Clone Wars Gambit: Siege (13 page)

The raging theta storm had turned night into nightmare.

Though Anakin could sense the lives in this forsaken village, huddled in their homes, slaving deep beneath his feet and in the ever-hungry refinery, he felt like the only man alive in the world. Working his way around the perimeter of the storm shield, he didn’t need his glow lamp to see or the Force to guide him. The storm shield generated its own ghostly light, and the glare of the storm was like a dying sun melting out of the sky.

Though it was frightening, he found the purity of its ferocity compelling. Alluring. It called to something deep inside him. But Obi-Wan was right. Less imagination, more focus. He had a job to do and lives to protect.

There were fifteen shield generators in total, placed at intervals around the village. Each created a section of antigrav plasma that bled into and bonded with the next, forming a seamless, impenetrable whole. He reached the third generator to find another villager already there, checking its power cell and circuitry.

“You’d be Teeb Markl?” the man said, shining a glow lamp into his face. In his late middle years, he had an old scar running right across both sunken cheeks. “I’m Tarnik. Jaklin warned you and your cousin were out to help.”

Warned? That sounded ominous. “We’ve a bit of machine work up our sleeves, Tarnik,” Anakin said, projecting guiless concern. “With the village shorthanded and the mine swallowing men, Yavid and I thought—”

“No need to explain,” said Tarnik. Storm shadows flickered over him, hiding his eyes. “I’m glad of it.” He nudged the generator. “This one’s holding up. I’m thinking, since it don’t take two men to look at one generator, could be you and I need to work in opposite directions.”

“You want me to cross the village? Start from the other side?”

Tarnik lowered his glow lamp. Despite their trouble he was smiling, his wry expression twisting the scar across his face. “If you don’t mind running. Your legs are a few seasons younger than mine.”

“I can do that,” Anakin said. “The two generators behind me don’t show any faults.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Tarnik. “And the village, it’ll be glad to hear you and your cousin aren’t afraid to put your shoulders to the wheel. Torbel can always use good men of your stamp.”

Maybe. But it could use a fleet of Republic Cruisers, the Seps kicked out, and some serious hardship assistance even more
.

“That’s good to know, Teeb,” he said. “I’ll get looking at those other generators. Meet up with you somewhere around the shield.”

He waited until the murky half darkness claimed him, then broke out of his jog into a proper Force-sprint. Only to the other side of the village. Not for long enough to make Obi-Wan frown. Not long enough, he was certain, to attract any malicious notice. And that there was notice to attract? That was yet another problem on their crowded plate.

I wish I knew what it was Obi-Wan felt down in the mine. I wish I knew why I didn’t feel it, too
.

All he could feel in this moment, speeding to the next generator, was what the storm would do to this vulnerable village if he and Obi-Wan didn’t prevent it.

His mother’s voice echoed in the caverns of memory:

He can help you. He was meant to help you
.

As he reached the next generator he dropped out of Forcesprint, his heart thudding hard in his chest and his breathing ragged, muscles burning for want of proper fuel. His lightsaber, still safe in its shielded pocket, felt heavy. Almost burdensome. They needed some decent food. Gritty gruel and anemic stew wouldn’t keep them going for much longer.

Ignoring the glow lamp, he let the Force show him the inner workings of the generator. Old and overworked, yes, but reliable—at least for now.

One more down, lots more to go
.

He forged on to the next generator.

Eardrums battered, skin scorching even beneath his filthy, sweat-stained clothes, Obi-Wan made his way through the ferocious heat and noise of Torbel’s long-outdated, struggling power plant.

Ten ranks over, then six bays down. Look for the green section
.

He tried to feel Anakin through the Force, make sure he was all right, but his senses were overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of the storm. Its impersonal malevolence drowned every other thought and feeling, the danger it posed to every life in the village obliterating the other danger he knew was out there somewhere. Stalking them.

…rank six… rank seven… rank eight…

The air shimmered. It was like being back on Tatooine, feeling the menace of that extraordinary heat, watching the dry air shiver in the furnace between sand and sky. So many worlds he’d visited in his life, but not one came close to that stark and endless desert, a crucible for forging many strange and wonderful things.

Not the least of which is Anakin
.

Ten ranks over and six bays down. The sense of dread increased, his awareness of urgency growing. The laboring power plant’s struggle shuddered through him.

…rank nine… rank ten!

Now count to six and look for the green. Count to six and look for the—

There
.

As he confronted the bank of levers and valves, the Force shrieked a warning. Red lights flashed, a strident alarm sounded. He could feel the valve structure’s imminent explosion. No time to think or worry or prepare. He dragged off his shirt and used the filthy material to protect his hands.

Pull down the left-hand lever. Open the spigot as wide as it’ll go. Pull down the right-hand lever. Wait for the all-clear bell. Yank both levers back up at the same time, then close the spigot
.

The levers and spigot were jammed by heat and imperfect maintenance, by wear and tear and the passing of time. Torbel’s decrepit machinery was falling apart piece by piece.

He had no choice. He used the Force, knowing even as its transcendent power helped him shift the levers and turn the spigot that the enemy seeking him would see him like a flare in the night sky.

Here I am. Come and get me
.

Panting, his hands searing, his nose and mouth tainted with the stink of overworked hydraulics and overheated wiring and circuits and the peculiar stink of cooked damotite, Obi-Wan dragged his shirt on again and stood back. The hysterically leaping gauges slowed… and slowed… and slowed some more. Closing his eyes, he sank his awareness into the valve system itself, became a part of the agitated, liquefied mineral. Such a dangerously unstable fuel. How desperate must these people be even to contemplate using it. And then he felt the seething surge settle as the blocked valve washed clean and the fuel flowed once again through the plant’s arteries.

He permitted himself a very small smile.

“Are you all right, Yavid?” Devi demanded, breathless, as he returned to the monitoring station. “I can’t believe you did it. I can’t believe you’re not fried. That
we’re
not fried, or blown into a million pieces. Yavid, are you
sure
you’re all right?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, and was shocked to hear his croaky voice. He felt crisped head-to-toe, and the relative silence of the monitoring station made him dizzy all of a sudden.

“Oh,
Teeb!
” said Devi. “What a mercy you were here!”

To his surprise she threw her arms around him and held him tight. Not wanting to hurt her feelings he returned the gesture—and almost immediately she let go of him and retreated a step.

“Sorry. I don’t usually do that. Fling myself on strange men,” she said, flustered.

“That’s quite all right.” He grinned at her. “I’ve experienced far less pleasant embraces.”

She stared, uncertain. And then she laughed, in the midst of chaos and fear a delightfully uproarious sound. “Oh, I do hope you stay in Torbel, Teeb Yavid. We could do a lot worse than you.”

It hurt him to lie. “I hope I can stay, too, Devi. My cousin and I—”

And then he was spinning to face the monitoring station’s outer door, the rest of his lie abandoned.

Anakin. Oh, no
.

The next storm-shield generator overloaded just as Anakin reached it. He had a split second’s warning, one hammer blow from the Force. The storm seemed to hold its breath—

—and then exhaled in renewed fury as the generator erupted in a burning light show of sparks. With a scream like a wounded animal the shield directly overhead collapsed and a maelstrom of theta particles poured through the gap.

He acted on instinct—and out of sheer bloody-minded terror. Throwing up his hands he used the Force to hold back the stream of theta particles, and with a shout of rage became one with the storm shield. Rejected the storm. He thought he could feel his blood bubbling. He was losing himself, disappearing within the scarlet vortex of the Force as it consumed him and transformed him into fire.

And there was his mother, whispering again.

He can help you. He was meant to help you
.

Furious, Anakin stood alone against the storm.

…on Coruscant, in the Temple, Taria Damsin and Ahsoka shadowdance with their lightsabers. Shadowdance within the Force. Open and trusting they swim its light tides—and as one are swept up in a tidal wave of fear. Shock twists them and they stumble, fingers loosening. Lightsabers fall. Shocked younglings whisper and wonder what to do…

…as Yoda, in meditation, is shocked out of his communing by a sense of danger sharp as pain. Hand pressed to his head he seeks for understanding, seeks to see what has happened. But the dark side is a jealous shroud. It keeps its secrets close. Yoda grits his teeth and fights it…

…as the Drivok psychic seeker lifts its head and scents the air and keens with triumph because above all things it is a hunter and no hunter likes to be eluded. But now it can see the
missing Jedi so clearly, lighting up its mind, and on the map it can pinpoint them exactly…

…and Lok Durd laughs and laughs and laughs…

Every alarm in the monitoring station was sounding. Devi pushed her antigrav harness to its limits as she flung herself from station to station.

“No, no, don’t do that!” she shouted, slamming switches, hitting buttons. “Don’t you dare!”

“
Devi!
” Obi-Wan yelled. “Tell me what I can do to—”

She flung out an arm, pointing toward the generator and storm-shield status board. “Glue your eyes to those gauges. We’ve got one shield generator down. If another goes it’s over. We’re all dead. I don’t even know how the rest of the shield’s still holding but I don’t care. It’s holding and that’s all that matters!”

I know how. It’s Anakin. May the Force protect him
.

Sick with fear for him, Obi-Wan crossed to the status board and read off the gauges, even as his stomach churned and the bile rose in his throat.

Hold on, Anakin. I’ll be there as soon as I can
.

Because surely not even the Chosen One could hold back a theta storm on his own.

“
It was the most awful thing I’ve ever seen,
” Qui-Gon had told him, so many years ago. “
Theta storms kill in two ways, you see. If you’re contaminated from a distance, well, it takes a long time to die. But if you are in the storm’s path it will rip you to pieces and then melt your bones. I’ve seen it kill both ways, and both ways are cruel. Better to be swallowed alive by a sarlacc.
”

“Well?” Devi demanded. “Are they holding? The other generators? The shield?
Yavid?
”

Obi-Wan wrenched his mind from the past and checked the status board again. “Yes. So far, so good.”

Devi was sweating, fat drops rolling down her fierce and unremarkable face. But instead of capitulating to the fear, she fought it.

“This is crazy, Yavid.
Crazy,
” she said, and banged her fist on another gauge. “If these readings are right this is a Class Four storm. I never thought I’d live to see one this bad.”

“So I should feel honored? Look on it as a—a kind of welcome-home celebration?”

She snorted. “Ha! Some welcome.” And then even that tiny moment of humor was obliterated as yet another alarm began to sound. “Oh, have mercy,” she whispered. “No. Please, no.”

“What is it? What’s happening?”

She staggered to another bank of monitors then turned, her face grayish white. “We’ve got a power surge building,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “And I can’t stop it. Not without shutting down the entire second sector and that means collapsing the storm shield. Yavid—”

Her terror was almost overwhelming. “Devi, are you sure we can’t stop it? Short-circuit it somehow? Where will the surge hit?
Devi!
”

Startled, she shook her head hard to regain focus and turned back to her monitors. One trembling finger traced the stuttering liquid-crystal display readout of Torbel’s underground power grid.

“It’ll blow the irrigation system for sure,” she said, almost in tears. “It might take out the artesian pump. Probably not the storm shield. And then—stang, the mine. Will it hit the mine? No. No, no, not the mine, the
refinery.
” Spinning around, she nearly fell over. “Unless there’s a miracle it’ll ground in the refinery. Yavid—”

“Devi, try to stop that surge,” he ordered, already heading for the station’s outer door. “There has to be a way to divert it or decompress it. Something. Anything. Please, you must
try
. Raise Arrad in the refinery and Rikkard at the mine. Tell them to evacuate everyone to a safe distance.”

The moment he set foot outside the power plant he turned toward Anakin—and felt his heart thud as he saw the gaping hole in the storm shield. Felt the furious concentration of power, of the Force, in that one small place as Anakin held back the storm’s might.

And then he felt the gathered villagers, their numbers growing, their fear and astonishment mounting, as they watched the stranger from Voteb do a thing that should not be humanly possible.

Hold on, Anakin. Hold on
.

He turned and Force-sprinted for the endangered refinery.