Star Wars: The Approaching Storm

by Alan Dean Foster

  “I wouldn’t think so.” She rode on in silence for a while, then sniffed slightly. “Well, I thought it was funny.”

  They continued to make excellent time. Everyone’s spirits had been raised by the encounter with the stolid but ultimately cooperative Yiwa, and they now had something in the way of a specific destination. At least, Barriss reflected as she relaxed in the saddle of her suubatar, they weren’t galloping aimlessly over open prairie in the hope of accidentally bumping into the migrating overclan. Mazong’s directions had been quite specific, though they still had to take into account his admonition that the Borokii might be on the move. She wondered how their habits and rituals would compare to those of the Yiwa. Within the numerous clans of the Alwari, Kyakhta had told her, there existed much differentiation.

  They were traveling steadily north when their guides unexpectedly called a halt. Sitting up in her saddle, Barriss scanned their surroundings. The horizon was the same in every direction and had been for several days. Endless grassland, waving fields of native grains only rarely interrupted by clumps of small trees, and occasional depressions holding water or mud, and the isolated hillock. Not a building of any kind, nor anything higher than a suubatar standing up on its rear and middle legs. So it was with interest she wondered why Kyakhta and Bulgan had brought them to a stop—and why they appeared more than a little apprehensive.

  “What is it?” Luminara and Obi-Wan trotted forward to query their escorts. Attentive inspection of the four horizons left them no more enlightened as to the reason for the halt than it did their equally confused Padawans. “Why have we stopped here?”

  “Listen.” Both Alwari were leaning slightly forward in their seats, obviously straining to hear—what.

  Luminara and her companions went quiet. Only the muted munching of the suubatars nibbling the tops off the ripe wild grains, the constant rustle of wind through the grasses, and the occasional querulous hooting of a kilk stalking soft-shelled arthropods broke the silence.

  Then she heard it. Faint initially, like a first cousin to the wind itself. It strengthened slowly, a soft ripping sound approaching from the north, from the direction they were headed. It intensified until it became an audible buzzing, still muted but rising ominously in the distance. Peering hard in the direction of the ascending susurration, Luminara though she could make out the first hints of a low, dark cloud.

  The suubatars began to stir uneasily, throwing back their sharp-ridged skulls and pawing at the ground with middle and forefeet. She struggled to control her mount. At the same time, Kyakhta’s eyes bulged with realization.

  “Kyren!” he exclaimed fearfully.

  “Quickly, my friends!” Bulgan was suddenly standing upright in his saddle, looking frantically in all directions. “We have to find shelter!”

  “Shelter?” Obi-Wan held his seat, but began searching their immediate surroundings nonetheless. “Out here?”

  “From what?” Barriss wanted to know. By now she, too, saw and heard the onrushing blur. “What’s a kyren?”

  Without suspending his search, Bulgan edged his steed closer to her own. “A flying creature that travels the plains of Ansion, migrating from region to region as it follows the seasons.” He gestured downward. “When the grasses in one area mature and the heads of each stalk are ripe with seed, the kyren resumes its flight, eating until it is sated. Then it settles down to rest, and to breed. When the young are fledged, they take flight anew in search of further nourishment.”

  She blinked in the direction of the diffuse shadow on the horizon. “That can’t be all one creature coming toward us.”

  “It’s not,” Bulgan disclosed apprehensively. “There are many more than one.”

  “I don’t see why it matters.” Anakin had moved forward to join the conversation. “What have we to fear from a flock of seed eaters? The are just seed eaters, aren’t they?” he thought to add.

  A strange expression came over the guide’s face; strange even for a pop-eyed, long-maned, single-nostriled Ansionian. “Seed is their preferred food, yes. But once they have taken flight, they are unable, or unwilling, or simply disinterested in changing course. Nor will they fly higher to pass over anything unexpected in their path.” He swallowed hard. “Rocks they will smash themselves into. Trees they will cut down. Living things like hootles, or suubatars, or cicien, they will eat their way through. Unless those creatures can somehow find a place to hide, or manage to get out of the way.”

  “Hootles or suubatars?” Barriss asked softly. “Or—people?” Somehow she wasn’t surprised when Bulgan nodded solemnly.

  Anakin's hand strayed to his belt. “We have lightsabers, and other weapons. Can’t we stand and defend ourselves from these things? How big are they, anyway?”

  Raising his long-fingered hands, Bulgan placed them on either side of his head. “This is the average of their wingspan.”

  “That’s all?” Anakin frowned. “Then I don’t see why you and Kyakhta are so concerned.”

  “How many of them are there?” Barriss asked. “In the average flock?”

  Lowering his hands, the guide looked back at her. “No one knows. No one has ever been able to stay in one place long enough to count an average flock.” He gestured toward the now rapidly darkening northern horizon. “I think this flock may be a little larger than average.”

  “Take a guess.” The fingers of Anakin's right hand continued to hover in the vicinity of his lightsaber. “How many of these things are we likely to be facing?”

  Turning in his saddle, Bulgan considered the horizon anew. “Not a conspicuously great number. But enough to pose a serious danger if we don’t find cover quickly. No more than one or two hundred million, I would say.”

  Anakin's hand moved away from his lightsaber. “ ‘Hundred million’? ‘One or two’?” The only shelter in sight was a trio of wolgiyn trees standing forlorn and isolated off to their right.

  They did not cast much of shadow.

  “This way!” Pointing forward and to his left, Kyakhta urged his mount in that same direction. The two Jedi Knights followed, with the Padawans bringing up the rear.

  Barriss tried her best to conceal her unease. Instead of fleeing, they were riding straight into the oncoming adumbration. On a collision course, kyren flock and speeding travelers drew rapidly toward one another. Though she had never seen a kyren in her life, she trusted that Kyakhta had seen something more substantial than a mirage, and more solid than faint hope.

  Chapter Ten

  Several minutes of hard riding later, it was still impossible to make out individual kyren, but their collective screeching had come to dominate all other sounds on the prairie. Usually frightened of nothing, a pack of shanhs went racing past in the opposite direction. The fearsome carnivores were absolutely terrified. Terrified of something that cracked grass seed for breakfast, Luminara reflected. A small, lightweight, winged herbivore she could hold in the palm of one hand. The sight of the fleeing shanhs was anything but reassuring. As she had been instructed, she urged her suubatar faster, not wanting to fall behind. There were some instruments of nature even a Master of the Force could not stand against. One kyren, without question. A dozen, surely. A few hundred, perhaps. A few thousand? Questionable.

  A hundred million of anything was too vast a number for even several Jedi to stand against. Even if the adversaries in question were nothing more than small, soft-bodied, seed-eating fliers.

  By the time she finally saw where Kyakhta was leading them, the collective cries of the millions upon millions of kyren were a steady stabbing in her ears. They blocked out the sun, creating their own eclipse, and their stench threatened to overwhelm her inundated sense of smell and send her reeling. Grimly, she clung to the reins of her mount and kept her feet jammed resolutely into the forward-facing stirrups. With one hand she pulled a bit of robe across her face to shut out a little of the dust and smell.

  “There, that way!” Peering into the gathering darkness, she barely managed to
hear Kyakhta’s cry, and see where he was leading them.

  Looming out of the gloom just ahead and towering above the grass, a crazy conglomeration of tilted pillars and columns took shape. Ranging in hue from a light tan to dark umber, more than anything else they resembled ancient tombstones set in the middle of the open plain. The analogy was not encouraging. Roughly triangular in shape, each rose to a sharp point. Not all were perfectly vertical. Some thrust upward from the ground at marked angles, and several lay broken and shattered, having fallen over on their sides.

  She later learned they were the mounds of the jijites, tiny creatures that lived in the soil and fed off the wide-ranging root systems of numerous grasses. Constructed of tiny, even miniscule pebbles, they were bound together by a natural mortar extruded by specially designated jijite workers. Each pillar served to vent hot air from the living tunnels below the surface, cooling the jijite’s immediate environment. They were also lookout towers from which farsighted jijites could keep watch on the surrounding plains—and on the other, marauding members of their own kind. They were not insects, but a kind of collective small reptilian life-form.

  No four-legged lookouts were visible now, peering watchfully out of red, slitted eyes at the surrounding prairie. Having long since detected the oncoming kyren, they and their brethren had moved deep into the earth, down to multiple burrows safe from the onrushing swarm.

  Luminara had to work hard to slow her speeding suubatar so that it wouldn’t race past the aggregation of pillars. Shouting to make himself heard, Kyakhta indicated they had to split up into groups of two, since even the largest columns could effectively shelter no more than that.

  Obi-Wan didn’t like the idea, but they had no choice, and no time for debate. True, they could have stayed together, clinging to one another for support and reassurance, but that would have meant tethering their mounts separately, with no riders to control them. They hurriedly dismounted.

  “If one suubatar panics,” Bulgan explained, putting his mouth close to Luminara's ear in order to make himself heard, “the rest may stampede with it. That’s the way it is with all herd animals on prairies. They rely on each other’s reactions for protection from danger. If you are potential prey, it’s better to bolt than to stand around assessing the situation for yourself.” He clung tightly to the reins of his own steed. “If we don’t stay with our mounts, we might lose them.” He nodded in Obi-Wan’s direction. “I know you have the means for contacting Cuipernam and calling for rescue, but not even an armored landing speeder could force its way through a kyren flock. This is our only chance.”

  She indicated understanding. “I doubt we have time to call for help, anyway. Very well, Bulgan. We’ll split up.”

  They discussed the situation quickly, with no wasted words. Much as Luminara wanted to stay with Barriss, and Obi-Wan with Anakin, it made more sense to pair each of the Padawans with one of the more experienced guides. The two masters would take their own animals down behind the largest of the artificial pillars. Though the distance between columns was small, the sense of parting was disproportionately great.

  As soon as she and Obi-Wan succeeded in persuading their animals to lie down behind the brown column, they took shelter themselves, huddling close together in the middle of the triangular pillar. The suubatar’s reins had been wrapped around the stony column itself and secured in the manner hurriedly demonstrated by Kyakhta. When all was in readiness, she found that she had to smile. Her companion couldn’t help but notice.

  “I see that you’ve found a source of humor in our present situation. If it isn’t private, I could use a touch of amusement myself.”

  Barely able to make herself understood above the deafening massed screeching that was now nearly on top of them, she nodded forward. “Years of difficult study spent mastering innumerable skills, more years of crisscrossing the galaxy in the service of the Republic, the accolades of peers, and here I am: relying on a rock for protection while staring at the oversized backsides of a pair of alien steeds.”

  Gazing himself at the pair of outsized behinds as he pressed himself back against the shielding stone, Obi-Wan soon found himself, despite their desperate situation, smiling uncontrollably.

  The sky was now as dark as during a cloudy sunset. Something made a faint smacking sound behind the two huddled Jedi. It was followed by another, then more, in rapid succession. Then the swarm began to pass by overhead, and the smacking noises became a steady dull battering and splatting against the other side of the pillar. Luminara found herself giving thanks to tiny burrowing creatures she had never seen. It was their regurgitative engineering that was providing protection for the travelers, and keeping them alive.

  But for how long? The sound of airborne kyren slamming into the pillar rose in volume until the conglomeration of stone and cement-like saliva began to tremble against their backs. How far did the flock extend? How long would it take for it to pass over? Would their pillar, and those shielding their companions, be able to withstand the relentless pressure of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of kyren hurling themselves aimlessly against it?

  Black shapes numbering in the tens of millions pelted past at high speed. In the crush of small bodies, it was impossible to make out individuals. The swarm was a cyclonic mass of wings, eyes, and gaping mouths. Something struck her right ankle and , Jedi restraint or not, she jumped slightly. Reaching down, Obi-Wan gently picked up the fluttering, hopping creature in both hands. Wings and body broken, it twitched for another minute before lying still against his palms.

  Almost jet black, it had four membranous wings: two that spanned the Jedi’s cupping hands and emerged from extended ribs, and two half the size that sprouted from its back. No wonder it could stay aloft for so long, Luminara reflected. If necessary, it could glide on the lower wings while being propelled forward by the top pair. A bright yellow splotch decorated each wing, perhaps an aid in identifying itself to its brethren while all were airborne. Instead of legs, it boasted a pair of thick, furry tufts that ran the length of its underside, like runners on a sled. Spending most of its time aloft, it evidently had little need for pedestrian locomotion.

  The kyren’s method of mass feeding was made clear by its mouth—a wide gape lined top and bottom with twin ridges of horn. The flock hurtled along, those flying low clipping the nourishing crests of grain without stopping, the sharp lower ridges of horn acting like tiny airborne scythes. As soon as they were sated, those soaring along near the underside of the flock would change places with their hungry brethren flying above or behind them. Riding in the middle or the top of the swarm, those that had eaten would digest their meals while still aloft. The cloud of kyren would remain in constant motion not only on its chosen forward path, but within itself as well.

  Another appeared, flopping and fluttering its way helplessly along the ground. Stink aside, they really were rather cute, sad little creatures. Leaning forward slightly, Luminara looked to her right, past Obi-Wan.

  “Barriss! Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

  Her call was lost in the wail of wings. Nothing could be seen through the solid, continuous torrent of fliers; nothing could be heard above their ear-splitting screeching. Barriss, she remembered, was with Bulgan. It was not so much that Luminara was worried about her apprentice. Barriss had already proven on this mission that she could take care of herself. And the familiar slight disturbance in the Force indicated that her living presence was still strong. It was just that a glimpse of her familiar form would have been reassuring.

  They sat scrunched up against the jijite pillar for what seemed like the entire morning, but in reality was less than an hour. The suubatars huddled against one another for comfort and protection, their long narrow heads resting plaintively on the ground. Kyren shot past on either side or overhead, too intent on maintaining their flight paths to swerve even slightly to left or right to nip at the grass that was bent beneath the weight of resting suubatar jaws.

  The stone column that was
the only protection for human and steed alike continued to shudder beneath the impact of hundreds of suicidal bodies. With the airspace on all sides of them occupied, hemmed in above by tens of thousands of their brethren, the kyren that slammed into the pillar were compelled to sacrifice themselves out of instinct, and not a desire to commit mass suicide. They did not perish willingly: they simply had nowhere else to go. The sky was full.

  After a while, the sound of bodies hitting the stone column began to fade, even though the blizzard of black shapes continued to thunder past unabated. Eventually, even that sound began to dissipate. Soon only thousands of kyren were rushing by the pillar. Then hundreds. The sky brightened, black giving way once more to blue. A few clouds appeared. Looking to his right, Obi-Wan could once more make out the seated forms of Barriss and Bulgan, seated behind their indomitable jijite shield.

  When the last stragglers had passed and could be seen flapping madly southward in frantic attempts to keep up with the main flock, the travelers rose from their places of rest and protection for a joyful but solemn reunion. Tension had tired them, but any feelings of fatigue were more than offset by the relief they felt. No one had been hurt, although curious Anakin had been struck in the face when he had tried to peer briefly around his and Kyakhta’s protective column. A small scratch across his forehead was the only indication of the fortunately brief encounter with airborne kyren.

  It was a worthwhile lesson. Sometimes danger came not from the powerful and overbearing, but from the small and the overlooked.

  The meticulousness with which the mighty swarm had fed was remarkable to see. The only grass stalks that had been knocked down were those that had been trapped beneath the prone, resting suubatars. The kyren had not flattened a single section of prairie, every stalk remained standing, but nearly all had been shorn of their ripened seed. As far as the eye could see, the grassland looked as if it had been given a clipping by the largest and most perfect of all mowers.