Abyss

by Troy Denning

  At first, he was too intent on describing the confrontation in front of him to pay Jaina any attention. But when she used the Force to tug his microphone in her direction, he finally took the hint and turned to face her.

  “Jedi Solo, would you care to comment—”

  “Not now.” Jaina made a cutting motion with her fingers and waited until Tyrr had turned off his equipment, then said, “I’ve got a proposition for you, sleemo.”

  Tyrr frowned, but he was too much of a newsman to object to the term—especially when it fit so well. “I’m listening.”

  Jaina pulled the cap off the writ tube. “I’ll give you a shot of the writ.”

  “Big deal. I can get a copy as soon as we leave here.” Tyrr tried to avoid sounding eager, but Jaina could feel his excitement in the Force. “So I’m not killing—”

  Jaina leaned in close. “I just want you to ask one question.” She glanced around at the other reporters, knowing most of them were too ethical—and too wise—to allow the subject of a story to dictate the questions. “It’s a question somebody else is bound to think of anyway.”

  Tyrr pretended to weigh this, then said, “Let’s hear it.” When Jaina told him, he actually smiled. “That’s good,” he said. “I shouldn’t even make you pay … but a deal’s a deal.”

  He nodded to his camoperator, who waited until Jaina had extracted the writ and unfurled it to turn on her cam. Of course, the rest of the news teams quickly noticed what was happening and swung around, trying to get their own shots—taking their cams off the confrontation between the Masters and the GAS guards.

  “Okay, that’s enough!” Tyrr hissed. “Put it away.”

  That wasn’t part of the deal, so Jaina merely lowered the writ until Tyrr and his camoperator had turned back toward the confrontation. Then, once their attention was otherwise occupied, she raised the document so everyone else could get their own shots, too. A chorus of snickers and surprised gasps arose as the other news teams noticed the signature on the writ, but by then Tyrr was sticking his microphone in the face of the blond captain leading the demands for Mirax’s surrender.

  “Tell me, Captain Xanda, does GAS really intend to charge a bereaved mother with assault? A distraught, fifty-kilogram mother who resorted to slapping …”

  As Tyrr asked this, his camoperator panned over to the circle of Masters. After a gentle Force nudge from Jaina, they obliged by stepping apart, giving the cam a clear shot of Mirax’s small form.

  Tyrr paused for dramatic effect while the cam swung toward the hulking form laid out on the couch, then continued, “… a Yaka colonel three times her size—after she discovered he has been hanging her children on the wall …” Again, he paused, this time while the cam swung up to linger on the carbonite pods containing Valin and Jysella Horn. “… as office decorations’?”

  “No.” This answer came not from the blond captain, but from the direction of the turbolifts. “GAS certainly will not be filing any charges against Mirax Horn. Her grief is entirely understandable—and her actions are completely forgivable.”

  Along with everyone else in the chamber, Jaina turned toward the all-too-familiar voice and saw Admiral Daala striding into the room. Following close on her heels were Wynn Dorvan, her security detail, and the pair of very nervous-looking Rodian guards from the lobby.

  “What we cannot forgive is yet another example of Jedi imperious-ness,” Daala continued, marching to the edge of the seating area. “Now Jedi Masters are forcing their way into legitimate GAS detention centers!”

  The cams swung toward Daala, lighting her up like a Jabori spirit singer on stage, and Jaina’s heart began to pound with excitement. There had certainly been a lot of surprises and a few ups and downs, but suddenly it looked as though her plan was going to exceed all expectations.

  Daala basked in the cam glow for a moment, then put on a stern frown. “Is there no limit to their arrogance?”

  “Actually, Chief Daala, there is,” Jaina said. She glanced over at Saba and received an encouraging nod, then held up the writ. “As you can see, we have permission from the proper judicial authorities.”

  Daala appeared unabashed. “So I have been told.” She kept her attention fixed on the cams. “But we have all heard about Jedi mind tricks. This is yet more proof of their disregard for the law.”

  “If you have heard of our mind trickz,” Saba said, stepping forward. “Then perhapz you have also heard that they work only on the weak-minded?”

  Daala turned to smirk at Saba. “I doubt this will come as a surprise to the Jedi, Master Sebatyne, but there are a few weak-minded judges serving in the Galactic Alliance.”

  “There are?” Saba did a credible job of feigning surprise, thumping her tail against the floor and turning to Jaina. “This one is outraged!”

  A chorus of laughter rolled through the chamber, then Daala’s assistant, Wynn Dorvan, whispered something in her ear. Her expression paled, and she turned back toward the cams, obviously preparing to start backpedaling. Unfortunately for her, the only being more ruthless than a politician with an agenda was a reporter on the trail of a good story. Before she could speak, Javis Tyrr stepped forward holding a datapad with an image of the writ that Jaina had allowed him to shoot.

  “Chief Daala, the signature on this writ happens to be that of the judge overseeing your special Jedi court,” he said. “Isn’t it true that you are the one who appointed Arabelle Lorteli to this post?”

  Daala’s eyes narrowed. “As a matter of fact, it is, and I have complete confidence in her abilities.” She turned her gaze, angry and withering, on the Yaka colonel lying unconscious on the couch across from her. “While I am obviously very concerned with the Jedi and their propensity to disregard the laws of this great Alliance, I am equally concerned with the abuse of power by our own institutions. The reason I am here today is because I have just been informed of Colonel Rekt’s tasteless display of the Horn siblings. Rest assured that all parties responsible will be punished. The Galactic Alliance will not tolerate the abuse of power—by anyone.”

  “So you support the right of the Jedi to visit Jedi Knights being held in secret detention centers?” a Falleen reporter asked. “Even if such detention centers are themselves illegal?”

  “Absolutely. This facility is neither secret nor illegal, but we are all subject to the law.” Daala’s gaze slid toward Jaina—and sent a cold shiver of danger sense down her spine. “And I hope we’ll all remember that in the hours and days to come.”

  THE TINGLE THAT KEPT RUNNING DOWN LEIA’S SPINE COULDN’T BE Jedi danger sense—not with a FloatVan full of ysalamiri right beside her. She and her assistants had already secured thirty potted olbios inside the long cargo vehicle, each tree supporting at least two of the Force-displacing reptiles. So she had to be standing inside a Force void nearly as large as the loading dock itself. Yet she could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, that she simply was not seeing some threat to the Jedi patients they were about to move.

  Leia looked into the gloom beyond the two-story exit. The opening was covered by a state-of-the-art mirrfield, which allowed her to see out without letting anyone see in. The labyrinthine depths beneath Fellowship Plaza were among the busiest freight routes on Coruscant, traversed at all hours by a constant flow of cargo vehicles, and beyond the field lay an erratic blur of traffic. Even on good days, traffic was slow, congested, and dangerous, with accidents common and deaths frequent. Today was about average, with hoversleds as long as three hundred meters lurching down the skylane in a stop-and-go river of running lights.

  Han came to stand with her on the FloatVan’s mid-body loading ramp. Three Jedi Knights were already lying in their stasis bunks inside the van, but his attention was not on them. Instead he was looking out into the traffic, the same as Leia was.

  “Yeah, I see it, too,” he said. “Those boombuggies don’t belong down here. And they sure the kark don’t have any business parking on the Krabbis.”

  Lei
a looked again and realized that Han’s instincts were, as usual, dead on. The Krabbis Inn was one of the grungy under-plaza hostel towers that provided convenient tourist accommodations at cut-rate prices. Resting in the parking area atop its roof were a pair of ruggedly sleek Aratech BeamStreaks. Used by Coruscant Enforcement Services as pursuit speeders, the BeamStreaks were as pricey as they were perilous, vehicles actually advertised as so fast that to crash one was to die in one.

  Leia frowned. Obviously, a BeamStreak was the last vehicle a tourist staying at the Krabbis Inn was likely to rent. But anyone hoping to use the hostel to spy on activities inside the loading dock would be frustrated by the mirrfield’s reflective exterior—unless they had one of the new PsiCor “wallscope” surveillance packages being developed for military intelligence. It seemed unthinkable that Daala would put such a top-secret espionage asset in the hands of a domestic security squad watching Jedi. But lately, the unthinkable had been happening a lot. Just a year earlier, who would have believed that a pair of Jedi Knights would be hanging in carbonite inside a government building? Or that a Galactic Alliance Chief of State would view the Jedi Order as a threat to the same society it had served so faithfully since its very inception?

  “Some days, I really miss running the government myself,” Leia groused. “Who do you think they are? GAS?”

  Han thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Can’t be.” He hitched a thumb toward the rear of the loading dock, where R2-D2 and C-3PO stood at a main computer access portal, then added, “Not if Shortcircuit’s comm intercepts are right. Daala is worried about Jaina busting Valin and Jysella out of her secret prison, so she’s called everyone back to stand watch around the place.”

  “Jaina does have a gift for making people nervous,” Leia said, feeling a flush of pride. “She takes after her father that way.”

  Han’s expression darkened and, without responding, he turned back toward the mirrfield. He was still furious with Jaina for keeping Jag’s secret, and he was even more upset with Jag for not telling them about the Mandalorians in the first place. Truthfully, Leia was still angry, too. The difference was, Leia actually felt some sympathy for her daughter—perhaps because she herself had once been torn between her loyalty to the Rebellion and her love for a man who did not always share her loyalties. Fortunately Han was the kind of man who always put friends first, so his own loyalties had gradually grown close enough to Leia’s for them to make a life together.

  But that wasn’t going to happen with Jag. The core of his being was built around honor and duty, and his duty now lay with the Imperial Remnant. To ask him to turn his back on that would be to ask him to stop being Jagged Fel. So if he and Jaina were going to make a life together, it would have to be her loyalties that grew closer to Jag’s—and that possibility, Leia suspected, was what really frightened Han: that Jaina might choose Jagged Fel and the Imperial Remnant over her parents and the Jedi.

  Leia took Han’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever Jaina does, you know she’s going to be okay.”

  Han continued to look out toward the Krabbis’s blinking red sign. “’Course she is—it’s them I’m worried about.” He pointed at the BeamStreaks parked on the hostel’s roof. “A GAS squad would know better than to bring those things down here. Gotta be someone from offworld.”

  Leia’s stomach sank. “The Mandos already?”

  “That’s my guess,” Han nodded. “Probably an advance team. If Daala wants to send commandos in after the crazies—er, patients—they’d try for some reconnaissance. I know I would.”

  “That’s going to complicate things,” Leia said. The whole reason they were sneaking the patients out of the Temple was to put them out of Daala’s reach on Shedu Maad. “But we can’t wait. Things are only going to grow more difficult.”

  “No kidding,” Han said. “But even if it is a recon team, I don’t see them causing us a problem.”

  “I’d like to be sure about that,” Leia said.

  She glanced toward the back of the docks, where Tekli, Raynar, and half a dozen other Jedi Knights were escorting Bazel Warv’s hulking green bulk toward the FloatVan. Because of the Ramoan’s near-fatal reaction to being tranquilized the last time, Tekli had switched to Force hypnosis and a gentler benzodi-class drug to put him into a state of anxiety-free obedience. So far, it seemed to be working; he had lumbered all the way down from the Asylum Block without complaining about his chains.

  Still, no one seemed to be taking any chances with the powerful Ramoan. The group was flanked on one side by Jaden Korr and on the other by a dark-haired Jedi Knight who was as strong of spirit as he was in the Force, a cheerful young man by the name Avinoam Arelis. Both were pulling hoverdollies bearing potted olbio trees and ysalamiri. The last thing anyone wanted was Bazel using the Force to counteract his drugs.

  Leia caught Tekli’s eye, then called, “If you have everything under control, Han and I need to check on something outside.”

  The little Chadra-Fan nodded and waved them on, calling, “Feel free. Barv is doing very well.”

  “So far,” Han muttered under his breath. “I still don’t see why we couldn’t have put him in stasis in his cell like the others.”

  “Two words.” Leia took his hand and started for a small hatch in the wall next to the vehicle exit. “The door.”

  “We could have knocked out a wall,” Han said. “I’m pretty good with a cutting torch.”

  Leia smiled. “Coward.”

  “It’s called experience, dear,” Han said. They reached the door, and he palmed the slap-pad next to it. “You can only punch a rancor’s nose so many times before you realize there’s got to be a better way.”

  The door slid open, and Han waved Leia out onto a durasteel pedestrian balcony. This far down, the air was damp and foul. A constant stream of cargo vehicles was floating past in the transit lanes, located both a few meters above and a few meters below the portal level where they were standing. Across from their balcony, the silver BeamStreaks sat gleaming in the artificial light of the Krabbis Inn’s rooftop lot. Both were parked so they had an unobstructed path straight out the gate.

  Leia moved to the edge of the balcony, where a cramped set of stairs climbed into the aphotic murk of the gargantuan superstructure that supported Fellowship Plaza’s sunny expanse. After a few steps, she finally felt her connection with the Force return. Han followed her, peering over the railing, his eyes tracing the staircase’s zigzagging descent into the abyssal depths of Coruscant’s undercity.

  “Okay, I give up,” he said. “Why are we out here taking in the Hutt-belch air? We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

  “Bear with me—this won’t take long.” Leia opened herself to the Force and immediately felt the cold prickle of someone watching her. “You were right about those BeamStreaks. Someone’s using the Krabbis as an observation post.”

  “And that’s a problem why?” Han turned his back to the hostel to prevent any possibility of eavesdropping by way of lip-reading or parabolic microphone. “All they’re going to see is a FloatVan leaving a loading dock.”

  Leia turned to face Han’s side, putting her shoulder between her own mouth and any eavesdroppers in the Krabbis. “Unless they’ve got one of those PsiCor wallscopes Senator Trebek told the Masters about.”

  “How would they get one of those?” Han demanded. “Even Fleet Command hasn’t seen one yet.”

  Leia stepped back so she could see Han’s face, then looked him in the eye and waited. After a moment, he shook his head.

  “No way,” he said. “That’s real off-the-budget stuff. Her own Justice Center would charge her with treason if she put it in the hands of a bunch of Mandos—or even a GAS squad. No way Daala is going to risk that.”

  “You don’t think so?” Leia asked. “Then why would a reconnaissance team set up across from a mirrfield? It doesn’t make sense, unless they have a way to see through it. They could even see through the van walls when it pulls out.�
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  Han let out a disgusted groan. “Sometimes I hate it when you start getting logical.” He snuck a peek across the skylane at the Beam-Streaks, then turned back toward the wall and shook his head in resignation. “But we’ve got to know for sure. No sense getting all worked up if it’s just a couple of dirtscratchers with a big budget and a pair of macrobinoculars.”

  “No argument here,” Leia said. “Any ideas?”

  Han thought for a moment, then took her hand. “As a matter of fact, yeah.”

  He led her back toward the loading dock. She felt a sudden severing as she entered the ysalamiri’s Force void, but instead of thumbing the security pad next to the door, Han opened the safety gate at the end of the balcony. Still holding her hand, he led the way out onto the narrow catwalk that serviced the approach lights and guidance sensors arrayed around the edge of the entrance portal. As they passed in front of the mirrfield, their reflections appeared beside them, their hair standing on end with static discharge, their images wavering and slightly blurred.

  Keeping one eye on their reflections and the other on his footing, Han led them to within a few meters of the catwalk’s mid-point, then suddenly stopped and cursed under his breath. A faint shadow had suddenly begun to limn one side of their reflections, and the image of the Krabbis’s blinking red sign had grown a couple of shades paler.

  “What do you think?” Han asked. “Look like we’re standing in a photonic spray to you?”

  “It’s a definite possibility.” Leia pulled the lightsaber off her belt and pointed the blade emitter over their heads. “But it always pays to be sure.”

  She thumbed the activation switch, and the blade sizzled to life, bright and blinding in the under-plaza gloom. But instead of a blazing reflection, all the mirrfield showed was a transparent crevice. Through it, she could see Bazel Warv slowly lumbering up the FloatVan’s ramp, his beady eyes watching her and Han from beneath his deeply furrowed green brow. Deciding the last thing she needed to do at the moment was give the huge Ramoan a reason to panic, she quickly deactivated her lightsaber and turned to Han.