Under A Black Sun Trilogy

by Kevin J. Anderson

  professional test cases. We used a few areas on Dagobah as models, as

  well as the Bith homeworld and a planet in the Hapes cluster. I can't

  remember them all." His voice grew wistful. "This project was

  Cojahn's baby. He always got so excited when he talked about the

  different kinds of entertainment he was going to bring in here."

  Lando led them around the edge of the central hub until he came to a

  door marked SwAmp, MARSH, BOG, BAYOU. They stepped through the doorway

  and found themselves in a small antechamber.

  "Here, put these on." Lando handed each of them a gauzy jumpsuit of

  transparalon. "Best way to protect your clothes while we're visiting

  this attraction. It ... gets a little messy."

  They slipped the jumpsuits on over their boots and clothing, and

  crimped any excess material so that the transparalon formed a temporary

  seam, allowing each person to adjust the suit for its most comfortable

  fit.

  Before the Wookiee donned his suit, Em Teedee detached himself from

  Lowie's syren-fiber belt and the little droid hovered to and fro,

  "supervising" the process and making helpful suggestions.

  Tenel Ka prepared to seal off the empty suit sleeve below the stump of

  her severed arm, but before she could reach over with her good arm,

  Jacen was already there doing it for her. It was the most attention he

  had paid her in days, and she was touched by his helpfulness. "Thank

  you Jacen, my friend."

  Lando rubbed his hands together. "Everyone ready? Let's get into some

  mud."

  As they entered the swamps, Tenel Ka reached out with her Jedi senses

  to detect anything amiss. A tide of sounds and smells and tastes

  washed over them. The odors of mildew, algae, and decaying plant

  matter assailed her nostrils, yet she did not find them offensive. The

  air was warm and humid, though not uncomfortable. Chirrups, gurgles,

  croaks, buzzes, twitters, and growls chorused from every tree and muddy

  pool around them.

  Occasionally, Tenel Ka noticed construction workers adding finishing

  touches to the exhibit-a bit more hanging moss here, another

  holographic swamp creature there-but otherwise, the impression of an

  unexplored swampland was surprisingly convincing.

  She found a long vine dangling across their path and, on the assumption

  that this was also part of the entertainment, she wrapped her arm

  around it, tested her weight. It held. Then, grasping the vine a

  little farther up, she swung out halfway over a murky brownish-green

  pool and let go. She splashed down with satisfying force and found

  herself waist deep in muddy, lukewarm water.

  Lando grinned. "Glad to see you're getting into the spirit of this.

  That water's perfectly clean, by the way. It's been artificially

  'muddied' with purified sand and food colorings."

  Tenel Ka watched with great interest as her transparalon suit repelled

  the "dirty" water. Inside the suit she was comfortably clean and

  dry.

  "But whatever is the point of all this?" Em Teedee asked.

  Lowie chuffed with laughter. Jaina and Jacen giggled. "It's fun, Em

  Teedee," Jacen said. "Loosen up a little and get into it."

  "I shall do my utmost, Master Jacen. Provided I don't damage any of my

  circuits. It's certainly a comfort that Mistress Jaina saw fit to

  waterproof my casing last year."

  Lando reached out and helped haul Tenel Ka back out of the mud.

  "I can show you some even better pools if you all want to go for a swim

  after midday meal." He led them around a dense clump of trees and

  bushes. "This is where we're going to eat."

  He gestured to an open area that hadn't been visible from the trail.

  "We call this the Bayou Buffet." He spread his arms and indicated a

  serving area fifty meters long. The tables were made to look like

  fallen and rotting logs whose tops just happened to be perfectly

  flat.

  A small Ugnaught construction worker tinkered with something under one

  of the tables.

  "And over here is the stage," Lando said, walking to a raised platform

  at the center of the open area. "How you doin'?" he greeted a scrawny

  young man with a wispy beard who was busily connecting pieces of a

  sound system to speakers embedded at the base of the stage.

  The young man nodded, but continued working.

  Lando turned back to the young Jedi Knights. "Cojahn was planning on

  booking bands that could play real swamp music, maybe some Bith

  musicians. The band will provide entertainment while people sit and

  eat authentic meals from various swamp climates."

  "Sounds like fun," Jaina said.

  "Yeah, well," Lando said wistfully, "I guess he never got around to

  booking a band before-" "Excuse me, sir," the scrawny young man on the

  stage interrupted.

  Tenel Ka sensed tension in the wispy-bearded boy.

  "Yes?" Lando gave the boy his full attention.

  "Begging your pardon, but Master Cojahn did book a band for this

  stage."

  Lando's eyebrows went up. He looked relieved that one major detail had

  already been taken care of "Oh? Which band? When do they start?"

  The young man glanced around, as if to make sure no one was watching or

  listening, then lowered his voice and leaned toward Lando.

  "Call themselves Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes. And they already

  started." He glanced furtively around again, nodded several times, and

  then said, "But they stopped."

  "Figrin D'an? Great band. Used to bump into them here and there in my

  smuggling days. But how could they have finished their gig already?"

  Lando mused. "We haven't even opened yet."

  "Master Cojahn had them doing promotional appearances at casinos on

  Cloud City, to get some advance interest for SkyCenter here."

  "So where are they now?" Lando asked.

  "Exactly," the boy whispered, nodding as if Lando had discovered some

  deep truth. "They're gone, disappeared, run off in the night. They

  were supposed to be here all the way through the grand opening, but the

  same day Master Cojahn went over that balcony-the whole band packed up

  and left Bespin. No explanation at all. Didn't even bother to collect

  the credits they were owed for the gig they did that day." He nodded

  again.

  "Didn't collect their credits? That doesn't sound like Figrin at

  all!"

  Now it was Lando's turn to glance around to see if anyone was watching

  or listening. "Thank you," he said in a low voice. "You've been a big

  help."

  "It sounds to me like they must have seen something or learned

  something," Zekk said. "Leaving like that is a sign that someone's

  afraid and on the run."

  "It's not much of a connection," Jaina observed quietly.

  "No," Lando said, "but it's the best lead we've got so far. I'd say

  that the band's disappearing on the same day Cojahn died is a bit too

  much of a coincidence. One way or another, I've got to find out what

  they know."

  "They are gone," Tenel Ka pointed out. "How will you find them?"

  Lando squared his shoulders and gave them all a determined look.

  "I'll have to
check the passenger records for that day, but I'd be

  willing to bet they went to ground in the safest place they could think

  of-on the Bith homeworld. And if I have to, I'll follow them there to

  find out what happened."

  Ord Mantell had been his home, his base of operations ... his lair, for

  many years, but Czethros knew well enough never to get too attached to

  any one place.

  The true mastery and skill of running an important part of the

  ultrasecret Black Sun organization meant that he had to be flexible-as

  flexible as an Umgullian blob. He had two completely separate lives:

  one as a well-respected and influential businessman on Ord Mantell, and

  one as a powerful lieutenant of the insidious criminal organization

  that had infiltrated many important industries and businesses in the

  New Republic. He was a mixture of light and darkness, a man no one

  truly knew. He lived in the shadows.

  Czethros sat at his cluttered desk in a high warehouse tower on Ord

  Mantell. Outside in the anteroom, computer screens and robotic

  receptionists diverted the common business activities, aboveboard

  correspondence, and trivial conversations that allowed Czethros to run

  one of the most successful shipping and packaging companies on the

  entire planet.

  Everything had been set up for him through Black Sun.

  But these legitimate activities were a mere cover-up, the tiniest

  fraction of the income he contributed to the hidden coffers of the

  underground criminal group. After all this time, he found it somewhat

  bothersome to keep such a clean public face for inconsequential people

  like Han Solo and the other nosy officials of the New Republic. In a

  way, however, the pretense amused him, and he would keep it up for

  now.

  Soon though, once his plans were completed, his arm of Black Sun would

  be so solid and so influential that no one in the New Republic would

  dare question anything he did.

  Czethros had been a lieutenant in the once-powerful Black Sun, a

  henchman, a hired killer, a bounty hunter-an expediter for the plans of

  powerful leaders such as Prince Xizor and Durga the Hutt. He had

  learned how to be ruthless, how to kill, how to take care of difficult

  situations before they became real problems.

  Yet numerous crackdowns and disasters had forced Black Sun to go

  underground, into hiding. Some thought the criminal organization had

  been mortally weakened. But now Czethros and a few other lieutenants

  were working to build a newer, more powerful organization.

  This new Black Sun wou'J become dominant, because Czethros knew how to

  work both sides of the law, the dark and the light.

  Keeping track of the many ongoing threads of his master plan put him

  under constant pressure.

  He sat back at his desk, touched a hidden control under the front

  drawer, and his flat image screen flipped over to reveal a secret

  terminal.

  Tweaking a volume control, he turned up the dissonant Sullustan opera

  that had been playing in the background. The squeaky, overlapping

  tones gave most people instant headaches-at the very least, the noise

  kept strangers out of his office. Coincidentally, Sullustan opera had

  the added benefit of being particularly effective at jamming all known

  histening devices.

  Czethros focused his cyber-eye on the secondary screen and scratched at

  the moss-green hair that covered his scarred head. Then he adjusted

  the visor over his eyes, tuning the reception spectrum deeper into the

  infrared. He nodded with satisfaction as a formerly invisible series

  of letters and words suddenly appeared on the screen. Human eyes could

  not read them, but with his visor Czethros could pick up every letter

  as perfectly as if it were written in fire.

  He knew he would not be disturbed. In the reception area outside, his

  two beautifully polished female-form receptionist droids handled the

  incoming calls and correspondence with their protocol programming.

  Dimly, he could hear their sultry voices repeating the familiar

  phrases: "Master Czethros is in a meeting," "Master Czethros is

  unavailable," "You'll find that Master Czethros has already attended to

  that matter."

  Meanwhile, he sat back and called up the encrypted files that showed

  summaries of the most important Black Sun activities. This was how he

  got his real work done.

  His weapons-running business had shown a great profit over the past few

  years, especially with the dragged-out civil war on Anobis. But sales

  of destructive devices had taken a recent downturn there, thanks to the

  cursed peacemaking efforts of that meddling Han Solo and the young Jedi

  Knights.

  Czethros had tried to have Anja take care of the meddlers, but since

  he'd been forced to keep his involvement in Anobis gun-running

  activities a secret-especially from her-he could hardly explain to Anja

  why it was important to him. Anja was so volatile, such a loose

  cannon, that she might even turn against him, if she ever found out he

  had kept the war going on her home planet to increase his profits.

  Czethros sighed. It was merely a temporary setback in the overall

  picture. He was certain Black Sun operatives would be able to start

  wars and revolutions on several other planets. It usually wasn't

  hard.

  Scapegoats could be found everywhere-an unattributed comment here, an

  anonymous bomb planted there-and before long, two uneasy factions would

  be at each other's throats (or whatever other breathing mechanisms

  their species used). His stockpile of weapons would soon be back in

  demand.

  He fine-tuned his plans for digging Black Sun's claws into the gambling

  and entertainment activities on various planets such as Bespin and

  Borgo Prime. Everything was proceeding quite satisfactorily. Now that

  he had gotten rid of the main opposition on Cloud City, Czethros knew

  the way was clear for him. Black Sun operatives would soon be raking

  in profits from all those establishments, as well as infiltrating the

  floating gambling casinos and resorts on the oceans of Mon Calamari.

  On the spectrum-shifted screen a star map displayed bright points that

  represented Black Sun strongholds; the galaxy looked very bright

  indeed. After such a long buildup, his operatives were in place

  preparing for the great revolt. It would not be long before Czethros

  could give the signal. But first he had to cement the rest of his

  plans.

  The illicit spice-running market continued to grow. His pirates and

  smugglers hijacked shipments of glitterstim, andris, and ryll spice,

  selling the contraband substances at greatly inflated prices to waiting

  customers. Shortly before the brief battle and its utterly assured

  victory, Czethros would place himself in control of the famed spice

  mines of Kessel.

  From that point on-within days, if everything worked out rightthe rest

  of the galaxy would be in his hands. His financial and political power

  would be firmly established. The banner of Black Sun would fly proudly

  beside the flag of th
e New Republic.

  Czethros switched off the spectrum-shifted terminal, hid it beneath the

  normal innocuous screen again, and stood. Taking two quick strides

  toward the wide window, he gazed across the equatorial band of

  metropolis that girdled Ord Mantell. So much out there, so many

  possibilities.

  But he dared not let his involvement be exposed yet. The timing was

  too delicate. If the wrong people learned that Black Sun activities

  were being controlled in part by the respected businessman Czethros, he

  might lose everything. His laser eye flashed from right to left in his

  visor, burning red.

  Within weeks, though, when he sent his signal, and the battle cry went

  out to all their infiltrators, the grand coup would establish Black

  Sun's power in countless places at once. The victory would be so

  sudden, simultaneous, and far-reaching that the New Republic could

  never extricate the criminal organization, short of declaring outright

  war on its own worlds.

  Unfortunately, the news Anja had just sent him from Cloud City meant

  that the young Jedi Knights would not rest until they had meddled in

  all of his affairs. He knew he'd have to take care of the situation

  quickly and cleanly. His choice was clear, and his conscience-if he

  still possessed one-would not trouble him. Besides, Czethros already

  had plenty of blood on his hands. A little more would make no

  difference.