by James Luceno
Maul had to finish what he had begun.
He drew his lightsaber, ignited it at both ends, and leapt down to the floor of the prefab bunker.
Bruit, the Falleen, and the others spun around when they heard the resonant thrumming of his weapon, which Maul whirled over his head and around his shoulders. But no one fired. They stood staring at him, as if he were some hallucination born of bloodlust or snow blindness.
Maul realized that he would have to goad them into doing what he needed them to do. He began to march forward, glowering at them with his yellow eyes and showing his teeth, and at last someone fired—the Rodian from the cantina. Maul deflected the bolt straight back at him with the lower of his blades and kept coming.
“We have no fight with you, Jedi,” the Falleen yelled.
The remark brought Maul up short.
“This is our business,” the humanoid went on. “It doesn’t concern Coruscant.”
Maul growled and advanced.
Crouching suddenly, a Twi’lek fired, and Maul twirled, deflecting the bolts with his twin crimson blades. The Twi’lek and another security man dropped.
Then the rest opened fire at once. Maul leapt and jinked, spun and rolled, an acrobatic wonder, impossible to target. He stopped once to raise his hand and pepper his opponents with a flurry of Force-hurled glassware and sharp instruments. He turned blasters against each other and wrenched one fighter down onto a table with enough force to snap the man’s spine.
His hand weapon depleted, the Falleen rushed him. Maul spun through a fleet kick, breaking the Falleen’s arm. Then, without lowering his leg, he broke the security chief’s neck.
Only Bruit remained. Gaping at Maul in disbelief, he let his blaster drop from his rigid hand. Maul continued to approach, the lightsaber held off to one side, its blades horizontal to the floor.
“I don’t know how, and I don’t know why,” Bruit began, “but I know that you must be responsible for everything that’s happened.”
Maul decided to hear him out.
“You recorded my conversations. Then you altered the recordings to trick the saboteurs you had identified in the cantina. You probably arranged for us to find this place.” Bruit gestured broadly. “Can I at least know why before you kill me?”
“It is something that had to be done—for a larger purpose.”
Bruit cocked his head, as if he hadn’t heard Maul correctly.
Maul gazed at him. “You needn’t dwell on it.”
He raised his energy blade, preparing to thrust it into Bruit’s chest, then restrained himself. A lightsaber wound wouldn’t do, not at all. Deactivating the blade, he raised his right hand and made a vise of his gloved fingers. Bruit’s hands flew to his windpipe, and he began to gasp for breath.
Jurnel Arrant was in his office when he received the details of Bruit’s death on Riome. The messenger was a judicial agent, who had been dispatched from Coruscant at Arrant’s request.
“I’m to blame for this entire business,” Arrant said in a tone of anguished confession. “I’m guilty of ordering Bruit to bring in outsiders to do the dirty work. I escalated this conflict.”
The lommite ore could still be mined, but LL no longer had enough barges to transport it. Replacing them would cost more than the company was currently worth. From what Arrant had learned, InterGalactic was in the same fix.
Anger gripped him. “I’m convinced that the Neimoidians with the Trade Federation got to the Toom clan and paid them to sabotage our ships, along with InterGalactic’s.”
“That will be difficult to prove,” the judicial said. “The Toom clan has been effectively wiped out, and unless you can produce evidence to support your theory, we can’t show good cause for interrogating the Neimoidians.” He was about to add something when Arrant cut him off.
“Bruit was a good man. He shouldn’t have died as he did.”
The judicial frowned, then prized a wafer-thin audio device from the pocket of his tunic and placed it on Arrant’s desk. “Before you beat yourself to a pulp, you might want to listen to this.”
Arrant picked up the device. “What is it?”
“A recording found at the Toom clan’s base, here on Dorvalla. It’s incomplete, but there’s enough to warrant your attention.”
Arrant activated the wafer’s play function.
“I wish to see both Lommite and InterGal brought down,” a male voice said, “so that someone with real foresight could build a better organization from the dregs.”
Arrant’s eyes widened in nervous astonishment. “That’s Bruit!”
“I understand,” a second male voice was saying. “I want some of the action.”
Arrant paused the playback. “Who’s—”
“Caba’Zan,” the judicial supplied. “Former head of security for InterGalactic Ore.”
Reluctantly, Arrant reactivated the device.
“We need to team up to accomplish this,” Bruit said. “No one will suspect us, and Arrant doesn’t need to know any more than he has to.”
“He’s not that clever.”
“The Toom’s have the means to get the job done. We’re going to make a move against everyone at Eriadu—”
Arrant silenced the device and pushed it away from him. “I don’t know what to say.”
The judicial agent nodded, tight-lipped.
Arrant got to his feet and spent a long moment gazing out the window. When he turned, his expression was bleak. He touched a key on the intercom pad, and seconds later his protocol droid secretary entered the office.
“How may I be of service, sir?”
Arrant glanced up at the droid. “I need to make two holocalls. The first will be to the chief executive of InterGalactic Ore, to discuss terms of a possible merger.”
“And the second, sir?”
Arrant took a moment to reply. “The second call will be to Viceroy Nute Gunray, to discuss terms of granting the Trade Federation exclusive rights to the shipping and distribution of Dorvalla’s lommite ore.”
In a dank, fungus-encrusted grotto on the Neimoidian homeworld, Hath Monchar and Viceroy Nute Gunray received a startlingly sudden holovisit from Darth Sidious. First to reach the holoprojector and the cloaked apparition that was the Dark Lord of the Sith, Monchar inclined his lumpish head in a servile bow and spread his thick-fingered hands.
“Welcome, Lord Sidious,” he said.
Though his eyes remained concealed by the cloak’s raised hood, Sidious seemed to be gazing through Monchar at Gunray, who was perched atop his claw-footed mechno-chair a few meters away.
“Viceroy,” Sidious rasped. “Dismiss your underling, so that we may speak in private about recent events on Dorvalla.”
Monchar stared openly at Sidious, then whirled on Gunray. “But, Viceroy, I was the one who made contact with Lommite Limited. I deserve at least some of the credit for what has occurred.”
“Viceroy,” Sidious said, with a bit more menace, “advise your underling that his contributions in this matter were inconsequential.”
Gunray glanced nervously at Monchar. “You had better leave.”
“But—”
“Now—before he gets angry.”
Monchar’s gut sack made a sickening growl as he hurried from the grotto.
Gunray slid off the mechno-chair and approached the holoprojector. He had a jutting lower jaw, and his thick lower lip was uncompanioned. A deep fissure separated his bulging forehead into two lateral lobes. His skin was kept a healthy gray-blue by means of frequent meals of the finest fungus. Red and orange robes of exquisite hand fell from his narrow shoulders, along with a round-collared brown surplice that reached his knees.
“I apologize for the indiscretion of my deputy,” he said. “He is high-strung from too many rich foods.”
Sidious’s face betrayed nothing. “Apology accepted, Viceroy.”
“Hath Monchar regards me much as I regard you, Lord Sidious: with a mix of awe and fear.”
“You need fear me on
ly if you fail me, Viceroy.”
Gunray seemed to take the remark under advisement. “I have been anticipating your visit, Lord Sidious. Though I confess that I had no idea you were aware of events on Dorvalla—much less that the Trade Federation had an interest in the planet.”
“You will find that there are few matters of which I am unaware, Viceroy. What’s more, we have not seen the last of Dorvalla. There is something we will need to attend to in due course.”
“But, Lord Sidious, the matter has been resolved. Lommite Limited and InterGalactic Ore have merged to become Dorvalla Mining, but the Trade Federation will transport the ore, and will now represent Dorvalla in the Galactic Senate.”
“More important, you have a permanent place on the directorate.”
Gunray bowed his head. “That, too, Lord Sidious.”
“Then the stage is set for the next act.”
“May I ask what that will entail?”
“I will inform you at the appropriate time. Until then, there are other matters I will see to, to secure the power base of the Trade Federation and to strengthen your personal position.”
“We are not deserving of your attention.”
“Then strive to make yourself deserving, Viceroy, so that our partnership will continue to prosper.”
Gunray gulped loudly. “I will do little else, Lord Sidious.”
In his lair on Coruscant, Darth Sidious deactivated the holoprojector and turned to face Darth Maul.
“Do you find them any more trustworthy than before?”
“More frightened, Master,” Maul said from his cross-legged posture on the floor, “which may achieve the same end result.”
Sidious made an affirmative sound. “We are not through with them yet—not for some time to come.”
“I begin to understand, Master.”
Sidious’s mouth approximated a grin of approval. “You did not disappoint me at Dorvalla, Darth Maul.”
“My Master,” Maul said, slightly bowing his head.
Sidious studied him for a moment. “I sense that you enjoyed being out on your own.”
Maul lifted his face. “My thoughts are open to you, Master.”
“I see,” Sidious said slowly. “Temper your enthusiasm, my young apprentice. Soon I will have another task for you to discharge.”
Maul waited.
“Familiarize yourself with the workings of the criminal organization known as Black Sun. And while you’re doing that, return to your warrior training. Your lightsaber may very well come in handy for what I require next.”
Want more Darth Maul? Don’t miss Star Wars®: Darth Maul: Shadow Hunter by Michael Reaves, the full-length print novel available right now wherever books are sold.
And be sure to look for Star Wars®: Cloak of Deception by James Luceno, a full-length print novel of intrigue set in the time just before Star Wars® Episode I: The Phantom Menace, on sale June 2001.
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A Del Rey® Book
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James Luceno is the New York Times bestselling author of the Star Wars novels Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader, Cloak of Deception, Labyrinth of Evil, as well as the New Jedi Order novels Agents of Chaos I: Hero’s Trial and Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse, The Unifying Force, and the eBook Darth Maul: Saboteur. He lives in Annapolis, Maryland, with his wife and youngest child.
By James Luceno
The ROBOTECH series
(as Jack McKinney, with Brian Daley)
The BLACK HOLE TRAVEL AGENCY series
(as Jack McKinney, with Brian Daley)
A Fearful Symmetry
Illegal Alien
The Big Empty
Kaduna Memories
THE YOUNG INDIANA JONES CHRONICLES
The Mata Hari Affair
The Shadow
The Mask of Zorro
Rio Pasion
Rainchaser
Rock Bottom
Star Wars: CLOAK OF DECEPTION
Star Wars: DARTH MAUL, SABOTEUR (e-book)
Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos I: Hero’s Trial
Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse
Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: The Unifying Force
Star Wars: LABYRINTH OF EVIL
Star Wars: DARK LORD—the Rise of Darth Vader
Star Wars: MILLENNIUM FALCON
STAR WARS—LEGENDS
What is a legend? According to the Random House Dictionary, a legend is “a nonhistorical or unverifiable story handed down by tradition from earlier times and popularly accepted as historical.” Merriam-Webster defines it as “a story from the past that is believed by many people but cannot be proved to be true.” And Wikipedia says, “Legends are tales that, because of the tie to a historical event or location, are believable, though not necessarily believed.” Because of this inherent believability, legends tend to live on in a culture, told and retold even though they are generally regarded as fiction.
Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a legend was born: The story of Luke Skywalker and his fellow heroes, Princess Leia and Han Solo. Three blockbuster movies introduced these characters and their stories to millions of people who embraced these tales and began to build upon them, as is done with myths everywhere. And thus novels, short stories, and comic books were published, expanding the Star Wars universe introduced in the original trilogy and later enhanced by the prequel movies and the animated TV series The Clone Wars. The enormous body of work that grew around the films and The Clone Wars came to be known as The Expanded Universe.
Now, as new movies, television shows, and books move into the realm of the official canon, The Expanded Universe must take its place firmly in the realm of legends. But, like all great legends, the fact that we can’t prove the veracity of every detail doesn’t make the stories any less entertaining or worthy of being read. These legends remain true to the spirit of Star Wars and in that way are another avenue through which we can get to know and understand our beloved heroes in that galaxy far, far away.
—Del Rey Books, May 2014
Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars Legends novels to learn more.
Space is the perfect place to hide.
The Neimoidian freighter Saak’ak cruised ponderously in the uncharted deeps of Wild Space. It displayed its colors proudly, its cloaking device disabled, with no fear of detection. Here, parsecs away from the civilized Galactic Core and its surrounding systems, it could safely hide in plain sight. Even the Neimoidians, those past masters of paranoia, felt secure in the vast endless abyss between the disk and one of the spiral arms.
Yet even here the leaders of the Trade Federation could not entirely let go of their natural tendency toward subterfuge. They sought duplicity and guile the way a young grub seeks the safety and warmth of its sleeping niche in the communal hive. The Saak’ak was a good example of this. It was, to all appearances, merely a commercial vessel, its horseshoe shape designed to carry large amounts of cargo. Not until an unwary enemy had come within firing range would the heavy durasteel armor plating, bl
aster turrets, and military-strength communications arrays become visible.
By which time, of course, it would be too late.
Aboard the Saak’ak’s bridge all was silent save for the muted beeps and chimes of various life-support monitors and the almost inaudible susurrus of the air filtration system. Three figures stood to one side of the huge transparisteel viewport. They wore the flowing robes and mantles of the Neimoidian aristocracy, but their body language, as a fourth figure appeared in their midst, was deferential, if not outright cringing and servile.
The fourth figure was not really there with them in any physical sense. The robed and hooded form was a holograph, a three-dimensional image projected from an unknown source light-years distant. Intangible and immaterial, the mysterious stooped image nevertheless dominated the three Neimoidians. Indeed, they could not have been any more thoroughly cowed had he been physically present with a blaster in each hand.
The figure’s face—what little was visible of it in the shadows of the hood—was grim and unforgiving. The cowled head moved slightly as he looked at each of the Neimoidians in turn. Then the figure spoke, his voice a dry rasp, his tone that of one accustomed to instant obedience.
“There are only three of you.”
The tallest of the three, the one wearing the triple-crested tiara of a viceroy, responded in a stammering voice. “Th-that is true, Lord Sidious.”
“I see you, Gunray, and your lackeys Haako and Dofine. Where is the fourth one? Where is Monchar?”
Federation Viceroy Nute Gunray clasped his hands in front of him in what was not so much a supplicating gesture as an attempt to keep them from nervously wringing each other. He had hoped he would grow used to dealing with the Sith Lord over time, but so far that had not happened. If anything, these meetings with Darth Sidious had become even more gut-twisting and upsetting as the deadline for the embargo grew ever closer. Gunray did not know how his seconds in command, Daultay Dofine and Rune Haako, felt—discussing one’s feelings was anathema in Neimoidian society—but he knew how he felt after each encounter with the Sith Lord. He felt like squirming back into his hive mother’s birth chamber and pulling the cloacal flap in after him.
