Jedi under Siege

13

Qorl’s TIE fighter flew low over the jungle, mapping out targets for the assault squadron. The rest of his fighter wing had their own orders, and they flew in their own attack patterns.

He doubted, though, that his student Norys would bother to follow orders once the battles actually started and laser shots began to fly. The bully would blunder from target to target like a mad gundark, likely to cause as much damage to the Imperial plans as he did to the Rebels.

Qorl felt cold inside, liquid dismay hardening to ice. He had expected to be exhilarated by flying and fighting again, piloting his own TIE fighter in battle for the Second Imperium.

Instead, he had only reservations and second thoughts. He dreaded the possibility that he had made a bad decision and that the Second Imperium might have to pay the price.

Norys continued to be a great disappointment. When Qorl had selected the tough young man, he knew the bully’s personality had hardened during years of harsh living, though he had lorded over the Lost Ones on Coruscant. The broad-shouldered boy had been dedicated, vowing to become an Imperial soldier because it gave him a feeling of power and confidence—exactly what the Second Imperium needed.

However, a loyal soldier was also required to obey orders. A servant of the Empire couldn’t be a loose cannon, following his own wishes rather than the commands of his superiors. As he’d grown accustomed to his situation, Norys had become increasingly disrespectful, even insubordinate.

The bully was truly bloodthirsty, wanting simply to dominate, to cause pain, to achieve utter victory. He did not fight for the glory of the Second Imperium, or for bringing back the New Order—or for any sort of political goal. He fought simply to fight. And that was a deadly attitude, no matter which side he fought for.

Qorl circled, zeroing in on a raging forest fire that had been started by one of the TIE bombers, then streaked along the river to where Tamith Kai’s battle platform hovered over the trees. Over his cockpit communication channel, Qorl heard a loud, desperate transmission on all bands—and recognized the voice.

“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!”

Qorl sat up, adjusted his black helmet, and flew steadily. He remembered the young twins who had helped fix his TIE fighter, the brother and sister who had been his prisoners around the campfire in the depths of the jungle. They had offered him friendship … and tried to turn him from his loyalty to the Second Imperium. But he had been indoctrinated too well.

Surrender is betrayal.

So Qorl had escaped and made his way to the Shadow Academy, where he had watched as the twins were brought in to be trained under the murderous tutelage of Tamith Kai and Brakiss. Qorl had been deeply disturbed by the violence of their instruction, the disregard for the lives of the fresh students.

No one had ever found out that Qorl had discreetly assisted the young friends in their escape as they fled the Shadow Academy. After that Qorl had privately done everything he could to atone for the indiscretion, making his raid on the Rebel convoy to steal hyperdrive cores and turbolaser batteries, then working hard to train Norys and the other new stormtroopers.

A smoking ship streaked overhead: a blaster-scarred and battered cargo transport. Qorl recognized the model of the ship, an unarmed carrier vessel of an old design. Its engines were sluggish, its shields not designed or reinforced for combat.

And now he saw that it was being pursued by a relentless TIE fighter.

Qorl was ashamed to see the TIE pilot waste shot after shot, although sheer luck allowed some of the laser bolts to strike the hull. It would be only a matter of time before the cargo ship exploded in midair.

Qorl tuned his cockpit comm systems to a direct channel with the other TIE fighter. “TIE pilot, identify yourself.”

The gruff voice that responded came as no surprise to Qorl. “This is Norys, old man. Don’t bother me—I’ve got a target in my sights.”

He swallowed, but his throat remained dry. “Norys, you have already crippled the target. That cargo ship is not our main objective. Your orders are to disable the Jedi academy. That ship won’t be causing any more trouble for the Second Imperium.”

“Leave off, old man,” Norys said. “This is my kill, and I’m gonna score it.”

Qorl tried to keep his anger in check. “We don’t keep score, Norys. This assault is for the Second Imperium—not for your personal glory.”

“Go stick your head up an exhaust tube,” Norys said. “I’m not letting an old coward tell me what to do.” Then the bully switched off his comm system and plunged after the burning cargo ship, firing with absolute abandon.

Qorl’s disappointment turned to outrage. This young man’s attitude flew in the face of everything admirable about the Empire. Qorl remembered his earlier TIE fighter training, how he and his fellow pilots had all worked together like a machine: precise, well mannered, respectful, listening to orders—promoting the orderly lifestyle the Emperor had brought to the galaxy. That was worth fighting for.

But Norys did not represent such a philosophy. He didn’t care.

The broadband comm signal came across his speakers 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?”

Qorl flew beneath the aerial dogfight just above the treetops, anguished inside. Jacen Solo was an honorable opponent. The boy had a strong heart, though he had fallen in with the Rebel band instead of the Second Imperium. But could the boy be blamed? After all, his mother was the Chief of State of the Rebel government.

Norys, however, did have a choice. The broad-shouldered boy knew what he had been trained for. He had adopted his Imperial uniform and his ship willingly … yet now he refused to play by the rules. Norys was no better than a ruthless, murderous bully.

The pursuing TIE fighter continued to fly in the slipstream of the crippled cargo vessel. Black smoke curled up from her engine pods, and Qorl observed the precise moment at which the shields failed.

Norys fired again, staining the hull with a slash of black blisters.

Qorl flicked on his own laser cannons and activated the targeting systems. The Lightning Rod would explode in a matter of seconds under Norys’s continued assault. If it did, Qorl wouldn’t be surprised if the bully continued to shoot the burning wreckage to make sure there were no survivors.

Disgust welled up within him. Switching off his comm system, he muttered, “Do I lose any honor by destroying someone who has no honor of his own?”

Qorl had studied every subsystem on the Imperial TIE fighters. He knew their weak points. Qorl knew how to destroy them.

He targeted Norys’s reactor exhausts.

Ignoring his teacher entirely, Norys fired again. His lasers had fallen into a slower repeating rhythm now, as if he savored these last few moments.

The Lightning Rod lurched, in one last helpless attempt to dodge the laser fire.

Qorl closed in on Norys’s ship.

And fired.

Norys’s TIE fighter exploded in the air, annihilated so quickly and completely that the young bully didn’t even have time to cry out in surprise.

Ashamed that his act had been a betrayal of the Second Imperium, Qorl made no attempt to contact the Lightning Rod. He simply changed course and swerved back toward the main battlefield, while the faltering Lightning Rod struggled to remain aloft … or at least to land without crashing too badly.