When she caught herself envying him, she knew she was in a bad way.
“PROXY,” she said, “go tell your master we’ve almost arrived.”
The droid shuffled off, and she steeled herself for the worst.
“Engaging the cloak,” she said as the view of hyperspace through the forward viewport unraveled, revealing the murky brown-green of their destination, its magnetic field-lines as cluttered as ever. “Hello, Raxus Prime, garbage pit of the galaxy. Nice to see you again.”
“Again?” said Kota.
She mentally kicked herself. “I flew a couple of dumping runs here in my previous incarnation,” she improvised. “Before life got interesting.”
PROXY returned. “My master says that he will attend you as soon as possible.”
“Good.” She exhaled heavily, reminded of how it had felt on the Empirical every time her assumed execution was delayed. “Let’s take a look around and see what we can see.”
THE SHIPYARD ROSE UP OVER the planet’s filthy horizon like some strange, mechanical moon. Disk shaped, with complex docks and cranes radiating from its outer edge, it was by far the largest artificial structure she had ever seen. Over a dozen Star Destroyers were currently in dry dock: one nearly complete, the others triangular shells at various stages of manufacture. Giant balls of ore floated near the station, awaiting refinement. Huge arcing sparks shot from the Star Destroyers as massive, complicated machines welded panels in place.
There had been no sign of such a facility when she and Starkiller had been there just months before. Her mind boggled at the speed with which it had been constructed. She found it hard to believe, and wondered what other surprises they might find on the planet’s surface.
“I know I picked this target,” Starkiller said from behind them, “but I have no idea how I’m going to destroy that thing.”
She turned to look at him in his Jedi garb, and anger flared anew. He hadn’t chosen the target; his evil Master had.
But one look at his worried expression reminded her that, for the moment, they were all in the same boat.
She took a deep breath.
“PROXY and I have been scanning Imperial databases for information,” she said. “We think we have a plan. PROXY?”
Starkiller’s gratitude was so obvious that she was glad Kota couldn’t see it.
“The Empire is using scrap metal from Raxus Prime to build the Star Destroyers,” PROXY said, his photoreceptors lighting up. Instead of his usual allover hologram, he projected a flickering image into the open space amid the cockpit’s three chairs. The image was of a massive linear accelerator they had found during a sweep of the planet. “Metal collected on the surface is melted down and then fired into space, using this cannon.”
One metal finger traced key features of the cannon through the revolving hologram: power conduits, helium-cooled electromagnets, induction coils.
“If you can commandeer the ore cannon,” Juno said, “you should be able to fire it directly at the facility itself.”
“The impact of the compressed ore should be sufficient to destabilize the entire shipyard,” the droid concluded.
The image he projected changed to one of the massive construction. A rough animation showed a glowing ball of ore streaking toward the structure, causing it to violently explode.
PROXY shut off the hologram. “Of course, master, you’ll need to reach the cannon first.”
Starkiller nodded. “You’ll guide me there?” he asked Juno.
“Naturally,” she said with no expression in her voice at all.
“Okay.” He ran his hands across the dark stubble on his scalp. “There are a lot of holes in this plan, but at least we’ve got one. Thanks.”
His hand very briefly touched Juno’s shoulder. She turned and looked at it, and was struck as she had been when they were first reunited by the lack of scars on his fingers. Darth Vader had done that to him, she presumed, when he had saved his apprentice from the wrath of the Emperor.
She shuddered, and the touch retreated.
“Take us down,” he said, “if you can do it safely.”
“We can run the cloaking device a little longer,” she said. “Beyond that point, it might get a little complicated.”
“Don’t take any chances. I want to know that you’re safe.”
“I don’t think that’s a guarantee anyone can make—now.”
She put her hands on the controls and guided the ship through a hurried and bouncy descent that left conversation impossible. The rattling was music to her ears compared with Starkiller’s confused attempts to appeal to her. Who did he think he was to tie her in knots like this? One minute he was planning the betrayal of her and everyone they’d made contact with in recent days; the next he was telling her he cared for her safety. She wanted to scream.
Keeping her emotions carefully contained, she brought the ship in low over a poisonous sea not far from the ore cannon and began searching for space to put down.
“Master,” said the droid, “I’m picking up Imperial transmissions from the planet itself. They appear to originate in the sentient computer core.”
“According to the records I’ve been able to access, the Empire has reprogrammed the Core to move salvage toward the smelting pits. All the data banks I have accessed so far suggest that, apart from this new allegiance, it’s harmless.”
“Hah,” said Kota. “There’s no such thing as a harmless computer. That thing probably knows everything that happens on the surface of the planet.”
Starkiller grunted acknowledgment. “PROXY, make contact with it. Maybe you can intercept some Imperial transmissions. Let me know if it works out who we are and decides to attack, or to call for reinforcements.”
“Of course, master.”
“There’s no mention of Kazdan Paratus, I suppose,” said Kota in a tone of weary resignation.
Shared guilt flooded Juno. “I’m afraid not,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” said Starkiller with all appearances of sincerity.
The gloomy general waved away his sympathy.
Juno kept her eyes carefully forward.
CHAPTER 29
THE APPRENTICE JUMPED FROM THE Rogue Shadow’s ramp with less than his usual vigor. Raxus Prime’s all-pervasive stink hit him like a punch to the nose, and the view hadn’t improved much, either. The endless layers and canyons of garbage looked much the same as before, except for new holes and craters where larger metal fragments had been removed and fed to the ore cannon. The way was treacherous, therefore, and he kept a close eye on his footing as well as his surroundings.
But his mind inevitably wandered, full as it was with concerns for Juno and his mission. Only now, with Juno angry at him, was he truly aware of the assumption he had made without consciously noting it: that he and Juno would have a future together once all this was over. That either of them could be killed was ever-present in his thoughts, but he had never considered that she might not want to be with him were they both to survive. He was taken off guard both by his own feelings and by the possibility that he would never be able to act on them.
Feeling the need to reflect on this issue, he had stayed longer in the meditation chamber than perhaps he should have. It had been days since he had last found the time to perform his favorite exercise: staring into the blade of a lightsaber in search of his fury’s focus. Since his lightsaber had been lost and he had been using Kota’s, concentration had been hard to come by. The blade was old but perfectly serviceable; that wasn’t the issue. The change of color, likewise, although the bold green did surprise him sometimes. It was more an issue of ownership. Part of him was aware, far down in his subconscious, that the lightsaber belonged to another warrior—one he didn’t wholly respect, for all the skills Kota had once possessed—so achieving full concentration was impossible.
He had spent an hour after his confrontation with Juno replacing one of the green crystals in Kota’s weapon with the blue one he had found on Kashyyyk. It
had taken quite an amount of fine-tuning before the blade acquired its new character, shining brilliant aqua and with unexpectedly superior optical properties. The blade itself weighed nothing, yet somehow it seemed lighter in his hand and moved more readily. He was certain it was now a better weapon than before.
And it was his. Regardless where the crystal had come from or whom it had once belonged to, it was his now and so was the lightsaber. He knelt, raised the blade to his face, and stared into it until the world seemed to vanish. The aqua made him think of oceans and rain rather than the blood of his first lightsaber, but that didn’t overly concern him. He would only need this blade until his mission was complete, at which time he could obtain new crystals from his Master and make an entirely new Sith blade.
That thought didn’t reassure him as it once might have, coming with so many provisions. If they won—if he remained loyal to his Master—if he didn’t die—if Juno didn’t somehow get him to change his mind. He could rule nothing out. His destiny was, as his Master had said, in his own hands now. He could do anything he wanted.
There were just so many things to want …
“You have some company down there,” said Juno’s voice over the comlink. “Moving your way.”
“Imperials, I presume.”
“Doesn’t look like it from here. Most likely scavengers.”
Great, he thought. Of course Drexl’s band would be scavenging around the ore cannon’s perimeter, looking for anything exhumed by the planet’s metal-seeking diggers. The apprentice must have been sloppy and not seen a security droid patrolling the edge of their territory. Furthermore, if Drexl had spotted him, so, too, had the planet’s core intelligence.
Concentrating solely—and with renewed ferocity, thanks to his annoyance at himself—on the world around him, he sought deeper channels through the landscape of waste. In the network of tangled, claustrophobic caves, he became aware of a thunderous pounding growing louder and louder. The ore cannon, he presumed, supplying the giant shipyard with the metal it required. Despite the tortuous route he was following, his destination was definitely getting nearer.
He descended deeper, seeking the network of sewers he knew lay underneath the endless junkyard’s lower levels. The farther he went, the more droids he found, burrowing through the compressed garbage in search of metal. Many were drones possessing little intelligence, multilegged crawlers designed to squeeze through cracks and crevices, armed with cutting lasers and simple mechanical tools. Some possessed no eyes at all, since there was so little light in some areas, and more specialized senses could be relied upon to tell metal from organic strata. When they found something particularly valuable, they could call for assistance, prompting a swarm of their fellow drones to assemble in the same location, followed by more generalized diggers and freighters from farther afield.
The apprentice skirted one such swarm near the entrance to the sewers. Droids of all shapes and sizes clustered over the leading edge of a buried shuttle skeleton that could have been covered over for millennia. The noise they made was deafening, an impenetrable babble of machine chatter, whining vibrosaws, and sizzling metal. Strange flashes of light strobed from their endeavors, casting flickering shadows across the subterranean junkscape. The apprentice slipped by them without being noticed and dropped into a filth-caked, four-meter-wide tunnel via the hole some long-passed prospector had cut into it.
The way was easier from then on. Only twice did he have to find a way around or through blockages caused by cave-ins. Muffled, unidentifiable sounds echoed back and forth along the sewer, issuing from junctions and originating, perhaps, many kilometers away. He encountered only one working droid and that was literally on its last legs. It swayed in circles on its sole working limb, whispering a single phrase of ancient machine code over and over again. Its blank photoreceptors stared at him but saw nothing.
Feeling sorry for it, he drew his lightsaber and sliced it in two. Spraying sparks, briefly, it fell dead to the bottom of the sewer, out of its mechanical misery at last.
Time passed without measure in the sewer. When he judged that he was nearing the ore cannon’s superstructure, he began to look for a way out. At the next junction one narrower tunnel led distinctly upward, so he took it without hesitation, feeling the rhythmic throb of each launch right down to his bones. The cannon had looked big from orbit, but he could appreciate the true enormity of it now that he was drawing closer.
The tunnel narrowed further, and the number of junctions he passed increased. Some were completely blocked, crushed by the weight of the rubbish piling above. Out of others came the chatter of droids, softened by the distance into an almost peaceful sound. The way ahead was shrouded in permanent shadow.
He slowed, sensing trouble, and activated his lightsaber.
“Yes,” said a harsh alien voice. “I thought it was you.”
Movement came from all around him. A dozen armored Rodians stepped out of the shadows ahead and behind, where they had been hidden under rubbish in the side tunnels, and held a variety of weapons aimed directly at him. Vibroblades, blasters, mini cannons: they seemed to have been fished out of a motley collection of downed ships and extensively modified. He had no doubt, however, as to their efficacy.
In such close confines, completely surrounded, he couldn’t deflect everything.
A particularly swarthy Rodian stepped through the circle from farther up the tunnel. The apprentice recognized Drexl Roosh from the brief glimpse he’d received before. The raider was even uglier close-up.
“You will drop your weapon,” the Rodian said in heavily accented Basic.
“Not until your goons have dropped theirs.”
Drexl laughed. It sounded like metal being scissored in two by a junk droid. “You have spirit; I’ll grant you that! But the meddler who brought the Imperials down on our heads is going to need more than spirit today.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t bring the Imperials here.”
“I have images of you snooping around when that mad old fool in his Temple bought it. His droids kept the Empire at bay for years, you know. Once they were gone, the planet was easy picking.” Drexl’s purple face twisted in something that could only have been a snarl. “Half the metal is gone in this area, and what’s left isn’t worth excavating. And now you come scurrying back here, acting all innocent. Well, we saw you first and arranged this little reception. No more mother lodes for you, I’m afraid. No more lucky finds. Your masters will think twice before messing with us again when we present your head to them on a platter. Ready!”
The raiders tightened their grips on their weapons and pointed them at various locations on his body.
“I think you’re being unreasonable,” he told Drexl.
“Take aim!”
The raiders squinted down sights and along sword blades.
Before Drexl could give the order to fire, the apprentice dropped to one knee and telekinetically shoved with all his strength. He couldn’t deflect everything at once, but he could shorten the odds a little.
Rodians flew everywhere, arms and legs akimbo, in a sudden maelstrom of rubbish. Weapons slipped from startled fingers. Some discharged, adding to the confusion. The pipe flexed and twisted, resonating to the force of his blow. The sound it made was, momentarily, louder than even that of the ore cannon.
The apprentice didn’t waste any time following up on that surprise. Lightsaber cutting aqua arcs through the air, he struck down any Rodians who managed to get to their feet. Their alien squeals and cries grew louder when he started using Sith lightning to drive them ahead of him up the tunnel. Drexl ran at the head of the pack, exhorting his underlings to fire behind them as they fled. Any bolts that did come the apprentice’s way he managed to send back at their source, prompting renewed cries of alarm and panic.
The tunnel suddenly ended, leading into a cavern hollowed out from the junkyard, with a high, vaulted roof and piles of reclaimed rubbish laid out in rows. The apprentice almost laug
hed. Without knowing it, he’d been following a path right into Drexl’s lair! If the raiders hadn’t ambushed him, he would have popped up in their midst anyway, and conflict would have been inevitable.
As the raiders fanned out and called for help, he reached up through the Force and brought down one of the overhead beams.
The raiders directly below scattered as it crashed to the floor. A rain of trash followed. The ceiling sagged.
One of the raiders hopped behind the controls of a scavenged quad laser cannon. The apprentice crouched to defend himself from a stream of energy fire. The deflected bolts discharged into the walls of the chamber, provoking further collapse.
“Stop that, you idiot!” cried Drexl, waving his arms at the Rodian behind the controls.
The apprentice seconded that sentiment. With a flexing of his will, another beam came down from directly above the quad cannon, squashing it and its operator under an avalanche of rubbish.
Drexl cursed and swore in his native Rodese, gesticulating wildly at his raiders from behind cover. The apprentice had no real issue with the raiders, except that they had recognized him. It was essential to his cover that no one learn what he had done on Raxus Prime the last time he was here. That made Drexl a serious liability.
Bad luck for him, the apprentice thought as he brought down a third beam. Leave no witnesses.
The roof sagged heavily now. Another broken beam would bring the whole lot crashing down. Seeing that there was no way he could win, Drexl bolted for a jetpack leaning against the far wall. He was too far away for Sith lightning, so the apprentice threw an assortment of tubes, restraining bolts, and drained batteries at him. Jumping and ducking, the Rodian managed to dodge all of them. Scooping up the jetpack and swinging one arm through the straps, Drexl bolted for an exit on the far side of the chamber.
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