Star Wars the Truce at Bakura - Kathy Tyers [118]
He could save them easily, if he—
There will always be people who are strong for evil. His words to Gaeri came back to him. The stronger you become, the more you’re tempted.
Alien presences snagged his attention from above, on another deck.
“I found weaponry!” Dev cried.
Luke cleared himself of fear and desire and relaxed again into the Force, willfully ignoring the siren call to quick strength and power. He had renounced the darkness. That, not Thanas, was the enemy; and it lived inside him. He reached Dev’s side. “Can you get me a battle display?”
“I can try.” Dev stepped to another station and started jabbing keys. “You’ve got an ion cannon on line, I think. Try aiming it with that wheel key. Hurry.”
Luke glanced up at the overhead panel. The Dominant would be in range within minutes. “Let’s try a ranging shot.” He swiveled the keyboard into line with Dev’s battle array. “First target.” He rolled the wheel key and fired. Nothing happened on Dev’s screen. He relaxed deeper into the Force and shot again.
“There!” Dev pointed at a visible trail through battle debris.
“I see it.” Now a little to the left, widen the beam again, and …
One of the Shriwirr’s Ssi-ruuvi picket ships imploded. The remaining pair broke formation and shrank into distant points of light.
Now, it all came down to self-defense. A duel between crippled cruisers …
Something clicked overhead. Luke lunged aside and ignited his saber. Down to the deck dropped a brown Ssi-ruu and three P’w’ecks, each armed with a paddle beamer. Without pausing to think, he swung two-handed.
Dev skittered backward. “Master!” he shrieked.
Firwirrung swept away from the Jedi and brandished his crippled stump. “Traitor!” he sang. “Betrayer of all you held dear!”
Dev held the P’w’eck’s blaster on target, but he couldn’t shoot Firwirrung. They had shared a table. He’d slept at the edge of Firwirrung’s nest, a pet at its master’s feet. His eyes watered. What to do?
“Traitor!” Firwirrung bellowed. “Ungrateful beast!” Wrong-handed, the Ssi-ruu swept a silver beam mercilessly and accurately through Dev’s shoulders.
Dev crumpled. He fell on his back, bitterly regretting his relapse. Too late, too late. He craned his neck, almost all he could move. The Ssi-ruu spun toward Luke. “Look out!” Dev cried.
Again Luke’s thoughts threatened to betray him. Your hatred has made you powerful, spoken in the Emperor’s cracking voice, spun a web through his memory. He needed power—now. Sweeping his saber blindly, he dispatched the third and last P’w’eck. As Dev fell, the Ssi-ruu aimed his paddle at Luke.
By sheer force of will, Luke snuffed out anger and fear. Aggression, too: Quick power brought temporary triumph, but it seduced and betrayed the wielder. I will not turn! Not if I die for it. He leaped into a short suspended somersault and grabbed both edges of the overhead trapdoor, knowing the big Ssi-ruu would have him in another moment. He could do no more on his own. This was the end.
A simultaneous flash from all status screens almost blinded him as he dropped. Expending the dregs of his power, he hung in midair for a full second. Sheets of energy swept the bridge deck. Commander Thanas must have struck. Luke curled up and let himself fall. Bulkheads, decks, and instruments sparkled before they went dim. Then all lights failed, even status screens. He hit the deck and bounced gently upward again.
Gravitics blown too?
He sensed Dev’s presence, but not the alien’s. Cautiously, coughing in darkness that only the viewport illuminated, he settled back onto deck tiles. The Shriwirr’s forward momentum gave it some natural, directional pull. “Dev?”
“Here,” croaked the boy, from the direction where artificial gravity had been.
Luke felt himself slide toward one bulkhead. He grasped something huge, hot, and scaly that reeked as if steaming. “Where?” he asked. “Dev?”
“Here. My deck shoes and clothes … insulated me a little.”
Luke groped