The Emperor's Plague

21

Meanwhile, back on Ryloth, as soon as Sirra exposed the Diversity Alliance’s secret cache of weapons, Kambrea screamed at the top of her voice, “Guards! Stop them before they kill us all!”

Kambrea’s words provided exactly the right provocation for the already-tense guards. Her soldiers whirled about in search of a target. The Gamorreans, slower-witted than the others, simply opened fire without aiming. Several blaster bolts struck near Sirra and the stockpile of contraband weapons. Luke Skywalker threw himself backward, his Jedi reflexes ready and tight as a spring.

“Stop shooting! Stop shooting!” Senator Trubor squeaked, but nobody listened to him.

Lusa galloped across the loading bay and knocked Sirra aside as a volley of bolts struck a small box of packaged hand blasters, detonating it. The explosion shoved them all backward. They scrambled to keep their balance.

“Don’t let them leave!” Kambrea shouted. “They can’t escape!”

Under a barrage of alarms, dozens of Diversity Alliance soldiers raced in. Luke felt a deep sadness as he ignited his lightsaber and prepared to fight. Most of these soldiers, he knew, had been swayed by Nolaa Tarkona’s words and struggled against enemies who did not need to be enemies. They knew nothing about the circumstances here, only that they felt threatened. Kambrea’s soldiers shot in a cross fire across the loading bay. New Republic guards fell back with their own weapons blazing. Two human escorts stood next to Kur, protecting him as they held their blaster rifles, ready to fight to the death. Another blast ricocheted off the ceiling, and broken stone rubble pattered down around them.

Cilghal stepped up to Luke, her lightsaber glowing. She looked at him with her large round eyes.

“Even though I’m an ambassador,” she said, “I always carry my Jedi weapon with me.”

Luke raised his energy blade beside his former student.

“Diversity Alliance soldiers!” he called. “We did not come here to fight. Surrender now, and the New Republic will punish only the treacherous members of your organization.”

“You mean like me?” Kambrea shouted. “And Nolaa Tarkona? These humans want to destroy us all! We must fight for our lives!”

Outraged, the alien fighters redoubled their blaster fire. Lusa and Sirra had taken shelter behind one of the ships. Sirra dug in a broken container marked MEDICINAL SUPPLIES and drew out a blaster of her own. She squatted, carefully picking her target. Three brutish Abyssin set aside their heavy spiked clubs and hauled out energy rifles as they hunkered behind a small skimmer. Sirra watched the one-eyed soldiers preparing to fire on the New Republic troops. Flashing her fangs in a grim smile, she lined up her blaster crosshairs with the fuel module of the tiny ship. Here in the landing bay, the skimmer would have no shields, no protection. She fired at full strength. The fuel pod exploded nicely.

The Abyssin were blown back with the rain of shrapnel. Diversity Alliance soldiers continued to stream in, increasing their firepower. A human soldier died with a smoking blaster hole in his chest. When a Gamorrean guard lumbered forward to check on his kill, another human soldier cut down the piglike creature in turn. The entire grotto was filled with sounds of weapons fire, explosions, ricochets, screams of terror, and howls of pain. Luke realized how outnumbered they were—and their enemies were increasing moment by moment.

Kambrea kept herself sheltered near a barricade of weapons crates stacked high behind her. The Devaronian female had all the firepower and ammunition she would need to hold off assailants for many days. She gestured with a clawed hand, trying to attract the attention of her fighters, pointing toward Sirra and Lusa, who huddled in scant shelter near the small craft.

“Get those two! They’re traitors to the Diversity Alliance. They brought all this upon us!”

As the weapons fire turned toward his two young charges, Luke knew he had to help protect them. Sirra shot her own blaster, but she couldn’t possibly hold off the entire barrage. Ambassador Cilghal ran beside Luke toward where Lusa and Sirra were making their last stand. With crossed lightsabers Luke and Cilghal intercepted the blaster fire, deflecting energy bolts into the stone walls and occasionally into enemy attackers as well.

Lusa, boiling with frustration and wanting to strike a blow against the radical group that had caused her so much misery, saw Kambrea hiding behind the wall of weapons crates. From where he stood, Luke Skywalker could sense the centaur girl tapping into the Force. He knew Lusa had great potential to become a Jedi, but she was untrained, did not know what to do—and so she could not control the surge she directed at Kambrea. Her rippling tug made the wall of heavy crates shake, tilt … and finally topple down.

The Devaronian had only time to look up and see the avalanche of weapons containers falling toward her. Kambrea roared and tried to squirm away, but she was far too late. Tons of heavy crates fell on top of her, burying the provisional leader of the Diversity Alliance. Seeing Kambrea killed, the Diversity Alliance soldiers, who were still duped as to the actual cause of the fight, let out a howl of outrage, roaring vows of revenge. Their blaster fire increased.

More soldiers rushed in. It looked as if nothing could stop the complete obliteration of the New Republic inspection team. The bloodlust and anger bottled in the grotto grew even higher, as everyone fought for their lives, for revenge, or for political ideals. On the other side of the chamber, left unattended except for two small Sullustan guards wearing the uniforms of the New Republic, Senator Trubor crawled along, trying to stay under cover.

He squeaked, “We surrender! We surrender! It’s the only way!”

The small Chadra Fan stood up, waving his hands—and two of the Gamorrean guards, seeing only someone they knew as their enemy, targeted him. Both shot the senator. Little Trubor died with a high-pitched squeal as he tumbled backward into the hands of the helpless Sullustan guards, who dragged his body away. The New Republic soldiers cried out in anger.

Unexpectedly, the Twi’lek refugee Kur stood up, shook away the restraining hands of his two New Republic escorts, and strode into the thick of the firefight. He seemed willing to die, or convinced of his own invincibility. Standing out in the open, in the middle of the chamber, he held up his clawed hands.

“You must cease firing. All of you!” His voice was stronger and prouder than anything Luke had expected. Several more blaster shots rang out; a Gamorrean guard fired at him and missed—but more rapidly than Luke would have thought possible, the blasterfire tapered off and then fell silent. Kur looked at the barricaded fighters in the bay, squaring his shoulders. His head-tails thrashed with agitation, and he tried to meet them all with his piercing gaze.

“Aliens have shed alien blood!” he shouted in a tone of voice that expressed horror to all present. He gestured down at the dead Chadra Fan senator. “But for what? Did you gain peace? Freedom from tyranny? No! The search for revenge has only brought you death and given you cause to distrust each other. Isn’t this exactly what the Diversity Alliance promised to prevent?” Kur paused and stared at all the fighters, who were huddled down for shelter. But they were listening now, and not shooting. “Look around you. This time there is no scapegoat—no excuse to blame the killing on one species or another. All races must stop trying to place the blame for the injustices of centuries gone by—and begin working together.” He held up a fist. “As equals. We must build from the present, not resort to savagery because of the past.” As he looked at all of them, he swelled with pride.

Luke felt the strength in the air, felt that Kur had regained his self-confidence. In a brave gesture, Cilghal switched off her lightsaber and stepped away from her shelter to stand next to Kur. Luke went out to join her, willing the others to come out as well. Several of the Diversity Alliance soldiers, idealistic aliens who fought for what they believed was right and knew nothing of Nolaa Tarkona’s other plans, also tossed down their weapons and came forward.

“We must talk together,” Kur said. “Only that way can we find peace.”

Luke looked at the exiled refugee. Though Nolaa Tarkona wasn’t there, and Kambrea had already been killed, he sensed that the Twi’leks had found a powerful new leader.