Jedi Under Siege Page 7

  to take care of the enemy. That was too much luck to hope for.

  With a crackle of static over the conun system, a gruff and gloating

  voice spoke-but it wasn't any rescuer. "Well . . . Jacen Solo!

  You're one of those feisty Jedi brats we ran into down in the lower

  levels of Coruscant.

  remember me-Norys? I was the leader of the Lost Ones gang. You stole

  that hawk-bat egg from us and now I think we're about to even all the

  old scores. Hah!"

  ^ Jacen felt a shiver go down his spine as he remembered the

  broad-shouldered bully who had such an appetite for destruction. Norys

  continued.

  "The little trash collector, Zekk, joined us in the Second Imperium, but

  you have made the wrong choice, boy. I just wanted you to know who was

  going to blast you to slag."

  The TIE pilot signed off and continued the conversation with a volley of

  laser bolts.

  "Well, I'm glad he picked such a fine time to contact us," Peckhum said,

  fighting with the controls, unable to fly an evasive pattern anymore. He

  worked with all his talent just to keep the Lightning Rod from falling

  apart in the sky. 'I don't think well last much longer, and I'm sure

  that Norys kid would have hated to blow us up before he got a chance to

  say his little goodbye."

  The engines of the Lightning Rod began to smoke. More alarms blared from

  the control panels. Behind them Norys's TIE fighter continued to fire

  mercilessly, pounding their hull, trying to crack open the battered

  cargo ship.

  Jacen stared at the comm unit, but didn't think it would do any good to

  send out another distress signal.

  The jungle treetops rushed by beneath

  ^ them. Jacen looked wildly from side to side.

  "I don't suppose it would be a good time to tell a joke," he said.

  Peckhum shook his head. "Don't feel much like laughing right now."

  ^ 2 -----------------THE THICK BRANCHES of the damp and shadowy jungle

  closed around him, pressing in. It reminded Zekk of the murky lower

  levels of Coruscant. It felt almost like home.

  He and his troops of Dark Jedi had fallen from the skies, buoyed by

  repulsorpacks.

  After coming to rest in the upper branches, they'd worked their way down

  to ground level and spread out to surround the fleeing Jedi trainees

  Master Skywalker had brainwashed into supporting Rebel philosophies.

  Zekk knew little about politics. He understood only who his friends and

  supporters were-and who had betrayed him. Like Jacen and Jaina . . .

  especially Jaina. He had thought she was his friend, a close companion.

  Only later, after Brakiss had explained it, did Zekk understand what

  Jaina really thought of him, how easily she dismissed his Jedi potential

  and the possibility that he might be an equal to her and

  ^

  ^ her high-born twin brother. But Zekk did have the potential, and he

  had proved it.

  In spite of this, he hoped Jacen and Jaina would not fight him, because

  then he would have to demonstrate his power-and his loyalty to the

  Second Imperium. He remembered his first test against Tamith Kai's prize

  student Vilas, and Vilas had paid with his life.

  In the upper branches of a tree overhead, one Dark Jedi fighter had

  become tangled.

  Zekk watched as the bright arc of a lightsaber blade slashed boughs out

  of the way, clearing a path for the fighter to descend to the lower

  levels.

  Overhead a wing of TIE fighters roared across the skies, firing into the

  forest. The Dark Jedi spread out, looking for potential victims on their

  own. Zekk gathered three of the nearest fighters to his side and they

  marched along, crashing through the underbrush.

  They reached the edge of the wide river, whose brown-green currents

  lapped quietly through the jungle, stirring overhanging fronds. Farther

  downstream, closer to the tall Massassi temple ruins, he saw Tamith

  Kai's hovering battle platform.

  Zekk stood beside his Dark Jedi compan

  ^ ions on the riverbank. The other fighters exchanged glances and

  pointed skyward.

  Zekk nodded, knowing what they wished to do. "Yes," he said. "Let us

  conjure a storm, a great wind to knock the jungle flat and send these

  Jedi cowards scurrying."

  He looked up into the clear blue skies and reached deep within his

  heart, finding a shadow of anger, the pain he had felt in his life. He

  knew how to use anger as a tool, a weapon. Zekk gathered the winds.

  Beside him, he felt the other dark-side warriors doing the same, drawing

  thunderheads until lumpy black clouds rolled in from the horizon.

  The wind picked up and grew colder, charged with static electricity.

  ZeWs scarlet lined cape rippled around him. Stray strands of his dark

  hair whipped around his face as the wind snatched them free of his

  ponytail.

  Flashing bolts of lightning skittered from one thunderhead to another.

  The rumble of noise drowned out even the sound of TIE fighters

  crisscrossing overhead.

  Zekk smiled. Yes, a storm was coming, a victorious storm.

  But as the clouds continued to swell, releasing a powerful weather

  energy, he heard sounds of repeated laser cannon fire

  ^ and glanced to the sky, where another battle was taking place: a

  one-sided dogfight. A smoking ship careened overhead, pursued by a lone

  TIE fighter that shot its energy bolts again and again, mercilessly

  pummeling its prey.

  Astonished, Zekk recognized the clunky patchwork form of the Lightning

  Rod, the cargo ship of his old friend Peckhum, the man with whom he had

  lived for many years.

  Peckhum! They had been close companions, good friends despite how

  little they had in common. Too late, he remembered that the old spacer

  earned extra credits by making occasional supply runs to Skywalker's

  Jedi academy. Could it be that his old friend had been here on the

  jungle moon when this morning's attack began?

  His heart sank, and a wrenching dismay filled his stomach. His

  concentration on the storm faltered.

  In the backlash, winds whipped the trees closer to him, blowing back

  branches as the other Dark Jedi struggled to retain control of the

  gusting squall.

  "No, Peckhum," Zekk said, looking up as he watched the TIE fighter

  blasting the hapless Lightning Rod. A small explosion

  ^ flared on its hull, and Zekk knew that the battered supply ship had

  just lost its shields.

  The Lightning Rod was going down-and there was nothing he could do about

  it.

  He heard shouts of surprise next to him as the Dark Jedi Knights

  completely lost control of the gathering storm. The winds continued to

  snap branches and uproot saplings, then gradually dissipated as the

  dark-side warriors stopped manipulating the weather.

  Their attention had been drawn to a young Jedi trainee they discovered

  in the underbrush-someone who had either been creeping up on them or

  simply hiding from Zekk's advance.

  The boy scrambled out of the weeds, spiky pale hair blowing around his

  flushed face.

  His clothes an
d robes were so ridiculously garish-bright purples and

  golds and greens and reds-that they hurt Zekk's eyes. How could this

  young man have thought to hide while dressed like that?

  The boy appeared frightened, but determined. He thrust his lower lip out

  and stood with his hands on his hips, his rainbow colored robes rippling

  around him in the last vestiges of the angry wind.

  t

  ^

  'Very well, you give me no choice," the boy said, then cleared his

  throat. "I am Raynar, Jedi Knight . . . uh, in training. You will either

  surrender now-or force me to attack YOU."

  Two of Zekk's companions laughed in wholehearted amusement, ignited

  their lightsabers, and stalked toward the trapped young man. Raynar

  stepped backward until he bumped against the rough trunk of a tree. He

  squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to concentrate. He held his breath

  until his face turned bright red, then purplish.

  Zekk felt a slight invisible push as the boy attempted to use the Force

  to drive them back. The two lightsaber-bearing Dark Jedi seemed not even

  to notice.

  Zekk found, though, that he had no stomach for outright slaughter. This

  boy seemed proud and brash, but there was something about him-an

  innocence . . .

  Thinking quickly, before his two companions could drive in and make

  short work of Raynar, Zekk reached out with the Force, grabbed the boy

  by his bright robes, and yanked him off his feet. With a flick of his

  mind, he hurled Raynar over the heads of his companions, tossing him out

  into the

  ^ river. Raynar yowled as he flew, then plunged befly-first into the

  thin, muddy waters.

  The two Dark Jedi whirled, looking angrily at Zekk. Out in the water,

  Raynar splashed to the shallows, completely soaked in mud, his robes

  covered with river slime.

  "It is a greater victory to utterly humiliate your enemy than simply to

  kill him," Zekk said. "And we have humiliated this Jedi in a way he will

  never forget."

  The dark warriors next to him chuckled at the observation, and Zekk knew

  he had defused their anger . . . for the moment, at least.

  Then he looked longingly into the sky, hoping to spot any trace of the

  Lightning Rod, but he saw only a dissipating cloud of smoke overhead. He

  wished he could find some way to help his friend; would he be forced to

  count the loss of Peckhum as part of the cost of victory?

  The wounded ship had passed out of sight to where the battle would reach

  its foregone conclusion. He was certain he would never see the Lightning

  Rod or Peckhum again.

  ^ 3 -----------------QORI2S TIE FIGHTER flew low over the jungle,

  mapping out targets for the assault squadron. The rest of his fighter

  wing had their own orders, and they flew in their own attack patterns.

  He doubted, though, that his student Norys would bother to follow orders

  once the battles actually started and laser shots began to fly. The

  bully would blunder from target to target like a mad gun dark, likely to

  cause as much damage to the Imperial plans as he did to the Rebels.

  Qorl felt cold inside, liquid dismay hardening to ice. He had expected

  to be exhilarated by flying and fighting again, piloting his own TIE

  fighter in battle for the Second Imperium.

  Instead, he had only reservations and second thoughts. He dreaded the

  possibility that he had made a bad decision and that the

  ^

  ^ Second Imperium might have to pay the price.

  Norys continued to be a great disappointment. When Qorl had selected the

  tough young man, he knew the bully's personality had hardened during

  years of harsh living, though he had lorded over the Lost Ones on

  Coruscant. The broad-shouldered boy had been dedicated, vowing to become

  an Imperial soldier because it gave him a feeling of power and

  confidence-exactly what the Second Imperium needed.

  However, a loyal soldier was also required to obey orders. A servant of

  the Empire couldn't be a loose cannon, following his own wishes rather

  than the commands of his superiors. As he'd grown accustomed to his

  situation, Norys had become increasingly disrespectful, even

  insubordinate.

  The bully was truly bloodthirsty, wanting simply to dominate, to cause

  pain, to achieve utter victory. He did not fight for the glory of the

  Second Imperium, or for bringing back the New Order-or for any sort of

  political goal. He fought simply to fight. And that was a deadly

  attitude, no matter which side he fought for.

  Qorl circled, zeroing in on a raging forest fire that had been started

  by one of the TIE

  ^ bombers, then streaked along the river to where Tamith Kai's battle

  platform hovered over t e trees. ver his cockpit communication channel,

  Qorl heard a loud, desperate transmission on all bands-and recognized

  the voice.

  "Attention, New Republic. We have an emergency! This is Jacen Solo on

  Yavin 4, requesting immediate assistance. We are under attack by the

  Shadow Academy!" Qorl sat up, adjusted his black helmet, and flew

  steadily. He remembered the young twins who had helped fix his TIE

  fighter, the brother and sister who had been his prisoners around the

  campfire in the depths of the jungle. They had offered him friendship .

  . . and tried to turn him from his loyalty to the Second Imperium. But

  he had been indoctrinated too well.

  Surrender is betrayal.

  So Qorl had escaped and made his way to the Shadow Academy, where he had

  watched as the twins were brought in to be trained under the murderous

  tutelage of Tamith Kai and Brakiss. Qorl had been deeply disturbed by

  the violence of their instruction, the disregard for the lives of the

  fresh students.

  No one had ever found out that Qorl had

  ^ discreetly assisted the young friends in their escape as they fled

  the Shadow Academy.

  After that Qorl had privately done everything he could to atone for the

  indiscretion, making his raid on the Rebel convoy to steal hyperdrive

  cores and turbolaser batteries, then working hard to train Norys and the

  other new stonntroopers.

  A smoking ship streaked overhead: a blaster-scarred and battered cargo

  transport. Qorl recognized the model of the ship, an unarmed carrier

  vessel of an old design.

  Its engines were sluggish, its shields not designed or reinforced for

  combat.

  And now he saw that it was being pursued by a relentless TIE fighter.

  Qorl was ashamed to see the TIE pilot waste shot after shot, although

  sheer luck allowed some of the laser bolts to strike the hull. It would

  be only a matter of time before the cargo ship exploded in midair.

  Qorl tuned his cockpit comm systems to a direct channel with the other

  TIE fighter.

  "TIE pilot, identify yourself."

  The gruff voice that responded came as no surprise to Qorl. "This is

  Norys, old man.

  Don't bother me-I've got a target in my sights."

  ^ He swallowed, but his throat remained dry. "Norys, you have already

  crippled the target. That cargo ship is not our main objective. Your

>   orders are to disable the Jedi academy. That ship won't be causing any

  more trouble for the Second Imperium." "Leave off, old man," Norys said.

  "This is my kill, and I'm gonna score it." Qorl tried to keep his anger

  in check. "We don't keep score, Norys. This assault is for the Second

  Imperium-not for your personal glory."

  "Go stick your head up an exhaust tube," Norys said. "I'm not letting an

  old coward tell me what to do." Then the bully switched off his comm

  system and plunged after the burning cargo ship, firing with absolute

  abandon.

  Qorl's disappointment turned to outrage.

  This young man's attitude flew in the face of everything admirable about

  the Empire.

  Qorl remembered his earlier TIE fighter training, how he and his fellow

  pilots had all worked together like a machine: precise, well mannered,

  respectful, listening to orders promoting the orderly lifestyle the

  Emperor had brought to the g@. That was worth fighting for.

  ^ But Norys did not represent such a philosophy. He didn't care.

  The broadband comm signal came across his speakers again. "This is Jacen

  Solo with a personal distress this time. We are in deep trouble. Someone

  is on our tail. Request assistance. Please-can anyone out there help