Light of the Jedi(26)
They had closed a great deal of distance, burning almost all of their fuel in the process, but were now within striking range of the object. Their sensors had finally identified it as a modular passenger compartment, the sort of thing snapped into cargo ship frameworks to temporarily allow them to transport travelers. Largely self-sufficient, with dedicated life-support systems and onboard batteries, even individual hyperspace field emitters linked to the mothership’s navigation and propulsion. At the moment, it was functioning almost like a large escape pod, though without engines, unable to direct or slow itself. While that explained how it could have people aboard, it did not clarify how it had suddenly appeared in the Hetzal system from hyperspace with no warning.
Te’Ami had her suspicions. She visualized a ship traveling through hyperspace, a cargo vessel, with compartments dedicated to all sorts of cargo—raw materials, fuel…and passengers, probably settlers bound for new lives on the barely inhabited Outer Rim worlds. Something happens to that ship in the hyperlane, and it cracks apart. All of those bits and pieces reappear from hyperspace at once, and that event has the bad luck to occur at the transit point just outside Hetzal.
Most of the wreckage would be inert, just chunks of metal. But some, if properly shielded, could be those passenger compartments, the people inside still alive, but with no way to stop their tumbling flight through space, filled with the fear and panic Burryaga had sensed, waiting to die. Waiting for help that would not come.
But help had arrived, despite everything. The Jedi and the Republic were here, and they would save the lives of every last one of those people, and everyone on the Fruited Moon, too.
“Now,” Te’Ami said, the command transmitted simultaneously to Nib, Mikkel, and Burryaga, as well as Joss and his copilot Pikka. It was time for everyone to do their part.
The Jedi had discussed their approach, but only briefly. Their task was, on the face of it, simple. They reached out with the Force, touched the passenger compartment on all sides, embraced it in all the power and energy they could command, and understood its nature as best they could. Every surface, every beam, strut, and cable, and most important—the lives inside it, the beings they were trying to save.
They looped the Force around the speeding fragment. Te’Ami had once seen a rodeo, on a world called Chandar’s Folly. The point was to subdue enraged animals using only long lengths of rope or cable. The brave fools who participated looped the lassos around each creature’s neck, leaping on its back and riding it until either they were thrown free or the beast eventually calmed.
Mostly, the would-be riders were tossed four or five meters into the air before crashing to the dirt. Sometimes the landing was hard, sometimes soft.
This was like that—they were lassoing the passenger compartment with the Force—but the chances of a soft landing seemed unlikely. The Jedi closed their loops around the racing chunk of wreckage and pulled back. Te’Ami’s breath left her with a whoosh, her lungs emptying. Nothing had changed about her physical location—she was still seated in the cockpit of her Vector, speeding at the same velocity she had a moment before—but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like she had been yanked out into open space and was being dragged along, utterly out of control.
It seemed impossible that anything the four Jedi could do would influence the speed of this thing in any way, but they had to try. Joss Adren had been clear—even a one percent change could be significant.
“Slow…it down…” she managed, speaking through gritted teeth. She could feel oil gathering in the sacs along her ribs, her body’s involuntary response to great strain. The acrid stink of the stuff filled her cockpit, an evolutionary throwback and defense mechanism from the days when the Duros were liable to be eaten by any number of things prowling their world.
“Trying…” Mikkel spat back, strain in his natural voice slipping past the translator’s efforts to subdue it. Te’Ami wondered how Ithorians responded to stress. Probably not by producing large amounts of horrible-tasting oil.
“Captain Adren,” Te’Ami said, “we’ve done what we can. If you’re going to do something, now is the moment.”
“Acknowledged, Master Jedi,” Joss replied. He sounded tense, too. “Remember, if you can try to hold the module together once we lock on, it’d be appreciated. This might get a little bumpy.”
“We’ll do our best.”
“All right. Firing magclamps in three…two…”
Four metal disks shot out into space ahead of their formation, angling toward the passenger compartment. The thing was venting vapor from either a coolant or a life-support system, creating a thick fog into which the disks vanished. Thick, silvery lines unspooled—the cabling attached to the Longbeam’s winches, with which they would attempt to slow the wreckage down. Three of the lines went taut, the other looping and coiling in space.
“We hit it with three out of four. As good as we can hope. We’re gonna apply reverse thrusters. Get ready.”
Through the Force, Te’Ami could feel new strains and stressors on the system, all its complex linkages and connections. Longbeam to wreckage, Force to Jedi, wreckage to Force, and now a new note of confusion from the poor survivors inside the compartment, who must have heard the thumps as the clamps engaged, probably sounding like kicks from a giant, with no idea what was about to happen to them.