I'm used to doing this sort of thing."
Kyp could sense the difference in the air--his first indication that his
efforts to focus the Force were actually accomplishing something. He studied
every slight change in air currents, in the sluggish odors around the cell,
the myriad tiny sounds that echoed through the metal walls.
Stretching his mind through invisible webs of the Force, Kyp could feel a
surge from the guards when they walked past his cell. He could sense a
twinge each time someone dispensed the food tray through the door. But their
attitudes had changed. Over the whole ship he could catch faint ripples of
activity, tension, growing anxiety.
Something was about to happen.
Closer at hand, he understood a deeper gut-wrenching truth. The emotions had
been so clear in the guard stationed beside his door the previous sleep
period. Kyp Durron was not to be part of whatever activity the Star
Destroyers were preparing. A young man from the spice mines of Kessel could
provide no useful information; they had no reason to keep him alive.
Admiral Daala had already scheduled Kyp's termination. He had not much
longer to live. His lips curled back in an angry snarl. The Empire had been
trying to destroy him all his life, and now they were about to succeed.
When he heard voices outside his door, he sensed the barrage of their
uneasiness, the curdling plans of violence behind the forefront of their
minds.
He had no way to defend himself! Despairing, Kyp slid his head against the
cool metal wall of the door, trying to pick out a few select words of the
conversation.
'….scheduled for execution this afternoon."
'... know that. We are ... take him. Admiral ... authorization right here."
'... irregular. Why ... want him?"
"Weapons test ... target ... new concept ... vital to the fleet's new
armaments ... right away!"
'... need specific ... only a general authorization."
"No ... good enough!"
The voices rose, but Kyp couldn't make out more of the words. He tried to
decipher three voices talking all at once. Kyp made ready to lash out the
moment the door slid open. He knew he would be cut down by blaster fire in
no time--but at least it would be over, and he would be shot on his own
terms, not the Empire's.
'... check with ... first. Wait--'
Suddenly Kyp heard a thump and a muffled blast. A heavy object smashed
against the doorway. Kyp flinched back as the door whisked open. The dead
stormtrooper guard sprawled backward into his cell with a clatter of white
armor. A smoking hole oozed steam from the waist joint in the brittle
uniform. Another stormtrooper stepped inside holding the still-warm blaster
pistol. Beside him stood a willowy alien woman, looking delicate but
outraged at the same time.
"I hope that was sufficient authorization," the stormtrooper said, then
pulled off his helmet.
"Han!" Kyp cried.
"I really hate red tape," Han said, nudging the dead guard with his foot.
"Think you can fit into this uniform, kid?"
"No, I don't want one of the slow old ones!" Qwi snapped at the keeper of
the Wookiee work detail. Through the narrowed field of view in his
stormtrooper helmet, Han watched the delicate woman play the part of a
tough, impatient researcher.
The rotund man glanced at his hairy charges, unintimidated as if he were
accustomed to being shouted at by prima donna scientists. The keeper's face
looked like pale, wet clay.
Han fidgeted, sweating in the cramped uniform. The helmet had nose filters,
but the suit still smelled of body odor from its former owner. The
stormtroopers at Maw Installation lived in their uniforms and likely
disinfected the interiors much less often than they polished the exteriors.
The keeper shrugged, as if Qwi's impatience did not concern him. "These
Wookiees have been worked hard for over a decade. What do you expect from
them? They're all slow and worthless."
Han could see that most of the other Wookiees wandering around the hangar
bay had patchy fur and stooped shoulders, bringing them almost to the height
of a human. These slaves looked as if their will had been crushed over years
of harsh servitude.
"I don't want to hear your excuses," Qwi said. She tossed her head, making
the feathery pearls of her hair shimmer. "We've been ordered to get a lot of
work done before the fleet departs, and I need a Wookiee with some energy.
Give me that new prisoner you have. He'll do the work."
"Not a good idea," the keeper said, wrinkling his pasty forehead. "He's
unruly, and you'd have to double-check his work. Can't trust him not to try
sabotage."
"I don't care how unruly he can get!" Qwi snapped. "At least he won't fall
asleep on the job."
On the far side of the bay a tall Wookiee stepped out of a gamma-class
assault shuttle. He straightened from the cramped quarters and looked around
the bay. Han had to force himself not to yank off his helmet and call out
Chewbacca's name. The Wookiee seemed ready to strike, barely restraining
himself from flying into a suicidal rage. With his bare hands Chewbacca
could dismantle five or six TIE fighters before the stormtroopers took him
down. The keeper glanced at Chewbacca, as if considering.
"I have authorization from Admiral Daala herself," Qwi said, holding out a
curled hardcopy bearing Daala's seal. Han glanced at the other stormtroopers
standing guard in the engine pool. He could not invoke the same violent
"authorization" he had used to spring Kyp Durron from his cell.
Beside Qwi Xux, Kyp--wearing the smaller of the two stolen stormtrooper
uniforms--stood stock-still. Han knew the kid must be terrified, but Kyp had
snapped to attention and done everything Han suggested. Han felt a rush of
warmth inside, and he hoped Kyp could get out of here to the normal life he
deserved.
"All right, but you take him at your own risk," the keeper finally said. "I
won't be responsible if he ruins whatever you have him working on." He
whistled and motioned for a pair of stormtroopers to bring Chewbacca over.
The Wookiee growled in anger, glaring around with hard, dark eyes. He did
not recognize Han, nor did he know Qwi Xux. Chewbacca glared at them,
resenting another assignment.
"A little more cooperation!" the keeper yelled, then struck out with his
energy lash, burning a smoking welt across Chewbacca's shoulder blades.
The Wookiee howled and snarled but somehow restrained himself as the other
stormtroopers hauled out their blasters, ready to stun him if he went wild.
Han tensed, clenching his fists as much as the armored gloves would allow.
More than anything he wanted to shove the generating handle of the
energy-lash down the keeper's throat and switch it on full power.
But instead Han stood at attention, doing nothing, saying nothing. Like a
good stormtrooper.
The four of them marched out of the hangar bay. The keeper ignored them as
he strode to the other captive Wookiees and began to strike left and right
with his ene
rgy-lash, venting his anger. Han felt his stomach knotting.
Chewbacca kept looking from side to side, as if searching for his chance to
escape. Han just hoped they could get someplace private before the big
Wookiee decided to tear them all apart.
The doors closed, leaving them in a harshly lit white corridor. "Chewie!"
Han said, pulling off his stormtrooper helmet. After breathing through the
sour nose filters, even the musky scent of a Wookiee smelled sweet to him.
Chewbacca bleated in delighted surprise and grabbed Han in a huge hug,
wrapping hairy arms around him and lifting him off the floor. Han gasped for
breath, grateful for the protection of the armor. "Put me down!" he said,
trying to stop himself from chuckling. "If somebody sees you, they'll think
you're killing me! Wouldn't that be a stupid reason to get blasted?"
Chewbacca agreed and lowered him back to the floor.
"Now what?" Han asked Qwi.
"If you can pilot us out of here, we can escape," Qwi said.
Han grinned. "If that's our only problem, we're home free. I can pilot any
ship--just give me the chance."
"Then let's get out of here," she said. "Time is running out."
* * *
When they boarded the shuttle back down to Maw Installation, Han could ask
no further questions. Surrounded by other stormtroopers rigidly minding
their own business, neither he nor Kyp could speak with Qwi. Casual
conversation seemed forbidden.
Qwi fidgeted, looking at the shuttle walls, the narrow windows showing the
deadly barrier of the Maw itself with its secret pathways--if they could
escape.
Han desperately wanted to see Leia and the twins again. They filled his
thoughts more and more, preoccupying him at times when he should have fixed
every iota of attention on the peril around him. He ached to hold Leia
again--but thinking of her while he wore a stormtrooper uniform seemed to
taint the emotion.
Beside him sat Kyp, unreadable behind a stormtrooper mask. But the eyeholes
of the helmet continued to turn toward Han, as if seeking reassurance. Han
wished he had more to offer--but he did not know Qwi's plan.
Why were they returning to Maw Installation, rather than just stealing a
ship and racing off into space? It would be a breakneck run, no matter when
they started--and Admiral Daala's attack preparations grew more complete
with each hour.
Han had to warn the New Republic of the disaster about to befall it. First,
he had been concerned about the concentration of space power around
Kessel--but the fleet of four Star Destroyers and the Maw Installation's
secret weapons looked infinitely worse than whatever Moruth Doole had pieced
together from the scrap heap.
Chewbacca wore mechanic's overalls, looking like a worker assigned to
perform maintenance on some piece of equipment down in one of the
laboratories. He made grunting sounds to himself, content to be reunited
with his friends but anxious for action.
Qwi remained uncommunicative, keeping her thin bluish hands folded in her
lap. Han wondered if he had gone too far in his accusations of her naiveté
and the evil nature of her work. He wished he knew what she was thinking.
When the shuttle landed in one of the Installation's asteroids and the
stormtroopers disembarked, Qwi led Han, Kyp, and Chewbacca away from the
rocky hangar through a tunnel high enough to allow the movement of ships.
"This way," she said.
Han did not recognize where she was taking them. "Aren't we going back to
your lab, Doc?"
Qwi froze in mid-step before turning to him. "No, never again." Then she
moved on.
When they reached a tall metal doorway guarded by two stormtroopers standing
at attention, Qwi took out her badge again, flashing the imprinted holograms
in the light. The stormtroopers straightened to attention.
"Open up for me," Qwi said.
"Yes, Dr. Xux," the head guard said. "Your badge, please?"
She handed him her badge with a barely controlled smile. Han began to grow
uneasy. These guards recognized Qwi by sight, and she seemed more
comfortable now than she had been during other parts of their escape. Was
this some kind of treachery? But to what purpose? He and Kyp turned toward
each other, but the stormtrooper helmets kept their expressions unreadable.
"The Wookiee is here to do heavy maintenance on the engines--a complete
coolant overhaul before tomorrow's deployment of the fleet," Qwi said.
"These two guards are specially trained to prevent him from acting up. This
Wookiee has caused some damage before, and we can't afford delays." Han
tried not to cringe. Qwi was talking too quickly, letting her nervousness
show through.
"Just give me the proper authorizations," the guard said. "You know the
routine." He slid her badge through a scanner to log Qwi in, then handed it
back to her. The stormtrooper seemed unconcerned, as if glad to be posted
here rather than in the middle of frantic preparations for deployment.
Qwi went to the door's data terminal and punched up a request, then she
handed him the hardcopy printout of Admiral Daala's permission again. Han
wondered how many times she was going to use the same piece of paper!
"There, you'll see the approved work request for the Wookiee with a notation
for special handlers. It's been authorized by Tol Sivron himself."
The guard shrugged. "As usual. Let me scan the service numbers of these two
troopers. Then you're free to go in." He entered Han's and Kyp's numbers,
then worked the door controls.
The great steelcrete doors ground to each side, revealing a hangar lit by
levitating globes of light. Overhead, wide rectangular skylights let in the
eerie glow of swirling gases around the Maw. Qwi stepped inside the chamber,
and her whole demeanor changed, as if she had suddenly turned breathless.
Han, Kyp, and Chewbacca followed.
The guard worked his controls, and the doors slid closed, sealing them
inside. Qwi visibly relaxed.
Han stared up at a ship like none he had ever seen before. Smaller than the
Millennium Falcon, this craft was oblong and faceted, like a long shard of
crystal. Its own repulsorlifts kept it upright, with an actual ladder
leading to the open hatch. Defensive lasers bristled from the corners of its
facets.
The armor plating was multicolored and shimmering, like a constantly
changing pool of oil and molten metal. At the lower vertex hung the oddly
fuzzy torus of an immensely powerful resonance-torpedo transmitter. Though
not much larger than a fighter craft, the Sun Crusher hummed with deadly
potential.
"We're going to steal that?" Han cried.
"Of course," Qwi Xux said. "It's the greatest weapon ever devised, and I've
spent eight years of my life designing it. You didn't expect me to leave it
here for Admiral Daala, did you?"
The Millennium Falcon's sub-space engines flared white hot as the ship
blasted away from Kessel's garrison moon. A swarm of fighters streamed after
it, peppering space with multicolored blaster fire. Large capital ships
began to nose
into the Falcon's flight-path like sleeping giants roused by
stinging insects.
Lando Calrissian did his best to dodge the concentrated blaster fire. "The
sublight engines are still optimal. Either Han's been maintaining her with a
real mechanic for a change, or Doole reconditioned her for his fleet," he
said. "Let's see how well the weapons systems work."
A pair of wasp-like Z-95 Headhunters streaked after them, shooting
fire-linked banks of triple blasters; close behind followed three battered
Y-wing long-range fighters.
Luke spun around and whistled in surprise. "Headhunters! I didn't think
anybody used those anymore!"
"Doole couldn't be choosy, I guess," Lando said.
The Falcon rocked with several direct blaster hits; the fresh and fully
charged shields held, though, for the moment.
Lando dropped the blaster cannon through its ventral hatch, then fired back
at the pursuers. After five prolonged shots, Lando managed to hit the
exhaust nacelle of a Y-wing, forcing it to break formation and peel off for
repairs.
"One down--only about a thousand more to go," Lando said.
The Z-95 Headhunters pummeled them with repeated blaster fire, as if to
punish the Falcon.
"Go down close to the planet and skim the atmosphere," Luke said. "Let's
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