Refugee: Force Heretic II (4 page)

As fascinating as it might have been to observe, though, it wasn’t helping the landing party. Two of the enraged creatures rushed the group and were repelled by the combined blasterfire from Stalgis and the injured stormtrooper. One of the Krizlaws collapsed with a yelp and a whimper at their feet; the other, having taken a blaster bolt to the throat, leapt away, spitting blood. Barely a second had passed when another attacked from the far side. Luke took this one out himself, stepping forward a single pace as he brought his lightsaber up in a glowing arc, stabbing at the beast’s soft pink underside. It fell to the ground, but he hadn’t killed it—the jaws of the alien continued to
snap at Hegerty’s feet as it scrambled relentlessly toward her. Stalgis brought the nozzle of his rifle around and placed a precise blaster shot into the side of the Krizlaw’s head to finish it off.

Two more attacked them, uncoordinated and clumsy, and Luke felt his world contract into a furious concentration of teeth and glowing red eyes, with bright flashes of energy—blade and bolt—adding a surreal counterpoint to the proceedings.

Another Krizlaw lunged, extendable mouth open to engulf him. He swung his lightsaber again, this time with more force—using the thought of Mara and Ben to strengthen his resolve to stay alive. The blade cut through the creature’s forelimbs, but it wasn’t enough to halt its movement through the air. It connected solidly with Luke’s chest, knocking him to the ground. Its huge, slavering jaws were suddenly centimeters from his face. Before he’d had the chance to bring his lightsaber up to defend himself, five blasts sounded from nearby, each one striking the alien’s head. Mucus and blood splashed Luke’s face, and the Krizlaw fell heavily to one side. He would have liked to offer his thanks to the stormtrooper who’d fired the shot, but he had already turned his attention to the other creatures attacking them. There wasn’t time to be grateful.

Luke climbed to his feet, bringing his lightsaber to bear in anticipation of the next onslaught. But there was none. All of the Krizlaws suddenly recoiled, each emitting a sound that was so high-pitched it hurt his ears. He remained in a defensive stance, dumbstruck, his blade still held in front of him waiting for the attack that refused to happen.

Around him, the air was thick with confused, animal thoughts as the Krizlaws wheeled and fled, scrambling and leaping in an uncontrolled, chaotic mass for the lip of the plateau.

Mystified, Luke turned to check the others. Stalgis had a cut to his forehead; the stormtrooper was bleeding steadily from a bite to his shoulder. Hegerty was unharmed. Jacen favored his right leg as he snapped off his lightsaber and turned to face them, a look of satisfaction on his face.

“Your doing, I presume?” Luke asked.

“I managed to get a handle on the lower minds,” Jacen explained. “Finally. Once we’d knocked out enough of the riders, they were unable to assert themselves. The pack was frightened of us and took the first opportunity to get away.”

“Is the pack a group-mind, do you think?” Hegerty asked, clearly intrigued by the idea.

“Yes. With a fixed number of components forming a stable configuration,” Jacen added.

“Of course!” Hegerty said. “There were always eleven of them! They probably evolved that way, and the creatures controlling them now simply took advantage of the configuration.”

“And that’s how they knew when some of their number had been killed,” Jacen said. “Whenever a vacancy was created in the group, there was always another Krizlaw to fill it, with the new ones automatically knowing as much as the others in the meld.”

Luke nodded in agreement. It made sense. Now was not the time to be discussing it, though. “We should get to the shuttle while we still can,” he said. “I’d rather not hang around and wait for the chief to put together another group—this time with controlling intelligences intact.”

They did as he suggested, with Hegerty taking the lead. Stalgis assisted his injured comrade, while Jacen and Luke brought up the rear.

“Good work,” he told his nephew as they walked. “And timely, too. I don’t know how much longer we could have held them off.”

Jacen nodded, his expression one of simultaneous relief and pride. “I had to do something. I couldn’t let us be taken down by a pack of animals.”

“Never underestimate the power of the animal,” Luke said soberly. “Sheer numbers can overwhelm the best of tactics. Along with not having any fear of death, it’s possibly the most powerful weapon an enemy can have.”

They reached the landing ramp with no further incident, although the baying of Krizlaws was a constant and eerie reminder of why they should get off this planet and never look back. Luke helped the injured stormtrooper into the shuttle and onto one of the craft’s small cots. Stalgis followed close behind, grabbing a medpac on the way.

“He’s going to have to be examined thoroughly,” Hegerty said, speaking to the others in a hushed tone so that the stormtrooper wouldn’t hear. “That force-feeding he received could be dangerous.”

“He seems okay now,” Jacen said. “Apart from the shoulder wound.”

“I think Doctor Hegerty is more concerned about internal injuries,” Luke said, glancing over to where Stalgis was administering treatment to the injured trooper. Now that the fight was over, he certainly looked paler and weaker than he had outside.

Hegerty nodded. “We’ll need to warn
Widowmaker
that he might require immediate surgery—as well as decontamination.”

“But why?” Jacen asked.

“You said the Krizlaws are symbionts,” she explained. “But symbionts with
what
, exactly?”

“Some other species, I guess,” he said.

The doctor nodded again. “Remember the missing Jostrans?”

Jacen blanched as Hegerty’s point hit home. “You don’t really think—?”

She shrugged. “Maybe they’re not missing after all.”

“We’ll let Tekli know,” Luke said with a sinking feeling in his stomach that was nothing compared to what the stormtrooper would feel if he learned of their suspicions. He filed through the cabin while the others took seats preparatory for launch, his thoughts turning over the whole Krizlaw/Jostran affair.

It all seemed to make sense now, as things often did in retrospect. The passage of Zonama Sekot through the system must have destabilized the local environment enough to encourage a warlike clan or subspecies of Jostrans to take over the Krizlaws, giving them a competitive edge. Zonama Sekot had been responsible for helping that particular clan, but it had been at the cost of the previous Jostran civilization.

The pilot lifted off just as Luke reached the cockpit. He strapped himself in, watching the ground scanner as he did so. Another group of Krizlaw/Jostrans was converging on the shuttle, and he silently gave thanks that they were no longer out there fighting. It would only have been a matter of time before they would have fallen to the creatures.

Luke was grateful that the shuttle offered no parting shots as it swept a comfortable distance over the heads of the eleven snapping aliens. Once upon a time the gunners aboard this craft might have strafed them as they launched, but Luke had repeatedly emphasized that their mission was a peaceful one and that there would be no unnecessary loss of life—human or otherwise. Thus far, the Imperials had accepted his terms happily enough, with Captain Yage and Lieutenant Stalgis backing him up. Many of the crew, Stalgis included, had friends or family who were still alive because of the actions of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances around Orinda. Nevertheless, there was a definite undercurrent of resentment. To some, he would never be anything more than
the Rebel boy who was responsible for the death of Emperor Palpatine. But regardless of their feelings toward him, he would never let their disrespect undermine his confidence or authority.

He turned away from the thoughts, settling back into his seat as the shuttle sped skyward, leaving Munlali Mafir behind him. He was relieved to be going home—or to the closest thing to home they had, anyway.

“Hail
Jade Shadow,”
he instructed the sensor officer.

To Luke’s surprise, Danni Quee took the call. “I gather you had some trouble with the locals,” the young scientist said.

“An argument over dinner, that’s all. Is Mara there?”

“She’s tied up at the moment, but she says not to worry. Can I pass on a message?”

“No, that’s okay. But tell Tekli to take a shuttle over to
Widowmaker
. We have a patient for her.”

“Who’s injured?” she asked quickly. Luke could tell without her having to say anything that she was worried it might be Jacen.

“A stormtrooper,” he explained briefly. “It’s not so much that he’s injured.” He fought for the right word. “He’s just … infected, I guess.”

“I’ll warn Tekli to be ready. Did you learn anything useful about Zonama Sekot?”

“It’s been here, as we thought—but not for many years.”

“Another hit and run?”

“I’m afraid so. If we only knew what it was looking for, it would certainly improve our chances of finding it.”

“It’s a big galaxy,” Danni agreed.

“Excuse me, sir,” the pilot interrupted. “You’ve got a communication coming in.”

“Sorry, Danni. Got to go.” Luke thanked the sensor officer and moved forward to where the holodisplay
rested between the two forward seats. In the display, he saw the solid figure of Arien Yage, captain of the Imperial frigate
Widowmaker, Jade Shadow’s
official escort through the Unknown Regions. Her hair was tied back in its usual severe bun and her expression businesslike.

“We have visitors,” she said, wasting no time on pleasantries. “Fifteen minutes ago, a Chiss corvette and two full squadrons of clawcraft entered the system. They are on a high-powered approach vector, clearly intending to lock on to our orbit.”

“Communications?”

“None as yet, although we hailed them as soon as they appeared on the scopes. I’ve put the squadron on full alert.”

“How long until they come within range?”

“Approximately thirty minutes.”

“I’ll make sure we’re back by then,” Luke said. “Keep an eye on them, Captain, and keep me informed.”

Yage’s image nodded and fizzed out, then Luke sank wearily back into his seat. Two Chiss squadrons were more than a match for a dozen Imperial TIE fighters, but
Jade Shadow
with Mara at the controls was worth an entire squadron on its own. If it came to a fight, they would be evenly matched. He just hoped it didn’t come to that. The last time he and Mara had entered Chiss space, in Thrawn’s day, their dealings had been conducted amicably, if cautiously.

Fatigue washed through him, and he tapped the Force to sweep it away. He was tired of fighting, yes, but he wasn’t about to give up. Besides, there was nothing yet to suggest that the Chiss were looking for a fight. For all he knew, this might be the way they normally approached unidentified vessels found wandering in the Unknown Regions. The Chiss were efficient and pragmatic, to the point of appearing cold to those unfamiliar with their
ways. Until Luke was certain of their intentions, he could do little more than wait.

He moved back into the passenger cabin to check on the injured stormtrooper. The man was unconscious. The upper half of his uniform had been removed to enable Stalgis to get at the wound on his shoulder, and there was a sheen to his skin from perspiration. Stalgis was leaning over the stormtrooper, holding a stim-shot, a look of concern on his face. He straightened when he saw Luke.

“He’s going down fast,” Stalgis said. “I don’t have the facilities here to check for new poisons, so we’re going to need to get him to
Widowmaker
’s medical bay fast.”

Luke motioned Jacen to come forward. “See if you can hold his vital signs stable. We’re moving as quickly as we can, but it might not be enough.”

His nephew bent down next to the stricken trooper and placed a hand on his forehead. Luke felt waves of healing energy pour off his nephew and into the stormtrooper. He placed one hand on Jacen’s shoulder to lend him strength.

“Looks like we might have attracted attention to ourselves,” Luke whispered to him.

“What sort of attention?” Jacen returned equally as softly.

“Chiss.”

The trooper’s condition worsened steadily as the shuttle roared up toward the orbit occupied by the mission’s two central vessels. Luke could feel the man’s immune system failing as the invader spread its chemical and genetic tentacles through his body, beating it into submission. Jacen didn’t suggest using the Force to kill it, and Luke knew he wouldn’t until the choice between it and the trooper became absolutely clear.

Hegerty watched with an expression of concern mixed with intense curiosity. Luke doubted whether the woman
could ever
not
look worried; the lines in her face were permanently etched that way. For the sake of Stalgis, and in case their fear turned out to be unfounded, Luke refrained from asking the doctor if she’d ever seen anything like this before. They’d find out soon enough—or so he hoped, anyway.

The sensor officer stuck his head out of the cockpit. “Another communication, sir.”

Luke returned to the cockpit, leaving Stalgis and Jacen to care for the stormtrooper. Yage’s hologram was back.

“We’ve had a reply,” she said. “Commander Irolia of the Expansionary Defense Fleet wants to speak to the person in charge. I told her you were on your way back from the surface, but she said she wanted to speak to you immediately.”

“I guess you’d better put me through, then,” he said.

The copilot made way for him without having to be asked. Luke straightened his robes as he took the empty seat.

Yage’s face dissolved from the holofield in a flicker of static; it was replaced a few seconds later with the image of the upper body of a blue-skinned woman dressed in a burgundy-and-black uniform. Her eyes were the deep red of her species, and her expression held nothing but blunt authority. Chiss matured quickly, but still Luke was startled by the fact that she looked no older than his niece, Jaina.

“You are Master Skywalker?” Her voice had all the warmth of a droid.