Star Wars - Edge of Victory 1 -

VIP免费

2024-12-02 1 0 608.03KB 170 页 5.9玖币

侵权投诉

PROLOGUEPROLOGUE

Dorsk 82 ducked behind the stone steps of the quay, just in time to

dodge a

blaster bolt from across the water.

"Hurry on board my ship," he told his charges. "They've found us

again."

That was an understatement. Approaching along the tide embankment was

a mob of

around fifty Aqualish, jostling each other and shouting hoarsely.

Most carried

makeshift weapons—clubs, knives, rocks—but a few had force pikes and

at least

one had a blaster, as the smoking score on the quay testified.

"Join us, Master Dorsk," The 3D-4 protocol droid close behind him

pleaded.

Dorsk nodded his bald yellow — and — green mottled head. "Soon. I

have to slow

their progress across the causeway, to give everyone time to board."

"You can't hold them off yourself, sir."

"I think I can. Besides, I need to try to talk to them. This is

senseless."

"They've gone mad," the droid said. "They're destroying droids all

over the

city!"

"They aren't mad," Dorsk averred. "They're just frightened. The

Yuuzhan Vong

are on Ando, and may well conquer the planet."

"But why destroy droids, Master Dorsk?"

"Because the Yuuzhan Vong hate machines," the Khommite clone

answered. "They

consider them to be abominations."

"How can that be? Why would they believe that?"

"I don't know," Dorsk replied. "But it is a fact. Go, please. Help

the others

board. My pilot is already at the controls with the flight

instructions, so even

if something happens to me, you'll be okay."

Still the droid hesitated. "Why are you helping us, sir?"

"Because I am a Jedi and I can. You don't deserve destruction."

"Neither do you, sir."

"Thank you. I do not intend to be destroyed."

He raised his head up again as the droid finally followed its

clattering,

whirring comrades to the waiting ship.

The crowd had reached the ancient stone causeway connecting the

atoll-city of

Imthitill to the abandoned fishing platform Dorsk now crouched on. It

seemed

they were all on foot, which meant all he had to do was prevent them

from

crossing the causeway.

With a single bound, Dorsk propelled his thin body up onto the

causeway,

forsaking the cover of the step down to the fishing platform.

Lightsaber held at

his side, he watched the mob approach.

/ am a Jedi, he thought to himself. A Jedi knows no fear.

Almost surprisingly, he didn't. His training with Master Skywalker

had been

fretted with attacks of panic. Dorsk was the eighty-second clone of

the first

Khommite to bear his name. He'd grown up on a world well satisfied

with its own

peculiar kind of perfection, and that hadn't prepared him for danger,

or fear,

or even the unexpected. There were times when he believed he could

never be as

brave as the other Jedi students or live up to the standard set by

his

celebrated predecessor, Dorsk 81.

But watching the large, dark eyes of the crowd that was drawing

close, he felt

nothing but a gentle sadness that they had been driven to this. They

must fear

the Yuuzhan Vong terribly.

The destruction of droids had begun small, but in a

few days had become a planetwide epidemic. The government of Ando—

such as it

was—neither condoned nor condemned the brutality, so long as no non-

droids were

killed or injured in the mess. Without help from the police, Dorsk 82

was the

only chance the droids had, and he didn't plan to fail them. He had

already

failed too many.

He ignited his lightsaber and for an instant saw everything around

him at once.

The setting sun had spilled a glorious slick of orange fire into the

ocean and

lit the high-piled clouds on the horizon into castles of flame.

Higher, the sky

faded to gold-laced jade and aquamarine and then the pale of night.

The lights

in the cylindrical white towers of Imthitill were winking on, one by

one, and

so, too, were the lights of the fishing platforms floating in the

deeps,

spangling the ocean with lonely constellations.

His own planet hadn't any such untamed spectacles. Khomm's weather

was as

predictable and homogenous as its people. Likely he, Dorsk 82, was

the only

person of his entire species who could appreciate this sky, or the

iron-dressed

waves of the sea.

Salt air buffeted around him. He lifted his chin. Somehow, after all

of these

years, he felt he was doing the thing he had dreamed about at last.

One of the Aqualish stepped before the rest. He was smaller than

many, his tusks

incised in the local style. He wore the dappled slicksuit of a tug

worker.

"Move, Jedi," he commanded. "These droids are none of your business."

"These droids are under my protection," Dorsk replied calmly.

"They are not yours to protect, Jedi," the Aqualish shouted back. "If

their

owners do not object, you have no say in the matter."

"I must disagree," Dorsk replied. "I also plead with you to see

reason.

Destroying the droids will not appease the Yuuzhan Vong. They are

beyond

appeasing."

"That's our business," the self-appointed spokesman of the group

shouted. "This

isn't your planet, Jedi. It's ours. Didn't you hear? The Yuuzhan Vong

just took

Duro."

"I had not heard," Dorsk replied. "Nor does it matter. Go back to

your homes in

peace. I don't want to hurt any of you. I'm taking these droids with

me. You

will not see them on Ando again. I swear it."

This time he saw the blaster lift—held by an Aqualish deep in the

crowd. Dorsk

grasped it with the Force and whisked it through the air until it

came to rest

in his left hand.

"Please, "he said.

For a long moment, neither side moved. Dorsk felt them wavering, but

the

Aqualish were a stubborn and violent lot. It was easier to stop a

nova once it

had started than to calm a whole mob of Aqualish.

He heard a sudden hum and saw a security speeder approaching. He

stepped back

and allowed it to settle between him and the crowd. He did not relax

his guard,

even when eight Aqualish troopers in bright yellow body armor piled

out and

started motioning the crowd back.

The officer stepped forward. "What's going on here?" he asked.

Dorsk motioned slightly with his head. "These people are intent on

destroying a

group of droids. I am protecting them."

"I see," the officer said. "That's your ship?"

"Yes."

"Are there any other Jedi on board?"

"No."

"Very well." The officer spoke into a small comlink, too low for

Dorsk to hear,

but the clone suddenly sensed what was about to happen.

"No!" he shouted. He spun on his heel and ran toward the ship, but

even as he

did so, several flares of light too bright to look upon struck it. A

column of

white flame

leapt toward the sky, carrying with it the fragments and ions that

had once been

his ship, his pilot Hhen, and thirty-eight droids.

Dorsk was still watching, mouth working soundlessly at the pointless

destruction, when the stun baton hit him.

He fell, turning that same uncomprehending stare on his attackers.

The officer

he'd been speaking to stood there, holding the baton.

"Stay down, Jedi, and you'll live."

"What? Why?..."

"I suppose you haven't heard. The Yuuzhan Vong have proposed a peace.

They will

stop their conquest with Duro, and leave Ando, so long as we turn you

Jedi over

to them. They will take you dead, but they would rather have you

alive."

Dorsk 82 summoned the Force, washed away the pain and paralysis of

the blast,

and stood.

"Drop your lightsaber, Jedi," the officer said.

Dorsk straightened himself and looked into the muzzles of the

blasters. He

dropped the one he had taken from the crowd. He hooked his lightsaber

onto his

belt.

"I will not fight you," he said.

"Fine. Then you won't mind surrendering your weapon."

"The Yuuzhan Vong will not keep their word. Their only desire is that

you rid

them of their worst enemies for them. With the Jedi out of the way,

they will

come for you. If you betray me, you betray yourselves."

"We'll take that chance," the officer said.

"I'm walking away from here," Dorsk said with a slight wave of his

hand. "You

will not stop me."

"No," the officer said. "I won't stop you."

"Nor will any of the rest of you."

Dorsk 82 started forward. One of the troopers, more strong willed

than the

others, lifted his blaster in a shaking hand.

"Don't," Dorsk pleaded. He held out his hand.

The blaster bolt grazed Dorsk in the palm, and he stepped back, but

the action

shook the other troopers from the suggestion he had placed in their

minds. The

next shot seared a hole through his thigh. He dropped to his knees.

"Stop," the officer said. "No more mind tricks."

Dorsk torturously pushed himself back to his feet. He took another

step forward.

I am a Jedi. A Jedi knows no fear.

The dusk lit with blasterfire.

Help.

The automated signal was weak but faint.

"Got 'em," Uldir said. "I told you, didn't I?"

Dacholder, his copilot, clapped him on the back. "No doubt about it,

lad. You're

the best rescue flier in the unit."

"I have good hunches, that's all," Uldir replied. "See if you can

contact them."

"Sure thing." Dacholder activated the comm unit. "Pride ofThela to

injured

vessel. Injured vessel, can you hear me?"

The answer was static—but modulated static.

"They're trying to answer," Uldir said. "Their comm unit must be

damaged. Maybe

when we get closer. Hey, there they are now."

Long-range sensors showed a craft dead in space, medium transport-

sized. It

ought to be the Winning Hand, a pleasure craft that had made a jump

from the

Corellian sector and vanished somewhere en route. The Hand's jump had

taken her

dangerously near Obroa-skai, which was now in Yuuzhan Vong space.

Though they

hadn't moved overtly on any planets since the fall of Duro, the

Yuuzhan Vong had

been setting up occasional dovin basal interdictors near their space,

yanking

from hyperspace ships bold or careless enough to approach their some-

what fuzzy

borders. Most were never found again, but

the Winning Hand had managed to get off a garbled transmission

placing them

along the Perlemian Trade Route not far from the Meridian sector.

That was still

a lot of space, but search and rescue had been Uldir's business for

the past

six years. At the ripe old age of twenty-two, he was one of the best

fliers in

the corps.

"Dead-on," Dacholder said. "Congratulations. Again."

"Thanks, Doc."

Dacholder was a little older than Uldir, his hair prematurely shot

with gray

and receding from his forehead so fast Uldir could almost see it

redshifting. He

wasn't a great pilot, but he was competent enough, and Uldir liked

him.

"Say, Uldir," Dacholder began, in an inquisitive tone, "I never asked

you—when

the Vong came along, why didn't you request transfer to a military

unit? The way

you fly, you could be an ace."

"Too hot for me," Uldir replied.

"Carbon flush. Rescue is twice the danger with a tenth of the

firepower. During

the fall of Duro I heard you picked up three stranded pilots under

fire from

four coral-skippers with no backup at all."

"I was pretty lucky," Uldir demurred.

"You sure it's not something else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I heard you attended that Jedi academy of Skywalker's."

Uldir could only laugh at that. "Attended isn't the right word. I was

there,

caused a systemful of trouble in a real short time, and had no talent

for the

Jedi thing at all. Still, maybe you're right. I guess I figured if I

couldn't be

a Jedi, I could at least emulate 'em. Search and rescue seemed like

the best

way. And we're needed in wartime just as much as the flyboys."

"And you don't have to kill."

Uldir shrugged. "That sounds about right. When did you start thinking

about me

so much, Doc?" He flipped

the magnification up on the visual. "Look there," he said, as the

derelict ship

came on-screen. "She doesn't look half bad. Maybe they didn't have

any

casualties."

"We can only hope," Dacholder said.

"See anything else out there?"

"Not a thing," Dacholder replied.

"That's good. We're outside of Yuuzhan Vong space, but not that far

outside.

Even with all the tinkering I've done on this baby, I don't want to

run up

against one of their interdictors."

"I noticed you coaxed another twenty percent from the inertial

dampeners. Good

work."

"Shows what you can do when you've got no life but the service, I

guess," Uldir

replied. He adjusted their trajectory a bit. "Looks like they're

limping, but

life support seems to be okay."

"Yeah."

Uldir gave his copilot a sidewise glance. Doc seemed a little

nervous, which was

odd. Not that he had the steadiest nerves in the unit, but he was no

coward.

Maybe it was because they were out so far without backup. The war had

forced

everyone to spread resources thin.

"Uldir," Dacholder asked suddenly.

"Uh-huh?"

"Do you think we can beat them? The Vong?"

"That's a crazy question," Uldir replied. "Of course we can. They

just got a

jump on us, that's all. You'll see. Once the military gets its act

together and

brings the Jedi into the equation, the Yuuzhan Vong will be on the

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

PROLOGUEPROLOGUEDorsk82duckedbehindthestonestepsofthequay,justintimetododgeablasterboltfromacrossthewater."Hurryonboardmyship,"hetoldhischarges."They'vefoundusagain."Thatwasanunderstatement.ApproachingalongthetideembankmentwasamobofaroundfiftyAqualish,jostlingeachotherandshoutinghoarsely.Mostcarried...

展开>> 收起<<

Star Wars - Edge of Victory 1 -.pdf

共170页,预览5页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Star Wars - Edge of Victory 1 -

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: