Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi V: Allies

by Christie Golden

  He didn’t like that line of thought. And he didn’t like to see Vestara looking melancholy. So he said, “Speaking of fun … know any jokes?”

  As Luke brought the Jade Shadow in for a landing, he reflected that the building that served as a courthouse and a prison had seen better days. It was a large duracrete dome whose paint had been weathered and chipped. There were a few windows, small ovals low to the ground, and several unprepossessing doors. This was not a species with much time or money with which to indulge any love of beauty that might exist among its populace. Nearly everything here, save for the breathtaking Fountain of the Hutt Ancients, was practical, weathered, and stolid.

  Luke sighed, recognizing the type of design. Domes weathered sandstorms better; there was less roof surface for sand to pile atop of, and wall surface for the winds to pound against. He had not been back to Tatooine for many, many years, and had hoped to avoid venturing out into this arid world, but fate seemed to have other plans.

  He settled the vessel down into the soft sand, then went down the ramp, squinting against the brightness of midday sun striking pale yellow sand. As he stepped off the ramp, he saw a figure coming toward him and sighed.

  It was Gavar Khai. He must have been baking to death inside his heavy black-and-silver robes, but he gave no sign of it. His broad shoulders were straight, his dark head high, and he actually managed to somehow stride in the yielding sand. He had to be using the Force, Luke thought. The idea bothered him. To use the Force for something so trivial seemed a violation to him. But then again, Sith were hardly known for their respect toward the power of the Force. They used the dark side to further their own selfish ends and indulge their whims.

  Whims like striding through sand.

  He must have been alerted by Vestara as to the situation. Luke supposed Ben couldn’t have stopped her at this point. Luke moved toward the Sith, nodding a greeting. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

  “My daughter is being detained because of your son,” Khai said bluntly. “This does not please me, Jedi.”

  Luke’s blond eyebrows rose, but he kept his voice mild. “It was my understanding that an unfortunate young man snapped and was heading to defile the Fountain. Your daughter and my son took it upon themselves to prevent him from doing so.”

  “I am certain that Ben forced her to go along with him. Let us not mince words, Skywalker. My daughter is currently what amounts to your prisoner. Even though we outnumber you, we are choosing to work together to end this threat that is mutually damaging. I am most certain that Ben had instructions to never leave Vestara unattended.”

  Luke found himself grinning. “It’s clear that you’ve forgotten the spontaneity of youth, Khai.” He did not use the honorific “Saber.” “From what I have learned of Vestara, she is not one to sit idly by while others have all the fun.”

  Khai’s nostrils flared as he took a deep, calming breath. “No. My daughter is bold. Still, my point stands.”

  “Why don’t we go in and find out exactly what happened rather than standing out here arguing?” Luke suggested. “I’m sure those heavy dark robes aren’t the most comfortable thing to wear in a desert climate.”

  Khai shrugged. “I had not noticed. Sith must become used to all climates, and with the Force, we can bend even heat and cold to our will. I am puzzled that you choose to not do so. I would think you had sufficient skill.”

  “It’s sometimes easier just to dress appropriately,” Luke said, and headed for the courthouse door. Khai snorted and fell into step beside him.

  Two Klatooinians stood guard by the door and demanded their names. Khai and Luke gave them, and were permitted admittance.

  Inside the dome it was darker, if not much cooler. There was a clank-clank sound coming from somewhere that grated on the ear, probably some out-of-date cooling system in dire need of repair. A rather agitated-looking Klatooinian was seated at a battered desk. In front of her were several datapads in a haphazard pile. A small plaque read ABARA MUN, SECURITY AND DETENTION OFFICER.

  “Master Luke Skywalker and Saber Gavar Khai,” the guard stated.

  The female, presumably Abara Mun, glanced up swiftly, her jowls quivering with the movement. “Ah,” she said. “Excellent. Your children have been detained for questioning. As they are under the legal age according to our laws, we’ve held them until you arrived.”

  Khai started to say something, but Luke stepped in smoothly, “We understand. I hope there are no charges brought against them?”

  Mun rose. “Oh, not at all. Their quick action actually aided in defeating the would-be defiler. I imagine you’re proud of them. Their litter should be astonishing.”

  She tossed out the comment offhandedly as she rose. It took both Sith and Jedi a second to realize what she was saying. Understanding broke over them simultaneously and both of them spoke at once.

  “Oh, they’re not involved,” Luke said.

  “There will be no children,” stated Khai. They turned to glare at each other for a moment, then Luke smiled at the confused Mun.

  “Our children are not involved in any way. They’re … just friends.”

  Mun raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Didn’t strike me that way, but suit yourself. We personally value strong litters and wise breeding, but I know not everyone shares our sentiments.”

  The words were tolerant, but her voice revealed her contempt for their attitude. She beckoned them to follow her as she led them through dimly lit, narrow corridors winding their way between thick duracrete walls. It reminded Luke of a bunker.

  He wondered what she might have seen or sensed to come to that conclusion. Had Ben and Vestara’s behavior led her to think that, or was it just her species’ social conditioning? He’d have to talk to Ben when they had a few moments alone. There was no such thing as “harmless” flirtation when it came to a Sith. Vestara would take his son’s innate goodness and optimism and seek to turn him to the dark side. Luke knew she would fail, and when she realized that too …

  They turned a corner into a wider room with a mere four holding cells and a door that presumably opened onto yet another corridor. Luke thought that a surprisingly small number for such a major city, then realized that there probably was very little crime. For all intents and purposes, the Hutts owned Klatooine, thanks to the sweeping terms of the Treaty of Vontor. Luke was certain that any threat of misbehavior would result in being sent someplace extremely unpleasant. It was a deterrent to crime, but one that Luke would not wish on anyone.

  He was mildly amused to see that the old doors were completely inadequate to housing anyone with even a modicum of Force ability. Ben and Vestara, both possessed of a great deal more than a modicum of ability, would not have been kept there for longer than about half a minute if they had not agreed to be. Mun stopped in front of the first cell and keyed in a code.

  Ben’s voice floated out to them. “—and then the rancor says, ‘Then what did I just eat?’”

  A peal of girlish laughter was heard, abruptly cut off as the door jerkily retracted into the wall. They were standing stiffly by the time the door was open completely, looking vaguely guilty.

  “Oh, hey Dad,” Ben said. “That was uh … fast.”

  Vestara’s hands were clasped behind her back and she executed a slight bow. “Greetings, Father. Thank you for coming.”

  “Not a moment too soon, it would seem,” Gavar Khai said. “Come, Vestara. Let us leave the Skywalkers to their business.” Before Luke could protest, he gave the Jedi a sharp look. “Do not fear, I shall not abscond with her. We will be waiting for you outside.” Vestara gave Ben a quick, sidelong glance from underneath her lashes, then moved quickly to obey her father.

  Luke didn’t much care for it, but he supposed there was nothing he could do. He was just sorry he had no way to record a conversation while they were outside melting in the sun.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Luke said. “We’ll see you shortly, then.”

  GAVAR AN
D VESTARA BOWED, PERFECTLY IN TANDEM, AS IF THEY HAD rehearsed it, then turned and went back the way Luke and Gavar had come. When the sound of their feet had faded, Luke turned to Mun. “Where is Dyon Stad being held? I presume these cells are inadequate to the task.”

  Mun growled softly. “You presume correctly. We do not have a great deal of violent crime here, and our population renders very few Force-users. We have had to take special precautions. Follow me.”

  She moved to the door at the far end and keyed it open. Ahead was, as Luke suspected, yet another corridor. Reaching out in the Force, Luke gently probed the area above, to all sides, and below them. There was Dyon Stad … several meters below. His Force energy was dull, but steady. Ahead were two other presences, standing in tandem, presumably guards.

  Ben was apparently doing the same because he said, “You’ve got a cellar down here.”

  “Not precisely,” Mun said. The lighting from the glow rods that ran the length of the corridor wasn’t particularly powerful, and several of them were inactive. Luke could now see the two Klatooinians standing on either side of a large door in the floor. They did not appear to be too happy about their assignment, their lugubrious, canine features looking even more jowly with resignation.

  Luke understood why. The door was rigged with a WW-47 Cryoban grenade. It appeared to have been modified so that it could be activated from a distance. Once detonated, all the heat in the area would be absorbed, creating an area of freezing cold. It wouldn’t kill Dyon, but it would immobilize him and likely cause nerve damage.

  “I guess he could be perceived as that dangerous,” Ben said.

  “Here he certainly could be,” Luke agreed, thinking of the conspicuous lack of Force-sensitives or weapons among the general populace—and even among what passed for the military.

  “He is heavily sedated and as restrained as we could manage,” Mun said. She knelt and quickly began to disarm the grenade. “And there is a third guard down there with him.”

  “We brought along restraints that might be more efficient for a Force-user,” Ben said.

  Mun shot him an irritated look, but Luke could tell that the irritation wasn’t really directed at his son. “You can say it. A flimsi box sealed with vartik tree sap would be more efficient to hold a Force-user than what we’ve got. We simply don’t have the resources here to deal with this sort of thing, so I’m more than happy to turn him over to you two.”

  She opened the hatch. A scent that one wouldn’t expect on a desert world wafted out—the dank, murky odor of fetid water and mildew.

  “It’s not a cellar, it’s an old well,” Ben said, peering down. It went down a long way. There was a dim light at the bottom, just enough so that Luke knew that the unlucky guard likely pointing a decades-old blaster at the unconscious Force-user had a glow rod to help him see better. It would be of little comfort to the hapless fellow to be able to see it clearly if Dyon awoke, snatched the blaster out of his hand and snapped his neck with the Force.

  Mun nodded. “On our world, most buildings are built over wells. It’s an old, old tradition to guard against water shortage.”

  Water vaporators of some variety had been around for a long, long time. This well must indeed have been ancient.

  Ben was thinking along the same lines for he said, “Surely, this is dangerous to just leave around. How come you didn’t fill it in some … you know, ten thousand years ago?”

  Mun looked at him evenly. “Because technology sometimes fails. Or fails to arrive when needed, young Skywalker.”

  “But—you’re the last stop on the Kessel Run. The Hutts—” Ben stopped in midsentence. Mun’s smile widened, but it was a bitter one. Ben had just answered his own question. The Hutts gave—and failed to give—as they saw fit.

  Luke thought about what he had learned of the treaty and about what he knew of the Klatooinians themselves. They honored the treaty, and had for twenty-five thousand years. And yet, they believed, like the Fountain they so honored, that they grew stronger with time.

  Luke suspected that, valid as the reason Mun gave was, there were perhaps other reasons.

  But now the pressing need was to get Dyon out. Luke caught Ben’s eye, nodded, and father and son Force-leapt down into the deep well. Luke slowed his fall and landed, bending his knees, beside the prone and cuffed figure of Dyon Stad. The guard had obviously been notified at some point because he did not attempt to shoot either Jedi, and merely seemed a little alarmed at their manner of arrival. Ben was already bending over Dyon with stun cuffs from the Jade Shadow. Squatting beside the older man, Ben glanced up at his dad and nodded.

  “He’s fine. His injuries have been attended to. He’s out cold, though, and should be for some time. These guys did their jobs well on all counts.”

  Luke smiled at the still-flustered guard. “We’ll take it from here. Thank you.”

  Ben rose and together the two settled themselves and reached out for the Force’s aid. Luke half-hid a smile of fond remembrance. Long ago, when he was only a few years older than his son, he had stood on soggy soil, as he did now, surrounded by the stench of rotting wetness, and tried to levitate a sunken X-wing. He had gasped and panted and shuddered with the effort, only to watch the greedy waters of the Dagobah swamp claim it again.

  And then tiny little Yoda had lifted the thing up as if it weighed nothing at all.

  His smile grew as he reached out to his son in the Force and they met there, moving as one to surround and support the limp, bruised, and scraped body of Dyon Stad. Ben used both his hands, holding them out as if miming lifting Dyon’s form, and Luke barely moved a finger or two as the figure rose swiftly but steadily upward. When Dyon neared the top, they maneuvered him gently onto the floor.

  Ben leapt up first, followed by Luke. Ben looked back down into the old well, then over at Mun and the two guards. “What about him?”

  “We have a rope ladder,” one of the guards said.

  “We could bring him up.” Luke smothered a grin. Ben had a sabacc face Han would envy at the moment. “Wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I think Rommul will be happy to emerge the old-fashioned way,” Mun said. “Now if you two and your … charge … will follow me, we’ll finish up the paperwork and you can take him out of my detention area.”

  Vestara stepped out into the bright sunlight, blinking quickly. She and Ben had been in the holding cell for about a half hour. It was illuminated, but dimly, and moving from the dark, dome-shaped building to full sunlight made her eyes water.

  Her father didn’t waste a second. “What do you think you are doing?” he demanded, speaking in Keshiri. He kept his voice modulated and made no attempt to lay a hand on her, but she could feel his anger, narrowly channeled, almost buffeting her in the Force.

  She stared at him, utterly confused. “I did what I was supposed to do,” she said. “What you asked me to do. I did not let Ben Skywalker out of my sight.”

  “You helped him!” Gavar replied, the anger cold and unyielding. Vestara was taken aback. Her father had never, ever been this angry with her. Irritated, frustrated, of course, like any parent with any child. But most of the emotions she had experienced from him were approval, love, and pride. This wounded her to her core, but even though it was completely new and unexpected behavior, she had been well schooled. She did not let her hurt show. She used the Force to even out her skin tone so that the rush of heat to her face would not betray her, and spoke in a calm, measured voice.

  “It was my understanding that we wish the Skywalkers to believe that we share a common goal. We have claimed that our apprentices are going mad, as their Knights are. When one of them began to act erratically, there was no question in my mind that the right course of action would be to subdue him, to preserve the façade of cooperation.”

  His anger wavered slightly. “It would have been better if you had been able to contrive to kill, or better yet, capture him.”

  “Had I been in a position to do so, I would have,” Ves
tara said. It was a lie. She watched her father carefully, but he gave no indication that he sensed it. Vestara regretted the necessity, but his apparently irrational reaction warranted the deception.

  “I had no weapon, and Ben and I were far from the only ones in pursuit of Dyon Stad. Ben now counts me as a true ally, as I have proven my apparent trustworthiness twice now. Was that not what you asked of me? To win his confidence?”

  It was a classic tactic—to turn the argument back on the adversary. Vestara had put her father in the defensive role and had taken the offensive.

  “True.” The anger was all but gone now, and Khai looked thoughtful. “You did not hesitate to offer your aid?”

  Vestara shook her head. “Not for an instant. We worked together as a team. That is how he will continue to think of us. And Ben will desire his father to think of us that way as well.”

  “You have bedded him?”

  Another pang, quickly shuttered. Vestara was Sith. She had been trained to utilize every weapon in her arsenal, and was well familiar that being able to manipulate another’s physical desire was a powerful tool. Still, to have her own father speak so casually of it—

  “No,” she said. “Not yet.”

  “Keep him wanting you,” Khai said. “Do not let him have you unless you judge that it will get you something truly important. I expect you to have Ben Skywalker eating out of your hand like Tikk by the time you are done with him.”

  Vestara smiled a little at the thought of her pet. She did not ask what had happened to Tikk. He had been left behind at the Sith Temple when she had departed Kesh to explore the galaxy. She had no idea if he was still there, or if he had been returned to her family. She did not want to risk her father’s irritation by inquiring.

  “I will endeavor to do so. Master Skywalker is endeavoring to keep us apart. I think he senses what you and I intend.”