Force Heretic I: Remnant by Sean Williams; Shane Dix

Author:Sean Williams; Shane Dix
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction - Science Fiction, Star Wars fiction, Space Opera, Science Fiction - Star Wars, Fiction, Science fiction, Science Fiction - General, Life on other planets, General
ISBN: 9780345428707
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2003-02-04T05:00:00+00:00

Part Three

Intervention

She stood on the rise of a dune staring into the swirling white dust, trying to make out the object in the

distance. Behind her, not far away, the thing with her face continued to come after her. She knew she

should keep moving, but she simply didn't have the energy to do so anymore. It felt hopeless. Sooner or

later the thing would catch up with her. It was inevitable, so why even bother trying to run? She may as

well just stop here and accept it.

She silently chided herself for the defeatist attitude. She knew she shouldn't be so fatalistic, but she

couldn't help it. It was just that there was never going to be a time when this thing wasn't going to be after

her; it would never rest until it had taken her. The only question was, would it get to her before the reptile

got to it?

She peered again into the dust and found her eyes stinging from the effort. She blinked away some of the

particles, straining to see the something in the distance, something that towered high above the ground.

She was almost relieved when the dust cleared enough for her to see that the object was in fact an

immobile AT-AT looming over the tops of the dunes.

Around the base of the vehicle she could make out several standing figures, their identities obscured by

dust and distance. She knew them; that much she was sure of, even if she didn't know exactly who they

were.

"Lowbacca?" she called. "Jacen?"

No one responded. It was as if they couldn't see her waving at them, and everything she yelled was

carried away from their ears by the wind.

Suddenly she saw the head of the AT-AT swivel around to face her, the rusted metal groaning with the

effort. It stopped with a resounding clank, its guns now trained upon her.

"No, wait!" she called. "It's me! Please!"

It fired once, loudly, but there was no resulting explosion. Instead, from the weapons emerged a black

ball that came toward her with slow precision, its edges shimmering. She watched helplessly as it

approached, wondering what it might be that her friends had fired at her. There was nothing to do she

couldn't turn back, and she obviously couldn't go forward. This created in her a sense of hopelessness

that made her cry. The tears fell from her cheeks into the dust, creating a sticky paste that collected about

the soles of her feet.

"They think you are me," said a voice close to her ear.

She held her breath, afraid to look back to see who was standing behind her. But in her heart she knew it

to be the thing with her own face. And it was close, too; she could feel its breath on her neck.

She lifted a hand to touch her forehead, feeling the scars there. Then she looked down to see the fresh

ones on her arms. She pressed her fingertips into the suppurating wounds, and was surprised at how soft

and wet they were. When she raised her hand to look at what came away from the deep cuts, she saw

blood dripping from her fingers like tiny, perfect tears.

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