With gunships circling Kachirho like insects spilled from an aggravated nest, Skeck powered the drop ship over the edge of the balcony and dived for the beleaguered landing platform. Airbursts from Imperial artillery crawlers raked and scorched the ship, inside which Starstone sat slumped on her knees with her arm around Klossi Anno, who was going in and out of consciousness, the wound on her back like a blackened trench. Across the cramped passenger bay Lambe and Nam, white-faced with fear, were nursing their amputated limbs and calling on the Force to keep from going into shock.
Wookiees huddled, braying in anger or whimpering in pain. Two of those Starstone and Archyr had helped carry aboard were dead.
Who was Vader? she asked herself. What was he?
She looked again at Klossi’s wound, then at the one in her upper arm she hadn’t even felt herself sustain. Vader’s way of marking them with a Sith brand.
Could even Shryne defeat him?
“Hold tight!” Archyr yelled from the drop ship’s copilot’s seat. “This’ll be one to remember!”
Skeck was taking the ship in fast. While the impaired repulsors were managing to keep it airborne, the ship was tipped acutely to one side. As a result, the wing on that side made first contact with the platform, gouging a ragged furrow in the wooden surface and whipping the ship into a spin that sent it crashing into a parked ferry in even sorrier condition.
Starstone’s head slammed against the bulkhead with such force that she saw stars. Setting Klossi down gently, she checked on Lambe and Nam. Then she stumbled through the drop ship hatch, with Archyr trailing while Skeck remained at the controls.
Daylight was fading and the air was filled with the smoke and grit of battle.
The sky wailed with ships and pulsed with strobing explosions. Wookiees and other beings were running every which way across the landing platform. Elsewhere, bands of Wookiees, including some of those the Jedi had met, were carrying the wounded to shelter. Many of the traders’ ships had lifted off, but just as many had been savaged by gunship fire or were buried under debris that had fallen from Kachirho’s uppermost limbs and branches.
Principal fighting had moved east of the platform, closer to the lake. There, several crashed gunships were in flames, and the ground was piled high with the bodies of dead Wookiees and clone troopers. Imperial forces were storming the tree-city from all sides, even from the far shore of the lake, arriving on swampspeeders and other watercraft. Searing hyphens of blasterfire were streaming from fortified positions high up the trunk, but what with the circling gunships and mobile artillery, the Wookiees were slowly being driven toward the ground.
Her head swimming, Starstone steadied herself against the drop ship’s tipped fin.
Out of billowing smoke came Filli, running in a crouch and leading Deran Nalual by her left hand. Converging on Starstone from another direction appeared Cudgel and a dozen or so Wookiees, Chewbacca among them, some of them limping, some with blood-matted fur.
“Where are the others?” Filli asked her, loud enough to be heard above the maelstrom of smoke and fire.
She motioned to the drop ship. “Skeck, Lambe, Nam, and Klossi are inside.”
“Forte?” Filli said. “Kulka …?”
“Dead.”
Deran Nalual hung her head and clutched on to Filli’s arm.
“Shryne?”
Wide-eyed she gazed up at the balcony, as if just recalling him. “Up there.”
Filli’s eyes remained on her. “The Drunk Dancer’s upside. You ready to leave?”
She stared at him. “Leave?”
He nodded. “Try to, anyway.”
She looked around in naked dread. “We can’t leave them to this! We brought this on!”
Filli firmed his lips. “What happened to your idea of perpetuating the Jedi order?” He reached for her hands, but she backed away. “If you want to die a hero here, then I’ll stay and die with you,” he said flatly. “But only if I’m convinced that you know our deaths aren’t going to affect the outcome.”
“Filli’s right,” Archyr said from behind her, shouting to be heard. “Punish yourself later, Olee. If we’re gonna survive this, the sooner we’re airborne, the better.”
Starstone swept her eyes over the ruined landing platform. “We take as many as we can with us.”
Overhearing her, Cudgel began gesticulating to the Wookiees with whom he had arrived. “Chewbacca, pack the drop ship and the transport! Get everyone you can inside.”
Others heard her, as well, and it wasn’t long before dozens of Wookiees began to press forward. Shortly the area was crowded with more Wookiees and traders than the two ships could possibly accommodate. But in the midst of the mad crush for space aboard the craft, Imperial gunships abruptly began to break off their attack on Kachirho.
The reason for the sudden withdrawal was soon made clear, as colossal turbolaser beams lanced from the sky, scorching areas of the surrounding forests into which thousands of Wookiees had fled. With great booming sounds, giant limbs broke from the wroshyrs, and hot wind and flames swept over the landing platform, setting fire to nearly everything flammable.
With explosive sounds rumbling, Wookiees ran screaming from the forest, fur singed, blackened, or ablaze.
It took Starstone a moment to realize that she was flat on her back on the landing platform. Picking herself up, hair blowing in a hot, foul-smelling wind, she struggled to her feet in time to hear Cudgel say: “Orbital barrage—”
The rest of his words were subsumed in a thunderous noise that commenced in the upper reaches of Kachirho as dozens of huge limbs fractured and fell, plummeting into the lake and flattening acres of shoreline vegetation.
Suddenly Archyr was tapping her on the shoulder.
“Olee, we’re as full as we can be and still be able to lift off.”
She nodded by rote.
Filli turned and started back toward the transport, only to stop, swing around, and show her an alarmed look. “Wait! Who’s going to fly that thing?”
She gaped at him. “I thought—”
“I’m no pilot! What about Lambe or Nam?”
She shook her head back and forth. “They’re in no shape.” Scanning everyone, her gaze fell on Cudgel. “Can you pilot the transport?”
He gestured to himself in incredulity. “Sure. Providing you don’t care about being shot out of the air as soon as we launch.”
Her dread mounted, the rush of blood pounding in her ears. I can’t leave everyone here! All at once Cudgel was calling to her and motioning Chewbacca forward.
“Chewbacca can pilot the transport!”
She shot the Wookiee a dubious glance, then looked to Cudgel for assurance. “Can he even fit?”
Chewbacca barked and brayed to Cudgel.
“He’ll do the piloting in return for your allowing him to take the transport back down the well to Rwookrrorro,” Cudgel explained. “His home village. He has family there.”
Starstone was already nodding. “Of course he can.”
“Everyone on board,” Archyr yelled. “Seal ’em up!” Swinging to Starstone, he said: “Which one are you going up in?”
She shook her head. “I’m not. I’m waiting here for Shryne.”
“Oh, no, you’re not,” he said.
“Archyr, you saw Vader!”
“But—”
“We’ll try to grab him on the way up.” Archyr gestured to the transport. “Now get aboard, and tell Chewbacca to stick close. Skeck and I will provide cover fire.”