Star Wars: Dark Nest 1: The Joiner King

by Troy Denning

  “This should be interesting.” The Duros grinned. “That little Ewok has a death mark in ten systems.”

  “You don’t say.” Luke took a sip of membrosia. It was sweet and thick and potent, warming him from his toes to his ear tips. He allowed himself a moment to savor the sense of well-being that came with the intoxicating heat, then asked the Duros, “Have you been here long?”

  “Too long,” the Duros said. “Turns out Lizil doesn’t use processing chips, and now I can’t get a cargo out.”

  “Is that a common problem?”

  “Common, but not a problem.” The Duros waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the membrosia dispensers. “Everything’s free, and you can stay as long as you want.”

  “Very generous,” Luke said. “What’s the catch?”

  “Isn’t one,” the Duros said. “Except you get used to it, and then you don’t want to leave.”

  “That sounds like a catch to me,” Luke said.

  “Depends on how you look at it,” the Duros admitted. “Especially if you have obligations at home.”

  “Why don’t you just take your chips back to the known galaxy?” Luke asked. “With so many manufacturing worlds destroyed by the war, the Galactic Alliance is desperate for processing chips.”

  “Too dangerous.” The Duros cocked his big head toward Luke. “You wouldn’t want some kriffing bounty hunter to catch you with these particular chips.”

  “Ah,” Luke said. Lando and Tendra had put up a million-credit reward for a load of specialized processing chips that had been hijacked on its way to Tendrando Arms’ new rehab-droid factory. “That makes sense.”

  “Void-breathing right it does,” the Duros said. “Already had five Jedi come through on my tail. That’s when I decided to dump the load.”

  Luke tried not to wince at the loss of the vital chips. “You’re sure the Jedi were looking for you?”

  “Who else would they be looking for?” The Duros shook his head, then said, “I knew Calrissian had pull with the Jedi, but who’d have guessed it was that strong?”

  “Not me,” Luke answered. He stepped closer to the Duros and lowered his voice. “Were they fairly young? A couple of humans with a Barabel and a Wookiee?”

  “And a Twi’lek.” The Duros’ voice grew suspicious, and he began to ease away from Luke. “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve got a little problem of my own with them,” Luke said. “And I don’t want to find them waiting at my next stop. Know where they went?”

  The Duros watched the Verpine band for a moment, no doubt trying to find a way to work an angle for himself. Luke poured a little more goodwill into the Force, and finally the Duros shook his head.

  “Sorry,” he said. “You’d need to ask Lizil.”

  Before Luke could ask how to find Lizil, he realized someone new was coming up behind him. The person seemed both to have her own presence in the Force and to be a part of the larger, diffuse essence that permeated the entire asteroid colony. He turned to find a striking Falleen female approaching, her scaly skin almost as green as a male’s. She acknowledged Luke with a polite nod, then stopped before the Duros.

  “Tarnis, we have a cargo for you,” she said.

  The Duros took a sip of membrosia and tried to appear calm. “To where?”

  “The Horoh nest,” the Falleen answered. “You’ll be given a load to take home, of course.”

  Tarnis’s eyes grew round—at least by Duros standards. “Done.”

  When the Duros did not instantly start for the exit, the Falleen said, “It requires immediate departure. Lizil is already loading the Starsong.”

  “No problem.” Tarnis placed his mug on the floor. “I’ll just gather my crew—”

  “We’re gathering them now.” The Falleen started toward the exit. “They’ll meet you in the hangar.”

  “Right behind you,” Tarnis said. He started after the Falleen, shaking his head in amazement. “Finally!”

  Seeing that he had been forgotten in the excitement, Luke used the Force to slow the Duros down, then cleared his throat.

  “Oh, yeah.” Tarnis took the Falleen’s arm and gestured toward Luke. “This fellow wants to talk. I can find my own way to the hangar.”

  The Falleen barely slowed. “We’re very busy.” She glanced over her shoulder, but avoided Luke’s eyes. “Enjoy the hospitality of the nest.”

  When Luke reached out to probe her feelings, he experienced a deep sense of worry. Her scales rippled in alarm; then an enormous, murky presence rose inside her mind and pushed him out so forcibly that he stumbled into a membrosia dispenser.

  As Tarnis and the Falleen walked out the exit, Mara peered around the corner, checking to be certain the surprise she had felt was nothing to be alarmed about. Luke smiled and turned around to display the new membrosia stain on the back of his utilities, then watched intently as Tarnis and the Falleen disappeared down the corridor.

  Once the pair were far enough ahead that she would not be noticed following, Mara took Ben’s hand and started down the corridor, talking as though they were just a mother and son returning to their vessel.

  Luke worked his way to the cantina center and sat on a bench next to a pair of Ishi Tib. He remained quiet for a few moments, pretending to listen to the music but actually reaching out in the Force to search for eavesdropping devices. He was not quite certain what had happened over at the membrosia dispensers, but he felt certain that the Falleen’s arrival had been no coincidence. Lizil—whoever that was—had not wanted Tarnis to talk about Jaina and the others.

  After a few minutes, Luke finally felt confident that he could ask his questions in peace. He began to pour out feelings of comradery and goodwill, and it wasn’t long before the nearest Ishi Tib turned toward him.

  “My name is Zelara.” She pointed at her companion, who swiveled her eyestalks around and gently clacked her beak. “This is Lyari. She likes you.”

  Luke smiled back. “Thank you.”

  Zelara batted the lids of her yellow eyes. “I like you.”

  “That’s very nice.” He eased off the good feelings, then said, “Actually, I’m looking for some friends—”

  “We’ll be your friends,” Lyari said. She came around to Luke’s other side, then slipped her stubby hand through the crook of his arm. Her breath smelled heavily of membrosia. “I’ve never felt this way about a human before.”

  “Me, either.” Zelara took Luke’s other arm. “But this one is cute, even with the recessed eyes.”

  “Ladies, that’s just the membrosia talking.” Luke sensed Mara already returning to the cantina. She did not feel angry or frightened, but she was frustrated; she had lost the Duros and his escort. “I’m looking for a group of young travelers who came through here. There would’ve been at least two humans, a Twi’lek, a Barabel—”

  “And a Wookiee?” Lyari asked.

  “Then you’ve seen them,” Luke said.

  Lyari opened her beak in a sort of smile. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe not,” Zelara added. She began to tug at the chest closures on Luke’s utilities. “Let us have a look inside, and we’ll tell you.”

  Luke caught her hand. “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for us to—”

  “Come on, bright boy.” Lyari reached for closures a little farther down. “Give us a chance.”

  “No.” Luke put enough Force behind the word to prevent Lyari from ripping open his utilities. “That would never work.”

  “Why not?” Zelara demanded.

  “Because I have lips and you have beaks, for starters.”

  Zelara spread her eyestalks. “You’d be surprised what a girl can do with her beak.”

  “Let me show you,” Lyari said. She caught Luke’s nose in her beak and gave it a tug.

  “Ouch!” Luke reached up and freed his nose. Other people were starting to look in their direction, and that was exactly what he didn’t want. “Please, ladies. Just tell me what you know about my friends.”


  Zelara ripped his chest closures open, revealing Luke’s undershirt. “First you show, then—”

  Mara’s astonishment hit Luke like a Force hammer, and he failed to hear the rest of Zelara’s comment. He turned toward the exit and saw Mara swinging her hand down to cover their son’s eyes.

  “Who’s that?” Lyari asked, following his gaze.

  “My wife.”

  “Wife?” the Ishi Tib repeated in unison. They jumped to their feet, Zelara crying, “You didn’t tell us you were mated!”

  “And he’s got a fry, too!” Lyari exclaimed.

  The outburst caused the Verpine musicians to fumble over a string of notes, and several annoyed patrons turned to suggest that Luke and the Ishi Tib take their personal lives to a quiet corner.

  Mara rolled her eyes, then shook her head and dragged a very reluctant Ben around the corner.

  Luke sent her a feeling of reassurance, trying to make sure she knew there was a good explanation. He received an impression of amused doubtfulness in reply, then he heard Saba sissing from across the room and realized he might never live this one down. He shook his head in disgust, then closed his utilities and looked up at the Ishi Tib.

  “Will you please sit?”

  Zelara put a hand on her hip. “I don’t think so.”

  “You just forget about us, you double-spawner.” Lyari shooed him toward the exit. “You’d better go catch your mate and that little fry.”

  “As soon as you answer me.” Luke grabbed both Ishi Tib by their wrists and pulled them down. “When did you see my friends? The Wookiee and the Barabel and the others?”

  “When they were here,” Zelara answered coolly.

  “Which was?” Luke put the Force behind his question, pressuring her to answer.

  “I don’t know.” Zelara turned to Lyari. “When was that?”

  “Who can remember? They only stayed a day.”

  Luke started to pressure Lyari to think back, then realized that someone else was approaching. As with the Falleen who had led Tarnis away, the newcomer appeared to have a double presence in the Force, except that the individual essence felt much more menacing and powerful than had the Falleen’s. Luke turned and, when he saw a blocky shadow with red eyes and white fangs approaching, nearly reached for his lightsaber.

  The Defel watched Luke’s hand until it dropped back to his side, then turned to the Ishi Tib. “The nest has secured a barrel of fresh Tibrin salts,” he rasped. “We are preparing an immersion tank now.”

  “For us?” Zelara gasped.

  “Where?” Lyari demanded.

  The Defel offered a shadow-furred arm to each of them. “We’ll escort you.”

  “First, answer my question,” Luke said, putting the weight of the Force behind his command.

  Lyari started to stop and look back, but the Defel pulled her forward.

  “Come, ladies.” His eyes flared red. “The immersion tank is growing cool.”

  The same murky presence Luke had felt before rose against him. It was not a Force attack, merely an enormous exertion of will. Had he wanted to, Luke could have found another way to maintain his hold, but that would have meant drawing even more of the mysterious entity’s attention to himself than he already had.

  Besides, Saba was on her way over, a furry little Ewok at her side. It was the Ewok she had sat in front of earlier, with a single white stripe running diagonally across a stocky body that was otherwise as black as space. They stopped in front of Luke and stood there sissing and chortling together.

  “Go ahead,” Luke said. “Get it out of your system now. Who’s your friend?”

  “Tar . . . Tarfang,” Saba laughed. “He sayz he can help us find our friendz . . . if you are finished chasing Ishi Tib.”

  SIX

  SAVE FOR THE LINING OF golden wax, the rows of shine-balls stuck to the ceiling, the random tunnel openings, and the lack of even a vague sense of up or down, the interior of the spherical hangar resembled all the spaceports Han Solo had visited on a thousand unknown, out-of-the-way planets scattered across the galaxy. There was the usual collection of battered transports, the usual cargo of stolen goods on open display, the usual dregs-of-their-species smugglers bustling in and out of their vessels, working harder to make dishonest livings than they would have at honest jobs.

  Han felt a swell of nostalgia rise inside, and he found himself missing the days when he could debark in such places and know that nobody was going to mess with him and the Wookiee. Of course, now he had a Jedi Knight wife, a pair of Noghri, and a refitted battle droid to back him up, but it just wasn’t the same. Chewbacca had been his co-conspirator as well his best friend, a pain-in-the-neck conscience at times but also a comrade-in-arms who understood the betrayals and disappointments that had turned Han into the wary, bitter smuggler he’d been when Leia came along and rescued him from that aimless life.

  “At least we’ve solved one mystery,” Leia said. She pointed at a duraplast pallet filled with crates labeled reconstruction authority—sanitation. “That may explain why it’s been so hard to track down the RA supplies shrinkage.”

  “I don’t know,” Han said. He eyed the giant bugs that seemed to be crawling across every surface. “This pile of rocks isn’t big enough to take everything that’s disappearing.”

  The more Han watched the activity around the transports, the more he felt his skin crawl. The bugs were marching in and out of the vessels completely unescorted, off-loading cargo, foodstuffs, even vital ship’s tools, and stacking them at the base of the boarding ramps. Instead of stopping the insects, the crews were doing the same thing in reverse, on-loading huge stoneware crocks, balls of multicolored wax, and many of the same tools and foodstuffs the bugs were unloading. And nobody seemed upset about working at cross purposes. In fact, save for the care they took to avoid crashing into each other, they barely seemed to notice one another at all.

  Han spied the sleek gray wedge of a Horizon-class space yacht resting about halfway up the “wall” of the docking vault, its landing struts sunk well past their feet in the waxy substance that coated the chamber. The boarding ramp was lowered and a big Tendrando Arms Defender Droid was standing beside it, her massive torso and systems-packed limbs at odds with her cherubic face and smiling mouth.

  “There’s the Shadow,” Han said. He brought the Falcon’s nose around and started toward an open berthing space on the wall next to Mara’s ship. “Let’s go say hello.”

  Leia shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like there’s anyone aboard.”

  “No?” Han scowled; it wasn’t like Mara to leave the Shadow open and unattended—although with Nanna there, that wasn’t really the case. Basically a bodyguard version of Lando’s successful YVH battle droid crossed with a TD Nanny Droid, the Defender was more than capable of guarding the ship. Even the bugs seemed to realize that; every now and then, one would stop by and sweep its antennae across the ramp, but they never attempted to enter. “Probably in the cantina already.”

  Han swung the Falcon’s stern “up” along the wall and landed in the open berth. The struts sank into the wax and seemed to hold the ship fast, but he fired the anchoring bolts anyway. Micro-gravity could be tricky; it was impossible to tell which way it was pulling until something started to slide.

  Han rose and strapped on his blaster. “Okay, let’s go see Nanna. Maybe she can fill us in.”

  They lowered the boarding ramp and reeled back as a wave of warm, too-sweet air rolled through the hatchway. The vault was filled with a blaring cacophony of ticking that immediately sent a rivulet of sweat rolling down Han’s spine. Half a dozen bugs appeared at the bottom of the ramp and started to board. They had deep orange thoraxes, pale blue abdomens, and feathery, meter-long antennae. Han’s stomach turned queasy, but he started down to meet them.

  Leia caught him by the arm. “Han? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Han swallowed hard, then continued down the ramp. He was not going to be intimidated by a memory of
the Kamarians. Besides, these guys were only about waist height, with four skinny arms, scrawny legs, and a stubby set of mandibles better suited to steadying loads than rending flesh. “I’m okay.”

  Han stopped midway down the ramp. He folded his arms across his chest and assumed a stance wide enough to block the ramp, then forced himself to glare down at the lead bug. In addition to the smooth green balls of its two main eyes, it had a trio of ocular lenses atop its head, leaving him uncertain as to which set of eyes he should meet.

  “Where do you fellows think you’re going?”

  The lead bug stared up, ticking its mandibles nervously, and emitted a soft drumming from its chest.

  “Burrubbubbuurrr, rubb.”

  It dropped to all sixes, lowering itself to about knee height, then dipped its antennae politely and shot between Han’s legs.

  “Hey!” Before the bug could continue up the ramp, Han spun around and caught it by the undersized wings on its back. Some insects had a habit of hiding eggs wherever they could, and he didn’t want any infestations aboard the Falcon. “Hold on!”

  The bug spun its head around to meet Han’s gaze, then pointed at his hands and gently clacked its mandibles. “Ubburr buurr ub.”

  “Captain Solo,” C-3PO said helpfully, “I do believe the insect is requesting that you release it.”

  “You understand this stuff?” Han asked.

  “I’m afraid it’s only an educated guess,” C-3PO said. “This form of their language is as obscure as the dance—”

  “Then not a chance.”

  “Han,” Leia said, “I don’t sense any danger here. Until SeeThreepio figures out how to communicate—”

  “I am communicating.” Han fixed his gaze on the nearest of its eyes and said, “I don’t know who you think I am, but no one boards the Falcon until I say so.”

  The other five bugs dropped to all sixes, then slipped to the underside of the ramp and continued toward the hatchway.

  “No!” Han flipped the insect he was holding off the ramp, then started after the others. “Stop them!”

  The Noghri stepped in front of Leia and placed themselves squarely in the door, crouched for action. The bugs swung back to the ramp’s upper side and tried to squeeze aboard the Falcon anyway. The first pair were knocked away by a pair of quick Noghri kicks.