The Force Unleashed (17 page)

Starkiller never talked about what was going on in his head, but she could tell that

he, too, was troubled. His social skills were nonexistent. He wouldn't talk about

his feelings, his past, or anything other than the present. Only the fact that he

had saved her made it endurable.

He never talked, although she had prompted him to, about how he had managed to

survive the terrible wound his Master had inflicted. In the absence of hard facts,

she could only wonder. Prosthetics weren't the only answer she had come up with.

Could he be to strong in the Force that he could stave off death, the ultimate

enemy? Was that how he had survived against so many adversaries? Or had some

disloyal Imperial really scooped his body out ol the sky and shipped it to the

secret lab, where it had been repaired without his former Master finding out?

The alternatives were too strange and horrible to contemplate.

Sometimes his screams woke her from restless sleep, ringing Out from the meditation

room and echoing through the ship. Sometimes he called Vader's name; other times he

called hers, in fear, despair, or anger. More often, he just screamed as though his

heart were being cut out.

Her heart broke to hear it. And despite the fact that her life had fallen to pieces

ever since they'd met, she remained inclined to follow him. Still, if he expected

her to nursemaid this crusty old Jedi on the brink of utter decrepitude, he would

find out just how far her loyalty could be stretched . . .

PROXY suddenly stirred. She blinked out of her thoughts and guiltily tried to look

as though she was working. The droid paid her not the slightest attention, however,

unfolding from his seat and heading aft. The sound of his metal footsteps led to the

meditation chamber; the hatch slid open, and PROXY went inside.

She hesitated a moment, then opened the screen that enabled her to spy on the

activities within. In the deep gloom of the chamber, Starkiller knelt with his eyes

closed and his back to the door, which her viewpoint covered. The faint shape of

PROXY glowed all over for a second, morphing into a new shape. When the

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transformation was complete, he stood some centimeters taller and broader than

before, with a beard and long hair, and wearing the standard robes of a Jedi Knight.

The new expression he wore was one of determined solemnity.

Starkiller opened his eyes but didn't move until PROXY had activated a bright green

lightsaber and raised it vertically in a balanced, two-handed pose on the right side

of his body. Then Starkiller was up and defending himself so quickly that Juno had

hardly seen him move. PROXY rained blows upon him with .1 speed and athleticism

belying his construction. Spinning, tumbling, and cartwheeling all across the room,

he was constantly on the offensive, employing swings that were both fast and

powerful. Starkiller had his hands full deflecting them all. In the flickering,

light, she saw sweat standing out on his forehead.

The clash and crackle of lightsabers filled her earpiece. She turned the volume down

so as not to disturb Kota's sleep. This wasn't the first time she had witnessed a

duel between Starkiller and his training droid. They had fought like dervishes

during the first days after fleeing the Empirical, the droid obviously helping him

let off steam. But for those releases, she wondered if the pres sure cooker of his

mind would steadily build up stresses until he exploded.

She hadn't learned, however, to relax during them. Starkiller never lost-which was

lucky, because PROXY spoke with disarming openness of his intention to kill his

master should he ever find a chink in his armor. What life would be like after such

a fatal mishap, she didn't like to think, so for now she tolerated the occasional

practice sessions, even if she couldn't enjoy them.

PROXY didn't stay still for a second, attacking from the ground, the walls, the

ceiling, even from midair. It was like watching a dance, but one in which the

slightest slip could mean death. Starkiller danced with him long enough for her to

worry, then he changed his own style to match that of the droid's-and suddenly she

could see the difference between the human and the mechanical. Where PROXY had been

fast, Starkiller was graceful as well. Where PROXY had simply slashed and stabbed,

Starkiller applied flourishes to his offensive strikes. Where every move PROXY made

involved his entire body, Starkiller could launch an attack with one finger, or

block by shifting his foot a single centimeter.

The end came suddenly, with the green lightsaber stabbing deep into the belly of the

unknown Jedi. Starkiller withdrew the blade and stepped backward. The other

lightsaber deactivated and fell with a thunk to the metal floor. Starkiller's

virtual opponent crumpled forward and had returned to PROXY'S usual form before he

hit the ground.

"I've failed again," came the muffled voice of the droid. "I'm lorry, master."

"It's not your fault, PROXY." Starkiller extended a hand and 11.1uled the droid to

his feet. "Ataru doesn't work properly without the Force. You managed a credible

impersonation of it, though, especially in such a confined place."

"Thank you, master. Perhaps I will succeed next time."

Starkiller patted him with genuine affection. "You know, you did surprise me. I

thought you were Kota."

"Now, he would make a fine training module." The droid fairly quivered at the

praise. "Perhaps one day I will see him fight. That way I could observe how he moves

and re-create him for you."

"Perhaps, PROXY," Starkiller said, his expression taking on a darker shade. "Is he

awake yet?"

"I do not know, master, but our destination nears."

"Good." Together they left the chamber.

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Juno switched off the screen and turned to be ready for them when they emerged into

the cockpit.

She jumped when she saw Kota sitting up in his chair. For a moment she feared that

he had heard everything she'd been listening to through her earpiece, but then she

realized that what she had initially read as alertness, perhaps even suspicion, was

actually the aftereffects of alcohol poisoning.

"I was beginning to worry that you'd died in your sleep," she said.

The corners of his lips pulled down. "I wish I had."

Starkiller entered with PROXY in tow. "Are we close?" he asked, taking the copilot's

chair and turning toward her. The strange angularities of hyperspace reflected in

his eyes.

She checked the instruments. "We'll be arriving any second now."

Right on cue, the view blurred and shifted into the more familiar starscape of the

galactic backdrop. Kashyyyk was a patchwork sphere in green and blue hanging off the

starboard bow. It was .1 beautiful world, but she could tell that it had seen hard

times. The scars of orbital bombardment were still visible, years after they had

been inflicted. She imagined the smoke that must have risen from those burning

forests and was glad for the Wookiees that their home had been spared Callos's fate.

She employed the Rogue Shadow's advanced sensors to scan the space around the

planet. It was dense with signals, but not much traffic, both mostly Imperial in

origin. Several capital ships prowled the upper orbits, cannons and patrols at the

ready. Quite a few transports were gathering about a point just out of sight around

the planet's horizon. She urged the ship on in order to obtain a clearer view.

When the particular orbital location came into sight, it took her a moment to

realize what she was seeing. It was more than just an ordinary equatorial docking

station, but at first glance the difference defied her imagination. Her eyes saw it;

her mind rebelled.

A skyhook hung over Kashyyyk, floating on repulsors just outside the planet's upper

atmosphere. A sturdy, utilitarian structure tethered to a cleared area far below, it

obviously wasn't the local dictator's mansion or a resort for jaded Moffs. It wasn't

finished yet, either. Dozens of cargo ships and construction droids surrounded its

summit, glinting in the golden sunlight.

At the sight of the rare construction and the strong Imperial presence, she shook

her head.

"I definitely think this mission is too dangerous now."

Even Starkiller seemed to be having second thoughts. "Your contact had better be

reliable," he told Kota with a sour look.

"I trust him with my life." The hungover general didn't ask what they were seeing.

Perhaps he already knew. "He smuggled me to Cloud City, and he's an old ally of the

Jedi Order."

"It's all very well to hear that," Juno said, "but without knowing who he is, you're

putting us in a difficult spot."

"You're not the only ones reluctant to give names to strangers." The general huffed

out his cheeks. "If you want my help, this is how you're going to get it. There's

something very valuable to my friend down on Kashyyyk. You extract it for him and I

maybe he'll agree to help you fight the Empire."

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Juno watched Starkiller's face. He showed no sign of uncertainty.

"Have we been spotted, Juno?"

"No. The cloaking device is operating at peak efficiency." "Then take us down."

She mock-saluted to cover her unease. "It's going to be tricky keeping our heads low

out here," she said as she turned the ship on its new course. "The traffic's not

heavy enough to vanish into, but H is sufficient that someone will spot us if we go

to ground. And we can't use the cloak forever. If the stygium crystals overheat,

they'll be useless."

"Do what you can," Starkiller told her. "I'll try not to be too long."

"Is that what you told your last pilot?"

The words came out before she'd properly thought about them, and she regretted them

instantly. Kota was listening, she told herself angrily. The ex-Jedi could never

know who they were or what they had done, no matter what.

She glanced at Starkiller. His ears were burning. His expression looked furious.

Juno pushed the Rogue Shadow down into the atmosphere, hoping that the noise and

turbulence of entry would cover the fact that she was furious at herself, too.

* * *

SWOOPING OVER ROLLING, GREEN HILLS close to the coordinates Kota gave her, she

brought the ship down low enough and long enough for Starkiller to leap into the

forest canopy and shimmy down a wide-boled tree. She didn't stop to look behind her,

waiting only until his voice over the comlink assured her that he was safe. Then she

was flying the ship back up to space, where n<> messy contrails or lookouts could

betray their presence. PROXY wandered back to the meditation chamber, perhaps to

practice his Kota impersonation in private.

It took her half an hour to plot an orbit that would keep tin-ship well out of range

of Imperial sensors. When she was done, she glanced over her shoulder. The general

had slumped down into his seat with his arms folded and let his chin rest firmly on

his chest. His skin was pale and drawn. His eye sockets were sunken beneath their

bandages.

"Stay awake, General," she said.

"If there's really nothing to drink on this ship," Kota said with a surly drawl,

"I'd rather you let me go back to sleep."

"Our friend down there might need your help."

"Your friend, not mine." Kota's lips pursed. "I don't even know who he is-or how you

two came to own a ship like this."

She thought quickly. So the general had heard her comment about Starkiller's

previous pilots. He was surely bringing it up now to needle her. The obvious option

was to ignore him, but that would only rouse his suspicions even further. She had to

tell him something, just as long as it wasn't the truth. Or at least the whole

truth.

"We stole it," she said.

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"Who from?"

"You don't need to know."

"I can guess. I've flown a few ships with cloaking devices down the years, but I

can't pick out the sound of this one's hyperdrive. It's something new, probably

military." Through the grouchiness he wore like his own disguising cloak, she could

tell that he was testing her. "Our common enemy, perhaps."

She said nothing. He was a Jedi. If she gave away too much, he might match the Rogue

Shadow to the ship in which Darth Vader's assassin had arrived at the TIE fighter

factory-and that would be the end of everything. He chuckled low in his throat, then

coughed long and hard, " Don't worry, Juno," he said when his voice returned. "I'm

hardly going to turn you in."

"I didn't think..."

"You're fugitives, just like me. You have nothing to lose."

Only our futures, she thought. Our slates are clean. We could start all over again,

if we wanted to.

His face seemed to visibly age. She wondered if he was thinking, of all the friends

and loved ones he had lost over the years-not just to Order 66, but throughout his

subsequent insurgency as well. And his sight, too. He had yet to tell her how he had