Star Wars: Darksaber

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Daala glanced behind her, fiery hair whipping about in the cold gusts. Her lungs burned from the thin air, but she didn’t want to appear weak wearing a breathmask.

  Pellaeon straightened his uniform and stood with Imperial demeanor. Daala held her head up and strode toward the massive doors five times her own height—Daala suspected the grandeur was mostly for show. Despite Delvardus’s proclaimed enormous military expenditures, she had seen virtually no armed presence around the entire planet, and she wondered if the second in command might be planning some sort of ambush.

  Stepping apart so that all observers could witness the suspended body of Superior General Delvardus, Daala and Pellaeon stood before the towering stone doorway and waited. She spotted voice pickups cleverly concealed in crevices in the rocks.

  “I have a message and a gift for Colonel Cronus,” Daala said in a normal speaking voice, turning her mouth toward the voice pickups.

  With a sound like a disgusted sigh, the great stone doors cracked open by two meters, revealing an armed contingent of Imperial soldiers hiding inside. Daala did not permit herself to look the least bit ruffled. “Your Superior General has acted in a heinous and traitorous manner, putting his own wishes ahead of the future of the Empire.”

  The guards looked as if they wanted to blast her for insulting their former master so blatantly, but they didn’t dare act in front of Daala’s stormtrooper escort and the heavily armed Gamma assault shuttles.

  “Delvardus did not act alone, but continued a war of attrition, fighting other warlords to the detriment of us all. I present here”—she withdrew a holo cube from her pocket and set it in front of the sparkling frame that held the suspended body—“a recording of our entire détente council, so that you may see your general’s actions, as well as those of the other warlords. Then you will understand why it was necessary to take such a drastic step.

  “These assault shuttles are merely a fraction of our forces, but they are sufficient to cause significant damage to your fortress. The rest of our fleet waits in orbit. Look over these items and decide whether to join us as part of a reunited Imperial force—or whether to be considered renegades like your former master. You have one hour to deliberate. If we don’t hear from you, we will come back and destroy you as accomplices.”

  She spun about. The stormtroopers set the heavy frame down, switching off its antigrav platform before marching behind Daala and Pellaeon.

  Daala did not turn to watch, but she heard the guards hustle out of the fortress and gather up their fallen leader and the message cube. They rushed back inside, and the thud of armored doors echoed in the narrow canyon.

  After the hour was up, Colonel Cronus decided to join Daala’s forces. Wholeheartedly.

  An armored fast transport from the fortress hangars took Daala and Pellaeon, along with a contingent of their suspicious stormtrooper guards, away from the planet. Colonel Cronus himself piloted the armored transport, transmitting recognition signals into deep space. Leaving Daala’s battleships behind, Cronus took them straight up out of the system, perpendicular to the ecliptic and toward the sparse cometary cloud.

  Colonel Cronus was a small man but packed with power. His shoulders were broad, his chest rippled, and his swollen biceps showed that he took great care to maintain himself at peak physical form, even in the reduced gravity of the small, bleak planet. His curly black hair was seeded with silvery strands that gave him a distinguished appearance. His complexion was deeply tanned and seamed with lines that made him look weathered; his large brown eyes constantly flicked back and forth, drinking in details. He spoke sparingly, answering questions put to him with just the right amount of information.

  “I need to make a brief hyperspace hop,” Cronus said, “to get us far enough to the edge of the system—unless you’d rather we spent weeks at full burn of our sublight engines?”

  Daala stiffened. Pellaeon frowned suspiciously, and the stormtrooper guards snapped to attention; but she decided that Cronus had little to gain here by sudden treachery —and that trusting him with a responsibility such as this could only plant the seeds of deeper loyalty. “Very well, Colonel,” she said. “I’m anxious to see what Delvardus has managed to create with all the credits he’s been spending.”

  Pellaeon looked at her as if in warning, his heavy mustache drooping; but she shook her head imperceptibly. The vice admiral sat back and forced himself to relax. Cronus accepted her orders without question and began programming the navicomputer.

  Daala felt her nerves taut like high-tension wires running through her body. She kept her expression impassive, but adrenaline coursed through her as she strapped herself into her chair. Everything had gone remarkably well. The conquest had been devastating and bloody, but she had taken out selected targets—the appropriate victims—and the Empire’s harvest grew stronger and richer with each weed she plucked. She felt elated when she thought of the momentum of her triumph.

  Pellaeon raised his eyebrow in question, but she didn’t respond. The risk had paid off for her. She would always remain on guard, but for the moment the danger was over. Now she had to work on consolidating her power.

  Cronus swiveled in his pilot seat, looking at Daala with deep brown eyes that held an unexpected warmth; she wondered if he actually appreciated her takeover. She had seen him look upon the body of Superior General Delvardus with barely concealed scorn.

  “Entering hyperspace, Admiral Daala,” he said. “Please don’t be alarmed.” Around the ship, space vanished in a multicolored swirl.

  Daala leaned forward to speak to the colonel. “We’ve researched the amount of funding Delvardus tunneled into his operations, and I am not impressed with what I saw at his fortress.” She narrowed her emerald eyes and continued, “I hope he hasn’t been squandering the Empire’s resources.”

  Cronus smiled and shook his head. “I assure you, Admiral, he has not. I think even you will be impressed.”

  Daala closed her eyes for a moment to tally her fleet in her mind, adding together the Star Destroyers she had already collected from the various warlords, all of the battleships and firepower she had to command. She vowed to put her fleet to its best use this time.

  “Here we are, Admiral.” Colonel Cronus flicked the hyperspace controls that dropped them back into the normal universe. Blackness washed around them, and the distant sun appeared as a bright point at the center of the system. Other than that, space was dark around the armored transport.

  Then Daala noticed a blot as she stared, an enormous shadow that eclipsed the stars. It seemed to be kilometers long and grew larger as they approached.

  Cronus fiddled with the comm system and transmitted a recognition code. “Power up,” he said to some unknown listener. “Let’s make a good display.”

  Daala squinted out the viewport, and suddenly she saw a whirlwind of tiny lights appear, marking deck after deck on a breathtakingly huge ship. The immense wedge-shaped shadow was a single vessel, larger than anything she had ever seen before.

  “I can’t believe it,” Pellaeon said beside her. “Only the Executor was this big—and that one ship practically bankrupted the Empire.”

  “What is it?” Daala asked.

  Cronus smiled, his expressive face showing his obvious enjoyment at her reaction—but it was Pellaeon who answered. “It’s a Super Star Destroyer,” he said.

  Cronus nodded eagerly. “Worth twenty Imperial Star Destroyers,” he said, his eyes flashing with pride. “It is eight kilometers long, can carry a crew of up to a hundred thousand—and is plated with stealth armor. That’s why it appeared as only a black shadow as we approached. Though gigantic, it is virtually invisible to enemy forces.”

  He lowered his voice as if imparting a precious secret. “We named it the Night Hammer.”

  Daala’s eyes shone with wonder, and her breath came shallow and fast as Cronus directed the armored transport to the open bay of the Super Star Destroyer. Daala could not restrain herself and stood from her seat, waiti
ng behind the colonel. She leaned forward, unable to tear her eyes from the beauty of the black Night Hammer.

  “That will be my ship,” she whispered.

  CORUSCANT

  CHAPTER 21

  Inside the cavernous Imperial palace, Leia Organa Solo and her family wore nondescript civilian clothes, stopping at a pleasant café to eat their lunch like normal citizens. It felt good to be out of uniform where Leia could pretend to be invisible—though she knew that private bodyguards, professional protectors, and crack sharpshooters followed at a comfortable distance, monitoring her every movement. Leia resented the interference—but she also knew after many attempts on her own life or on her family, she couldn’t afford to grow careless. Too much was at stake.

  Han carried Anakin against his side, and the young boy clasped small hands around his father’s neck. “Come on, kids, there’s a table over here,” he said. The energetic twins raced to be the first to reach the empty seats.

  Chewbacca let loose a long yowl, insisting that the kids slow down and be careful—but they ignored the big Wookiee.

  “If you would simply allow me to handle this, I’m sure they would behave,” Threepio said. Chewbacca flashed his fangs at the golden droid. “Really, Chewbacca! There’s absolutely no call for such displays.”

  Artoo-Detoo whistled, but Threepio didn’t bother to respond. The golden droid carried two trays of food, while Chewbacca hefted his own mounded high with dripping meat.

  Their group chose a table at the edge of a towering balcony. Mists rose around it, generated from vaporizers in the synrock walls. Trickling fountains traced rivulets of water down the dozens of stories to an open plaza enclosed within the pyramidal palace.

  Threepio and Chewbacca set their trays on the table, but the twins rushed to the edge barricade, standing on their tiptoes to peer far below.

  “Look at the people!” Jaina said. “They’re so tiny.”

  “Can I throw something down?” Jacen asked, looking around for any object to toss over the edge.

  “No, you may not,” Leia said.

  “But Jaina’s going to,” the boy responded.

  “No, she isn’t,” Leia repeated with a sterner tone.

  “No, I’m not!” Jaina said.

  “Come on, sit down,” Han said, settling Anakin into a chair.

  Around them the rustle of thousands of officials, bureaucrats, and aides going about their business made a drone of white noise mixed with the buzz of machinery, air exchangers, and climate-control systems. Leia felt calmer now that she could take a brief break. At least people weren’t challenging every decision she made for lunch.

  Leia appreciated Mon Mothma’s confidence in her, when the former Chief of State had passed the torch of rulership—but Leia did not relish the work of being president, though she considered it her duty.

  Jacen and Jaina sat down and began to play with their food, and she was relieved that they had chosen something that wouldn’t try too hard to run away. The twins loved colored cubes of fizzing protein gelatin, though Leia couldn’t stand the stuff. Han had chosen a greasy Corellian dish, while Leia contented herself with hydroponic greens sprinkled with intense flavor crystals.

  She closed her eyes as she sank into her chair. “It’s so nice just to be together with the family, if only for a few minutes.” Chewbacca agreed with a loud rumble.

  A tall, offensively efficient waitdroid came up with a gleaming empty platter affixed to one metal arm. “May I provide further assistance, honored customers?” the waitdroid said. “I am proud to offer my services while you dine in our fine establishment. May I take orders for drinks or additional items? Condiments perhaps? The pleasure of my existence is to serve you faithfully.”

  Threepio grew indignant at the overblown expressions of hospitality. “I am their personal protocol droid, you pretentious pile of scrap, and I am perfectly capable of taking care of their needs. Now if you don’t mind, this is a family outing, and we would much prefer to be left alone. Good day.”

  The waitdroid sniffed, spun its torso 180 degrees, and trundled off.

  Han placed his hand over Leia’s and gave a crooked smile. “Bad day?”

  “Exhausting,” Leia answered, her eyes still shut. “Every meeting seems like I’m running uphill on a high-gravity planet. Nothing gets accomplished easily. I find myself wishing for the ‘good old days’ when we would just blast in, do our jobs, and leave: mission accomplished. Now I have to go through so many different steps, so many interminable committees, get agreement from an unconscionable number of opposing parties so nobody in the galaxy is offended by the smallest piece of legislation … it’s impossible sometimes.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at her husband. Jacen and Jaina began throwing gelatin cubes at each other. “In a case like this, it’s so perfectly plain. Why is there any discussion? We still can’t come to an agreement.”

  “The stuff about the Hutts?” Han asked.

  She bit her lower lip and nodded. “It’s obvious the Hutts are pulling a fast one. We know what you and Luke found in Jabba’s palace, we’ve got the message from Mara Jade, and we know that Durga’s own Taurill stole the Death Star plans. We can’t just ignore it.”

  She took a mouthful of leaves and crunched, thinking as she chewed. Han ate one of his grayish green sausages and smacked his lips, relishing the meal. “There are other ways to find out,” he said.

  Leia smiled. “I know.” She felt her face grow warm, fixing her attention on the challenge. She squeezed Han’s hand in both of hers. “Okay, we’ve had closed Senate meetings, and I’ve heard enough discussion to make a statue fall asleep. So what are we really going to do?”

  Chewbacca ventured a loud opinion. “Yeah, I was thinking that, Chewie,” Han said and turned to Leia. “The Hutts probably know we suspect something. We’ve heard news from too many different sources to hope that those slimy worms don’t have an inkling yet. They’ll be watching your official channels very closely. They’ve probably got spies scattered throughout the Imperial palace. We have to be careful.”

  Leia nodded. “So, since they know we’re hunting for clues, let’s create a diversion. We’ll use a flashy show, carry a big stick in one hand and a delicate probe in the other.”

  Han’s forehead creased as he thought. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll take Durga up on his offer.”

  Han looked at her blankly. “What offer? You’d accept something from a Hutt?”

  Leia shrugged. “He invited us to make a return visit of state. I’m sure he didn’t mean it, but he can’t back down now that the invitation’s been made. Let’s set up a diplomatic mission on the spot, head out to Nal Hutta as soon as possible. That way Durga will have no forewarning.

  “And,” she continued, holding up one finger, “we’ll be accompanied by the New Republic fleet. Wedge and Ackbar must be itching to go on some innocent-sounding war-gaming exercises. Our ships can provide an impressive show of force. If the Hutts happen to get intimidated in the process, so much the better. Let them be nervous, wondering what we’re really up to, and we’ll poke around to find some answers.”

  Threepio piped up. “But Mistress Leia, how do you expect to learn anything if you’re so obvious about it? Won’t Durga the Hutt hide anything he knows?”

  Leia’s expression became mischievous. “If we come in with all the flash and dazzle we can muster, he may just be blinded to what else we’re doing. Meanwhile, Chewbacca and Artoo can take the Falcon and go to Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers’ Moon. It’s a seedy place where all the black-market dealings come and go. Durga will be so busy hiding his cards from us, Chewie might find something important on his own.”

  Artoo whistled and beeped. “And Artoo, as well,” Leia added. “You two poke around. See what you can find, then we’ll compare notes.”

  Chewbacca roared his approval, and finally Leia relaxed enough to finish her lunch.

  NAL HUTTA

  CHAPTER 22

  O
n the bridge of the Escort Frigate Yavaris General Wedge Antilles felt the old excitement of space combat. His ships charged into the Nal Hutta system under the pretense of Red Team/Blue Team simulated battles in open territory that just happened to be near the Hutt homeworld.

  “Boy, are the slugs going to be surprised,” Wedge said.

  The lovely and ethereal scientist Qwi Xux left her station and joined him. “Much better than when we took over Maw Installation,” she said. “At least we’re not risking lives this time.”

  Wedge nodded. He wanted to hug her, but knew he shouldn’t, since he was in command of the ship, and she was the science officer in training. The work was easy for Qwi, and she enjoyed being with Wedge. Since vowing never to work on developing new weapons systems again, the brilliant alien scientist hadn’t yet found a new calling for her considerable mental energies.

  “Check the status of our fleet,” Wedge said to the tactical officer, who displayed a grid showing the components of Blue Team. Though the Yavaris was his flagship, it was not the largest battleship. The cornerstone of his fleet was the monstrous Assault Frigate Dodonna, a highly modified version of the fearsome Imperial Dreadnaughts. The Yavaris was smaller, but it was the ship Wedge had piloted during his successful attack on the Empire’s secret laboratory, Maw Installation.

  Surrounding his ships were six smaller, versatile Corellian Corvettes, whose huge banks of engines looked like rocket-launcher emplacements burning blue in the darkness of space. All his ships had strung out in a picket line, with the Dodonna and the Yavaris at the center, flanked on each side by three Corvettes. They cruised into the Nal Hutta system.