Abyss

by Troy Denning

  But there was no glow in the water beneath her, and Lady Rhea’s Force aura only seemed to be growing more frightened and confused as the siphon reed retracted, pulling her deeper into the river. Vestara could feel by the ache in her own chest—and by her growing compulsion to breathe—that her own air was running out, too.

  It hardly mattered. Better to drown here than to suffer the degradations Xal would heap on her if he became the mission leader. Vestara grabbed her Master in the Force and pulled, hard.

  Lady Rhea failed to come popping out of the severed stalk. All that happened was that Vestara’s ears and sinuses began to ache as she pulled herself deeper, and the water began to darken as the sun’s light vanished into the suspended silt. Lady Rhea’s presence began to calm, though it was impossible to say whether this was because she felt Vestara coming, or because she was losing consciousness.

  Then Vestara bumped into the stump of a severed stalk and knew that she had caught up to the retreating reed. She could feel Lady Rhea in the swirling darkness below, less than a meter away, but it was impossible to know whether they were at the bottom of the river or still descending.

  Vestara didn’t care which. She reached out with her lightsaber, bringing it around as though to tap Lady Rhea along the flank. She caught a glimpse of brown as the blade split the stem open, then immediately thumbed the switch off.

  An instant later, a human body slammed into her chest, and the last of her air left her lungs in a stream of ascending bubbles. Uncertain whether Lady Rhea would be conscious, she wrapped her arms around the body—then felt herself shooting upward as her Master used the Force to pull them to the surface.

  As the water turned from black to crimson, Vestara had to fight the urge to exhale in relief. Lady Rhea had obviously survived and was still conscious—unless Abeloth was the one pulling them to the surface. Although the castaway had dodged most of the search party’s questions about her training, she was obviously both strong in the Force and capable of …

  The blue disk of the sun began to ripple down through the crimson water, but Vestara was too preoccupied—too frightened—to notice even when they broke the surface.

  Abeloth had been with them. The meaning of that finally sank in.

  The siphon reed had attacked Lady Rhea, and Abeloth had done nothing to stop it. In fact, no plant had ever attacked someone while they were in Abeloth’s presence.

  Vestara heard a loud, croaking gasp and felt a flood of bodily relief as her lungs filled with fresh air. Lady Rhea made a similar sound as she also began to breathe, then squirmed free of Vestara’s grasp and turned to kiss her.

  “I owe …you …my life,” she coughed. “Whatever you desire, Vestara, it will be yours.”

  “First, to leave this river alive,” Vestara said. Seeing that both of her Master’s hands were free of weapons, she shoved her parang into Lady Rhea’s grasp. “Abeloth is trying to—”

  Vestara’s explanation was interrupted by a loud outcry from shore, then she felt herself and Lady Rhea rising out of the water.

  “Don’t worry,” Lady Rhea said. “We’re safe.”

  Vestara shook her head. “No. She betrayed—”

  “Of course we’re safe,” Lady Rhea interrupted, not seeming to understand. She pointed upstream. “Your friend Ahri has us.”

  Vestara turned in the direction Lady Rhea was pointing. Ahri was standing on the shore about fifty meters away, his weapons at his feet and both hands extended toward them. Most of the search party was rushing down the shore to protect Lady Rhea if she was attacked again. Master Xal remained at Ahri’s side, his jaw clenched and his dark eyes burning as though he were contemplating grabbing his apprentice’s parang and beheading him with it. Tonight, Vestara knew, Ahri would take a beating for saving her and Lady Rhea … if Abeloth let them live that long.

  Behind Xal and Ahri stood … something tall and vaguely human, with a long cascade of yellow hair that reached nearly to the ground. Her eyes were tiny and deep-sunken, like two stars shining out of a pair of black wells, and she had a large, full-lipped mouth so broad that it reached from ear to ear. Her stubby arms protruded no more than ten centimeters from her shoulders, but in place of fingers, her hands had writhing tentacles so long that they hung down past her knees. The body was as straight as a tree trunk, and as she started downstream to the place where Vestara and Lady Rhea would be coming ashore, her legs did not seem to swing forward so much as ripple.

  Vestara went cold and queasy inside as Ahri lowered her and Lady Rhea to shore. She found herself kneeling in the shallows, retching black silty water into the river and shaking so hard that her body ached. Horrible as it was, the thing she had seen standing behind Ahri and Xal had been familiar to her. The long aquiline nose, high cheeks, the well-shaped chin, all were the face of Abeloth. Just this morning, that face had seemed the most beautiful she had ever seen … until Lady Rhea had declared it was time to return home, and Abeloth had betrayed her true nature.

  “It’s just river water,” Lady Rhea said, taking Vestara by the arm. “Stand up. You’ll feel better.”

  Vestara allowed herself to be pulled up. Hoping the thing she had seen with Ahri had just been the product of an oxygen-starved mind, or at least that she would be spared seeing it in its true nature again, she looked back up the shore.

  And began to tremble again. The thing was still there, as horrible as it was before—and it was coming toward her, its tiny silver eyes burning a hole right through her, its gruesome mouth smiling ear-to-ear, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

  “Vestara, it’s okay,” Lady Rhea said, taking her by the shoulders. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “I … I know.” Vestara nodded, but she continued to look past Lady Rhea. “Lady Rhea, look. Do you see that …that thing behind Ahri and Xal?”

  Lady Rhea looked, then frowned. “You mean Abeloth?”

  Vestara’s strength drained away, and she would have fallen had Lady Rhea not caught her in the Force. “Vestara, what’s wrong? You seem exhausted.”

  Realizing that she was the only one who saw it, Vestara forced a nod. “I am, but I can handle it.”

  And perhaps she could, Vestara told herself; there was no reason to despair. Now that she saw that truth of what Abeloth was, she could defeat it. A Sith could defeat anything, if she understood it.

  Lady Rhea must have sensed the return of Vestara’s resolve, because she smiled and relaxed her grasp.

  “That’s better.” She patted Vestara’s shoulders, then turned to face up the shore. “Master Xal, I need a lightsaber and a report. Do we still have a location on Ship?”

  The question was an unnecessary one. Even as Lady Rhea was barking it, Ship appeared in the distance, a tiny speck floating over the jungle from the direction of the shuttle clearing. But everyone was too busy with Lady Rhea to see the vessel, inquiring about injuries and offering her spare lightsabers salvaged from the bodies of their fallen companions. So Vestara pretended not to see Ship approaching, and just reached out to it in the Force.

  Why? she asked. Why did you betray us?

  Because I was commanded to, and machines must obey.

  Very well, Vestara replied. I command you to come to me now. I command you to set down and take us away from here, to take us back to Kesh.

  A low crackle began to build as Ship approached, and Vestara thought for a moment that he was actually coming to land. But then, as Lady Rhea and the others spun toward the sound, Ship accelerated, streaking past so low over their heads that Vestara could actually feel the heat from his propulsion units.

  Silly child, Ship said to her. You are strong in the Force—but strong is nothing compared with almighty.

  Lady Rhea began to yell orders, leading the charge back across the river toward the cave ridge. Vestara did not follow, instead remaining on the shore, watching the horrible thing that was Abeloth continue to approach.

  You ignored my warnings, Ship reminded her. And now you are as lost as I am.r />
  Vestara shook her head. “We are not lost.” Speaking the words aloud only seemed to make them ring all the more false, but she continued just the same. “Sith never surrender. Sith never despair.”

  A wave of grim amusement rolled through the Force. You are a smart girl, Vestara, Ship said. Why do you believe anything you do can ever get you off this planet?

  Ship dwindled to a dark spot shrinking against the cave ridge and vanished from the Force, leaving Vestara alone on the shore with Abeloth. A fan of slimy tentacles slid around her shoulder, and she turned to look into the cold stars that were the thing’s eyes.

  “Come, Vestara,” it said. “I’ll see you safely across the river.”

  LOCATED A MERE KILOMETER FROM THE GALACTIC JUSTICE CENTER, the blockhouse across the skylane was hardly “secret.” It did not appear on any public list of government addresses, but it was a hundred-story monolith shoved into a long line of elegant stone-and-mirrsteel spires, with permacrete walls and purple cam bubbles that openly hinted at its fortifications. The only concession to style was a smattering of dash-shaped viewports, scattered across its gray face in globe-shaped clusters that were probably meant to suggest a star and its planets.

  “GAS is better than this,” Jaina said. Along with Mirax Horn and a handful of Jedi Masters, she was standing in the lobby of the Palem Graser Office Tower, ostensibly waiting for an appointment with a Neimoidian lobbyist whose name she had selected at random from the building directory. “Why not hang a sign out front that says SECRET PRISON?”

  “Daala wantz people to know she keepz a secret prison.” As Saba spoke, her slit-pupiled eyes remained fixed on the blockhouse across the skylane. “The shenbit showz itz teeth to frighten, not to kill.”

  “Psychological deterrence,” Kyp Durron agreed. He had prepared for their mission by carefully gelstyling his hair and donning a steam-pressed formal robe, but the effect was ruined by a two-day beard stubble starting to show gray. “Daala wants the lobbying industry to know they could disappear into someplace like that, if they’re working for the wrong people.”

  “That would certainly explain its location,” Cilghal agreed. The Mon Calamari rolled a bulging eye around to look at Jaina. “You are certain this is where Valin and Jysella are now?”

  “It’s where the new incarceration order said they were being …” Jaina nearly said stored, but when she saw the flash of pain in the eyes of both Horns, she decided it would be better to avoid any term associated with being frozen in carbonite. “… held. From what I can tell, Daala seems to be trying to do everything by the book with this Jedi court of hers, so I don’t think she would have had the records falsified.”

  “This one agreez.” Saba finally looked away from the blockhouse, then asked Jaina, “You have the writ?”

  “Yes.” Jaina produced a flimsi-tube from inside her robe and held it out. “Here you go.”

  “No, keep it.” Saba flicked a talon toward the blockhouse. “Your plan, your hunt.”

  “Okay, thanks … I think,” Jaina said.

  Actually, the plan was more Jag’s than hers, but Jaina knew better than to reveal that to the Masters. They all professed to understand Jag’s reason for not mentioning that Daala was going to hire a company of Mandalorians, but they were still irritated. In fact, they had barred him from entering the Temple due to possible “conflicts of interest.” And while they had not actually instructed Jaina to stay away from Jag, they had made it clear that she needed to reexamine where her priorities lay—and to think about whether a marriage to the Imperial Remnant’s Head of State was a realistic possibility for a Jedi Knight.

  Jaina was, of course, hoping to convince them that it was. And a good outcome today would certainly help her cause. She slipped the writ back into her robe, then turned to Corran and Mirax Horn.

  The Horns’ anguish was evident in the purple crescents that hung beneath their eyes. Mirax’s black hair was uncombed and dirty, and the jaw beneath Corran’s tangled beard was clenched so tight he was probably in danger of breaking teeth. They were the one weak spot in her plan, Jaina knew. She was asking a lot by expecting them to remain calm and under control while they stood looking at their children frozen in carbonite, but they were both people of extraordinary emotional resources. Corran was a Jedi Master who regularly made decisions that placed dozens of Jedi Knights, including his own children, in harm’s way. And Mirax was, quite simply, Booster Terrik’s daughter. That fact alone suggested that Daala had no idea of the kind of storm she had brought down on herself when she decided to freeze the Horns’ children in carbonite.

  It took a moment for the Horns to realize that Jaina was looking at them, but when they did, there was no need to ask if they were ready. Corran nodded curtly, and Mirax said, “Let’s move. It’s time to serve the Chief some of that mynock stew you promised.”

  Jaina smiled. “Let’s see if we can make her choke on it.” She turned to Saba. “With your permission …”

  “Permission?” Saba thumped her tail against the floor, then pointed toward the exit. “We have no time to waste with jokez, Jedi Solo.”

  Jaina dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I’ll let you know when I’m inside.”

  As she left the Graser Tower, Jaina was relieved to glimpse the always well-dressed Javis Tyrr and his stocky camoperator on the balcony of the adjacent building. As expected, the sight of the Horns and several Jedi Masters gathering near a secret GAS detention center had drawn enough attention to alert the media. She just hoped Tyrr wasn’t the only reporter who had been tipped.

  Jaina used a pedbridge to cross the humming chasm of the skylane, then followed a balcony walk to the center of the blockhouse. Entry was via a long escalator that ascended a gradually narrowing tunnel toward a pair of tunqstoid blast doors. Over the doors hung a simple sign reading: GALACTIC ALLIANCE STORAGE. Underneath, a motto proclaimed: SERVICE, SECURITY, SECRECY.

  Everything about the entryway said fortress. The two doors were so heavy they had to be mounted on mag-lev guides instead of tracks. The tunnel walls were lined by tall rectangular panels that just had to be the sliding covers of firing ports. Even the treads of the escalator could be folded down to create a steep, steel ramp that would be difficult to ascend under fire.

  Nonetheless, Jaina ascended without incident. At the top of the tunnel, the escalator changed to a moving pedwalk, and the blast doors slid open to reveal a small lobby. As the pedwalk carried her across the threshold, she used the Force to tilt an alignment sensor askew so the blast door locks would fail to engage. To her left she saw two separate seating areas, and to her right, a raised security counter. In the back of the lobby, a pair of turbolifts provided access to the rest of the building.

  The pedwalk deposited Jaina in front of the security counter, where a pair of Rodian guards stood with their hands concealed and the sensory saucers atop their heads turned outward in wariness. Even without using the Force, Jaina would have known that each had one hand poised over a panic button and the other wrapped around the butt of a blaster pistol. Both were dressed in black paramilitary uniforms with an arcing yellow GALACTIC ALLIANCE STORAGE embroidered over one pocket and a name patch sewn above the other.

  Jaina reached out in the Force, letting the Masters know she had made it inside, then stepped over to the guard counter. She looked up at the two Rodians and said nothing. The pair glared down their tapering snouts, their curiosity keeping their attention on her instead of the misaligned doors. If they had noticed the problem with the locks, their faces did not show it.

  When Jaina did not speak first, the larger one finally said, “I didn’t know we had any Jedi clients.” He was so plump that his cheeks looked like they had pouches, and the name on his breast read WEEZE. “Vault number and password?”

  “I don’t have either,” Jaina said. “But you already know that.”

  Weeze looked to his skinnier partner, whose name tag read ROSII. “I didn’t know that,” he said. “Did you?”


  Rosii nodded. “Kind of thought so.” His voice was more typically Rodian than Weeze’s, buzzy and nasal. “I haven’t seen any Jedi in here.”

  Weeze looked back to Jaina. “We can’t help you at this door. You’ll have to go over to main reception and rent a vault from an account representative.”

  “I don’t want a vault,” Jaina said. “I came to see Valin and Jysella Horn.”

  “Horn?” Rosii echoed. His snout wrinkled in an expression of confusion, but the sudden alarm she felt in the Force suggested that both Rodians knew very well why Jaina was looking for the Horns there. “Aren’t those two of those Jedi Knights who went barvy?”

  “Who suffered a delusional break,” Jaina corrected. She kept her gaze fixed on Weeze. “And I will see them now …” She paused to allow Weeze’s rank to rise to the top of his mind, where she could sense it through the Force. “Sergeant.”

  Weeze’s sensory saucers snapped forward. “We’re all civilians here, Jedi.” The alarm in his Force aura changed to decisiveness, and Jaina saw his shoulder twitch as he finally pressed the alarm button. “Galactic Alliance Storage handles property, not pris—”

  Jaina used the Force to shove both Rodians away from the counter—and any heavy weapons they might have hidden behind it.

  “Never lie to a Jedi, Sergeant,” Jaina said. As the Rodians raised their blaster pistols, she sent both weapons flying with a gesture. “That really annoys us.”

  The Rodians glanced at each other, then Rosii said, “You’re not going to make it past the lobby.”

  “This one thinkz differently,” Saba said, leading Kyp and the others through the half-opened blast doors. “This one thinkz you will escort us where we need to go.”

  As soon as the Rodians’ eyes fell on Saba’s hulking form, their sensory saucers drooped against their heads and their Force auras grew electric with fear.