Chapter 7.
I know now what I have to do. The sheer impossibility of it only serves to strengthen my already durasteel-hard resolve. It's been hours since we set course for Brentaal IV, and I haven't stopped shivering since we left that medical bay on Coruscant. I have to say, General Antilles was less than pleased when Zee contacted him with our foolhardy rescue plan. But he'd agreed to it nonetheless when we reminded him of just whom it was we were intending on rescuing. Lucky for us, Adm. Janson had a knack for getting himself into sticky situations, especially since my buddy, Marv, always seemed to be there to save him just in the nick of time. The general had had his reservations about our chances, but he couldn't argue our motivations.
So here I lay, trying without much success to stay comfortable in the cramped, crewman's lounge of our dusty, worn YT-2000 freighter, buried under a mountain of blankets, none of which could seem to retain any semblance of heat. Honestly, I'd much rather be up there in the cockpit with Zee, but until we knew if this toxin I'd inhaled was contagious or not, we had decided it best for everyone that I remain in quarantine, at least for the time being.
Besides, Zee's a very capable pilot. He can fly this old bucket with his eyes closed and both hands tied behind his cocky, little back. I'm not worried about that. I just hope that when we finally reach our destination, this sickness won't jeopardize the mission. My mission, really. A promise I made to a good friend so long ago, it seems.
I have to relax. If I don't gather my strength, I'll be of no use to anyone. But these heavy blankets did nothing to stop the chill. Invisible fingers of icy death raked up and down my skin constantly. And if that wasn't fun enough, there was also a certain, churning queasiness in my gut that grew ever stronger by the hour. I couldn't even stand for fear of being met with yet another wave of excruciating dizziness. A normal man couldn't withstand this kind of torture alone. But I'm anything but normal, and hardly alone. As always, I have the Force, a Jedi's most trusted and powerful ally. I only hope it'll be enough.
I heaved off the covers with a strangled cry. I laid there for many moments, sprawled half-naked on the cabin floor, sweating heavily, sobbing quietly to no one. How, how did it ever come to this? No, shrug it off. Focus. Remember your training. Slowly, I dragged myself back to sitting, back straight, hands on knees. I closed my weary eyes and called to the Force, wrapping myself in the infinite warmth of its loving embrace. I felt myself starting to breathe deep, full breaths. Then I was swept up once again in that familiar ocean of calming light.
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Zee.
"That's it, commander. Last one," I said jovially to the trooper sitting beside me as the stars stretched into the familiar lines of hyperspace before us. "Next stop, Brentaal IV, in about ten hours," I finished in mock-exasperation.
"Yep," he said simply, his gaze remaining fixed ahead of him.
"Listen," I said casually, "I'm gonna hop on down to the galley. You want me to get you a cup of caf or something?"
"Nope," the soldier responded with that same, eerily-detached monotone. He even refused to give me the basic, common courtesy of eye contact.
"Ya sure?" I asked, deliberately prodding. This finally got him to swivel his cockpit chair around to face me with a contemptful sigh. Now, he was a big guy. You know the type: broad shoulders, no neck, arms as big as wroshyr trees, and that large, square jaw with the permanently sour expression. Yeah, he was the kinda guy that if you met him in a dark alley somewhere, you'd probably pish yourself. And if that wasn't enough to make a Wookie cry home to his hairy mama, I found myself looking down to see two steely, half-lidded brown eyes gaze up at me with a look of boredom so severe you'd think he'd invented it.
He said slowly, as if to an annoying child, "Yes. I'm fine." I took that as a good hint to leave and quickly headed out the door. Not because I was scared or anything, mind you. I just really wanted a sandwich right then. Yeah, that's it. I walked briskly down the corridor towards the teeny, little food-synth unit affixed to the wall that apparently passed for a galley on this blasted ship. Just so happened that the unit was located in a small alcove right outside the crewman's lounge, so at least I'd get a chance to check up on my buddy Lowan while I was there.
Y'know, I don't know what that big ape's problem was. I mean, this whole trip all I've done is make attempt after attempt to establish a camaraderie of sorts between me and those juiced-up commandos. And what do I get for it? I'll tell you what: a big, fat nothing! Nothing but grief, frustration, and that ever-present 'we're-too-special-to-converse-with-civilians' stare. Well, I'm sick of it, I tell you. I mean, I know I was the one who said, "Hey, let's bring the 'best of the best' along to back us up!" Well, 'best of the best', my eye! These so-called 'elite troopers' might be heavily trained and extra heavily armed, but they sure as Kessel aren't heavily kriffin' mannered! Gah!
I realized that I'd been fuming so much that I almost took the wrong corridor to the galley. Backtracking with a mumbled curse, I stomped off in the right direction again. Half a minute later, I finally spotted the food-synth as I rounded the last corner. Brightening with the sweet anticipation of juicy banthasteak, I fell into a light jog. I got within a mere two paces of my aromatic salvation when something stopped me dead in my tracks. That something was the throaty scream of a human male, and it sounded like agony on a stick. And it was coming from the crewman's lounge. Lowan!
Without a moment's hesitation I rushed to the door, slapping the release panel next to it with an unconscious flick of the Force. I leapt inside, launching myself into a diving roll and coming up in a low crouch, my lightsaber flashing over my head in a high guard, my "danger sense" kicked on to full. The room was eerily silent, not a sound to be heard, save the gentle hum of my green, glowing blade.
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Lowan.
Flashes, just flashes… brief images of the past that played over and over in my head, skipping gleefully like demented children. Flickering candles amidst the fog of time, they were as real to me now as they were then. I tried to concentrate on just one of them long enough to make any sense out of it, but they just kept swirling and swirling in my mind's eye, teasing my senses without ever truly satisfying my unconscious need for understanding. Then they began to coalesce, gradually becoming substantial, gradually becoming discernable. Yes, I saw them clearly now.
Kalarba. Hosk Station. Yumi and I together. Lights, music, crowds of varied races. Holoscreens flashing. The smell of exotic food. Shopping, endless shopping. The pure, mundane bliss of it all. Walking arm in arm among the fountains. Talking. Laughing. That unspoken electricity in the air. The intimate bond of teacher and student. Then the alarms. The panicked masses. Faint, authoritative voices issuing commands for emergency evacuation. Thundering rumbles that shook the floor of the station. People screaming and running every which way. Me trying to calm them and failing. Yumi arguing with me. Then us sprinting toward the hangar. Snagging the two Zebra fighters. Flying thru start-up procedures. Bursting out into space. Vong. Lots of them. Coralskippers filling the space like swarms of angry piranhabeetles. Spewing globs of searing plasma. Diving. Twisting. Juking. Firing. And firing some more. A brief respite. The looming Vong Corvette. The crippled Carrack. A brave plan. A master's futile warning, spoken too late. The devious grutchin. Yumi in trouble. A hole in the yorik-coral hull. Huge and gaping. A panicked decision. Angling for the breach. Then silence. Oppressive and malignant. Then SNAP! back to focus.
"Attention: All New Republic Forces. Full Retreat. I repeat, full retreat!"
For a moment I couldn't believe my ears. What do they mean, retreat? My apprentice is on that huge, ungainly piece of rock over there! How could I even begin to consider turning back? I sat there incredulous for a few seconds until I heard Colonel Darklighter's harsh voice bark at me thru the crackling cockpit speaker.
"Zebra 24-Foxtrot, this is Rogue Leader. Do you read me?"
I hesitated, "My apologies, colonel. Yes, sir. I hear you."
"That's great, son," he said. "Now, you wanna tell me why you failed to steer that thing towards the nearest carrier ship just now?"
"Well, sir, it's sorta personal," I answered.
"Personal?" he demanded. "What could be more personal than getting the hell out of here before that planet collides with the station and kills us all? We've lost the fight today, son. There's no use in making yourself a martyr. Dock that ship immediately. That's an order!" Gavin said sternly.
"Wish I could, colonel," I responded with genuine sincerity, "but we both know that that's not gonna happen." The comm was silent for a few tense moments. Then I heard the tell-tale double-click of the Colonel switching to a private channel.
His voice came gently from the speaker, "Come on, kid. Don't do this. Corran would never forgive me if I let you throw your life away for some reckless student with a death wish. Please, Lowan. Head for the carriers."
"I've already told you that I can't."
"And why is that?" he demanded.
"Well, sir, Yumi is reckless, yes, some would say 'foolishly brave', but those qualities pale in comparison to her enduring selflessness. She may throw herself blindly into all sorts of trouble, but it's always with the sole intention of helping those who need it. I may not always agree with her methods, but I have never once questioned her motivation. The bottom line is this, colonel. She's my apprentice, whether I choose it or not, and as long as I'm her master I have a responsibility to instruct her in the ways of the Force and make sure she doesn't get herself killed in the process."
"Look, kid. I understand all that, but—"
"No, sir. I don't believe you could even begin to," I said sadly. "And seeing as I have neither the time nor the words to explain it right now, I guess we have nothing more to talk about. Forgive me, colonel."
"Why you little—"
But I switched off the comm before he could finish. With a sigh, I opened up the throttle and shot out, headed straight for the Vong cruiser. I hadn't gotten more than half a kilometer before my starfighter lurched to a screeching halt. My thrusters burned at full, screaming in protest, but to no avail. I was stuck, and what's worse, I was getting a sinking feeling in my gut that pointed to one, horrific explanation: Vong.
Great, in my haste I managed to fly right into the path of one of those blasted dovin basals. Nice moves, slick. I checked my sensors, and my heart sank with an even more frightening realization. It was a tractor beam, and a huge one at that, but it was coming from the nearest New Republic carrier ship. I furiously flicked the comm back on.
"Stang it, colonel! I'm not playing games here!"
"Neither am I, Master Colaf. She's gone, son. Accept it. Darklighter out," he said with finality. I threw myself back into the command couch in frustration. Hanging my head, I cut power to my engines, and waited in pained disbelief as the carrier reined me in and up thru its massive bay doors.
As the dream started to fade I heard a faint buzzing between my ears. The buzzing grew louder, taking the shape of a soft, faraway voice. The heartbreaking moan of a child, it built steadily in volume and intensity until it became a piercing, high-pitched wail. It sounded strangely foreign yet oddly familiar. Bitter, and deeply betrayed. It called out to me in a wildly accusing tone. "Lowan…Lowan! LOWAN!"
The painfully shrieking voice resolved into a soft, deranged cackling. Then I saw her. My former apprentice, turned mad with suffering and burning hatred. Her once attractive, youthful features now marred with an army of primal tattoos and festering scars. She regarded me with a callous little smirk, as if to say, 'Behold that which you created.'
I felt my gut begin to twist as a large knot grew within it. My own student. How could I ever let this happen? Personal revulsion flowed freely inside me, though that anguish soon turned to bitter enmity when I saw the beast of a Yuuzhan Vong come up from behind and place a huge, clawed hand affectionately on Yumi's shoulder. He looked at me, an eerie intensity in his dark, sinister eyes. A long, jagged spike jutted from his chin, giving him a severe look. His lidless gaze was one of cruel amusement. I watched helplessly as he tightened his grip on her soft, vulnerable flesh, the claws drawing blood that ran in little rivulets down her thin, olive arm. But instead of crying out, Yumi sighed lustily, an expression of morbid pleasure crossing her once-innocent face. And a moment later, I heard a deep, gloating voice rumble in my ears, "She is mine."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not Yumi, not my entrusted apprentice. And the huge Vong just kept on grinning, laughing at me with that deep, bass chuckle that rumbled in my bones. Pain and sorrow bled off me now in waves. I couldn't let him do this. I wouldn't! Then there was something else, welling up in me from deep inside, quickly rising to the surface. Power. A mountainous torrent of raw energy cresting with a blind, animal rage.
