Bultar considered telling Anakin about the scheduled duel between the Skull Queen and Princess Calvaria, then decided against it. If Obi-Wan wanted to share the details with his Padawan, it would be his choice. She answered, “Obi-Wan called for backup before he and I landed on Nallastia. He has a feeling that the Fondor system remains threatened.”
“A feeling?” Anakin said in disbelief. “He called for backup without any hard evidence?”
In a severe tone, Bultar answered, “If you question your Master’s methods, you might confront him directly.”
“Please forgive me,” Anakin said hastily. “I meant no disrespect. I spoke without thinking.” Catching his disheveled reflection in a mirror that hung above a wooden trunk, he reached up and used his sleeve to wipe away the sweat from his forehead. Aware that Bultar was looking at him, he said, “If I may ask… when you sleep, do you ever have visions of your homeworld or family?”
Bultar shook her head. “I was raised at the Jedi Temple. My home has always been with the Jedi.”
“Then can you tell me, what do you dream?”
Choosing her words carefully, Bultar said, “I am not your Master, and I am not certain that my answer would help. If you are having difficulty sleeping, you should talk with Obi-Wan.”
“I already have,” Anakin said. “And I have followed his instructions to meditate before sleeping. Yet, I sometimes have disturbing visions. I only ask for your insight because I do not wish to fail Obi-Wan.”
Bultar remained silent.
“Please,” Anakin said.
Bultar sighed. “When I sleep, as when I meditate, I usually visualize wide-open spaces and fields of color.”
Anakin’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You said ‘usually.’ Does darkness ever intrude?”
Bultar nodded. “Sometimes I see what appear to be dark clouds, but they never last for long. I can control them. I imagine winds to drive back the clouds, or to transform them into gentle rains. I find such thoughts to have a calming effect.”
“I see,” Anakin said. “Can you also control your nightmares?”
Bultar’s eyes narrowed. Anakin sensed she was studying him the way she might study an especially difficult puzzle or perhaps a dangerous creature. Then calmly, as if to a child, she replied, “Jedi don’t have nightmares.”
Anakin appeared to consider this, then said, “Of course.”
“I’ll wait in the hall while you get cleaned up,” Bultar said. She turned away, and the door slid shut, leaving Anakin alone in the dark room.
Anakin looked again to the mirror and stared hard at his reflection. He grimaced. “Jedi don’t have nightmares,” he muttered to himself.
“Jedi… don’t… have… nightmares.”
He wished it were true.
Outside the Skull Queen’s fortress, Anakin and Bultar walked toward Obi-Wan, who stood at the edge of the landing field near a row of Nallastian shuttles. Obi-Wan’s neck was tilted back as he looked up into the night sky. Anakin and Bultar followed his gaze to see a descending Republic Cruiser. As the ship touched down on the field, Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin and asked, “I hope you enjoyed your short rest, Padawan.”
“Yes, Master,” Anakin replied. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he thought of his conversation with Bultar. Hoping to convince Bultar that he was not concealing anything from Obi-Wan, Anakin quickly added, “I mean, not entirely, Master. I experienced dark visions.”
Obi-Wan turned to Anakin. “You also sense more danger for the Fondor system?”
“Possibly,” Anakin said, although he suspected a negative response would have been more accurate. His nightmare had had nothing to do with Fondor or Nallastia.
The cruiser’s hatch opened and a landing ramp extended to the field. Seconds later, two robed figures appeared on the ramp. The first was Jedi Master Kit Fisto, an amphibious Nautolan from Glee Anselm. The second was Jedi Master Mace Windu.
Anakin was surprised to see Mace Windu. As a senior member of the Jedi High Council, Master Windu usually directed missions from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, so Anakin regarded his presence on Nallastia as most unexpected. If Obi-Wan and Bultar were surprised, they did not show it.
Obi-Wan bowed and said, “Greetings, Masters Windu and Fisto.”
“Greetings,” Mace Windu said.
Kit Fisto said, “We were attending the dedication of a memorial to Yarael Poof on Quermia when we intercepted your request for reinforcements.”
Obi-Wan nodded, his expression grim. Yarael Poof, a Quermian, had been a member of the Jedi Council until his untimely death, four years earlier. His absence remained deeply felt among all Jedi.
Mace Windu asked, “Why did you summon us, Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan informed Mace Windu and Kit Fisto of recent events, from the emergence of the replica Sun Runner, to the recovery of the Lost Stars of Nallastia and subsequent rescue of the two zoologists. When Obi-Wan had finished, Mace Windu said, “You were wise to call for backup when you did. As Kit Fisto and I arrived in the Fondor system, we also sensed danger.”
Bultar Swan cleared her throat and looked at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan scowled.
“There is something you have not told us?” Mace Windu asked.
“Princess Calvaria has challenged the Skull Queen to a duel,” Obi-Wan said. “It seems they intend to fight for my hand in marriage.”
Anakin raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“The challenge was made while you were resting,” Obi-Wan explained. “Obviously, I did nothing to encourage the queen or princess. I regret I have been so far unable to persuade them to call off the duel.”
Anakin asked, “If you were to marry, would that make you the Skull King?”
Obi-Wan shot a stern look at his Padawan. “I’m not getting married, Anakin.”
“Of course not, Master,” Anakin said.
“When is the duel scheduled?” Mace Windu asked.
“In less than an hour,” Obi-Wan said
“Bring me to the Skull Queen,” Mace Windu said. “I will resolve this matter at once.”
Moments after the Jedi entered the Skull Queen’s fortress, a Nallastian shuttle lifted up from the landing field, then blasted off in the direction of Fondor. Seated behind the controls, the shuttle’s single passenger breathed a sigh of relief. It had not been easy to leave the fortress and landing field unnoticed, but it had been necessary.
After all, Princess Calvaria could not think of any other way to escape her problems and be with her true love.
Fondor Spaceport was a two-kilometer-long tubular orbital station, lined with 160 pressurized hangar bays. In one of the larger public-access hangars, Senator Rodd watched the docking port and waited for the arrival of Groodo the Hutt. To avoid detection by Space Patrol authorities, Rodd wore a heavy, hooded robe that covered his uniform and almost completely concealed his face. As an extra precaution, he had sprayed the robe with a foul-smelling chemical that encouraged people to keep their distance. Unfortunately, Rodd had very sensitive nostrils and could hardly wait to get out of the stinking robe. He was considering changing into a different disguise when Groodo’s starship came into view through the docking port, then entered the hangar.
Groodo had spared few luxuries on his private cruiser, but like most Hutts, his taste was questionable. The cruiser had broad fins, large oval viewports, and a lurid color scheme of red, orange, and yellow; everything was designed for maximum visibility and to show off Groodo’s considerable wealth. Despite the fact that Senator Rodd had been anxiously awaiting Groodo’s cruiser, the actual sight of it made him shudder.
The cruiser’s hatch opened, and a Hutt slithered down the landing ramp. Looking at the hooded humanoid figure, the Hutt said, “Senator Rodd?” “Hush!” said Rodd. “I’m in disguise.”
“Oh,” said the Hutt. “Sorry, um… mister. My dad’s waiting for you on board.”
Confused, Rodd asked, “Your dad?”
“Yeah, you know…” In a loud whisper, the Hutt
said, “Groodo.”
“Ah,” Rodd said, realizing that the Hutt before him was Groodo’s son, Boonda. Rodd followed Boonda up the ramp and into the cruiser. When the hatch shut behind them, Boonda’s wide, slitted nostrils flared.
“Gee, Senator,” Boonda said, sniffing the air. “What’s that crazy scent you’re wearing?”
“A synthetic aroma designed to keep people away.”
“Really?” Boonda grinned. “I kind of like it.”
Boonda led Rodd into a plush cabin lined with striped animal pelts. There, they found Groodo lounging on an arrangement of wide pillows and a human female sitting in a molded-plastoid chair. Wearing a drab, gray uniform, the woman had short dark hair and extremely pale skin. Rodd did not recognize her, but looking at her complexion, he concluded that she rarely exposed herself to sunlight.
“Hullo, Senator,” Groodo said. Gesturing to the seated woman, he added, “Allow me to introduce you to Hurlo Holowan. She engineered the droids that piloted the fake Sun Runner. Don’t worry, you can talk freely. She knows better than to squeal on us.”
Rodd nodded at Holowan and said, “How do you do?”
Wincing at the smell of Rodd’s robe, Holowan said, “I’ve wondered what kind of man would be willing to sell out his own world for Groodo’s credits.”
Rodd shrugged. “I like money. And I’m not so fond of people.”
“Then we should get along fine,” Holowan said coolly. “What happened to the droids on the Sun Runner replica?”
“They were destroyed by Jedi, along with the entire ship,” Rodd answered.
“What a waste,” Holowan said. “I put a lot of time into them.”
“Let’s get down to business.” Groodo chuckled, slapping his meaty hands together. “Senator, I promised you a fortune in return for your help in putting Fondor out of the starship-manufacturing business. Now, I followed your instructions to the letter, constructing the fake Sun Runner to distract your people as well as the Nallastians, supplying the weapons to wipe out Fondor’s starship yards, and so on. You were supposed to prevent any Jedi from meddling. What went wrong?”
“The Jedi were more cunning than I realized,” Rodd admitted. “However, they are presently on Fondor’s moon, Nallastia. If we are to fulfill our plan to bring Fondor to ruin, we must act now. Did you bring more droids?”
Groodo nodded. “Twelve. Various models. In the cargo bay.”
Holowan added, “No one will be able to trace the droids back to us. I’ve pre-programmed them to think they are soldiers of the Droid Control Army, something I made up.”
Groodo chuckled. “Tracing the droids to us would require evidence. By the time we’re done with the spaceport, there won’t be any evidence left.”
“But only twelve droids?” Rodd asked, surprised by the modest number. “Will that be enough to destroy the entire spaceport?”
“Twelve is plenty,” Holowan said. “After we set them up and fly out of here, I’ll operate them by remote.”
“I see,” Rodd said. “And how long will it take them to seize control of the spaceport?”
“It depends,” Holowan said. “Do you have the spaceport’s security codes?”
“Of course.”
Holowan smiled. “Then it won’t take long at all.”
Minutes later, the droids were ready, and Groodo’s starship made a hasty exit from the spaceport.
Under any other traveling conditions, Princess Calvaria would have noticed the incredibly bright-colored starship with enormous, decorative fins that sped away from the Fondor Spaceport. But as her shuttle approached a large hangar on the spaceport’s planet-facing side, Calvaria was not looking at other starships. Her mind was on something else. More specifically, her mind was on someone else, and he was waiting for her in the hangar.
He was a young, dark-haired man who wore grease-stained mechanic’s coveralls. The man watched anxiously as the Nallastian shuttle glided through the hangar’s docking port and landed on a platform. The shuttle’s hatch opened, and Calvaria stepped out onto the platform. The man ran to her, and they embraced.
“I was afraid you would not meet me,” the man said.
“I promised I would, Rench,” Calvaria replied.
The man pushed his fingers through Calvaria’s hair and declared, “I love you so much, Klara.”
Calvaria closed her eyes and held Rench tight. Growing up as Princess of the Skull Clan, she had always wondered how people might regard her if they did not know she was royalty. She had been on a trade mission to Fondor when she met Rench and introduced herself as Klara, an aide to Margravine Quenelle, which wasn’t so very far from the truth. She had not expected to fall in love with Rench and felt awful for having lied to him about her true identity.
“Rench,” she said. “There is something I must tell you.”
“Yes, Klara?”
Before Calvaria could say more, a loud, electric crackle filled the air. The sound came from a comm speaker that was set above a door that led out of the hangar and into a station corridor. Suddenly, the hangar’s main lights went out. As several emergency glow rods switched on, an inhuman voice droned from the comm speaker: “Attention! Fondor Spaceport is now under the control of the Droid Control Army. All organics will surrender at once. Anyone who attempts to leave the station will be vaporized.”
Calvaria squeezed Rench’s hand. He said, “Droid Control Army? I’ve never heard of them, but it sure doesn’t sound good.”
“There’s a long-range comm in my shuttle!” Calvaria exclaimed. “We’ll try to call for help!”
“I do appreciate your concern, Master Windu, but I cannot call off the duel with my daughter,” the Skull Queen said. “Our customs dictate that only the instigator can withdraw the challenge. Unless Calvaria does so, I am bound by Nallastian tradition to fight her.”
Mace Windu maintained a calm expression as he faced the Skull Queen. They were in the Skull Queen’s dressing room in her fortress, where a team of servants were fitting their leader with armor made from animal bones. They stood before a wall that was decorated with a broad tapestry of the Skull Queen and her late husband, a bearded man with green eyes. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Bultar stood behind Master Windu and listened attentively.
Mace Windu replied, “I regret you do not understand, Your Highness. I am no longer urging you and your daughter to reconsider the duel. I am telling you there will not be a duel.”
The Skull Queen was taken aback. “You’re saying you won’t allow it?”
“Yes,” Mace Windu stated. “A Jedi is a living being, not a prize to be won.”
The Skull Queen looked to Obi-Wan and said, “Do you not believe you are worth fighting for?”
“I have dedicated my life to helping those in need,” Obi-Wan said. “If you and Princess Calvaria have one need, it is to learn to communicate without fighting. If you continue with the duel, you will only be hurting each other and doing me a great disservice.”
The Skull Queen thought about this, then turned to one of her servants and said, “Go to Calvaria’s chambers and bring her here at once.” As the servant left the room, the Skull Queen stepped away from her other servants to admire her reflection in a tall mirror. “It has been nearly seven years since I last wore this armor,” she said as she placed a horned-skull helmet onto her head. “It’s nice to know it still fits.” Turning to face Obi-Wan, she removed the helmet and handed it to the nearest servant.
Obi-Wan asked, “This means you will not fight Calvaria?”
The Skull Queen nodded. “I never meant to insult you, Obi-Wan. And I never intended to harm Calvaria. I only wanted…” Her lip trembled, then she turned away to face the tapestry on her wall. “I only wanted to be happy… again.”
Obi-Wan felt his throat go dry. He was aware that Anakin, Bultar, and the Skull Queen’s servants were looking at him, wondering how or if he would respond. Before he could utter a word, Mace Windu said, “Honesty takes courage, Your Highness. And healing takes time
.”
Just then, the servant who had been sent to get Calvaria returned to the Skull Queen’s dressing room. “Your Highness!” the servant said. “The princess is gone! She left this.”
The servant handed a small, diskshaped hologram projector to the Skull Queen, who activated the device. A flickering three-dimensional image of Calvaria materialized from the projector, and her recorded voice spoke. “Dearest Mother. I have no interest in the Jedi, nor any intention of dueling with you. I said those things to distract you so I could escape the marriage to Prince Alto. I am in love with a mechanic from Fondor and have gone to be with him. By the time you hear this message, I will be leaving for another star system. I wish we could have resolved our differences. Please do not hate me. I love you, Mother.” The hologram flicked off.
“Why, the cunning, lovesick firemanx!” the Skull Queen said. “If she doesn’t marry Prince Alto, it will insult the Raptor Clan. They will declare war on us!” “An insult hardly justifies a war,” Mace Windu said.
The Skull Queen laughed. “Try telling that to the Raptor Clan.”
A Nallastian guard entered the Skull Queen’s room and said, “Excuse me, Your Highness, but one of our shuttles has been stolen from the landing field.”
“Calvaria took it,” the Skull Queen said. “Was the shuttle equipped with a tracker?”
“Yes. Its signal is coming from a hangar at Fondor Spaceport.”
“Maybe I can catch her there,” said the Skull Queen. She crossed the room to a cabinet that opened to reveal a private comm console. The Jedi watched as the Skull Queen entered a code into the comm. After waiting several seconds, she said, “That’s strange. There’s no response from the Spaceport. I’ll try a different frequency.”
The Skull Queen adjusted the controls on her console. “—anyone hear me?!” a young woman’s voice squawked from the comm. “Can anyone out there hear me?”
The Skull Queen recognized the voice immediately. “Calvaria?”
“Mother! I’m on Fondor Spaceport! Droids have taken over the entire facility! They’re rounding up all life-forms and—”
Star Wars Adventures 003 - The Hostage Princess Page 2
