Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy III: Champions of the Force

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Two of the creatures flapped up from the raised platform upon hearing the turbolift doors open. They honked and hissed, spitting at the very small boy who emerged alone to challenge them.

  Artoo squealed, as if thankful for any sort of help. The alarms continued to hammer through the temple.

  The third creature perched at the edge of the long stone table on which Luke’s body lay. Its two heads bobbed forward to let out a dual squeal of annoyance. One of the heads snapped down to tear a mouthful of cloth from Luke’s robe. The other head curled back scaled lips and flashed a jagged row of fangs.

  “They’re angry,” Jacen said as if he had some kind of empathy with the creatures. “They’re … wrong.”

  “Chase them away from my body, Jacen,” Luke said, eyeing the poisonous stingers on their tails, the vicious teeth, the sharp claws.… “Go help Artoo. The others will be here in just a few seconds.”

  Without fear Jacen shrieked like a wild warrior as he ran toward the monsters on his stubby legs. He flailed his arms, yelling.

  Two of the creatures squawked and swooped into the air, then flapped their leathery wings to dive at him. Artoo whistled a warning.

  Jacen ducked at the last moment. The creatures dragged their hooked metallic claws on the flagstone floor, sending up showers of sparks. The boy didn’t slow. He ran toward the last of the reptilian creatures, who stared hungrily down at Luke’s soft, closed eyelids.

  Jacen reached the raised platform. The third creature rose into the air, thrashing with its scorpion tail and snapping with both heads full of clacking fangs.

  Unable to fight for himself, Luke paralleled the boy as Jacen struggled up onto the raised platform. Grim and determined, the boy stood guard by his uncle’s motionless form. Artoo came up beside Jacen, his welding arm still crackling.

  Then Luke saw what to do—if it was possible, if he could manage to use his skills in such a way. Next to his robed body lay a black cylinder studded with power buttons.

  “Jacen,” Luke said, “take my lightsaber.”

  The three flying creatures circled the chamber, croaking at each other as if receiving instructions from the Exar Kun.

  Without hesitation the boy picked up the lightsaber handle. It was as long as his small forearm.

  “Don’t know how,” Jacen said to Luke.

  “I’ll show you,” Luke said. “Let me guide you … let me fight with you.”

  Talons extended, the three flying creatures plunged toward the boy, squealing with bloodlust in their eyes.

  Jacen held the smooth handle in front of him and pushed the activation button. With a loud snap-hiss the lightsaber’s deadly shaft blazed in the dimness. The little boy planted his feet apart, raised the glowing blade, and prepared to defend the Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker.

  Cilghal scooped Jaina up in her arms and ran down the halls as Dorsk 81 and Tionne joined her at the turbolift. They rose to the highest level, ready to battle for their Master, as they had done against the unleashed storm. But even Cilghal’s greatest fears did not prepare her for the astonishing sight that greeted her as she entered the grand audience chamber.

  Little Jacen held a lightsaber in his hand with all the grace and confidence of a master swordsman. The trio of flying creatures came at him, jabbing with their dripping stingers, snapping with long teeth, reaching with hooked claws. But Jacen pirouetted with the energy blade, wielding the lightsaber as if it were an extension of his arm. The blade crackled and hummed through the air.

  Artoo-Detoo, agitated, buzzed back and forth, doing his best to keep the creatures from coming too close to Master Skywalker’s body. Jacen continued to fight.

  One of the lizard creatures darted in with gnashing fangs, but Jacen deftly cleaved off a head with one smooth stroke. He left only a smoking neck stump as the other head of the two-headed monster writhed and flailed and spat. The creature crashed to the floor and flopped its leathery wings against the flagstones.

  The remaining two monsters struck with their scorpion stingers. The little boy swung the lightsaber, neatly slicing off one pointed stinger, then rolled out of the way as gouts of black poison spurted from the amputated end. The evil liquid burned on the ancient Massassi stones like acid, boiling with greasy gray-and-purple smoke.

  Maddened with pain, the injured thing flapped in the air until it grappled against its companion, rending with claws and snapping with two heads full of tearing teeth. It struck with the useless stump of its stinger, but the stronger creature stabbed with its own stinger—leaving a burning hole in the torso of its attacker, a hole that continued to burn and sizzle as the poison ate deeper and deeper.

  The stronger flying lizard latched its jaws on to the scaly throat of the other. When its victim had ceased its struggles, the survivor released its claws, flapping higher as the dead carcass fell with a thud onto the floor. Artoo came forward to zap the limp creature, making certain it was dead.

  Cilghal, Tionne, and Dorsk 81 froze on the threshold of the turbolift, watching the impossible tableau. “We’ve got to help him!” Dorsk 81 said.

  “How?” Tionne asked. “We have no weapons.”

  Cilghal assessed the furious battle. “Perhaps Jacen doesn’t need our help.”

  Jaina snatched her hand free from Cilghal’s grip and scrambled down the promenade even as the others hesitated for a fraction of a second. Cilghal ran after her.

  The last of the reptiles shrieked through double throats, infuriated by the attack of its companion. It dived down in an unstoppable plunge. Jacen stepped back to meet it, holding the lightsaber poised at his shoulder, waiting for the right moment.

  Coolly, as the creature came in with dripping fangs and outstretched claws, Jacen swung in a clean arc with grace and skill, perfectly in command of his reflexes. The glowing blade struck and severed both throats in one sizzling flash. The carcass of the creature, reflexively convulsing its wings, crashed into Jacen and drove him to the floor.

  Artoo rolled forward to help, bleeping.

  “He is all right,” Jaina called, finally reaching the raised platform. “Jacen!”

  “Jaina!” Cilghal shouted, catching up with her.

  The tip of the lightsaber appeared, smoking and blazing through the carcass as Jacen cut his way free of the stiff wings. Cilghal assisted him.

  In surprise Jaina looked up to see the first fallen creature lurch back up, clinging to life with its remaining head, still desperate to kill Luke. With one stump of its severed neck still oozing dark blood, it clutched the edge of the stone table and hauled itself up, snapping its scorpion tail in convulsive twitches and preparing to sting. Its wings flapped, helping it balance on the table where it could rip apart Luke’s body.

  In one last moment of defiance, pushed on by the evil spirit controlling it, the wounded creature struck toward Luke’s unprotected throat.

  But Jaina arrived first. The little girl jumped up and grabbed its wings, yanking backward with all her weight. Writhing and snapping, the creature tried to bite down on the hands holding its leathery wings.

  A mere second behind Jaina, Cilghal wrapped her powerful Calamarian hands around the creature’s long serpentine throat even as Jaina continued to yank backward at its wings. Cilghal let out a high grunt as she wrung its neck, crushing a succession of vertebrae as if they were dry twigs.

  The thing slumped down across the table, finally dead.

  Jaina panted and slid into a squat. Jacen climbed to his feet and looked around as if confused. He blinked his eyes sleepily, then, with a deft movement of one small finger, deactivated the lightsaber. The humming sound of the blade vanished into the sudden silence of the chamber.

  The turbolift opened, and the remaining Jedi trainees rushed out, drawing up short as they saw the carnage.

  Tionne reached the raised platform. Her silvery hair flowed behind her like a comet’s tail. She bent over Luke’s body and, with an expression of disgust, gripped the still-oozing reptilian carcass of the last slain creature a
nd flung it away from the Jedi Master.

  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.”

  12

  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 déjà 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 altogether 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—but 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 said, 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-ATs.

  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-ATs’ 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.