Refugee: Force Heretic II

by Sean Williams

  When she returned her gaze to the person sitting behind the desk, her vision had snapped back into focus. Long-boned and sharp-eyed, Deputy Prime Minister Blaine Harris looked at her with a questioning look on his face.

  “Well?” he asked, arms outstretched imploringly. “Will you cooperate?”

  She kept her surprise carefully in check. “That all depends.”

  “On?”

  “On what you plan to do with me, of course,” she answered. “And also what you did with the credits.”

  He frowned deeply. “Credits? What credits?”

  “The credits you’ve been siphoning from the Bakura treasury, of course,” she said, taking a gamble on a plausible theory. “Freedom discovered the leaks; that’s why you had Malinza put away. What I don’t get, though, is what you wanted that much for in the first place. I mean, what could you buy with all those millions of credits?”

  “Ah, yes.” Harris nodded his understanding. “Salkeli told me something about your little theory. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Freedom fail to pin anything on me?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure Vyram would have, if he’d been given the chance.”

  “I very much doubt that.” Harris steepled his fingers in front of him, smiling thinly behind them. “You see, it really wasn’t me who stole those credits.”

  Jaina forced a disbelieving laugh. “You expect me to—”

  “Quite honestly,” he interjected, “I don’t care if you believe me or not. Because the truth is, it wasn’t me. If I had access to that many credits, do you really think I’d be employing spies like this?”

  He gestured at Salkeli. The Rodian seemed completely unfazed by the obvious insult.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Jaina,” Harris went on, “but I’m not your thief. I was interested to learn about it, though, and I’m as curious as you are to find out who is responsible. When this ridiculous farce is over, I’ll certainly make a point of looking into it more closely. I’ll not allow the Bakuran public to be bled dry.”

  Jaina’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the Deputy Prime Minister for any hint of duplicity. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t find anything. Nevertheless, she didn’t believe him. “You’re up to something,” she said finally. “I know it.”

  “Oh, I’m not denying that for a second,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just not what you think.”

  Harris pressed a control on his desk, and a section of the office wall slid to one side. The space behind it contained a holoprojector three meters across. The Deputy Prime Minister stood up to gain a better vantage point as an image came to life within it.

  Jaina recognized it from her approach path to Salis D’aar: a massive amphitheater whose walls were bedecked with multicolored streamers and pennants bearing the P’w’eck and Bakuran emblems. Banners scrawled with greetings for the visiting aliens stretched between huge stone pillars around the outside, while overhead floated an enormous canopy that offered cover for the central arena, its underside painted with Bakura’s flag. The sun was rising into the sky behind the point of view of the holocam, casting a golden glow across the stone steps and pillars. People were already filing into the seats, with guards in dark green uniforms making sure nobody strayed into a circular area in the center of the stadium—easily the most decorated section in view.

  “The ceremony,” Jaina said.

  Blaine Harris nodded. “It’ll be under way within the hour. From what I understand, it’s supposed to be quite impressive, too.”

  “You’re going to try to stop it?”

  Harris glanced momentarily away from the holo to cast her a scornful look. “Don’t be a fool, girl,” he said with obvious contempt, and then turned back to the image. “My intentions are far more complex than that.”

  Jaina tried to force herself to think. Something was going on, but what? “You said ‘farce,’ ” she prompted.

  “I wasn’t referring to the ceremony, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  In the holo, a squad of P’w’eck guards appeared. With powerful muscles gliding smoothly beneath dull scales, they spread out to inspect the circle at the center of the stadium where, Jaina presumed, the ceremony itself would take place.

  “They’re keeping tight-lipped about the ceremony,” Harris went on thoughtfully, still staring at the events unfolding. “I guess that’s their prerogative. It’s a privilege for us to be part of it.”

  “I thought the people on Bakura were only meant to be spectators.”

  “Oh, we are. But our planet is becoming sacred, and that’s not something that happens every day.”

  “You really believe in this stuff?” Jaina asked.

  He found this amusing. “Of course I don’t believe in it. But the P’w’eck do, and that’s enough for me.” He turned back to Jaina. “Have you ever noticed the similarities between the Ssi-ruuk and the Yuuzhan Vong? Both cultures are xenophobic, stratified, religious, and expansionist. Both express these tendencies in violent methodologies. Both are, or have been, potent enemies of the New Republic.”

  “Just like the Yevetha,” Jaina said.

  Harris frowned. “What do they have to do with this?”

  She shook her head. “Perhaps nothing.” Or everything, she added to herself. “Go on.”

  “Both the Ssi-ruuk and the Yuuzhan Vong use defeated foes as slaves—an ugly practice that I’m pleased to see the P’w’eck abandon. That’s one of two ways they’ve learned from their old masters.”

  “The second being? …”

  “No more xenophobia, of course,” he said, as though stating the obvious. “I’m hoping we can make it three ways. By allowing them their ritual, they might also learn to turn their religion into a nonviolent activity. Then we’ll work on their caste system and see if we can’t make the slave mentality a little more flexible. Acceptance, you see, can be as effective a tool for change as domination and force.”

  She frowned, understanding what he was saying but not getting the context. “I’m sorry but I think I’m missing the point you’re trying to make.”

  He moved away from the holo with a sigh and began to pace. “My point, Jaina, is that we don’t need the New Republic telling us what to do here on Bakura. We can make our own decisions, and you breathing down our neck only makes things more complicated.”

  “But we’re not here to do that,” she protested. “We’re just trying to make sure that everything is okay with—”

  “Really?” he cut in. “I find that very hard to believe.” He stopped a few steps away from her, staring fiercely down into her eyes. “On the eve of our greatest moment—alliance with the heirs of our old enemy—you turn up to sow the seeds of dissent. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

  “Wait a minute. We were called to Bakura by someone who was concerned that something bad was going on.”

  “And who was that exactly?”

  She glanced away. “An informant,” she said, unable to be more precise.

  He snorted. “If there’s one thing I learned in the military, it’s that an ill-informed informant can do more damage than a convincing double agent. The only way to be certain of anything, my dear girl, is to see it with your own eyes. And even then …”

  He turned back to the projection, sentence unfinished. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, the subject changed. “I never thought I’d see this day. After all the years of fear and doubt, Bakura has finally found a means to become what we have always wanted it to be: independent and safe. From this day forward, Bakura will be a world in its own right—not one shackled to the Empire or the Republic or the Ssi-ruuk. With the P’w’eck, we can forge a new alliance—an alliance of our own choosing, not one forced upon us by circumstance. Peace will never again be ripped out from under us by powers from afar. It is time for us to be strong, at last.”

  Remembering the stories she’d been told of riots and disturbances, Jaina said, “I take it not everyone feels the same way about this as you do.”

&nb
sp; “That is only to be expected. It can take people time to realize what is good for them.” An apologetic smile flickered across his angular features. “I am self-aware enough to understand that I am betraying some of my own principles here. But as those who believe in the Cosmic Balance might say, sometimes it takes a great evil to bring about the greatest good.”

  “Exactly what sort of evil are we talking about?”

  He ignored her question. “It’s odd, you know, that we here on Bakura should defy the will of the Jedi so blatantly. I mean, not just that it was your uncle, Luke Skywalker, who played such an important part in saving us from the Ssi-ruuk so long ago, but that our beliefs so closely mirror yours. You, too, believe in a cosmic system of checks and balances that, ultimately, ensures life will thrive. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the beliefs of the native population of the planet, the Kurtzen, but they cling to a faith in a universal life force not dissimilar to your all-pervasive Force. Combine the two, and we might have become you—but there has never been a Jedi from Bakura that I am aware of. I find that strange.”

  “You think we’re neglecting you, Deputy Prime Minister? Is that it? There are thousands of worlds out there. It takes time to search them all—time we don’t have at the moment with the Yuuzhan Vong—”

  His laughter cut her off. “My motive is not one of jealousy! You see—”

  A buzzing sound came from the door.

  Harris glanced at Salkeli, who straightened and raised his blaster. “This could be it.” The Deputy Prime Minister came back around the desk to check something, and nodded. “And not a second too soon.” He looked up at Jaina with a smile. “It would seem that the reinforcements have arrived. Quite unintentionally, I might add, but still …” He gestured to Salkeli, and the Rodian crossed the room to take Jaina by the arm, pressing the blaster into her side. She decided to play along for the moment. The Rodian’s will was weak, and it probably wouldn’t take much to make him turn the blaster on Harris. However, she thought it would be more prudent to wait for a while to see if she could find out just what Harris’s plan was—and whether there was a way to stop it.

  Salkeli walked her to a position in the corner of the room, out of sight of the door. He raised the blaster to her neck, pushing it firmly under her chin as he clamped one leathery hand over her mouth. Then he signaled to Harris, and the Deputy Prime Minister crossed the room and pressed his thumb against the lock.

  The double door slid open with a hiss and three people entered in a rush. Jaina didn’t recognize them at first—they were hooded and cloaked—but she could tell that it wasn’t her parents and Tahiri. Clearly, they weren’t who Harris had meant by the “reinforcements” arriving. It wasn’t until the door shut behind them and the one in front turned to face Harris that Jaina saw who it was.

  “We’re in trouble,” Malinza Thanas said. The others pulled back their hoods, revealing Jjorg and Vyram.

  Harris looked concerned. “What happened to Zel?”

  “He was shot when we fled the Stack,” Malinza said, her voice caught somewhere between anger and tears. “They shot him, Blaine!”

  “The main thing is that you’re safe,” he returned coolly. “Everything will be all right now.”

  “How can you say that? It was all we could do just to get here without being seen! And that’s only because security is distracted by the ceremony. We’re never going to be able to show our faces again unless you find out who’s behind this!”

  “Behind what, my dear?”

  “Framing me for kidnapping, for one—then letting me escape to make it look like I’m guilty. I’ll probably get blamed for Zel’s death, as well!” Malinza sounded like she was on the edge of breaking down, but with obvious effort she brought her emotions under control. “We’ve lost Salkeli, too. He created a diversion while we got away, but he didn’t meet us at the rendezvous. I’m worried that—”

  “You should know I’d never let myself be caught or killed, Malinza,” the Rodian said, stepping out from where he’d kept himself hidden and dragging Jaina with him. “But I guess you didn’t know me that well, did you?”

  Malinza turned, her look of surprise deepening when she saw Jaina. “I-I don’t understand.”

  “That is becoming increasingly obvious,” Harris said, producing a blaster of his own from beneath his scarlet robe. “Your weapons on the floor, if you would be so kind.”

  Malinza’s face was pale as she dropped her small blaster onto the rug in front of her. Jjorg obeyed with a snarl, while Vyram calmly complied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

  “What do you intend to do?” Malinza asked, fighting even harder now to keep her emotions in check.

  “Do?” Harris waved Salkeli forward, and the Rodian pushed Jaina over to the others. “The job you set out to do, of course. Why else would I have funded you, Malinza, if our goals weren’t the same in the first place? I’m going to unite the people against the Galactic Alliance. With the P’w’eck’s help, I will make Bakura as safe as it can possibly be from outside invasion. We will govern our own destiny, forever.” He smiled coldly. “The only real difference between your plans and my own is that, when mine come to fruition, the people of Bakura will be united behind me, not you. Which is a shame, really, because it will be your tragic death that finally mobilizes them. That and the terrible betrayal of the Jedi who came to enslave us once again.”

  “What?” asked Malinza and Jaina at the same time.

  “All will be made clear in due course, I assure you. Now, Salkeli, if you could bind their hands, please.”

  The Rodian dragged Jaina to join the others, holstered his blaster, and produced electronic binders for the four of them from a drawer in Harris’s desk. With only the one blaster on them now, Jaina felt a heightened edginess in the Freedom members. She tried to catch Malinza’s eye, but the girl was steadfastly ignoring her—although whether from embarrassment or anger, she couldn’t tell.

  “You’re crazy if you think you’re going to get away with this,” Jaina said, trying to divert the burden of rebellion onto her shoulders.

  “Get away with what, exactly?” Harris laughed. “You don’t even know what it is I intend to do!”

  The Deputy Prime Minister was finding the whole thing entirely too amusing for Jaina’s liking. That troubled Jaina deeply. That and the cool readiness with which he held the blaster trained on his captives.

  Malinza glared at Salkeli as he started to put the binders around her wrists.

  “We trusted you,” she hissed.

  “If it makes you feel any better, Malinza, it’ll probably be the last mistake you’re ever going to make.”

  “Malinza, no!” Jaina called out when she saw the girl noticeably stiffen.

  But it was too late. Not waiting for the binders to snap shut and tighten about her wrists, Malinza pushed Salkeli’s hands aside and brought her knee up into his groin. As he jackknifed forward, she clubbed him to the ground. Barely had the look of surprise begun to form on his face when Jjorg was moving forward also. The long-limbed blond lunged across the room, her strong thighs propelling her forward, reaching for Harris’s gun.

  He didn’t even move, except to pull the trigger. A single shot rang out and Jjorg hit the floor with a sickening thud.

  Then the blaster was on Jaina.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” he said softly, “I advise against it.”

  Malinza backed away, mouth open in horror as she stared at Jjorg’s limp body. Vyram made a move as though to help his fallen comrade, but Jaina quickly pulled him back.

  “He means it,” she said. “That blaster’s not set to stun.”

  “Why didn’t you do something?” Malinza asked, her words steeped in accusation and her cheeks soaked with tears.

  Jaina shook her head. There was no way to say it nicely.

  Harris saved her the trouble. “If Jjorg hadn’t resisted, she’d still be alive.”

  Jaina would have perhaps phrased it less bluntly—and a
dded something to the effect that there would come an opportunity to escape later, when they found out what exactly Harris was up to—but that was the essence of it.

  Salkeli had climbed back to his feet, looking a little gray. Stepping up close to Malinza, he snarled, “Don’t ever try that again.”

  He fastened the binders then, and Jaina saw Malinza wince as he set them to tighten around the girl’s wrists—obviously tighter than they needed to be. Malinza didn’t complain; she just let him do it with her jaw firmly clenched, her eyes unable to hide the anger and betrayal she was feeling.

  “This actually works out well for me,” Harris said as Salkeli bound Vyram next. “You saved me the trouble of trying to decide which one of you to shoot. There’s nothing quite like a body to prove that there was a struggle, don’t you think? Unfortunately, security was so distracted by the Keeramak and the ceremony that they didn’t notice a slight glitch in the cams monitoring my office antechamber and the corridors outside. When they do, I’ll be sure to point out your prowess, Vyram, at slicing into official systems. Such a disruption would be well within your capabilities, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jaina held out her hands when it was her turn for the binders. As Salkeli reached around her wrists to seal the durasteel binders she slid a simple thought into his mind: the click of the binders locking. She reinforced it with a wince similar to Malinza’s, as though they were pinching her skin.

  He leered at her as he stepped back, confident that all of the captives were now effectively bound. Jaina smiled back at him defiantly. The binders were tight around her wrists but not locked. A good tug would have them open, when the time was right. Then she would help Malinza and her friends escape.

  Salkeli produced his blaster and took his place beside Harris. Malinza glowered at him, eyes filled with hate, while Harris stopped to check the growing crowd in the holoprojector before switching it off and closing the panel.

  “Within the hour, this planet will be a consecrated part of the P’w’eck Emancipation Movement. And you, my dear Malinza, will be a martyr to your cause. Doesn’t that fill you with pride?”