• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“It’s not my fault!” Lando squawked, scrambling to reroute the command. “I didn’t know he could bypass it so fast!”

“Kyp can do things with the Force that you and I can’t understand,” Han said.

The energy torpedo launcher fired up with a flare of intense plasma, brighter than before, ready to launch at the Falcon.

And this time Kyp did not hesitate.

15

Streen dozed cross-legged on the cold flagstone floor before Master Skywalker. He folded his arms over his knees, comfortable in the many-pocketed jumpsuit he had brought with him from his lonely days as a gas prospector on Bespin. He could no longer smell the bitter sulfurous taint of rich plumes of deep-layer gases.

Now Streen had a greater mission—to guard Master Skywalker.

Low-slanted light from outside elongated the shadows in the grand audience chamber. Twelve candles, one placed by each of the Jedi trainees, flickered around Luke’s body, shedding a faint but protective glow into the motionless air. The small bright points glittered as the darkness gathered all around.

Streen muttered to himself. No, he would not listen to the Dark Man’s words. No, he would not serve Exar Kun’s purposes. No, he would not do anything to harm Master Skywalker. No!

In his lap, cool and hard against his callused hands, he held the handle of Luke’s lightsaber.

This time he could fight it. This time the Dark Man would not win. Some of the other Jedi trainees had expressed grave misgivings about letting Streen near Master Skywalker, especially armed with a lightsaber. But Streen had begged for his chance at restitution, and Kirana Ti had spoken on his behalf.

The others would watch over him. Master Skywalker would be in danger, but they had to take the risk.

Streen let the fuzzy caress of sleep work its way into his mind. His grizzled head nodded to his chest. Whispering voices sounded like breezes in his mind, forming gentle words, soothing phrases … cold promises.

The words demanded that he wake up, but Streen resisted them, not knowing if they were evil suggestions or the insistences of his companions. When Streen felt he had waited long enough, he allowed himself to snap awake.

The voices fell silent as he blinked his eyes. Another voice, external this time, replaced the silence. “Wake up, my student. The winds are blowing.”

Streen focused on the black form of Exar Kun in the center of the throne room. In the flickering candlelight and dim rays from the dying day, Streen could see chiseled features on the onyx silhouette, more detailed than he had ever seen before on the shadow of the Dark Man.

Exar Kun turned a well-defined face toward him, completely ebony as if molded from lava stone: high cheekbones, haughty eyes, a thin, angry mouth. Long black hair like carbon wires swept across his shoulder, gathered in a thick ponytail. Padded armor covered his body, and the pulsing tattoo of a black sun burned from his forehead.

Streen climbed slowly to his feet. He felt calm and strong, angry at how the Dark Man had set a sharp hook in his own weakness and had dragged him along. “I won’t do your bidding, Dark Man,” he said.

Exar Kun laughed. “And how do you propose to resist? You are already mine.”

“If you believe that,” Streen said, and took a deep breath, strengthening his voice, “then you have made your first mistake.” He brought up the handle of Luke’s lightsaber, igniting it with a loud snap-hiss.

Exar Kun’s shadow flinched backward, much to Streen’s surprise and satisfaction.

“Good,” Kun said with false bravado, “now take the weapon and cleave Skywalker in two. Let us be done with this.”

Streen took one step toward Exar Kun, holding the green lightsaber before him. “This blade is meant for you, Dark Man.”

“If you think that weapon will have any effect on me,” Kun said, “perhaps you should ask your friend Gantoris—or have you forgotten what happened to him when he defied me?”

A vision flashed through Streen’s mind: Gantoris’s crisped corpse incinerated from the inside out, his body turned to ash from the incredible fires of the dark side. Kun