HOTH

CHAPTER 33

The ice creatures lunged in a mass of white fur, spread claws, and flying blood.

“Watch your back, Callista!” Luke yelled, slashing as a white-furred monster bore down on her. His lightsaber opened a sizzling, blackened gash through its rib cage, and the wampa fell to the snow, gurgling hot bile.

Callista lunged, decapitating another creature as it leaped toward Luke, its fanged mouth open and ready to tear flesh. “I’ll watch my back if you watch yours,” she said, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Burrk, the former stormtrooper, fired until he emptied his second blaster pistol. His face held a haggard hopelessness, yet a foolish determination. Luke knew he would keep fighting until the wampas took him down.

“You—Jedi!” Burrk shouted, “we’ve got to get back to the base. Can you clear us a path with your lightsabers?”

Luke and Callista both nodded curtly. The heavy shield door under the icy overhang was their only sanctuary. Luke felt a sudden relief that they had left the shield door partially open so they could dash back inside.

One of the Cathars, Nodon, fired the last trickle of charge from his blaster rifle, just as a huge wampa rose before him, muscular arms dangling to its knees and curved claws extending a dozen centimeters beyond. Nodon yowled and spat a primal feline sound and thrust the blaster rifle toward it like a blunt spear, punching the attacking monster below the sternum. The creature roared in pain and lashed out to knock Nodon to the snow, his shoulder ripped in a sequence of parallel furrows, spraying red.

The Cathar’s brother hissed in fury and leaped to Nodon’s aid. Nonak sprang onto the back of the attacking wampa and slashed with his own claws, tearing into the wampa’s neck with sharp fangs. The monster forgot about the wounded Cathar and bellowed, reaching behind him to pluck away the vicious feline alien. Nodon, wounded, backed away, trying to scramble to his feet as his blood stained the snow.

From the rocky outcrop where he directed the battle, the one-armed brute roared something incomprehensible. Other wampas turned on Nonak, who still fought with the wampa who had injured his brother. The wampas came in, focused on a single target.

They tore Nonak apart.

“Follow me!” Drom Guldi bellowed without the slightest trace of terror or even tension in his voice. Sinidic, his aide, huddled under the protection of his muscular master’s rifle, a high-powered brand-new hunting weapon. Drom Guldi still had charges left, and he fired with slow precision: no random spraying of high-energy bolts, but surgical shots that killed or injured an ice creature every time he pressed the firing stud.

The big Baron-Administrator trudged toward the base doors, not hurrying, making sure the others followed. Nodon got to his feet and wailed at seeing the bloody remnants of his brother. Burrk grabbed him by the fur on his neck and yanked Nodon around. “Come on!” he shouted.

Luke and Callista flanked Drom Guldi as they fought their way back to Echo Base. With their lightsabers they each killed another creature. The base doors seemed immeasurably far away, but Luke and Callista pushed forward.

Drom Guldi blasted three more wampas that blocked the open shield door. As they kept moving, his aide Sinidic seemed paralyzed, stumbling along because his master told him to. Sinidic tripped over the smoldering body of an ice creature. Without pause, Drom Guldi grabbed his aide’s collar and yanked him to his feet as if he were no more than a rag. The Baron-Administrator reached the shield door and shoved Sinidic into the waiting darkness.

Burrk helped Nodon inside Echo Base, pushing the wounded Cathar ahead of him, though the feline obviously wanted to throw himself back upon the monsters in a frenzy and die ripping them to shreds.

Luke and Callista waited in the cold outside the door, driving back the last of the wampas.

“Get in here, Jedi!” Burrk said. “Now!”

Luke and Callista jumped into the waiting darkness. Burrk hit the shield door controls, and the heavy door ground shut. At the last instant, the wampas pushed forward, grabbing at the durasteel door with their claws, but the relentless pistons were too powerful even for these creatures.

In the sparse light of the few functioning glowpanels, Luke, Callista, and the four survivors slumped against the hard-packed snow walls as the sudden loss of adrenaline hit them, leaving only exhaustion. Everyone trembled in silence for several moments, shielded at last in the temporary safety of walls.

Then came a scratching sound, muffled howls, and a repeated pounding from outside. Burrk turned bloodshot eyes toward the sealed door. Sinidic glanced up in terror, and then looked to Drom Guldi for comfort.

“They can knock, but they can’t come in,” Drom Guldi said.

Callista got up and went to the picked-over supplies, finding discarded Rebel uniforms she could tear into bandages to tend Nodon’s wounds; but the Cathar’s healing abilities had already stopped the blood flow. As he sat in silence, staring with slitted eyes toward the blank white wall of packed snow, Nodon’s feline claws repeatedly extended and sheathed themselves as he wrestled with inner anger.

Outside, the monsters kept pounding, foolishly trying to find a way in, though the base was impenetrable. Night was falling on Hoth, and the temperature would soon plummet. All living creatures should be taking shelter until the meager warmth of sunlight returned—but the wampas were relentless. They had their quarry cornered.

Drom Guldi’s tanned, sculpture-beautiful face wore a contemplative look. “Think of all those prize pelts out there,” he said, shaking his head. “What a waste.”

A loud clang reverberated against the thick door. The wampas had picked up a rock chunk … but they could batter uselessly for years without breaking through the durasteel.

Burrk’s gaunt face was filled with exhausted resignation. “Now would have been a perfect time to use those perimeter guns,” he said, looking pointedly at Luke and Callista.

“Let’s move away from the door,” Luke said. “That pounding will only wear us down.”

Weakly, they shuffled into the dim briefing room where Burrk had told his terrifying story. The former stormtrooper took a quick inventory. “My blaster pistols are out of charge. Nodon’s rifle is drained. Drom Guldi, what have you got left?”

The big-game hunter inspected his weapon. “Ten shots,” he said, as if that was all they could possibly need.

“And we’ve got your two lightsabers,” Burrk said to Luke and Callista.

Luke pursed his lips. “Given time, we could work out some way to recharge the blasters. There must be a way to jury-rig a thermal unit or a light source to dump power into the blaster charge packs.”

Burrk shrugged. “If you’ve got the time and the resources and the inspiration …”

Luke rummaged around in the scrap equipment. Burrk squatted and took a more primitive approach; pulling out pipes and rods, he used instant-set epoxy to fasten on knife blades fashioned from metal shards. He made four crude spears. They were hopeless weapons against an onslaught from the ice creatures, but the former stormtrooper had no intention of giving up.

Drom Guldi cleaned and polished his blaster rifle. Sinidic sat listless beside him, fidgeting with his hands. The Baron-Administrator elbowed his aide. “We need a morale booster. Sinidic, see if you can’t find us some rations. Maybe something hot to eat and drink. There isn’t much, but we need to keep our strength up.”

“Me?” Sinidic said, blinking stupidly.

“You’re sitting there paralyzed—you need something to do. Keep yourself busy. First order of business.”

Sinidic got up, swallowed, and nodded. His grayish skin grew more flushed. He looked at Drom Guldi for confirmation of the orders, then trotted off to one of the storerooms to do his master’s bidding.

Luke and Callista sat together, holding each other for comfort. “This isn’t quite the vacation I planned,” Luke said.

Callista leaned her head against his. “Remind me never to listen to your fancy talk again.”

Burrk stood up, grasped one of his new spears, and tossed it across the room. The sharp tip plunged into the packed snow walls, and the spear hung there, quivering. “I think that’ll do,” he said.

A loud shriek erupted from the darkened storeroom, followed by a wet ripping sound and then a gurgling gasp. The five survivors in the room lunged to their feet, Drom Guldi the first among them. They had taken no more than a few steps down the ice-walled corridor before a bloodied wampa lumbered out of the storeroom, his claws dripping, his white fur drenched with fresh gore.

Drom Guldi faltered for just an instant, then he brought up his blaster rifle, firing three times in rapid succession. He hit precisely each time—the wampa’s stomach, the center of its chest, and its hideous head. With no more than a hollow cough, the monster fell to the packed floor with the sound of a crashing cargo hauler.

“Must have slipped in the open door while we were fighting outside!” Burrk said.

Drom Guldi looked toward the supply room where he had sent his aide. He didn’t bother to go inside. Instead, the Baron-Administrator reached toward Burrk and grabbed one of the stormtrooper’s newly fashioned spears. With the metal blade, Drom Guldi hacked down, chopping off one of the wampa’s curved tusks. The big-game hunter held the dripping prize in his hand and inspected it critically. “This one,” he said coldly. “This is the one I’ll take for my trophy. And for Sinidic.” He threw a second glance at the darkened storeroom, and his face grew stony. “These monsters are persistent.”

From outside, the dull echoing thuds continued as the ice creatures attempted to pummel their way inside.

Then, to make things worse, all the lights went out.

“They trashed the generator,” Burrk said, his voice coming from the emptiness of darkness.

Luke pulled out his lightsaber and pressed the power stud. The green beam crackled out with an eerie glow that illuminated the walls of ice and snow. Callista drew her blade, and the two stood side by side.

Luke tensed. He heard something … a scratching, digging sound. He wondered if other wampas lay hidden in the darkened rooms. The pounding outside the shield door redoubled, and everyone turned, though they knew the wampas could not get through.

Just then the walls crumbled on all sides, blocks of hard-packed snow showered down as more of the creatures plowed their way directly through the ice.

Luke realized that the futile pounding and scratching on the outer shield door had been a distraction, something to preoccupy the victims, while the wampas dug through the snow, burrowing their way into Echo Base. With bellows of triumph and anticipation, an army of ghostly white monsters surged into the corridors.

Nodon, finally unrestrained, yowled and threw himself upon the nearest wampa, but the others turned and fell upon him. The Cathar went down fighting, a blurry mass of fur and claws and biting teeth—and sudden, spraying blood.

Burrk backed against a rough rock that protruded from the carved snow. In each hand he held one of his metal spears, thrusting and jabbing, trying to intimidate the ice creatures—but though the blades were sharp and the points long, the spears were pitiful against the blood-thirsty monsters. He stabbed and lunged, making no outcry. He wore a grim, defeated look as he fought—until the mass of attacking snow monsters swallowed him up. Finally, in the last instant, he screamed.

Luke and Callista remained back-to-back, slashing with lightsabers and slaughtering the monsters that came too close, but there were too many. “Get back to the shield door!” Callista said. “We have to run to our ship. Try to fix it. That’s our only chance.”

Luke said, “I don’t have a better idea,” then swung his lightsaber. With a sizzle he sliced a towering creature in two. Luke recognized dimly that the monsters had stopped pounding outside. They must have flocked to the new openings that allowed them access into the base. The front might be clear.

Drom Guldi used his seven remaining shots, killing a wampa each time he pressed the firing button; but that drained the weapon. He tossed the blaster rifle to the ground, tucked the wampa tusk into his utility belt, as if it remained important to him, then gripped the metal spear he had taken from Burrk, sweeping it from side to side. He laughed, his eyes bright, his tanned face flushed. The wampas surrounded him, and he grinned. “Come on!” Drom Guldi said. “Get what’s coming to you!”

The wampas came.

Trying to drown out the last gurgled screams of Drom Guldi, Callista and Luke fought their way down the corridor toward the shield door. They mowed down the ice creatures who threw themselves recklessly at the glowing blades. Though Callista was unable to use the Force in her fighting, the wampas were not difficult targets, huge hulks of white fur and taut muscles. But it would take the slip of only an instant for a raking claw to slice open either Luke or Callista.

As they passed beyond where the wampas had tunneled through, the attacking monsters grew sparse, and Luke and Callista were able to run at full speed. The shield door reflected the light of their weapons, and Callista ran for the controls.

“We’ll seal ourselves in the ship and hope that within just a few minutes we can rig it to blast off,” Luke said. “Those things could rip open the hull in no time.”

The shield door heaved open. Callista turned to defend their backs as Luke made ready to run out into the night. The dark chill struck him like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind out of him with an intense freezing blast, colder than anything Luke could remember.

Directly outside, under the wan light of multiple moons, stood the one-armed wampa ice creature, the tallest of them all, blocking their escape from Echo Base.

The monster roared into the ice-bright night and raised his one enormous hand, spreading the claws. Luke felt a momentary flash of remembered fear that made him falter. He stood gripping the lightsaber. Finding no danger behind them, Callista turned back to see what the problem was.

And, with its eyes fixed on Luke, its nemesis … the one-armed monster lunged for Callista, instead.

She couldn’t react fast enough. Seeing the down-sweeping arc of the sharp claws and the blinding speed with which the wampa charged, Luke yelled, “No!” and cut sideways with his lightsaber.

Putting all the Force behind his swing, Luke cleaved the one-armed snow creature in half.

The dead monster continued to growl and gurgle as it lay smoking on the threshold of the shield door. “I thought I had done that a long time ago,” Luke whispered.

More wampas surged from the tunnels below. Outside in the night snow creatures stood up from the outcrops, no longer bothering to hide.

“Don’t just stand there,” Callista said, shoving Luke as he stared at the dead one-armed creature. “Run!”

The two sprinted across the hard-packed snow. The cold slashed like razors at their lungs as they gasped for breath, already exhausted from the battle.

The wreckage of the poachers’ ship looked ominous in the watery light, but their own space yacht shone like their only hope. As the wampas pursued, leaping across the snow-swept rocks, Luke and Callista ran with their last surge of strength.

Reaching the ship, Luke hammered at the door controls. Callista stood behind him, her lightsaber glowing. The door slid open, and Luke pulled her inside, then sealed the door again.

He ran to the pilot compartment and stared at the controls, stifling the sickening despair that swept over him. The controls were smashed. The navicomputer gone. The comm system ripped out. The wampas hadn’t ruined the engines, though the cables for thrust control had been torn free.

He and Callista set to work, removing dented or slashed panels and trying to cross-wire anything, just to get them lifted off.

Outside, the wampas began to batter the hull of the space yacht with sharp rocks. If they breached the hull, Luke knew he and Callista could never leave the atmosphere of Hoth. Callista hunched beside him, working on a different panel. She sorted wires, traced connections, moving with a frantic, efficient energy that wasted not a second. “Try this,” she said, and pulled out an alternative power source, which he jacked into the thruster control.

“We can ignite the engines, lift up out of here,” Luke said.

Callista agreed. “We’ll never be able to restart the engines if we land again. We have to move now, and we have to get off this planet.”

Luke triggered the firing button, and the space yacht’s engines roared to life at full power. They had no directional control. The ship lurched up off the ground—and the last thing they heard from the wampas was a long, shrieking scrape of claws against the metal hull as the ship tore away, plunging upward into the night. The icy cracked surface dwindled below them with dizzying speed. They had no maneuverability, just a blind ballistic takeoff that hurled them into the atmosphere.

Callista worked at the other controls. Luke already knew what damage the wampas had done, but her voice faltered as she gave her own assessment.

“No comm system, no navicomputer, only five percent life support.” She sighed. “Who knows where we’ll end up? We might have been better off staying down there.”