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

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “Luke, you’re alive! What are you doing here?”

  He realized that Wedge had been inside the Maw cluster since before the defeat of Exar Kun. “We brought the Sun Crusher here to destroy it. But it looks like you’re having problems of your own.”

  “I’d need a few hours to tell you everything that’s happened since this operation started,” Wedge said. His voice was harried. “Are you safe?”

  “We’re fine for now, Wedge. We’re landing in one of your maintenance bays.”

  “Good. I can sure use whatever help you can offer.”

  After Kyp secured the Sun Crusher, he popped open the hatch, and the two of them clambered down the metal ladder. They set off at a brisk jog through the curving corridors that tunneled through the dead rock. The rhythmic pounding of Daala’s repeated blasts echoed through the tunnels.

  The two of them spilled into the operations center, trying to make sense of the frenzy of preparations Wedge had underway.

  Wedge Antilles ran forward to embrace his friend. Both men clapped each other on the back. “I’m so glad you’re back with us,” Wedge said in a voice filled with unasked questions. Then he flashed a distrustful glance at Kyp Durron, who stood contritely on the threshold. “What’s he doing here?”

  Beside him Qwi Xux also saw him and gasped, taking a step backward.

  “I’m sorry,” Kyp said quietly.

  Luke looked sternly at Wedge. “Kyp is here to help us, Wedge. He has returned from the dark side, and I’ve made my peace with him. If you still hold a grudge, then take it up with him once this is all over.”

  Wedge looked to Qwi, and her gentle narrow face tightened before she nodded briefly.

  “Kyp came here to destroy the Sun Crusher as a form of penance, but now—” Luke gripped his apprentice’s shoulder. “Now we are two Jedi offering our services in this fight.”

  Wedge called to one of the other commandos. “Give me a status update now,” he said.

  The tactical crew rattled off a list of starfighters deployed, shots fired, a tally of enemy and ally losses. “Chewbacca’s team appears to have knocked out the Gorgon’s starboard turbolaser batteries.”

  Wedge looked relieved. “If only we can keep damaging Daala faster than she can damage us.” He shook his head.

  “Where’s Han?” Luke asked. Kyp perked up, eagerly awaiting the answer.

  Wedge frowned. “What do you mean?” Luke explained about the prototype and how Han, Lando, and Mara Jade had last been seen inside its superstructure.

  Wedge shook his head. “The Sun Crusher and the Gorgon are already here—now you’re telling me the Death Star is coming back?” He blinked in disbelief before starting to snap out orders to the tactical team. “You heard what Luke said! Looks like we’ve got another surprise coming our way.”

  It didn’t seem possible, but everyone managed to bustle a little faster. Luke stared through the broad skylights of the operations center. He sensed it before he saw it.

  Through the flaring lights of battle overhead and the muffled din of repeated explosions, the armillary sphere of the Death Star prototype emerged through the pastel glow of the Maw and entered the fray.

  36

  The Millennium Falcon’s landing claw clung to the Death Star’s superstructure as the skeletal sphere lurched into motion again and careened through the black hole cluster.

  Han, Mara, and Lando sat strapped into their swiveling seats, gritting their teeth from gravity’s onslaught. The Falcon held on, but the prototype bucked from the enormous tidal pulls.

  Once the rough passage was over, Han scanned the diagnostics. “Got to do something about these hyperdrives,” he said. “If we fly fast enough, we could just blow the reactor core and run. But the way the Falcon’s limping along, we’d never get away in time.”

  Han turned his seat to look at Lando and Mara. He wiped dark hair away from his eyes. “And even if we did get away in time, we’d never make it back through the Maw cluster without top-notch maneuverability.”

  “Not to mention we don’t know the way out,” Mara said. “My Jedi instincts aren’t strong enough for a job like that.”

  “Uh, now, that’s another good point …,” Han admitted.

  “But Han,” Lando said, “we’ve got to do something. If the Death Star’s come back to Maw Installation, it’s bound to be up to no good.”

  “Yeah,” Han said, nodding grimly. “Chewie is in here with the rest of the occupation force. I won’t just leave him if he’s in trouble.”

  Mara pulled herself to her feet. “So it’s obvious,” she said. “We’ve got to deactivate that superlaser.” She shrugged. “As long as we’re here.”

  “But the hyperdrive engines—” Han began.

  “You’ve got environment suits, don’t you?” she said. “A light freighter like the Falcon ought to have at least a couple for emergency repairs.”

  “Yesss,” Han said, drawing out the word, still unable to guess what Mara had in mind. “I’ve got two suits: one for me and one for Chewie.”

  “Good,” Mara said, cracking her knuckles. “Calrissian and I will go out and plant timed detonators on the reactor core. You work on the hyperdrive engines. The timers will let us get out of the superstructure before they blow.”

  Lando’s mouth dropped open. “You want me—?”

  Her eyes challenged him. “Got any better ideas?”

  He shrugged and grinned. “Why, no. I’d be honored to escort you, Mara.”

  Lando sneezed as he tugged on the huge padded suit. “This whole thing smells like Wookiee hair,” he said. “Did Chewbacca exercise in this thing and put it away wet?”

  The sleeves were enormous, and his feet swam in the Wookiee-sized boots. He tugged the bulky fabric around his waist, fold upon fold, and then used the adjustment straps to cinch it tighter around him. He felt as if he were walking inside a giant inflated mattress.

  “We’ve got a job to do, Calrissian,” Mara said. “Quit complaining or I’ll do it myself.”

  “No,” Lando said. “I want to help you. Really.”

  “Here.” Mara held out a case of the timed detonators. “Carry these.”

  Lando looked down at them and swallowed. “Thanks.”

  Han gave a hollow grunt of pain as he bumped his head on something down in the repair crawl space. Lando heard his friend mutter something about wishing for a decent droid to do the dirty work.

  “A couple of the components are fried,” Han called up to them. His voice sounded tinny through the compartment. “But I’ve got spares—or at least close enough that I can get the ship running again. We’ve got three fused circuits. One we can get by without; two I can bypass.”

  “We’ll give you half an hour,” Mara said, pulling the helmet on and sealing it over her neck.

  Han repositioned himself in the coffin-sized maintenance bay to stick his head above the deck plates. Grease and leaked coolant stained his cheeks. “I’ll be ready.”

  “You better be, if we trigger those timers,” Lando said, and secured his own helmet. It seemed as large as a shuttlecraft on his head.

  “Come on, Calrissian,” Mara said. “We’ve got some wrecking to do.”

  From his comfortable chair Tol Sivron squinted out at the panorama of the Maw’s center, assessing the situation but making no decisions—like a good manager.

  “It’s the Star Destroyer Gorgon, sir,” the stormtrooper captain said. “Shall I hail it?”

  Sivron scowled. “About time Admiral Daala came back to do her duty,” he said. It still rankled him that she had abandoned her primary mission of protecting the Maw scientists. Now that the Rebels had already taken over the Installation, it was too late for her to make amends.

  “Why did she come back with only one Star Destroyer?” Sivron said. “She had four. No, wait—one was destroyed, wasn’t it? Well, three, anyway. Does she simply want to flaunt her weaponry?” He sniffed. “Well, this time we’ve got our own Death Star, and we’re not afraid
to use it.”

  “Excuse me, Director,” the captain said, “but the Gorgon appears to be severely damaged. The Rebel forces are attacking her. I believe it’s our duty to come to her aid.”

  Tol Sivron looked at the captain incredulously. “You want us to rescue Admiral Daala after she deserted us? You have an odd sense of obligation, Captain.”

  “But,” the stormtrooper said, “aren’t we all fighting the same battle?”

  Sivron frowned. “In a sense, perhaps. But we must have different priorities—as Daala herself evidenced by leaving us behind.”

  He saw the Rebel ships opening fire on the lone Star Destroyer, saw the attack increasing as starfighters met TIE fighters in a flurry of pinpoint laser strikes. The colorful battle had a hypnotic effect—and he thought of the blazing heat storms on the Twi’lek homeworld of Ryloth.

  He felt a lump of comet ice form in his stomachs. His career had been long and successful, but he was about to end it by destroying the facility he had so successfully administered for years and years.

  In the pilot chair of the Death Star prototype, Sivron said in a cold voice, “All right, let us show Admiral Daala we scientists can hold our own.”

  Suddenly an alarm ratcheted through the chamber. Sivron sighed. “Now what?”

  Yemm and Doxin both flipped through their manuals, searching for an explanation.

  “We’ve detected intruders,” the stormtrooper captain answered. “On the power core itself. It seems we picked up one of those smuggler ships near Kessel.”

  “Well, what do they think they’re doing?” Sivron asked.

  “According to our sensor cameras, two people have emerged from their ship and—as far as we can tell—are attempting some sort of sabotage.”

  Sivron sat up in alarm. “Well, stop them!” He snatched the manual out of Doxin’s hands and flipped through the pages. “Use emergency procedure number—” He continued to skim over the pages, squinting down at the bulleted lists, flipped a few more pages before tossing the book aside in disgust. “Well, just use the correct procedure, Captain. Do something!”

  “We have only a few men and not much time,” the captain said. “I’ll order two spacetroopers to suit up and take care of the intruders personally.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sivron said, waving his clawed hand, “don’t bother me with details. Just get the job done.”

  Lando tilted the face shield of his enormous helmet back and forth, the better to see with, but the Wookiee-sized suit folded around him in strange and uncomfortable ways. He had to work twice as hard just to figure out where he was going.

  His magnetic boots clomped on the metal plating of the gigantic cylindrical power core. Tapered at one end like a spindle with a diamond-hard point, the core pressed against another contact point that rose from the south pole of the Death Star. Between the two points starfire crackled as the charge built up.

  The skeleton of girders and access tubes, walled-off compartments, temporary quarters, and storerooms, formed a giant cage around them. Linked catwalks spanned open spaces like a tangled net. Though the prototype was the size of a small moon, it held very little gravity. Lando had to work hard to keep his balance, letting his magnetic boots determine the direction “down.”

  “We have to go closer to the energy pods,” Mara said, her voice buzzing through the tiny earphone.

  Lando looked for a way to respond and finally figured out how to activate his own helmet microphone. “Whatever you say. The sooner I get rid of these detonators, the happier I’ll be.” He sighed partly to himself but also for Mara’s benefit. “You’d think destroying one Death Star in a man’s lifetime would be enough.”

  “I prefer men who never settle for enough,” Mara answered.

  Lando blinked, not sure how to take her comment. He allowed himself a broad grin.

  Holding out his gloved hand to steady Mara, Lando worked his way down the immense cylindrical core. He tilted his visor to shield himself from the glare pouring from the discharge at the contact points. Above them the pronged disk of the Falcon clung to a thick girder.

  “Should be good enough here,” Mara said, reaching out. “Give me the first detonator.”

  Lando rummaged in the shielded container and withdrew one of the thick disks. Mara cradled it in her padded glove and bent down to fasten it to the metal hull.

  “We’ll work our way around and place them on the perimeter,” she said, pushing her thumb down on the synchronization button. The detonator lit up with seven lights blinking slowly, like a heartbeat, waiting for final activation.

  “When they’re all emplaced,” Mara’s voice said, “we’ll give ourselves twenty standard minutes. That should be ample time to get back to the Falcon and get away.”

  Without waiting for him to agree, Mara worked her way around the curving reactor core and turned to take a second detonator from him, planting it squarely against the plating.

  Lando felt the faint vibrations of the core throbbing against his magnetic boots. The stored power seemed to be restless, building, waiting to be unleashed.

  It seemed to take forever to traverse the circumference of the vast power core, planting the seven detonators. When they returned to their starting point, Mara leaned closer so Lando could see her face through the curved faceplate.

  “Ready, Calrissian?”

  “Sure thing,” Lando answered.

  She punched the activator button on the first device. All around the perimeter the detonators winked blue as they began their countdown.

  “Back to the Falcon. Hurry,” Mara said. Lando clomped after her.

  A movement caught his eye from the side of the bucket-sized helmet, and he turned his head just in time to see the blocky armored suit of an Imperial spacetrooper. The enemy looked like a man-shaped AT-AT walker with reinforced joints on elbows and knees, heavy boots—and vibroblades like claws in his gloves. One slash and the spacetrooper could rip open Lando’s suit, killing him with explosive decompression.

  The spacetrooper emerged from an access hatch in the framework above. He let the low gravity cushion his fall as his bulk dropped onto the power core. His heavy boots clanged on the metal as he landed next to Lando and Mara.

  “Where did he come from?” Lando said, ducking as the spacetrooper lunged with the vibroblades in his gloves. Lando bent backward like a mucus tree in a gale. His magnetic boots held his feet in place, but he threw himself in the opposite direction. Vibroblades slashed past his chest.

  Mara reacted more swiftly, swinging the empty padded container that had held the detonators, putting all her momentum behind it. The sharp-edged metal banged against the spacetrooper’s thick helmet.

  The trooper reached up, stabbing through the plated case with vibroblade claws. Mara used his temporary disorientation to grab Lando and add his mass to her own as she shoved the spacetrooper. With her foot Mara pried free one of the spacetrooper’s boots as he fought to regain his balance. She slammed against him, breaking the magnetic grip of his other boot. In an instant the trooper snapped free.

  Suddenly unattached to the core, he dropped with the momentum imparted by the force of Mara’s attack. The spacetrooper scrabbled to find purchase against the smooth cylindrical hull as he slid down toward the fiery contact points. The vibroblades in his glove made long, silvery score marks on the metal, but did no good.

  Sucked inexorably down, the trooper plunged into the flaming discharge between the contact points and vaporized in a bolt of green-and-blue static.

  The detonators continued their countdown.

  Lando signaled. “We’re on our way, Han, old buddy. Make sure you’re ready to go.”

  When he felt a vibration through his boots, Lando looked up to see another spacetrooper drop down from the catwalks. This one carried a blaster rifle, but Lando guessed that the trooper dared not use it in the vicinity of the power core.

  The second trooper brought his blaster rifle to bear, motioning for them to surrender, but no voice came o
ver their helmet radios. Lando wondered if the trooper had tuned to a different frequency, or if he merely expected the blaster rifle to be a universal language.

  “Can he hear us?” Lando said.

  “Who knows? Distract him. Our time is running out.” Lando waved his gloved hands and pointed down the expanse of metal to the blinking detonators. He flapped his palms frantically and threw his arms wide to mime an explosion.

  As the spacetrooper glanced in the other direction, Mara launched herself forward and grabbed the barrel of his blaster rifle, using it like a lever. In free fall her own momentum knocked him free, sending the trooper tumbling back up toward the catwalks.

  “Let’s go! Don’t worry about him,” Mara said, returning to Lando’s side. “Get to the Falcon before those detonators blow.”

  Mara and Lando toiled back to the ship still clinging to the support girders. Behind them the second spacetrooper managed to reach out and grab one of the tangled coolant pipes, stopping his reckless tumble. He descended toward the power core again, ignoring Lando and Mara as he hurried to the detonators.

  Lando felt Chewbacca’s enormous baggy suit folding around him, making it difficult to walk. He looked back and saw the spacetrooper working with the detonators, but he knew Mara had cyberlocked them together. With only a few minutes left, the spacetrooper would be able to do nothing.

  Less than a minute before the timed detonation, Lando and Mara sealed themselves inside the Falcon just as Han disengaged the landing claw.

  “Glad you could join me!” Han said, immediately punching the accelerators.

  The Falcon raced back out along the Death Star’s equator. Its sublight engines flared white-hot behind it.

  The surviving spacetrooper managed to reach the ring of detonators. He worked meticulously but rapidly, disconnecting each one, using the built-in laser welder in his suit to remove the explosives. He tossed each one, still blinking, into the open space.

  He succeeded in disarming six of the seven detonators. He was standing right above the last one, prying it up, when it exploded beneath him.