Tales From the New Republic

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Tales From the New Republic Page 40

by Peter Schweighofer

lightsaber tightly in his hands. Deliberately stretching her defenses, he

  attempted to penetrate her confidence.

  "Fable?"

  Fable heard the soft-spoken voice from the past, and without turning

  toward the shadowy image on the edge other peripheral vision, she knew the

  illusion to be Are celis. The image waved and laughed, sounding intimately

  like her dead friend. "No," Fable whispered, "no, I don't think so, Vialco. I

  saw what you did to him. I saw it!" she seethed. The tip of her lightsaber

  sliced easily through the shoulder of his cloak. "And that was your first

  mistake."

  "And my second?"

  "Letting me live to remember it!" She lunged savagely at him, knocking

  Vialco against the tomb of Brandl's wife. Breaking off the assault, she

  somersaulted back down into the depression. Disengaging her lightsaber, she

  stood there defiantly. "Shall I play with you like you played with him?"

  "Wretched girl!" Vialco hissed, spittle flying from the corners of his

  mouth. "If you will not be turned, you will die!" Summoning the corrupt powers

  of the dark side, Vialco felt the energy coursing through him. He extended his

  arms, curling his fingertips as the first tendrils of lightning surged from

  his hands.

  Fable flinched, awkwardly balanced as she tried to back away. The arc of

  lightning shot through her, ripping into her flesh. Screaming in pain, she

  dropped to the ground, curling into a fetal ball as the agony washed through

  her. Before she could collect herself, a second and third blow left her

  tortured body temporarily paralyzed.

  "Have we come so far to fall so low?" Vialco taunted. "Tsk, tsk, what a

  pity," he smacked his thin lips.

  Reeling with the corrupt power surge. Fable jumped to her feet. As Vialco

  took aim, she somersaulted, voicing a shrill squeal of effort as the pulse of

  electricity cuffed her shoulder. Wielding the lightsaber in both hands, she

  began the subtle movements of the first cadence. As each tendril of lightning

  arced at her, she swept the blade of the lightsaber across it, effectively

  deflecting it. She imagined that each arc was a new series of lines. Each

  point was the metal reflection of a ball bearing, the shiny wick of a candle.

  Twenty, thirty... she lost count of the number of successful deflections.

  Even as the crescent of lightning arced behind her, slipping in above her

  head, she simply brought the lightsaber over her shoulder into xs path. Never

  turning to look, her body reacted as her eyes designed the next path.

  Fable fought her way to the top of the mound. Knocking Viaico from his

  feet, she pushed him down into the depression. She watched in horror as the

  tendrils of lightning rebelled against their master, burning through his

  clothing and flesh. He lurched for his lightsaber and fumbled, knocking the

  weapon out of reach. "Have we come so far to lie so low?" Fable mocked. She

  slid down the face of the mound, raising her lightsaber to finish him.

  Viaico cowered below her, writhing in the mud. Something in his groveling

  manner made Fable hesitate, dropping her arms to chest height, as the

  lightsaber hummed insistently in her hands.

  "Will you give him the chance to betray you again?" Keeping her eyes on

  Viaico, Fable felt the dark presence of her master. "Kill him and be done with

  it," Brandl whispered. "Only then will you know that the nightmare is over."

  Fable disengaged the lightsaber and turned to her Jedi mentor. "It is

  over. Why kill him?"

  "Remember what he is and what he has done. He will betray your dreams, as

  he has done before, and use them to his advantage. End the nightmare. Fable.

  Kill him."

  Fable heard the pulse of the lightsaber before she saw it. Wondering how

  Viaico had gotten hold of his weapon without her sensing it, she whirled,

  igniting her lightsaber. Viaico arced his blade toward her vulnerable legs. In

  a wild strike, she severed his head from the shoulders, never losing momentum.

  But as he fell, she clearly saw his empty hands. The lightsaber was still on

  the ground, several meters from his body.

  "Who's tricking who?" Fable hissed, enraged by Brandl's careful deceit.

  Lunging toward her mentor, she met the abrupt thrust of his lightsaber.

  Dominating and powerful, he knocked Fable off of her feet and drove her back

  into the opposite mound. "You lied to me!" she gasped, weakly rubbing her

  bruised cheek. "What have you done?"

  "I have set your place at the Emperor's table," Brandl replied. "Soon, I

  shall again stand at my master's side and you shall stand beside me." He

  glared down at her, mocking the injury in her eyes. "You knew there would be a

  price."

  "What price?"

  Brandl smiled, posing arrogantly for his small audience. Offering his

  hand, he whispered, "Worship me and call me master and all that I have shall

  be yours, including Jaalib's affections. There's no use fighting it, Fable.

  Accept and you will be well cared for, this I promise you." Brandl turned to

  leave. "Don't bother running to your ship. Thermal detonators are rather

  effective tools." Gently caressing the scars at his temple, he chuckled, "I

  should know."

  Locked in her room. Fable rocked quietly from side to side, wiping tears

  on her sleeve. Her fingers were blood covered and black with grime, the nails

  shredded from a recent tantrum at the site of her X-wing. In an attempt to

  avoid her impending fate, she had fled to the vessel and found the gutted

  remains of her starfighter in a blackened blast diameter. Only the central

  frame of the X-wing had survived the initial blast. Vialco's shuttle was also

  consumed by the explosion, strewn across a sunken depression of scorched

  earth. Cursing Brandl, she rocked faster and harder, desperate to find some

  way to escape him.

  The door opened slowly, a small crack that grew larger as the hunched

  figure skulked into the room. Fable's eyes brightened immediately, recognizing

  the face. "Jaalib," she whispered, swept into his arms. "Your father's-was

  "Shh, I know," he hushed. Sitting down on the bed beside her, he gently

  pulled her trembling body against him. "I just happened to go over my ship's

  backup logs and discovered my father's side trip to Byss."

  "Byss?"

  "The Emperor's pleasure world. I hurried back as soon as I could and

  found what was left of your X-wing. Wasn't hard to figure out the next scene."

  He picked up a small satchel of her things and threw it over his shoulders.

  "What are you doing?"

  "You're leaving," he replied curtly. "Don't talk. Don't think. Don't even

  breathe heavy or he'll find us."

  "He'll know eventually, as soon as we step outside this theater."

  "And that doesn't give us much time," he argued. "So just run."

  Following the trail out of the settlement, Jaalib jogged toward the

  mountain range, using the jutting lip of the Khoehng Heights as a guide

  beneath the moonlit skies of Trulalis. Fable matched his earnest strides and

  together they ran the short kilometer to the wheat field, where a familiar

  ship was waiting for them.

  "The ProdigalVery she screamed. "Deke!"

&nb
sp; "Heard you got yourself in a spot of trouble," the So corran grumbled

  with relief. "Didn't think I'd let you go down alone, did you?" Hearing a

  proximity alarm from within the ship, Deke nodded to Jaalib. "I set the

  sensors just like you said." He eyed his ship dubiously. "Something or

  somebody just tripped the perimeter sensor."

  "It's him," Fable trembled, casting her gaze to the far off theater

  steeple.

  "Then you had better goes?" Jaalib whispered.

  "What about you?" Fable protested. "Come with us."

  "He's my father. Fable. It's not that easy."

  "And you call this easy?" she croaked, tears in her voice. Seeing the

  denial in his eyes, Fable pleaded, "Jaalib-"

  Cutting off her objections with a kiss, Jaalib gently crowded her toward

  the ship. "For once in your life, listen, and go before he gets here."

  "But-"

  "No, Fable!" Jaalib hissed. "You're nothing but a consolation prize to

  the Emperor!"

  "He's right, Capt'n," Deke insisted. "Time to bail."

  Desperately appealing to her defiant eyes, Jaalib grinned, anxious to

  subdue her temper. "I was born to play this role, remember? I am the Edjian-

  Prince." Swallowing his sorrow, he embraced her warmly. "It's the last act,

  Fable. I have to burn the forest down now."

  "Then burn it," she sobbed, cradling her head against his shoulder.

  "I can't. Not while you're still here."

  Fable stumbled up the ramp and cued the hatch controls. Leaning heavily

  on the secured door, she wiped absently at a tear, sensing the warmth of

  Jaalib's touch on her cheek.

  Shielding his eyes from the freighter's exhaust, Jaalib stepped back into

  the swaying fields of wheat. Engines glowing red with the strain of sudden

  acceleration, the Prodigal banked sharply against the foot of the mountains,

  carrying Fable away. Lightning signaled her departure, bringing on a deluge of

  cold, cold rain. Jaalib took a deep breath, bracing himself for the wrath of

  the brooding presence slowly moving up behind him.

  Brandl briefly glanced up, searching for some signs of Fable-his

  squandered prize. There were none and his austere gaze fell heavily on Jaalib.

  "Arrogant, deceitful child," he snarled.

  Feeling the subtle constriction of his throat, Jaalib resisted panic as

  his windpipe contracted, seized by invisible fingers. "No less arrogant than

  my father," he rasped. Desperate for air, he dropped to his knees, slowly

  losing consciousness as the grip tightened about his throat. His father

  abruptly released him and the cool, damp air flowed into his body.

  Staring after the retreating figure of his father, Jaalib staggered

  precariously. Compelled to follow, he screamed, "Long... live... the king!"

  ***

  The last hand

  by Paul Danner

  Sabacc!"

  Doune's resounding laughter echoed through the gambling hall, the

  Herglic's huge body shaking with the effort. "You lose again, boy."

  Vee-Six, Doune's droid, quickly calculated his master's winnings and

  enthusiastically reported the total for all to hear.

  The gathered crowd cheered as the Herglic claimed the pot, leaving Nyo

  with a single credit to his name.

  The young man lowered his head in disbelief, fighting back tears. How

  could I have been so stupid? Nyo thought as he stared at the lone cred chip

  that constituted all the money he had in the galaxy. Now, all hope was gone.

  "Doune... the great gambler. Able to steal the money from a poor farmboy

  with ease. I suppose you are equally skilled at firing your heavy blaster on

  unarmed opponents."

  The bold words silenced the room.

  The Herglic looked up in shock, searching the sycophantic circle of

  admirers who always clung to winners for the dissonant voice.

  The spectators parted for the cloaked figure as if he were a thermal

  detonator. A large hood kept the stranger's face in shadow, but the dark

  visage was obviously focused on the Herglic.

  "You think you could do better, friend?" Doune asked, a dangerous edge in

  his deep voice.

  The figure gestured to the crowd. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you in

  front of all your... friends."

  "I never turn away anyone so obviously willing to lose his money to me,"

  Doune chuckled. "Sit down."

  The stranger paused for a moment, then slid into the empty seat. "Very

  well. I must warn you, though..."

  The Herglic cocked an eyebrow. "Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess." Doune

  gestured dramatically. "You're the greatest gambler who ever lived, right?"

  "Actually, I was just going to say that I don't have any money on me, but

  now that you mention it..." The stranger lowered his hood, eliciting a

  collective gasp from the spectators. "I am."

  The stranger's close-cropped hair was white, though streaks of silver

  snaked their way through the ivory. His eyes were pale violet, like tropical

  flowers that had withered and lost their luster. A jagged scar wound its way

  around his lip, cutting an unnatural line up past his nose. With stony

  features reminiscent of a royal statue, the man was undeniably handsome;

  however, that wasn't the reason for the crowd's reaction.

  The whispers had begun, and the buzzing made it seem as if a colony of

  insects had descended upon the room. Throughout the snatches of conversation

  in the multitude of languages, two words were repeated with frightening

  frequency.

  Kinnin VoShay.

  Doune's thick flesh had begun to mottle, a sure sign the Herglic was

  agitated.

  "This is nothing but a trick, Master." Vee-Six leaned forward, eyes

  flashing as his databanks began recalling information. "The Ashanda Ray was

  reported lost in the Tyus cluster half a century ago. If Kinnin Vo-Shay. had

  survived, which is highly unlikely, he would be well over one hundred standard

  years old. The man was lucky, but he was no Jedi."

  "It would seem you are not who you appear to be, after all." Doune seemed

  to calm down a bit, his usual predatory smirk returning to his face. "I must

  admit, though, the resemblance is uncanny. You must have paid a fortune on

  cosmetic alterations. No wonder you're broke."

  A nervous chuckle escaped the crowd.

  "For such a renowned gambler, Doune, you're a much faster dealer of

  opinions than cards." The stranger leveled his piercing gaze. "Perhaps you win

  by talking until your opponents die of sheer boredom."

  "The one thing I never deal in is charity," the Herglic said, a note of

  irritation creeping into his voice. "Until you ante up, there will be no game.

  "

  That drew a mixed reaction from the crowd. Many wanted to see if the

  stranger really was telling the truth, and there was only one way to decide

  that....

  "But, Doune, what if he really is Vo-Shay?" one brave soul asked.

  The Herglic had had enough, and his blubber shook with fury. "I don't

  care if he's Jabba the Hutt. Without money, he doesn't play!"

  A single credit spun through the air, shimmering in the dim glowlights.

  Without blinking, Vo-Shay plucked the cred from its flight with practiced

  ease. He slowly turned to face hi
s surprise benefactor.

  Nyo started to say something, but Vo-Shay offered a wink that was so

  quick the young man was scarcely sure he saw it at all.

  "From one loser to another... how appropriate. Are you ready, then?"

  Doune demanded.

  Vo-Shay's face lost all expression, resembling a droid that had been

  abruptly powered down. Those strange eyes took on a faraway look, as if they

  were staring into eternity. He spoke only a single word, but it sent a chill

  down the spine of every being present who had one.

  "Deal," Vo-Shay said.

  The room grew deathly quiet.

  And the game began....

  Doune slid a blubbery fin across his forehead, which was glistening with

  perspiration. The Herglic examined his cards and grunted softly. His pile of

  credits was steadily decreasing, while Vo-Shay's lone credit had gained

  thousands of friends in less than an hour. He glanced up at his opponent, but

  the human gambler's face may as well have been carved out of ferrostone.

  Only Vo-Shay's right hand was in motion, absently twirling the obsidian

  stone pendant hanging from his neck. When he had first removed the bauble from

  underneath his shirt, a collective gasp resounded from the crowd. The necklace

 

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