desperate trick to get him to stay on Khomm so that all could be normal again?
"No," Dorsk 81 said, and stood up. He touched the cylindrical shape of his lightsaber inside the pocket of his work overall. "I am a Jedi Knight, and I have important work to do."
"And we must get back to the cloning facility," Dorsk 80 said sourly. "We know our place--and we have important work to do as well."
Dorsk 81 did not respond, but instead returned to their ship to meet Kyp Durron. As they departed in their shuttle, he looked across the misty vistas of Khomm with vague apprehension, a premonition that he would not see his familiar homeworld ever again. ...
During the brawl and confusion at the Imperial rally, Admiral Daala and Vice Admiral Pellaeon ducked into the nexus station's turbolift and plunged away from the frenzied mob. Daala breathed rapidly, cold air whistling through her clenched teeth. She couldn't believe it. "Jedi spies! Right in our midst. They heard everything."
Pellaeon nodded. "We'll have to reevaluate our security."
Daala shook her head, and flaming copper hair swirled around her. "Later. For now we must reconsider our plans." Then a grin cracked through her outrage as a new tactic occurred to her.
The turbolift stopped at a lower level, and Colonel Cronus strode up to them, looking harried. "They've escaped, Admiral," he said. "The perimeter defense droids fired on them and caused minor damage, but their ship still managed the jump into hyperspace."
Daala nodded at the short and compact colonel. Cronus appeared surprised that she hadn't ordered his immediate execution. "Have you tracked them?" she asked.
"Not completely, Admiral, but we did match their vector, and we believe there's only one place in the vicinity they would likely have gone: a planet called Khomm at the edge of the Core Systems."
Daala ran a fingertip along her lips. "Is it inhabited?"
"Yes," Cronus said, "though unremarkable. Its people were neutral during our previous conflict with the Rebels. However, we did match the physical appearance of the alien Jedi spy with the natives. Khomm must be more than just a neutral world if Jedi have come from there." Cronus's muscular chest and upper arms pressed against the seams of his tight uniform.
Daala strode down the corridor with Pellaeon and Cronus flanking her. She remained silent as the possibilities flickered through her mind. "I have learned that my strategy must be flexible," she said. "I failed before, but now I will adapt our plans quickly. Our fleet is ready to launch, is it not?" She glanced from Cronus to Pellaeon.
"Yes, Admiral," Pellaeon said, "for the most part. What remained for the next few days is personnel reassignment, inventory, supplies, and--” Daala cut him off with a sideways swipe of her hand. "Those Jedi spies heard that we were planning to launch in the next few days. Instead we shall launch immediately. Colonel Cronus,” she said, "you have the list of preferred targets for your Victory'-class fleet?"
"Yes, Admiral."
"Add the planet Khomm to the top of the list. Gather your forces and go at once."
Cronus shot a grin at her. "Yes, Admiral."
"Remember," she added sternly, "your orders are to strike fast and frequently in many different systems. Cause as much damage as possible, but your main goal is to create confusion, not to conquer. The Rebels will disperse their fleet to find you--while we approach the main target."
She turned. "Vice Admiral Pellaeon."
"Yes, Admiral?"
"You will take your fleet of Imperial Star Destroyers directly to Yavin 4 and proceed with its complete destruction. I will follow in the Night Hammer with sufficient force to occupy the Rebel base permanently." Her green eyes flashed at her two commanders. "I want the fleet launched within the hour."
Pellaeon and Cronus dashed off to their respective commands. At two minutes short of an hour, Daala's Imperial fleet was spurred into motion like a great slavering monster suddenly unleashed on the New Republic .
Like crimson projectiles the Victory'-class ships scattered across the orbital lanes of Khomm, their full turbolaser batteries directed at the cities below. Colonel Cronus sat in the command chair of Vice Admiral Pellaeon's former ship, the 13X, issuing orders to the gunners in his fleet. "Target the communication and observation satellites first."
The words were barely out of his mouth before a cleansing fire of turbolaser bolts scoured the blackness of space, obliterating silver dots of orbiting satellites and leaving behind spangles of debris.
"Now they're blind," he said, "before they even know what's going on." He sat back and pressed his hands together, pushing, performing his endless ritual of isometric exercises that pitted one muscle against the other to strengthen him, even as he sat and watched the massacre of Khomm.
He spoke through the comm channel to all ships. "Target weapons indiscriminately on the metropolis below. This is our first target, so let's make it memorable. Launch TIE bomber squadrons, and let's get busy."
He watched the hail of laser fire rain down through the atmosphere, and clouds of small fighters spewed from the hangar decks. Cronus observed the flurry of destruction. According to old intelligence reports, Khomm barely had token defenses. He doubted the inhabitants even remembered how to use them. They would wish differently after his fleet had finished.
"Quick and easy," he muttered. His arm muscles tingled with weariness from his exercises, but he pushed harder, making them ache.
After watching the battle for half an hour, Cronus signaled the other ships. "Hurry up," he said. "We have a lot of other targets on the list."
An uneasy Dorsk 82 left the cloning facility at the end of his afternoon shift, as he always did, while Dorsk 80 remained behind to put in an extra hour of work, making up for the loss of Dorsk 81--as he always did.
Predictability was comfort. On Khomm people lived by those words. But the younger clone kept hearing the statement of Dorsk 81 echo in his mind. Changing possibilities opened up ideas he had never considered. What if, against all previous history, the Empire did decide to attack their peaceful world? But why? he wanted to ask. What would it gain them?
He knew that question would be carefully considered and settled by Kaell 116 and the political leaders. It was their job. They had no other task but to make such decisions. Young Dorsk 82 was confident in the Khomm system. It had worked perfectly for centuries. He had no cause to doubt it now.
A moment later, rivers of fire spat down from the hazy white sky, setting the identical buildings ablaze and drawing destructive fingers across the perfect gridwork of the organized city. TIE bombers roared overhead at a pitch that struck terror into the cloned pedestrians. The ships dropped proton explosives that flattened entire blocks at a time. Flames scorched skyward as fuel tanks and kindling from the ancient constructions were set ablaze.
TIE fighters screamed down from the sky, firing laser cannons and strafing the terrified aliens who poured from their buildings but knew not where to go. Dorsk 82 fled into a narrow alley between two tall buildings. An unwise move, he supposed, with the imposing structures collapsing all around him. His mind was ablaze with shock and horror. Dorsk 81 had been right! Khomm had no plans, no defenses--and no chance. A proton bomb exploded above the buildings like a huge slapping hand that knocked walls down.
Dorsk 82 crouched near the ground, expecting the avalanche to crush him in an instant--but the flat wallslabs toppled against each other, forming a miraculous tent above him. Rock dust and fractured stones bit into his smooth skin. He supposed a bone or two was broken--a new experience for him in his gentle and predictable life--but he huddled in the unexpected darkness and waited as the screaming chaos continued around him for what seemed like an age, though he knew it must have been less than an hour.
The physical pain came to him as he tried to dig himself out from under the fallen slabs of rock. He was aching and sore, bruised and cut ... but he was alive. He moved the rubble away and emerged blinking into an early afternoon dusk caused by black smoke and orange flames.
He stood completely numb. He saw but could not comprehend the magnitude of the devastation around him. The shining cloning facilities were entirely gone, turned into a jumbled mass of molten girders and shattered crystalline dust--all that remained of the broad sheet-crystal windows that had once shone so brightly in the sun. Greasy smoke drifted to the sky like an accusing finger pointing at the Imperial fleet high in orbit.
Old Dorsk 80 had been inside the cloning facility, and the younger clone stumbled with sick apathy into the rubble, looking without hope for some sign that his predecessor had survived. This shock competed with the overwhelming consequences in his mind. The devastation of his entire world, the wreck of the cloning facilities--how were they to proceed now? How could his civilization continue after such a mortal wound? The survivors of Khomm--who even now moaned from the pain of their injuries or wailed from their grief as they staggered across the ruined metropolis--would have to change. And that frightened him as well.
Colonel Cronus watched the remaining fighters return to their ships. The burning world of Khomm lay beneath him like a festering sore.
He glanced impatiently at the time record and at the damage assessment for his fleet. Two fighters lost. Judging from Khomm's lack of defenses, Cronus assumed that the two downed TIE ships had been destroyed through accident, malfunction, or inadvertent friendly fire. He shook his head at the appalling weakness of the clone world. On his command station computer he punched up the coordinates of Admiral Daala's designated targets. He hoped all the raids would be as successful as this.
"Next system," he said. "Let's be on our way. We've got a schedule to keep."
NAL HUTTA
CHAPTER 44
In the middle of the night shift on the Escort Frigate Yavaris, General Wedge Antilles sat quietly in the command chair, relaxed but alert. Despite the yellow alert, the Yavaris seemed deceptively calm; the soldiers moved about their routines with calm efficiency. The glowpanels were dimmed, the sounds of movement hushed and muffled. The tension was thick, though invisible.
The alert status had been uninterrupted for a day. They had heard nothing, no word of an Imperial strike, no report from Crix Madine--and it was beginning to wear on them.
Qwi Xux crept up behind him on the bridge and squeezed his shoulders with her long, pale blue fingers. He flinched, startled, then reached up to clasp her hand against his shoulder. He turned to look into her deep indigo eyes. "Couldn't sleep either?" he asked.
She shook her head, and her feathery, pearlescent hair flickered. "The waiting is so hard," she said.
Wedge nodded. "Much as I hate war, at times like this I almost wish something would just happen."
And it did.
All at once.
Crix Madine's silent distress signal came in at emergency priority, tunneling through space, its specific frequency targeting the New Republic fleet. Signals went off at the communications console, which triggered automatic Red Alerts throughout the Yavaris.
Madine's implanted transmitter could give no details; it simply sent a distress. Wedge knew that General Madine, the Supreme Allied Commander for Intelligence, would have used it in only the most extreme circumstances.
He said, "We've got to go pull him out."
Qwi stood suddenly tense, blinking her large eyes. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. "That means he's found the site of the Hutt superweapon. We have to destroy it before the thing becomes operational. We can't let the Hutts or the Empire or anyone else have another weapon like the ones I used to design."
"You're right about that," Wedge said.
A viewscreen message instantly came from Admiral Ackbar on the Mon Calamari Star Cruiser. "This may be the beginning of the overall attack," Ackbar said, dress
ed in his fine white uniform and holding his flipper-hands out in a gesture of tension.
"Yes, Admiral. Shall we deploy the fleet? We can home in on Madine's distress and get there at top speed. We don't know what sort of situation he's gotten himself into--”
Before Wedge could finish, though, another broad-spectrum message swept across the communications systems, a second emergency signal, preempting all other transmissions across the New Republic Holonet. "This is Kyp Durron with an urgent message to the New Republic military!"
Wedge flinched, setting his teeth on edge.
Beside him Qwi held her composure, but he noticed her stiffen. Kyp had returned from the dark side in service of the Jedi way, and Qwi claimed to have forgiven him--but still the overeager Jedi Knight unnerved both of them.
Nevertheless, Kyp broadcast his message to anyone who would listen, raising the alarm. "My fellow Jedi Knight Dorsk 81 and I have penetrated the Core Systems. We've discovered a massive Imperial strike force ready to launch in the next day or so. Admiral Daala is commanding this fleet. I repeat: Admiral Daala is not dead as we had expected.”
"Their main target is said to be Yavin 4. Daala means to destroy all of the new Jedi Knights. Dorsk 81 and I are on our way to the Jedi academy at this moment to help with the fight. We request any assistance possible."
"So it's a two-pronged attack," Ackbar said. "The Hoth Asteroid Belt and Yavin 4. They must be confident in their ability to surprise us."
"We know about their plans now," Wedge said. "Should we split up?"
Ackbar rumbled. "That message was sent to the full New Republic fleet. We can perhaps hope for reinforcements--yet I believe we should divide our forces now. I doubt either of these attacks is a feint. I will take the Galactic Voyager and head to Yavin 4. You go and rescue General Madine. We cannot ignore the threat from the Hutts."
"Understood, Admiral," Wedge said.
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