Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Vector Prime (43 page)

“What’d it say?” Han pressed again, his tone even more forceful.

“The movement of the Praetorite Vong is under way. Your part, for now, is done. Good work,” C-3PO obediently recited.

“Praetorite Vong?” both Han and Luke said together.

“I heard that before,” Luke added.

“Some sort of mercenary band?” Han asked him.

“A big one, if that’s what it is.”

“From Janguine?” Han asked skeptically, looking to the droid.

“Oh, I’d hardly think that likely,” the droid responded. “The jungle barbarians have not been around for more than three hundred years. Their language was long ago absorbed by the mountain Mooloolian tribes—”

“Then from where?” Han demanded. “Where in the galaxy do they speak such language?”

“Maybe nowhere,” Luke answered ominously, turning all eyes to him. “Come on, Threepio,” he bade the droid. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The four went out then, moving along the corridors to Lando’s research chambers. They came to the side of the enemy starfighter unhindered by Lando’s technicians—one even offered a polite bow to Luke and Han and skittered away from the ship as they approached.

“Up you go,” Luke said to C-3PO.

“What? In there, Master Luke?” C-3PO started to protest, but the droid was already rising, the emanations of Luke’s projected Force power moving him as surely as any tractor
beam. “Master Luke!” he cried several times, and then he was gently put down in the cockpit.

Luke climbed up beside him, reached in, and brought forth the mask. “Put it over your head,” he bade the droid.

“Master Luke!”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Luke promised, flashing that still-boyish smile, and he helped C-3PO to get the thing on. “Now listen to it,” he explained. “Hear it carefully and remember every word.”

“They call it a coralskipper,” C-3PO, fidgeting in the cockpit, soon informed them. “They breed it to serve as star-ships, both fighter and larger.”

“What powers it?” Luke asked, and the droid relayed the question through the mask, and in the strange language.

C-3PO found, and reported, two answers, one conventional, the other far beyond their comprehension—which gave both Luke and Han pause. First, the coralskipper could move along much as it fired its guns, using the opposing force of that “spitting.” And it could refuel and rearm by eating rocks. The simplicity and the efficiency stunned Luke.

“How do you know that?” Han interjected.

“Because it is telling me that it is hungry,” the droid replied, his tone rising dramatically at the end of his statement, becoming little more than a wail.

“It can’t eat you,” Luke promised the droid, patting his shoulder. “Come on, Threepio. We really need you here.”

C-3PO conversed with the ship a while longer, then explained that the second propulsion system was tied back to that thumb-sized creature in the nose and had something to do with focusing gravity fields.

Luke thought back to his fight in the Helska system, to the loss of his shields. Might it be that this same creature was able to so accurately focus its gravitational grasp that it could tear the shields off a starfighter?

He leaned hard against the side of the coralskipper, taking many deep breaths. This whole thing was mounting ominously;
it was apparent to him now that this was indeed an extragalactic intelligence at work, an obviously hostile one, employing methods and organic technology far different from, and perhaps superior to, anything the New Republic could use to counter.

Belkadan, the Helska system, Dubrillion, and Sernpidal were not unrelated events.

Soon after, the four rejoined their companions and Lando in the central control room with their grim information.

The one piece of good news was the arrival of the
Rejuvenator
, an
Imperial II
–class Star Destroyer, along with a sizable and impressive task force, including a half dozen of the new
Ranger-
class gunships.

“It won’t work,” Mara remarked, standing with Luke and staring at the little iceborer, the stylus ship, which seemed terribly frail for the mission Luke had assigned to it.

“Lando’s used this technology before,” he replied.

“Going into a planet full of enemies?” came his wife’s curt response. She turned up her hand, extending her fingers one at a time as she counted off the drawbacks. “You’ll have no weapons, none from the ship, at least; no shields, other than the forward heat and impact protection; and not enough speed to outrun a Headhunter, never mind one of those coralskippers.”

Luke stared at her long and hard, a smile widening on his face. Ever since the return from Belkadan, Mara had been in her room, recuperating, a poignant reminder that she was very ill, and yet here she was, concerned about him.

“I should be the one to take the iceborer in,” she said.

Luke’s smile evaporated. He knew the source of that remark, knew that she was, in fact, saying that her life was more expendable because she was ill—by all other examples, terminally ill.

“No way,” he replied.

Mara looked at him hard.

“If you suffer a relapse down there, you’ll jeopardize the
whole mission,” Luke stated flatly, elevating the discussion to the good of the mission and not to a condescending level that showed his concern for his wife.

“And if I have a relapse flying your carry ship?” she asked with thick sarcasm.

“You won’t,” Luke replied with all confidence, and he chuckled and started past her.

Mara just shook her head and watched him walk away for a few moments, then turned back to regard the seemingly fragile stylus ship and just sighed.

“They’re almost done with it,” Jaina told her brothers as the three watched the repairs on the strange little ship.

“Uncle Luke’s really going to take that thing in?” Anakin asked. “And he’s really going to wear that living suit and mask they found with the pilot?”

Jacen and Jaina exchanged concerned looks.

“He’s trying out the suit right now,” Jaina explained. “Why don’t you go and check it out?”

Not catching on to the pointed dismissal and anxious to get a glimpse of the alien artifacts, the ever curious Anakin took his leave in a hurry.

“Uncle Luke’s the wrong one to go,” Jacen said to Jaina as soon as they were alone.

“I’m more concerned about Aunt Mara,” Jaina replied. “She slept most of the day and was still exhausted when she got up to eat dinner. Did you see the dark circles under her eyes? Her disease is getting the best of her right now, mostly because she’s too preoccupied with all of this.”

They stared at each other long and hard, knowing that they were of like mind, though neither was brave enough to put the thoughts to words at that moment.

“We can’t let Mara go,” Jaina remarked.

“We can’t stop her if Uncle Luke goes,” Jacen replied.

“You think they’ll wait for the
Rejuvenator
and her escorts to come in before they leave?” Jaina asked.

“I think they’ll go first,” Jacen replied. “I heard Uncle Luke say as much to Dad. He doesn’t want to wait for anything, but his plan is to get the iceborer off planet just in time to meet up with the incoming fleet.”

Jaina merely nodded; she had gleaned similar information from C-3PO.

“What’s that?” Jacen asked, motioning toward a crane bringing another craft in to a scaffolding beside and above the iceborer.

“Carry ship,” Jaina explained, who had interviewed Lando’s technicians extensively on this subject. “You can’t dock the iceborer, or put it in a hold, because it’s not maneuverable enough to break away safely. They’ll load it onto the missile pod of the carry ship, and that ship will just point it in the right direction and shoot it off.”

“And the iceborer pilot has to stay in the stylus ship the whole time?” Jacen asked. “For the duration of the entire flight?”

“The whole time,” Jaina replied. “They use an air tube and a power transfer line from the carry ship to conserve all the power possible on the little iceborer, but whoever flies in that thing is going to be lying flat out and cramped the whole way to the Helska system.”

Jacen looked at her, smiled, and nodded.

Jaina spent a long while dissecting that look, making certain that Jacen was entertaining similar ideas to her own. “I can fly the iceborer,” she offered.

“Seems to me that your skills would be better suited for the carry ship.”

Jaina thought about it and didn’t disagree. If they had to pull a quick retreat from the Helska system, she’d be a better choice at piloting the main craft.

“Where’s Artoo?” Jacen asked. “We should leave a message.”

Luke paced the room, while Han, Leia, and Lando sat at the small round table, arguing about whether they should go
ahead and attack with the assembled fleet or wait for more firepower to come in. On the table sat a viewscreen, the imposing image of Commander Warshack Rojo of the Star Destroyer
Rejuvenator
, with his shaved head, furrowed brow, and a single, glittering diamond earring.

“We should go straight to Helska,” Commander Rojo insisted. “The Ranger gunships will handle any of the smaller—what did you call them? Coralskippers?—while
Rejuvenator
takes out whatever base those barbarians have set up. It will be a clean sweep, I assure you, and then we can get on with the more important issues facing the New Republic. You may join us in-system, if you desire.”

Han and Leia exchanged concerned smiles, not sure at all that Commander Rojo was getting the message that this likely
was
the most important issue facing the New Republic. Leia was hardly surprised by the apparent underestimation.

“Six days,” she argued. “We’ll have three battle cruisers, an Interdictor ship, another Star Destroyer, and their accompanying task forces in by then.”

“We need not wait,” the commander, a hardheaded Corellian, said. “I’ve enough firepower to level the enemy base, and the planet it’s on, if need be.”

Leia gave a helpless sigh—she knew well enough how stubborn a Corellian could be—and turned to her brother as he paced by the window. Luke had told her that she would never convince the commander to wait until the other ships arrived, and since she had resigned her post on the council, she had no authority to order him to wait. They had put out a call to Coruscant, but it would be a while before they received any response—Leia’s estimation of six days was a hopeful one, at best—and by that time, Rojo hoped to have this whole mess cleared up. Rojo’s confidence did not bode well for Leia’s hopes of assembling a larger fleet, she knew, for the commander had likely been, or soon would be, in contact with the more skeptical members of the council, assuring
them that he could handle this and they need not divert any more of their military assets.

“We’re going,” Rojo said firmly. “And if we have to go alone, then so be it.”

Leia sighed.

Luke started to turn to say something to the stubborn man, but a flash beyond the window caught his eye. He moved closer, staring into the dark night, and saw a ship soar out of dock, into the sky. He knew at once which ship it was: the carry ship,
Merry Miner
, and its iceborer companion.

“Mara?” he asked quietly, wondering for a second if his wife had decided to take on this dangerous mission by herself.

But his words made little logical sense; Mara couldn’t have gone alone, for it would take two pilots to accomplish the task, and he didn’t believe that she would have taken Jaina on such a dangerous trek without consulting Leia. A sickly feeling came over Luke then, inspired by the thought of Mara’s potential copilot, as he guessed who might be flying the
Merry Miner
and who might be accompanying her.

He turned to the others, his expression speaking volumes.

“What is it?” Leia asked.

He ran past her, to the door, and out into the hall.

“Good evening, sir,” C-3PO said as Luke barreled into him, knocking him back against the opposite wall.

“Not now,” Luke said, rolling away from the droid, sidestepping R2-D2, and sprinting down the corridor.

“But Artoo, sir.”

“Not now!” Luke cried.

“A message from Master Jacen,” the now-frantic C-3PO yelled. Luke skidded to a stop and came running back, just as Leia bent to R2-D2 and activated his hologram recorder.

“Uncle Luke,” came the greeting, as a tiny image of Jacen appeared in the hallway. “Forgive us our presumption, but it seemed obvious to me and to Jaina that you’re needed with the fleet in the main attack force. We know what you intended
within the fourth planet: to explore and determine the strength and purpose of our enemies. I—we—can do that, Uncle Luke.”

Han gave something akin to a growl, and Leia joined in.

“Keep Aunt Mara at rest—she needs it,” Jacen’s hologram went on. “Jaina and I will be fine, and will carry out the mission perfectly. We promise.”

The image went away.

“I’m gonna kick his—” Han started to say.

“Jacen’s right,” Luke interrupted, and both Han and Leia, and Lando, as well, stared at him in disbelief. “I wish they had come to me first,” Luke went on. “I wish they had better coordinated their intentions.”

“But you think that sending Jacen down into the planet is the right choice,” Leia finished for him.

“As good a choice as any,” Luke replied without hesitation. He grabbed Han by the arm, as the man started away—and from the look on Han’s face, it was obvious that he was heading straight off for the
Millennium Falcon
.

“You’re raising Jedi Knights,” Luke said to him in all seriousness. “Warriors, explorers. They can’t turn away from the duty that is before them just for our peace of mind.”

“They’re just kids,” Han argued.

“And so were we when the Empire unveiled the Death Star,” Luke reminded.

“Speak for yourself,” Han growled. He narrowed his eyes as he stared hard at his friend. “I just went halfway across the galaxy pulling one of them back, and now I’ve got the other two running off in another direction,” he muttered through gritted teeth.