Star Wars: The New Rebellion (60 page)

“He doesn’t make that offer every day,” Mara said.

“And he doesn’t have to make it twice.” Han slipped into the pilot’s seat. “Found Leia yet?”

“Nope,” Mara said. “We’ll have to go on feeling.”

“I thought the ysalamiri are interfering with your Force sense.”

She shrugged. “Let’s hope they aren’t.”

Eeeeooo-whit!

The droid in the lead had seen him.

“Artoo!” Threepio yelled. “Artoo-Detoo, is that you?”

The lead gladiator droid shook him. “I told you to shut up.”

“I would, sir, if I thought you still had control, but I daresay you’re in for a spot of trouble.”

The gladiator droid swiveled his head. His henchmen, the ones who had gone to investigate, were being crushed against the wall, their guns still trapped in their stomachs, as hundreds of astromech units rolled past.

“Artoo!” Threepio yelled.

“Send for backup,” the gladiator droid said to the droid nearest him. “And hurry. The rest of you—fire!”

Laser cannons went off, and shots reverberated all over the corridor. Droid screams filled the air. Smoke rose as components burned. But the little astromech droids continued moving forward.

“Artoo!” Threepio screamed. He could no longer see Artoo in the sudden haze of smoke. “Artoo-Detoo, where are you?”

“One more word,” the lead gladiator droid said, “and I will use this scrambler.”

Threepio had had quite enough of threats. “No, you won’t!” he said, and wrenched himself backward as the gladiator droid fired the scrambler. Its shot hit the other gladiator droid holding Threepio. That droid screamed and glowed neon green, a beacon in the haze. Threepio’s right arm was free. He yanked his left loose and disappeared into the fog.

Shots ricocheted around him. The gladiator droids flared like flames in the smoke. Threepio shoved several from behind, making them lose their balance and fall forward.

“Artoo!” he continued to yell as he headed in the direction where he had last seen the astromech droids. “Artoo!”

Eeeeooo-whit!

The whistle came from his left, from a corridor that
matched the one he had just come through. It might be a trap, or it might be Artoo.

He hurried into that corridor, arms raised. The gladiator droids were still shooting into smoke that seemed horribly unnatural. No matter how many astromech droids got shot, there wouldn’t be that much smoke.

Unless …

Unless something was burning.

“Oh, dear,” Threepio muttered. “Oh, dear. Why is it that everything always gets worse?”

More blaster shots ricocheted around him. The air was full of smoke and screams, but the screams no longer came from astromech droids. The screams came from gladiator droids being hit by ricochets.

Eeeeooo-whit!

Threepio made it into the corridor, and there Artoo was waiting for him. The little droid immediately began rocking and beeping. His clawed arm came out and pulled Threepio in deeper as the door behind them slammed closed.

The smoke cleared instantly. It hadn’t been smoke at all, but hundreds of astromech droids emitting some kind of foggy chemical.

“Artoo, I’ve been looking for you,” Threepio said. “Master Cole thought we were going to go together. You shouldn’t go off on your own like that. It isn’t—”

Artoo gave him a raspberry, swiveled, and started up the corridor behind all the other astromech droids.

“You can’t leave now,” Threepio said. “They’re going to kill Master Cole.”

Artoo stopped and beeped an inquiry.

“Why, he had to cover that little escape of yours. There were signs, you know, warning that droids couldn’t leave a ship. And then you go off on your own. He thought you actually had a plan. He sent me after you,
hoping that some good would come of it. I can see now that our concern was misguided.”

Artoo blatted at him, and continued forward.

Threepio followed. “Ungrateful? Ungrateful? How can you call me ungrateful?”

Artoo bleebled and continued forward. The other astromech droids swarmed ahead like a sea of mechanicals.

“I don’t think Master Cole can wait, Artoo. I daresay he’s in a difficult patch. If you’re not going to help him, I will.” Threepio turned on one foot and started down a side corridor.

Artoo whistled at him, not the friendly whistle from before, but a summons. Threepio ignored him.

Then Artoo blatted, and Threepio stopped.

“Good point,” he said more to himself than Artoo. “I really don’t want to face the Red Terror alone.”

Threepio scurried back to the original corridor. Artoo and his astromech friends had already moved far ahead. Threepio glanced over his shoulder. So far, no Red Terror. But there was no telling whether or not they’d make it through that door.

“Wait for me!” he shouted. “Wait! For! Me!”

L
uke backed away from Kueller’s lightsaber. So far, Kueller wasn’t really swinging it, but he was holding it steady before him, his black robes flowing backward in the wind. His body was slender, almost too slender, and in that—in that only—could Luke see the beginnings of the disintegration the dark side caused.

Twilight was falling. The light that had seemed so bright when he came out of the tunnel now seemed dim and shadowy. Only the blade of Kueller’s lightsaber gave off any light at all.

Luke didn’t have far to back. If he went too far, he would hit the wall of the tower he had escaped from. Then he got a flash, a mental picture, so clear that it looked like a holo:

Around the tower was a narrow alleyway that led to the tower’s main door. The door’s frame had collapsed, and in the mouth of the opening—

Kueller swung his blade at Luke, smashing the mental image. Luke leaped aside. He wasn’t certain if he should go for his blasters. That would only give Kueller a target. The blasters were no match for a lightsaber.

“Give up, Skywalker,” Kueller said. “You lack the strength to defeat me. I will kill you this time. And then I will slaughter your sister.”

Leia! She had her lightsaber. Luke extended his hand, and Kueller brought his blade down at it. Luke dodged as Leia’s lightsaber sailed in the air toward him, landing neatly in his fingers.

Immediately he ignited the blade and its reassuring hum echoed in the growing darkness.

“Ah,” Kueller said. “So you have chosen to fight me. Careful,
Master
Skywalker. If you do so with the wrong attitude, you might join my side.”

“I’ve fought better than you, Kueller,” Luke said. The lightsaber felt odd in his hand. “And won.”

“Years ago, Skywalker. You’ve become complacent.” Kueller slashed at Luke. Luke parried, the electric clash of blades ringing in the night air.

Then Kueller whirled and blocked several bursts of blasterfire. Leia peeked out of the bay doors.

“Leave him alone, Kueller. It’s me you want!” she yelled.

His death mask glowed from an internal light. It made his smile even more sinister than usual. “Actually, President, I want your entire family. Without them, there are no true Jedi.”

Luke inched closer. His blade was still out, still humming. He wanted Kueller to fight him, not Leia. Leia wasn’t ready yet. “Actually, Kueller, there are dozens of Jedi now.”

“But not Jedi Masters, Skywalker.”

“There are more than you imagine,” Luke said, thinking of Callista. She would provide quite a battle against Kueller, even without the Force.

Kueller turned to Luke, and Leia fired again. Without even looking at her, Kueller blocked the blaster shots.
The shots flew harmlessly to the sides. Then her blaster rose in the air, and exploded a few feet above her head.

“Use another of those, President, and it will explode in your hand.”

“You like explosions, don’t you, Kueller?” she said. Luke suppressed a smile. She was trying to distract him so Luke could attack. But it wasn’t that easy. Kueller had pushed Luke far enough that Luke’s feelings were confused. He wasn’t certain if he was going after Kueller out of anger or hatred, instead of in defense. That would only make Kueller stronger.

He seemed to be stronger anyway, giving credence to Luke’s theory.

“Small explosions, President,” Kueller said, his blade still locked with Luke’s. “Large ones destroy wealth.”

Leia stepped out of the bay. She was unarmed. “Even if you kill us, Kueller, you won’t get the rest of us. The explosives you put in the droids won’t work. We shut the droids off.”

“Did you, now?” Kueller’s tone was mocking. Luke could feel the physical pressure Kueller was putting on the blade. They were locked in a battle of wills, their strength holding the blades together in a haze of light. “You managed to tell all the developed planets about the droids, President? Because if you didn’t, then I will still get enough strength from one single order to defeat you all.”

A chill ran through Luke. All those lives. All those billions of lives. They meant nothing more to Kueller than a breath of air, a surge of adrenaline, a swallow of food. Anger flowed through Luke, deep and fine and rich.
He
had created this monster. Luke, through his arrogance, had given Kueller all the tools he needed to destroy the entire galaxy. If Luke hadn’t taught all his students about the dark side, if he hadn’t warned them repeatedly and in detail about the quick and easy path,
then Kueller would still be Dolph, not this hateful being who wore a death mask proudly and dealt in lives as a smuggler dealt in stolen goods.

Kueller turned toward Luke and grinned. His lightsaber broke free from the enmeshment and whooshed near Luke. Luke jumped aside, pain shivering through his back, and down his arms.

Kueller had suddenly gotten stronger.

“Kueller!” Leia shouted. She held another blaster. He turned his attention to her, and Luke thrust his blade toward Kueller’s side, drawing blood before Kueller swirled away.

Easy blood. The lightsaber moved with a sureness Luke had never felt before.

Leia’s blaster was turning red. She tossed it aside before it exploded, and rolled in the opposite direction.

Kueller had turned back to Luke, thrusting, parrying, thrusting, their sabers locked in a battle as loud and spark-filled as Luke’s battle with Vader. Kueller’s breath hissed through the mask, but it wasn’t Vader’s stentorian breathing that it imitated.

It was the Emperor’s greedy gasping.

Luke staggered under Kueller’s next blow, and barely managed to roll aside. His ankle kept buckling under him, but he forced himself to put weight on it. They had moved into the alleyway Luke had seen in that strange moment of vision. Stones littered the ground all around them, and the light only came through a small opening on either end. Luke could no longer see Leia.

Use your aggressive feelings
,
boy! Let the hate flow through you
.

Kueller struck at him, his blow shattering a nearby rock. He was stronger. Much stronger. And his strength seemed to be increasing. Luke’s arms were growing tired battling the power of Kueller’s blade.

Then Kueller laughed, a gurgling, familiar laugh. The
Emperor’s laugh, the unamused choking of a slave to the dark side.

Fueled by hatred, anger, and fear.

Luke was making him stronger. Luke’s response, his hatred, his own self-loathing at creating this thing, this student who had become a horror, was making the thing even stronger.

Kueller slammed his blade against Luke’s, and the sparks lit the area all around them. Luke parried. Parried again. And again. He was trapped in a cycle of hatred and anger. If he fought, Kueller got stronger, and if he attacked, Kueller got stronger still.

Luke glanced at the mouth of the alley.

No Leia.

He was alone with this thing he had created. The rogue student. The Vader to his Ben.

Vader.

Ben.

Luke grinned. He suddenly knew what he had to do to break free.