Star Wars: Dark Nest I: Joiner King

by Denning, Troy

  “This is Killik Twilight,” Leia said to Raynar. “Do you recognize anything?”

  “Of course,” Raynar said. “Lizil was very excited about the painting.”

  Raynar stepped to the side of double bunk—the Solos had installed it when they had realized the Falcon was going to be their primary home—then leaned closer to the painting and began to run his gaze over every detail.

  “Thank you for showing it to us,” he said. “We wanted to ask, but our meetings have gone so badly that we didn’t want to presume.”

  Han raised his brow. Maybe there was less Raynar left in that seared body than he thought. The Raynar Thul whom Han remembered had been a decent-enough kid, but his wealthy family had never taught him to do anything but presume.

  Leia appeared less stunned than Han by Raynar’s politeness. She smiled graciously, then said, “Sometimes, art helps us know each other better. Do you know what this painting depicts?”

  Raynar nodded. “It shows an arm of the Lost Nest.” He still did not look away. “We remember it well.”

  “The Lost Nest?” Luke asked.

  “Remember it?” Han gasped. “It’s ancient!”

  Raynar finally tore his gaze from the moss-painting.

  “We remember the nest.” He fixed his eyes on Leia. “When humans came to Alderaan, they called it the Castle Lands. But we knew the nest as Oroboro. Our Home.”

  Han shook his head in disbelief. He liked to say that all bugs were alike, but not even he had assumed that the Kind and the Killiks were actually the same. Sure, they shared the same general body shape and had the same number of limbs, but beyond that, the Kind looked like the Killiks in the painting about as much as humans looked like Aqualish. The towers, on the other hand, were another matter. In both the painting and the Yoggoy nest, they were crooked cones with distinctly banded exteriors.

  Leia did not sound surprised at all. “So the Killiks didn’t go extinct, as everyone supposed. They simply left Alderaan thousands of years ago.”

  “You seem less surprised at that than Lizil was to see a painting of Oroboro,” Raynar said.

  “I’ve had my suspicions since we arrived at Yoggoy,” Leia replied smoothly She turned back to the painting. “Archaeologists have dated the oldest of those spires to twenty-five thousand standard years.”

  “Correct,” Raynar said. “The Celestials emptied Oroboro ten thousand generations ago—that would be twenty thousand years, as humans measure time.”

  Han wanted to ask who the Celestials were—and what Raynar meant by emptied. He also wanted to ask if a Killik generation really passed at the rate of one every two years. But he could see by the set of his wife’s jaw that she was pursuing her own line of questioning.

  “And yet, only three towers had collapsed before Alderaan was destroyed,” Leia said. “No maintenance or repairs, exposed to the elements all that time, and only three collapse. But here, a tower just happens to collapse as we’re about to pass by. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “There is more gravity here than on Alderaan,” Raynar countered. “And the ground does not make such strong spitcrete.”

  “This was still the first tower to collapse for no apparent reason,” Luke reminded him.

  “There is always a first, Master Skywalker.” Raynar turned back to Killik Twilight and began to study it. “We cannot explain what happened. Please accept our apologies.”

  Han exchanged looks of frustration with Luke and Leia, but Saba—who did not truly understand the concept of apology—made a distasteful grating sound in her throat.

  “This one does not want your apology, young Thul. She does not eat humanz.” She glanced out into the corridor, where Raynar’s duo of assistant Killiks stood waiting. “And she has never cared for the taste of insectz, either.”

  Raynar’s head snapped around so quickly that Han feared he was about to have bloody Barabel scales flying all over his sleeping quarters.

  “Take it easy, kid. You remember how Barabels are.” Han took Raynar by the arm and started forward. “Sorry for the misunderstanding, but we still need to get under way. Why don’t you tell us about these Celestials on the way out?”

  “If you like.” Raynar allowed himself to guided into the corridor. “It was after we built Qolaraloq—you Others call it Centerpoint Station. The Celestials were angry—”

  Saba stumbled into Han’s back as he stopped dumbfounded in the corridor.

  “You’re saying Centerpoint was built by Killiks?” Leia gasped. Finally, she sounded like something had surprised her.

  Instead of answering, Raynar abruptly stopped. “We need to see the aft hold. Your Noghri are abducting Captain Juun and his first mate.”

  Han winced inwardly. “Abducting? What makes you say that?”

  The muffled whine of an angry Sullustan drifted up the access corridor. “…will not be quiet! Let me see Captain—”

  Juun’s voice fell silent, but Raynar was already out the cabin door.

  Han turned to Leia. “Abducting?”

  Leia shrugged. “I told Cakhmaim to bring Juun and Tarfang to the Falcon. I guess they didn’t want to come.”

  “A misunderstanding,” Luke said. “We’d better go explain.”

  Luke led the way into the access corridor, and they caught up to Raynar and his attendants outside the aft hold. Raynar hit the touch pad, then scowled when the hatch did not open and raised his palm toward it.

  “Wait!” Han leapt to the control panel and punched in the override code. “Just be patient.”

  The door slid open to reveal Meewalh and Cakhmaim holding the XR808g’s two crew members. With one of Meewalh’s arms clamped around his throat and her other hand covering his mouth, Juun was at least still conscious. Tarfang was another matter. Still casted and bandaged from his fight with the Yoggoy guide, the Ewok was lying unconscious in Cakhmaim’s lap, with a freshly swollen eye and two new bare patches of fur.

  “It’s not what you think,” Han said. “I can explain.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Captain Solo.” Raynar made a humming sound deep in his throat, then turned and fixed Han with his unblinking gaze. “Just tell us why you are suddenly in such a hurry to leave.”

  “Uh…” The truth was the last thing Han could tell him, but he knew how good Jedi were at detecting lies—and whatever Raynar was now, he had started out a Jedi. “What makes you think we’re in a hurry?”

  Raynar’s noseless face grew stormy, and Han began to feel a dark weight pressing down on him inside.

  It was Leia, as usual, who came to his rescue. “We have no wish to insult the Colony,” she said, “but we don’t feel safe here.”

  Raynar turned to her, and the dark weight lifted.

  “You are safe. We promise.”

  “We don’t believe you,” Han said. That much was completely true. “Either you’re lying—”

  Leia’s face paled. “Han—”

  Han raised a hand, then continued. “Or you have no idea what’s happening. Either way, we’re out of here.”

  Raynar’s eyes grew so soft that they made Han think of the poor, confused kid whom the other Jedi trainees used to heckle for dressing so funny.

  “Very well. You have always been free to come or go as you wish.” He turned toward the Noghri, who were still holding Juun and Tarfang captive. “The same applies to Captain Juun and his copilot. Will you be leaving with Captain Solo?”

  Meewalh glanced at Leia. When she nodded, the Noghri removed her hand and arm from Juun’s mouth and throat. The Sullustan bustled to his feet and, glaring at Han, brushed himself off.

  “I’ll have to think about it,” he said. “Tarfang doesn’t care for being kidnapped.”

  Han’s stomach turned cold. Without Juun and his datapad, their chances of finding Jacen and the others before they turned into a bunch of Joiners went way down. Their only recourse would be to make their way to the Chiss frontier and start jumping from system to system.

 
Luke stepped toward Juun. “We weren’t trying to kidnap you.” He spoke in a soft monotone. “We were just—”

  One of the bristly Killiks slipped forward to block Luke’s way, and Raynar said, “It would be better if Captain Juun made up his own mind, Master Skywalker.”

  “Look, we were worried about him.” Han addressed Raynar, but he was watching Juun out of the corner of his eye. “We thought you were trying to kill us, and since he and Tarfang were the ones who helped us find this place—”

  Juun’s small mouth dropped in alarm. “Don’t remind him!”

  “Sorry—honest mistake,” Han said. He felt guilty about forcing the Sullustan’s hand, but Juun’s days running Colony cargo had come to an end when their guide found the transceiver that had helped the Falcon follow him to Yoggoy. “We were kind of worried about you. But if you want to stay here—”

  “I’m not leaving without the XR-eight-oh-eight-g,” Juun said. He looked at Tarfang, who was still unconscious. “And you’ll have to lend me a copilot until Tarfang’s better.”

  Han faked a scowl. “Getting kind of pushy there, aren’t you, fella?”

  “You owe it to me,” Juun said. “Item twenty-two in the Smuggler’s Code.”

  Han sighed, then turned back to Raynar. “There you have it,” he said. “I guess we’re stuck with ’em.”

  THIRTEEN

  The Jedi pilots rounded the brightly striped mass of the gas giant Qoribu and found themselves staring into the turquoise brilliance of the planet’s huge star, Gyuel. Jaina blinked instinctively, and by the time her eyes opened again, her astromech droid had darkened the StealthX’s canopy tinting. She saw the hawk-winged silhouettes of four inbound defoliators sweeping in just meters above Qoribu’s dazzling ring system, racing for the gap between the moons Ruu and Zvbo on initial approach for a dispersal run. With a four-squadron escort of clawcraft, the Chiss were clearly determined to reach their targets this time.

  Rather than break comm silence, Jaina opened herself to the battle-meld and immediately knew her wingmates had done the same. Sometimes they could hear one another’s thoughts through the meld, but more often they simply knew what their fellows were thinking…what they were doing. And the connection had only grown stronger since coming to Qoribu. During battles, they sometimes came perilously close to sharing minds.

  Jaina focused her thoughts on the impending clash. The Chiss were coming hard this time. The Jedi had to disable those defoliators quickly and withdraw before the fight turned bloody.

  Jaina sensed disapproval and knew that Alema favored a more forceful approach, one that would leave the Chiss with no illusions about the consequences of attacking the Colony’s food supply. And she was not alone. Others were outraged as well. Instead of attacking outright—a violation of the Ascendancy honor code, which prohibited an unprovoked first strike—the Chiss were trying to starve the Qoribu nests into retreat. Tesar, Tahiri, even Jacen believed that the Chiss were engaged in a campaign of species cleansing and deserved to get their noses bloodied.

  Only Zekk did not agree. Jedi saw similar cruelties everywhere they were called in the galaxy. But it was their responsibility to remain dispassionate, to cut through the veil of obscuring emotion and find the core of the problem. If they allowed themselves to seek retribution rather than peace, how could they bring a lasting solution to any conflict?

  As much as Jaina wanted to make the Chiss pay for the lives they were taking, she had to agree with Zekk. So far, this had remained a low-intensity conflict. But if the Jedi turned it into a killing fight, that would end. A simple border clash would erupt into all-out war, and the carnage would be staggering.

  The Chiss task force entered the gap between Ruu and Zvbo. Two of the four defoliators left the main formation with their clawcraft escorts and turned toward the moons. They were met by clouds of defenders, from the Saras nest on Ruu and the Alaala on Zvbo. Too small to be visible at even this relatively short distance, the dartships were nevertheless numerous enough to spread hazy stains of gray across Gyuel’s blue face.

  Jaina had barely formulated a plan to meet them before Tahiri shot ahead in the sleek little skiff that Zonama Sekot had grown for her. A living ship, its three-lobed hull glowed a deep, sea green against the star.

  Jacen followed a moment later in his ChaseX, which, like Tahiri’s living ship, could not be concealed from the Chiss sensors. The Jedi all understood what Jaina intended. Tahiri, who was not subject to StealthX comm restrictions, opened a channel to the Taat dartships still swarming around Jaina and the other StealthXs.

  “ReyaTaat, bring the dartships and follow us. We need to make this look real.”

  “We are to create a diversion?” A Chiss Joiner who insisted on being called by both the nest name and her own, ReyaTaat freely admitted that she had been sent by Chiss Intelligence to spy on the Qoribu nests. Her allegiance had changed—she claimed—when the Taat discovered her hiding in near starvation and started to bring her food. “The stealth fighters will divide and strike the defoliators by surprise?”

  “Something like that.”

  Though all of the Qoribu nests seemed to have complete faith in Reya, the Jedi were less trusting, and Tahiri was not about to reveal their plan.

  When neither the dartships nor Reya’s little scoutcraft started after her, Jacen added, “You need to come now. You’re drawing attention to the StealthXs.”

  “Taat is not happy with this plan,” Reya said. “The Chiss have changed tactics, and the nest worries they are trying to lure the Jedi into a trap.”

  Jaina’s suspicions about Reya began to deepen, and Tahiri asked, “The nests worry, or you do?”

  “We speak for the nests in this,” Reya said. “And we know the Chiss.”

  “You are the Chiss.” Tahiri’s skiff slowed, and she added, “Maybe you’re less worried about the Jedi than about your old friends.”

  “We are Taat,” Reya insisted. “But we were Chiss once, and we understand how dangerous it is to underestimate them.”

  The Saras dartships met the first defoliator and swallowed it in a cloud of gray, whirling slivers. The defoliator continued toward Ruu’s amber disk, engulfed in a halo of silver sparkles as the insect pilots hurled their tiny fighters against its shields. The Force grew heavy with anguish and admiration for their sacrifice, and Jaina was surprised to feel her own throat closing with emotion. Usually, she felt nothing when she entered battle, not fear or excitement or dread. Usually, she was too focused on the fighting to experience any emotions at all.

  The Chiss clawcraft circled back and began to make runs along the length of the defoliator’s hull, driving the Saras dartships off and giving the larger vessel time to refresh its shields. The StealthXs had to make their move now, or they would never reach the defoliators in time. Jaina pushed her throttles forward and broke for the amber moon, Ruu. Tesar, the second best pilot on the team, started for Zvbo, while Zekk, Alema, and Lowbacca all began a high arcing maneuver that would drop them down on the last two defoliators.

  “ReyaTaat, the Jedi are starting their run.” Jacen’s voice was sharp. “And we’re not going to be much of a diversion alone.”

  There was a moment of silence, then a vague tide of alarm rose in the Force. “Slow down!” Reya commed. “The dartships can’t catch you!”

  Jaina checked her tactical display and found a blue cloud of Taat dartships sweeping up from the bottom of the display, following Reya’s little scout-lancet after Tahiri. At the top of the screen, both Chiss defoliators were fully engulfed in swarms of Saras and Alaala, with the curved horizons of Ruu and Zvbo hanging high in the corners. The main body of the Chiss task force remained in the center of the display, the clawcraft escorts hanging back just far enough to make the last two defoliators an inviting target.

  What were they up to?

  Jaina’s astromech changed scale, and suddenly her tactical display was a mass of “friendly” blips—the Saras dartships—whirling around the defoliator she had ta
rgeted. The friendly blips were winking out by the dozens.

  Jaina checked her estimated time to attack. Five seconds, but she sensed that Tesar needed seven. She armed two proton torpedoes, then added a sweeping curve to her approach and came in behind the battle.

  Outside her cockpit, space was a tightly wound ball of orange rocket trails swirling around the blue glow of the defoliator’s big ion drives. A pair of dartships blossomed in scarlet as they exploded against the shields of an oncoming clawcraft, but a third collided with its wing.

  The clawcraft pilot lost control and went corkscrewing into Ruu’s thin atmosphere. Assuming he survived the crash, Jaina knew, he would be taken into the Saras nest and treated as a welcome guest. Unless they were clearly being attacked, none of the Qoribu nests seemed to have any real concept of enemy.

  Jaina tried to pick a route through the mad tangle of dartships, but it was like trying to avoid drops in a rainstorm. Two seconds from her launching point, a Saras bounced off her shields, and her canopy went black to prevent her from being blinded by the white flash of an exploding rocket.

  By the time the tinting paled an instant later, three Chiss clawcraft were coming at Jaina head-on, pouring a steady torrent of cannon bolts in her general direction. She did a half-roll slip, taking two hits on her forward shield as she passed through the third fighter’s stream of fire, then loosed her first torpedo.

  Nothing if not well trained, the Chiss adjusted their aim instantly, targeting on the weapon’s origination point. Jaina’s forward shields flared into a white wavering wall of heat, and shrieking overload alarms filled the cockpit. She released the second torpedo and jinked hard to port. More Chiss brought their craft to bear, barely grazing her with a blue inferno that was nevertheless enough to bring her shields down with a final, warning screech. The air grew acrid with the smell of fused circuits, and warning messages that Jaina could not read through the smoke began to scroll down her status display.

  “Just keep the masking systems up, Sneaky,” Jaina ordered her droid, taking the StealthX through an unpredictable coil of reversing rolls. “If those guys get a sensor read on us, we’ll really be in trouble.”