“So if the Skywalker party is clear of those charges—charges that many of the Oldtimers seem to persist in leveling against them—why do they remain the subjects of an arrest warrant?”
Snaplaunce gave her a stern look, which was mildly disconcerting coming from a hammer-headed Ithorian. “There is still much we must know in our investigation of the murder of Dr. Wei, and the members of the Skywalker party remain persons of interest. There is the question of the very damaging storms now growing in number on Nam Chorios’s surface—”
“Such as the one this morning.”
“Yes. Storms that were last attested to when Grand Master Skywalker, operating under the name Owen Lars, first came to Nam Chorios thirty years ago. There’s also the slight but measurable rise across the planet in theft of speeders, which corresponds closely with the rise in planetary visitors. There are mysteries at work here. As a former officer of the peace, I’m uncomfortable with mysteries. So that warrant will remain in effect until we have answers sufficient to clear it.”
“Thank you.” Kandra glanced at Beurth, signaling the end of the official interview. The recording light on his holocam went dark, and he lowered the apparatus from his shoulder.
Kandra stood. “Mayor, you’ve been very helpful.”
Two minutes later, bundled against the cold, moving reluctantly out into the windy, debris-strewn streets of Hweg Shul, Kandra sighed. “The man is completely useless.”
Beurth offered her a series of porcine grunts.
She nodded. “I know. That’s the way his job is done. But he didn’t give us anything, the Newcomers and Latecomers don’t seem to know anything, the Oldtimers are being very tight-lipped, the ones who are known to be Theran Listeners don’t seem to be around, we haven’t seen Valin … there’s something going on, but it’s going to take a better journalist than me to dig it up.”
Beurth grunted again, at length, his tone cross.
Kandra offered him a sour face and mimicked his words. “Eyewitness accounts are unreliable anyway. Thanks, that really helps.” She sighed, watching her frosty breath rise. It was then torn apart by the daytime winds. “Still … let’s see if we can patch together something, anything, out of hard data and statistics.”
Beurth grunted again.
“Yes, we can eat first.”
After lunch, back in her hostel room, she found the one detail she needed.
It was in updated crime reports and statistics. Speeder theft was up, and among the incidents reported since Luke Skywalker’s arrival on Nam Chorios, there was only one vehicle that had been stolen and later found—in this case, destroyed—without an arrest being associated with the case. An expensive Incom T-47 had been stolen from Hweg Shul. Interestingly, the theft had taken place a day before Snaplaunce’s shuttle, damaged but jury-rigged for ground travel, had been found outside Hweg Shul. The T-47 had been reported destroyed early this morning at the small community of Kesla Vein. There was also the report that someone at Kesla Vein had anonymously reported to the town headwoman that all speeders in the area were in danger of being stolen, with the result that she had ordered them all housed in a secure barn, watched by Oldtimers armed with blaster rifles. So far none of the community’s other speeders had gone missing.
Those details tweaked Kandra’s memory. She cross-checked crime report time stamps and found that, at the exact moment Kesla Vein residents had been responding to the explosion of the T-47, one of those anomalous storms had been arising at various sites around Nam Chorios, Hweg Shul included. A couple of minutes’ research into Luke Skywalker’s career confirmed that he had extensive experience with the T-47s, especially during his service with the Rebel Alliance on Hoth.
Other planetary statistics turned up no enlightening details. But Kandra, following the advice of one of her old holojournalism teachers, inverted a couple of graphs of planetary statistical data and found something interesting. She turned her datapad around so Beurth could see its screen. “See it?”
Bleurth scanned the graphs and offered an interested set of squeals.
“That’s the one. It’s a graph of crime and unusual news reports per capita for all communities on Nam Chorios, sorted by community size. And the one you see, Crystal Valley, has the lowest incidence of reports per capita among all communities larger than five hundred residents … but only as of the last couple of days. It looks like a news blackout.”
Beurth grunted and stood.
“You do that. Make sure the fuel is topped off. I think we’ll do Kesla Vein first, Crystal Valley later. I’ll make sure we have all the heating packs and droch sprays we need.”
They had managed to secure rental of a high-speed landspeeder on arrival at Hweg Shul, so they made good time toward Kesla Vein. Of course, there were disadvantages to their vehicle. It had been available because it was open-topped, not the most comfortable choice in Nam Chorios’s bitterly cold winter. Kandra was content to let Beurth pilot the thing while she huddled, wrapped in her cloak and blankets, a disposable heat-pak in her lap and another at her feet. At the end of a couple of hours’ travel, she was so cold she suspected she could be used to chill mixed drinks, was nauseous from the constant battering the wind had inflicted on their speeder, and was desperate to see something, anything, other than the speeder interior and river-like movements of crystal dust in the wind.
Following Kesla Vein’s directional comm signal, they got within five kilometers of the small town and then were hailed over the speeder’s comm board. “Whiterock Rentals One Fourteen, this is Rainbow Securities at Kesla Vein. Please state your business.”
Kandra and Beurth exchanged a confused look. Small towns the galaxy over tended to react to visitors by either ignoring them with a touch of hostility or directing them to the local shops and service providers.
Beurth slowed their approach. With her datapad, Kandra ran a planetary network search on Rainbow Securities. She also donned her comlink headset and activated it. “Kesla Vein, this is Whiterock One Fourteen. We’re journalists following up on the theft and destruction of an airspeeder in your vicinity.”
“Whiterock, be advised that the individual who stole the craft is still at large, believed to be nearby, and is responsible for several deaths in the vicinity. You are strongly advised to abort your visit until the area is secure. If you choose to approach the town, we’ll have to assign you a security operative to make sure your vehicle doesn’t fall into the killer’s hands.”
“I … see.” What Kandra didn’t see was a listing anywhere on the planetary records for a Rainbow Securities. “I think we need to set down here and ask our local manager how to proceed. Are we safe here?”
“Probably. As long as the winds keep the dust storms up. When the winds die, you might be visible to macrobinoculars. At that point, if you’re still here, I’d recommend you pull several kilometers back.”
“Thanks for the advice, Kesla Vein. Whiterock One Fourteen out.” She gestured for Beurth to land the speeder and kill the repulsors.
They sat there for a few moments, the speeder rocking in the wind, while Kandra thought about what to do.
She really didn’t need to see the wreckage of the T-47. Her objective was to find Luke Skywalker, if indeed he was in the vicinity. And things were certainly adding up to a possibility that he was … not only nearby, but being sought, a fact that had not reached the planetary news sources. If only she could get a message to him—
A thought occurred to her and, startled, she straightened.
Beurth grunted at her.
“Back on the shuttle, Valin Horn gave us a frequency to listen to in case he needed to contact us once we got to Nam Chorios. Was that specific to him, or was it one the Jedi use in general?”
He shrugged.
“Let’s find out.” She composed a brief text message: Grand Master Skywalker: Care to trade a ride for your story? Reply this frequency. She thought about her words, then changed Grand Master Skywalker to Owen Lars. Satisfied, she sent the mes
sage.
Two minutes later, a reply came: Identify yourself, please.
Kandra Nilitz, Landing Zone newsnet. I arrived Nam Chorios with Hal Cyon and Jes Cyon. You may remember my investigative report on black-market sales of fake bacta. Kandra was sure he hadn’t seen it. It seemed like every young reporter did a piece on black-market sales of fake bacta. But she hoped that the reference made her sound more famous than she was.
I agree to your terms.
Kandra’s pulse raced. Now, at last, she might be on the verge of cracking this frustrating story. I’ll send a homing pulse at one-minute intervals. She set up her datapad to do exactly that, then sent the message.
She looked at Beurth and sagged in relief.
Twenty minutes later, her relief ended.
She didn’t realize Luke Skywalker had reached her until the instant he appeared, standing on the hood of her rented speeder, his green-bladed lightsaber lit in his hand. The fierce wind whipped his cloak as if to yank it free and carry it back to Hweg Shul. He turned back in the direction of Kesla Vein and cupped his free hand beside his mouth. “This way!”
His answer was a blaster bolt angling in toward him out of the dust storm. He caught it on his lightsaber, deflecting it into the ground as if barely interested in it.
In the distance ahead, Kandra could see two colorful glows bobbing with their holders’ movement—lightsabers, one blue and one red.
Then Luke spun, leaning over the speeder’s windscreen and slashing with his lightsaber as if he wanted to cleave the seat between Beurth and Kandra. Kandra shrieked and jerked away, looking up, and only now saw the man standing on the back of the seat. Dressed like most other winter travelers on Nam Chorios, he held a red lightsaber and raised it, catching Luke’s slash. The power of the blow knocked the man off the back of the seat; he fell backward, landing on his feet on the rear seat.
Luke bounded over the windscreen and landed between Beurth and Kandra. He slashed again. The other man deflected the blow, just barely, and leapt up to land on the speeder’s rear.
Luke continued his advance, landing on the rear seat exactly where his opponent had been a moment earlier. He thrust with his lightsaber, its blade engaging the other man’s. His foot lashed out, catching the other man’s weapon hand. The red lightsaber flew free. Luke caught it with his left hand, twirled both blades in an intricate green-and-red array of color, and then advanced onto the back of the speeder.
His enemy dropped off the speeder, turned, and ran into the cloud of dust behind.
Luke turned to face forward again. He gestured at Kandra with his right-hand weapon. “You, backseat.” He pointed at Beurth with the other weapon. “You, get this thing running.”
Kandra scrambled over her seat back and dropped into the rear seat. She resisted the impulse to crawl down into the foot well. “What’s happening?”
Luke jumped into the seat she’d just vacated. “Don’t be silly. What’s happening is you’re rescuing us.”
“Oh. I feel so brave.”
The seat to Kandra’s left lurched. She looked up to see a young woman standing there, holding another red lightsaber. The newcomer raised her voice to be heard over the roar of wind—and, now, the sound of repulsors coming online. “Ben! This way!”
Suddenly there was someone above the girl—a man, dressed like the other attacker, inverted, seeming almost to fly at the apex of his acrobatic maneuver. He thrust down with his lightsaber. Kandra opened her mouth to shout a warning, knowing it would be too late, but the girl raised her own lightsaber in a sweeping maneuver that deflected the attack; the blades crackled as they crossed. Her attacker landed several meters off to the starboard side, rolling in the sand, continuing his roll forward to get clear of the speeder.
Luke deactivated the red lightsaber he’d seized. The girl—it had to be Vestara Khai, from the reports Kandra had seen—dropped to a kneeling position on the seat but kept her blade lit, her eyes on the sands around them.
The speeder was up a meter in the air now but not yet moving. Luke looked at Beurth. “Scoot over this way.”
Beurth offered him a squeal, an interrogative one, but didn’t move.
A moment later Ben Skywalker smashed down into the Gamorrean’s lap. “Hey. Scoot over.”
Now Beurth did, squealing complaints as he wriggled out from under the human teenager.
Luke shouted, “Go!”
Not deactivating his own lightsaber, Ben tossed it back over his shoulder. Vestara caught it, bringing both weapons up in what Kandra assumed was some sort of defensive pose.
Ben accelerated, immediately banking to port. A man with a red lightsaber, emerging from the dust cloud, had to run farther to get at the speeder. Luke slashed at him as he got near; their blades crossed, sparking and sputtering, and then the attacker was behind them.
Luke jammed the point of his lightsaber into the speeder’s dashboard.
Kandra’s eyes got wide. “Hey, this is a rental.”
“It’s a rental with transponders.” Luke deactivated his lightsaber, then yanked at the dashboard where he’d cut it. A panel came free; he tossed it over his shoulder. With the hilt of her lightsaber, Vestara whacked the panel, sending it sideways, directly in the path of another attacker charging out of the dust. Unable to adjust in time, the woman tripped over the debris and sprawled in the sand.
Luke jammed his hand into the wires and circuits exposed by his crude mechanical surgery and pulled out a circuit board. “Transponder number one, for the planetary authorities.” He tossed that over the side and repeated the action, this time yanking free a smaller, thicker black module. “Transponder number two, for the company that rented you the speeder. All very legal and practical, but it would tend to get us killed.” That one, too, he threw over the side.
Beurth looked over his shoulder at Kandra and grunted an apology.
“I know. Not your fault, you’re not in charge.” Kandra blew out a sigh. “Are we safe yet?”
Vestara deactivated Ben’s lightsaber. “Safer. It’s been nearly fifteen seconds since we’ve been attacked.”
Ben’s voice was cheerful. “Time for some dizzying maneuvers to throw them off our trail.” He abruptly vectored to port.
Kandra groaned. The nausea was back.
When it had been five minutes since an attack, and once her heat-paks had been passed back to her, Kandra told Luke how she’d come to be there, and ended, “So do we get our story?”
Luke nodded, agreeable. “Of course. First—Ben, set course for this Crystal Valley she mentioned. That’ll be our next site to examine. Kandra, I’m going to tell you a story about a monster from the Maw cluster, a tribe of Sith lost to history, and the tremendous danger posed to the galaxy. Unless you’d prefer a meticulous explanation of how we got Mayor Snaplaunce’s shuttle running instead.”
“Hold on, hold on. Beurth?”
Her holocam operator got his shoulder unit in place and trained it on the Jedi Grand Master.
Kandra composed herself for a moment. Now, at last, this trip had become worthwhile. “So, yes, please, the story. Of the monster and the Sith. Not the shuttle.”
KLATOOINE
WHEN CRYPTIC WARNING DROPPED OUT OF HYPERSPACE IN THE KLATOOINE system, the Hapan flotilla was just entering planetary orbit. Hara and Fardan offered slightly undisciplined whoops of victory, echoed by other members of the crew back in the main compartment.
Dei merely smiled. “Approach in full stealth mode. Keep sensors on them. Be alert for shuttles or other landing craft departing.”
Fardan nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The Hapan vessels made several orbits of Klatooine, doubtless communicating with planetary government and other official forces on the surface, while the Cryptic Warning crept into an orbit trailing theirs. Then Fardan announced, “Landing craft departing from the flagship.” He increased the gain on the visual sensors, and Dei could see a saucer-like craft descending from the flotilla’s high planetary orbit.
; “Track it. Don’t follow it—if we end up between it and the flotilla, the flotilla’s odds of detecting us are enhanced. Plot a parallel course down.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Cryptic Warning broke orbit and descended, its fuselage exterior now imitating color schemes as viewed by observers from a variety of directions—browns and yellows if viewed from above, sky hues if viewed from below. At a distance of a hundred kilometers from the Hapan landing craft, it descended at a rate matching its quarry’s.
Fardan plotted its most likely destination, by its course and by orbital scans of planetside activity, to a large encampment in the broad belt of equatorial desert. The landing craft swooped in to a sure and skillful landing. Hara circled the landing site in an approaching spiral while Fardan, Dei, and the rest of the crew evaluated sensor data.
The camp was situated in a depression immediately west of a lengthy ridge formed by foothills that were the first stage of an arid mountain range. The camp itself was circled by defensive batteries and shield projectors, the latter active, all mobile. Optical imagery showed a large number of tents and vehicles. Among the inhabitants were more Klatooinians than any other species, but dozens of species were represented. The landing craft settled into a sandy area just north of the camp. Elsewhere along the camp’s rim was a familiar-looking Corellian YT-1300 light freighter.
Dei didn’t interfere with Fardan’s duties. He personally ran the visual comparison between this craft and a famous one on record. Then he nodded, satisfied. “The circular transport is the Millennium Falcon. This at least doubles the odds that the Hapan flotilla belongs to the Queen. She’s a friend of the Solos.”
Hara gave him a brief glance. “Instructions, sir?”
“Find a landing spot on the eastern ridge, about two kilometers from the camp overlook. Maintain full stealth mode. Ground as softly as possible in case they have seismic sensors. Fardan, bring up known geological facts about this dirtball and, if relevant, use the sonic countermeasures to simulate tectonic or volcanic activity on landing so that any noise we make suggests natural activity.”
Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Conviction Page 28
