by Troy Denning
“What is it?” Lumiya asked. Her tone made clear that she wasn’t agreeing to anything. “And you might try asking in a civil manner.”
Alema kept her gaze fixed on Lobi, who was continuing to record every word.
After a moment, Jacen spoke in a calmer tone. “Sorry. I lost a friend today.”
“I see.” Lumiya’s voice held just a hint of disapproval at Jacen’s sadness. “That must be why the Ferals are rioting.”
“Yes. The World Brain died this afternoon.” Jacen’s voice actually cracked. “But the Ferals aren’t exactly rioting—they just don’t have any impulse control without the World Brain to guide them.”
“And you want me to provide some?”
“No, Coruscant Security can handle that,” he said. “I need you to finish that list I gave you.”
“The Bothans?” Lumiya asked. “Jacen, you can’t let your personal feelings—”
“I’m not,” Jacen interrupted. “The Corellians finally figured out how GAG has been tracking them. They’re planning to send their whole network after the World Brain.”
“But not if they realize it’s dead already,” Lumiya surmised.
“Right,” Jacen said. “And I need them to attack. It will bring the terrorists out in the open.”
“And GAG will be waiting?” Lumiya asked.
“GAG will be watching,” Jacen corrected. “Coruscant Security will handle the actual ambush. Our agents will concentrate on the terrorists who escape. Some are bound to panic, and with any luck we’ll be able to follow them back to their ringleaders.”
“So, many Bothans must die to bait your trap,” Lumiya said.
“No one would understand the necessity better than Bothans,” Jacen said.
As Jacen said this, Lobi was pulling her comlink from her utility belt. Alema watched with increasing despair as the Chev carefully set the parabolic antenna on the ground and donned her headset and throat mike. This could not be in the interests of the Balance—not when Alema still owed Leia so much.
After a moment’s pause, Lumiya said, “You know that finishing this list will force Bothawui to declare war. Their ambassador is on it.”
“Do him first,” Jacen said. “Bothawui is going to declare war anyway. Niathal says they’re already outfitting three cruiser fleets for Corellian crews.”
“Fine,” Lumiya said. “The ambassador first … if you’re sure.”
“Don’t I sound sure?” Jacen snapped. A pair of military boots began to clack down the walkway as he departed. “Just do it. I can’t keep the admiral waiting any longer.”
Tresina Lobi reached for her throat mike and started to depress the SEND key in rhythmic sequence, using a click code to begin a silent broadcast to whoever was on the other end. Alema could see her finger movements just well enough to make out some of the message.
“… Skywalker he was … Lumiya IS following Ben—”
That was as far as Lobi made it before Alema understood the reason the Force had brought the Chev so close to her hiding place.
“… is more …”
Alema jerked her lightsaber off her belt. She was a Jedi—and Jedi served the Balance.
“… Lumiya is—”
Alema sprang from her hiding place, activating her blade as she flew through the air. Lobi was already rolling, her hand flying from her throat as she reached for her own weapon.
Alema stretched her jump into a Force leap and brought her mangled half foot down between Lobi’s shoulder blades … then felt a crushing pain as the Chev continued to roll, smashing the back of an elbow into Alema’s knee and knocking her legs out from beneath her.
Alema landed flat atop a chrysanthus shrub, surprised and hurting. Lobi had never been a flashy fighter, but she was powerful and effective—and clearly deserving of her rank. Alema whipped her lightsaber around to protect herself, half expecting to feel the death slash before it reached middle guard.
But the Chev had been disoriented by the unexpected assault and decided to buy some reaction time by leaping into a high Force flip. Alema arched her back and sprang to her feet—then nearly fell when her aching knee buckled. Instead of leaping into another attack, she extended her hand and used the Force to pluck the headset off Lobi’s head.
The Chev landed an instant later, her eyes wide with rage and disbelief, but she wasted no time acknowledging Alema’s identity. She merely ignited her own lightsaber and raced forward to attack.
Alema barely had time to slash the headset apart before the Chev was on her, driving her back toward the hedge with a combination of high slashes and powerful front thrust kicks. The first kick that landed drove the air from Alema’s lungs. The second doubled her over, making her an easy target—until she used the Force to accelerate herself off Lobi’s foot and deep into the hedge where she had been hiding a moment earlier.
As Alema crashed into the blartrees, she heard Lumiya on the other side, calling down the walkway to Jacen.
“Go on! I’ll handle this.”
No! Alema wanted to yell. Lobi is too dangerous—we need all the help we can get!
But of course, she did not dare. During the early stages of the Killiks’ conflict with the Galactic Alliance, her nest—the Dark Nest—had attempted to assassinate Jacen’s daughter, and she was quite sure that he’d be happy to let Lobi kill her. So she pushed out onto the walkway just far enough to reveal herself to Lumiya.
The Sith scowled and ignited her own weapon—an exotic one that seemed equal parts whip and lightsaber, with long flexible strands of metal and bright hissing energy.
“Who are you?” Lumiya demanded. “Why are you—”
“No time!” Alema launched herself back through the blartrees; if Lobi had not yet followed, that could only mean she was fleeing. “Come, before the Jedi spy escapes!”
Alema emerged from the hedge to find Lobi twenty paces away and already fading into the night. Alema dropped her lightsaber and pointed in the Chev’s direction, opening herself completely to the Force, using her anger and fear to draw it deep down inside. A moment later its power began to burn, and she released it in a long crackling bolt that caught her target square between the shoulder blades—and drove her to the ground.
Lumiya emerged from the hedge, her lightwhip burning a bright-colored hole in the fog. She glanced at the blue bolts coming from Alema’s fingertips, then asked again, “Who are you?”
“We’re a friend.” Continuing to pour Force lightning into Lobi’s prostrate form, Alema limped forward on her throbbing knee. “One who doesn’t wish Master Skywalker to learn what you are doing with his nephew.”
Lumiya followed. “We? I don’t see—”
“Later!” Alema snapped. They had closed to within five meters of Lobi. “Right now, we are in too much trouble to …”
Lobi suddenly stopped writhing and extended a hand toward a nearby patio. A decorative urn came flying out of the fog.
Alema let the Force lightning sizzle out and tried to redirect the urn, but Lobi’s Force grasp was too secure. The urn caught her full in her crippled shoulder and sent her flying. She landed in the chrysanthus shrubs several meters away, her body throbbing with pain and her mind numb with shock.
The hum-and-sizzle of clashing weapons slowly brought her back to her senses, and she sat up to find Tresina Lobi spinning and parrying, slowly forcing Lumiya back, probing and feinting, trying to work her way past the crackling strands of Lumiya’s exotic lightwhip—and into the striking range of a lightsaber.
Alema summoned her own weapon back into her grasp, then stood and limped forward to help.
Lobi sprang into a backflip and sailed over a crackling whip strike. Then, as she was still descending, she extended a hand in Alema’s direction and used the Force to pull her into the path of the flashing strands. Lumiya barely managed to shut down the weapon before it struck, and even then the hot filaments cut through Alema’s robe, burning a rainbow of hot welts into her thigh and ribs.
Alema
was still screaming when Lobi landed at Lumiya’s side. The Chev brought her lightsaber down, and Lumiya’s weapon arm—one of her many cybernetic parts—fell to the ground trailing sparks and hydraulic fluid.
Lobi reversed her blade instantly, angling for Lumiya’s torso, but Alema was already leaping forward to catch the Chev’s attack on her own lightsaber.
Lobi whipped her lightsaber around low, aiming at Alema’s knees and forcing her to leap back.
Alema pointed at Lumiya’s severed arm, then used the Force to send it spinning toward Lobi’s head. The Chev woman ducked easily, but that gave Lumiya time to call her lightwhip into her remaining hand and strike again. Lobi pivoted away from the attack. Alema sprang at her from behind, striking for the Chev’s thick neck, then cried out in surprise as a huge foot glanced off her ribs … and still sent her staggering back.
Lumiya seized the opportunity to launch a flurry of attacks, fanning the strands of her whip to make it more difficult to block, striking right and left to prevent the Chev from pivoting away again, slowly driving Lobi back toward Alema’s droning lightsaber.
Then, finally, Lobi faltered, gathering herself for a Force leap, but hesitating and retreating another step toward Alema instead.
It was the moment Alema had been waiting for.
“You are good, Master Lobi—but not that good.” Alema spoke in a Force whisper so soft that it was little more than a thought. “Even you cannot defeat two of us.”
Lobi’s head snapped around, her eyes filled with confusion and doubt, and she spun into a whirling charge of crescent kicks and horizontal lightsaber strikes.
Alema held her ground, ducking a lightsaber strike and letting a kick slip off her shoulder, then Force-slammed the hilt of her lightsaber into the pit of the Chev’s stomach and spoke again in her Force whisper.
“No good.”
Amazingly, Lobi stumbled only one step back … but that step was one too far. Lumiya’s lightwhip caught her across the back of the legs and severed them both at the knees. The Chev roared first in anger, then—as she dropped onto the stumps and pitched forward onto her hands—in agony.
It was a terrible sound to hear. Alema stepped forward and spoke once more in her Force whisper.
“There is no need to suffer.” She swept her blade across the back of the Chev’s neck, and the head tumbled away. “Your fight is done.”
Lumiya stepped into view at the other end of the body, but her gaze remained on Alema, and she did not deactivate her lightwhip. “Do I know you?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Alema knelt beside Lobi’s headless body and rolled it over, then removed the recording rod from the Chev’s belt and tossed it to Lumiya. “But we hope you will let us serve you. What you are doing with Jacen is so delicious—and so right for the Balance.”
chapter seven
The Hall of Masters was as long and fancy as all the others down which the Solos had sneaked, with red qashmel carpeting and some of the finest artwork in the galaxy hanging on the walls. Between each masterpiece, an ornate trefoil arch led into another equally opulent corridor, while a white alabas staircase at either end of the hallway ascended a vaulted turret into the higher reaches of Tenel Ka’s immense palace.
“Oh, boy,” Han said. “Which way now?”
“Good question.”
Han frowned. “Can’t you just follow the Force or something?”
“I could, if I wanted Tenel Ka to feel me searching for her.” Leia glanced at the security card she had stolen from the guard she had left lying in the Queen Mother’s Special Salon, then started down the hall. “But I have a better idea.”
Han followed her to the end of the hall, where they found a small data terminal tucked away beneath one of the staircases. Leia inserted the security card and selected QUEEN’S PAGEANT: HER MAJESTY’S PUBLIC SCHEDULE from the menu that popped up.
Tenel Ka had finished the Preliminary Judging of Muscles half an hour earlier and was due to host a banquet in two hours, but there was nothing scheduled for the moment.
“Look for a private schedule,” Han suggested. “This doesn’t tell us anything.”
“Sure it does,” Leia said. She called up a map of the palace, then pointed to a blacked-out area marked simply ROYAL RESIDENCE. “That’s where we’ll find her.”
“I don’t mean to sound skeptical, but—”
“It’ll take her an hour to dress for the banquet,” Leia said. “And she’s been judging the pageant all day. Where do you think she’ll spend her one unscheduled hour?”
“With her kid,” Han agreed. He should have known better than to doubt Leia; having grown up in a palace herself, she would have an instinctive understanding of Tenel Ka’s life. “So where’s the playroom?”
“Good question.” Leia plucked the data card from the terminal, then turned her face upward and closed her eyes for a moment. “Stairway’s clear.”
Han and Leia ascended side by side, passing portrait after portrait of Tenel Ka’s royal ancestors. The staircase was wide enough to accommodate a landspeeder, with room left for pedestrians, and it seemed to go up forever. After a good minute of climbing, a muffled murmur began to spill out of an unseen doorway onto a landing above.
Thinking they would need to find another way, Han took Leia’s arm and started to pull her back down the stairs.
“No time,” she whispered. “If Tenel Ka’s going to see us, it will be after she’s visited Allana and before she starts dressing for the banquet.”
Leia pulled Han close to the wall and continued to ascend, slowly and silently. When they had drawn to within a few meters of the landing, she stopped and pointed out into the emptiness on the other side of the banister. An instant later a loud clunk echoed up the turret, as though something had fallen onto the floor of the lowest level.
A pair of royal guards rushed out onto the landing to investigate. As they peered over the balustrade, Han and Leia pressed their backs to the wall and crept up the last few steps in silence, then slipped into an extravagant waiting room filled with cologne-heavy Hapan males. They were attired in elegant shimmersilk tunics and fine tavella doublets. All were holding plasticlear cases containing orchids from across the galaxy—sometimes more exotic than beautiful.
Leia slipped her hand through Han’s arm. “They’re probably suitors hoping to escort the Queen Mother to tonight’s banquet,” she whispered, leading him into the room. “Tenel Ka certainly likes to play games with her nobles.”
“As long as they don’t play games with us,” Han answered. “I really wish you hadn’t made me leave my blaster aboard the Falcon.”
“This is supposed to be a friendly call.”
“Then how come you’re wearing your lightsaber?”
“That’s different,” Leia replied. “This is Hapes, and I’m female.”
As they moved deeper into the room, the young nobles turned to study them, sneering at Han’s travel-worn flight jacket or frowning at Leia’s Jedi robes. The Solos paid little attention, holding the gazes of the courtiers just long enough to suggest they belonged here as much as anyone—and for Leia to reinforce the idea with a Force prod.
The trick must have worked, because by the time the Solos reached the perimeter of the seating area, the courtiers were turning back to their sabacc games and private conversations. Han and Leia weaved through the crowd to a large, spitting-rancor fountain that dominated the center of the room. Opposite them, a dozen royal guards blocked the mouth of a large ceremonial arch, beyond which lay a long white corridor. The hall was lined with displays of antiquated weapons and ancient blast armor, but its most spectacular feature was a glistening wind-crystal chandelier the size of an A-wing fighter.
“Guess we know where the Royal Residence is,” Han muttered, looking away from the guards. “But to get past that bunch, it’s going to take a pretty big—”
Leia’s fingers bit into Han’s arm. “Han, she’s here.”
“Here?” Han glanced casually around the
room and saw nothing out of the ordinary, just a couple of young nobles arguing over the stakes of a dejarik game and a middle-aged bachelor lecturing a pasty-skinned youth about the propriety of wearing a hat indoors. “Who’s here?”
“The assassin.”
Leia’s gaze went to the pasty-skinned youth and stayed there. With a slim beardless face and a bald head crowned by a fashionable—if ridiculously tall—top hat, he had a dangerous-yet-feminine appearance. His eyes were dark and sunken, his nose as straight as a knife, his mouth a small, ruby-lipped gash. He was wearing a ruffled dress jacket that had to be six sizes too large for him, and he was careful to keep his hands balled inside the outer pockets, as though afraid of what they might do on their own.
“You mean him?” Han whispered in disbelief. “He’s just a kid.”
The kid’s eyes slowly slid away from his lecturer and found Leia. When she did not look away, he gave her a short, almost imperceptible nod, then turned back to his conversation.
Leia grabbed Han’s arm. “That’s no kid.” She pulled him toward the guards waiting beneath the ceremonial arch. “In fact, she’s older than you are.”
“She?”
“It’s not important right now,” Leia said. “She’s not working alone. We need to warn Tenel Ka.”
As they neared the arch, a rough-featured guard wearing the golden cuff-hashes of a sergeant of the royal guard stepped out to meet them, blocking their way with a bulky Hapan power blaster.
“The Hall of the Wind Crystals is closed to visitors.”
“Of course it is.” Leia lifted her hand in one of those little waves that Jedi used when they were making a Force suggestion, then spoke so softly the sergeant had to lean down to hear her. “But the Queen Mother is in danger. You need to seal the chamber.”
The sergeant’s eyes widened, and he repeated, “The Queen Mother is in danger.” He was too well trained to react hastily, however—even under the influence of a Force suggestion. “What’s the nature of this danger?”
“From people in this chamber.” Leia’s voice was impatient. She made another little wave. “The Queen Mother is in danger. You need to seal the chamber and sound the alarm now.”
