Abyss

by Troy Denning

  Jaina suddenly felt like she had a bellyful of snakes. She found her comlink in hand without recalling that she had reached for it. She thumbed Jag’s quick-code, then waited in a growing fury during the five seconds it took him to answer.

  “Nice to hear from you,” he said, leaving no doubt that his aide had checked to make sure it was her before passing him the comlink. “This will have to be fast. We’re on our way to—”

  “Cancel it,” Jaina said. “We need to talk.”

  “Jaina, I can’t. Chief Daala is expecting me.”

  “I don’t care if the Emperor himself has been resurrected to meet you,” Jaina said. “You need to hear this, and you need to hear it now.”

  Jag fell silent for a moment, then said, “What’s wrong?”

  “When you get here.” Jaina did not even consider giving him a hint; if Lecersen could help Javis Tyrr slip a bug into the Jedi Temple, then he could also plant one in Jag’s limousine. “I’ll have an apprentice meet you in the east hangar.”

  Jaina clicked off without awaiting a reply, then commed the apprentices’ dormitory to arrange for Jag’s escort. She was trying to keep a clear head, despite the cold rage building inside her. At the end of the last civil war, Lecersen and the other Moffs had been happy enough to accept a Jedi-appointed Head of State, rather than face execution for the war crimes they had committed in deploying their nanovirus. But they had never quite gotten over the indignity of having those terms dictated by Luke Skywalker. And now they were absolutely chafing under their new Head of State’s steadfast refusal to tolerate the usual corruption in the Imperial Remnant. So Jaina saw no reason to doubt that Lecersen was behind the eavesdropping. Her only questions were how much he had heard, and how much damage it would cause Jag and the Jedi.

  Jaina turned back to the lab table and picked up the tiny circuit module that was the cause of her anger. It would be a tremendous help to know how much of their conversation the parasite droid had been able to pass along to Javis Tyrr. Now that she knew something about its design and origin, that might even be possible—but not without help. While Jaina had always been capable with machines, slicing a piece of espionage equipment this sophisticated required someone more than just “capable.” If she messed up, the module would almost certainly self-destruct.

  What Jaina needed was Lowbacca’s help. She knew he would be happy to give it, but then he would hear the conversation about Daala and the Mandalorians. And how could Jaina ask him to keep a secret that she herself wasn’t even certain she should be keeping?

  A soft whoosh sounded from the front of the lab as the door slid open. Jaina checked her chrono and saw that only five minutes had passed since she had commed Jag.

  “Wow, that was fast,” Jaina called, still studying the parasite droid. “You must have been right on top of the …”

  She let the sentence trail off as she sensed who was actually coming through the door. The Force auras belonged not to Jag, but to her parents, and both were very sad—and very angry. Jaina quickly set the parasite droid back on the table and turned, just in time to see her mother leading the way into the cluttered laboratory.

  Of course her mother’s gaze was drawn straight to the tangle of circuits and feedwires in front of Jaina. “What’s that?” She ran her eyes over the cleaning droid parts. “This looks like your room when you were twelve.”

  “Was it really this tidy?” When the joke failed to lighten the dark mood, Jaina explained, “I think I found out how Javis Tyrr has been getting his images from inside the Temple.”

  Jaina knew better than to lie about the droid. Attempting to lie to a Jedi mother would be more than futile—it would set off alarm bells. Instead, her only hope of keeping her secret about the Mandalorians was to appear relaxed and just avoid the subject.

  “You remember the cleaning unit that was working near the hangar door when Barv and Yaqeel went around the bend?” When her father nodded, Jaina picked up the parasite droid and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. “I found this little guy hidden inside it.”

  When neither of her parents showed any interest in how Jaina had found the bug—one that had been missed by Temple security at least a dozen times—she knew something was terribly wrong. She returned the parasite to the table, then watched in growing concern as her parents came closer.

  “What is it?”

  Her father came to her side. “Sweetheart, there’s just no easy way to tell you this.”

  He took both her hands, and Jaina sighed with relief. At least no one else in the family was dead. If someone had died, her father would have crushed her in a bear hug—and anyway, she would have felt it in the Force first. There weren’t that many Solo-Skywalkers left.

  When her father did not seem able to say any more, Jaina turned to her mother. “Did Ben go?” she asked. “I know Cilghal thinks it’s the students who were at Shelter that are at risk.”

  “Ben’s fine, as far as we know,” Leia said. “This is about Jag.”

  “No, I just talked to Jag. Unless there’s been an assassination attempt in the last …” Jaina checked her chrono and was alarmed to see that Jag could be arriving any minute now. “… ten minutes, he’s perfectly well.”

  “He won’t be after you hear this,” her father said. “Brace yourself, kid.”

  Jaina frowned. “For what?”

  “Sweetheart, there’s something Jag has been keeping from you.” Her mother glanced at her father, then continued, “Your father and I thought you should hear it from us first.”

  “What?” Jaina pulled her hands free of her father’s grasp, then cocked her brow. “You’re going to tell me Jag’s been seeing someone else?”

  To Jaina’s dismay, her parents did not even crack a smile. “Worse,” her father said. “He’s been holding out on you.”

  “I seriously doubt that, Dad.” Jaina plucked at her robe. “Jedi, remember?”

  “So’s your mother,” he countered. “And she only knows half my secrets.”

  Her mother shot him a quick so you think glare, then turned back to Jaina. “Jaina, you can’t know about this—”

  “Because if you did, we wouldn’t have had to hear about it from a spy.” Her father took her hands again. “Jaina, sweetheart, Chief Daala is sending for Mandalorians.”

  Jaina’s stomach sank. She finally understood what her parents had come to tell her about Jag, and she knew how betrayed they must feel by his decision to keep the information secret. But she also felt immensely relieved, because she no longer had to struggle with her own divided loyalties by keeping the secret herself. In truth, she’d been wondering how long she could hold out.

  “This is good information,” her mother said, apparently misinterpreting the reason for Jaina’s thoughtfulness. “It comes right from the top.”

  “So?” Realizing that she had to react as though this wasn’t old news to her, Jaina pulled her hands free again and raised a thumb.

  “First, who cares’? Unless Boba Fett is coming himself, we can handle a company of Mandos without getting our robes dirty.”

  “But there will still be a battle,” her mother reminded her. “And in that kind of fight, everyone loses something.”

  “Yeah,” her father agreed. “And right now the last thing the Jedi need showing up on the holonews is a bunch of dead Mandalorians on the Temple doorsteps.”

  “Point taken,” Jaina said.

  She really didn’t want to ask this next question. Clearly, her parents already knew—somehow—that Jag had been keeping his knowledge to himself. Her only chance to redeem him in their eyes would be to make them see that Jag had been honor-bound to keep the secret. Well, to make her mother see it—her father would never understand. But if Jaina could convince her mother, then her mother would eventually make her father forgive Jag.

  “But I don’t see what all this has to do with Jag,” Jaina continued. “Unless those Mandalorian companies are arriving on Imperial transport?”

  “I
t wouldn’t surprise me,” her father snorted.

  “Well, it would me,” Jaina shot back. “The Moffs made it death for Boba Fett to return to Mandalore forever. I don’t see the Mandalorians asking anyone in the Empire for a ride.”

  “True,” her mother said. “But you’re a smart girl, Jaina. You know what we mean.”

  Jaina sighed. Letting her chin drop like a ten-year-old caught in a fib, she surreptitiously checked her chrono once more. It had been nearly a quarter hour since she had commed Jag. Assuming he been on his way to meet Daala, he couldn’t have been very far from the Temple at the time. He’d be here any minute, and the last thing she needed was for him to come striding into the lab before she made her parents understand why he had kept the secret—at least if she wanted them to come to the wedding.

  “Okay,” Jaina said. “Let’s say Jag did know the Mandalorians were coming. So what? That doesn’t mean he should tell us.”

  “What are you, going bugbent again?” her father exploded. “We’re the closest thing he’s got to family right now! And Luke’s the one who gave him that gig.”

  “And that gig comes with a long list of duties and obligations,” Jaina replied, just as hotly. “None of which includes being a Jedi! He’s having enough trouble keeping the Moffs in line without getting into the middle of our problems with Daala.”

  Jaina knew by the long silence that followed that she had just let the rancor jump out of the pit. She hadn’t been shocked enough—angry enough—to be hearing this for the first time. Her father winced like a sabacc player who had just realized he was betting into a perfect hand, and she turned to find her mother studying her with a slack jaw and narrowed eyes.

  “You knew,” her mother said. “And you didn’t tell anyone.”

  Jaina let out a long breath. “Mom, there’s a lot at stake—”

  “Wait a minute,” her father interrupted. He looked to her mother, then pointed at Jaina. “She knew about the bucketheads?”

  Her mother closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes, Han. Jaina knew about the Mandos, and she knew Jag wasn’t telling us. That’s why she’s defending him.”

  “I’m defending him because he was keeping the oath he swore to always act in the Empire’s best interests,” Jaina replied. “The oath that he swore because Uncle Luke pushed him into becoming their Head of State.”

  Her father’s gaze turned cold and angry, rocking her back on her heels. “What about the oaths you swore?” he demanded. “Don’t they count, now that you’re about to become High Lady Fel?”

  He shook his head in disgust, then spun on his heel and stormed off toward the door, leaving Jaina too stunned to reply—and on the brink of falling back into the dark well of solitude and remorse that had nearly swallowed her after she had killed Jacen. She turned, and found her mother’s gaze only marginally less condemning than her father’s, though the expression on her face was one of disappointment rather than anger.

  “Mom, you need to understand,” Jaina said.

  Before she could explain how Jag was trying to bring the Remnant fully into the Galactic Alliance, her mother raised a hand to silence her.

  “Jaina, we’ll talk about this later,” she said, starting after Han. “Right now, I’d better make sure Han doesn’t hurt someone.”

  Jaina nodded, thinking that her mother was just speaking in exaggerated terms—but then she, too, felt a familiar presence approaching the lab doorway.

  “Oh, kriff!” Jaina started toward the front of the lab—until her mother pointed a finger at the stool.

  “Sit,” she ordered. “I’ll handle your father.”

  The door whooshed open even before she finished speaking, then Jagged Fel came striding around the corner in full ceremonial collar and tabard—and ran headlong into Han Solo coming through the other way.

  “Oh, Captain Solo—my apologies,” Jag said, reaching out to steady him. “Jaina didn’t say you would—”

  “Out of my way, sleemo!” Han’s palms caught Jag near the armpits and sent him stumbling back into his astonished Rodian escort. “Don’t think I won’t blast you just because it might start a war.”

  With that, he bulled past and vanished from sight, leaving Jag standing slack-jawed as Jaina’s mother stepped into the doorway.

  “Uh, Princess Leia,” Jag said tentatively, “I’m not sure what that was about—”

  “Sure you are,” Leia interrupted. She stepped closer to Jag, not stopping until she was nose-to-chest, then glared up into his eyes. “My daughter seems to think you had a good reason for keeping quiet, and maybe you did. But this should probably be the last time we see you inside the Jedi Temple for a while.”

  Jag’s face fell. He looked angry, guilty, and embarrassed all at once, but he didn’t try to argue or explain. He simply nodded.

  “Of course—I understand.” He looked toward Jaina, then asked, “Would it be acceptable for me to have a few words with Jaina before I go?”

  Leia scowled into the lab. “I think you’d better,” she said. “You two definitely have some things to discuss.”

  With that, she turned and vanished down the hall after Han.

  Jaina dropped onto the stool and sat staring at the floor as she listened to Jag’s heels click across the floor toward her.

  “I know better than to think you told them.”

  There was just enough of a question in Jag’s tone to hurt Jaina, and make her feel even more alone. She reminded herself that once, long ago, she had given him a reason to doubt her promise. It helped her bite back the sharp reply that had risen almost automatically inside her.

  “I don’t know how they found out,” she said evenly. “They mentioned a spy, but they weren’t in a mood to talk about it.”

  Jag stopped in front of her and nodded. “I don’t suppose it matters, at least not at this stage.” There was more confidence in his voice now, and relief. “But it is going to complicate things.”

  Jaina looked up and snorted, so shell-shocked by the implications of what had just happened—for her, the Jedi, and the future of the Galactic Alliance—that she felt on the verge of hysterical laughter.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “I’m sure I don’t,” Jag said, reaching for her hands. “But we’ll get through it, I promise. When your parents realize how important this secret was to the unification talks, they’ll understand the impossible position I put you in.”

  “Yeah, well don’t expect them to forgive you for that.” Jaina managed a weak smile, then pulled her hands free. “But that’s not what I meant. Do you recognize this?”

  She retrieved the parasite droid from the lab table and held it in front of him.

  Jag’s eyes went wide. “I’m afraid I do.” He glanced at the parts scattered in front of Jaina. “From inside the cleaning droid?”

  Jaina nodded. “Afraid so,” she said. “Lecersen?”

  “Probably. I’ll know for sure once I access its memory.”

  “How do you know I haven’t done that already?” Jaina asked.

  “Because it’s still in one piece, and you still have all your fingers.”

  Jag reached for the parasite droid, but Jaina quickly pulled it away.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “The Jedi need to get something out of this mess.”

  Jag let out a long breath, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. “You can have it back when we’ve removed the self-destruct charge and copied its memory.”

  “Deal.” Jaina stretched up to kiss him, then said, “But I think there’s one other thing you’re going to need it for.” Jag frowned in bewilderment.

  “Show it to Daala.” Jaina put the droid in his hand and folded his fingers around it. “It might do us all some good.”

  SHIP WAS OUT THERE IN THE FERN-AND-FUNGUS JUNGLE. VESTARA could feel his dark presence somewhere across the crimson river, up on the shoulder of a fume-belching volcano that dominated the horizon ahead. He was pushing at her in the Force almost physically, batte
ring her with fear and alarm and anger in his efforts to make her turn back. He did not want her and the rest of her companions to remain here with him. Ship had taught them everything they needed to restore the Sith Empire to the galaxy, and now he wanted them to abandon him to his fate and fulfill their own destiny.

  Vestara understood all this. But Grand Lord Vol had sent the Eternal Crusader and her crew to return Ship to Kesh, and return Ship they would. Vestara concentrated on Ship’s presence for a moment, then raised her hand and pointed to a dark outcropping of basalt, about a quarter of the way up the volcano.

  “Ship is somewhere near there,” she said. “I don’t know where exactly, but he must have a view of us. He’s pushing very hard to turn me back.”

  Lady Rhea studied the outcropping from the barren bank where the recovery party was standing, out in the full light of the blue sun. Normally they would have tried to shelter themselves by crouching beneath the fern-trees along the river, but they had learned the hard way that the foliage on this strange planet was to be feared more than the oppressive heat.

  After a moment, Rhea nodded and brought a comlink to her mouth. “Crusader. You have our position?”

  “Affirmative.”

  The reply came in the melodious voice of Baad Walusari, the Keshiri Saber she had left in command while she led the recovery party. In most navies, it would have been the executive officer who assumed control of the vessel while the commander was away. But a Sith who made such a foolish mistake was unlikely to find herself in command of anything when she tried to return to the vessel. Master Xal was right there with the search party, where Lady Rhea could keep an eye on him.

  “Very good,” Lady Rhea commed. “Ship is hiding on that volcano to our west. Be ready with the tractor beam if it attempts to move.”

  Walusari acknowledged the command, and Lady Rhea began to issue orders to the recovery party, assigning search pairs and calling for a careful approach on a wide front. Vestara and Lady Rhea would make straight for the outcropping, of course, with everyone else fanning out to either side of them.