Champions of the Force Page 4

  As the acceleration increased, Chewbacca closed his eyes and growled at him to be quiet. Threepio ignored him. "It would have been nice to see Artoo—Detoo again at Master Luke's Jedi academy. I haven't spoken to my counterpart in a long time."

  Threepio did not slow down as he changed subjects. "I really don't know what use I'm expected to be on this military mission. I've never been very skilled at combat. I don't like combat. I don't like excitement in any form, though I seem to have encountered enough of it."

  Inertia pushed Chewbacca back against his uncomfortably small seat as the transport accelerated toward the congregation of battleships in orbit around Coruscant.

  Threepio continued, and continued. "Of course I understand that I am technically supposed to help sift through the data in the Maw Installation computers, and I suppose I could be of some use translating the languages of alien scientists — but certainly there must be some other droid better qualified for that type of work? Isn't General Antilles taking along an entire team of slicer droids to get encrypted information? Page's Commandos are experts in this sort of thing. Why do I have to go along and do all the hard work? It seems unfair to me."

  Chewbacca barked a sharp command. Threepio turned to him with his yellow optical sensors glowing in indignation. "I will not be quiet, Chewbacca. Why should I listen to you after you put my head on backward in Cloud City? "

  "If you yourself had spoken up during the preparations for putting this team together, you could have convinced them to let me stay with Mistress Leia. But you thought I might be an asset to this mission, and now you're just going to have to listen to me."

  With a sigh of annoyance Chewbacca reached over and hit the power switch on the back of Threepio's neck. The droid fell silent, his words slurring to a stop as he slumped forward.

  On the troop transport Page's Commandos —noted for their intense training, cold efficiency, and utter professionalism — took a moment to applaud Chewbacca's action.

  On the command bridge of the escort frigate Yavaris, General Wedge Antilles looked across space. Sunlight reflected off the metal hulls of his fleet. He had asked for command of this mission because he wanted to return to where Qwi Xux had spent so much of her life — to where the secrets of her lost memory might lie hidden.

  The Yavaris was a powerful ship, despite its fragile appearance caused by the thin spine that separated its two primary components. At the frigate's aft end a boxy construction contained sublight and hyperdrive engines and the power reactors that drove not only the engines but also twelve turbolaser batteries and twelve laser cannons. On the other end of the connecting rod, separated from the engines, was the much larger command section, hanging down in an angular structure that contained the command bridge, crew quarters, scanners, and cargo bays that carried two full X—wing fighter squadrons for the assault.

  The escort frigate held a crew of about nine hundred seasoned soldiers, while the rest of his fleet — four Corellian corvettes — carried one hundred on each vessel.

  Wedge brushed his dark hair away from his forehead and set his square jaw. The last of the troop transports had docked on the frigate, bringing the remainder of the handpicked raiders.

  Han Solo had reported that Maw Installation was no longer protected by Admiral Daala's Star Destroyers, which had been lured out of the black hole cluster to wreak havoc across the galaxy. The precious weapons information and scientists inside the Installation were undefended. Probably. Wedge was prepared for surprises, especially from a congregation of Imperial weapons designers.

  On the command bridge of the Yavaris, Wedge toggled on the intercom. "Prepare to depart," he said. The four corvettes folded around the escort frigate in a diamond formation. Ahead, Wedge saw throbbing blu —white light as banks of heavy engines pulsed to life.

  The corvettes' huge engines were twice as large as the living compartments and the hammerhead—shaped control section. Princess Leia had been riding a corvette when Vader's Star Destroyer had captured her, demanding that she return the stolen Death Star plans, so long ago.

  He watched the light — embroidered nightside of Coruscant veer away from the fleet as they angled up out of orbit, past metallic docking stations and heavy parabolic mirrors that directed magnified sunlight to warm the higher frozen latitudes.

  He wished Qwi had stayed with him to watch the departure, but she was down in their quarters reviewing information tapes, studying ... studying. Since her memory would not come back of its own accord, Qwi intended to fill the gaps with the missing information as quickly as possible.

  She also had a deep revulsion toward watching a planet from orbit. It had taken Wedge much quiet encouraging before she finally told him that the sight reminded her of her youth, when she had been held hostage aboard an orbital training sphere under the harsh tutelage of Moff Tarkin. Qwi had been forced to watch as Victory—class Star Destroyers obliterated the honeycomb settlements of her people whenever students failed their examinations.

  Thinking of the terrible things the Empire had done to the delicate and lovely Qwi made Wedge clench his teeth. He turned to the bridge crew. "Ready for hyperspace?"

  "Course set, sir," the navigation officer answered.

  Wedge vowed to do what he could to fill Qwi's life with joy ... once they had conquered Maw Installation.

  "Move out," he said.

  Inside windowless quarters in the protected lower decks of the Yavaris, Qwi Xux stared into the tutorial screen and blinked her indigo eyes. She skimmed file after file, absorbing the information as enthusiastically as a Tatooine desert sponge grabbed droplets of moisture.

  A small portrait holo of Wedge sat inside a cube atop her worktable. She glanced at it frequently, reminding herself what he looked like, who he was, how much he meant to her. None of her memories were certain after Kyp Durron's assault on her mind.

  She had initially forgotten Wedge himself, forgotten the times they had spent together. He had desperately told her everything, showed her pictures, taken her out to the same places that the two of them had visited on the planet Ithor. He had reminded her of the reconstruction site of the Cathedral of Winds they had visited on Vortex.

  Some of these things caused elusive images to flicker in the back of her mind, enough that she knew they had been there once ... but she could not grasp them anymore.

  Other things Wedge told her exploded back into her thoughts with full clarity, enough to bring stinging tears. Whenever that happened, Wedge was there to hold her in his arms and comfort her.

  "No matter how long it takes," he had said, "I'll help you to remember. And if we can't find all of your past again ... then I'll help you make new memories to fill those spaces." He brushed her hand, and she nodded.

  Qwi reviewed the tapes of her speech before the New Republic Council, where she had insisted that they dispose of the Sun Crusher and stop trying to analyze it. The Council members had grudgingly agreed to mothball the project by plunging it into the core of a gas—giant planet. But now it appeared that this had not been sufficient to keep the superweapon away from an anger and determination as powerful as Kyp Durron's.

  As she reviewed the holotaped speech she had given, she heard the words in her own voice, but did not remember speaking them. She placed the memories in her mind, but they were external views of herself as seen and recorded by others. She heaved a deep breath and scrolled to the next data file. A cumbersome method, but it would have to do.

  Much of her basic scientific knowledge remained intact, but certain things were completely gone: insights she had gained, new weapons designs and new ideas she had developed. It seemed that when Kyp had rummaged around in her brain, yanking out anything that had to do with the Sun Crusher, he had erased whatever he found questionable.

  Now Qwi had to rebuild what she could. It didn't bother her that knowledge of the Sun Crusher had been obliterated. She had previously vowed to tell no one how the weapon worked — and now telling would be impossible, even if she wanted to.
Some inventions were better erased. ...

  The Maw assault fleet had been under way for almost a full day, heading toward the Kessel system. Qwi had been studying much of the time, sparing only a moment to talk to Wedge when he came to visit after completing his duties on the command bridge. When he brought her food, they ate together, making small talk, spending their time looking into each other's eyes.

  As she sat at the data terminal, Wedge would come and stroke her narrow shoulders, massaging until her tense muscles turned buttery and warm. "You're working too hard, Qwi," he had said more than once.

  "I have to," she answered him.

  She recalled her youth, when she had studied desperately, cramming knowledge of physics and engineering and weaponry into her pliable young brain for Moff Tarkin. She alone had survived the rigorous training. Kyp's heavy — handed scouring of her mind had left her with those painful childhood memories — memories she would just as soon forget.

  There were some things she could not recapture from data tapes or tutorial programs. She had to go back inside Maw Installation, into the laboratories where she had spent so many years. Only then could she determine which memories would come back and how much of her past she would have to sacrifice forever.

  The intercom rang out, and Wedge's voice flooded into theirthe quarters. "Qwi, would you come up to the bridge, please? There's something I'd like you to see."

  She acknowledged, smiling at the sound of his voice. She took a turbolift up to the frigate's command towers and stepped out onto the bustling bridge. Wedge turned to greet her — but her indigo eyes were drawn to the broad viewport at the front of the Yavaris.

  She had seen the Maw cluster before, but her mouth still dropped open in awe. The incredible maelstrom of ionized gases and superheated debris screamed past the edges of the bottomless black holes in a great whirlpool of color.

  "We came out of hyperspace near the Kessel system," Wedge said, "and we're lining up our vector to go in. I thought you might want to watch."

  She swallowed a lump in her throat and stepped forward to take his hand. The black holes formed a maze of gravity wells and dead—hyperspace paths; only a few dangerously "safe" courses made passage possible through the tangled labyrinth.

  "We downloaded the course from the Sun Crusher," Wedge said. "I hope nothing's changed, or we'll all have a big surprise when we try to make it through."

  Qwi nodded. "It should be safe," she said. "I double—checked the route."

  Wedge looked at her warmly, as if her verification gave him more confidence than all the computer simulations.

  The black hole cluster was an impossible astronomical oddity; for thousands of years astrophysicists had attempted to determine its origin — whichether some freak galactic combination had led to the birth of the black holes, or whether some impossibly ancient and powerful alien race had assembled the cluster for its own purposes.

  The Maw sent out deadly radiation and was even now drawing the Kessel system to its eventual doom. For the present, though, the Empire had found a stable island within the cluster and had built its secret laboratory there.

  "Let's go then," Qwi said, looking out at the brilliant gases flaring in incredible slow motion. She had much to learn — and a score to settle. "I'm ready."

  The ships of the Maw assault fleet spread apart, arrowing one by one into the heart of the black hole cluster.

  One wing of the rebuilt Imperial Palace had been converted into a creeche for the water—loving Calamarian people, humid quarters for those brought by Admiral Ackbar and trained as his specialized starship mechanics.

  The creeche had been built of smooth plasteel and hard metal fashioned to look like a reef within the towering palace. Some of the round portholes looked out upon the glittering skyline of Imperial City, while others gazed in on an enclosed water tank that circulated around the rooms like a trapped river.

  A loud venting of mist from the humidity generators startled Terpfen out of nervous contemplation. He looked around his quarters wildly, swiveling his circular eyes, but he saw nothing in the shadows, only a jewel—blue light shining through the water windows. He watched as a gray—green glurpfish oozed its way along the channel, filtering microorganisms from the brine. No sound intruded other than the steam generators and bubbling aerators in the wall tanks.

  Terpfen had heard nothing in his mind, felt no compulsion from his Imperial masters on Carida for more than a day, and he didn't know whether to be frightened ... or hopeful. Furgan usually taunted and jabbed him regularly, just to remind him of his constant presence. Now Terpfen felt alone.

  Rumors flew around the Imperial Palace. Distress signals had been detected from Carida, and then all contact had broken off. New Republic scouts had been dispatched to inspect the area. If Carida had somehow been destroyed, then perhaps the Imperial hold on his brain had been severed. Terpfen could finally be free!

  He had been taken prisoner during the vicious Imperial occupation of the water world Calamari. Like many of his people, Terpfen had been dragged to a labor camp and forced to work at the starship—construction facilities.

  But Terpfen had been damned to undergo a special kind of training. Taken off to the Imperial military planet of Carida, he had suffered weeks of torture and conditioning as xenosurgeons removed portions of his brain and replaced them with vat—grown organic circuits that allowed Furgan to use Terpfen as a perfectly disguised puppet.

  The poorly stitched scars on his swollen head had served as badges of his ordeal once he was released. Many Calamarians had also been severely tortured during the occupation, and no one suspected Terpfen of treachery.

  For years he had tried to resist his Imperial masters; but half of his brain was not his own, and the Imperial controllers could manipulate him at will.

  He had sabotaged Admiral Ackbar's expanded B—wing fighter so that it crashed on Vortex, destroying the precious Cathedral of Winds and disgracing Ackbar. Terpfen had planted a tracer on another B—wing, which had allowed him to obtain the location of the secret planet Anoth, where baby Anakin Solo lived in isolation, protected from prying eyes and minds. Terpfen had passed that crucial information to a greedy Ambassador Furgan — even now the Caridans must be mounting an attack to kidnap the third Jedi child.

  Terpfen stood before the aquarium window in his dim quarters, watching the glurpfish sluggishly go about its business. An aquatic predator swooped toward it, flailing spear—tipped fins and jagged jaws. The predator would fall upon the glurpfish ... just as the Imperial forces would fall upon the helpless child and his lone protector, Winter, who had once been Leia's close companion and confidant.

  "No!" Terpfen smashed his flipper hands against the thick glass. The vibrations startled the fanged predator, and it shot away in search of other prey. The protoplasmic glurpfish, unaware of what had just happened, continued on its way, sifting the water for microscopic food.

  Perhaps his Caridan masters had only been distracted temporarily by other things ... but if Terpfen hoped to accomplish anything, he had to make his move now. He swore that it didn't matter what damage it did to his own brain.

  Ackbar himself remained in self—imposed exile on Calamari, working with his people to repair the floating cities that had been devastated in Admiral Daala's recent attack. Ackbar claimed to have no further interest in New Republic politics.

  Since an assault was to be launched against young Anakin, Terpfen would go directly to Leia Organa Solo. She could mobilize New Republic forces and thwart the Imperials. But she and Han Solo had just departed for the jungle moon of Yavin. ...

  Terpfen would have to go there, commandeer a ship, and meet her face—to—face. He would confess everything and put himself at her mercy. She might execute him on the spot, as would be her right. But even that would be a just punishment for the damage he had already done.

  His mind made up — at least for as long as it remained his mind — Terpfen took a last look around his quarters. Turning from the aquariu
m windows that reminded him of the homeworld he had left behind, he took a last glance at the faceted skyline with its kilometer—high skyscrapers, winking landing lights, gleaming shuttles rising toward the aurora that blanketed the night.

  Terpfen doubted he would ever see Coruscant again.

  He didn't have time for a ruse.

  Using his own security access codes, Terpfen entered the starfighter servicing bay and walked briskly, confidently. His body odor was laced with tension, but if he moved fast enough, no one would notice until it was too late.

  The large launch doors had been sealed for the night. Two Calamarian starship mechanics stood around one of the B—wing fighters. A group of chattering Ugnaughts worked under the hyperdrive motors of a pair of X—wing fighters that had been jacked together to exchange navicomputer information.

  Terpfen walked toward the B—wing. One of the Calamarians saluted him as he approached. The other lowered herself out of the pilot compartment, slinging down a webbed sack of tools. From his own terminal Terpfen had already checked the status of this fighter, knew it was ready to launch. He didn't have to ask the question, but it distracted them.

  "Repairs completed as planned?"

  "Yes, sir," the male Calamarian said. "What are you doing up so late?"

  "Just attending to some personal business," he said, and reached into a pocket of his flightsuit. He whipped out a blaster pistol set to Stun. He fired in a sweeping arc, catching both Calamarians with blue ripples. The male slumped to the ground without a sound. The female dangled on the rung, unconscious as she thumped against the side of the B—wing; finally her elbow went slack, and she dropped to the hard floor in a tumble.

  Over by the X—wings the Ugnaughts stopped chattering and stood up in amazement; then they began squealing. Three ran to the comm alarm next to the controls of the launch doors.

  Terpfen took aim and squeezed the firing button again, cutting the Ugnaughts down. The others raised their stubby hands in surrender; but Terpfen could not risk taking captives, so he stunned them as well.