Authors: Kathy Tyers
He followed, falling hard without his Jedi skills. At least he’d been trained to roll gracefully, absorbing most of the impact.
“This way,” he called.
Jaina pressed to her feet and followed him into a gap between buildings.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
“I’m not the idiot who’s refusing to use the Force.”
They waited several minutes, but pursuit didn’t come.
He tried phrasing it differently. “How well can you really see?”
She straightened her mask. “I flew, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did. Pretty well.”
“All right,” Jaina said. “We’re going to be Duros for a while.”
She must’ve blurred their faces, because they had no trouble getting to a private dock, where she slid a hand across an ID reader, and they left on a small private shuttle.
Jacen buckled in. His conscience jabbed him. Besides piggybacking on Jaina’s Force use, this was stealing.
But he didn’t want to go the long way around, to get to the rattletrap shuttle he’d brought up from Gateway dome.
Jaina set a course that was little more than a braked fall from geosynchronous orbit.
“Look out below,” he murmured.
They were on final approach when the comm unit hissed. “Shuttle on approach vector,” a male voice said, “decelerate and identify yourself. This dome is on alert.”
“This is, um, NM-KO two eight,” Jacen said, frowning at Jaina as he read off an ID plate. “Decelerating now.” Then he added, “Is Administrator Organa Solo available? Mom, are you there?”
The next voice was his mother’s. “Jacen,” she exclaimed. “Are Jaina and Anakin with you?”
“Just Jaina.”
“I take it she’s flying,” Leia said. “Slow it down just a little more, Jaina. How many passengers could you squeeze into that shuttle? Is it hyperspace-capable?”
That sounded ominous, after what Jaina had told him. “Looks like …” Jacen eyed the control panel, then
peered back over the seats. “Room for four or five, and there is a hyperdrive.”
“Good. Park it …” Leia gave landing instructions. To Jacen’s surprise, they were to head for the main entry. Gateway must’ve canceled the quarantine.
Jaina slipped the little craft under the edge of a fog-shrouded landing bay next to a blast crater. Figures in orange chem suits swarmed several freighters and haulers, cleaning Duro-crud off rectennae and viewports, scrambling in and out of access hatches. Jacen took one last breath of good air, then followed Jaina toward the nearest boarding tube.
At its inside end, he heard his mother give a curt order. He turned left, toward that voice. Inside a duracrete-block room that’d been off-limits during quarantine, three sloping consoles with holographic displays clustered under a small screen representing local space. The room smelled like someone had eaten a late dinner in here. His mom bent over one comm unit, wearing a white scarf wrapped around and around her head—and her lightsaber, dangling over her SELCORE-blue coveralls.
Too bad about her hair. If she’d waited a few days, she might’ve kept it—with the quarantine canceled.
She spun around. “Jacen, Jaina, good. Load up that shuttle and get offworld. I don’t think we’ve got long.”
“There’s room for you on board.” Jaina pushed forward. “You, Olmahk …” She glanced toward the room’s inner corner and the ever-present gray shadow. “And maybe two others.”
“I can’t leave yet. Get away now, before the Yuuzhan Vong get here.”
“They might not be coming.”
Recognizing the new voice, Jacen turned around. “Hello, Randa,” he groaned.
The other Noghri, Basbakhan, stood beside Randa.
Leia shrugged. “He’s staying out of the way. Take him with you. As a favor to me.”
“I’m staying,” Jaina said flatly, “if you’re staying.”
“Please, you two,” Leia said. “Before—”
She never got to finish that sentence. At the far edge of the small local-space screen, a wave of unidentified ships appeared. Until the DDF’s threat analyst painted them friend or foe, they shone white, but Jacen had little doubt that the enemy had arrived.
“Too late,” Jaina mumbled.
On-screen, blue grids that represented the planetary shields sprang up around one after another of the orbital cities. Off to Jacen’s right, another comm unit—evidently Gateway’s ground-orbit link to Bburru—emitted a staccato buzz, followed by a curt feminine voice.
“Attention, all downside residents. This is Duro Defense Force. Take emerrrgency shelters. Do not attempt space flight. This system is under attack.”
Leia spun back to the other console, swatted a control, and leaned down. “Attention, Gateway dome. This is Administrator Organa Solo. If you have boarding orders, report to your transport immediately. If you have not been assigned to a transport, get to your assigned emergency shelter. Do not stop for belongings.
“And here we go again,” she muttered aside.
Jacen pushed forward. “What can I do?”
Dark circles looked like they would swallow his mother’s eyes. “Find your dad,” she said. “He’s not answering the comlink. Jaina, how are your eyes? Can you run a comm unit?”
“Fine. Yes.” Jaina dropped onto the chair Leia vacated. “Um … Mother?”
Her tone of voice made Jacen turn around, too.
“What?” Leia demanded.
“The planetary shields are up around every habitat, now—except three. Bburru, and the city on either side of it.”
Jacen eyed the display. Blue gridlines surrounded orbital cities and the domes directly beneath them, in a ring around Duro’s equator—except for the zone over Gateway.
He intercepted his sister’s stare. “Sabotage,” Jaina exclaimed. “Mom, we’re ground zero.”
“Go, Jacen. Get out of here,” Leia exclaimed. “Tell your dad.”
Jacen dashed out the door. Mixed-species knots of people hustled shoulder to shoulder, traveling against him toward the main gate. He stopped to hoist a frightened Chadra-Fan child onto his shoulders and help her find her family. In the midst of a group of humans, a white-haired man carried the black whisperkit over one shoulder. Three children followed closely. The smallest child laughed at the small creature’s quizzical face. The two older children had wide, haunted eyes.
So the kit hadn’t been shaved, either. That made Jacen almost irrationally glad.
In the Tayana district, Ryn congregated around one of the larger ruins, where a jagged, two-story wall still stood mostly intact. The ground shuddered underfoot. Jacen broke into a run again.
On top of a growing pile of reddish-brown rock rubble stood his dad—wearing an ancient gornt-hide racing helmet, although wisps of hair stuck out at front and back. This had to be another solidarity gesture.
More rocks spewed up from behind the pile.
Jacen ran up. “What can I do?” he shouted.
The roar from below was almost deafening. It had to be the tunneling equipment, digging a hiding place.
“Good, you’re back.” Han wiped a grimy sleeve
across one cheek, then shouted again. “Somebody stepped on my comlink. Whoever can’t get into ships or crawlers, send them this way. Romany’s people started a tunnel three days ago.
Skulking,”
he growled. “If we can’t get these people off Duro, we’ll at least hide ’em in the mine complex. Come on up, lend a hand.”
From her post in the comm center, Jaina called takeoff orders. Two freighters lifted simultaneously, loaded past capacity with frightened refugees. At the same time, three crawlers lumbered off toward Thirty-two and the Ryn caravan ships. She half heard Jacen’s voice over Leia’s comm station, announcing he’d found their dad. Between transmissions, she fiddled with the small local-space screen.
She raised her mask, experimenting. When she squinted just right, she could focus the glowing pips. As expected, the incoming swarm suddenly painted itself red. It swept in, an offset-wing formation. A swarm of blue dots—Duro Defense Force—deployed into combat flights just off Bburru habitat. And Anakin had shown her a trick, once.
The screen blanked. “What are you doing?” Randa demanded.
Then the screen blinked on again, displaying twice the field of space it’d shown before. Randa’s howl became a cry of admiration.
Jaina straightened her cap, watching one arm of the red arc split off and double back. One of the unshielded Duros cities, Orr-Om, had drifted off its geosync point. She wondered if its stabilizers had been sabotaged, besides its shields. Green speckles flew off its docking bays, civilians trying to evacuate. Around them swarmed red bogeys that had to be skips. The speckles vanished almost as quickly as they appeared.
She felt less guilty about swiping that shuttle. It would’ve been vaped if any Duros launched it now.
She clenched both fists anyway. In her mind, she was grabbing stick and throttle, coaxing everything she could wring out of her X-wing’s sublight engine. She couldn’t stand this!
But she couldn’t look away, either. One of the larger bogeys doubled back toward the drifting habitat. Disbelieving, Jaina watched the bogey ram directly through its outer docks.
She gaped. What kind of beasts had the Yuuzhan Vong brought this time?
Half a dozen blue dots went after the big red bogey. The others hung back, defending Bburru and its shipyards. From the planet’s other side, the Mon Cal light cruiser
Poesy
accelerated toward this quadrant. Jaina had looked up its tech specs. With fourteen turbolasers, eighteen ion cannons, half a dozen heavy tractor beam projectors, and fabulous shields, it ought to make a difference.
Then a bizarre, heavily accented voice thundered over several comm channels. “Return to your cities and settlements,” it said. “We offer you peace. Return, and we will speak with you. Attack or try to flee, and you will be destroyed.”
Leia pushed back from her transceiver. “They’ve learned to transmit on our channels,” she exclaimed. “If that means they can listen in, too, we haven’t got a chance.”
Jaina stared at the screen. Several freighters had popped up toward orbit, some from Gateway and some from the other unshielded refugee settlements. Those closest to the approaching
Poesy
went unchallenged. Two that had barely made orbit, departing Gateway, were surrounded by red coralskippers. One turned back.
“Coming back in,” a voice said out of Jaina’s link box. “If we keep running, they’ll blast us, too.”
“Copy,” Jaina answered. “Landing crater two is clear for you.”
If she’d been in command of that ship, though, she would’ve kept running. She’d rather die in space, trying to get somewhere, than wait here for the Yuuzhan Vong to make her a slave.
Most of the red swarm came on, virtually unchallenged. It wasn’t a big group, but Duro wasn’t mounting any defense of the refugee settlements, only the orbital cities. Kenth Hamner’s reinforcements, if they came, would arrive too late to help Gateway. The enemy force had a target lock on this dome.
She’d bet anything this was Nom Anor’s doing.
A wheezing Mon Cal voice made her receiver buzz. “Administrator Organa Solo, this is Commodore Mabettye.
Poesy
has been ordered by Admiral Wuht to stand down and withdraw to our previous station. I am sorry. We will support you as we can.”
Jaina couldn’t believe it. Had the Vong bought off Admiral Dizzlewit, too?
On the other hand,
Poesy
couldn’t have reached Gateway’s quadrant before the Yuuzhan Vong did, or launch its fighters in time. By holding that point in orbit, it could still defend several evacuating settlements.
The enemy’s main force seemed to be shapes that the sensors represented as bigger than skips, but smaller than cruisers. Landing craft? she guessed.
“All evacuation ships,” Leia called into her pickup, “you’re on your own. If you think you can make hyperspace, go! If not, do whatever you can to save lives.” She flicked a tile on the console. “Gateway to all crawlers. Don’t turn back. Get to Thirty-two. We’re ground zero.”
She turned on Jaina. “Where did you park your shuttle?”
“I just sent it off,” Jaina admitted.
Leia hesitated only a second. “Good girl,” she said. “I can’t get through to SELCORE now. We’re going underground.”
“And we aren’t quite alone,” Jaina exclaimed. “Look!”
On the local-space screen, a single white “unidentified” craft blasted down from Bburru City, headed toward Duro’s south pole.
“Got to be Aunt Mara,” Jaina said. “They dropped off Anakin’s X-wing down there.”
Leia smiled grimly. “Two X-wings and Mara’s
Shadow?
I’m glad they’re here, but we could use Rogue Squadron. I’d even take Kyp’s Dozen if they showed up.”
Ten yorik-trema landing craft dropped in formation toward Duro’s surface, each captain keeping the other flattened ovals in view as they decelerated through hideous mists. The ultrasensitive eyes of each living yorik-trema moved constantly, tracking the wedges of deadly coralskipper fighters flying escort. In this atmosphere, it was almost a blind fall.
Tsavong Lah stood behind his pilot in the small forward compartment of the lead lander. Beside him, cradled in a blastula, was a specialized villip. A second creature gripped it, surrounding it like a husk that dangled a long straight tail. A metal-rich diet had deposited conductive material in the oggzil’s vertebrae, creating a living antenna, a means to send villip-speech over frequencies that the infidels used, just as Tsavong had been promised. A master shaper waited back at the
Sunulok
for his praise—if it worked—or else his reduction in caste. There were many former shapers among the Shamed Ones.
Tsavong stroked the villip, careful not to dislodge its oggzil companion. He already wore a tizowyrm in one ear.
“Citizens of Duro,” he addressed the villip, “we have no interest in your mechanical cities, only the planet’s unwanted surface. The ychna, our servant in orbit, will destroy any of your other monstrosities that threaten us. Stand ready to send down a delegation to consummate your surrender, with your … in your … in persons.” The tizowyrm had some trouble with that phrase. He gave the villip a sharp pat, and it shrank again.
Once they’d passed through the worst mists, he stared out the mica-scale viewing panel between the yoriktrema’s ablative, regenerative ventral surfaces. He’d ordered his coralskipper pilots to make a symbolic sweep, a first step toward cleansing the planet that would be his next staging point. The coralskipper fighters swooped down, launching deadly accurate plasma streams at monuments too huge to have been crafted by hand tools. Black and gray stone shattered into shards. A massive, flat-topped ruin fell beneath their deadly fire-flow. Three small dome shelters collapsed. In the distance, a trio of slow-moving mechanical vehicles, undoubtedly full of infidels, crawled away from the target dome. The coralskippers attacked. Yellow-green flame erupted from the crawling vehicles.