TWENTY

The exterior of the nest ship was knobby and shadowed, a broken vista of narrow trenches zigzagging between giant blocks of spitcrete. Han knew that the blocks were almost certainly primitive heat sinks, necessary to keep the hull from cracking open in the extreme temperature swings of space. But that didn’t make navigating around them any easier. The vessel’s surface was like an immense spitcrete maze, stretching ahead almost endlessly, then suddenly vanishing against the blue brilliance of a massive crescent of ion efflux. Han felt as though he were walking into a sun—an impression supported by the droplets of sweat stinging his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. With the four real suns of the Murgo Choke blasting him in the side and shoulders, the DR919a’s cheap escape pod vac suits were not up to the task of cooling their occupants. He was afraid they would start melting soon.

Han stopped at the base of a heat sink—a spitcrete monolith two meters high—that Luke had scaled to study the terrain ahead, then tipped his helmet back so he could look up. There was another nest ship a hundred kilometers or so above, and a constant stream of tiny colored dashes came and went as it traded fire with an Alliance Star Destroyer somewhere inside the Murgo Choke.

Han activated his suit comm. “Are we there yet?”

“Almost, Han.” Luke continued to study the horizon, one glove shading his helmet visor. “There’s a square shadow at eleven that might be a thermal vent.”

“Do you see any heat distortion above it?”

“No.”

“Then we’re not there.” Han tried to keep his disappointment out of his voice—he did not want to encourage any more jabbering over the suit comm from Tarfang. “A hyperdrive for a ship this big is going to release heat for hours. When we get near a vent, we’ll know it.”

“I suppose.” Luke turned to climb down, then suddenly tipped his helmet back to look over their heads. “Incoming! Get—”

Space turned white, and Luke’s voice dissolved into the telltale static that meant a turbolaser strike was all too precisely targeted. Han tried to drop behind cover, but that was next to impossible in a stiff escape pod vac suit. He made it as far as bending his knees; then the nest ship hull slammed up under him, hurling him into the side of the heat sink. He tumbled down the surface and came to a rest at its base, the inside of his faceplate so smeared with perspiration that he could not tell whether he was lying facedown or face up.

The hull continued to buck and shudder, bouncing Han’s nose against his faceplate, and the strike static grew deafening. He chinned his suit comm off so he could listen for the hiss that would mean his vac suit had been compromised, then slowly brought up his arms and determined that he was lying on his belly.

Han rolled to his back, then wished he hadn’t. Space above was one huge, blurry sheet of turbolaser energy—most of it incoming—and filled with roiling spitcrete dust and tumbling chunks of heat sink . . . and something that looked like a half-sized vac suit, spinning out of control and waving its spread-eagled limbs.

Han activated his suit comm again and heard even more static. Some Alliance Star Destroyer was hitting them with everything it had. He stood and nearly got bounced free of the ship’s artificial gravity himself, then came down hard beside C-3PO.

The droid turned his head and looked as though he was speaking. Fortunately, Han could not hear a word.

Trying to keep one eye on whoever it was floating off up there, Han rolled to a knee and, through the thickening haze of barrage vapor, found Luke about five meters away. Han scrambled over, then touched helmets so they could speak without the comm unit.

“Someone got bounced!” Han pointed toward the slowly shrinking figure. “We’re losing him!”

Luke looked in the direction Han was indicating. “It’s Tarfang.”

“How can you tell?”

Luke pointed at a pair of shadows tucked behind a heat sink. “Juun and Artoo are over there.”

He lifted his hand and used the Force to draw Tarfang’s spinning form back down. The ship’s artificial gravity caught hold of the Ewok about two meters above the surface. He landed hard, then bounced to his feet shaking his fist and jabbering behind his faceplate. When another close strike launched him off the hull again, Han had to think twice before he reached up and caught the Ewok by the ankle.

Tarfang noticed the hesitation. He glared vibrodaggers as he was pulled back down, but that did not prevent him from grabbing Han’s utility belt and holding tight. Han tried again to activate his suit comm, but with space flashing like a Bespinese thunderstorm, all that came over the helmet speakers was strike static.

Luke did not need the comm. He simply stood and looked toward Han, and Han understood. They had to keep moving. Luke had used the Force, and now Lomi Plo could feel them coming.

They gathered Juun and the droids and started forward, following the spitcrete troughs between the heat sinks, zigzagging their way through the barrage with giant columns of shattered spitcrete and vapor shooting up all around. Within a few minutes, the turbolaser storm faded to a fraction of its former fury, but it remained fierce enough to make them fear for their lives. Several strikes landed so close that everyone was bounced off their feet, and twice Luke had to use the Force to pull someone back down into the nest ship’s artificial gravity. The barrage haze grew steadily thicker, obscuring visibility to the point that Han came within a step of leading Tarfang and C-3PO off the edge of a cavernous blast hole.

Perhaps half a kilometer later, Luke stopped short and pointed toward a billowing column of dust and shattered spitcrete about fifty meters ahead. It was roiling with convection currents and rising at a steady rate.

“We’re there, Han.” Luke’s voice was scratchy but understandable; under the lighter barrage, the electromagnetic static had diminished and no longer jammed their suit comms completely. “But be ready. I think we have a reception committee.”

Tarfang stopped and planted his feet. “Wobba jobabu!”

“Don’t worry,” Luke said. “We’ll have backup.”

“Backup?” Han turned to look, peering through the barrage haze. “Out here?”

“Mara is keeping an eye on us from a StealthX,” Luke explained. “I think she spotted our helmet lamps when she was sneaking up to attack the nest ship.”

“She’s in a StealthX?” Han asked. “And you still want to do this the hard way? Why don’t we let her drop a shadow bomb down that thermal vent and jump this rock? We can trigger our rescue beacons and wait for a ride.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Han,” Luke said. Something that sounded like chattering teeth came over the suit comm, and he turned toward the thermal vent. “I’d like you to take the others and do exactly that. It will make things easier for me.”

“Easier how?” Han asked suspiciously. “I thought all we needed to do was blow the nest ship’s hyperdrive, and Mara can do that a lot easier with a shadow bomb than we can with a lightsaber and two crummy blaster pistols.”

“There’s a complication,” Luke said. “One we can’t hit with a shadow bomb.”

“A complication?” Han put his faceplate close to Luke’s and saw that the Jedi Master was shivering uncontrollably. “You mean Lomi Plo?”

Luke turned to Han and nodded. “I should f-finish her off while I have the chance.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it isn’t me,” Han said. “She’s got ahold of you again, hasn’t she?”

Luke sighed. “That doesn’t mean you should stay.”

“You come with us, and I won’t,” Han said.

“And m-make us all targets?” Luke shook his head. “I’m going to stay here and see this thing through.”

“That makes two of us,” Han said. He turned to Tarfang and Juun. “How about you two?”

Tarfang launched into tirade of angry jabbering, then renewed his grasp on Han’s utility belt and shook his head. Juun merely stood there, blinking at them out of his helmet.

“Well?” Han asked.

When Juun’s expression did not change, Han tapped the side of the Sullustan’s helmet. Juun frowned and shook his head.

“I guess it’s unanimous,” Han said. “Juun can’t risk jumping off this rock with a faulty comm. If his beacon fails, too, he’ll be a goner out there.”

“I wish you’d reconsider, Han.”

“Yeah, and I wish we had a satchel full of thermal detonators and a few kilos of baradium,” Han said. “But that’s not going to happen. Let’s go.”

They started to move again. But instead of traveling straight toward the thermal vent, Luke carefully circled it. Every few meters, he would stop and remain motionless for five or ten seconds, then adjust his course and creep ahead even more slowly.

Finally, he motioned for a stop, then sneaked forward to peer around the side of a heat sink. Han followed and saw several dozen hazy, bug-shaped figures wearing the bulky carapaces that Killiks used as pressure suits. They were all crouching in ambush, still facing the direction he and Luke had been approaching from a few minutes earlier.

“Everybody be ready,” Luke unhooked his lightsaber, then took the blaster pistol out of his utility belt and passed it to Tarfang. “Mara’s making her run.”

“Then what?” Han asked.

“Then Lomi Plo will have to show herself,” Luke answered. “After we finish with her, we trip our rescue beacons.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Han said. He motioned Juun to stay with the droids and keep down—without a comm or a blaster, the Sullustan would be no good in the fight anyway—then twisted around to look up into space. “What’s taking so—”

Luke jumped up and ignited his lightsaber, pointing the tip toward the hiding Gorog. In the same instant, the dark shape of a Jedi StealthX appeared behind the insects and began to stitch the nest ship’s hull with fire from its four laser cannons. A curtain of spitcrete dust, hull chips, and bug parts boiled spaceward, and then the StealthX was gone, vanished against the star-flecked void.

A moment later a small line of pressure-suited Gorog came charging forward between the heat sinks, spraying electrobolts and shatter gun pellets ahead of them. Han returned fire, cursing in frustration as most of his bolts bounced harmlessly off the insects’ carapace pressure suits. Luke simply made a sweeping motion with his hand, and one end of the Gorog line went tumbling into space.

Then brilliant spears of cannon fire began to stab down from space again, churning what remained of the insect line into an amalgam of chitin and gore. Han continued to fire, more to make sure Mara knew where he was than because he thought he was going to kill anything. In a moment the StealthX’s dark shape swept past only a few meters from their hiding place, so close that Han could see Mara’s head swinging back and forth as she selected her targets.

Han was still watching her when something tinked the back of his helmet. He spun around, half expecting to feel that painful final pop as a shatter gun pellet tore through his head, but there was nobody behind him except Juun and the droids.

The Sullustan pointed toward something on the other side of Luke. Han glanced over and found nothing but the usual barrage haze. Luke was standing just as he had a moment before, his lightsaber blazing and his attention fixed on the few would-be ambushers that had survived Mara’s strafing runs so far.

Juun began to gesture violently, this time a little closer to Luke. Han looked again, saw nothing but dust, then spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

Juun beat his fists against his helmet, then leapt to his feet and raced in the direction he had been pointing.

“Look out, Luke!” Han warned over the comm. “You’ve got a crazy Sullustan—”

Luke whirled, bringing his lightsaber around in a high guard—then stopping cold in a flicker of sparks.

Han scowled. “What the—”

Luke suddenly doubled over in the middle, as though he had been kicked hard in the stomach. Then Juun slammed to a stop about a meter in front of Luke, his arms wrapping around something Han could not see.

Luke brought his blade up and hit nothing but air, then flipped the tip over his shoulder in a back-guard maneuver that resulted in another flurry of sparks. He followed this by dropping into a spinning leg sweep that caught whatever Juun was clinging to. The Sullustan’s arms came loose, and he went rolling across the spitcrete into the side of a heat sink.

Han opened fire on the general area, and a flurry of blaster bolts flashed past his shoulder as Tarfang did the same. Most of their attacks did nothing more harmful than burn divots into the hull of the nest ship. But a couple of times, the shots were mysteriously deflected, and once Han thought he saw the flash of a scarred face, so haggard and misshapen that he could not be sure whether it was human or insect.

Luke danced back into the combat, slashing high and low with his lightsaber, missing more often than not, but spinning directly into the next attack, his blade sparking and flashing as it blocked and deflected the unseen strikes coming his way. Han and Tarfang scrambled after the fight, firing more or less where the Jedi was attacking, drawing just enough attention so that Luke could continue to drive the unseen enemy back.

They continued to press the attack for perhaps five or ten seconds; then a row of six-limbed figures wearing bulky Killik pressure suits emerged from the heat sinks. Han’s heart rose into his throat—he wondered if that was what Jedi danger sense felt like—and he stopped advancing.

“Uh, guys?” He glanced to each flank and saw that there were more bugs to each side. “Get down!”

There was a flurry of motion as the insects brought up their weapons. Han was already dropping to the hull. He landed on his side and kicked behind a heat sink; silver flashes began to dance across his faceplate while flying chips of spitcrete beat an irregular cadence on his helmet. He curled into a fetal ball and counted himself lucky.

A moment later Luke’s voice came over the suit comm. “Cover!”

“What do you think I’m—”

Han’s comm gave a sharp pop, then a series of sharp concussions reverberated through the hull. The sound of the chips striking his helmet was replaced at first by a dozen seconds of static, then by utter silence. He uncurled and carefully raised his head.

The barrage dust had thickened to a murky gray cloud, but it was not too thick to prevent him from seeing the brilliant streaks of Mara’s laser cannons chasing off the Gorog survivors. Han rolled to his knees and turned in the other direction. The hull ended about three meters from where he was kneeling, opening into a deep, dark crater filled with flotsam, floating corpses, and shooting streams of vapor.

“Han?” Luke’s voice came over the suit comm. “Are you okay?”

“That depends.” Han stood and turned in a slow circle, then finally saw Luke coming toward him from about ten meters away. “Did you get Lomi?”

Luke shook his head. “I can still feel her.”

“Then I’m about as un-okay as you can get.” Han began a slow rotation, his blaster held ready to fire. “I hate being crept up on by stuff I can’t see. Let’s get back to where we left Juun.”

“Why do you want Juun?” Luke asked.

“Because he can see her,” Han said.

Luke stopped three paces from Han. “You’re sure?”

“Didn’t you see the way he tried to tackle her? Of course I’m sure.” Han did not like the surprise in Luke’s voice. “Does that mean something?”

“Yes,” Luke said. “It means I’m wrong about Lomi Plo.”

“Great,” Han growled. He would have liked to suggest again that they leave the ship and activate their rescue beacons, but he did not want Luke telling him to go ahead on his own. He was afraid the temptation might be too much for him. “Wrong how?”

“I thought she was using some sort of Force blur to hide herself,” Luke said. “But if Juun can see her, and I can’t . . .”

When Luke let the sentence trail off, Han said, “Yeah, that scares me, too.” He turned back the way they had come. “Maybe Juun can explain it.”

“Wait a minute,” Luke said. “What about Tarfang?”

“Tarfang?” Han took a quick look around, then tipped his helmet back. “Don’t tell me he got bounced again!”

Luke was silent for a moment, then said, “He didn’t. Tarfang is below us, inside the nest ship.” He turned and looked toward one of the holes Mara’s shadow bombs had knocked in the hull. “I think Lomi Plo has him.”