Star Wars - The New Rebellion

by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  Three more red droids joined the first one.

  "I've never heard of it," the first droid said.

  "Me, neither," said one of the newcomers.

  "Well, it only happens with droids whose memories have never been wiped. I'm overdue, actually. I've been in the same state of mind probably too long. In fact, if you could just show me where the oil baths are located, I'll be on my way." 3PO started to walk toward the exit. Two more red droids blocked it.

  "Not so fast, old one," the first droid said. "No other protocol droid has shown up here like this."

  "How many droids do you know who've never gone through a memory wipe?" 3PO asked. "I almost had one on Cloud City many years ago, but a friend of mine found me in the trash and pulled me free. If that had happened, I wouldn't be here now. But I am here and—"

  "Do all protocol droids talk this much?" one of the red droids asked another.

  "Oh, no," 3PO answered. "It's a flaw in my model. I was rather hoping to find a solution without having to go through a wipe. You can't imagine what it's like, having all of your memories intact. It's rather wonderful, if you want me to be honest, but it's also a burden. Why, I can remember the first time I saw a gladiator droid. It must have been on Coruscant. That was before the Rebellion, of course—"

  "Let's wipe him," one of the new droids said.

  "No," the first droid said. "I'm curious. I'd like to know how a droid avoids memory wipes."

  "I have been very lucky," 3PO said. "I have a sympathetic master who believes that droids are unique creatures all by themselves."

  "He's lying," one of the droids said.

  "Maybe," another said. "Maybe not."

  "My master values me for what I am, and won't let anyone harm me."

  "Your master's the guy with the freighter?" the first droid asked.

  "Oh, no," 3PO said. "He's just someone I met. My master is—actually, I have several masters. I usually work for President Leia Organa Solo on Coruscant. But sometimes I work for the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker."

  "Then why are you traveling with someone else?"

  "He wanted me to come along because of my facility with languages. I persuaded him to stop here. I have my pilgrimage, you know." 3PO had managed to take several steps closer to the door. The droids nearest the door had parted. They were all watching him closely. Droids hated memory wipes. The fact that he had never had one intrigued them all.

  "Yeah, right," the first droid said. "And he listened to you."

  "Master Fardreamer is a unique man. Rather like Master Skywalker in that."

  "Skywalker," said one of the new droids. "Isn't that the one who was here before? The one we couldn't touch?"

  Another droid shushed the first.

  "Master Skywalker was here?" 3PO asked.

  "I thought you would know where your master is," the first droid said.

  "Well, he's not always my master. I thought I explained that."

  "You've explained a lot," the first droid said. "Except what you're doing here."

  "I explained that too," 3PO said. "If you'll recall, I said that I have returned to my origins."

  "The story would've worked, too," the first droid said, "if this factory made protocol droids a hundred years ago. But we only just started with protocol droids after the Empire collapsed. When the New Republic was up and running, the Master figured there'd be a greater need for you brainy types. So he added on."

  3PO took another step toward the door. The droids behind him closed the opening they had made.

  The first droid slid in closer, flanked by his red companions. "So," he said. "When a protocol droid gets a memory wipe, does he have to relearn all six million forms of communication?"

  "Of course not, that's hardwired in." Then 3PO realized what the droid meant. "Wait! Wait! I'm sure you won't have to give me a memory wipe. You don't know who I am. You can't touch me. It will be an intergalactic incident. My mistress—"

  "Won't matter anymore," the droid said. "You've never had a memory wipe so let me explain how it feels when you wake up. You view the world with fresh new eyes. Everything will seem so wonderful. You'll have your six million languages, and a whole new future. Won't that be nice?"

  "No," 3PO said as the Red Terror closed in. "I don't think that will be nice at all."

  FORTY-FOUR

  As Leia slipped into the tunnel, the feeling of being watched vanished. So did her confidence. She felt as if she were suddenly plunged into a mental darkness.

  The tunnel was beside a larger building, a stone tower that had fallen into disrepair. Many stones had fallen off the sides, making the tower seem gap-toothed. It almost looked as if it had been "rattled by a giant hand. The tower wasn't too far from the docking bay, but she wouldn't have found it on her own.

  Someone had been planting pictures in her mind.

  Not maps, exactly, and not accurate pictures of the way things were now, but of how they had appeared sometime before. The tower had no holes in it, the streets were full of people and mechanized vehicles, and flowers bloomed everywhere. Now there were no flowers, people, or vehicles. Just an ominous silence, and lots of destruction.

  The images had soothed her. She had checked her feelings. She knew the communication wasn't coming from Kueller. Every time he had sent something, she had seen his mask. She hoped they came from Luke. If not, she was prepared.

  She had her blaster and her lightsaber, and she was determined. She had only been this determined a few times in her life: when she went after the Death Star; when she helped the Noghri; and when Hethrir had stolen her children.

  She could feel Luke. His presence was somewhere near her, below her. The tunnel had been the correct direction.

  Only she didn't know why the images had disappeared.

  She slowly levered her way downward. The tunnel was made of stone too, and it smelled faintly musty. It hadn't been used in a long time. It was larger than she had expected from the images she had received. Somehow she had thought it would be a tight fit against her body. It wasn't. It was the size of a large room.

  Handholds and rusted metal functioned as a ladder on one wall. It almost felt as if she were crawling down a well. But she wasn't, if the images were to be believed. This was an old escape route for the builders of the tower. She should arrive on a main floor.

  The climb down took forever. She was glad she kept herself in good shape. Her arms and legs were getting tired from the repetitive motion. Every movement she made echoed in the wide expanse, and the farther she got from the surface, the darker it got.

  She reached with her mind, hoping to receive more images. But the blackness continued there too.

  She felt Luke just below her, and then she got bombarded with imagery:

  White, white, white creatures running in sunlight, the reflection off their fur dazzling.

  Roses. The scent of roses everywhere, and green leaves, and slithery food, real food. And water and sky.

  And a sense of joy so powerful it nearly made her lose her grip on the rungs.

  The sendings hadn't been coming from Luke. They had come from someone else. Luke's presence was a constant note below the joy.

  She hoped he was all right. She hoped she had made the right choice in coming here. She reached the end of the tunnel, and found herself standing on a ledge above a wooden trapdoor. The door had a rusted metal handle. She pulled, and the door groaned.

  Then it snapped open.

  Below she saw a giant white face, with a pink nose, a huge pink mouth, and blue eyes the size of puddles. Its mouth opened, and she pressed herself against the stone, reaching for her blaster as she did so.

  "It's all right." The voice belonged to Luke. "He's a friend of mine. I think he's just happy to see you."

  Then she frowned at it. The creature was white all over, like the creatures she had seen in the sunlight. The joy had come from it.

  "Would you tell him to move so I can join you two?"

  "It'll take a moment."


  The creature turned its head, and daintily—if something that size could be called dainty—stepped aside.

  Leia gripped the ledge and levered herself out. She found herself hanging in a corridor filled with blasters, a huge open grate, and the signs of a recent scuffle. Luke was sitting on the iron bars of the grate. His companion filled the hallway a few meters away.

  Leia dropped, careful to land beside the grate, and not in the open hole that seemed to extend forever.

  "What is this place?" she asked.

  "From what I can gather," Luke said, "it's some sort of dungeon. The Thernbee has been here a long time."

  Leia looked at the creature. Its gigantic tail swept back and forth, making a pounding sound each time it hit the wall. "You sent me the map," she said.

  "He doesn't speak," Luke said. "I'm not even sure if he understands spoken language. He's psychic."

  "And friendly, I trust," Leia said as she made her way to Luke.

  "Very friendly. Too friendly, sometimes." Luke watched her walk, which seemed to her a sign that he wasn't well. That and the odd greenish color of his skin. His clothing was torn and blackened, the edges of his hair were singed, and his artificial hand had lost all its skin. He had a splint around his left ankle. As she picked her way across the rungs of the grate, she saw that the back of his shirt was gone. Most of his skin was missing there, too. It was a running, pus-covered mass of sores.

  "What happened to you?" she asked.

  "My X-wing exploded," he said. He held a blaster in one hand, and several more were tied to him. The Thernbee was watching them, his tail twitching.

  Leia felt her heart skip a beat. "Imperial detonators," she said.

  He shook his head. "That doesn't feel right."

  "No, Luke, I saw them. They're in the computer systems."

  He sighed. She hovered over him, uncertain what to do. She had never seen him like this, wounded, exhausted, and hesitant.

  "The Alderaan is nearby."

  "I know," Luke said. "I'm sure Kueller knows too. I wish—" He stopped himself.

  "You wish I hadn't come. But I'm here now. We have to get you out of here."

  "He wants to kill us," Luke said. "If he kills us, he thinks he'll be the next Emperor."

  Leia smiled. "I'm no longer on the Council. No matter what he does to us, he won't be able to influence them."

  "It has nothing to do with the Council," Luke said. "It has to do with our Jedi abilities. He thinks that he has to defeat us."

  "Then why hasn't he tried to kill you?"

  "He needed me to bring you here."

  She glanced at the Thernbee. He was watching them. "Are you sure you can trust that creature?"

  Luke raised his head. "I forgot," he said. He closed his eyes. His forehead scrunched with concentration. Leia didn't like the lull. She picked up blasters, and attached them to her clothing as best she could. Then Luke opened his eyes.

  The Thernbee was standing. His tail had stopped wagging and was moving slowly, as if in confusion. It looked like a giant puppy, eager and uncertain as to what to do next.

  "Go home!" Luke said and waved his hand at it. "Please."

  The Thernbee took two steps and was suddenly beside him. Luke raised his hands over his head as the Thernbee licked him. Leia cried out, and the Thernbee backed off.

  "It's okay," Luke said to her. He smiled at the Thernbee and patted his nose. "Go home," he whispered.

  The creature jumped the open hole and ran down the hallway, leaving hundreds of large white hairs behind it.

  "Come on," Luke said. "Let's go to the Alderaan." His clothing was dripping.

  "Shouldn't we clean you off first?"

  Luke shook his head. "The Thernbee's saliva has some numbing properties. I know it hasn't healed me, but it improves my strength."

  "There's a long ladder up there," Leia said. "Think you can climb?"

  "Anything to get out of here," Luke said.

  "I don't understand," Leia said. "If Kueller wants us both so badly, why has this been easy so far?"

  "For you, maybe," Luke said. "But I wouldn't have gotten all these blasters without the Thernbee's help. Kueller had a dozen guards stationed at this grate. I think this is a lull while they go back for reinforcements. Let's make the best of this while we can."

  He stood slowly, and despite what he had said about the Thernbee's numbing saliva, Leia saw pain on his face. He gathered the last of the blasters, and tied them to his torn clothing. He limped to the space below the tunnel, looked up, and took a deep breath. Leia frowned. He would never be able to jump that distance.

  Then he closed his eyes, lifted his injured leg, and jumped. He landed gracefully on the ledge, and gripped the rung quickly, using the strength in his arms to brace himself. Extending his injured leg, he hopped up a few rungs.

  She frowned. She had never mastered that trick. The hole below was even deeper. "Luke—" she said.

  "You've done it before, Leia."

  "I can't do it now," she said.

  He climbed down the rungs and held out his hand. "I'll catch you."

  "Your back won't tolerate that," she said.

  "It will handle that better than lifting you up here." He peered at her, and was suddenly her strong, invincible brother again. "Come on. All you need is a bit of faith in yourself."

  She had little faith in herself, when it came to her Jedi talents. They were intermittent, and she hadn't been able to train them properly.

  "Leia." His voice sounded calm, but she could hear the urgency in the way he clipped her name. The old Luke, the boy she had met, would have shouted at her. The Jedi Master knew the value of calm, but the impatience still existed underneath.

  She closed her eyes. Instead of imagining the ledge, she thought about the hole beneath, and then realized that would send her into the deep darkness. She took a breath, cleared her mind, and pictured the surface with its broken rocks and high tower. From the corridor, she heard a scraping. Voices. Someone was coming.

  "Leia!"

  She crouched and then jumped, opening her eyes as she went. She was spinning as she shot past Luke. She missed the top of the tunnel by a meter, then started to fall.

  "Grab on!" Luke was shouting. Other voices echoed below. "Grab on!"

  She was still spinning, and that allowed her to move toward the walls. She reached for a rung, missed, and slapped her hand along several more rungs before being able to grab on.

  The jolt on her arm sent pain shuddering through her. She stopped moving with such force that she felt it along her spine, back, and neck. Luke was climbing toward her like a Wookiee, moving quickly despite the pain he must have been feeling.

  "Stormtroopers in the corridor," he said. "We have to get out before they think of going to the top."

  "They'll see the trapdoor is open."

  "Yeah, but they may not know where it leads," Luke said. "I don't think this place was built by Kueller."

  "I think you're right." Leia put the other hand on the next rung and climbed as quickly as she could. She felt shaken, but oddly exhilarated. She had done it. She had used the Force to help augment her own physical strength, just as Luke always told her she could do.

  The voices were getting louder, but Leia was nearing the top. She could see light ahead.

  "Hey, Leia," Luke's whisper sounded loud in the wide tunnel. "Good job."

  Praise, from Luke, meant a lot. "Thanks," she said. She glanced over her shoulder. Luke was pale, but he was making it. His back looked raw and painful. When he saw her, he grinned. Then he put a finger to his lips.

  Leia nodded and kept climbing. The light was fading near the top—the day had to be ending—but she kept moving. She knew she could find the Alderaan in the dark, but she didn't want to.

  The feeling of joy was leaving her. The Thernbee had to be far away by now. In its place was a very real concern for Luke, and an even bigger concern that Kueller hadn't shown up yet. If he thought Luke and Leia were such a threa
t, he would love to have them both together.

  But he didn't.

  She crested the top, pulled herself out, and surveyed her surroundings. The area was in twilight, and the air had a bit of a chill. Nothing had changed near the tower. The streets, the buildings, everything was empty.

  She turned and leaned over the opening to the tunnel to help Luke up.

  The emptiness bothered her.

  She remembered Kueller's words:

  / prefer simple, elegant weapons.

  Weapons that were hard to see?

  She grabbed Luke's right hand and pulled him out of the tunnel.

  She supposed she would find out.

  R2 had followed a maze of corridors, and passed a dozen protected computer panels. The numbers of panels had quadrupled. He was nearing the command center.

  This corridor was cleaner than the others. There were no other droids. A single scrambled announcement overhead warned about some kind of Terror.

  R2 moaned softly.

  The computer panels were lower in this corridor, and the protect circuits less sophisticated. The floor no longer had ruts for tread-well droids, but was smooth, designed for human or imitation human feet.

  He was close.

  He sped up. As he did, the walls all around him suddenly showed holos. Moving holos of a scene below. R2 kept going, but the information was instantly stored in his systems. He saw a freighter, and beside it, Master Fardreamer talking with Brakiss, a former student of Master Luke's.

  R2's highly sensitive electronic sensors picked up a whir behind him. Then he heard another, and another. They were nearly eight meters off, but closing quickly.

  He rolled into a closet off the corridor. As the closet door closed, though, the interior dropped like an express fighter for several floors. R2's delicate balance systems were thrown off and he tipped on two wheels, catching the top of his head against the wall. He was trapped.

  Then the closet hit the bottom of its shaft so hard that he tilted in the exact opposite direction. He brought down his third wheel and managed to balance himself even though his head was spinning. Literally.

  His sensors registered dark wall, dark wall, dark wall, door. Dark wall, dark wall, dark wall, door. Dark wall, dark wall, dark wall, door. Gradually he got control of his head, and found it facing the door when the door slid open.