Into the Void: Star Wars (Dawn of the Jedi)

by Tim Lebbon

  They battle together. Taking on Tython’s dangers, weathering its storms.

  But when they reach Talss at last, landing in a small seaport, Dal sets off from the moored boat without another word. For him there is no time to waste, no point in stopping to rest. It’s as if Anil Kesh has something for him, and he is impatient to get there.

  Storms thrash above Talss. Heavy rain strikes them like a hail of small stones, lightning thrashes, and Lanoree feels eddies in the Force. The Force Storm makes her feel sick and unsteady, and Dal grabs her arm and helps her along. There’s a new purpose in him now, and Lanoree only wishes she knew what drove it.

  The Temple of Science is still two days’ travel inland.

  “He calls it the Network,” Tre said. “It’s a loose collection of contacts, informers, and spies, not only in Greenwood Station but in almost every domed city on Nox. Sometimes beyond. So loose that any break in the Network protects everyone else. Any disruption to the links in its web cuts off everyone else. It’s genius, really.” He sounded almost respectful. “It’s taken Maxhagan years to set it up, and he won’t risk it unless we make it worth his while.”

  “And you’ve met Maxhagan? Used his Network?”

  “No to both. But he and I have conducted business.”

  “Just what have you—?”

  “It’s him you need to know about right now,” Tre said sternly. “I mean it, Lanoree. I like you. I have shadows in my past, and I’m sure Dam-Powl suggested that to you. But Maxhagan isn’t someone to fool with. He’s the real deal. A maniac. A monster.”

  They had crossed a stinking, polluted canal on a rickety bridge and were now in District Six. At its far end stood the rock and metal tower that acted as Greenwood Station’s central buttress, every gigantic spine of the immense dome curving back and down from the tower’s pinnacle. At ground level it was so wide that it would take half a morning to walk around, and its top was hidden within a haze of smoke and steam. Craft buzzed to and from the tower, both airships and powered vessels. There was even some green up there, Lanoree noticed. Garden balconies overflowed, and all across District Six, petals and leaves were crushed into the pavement by countless feet. It was as if those in the tower teased the rest of the dome with what they had.

  District Six itself was a mix of large factory buildings, storage warehouses, and contained outdoor parks for larger produce—Lanoree had seen a large area half-filled with ranks of ground assault vehicles of various shapes and sizes—and a network of squares around which hunkered accommodation and administration towers. The squares bustled with people going to and from work, and the largest housed a huge market where workers spent their pay.

  They were closing on that square now, a huge factory belching and thundering to their left, a soot-smothered five-story office building to their right. Lanoree wondered how people managed to live and work in such a place. But she knew that many did not have a choice. People were born and died on Nox, their lives mapped out from beginning to end. Most earned just enough to survive in one of the domes, sometimes affording a few luxuries from time to time. But to leave the planet would cost more than most could ever save in a lifetime.

  No doubt the Corporations liked it that way.

  Lanoree looked up at the high dome, barely visible above them, and the noisy, stinking factory to their left. Dal could be anywhere here. She felt a rush of urgency, not only to catch him but to see him again.

  “I’ve dealt with monsters before,” Lanoree said.

  “Yeah, and fought them, I’ll bet. But Maxhagan is a monster with brains. Four years ago he was crossed by a family from Volke House on Shikaakwa. They’d bought some information from him that helped them establish a production base in Crystal City, a dome eight hundred kilometers south of here. Then they refused to pay. Killed three of his messengers and withdrew to Shikaakwa with all their business gains intact.” They paused as a train approached, moving to one side, and letting the massive transport trundle by along its tracks in the middle of the road.

  “So this is a tale of revenge, and what terrible retribution he brought down on them,” Lanoree said. She knew what to expect. Her previous visit to Nox had been brief, but she knew people like Maxhagan. She’d met them all over the system.

  “In a way,” Tre said. “It took him a while. But he conspired to initiate a feud in Crystal City, and that resulted in a skirmish that left three thousand dead. Wiped out the Volke family’s entire network on Nox, and there was no link whatsoever to Maxhagan. He wasn’t interested in ego, or in anyone knowing it was he who caused it. He didn’t want infamy. He just wanted revenge.”

  “Yet infamy is his.”

  Tre shrugged. “These things become known.”

  “A sharp mind, then.”

  “Sharp and brutal. The three thousand included many children. I doubt he had trouble sleeping that night.”

  “So he makes all his money from information?”

  “The best way there is to make money.” Tre gestured around them at the buildings, the air hazy despite the air-treatment units drifting and thundering around the dome’s massive airspace. “This is all fleeting, constantly assaulted by the atmosphere. Or it can be destroyed, as we saw on the way in. Information is eternal, and that’s where Maxhagan places his faith.”

  “So is the Force,” Lanoree said. “I’ll put my faith in that.”

  “My faith is here,” Tre said, touching the bulge of the blaster on his belt.

  “Imported water,” Lanoree said. “Seems ironic that he deals in something that represents purity.”

  “Good cover,” Tre said. “And I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.”

  They moved on, and soon District Six’s huge central square came into view in a shallow valley. It was a sea of movement, and for a moment looking down into it Lanoree felt queasy. Countless people swarmed and swirled, market stalls and more impressive structures strove to take their money from them, the smells of cooking mixed with the dome’s manufacturing stenches and made her stomach turn. Somewhere down there, the head of the Network, and perhaps her way to Dal.

  Lanoree led the way down a gentle slope and into the melee.

  In the end, Maxhagan was easy to find. Perhaps he believed that concealment would make him seem more suspicious. Or maybe he was simply too confident to hide.

  He was certainly one of the most unobtrusive men Lanoree had ever seen.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s him,” Tre said, frowning. They were standing in a food stall, mounds of root vegetables and racks of curing meat all around. Across the wide walkway from them was a water stall. That’s all it sold—water, in various container sizes. The sign above the stall exhorted THE FINEST WATER, IMPORTED FROM KALIMAHR, CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICITY AVAILABLE TO THOSE WHO DOUBT. The man standing behind the stall talking with a family of human workers was short and fat, his dark skin wrinkled with laughter lines, and the few remaining tufts of white hair on his scalp gave him a comic appearance. His eyes were filled with good humor, and with just a few words he had the family laughing along with him.

  “It is,” Lanoree said. “He has four people around him. The Noghri at the lizard-fighting pit along the way, three stalls away, that tattooed woman selling fate readings we passed a hundred paces back, and up in the buildings around the square one sniper with a blast rifle and another with a rocket. All watching.”

  “You Je’daii,” Tre said, but he could not hide his admiration.

  “Best not use that word here. So, let’s buy some water.”

  They waited behind the family, and after they left, Lanoree smiled at Maxhagan and approached the stall. She kept herself sharp, reaching out with her Force senses to those hidden guards she had already recognized. The last thing she would do was let Maxhagan’s appearance deceive her.

  “Ahh,” Maxhagan said when he saw Tre. “What brings you here, Tre Sana?”

  Tre could not hide his surprise at being recognized. Perhaps they hadn’t dealt face-t
o-face, but it seemed Maxhagan always knew who he did business with.

  “He’s my guide,” Lanoree said. “And we’d like to buy some of what you’re selling.”

  Maxhagan glanced back and forth between them, and never once did his smile slip, not even from his eyes. He scratched at the corner of his mouth, and Lanoree tensed, hand drifting a little closer to the sword hidden beneath her robe. She probed at him gently, but before she’d even touched his mind, she flinched back. His thoughts were such a pit of filth that she could almost taste their rot.

  “Je’daii,” Maxhagan whispered.

  “And so?” Lanoree asked. Tre stood frozen at her side.

  Maxhagan stared at her, still smiling. He poured three cups of water from a plastoid container without even looking, lifted one to his lips, sipped.

  “Don’t see many Je’daii here.”

  He’d sensed her instantly. Ready this time, Lanoree reached out to read him, but he was closed to her now. The wall he’d thrown up was solid and vast, and it had the feel of something enhanced. He had tech implanted somewhere in his skull—under one of those tufts of hair, no doubt—and it was top-grade stuff, high-end military. His protection went far deeper than simple bodyguards.

  “I’m doing my best not to be seen,” she said.

  “I’ve nothing against Je’daii,” he said. He put his cup down and handed one to each of them. Lanoree took hers and nodded for Tre to do the same. “Just don’t—” he waved his hands above his head “—you know, mess with my mind or any of that crap.”

  “That might be hard,” Lanoree said.

  Maxhagan laughed out loud, and it was so infectious that she actually found herself smiling. “Well, protection is always advisable, especially in a pit like this. Eh, Tre?” He grunted and sighed. “So. Time for my lunch break. Come with me and we’ll talk.”

  He took them beneath the square, descending one of the many staircases. There was machinery down there that powered lights and air filtration, and also places where less-acceptable business was conducted. Brothels, drug bars, fighting rinks, Lanoree sensed and saw them all, built in ruins that were testament to Greenwood Station’s past. Sometimes, it was easier to build new upon old

  But Maxhagan had no interest in such underground endeavors. Through three doors, along several corridors, and then down a secret staircase concealed behind a locked wall panel, they emerged eventually in a room that might have impressed those Corporation officials in their high tower.

  “Nice,” Lanoree said as he led them inside. They were on their own, yet she had no doubt Maxhagan was well protected here. She felt the weight of battle droids buried in the walls, and suspected that his implanted tech probably controlled everything about this room. One wrong move and chaos would erupt.

  “I do enjoy some comforts,” he said. “Oh, and don’t think for a moment that I’m imparting any sense of trust by bringing you here. I have dozens of these rooms all over the dome. I haven’t been to this particular one in a long time, as can be witnessed by—” he picked up several bottles from a table and threw them into a corner “—the bad drinks selection. Apologies.”

  “Not here to drink,” Tre said.

  “Here to buy more mercenaries, Tre?” Maxhagan’s eyes twinkled as Tre squirmed uncomfortably. But Lanoree did not take the bait.

  “I’m looking for someone, and Tre says you can help,” she said. “He might have arrived already, or his ship might be incoming. He’ll have people with him. They call themselves Stargazers.”

  “Looking in your Je’daii capacity?”

  “He’s my brother,” Lanoree said. It was no answer, but it seemed to satisfy Maxhagan.

  “It’ll cost you. But I’m a fair man in business, so I’ll let you make me an offer.”

  “Half a million credits,” Tre said. Lanoree held in her surprise, and was pleased to see Maxhagan’s eyes go wide.

  “A generous offer,” he said.

  Tre smiled. “I’m a fair man in business.”

  Maxhagan strolled around his opulent room, running his fingers along surfaces and tutting at the buildup of dust.

  “His name’s Dalien Brock,” Lanoree said. “I need to know where he is. And he mustn’t know I’m here.”

  “Are you going to kill him?” Maxhagan asked.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “True. But every time I use my Network, I put it at risk. And as I’m in business for pleasure, there’s always a price over and above money. Generous though your offer is, Tre.”

  Lanoree did not respond.

  “Added to that,” Maxhagan continued, “do you have any idea how much business would suffer if anyone knew I was helping a Je’daii?”

  “We won’t tell anyone,” Lanoree said.

  “Oh, I know that.” He spoke with such assurance, such confident control, that Lanoree felt a shiver down her spine. Only one other person had ever made her feel like this—Daegen Lok, the one time she’d seen him during her short retreat on Bogan. None of the others with her party had seen him, and the Master supervising them had told her that it was impossible, that prisoners were kept separated by force fields. But though he had been little more than a shadow on a distant hillside, she had felt his eyes upon her and the weight of his regard. Heavy. Dark.

  “So,” Maxhagan continued, “an answer to my question is also part of the price. Will you kill your brother?”

  Lanoree considered the question. It was one she had confronted and struggled with already, and it had caused more distress in her than finding Dal’s bloodied, torn clothing nine years before. But the answer was already firm in her mind. “Only if I absolutely have to.”

  Maxhagan nodded. His eyes were on fire.

  “My stall, dusk,” he said. “If he’s in Greenwood Station I’ll know by then.” He plucked an electronic device from his belt and held it out to Tre. “I’d appreciate untraceable bonds, if you will. And the transfer should be the full amount.”

  “Half now, half—” Tre began.

  “The full amount is fine,” Lanoree said. “I can see you’re a man of honor.”

  Maxhagan frowned for a moment, trying to make out whether Lanoree was playing him. Then he laughed out loud again, head back, hand pressing his side.

  This time she felt no urge to laugh with him.

  “I need a shower,” she said. “I want to change my skin. Buy new clothes. The man’s a disease.”

  “I did warn you.”

  “And where do you get so much money?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  I do, Lanoree thought as they walked as quickly as they could out of District Six. I do want to know. She made sure they weren’t followed. Maxhagan would have his eyes on them somehow, she knew, and his attention was something they had bought along with his help. But someone following them would be too much of a threat to ignore.

  And she did want to know about Tre, and where his money came from, and dusk was a while away.

  “I know a place we can go to—” Tre began.

  “No. We’ll walk. I don’t like his knowing I’m here. He’ll have a trace on us somehow, but I’ll feel more comfortable on the move. Beside … I need to know this place more.”

  “Why?” Tre asked.

  “Useful if it comes to a fight.” She nudged Tre’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s buy a couple of tankards, drink while we’re walking. We’ll fit right in. And you can tell me something about yourself.”

  They bought drinks and walked, and all the time Tre was talking, Lanoree was taking in their surroundings. Getting the lay of the land. Locating herself in relation to the rest of the dome and the damaged sector and possible exit routes to the outside, if the need arose.

  She tried hard to make herself believe she wasn’t being helplessly fooled by Maxhagan.

  “I made my name in violence and my money in secrets.” Lanoree’s own silence had encouraged Tre to speak, and she was not about to interrupt his flow with questions.

 
“My third lekku set me aside, even among the Twi’lek community on Kalimahr. It invited ridicule. You wouldn’t think that, would you? That in a society filled with so many shapes, species, and creeds, a simple extra something would set me apart?” He snorted. “I suffered as a child, and that set me on the course I took all through my young adult years.”

  He fell silent, and they passed a square where small, sick-looking creatures were kept in metal-fenced stalls. The animals were completely silent, and it was the humans and other species who made the most noise as individual subjects were hoisted up on an apparatus, hung from their back legs, and butchered. Meat and money changed hands. The cattle watched, eyes heavy with knowledge.

  “What course?” she asked.

  “The path of violence. I killed my first man when I was seventeen. A street fight outside a tavern on one of Kalimahr’s less-salubrious islands. No one cared that he was dead, and after a day neither did I. It had helped me. His mocking, his violence against me, were washed away.” He looked down at his palms as he walked. “By his blood on my hands.”

  “Killing should never be easy.”

  “But it was. And I became really good at it. Defending my honor, I’d discovered that I was a fighter. Others soon noticed. I slipped into crime. There was always a part of me that resisted, but the rewards easily helped me fight back. I drove down the doubt and embraced the new worlds opening up for me. Wealth, power, status. I became feared and revered in equal measure. A name. I gathered others around me and formed my own criminal organization from the bottom up. It was unintentional, really, that creation of a gang. But it just happened, and I relished every moment.”

  They left the square with the doomed cattle and entered a warren of narrow alleys between low buildings. The sounds of life flowed from open windows—screaming infants, arguing parents, entertainment channels, music. Lanoree felt apart from all that, and the weight of her mission bore down on her even more. Her heart beat with its urgency. She should have found Dal by now.