Shards of Alderaan

12

As he scanned the surface of Ennth, Zekk was surprised to find scattered settlements in the same locations where previous cities had been destroyed eight years before.

Zekk adjusted the Lightning Rod’s course and guided it into the stream of shuttle traffic toward the main settlement, where his parents had lived, where they had made their dreams…. He remembered that the colonists optimistically renamed the villages each time—New Hopetown, Newer Hopetown, and Newest Hopetown. He wondered what they would do once they ran out of qualifiers.

Powering up the ship’s comm system, Zekk transmitted a message to the central control barracks, identifying himself. He briefly told his story, that he was a prodigal son from Ennth who had now returned.

The communications controller greeted him with surprise, but her voice held the breathless urgency of someone burdened with too many responsibilities. She put on another man, an operations commander named Rastur, who was in charge of the evacuation activities. Zekk thought he remembered the man: during the previous disaster, a brave young soldier named Rastur had been decorated for his heroic feats. He had apparently risen in importance and now had the primary responsibility for preserving the persistent colonists of Ennth.

As he brought the Lightning Rod down into the belt of stormclouds, Zekk hoped the ship wouldn’t prove to be aptly named. He passed through knotted black thunder-heads, roiling weather systems churned up by the oncoming moon’s tidal chaos.

Below, the landscape of Ennth lay black and jumbled. Hardened lava rock stood out in cracked scabs. The broken outcroppings looked fresh and solid, laid down in the eruptions of only eight years ago.

Zekk saw green patches in the hardened rocky landscape, small jewels of farmland fertilized and tilled. To his astonishment, workers still frantically combed the fields to finish one last harvest before they had to depart from their doomed world. Those food supplies would have to last the people on the refugee stations until the Ennth colonists could reestablish their settlements on a pristine landscape in another year.

Fighting against the turbulent wind, Zekk’s ship approached the remains of a bustling spaceport, a stripped-down landing area surrounded by dismantled buildings and partially torn down warehouses.

Zekk brought the Lightning Rod in as several cargo ships, heavily loaded with people and supplies, lumbered into the air. Barely aerodynamic, the ships wobbled as they gained altitude. Other ships came in and circled, scouting for any available landing space.

He secured the ship, opened the hatch, then bounded down the ramp, ready to help. Troops and rescue workers scurried about—volunteers, colonists, everyone doing their part. The air, smelling of smoke and sulfur, was heavy with humidity and ozone from the stormclouds overhead.

In the city square Zekk saw huge statues, colorful paintings along the sides of lava-brick walls, vibrant artistic expressions everywhere he turned—all being left behind. Each masterwork of sculpture and illustration had been carved or painted in the past eight years as an expression of thanksgiving by the colonists when they had rebuilt their demolished town.

As he stood outside the Lightning Rod, a young woman rushed over to meet him. She was trim, in her early twenties, wearing a comfortable utility suit, her hair dark brown and cropped close to her head. Her eyes, a deep sepia, squinted with weariness and strain.

“Are you Zekk?” she said, gesturing for him to accompany her back to the headquarters building. She began walking immediately without waiting for Zekk, as if she had no time at all for light conversation. She called over her shoulder. “Welcome to Another Hopetown. I’m Shinnan. I remember your parents from when I was thirteen years old, during the last evacuation. You were just a boy then … seven?”

“Almost nine,” Zekk corrected. “I think I remember you, too. You were kind of a bossy girl telling the other kids what to do.”

She smiled. “Yes, and now I’m a bossy woman telling grown-ups what to do. I hope you’ve come here to help. We could certainly use an extra hand during the last stages of the evacuation.”

Zekk looked up into the darkening clouds. He saw crisscrossed lines of ship exhausts like white spiderwebs highlighted by flashes of lightning. “I came home,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but now I’ve returned to Ennth. Ill gladly lend a hand.”

He hurried to keep up with Shinnan’s rapid steps. Around him he saw the foundations of sheared-off buildings and tent-covered supply stacks lashed down and waiting to be picked up by cargo ships. The Ennth colonists continued to work steadily without rest, managing to look frenzied and organized at the same time.

On the way to the main command center, they passed abandoned buildings; some of the roofs had collapsed, windows broken. Tremors and aftershocks had slammed through Ennth for the past year or so, yet the colonists had waited until the last minute to pack up. Partly through the Force and partly through his own nerve endings, Zekk felt the ground trembling beneath his feet, as if he stood on a bomb just waiting to explode.

The only structures still inhabited seemed to be small stone dwellings near the command center—probably the quarters for Shinnan and Rastur and the other evacuation workers who had vowed to stay until the bitter end … just as his own parents had tragically done, eight years before.

The ground suddenly shook, as if a squirming krayt dragon lay just under the surface. Zekk stumbled, but Shinnan did not even pause in her step. The tremors ceased in only a few seconds. Shinnan made no comment at all as she took him inside the command center.

A lean, hard-looking man stepped up to them. His eyes were old beyond his years, with stress lines etched into his face. He carried a deep sorrow within him. “Rastur, this is Zekk—returned to us after these many years.” Shinnan paused, seeing the dead look on Rastur’s face. “What’s wrong, my love?” She slid her arms beneath his and held him tightly.

“I received word from our reconnaissance flyers,” Rastur said. “Newest Coast Town has just been destroyed.”

Shinnan gasped, then composed herself. “What happened?”

“A tidal wave,” he said, “undersea seismic activities. We saw it coming, but had only a few minutes’ warning. The wave came in a thousand meters high and wiped out the entire settlement.” He drew in a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Luckily, we had already stepped up evacuation and salvage procedures. We got eighty percent of the supplies to safety in orbit. Most of the settlers had taken refuge, except for a hundred or so who remained behind for a last run. We also lost two supply ships.”

Zekk listened with growing horror, but didn’t say anything. Shinnan spoke up. “Any chance for rescue operations?”

“There were no survivors,” Rastur said firmly, “not even any flotsam and jetsam to salvage….” His voice hitched before he brought it back under control. “In fact, there’s not even much of a coast left where the wave hit.”

Shinnan hugged the man briefly. “We knew to expect casualties, Rastur,” she said. “We’ll have a year to mourn once we’re all off planet and waiting for the land to settle down again. For now, we’ve got work to do.”

Finally Rastur became aware of Zekk, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of welcome. “We’re glad you’ve come home, Zekk—now, more than ever, we could use your help. Your people need you.”

For the next few days, Zekk worked harder than he ever had in his life, filling the Lightning Rod’s cargo holds to capacity and flying up to the refugee stations in orbit. He got to know some of the supply runners as well as several of the colonists. Many claimed to remember him as a child; others didn’t, but welcomed him anyway.

Despite the impending disaster and devastation, everyone on Ennth seemed willing to pull together as a team for a common goal, salvaging what they could from their homes and their lives, fleeing to safety before the groundquakes and volcanoes and tidal waves destroyed everything.

Many people died in the rush, some through carelessness, others through accidents. A few older colonists even dropped from sheer exhaustion, left behind to be buried by the violent upheaval of their adopted world.

In the frantic command center, Rastur never seemed to sleep, directing hundreds of shuttle flights, deciding which shipments had to go first, which colonists would be stationed on which refugee station. Shinnan did her best to assist him, taking care of the people, listening to complaints and suggestions … somehow managing to hold it all together.

One day later that week, lightning struck across the landscape like turbolaser bolts, blasting sand and lava rock. The winds picked up, making it difficult for the last cargo ships to take off safely. With his long dark hair tied in a ponytail to keep it out of the way, Zekk remained behind to dismantle the remaining computers from the command center, haphazardly packing them into the last few battered crates, then hauling all nonessential components away Rastur turned from his central post, his expression even grimmer than his usual perpetual frown. “We’ve just lost Heartland Settlement to lava,” he said. “A chain of volcanoes ripped it to pieces and incinerated the remaining structures. Luckily the last flights had already taken off. No casualties. Minimal loss of equipment.”

The other workers in the command center set up a ragged cheer. “We’re all finished here at Another Hopetown, Rastur,” Shinnan said. “All that remains is to pack up our own quarters and possessions.”

“All right, I’m glad we left that until last. Everything else is taken care of, so I’ll be able to sleep better at night,” he said, “once we get off the surface and up to the refugee stations.”

Shinnan stepped to the doorway of the command center. Zekk followed her, ready to offer his help, though his arms and legs felt ready to drop off. Utterly exhausted, he still felt exhilarated by how much they had accomplished despite seemingly impossible odds. Though they had suffered casualties, Ennth had been successfully evacuated.

Then the groundquake struck.

Not just a tremor like those he had experienced hundreds of times in the last few days—the seismic shock felt as if a Super Star Destroyer had crashed down on the planet, slamming into the world’s crust like a giant mallet. The remaining computer stands inside the command center fell over. Other buildings surrounding the near-deserted square swayed and rocked. One of the tall statues toppled and smashed on the cobblestones.

While Zekk held the door frame and fought for balance, Shinnan sprinted across the open square. Bobbing and weaving, she headed directly toward the low stone structures that had served as living quarters for the evacuation personnel.

“Shinnan, no!” Zekk cried. He whirled to look at Rastur. “Where is she going?”

“To our home—to rescue some things she needs.”

Zekk raced after her, feeling a powerful dread grow within him. He wondered if it was just his imagination … or an echo of premonition through the Force. He had been avoiding using his Jedi powers since the Shadow Academy’s defeat, afraid he would be too tempted to make use of the dark side again.

But now he definitely sensed the athletic dark-haired woman was in grave danger. As she dashed inside the shaking building, Zekk ran toward her, but his legs wobbled and jerked as the ground bounced beneath him like a vibrodrum.

Rastur stood at the command center door, his face as ash-gray as the volcanic dust that filled the skies. His drawn lips mouthed one word as he watched Shinnan disappear inside the stone house. “No.”

With a great seismic heave, the ground split in front of Zekk like a torn sheet of paper. He toppled to the cobblestones as the fissure widened, trembled, then stopped. Zekk looked up, getting himself to his hands and knees, ready to jump across the meter-wide crack that hung open like a yawning, jagged mouth.

Then another shock struck through the ground. This time, the stone buildings did not survive—none of the remaining warehouses. And not the place Shinnan and Rastur had called home. The heavy roof collapsed, the walls buckled outward, and the entire structure fell in upon itself … crushing the young woman inside.

As the tremors subsided, Zekk finally got back to his feet. He jumped across the broken fissure and staggered to the ruins of the building. “Shinnan!” he called out.

He reached the rubble and tried to pull stone blocks away. Within moments Rastur and the remaining workers appeared at his side, instinctively knowing what to do, digging through the rubble. Rastur moved mechanically, in a daze, as if he had turned off all of his emotions. He had lost too much already to feel any greater despair.

Zekk strove with his mind, trying to find some trace of Shinnan. “Are you there? Can you hear me?” But only a cold, disturbing silence came back at him….

When they found Shinnan’s body half an hour later, Zekk slumped In grief, but Rastur just stood, unmoving. In the young woman’s hands she cradled an electronic datapad and a sheaf of paper.

“What were they?” Zekk said, picking them up, looking at drawings and handwritten notes. Somehow, she had considered these items important enough to die for.

“They were our plans,” Rastur said, “our architectural designs for the new house we intended to build, once we moved back down to the surface … during resettlement.”

His words were choked off, and then he spoke in a flat voice as if repeating a memorized litany. “We anticipated casualties. We always knew people would die.” He whispered again, “We anticipated casualties.”

Then he straightened, smartly gesturing to the other workers. “We’re done here on Ennth. Load up the last ships.”

Rastur looked up at the sky. “It’s time to leave this place to its own destruction.”