by Troy Denning
“Regardless of anything, Lieutenant.”
“Ah … I see.” Vangur went silent a moment, then asked, “Off the record, ma’am?”
“Make it quick.”
“Thanks for thinking of my crew,” he said. “And I hope you don’t mind, but we’ll be waiting the full hour.”
“Mind?” Tahiri replied. “I may be counting on it.”
She closed the channel, then checked her chrono and saw that it was eleven in the morning, Galactic Standard Time. She had allowed herself one hour. Given that Head of State Fel had assigned a frigate to her, and that she had left that frigate on station about midway between Hagamoor 3 and its planet, there was a small possibility that Jag might be able to initiate a turbolaser bombardment in less time. But the order would need to be issued and confirmed, and then the frigate would have to move into position and verify the Moon Maiden’s location. Realistically, an hour would be a lightning-fast response.
But this was Abeloth, and therefore Jag would make it happen.
So Tahiri had until midday GST to confirm Abeloth’s presence and take down any shield generators hidden inside the facility. She also needed to develop a way to observe and verify the target’s destruction, and to arrange something that would hold Abeloth’s attention until the barrage began. And while Tahiri was doing all that, if she could also think of some way to survive the barrage herself … well, that might be nice, too.
The first place to check for shield generators, of course, was the security bunker. Deciding it would be wise to have some idea of what she would find waiting above, Tahiri extended her Force awareness toward the building—and felt only a single groggy presence, a short distance up the ramp.
Fett, of course, hanging trapped but alive.
Using the Force to clear her path of any flora that looked like it might spray, sting, or snare, Tahiri advanced a few paces toward the bounty hunter. Jagged had given her free rein to do whatever it took to stop Abeloth, and he had specifically mentioned killing Fett. That would probably have been the smart thing to do, given how dangerous Fett was—and how rarely anyone encountered him in such a vulnerable state.
Tahiri hesitated for two reasons. First, she was not absolutely confident that it was Fett inside the armor. While impostors had a way of meeting quick ends, con men had been known to collect enormous fees by copying Fett’s armor and passing themselves off as the infamous bounty hunter. Second—and most important—if that was Fett, he could not be working with Abeloth, or he would have known better than to let himself be captured by her carnivorous plants. So maybe—just maybe—Tahiri could steer him into helping her instead. He would certainly be the kind of fodder that might keep Abeloth too busy to notice that a turbolaser barrage was about to descend.
Tahiri stopped five paces short of Fett—and the curtain of flesh-eating moss that was holding him captive. “Boba Fett?” she called. “Is that you?”
The figure hanging before her remained motionless.
“Come on, Fett, I know you’re alive,” she said. “I can feel it in the aaaah krrriffff!”
The assertion changed to a curse when Tahiri noticed Fett swinging his one free arm in her direction. She used the Force to push the limb back as she turned and dived for cover.
She landed a couple of paces from the bottom of the ramp and rolled the rest of the way, coming to a stop face-to-face with a moldering corpse. From behind her came the roaring crackle of a flamethrower.
Tahiri expected to hear the clatter of an armored body crashing to the floor as Fett freed himself from the moss. Instead a helmet-muffled voice began cursing in modern Mando’a, and she spun around to find the bounty hunter’s situation even worse than before. The moss had melted into a big gob that now covered not only the flamethrower but Fett’s entire arm. And the tendrils had contracted as they melted, immobilizing the limb and pulling it back toward the wall.
Tahiri picked herself up and shrugged. “Okay, Fett. Suit yourself.” She wiped the mold off her face and turned back toward the main tunnel. “Sorry to bother you.”
“That’s it, Veila?” Fett called. “You’re just going to leave me hanging here … alive?”
Tahiri checked to make certain there were no carnivorous plants snaking her way, then looked back toward Fett.
“What did you expect?” she asked. “You tried to slag me.”
“I expected you to finish the job,” Fett said. “Not that I’m complaining, but I didn’t expect you to be squeamish about the wet work. Your reputation must be overblown.”
“Fett, let me ask you a question,” Tahiri said. She knew he was just trying to draw her in close so he could get the drop on her and force her to help him escape—and it was so unnecessary. “Can you move stuff with your mind?”
“Stupid question,” Fett growled. “You know I can’t.”
“Right. But I can. So if I wanted you dead, why would I walk over there and call your name?” Tahiri pulled the pack off her back and opened it, then used the Force to lift a thermal detonator out of the interior. “Why wouldn’t I just float one of these bad girls over there next to you?”
Fett’s helmet turned until the T-shaped visor was pointed in her direction. “Are you enjoying this?”
“A little bit,” Tahiri admitted. She armed the detonator and set the fuse. “And I will kill you, if need be.”
“And this is where I convince you there’s no need?”
“That depends. How much do you want to live?”
“Enough,” Fett grunted. “If you’re offering a deal, let’s hear it.”
Tahiri smiled. She could do a lot worse in the hired-scum department. Fett might be a murdering sleemo, but he was a murdering sleemo with his own code of honor and an enormous pride in his work. When he made a deal, he usually honored it.
“My orders are to end your involvement in Imperial politics,” she said. “How I do that is at my own discretion.”
“Sorry, but I’m not leaving here until I get what I came for.”
“The scientists who developed the Moffs’ nanokiller?”
Fett was normally cool, but Tahiri could feel the heat of his hatred boiling in the Force. “Jessal Yu and Frela Tarm,” he confirmed. “They’re supposed to be here with a bunch of Squibs.”
“I can let you have the two scientists,” Tahiri offered. “Unofficially, of course.”
“In return for?”
“I told you, staying out of Imperial politics,” Tahiri replied. “That means your deal with Daala is over.”
“I got her here.” Fett was finally beginning to sound interested. “That was our deal.”
“Good. Then you’re free to make a deal with me.”
“To do that, I’d have to trust you,” Fett said. “And given the company you keep, I don’t.”
“Caedus was a long time ago,” Tahiri said. She knew the biggest obstacle to an arrangement with Fett was her former apprenticeship to Darth Caedus. Caedus was the one who had authorized the Moffs to dump the nanokiller targeting Fett into Mandalore’s atmosphere—after torturing his daughter, Ailyn Vel, to death in the opening weeks of the Second Civil War. “But if you can’t put the past behind you, I’ll be happy to end your embarrassment forever—just to make sure my reputation doesn’t suffer.”
“I wasn’t talking about Caedus,” Fett said, refusing to be intimidated.
“I’m no Jedi, either,” Tahiri said. “At the moment, I’m working for the Empire.”
A snort sounded inside Fett’s helmet. “Only until Daala takes over.”
“Is that any business of yours?”
“I guess not.” Fett paused. “What’s in it for you?”
“We have a mutual enemy.”
“Here?”
Tahiri nodded. “How much do you know about Abeloth?”
“Who?”
“Abeloth is more of a what,” Tahiri said, certain now that her earlier assumption about Fett working with Abeloth had been mistaken. “And if you want your scientists,
you’ll have to deal with her first. Let me cut you down, and I’ll tell you what we’re facing.”
“I haven’t agreed yet,” Fett reminded her.
“You will.” Tahiri returned the detonator to her pack and the pack to her shoulders, and then started toward the ramp. “Trust me—you’re going to want the help.”
Taking care to stand well away from the tendrils, she used her lightsaber to cut Fett free and helped him clean the moss from his armor. He removed a hypo from one of the utility pouches on his belt and gave himself an injection to combat his pain and grogginess, and Tahiri began a quick rundown on Abeloth, explaining that she was an ancient Force entity who had escaped from the Maw. The Jedi were still learning about her, but so far they had established that she could move between bodies and change her appearance at will. And she was proving very difficult to kill.
Fett only shrugged. “Maybe the Jedi aren’t using the right kind of ammunition.”
“Do not take her lightly,” Tahiri warned. “She has more ways to kill than you do—and you’ll never see her coming.”
“You think you’re scaring me, Veila?” Fett asked. “I always see them coming.”
Tahiri pointed at the moss they had just cleaned off his armor. “You didn’t this time.”
“That was her doing?” Fett asked, glancing at the sticky pile. “I thought it was my scientists, doing something else they need to die for.”
“I’m afraid not,” Tahiri replied. “This stuff grows wherever Abeloth sets up house. It’s how she feeds.”
“On fungus and moss?” Fett asked. “What is she, some kind of cave-creeper?”
Tahiri shook her head. “Abeloth is no herbivore, Fett. She feeds on fear. Anguish. On what beings feel as they suffer and die.”
Fett’s helmet swung back. “You’re telling me she feeds on death?”
“Not in the way you mean,” Tahiri replied. “She feeds on the feelings death causes. Fear and pain release a lot of dark side energy. That’s what Abeloth is after.”
Fett fell silent, and Tahiri could tell by the stillness in his Force aura that she was finally making him understand what they were up against—that he needed her help for more than just finding his scientists. He needed her to get him out of the Moon Maiden alive.
Finally, Fett nodded. “Okay, she’s a Force-drinker,” he said. “I get it.”
“Not yet,” Tahiri said. “You’re still thinking on a mortal scale, like Vader or Palpatine. Think bigger, like a storm or a tide. Like a living Force volcano.”
Fett’s helmet tipped back. “A living Force volcano?” he echoed. “That’s running it pretty far into Wild Space, Veila.”
“I don’t think so,” Tahiri said. “You saw all those speeders out in the crater?”
“They would have been hard to miss,” Fett said. “I figured Yu and Tarm needed a bunch of lab rats.”
“I guess that’s one explanation.” Tahiri waved a hand at a clump of fungi. “But they can’t be doing much experimenting right now … and the Moon Maiden is still advertising heavily for new workers.”
“You think Abeloth is running through her feeding stock?”
“That’s my guess,” Tahiri replied. “It certainly fits the facts I see.”
Fett looked away, and Tahiri felt his Force aura grow cold and apprehensive. “Okay,” he said at last. “We’re up against a Force volcano. How do we kill it?”
“I’m still working on that.” Grateful that Fett couldn’t sense what was in her Force aura, she smiled. “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”
Fett studied her for a moment, then finally nodded. “Deal,” he said. “But you take point.”
“Fair enough,” Tahiri said.
She started up the ramp toward the security bunker.
“No need,” Fett said. “Nothing up there but bodies. Dead ones.”
“Nothing?” Tahiri asked. Guessing Fett might be reluctant to stick around if she mentioned there was turbolaser barrage on the way, she was trying to find a subtle way to ask about shield generators. “You cleared it?”
“No. They just died of fright when they heard I was coming.”
Tahiri rolled her eyes. “I was wondering about surveillance, hatch lockouts, patrol droids … that sort of thing?”
“Do I look like an amateur?” Fett demanded. “I said nothing. Nothing living, nothing functional.”
“Okay … thanks,” Tahiri said, deciding that Fett’s definition of nothing meant she could check destroy shield generators off her mental to-do list. “That’s good to know.”
She returned to the primary tunnel and began to follow the darkness in the Force deeper into the Moon Maiden. The passage was clogged with fungi and corpses, and the walls and ceiling were festooned with hanging moss. Using fire and the Force, they cleared the way as they advanced, leaving the tunnel behind them choked with foul-smelling smoke. Twice, Tahiri stopped Fett from spraying flame over still-living beings. The first was an unconscious human female whose red-pocked face was coated in yellow spores. The next was a screaming Twi’lek with a leg exposed to the bone by flesh-eating mold. Fett remarked that Tahiri wasn’t doing the Twi’lek any favors by stopping him. She had to admit that he had a point, but she still wouldn’t let him burn the poor woman alive.
About eight hundred meters in, they came to a fire bulkhead with a locked hatch. Tahiri felt a large gathering of terrified Force presences on the other side, spread over perhaps a thousand square meters. But she sensed no one lurking just beyond the hatch, so there was no ambush. She looked into Fett’s visor until a curiosity came to his presence, then pointed at the hatch controls and made a typing motion. He nodded and pulled a lock slicer from his thigh pocket.
As Fett worked, Tahiri did a Force reconnaissance of the area beyond the hatch, trying to get an idea of what they would find on the other side. There was a boiling mass of fear and anguish about half a kilometer directly ahead, tightly packed and stationary—probably a group of beings trapped in a detention area. Scattered to the left were about fifty presences, also frightened, but not in much pain—probably workers of some sort.
Directly ahead, a dozen beings seemed to be moving back and forth across a space about a hundred meters long and twice as wide as the tunnel. Up and to the right, on what felt like a second story, were a trio of shifty presences that Tahiri instantly recognized as Squibs. And a short distance beyond the Squibs was the target.
Tahiri had no doubt that it was Abeloth. It was a seething orb of darkness larger than any she had felt before, as hot in the Force as a fusion core, and it was reaching into her even as she reached for it.
Tahiri tried to shut down quickly, withdrawing from the Force and making her presence small, but it was not easily done. The thing had already started to sink its tentacles into her, and she could feel them writhing about inside, struggling to keep hold, until she finally closed herself off entirely.
For a moment, Tahiri sat, fighting not to tremble, trying not to wonder whether she was really up to this fight. She had confirmed the target’s presence, and, in Fett, she had something likely to hold even Abeloth’s attention until the turbolaser barrage began. Now she just needed to arrange a way to verify the enemy’s destruction—and to do that, she had to get close enough to see her.
Tahiri felt Fett’s gaze on her, then looked over to find his helmet turned in her direction. In his hand, he was holding a tiny black spy droid about the size of her thumb—large by Jedi standards, but small enough for their purposes.
“Ready to take a peek?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I have some intelligence.”
She told Fett about what she had sensed in the Force, laying out for him as accurately as possible the dimensions of the chamber and the location of the presences she had felt. She paid special attention to Abeloth and the Squibs, describing how the Squibs seemed to be somewhere up high, with Abeloth perhaps thirty meters beyond and at the same level as most of the other beings.
“I
mpressive,” Fett said. He activated his spy droid and reached for the hatch lever. “I still like a vid feed.”
“Uh, we might not want to take that long,” Tahiri said. “I’m not the only Force-user here, remember? While I was sensing Abeloth in there, she was sensing me out here.”
“Great,” Fett said, feigning disgust that Tahiri did not feel in his presence. “Now she’s expecting us.”
“So?” Tahiri knew Fett’s effort to make her feel guilty was just an attempt to pull their center of power in his direction, and she wasn’t about to play along. “Did you ever think she wouldn’t be expecting us?”
“I guess not,” he admitted. “But we still go after the Squibs first.”
Tahiri checked her chrono and saw that they had about twenty minutes before her projected midday GST bombardment. So time wasn’t the problem—and going after the Squibs would give Abeloth something to think about other than why they weren’t coming after her.
“Okay,” Tahiri said. “Squibs first.”
Fett’s hand remained poised over the hatch lever. “Okay?”
“Sure,” Tahiri said, nodding. “A deal is a deal, and the Squibs aren’t going to be a problem for us. After we finish with Abeloth, that might not be true anymore.”
Suspicion flooded Fett’s presence, and he pulled his hand away from the lever. “That was way too easy, Veila,” he said. “What’s your plan?”
“It’s too late for a plan,” Tahiri replied. Determined to get the fight started before Fett had a chance to break their deal, she used the Force to depress the hatch lever. “We need to move fast if we want to catch those Squibs.”
The hatch opened with a soft hiss. Before Fett had a chance to ask about how she had forced the issue, Tahiri used the Force to push it halfway open.
A gust of hot, dank air rolled through the narrow opening, and Tahiri nearly gagged. The stench seemed equal parts ammonia and unwashed bodies. Fett used his free hand to tap his sleeve controls—activating his helmet’s filter system—then dropped into a fighting crouch and led the way through the hatch.
Through the bulkhead, the tunnel opened into a huge vault. A broad corridor ran from in front of Tahiri and Fett straight ahead to an identical bulkhead more than a hundred meters distant. Along both sides of the chamber ran ten-meter walls of white durasteel, each partitioning off a block of office suites.
