Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [85]
“I bagged ten of those wampas myself when they attacked,” the Baron-Administrator said, “though we couldn’t go back and collect the pelts.” He ground his teeth together, and a flush rose to his bronzed cheeks. “The other monsters kept coming, and we had to retreat.”
“What happened?” Callista said. “How did you let yourself get so vulnerable?”
Burrk stared at his fingers, nervously twining and intertwining them. “This was our third run. The other two went smoothly. We would track the creatures, bag one or two, and then leave. By this time, the monsters had learned how to work together. We thought they were dumb brutes—all teeth and claws, and no brains—but we were wrong.”
The two Cathar hissed, and their fur ruffled.
“We knew about this old abandoned base. Used it as a stopping point because there isn’t much shelter on this rock,” Burrk said, and he looked up at Luke. “We went out on scouting teams: me and Nodon on one ship, Nonak and the others on another. It was just a day’s hunt. Sun was shining. Looked perfect.” His haunted eyes stared off into the shadows of the room. “We came back, and found our pilot slaughtered—and I mean slaughtered. We had all those weapons. We never thought they’d attack us.”
“We underestimated the problem,” Sinidic said in a thin nasal voice, then ducked his head, as if realizing he shouldn’t have spoken.
“When we went to investigate,” Burrk continued, “the wampas must have been waiting for us. They … erupted out of the snow and fell upon us like a meteor strike. We couldn’t see ’em. They killed one of our guides and the other three clients. Luckily we got to shelter in the base … we closed the shield doors behind us.” He swallowed, reliving the nightmare.
Drom Guldi picked up the story, businesslike and matter-of-fact. “That’s when they blew up our ship,” he said. “Must have been an accident. I can’t believe they knew what to do. They triggered it themselves.”
“We’ve been here four days,” Burrk said. “No supplies, and those things are out there waiting for us. We couldn’t even send a distress signal.”
Nodon, one of the Cathar, said, “Do you have weapons in your ship?”
Luke and Callista looked at each other. “Weapons? No,” Luke admitted.
Callista said, “We didn’t think we were coming into combat.”
“We got the two blaster cannons working,” Burrk said. “Rigged motion detectors to fire on anything approaching. But you sure took care of those.” A low bubbling growl came from the Cathar throats. “Now we got no defenses other than those doors—and we can’t stay here forever.”
“You can’t all fit in our ship, either,” Callista said, anticipating their next question. “It’s only a small yacht. But we can transmit a distress signal, get a rescue crew here within a day or so.”
“It’s getting dark,” Sinidic pointed out. “Shouldn’t we do something as soon as we can?” He looked up to Drom Guldi. “Why don’t you order them to go back to their ship and send a signal.”
“We’ll all go to their ship,” Drom Guldi said. “Otherwise, Burrk just might take them hostage and fly off and leave us here. And I don’t suppose I’d blame him.” The Cathar snarled, but from the way they looked at the former stormtrooper, Luke suspected they considered the possibility likely.
“We’ve got only a dozen charges left in our blaster rifles,” Burrk said, not the least bit offended by the accusation. “We won’t last long if we’re under attack.”
Drom Guldi squared his jaw. “We’ll have to make the most of what we have. Make a stand.”
Luke met Callista’s gaze. Helping people was one of the primary responsibilities of a Jedi Knight, and they could not turn down even poachers and unscrupulous hunters such as these. But Luke felt his skin crawl with the memory of his own encounter with a wampa.
Coiled and tense, the two Cathar stood from the empty storage containers they had used as seats and readied their blasters. Drom Guldi slung his rifle over his shoulder. Sinidic carried no weapon, but clung close to the Baron-Administrator. Burrk wore two blaster pistols at his hips; they looked battered and