Kyle nodded. "Yeah, but it won't take them long to make us. We need a place to hide."
"True," the other agent agreed, "but let's check the settlement first . . . the one the lieutenant spoke of."
"Fort Nowhere?"
"Exactly. We could use a guide, someone who knows the surface, and that's the logical place to look."
"Good idea," Kyle agreed, "but quickly, before they sic a wing of TIE fighters on us." Jan nodded and pushed the ship down through a thin layer of clouds.
Wee Gee, the utility droid Kyle's father had designed and the two of them had built, peered over their shoulders. The machine could assume a nearly endless variety of configurations but most often resembled an inverted U. His right arm was the most powerful. It incorporated four articulated joints and a C-shaped grasper. The left was less massive but mounted a human-style tool hand. A repulsorlift engine enabled Wee Gee to hover just off the deck.
The droid made a series of beeping sounds. Kyle nodded his head. "That's right, boy — Ruusan looks a lot different from Sulon."
Wee Gee made a chirruping sound and clamped himself to a bulkhead.
Concerned that they might be detected, Kyle scanned the full spectrum of comm channels. There was some routine chatter, bursts of static as computers exchanged high-speed data packets, and something else, something so weak, so intermittent he wasn't sure it was intentional. Except that it felt intentional, and if the Jedi had learned anything over the last few months, it was to trust his feelings.
The ship shuddered as Jan leveled out over an undulating desert and followed the terrain as it rose and fell. If they stayed low enough, if they were lucky, the agents would escape detection by ground-based sensors.
"Listen to this," Kyle said, turning up the volume. "Does it mean anything to you?"
Jan listened to what sounded like a series of clicks. Some came in rapid succession, while others had short periods of silence between them. "No, but it's repetitive, which would seem to rule out natural phenomena of some sort."
"That's what I thought," Kyle agreed. "Let's try something . . . " He touched some keys, ran the signal through the ship's computer, and waited for a response. A screen came to life, and words appeared and scrolled from top to bottom.
"The signal in question exhibits a ninety-nine-percent match with a primitive code involving two alternating symbols. Specific combinations of these symbols stand in for letters — just as binary notation provides a symbolic representation of words and numbers."
Kyle felt a sense of excitement, demanded a translation, and watched the text appear. "Land fifty-six kilometers due south of Fort Nowhere."
The agent checked to see if there was more, found there wasn't, and pointed to the screen. "Look! There they are!"
"There who are?" Jan asked cynically. "The colonists? Or a company of stormtroopers?"
Kyle shrugged. "Anything's possible . . . but it feels right."
Jan brought the Crow up, cleared a mountain of sand, and watched Kyle from the corner of her eye. She hadn't planned to fall in love with him, or anyone else for that matter, but it had happened and she was stuck with it. Stuck with him and his talent. It was as if he had a whole set of additional senses — senses she didn't have.
Jan felt a hand cover hers, turned to meet Kyle's gaze, and saw him smile. "Are you all right?"
The agent thought about it for a second, realized that she was, and gave a nod. "Yes, as long as I have you."
Kyle squeezed her hand. "As if you could get rid of me . . . watch that ridge!"
Jan threw the Crow to the right, guided the ship through a U-shaped gap, and both of them laughed.
Kyle had noticed that the signal grew steadily stronger as they approached Fort Nowhere. Then, just as the Crow flew over some badly burned ruins, the indicator bar shot upward.
"Let's take another look," Kyle suggested, pointing back over his shoulder. "There could be survivors."
Jan nodded, put the ship into a tight turn, and dumped speed. The settlement, or what was left of it, made a sad sight indeed. There was very little left except for burned-out buildings, tumble-down walls, and blackened earth. A single gra grazed next to the abandoned fort.
Kyle gave a low whistle. "Look at that! Not a building left standing . . . why?"
Jan knew the question was rhetorical and didn't answer. The Imperials had been out to eradicate the settlers or, failing that, to make sure they were reduced to little more than hunter-gatherers.
"All right," Kyle said, "I don't sense any intelligent life forms around here . . . let's try the landing zone."
Jan, who still wondered about the wisdom of such a move, turned toward the south. It took less than fifteen minutes to reach their destination. It consisted of a flood plain located between two ancient riverbeds. One thing was for sure, there was very little chance of an ambush, since there was nowhere to hide. Jan banked to starboard. "It looks like nobody's home — what now?"
"Looks can be deceiving," Kyle replied. "Somebody's watching — I can feel it."
Jan frowned. "Somebody good? Or somebody bad?"
Kyle shrugged. "Sorry, I can't tell. Let's put her down, keep the weapons systems on-line, and see what happens."
Jan sighed, wished there was another way, and followed Kyle's suggestion. The Crow swooped in, hovered for a moment, and settled onto alluvial gravel. Jan left the weapons systems on, set the controls for a hot start, and slaved the sensors to a handheld remote.
It was then and only then that the agent followed her companion outside. He knelt next to the ship and allowed gravel to sift through his fingers. Metal pinged as it cooled, and a breeze swept in from the north. Jan drew the sweet, unrecycled air deep into her lungs. "Nice, isn't it?"
Kyle encountered something solid with his fingers, brushed the gravel away, and broke the object free. "Hey! Look at this!"
He held up the object for her inspection, and Jan saw what remained of an ancient dagger. The handle, which might have been made of wood or bone, had decayed hundreds of years before, but the blade was good as new.
Then, as if sensitized by Kyle's find, her eye fastened onto something protruding from the plain. The Rebel walked over, toed the object with her boot, and felt it give. She bent over, found a grip, and pulled it free. "Look, Kyle! A helmet!"
Kyle stood and moved in her direction. "It looks like we stumbled onto an ancient battlefield . . . I wonder who won?"
The question went unanswered as something whirred over the agent's head. Jan's blaster was halfway out of its holster when Kyle grabbed her arm. "No! Let them look."
The device completed a circuit of the ship and returned. It was shaped like a boomerang and equipped with sensors. Jan had never seen anything quite like it — which seemed to suggest the colonists rather than the Imperials. The machine hovered, as if to examine them, turned, and entered the Crow. Wee Gee had remained aboard — and Kyle could imagine the machines examining each other. His thoughts turned to the flyer's owners. "Cautious aren't they?"
Jan nodded. "And with good reason."
The flyer, if that's what the device could properly be called, exited the ship, circled over their heads, and darted toward the west. It returned seconds later, ran through the same sequence again, and accelerated away.
"They want us to follow," Kyle said calmly. "Let's crank her up."
The Rebels reentered the ship, checked their sensors, and lifted off. The remote hovered, zipped out in front of them, and sped away. The boomerang-shaped machine made pretty good time for something its size, but it was difficult to maintain visual contact and to fly that slowly. Jan was relieved when the device lost altitude and prepared to land.
Kyle watched a pair of low-lying hills reach up to embrace them and used his recently developed talent to monitor the Force. It was like an enormous lake, calm for the most part, but responsive to the least disturbance. There were sentients up ahead — a number of them. Were they colonists? Survivors from the attack on Fort Nowhere? Or stormtroopers waiti
ng in ambush? Logic suggested the former — his emotions the latter.
Grit Grawley lay on top of one of two hills that guarded the entrance to the Valley and the ruins beyond. The statue that had occupied the platform off to his left had fallen hundreds of years before. The remains of it were scattered down the forward slope and pointed toward a skillfully sculpted hand. The palm was blackened where signal fires had burned, beckoning travelers from many kilometers away. It must have been something to see. Carole touched his arm. "Grit! Look! Here they come."
The colonist looked, grabbed his electrobinoculars, and looked again. It was a ship sure enough — with Fido in the lead. He grinned. There was no telling who the visitors were, but one thing was for sure, the ship was clean. He had monitored the inspection himself. "What do you think?" Carole inquired. "Are they Rebels?"
Grif tracked the ship as it passed and descended toward the ground. "That's a good question, hon. You saw the video — did you recognize the man?"
"No, I don't think so . . ."
"Well, I could be wrong, but he looked kinda familiar. A lot like Morgan Katarn's boy ... the one who left Sulon for the Imperial Military Academy. Question is, am I right? And if I am, what side is he on? Time to find out." The courtyard was large enough to accommodate a squadron of X-wings. Jan chose a spot between the once-spectacular fountain and the broad flight of stairs that led up and into the temple. A group of humans, all armed, monitored her progress.
The Crow landed with a solid thump. The Rebels assigned Wee Gee to keep watch and made their way down the ramp and out into the increasingly warm atmosphere. A man with a three-day growth of beard came forward, gave his name as Grif Grawley, and pumped Kyle's hand. "Howdy, son, how's your dad?"
Kyle peered into the other man's face, realized who it was, and grinned. "Citizen Grawley? Is that you? This is wonderful! How's your wife?"
"I'm fine," Carole said, stepping forward. "Thanks to your father . . . We were in trouble back on Sulon and he brought us here."
Grif cleared his throat. "Which raises an interesting question, son. We know which side your dad's on, but you're something of a mystery. Drop the blaster and the lightsaber. That goes for you too, young lady . . . till we sort things out."
The agents looked around, saw more than a dozen weapons pointed in their direction, and did as they were told.
"That's better," Grif said equably. "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, how's your father?"
"Dead," Kyle answered bitterly. "Remember the spaceport? Well, that's where they displayed his head. On a spike for all to see. That's why I'm here, to avenge his death, but more than that, to stop the Imperials from looting the Valley of the Jedi."
Carole Grawley's hand came up to her mouth, and her husband scowled. Morgan Katarn? Dead? It might be a lie . . . but Grif didn't think so. He swore, turned to a group of bystanders, and gave some orders. "Lasko, Kimber, Pardy — throw some netting over that ship and clear the plaza. The Imps aren't blind, you know ... Come on, you two — let's take it in out of the sun. Cold in the morning and warm later on, that's how it is around here."
The Rebels felt naked without their weapons and more than a little nervous with so many blasters pointed in their direction. Grif led them up the stairs and through an enormous entryway. The temple's interior was surprisingly well lit thanks to an ancient system of skylights and mirrors. A dozen shafts of light, each arriving from a different angle, converged on the likeness of a man. He leaned forward, his chin supported by a fist.
Grif gestured to the space around him. "Welcome to our temporary home. Those fortunate enough to survive the attack on Fort Nowhere banded together, collected what resources they could, and came here."
Carole Crawley listened with amazement as her normally tactless husband papered over the fact that the "townies," as he liked to call them, had ignored his warnings, taken terrible losses, and fled into the badlands. An area about which they knew very little. She would never forget the day they had arrived, setting off the perimeter alarms and interrupting her husband's mid-afternoon nap.
The fact that Grif had agreed to help them, and subsequently metamorphosed into their leader, was no less than a miracle. Or so it seemed to her.
Oblivious to his wife's thoughts, Grif pointed toward a makeshift table and the equipment piled beyond. "Take a load off and tell us the story. Most things happen at night around here . . . so we have plenty of time."
Kyle took a seat and tried to ignore the onlookers. He told the story of how he had gone to the Academy, received the news of his father's death, and headed for home. It was during the journey that he met Jan for the second time, learned that his father had been murdered by the Empire, and swore himself to the Rebel cause.
The raid on Danuta didn't seem relevant, so he left that out and went straight to events on Sulon. These were of considerable interest to most of those present, since that's where most of them came from and, in many cases, hoped to return.
Kyle described his battles with Yun, Gorc, Pic, and 8t88 in dry, dispassionate terms, explained how Jan and he had recovered the necessary coordinates, and why they had come.
A settler named Lasko, the same one who had been brought to his knees by Sariss, listened with interest. Could the Jedi in Katarn's story be the same ones who destroyed Fort Nowhere? It certainly sounded that way.
Jan felt it was a story well told — but at least one of those present disagreed. He was a pugnacious individual with an underthrust jaw and massive shoulders. His name was Pardy, Luther Pardy, and he wore Kyle's weapons as if they were his. "It makes a nice story, boy, a real nice story, kind o' like the fairy tales the missus tells the young'uns. Why should we believe this dreck? 'Specially the stuff about the Force, Jedi Knights, and all that. Sounds kind o' convenient to me — sort of like what a spy would say."
Lasko eyed both men, decided to support Katarn if it came to that, and allowed a hand to rest on his blaster.
A cloud passed in front of the sun. The light level dropped by twenty percent. The statue seemed to frown, and all eyes turned toward Kyle. Slowly, so as not to startle one of the trigger-happy colonists, he stood.
Pardy, who outweighed the agent by a good thirty pounds, grinned. A quick, easy victory would raise his status within the group. Make Grawley listen more. He licked his lips.
Kyle met the other man's eyes, extended his hand as if ready to shake, and visualized what he wanted. An object whirred through the air, slapped the surface of his palm, and made a popping noise. Energy sizzled as the lightsaber came to life, and Pardy stepped back. A half-dozen blasters came up but fell when Grif shook his head. "Well, Pardy, no more questions? I didn't think so. Guess you'd better return that blaster. Welcome to Ruusan, kid — and you too, Jan. Tell us about that Valley and what we can do to help."
Lasko felt a tremendous sense of relief. Only a Jedi could defeat a Jedi. Now there was hope.
There was no especially safe time to move around the planet's surface, but night offered some protection and was the only time when the bouncers ventured out. It had been Grif 's idea to meet with the locals and seek their counsel. After all, the bouncers were either native to Ruusan or had been there so long that it didn't make much difference, and they knew the planet better than anyone.
Grif nudged the agent's arm. The two of them, plus Jan and six of the most able-bodied colonists, had taken refuge in a fortress of stone. A boulder lay at the center of the refuge, surrounded by the tumble of smaller rocks to which it had inadvertently given birth. Carved from their parent's flanks by the combined forces of heat, water, and cold, the offspring provided a vantage point from which the Rebels could watch the surrounding plain.
Ruusan had no less than three moons — all of which were visible. Grif pointed to the flat area in front of them. "That's where the bouncers are most likely to appear . . . They're shaped like balls, have retractable tentacles, and rely on the wind for propulsion. All of which might explain their lifestyle, patience, and inherent fatalism."
Kyle raised an eyebrow, and Grif looked self-conscious. "Hey, it makes sense, doesn't it? You don't need no degree in anthropology to figure that out."
"It makes a lot of sense. Go on."
"Well, they have big eyes, for gathering light, and love to roll in front of the wind. That's when they look for obstacles, steer for them, and bounce into the air."
"Hence the name 'bouncers,' " Kyle put in.
"Right," Grif confirmed. "And that's when they float — as far as the wind will carry them."
"They sound wonderful," Jan said wistfully. "I hope they come."
"There's no way to be sure," the colonist replied, "but the conditions are right. Your father knew them," Grif added, turning toward Kyle. "And they still talk about him, or write about him, since that's how they communicate."
"The bouncers knew my father?" Kyle asked incredulously. "How could that be?"
"Your dad was an interesting man," the settler replied. "Once he put us on the ground and got things organized, he borrowed a skimmer and took off. Everybody said he was crazy. Who knows when he ran into the bouncers, but he did. They call him 'the knight who never was,' whatever that means."
Kyle felt goose bumps ripple the length of his arms. His father could have been a Jedi Knight ... and chose not to. That was his theory anyway, which echoed what the bouncers said. But how could they know?
"Look!" Jan said excitedly. "I see some white blobs!"
"Here they come," Grif confirmed, peering through his electrobinoculars. "Watch closely . . . you're in for a treat."
The creatures sent ripples through the Force. Kyle had raised his electrobinoculars and was about to take a look when another presence registered on his consciousness.
The agent turned, scrambled onto a flat-topped rock, and scanned the southern horizon. It took less than five seconds to acquire the incoming targets and identify them for what they were: a skimmer with two speeder bikes as escorts. "Grif! Jan! We've got company. Alert the others."
"What about the bouncers?" Jan demanded. "We've got to warn them!"
Jedi Knight Page 6