Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [79]
Luke switched off the glowlamp, plunging the swamp into a darkness lit only by the twinkling lights of phosphorescent insects and glowing fungus. But the large, unseen predators kept coming.
Luke grabbed Callista’s arm, and she stiffened, as if he were a stranger. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got to get inside before they come back.”
She snapped out of her funk and followed him up the boarding ramp into the space yacht. Luke activated the hatch controls and the ship sealed itself, locking down for the night.
They both collapsed on one of the passenger benches, and Callista pressed herself against him. Luke put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed. Callista was shuddering, glistening with a sheen of frightened perspiration. “I opened up for just a second,” she said.
“I know,” Luke answered. “I could feel it.”
Then she looked up at him, her eyes very afraid. “But it was the dark side, Luke! We both recognized it.”
Luke nodded, and they stared at each other with a mixture of hope and dread. “At least you’ve cracked through,” he said. “Perhaps now you can do something.”
Callista sat up straight, gathering her strength again. She spoke with absolute certainty as the muffled night sounds of Dagobah’s swamp enfolded the sealed ship.
“It’s not worth the cost, Luke. If I have to touch the dark side to regain my powers, then I’d rather not ever be a Jedi again.”
HOTH ASTEROID BELT
CHAPTER 27
Shortly after Durga left in a huff for Nal Hutta on some unexpected diplomatic mission, Bevel Lemelisk watched Imperial General Sulamar transform into an even more pompous ass without the Hutt there to squash his dictatorial impulses.
Sulamar seemed to think he was the reincarnation of Grand Moff Tarkin, strutting about and issuing orders at his whim. But unlike Tarkin, Sulamar gave orders that had no merit, and the general had none of the personal power or iron-hard charisma Tarkin had displayed.
Lemelisk brushed him aside. He’d never had much use for military puffballs. He had work to do.
The growing magnificent construction of the Darksaber filled him with joy as he watched from the distant Orko SkyMine expeditionary ship. The main supports for the superweapon had taken shape, folding the durasteel lattice into a cylindrical tube, like a gigantic wind tunnel.
General Sulamar had supposedly used his influence to obtain surplus computer cores from old Imperial shipyards, cores powerful enough to direct the operations of the Darksaber. The Hutts had been unable to purchase appropriate computers through regular channels, but Sulamar had promised to get them, chin high with self-importance. Lemelisk would believe in the alleged computer cores when he actually saw them.
In Durga’s absence, Sulamar loved to remain on the command deck, standing significantly in the space where the Hutt’s levitating platform usually hung. The general wore a smug expression on his old baby face.
Lemelisk, though, preferred the private observation blister that Durga used as a relaxation lounge. Here, staring out at the orbiting battering rams of crushed rock, Lemelisk could be alone and at peace with his thoughts, letting his mind buzz as new things occurred to him, ideas he would explore at some later date. The potential for destruction made him curiously aware of the power contained within this space shrapnel. It calmed him.
Once the Automated Mineral Exploiters Gamma and Delta had gone operational—with programming altered so as to ignore each other as potential targets and resources—the construction had progressed amazingly well. Day by day, Lemelisk could see the behemoth blossoming, taking shape from a jumble of loose, drifting girders into a long and shimmering lightsaber handle whose blade would be a superlaser that could crack planets.
The Taurill workers were the key—Durga’s masterstroke, and Lemelisk gave the Hutt all the credit he deserved. The multiarmed simian creatures