The only thing you shall get from me is death. So E’thinaa—or whatever the alien’s real name was—had said, and with those words he had been condemned. The last thing Cundertol felt was the powerful sting of amphistaffs striking him and tearing his artificial body apart. He couldn’t move, but the aliens had ensured that he could still feel pain. The agony was blinding, too much to truly comprehend.
When Cundertol’s containment fields finally dissolved and his mind fell away, it came as pure relief.
In the end, there was just one.
Klasse Ephemora was an isolated system on the side of Chiss space opposite the galactic Core. Named after the explorer who had first charted the system, centuries ago, it had once housed a small gem-mining operation around its one gas giant, a bloated monster hovering just inside the star’s habitable zone. Severe atmospheric disturbances had prevented the gem station from ever being profitable, however, so it had been abandoned more than fifty standard years earlier. Klasse Ephemora had lain fallow ever since: lacking terrestrial worlds that might have encouraged colonization; too remote to warrant commercial interest, and yet too far away from the Chiss border to justify even a token military presence. Every few decades, an automated probe would sweep through the system to update astronomical charts and ensure that the navigational anchor points left behind by the initial survey were still true. Beyond that, it was completely ignored.
And so it might have remained forever, had not the last probe to pass through some twenty-five years earlier happened to note that the sole gas giant in the system, Mobus, had acquired a new satellite. This satellite joined a family of seventeen other satellites around Mobus, but exceeded their combined mass more than ten times over. A world in its own right, it was shrouded in clouds that prevented a visual survey as the probe flew by. The presence of water vapor might have warranted further investigation, but the probe was not programmed to change course for something so nebulous. Had there been clear signs of intelligent life on the moon-world, the probe might have braked into an orbit around Klasse A and observed the new moon in more detail, then reported the findings back to its superiors in the CEDF. But the planet emitted nothing on the subspace channels, nor were there any transmissions on the electromagnetic spectrum. So the probe simply noted the moon’s appearance, then continued on its way.
The fact of the moon’s existence had languished in the Chiss Expeditionary Library ever since, filed with all the myriad other reports from thousands of identical probes. As rare as the orbital capture was, it wasn’t startling enough to attract the attention of the astronomers who studied the data on the probe’s return. There were countless more interesting discoveries waiting in the Unknown Regions. So what if an abandoned system acquired an extra moon or two?
Jacen stared at the pictures of the moon brought back by the probe with a feeling bordering on profound awe.
He saw a gray orb lit by the baleful light of a boiling red-yellow gas giant. The atmosphere soaked up infrared, but radar showed a hilly terrain around the equator, with several small flat spots that could have been seas scattered evenly across both hemispheres. There was evidence of recent eruptions and crust movement, as would be expected for a world that had endured capture not just by a sun, but also by a gas giant.
“That’s it,” he breathed, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. “That’s Zonama Sekot.”
“The charts list it as M-Eighteen,” Wyn said.
“It’s Zonama Sekot,” Jacen repeated. “It has to be. What did you say the odds were, Danni?”
“Very much against something like this happening naturally, Jacen,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”
“I know,” he replied easily. “But it didn’t.”
R2-D2 whistled cheerfully, as though backing him up.
“We should at least check it out,” Mara said.
“We will,” Luke agreed. “After all, it’s the best lead we’ve had so far.”
“If there’s anything we can do to assist you,” Soontir Fel said, “consider it done.” He hesitated for barely a second before adding, “Within reason, of course.”
Those weren’t empty words. The Chiss had already provided detailed tactical maps of the Unknown Regions, revealing several torturous trade lanes through areas that previously had been thought impassible. More sinisterly, the data showed that the Yuuzhan Vong had been more active in the area than Galactic Alliance intelligence had known. As far back as the first attacks on New Republic systems, a Yuuzhan Vong task force had made an end run around Chiss space and made it into the Unknown Regions. That it had never been heard of since—or that no other task force had made it past the Chiss—was no cause for complacency. Further Chiss assistance might well prove welcome at some point.
Luke smiled genially. “Thank you,” he said. “And I promise not to mention a treaty with the Galactic Alliance until the next time we pass through here.”
“If there is a next time,” Mara said.
Jacen nodded, thinking of the attack on the Imperial Remnant, the Krizlaws on Munlali Mafir, and Chief Navigator Aabe; and then, of course, the Yuuzhan Vong themselves, whose incursions into Chiss space were becoming more frequent every day.
It’s been hard enough getting this far, he thought. I doubt it’s going to get any easier.
He felt Danni’s support and confidence nearby, and was warmed by it. At least, he added, there was no shortage of support—for him and the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. All they had to do was follow their hearts, letting the Force guide their decisions, and eventually, he was sure, they’d get there.
What they would find when they arrived, however, remained to be seen …
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
#1 New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: The Force Unleashed, SEAN WILLIAMS has published thirty novels for readers of all ages, seventy short stories across numerous genres, and even the odd poem. He has been called “the premier Australian speculative fiction writer of the age,” the “Emperor of Sci-Fi,” and the “King of Chameleons” for the diversity of his output. Best-known internationally for his award-winning space opera series, such as Evergence, Geodesica, and Astropolis, he is also the author of ten linked fantasy novels inspired by the landscapes of his childhood: the dry, flatlands of South Australia, where he still lives with his wife and family.
BY SEAN WILLIAMS
The Unknown Soldier (with Shane Dix)
Metal Fatigue
The Resurrected Man
EVERGENCE (with Shane Dix)
The Prodigal Sun
The Dying Light
The Dark Imbalance
THE BOOKS OF THE CHANGE
The Stone Mage & the Sea
The Sky Warden & the Sun
The Storm Weaver & the Sand
ORPHANS (with Shane Dix)
Echoes of Earth
Orphans of Earth
Heirs of Earth
THE BOOKS OF THE CATACLYSM
The Crooked Letter
The Blood Debt
The Hanging Mountains
The Devoured Earth
GEODESICA (with Shane Dix)
Ascent
Descent
THE BROKEN LAND
The Changeling
The Dust Devils
The Scarecrow
ASTROPOLIS
Saturn Returns
Earth Ascendant
Remaining in Light
COLLECTIONS
Doorways to Eternity
A View Before Dying
New Adventures in Sci-Fi
Light Bodies Falling
Magic Dirt: The Best of Sean Williams
Star Wars: Force Heretic I: Remnant (with Shane Dix)
Star Wars: Force Heretic II: Refugee (with Shane Dix)
Star Wars: Force Heretic III: Reunion (with Shane Dix)
Star Wars: The Force Unleashed
THE FIXERS
Castle of Zombies
Planet of Cyborgs
> Curse of the Vampire (forthcoming)
Invasion of the Freaks (forthcoming)
STAR WARS—The Expanded Universe
You saw the movies. You watched the cartoon series, or maybe played some of the video games. But did you know …
In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia Organa said to Han Solo, “I love you.” Han said, “I know.” But did you know that they actually got married? And had three Jedi children: the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and a younger son, Anakin?
Luke Skywalker was trained as a Jedi by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. But did you know that, years later, he went on to revive the Jedi Order and its commitment to defending the galaxy from evil and injustice?
Obi-Wan said to Luke, “For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.” Did you know that over those millennia, legendary Jedi and infamous Sith Lords were adding their names to the annals of Republic history?
Yoda explained that the dreaded Sith tend to come in twos: “Always two, there are. No more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice.” But did you know that the Sith didn’t always exist in pairs? That at one time in the ancient Republic there were as many Sith as Jedi, until a Sith Lord named Darth Bane was the lone survivor of a great Sith war and created the “Rule of Two”?
All this and much, much more is brought to life in the many novels and comics of the Star Wars expanded universe. You’ve seen the movies and watched the cartoon. Now venture out into the wider worlds of Star Wars!
Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars novels to learn more.
Han Solo fought the urge to wipe a droplet of sweat from his brow, knowing that such a gesture would be seen as a sign of nervousness, and thus give the others a clue as to what he was holding.
“What’s it to be, Solo?”
Han went for a stall, his second in as many minutes. “Let me get this straight. It wasn’t enough that you guys got tired of using integers—or that you weren’t satisfied with just using real numbers, either. You had to start messing with imaginary and transreal numbers as well.”
The larval-stage Ruurian bounty hunter’s face was locked in a sneer. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Why should there be a problem?”
“Then get on with it!”
One corner of Han’s mouth curled up into a half grin. His opponents were starting to lose their patience. That could work to his advantage.
“So you’re saying that we can use any arithmetic operation we like. We can divide, subtract, multiply—”
“I know what you’re doing,” growled a bad-tempered Givin, its skeletal jaw clicking impatiently against its upper “lip.” Given its species’ predilection for mathematics, Han imagined that it was the Givin who was responsible for the changed rules. “You can’t bluff us, Solo.”
“Perhaps the great Han Solo has lost his edge.” The fourth player, Talien, a Yarkora with numerous gold rings dangling from each enormous nostril, uttered a contemptuous snort.
Han glanced down at the chip-cards in his hand. “Or perhaps it’s just that my math is a little rusty.”
He laid the cards on the table, resigning himself to winning the strangest game of sabacc he’d ever played. The three 3√23 chips that the last round had dealt him stared up at the ceiling in staves, flasks, and coins. His decision to ditch the idiot card and take a chance on fate had paid off.
“Read ’em and weep,” Han said, leaning back into his chair. “Or whatever it is you guys do around here.”
“A cubic sabacc?” The Ruurian’s red eyes glittered dangerously in the bar’s dim and smoky light as it glared at Han. “That’s not possible!”
“It’s not impossible,” the Givin snarled. “Just extremely unlikely.”
“Solo, if you’re taking us for a ride, I swear—” the Yarkora began.
“Hey!” Han exclaimed, standing up and stabbing a finger at Talien’s enormous nose. “You scanned me on the way in. If I’d had a skifter on me, you’d’ve known about it.”
The Givin’s bony mouthplates ground together in frustration. “Skifter or no skifter, Solo, I still say it’s safer to believe in human nature than the kind of luck you’re claiming.”
“Come off it, Ren. You’re saying I cheated in a game I didn’t even know existed until I docked here a couple of days ago?” He snorted derisively. “You’re giving me a lot more credit than I deserve.”
“That’s all the credit you’ll be getting,” the Ruurian muttered, reaching forward with one of its many arms to scoop up the chips.
Han grabbed the junction between the alien’s two uppermost body parts and twisted sharply—not enough to do any damage, but certainly enough to make the Ruurian think twice. “You touch my winnings, and then you’ll see just how much of my edge I’ve lost.”
Chairs scraped across the stony floor as the other two players backed away from the sabacc table. Shouts sounded in a dozen different tongues around the room. The Thorny Toe maintained a strict no-weapons policy, but that didn’t mean that fights couldn’t be lethal. And as far as the patrons of the Thorny Toe were concerned, the more violent the altercation, the better the entertainment value.
“Overrated muck hauler!” the Ruurian grunted, wriggling its lengthy body in an attempt get free. Han struggled to hang on, while at the same time trying to keep the alien at arm’s length. Each of the Ruurian’s body segments possessed a set of limbs that clutched at him with hostile intent.
“Who you calling overrated?” Han muttered, tightening his grip. Although low in mass, the alien could bend in places Han couldn’t, making it difficult to maintain the upper hand. The Ruurian hitched its back end under the table and managed to tip him off balance. As he went down, a dozen sharp-tipped digits swarmed up his legs and chest, looking for soft spots. Tiny, razor-sharp mandibles snapped at his nose. The audience cheered, goading the antagonists on.
Just as he was beginning to think he’d taken on more than he could handle, two rough, three-fingered hands grabbed both him and the Ruurian, hauling them off the ground and separating them in midair.
“Enough!”
Han recognized the guttural accent of a Whiphid and instantly ceased trying to kick his way out of the creature’s grasp. He knew better than to fight a Whiphid. Their claw and tusks were as mean as their temperament.
“He’s a cheat!” the Ruurian whined, snapping at Han with its nether mandibles.
The Whiphid shook the alien so hard Han swore he heard its exoskeleton rattle. “This bar isn’t crooked!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them,” Han said, offering a self-satisfied smirk. “I beat them fair and square!”
The Whiphid dropped them both roughly to the floor, then pointed one of its claws accusingly at Han. “The boss wants to see you.”
A flash of uncertainty cooled any joy he might have taken from the victory.
“Not before I collect my winnings,” he said, climbing to his feet. He stepped resolutely to the table.
“You have five standard seconds,” the bouncer said.
Han needed only two. Using his shirt as a catchall, he scooped the credits off the table. The Ruurian looked on balefully, emitting a soft growl that only those in its immediate vicinity would have heard.
“You know, Talien, folks like you give sabacc players a bad name.” Han couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to gloat as he packed his winnings safely in his pockets. “Back in my day—”
“Spare us the glory speech.” Talien made no attempt to stop Han from walking off with the winnings, but glared at him menacingly. “Save it for your kids. Maybe they’ll be impressed by the once-great Han Solo.”
“Why, you—” Unreasoning anger rose in him, but before he could react, the bouncer caught him by the back of his jacket and tugged him away.
“Enough, I said!” The Whiphid lifted Han into the air again as though he were a child. Suspended, help
less, Han could only force his anger down and ignore the jeers of the other patrons as he was unceremoniously “escorted” from the bar.
“You humans are always causing trouble,” the Whiphid grumbled once they’d passed through a door to the back of the Thorny Toe and Han had been lowered to the ground once more. “If I had a credit for every time I’ve bounced one of you out of here, I’d have made it back to Toola years ago.”
“You see many strangers through here, then?” Han asked, straightening his jacket.
The Whiphid looked at him suspiciously. “Why? You looking for someone?”
“No; just curious.” He shut up, then, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than he already had.
The alien took him up a flight of stairs and deposited him in an empty room containing little more than a padded green couch and a water dispenser. Han assumed it was an antechamber adjoining the bar owner’s office. He sat himself down on the couch and was startled when a voice issued into the room from unseen speakers.
“Han Solo, eh?” The voice’s sex, species, and accent were heavily disguised, but the speaker seemed amused underneath the camouflage. “You’re a long way from home.”
“Well, you know me,” Han bluffed. “Never been one to sit on my hands.”
A strange noise issued from the hidden speakers. It might have been a laugh. “But you’ve always been one for gambling,” the voice returned, more soberly. “It’s good to see that nothing’s changed.”
Han frowned at the familiarity. He desperately tried to think whom he had known in the past who might have ended up owning a bar on Onadax, one of the dingiest worlds the Minos Cluster had to offer, and whether he—or she—might hold a grudge against him.
“You get your thrills where you can,” he said, stalling again.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
Han shrugged, giving in but feigning nonchalance all the same. “Fire away.”
“Who sent you?”
“No one sent me.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m just passing through. Is that a crime in these parts?”
Refugee: Force Heretic II Page 38
