(previously on 'Road Movie to Naboo'... )

        In his meditation chamber aboard the Conqueror, Darth Vader
sat motionless.  An observer, had any dared to enter the chamber,
would have thought him asleep, at least until he took action against
them for intruding.  Vader was quite awake; he rarely slept and never
when something as interesting as this was going on.
        His awareness was focused well beyond his ravaged physical
shell and its metallic surroundings, on the two bright sparks of life
down on the planet below.  To one as sensitive as Vader, the
repercussions of Leonard and Achika's duel still resounded in the
Force.  They told him much - not who the combatants were, but where
they had come from, in a sense.  One of them, the Jedi he had felt
aboard the small ship they'd shot down, confirmed Vader's assessment
of him as a fully-trained, traditional Jedi Knight.  The other had a
familiar feeling, but touched with a flavor of the exotic - trained,
perhaps, in a foreign discipline that had once been the Jedi way in
ages past.  And, unless Vader missed his guess, a second Jedi had been
present, not taking part, but watching and sensing the duel.
        Vader savored all these revelations, and though doing so was
painful, he smiled under his mask.  All was proceeding well.  It was
almost time for him to take action.  He felt the surge of anticipation
rush through his body, and welcomed it.  After all those years entombed, 
he had been idle far too long.


                     Eyrie Productions, Unlimited

                              presents:

                UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT
                    -=WARRIORS OF THE OUTER RIM=-

                         Road Movie to Naboo
                            Part 3: Relics

                         Benjamin D. Hutchins
                           Kris Overstreet

         with the invaluable assistance of the Usual Suspects
                    and thanks to all the sources

                (c) 2002 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited


        Two days passed in relative tranquility, as the Sun Queen sped
ever onward.  The comfortable surroundings, good food, and camaraderie
(now that the tension between the Jedi and the Jyuraian seemed to be
resolved) made the ship's company begin to feel almost as if their
outing was a holiday of a sort.  They could never forget that the
world they were on was under siege - not that they wanted to - but
they nevertheless felt strangely at ease.
        For Leonard, this tranquility was broken up only by a
nightmare on the third night at sea, the details of which, when he
awoke in a tangle, he could not remember.  He tried for several
minutes, but it was no use - whatever it had been, the dream hadn't
imprinted itself on his memory.  He rearranged his covers and went
back to sleep.
        He wasn't sure how long that block of sleep lasted, for the
next thing he knew, he was awake again.  He wasn't sure why.  It
hadn't been a dream this time, he was fairly sure, but something
outside - perhaps a sound.  He glanced at the porthole: it was still
dark outside.  Puzzled, he got out of bed and pulled on trousers and
boots.
        As he did so, it happened again, and it -had- been a sound -
someone yelling for help.  A confusion of noise erupted from somewhere
aft - shouts, clattering boots.  Fully awake in an instant, Len piled
out into the corridor, buckling his equipment belt around his waist,
and nearly collided with Emmy, who was emerging from her own cabin
turned out for action.  Achika was right behind them as they reached
the center companionway to see the Queen's Protectors crowded into the
corridor at the door to the royal suite.
        "What's going on?" asked Emmy.
        "Intruder," Captain Panaka replied tersely, pushing his way
past his men.  He slotted his passkey into the electronic lock, the
door hissed open, and the Protectors charged through, weapons at the
ready, shouting challenges.
        A calm, smooth baritone voice cut through through the clamor
of their voices and the whir and hum of their charging weapons, saying
soothingly, "Easy, fellas.  I'm not armed and have no aggressive
intentions.  I just came in the wrong window, that's all."
        Len and Achika glanced at each other, eyebrows raising in twin
gestures of surprise, as Emmy gave them both a quizzical look.  Then
all three of them ran down the stairs (with Captain Olie, blaster in
hand, hot on their heels, having just arrived from above) and into the
sitting room of the royal suite.  As they entered, someone found a
light switch, and the beams of the Protectors' flashlights were
replaced by a bright white glow from the ceiling.
        The sitting room was compact and well-appointed like
everything else aboard the Sun Queen, with bookshelves, a big window
overlooking the yacht's fantail, a lot of dark wood paneling and a
large, comfy-looking sofa.  Padme, one of the royal handmaidens, was
sitting at one end of it with the tail of a blanket drawn up under her
chin.  Her free hand held her little chrome blaster, which was leveled
along with the weapons of everyone else in the place at a man standing
in the middle of the rug between the couch and the window.
        He was a tall and rugged-looking fellow who seemed about
Leonard's age, with a rough-hewn, craggily handsome and rather roguish
face, a short black beard, and thick, jaggedly unruly black hair with
a prominent silver shock in front.  It seemed to some of the observers
that he resembled the Jedi in a strange way, despite the fact that Len
was wiry and calm-faced while the other was broad-shouldered and wore,
despite his predicament, a look of faint good humor.  The two men had,
Padme realized as she looked the stranger over, the same pale blue
eyes.  His face had tattoo-like blue markings on it, a solid triangle
on the point of each cheekbone and a center-dotted circle on his
forehead.
        His dress was nothing to write home about; he looked like a
technician or engineer of some kind, dressed in a medium-blue,
many-pocketed coverall spotted with the occasional grease stain with a
pair of sturdy black boots.  At his waist he wore a sturdy leather
tool belt fitted with various hand tools, several small pouches and a
couple of devices that appeared to be electrotech multitools, as well
as one small silver box whose function was not immediately apparent.
All in all, it wasn't the sort of kit one expected an intruder, in the
dead of night, in the middle of the ocean, to be wearing.  Apart from
the tools, he was adorned with an engraved silver cuff on his left ear
and a ring on his wedding finger, the latter winking in the overhead
light as he held up his open hands.
        Actually, now that Padme looked more closely, there were -two-
intruders: On the man's right shoulder was perched what appeared to be
a white cat with black forepaws and gold patches on head and chest.
        Leonard blinked, his face taking on a look of complete
surprise, then one of complete delight.  He looked different - and
well he should, it had been six years since they'd seen each other
last - but he was unmistakable all the same:
        "CORWIN!" the Jedi cried, rounding the couch and (somewhat to
the surprise of the Queen's Protectors) seizing the interloper in a
bear hug.
        The door to starboard, which Emmy guessed led into the Queen's
bedchamber, opened partway and Rabe, the other handmaiden along for
this voyage, put her head out.
        "Padme," she said, "Her Majesty wishes to know what's going on
out here."
        "(She certainly does,)" Padme muttered under her breath; then
she raised her voice to a more public tone and said, "One moment,
Rabe - I think we'll find out presently."
        Len released the intruder and, smiling, turned to Panaka and
showed him a palm.  "You can relax, Major.  This man's a friend."
        Panaka's patience was at a low ebb after the unnerving events
of the past week.  He scowled at the Jedi and failed to lower his
weapon.  "How did your 'friend' -get- here?  We're a thousand miles at
sea, and this ship is -supposed- to be transporter-shielded," he added
with a sharp glance at Captain Olie, who shrugged.
        "He has, er, many talents," Len replied.  "You probably
wouldn't believe me if I told you the details, but I can speak for his
character - he's my brother."
        "I can vouch for him, too," Achika chimed in.  "He's no
danger, he can help us."
        Rabe, still standing with her head out the door, gave Padme a
questioning look.  The handmaiden on the couch replied with a shrug
and put her blaster down in her lap, still holding the blanket up to
her neck with the other hand.  Rabe turned and spoke to someone behind
her - doubtless the Queen - then turned back and said, "If the Jedi
and Princess Achika will vouch for him, it's the Queen's wish that he be
welcomed."
        Len wondered why the relaying, then decided it was probably
beneath the Queen's dignity to shout orders to her Protectors through
a door.
        "As Her Majesty wishes," Panaka replied.  Resignedly, he
holstered his sidearm and dismissed the Protectors back to their
bunks.
        Emmy, who empathized with the guardsman's frustration at the
day he was having, had to hand it to Panaka.  Having been commanded to
welcome the intruder, he was the soul of graciousness as he drew
himself to attention and declared,
        "You are aboard Her Majesty's yacht, the Sun Queen.  On behalf
of Queen Amidala of the Naboo, welcome aboard."
        "Thank you," said the man Len had called his brother, nodding.
"Sorry about the fuss."  He turned a bright, very slightly confidential 
smile on Padme and added, "It was too dark to see, and anyway I didn't
think anybody would be sleeping in the living room... "
        Padme smiled back and said, "I've been told it's a bad habit,
but I like the view out this window.  No harm done.  But if you all
wouldn't mind going upstairs," she added with a glance around, "so I
can get dressed and help Her Majesty get ready to receive our guest
formally... "
        Captain Panaka cleared his throat and said, "Er - of course.
This way, please."

        Shortly, the lot of them were installed in the Queen's
audience chamber: Captain Panaka, Captain Olie, Len, Emmy, Achika and
the newcomer.  There they waited for perhaps ten minutes, until the
Queen could make her entrance, having taken the time to have her royal
makeup applied.  There had been little time for her handmaidens to
apply one of her characteristic elaborate coiffures, so her hair was
concealed in a traveling veil, and her costume was a remarkably simple
blue and black embroidered gown.  Padme and Rabe were at her elbows,
dressed in their traveling costumes.
        The Queen made her stately way to the tall chair at the head
of the room and sat down with her handmaidens at either side.  She
evinced little surprise, but gave the newcomer a cool, appraising
look.
        "I am Queen Amidala of the Naboo," said the Queen.  "Welcome
aboard my yacht, the Sun Queen."
        The newcomer sank to one knee and touched his forehead to his
upraised knee - quite courtly, really, for a man in a greasy coverall.
        "My name is Corwin Ravenhair, of Avalon, Asgard and Cephiro,
and I am at Your Majesty's service."
        "And I'm Nall!" added the cat in a most surprising mellow
tenor, making everybody blink and draw back a little.
        "Please forgive our unexpected arrival," Corwin went on as he
straightened.  "It was a bit of a rush job, coming here."
        "How did you come to be here?" asked the Queen as Corwin got
back to his feet.
        "That's... ah... a bit of a complicated question to answer,
Your Majesty," said Corwin with a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back
of his head.  "You can take it from me, though, that nobody's going to
be using it to follow me.  Your antitransport shield is fully
operational, I checked it while we were waiting."
        "You're a Lensman!" Padme blurted, having just caught the
telepathic glint of Corwin's wristwatch.
        Corwin nodded, smiling.  "Our father is the First Lensman," he
told her, gesturing to Len.
        "Corwin," Len said, "what are you doing here?"
        "I came to help out my brother, of course," Corwin replied
cheerily.  He looked past Len to Achika, then added, "Since you're
both here and both alive, I'm guessing you've, er, discussed your
issues?"
        "Everything's fine, Corwin," Achika said, her smile faintly
indulgent.
        "You are the Jedi's brother?" the Queen inquired.
        Corwin confirmed this.  Technically, he was Leonard's
half-brother, as their mothers were not the same woman, but they
rarely acknowledged the distinction.
        "I don't want to seem rude, but could somebody mind explaining
to me where I am and what I've just dropped into the middle of?"
Corwin wondered.  "I got a flash that Len was in a tight spot and
could use my help, grabbed my gear and headed for the nearest window."
        Nall glanced at the darkness beyond the porthole and said
wryly, "What time it is would be a good start... "

        Half an hour later, with very brief explanations made and
sandwiches rustled up for a grateful Corwin and Nall by Emmy, the
Queen retired once more to her suite, leaving Padme, at the
handmaiden's request, to attend to the guests.  Panaka and Olie
retired as well, and the five who remained awake adjourned to the more
comfortable chairs of the wardroom.
        "'Course we knew that's what you were doing, but still - my
baby brother a Jedi Knight," Corwin said with cheerful bemusement.
"What a beautiful universe."  He regarded his sandwich, which was
constituted mostly of cold slices of leftover belgad and the last of
the doj-r'shol'yk between slabs of white bread, and shook his head in
wonder.  "This is incredible.  What'd you say your name was?"  he
asked, looking at Emmy.  Rather than take one of the room's four
chairs, the Hyelian Jedi had seated herself kneeling next to the chair
opposite Corwin's, where Len was sitting.
        "M'yl'ya Kyn'o'bi," she repeated.  "I've found that 'Emmy' is
easier for humans, if you like."
        "Well, you make a hell of a sandwich, Emmy."
        "Thank you."
        "This is quite a girl, Len," said Nall to Leonard, looking up
from his own sandwich to gesture with his snout to its maker.  "She's
gorgeous, smart, and she can make an incredible sandwich.  What more
do you need?  If Achika won't have you back, I say you should marry
her."
        The women in the room reddened to various degrees, even
Achika, who should have been as used to Nall as Len was.  It was
sometimes impossible to tell when Nall was just fishing for reactions
and when he was serious - the little wiseass liked to needle people
sometimes just to see which way they would jump.
        "Er... thank you," Emmy mumbled.
        "Your opinion," Len observed dryly, "is noted.  How are things
in the Golden City, Corwin?"
        "Lovely as usual," Corwin replied.  "It -is- Paradise, after
all.  Mom sends her regards and they all want you to visit.  Aunt
Urd claims to be very interested in how much you've grown up since you
left, but I think she mainly said that to get a tsk out of Aunt
Belldandy."
        Len chuckled.  "Good to know some things haven't changed.  How
about the gang back home?"
        "Good Lord, give me a chance... six years, I wouldn't know
where to begin.  I take it, then, that you haven't been back inside
yet, to New Avalon and wherever?"
        "Not yet," Len replied.  "We got a little sidetracked here on
our way in.  I'm looking forward to it, once we help deal with the
Federation and can get out again.  I haven't even heard from Mom, Dad
or anybody else since I left - you're the only one who was ever able
to contact me."
        Corwin's face paled a little, and his head snapped around to
look at Achika sitting beside him.
        "You didn't tell him?!" Nall burst out.
        Achika returned his horrified stare with one of her own.  "I -
I didn't realize he didn't know," she said.  "It never occurred to 
me - "
        "Tell me what?" Len asked.
        Corwin gaped at Achika for another moment, then swallowed and
turned back to his brother.  "Uh... oh, hell... Len, I don't know how
to tell you this.  Your mother... Kei's missing.  We don't even know
if she's alive."
        Len stared.
        "How?  When?" he finally asked.
        "Not long after you left, reports started coming in from the
spinward end of the Rim Territories of strange disturbances - attacks
on outposts, abductions, agrocolonies falling out of contact,
unidentified spacecraft sightings, that kind of thing.  The 3WA put
together a team to check out a planet way the hell out at the edge of
charted space where rumor had it those disturbances might be centered.
They asked for an IPO officer to tag along for coordination, and Kei
volunteered for old times' sake.  They... they never came back.
Whatever they found there... they never came back."  Corwin looked at
his boots.  "I'm sorry."
        "I'm sorry, too," said Achika miserably.  "I should have
realized that you wouldn't know it had happened... "
        Len sat regarding the two of them several seconds, his face
settling slowly from shocked to thoughtful.  Beside him, Emmy reached
up and gently touched his arm, just letting him know she was there.
Behind the two Jedi, Padme hovered with a troubled look, as if
uncertain whether she should leave.  She must have made a soft noise,
for Len turned in his seat to look up at her, and to her surprise, the
look on his face was one of concern for -her-!  Then he smiled
gently, silently thanking her for her concern, sat back in the chair
and closed his eyes, plunging deep into the reserves of quietude
within him and expanding his perceptions.
        He imagined himself as the center of an ever-expanding pattern
of waves, like ripples on the sea of the Force, and stretched out his
mind, searching the Force for others of his blood.  Corwin, shining
with the intermingled whiteness of of his Asgardian genes and the deep
emerald glow of the Pillar of Cephiro, shone most brightly where the
waves lapped over him, so nearby as to be practically in the center
himself.  Further out, Len saw the reflected gleams of his father,
brother and sisters, scattered around the Inner Galaxy.  There was
nothing else.
        This was probably futile.  Kei Morgan, like almost everyone at
the highest echelon of the Experts of Justice, was a Lensman; if the
others, even her own husband, couldn't raise her with those
instruments' fantastic powers of communication, then what hope had he,
without one?
        No.  He mustn't think that way; if he had such doubt, then his
effort -was- futile.  He didn't -need- a Lens.  He had the Force.
        He gathered his strength and pushed out further, sending the
ripples of his consciousness so far afield that he felt a sort of
cosmic vertigo on contemplating the scale of the area he was
scanning.  He had encompassed the whole galaxy by now, and still he
pushed the waves outward, refusing to believe that this was all there
was for him to find.
        Then, just as he was about to give up and let the pattern
collapse, he saw it - a faint red pinpoint, impossibly far away.  He
abandoned the rest of the search and threw all his will at improving
his view of that one light.  The distance was astonishing; if this was
who he was seeking, she must be in another galaxy!  He strained to see
more clearly, and succeeded in bridging the incredible gulf that
separated them with a tenuous contact.
        <Mom?>
        [Leonard?]  (Surprise.)
        <Where are you?>
        [I'm not sure.]  (Calm, centered, despite the sudden, powerful
impression that she was in absolutely desperate circumstances.)  [Very
far from everyone I love, I know that much.  But they can't break me,
and they can't hold me forever.]  (Proud defiance, and it swelled his
heart to feel it; whoever 'they' were, they had indeed not damped the
fire at her heart.)  [I'll be back someday.]  (Growing faint, the effort
required to make contact at such an astounding distance overwhelming
him.)
        <I'll come for you - >
        [You couldn't reach me.]
        <I can't do nothing - >
        [Our home needs all its protectors, Len.  This enemy is unlike
anything we've ever faced.  Tell your father.  Tell them all.]
        <I... of course.  Don't give up.  I love you.>
        [I love you, too, son.  Tell your father and the others I love
them.  I'll be back.]
        Leonard could not sustain the contact any longer.  With a
wrenching gasp, he slumped in the chair, panting, his eyes opening and
staring around for a moment before regaining their focus.
        "Len?  Are you all right?" asked Achika.
        "I'm fine," he replied, catching his breath.  "Just tired.
She's alive," he said with a contented smile.  "She'll be back."  He
turned to Padme, who was looking at him with an odd mix of awe,
anxiety and weariness, and said, "You don't need to stay up and wait
on us any longer, Padme.  Why don't you go back to bed?"
        "If you're sure you don't need anything... " she hedged.
        "No, no, we're fine," Emmy assured her.  "Matter of fact, I
think I'll turn in too.  Nice to meet you, Corwin."
        "You too," said Corwin.  "Sorry again for tripping over you,
Miss Naberrie."
        With a shy smile, she told him he could call her Padme like
everybody else, then excused herself and left the room.
        "Smoothie," said Nall dismissively.  Then he sprang from
Corwin's shoulder to Emmy's.  "What do you say we go get to know each
other a little better?  I speak fluent Elvish."
        She gave him a skeptical sidelong look.  "I'm going to bed,"
she informed him.
        "That's OK," Nall replied breezily as they left the room, and
just before the door closed behind them, he could be heard to
continue, "I don't take up much space... "
        Corwin shook his head.  "One of these days," he said with a
resigned little smile, "Umi's going to skin him for a hat."
        Achika got up as well, stifing a most unroyal yawn.  "Well,
the wings will be stylish," she mused.  "Good night, Corwin, Len."
        "'Night, Achika," said both men, and then she left them
alone.
        Corwin and Leonard talked long into the night, catching up
on what had happened to them in the six years since Len had vanished
to the Outer Rim.  By the time dawn arrived, they were both extremely
sleepy, but well pleased by the changes and added maturity they saw in
each other.
        The next afternoon, they were awakened after not quite as much
sleep as they'd have liked by the news that the Sun Queen had arrived
at the Forbidden Island.
        
        Captain Roman Tsonis was not a happy man, and when he was
unhappy he tended to share his unhappiness with everyone around him.
First he had been deprived of the honor of leading the assault on
Theed - although the failure of General Konstantin to secure the Queen
had cost him his rank and privileges, beginning with the privilege of
breathing.  Then he had been assigned to find the Queen, only to stew
impatiently as USS Conqueror and her task force of Earth Alliance
ships scanned the oceans of Naboo fruitlessly.  As a consequence, the
atmosphere on the bridge was wound so tight that crewmen left at
shift-change swaying on their feet, shaking with nervous exhaustion.
        Two hours into the day watch, the soft beep from the science
officer's station sent everyone on the bridge, including Tsonis,
spinning to face the lieutenant at the console.  Jumping to his
controls, he said, "Sir, sensors pick up an unidentified vehicle - a
very large skimmer of some kind - beached on an island near the center
of the Great Eastern Ocean."
        "Which island?" Tsonis asked.  "Any life signs present?"
        "Cartography doesn't list a name, sir," the lieutenant
replied.  "The native maps just list it as 'Forbidden.'  And I read
several life signs, perhaps as many as two dozen, moving away from the
vessel.  The interference from the local vegetation makes it difficult
to isolate them."
        "Forbidden."  Tsonis frowned, contemplating.  "Get me a visual."
        The main screen flickered away from a view of the planet below
to a closer overhead shot of a group of people - fewer than two dozen,
but close enough for government work - walking off a rocky beach and
up a cliffside onto an island filled with low tropical vegetation.
Here and there an isolated tree rose above man-height, but for the
most part the greenery stood between waist and shoulder level.
        "Sir, I do pick up one near-human life form, possibly Hyelian,
among the group," the science officer added.  "It matches one of the
life signs in that scout ship we forced down to within point-five
percent."
        "Very interesting," Tsonis murmured. "I want that island
secured.  Contact Colonel Nuatu.  Tell him I want three regiments of
Marines to hit that island at once.  Full armor and air support.
Orders are to shoot to kill.  Take prisoners only when all resistance
has been subdued."
        As his officers relayed orders and prepared for the assault,
Tsonis smiled to himself.  So, he thought, the so-called Lord Vader's
pets have proven themselves both resourceful and dangerous.  It is
such a pity that they must be destroyed... after all, not only are
they likely protecting the Queen, but they now pose a danger to the
fleet and the Federation.
        And if Vader's actions endanger this fleet, not even the
Acting President can save him...

        "What are we looking for again?" Corwin grumbled, pushing
aside a clump of bushes.
        "Legends say that, before the colonization of Naboo, a great
and terrible weapon was left here by the planet's previous
inhabitants," Panaka replied.  "According to the story, its makers
were overwhelmed by a greater power before the weapon could be
completed.  One of the first settlers witnessed its power firsthand
and barely escaped with his life.  Ever since then, this island has
been forbidden to all settlement and visitors."
        "Yeah, not that it would get many in the first place," Nall
grumbled.  "No harbor, no real beach, cliffs surrounding the entire
island?"
        "What are -you- grumbling for?" Corwin said.  "You could have
just flown to the top by yourself."
        "And leave you guys behind?  You'd be lost without me!"
        "I think we're lost anyway," Len sighed, looking around the
rolling plateau of the island.  Miles and miles of featureless green
stared back at him, with no sign that any civilization had ever lived
there.  "Was this weapon stored in a building anywhere?  A cave?
Anything?"
        "The legend mentions an ancient stone fortress, weathered by
the centuries," Panaka said.  "In the center of the island, resting
against a ridge."  He pointed to a hilltop about a mile head of
them.  "I think that is the ridge the legend refers to, but I'm not
certain."
        Len looked behind them and judged the distance back to the
beach.  "It's in the right direction, at least, but it'll take us at
least another hour to get there at this rate."  Looking over at the
elaborately-adorned Queen Amidala, he added, "Do you wish to wait
here, Your Majesty?  We don't know what we'll find."
        Amidala stared back impassively and said, "We shall press on
together.  My people are no doubt suffering under Palpatine's
occupation; I will not permit it to continue a moment longer than
necessary."
        Len nodded acceptance.  "What about your handmaidens?"
        "We can take care of ourselves," Padme muttered with a
smile.  "Lead on, Master Jedi."
        "As you wish," Len said.  He took a few steps towards the head
of the group, then stopped and stood for a moment.  "I feel
something... "
        Emmy stared at Len for a moment, then looked up as her ears
twitched at a sound too faint for the others to hear.  "Company," she
said.  "Transporter beams, I think - lots of them."
        Nall launched himself from Corwin's shoulders and, with a beat
of his wings, rose high over the heads of the group.  After a moment's
hovering, he dove back to ground level and resumed his customary place,
saying, "Federation assault shuttles coming in from the ocean at high
speed.  They'll be here any minute."
        "So much for going back to the ship," Padme said.
        "They're deploying behind us," Emmy continued.  "I wonder why
they haven't just dropped around us, or beamed us up?"
        "Ground clutter," Achika replied from the front of the group.
"Dense tropical vegetation obscures animal life signs during daylight
hours, even short stuff like this.  If they wanted to beam us out of
this with Federation pattern sensors, they'd have to send somebody to
tag us with transponders."  Her blade slashed away another stubborn
clump of grass as she added, "Which might well be what they're up
to... "
        "More importantly," Corwin said, "they don't know what
defenses we have waiting for them.  They won't want to beam people
into an ambush, especially when they can only beam so many people at a
time."
        "Agreed," Panaka said.  "They're doing it by the book:
assembling forces and then scouring the island from one end to the
other."
        "Have we any defenses prepared?" Amidala asked.
        Panaka and Len looked at each other in a mutual
why-didn't-you-think-of-this glance before saying, "No."
        Nall grinned.  "Sure you do," he replied.  "You guys go on
ahead.  I'll handle these clowns."
        Panaka blinked.  "-You-?" he inquired incredulously.
        "Me," Nall replied, hopping from Corwin's shoulder to a
reasonably thick branch of a nearby tree.  "Go on, get moving."
        "Need any help?" Corwin asked the cat conversationally.
        "Are you kidding?  They're just grunts," said Nall.  "G'wan.
I've got your back."
        "Well, OK," said Corwin, ruffling the cat's head.  "Be
careful.  Holler if you need anything."  Then he turned to Panaka, who
still stood looking somewhere between baffled and annoyed.  "Well,
Captain?  Shall we?"
        "Are you serious?" Panaka inquired.
        "Absolutely.  Nall says he can take these guys, he can take
'em - and if they bring up something he can't handle, I'll come back
and back him up."
        Panaka sighed and looked to his queen for orders.  "Your
Majesty?"
        Amidala glanced at her retainers for a moment, sizing up their
grim expressions before saying, "We shall heed the words of the Jedi's
brother.  Even if," and here she looked directly at Len and Emmy, "we
do not understand their meaning. Order your men out, Captain; we have
a great distance yet to cover."
        Achika pressed on in the lead, slicing away a path through the
brush and grass, followed by Panaka and his guardsmen.  Len and Emmy
flanked the queen and her retainers, crouched down so their heads
remained below the level of the brush.  Occasionally they glanced
backwards towards Corwin, who trailed behind, looking wary but not
terribly concerned.
        "Are you sure he'll be all right?" Emmy asked.
        "Positive," Corwin said.

        Several decks below the bridge, in his meditation chamber,
Darth Vader stirred for the first time in hours.  Something was wrong,
or soon to be wrong; the Force whispered to him of danger, not
immediate but close at hand.  Scowling under his mask, he rose from
his seat and swept from the chamber.
        He arrived on the bridge to find the atmosphere charged
with tension.  Captain Tsonis stood in front of his command chair,
watching the progress of a group of blips on the main viewscreen,
blips moving over section of a map of the planet below.  A ground
assault force?
        "Who ordered a ground assault?" Vader demanded, storming
toward the center seat.  Tsonis was calm, happy, positively smug,
having completely regained his composure after his last clash with
Vader.
        "I did," Tsonis replied, not looking away from the viewer.
        "For what reason?"
        "Those 'observational subjects' of yours have managed to
reach the Forbidden Island.  They're obviously looking for something
they might be able to use to turn back our invasion.  My orders are
quite clear: they have proven to be a threat to our forces, they must
be destroyed."
        "Not acceptable," Vader declared flatly.  "Recall the attack
force at once."
        "No," replied Tsonis, looking at Vader for the first time.
His black eyes glittered as he glared at the Dark Lord.  "As I have
said, my orders are quite clear.  You cannot supercede them this time.
You are not in command of this fleet, Lord Vader."
        "My authority comes directly from Acting President Palpatine,"
said Vader calmly.  "Recall your attack force, immediately."
        "I refuse!" Tsonis snarled.  "My orders come from above
Palpatine."
        "Oh?" replied Vader in a mocking tone.  "I was not aware there
-was- a greater authority in all the vast holdings of the glorious
United Federation of Planets."
        Tsonis's face flushed.  "Listen to me, you pompous fool!" he
hissed.  "Palpatine may believe you to be some kind of great dark
prophet from another age, but to me you're just a crazed relic.  Go
back to your hiding place and - and - accckkk!!!"
        Tsonis staggered back, clutching at his throat, and fell to
one knee.  The uniformed Starfleet personnel all shrank away, eyes
wide with terror.
        "Guards!" Tsonis choked.  "Seize... him!"
        The two Psi Cops who flanked the door were already moving,
drawing their sidearms and commanding Vader to cease and remain where
he was.  He ignored their telepathic attempts to halt him and whirled,
his cloak billowing behind him.  As they raised their weapons, the
Dark Lord produced his lightsaber, and with two quick flashes of the
scarlet blade he cut the guards down before they could get off a shot.
        Now, he knew, the die was cast.  The death cries of those two
telepaths would carry the news of his renegade status to all the Psi
Corps operatives in the fleet, and it was a pretty good bet their
coordinating officer would have a good idea where Vader would head.
        Nothing for it, then, but to proceed.  Returning his
lightsaber to his belt, Vader strode from the bridge without another
word.  Behind him, Tsonis got unsteadily to his feet, coughing
spasmodically.
        Darth Vader marched briskly through the corridors of the
Federation flagship, mostly unopposed until he reached the vast
gallery doors leading from the broad central corridor to the main
vehicle bay at the rear of the engineering hull.  There, as he had
expected, most of the security force awaited him.
        He stopped in the center of the corridor and remained
motionless for several seconds as the security officers tried to decide
whether to shoot him, attempt to arrest him, or what.  In those
seconds, they were already lost.  Beyond the gallery doors, in the
control station, a safety interlock console smoked, then sparked and
fizzled, and two switches which were never supposed to move together
moved.
        There was a deep-seated, loud metallic clunk from somewhere
below the deck, and the gallery doors began to open.  As they did, the
outer doors of the great hangar deck began to open as well.
        This was absolutely not supposed to happen, ever.  It had the
effect of exposing the central corridor, and any room opening off it
which happened to be open, directly to vacuum.  Unconcerned, Darth
Vader stood his ground in the center of the corridor, his cloak
whipping around him in the shrieking wind, as around a tenth of the
flagship's atmosphere and most of its security force were catapulted
into space.
        Presently the wind died down, replaced by the eerie silence of
space.  Not bothered by the vacuum outside his breather mask, Vader
strode unhurriedly into the vehicle bay.  He ignored the Federation
shuttlecraft lined up along the walls and went directly to the ship
that, parked in the center of the hangar bay, dominated the room.  It
was too large for the hangar deck and looked out of place among the
white, squared-off Federation craft.  It had a spherical body segment
with parenthesis-like wings flanking it, and forward from the
sphere-body jutted a long, thin tongue of dark-gray metal, like the
blade of a gigantic screwdriver.  A ramp deployed from the rear of the
sphere, just below the two oblong thrust vents, as Vader approached.
Without breaking stride, he went up it and into the red-lit interior
of the ship.
        This, the lower of the sphere-body's two decks, contained
ingeniously compacted living quarters for, in a pinch, three.  Vader
ignored it and went straight to the tiny one-man lift that carried him
up to the control deck, a round room dominated by narrow forward slit
windows, a control station centered on the front wall, and a round
holotank-style navicomputer console in the room's center.  Four
passenger seats, almost never used, were arrayed along the after
bulkhead.
        Vader strapped himself into the command seat and flicked
switches, bringing systems from powered stand-by to fully on-line.
The ship's immediate and smooth reactions pleased him.  The Atlantean
Driveworks Dorat-class gunboat had held up well in storage in his
vault on Santov, and he had been pleased to find it in perfect
working order when he found himself reawakened.
        Crown Prince Anakyn shar Atrados had been quite the pilot in
his time, even before he had been a Jedi Knight.  In the Royal
Atlantean Star Forces, his fellow pilots had called him "Skywalker" as
a tribute to the effortless, natural way in which he flew.  His
instructors called him the greatest instinctive pilot of his age.
When he had turned against his old homeworld and become the dark
warlord of the Santovasku Emperor's forces, he had taken his loyal
Dorat with him, renaming it from Sunstorm to Shadowstorm but brazenly
leaving intact the decorations marking him as an ace with sixteen
Santovasku warship kills to his credit.  The pilots, and many of the
officers, of the Santovasku forces had damned him as a snob for
refusing to pilot their revolting biocraft, but not to his face; never
to his face.
        Vader lifted off smoothly, and the gunboat glided out of the
hangar deck with the eerie grace that had made its type famous in
another age.  Around him, the fleet was in some disarray; apparently
the signals coming from the Conqueror about the situation were rather
jumbled.  Vader keyed on his communications gear and scanned the
command frequency.  Tsonis was bellowing orders so furiously as to be
almost incomprehensible, ordering some of his ships to abandon
blockade positions temporarily and screen the approaches to the
Interdictor.  He must have believed Vader intended to leave the
system.
        The Dark Lord shook his head at the telepath's consistent
inability to judge him, aimed the Shadowstorm at the biggest
Earthforce ship, and powered up his weapons systems.  Before the
Earthers, who had not been notified as to the reason for their
flagship's sudden, bizarre behavior, could realize what was happening,
he had strafed and destroyed the command transmission tower.
        That should set the ground offensive back a bit.  Repair techs
would get it back in commission sooner or later, but for now, the
attack group on the surface was on its own.
        Vader winged the sleek and shining craft over and felt only
the faintest of shivers in the control yoke as the wings shifted and
bit into the atmosphere of Naboo.  Below, unaware that he was
coming, the Earthforce formation closed in on its target.

        Nall watched with amusement as a nearly solid wave of
Earthforce Marines came into view, a row of rustling grass, bushes and
trees moving steadily closer.
        Then he sighed, stretched, yawned, and said, "Well, I guess
it's about time to go to work."  Bunching his muscles, he leaped from
the tree, his wings carrying him straight up into the sky.  One of the
troopers near the front of the formation spotted him, just for a
moment, and fired into the sky, missing him by a mile.
        That man's attempt to explain to his platoon sergeant what the
hell he was doing was drowned out by a bone-rattling roar.  Out of the
sun dove a monster, an immense flying creature covered in white and
gold, its vaguely catlike features set in a terrifying snarl.  Before
the trooper, his sergeant, or anyone else in his platoon could bring
their weapons to bear, a blizzard of razor-sharp ice had howled from
the monster's mouth, freezing some of them solid where they stood and
cutting the rest down in a spray of blood and screams.
        The other platoons scattered and regrouped as Nall swooped
back up to altitude, smiling in grim satisfaction as he picked out his
next target.

        The main body of the group pressed onward, and as the sounds
of battle began echoing behind them, they came to a crumbling
fortification of a type none of them recognized.
        "This must be the place," mused Padme.
        "I'll check it out," Achika said.  "Len, Emmy, you stay here
with the Queen."
        "I'll come with you," said Corwin.
        "Your Majesty, with your permission, I'll accompany them,"
said Padme eagerly.  Amidala looked like she wanted to protest, but
after a moment she nodded, and the three of them went into the
building.
        The interior was just as dilapidated as the exterior; several
times they had to double back through broken passageways and find ways
around destroyed staircases as they delved into the building.  Most of
the doors didn't open.  Stationed at various places were items which
Achika at first took for sculptures, until she eventually realized
they must be old, deactivated droids - strange, insectoid things with
wicked-looking weapon arms and multiple pointy legs.  She was just as
glad none of them were working.
        The ninth door they tried, two levels down, creaked eerily as
it opened, and Achika stepped out into the corridor beyond with the
others crowding behind her -
        To see the glowing red photoreceptors of another of those
arachnoform droids.  This one, unlike those on the upper level,
appeared still to be operational; it turned, swinging its weapons
toward her with a whining servo noise.
        "Down!" she cried, dropping to the floor and hoping like hell
the others would follow suit.  The robot finished turning and raising
its arms, and Achika braced herself for the first bellowing volley of
fire... but it never came.  The red glow of its eyes flickered and
died, and with a low, slow humming decline, it seemed to settle
somehow, remaining in its position but becoming subtly and
unmistakably inert.
        Tentatively, Achika got to her feet, walked toward it, waved
her hand in front of its dark eyes.  It was definitely not responsive;
in fact, it made no sound at all now.
        "What happened to it?" Padme wondered aloud.
        "Dunno," Corwin admitted, stepping past Achika to examine the
robot.  "Looks like it just ran out of power."
        "Good timing," Achika commented.
        "Yep," replied Corwin.  "But hey, good luck is my specialty."
        "I thought machines were your specialty."
        "They are," replied Corwin with a wink, and Achika rolled her
eyes.  "Man!" Corwin continued, ignoring her.  "This thing is
-ancient-."
        "It's in a lot better shape than the ones topside, though,"
Achika noted.
        "Hasn't been exposed to the elements all these years," Corwin
replied, nodding.  "I think... I think it's Mandalorian."  He ran a
hand across its dully gleaming dorsal armor, feeling the slope and
thickness of the smooth armor plate.
        "Yeah," said Corwin.  "It is!  It's an old, old, OLD
Mandalorian war droid.  This installation was Mandalorian?  I wonder
what they were doing here?  Not too important right now, I suppose,"
he continued.  "Let's see what was so important Mr. Roboto here was
ready to blow us to little bits to protect it."  He edged around the
robot to the door beyond, grabbed the rusty iron ring, and pulled.
        Nothing happened.
        Irked, Corwin set himself and pulled again, harder this time.
        Again, nothing happened.  Achika was about to step up and
offer to cut it open when Corwin set himself again and HEAVED at the
ring.
        CRACK!
        He rebounded as the ring came away in his hands, slamming his
back into the back of the robot and unbalancing it.  The robot crashed
heavily to the floor, face down, but striking it had bled off enough
of Corwin's momentum that he was able to stop without falling; he
teetered for a moment, then steadied, and, tossing the ring aside,
gestured at the door.
        "Well, that wasn't so hard."  The door was standing open an
inch or so, its passage leaving a scraped trail in the eons of dust on
the floor.  Heedless of possible danger, Corwin shoved it the rest of
the way open and stepped through; figuring if anything really vile
happened he'd get it first, the rest followed.
        "Huh," said Padme, sounding disappointed as she stopped next
to Corwin in the middle of the large, mainly empty chamber beyond.
"Nothing in here but this big metal box."
        And, indeed, except for a great deal of dust and some
thoroughly entrenched-looking cobwebs in the corners, the only thing
in the room, a circular stone chamber about thirty feet across with a
high, vaulted dome ceiling, was a one-step dais on which sat a large
box made of some dull silver metal, a couple of feet wide and deep by
about seven feet long.  On the top, under the dust, could be seen some
faded writing - at least, they assumed it was writing - in some
curious, crabbed-looking, stilted script.  The box wasn't quite
rectangular - it was wider at the far end than the near, its long
shape an elongated hexagon rather than a rectangle.  It reminded
Achika uncomfortably of a coffin.
        The walls of the chamber, under their caked ages of dust, were
covered with once-colorful paintings, their details obscured by the
dust.  At the apex of the domed ceiling, right above the metal box,
there was a massive stone disk which capped the vault.  On it was
painted what appeared to a stylized eyelid, a closed eye.
        Ignoring the dusty art, Corwin circled the box, brushing the
encrusted dust away from its corners and edges.  "Hmm.  Dunno what the
metal is... no latches I can see, though.  Looks like this side is
hinged."  Putting aside his staff, he pounded experimentally on the
sides and top of the box, finally locating a small depression along
the side where his fingers would fit.
        "Uh, Corwin, what are you doing?" Padme inquired.
        "What does it - urgh! - look like I'm doing?  I'm opening -
guh! - the box!" Corwin replied, heaving at the top of the container.
        "Sloppy, Corwin," said Achika with a sardonic grin.  "You
didn't even #untrap it first."
        "Ha ha ha.  You wanna give me a - gurf! - hand with this?"
        "Not especially," replied Achika, her grin widening.
        "Especially since you're trying to open the side with the
hinges on it," Padme added.
        "Huh?"  Corwin looked down at his dust-grimed hands and
realized that she was right - the depression he had been tugging on
was a hinge point.  Going to the other side of the box he realized
that what he had taken for a hinge was really a long pin-overlap
latch.  "Ahh, phrack."
        It took him only a moment to pull the rod out of the latch and
lay it aside, and then the cover opened smoothly and quietly, letting
out a puff of curiously fragrant air and revealing the box's contents.
Corwin, observing what lay within, produced the most incisive and
definitive comment he could muster:
        "Oo."

         /*  W.A. Mozart  "Introitus"  _Requiem, K. 626_  */

        The others gathered around as Corwin let the lid of the box
fold over the hinged side, completely out of the way.
        Inside the metal box, cushioned on a formed bed of some satiny
material like an old-fashioned dueling pistol, lay a woman, trim,
elaborately dressed, and quite beautiful, with long, pale blue hair
and skin that came very close to being actually white.  Her face was
perfectly composed as if in peaceful sleep, her features somewhat
sharp and angular but finely formed and quite lovely.  Her hands were
not folded over her chest in the classic attitude of the coffin, but
were rather arranged naturally at her sides.  She did not look dead.
All in the room had seen enough of death to know its attitude.
        "Hul-lo," said Corwin, regaining his wits and reaching into
the box to pick up the object which was nestled into the padding next
to the woman's body.  "What's this?"
        At first sight it appeared to be a large pole arm, some sort
of halberd or battle axe.  Then Corwin noticed that what he had taken
for an axe head was far from sharp; rather, it was a large, solid
piece of metal, formed into an elaborate shape rather -like- a battle
axe head, and covered with elaborate engraving.  It was too light to
be a melee weapon, anyway.  Further, the two blue globes were
transparent; touching his fingertips to one, he found it was cool and
unyielding, and didn't feel quite like glass, as he had expected.  He
knocked on one experimentally; it rang clearly, but didn't feel
fragile.
        Touching but not yet grasping it, Corwin paused, not knowing
quite what to make of it; then, noting the flat place between the two
spheres which was obviously meant as a handhold, he gripped it firmly
there with his right hand.
        The lights in the room dimmed a trifle, and a low mechanical
thrum filled the air.  The two globes glowed softly, crackling
internally like old-fashioned plasma globe ornaments.
        "Whoa," Corwin murmured, standing up and turning the staff
over in his hands.
        "I suppose it's futile to tell him this is a bad idea," Padme
muttered to Achika.
        "He wouldn't hear us if we told him," replied Achika.
        A curiously energized feeling filled the musty air of the
chamber, and the low thrum increased.  Everyone - except Corwin, who
was much too fascinated to be taken aback by anything - drew back a
step as, silently, the coffined woman started to glow, then rose to
her feet as if moved by a lever.  She did not flex or make any effort;
she did not move at all, other than to rise.  Her hair moved a bit in
a faint circular breeze that had begun inexplicably to blow in the
room, but that was the only motion to be seen.
        Corwin remained puzzled for a minute or two, circling the
woman slowly, his keen blue eyes roaming over her with an engineer's
fascination rather than a man's lechery.  For Corwin had become
convinced, at about the moment when the residual energy in the room
had stood the short hairs on the back of his neck on end, that what he
was looking at here was a mechanism, the most amazingly sophisticated
mechanism he had ever seen in his life.  His entire consciousness was
occupied by a single, burning, driving question:
        How does this work?
        It was then, as he completed his slow orbit, that he saw the
small gap in the woman's black, silken raiments at the small of her
back, and the gleam of something metallic beyond.  Reaching out a
reverent hand and ignoring as irrelevant the small jolts as tiny
tongues of blue lightning licked at his fingers, he uncovered a small
round socket, lined with a metal that might have been brass but was
not.
        "What the... ?" he murmured, his curiosity raging within his
breast.  The mark on his forehead began to glow as he threw all his
mental horsepower at the puzzle, and a slow look of comprehension
spread across his face, pacing exactly the smile that spread with it.
He looked down at the axe-staff in his hand and knew it for what it
was.
        "It's not an axe at all," he declared, holding it up
axe-fashion and then abruptly turning it sideways in his hands.  "It's
a KEY!"
        Padme looked at Achika, who shrugged.

            /*  W.A. Mozart  "Kyrie"  _Requiem, K.626_  */

        Corwin turned the giant key in his hands, lined up the brass
bit at the end with the socket on the back of the woman, and gave a
tentative push.
        Click.
        "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," said Achika.
        Corwin took the broad end in his hands, and, trusting that
most powerful instinct within him which never led him seriously
astray, gave it a gentle half-turn clockwise.
        There came a ratcheting sound; as he applied pressure, the
woman stiffened, still unconscious, her arms flexing and fingers
clawing at nothing; when he ceased, she slackened again.  Little
spurts of lightning played over the key and Corwin's hands.
        Letting out an almost involuntary laugh of pleasure and
triumph, Corwin half-turned it again, and got the same reaction.  Then,
knowing he was going the right way, he got seriously underway, and as
he did, he began to laugh, deeply, roundly, uncontrollably, raising
his voice in triumph as he gave the machine-woman what he hoped would
be at least a semblance of life.
        As he wound, the lightning display built to a fever pitch,
covering the key, the woman, Corwin himself, and spurting off to
scratch against the walls, burning clear trails in the dust and
setting the room ablaze with flickering blue light.  The crackling
sound of the lightning rose to a blistering roar, drowning out the
ratcheting sound of the winding itself and Corwin's exultant laughter.
        Padme looked at Achika, who shrugged.
        Corwin felt more than heard the click that told him he'd
reached the end, wound the mechanism as far as it would go.  As he
felt it, the woman's eyes snapped open.  He couldn't see it, but he
could tell from Padme and Achika's reactions that it must have
happened; they drew back a half-step, their own eyes full of wonder
and apprehension combined.  The lightning flared in a final grand
spurt, and on the ceiling, the great engraved eye opened, glowing down
upon them with a baleful red glow.  Then the lightning died away,
flickering and ebbing until, as Corwin withdrew the key from its
socket, only a few fitful sparks remained, leaping from key-tip to
socket-edge.
        For a long moment, there was silence.
        The woman stepped out of the end of her "coffin" with a
breathtaking spare grace, a perfect economy of movement which wasted
no energy, every motion exactly as long and as forceful as it needed
to be - no more, no less.  Once outside, she turned smoothly and
brought her bottomless blue eyes to bear on Corwin, regarding him
coldly, as one might regard an end table with a particularly
unimpressive lamp on it.
        When she spoke, her voice had the same ruthless efficiency as
her movements, but in the medium of sound it did not carry the same
bare grace - no inflection, median volume, understandable but somewhat
harsh.
        "My name is Ifurita," she said.
        "Nice to meet you," replied Corwin, somewhat hoarsely.  "I'm
Corwin Ravenhair."
        "You are the holder of the power-key staff," Ifurita observed.
        "Well, yes, I am," Corwin replied.  "I have - "
        "That is all that is important," said Ifurita flatly.  She
turned away, regarding Achika and Padme.  "Your allies?"
        "Yes," said Corwin.
        Ifurita made no reply save to nod stiffly.  Then, taking the
staff from Corwin's slack hands, she turned to him.  "Your
instructions?"
        "Pardon?"
        "Your instructions?" Ifurita repeated in exactly the same
tone.
        Corwin smiled.  Inside his head, his mind was racing; being
in the firestorm, turning the key, he had been linked to Ifurita on
levels he was only beginning to sort out, and he had a fairly good
idea of her capabilities.  Much more than a pretty face, indeed.
        "On the surface, there are a group of men and women and a
large white creature doing battle against many enemies in strange,
angular aircraft and armored vehicles.  Assist them.  You know the way
to the surface?"
        Without a trace of humor, Ifurita replied, "Up."
        Then she turned the power staff so that the key end pointed
up, and discharged a bolt of blue energy which bored a hole to the
surface.
        Without another word, up she went.
        For a long moment, there was silence.
        "Hmph," said Corwin.  "Somebody spent about five minutes
writing that social interaction program."  He folded his arms and
scowled at the hole in the ceiling.  "So much for craftsmanship."
        Padme looked at Achika, who shrugged.

        Vader pulled the Shadowstorm out of its steep entry dive and
settled into a shrieking nap-of-the-earth (or, well, ocean) approach
vector for the island, locking the targeting system for his fighter's
paired proton torpedo launchers on the hovering dropships.  The ship's
twin, parenthesis-like wings shifted again, opening a bit wider around
the ship's spherical fuselage.  By the time the transports noticed he
was there, he'd knocked them out of the sky, his ship cruising
serenely through the fireballs of their destruction and angling over
the water for the nearest of the fighter groups.

        Ifurita rose through the shattered remains of the ancient
fortress and into the sky, freed for the first time since her masters
had abandoned her.  (The early colonist who had begun the legend of the
Forbidden Island had never come close to actually seeing her; he'd
encountered one of the guardian robots in the days when most of them
were still operating, panicked, and fled.) 
        Once the ruins were behind her, everything seemed as it had
during the brief window between her arrival here and her deactivation,
ages ago: a scrubby island on the planetary equator in the middle of
an immense, frequently stormy ocean.  She scarcely noticed that the
ocean was calm today and the weather sunny; her attention was focused,
to the exclusion of all else, on the group of Naboo royal guardsmen
and the immense white creature attempting to hold off a sizeable army of
ground troops and air forces.
        A rapid analysis of the situation led Ifurita to deduce that
the larger force, both ground and air, was her designated target.  She
noted four basic varieties of ground troops: standard unarmored
infantry, anti-armor infantry, heavy weapons infantry and power-armor
infantry.  A quick analysis of the various equipment revealed it to be
significantly inferior to the weapons available during the period of
her construction.  No threat.
        It took Ifurita only an instant to page mentally through a
thousand pre-programmed attacks and select an initial strike.
"Seismic Wave," she murmured, aiming the key at the ground just in
front of the presumed-allied giant monster.  A wave of energy lunged
out from the tip, slamming into the ground and stretching left and
right before vanishing.  Two seconds later, the ground erupted in a
long rolling wave of motion, knocking the Earthforce Marines from
their feet, rocks and debris pummeling them as the semicircular
earthquake dissipated itself.  The defenders of the fortress were
untouched.
        Noting her actions, a couple of the slow, inefficient flying
craft turned to confront her.  A couple of them fired their phasers at
her, knocking her back briefly.  She quickly stopped her momentum and
paused while her systems analyzed the attack and made repairs.
        "Attack: highly phased electroplasmic energy.  Analyzed and
assimilated."  She brought up the key again and fired, the beam
emerging the more familiar color of phaser fire... only ten times as
potent as those mounted on the assault shuttles.  The shields on both
craft parted like onion paper under the blasts, and both shuttles
disintegrated in balls of flame.
        With immediate threats dispatched, Ifurita paused to further
examine the tactical situation.  As she analyzed the force deployments
and movements, she noted a large black spacecraft soaring down from
orbit, leading edges still glowing with reentry heat.  As it flew past
her and strafed two other assault shuttles, she filed it as
neutral-presumed-friendly and otherwise ignored it.  In fact, she
thought, the entire airborne force could be ignored; the true threat
was on the ground.

        Corwin led the group out of the depths of the catacombs,
leaving the others blinking in the sunlight of the old castle bailey
as he rushed forward to where Nall was holding back about a battalion
of armored Earthforce troopers.  A couple of stray blasts from
Federation phaser rifles shrieked around his head, and the dragon
responded by showering the jungle whence the blasts had come with
jagged lances of frost.
        They'd brought down reinforcements, Corwin saw.  That was
expected, though he could have hoped they'd take longer at it.
Overhead, dozens of assault shuttles, slow and bulky, swept the skies,
circling the royal party like vultures.  Corwin waved up to them,
smiling cheerfully into the face of dozens of phaser emitters and
torpedo launchers.
        As he did so, Corwin completed his analysis of the battle
situation.  The biggest problem they faced was that they didn't have
much air cover to counter all the Feddie aerospacecraft that had
congregated.  Nall had to stay on the ground to protect the royal
entourage's flank, which wasn't the most effective use of his powers;
he'd be much better as an air unit, if a heavy hitter could be found
to replace him on the ground.
        Fortunately, Corwin knew just where to find one.
        As the enemy noticed him standing alone and more blaster fire
began to fly his way, he nodded to himself, raised his wristwatch to
his lips and shouted, "BIG O!  It's SHOWTIME!"
        The ground rumbled beneath his feet as he spoke, and the
blaster fire tapered off as tremors rang back to the Earthforce
troops.  With the sound of cracking rock and rustling foilage, a huge,
spike-knuckled iron fist burst from the ground beneath Corwin.  The
young man didn't seem at all perturbed by that; he rode it up into the
sky, arms folded, as an arm followed the fist, as a gigantic body
followed the arm.  A great copper-helmeted head looked upward, staring
impassively at the tiny figure standing atop the knuckles of his
mighty fist, as Big O stepped out of the crater left by his emergence.
Bits of rock and dirt showered down from the ridges and crags of his
armor as he moved.
        Padme Naberrie (still recovering from the shock of realizing
that the giant monster helping them must be Nall) blinked in
astonishment, grabbed Queen Amidala's sleeve, and yanked it.  The
monarch turned and blinked right along with her handmaiden,
momentarily dumbstruck by the spectacle.
        Corwin rode the hand as it lowered him down to the Rune God of
Iron's chestplate, which opened to allow him into the cockpit.  As the
Iron Knight settled within the familiar control ring, the usual
activation message scrolled across the center display:

              CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD     YE NOT GUILTY

        "All right, Big O," said Corwin with a grin.  He grasped the
joysticks and guided the Rune God forward.  "Let's go to work."

        Early on in its history, the United Federation of Planets
Starfleet had made the strategic determination that the combination of
impulse engines and phaser arrays on starships made starfighters
obsolete, and therefore that it did not pay to retain fighter carriers
as part of their force.  Despite the fact that this determination had
never quite come true, and that starfighters were still proving
speedy, versatile and potent enough to be effective, Starfleet kept to
this doctrine until the 2400s, when it commissioned a handful of the
new Nebula-class cruisers as carriers for Earthforce's fighter of
choice, the Lockheed F-71J Starfury.
        Since the Starfury was next to useless in an atmosphere, this
left the job of ground cover for Starfleet or Earthforce troops to the
boxy assault shuttles and runabouts, underpowered transports with
minimal weaponry and limited speed and maneuverability.  Of course,
these drawbacks hardly mattered when the enemy had no significant
fighter presence or antiaircraft weaponry to resist attack.
        The pilot of one assault shuttle had recovered from the shock
of seeing the biggest God-damn Destroid he'd ever heard of - bastard
had to be super-assault-class, two hundred tons at least - spring out
of the ground and begin attacking the ground troops below, swatting
away armored suits and knocking back teams of regular infantry with
blow after blow.  With a grim smile he brought his shuttle around
behind the slow-moving robot, arming concussion missiles for a literal
back-stab maneuver.
        A moment later, he ceased to exist, himself and his craft
reduced to vapor by a blast from Ifurita's keystaff.

        Len and Emmy ran to catch up to Corwin, leaving Queen Amidala,
Captain Panaka, and the handmaidens and protectors to form a sort of
skirmish line behind them.  Ifurita dropped from the sky to land on
Big O's shoulder, directing blasts of various kinds into the squads of
marines below Corwin's line of fire.  Above, two shadows soared around
the slow-moving shuttles and troop transports, blasting one after
another into scrap.  One of the shadows (Len explained) was Nall,
changed to his full size and pounding hell out of the enemy air cover,
but the other...
        Emmy paused in her running, looking up the other shadow, a
large dark wedge of some sort with wings that contained the after
section of the ship like parentheses.  It looked a bit like a GENOM
TIE fighter, one of the later models with the bent wings - but only
vaguely.  As she watched, it banked around for another attack
run... and as Emmy stared, she could feel something staring back, a
deeply malevolent presence regarding her with detached interest.
        As she stared, Emmy thought she felt a compulsion through the
Force.  Another will was holding her in place while it looked her
over.  She struggled to free herself from its influence, making one
step back and then another, unable to look away from the rapidly
approaching starfighter.  The black craft accelerated towards her,
dropping in altitude, and the polarized viewpoints atop the bulge of
the main body gazed at her like baleful dark eyes.  Emitters on the
chin of the craft flickered to life, and blaster fire flashed out -
        - over Emmy's head and into a trio of Earthforce armored
troopers, who had flanked the group unnoticed by anyone.  Smoke rose
from the inert armored bodies as the dark fighter pulled up and way,
banking hard to port and soaring away over the open ocean.  With it
went the unseen watcher, and Emmy's heart slowed down to a more normal
pace as she felt the presence vanish.
        Emmy turned around to face her friends, only to see them a
considerable way ahead of her: Big O himself was almost back to the
top of the ridge overlooking the fortress, and the others were barely
distinguishable around his feet.  Beyond them, Emmy could sense a large
number of panicking minds; the Earthforce and Federation troops were
breaking under the combined assault of dragon, Destroid, android, and
Queen's Protectors.
        Emmy took a moment to find the calm and focus of the Jedi
battle trance, and then with the Force boosting her speed she ran to
catch up, twin lightsabers parting the smoldering brush in her path.

        Tsonis slumped in his command chair and scowled at the bridge
viewscreen.
        The ship's sensors were turned up to maximum magnification,
which was just enough to make out plumes of smoke across the Forbidden
Island, and hints of motion which might be troopers or the enemy.  Of
course, the giant white flying creature and the even more immense
robot were easily visible on the screen, but that only made things
worse.
        The audio track matched the images almost disaster for
disaster.  Tsonis had ordered the marines' command channels put on
bridge speakers so he could track the mission, and now the bridge was
filled with panicky voices making garbled status reports... and now,
almost to a man, begging for extraction.
        "Is anybody -listening- up there?" one voice shouted into the
clear.  "This is Colonel D'arcy!  We have taken thirty percent
casualties!  Two-thirds of our shuttles are down!  None of our weapons
can so much as scratch their Destroid!  They are counterattacking with
weapons we can't even identify!  Scrub this mission and get my men the
hell OUT!"
        "Turn it off," Tsonis snapped disgustedly.  "Lieutenant
Caspar, align weapons for surface bombardment."
        "Sir?" Caspar asked in shock.  As accurate and potent as
phaser fire was, it degraded badly in orbital bombardment.  Firing on
the island would, beyond all doubt, take out a large number of the
Marines as well... and photon torpedoes were strictly prohibited for
surface fire, period.
        "In the American Revolution, on Earth, there was a battle in
which the armies of the two sides we so closely engaged that neither
side's generals could exercise any control over the troops," Tsonis
informed him.  "The British won the day by firing their cannon into
the mass of intermingled soldiers to force them apart.  The victory
justified the deaths of friendly troops."
        He pointed to the now-silent viewscreen and said, "Our ship's
guns can take out that Destroid.  No armor can withstand a sustained
phaser bombardment.  We may lose some of our troops in the
blasts... but all of -theirs- will be killed.  Now prepare to fire,"
Tsonis hissed, "or prepare to be part of the collateral damage."

                          TO BE CONTINUED...