Champions of the Force

by Kevin J. Anderson

  One of the spacetroopers, his control pack

  sparking with blue lightning as the suit's

  circuits all broke down, thrashed about in

  eerie silence; his arm movements gradually slowed

  until he drifted free. One of the others took

  his place, ignoring the lost companion. Every one of

  them had already received a lethal dose of radiation.

  They knew it, but their training had been thorough:

  they lived to serve the Empire.

  One of the troopers completed a last weld at

  the hottest point of the breach. His skin blistered.

  His nerves were deadened. His eyes and lungs

  hemorrhaged blood. But he forced himself to finish

  his task.

  The cold vacuum of space solidified the

  welds instantly. With a gurgling voice filled

  with fluid, the spacetrooper gasped into his

  helmet radio, "Mission accomplished."

  Then the remaining troopers, with failing

  life — support systems and bodies already

  savaged by the fatal radiation, released their hold

  on the power core in unison. They drifted

  free, dropping toward the brilliant energy

  discharge like shooting stars.

  At the total destruction of Maw Installation

  and the loss of Admiral Daala's Gorgon,

  Tol Sivron's initial reaction was one of

  annoyance and disappointment.

  "The Installation was supposed to be my

  target," he said. He glared at his other

  Division Leaders. "How could Daala do such a

  thing? I have the Death Star; she

  doesn't."

  As the shock waves and light echoes from the

  huge explosion drifted and faded, Sivron could

  see the Rebel fleet gathering itself to flee the

  cluster.

  Sivron sighed. "Perhaps we should hold another

  meeting to discuss options."

  "Sir!" The stormtrooper captain got

  to his feet. "Our power reactor is now

  temporarily repaired. I lost nine good

  spacetroopers to bring the weapon back online.

  I think we should use it. The Rebel fleet is

  in retreat. We'll lose them if we don't

  act soon. I know this is nonstandard procedure,

  Director, but we have no time for a meeting."

  Sivron looked from side to side, suddenly

  insecure. He didn't like to be pushed into snap

  decisions. Too many things could go wrong if one

  did not consider the full consequences. But the

  captain had a good point.

  "All right, then, temporary emergency

  actions. Ad hoc committee decision — shall we

  use the superlaser to strike out at the Rebel

  forces? Doxin, your vote."

  "I agree," the squat Division Leader

  said.

  Tol Sivron turned to the hatchet — faced

  woman. "Golanda?"

  "Let's cause some damage."

  "Yemm?"

  The Devaronian nodded, his horns bobbing up

  and down. "It will look much better in the report

  if we have a unanimous vote."

  Sivron considered. "Since Wermyn is no

  longer with us, I will act as his proxy and cast my

  vote along with his. Therefore, the vote is

  unanimous. We will strike the Rebel forces."

  He nodded to Yemm. "Please note that in the

  minutes."

  "Director," the stormtrooper captain

  interrupted, "the Rebel fleet is pulling out.

  One of the corvettes has already gone into the

  Maw."

  "Captain, you are so impatient!" Sivron

  snapped. "Can't you see we've already made the

  resolution? Now it's time to implement it. Go

  ahead and establish your first target."

  He blinked his tiny eyes and spotted one of the

  Corellian corvettes hanging dead in

  space. "What about that one?" Sivron

  said. "It appears to be either crippled or

  boobytrapped. I don't like it — and besides, it's

  a stationary target. We can use it to calibrate

  our aiming mechanisms ... since you missed a

  whole planet last time."

  "As you wish, Director." The stormtrooper

  relayed the instructions to the team of gunners in the

  firing bay.

  "I suggest we fire at only half

  strength, Director," Doxin said, scanning the

  technical readouts. His bald scalp furrowed

  again. "Even at reduced power the Death Star

  superlaser will be more than adequate to destroy a

  simple battleship. In that way we can manage

  multiple firings without depleting our reservoir

  so quickly. We won't have to wait so long between

  shots."

  "Good suggestion, Division Leader,"

  Sivron said with a smile of anticipation. "I'd

  very much like to shoot more than once."

  Down in the firing bay the gunners hunched over

  sprawling control banks, fingers moving deftly

  over the arrays of brightly lit squares to call

  up the targeting cross and lock in on the doomed

  corvette.

  "Hurry up and fire," Tol Sivron's

  voice echoed through the speakers. "We want to get

  a second shot at those ships before they all

  leave."

  Together the gunners focused the secondary laser

  beams and yanked back on the levers to release the

  pent — up energy within the power core.

  Along the focusing tubes a wide beam of

  incinerating power shot out. It funneled through the

  focusing eye and blazed into a deadly spear,

  striking precisely on target.

  The crippled Corellian corvette was so

  insignificant that it absorbed little of the

  destructive power. The beam went through the

  vaporized wreckage and continued into the curtains

  of the Maw.

  "Outstanding!" Sivron said. "See what

  happens when you follow the correct procedures?

  Now target the frigate. The big ship. I

  want to see that one explode."

  "We have enough energy reserves for several more

  blasts," the stormtrooper captain said.

  Then a tiny, angular blip of light streaked

  across their targeting viewport — as seemingly

  insignificant as a gnat — yet it

  kept coming. Its hull glistened brightly in

  reflected light. The small ship fired its

  ridiculously ineffective defensive lasers

  at the Death Star.

  "What's that?" Sivron said. "Give me a

  close — up."

  Golanda magnified the image on the screen and

  scowled. Her face looked unpleasant enough

  to shatter planets. "I believe it's one of our

  own concepts, Director Sivron. You may

  recognize it yourself."

  As he looked at the shard — shaped vessel, his

  head — tails twitched. Of course he remembered

  it — not only from the working model he had seen

  once, but from all the progress reports and

  computer simulations its creator, Qwi Xux,

  had delivered during her years of development.

  "The Sun Crusher," he said. "But that's

  ours!" The torus — shaped resonance field

  generator glowed with plasma fire at the bottom

  of its long
spike.

  "Open a channel," Tol Sivron said.

  "I want to talk to whoever is there. Hello,

  hello? You have appropriated property that

  belongs to Maw Installation. I demand that you

  return it to the proper Imperial authorities

  immediately." He crossed his arms over his chest and

  waited for a reply.

  The pilot of the Sun Crusher answered

  by launching one of the supernova torpedoes into the

  Death Star.

  Kyp felt a rush of satisfaction as he

  pressed the firing button, ignoring the

  Twi'lek administrator's pompous posturing.

  He watched the high — energy projectile shoot from

  the bottom of the Sun Crusher and burrow deep

  within the complicated framework of metal girders

  inside the prototype.

  The resonance torpedo vaporized girders as

  it tunneled deeper and deeper, until it finally

  struck heavier primary struts that foamed as they

  disintegrated.

  The torpedo dumped its energy in a shower that

  triggered a small chain reaction within the solid

  superstructure, splitting atomic nuclei and

  causing an arc of spreading dissolution. Girders

  vaporized in a widening hole that ate its way

  farther and farther through the heavy framework.

  But Kyp's elation faded as the chain

  reaction slowed, and then stopped. The skeletal

  Death Star had insufficient mass to continue its

  own disintegration.

  He had ruined a good portion of the support

  framework in one sector of the prototype, but not

  enough.

  Kyp powered up the weapons panel again and

  prepared to fire. He could annihilate the Death

  Star piece by piece if necessary. But looking down

  at his panel, he noted with dismay that only one of

  his supernova torpedoes remained.

  Grim — faced, Kyp zoomed in closer to the

  prototype. He would have to make this last shot

  count.

  Wheeling the Millennium Falcon in a

  backward arc, Han Solo tried to check how

  much damage the detonators had done to the Death

  Star's power core.

  He was disappointed. He had expected to see

  the skeletal prototype bloom into a

  fantastic flower of fire, but instead the

  detonators seemed to have fizzled, leaving only

  a dimming blaze at the center.

  The ship drifted in space for a few moments as

  Mara and Lando shucked their environment suits.

  Lando rubbed sweat from his forehead and wiped his hands

  as if disgusted with the griminess of the suit.

  "Now what are we going to do?" Han asked when

  they had finally joined him back in the cockpit.

  Lando looked at the Death Star shrinking in the

  black distance behind them. "Maybe we'd better go

  see if Wedge — was

  Suddenly the Maw Installation and the Gorgon

  were swallowed in a brilliant flare as everything

  detonated at once.

  "Too late," Mara said.

  "Now why couldn't the Death Star have exploded like

  that?" Lando said miserably.

  "Maybe we at least caused some permanent

  harm," Han said hopefully. But moments later

  they all groaned as a green beam lanced out from the

  Death Star to destroy one of the corvettes in the

  retreating New Republic fleet.

  "So much for permanent harm," Mara Jade

  said.

  "That Death Star's causing some harm, big

  time!" Lando said.

  "Wait," Han said as he glanced back at

  the Death Star, squinting. "Move in

  closer."

  "Closer?" Lando said. "You out of your mind?"

  "That's Kyp," Han said as the Sun Crusher

  streaked across the face of the Death Star and launched

  one of its static — filled torpedoes into the

  superstructure.

  "If he's taking on the Death Star, we've

  got to go help." Han said.

  The Sun Crusher fled toward the gravitational

  walls of the Maw cluster, and Tol Sivron

  ordered the Death Star to track the small but

  deadly ship.

  "Get a lock on it," he said. "We'll

  blast it out of space the same way we did with that

  Rebel ship."

  "Sir," the stormtrooper captain said,

  "to lock on to a target so tiny and moving so

  quickly — was

  "Then get close enough so you can't miss,"

  Sivron snapped. "One of his torpedoes ate

  up eleven percent of our superstructure! We

  can't afford more losses like that. How are we going

  to explain it when we get back to the Empire?"

  "Perhaps that would be a good reason to stay away from

  the Sun Crusher, sir," the stormtrooper

  pointed out.

  "Nonsense! How would that look on the

  report?" Sivron said, leaning forward. "You have

  your orders, Captain."

  The equatorial propulsion units powered up

  and nudged the massive skeletal craft to greater

  speed as it pursued the flitting superweapon.

  "Fire whenever you have a target," Sivron

  said.

  The Death Star picked up speed, and the tiny

  Sun Crusher slowed down, as if taunting them.

  The gases grew hot in the outer shell of the

  Maw as they approached one of the bottomless

  singularities. The Sun Crusher danced back and

  forth, shooting its tiny lasers, destroying minor

  struts here and there, causing insignificant

  damage. The Death Star had to fight against the

  gravity of the nearby black hole.

  "What's the matter?" Tol Sivron said to the

  gunners over the intercom. "Are you waiting to read

  the serial numbers on his engine parts?"

  The Death Star shot again. Its green beam

  tore through the outer wisps of the cluster, firing

  point — blank at the Sun Crusher — but

  the laser curved to the left, tugged by the mighty

  force of the black hole. The green beam spiraled

  like a ball bearing falling into a drain.

  "You missed! How could you miss?" Tol

  Sivron ranted. "Captain, give me those

  flight controls. I'm going to pilot the Death

  Star myself. I'm tired of your incompetence."

  All of the Division Leaders suddenly looked

  at Tol Sivron, aghast. The stormtrooper

  captain turned slowly in his chair. "Are you

  sure that's wise, Director? You don't have the

  experience — was

  Sivron crossed his arms over his chest. "I

  have read the procedure and I've watched what

  you're doing. I know everything I need to know.

  Give me the controls right now. That's a

  managerial directive!"

  Sivron grinned with anticipation as he began

  to issue commands directing the Death Star. "Now

  we'll finish this properly," he said.

  Just like a pet floozam on a leash, thought

  Kyp as he flew toward the black hole. The

  Death Star followed his every move.

  He reversed course and arrowed back toward the

  prototype, increasing speed and calling up his

  weapons controls.
The maze of metal girders

  and cross braces spun below him — and he launched

  his last resonance torpedo. The blazing cloud of

  plasma chewed through the outer layers of the

  prototype as it plowed ever — widening circles of

  destruction.

  The last shot would make them panic. It

  wouldn't cripple the Death Star entirely, but

  merely crippling the prototype would never be

  enough. He had to go for the full victory.

  As the chain reaction initiated by his last

  torpedo petered out, Kyp sped over the

  metallic horizon of the Death Star and raced for the

  Maw's nearest black hole.

  Kyp used his onboard tactical systems

  to estimate the exact position of the event

  horizon, the point from which no ship, however

  powerful, could ever escape. He came closer and

  closer — and the Death Star howled after him.

  Han shouted into the comm systems, "Kyp, Kyp

  Durron! Answer me. Don't go so close.

  Watch out!"

  But he received no reply.

  Death Star and Sun Crusher were locked in

  mortal combat, paying no heed to outside

  distractions. The Death Star prototype orbited

  close to the black hole. The Sun Crusher

  danced from side to side, hammering with tiny laser

  blasts.

  "I think I know what he's doing," Han said

  with deep uneasiness. "The prototype has

  greater mass and a much larger volume. If Kyp

  can lure it near the point of no return ..."

  "Without getting sucked down himself," Lando said.

  "That's the catch, isn't it?" Han answered.

  The Death Star fired again, and the superlaser beam

  curved around, bent even more severely in the deep

  gravity well; but this time the gunner had

  compensated. The blurred fringes of the beam actually

  struck the Sun Crusher and knocked it spinning out

  of control.

  Any other ship would have been vaporized

  instantly, but the quantum armor plating

  protected the superweapon — just barely.

  Kyp's propulsion systems were obviously

  damaged. The Sun Crusher struggled along on

  a tangential course, attempting to pull away

  from the event horizon. But it was too close, and

  gravity was too strong. It spiraled in a tight

  orbit, sinking deeper and deeper.

  The Death Star pilot couldn't resist making the

  final kill, and the prototype loomed closer.

  The Sun Crusher and the giant skeletal sphere

  orbited the black hole like the ends of a baton,

  speeding up.

  Only then did the Death Star pilot seem