Cilghal rushed to Jacen just as he calmly replaced the lightsaber beside Luke's motionless form. She grabbed him, hugged him, and then stared in awe at the little boy. Only moments ago this not—quite—three—year—old child had fought like a legendary lightsaber duelist.
Dorsk 81 and the other Jedi trainees came forward. "He fought as well as a Master!" Dorsk 81 said. "It reminded me of the duel between Gantoris and Master Skywalker."
"Uncle Luke was with me," Jacen said. "He showed me. He's here."
Cilghal blinked her large round eyes.
"What do you mean?" Tionne asked.
"Can you see him now?" Dorsk 81 said.
"Yes, he's right there," Jaina pointed to thin air. "He says he's proud of us." She giggled. Jacen giggled too, but he looked exhausted, covered with dark ichor. He slumped down on Cilghal's lap. The Jedi trainees looked at each other, then gazed at the open air above Luke's prone body. Artoo whistled in confusion.
"What else does he say?" Cilghal said.
Jacen and Jaina both sat still for a moment, as if listening. "Exar Kun. He's making the trouble," Jacen said. Jaina finished, "Stop Exar Kun. Then Uncle Luke can come back."
Leia sat next to Terpfen in uneasy silence during the entire journey from Yavin 4 to the ocean world of Calamari. Terpfen said virtually nothing, crouched over the controls as if unable to bear the weight on his shoulders.
The small ship descended through the cloud—swirled atmosphere of the sapphire world toward one of the wrecked floating cities where Ackbar had been overseeing heroic salvage operations. As the ship streaked toward the sunlit water, Leia saw golden trails reflected off the choppy waves.
She felt an eerie sense of deja vu, thinking of when she and Cilghal had come to this planet in search of Ackbar in his exile. She felt this time she was coming full circle, riding with the unwilling Calamarian traitor to redeem Ackbar ... but more important, to enlist the admiral's assistance in a rescue operation to save her son.
"Reef Home salvage team, this is — Terpfen hesitated. "This is Minister of State Leia Organa Solo's ship. We must speak with Ackbar. Do you have a place for us to land?"
After only a moment Ackbar's own voice responded. "Leia coming to see me? She's certainly welcome here." Then Ackbar added, "Terpfen, is that you?"
"Yes, Admiral."
"I thought I recognized your voice. I would delight in seeing both of you."
"I'm not so sure, sir," Terpfen said.
"What do you mean? Is something wrong?" Ackbar replied.
The Calamarian hung his scarred head, wrestling with his answer. Leia leaned over to the microphone. "It's best if we explain face—to—face, Ackbar," she said in a soft but firm voice. It still felt awkward not to address him by his rank.
Terpfen nodded a painful thanks to Leia. He brought the ship down in a steep dive toward the ocean surface, then pulled up with room to spare and cruised over the wavetops until they approached a cluster of floating vessels and a turmoil in the slate—gray water.
Organic—looking barges with articulated crane apparatus extended down into the water. Bloated, inflated ships like enormous bellows blazed exhaust fire as their engines drove fans to pump air into the submerged hulk of Reef Home, one of the majestic Calamarian floating cities that had been sunk in Admiral Daala's recent attack.
Leia had been on Calamari trying to convince Ackbar to reclaim his rank when Daala's Star Destroyers had struck. Squads of TIE bombers had managed to sink Reef Home and damage several other cities. But Ackbar had come out of his seclusion and rallied the Calamarian forces to victory.
Now Leia watched the white froth as the hulk of the city heaved itself to the surface. Bubbles simmered around the lumpy dome of Reef Home. Figures clambered over the exposed metal, attaching grappler cables from the towering cranes on the surrounding barge ships. The bellows pumps continued to gush air into Reef Home's sealed compartments, forcing out the water that had flooded deck after deck.
In the water, groups of dark figures — tentacle—faced Quarren — worked at the edge of the derelict city, prying open wave doors, patching breaches in the hull, and scavenging the ocean floor to find lost possessions.
As Terpfen brought the ship to land on the wet expanse of the main crane barge, the domed city shouldered its way higher above the choppy ocean.
Leia emerged from the small ship and stopped to catch her balance on the gently swaying deck. Cool salt spray struck her, making her gasp at the cutting wind and the iodine tang of drifting seaweed. One of the figures in the water used a jetpack to scoot away from the salvaged city, climbing a long ladder up the side of the crane barge.
Leia recognized Ackbar as he scrambled with enthusiasm onto the barge deck and stood dripping before them. He peeled off a thin translucent membrane from his face and took a deep breath of fresh air.
"Leia, I greet you," he said, raising a flipper hand. "We're making great progress in resurrecting Reef Home City. Our crews should have it refitted and ready for habitation within a few months.
"And Terpfen!" he said with heartbreaking joy as he strode to embrace his former chief starship mechanic. Terpfen stood stiffly, unable to speak a word.
Leia's immediate need was too great for pleasantries. "Ackbar," she said, "the Imperials have learned the location of Anoth. Winter and baby Anakin are in grave danger at this very moment. You must take us to them right away. You're the only one who knows the location."
Ackbar stood in shock, and Terpfen broke away from his embrace. "I have betrayed us, Admiral," he said. "I have betrayed us all."
Working hard to appear useful and important, Ambassador Furgan stood on the control deck of the Dreadnaught Vendetta. As they came out of hyperspace and approached the planet Anoth, he stepped forward. "Shields up," he said.
"Already done, sir," Colonel Ardax answered from the command station. Ardax wore a crisp olive — gray Imperial—navy uniform with his cap firmly planted on his short—trimmed hair. He drew in a deep breath to broaden his shoulders.
Throughout the journey to Anoth the colonel had annoyed Furgan by making decisions for himself without asking for input. Ardax was alt too independent for Furgan's tastes. True, Furgan was merely the administrative head of the Caridan military academy — former military academy, now that the Rebel terrorist Kyp Durron had destroyed it — but he was still the most important person on this entire ship; his opinion should be valued.
He still thought of the roaring explosion of Carida's star, the echoed screams of those low—ranking individuals and all the valuable equipment he had left behind. Furgan's glorious dreams of resurrecting the Empire had dwindled to a point — and it was a laser—bright point. If he could just get his hands on the Jedi baby, there would be hope for the galaxy once more.
The Vendetta passed through a broken belt of asteroids scattered along Anoth's orbit. The planet itself had shattered into three components: two large chunks in contact, scraping and creating static discharges so that titanic lightning bolts blasted between them; farther out circled a smaller, misshapen rock that held a breathable atmosphere in its lowlands. In a century or two the three chunks would pulverize each other to space dust, but at the moment Anoth was a hidden and protected haven.
Until now.
"Looks like a rather ... rugged place to raise an infant," Colonel Ardax said.
"It'll toughen him up," Furgan said, "an appropriate beginning to the rigorous training he will undergo if he is to be our new Emperor."
"Ambassador Furgan," Ardax asked, raising his eyebrows, "do you have any indication of exactly where we should look for this alleged stronghold?"
Furgan thrust out his purplish lower lip. The spy Terpfen had provided the planet's coordinates, nothing more. "You can't expect me to do your entire job for you, Colonel," he snapped. "Use the Dreadnaught's scanners."
"Yes, sir." The colonel gestured toward the technicians at the analysis and sensor panels.
"We'll find it, sir," a wide—eyed corporal sai
d, staring at a screen that showed a simplified computer diagram of the Anoth system's three components. "There's not much down there, so it shouldn't be hard to pick them out."
Furgan stumped to the turbolift at the rear of the control deck. "Colonel, I'm going down to inspect the MT—AT vehicles. I trust you can handle everything here without me?"
"Yes, sir," Ardax said, a bit too emphatically.
As the turbolift swallowed him, Furgan thought he heard a muttered comment from the Dreadnaught captain, but the words were cut off by the closing metal doors. ...
Down in the Vendetta's hangar bay and staging area Furgan stepped into a flurry of stormtrooper activity. White — armored troopers jogged in tight formation across the metal — plated floor, carrying weapons, stashing siege gear and power packs inside the cargo holds of the MT — AT'S.
On Carida, Furgan had followed the design and development of the new Mountain Terrain Assault Transports, and he relished the opportunity to see them used in actual combat. He would follow in the rear of the assault, letting fully trained troopers face the initial hazards, though there was little to worry about — a woman and a child hiding on a rock? How much resistance could they offer?
Furgan ran his stubby fingers across the polished knee joint of one of the MT — AT walkers. Designed for ground assaults on remote mountain citadels, the MT — AT'S' articulated joints and sophisticated claw footpads could scale even vertical surfaces of rock. On each joint were mounted supercharged lasers that could penetrate a half — meter — thick blast door. Two small blaster cannons hung on either side of the low — slung pilot's compartment to shoot down harrying fighter ships out of the sky.
Furgan stared at the beautiful construction, smooth lines, and glossy armor, marveling at the MT — AT'S incredible capabilities. "Splendid machine," he said.
The stormtroopers paid no attention to him as they finished their preparations.
Colonel Ardax's voice came over the intercom. "Your attention, please! After some difficulty with electrical discharges and ionization interference in this system, we have pinpointed the secret base. Prepare to deploy the strike force immediately. Let's make this a clean and quick kill. That is all." Ardax signed off.
"You heard the colonel," Furgan said as the stormtrooper teams began to clamber aboard their MT — AT vehicles. They would be dropped from orbit on a thunderous plunge through the atmosphere, encased in a thermal — resistant cocoon that would detach upon striking the surface.
One trooper scrambled alone into his cockpit, hauling extra weapons, interrogation devices, and intelligence — gathering equipment.
"You!" Furgan said. "Stow all that in the cargo compartment. I am riding with you."
The stormtrooper looked at him in silence for a moment, his polished eye visor staring blankly.
"Do you have a problem with that order, sergeant?" Furgan asked.
"No, sir," the voice crackled through the helmet speaker. The stormtrooper methodically removed the equipment and stowed it in the undercompartment.
Furgan heaved himself into the second seat and strapped in. He pulled two sets of the crash webbing around his body to make sure he landed without injury. He didn't want to limp in triumph into the defeated Rebel stronghold. He waited impatiently as the rest of the stormtroopers completed preparations, slipped aboard their assault transports, and locked themselves down.
When the launching bay dropped out from beneath his feet like a trapdoor, Furgan grabbed the arms of his chair and cried out. The transports plunged like heavy projectiles into the waiting atmosphere. Even in its thick cocoon the MT — AT jounced and rocked as if it were being struck by cannon blasts. He tried unsuccessfully to stop his yell of panic.
Beside him the stormtrooper pilot said nothing.
Inside the stronghold on Anoth, Leia's personal servant Winter glanced at the chronometer and at the giggling dark — haired baby. It was time to put young Anakin to bed.
Though the triple planet Anoth had its own unusual cycle of days, nights, and twilights, Winter insisted on keeping their chronometers set to Coruscant standard time. Outside, the thin skies rarely brightened to more than a dark purple with flashes of searing yellow as electrical discharges blasted across space.
The planetoid was a stormy world, its surface covered with stone pinnacles like mammoth cathedrals reaching up to the limits of Anoth's low gravity. Riddled with caves from thousands of geological inclusions that had weathered and volatilized away during centuries of planetary stresses, the rock spires provided a sheltered hiding place.
Winter picked up the baby in her arms and bounced him against her hip as she went deeper into the facility. Anakin's shielded bedroom was brightly lit and decorated with soothing pastel colors. Tinkling music filled the air, a cheerful melody mixed with quiet wind and rushing water.
A boxy rectangular GNK power droid waddled from station to station in the room, charging the batteries of Anakin's self — aware toys. "Thank you," Winter said out of habit, though the droid had only minimal interactive programming. The power droid burbled a response and shuffled out in a slow walk on accordioned legs.
"Good evening, Master Anakin," said the caregiver droid in Anakin's chambers. An enhanced protocol model, the TDL droid was programmed to perform a majority of the functions required to care for a young child. TDL models had been marketed across the galaxy as nanny droids for busy politicians, space military personnel, and even smugglers who had children but too little time to spend with them.
The TDL droid had a silvery surface with all corners and sharp edges smoothed for comfort. Because nannies and mothers were expected to need more than the usual set of hands, TDL nanny droids had four fully functional arms, all of which were covered with warm synthetic flesh — as was the torso — comffprovide a more nurturing experience for a baby held in robot arms.
Anakin cooed with pleasure to see the droid, said a word resembling its name. Winter patted the baby on the back, saying good night.
"Do you have a preference from the large selection of lullabies and bedtime music I have available, Mistress Winter?" the droid said.
"Make a random selection," Winter answered. "I want to get back to the operations room. Something ... doesn't feel right tonight."
"Very well, Mistress Winter," the nanny droid said, cradling Anakin in her arms. "Wave good night." She plucked up Anakin's pudgy hand and puppeted a wave.
Winter made it to the door of the operations room just before the intruder alarms went off. She rushed into the control center, scanning the big screens that showed outside images of the stark landscape.
Sonic booms thundered through the thin air, as large objects streamed down in a tight cluster. Winter saw the last of a group of projectiles impact at the base of the nearest spire of rock.
Winter activated the automated defense systems. She closed the massive shield doors that covered the entrance to the hangar grotto. Through the rock she could feel the heavy vibration as the metal doors slammed together.
She saw movement below, just out of range of the cameras. Then a long metal leg bent up on a huge articulated joint; a foot spiked with claws smashed into the rockface, creating traction with explosive bolts. Then the huge machine levered itself out of view around an outcropping.
Winter enhanced the audio pickup, listening to the groaning sounds of straining machinery, pulleys and grinding engines, the clank of treads.
Working rapidly, she switched to another set of image enhancers mounted on a distant pinnacle. The picture that appeared made her gasp in amazement and fear — an extreme reaction, considering her usual unemotional and inflectionless manner.
The smoldering hulks of protective reentry pods lay strewn about the landscape. The metal shells had cracked open like black vermin eggs and unleashed mechanical monstrosities — eight — legged, arachnidlike machines.
Each of the heavily jointed legs moved along different axes as the clawed feet helped the ellipsoid body scuttle over rugged terrain, fi
nding footholds in the rock and scaling the sheer peak in which Winter and Anakin hid. Eight Imperial Spider Walkers swarmed up the stone pinnacle, firing bright — green blasts against the thick walls of the stronghold, searching for a way in.
The Jedi trainees gathered in the dusty, abandoned war room of the Great Temple. They had chosen it as the most fitting place to plan their battle against Exar Kun.
On the third level of the ancient ziggurat the war room had once been used by the Rebel Alliance as a control center for their secret base. Here the tactical genius General Jan Dodonna had planned the strike against the first
Death Star.
Cilghal and the others had cleared away much of the debris that had collected in the decade since the Rebels had left the base behind. Multicolored lights flickered on the control panels of the few functional sensor networks; grime — caked viewing plates and cracked transparisteel screens made the signals refract and glitter. Atop a tactical map the tiny hash — mark footprints of a skittering reptile were overlaid with the larger clawed prints of some predator that had chased after it.
Sealed behind the protection of thick stone walls, the war room allowed no outside illumination. Newly restored glowpanels in the corners made the place shine brightly, but also enhanced the shadows.
Cilghal looked at the group of Jedi trainees. A dozen of the best ... but now they were gripped with fear and indecision, unprepared for the trial forced upon them.
Some — such as Kirana Ti, Kam Solusar, and, surprisingly, Streen — reacted with outrage to the long — dead Lord of the Sith. Others, particularly Dorsk 81, were filled with an unreasoning fear, afraid to challenge the dark power that had been sufficient to warp other students and defeat Master Skywalker. Cilghal herself did not look forward to the fight, but she vowed to do everything she could against their unwanted enemy.
"What if Exar Kun can hear our plans?" Dorsk 81 said, his large eyes shining in the harsh lights. "Even here he might be spying on us!" His voice rose, and his yellow — olive skin mottled with panic.
Champions of the Force Page 10