by Troy Denning
“Coming soon, I think,” Marvid said. “Prepare for launch.”
“As we speak,” Savara replied. “Anything else?”
“Were you able to complete your assignment?”
Savara’s voice grew indignant. “I said I was aboard and waiting.”
“Of course.” Marvid took no exception to her peevish tone; in fact, he relished it. There were very few beings who had the confidence to speak to him in such a manner—and even fewer dangerous enough to survive it. “Were you observed?”
“Now you’re just being rude,” she retorted. “They won’t even find the bodies.”
“Excellent,” Marvid said. “Be sure to award yourself a bonus. A substantial one.”
“Oh, thrilled,” she said, sounding just the opposite. “Look, Craitheus is crossing the hangar …”
“Of course,” Marvid replied. “Go ahead—”
The channel popped shut, leaving Marvid oddly warm within. He wondered whether the girl understood the effect she had on him. It wasn’t her disdain he found so appealing, but the intimacy it created between them—as though Savara understood exactly what he was and accepted it, because monsters didn’t frighten her … because nothing frightened Savara Raine.
Marvid slipped into the lift tube and dropped a hundred meters into a cavernous subterranean hangar. A dozen spacecraft of varied sizes and shapes sat berthed in an area that could have held three times that number. He recognized a handful of ships—the elegant crescent of the Qrephs’ own Marcadian luxury cruiser, the Aurel Moon; the plump wafers of half a dozen ScragHull commando boats, workhorses of the Sarnus security force; and the fork-nosed disk of the Solos’ YT-1300, the famous Millennium Falcon.
The hangar’s maintenance crew was swarming over the Falcon, repairing the damage from what appeared to have been a very rough first journey into the Rift. It was impossible to tell whether any extra Jedi were aboard the vessel, but even if there were, it would be a few days before they moved against him or his brother. Calrissian and the Solos might have their suspicions about who was behind the pirate attacks, but the Jedi Order would never sanction violence on suspicion alone. So, while the Solos wasted time searching for evidence, the Qrephs would be executing their plan to drive Calrissian and the miners from the Rift.
Seeing no immediate threats, Marvid hurried across the hangar to the Aurel Moon and ascended the boarding ramp into its vestibule. There, he was surprised to find Craitheus and Savara Raine waiting with the commander of the Mandalorian security force, Mirta Gev. A compact human woman in orange and gray armor, Gev had light-brown eyes and dark-brown hair, which she wore short and neat so it could be tucked beneath her helmet. She had a pensive gaze that made Marvid suspicious of her loyalty, as though there were some things she would not do even for money.
Savara was a much younger woman, with light-brown hair that fell to her shoulders and dark-brown eyes that often shaded to black. She was only a few years out of childhood, but her gaze seemed infinitely older than Gev’s, as cold and deep as that of an Anzati assassin. She sometimes carried a crimson lightsaber—a souvenir, she had said, from her time with the Jedi—but she could kill easily and efficiently with any weapon at hand … or even none at all. The only sign that she had ever fought someone who had challenged her skills was a small hooked scar at the corner of an otherwise perfect mouth.
Surmising that his brother and the two women were meeting him here to discuss something in private, Marvid extended his powerbody’s struts and let it rest on the deck.
“You wish to adjust our plan?” he asked Craitheus.
The veins in Craitheus’s temple throbbed in eagerness. “We didn’t anticipate the arrival of the Solos,” he said. “That was shortsighted. But it gives us an opportunity to eliminate them.”
Marvid considered the suggestion for a moment. Could they actually kill the legendary Han and Leia Solo that easily? He looked from Craitheus’s enthusiastic gaze to the reluctance in Gev’s and finally to the neutral confidence in Savara’s.
“You can arrange it?” he asked Savara. “For the Solos to be there?”
“I don’t have to arrange anything,” she replied. “Lando is going to show them around. All I need to do is wait.”
“But then you’ll take out Calrissian, too,” Gev said. She turned to Marvid. “Won’t that complicate your plan?”
“It’s a small thing,” Craitheus said, dismissing her objection with a wave of a vanalloy arm. “Eliminating Calrissian has always been a possibility.”
“True enough,” Marvid agreed. He and Craitheus had debated Tendra Calrissian’s reaction to her husband’s death many times. They had never been able to decide whether she would give up the Sarnus Refinery—or grow more determined to keep it open. “But an event of this magnitude will draw scrutiny, and we already have too many Jedi inside the Rift.”
“It won’t draw scrutiny if it looks like an accident,” Savara said. “And it will. Tractor beams fall out of alignment all the time.”
“They do,” Gev said. “But you’ll need three sets of safety overrides to fail. That’s asking the accident investigators to overlook a lot.”
“We can handle the investigators,” Marvid said. “That’s routine.”
“And the Jedi are already here,” Savara said. “You need to deal with them sooner or later—and they’ll be much easier to kill in a confused situation.”
“Very astute,” Craitheus said. He turned to Marvid. “And, of course, there is the added bonus.”
Marvid thought for a moment, then said, “Agreed. Killing Solo and his wife would be a nice bonus, indeed.”
Craitheus actually smiled. “Then it’s decided.”
Gev shook her head. “This isn’t what my people signed on for,” she said. “Chasing a bunch of asteroid miners out of the Rift is one thing, but this—”
“Your people won’t be doing this,” Savara said. She locked gazes with the older woman, and even Marvid felt the chill that passed between them. “I will.”
Gev returned Savara’s glare without flinching. Marvid began to fear it might actually come to a fight, and as entertaining as that might be, it would also be unfortunate timing. The Mandalorians would probably lose their leader, which meant the Qrephs would likely lose their Mandalorians. And without Mandalorians to oversee them, the Nargons were too slow and brutish to function as an effective security force.
Deciding he had no choice but to intervene, Marvid said, “Commander Gev, the terms of our contract are clear. Are you suggesting you intend to break that contract? The granddaughter of Boba Fett, renege on her word?”
Gev’s eyes flashed, but she immediately looked away from Savara. “No, of course not,” she said. “I was just letting you know how my people are going to feel about this kind of attack.”
“Then I suggest you don’t tell them it was an attack,” Craitheus said. “Unless, of course, you don’t expect us to help you and your grandfather with your problem.”
Gev’s face grew stony, and she spoke to Craitheus through clenched teeth. “I said I’d honor the contract. You make sure you do the same.”
Craitheus’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, we will,” he replied. “Have no fear of that.”
Savara made a point of catching Gev’s eye, then curled her lip into a victorious sneer. “It looks like I have work to do.” She turned toward the boarding ramp, then said to Marvid, “I won’t be carrying a comlink, so you two had better be sure you want this done.”
“We’re quite certain.” Craitheus made a shooing motion with his powerbody’s hands. “Just be sure we’re offplanet when it happens.”
Savara rolled her eyes, reminding Marvid of the teenage human she still was, at least physically. “I think you’ll be safe, Craitheus.”
“Of course we will,” Marvid said. “But what about you, my jewel? The Solos should not be underestimated. If something were to raise their suspicions, I doubt you would survive.”
“And then you wouldn’t complete
your assignment,” Craitheus added. “Are you sure you can do this alone? We could spare a squad of our bodyguards to provide support.”
“The Mandalorians wouldn’t need to know what you’re doing,” Marvid added. “Only that it’s their job to protect you.”
He left unsaid the next part, the part he knew Savara would not need explained—that once her assignment was over, the bodyguards would have to be eliminated. No one but Savara and Gev could be allowed to know the Qrephs’ role in the upcoming accident.
Savara thought for a moment, then met Marvid’s gaze and asked, “You’re only talking about Han and Leia, right? Jaina isn’t with them?”
“That’s correct,” Craitheus said. “Does that make a difference?”
“Of course it does,” Savara said. “Leia Solo I can handle myself. But Jaina … well, a squad of Mandalorians wouldn’t be enough.”
“So you intend to go alone?” Craitheus confirmed.
Savara nodded. “I’m less likely to be spotted that way. And even if someone does notice me, I’ll have an easier time talking my way out of trouble without a squad of armored guards clunking around behind me.”
“No doubt.” Marvid hesitated for a moment, then asked, “You do have a plan to escape unharmed, correct?”
The question actually brought a smile to Savara’s face, and she reached up to pat his cheek. “Why, Marvid—I do believe you’re worried about me.” Marvid did not usually like being touched, but it was not so bad when Savara did it. “That’s so sweet.”
Four
At the far end of the service hangar sat a SoroSuub Urmenung 300, its unique three-pods-on-a-disk silhouette so distinctive that Luke could identify its model at a glance. Heavily armed and armored, the “Urmi” was the yacht of choice for anyone who valued security as well as luxury, so it wasn’t unusual to see one at an upscale resupply depot like Crossing Lanes Station. At the same time, the yachts were too expensive to be common, so it seemed likely that this one belonged to the person he had come to meet.
And the fact that Luewet Wuul had yet to show himself suggested just how much the senator wanted to avoid being seen with Luke. Not that Luke could blame him. At the moment, the Jedi were almost pariahs in the Galactic Alliance—especially on the capital world. Most of Coruscant’s citizens still held the Jedi responsible for the devastation their planet had suffered during the battle to dislodge Abeloth and her Sith minions.
Nonetheless, Wuul had agreed to the meeting, because he understood that the public wrath was misplaced. Without the Jedi, there would be little to prevent the Sith from returning in strength and trying again to subvert the Galactic Alliance.
From the stern of the Jade Shadow came the muffled thump of a supply nozzle pushing into a load socket. R2-D2 tweedled from the droid station at the rear of the flight deck, then a message appeared on the pilot’s display, requesting permission to accept a thousand liters of hyperdrive coolant. Luke confirmed that the routing valves were set properly, then opened the tank.
“Go ahead, Artoo,” he said. “But tell them to take it slow. I don’t want any blowback corroding our hull.”
R2-D2 gave an affirmative whistle, and Luke watched the tank’s status gauge start to rise. It was during quiet moments like these, sitting alone at the helm, that he still felt Mara’s presence at his side. The Jade Shadow had been his wife’s ship and—all too often—their temporary home as one crisis or another turned the Skywalkers into interstellar nomads. At the time, Luke would not have guessed that those periods of close living would be among his most cherished memories, but they were—the uninterrupted hours with his wife and son, the weeklong stretches when the only faces he saw belonged to Mara and Ben.
Now Mara was dead. And Ben was a Jedi Knight, only a bit younger than Luke had been when he began his training with Yoda.
R2-D2 chirped again, and another message scrolled across the pilot’s display. THE CLEANING SERVICE REQUESTS PERMISSION TO BOARD.
Luke hadn’t ordered any services that required access to the interior of the vessel, but he was expecting a visitor. “Can you put up a vid of the cleaners?”
The display switched to the image of a squat little Sullustan in a cap and blue overalls. He carried a bag of cleaning supplies slung over his shoulder. Beside him sat the multi-armed cylinder of a SoroSuub JTR cleaning droid.
Luke smiled. The Sullustan’s face was hidden beneath the bill of his cap, but the cleaning droid was a dead giveaway. A Sullust-based manufacturing conglomerate, SoroSuub was known for everything from its battle cruisers to its comlinks. But its cleaning droids had been an abysmal failure. Only Sullust’s senator, who would never risk being seen with an item made by any of SoroSuub’s competitors, would have a JTR.
“Permission granted,” Luke said, rising. “Lower the boarding ramp, Artoo.”
By the time he went aft to meet his guests, the ramp was down and the cap-wearing Sullustan was leading the cleaning droid across the threshold. With heavily wrinkled dewflaps, rounded ears sagging forward, and deep circles ringing his huge dark eyes, he was clearly an elder of his species—and he was clearly Senator Luewet Wuul. He quickly caught Luke’s gaze, then shot a glance toward the wall control.
“We normally leave the boarding ramp down while we clean,” Wuul said, his voice bright and cheerful. “But of course it’s your choice, Captain.”
“Thank you. I’d prefer to keep the vessel closed,” Luke said, flipping the toggle button.
As the ramp rose into position, Wuul moved his cleaning droid into the main cabin, then knelt down and pressed a switch hidden between its treads. The entire front casing swung open, revealing a hollow interior filled with equipment essential to any clandestine meeting. The wily senator removed the silver half ball of a full-spectrum eavesdropping jammer, then activated it and placed it on the galley prep counter. Next, he withdrew a bottle of Maldovean burtalle and a pair of cut-crystal tumblers, which he promptly filled. He passed one to Luke and took the other himself, then raised his glass and clinked rims.
“To old friends and honest deals.”
“Wealth and health for everyone,” Luke replied, completing the traditional Sullustan toast. “And may the Force be with us all.”
The addition caused Wuul’s eyes to cloud with concern, but he tipped his glass and drained the burtalle in one gulp. Luke sipped his, relishing its smoky flavor as Wuul refilled his own glass. This second glass, Luke knew from his sister’s notes on the senator, was only for show and would go mostly untouched until their business was done.
Once Wuul’s glass was full again, he took a seat at the table. “Sorry for all the subterfuge,” he said. “But we can’t be too careful. They have eyes everywhere.”
“Who—the Senate?” Luke asked. “The Sith? BAMR News?”
Wuul scowled. “Sith? BAMR? No.” He hopped out of his seat and fetched a flimsiplast file from the droid’s secret compartment. “Who are we here to talk about? GET!”
“Right—Galactic Exploitation Technologies,” Luke said. He sensed a growing fear in the senator’s Force aura. “I take it you’ve heard of them?”
“More than I’d like.” Wuul returned to his seat, but instead of placing the file on the table, he kept it close to his chest. “Let’s start with the Jedi’s interest in them. How are you involved with GET?”
“Involved probably isn’t the right word,” Luke said, taking a seat across from Wuul. “GET’s name came up in association with a piracy problem we’re investigating.”
“A problem in the Chiloon Rift?” Wuul asked.
“That’s right,” Luke replied. “But the Rift is well outside Galactic Alliance territory, so I didn’t expect you to be familiar with our situation there.”
“Of course I’m familiar with it,” Wuul retorted. “It involves minerals and metals, doesn’t it?”
“Indirectly, I imagine,” Luke replied. Even without the Force, Wuul’s suspicion was as evident as it was surprising. “Han and Leia were handling the initial
investigation alone, so I’m not really sure.”
“Initial? Then you’re sending more Jedi into the Rift?”
Luke paused, trying to decide how much he should reveal before he knew the reason for Wuul’s wariness. “As a matter of fact, I’m going there myself.”
“You?” Wuul asked. “Why?”
Luke pointed at the file. “Your turn,” he said. “So far, I’m the only one who’s been sharing.”
“Fair enough,” Wuul said, keeping the file close to his chest. “Chiloon may be outside Alliance space, but that doesn’t mean we have no interests there. The Rift supplies a tenth of our beryllius, a quarter of our quadranium, and most of our duralium. And the list of other minerals is as long as my arm. Of course I want to know why the Jedi are there.”
Luke merely smiled. “And?”
“And we’re not the only ones who regard the Chiloon Rift as vital to our economy,” Wuul continued. “You might have noticed that it’s located midway between the Corporate Sector and the Imperial Remnant—and it’s a lot closer to them than to us.”
“So you’re worried about annexation?”
“I’m always worried about someone annexing the Rift,” Wuul said. “The only reason nobody has tried it yet is that the asteroid chasers out there are crazy and fiercely independent. All they’d really have to do to wipe out a war fleet is retreat into the Rift and wait for the enemy to come after them.”
“That sounds like an old problem.”
“You asked for background,” Wuul replied, still evading.
“On GET.”
A spike of fear shot through Wuul’s Force aura, and he surprised Luke by draining half the burtalle in his glass.
“Okay. You understand that we impose a mineral tax on everything imported from the Rift into the Alliance,” Wuul said. “It’s the only way to give a fair break to the miners working our own asteroid fields.”
“I still don’t see the connection,” Luke said. “What does that have to do with GET?”
