Dark Tide: Onslaught Page 22

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “It’s twisted, but you’ll get it, my love.” She smiled and kissed his hand again. “The Force, as you have defined it, is an energy field that surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds us with all things.”

  “Except, apparently, the Yuuzhan Vong.”

  “That exception aside, when we are able to access the Force, it makes us stronger. We are able to draw power from it.”

  The Jedi Master nodded. “On Belkadan, I drew on the Force very little except when I needed to rescue Jacen.”

  Mara smiled adoringly at him. “I do want to hear the story of that fight, Luke.”

  “When you are rested.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s the problem. I’ve had too much rest.”

  “Mara, you’re having a hard time sitting up. You need more rest.”

  “No, I need to get back to who I am and how I interact with the Force.” She snorted a quick laugh. “You remember me when we first met? You remember how I was?”

  “Trying to kill me to comply with the Emperor’s last command.”

  “Right. Luke, I’m a fighter. I’ve always been a fighter. The few times when I have been at leisure, I’ve been miserable. I want challenges, I crave them. As nice and peaceful as it was up north here, it lulled me, dulled me, took the edge off. Anakin made it so I had no needs, and Dantooine—before the Yuuzhan Vong—had nothing more dangerous than big thorns to worry about. I was wasting away, trying to conserve my strength, all the while turning away from the means I’d used in the past to tap the Force.”

  Mara gazed up into Luke’s eyes, and he could feel their personal bond and connection strengthening. He got past the fatigue to the image of Mara that existed deep in the woman’s psyche. This Mara, strong of limb and sharp of eye, wore armor, sported blasters, and looked like someone who could take a Death Star apart from the inside out.

  “That’s who I am, Luke. When Anakin and I had to run, I felt exhausted, physically, but I was stronger in the Force. I was able to repair some of the damage the disease had done. I realized that’s the most insidious nature of the disease. Many people, when they become sick, retreat to their childhood and being helpless. They abandon who they have become and their place in the web that is the Force, then the disease severs those final connections and they die.”

  Luke watched for a moment, then frowned. “So you’re telling me that no matter how tired you are, that letting you fight against the Yuuzhan Vong will make you stronger.”

  “As long as I’m fighting, I’m not dying.”

  He shivered. “I’m not sure I like the cure, but I like the disease less.”

  “You’ll let me fight?”

  “Despite my being a Jedi Master, I don’t think I could stop you.”

  Mara laughed, and the rich sound of her voice poured like balm into Luke’s ears. “Other men could have said that, but none of them would have meant it. I am so glad I found you and didn’t kill you.”

  “Both of those things thrill me, too.” Luke glanced at a bulkhead chronometer. “I don’t know when they’ll come, but you might want to sleep until then.”

  “I think I’d rather spend the time with my husband.” Mara reached up and grabbed a handful of Luke’s tunic, then pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. “Stay here with me. Tell me a story of Belkadan and a Jedi Master with two blades. Spending time with my husband is the best medicine on Dantooine, and I will gladly take as much as you can spare.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Corran didn’t mind the sting of sand against his face as he stared out toward where the wind had begun to unbury the Dalliance. Stretching out with the Force, he could feel Ganner and Trista deep inside the ship. Though the distance muted their emotions, the fact that he detected anything more than just their presence meant they were probably locked in a charged conversation. Not surprising, since everyone’s mood was charged since the fate of the missing students had become clear. Corran and Ganner had trekked out to the meteorological station and found the place a mess. Supplies had been scattered all over, and four sets of footprints led away from the station. There could be no other conclusion: Vil and Denna had been captured by Yuuzhan Vong warriors.

  The scrape of boot on rock focused Corran’s attention back locally. “Yes, Dr. Pace?”

  “I hate it when you do that. You could at least look at me.”

  Corran glanced back over his shoulder. “Forgive me, but you are a very strong presence in the Force. Besides, your leather-soled boots make a particular sound. Your students wear synthetic soles that are virtually silent.”

  The woman pursed her lips, then nodded. “Neat trick that, but I think this mission of yours will take more than tricks. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Corran laughed for a moment, then shook his head. “One of your students, one of the ones captured, accused Jedi of being able to see into the future. Sometimes visions do come, but not for me, not now. I don’t know if what we will do will succeed, but I know we can’t do anything less.”

  Pace frowned. “I still don’t like the whole thing.”

  “The whole thing?” Corran pointed toward several fiberplast equipment crates at the mouth of the cave. “You took to packing up the Vong artifacts quickly enough. You’re even abandoning equipment to do so.”

  “It was old anyway, and I have a budget surplus. I spend it or don’t get as much next year.” She folded her arms across her chest. “You know what I mean.”

  “Perhaps I do.” Since the capture of the two students, Corran and Ganner had reconnoitered the alien village each day. As nearly as they had been able to determine, the Yuuzhan Vong were there taking samples of the local flora and fauna, as well as searching for something. They herded the slaves out and set up search grids. They poked and probed the sand for things, and Corran was fairly certain that what they wanted resided in the crates.

  The students had determined that Bimmiel’s magnetic field shifted from time to time, which meant if the Yuuzhan Vong were using old measurements to find the cave, they would be off a bit. Of course, capturing Vil and Denna means they have a direct line to us. Corran was actually surprised that the Yuuzhan Vong had not come for them yet.

  In their scouting missions Corran and Ganner had managed to determine a number of things. First, they knew the two students were being held in the large shell. They were not in good shape, but their sense in the Force had not yet begun to diminish. This everyone took as a good sign.

  The prisoners, on the other hand, had deteriorated. The Jedi witnessed no more murders, but the number of slaves shrank all the same. The growths became larger, and the pain the slaves were in was all that much more obvious. There seemed to be very little peace for them at night.

  Corran had seen only the two warriors and began to assume there were, in fact, only two of them. He knew that was a dangerous assumption, but he clung to it because if there were more, there just was no way the rescue mission could succeed. He felt, deep down, that they would succeed, at least partially, and he let his trust in the Force reinforce his belief about the number of Yuuzhan Vong they would face.

  Ganner had seized upon Corran’s belief about the number of Yuuzhan Vong and used it to grind on him. The younger Jedi reminded him again and again that if they had just acted that night, none of the students would have been in danger and they could have all been away from Bimmiel a long time since. Corran countered that Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements could have arrived if the two stationed on the world didn’t report regularly, making things worse, but he knew that was a sham argument. If they were reporting to off-world sites, more Vong would already be here because of the discovery of humans.

  He looked at Dr. Pace and let his shoulders slump a bit. “We have been over all of this, I think, and I understand your protests over parts of the plan. Ganner and I will slip into the camp and liberate your students. Trista has learned enough about flying the freighter that she’ll be able to handle g
etting it that far. It’s bigger than a blastboat, but her experience piloting one of them should suffice. She laces the village with stuff you’ve been synthing up, Ganner and I get out of there, and we leave.”

  “Yes, we leave . . . We leave the slaves behind.” Pace’s eyes narrowed. “When we spray the area with the virus that will change the bacteria, we’ll also be dumping an incredible amount of killscent. From your reports the slashrats actually have tunnels running under the village basin. When the killscent gets down there, they’ll come up and will be everywhere. The slaves don’t stand a chance.”

  A chill writhed up Corran’s spine. “I know that, and I know we’ve asked you to trust us, to trust the sense Ganner and I have of the slaves. They’re dying by little bits and pieces. I’ve never felt anything similar through the Force, but I know they’re very sick and won’t survive.”

  His head came up. “And you know we can’t take them with us. We don’t know what the growths are, how they are spread. For all we know, it’s an infectious disease, and the Yuuzhan Vong have set up this village as something we can rescue folks from. They intend us to bring plague carriers along with us. If we do, we will do an incredible amount of harm to the New Republic and its people.”

  “But what if Vil and Denna are infected?”

  Corran sighed. “That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? I’ve been wrestling with it myself.”

  “And your decision?”

  He glanced out at the distant ship and the two figures slowly walking back toward the cave. “If they are sick, we have no choice but to leave them.”

  “And if we can cure them?”

  “You want to risk a planet on that chance?” Corran tapped his own chest. “I don’t. I remember the Krytos virus. I know how devastating that can be. If they are infected, they don’t make it off Bimmiel. If they aren’t, we get them out and into evac suits on the freighter. The same goes for Ganner and me, just to safeguard you against the chance that we do develop a problem.”

  “And, if you do, you expect us to space all four of you?”

  Corran turned and looked at her. “You know, Doctor, some choices just aren’t easy. Spacing Ganner might break Trista’s heart. I’ve got a wife and kids, and I think they’d not be too pleased at my dying; but when I have to choose between my death and the potential death of billions, I know which is the better choice. I serve the Force, and the Force is life itself. It doesn’t make the decision easy, but it makes it easier.”

  Pace snorted, then shook her head. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “From one point of view, it is.” Corran sighed. “I doubt, though, the Vong share that point of view, so this is going to be just plain hard and painful.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jaina Solo sat huddled and anonymous in the midst of the pilots gathered for Colonel Darklighter’s briefing in the main cabin of Senator A’Kla’s Lambda-class shuttle, Impervious. Despite the colonel’s relative youth, he was one of the oldest people in the room. Jaina found it disturbing that many of the pilots tended to be closer to her age than not, and she had the feeling that one who had piloted an ugly was her younger brother’s age.

  In addition to the pilots from Rogue Squadron and the two squadrons of uglies, the pilots for the various freighters had joined the briefing. Elegos sat forward of them and off to the side, as if he were more an observer than a participant, despite the fact that his shuttle had been tasked with moving to a point position directly in line toward whichever direction from which the Yuuzhan Vong staged their attack.

  Gavin nodded to Major Varth, and she keyed up a holograph of one of the coralskippers. “You’ve seen skips before and have engaged them in space combat. We have no idea what sort of role they will play in ground support of an attack, but their plasma bolts will undoubtedly kill folks who get in the way of them. Our job will be to engage the skips and keep them from their ground-support role. That’s our primary mission and will belong to the Rogue and Savage Squadrons.”

  The Savage pilots nodded and slapped each other’s backs. The uglies had been divided into new squadrons here on Dantooine, with Savage being made up of uglies like clutches that had shields. The Rogues had referred to the squadron as Salvage Squadron at first, but the pilots proved game so the Rogues didn’t rib them too much. The fact is that we know they’re likely to take a lot of casualties in the coming assault. Their ships aren’t capable of handling the wear and tear ours are.

  The other squadron, designated Tough, consisted of the less powerful ships, including those armed with ion cannons or lacking shields. Gavin turned toward those pilots, all of whom had donned red scarves to give them a rakish air—and it worked, even for the Gamorrean aft gunner in an old shieldless Y-wing. “You will be given a ground-attack mission. As we pull the skips off, you can harry the ground troops. We have no idea what, if anything, they have as ground transport. Taking anything big out will be important, and you should use proton torpedoes or concussion missiles on them, but only with a very specific attack strategy.”

  Major Varth hit some keys on her datapad, and the static holograph shifted to an animation. The best-guess idea of a Yuuzhan Vong ground vehicle—shown as a giant beetlelike creature moving on thousands of little feet—moved along slowly as a trio of ships came in at it. The first two made strafing runs, coming in high and spraying flicker darts over the vehicle. The third fighter came in low and drilled one proton torpedo at the target. The Yuuzhan Vong vehicle used black holes to pick off the laser darts and let the proton torpedo through. The missile detonated, lifting the beetle and cracking it in half before dumping it back on the ground in pieces.

  Gavin half smiled. “Again, we don’t know what Vong ground craft will look like. We used a beetle because we know they use beetles. Regardless of what they look like, the idea is to overwhelm them with laser fire, then drive a torpedo into the craft.”

  The purple striping around Elegos’s eyes tightened. “Colonel, forgive me, but is not this strategy based on wishful thinking? We have no idea how many dovin basals such ground vehicles would have. It could be we would be wasting torpedoes.”

  Gavin nodded wearily. “I agree, but the chance to kill a lot of Vong is worth that chance. Moreover, whatever heavy weaponry that thing is packing could hurt us, so we have to eliminate them.”

  Something clicked in the back of Jaina’s brain. She raised a hand.

  “Flight Officer Solo?”

  “Forgive me, Colonel, but something you just said combined with what the senator said. The gravitic anomaly the dovin basal creates just sucks in the proton torpedo and crushes it down, preventing detonation or containing it.”

  “That is what we think happens. We think containing the energy may exhaust the dovin basal, which is the rough equivalent of overwhelming a shield.”

  “Right, that’s what I thought.” She smiled a bit. “What if we don’t make it easy for the dovin basals to contain that energy?”

  Gavin frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “Okay, what I’m thinking is this: If we reprogram the proton torpedoes and concussion missiles so that they’re getting targeting data from our ships on a constant basis, we could have them detonate prematurely when a gravitic anomaly is positioned to intercept them. The missiles go off, releasing all that energy. The black hole might suck a bunch of it in, but the rest could damage ground troops, or other vehicles that don’t have black holes up on that side. The shock wave from the explosion would certainly knock troopers down, and the heat might ignite things.”

  Gavin ran a hand over his bearded jaw. “It does allow us to do some damage regardless. Pilots would have to hold their ships on target for a bit, though, which could make them targets themselves.”

  Major Inyri Forge raised a hand. “In ground-attack mode a torp isn’t going to take that long to reach the target. A couple of seconds—no more.”

  One of the Tough pilots nodded. “We could also slave our missiles to targeting data
coming from some of the freighters. We pop up, deliver the missiles, then scoot away or line up another shot. If we vector shots in over densely packed troops, we could do serious damage.”

  The leader of Rogue Squadron nodded. “As a plan modification, it’s simple and works. Good. I’ll get slicer droids coding up a sim for this strategy and see how it runs. You freight pilots are going to need to see if you can modify your sensor packages to provide the telemetry our missiles need, but that shouldn’t be hard. You’ll be shooting your guns by hand, though, since your sensors will be occupied—at least, at range. When the Vong get close enough that we won’t be torping them, you really won’t need sensor data, but you can have it.”

  Gavin chewed his lower lip for a moment. “Look, all of you, this is not going to be an easy fight. Normally we pilots get to cloak ourselves in tradition and the romance of single combat amid the stars. The kind of snubfighters we pilot killed the Death Stars and have downed lots of Imps and pirates. We often take pride and even solace in the fact that those we face in combat are our equals in skill. It’s a fair fight.

  “This won’t even be close to a fair fight. Once we scrape fighter cover off the ground troops, we’ll be slaughtering them as fast as we can. Scatter shots from the lasers may only burn paint from a fighter, but they’ll broil a warrior in a second. It will not be pretty. What it is, though, is necessary.”

  Gavin nodded toward a viewport that looked out over the refugee camp and the fires lit to stave off night. “It’s necessary because those people out there aren’t warriors. Many of them might have blasters, but if they ever have to fire them, it’s because we’ve failed. Safeguarding those people, adults and children alike, is more important than our survival. That doesn’t mean that you should be stupid out there, but courage will sometimes demand you be a little less than coldly rational and sensible.”

  He snapped to attention and brought his hand up in a salute. “You know your duty. Get sim time, get sack time, and be ready. When they come, we have to stop them. Nothing more, nothing less will do.”