Jedi under Siege

11

“Hey, that wasn’t so hard,” Jacen said, leaning forward in the copilot’s chair of the Lightning Rod. The chair creaked, its padding bulging out through countless small rips and tears in the cushion. The engines rumbled and coughed and whined as the cargo shuttle finally broke free of the atmosphere.

“You had to say that, didn’t you, boy?” Peckhum said as sensor alarms squealed on his control panel. Incoming enemy ships. Again. “We got TIE fighters coming, four of ’em. Looks like they were launched directly from the Shadow Academy.”

Jacen swallowed, studying the pattern, and shook his head. “Oh, blaster bolts! We’d better transmit our distress message now before they get us. Otherwise help for the Jedi academy will come too late.”

Peckhum looked over at him, his eyes red-rimmed, his haggard face serious. “You’ll have to take care of that message yourself, Jacen. I’m gonna be mighty busy doing some fancy flying here—if she’ll hold together.” He patted the cockpit controls. “Sorry to do this to you, girl, but I didn’t name you the Lightning Rod for nothing. Let’s show these Imperials our stuff.”

Jacen fumbled with the unfamiliar comm system, tuning frequencies and feeling completely inadequate. He wished his sister were here—she was the expert on these systems. She would know how to cut through the double-talk, the chatter, the Imperial transmission block.

He sent a subspace message blaring on all frequencies at the maximum levels of volume and power the Lightning Rod could spare and still keep her shields up.

“This is Jacen Solo,” he said, then cleared his throat. He had no idea what to say, but he supposed the details didn’t exactly matter. “Attention, New Republic. We have an emergency! This is Jacen Solo on Yavin 4, requesting immediate assistance. We are under attack by the Shadow Academy!

“Repeat. Imperial fighters attacking the Jedi academy—request assistance immediately. Our shields are down. We’ve got ground battles taking place and air strikes from TIE fighters. We desperately need immediate assistance.” He switched off the microphone, then looked over at Peckhum. “Hey, how’d I do?”

“Just fine, kid,” Peckhum said, and lurched the ship to one side, going into a clockwise spin as the four TIE fighters roared past, belching fire from laser cannons. One shot struck the Lightning Rod’s lower shield, but the other bolts streamed harmlessly into space, intersecting the empty void where the cargo ship had been only a moment before.

“I used to be a pretty good flier in my day,” Peckhum said. “And I still am … I think.”

One TIE fighter broke away from the other three and spun in a tighter circle, firing repeatedly without taking the trouble to aim, spraying space with its deadly fire.

Peckhum dove down, skimming the atmosphere, so that the lower hull of the Lightning Rod grew hot. Then he bounced back into space again, turning about in a tight backward loop and heading up over the determined TIE fighter, which shot again and again. Sparks flew from the battered supply ship’s control panels. Lights winked red on their system diagnostics.

“Uh, Peckhum? What do all those alarms mean?” Jacen said.

“It means our shields are failing.”

“Don’t you have any weapons on this ship?” Jacen scanned the panels, looking for any sort of targeting system, some firing controls.

Peckhum coughed and put the ship into a sharp dive toward Yavin 4. “This is a cargo ship, boy, and she’s seen better days. I wasn’t expecting to take her into battle, you know. Heck. I’m lucky the food-prep units still work.”

The rest of the Imperial squadron zoomed away to continue the attack on the Jedi academy, but the one persistent TIE fighter came in again single-mindedly. This time he had them locked on target, so that most of his laser cannon blasts struck the Lightning Rod.

“This guy really wants to take us out,” Jacen said.

Peckhum pushed his accelerators well beyond maximum safety levels. The Lightning Rod groaned and creaked as it rattled down through the atmosphere, buffeted by air turbulence.

Jacen was thrown from side to side. He grabbed the comm system again. “This is Jacen Solo with a personal distress this time. We are in deep trouble. Someone is on our tail. Request assistance. Please—can anyone out there help us?”

Peckhum looked over at him. “Nobody’s going to get here in time.”

Jacen remembered stories of how Luke Skywalker had been in a similar situation on the run down the Death Star trench, trying to send his proton torpedo through a small thermal exhaust port. His X-wing had been in Darth Vader’s sights, unable to shake the TIE fighters and interceptors on his tail. Things had looked hopeless—and then Jacen’s father, Han Solo, had appeared out of nowhere, saving the day.

But Jacen didn’t think his father was anywhere close by now, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else who might pop unexpectedly out of the skies to take care of the enemy. That was too much luck to hope for.

With a crackle of static over the comm system, a gruff and gloating voice spoke—but it wasn’t any rescuer. “Well … Jacen Solo! You’re one of those feisty Jedi brats we ran into down in the lower levels of Coruscant. Remember me—Norys? I was the leader of the Lost Ones gang. You stole that hawk-bat egg from us … and now I think we’re about to even all the old scores. Hah!”

Jacen felt a shiver go down his spine as he remembered the broad-shouldered bully who had such an appetite for destruction. Norys continued.

“The little trash collector, Zekk, joined us in the Second Imperium, but you have made the wrong choice, boy. I just wanted you to know who was going to blast you to slag.” The TIE pilot signed off and continued the conversation with a volley of laser bolts.

“Well, I’m glad he picked such a fine time to contact us,” Peckhum said, fighting with the controls, unable to fly an evasive pattern anymore. He worked with all his talent just to keep the Lightning Rod from falling apart in the sky. “I don’t think we’ll last much longer, and I’m sure that Norys kid would have hated to blow us up before he got a chance to say his little goodbye.”

The engines of the Lightning Rod began to smoke. More alarms blared from the control panels. Behind them Norys’s TIE fighter continued to fire mercilessly, pounding their hull, trying to crack open the battered cargo ship.

Jacen stared at the comm unit, but didn’t think it would do any good to send out another distress signal.

The jungle treetops rushed by beneath them. Jacen looked wildly from side to side. “I don’t suppose it would be a good time to tell a joke,” he said.

Peckhum shook his head. “Don’t feel much like laughing right now.”