Dark Forces_ Rebel Agent Part 8

Jerec turned his back to the holo tank and let the bridge crew gaze into long-dead eyes. Sariss was there - he could feel her presence. "We have what we came for . . . . Sariss, prepare the Vengeance for hypers.p.a.ce."

Sariss bowed. "Yes, my lord."

Orders were given, drives engaged, and the ship broke orbit.

Though not possessed of the emotional nuances that human beings claim to experience, 8t88 felt what he imagined to be an enormous sense of satisfaction.

In order to complete his a.s.signment, the droid had created a threedimensional star map from the ceiling mosaic and beamed the digitized information up to the Vengeance. The original, which 8t88 continued to project toward the center of the room, floated before him. It was a thing of beauty . . . . He took one last look before shutting the image down. The map had been delivered, payment was a.s.sured, and he could afford to gloat.

The majordomo's death had worked wonders on the household staff, who had a sudden and unprecedented respect for intelligent machines. The thronelike chair was a little over the top, perhaps, but the symbolism was appreciated, and 8t88 took pleasure in using it. His pet, a winged monstrosity with an underthrust jaw and heavily lidded eyes, growled and crouched to his right. Its short, stubby tail made a thumping sound as it struck the wooden floor.

A long, ornately carved table stretched toward the far end of the room. Chairs stood to either side, some pulled back to allow access, some pushed forward. The rea.s.sembled mosaic occupied most of the table's surface. The beast growled and sniffed the air. The droid patted the monster's head. "What's the matter, my pet? Hungry again?"

The shadows stirred. Kyle Katarn stepped out into the light. He held a blaster in his hand. The beast rose to its feet. Saliva dripped from its jaws, and a growl rumbled deep in its throat. 88 took a grip on the animal's harness. "Not yet, my pet - you can eat him later."

"I see you found a new arm," Kyle commented lightly. "I should have aimed for your head."

The droid stood. An electronic signal went out. "Rot! Hontho! Trox! Take him!"

The Rebel shook his head mockingly. "Sorry, old rust bucket, but Rol and his friends are permanently indisposed. I want the map."

The droid gestured toward the table. "So? Take the map. Go ahead - put it in your pockets."

"Thanks," Kyle said dryly, "but no thanks. The digital version will be a good deal more convenient."

A motor whined, a section of ceiling started to descend, and light leaked around it. Kyle shifted his aim to cover the platform as a pair of legs appeared. 88 backed away. His pet resisted and left claw marks on floor.

Yun smiled, dropped to the table, and thumbed his lightsaber. It popped to life. "You want the map? Here, I'll cut it to size."

The lightsaber rose and fell. Super-heated tiles exploded. Kyle adjusted his aim and felt a sledgehammer hit his chest. Not a real sledgehammer but one shaped from the Force, and just as effective. He backpedaled and slammed into a chair. The blaster tumbled away, and Yun shook his head.

"So, this is what the light side sends against us. No wonder we succeed." So saying, lightsaber buzzing in his hand, he strode the length of the table. Broken tile skittered away from his bets.

Kyle recognized the Jedi as one of the three he'd seen at the farm . . . the young one.

The Rebel raised his feet, kicked the table, and did a backward somersault. The chair crashed to floor, and the agent landed on his knees.

8t88 dragged his still-unwilling pet into an alcove. A durasteel door slammed down in front of him. Machinery whined as the turbolift carried him upward.

Surprised by Kyle's move and more than a little intrigued, Yun moved forward. Kyle, who was still on his knees and at a disadvantage, pulled his lightsaber. Energy crackled and the smell of ozone filled the air as the Rebel managed to raise his weapon and block the Jedi's blow.

Yun frowned. It seemed that his opponent was more capable than the first impression would have suggested. The Jedi felt the tiniest trickle of fear enter his belly.

Kyle sensed the other man's hesitation, gained his feet, and allowed his opponent to disengage. In spite of the fact that his fencing lessons had made use of a fixed blade and his duel with the sphere had been somewhat brief, the combination gave the Rebel experience from which to draw. He concentrated on the Jedi's eyes, felt the Force flow around him, and lunged to the right.

Yun saw his adversary shift position, moved to intercept, and ducked as lethal energy swept through the s.p.a.ce where his head had been. It was close. Too close for a complete novice.

Kyle struck again. Though slightly off, his blow sliced through the upper part of Yun's arm and drew blood, which was cauterized by the weapon's heat.

A cry escaped the Jedi's lips as the lightsaber fell from his hand, and he lost his balance and skidded on his back. Kyle approached, and Yun raised his arm. He was frightened, very frightened, but determined to maintain his pride. "So, kill me, Rebel, just as I would kill you!"

It seemed like good advice, and Kyle raised his weapon. But as he was about to strike, the other man's words echoed in his head. "Just as I would kill you." Was that the kind of man he wanted to be? The kind who would kill without reason? 8t88 had the map, and the Jedi had been neutralized. Kyle took three steps backward, lowered his weapon, and turned the device off. Rahn, absent till now, reappeared.

"Your father and I are proud of you, my son, for mercy is first and foremost among a Jedi's virtues."

Yun was amazed yet philosophical at the same time. There was something about the other Jedi's actions that felt right. But how could that be? Mercy was synonymous with weakness, He thought of Sariss, of how ashamed his mentor would be, and willed himself to be elsewhere. Yun floated toward the ceiling. His weapon followed.

Kyle watched for a moment, his eyes locked with Yun's, and realized his mistake. 8t88! The agent turned and raised his weapon. But the room was empty, or so it seemed until a blaster bolt sizzled past the agent's head. "There he is! Kill him!"

Blaster bolts flashed out of the darkness and bounced away as Kyle used the lightsaber to deflect them. The action seemed natural. But it threw a scare into the stormtroopers. "Did you see that? He's a Jedi!"

There was a pause as some of the troopers tried to run and were stopped by a blaster-wielding noncom. It was necessary to kneecap one of them before the tide turned.

Kyle retrieved his blaster, backed his way into a stairwell, and brought the wrist comm to his mouth. "Hey Jan, how 'bout a lift?"

Jan circled the house, waited for an Imperial shuttle to clear the roof pad, and came in for a landing. "Ready and waiting, Kyle - meet me on the roof."

"Glad to hear it," Kyle replied, spraying the ballroom with blaster fire. "I seem to have overstayed my welcome."

"You have that effect on people sometimes," Jan agreed. "I'm the exception."

Kyle pounded up the stairs, pushed the door open, and stepped into the night. Repulsors flared as the Crow settled onto the pad. The agent grinned. "Lucky for me."

"Yeah," Jan agreed, "lucky for you. Now, get aboard."

Kyle ran up the ramp, entered the ship's belly, and made his way to the control room-"Did you see someone leave?"

"Yeah, a shuttle took off just as I came in."

Kyle swore. "That was 88. . . . The miserable pile of junk has the map! Don't let him escape!"

Jan knew she should have asked "What map?" but was tired of the charade. "No, sir. Yes, sir."

The Crow lifted free of the roof, turned as an anti-aircraft battery opened up, and blasted toward the south. A stream of energy bolts cut across the bow. Jan took evasive action. Kyle was thrown to the deck. He scrambled to his feet. "Thanks for the warning."

"Sorry. A slip of the hand, that's all. Better strap in."

Kyle did as he was told and watched Jan out of the corner of his eye. She was both wonderful and maddening at the same time. How did she manage that?

Lights appeared on the horizon, and Jan smiled.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Fuel City had been sited ten klicks south of the s.p.a.ceport for reasons of safety. It included rows of storage tanks, which were connected by a maze of pipes and served nine elevated refueling stations. Lights, which seemed to have been mounted helter-skelter throughout the complex, threw a thousand mysterious shadows.

The Sulon Star hovered by station six and was held in place by a network of interlocking tractor beams. Fuel entered the ship via hoses large enough to crawl through.

8t88 guided the shuttle in under the cargo vessel's belly and waited while computers communicated with each other. A hatch opened, and the shuttle rose inside a cone of greenish-blue light. The bay was intentionally small to maximize the vessel's cargo capacity. There were slots for four small craft, three of which were taken - two by lifeboats and one by an Imperial shuttle.

8t88 registered a sense of satisfaction as he engaged the ship's autopilot and left the c.o.c.kpit. The shuttle belonged to the Vengeance. Jerec was efficient - a rare quality where biologicals were concerned, and one worth celebrating.

The beast licked himself, heard a noise, and turned in that direction. His tail thumped inquiringly. 88 nodded. "Yes, my pet, you can come."

The beast purred and stretched his wings while 88 released its harness. The machine would have preferred to leave the animal behind, but with no bodyguards to protect his back, the beast was better than nothing.

They left the shuttle, made their way to a hatch, and waited for it to open. There was no one to greet them - an insult the droid wouldn't forget, and still another manifestation of antimachine bias.

Footsteps echoed off bulkheads, and claws clicked on metal as the twosome made their way through empty corridors and entered the ship's wardroom. Light gleamed off the surface of a scratched metal table, shadows clung to recesses set into the bulkheads, and there were no signs of life. The droid's hip squeaked as he turned. "h.e.l.lo? Anyone here?"

Something stirred. One, no, two figures separated themselves from the darkness and stepped out into the light. 8t88 felt the same sense of notrightness that humans refer to when they have a "bad feeling" about something. Gorc? Pic? Why would Jerec dispatch Jedi on what amounted to a routine errand? Or had someone decided to afford him the respect he was due? Yes, the droid decided, that would explain it. He spoke with the authority natural to a superior being. "I'm here to collect my pay."

The "twins" smiled, but the expressions were empty of humor. It was Pic who spoke. "Good - because we're here to deliver it."

Jan was still apologizing to Fuel City air control, still making excuses, as the Crow departed. "Sorry about that, Control. I got confused, that's all. Over."

Captain Zyak was well aware of how confused civilian pilots could be. He shook his head in disgust. He wore a pencil-thin mustache and a standard-issue sneer. "Copy, one-niner-two. Just get that pile of junk off my screen. Arid be more careful in the future."

Jan grinned. "Roger that, Control."

Zyak liked the sound of her voice and decided to offer some advice. "Watch your vector, one-niner-two, there was trouble in Baron's Hed, and it would be real easy for one of those missile batteries to make a mistake. Over."

Jan struggled to sound concerned. "Trouble - yes, sir - thanks for the tip. Over."

Zyak walked to the window and watched the running lights lose themselves among the galaxy of floods. He wondered what the pilot looked like and knew he would never get to find out. Life, if that's what this tour of duty could be called, was anything but fair.

Kyle watched the Crow depart, waited long enough to ensure that Jan was okay, and turned to the task at hand. Tracking 8t88 was mach more difficult by the fact that machines didn't seem to disturb the Force the way living beings did.

Thanks to the fact that only three of the nine refueling stations were occupied, however, the agent was able to narrow his choices. One vessel was too small, and one was fully automated, which left a cargo vessel named the Sulon Star. The Rebel chose what appeared to be the correct catwalk. It was empty and rang to his footsteps.

As with most vessels of her type, the Sulon Star was equipped with an emergency-access hatch located on the topmost surface of her hull. The catwalk pa.s.sed approximately ten meters above it. Kyle paused, checked the surrounding area, and swung his legs over the railing. The jump seemed do-able, in spite of the hull's curvature.

Having checked his weapons to make sure they were secure, the agent stepped out into midair and fell like a rock. He absorbed most of the impact with bent knees, checked to make sure the jump was un.o.bserved, and made his way to the hatch.

The top hatch, like the rest of the ship's locks, was open in compliance with the station's safety regs. The open ports would allow autohoses to enter in case of fire while the crew escaped.

Kyle had concocted a story to explain his presence should he run into a crew member. But he wasn't called upon to use it. The agent lowered himself through the lock and dropped into the corridor all without challenge.

Was the ship deserted? It seemed that way until Kyle felt the Force ripple away from something and knew others were about. 8t88? No, but the feeling was reminiscent of the droid's loathsome pet. And if the pet was present . . .

Cautious now, and having no desire to go head-to-head with the winged beast, Kyle pulled his blaster.

The corridor curved right, and he curved with it. He could feel the creature. And something less defined, as if it were somehow screened.

The agent rounded a corner, saw light spill out through a hatch, and paralleled the bulkhead. He paused next to the opening, listened for movement, and heard air whisper through the overhead ducting. It was strange, very strange, and Kyle didn't like it.

The Rebel narrowed his eyes, rewrapped his fingers around his blaster, and made his move. He slipped through the hatch, put a layer of durasteel behind his back, and scanned the compartment.

He saw 88 and heard the growl at the same moment. The droid was seated in a chair with his back to the door, and the monster squatted beyond. Its eyes were red and made tunnels through the darkness. Kyle half expected the beast to attack, but it remained where it was. Somewhat rea.s.sured but ready to fire if the need arose, the Rebel moved forward. "I've been waiting for this moment."

"And so have I," a voice said.

A number of things happened at once. 8t88's head toppled from his shoulders, bounced off his lap, and rolled across the deck. The monster pounced, swallowed the tidbit whole, and looked surprised.

Kyle heard the voice and turned toward the sound. A mental shield dropped, and the shadows produced something huge. It wore a helmet, chin guard, and chest armor . . . . But of even more importance was the enormous lightsaber that the Dark Jedi clutched in a three-fingered hand. The air crackled as the monstrous weapon scythed through the air.

Kyle frowned, wondered how a Jedi could be so stupid, and shot Gore in the face. The giant swayed and toppled backward. He landed with a thud. His lightsaber pinwheeled through the air, hit handle-down, and turned itself off.

Kyle was still thinking about what had occurred when a banshee dropped onto his back and sank razor-sharp talons into his flesh. "You killed Gorc! Now you will pay!"

Kyle attempted to shake the a.s.sailant off, felt a blade nick the side of his throat, and released the blaster. Fingers sought the agent's eyes as he reached up and back. He found a bone-thin arm and wrestled with it as he backpedaled across the room. The agent hit the bulkhead as hard as he could. There was a crunching sound.

Pic uttered a high-pitched scream, directed a blast of energy at Kyle's mind, and fell to the deck.

Stunned by the attack and bleeding from a half-dozen puncture wounds, Kyle staggered away.

Aroused by the scent of blood and eager to make an easy kill, the beast launched its attack. The monster's claws made a scratching noise as they sought traction on the deck. A roar emanated from deep within its throat as it charged.

Though slowed by the pain in his head, Kyle still managed to pull the lightsaber from his belt and turn. The weapon blurred through the air, took the monster in the mouth, and cut off the top of its head.

Kyle was unaware that the animal was dead - its legs continued to pump until the monster hit an equipment locker and collapsed. Metal buckled, doors popped open, and spare parts spilled onto the deck.

Dazed, and glad to be alive, Kyle killed the lightsaber and fell into a chair. The once-immaculate room had been transformed into a charnel house. The sight of it, not to mention the smell of it, made him nauseous.

Slowly, so as to minimize the pain, the agent rose to his feet. He stood over the monster and pondered what to do. The creature lay facedown, or would have, had its face survived.

The Rebel grabbed hold of a quickly stiffening leg, levered the monster over, and re-lit the lightsaber. The smell of burnt hair filled Kyle's nostrils as he made a long, only slightly wavy incision.

The agent gagged as coils of blue-green intestine boiled out of the monster's abdominal cavity and squirmed over the deck. There were three stomachs to choose from. But only one looked twice its normal size.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Kyle sliced the organ open, spotted 88's head, and reached in to get it. The agent's fingers slid through a coating of green bile, found the droid's scanner sockets, and used them to secure purchase. Kyle pulled the casing free and fought a series of dry heaves.

Having wiped the head dry with linen taken from a locker, the agent was about to depart when a high-pitched scream caused him to turn.

Pic had regained consciousness. The Jedi was little more than a blur. He had covered half the distance between them and was airborne by the time the Rebel started to react. There was no time to think. Instinct took over.

The head weighed a good ten kilos and was made of metal. It described an arc around Kyle's body and struck with considerable force. There was a loud cracking noise as skull hit skull, and Pic, who resembled nothing so much as a rag doll, flew across the compartment, smashed into a bulkhead, and fell to the deck.

Paranoid by now, the Rebel recovered his blaster, checked each body for a sign of life, and left the compartment: The safest, most expedient thing to do was to return the way he had come.

Kyle turned to the left, heard someone shout, and sensed rather than saw the energy bolt that flashed past his head. The agent yelled into his wrist comm and ducked around a corner. He had what he'd come for. But could he escape?

The 3-D print had been rolled into a cylinder and secured with a piece of wire. Jan had come across the item while searching for her multi-tool and had opened it up. A woman stared out at her, a woman so pretty that Jan felt momentarily jealous until she recognized Kyle's eyes and knew where they had come from. Here was a woman who had loved him, too, albeit in a different way.