And was the grass-filled flight suit a feint, a distraction, or just some native ritual?
That one, at least, received an answer. About midnight, after a comm consultation with Captain Parck, Barris ordered the stuffed flight suit to be thoroughly examined.
Only then did they discover that the helmet’s comlink was missing.
“Clever little snakes,” Barris growled as Eli edged closer to the conversation. “What about that one?”
“The comlink’s still here,” Wyan confirmed, peering into the second downed pilot’s helmet. “They must not have had time to remove it.”
“Or just didn’t bother,” Barris said.
“Because they could already eavesdrop on our communications?”
“Exactly,” Barris said. “Well, that ends now. Call the Strikefast and have them shut down that circuit.”
“Yes, sir.”
Barris shifted his glare to Eli. “You have something to add, Cadet? Or were you just doing a little eavesdropping of your own?”
“Yes, sir,” Eli said. “I mean, no, sir. I wanted to report that I found a couple of coins between the inner and outer shells of one of the crates that date to the beginning of the Clone Wars. So it looks like our castaway’s been here at least that long—”
“Hold on,” Barris said. “Coins?”
“A lot of shippers out here put freshly minted low-value coins in with their crates,” Eli explained. “It’s a good-luck thing, as well as a way to make sure the dates on the manifests don’t get altered. They take them out and put in new ones whenever that crate comes back to them.”
“So assuming the castaway got the crates new, it means he’s been here for several years,” Wyan said thoughtfully. “Might explain some of his behavior.”
“Not to me it doesn’t,” Barris said. “If all he wants is a ride back to civilization, why doesn’t he just walk out of the forest and ask?”
“Maybe he was on the run when he crashed,” Wyan suggested. “Or maybe he came here voluntarily and just wants us to go away.”
“In which case he’s going to be sadly disappointed,” Barris said. “All right, Cadet, keep looking. Do you want me to assign a tech to help?”
“There’s not much room, sir. We’d probably just get in each other’s way.”
“Then get back to it,” Barris said. “Sooner or later, our friend’s going to push his luck too far. When he does, we’ll be ready.”
—
They had five casualties among the sentry perimeter navy troopers that night. Three of them were incapacitated at the hand of the unseen enemy, their chests or helmets slammed by concussion grenades. No one saw anything, either before the attacks or afterward. The other two casualties were accidentally shot by their own nervous comrades, who mistook them for intruders in the misty darkness.
By the time dawn began to lighten the sky, Barris was back on the comlink to the Strikefast. By the time the sun finished burning off the nighttime mist, two squads of stormtroopers had arrived. They consulted with Barris, then headed briskly into the forest, blaster rifles held ready across their chests.
Personally, Eli doubted they would have any better luck finding the mysterious attacker than Barris’s own troopers had. But he had to admit that the presence of the white-armored warriors brought a welcome boost to morale.
He was taking apart the last crate to look for more marker coins when he heard a soft but pervasive screech erupt from somewhere outside the hut, followed instantly by shouts and curses.
A general alert? Snatching out his comlink, he keyed it on.
And just as quickly keyed it off, holding it as far away from himself as he could, as the screech from outside exploded in his ears.
Someone was jamming their comlinks.
“Full alert!” he heard Barris bellow from across the clearing. “All troopers, full alert. Major Wyan, where are you?”
Eli hurried around the side of the hut, nearly getting bowled over by a navy trooper heading toward the perimeter. The woman’s face was ashy under her heavy black helmet, her expression grim, her uniform spattered with dust. Eli came within sight of Barris just as Wyan reached him. “All comlink channels are out, sir,” Wyan reported.
“I know,” Barris snarled. “Enough is enough. There are eighteen stormtroopers beating the bushes out there—send some navy troopers to recall them. We’re pulling out.”
“We’re leaving, sir?”
“You have an objection?”
“No, sir. But what about that?” Wyan jerked a thumb at the hut. “The protocols require us to study it.”
Barris glared at the hut for a couple of seconds. Then his face cleared. “But they don’t require us to study it here,” he said. “We’ll take it with us.”
Wyan’s jaw dropped. “To the Strikefast?”
“Why not?” Barris said, as if still thinking it through. “There’s plenty of room in the transport for all of it. Tell the techs to break out the heavy repulsorlifts and get busy.”
Wyan threw a considerably less-than-enthusiastic look at the settlement. “Yes, sir.”
“And tell them to move it,” Barris called after Wyan as the major hurried away. “The only reason to jam our comlinks is if he’s getting ready to launch a major attack.”
Eli pressed himself close to the hut as he looked around the edge of the forest. He couldn’t see any lurking enemies out there. But then, none of them ever had.
Three minutes later a squad of grim-faced troopers and techs arrived at the encampment and began attaching repulsorlift hoists to the generators and storage crates. One of the techs stayed with Eli as the others began transferring their prizes to the transport, the two of them studying the hut’s exterior and figuring out where to attach the hoists in order to keep the building intact.
They were still discussing the procedure when the first of the stormtroopers began to reemerge from the forest in response to Barris’s orders. The jamming continued as the rest of the troops filtered into the encampment, turning to face the forest in defensive formation for the attack they all knew was coming.
Only it didn’t. Barris’s stipulated half hour ended with the encampment packed aboard the transport, leaving the entire group ready to leave.
Except for one small hitch. One of the eighteen stormtroopers was missing.
“What do you mean, missing?” Barris demanded in a voice that carried across nearly the entire clearing as three of the stormtroopers headed purposefully into the forest again. “How does a stormtrooper go missing?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Wyan said, looking around. “But you’re right. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
“Damn right I’m right,” Barris said. “That’s it, Major. Get the techs aboard the transport, with your troopers following in standard rearguard formation.”
“What about the stormtroopers?” Wyan asked.
“They’ve got their own troop carrier,” Barris said. “They can stay behind and beat the bushes to their hearts’ content. We’ll leave as soon as everyone else is aboard.”
Eli didn’t wait to hear more. Barris’s order hadn’t specifically mentioned him, but he was more tech than trooper. Close enough. He turned toward the transport.
And paused. One of the stormtroopers was standing rigid guard just outside the hatchway, his weapon held ready across his chest. If he took exception to Barris’s order abandoning him and his companions…
Without twitch or warning, the stormtrooper abruptly dissolved in a violent explosion.
Eli was flat on the ground in an instant. “Alert!” he heard someone shout, the voice distorted by the ringing in his ears. A handful of troopers were charging toward the forest, but Eli couldn’t tell if they were on an actual trail or just hoping to randomly catch their attacker. He looked back at the transport—
His breath caught in his throat. The smoke of the explosion was clearing away, revealing that the ship itself had sustained only minor damage. Mostly cosmetic, nothing that should interfere with flight operation or hull integrity. The stormtrooper’s armor, no longer pristine white, was scattered in bits and pieces in a small radius around the spot where the man had been standing.