"Which raises an interesting question, son. We know which side your dad's on, but you're something of a mystery. Drop the blaster and the lightsaber. That goes for you too, young lady... till we sort things out."
The agents looked around, saw more than a dozen weapons pointed in their direction, and did as they were told.
"That's better," Grif said equably. "Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, how's your father?"
"Dead," Kyle answered bitterly. "Remember the spaceport? Well, that's where they displayed his head. On a spike for all to see. That's why I'm here, to avenge his death, but more than that, to stop the Imperials from looting the Valley of the Jedi."
Carole Grawley's hand came up to her mouth, and her husband scowled. Morgan Katarn? Dead?
It might be a lie... but Grif didn't think so. He swore, turned to a group of bystanders, and gave some orders.
"Lasko, Kimber, Pardy - throw some netting over that ship and clear the plaza. The Imps aren't blind, you know... Come on, you two - let's take it in out of the sun. Cold in the morning and warm later on, that's how it is around here."
The Rebels felt naked without their weapons and more than a little nervous with so many blasters pointed in their direction. Grif led them up the stairs and through an enormous entryway. The temple's interior was surprisingly well lit thanks to an ancient system of skylights and mirrors. A dozen shafts of light, each arriving from a different angle, converged on the likeness of a man. He leaned forward, his chin supported by a fist.
Grif gestured to the space around him.
"Welcome to our temporary home. Those fortunate enough to survive the attack on Fort Nowhere banded together, collected what resources they could, and came here."
Carole Grawley listened with amazement as her normally tactless husband papered over the fact that the "townies," as he liked to call them, had ignored his warnings, taken terrible losses, and fled into the badlands. An area about which they knew very little.
She would never forget the day they had arrived, setting off the perimeter alarms and interrupting her husband's mid-afternoon nap. The fact that Grif had agreed to help them, and subsequently metamorphosed into their leader, was no less than a miracle.
Or so it seemed to her.
Oblivious to his wife's thoughts, Grif pointed toward a makeshift table and the equipment piled beyond.
"Take a load off and tell us the story. Most things happen at night around here... so we have plenty of time."
Kyle took a seat and tried to ignore the onlookers. He told the story of how he had gone to the Academy, received the news of his father's death, and headed for home. It was during the journey that he met Jan for the second time, learned that his father had been murdered by the Empire, and swore himself to the Rebel cause. The raid on Danuta didn't seem relevant, so he left that out and went straight to events on Sulon.
These were of considerable interest to most of those present, since that's where most of them came from and, in many cases, hoped to return. Kyle described his battles with Yun, Gorc, Pic, and 8t88 in dry, dispassionate terms, explained how Jan and he had recovered the necessary coordinates, and why they had come.
A settler named Lasko, the same one who had been brought to his knees by Sariss, listened with interest. Could the Jedi in Katarn's story be the same ones who destroyed Fort Nowhere?
It certainly sounded that way.
Jan felt it was a story well told - but at least one of those present disagreed. He was a pugnacious individual with an underthrust jaw and massive shoulders. His name was Pardy, Luther Pardy, and he wore Kyle's weapons as if they were his.
"It makes a nice story, boy, a real nice story, kind o' like the fairy tales the missus tells the young'uns. Why should we believe this dreck? 'Specially the stuff about the Force, Jedi Knights, and all that. Sounds kind o' convenient to me - sort of like what a spy would say."
Lasko eyed both men, decided to support Katarn if it came to that, and allowed a hand to rest on his blaster. A cloud passed in front of the sun. The light level dropped by twenty percent. The statue seemed to frown, and all eyes turned toward Kyle. Slowly, so as not to startle one of the trigger-happy colonists, he stood.
Pardy, who outweighed the agent by a good thirty pounds, grinned. A quick, easy victory would raise his status within the group. Make Grawley listen more. He licked his lips.
Kyle met the other man's eyes, extended his hand as if ready to shake, and visualized what he wanted. An object whirred through the air, slapped the surface of his palm, and made a popping noise. Energy sizzled as the lightsaber came to life, and Pardy stepped back.
A half-dozen blasters came up but fell when Grif shook his head.
"Well, Pardy, no more questions? I didn't think so. Guess you'd better return that blaster.
Welcome to Ruusan, kid - and you too, Jan. Tell us about that Valley and what we can do to help." Lasko felt a tremendous sense of relief. Only a Jedi could defeat a Jedi. Now there was hope. There was no especially safe time, to move around the planet's surface, but night offered some protection and was the only time when the bouncers ventured out. It had been Grif's idea to meet with the locals and seek their counsel. After all, the bouncers were either native to Ruusan or had been there so long that it didn't make much difference, and they knew the planet better than anyone.
Grif nudged the agent's arm. The two of them, plus Jan and six of the most able-bodied colonists, had taken refuge in a fortress of stone.
A boulder lay at the center of the refuge, surrounded by the tumble of smaller rock s to which it had inadvertently given birth. Carved from their parent's flanks by the combined forces of heat, water, and cold, the offspring provided a vantage point from which the Rebels could watch the surrounding plain. Ruusan had no less than three moons - all of which were visible. Grif pointed to the flat area in front of them.
"That's where the bouncers are most likely to appear... They're shaped like balls, have retractable tentacles, and rely on the wind for propulsion. All of which might explain their lifestyle, patience, and inherent fatalism." Kyle raised an eyebrow, and Grif looked self-conscious.
"Hey, it makes sense, doesn't it? You don't need no degree in anthropology to figure that out."
"It makes a lot of sense. Go on."
"Well, they have big eyes, for gathering light, and love to roll in front of the wind.
That's when they look for obstacles, steer for them, and bounce into the air."
"Hence the name 'bouncers,' " Kyle put in.
"Right," Grif confirmed. "And that's when they float - as far as the the wind will carry them."
"They sound wonderful," Jan said wistfully. "I hope they come."
"There's no way to be sure," the colonist replied, "but the conditions are right. Your father knew them," Grif added, turning toward Kyle. "And they still talk about him, or write about him, since that's how they communicate."
"The bouncers knew my father?" Kyle asked incredulously. "How could that be?"
"Your dad was an interesting man," the settler replied. "Once he put us on the ground and got things organized, he borrowed a skimmer and took off. Everybody said he was crazy. Who knows when he ran into the bouncers, but he did. They call him 'the knight who never was,' whatever that means."
Kyle felt goose bumps ripple the length of his arms. His father could have been a Jedi Knight... and chose not to. That was his theory anyway, which echoed what the bouncers said. But how could they know?
"Look!" Jan said excitedly. "I see some white blobs!"
"Here they come," Grif confirmed, peering through his electrobinoculars. "Watch closely... you're in for a treat."
The creatures sent ripples through the Force. Kyle had raised his electrobinoculars and was about to take a look when another presence registered on his consciousness. The agent turned, scrambled onto a flat-topped rock, and scanned the southern horizon. It took less than five seconds to acquire the incoming targets and identify them for what they were: a skimmer with two speeder bikes as escorts.
"Grif! Jan! We've got company. Alert the others."
"What about the bouncers?" Jan demanded.
"We've got to warn them!" Kyle turned, realized the globes were much closer than they had been, and watched them bounce high into the air. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a solution, when the speeder bikes opened fire. Smaller and therefore faster than the heavily laden skimmer, they split the rock pile between them, turned, and went in opposite directions.
One toward the west and one toward the east. The light generated by their energy cannon split the night into geometric shapes and was lost in the distance. The bouncers reacted by turning inward.
"They're clustering together," Grif called out, "so the troopers on the skimmer can slaughter them!"
"Not tonight they won't," Jan said grimly, "not while I'm alive."
The agent took her blast rifle, scrambled up onto an even higher perch, and wrapped the sling around her elbow. Kyle considered trying to stop her and knew it was useless. Jan was going to war in spite of the fact that a fire fight was likely to reveal their presence and threaten an already perilous mission. All for some aliens she hadn't even met.
Mon Mothma would never approve. Still, Kyle loved her for it and turned to Grif.
"If your people want to even the score, here's their chance. Prisoners are fine but nobody gets away... nobody." Jan wanted to take full advantage of surprise. That meant that each of the first shots had to count. She peered into the scope, led the speeder bike by what she judged to be the right distance, and touched the trigger.
Coherent energy burped outward, the Imperial ran into it, and the bike exploded. Still-flaming debris rained down as the surviving rider fired into the rocks and called for help.
The officer in charge of the patrol, a Lieutenant Aagon, saw the explosion, knew his stormtroopers would be less vulnerable on the ground, and ordered the helmsman to land.
The troopers bailed out, Aagon followed, and they ran for the rocks. It was a short sprint and easily done. The officer knew the Rebs were on the opposite side of the rocks and wanted to keep them there. His helmsman, a sergeant named Forley, and the gunner, a rating named Leeno, were still aboard. Aagon spoke into his comm.
"Take the skimmer around to the other side of the rocks. Pin down the Rebels. We'll attack from behind."
The dead biker had been Forley's best friend. He planned to do more than pin down the Rebs - he planned to kill them.
"Sir! Yes, sir!" Confident of Forley's competence, Aagon led six troopers into the rocky maze. He could have called for reinforcements - but had some good reasons not to. The first related to the fact that his authorized patrol area lay ten klicks to the south. A nice enough collection of ravines and gullies but not the sort of place the bouncers were likely to go, which meant the hunting was poor. The second reason had to do with his immediate superior, an ambitious sort who would just as soon take all the credit and let Aagon do all the fighting.
No, the lieutenant decided, we'll kill the Rebels, report the engagement as taking place twelve klicks to the south, and score some points in the next dispatch. Just the thing to fuel his next promotion. Confident that his plan would work and eager to get on with it, the officer scrambled over a boulder and slipped through a gap. The troopers followed.
The skimmer rounded the rocks and, with support from the remaining bike, opened fire.
There were lots of places to hide, so the attack had very little effect. But Forley knew a thing or two and changed his tactics. He ordered Leeno to concentrate his fire on a single boulder. The gunner did so, watched the rock start to glow, and was soon rewarded with an explosion.
Kyle ducked as razor-sharp rock fragments flew in every direction, took one Rebel's arm off, and exploded as they hit the surrounding boulders. The man started to scream then stopped as another piece of shrapnel hit him in the head.
Kyle scuttled over to Jan.
"Give me a two-minute lead and take them out."
Jan nodded grimly and wasn't the least bit disturbed when Kyle took most of the Rebel force with him. He had led stormtroopers into battle himself, and successfully, too.
A teenage girl had been left to watch Jan's back. The girl's name was Portia. She had dark skin, white teeth, and intelligent eyes. The agent took a potshot at the speeder bike, gestured to the girl, and followed her through the rocks. Light flashed behind them. The women paused and looked back. Another rock had started to glow, so they ducked behind a ledge.
Jan eyed the teenager's weapon. It appeared to be clean and well cared for. The rock exploded, fragments rattled off the surrounding surfaces, and the Rebels ignored them.
"So, Portia, are you any good with that thing?"
"One of the best," the teenager answered confidently. "That's what they tell me anyway."
"Good," Jan answered tightly, "because we're about to bet my life on it."
Trooper RW957 was where he liked to be, at the tail end of the column, bringing up the rear. A position where he was less likely to be killed in an ambush, sent forward on some suicidal mission, or accidentally shot in the back. Yes, sir, RW957 thought to himself, you've gotta have a plan if you want to survive, and not just one plan, but a whole lotta plans, that's why...
The only warning was the whisper of fabric. An arm slid around the trooper's neck, a hand pulled off his helmet, and moonlight reflected off the blade. The stormtrooper thought the word "help" but never had an opportunity to actually say it.
Jan climbed up onto a carefully chosen rock, lit the flare, and waved it in the air.
The trooper on the speeder bike took the bait, turned toward the target, and fired his braking jets.
"A steady platform makes for an accurate shot... " That's what the manual said, and the manual was right. Portia forced herself to wait until the target was square into her sight, squeezed the trigger just the way you were supposed to, and held it down.
The first few bolts were deflected by the dull-white armor, but the fourth managed to scorch it, and the fifth, sixth, and seventh drilled on through. The trooper fell out of his saddle, the bike began to drift, and Jan threw the flare as far as she could.
Aagon heard the rock explosions, saw the flare go off, and wondered what the Rebs were up to. The officer felt for a handhold, found what he was looking for, and pulled himself up. The top of the rock was flat and sloped toward the north. Something moved, and he raised his blaster. That's when a finger poked his shoulder.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you... drop it."
The Imperial was in the process of turning, of trying to kill the man behind him, when he heard something "pop." He blinked as a bar of incandescent light appeared, grew momentarily smaller, and flashed down toward his face. There was time for one last thought, something profound would have been nice, but nothing came. The light was the brightest thing Aagon had ever seen.
The skimmer had fired countless bolts of energy and all to no avail. It hovered as Forley struggled to make a decision - not something the Imperial command structure trained sergeants to do. Both bike riders were dead, and he couldn't raise the lieutenant. The whole thing should be over by now. What to do? Stay? Or run? Neither alternative seemed very attractive. The skimmer made a highly visible target, but running entailed problems of its own.
What if Aagon and the rest of the squad were alive? And how would he explain where they'd been? The whole thing was a mess. Leeno interrupted Forley's thoughts.
"Sarge! Behind you!" Forley turned, realized that a large white globe had drifted to within centimeters of his face, and threw up his hands. The bouncer used its tentacles to grab hold of them, pulled itself in, and enveloped the sergeant's head. Horrified, Leeno swiveled his weapon toward the stern and opened fire. The bouncer died, but so did Forley, which caused the Imperial to panic. He jumped over the side and ran.
The gunner was still running when the bouncers drifted down out of the sky, knocked him to his knees, and pinned him down.
Grif, along with a couple of Rebels, arrived two minutes later. Leeno, his mind filled with images of the way Forley had died, continued to scream. The three sisters had fled the sky, the stars were barely visible, and a jagged pink line marked the eastern horizon.
Hours had passed while the Rebels buried the dead, camouflaged the graves, and loaded weapons and other gear onto the Imperial skimmer.
"A nice piece of equipment," Grif said, patting a sturdy flank. "We can use it."
"And the speeder bike," Jan put in, "not to mention the other stuff."
"Some of which may still be out there," Kyle said, remembering how difficult it had been to search in the dark. "I hope the wrong people don't find it."
Grif shrugged.
"What are the odds? Besides, we've gotta get out of here before the sun comes up and the search begins."
The words made sense. Kyle turned toward the delegation of bouncers. Their skin fluttered as they leaned into the oncoming breeze and used their tentacles as anchors. One of the band, an individual Grif referred to as "Floater," had agreed to serve as a guide. He moved among his peers and touched each one of them good-bye. Their leader, an especially leathery specimen who had met Morgan Katarn during his visit to the planet, watched as Kyle scratched words into the hardpan with a combat knife.
"You and your people must hide... will you be all right?"
The tentacle felt dry and warm where it touched the agent's hand, slid downward, and took control of the knife. The syntax was strange but understandable.
"Blowing wind steady. All right will be." Kyle accepted the knife and carved a reply. "I am sorry about the death of your race-person," friend-mate. Thank you for allowing Floater to help us."
"Sorry are we at the death of your race-person," the bouncer replied. "Floater goes where he must - though death it may bring."
Kyle thought about Jerec, about those who served him, and felt an emptiness at the pit of his stomach. He took the knife.
"You know what we came to do... will we succeed?"
The bouncer blinked. The blade grated on tiny bits of rock as it carved words into the soil.
"Everyone knows that a knight shall come, that a battle will be fought, and the prisoners will go free. If not now... then someday."