The Force Unleashed (30 page)

together once all this was over. That either of them could be killed was

ever-present in his thoughts, but he had never considered that she might not want to

be with him were they both to survive. He was taken oft guard both by his own

feelings and by the possibility that he-would never be able to act on them.

Feeling the need to reflect on this issue, he had stayed longer in the meditation

chamber than perhaps he should have. It had been days since he had last found the

time to perform his favorite exercise: staring into the blade of a lightsaber in

search of his fury's focus. Since his lightsaber had been lost and he had been using

Kota's, concentration had been hard to come by. The blade was old but perfectly

serviceable; that wasn't the issue. The change of color, likewise, although the bold

green did surprise him sometimes. It was more an issue of ownership. Part of him was

aware, far down in his subconscious, that the lightsaber belonged to another

warrior-one he didn't wholly respect, for all the skills Kota had once possessed-so

achieving full concentration was impossible.

He had spent an hour after his confrontation with Juno replacing one of the green

crystals in Kota's weapon with the blue one he had found on Kashyyyk. It had taken

quite an amount of fine-tuning before the blade acquired its new character, shining

brilliant aqua and with unexpectedly superior optical properties. The blade itself

weighed nothing, yet somehow it seemed lighter in his hand and moved more readily.

He was certain it was now a better weapon than before.

And it was his. Regardless where the crystal had come from or whom it had once

belonged to, it was his now and so was the lightsaber. He knelt, raised the blade to

his face, and stared into it until the world seemed to vanish. The aqua made him

think of oceans and rain rather than the blood of his first lightsaber, but that

didn't overly concern him. He would only need this blade until his mission was

complete, at which time he could obtain new crystals from his Master and make an

entirely new Sith blade.

That thought didn't reassure him as it once might have, coming with so many

provisions. If they won-if he remained loyal to his Master-if he didn't die-if Juno

didn't somehow get him to change his mind. He could rule nothing out. His destiny

was, as his Master had said, in his own hands now. He could do anything he wanted.

There were just so many things to want. . .

"You have some company down there," said Juno's voice over the comlink. "Moving your

way."

"Imperials, I presume."

"Doesn't look like it from here. Most likely scavengers." Great, he thought. Of

course Drexl's band would be scavenging around the ore cannon's perimeter, looking

for anything exhumed by the planet's metal-seeking diggers. The apprentice must have

been sloppy and not seen a security droid patrolling the edge of their territory.

Furthermore, if Drexl had spotted him, so, too, had the planet's core intelligence.

Concentrating solely-and with renewed ferocity, thanks to his annoyance at

himself-on the world around him, he sought deeper channels through the landscape of

waste. In the network of tangled, claustrophobic caves, he became aware of a

thunderous pounding growing louder and louder. The ore cannon, he presumed,

supplying the giant shipyard with the metal it required. Despite the tortuous route

he was following, his destination was definitely getting nearer.

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He descended deeper, seeking the network of sewers he knew lay underneath the

endless junkyard's lower levels. The farther he went, the more droids he found,

burrowing through the compressed garbage in search of metal. Many were drones

possessing little intelligence, multilegged crawlers designed to squeeze through

cracks and crevices, armed with cutting lasers and simple mechanical tools. Some

possessed no eyes at all, since there was so little light in some areas, and more

specialized senses could be relied upon to tell metal from organic strata. When they

found something particularly valuable, they could call for assistance, prompting a

swarm of their fellow drones to assemble in the same location, followed by more

generalized diggers and freighters from farther afield.

The apprentice skirted one such swarm near the entrance to the sewers. Droids of all

shapes and sizes clustered over the leading edge of a buried shuttle skeleton that

could have been covered over for millennia. The noise they made was deafening, an

impenetrable babble of machine chatter, whining vibrosaws, and sizzling metal.

Strange flashes of light strobed from their endeavors, casting flickering shadows

across the subterranean junkscape. The apprentice slipped by them without being

noticed and dropped into a filth-caked, four-meter-wide tunnel via the hole some

long-passed prospector had cut into it.

The way was easier from then on. Only twice did he have to find a way around or

through blockages caused by cave-ins. Muffled, unidentifiable sounds echoed back and

forth along the sewer, issuing from junctions and originating, perhaps, many

kilometers away. He encountered only one working droid and that was literally on its

last legs. It swayed in circles on its sole working limb, whispering a single phrase

of ancient machine code over and over again. Its blank photoreceptors stared at him

but saw nothing.

Feeling sorry for it, he drew his lightsaber and sliced it in two. Spraying sparks,

briefly, it fell dead to the bottom of the sewer, out of its mechanical misery at

last.

Time passed without measure in the sewer. When he judged that he was nearing the ore

cannon's superstructure, he began to look for a way out. At the next junction one

narrower tunnel led distinctly upward, so he took it without hesitation, feeling the

rhythmic throb of each launch right down to his bones. The cannon had looked big

from orbit, but he could appreciate the true enormity of it now that he was drawing

closer.

The tunnel narrowed further, and the number of junctions he passed increased. Some

were completely blocked, crushed by the weight of the rubbish piling above. Out of

others came the chatter of droids, softened by the distance into an almost peaceful

sound. The way ahead was shrouded in permanent shadow.

He slowed, sensing trouble, and activated his lightsaber.

"Yes," said a harsh alien voice. "I thought it was you."

Movement came from all around him. A dozen armored Rodians stepped out of the

shadows ahead and behind, where they had been hidden under rubbish in the side

tunnels, and held a variety of weapons aimed directly at him. Vibroblades, blasters,

mini cannons: they seemed to have been fished out of a motley collection of downed

ships and extensively modified. He had no doubt, however, as to their efficacy.

In such close confines, completely surrounded, he couldn't deflect everything.

A particularly swarthy Rodian stepped through the circle from farther up the tunnel.

The apprentice recognized Drexl Roosh from the brief glimpse he'd received before.

The raider was even uglier close-up.

"You will drop your weapon," the Rodian said in heavily accented Basic.

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"Not until your goons have dropped theirs."

Drexl laughed. It sounded like metal being scissored in two In a junk droid. "You

have spirit; I'll grant you that! But the meddler who brought the Imperials down on

our heads is going to need more than spirit today."

"What are you talking about? I didn't bring the Imperials here."

"I have images of you snooping around when that mad old fool in his Temple bought

it. His droids kept the Empire at bay for years, you know. Once they were gone, the

planet was easy picking." Drexel's purple face twisted in something that could only

have been a snarl. "Half the metal is gone in this area, and what's left isn't worth

excavating. And now you come scurrying back here, acting all innocent. Well, we saw

you first and arranged this little reception. No more mother lodes for you, I'm

afraid. No more lucky finds. Your masters will think twice before messing with us

again when we present your head to them on a platter. Ready!"

The raiders tightened their grips on their weapons and pointed them at various

locations on his body.

"I think you're being unreasonable," he told Drexl.

"Take aim!"

The raiders squinted down sights and along sword blades.

Before Drexl could give the order to fire, the apprentice-dropped to one knee and

telekinetically shoved with all his strength. He couldn't deflect everything at

once, but he could shorten the odds a little.

Rodians flew everywhere, arms and legs akimbo, in a sudden maelstrom of rubbish.

Weapons slipped from startled fingers. Some discharged, adding to the contusion. The

pipe flexed and twisted, resonating to the force of his blow. The sound it made was,

momentarily, louder than even that of the ore cannon.

The apprentice didn't waste any time following up on that surprise. Lightsaber

cutting aqua arcs through the air, he struck down any Rodians who managed to get to

their feet. Their alien squeals and cries grew louder when he started using Sith

lightning to drive them ahead of him up the tunnel. Drexl ran at the head of the

pack, exhorting his underlings to fire behind them as they fled. Any bolts that did

come the apprentice's way he managed to send back at their source, prompting renewed

cries of alarm and panic.

The tunnel suddenly ended, leading into a cavern hollowed out from the junkyard,

with a high, vaulted roof and piles of reclaimed rubbish laid out in rows. The

apprentice almost laughed. Without knowing it, he'd been following a path right into

Drexel's lair! If the raiders hadn't ambushed him, he would have popped up in their

midst anyway, and conflict would have been inevitable.

As the raiders fanned out and called for help, he reached up through the Force and

brought down one of the overhead beams.

The raiders directly below scattered as it crashed to the floor. A rain of trash

followed. The ceiling sagged.

One of the raiders hopped behind the controls of a scavenged quad laser cannon. The

apprentice crouched to defend himself from a stream of energy fire. The deflected

bolts discharged into the walls of the chamber, provoking further collapse.

"Stop that, you idiot!" cried Drexl, waving his arms at the Rodian behind the

controls.

The apprentice seconded that sentiment. With a flexing of his will, another beam

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came down from directly above the quad cannon, squashing it and its operator under

an avalanche of rubbish.

Drexl cursed and swore in his native Rodese, gesticulating wildly at his raiders

from behind cover. The apprentice had no real issue with the raiders, except that

they had recognized him. It was essential to his cover that no one learn what he had

done on Raxus Prime the last time he was here. That made Drexl a serious liability.

Bad luck for him, the apprentice thought as he brought down a third beam. Leave no

witnesses.

The roof sagged heavily now. Another broken beam would bring the whole lot crashing

down. Seeing that there was no way he could win, Drexl bolted for a jetpack leaning

against the far wall. He was too far away for Sith lightning, so the apprentice

threw an assortment of tubes, restraining bolts, and drained batteries at him.

Jumping and ducking, the Rodian managed to dodge all of them. Scooping up the

jetpack and swinging one arm through the straps, Drexl bolted for an exit on the far

side of the chamber.

The apprentice reached out one hand with the palm cupped and lifted the device into

the air. Drexel's feet left the ground and his legs pinwheeled in space. "Waaargh!"

he cried, frantically trying to start the jetpack. Higher he rose, wriggling and

wailing. The jetpack coughed and flared into life. The apprentice held it tight for

a moment as Drexl pushed the throttle forward in an attempt to break free. When the

engine was straining at its maximum output, the apprentice flipped it upside down

and let go.

With one final cry, Drexl Roost plowed into the ground and the jetpack exploded. The

shock wave was too much for the ceiling, which collapsed in a slow but inevitable

rush. The apprentice walked through the chaos, deflecting the worst of it. In the

path he left behind, no living beings stirred.

STARKILLER'S VOICE CRACKLED FROM the comlink. "You were right, Juno. It was Drexl."

She glanced over her shoulder before answering. PROXY was sitting in the copilot's

seat, still trying to slice into the world's core computer. Kota was in the hold, no

doubt sleeping again.

"Do you think Drexl saw you?"

"I'm sure he did. But don't worry. I think I got to him before he alerted the

Imperials. The situation is contained."

By contained, she presumed he meant that Drexl and his minions were dead. That gave

her a slightly sick feeling in her stomach. How many beings had Starkiller destroyed