by Jeff Grubb
Krin walked over to Vago’s prostrate form and pressed the barrel of her blaster against the Hutt’s head. Mander grabbed her by the wrist and turned the weapon away as the dazed Hutt muttered something that, in another universe, might be considered a phrase of gratitude.
Angela Krin stared at Mander. “We can’t trust her. She’s part of this. She killed Popara.”
“She didn’t,” said Mander. “She was a prisoner, a hostage of the Twi’leks. She was acting under duress.”
Angela shook free with her weapon. “It doesn’t matter—she needs to die. She’s a Hutt. She’s a threat to Mika.”
“All the more reason to keep her alive,” said Mander. “Someone has to explain this to the Hutt Council of Elders when we’re done.”
“Jeedai,” muttered the groggy Hutt. “Mika respoonda. Gosa o breej.”
“I know,” said Mander to the Hutt.
“You know what?” asked Angela.
“Who is really responsible for this,” replied Mander. “The Tempest, the smuggling, Popara’s death. All of it.”
Reen came up, her blaster drawn and ready. “So what are we waiting for?”
Mander turned to the Pantoran. “You both need to take Vago back to the ship and take off. Call Eddey for help.”
He looked at Angela, who was still staring at the prostrate form of the Hutt. Emotions played across her face. Anger, fear, and frustration, each in turn. Mander had seen it before. It was as if conflicting programs were all running at once in her mind.
“We need to protect him,” said Angela Krin, and once again tried to bring her weapon to bear against the female Hutt.
And Mander realized what was going on in her mind.
To Angela he said sternly, “You need to protect Vago.” He flexed his voice as he said it, fitting the words into the crenellations of her brain, backing up his words with the power of the Force. He moved his hand slightly as he said it.
Angela nodded and parroted his words, “I need to …” And then she stopped, a look of angry betrayal spreading across her face. “That’s a mind trick! You were using the Force on me!”
“Yes,” said Mander. “And it’s not the first time it has happened to you, is it? Think about it. Back on your own ship, after we got back from Endregaad.”
Angela’s face fell with a sudden realization, and she looked at the Hutt and the blaster in her hand. And a cold look of anger settled finally onto her face.
“He did it to me, didn’t he?” she said. “I was worried about you and he was the one.”
“Yes,” said Mander. “But you don’t have time to be angry—you have to get Vago to safety. Can you do that?”
Angela Krin blinked for a moment, and said, “Yes, yes I can. But is that my decision, or yours?” She looked at Mander, a touch of fear in her eyes.
“The fact you asked the question gives you the answer,” Mander said gently.
“What’s going on?” asked Reen. She had been scanning the area for more of the ancient droids.
“Angela was mind-controlled by someone using the Force,” said Mander. “I thought she was bit by the adventuring bug, and that she was acting oddly for that reason—sometimes calculating, sometimes emotional. But it was something much worse than I realized.”
Angela Krin gave him a stern look. She was back in control once more. “I should go with you.”
“There is precious little time,” said Mander, “and I need both of you to keep Vago alive.” To Reen he said, “Angela may be confused for a little while. Can you handle both of them?”
Reen nodded and said, “Only if you insist. Where are you going?”
“To the bridge,” said Mander. “That’s where this will end.”
“You’d better hurry,” said Reen. “They’ve got more reinforcements on the way.”
Already the metal ramps around them sounded with the heavy footfalls of the ancient war droids and the metal scrapings of the serpentine security droids.
“We’re going to have to fight our way out,” said Reen.
“Then you better start now,” said Mander pressing a comlink into his ear. “Keep Vago alive. Call me on the comm when you’re safe.” And with that he was gone.
The turbolifts to the upper levels and the bridge were on the far side of the vats. Mander leapt up to one of the catwalks and dashed for the lifts.
Behind him, he could hear blasterfire. More droids had descended on Angela and Reen’s position, and he hoped the two had found more cover than that provided by a stunned Hutt. Beneath him, the larger war droids on the factory floor were now opening up from a variety of torso-mounted weaponry. A staccato rainbow of ionic bolts laced through the catwalk.
Mander dodged them nimbly, but the onslaught of firepower took its toll on the catwalk wires. The elevated grating behind him separated and cascaded into the turbulent pits of Tempest below. Wires ahead of him, overloaded by the strain, gave way and snapped, and the catwalk fell out from beneath Mander’s feet.
The Jedi leapt onto one of the clear pipes carrying the effluvia from the crater without losing a step. The war droids below did not let up their fire, and the pipes were pierced in numerous places from their blasts. Greenish liquid showered down on top of his attackers, its acids etching them deeply. The acid shower worked into their gyros and power packs as well, and Mander heard the rewarding sound of multiple explosions as the war droids beneath him blossomed into fireballs.
He had reached the far balcony when a particularly ancient hulk of a war droid lumbered out of the shadows. This one was twice the size of its comrades on the floor, though of the same design—spindly bipedal legs supporting a top-heavy torso bristling with firepower.
What had been the ancient Hutts’ model for this, wondered Mander as he charged forward.
The war hulk unleashed a salvo that could have brought down a small starship, but Mander had already anticipated the attack, closing the last few meters in a single rolling cascade, curling as he flew forward, his lightsaber at a right angle to his body. He landed hard and spun horizontally across the floor, passing between the legs of the ancient war droid.
And then he was up on the far side. He turned, pausing for only a moment. The huge droid seemed initially unscathed, but as it tried to turn, its legs started to fall away from the body. The hulking overloaded torso slid forward along the seams cut by Mander’s lightsaber, and the entire top half of the droid clashed to the ground. The legless torso tried to raise itself on its weapon-arms, but finally collapsed in cybernetic surrender.
The great plant had gone quiet, and Mander hoped that it was a good sign; that Reen and Angela Krin had gotten Vago back to the ship. Without waiting to check, he turned to the turbolifts and ascended. As he rocketed upward, Mander took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Find his center. What had to be done would not be pretty, but it was necessary.
The lift chimed and Mander stepped out. The entire bridge was lit with emergency lights, broken by blue-hued screens.
“I’ve come for the Spice Lord of Varl,” said Mander.
“Ah,” said Mika the Hutt, standing at the captain’s console, “I see you’ve finally arrived. It has taken you long enough.”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
THE SPICE LORD OF VARL
Mika the Hutt was apparently alone in the red-hued darkness of the bridge. He wore a long vest-like coat, open in the front, but cut in the fashion of Mander’s own formal robes. The Hutt’s light yellow-green flesh glowed with the warmth of a hearth in the red light, highlighted by blue holoscreens.
The screens showed scenes in and around the factory-ship. There was the main floor, littered with wrecked droids and burst vats. There was another display, showing a near-identical picture, unscathed. Another manufacturing bay, perhaps to the aft. Hallways throughout the plant flickered in turn, and several holocams showed the Barabi Run on its landing pad, the spice unloaded, the headless body of the H-3PO unit still discarded by the entrance.
; There was no sign of Reen or Angela Krin, though a large number of the screens were beset by gray-blue static, and Mander remembered that their passage into the ship had knocked out a number of cams.
But Mika had known they were coming from the onset.
“When did the wupiupi finally drop?” asked Mika, his face wide and open, his tone as congenial as when they had first met him. “When did you realize you had been played?”
“Only at the very end,” said Mander, keeping his eyes on the Hutt. “There was still a chance that Vago was responsible, or someone else in your household. Maybe even your father’s Twi’leks. But after we met Vago as the Twi’lek’s hostage, there was no one really left who could handle something this extensive.”
“Yes,” said Mika. “Pity about my brother. I had hoped that he would have been pleased enough just to take our father’s place, and not ask too many questions. Business could continue and I would be hiding safely behind my image as the innocent and ineffective younger child. Imagine my surprise when he actually showed the wherewithal to capture me and gin up a show trial for your Pantoran. His plans were that I would quietly disappear after he solidified his hold on the business, and I couldn’t have that. That was when I knew that he would not survive, but I still needed another decoy to take his place.”
“Vago,” said Mander. “She didn’t know, did she?”
“Not at first, no,” said Mika. “It is so easy to move things around when no one really suspects you. Vago never expected anyone else in the family to access the Anjiliac finances. Popara trusted her exclusively to carry out his will. Zonnos only cared for his own pleasures, whiling away the time until he finally controlled the family empire in name, but comfortable to let Vago continue to run the day-to-day. They were all expected to continue to play their parts. No one expected me. Or the Tempest.”
“How did you find it?” asked Mander, slowly closing the gap between them. A step at a time. “The Tempest, I mean.” He tried to keep his voice light and free of the Force. The Hutts were known for their resistance to Jedi mind tricks, and this one would be tougher than most.
Mika smiled, and it was clear that he saw through Mander’s casual charade. He backed up a step, putting a control panel between him and the Jedi. “I was interested in our home planet. I found records of our most ancient times, speaking of its great cities and powerful families. And later, the reports of a blasted, almost airless world, exposed to the raw ravages of space. And after a time, those reports petered out. The Council of Elders still assigned patrols to the region, to keep others away, but the planet itself was considered so much dross, insufficiently profitable, a dying world spinning around a dying star.”
“So you didn’t come for the spice, then?” said Mander, and his eyes flicked to the various screens surrounding the Hutt. None of them showed his companions, or Vago.
“That was a happy accident,” said Mika. “I was actually searching for the old droids that you found guarding the plant. I thought at the time that their designs might prove useful in the modern age. Then an employee who was an … aficionado … of a less damaging breed of spice brought his own supply here. That supply was in turn affected by the air and water of this world. He died, both the first recipient of the drug and the first victim of its effects. I had the body autopsied, of course, and in the process discovered the Tempest. After that, it was a simple matter to backtrack and confirm, then set up the plant. This was the ideal location, and the cache of ancient droids made perfect workers and protectors.”
“Pity it is over now,” said the Jedi.
Mika let out a deep sigh. “It does not have to be this way. You could become part of the organization. You and the others. The offer I made through Vago still stands.”
“The refusal still stands,” said Mander. “As does our warning. We have allies waiting for us.”
“You want to help me,” said Mika calmly, smiling. He passed his hand in front of him.
The emotional pressure upon Mander was immediate, a bow wave of the Force striking him head-on, penetrating him utterly. For a moment he was taken by surprise, his own will washed away, replaced briefly with the desire to help this little Hutt—this small, strange, persecuted being, all alone in the greater universe. Despite himself, he staggered back. Part of his surprise was that he had felt the style of this mental attack before, and knew where the Hutt had learned the trick.
Mander Zuma took a deep breath and dropped into himself mentally. He embraced the Meditation of Emptiness and let the wave of outside desire pass through him.
“No,” Mander said, and Mika’s broad smile disappeared with the refusal. “An apprentice’s mind tricks will not work on the one who taught them to him.”
Mika let out a growl and said, “So you know that as well now?”
Mander nodded. “Toro Irana taught you that. He tried it on me, once, and it failed then as well.”
“It was one of the few tricks I could learn,” said the Hutt, and laughed. “There is a cosmic irony in being able to affect the minds of lesser beings, but then to be surrounded by servants who would jump to my very word in any event. And to then keep the company of Hutts, who are naturally resistant to its effects!”
“But Toro could not teach you much,” said Mander. He made it sound like an insult.
Mika the Hutt chewed on his lower lip, and his face blanched. “Do you know what it is like? I could feel your Force. I could almost see it around me. Yes, I know that is basic to you Jeedai, and it is what you look for in your students. But I could not utilize it. I would attempt to and it would all slip away. It was like grabbing at water. I could close my fingers on it, but never hold it firmly.”
“Not everyone who can use the Force is made to be a Jedi,” said Mander. “There have been many disciplines in history.”
Mika ignored his words. “I needed someone to train me, but I proved a poor student. I was a fish looking at animals on the dry land, or a mammal watching the birds fly. I could hear the voices of the party that I could never attend. You want to help me.”
Again, he pushed hard with the Force, turning the casual request into an imperative command. Mander was ready for it this time, and batted it aside mentally, dismissing it as soon as he heard it. “And you killed Toro. You addicted him and then killed him.”
“I thought he could be controlled,” said the Hutt. “I know better than to try that again. For all your supposed talk of controlling your emotions, you Jedi are extremely passionate. You are an Order of believers. It became clear that Toro Irana was responding badly to my new spice, and rather than let him fall back into your hands and reveal my actions, I thought it best to take him off the board.”
“You play holo-chess, then,” said Mander, thinking of the board in Angela Krin’s office—and her own words—all the while looking for an opening, for the Hutt to lower his guard.
Mika was silent for a moment, then said, “I dabble.” He added, “I miss Toro Irana. He was a good teacher. I think that, in the end, he wanted to prove himself. To show he could have his own apprentice.”
“He taught you to gather the Force to influence others,” said Mander. “And to control minds.”
“In a clumsy fashion,” said Mika, trying to appear unthreatening. “At heart, I could not wrap my mind around your philosophy. I am afraid that a Hutt remains a Hutt.”
“You used the Force on Angela Krin,” said Mander.
“I was subtle,” replied Mika. “Nothing major, a nudge here, a warning there. When we were talking in orbit over Endregaad, I made clear my concern about the Tempest, because I wanted to know how much the CSA would find out. After your Pantoran found the serial numbers, I knew it would be only a matter of time before they tracked it back to Skydove Freight and my family. I had to prepare. I asked her to protect me.”
“Which is why she came to Nar Shaddaa, supposedly to track down the hard spice,” said the Jedi. “You put the idea in her mind.”
“That and more,” Mika said,
nodding. “I had her keep me apprised of what the CSA knew. I led her to understand what a danger I thought Vago was. Then I had planned to maneuver her into the same room with my father’s counselor and let ‘nature’ take its course.” He held his hands out in a plaintive fashion. “But you knew that.”
“I am slow, but I get there eventually,” said Mander. “It’s why I came here by myself. There’s no one else for you to manipulate. Now it is time to stand down, Mika. Your Hutt mind tricks don’t work on me.”
“Then I will have to try something else,” said Mika. “Killee du schoon!”
Mander heard the sound of a lightsaber engaging and immediately thumbed the activation plate and brought his own weapon up. Even so, he was nearly bowled over by the force of the blow.
The third Twi’lek handmaiden, her skin as green as the irradiated pools outside, had leapt at him, igniting a blue-white blade as she jumped. Mander caught the weapon on his own blade. As the two blades ground against each other, the Twi’lek arched over his head, landing between the Jedi and the Hutt. She shook her Tempest-veined head-tails, and Mander noticed that they were shod in overlapping coppery plates—no vulnerability there.
She raised her blade to threaten Mander, and her eyes were a solid, deep violet from the Tempest spice. She was wielding Toro’s short-hafted lightsaber. Mika’s agents must have recovered it back on Makem Te, before Mander arrived.
“I could not learn to wield one of your blades,” said Mika, “so I choose to employ others who can.”
The Twi’lek hissed and leapt again, her blade cutting down on Mander.
Mander parried the blow, but now he was prepared, his blade steady as he brought it up. Their blades crashed with a crackling electrical static—Mander’s lightsaber and Toro’s cascading a series of nova bursts as they slid off each other. But Mander steered the lithe form of the Twi’lek to his right, and pushed her off as their blades parted. The Twi’lek was surprised by the move and landed badly, sliding across the bridge and into a control bank.
