But there was an edge to Jaina’s thoughts that undermined Tahiri’s confidence. Something wasn’t quite right. If Jaina was Harris’s prisoner, then what did that mean? Tahiri was finding it increasingly difficult to tell who was on what side—which made knowing what to do almost impossible.
“Well?” Goure asked.
Tahiri nodded. “Yeah, I can sense her all right.”
Then together they padded silently down the corridors, following Jaina’s presence deep into the bowels of the stadium.
“Where are you taking us?” Jaina demanded.
Harris, a few paces ahead, ignored her. Salkeli gave her a shove in the shoulder from behind with the butt of his weapon. It was a simple message: Shut up and keep moving. She did so, following the Deputy Prime Minister down a wide ramp and through a series of archways barely high enough to accommodate his large frame. A short time later, they stopped before a sealed door that looked big enough to drive a landspeeder through.
It opened when Blaine Harris keyed a long alphanumeric sequence into the lock.
“Move,” he ordered curtly, waving her and the surviving members of Freedom ahead of him.
Jaina found herself in an equipment locker, empty except for a single metal container in the center of the room.
“A little bare for my tastes,” she said dryly. “But I guess it will do for now.”
“As good a place as any to die, you think?” Harris countered. He closed the door and strode over to stand beside Jaina. “Take a look at the box; tell me what you see.”
Jaina squatted to take a closer look, carefully maintaining the pretense that her wrists were still securely bound. After a moment’s consideration, she shrugged. “A remote detonator?”
“Very good,” said Harris. “Now press the red button.”
She laughed humorlessly. “You can’t be—”
“Do it,” Harris insisted, raising his weapon and pressing it to Malinza’s forehead. “Do it or I shoot the girl.”
Jaina glanced at Malinza. Her expression was determined, but her eyes couldn’t hide her fear. They both knew that Harris’s threats weren’t idle.
“Okay,” she said, reaching out with her seemingly bound hands and depressing the button. A numeric timer came to life, counting down from ten standard minutes.
Harris nodded in satisfaction, lowering the blaster to his side. “And now that your fingerprints are on the button, your fate is effectively sealed. Once you’re dead and the bomb goes off, there’ll be no one to plead in your defense.”
Jaina focused her energy, forcing herself to remain calm. Soon, she told herself. Just a little bit longer …
“You know,” she said, standing, “blowing up the stadium isn’t going to help relations with the P’w’eck.” It was as much to stall Harris as it was to fish for information from the man.
“If that was my intention,” he said, “then yes, I have no doubt that such an action would seriously compromise relations with the P’w’eck. But it’s not. Well, not the entire stadium, anyway. Just the part where my enemies are seated.”
My enemies …
“Prime Minister Cundertol?” Then, with a terrible realization spreading through her, she said, “My parents?”
His smile was wide and cruel. “Yes, my dear. What will become evident when the pieces are put together is that you planted the bomb to derail the treaty with the P’w’eck. The Jedi didn’t want Bakura to leave the Galactic Alliance, and they were prepared to stop at nothing to prevent this from happening. Your parents, unfortunately, were simply necessary sacrifices to the cause. Thinking that you were helping her, Malinza Thanas was convinced by you to kidnap me and force your way into the stadium, where a bomb awaited. But just in time, your evil plans were discovered by the misguided but loyal young Malinza who, at the cost of her own life and the lives of her friends, helped release me. Alas, not in time to prevent the detonation of the bomb. The Prime Minister will be killed, along with much of the Senate.”
“And you step in to make sure the ceremony goes ahead as planned, right?” Jaina finished for him.
“In memory of the brave Malinza Thanas, of course,” he added, still smiling widely. “It’s all rather poetic, don’t you think?”
“It’s abominable,” Malinza muttered, unable to hide the tremor from her voice.
“I think efficient sounds better.”
Jaina glanced at the timer while Harris gloated. She had only seven and a half minutes left to deal with both Harris and Salkeli, as well as deactivate the bomb. Even for a Jedi, that seemed a tall order.
Leia watched with interest as the P’w’eck priests added a swaying, fluid dance to their weird chant. The Keeramak had completed the circle and was addressing the sky above, opening its arms as if to encompass the entire world.
“ ‘The oceans of space have parted to create this island of bounty,’ ” C-3PO continued to translate. “ ‘Even in the desert of the void, oases must exist. We invite you to share this one with us in the spirit of galactic unity: one mind, one body, one spirit, one …’ I’m afraid I am unable to translate this particular phrase.”
“Remind me again why we had to be here,” Han whispered. Leia shushed him again.
“The stars shine kindly upon this world,” the Keeramak said, “for it is a blessed place.”
Leia wasn’t so sure about that. Bakura had seen its fair share of trouble, and she doubted some alien blessing was going to change that. If the Yuuzhan Vong kept coming, it was going to take more than hand-waving and the jingling of a few bells to keep them at bay.
Mind you, she thought, if the P’w’eck turned out to be as good at fighting as the Ssi-ruuk had been, the chances were they’d give the Yuuzhan Vong a run for their money. The Ssi-ruuk fought well when forced into it. Their fear of dying away from a consecrated world lent any engagements outside the Imperium a hurried, almost frantic air—which was probably why, Leia thought, they were so good at the quick strike. They had honed this tactic over the years until they had become the masters of it. And the more such raids they won, the stronger they became, since the object was as often to take captives for entechment as it was to destroy.
Still, she couldn’t help feeling a growing edginess as the ceremony built in intensity. The chanting had reached an almost fever pitch—so much so that C-3PO was barely able to keep up with the Keeramak’s intonations.
The crowd was utterly silent now. Even Han abandoned all pretence of disinterest, leaning forward as though hypnotized by the swaying, singing aliens.
“… tighten the bonds … conjoined in glorious synergy … although space may separate … as one in the crèche of stars …”
Then suddenly a stab of urgency cut though her. She didn’t know where it was coming from, at first—until she identified its source as the Force, and from outside her.
“Han,” she whispered. Then, louder, to be heard over the P’w’eck: “Han, it’s Jaina!”
He instantly snapped upright in his seat. “Where?” he asked, looking vaguely into the crowd in search of his daughter. “Where? Is she okay? I don’t see her!”
“She’s not here!” Leia struggled to interpret what she was feeling. “She’s calling to me through the Force. She’s in trouble—but her thoughts aren’t focused on herself. She’s trying to warn us. She’s—” She shook her head, unable to get a proper reading on the message. “Something’s about to happen.”
Han turned to his wife. “What is it?”
Leia closed her eyes to sort out a mad jumble of wordless impressions. Images she couldn’t interpret flooded into her on a tide of growing urgency.
“Han, I think we need to get out of here. Quickly!”
Han rose to his feet immediately. He knew better than to question the instincts of both his wife and his daughter. With Cakhmain and Meewalh gathered close around Leia, he got to his feet and started to lead the way out of the stadium. No one paid them any attention; they were all too busy concentrating on the spectacle ta
king place down below in the stadium’s center.
They reached the edge of the prestige stand unmolested. No assassins had lunged at them out of the crowd, nor any threats been issued. But there was no denying Leia’s nervousness. Whatever Jaina was sending her via the Force, it was getting more urgent with each passing moment.
“What’s going on, Leia?” Han asked at one point. “Where is she?”
“She’s near here. I don’t want to distract her, Han. She’s—”
A near-perfect image formed in her mind: explosives, a timer, seconds decreasing rapidly in number.
“Oh—it’s coming!” she gasped. “We have to get down! Run, everyone, run!” She shouted this last comment to the people around her, but no one seemed to pay her any mind. They were still taken by what was going on below. Her Noghri bodyguards bustled their two human charges and C-3PO toward an exit from the stadium. “No!” she shouted. “There’s not enough time! Get down! Get down!”
Her bodyguards pressed her to the ground, saurian eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of what was to come. The alien chanting was at its peak, screeching over the channel, making it almost impossible to hear anything else.
Then another desperate image from Jaina, so clear it formed words in her mind:
Tahiri, no!
The world turned white and her connection to Jaina instantly went dead.
The ice barge slowed to a halt in the lee of a giant snow dune. The grating whine of its repulsors ebbed as it settled onto its wide belly. Fel’s hands worked the controls with practiced ease, guiding the craft to a near-perfect landing.
When everything was still, the burly human glanced at Luke as though to ask, Are you sure you know what you’re doing?
When Luke nodded his reassurance, Fel killed the shields. The barge instantly shuddered as the howling, icy wind swept over it.
“We’ll need survival suits,” Syal said.
Fel shook his head. “We won’t be out there long enough to need them. This should be over in a minute or two.”
Danni glowered at the ten circular shapes swooping around the landed barge. Her eyes were dark with fatigue. “Here comes one now,” she said, pointing at a snow-flier arcing in to land near the barge.
“And another,” Stalgis said, also pointing.
Saba watched as the strange-looking craft came down on one edge. Its engines burned brightly in infrared, outshining the cold sun. Four spindly supports emerged to support the vertical disk in the snow. When it was stable, a circular panel on its side irised open and a black-clad female pilot stepped out, her uniform unadorned by rank or other identifying markers. The figure was tall and slender, just like every other Chiss Saba had ever encountered. Saba watched as the woman strode confidently to the curving flank of the barge, then jumped lightly up onto it.
A second pilot joined her, holding one of the two-handed rifles Saba had seen in the immersion room. The Chiss called them charrics, she had learned. The first pilot removed her helmet, revealing craggy, weathered features under close-cropped hair. The blue skin of her face looked colder than the ice around her.
“Ganet,” Fel said darkly. “I should have known.”
“Who is she?” Luke asked.
“She commands a phalanx for a rival syndic, one who doesn’t approve of the changes I’m encouraging. And I know she wouldn’t approve of you, either.”
Master Luke dismissed the implied warning with a smile. “Then maybe it’s time we meet her,” he said. “See if we can’t change her mind about us.”
Fel didn’t smile back in response. He just slipped his hand into a pair of thin black gloves as he turned to his wife. “Everything ready?”
Syal nodded and pressed a button on the ice barge’s controls. A display to one side of the main instrumental panel began to count down.
Two minutes … one minute fifty-nine seconds … one minute fifty-eight seconds …
The main door lifted up and out, and warm air in the cabin was instantly sucked outside. An icy chill wrapped itself around Saba, who clenched her teeth, bracing herself for the freezing temperatures. As with most saurian species, the cold would slow her down, so she would have to draw upon the Force to counter this—which she did, igniting a ball of warmth in her chest that spread outward through her limbs. Only her extremities retained any sensation of the cold, and she kept them tucked in close, curling her fingers into fists and tucking her tail near her legs.
Soontir Fel exited the barge first, exuding a calm self-assurance. He surveyed the scene before him, then stepped over the threshold to make way for the others. Master Luke went next, followed by Saba, Mara, and Stalgis. Danni and Syal stayed inside.
One minute forty-five seconds …
Fel stopped in front of the female pilot, looking her up and down with quiet disapproval. Finally he shook his head. “You don’t seem the type for open rebellion, Ganet.”
“I prefer the term excision, myself,” she answered calmly.
“Whatever it takes to justify your actions, is that it?”
Another pilot stepped up behind the craggy woman and waited there with charric at the ready. Two more snow-fliers landed nearby.
“I’m not here to banter with you, Fel,” Ganet said. “I want your cooperation. And I will get it, too, because we have your daughter.”
Saba detected a slight stiffening to Fel’s posture, but his expression and tone remained firm and steady. “Who exactly are ‘we,’ Ganet?”
“It’s not important,” she said as she raised her weapon and pointed it at his chest. “All that matters is that we have her, yes?”
“At least tell me why.” Fel stepped forward, his barrel chest defying the nozzle of her weapon. “I have given the Chiss my all since I joined you; surely I have the—”
“You joined Thrawn, Fel! That’s not the same as joining the Chiss. We have ways and traditions he turned his back on, and by joining him you proved that you don’t respect them, either.”
“Isn’t one of those traditions not to fire upon an enemy until he has fired upon you first?”
Ganet smiled calmly. “But you aren’t my enemy, Fel. Don’t mistake me on that. You are merely an inconvenience that I will soon be rid of.”
One minute …
“And what about us?” Master Luke asked.
Ganet took a step to her right, out of Fel’s reach, turning her attention to the others. “You were invited here on a pretext the CEDF does not credit,” she said. “You may have fooled the Houses, but your fables don’t impress us. Zonama Sekot is a smokescreen for something more sinister. We just don’t know what it is yet.”
“Then you intend to dispose of us, too.”
Ganet laughed. “It was always our intention to dispose of you, Jedi! We never intended to let you leave here.”
“Then the deadline—” Stalgis started.
“Was a ruse to give us an opportunity to move against you, of course.”
“So we’re all just pawns in Chief Navigator Aabe’s little power game?” Luke shook his head. “What did you promise him? Soontir’s position once it was available?”
Thirty seconds …
“He delivered us the means to fix a difficult situation,” she said, nodding. “He will be suitably rewarded when the time comes, yes.”
“The same way you’re ‘rewarding’ Soontir right now?” Mara said. “Don’t you people have a conscience?”
“We are aware of the concept,” Ganet said, raising the charric, “but it has no place in war. And this is war, Mara Jade. Have no doubts about that whatsoever. In the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong, there can be no gray areas: there are only allies and enemies. The Chiss do not need allies, so I’m afraid that leaves only the other option.” She motioned the other snow-flier pilot to come forward as two more stepped up onto the ice barge. “Please move away from the door and turn around—all of you.”
Ten seconds …
“That includes your wife, Fel.”
Fel motioned for S
yal and Danni to join them, which they quickly did.
“I promise you a clean death, Fel,” Ganet said. “There is no dishonor in accepting your fate.”
Three seconds …
“For the Chiss!”
“Indeed,” Ganet said, mistaking Fel’s battle cry for a qualifying statement. “For the—”
Now! Luke commanded.
Saba, Danni, and Mara sprang immediately into action—along with Soontir Fel—a split second before all the ice barge’s cannons simultaneously fired.
The intended distraction worked. Ganet and her accomplices were momentarily thrown by the explosions—and a moment was all the Jedi needed.
Fel stepped nimbly to his left. Ganet instinctively followed, the charric in her hand ready to fire. With a hiss, Luke’s lightsaber flared to life, slicing smoothly up to sever the barrel of Ganet’s weapon. Fel snap-kicked her legs from beneath her as Luke turned upon the second pilot, effortlessly knocking him to the ground with a Force push.
“You heard me?” Luke called to Fel. “I didn’t know you were Force-sensitive.”
“I’m not,” Fel responded. “But I can count!”
Mara spun around as a bolt of energy flashed by Luke’s head, and saw the other two pilots adopt sharpshooter stances on the edge of the barge. She deflected the first shot with her lightsaber, exploding a snow dune a hundred meters away into a puff of white. The second shot missed altogether. Saba reached out with a mental hand and wrenched the pilot’s rifle away from him. The remaining pilot turned his charric on her and fired. The shot was a good one and would have connected with Saba’s head had she not deflected it back at him with her lightsaber. He fell backward off the barge and into the snow.
Refugee: Force Heretic II Page 27
