The Force Unleashed (40 page)

exchanged howls and grunts accompanied by wild gesticulations; then the second one

nodded emphatically.

Both turned to the apprentice with their teeth showing. He took that as a good sign.

"So you don't know, but you do," he said, pointing first at the big male then at the

other, a gangly Wookiee of indeterminate sex with patchy hair and bloodshot eyes.

"Can you show me how to get there?"

Both nodded. The big male held up one finger, then turned and bellowed at the rest

of the group. Two more fell back, and the rest kept on going.

"You four are coming with me?" He wasn't sure how he felt about that. They had three

of the blasters among the four of them, but he hadn't been planning on leading an

army. The big male looked indignant. "All right, all right," he said to forestall an

argument. "Lead the way."

One big, hairy hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed tightly enough to make

the joint creak. Then they were moving as one, four escaped Wookiees and a single

human intent on taking on the entire Death Star.

They headed back to the trench, where the incident had sparked a demonstrative

response. Walkers of numerous types and squads on foot examined the blaster marks

and discarded chains. Several had already mounted expeditions into the

superstructure in search of the escaped slaves.

The scrawny Wookiee indicated that they should go west, following a route parallel

to the trench. They climbed over cable conduits as thick as wine barrels and

squeezed through gaps that would have been tight for a child. Strange rumbling

sounds echoed around them, followed by high-pitched scrapes and static discharges.

The station seemed almost a living thing, which made them barely insects crawling

across its skin. The metaphor pleased the apprentice. Insects carried disease on

some planets. The tiniest bug could bring about the downfall of even the largest

host. One sting, in exactly the right place, might be all it took to destroy

everything the Emperor held dear . . .

The Wookiee leading the way came to a sudden halt, looking confused. Ahead lay a

complex tangle of pipes and hoses that could not be crossed. Judging by the

accusations flying back and forth, it was obviously a feature of the evolving

station that was new to all the Wookiees. After much gesticulation and howling, it

was apparently agreed that they would need to cross the trench and continue their

journey on the far side.

They edged as close to open space as they dared and took stock. They were some

distance now from the site of the breakout, but the alert had spread. Stormtroopers

held their blasters at the ready; walkers turned from side to side, raking the

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trench with their gunsights. Every thirty seconds a squadron of TIE fighters

screamed overhead. Sirens added a constant counterpoint, putting the apprentice's

teeth on edge.

"I don't suppose there's an alternative?" he asked his furry companions.

The big male indicated by gestures that the only other way was to backtrack some

distance, descend to a lower level of the superstructure, then crawl under the

trench to the far side.

Thinking of time passing, the apprentice shook his head. The big male bared his

teeth in anticipation.

"All right. I'll go first. Give me ten seconds before you start firing, then another

ten before you stick your woolly heads out. I don't want any of you getting hurt

unnecessarily."

The big male made a Who me? gesture in mock outrage, then nodded.

"Okay." A trio of TIE fighters flew by outside. The apprentice waited until one of

the patrolling AT-ATs was abreast with their hiding spot, then launched himself out

into the open.

Automated weapons emplacements spotted him instantly. Red weapons fire stitched

lines of explosions across the station's patchwork hull as he ducked between the

AT-AT's massive legs. Scooping up components from the nearest construction conveyor

belt, he threw a series of high-speed missiles at the turrets, knocking five out of

commission. A stream of Sith lightning put the AT-AT itself out of action, and a

good, solid shove tipped it over with a crash, providing cover for the Wookiees when

the time came to cross.

The quartet had already started firing at stormtroopers converging on the scene. A

furious exchange of blasterfire painted the air thick with energy. The apprentice

deflected anything headed his way as he hacked into the side of the AT-AT and

dropped into its munitions bay. The crew within was no threat, killed by the

lightning, but he was careful not to knock any of the charges in case their contents

had become unstable. He didn't want it to blow up just yet.

Rigging a simple mechanical switch, he leapt back out and joined the fight. Another

two walkers were approaching. He weakened the hull metal beneath their broad feet,

sending them crashing down into the superstructure. The next TIE patrol was coming

in fast.

He waved at the Wookiees. "Come on!" Three of them emerged from shelter, leaving one

killed in the firefight behind. Snarling, they ran pell-mell after him, leaping over

gaps in the hull and snapping off occasional shots to keep the stormtroopers in

line. The approaching walkers started firing, raising clouds of acrid smoke and

shrapnel across their path. A second Wookiee fell, but the others didn't break step.

Within seconds, they had caught up with him and were pulling ahead. Their guide

pointed at an access panel gaping invitingly on the far wall of the trench. The

apprentice put his head down and sprinted.

Behind him, triggered telekinetically, the downed AT-AT exploded, expending all its

stored munitions in one blistering blast. Instead of destroying everything nearby,

the blast was channeled along the trench and upward, enclosing the two nearby

walkers, the stormtroopers firing from the guardrails, and the approaching TIE

fighters. A new series of explosions followed the first, and the apprentice felt the

superstructure kick beneath him. Fiery debris rained around them as they finally

reached the hatch and threw themselves inside.

They paused to catch their breath and to listen for pursuit. None came, not

immediately. Covered by the explosions, they had effectively disappeared.

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"Well, that seemed to work." The apprentice wiped soot from his eyes. "I'm sorry

about your friends."

With a single soft sound, the big male managed to convey that these were just the

latest of many deaths in recent times-but thanks for the sympathy.

Their guide tugged at them, pointing along an accessway barely big enough for the

apprentice to crawl through. Accompanied by the sound of whooping sirens and

collapsing superstructure, they hurried on their way.

* * *

WITH A WOOKIEE AHEAD AND a Wookiee behind, the apprentice had plenty of time to get

used to their smell. Or so he would have thought. Their fur was pungent and knotted;

recent stresses had only added to their aroma. He tried not to imagine what it would

be like sharing a cockpit with one for any length of time and held his breath as

they led him to where he wanted to be.

He was surprised the smell didn't trigger any flashbacks to his childhood on

Kashyyyk, since the few memories he had recovered of his father's death suggested

that they had lived there for some time. He wondered if his father had been working

for the resistance on that brutalized world; or perhaps he had been a peacemaker, or

a healer, using the Force to assuage the injuries of those struck down by the iron

fist of the Empire. That he might never know struck him as the greatest tragedy of

all. How could one man's life simply disappear? How could another man, even Darth

Vader, take a child and completely remold him, removing all traces of his former

life and keeping the only part he wanted-the ability with the Force that he

carefully nurtured and guided toward the dark side, in order that it might one day

serve his own design? It didn't seem possible, and yet it was. He, who had once been

Galen, son of a Jedi Knight on Kashyyyk, was proof of that.

He wished he could tell his companions something of his father so that they could

carry a piece of him away with them, ensuring his survival in memory, if not in

life. But there was nothing at all, and to try would only cheapen the sentiment. So

he remained silent and abandoned his last hope that more memories would come.

Finally the accessway widened, joining several others at a junction large enough for

the three of them to stand. Their guide, whom the apprentice eventually gathered was

some kind of laser technician when he wasn't welding armor plates to the

superstructure, explained with gestures that not far away was an exhaust port that

would take him where he wanted to go. The port led into another shaft that was very

dangerous, a point conveyed by vigorous flashing hand signals and fingers drawn

numerous times across the throat. He couldn't tell exactly what the threat was, but

he assured them both that he would be careful.

From there it seemed he was supposed to keep going upward.

"Thank you," he said, gripping each of their hands in turn and having his finger

bones crushed. "You've helped everyone by helping me. I hope one day you'll know

that."

The big male patted him affectionately on the head.

"What about you two? Will you be okay?"

The Wookiees exchanged a world-weary glance. Shrugging, the smaller made it clear

that he wasn't to worry about them.

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The big male grunted and pushed the apprentice bodily toward the correct accessway.

There was no point resisting. When he had gone two meters, he turned to look back.

They were already gone.

"Right," he said to himself, less relieved than he had expected to feel now that he

was on his own again.

Then it was back to crawling, although this time breathing relatively fresh,

metal-tasting air, past complex banks of half-finished equipment that hummed and

crackled to themselves. He hoped the Wookiees had given him the right directions,

for otherwise he could crawl for months in the belly of the station and never find a

way out.

Ahead, growing steadily louder, the sound of stormtroopers talking suggested that

they hadn't led him astray.

The accessway terminated, as promised, in an exhaust port guarded by a full squadron

of alert-looking troopers. Hot air swirled around them, coming in occasional gusts

that made them stagger. Two quad laser emplacements with human gunners watched over

the port; four walkers clanked about in line of sight.

He sat under cover for a minute, considering his options, then backtracked to the

last junction and slithered into a ventilation duct leading upward, to a ledge on

which the cannons were mounted. He sneaked his nose out the far end and used

telekinesis to create a distraction below. While the guards' attention was

elsewhere, he slithered out and ran to the first of the cannons.

He killed the operator in midstride and kept on running to the second cannon. It had

turned ninety degrees to face him by the time he was on it, throwing its operator

bodily out of his harness and taking his place. The weapon swiveled smoothly on its

mountings as he swung it to bear on the nearest of the walkers. A series of pounding

shots penetrated its armor and blew it to smithereens.

His next targets were the guards below, before they could get a bead on him. They

scattered in all directions, looking for cover. While they were busy he took out the

second walker. This particular section of the trench was dissolving into chaos much

like the last incident he had created. Smoke billowed from the fallen walkers;

sirens screeched and wailed. Reinforcements flooded in from all directions, firing

at every moving object, whether it was friend or pieces of construction material

thrown about by their distant foe.

He strafed the guards again, then took out the third walker. Hearing TIE fighters on

their way, he judged that confusion had reached its peak and slipped away from the

cannon, leaving it rewired to rotate and fire at random. As he dropped down into the

exhaust port and hurried inside, several converging waves of blasterfire blew the

cannon to pieces, helping to cover his escape.

Things were quieter in the downward-sloping shaft, at least for a while. Running

into the warm air slowed his descent somewhat, and only the occasional hot blast

caused any discomfort. Several times he encountered stormtroopers, but only in

groups of two or three, and they were easily dispatched. He wondered whether word of

his existence and the damage he was doing had spread far up the command chain, and

remained unsure whether he wanted his Master to know that he was coming or not. The

element of surprise had some value, of course, but so did the certainty that attack

was imminent. One could only be on guard for so long. Mistakes were bound to be

made.

He slowed, approaching the end of the exhaust port. A broad-bladed fan spun swiftly