Star Wars - Black Fleet Crisis - Shield Of Lies

by Michael P. Kube-Mcdowell

  have that door locked, and only an empty space beyond. I'm sorry. I

  know it hurts."

  "He was my last hope for a key," she said, unable to keep the pain from

  her voice. "They're both gone now--my mother and my father. If we

  don't find the circle, I'm always going to be alone."

  Words no longer offered any hope of comforting her, and her need was

  too acute to ignore. With a gentle tug on her hand and a meaningful,

  confirming look, Luke invited her into the bunk with him.

  After a moment's hesitation, Akanah climbed in through the gap in the

  curtains and curled up against him, nestled in the crook of his arm.

  Before long, she was sobbing quietly, her body shaking beside his.

  But the tears felt to Luke more like welcome relief than distress.

  Saying nothing, he held Akanah close and tried to wrap her in a blanket

  of comfort.

  The galaxy turned like a wheel high above them, all its tumult far away

  and, for the moment, forgotten.

  III

  Leia

  Chapter 10

  Viceroy Nil Spaar returned to the spawnworld of the Yevetha as more

  than a hero and just less than a god.

  On the day of his return, more than three million of the Pure gathered

  to watch the gleaming sphere of Aramadia descend through the leaden sky

  of N'zoth. By means of Imperial hypercomm and planetary net, the vast

  throng at Hariz was joined by the entire population of the Twelve and

  the new worlds of the Second Birth.

  The consular ship was so brilliantly lit by spotlights that it seemed

  as though a fragment of a star were delivering the architect of the

  Purification back to his people.

  "Ni toi darama," they whispered. "The Blessed comes to us."

  Overhead, smoke generators on the escort fighters flying cover created

  descending spirals of crimson and purple. The roar of Aramadia's

  undampered pulse-lifters beat down on the upturned faces of the vast

  gathering, lifting their hearts. They embraced the concussion waves as

  though they were caresses by the viceroy's own hands.

  "Hi noka daraya!" they cried. "The Brightness touches me!" cades

  were struck deaf in the last seconds before Aramadia touched down on

  the landing baffle, the fine haircells sheltered in the line of pits

  along their temple ridges shaken until blood ran from them. The maimed

  fell to their knees in joy, screaming the viceroy's name as they

  ecstatically daubed their blood across their chests as a badge of

  honor.

  "I was there at Hariz to welcome darama Spaar," the deaf would say with

  pride in the days to come. "My ears remember the glorious sound of his

  pure and loving power, and no lesser sound will ever make them forget

  it."

  Aboard Aramadia, Nil Spaar stood at the curving viewport in the gallery

  of his quarters and looked out over the throng. The viewport's

  security screen concealed him from their eyes, but he could see that

  his Yevetha carpeted the landscape nearly to the horizon.

  "Viceroy," said his aide, Eri Palle, standing a few steps behind. "Let

  me tell you how beloved you are today.

  Each and every nitakka below would gladly give his blood to feed your

  nesting. Each and every marasi would gladly offer herself as your

  breeding mate."

  "You flatter me with exaggeration," said Nil Spaar.

  "No, etaias," the aide protested. "I have been told by the proctor of

  labor for your office here that they have been overwhelmed by offers.

  The gate guard at your estate counts more than a thousand hopeful

  marasi who have shown themselves there."

  "Indeed," Spaar said, glancing back over his shoulder.

  "If you hear that he took any for himself, I trust you will see that he

  pays for his error publicly and painfully."

  "He wouldn't dare show such disrespect to you," Eri Palle said,

  aghast.

  "He is as loyal to you as any of us--as I myself am."

  "There is always someone who will dare, Eri," said Nil Spaar, turning

  away. "In that way ambition makes a place for itself. I dared,

  once.

  Or do you forget how it was that Viceroy Kiv Truun left the palace?"

  The ship shuddered under them as the landing pads touched down and the

  stabilizers took up the weight of the vessel. Then the distant rumble

  of the lifters ceased, and the smaller sounds of Aramadia's systems and

  machinery became audible once more.

  "I remember," said Eri. "I still have my tunic, stained with Kiv

  Truun's blood, to remind me."

  Nil Spaar nodded, then drew himself up to his full height before the

  viewport. "Have the spotlights dimmed, and drop the screens, Eri. Let

  them see me."

  The aide turned away to the viewport controls. A few moments later the

  crowd saw a narrow band encircling the ship at its middle draw inward

  to create a balcony.

  Standing on that balcony was a tall Yevetha in ceremonial scarlet, who

  raised his hand to them in salute.

  The projected, polarized image was repeated at intervals around the

  ship. No matter where the faithful stood, each could look up at

  Aramadia and see the Yevethan leader.

  The crowd roared its welcome with one fevered, joyful voice. The sound

  they made rivaled the noise of the ship's lifters and set the hull of

  Aramadia vibrating in sympathy.

  Nil Spaar basked in their devotion. The feeling was almost as sweetly

  intense as the embrace of his nesting but left him shimmering with

  desire. Both his fighting and his mating crests were vividly

  swollen.

  The roar went on and on, with no sign of abating.

  Finally Nil Spaar could stand it no longer and stepped back from the

  viewport, gesturing to Eri.

  The aide quickly closed the screens, making the gallery a private place

  again. Then he retreated before the viceroy, mindful of the engorged

  fighting crests.

  "You see, etaias," said Eri, backpedaling. "How glorious for you."

  "I want to go down to them. Is my skimmer ready?" cessional car,

  built for this occasion by the guildsmen of

  Giat Nor as a gift to you. I am told that the craftsmanship is

  flawless."

  Then I shall go accept this gift, said Nil Spaar, moving toward the

  entry. "Thank you, Eri. Please see that my family is transferred to

  the palace after the crowd clears."

  "Yes, Viceroy," said the aide, his face falling as he realized he was

  not to be allowed a place on the viceroy's processional car. Then,

  fearing his thoughts had been read from his expression, he quickly fell

  to one knee in obeisance. "I am honored to serve you, dararna," he

  said softly.

  Nil Spaar's fingertips grazed the back of Eri's neck as he strode past

  him toward the corridor. "I am glad to hear it," said the viceroy.

  "Be careful not to hunger too much for more."

  Blind, silent, and isolated from one another, the 106 ships of the

  Fifth Battle Group of the New Republic Defense Force bored through

  hyperspace, counting down to their arrival at Koornacht Cluster.

  'I don't like to make this long a jump into a hot zone," General A'baht

  said under his br
eath, shaking his head.

  Captain Morano, captain of the Fleet carrier Intrepid, flagship of the

  Fifth Fleet, was the only one on the bridge close enough to A'baht to

  hear his words.

  "A hot zone, General?" Morano asked. "The last report from our

  prowlers, before we left Coruscant, said that everything was quiet

  outside the Cluster. I thought we were going in to draw a line in the

  sky, nothing more."

  "A lot can happen in three days, Captain." A'baht glanced up at the

  mission timers. "We'll know soon."

  The task force would leave hyperspace as it had entered it, with the

  spacings, velocities, and timings all pre determined. Before leaving

  Coruscant, the Fifth had dispersed into the widest formation the jump

  lanes to the target coordinates would allow.

  The signal ferret had jumped first, followed by the forward scouts and

  pickets, then the well-spaced capital ships and their screens. No

  change was possible en route. New Republic engineers had still not

  found a solution for the hyperspace blackout.

  Once the jump began, the Fleet was committed.

  So 106 sets of decisions had had to be made before the Fleet moved out,

  and the number of possible solutions to that matrix was uncountable.

  Some solutions were ideal for one tactical situation, and disastrous

  for others. 'It was a guessing game, then a waiting game, and A'baht

  hated the long hours with nothing to do but wonder if he had guessed

  right.

  The worry, always, was that the tactical situation might have

  changed.

  The worst version of that fear was that the enemy might have learned

  the jump vectors from spies or a prowler and prepared a deadly

  surprise.

  That was why A'baht preferred to jump first to a staging area, where he

  could pick up updated reports from Fleet Intelligence and make any

  necessary adjustments before a final jump to enter the target zone. By

  doing so, he could shorten the window of opportunity created by the

  blackout to an hour or less.

  But caution had its price, and the price was paid in a precious

  commodity--time. A'baht had been ordered to take the Fifth back to

  Koornacht with all possible speed.

  It was too late to help Polneye or New Brigia, but Princess Leia and

  Admiral Ackbar wanted a quick show of strength. Only that, it seemed,

  would discourage the suddenly predatory Yevetha from eyeing Galantos,

  Wehttam, or any other settlement outside the Cluster.

  Captain Morano's figurative description, drawing a line in the sky, was

  perfectly apt.

  The final report from the prowlers General Solo had left in Farlax

  Sector had shown no enemy ship activity outside Koornacht, and very

  little traffic of any other kind in the area--just a pair of tramp

  freighters and a gypsy scoop miner in more than a hundred cubic

  light-years of space. There had been no attacks on New Republic

  territory, no confrontations between New Republic and Yevethan

  forces.

  And the mission had begun in secure territory, the Coruscant system.

  The risks of a direct jump seemed small.

  But there were always risks. And no choice but to plunge through the

  door without knowing what is on the other side, A'baht thought.

  "Signal ferret reentry in ten," a tactical aide called out. "Nine.

  Eight--" "Confirm alert level one," said Morano.

  "Confirming," said the executive officer. "All defense systems ready

  to go active. Flash alert receivers are green. All weapons stations

  crewed. Flight Two and Flight Four are on the deck and hot, ready for

  immediate launch."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant."

  There was no outward sign that anything had happened when the count

  reached zero. Somewhere ahead of them, the tiny signal ferret and its

  complement of droids should have emerged into realspace and begun

  receiving and decoding any flash alerts and tactical updates from the

  Fleet Office. But they would not know if that had happened until

  Intrepid went through the door.

  Another timer started counting down the short interval to the emergence

  of the pickets and scouts. The background murmur of activity on

  Intrepid's bridge grew louder. Captain Morano turned away from the

  status displays on the viewscreen and crossed the bridge to his combat

  station, strapping himself into the flak couch. Shortly after, A'baht

  did the same.

  "There go the pickets," Morano noted unnecessarily.

  "How many combat jumps have you made, Captain?"

  A'baht asked quietly.

  "Thirty-eight down in the roundhouse," Morano said, referring to the

  combat operations center. "Nine on the bridge, all since the Empire

  fell."

  "How many as captain?"

  "Combat jumps? None."

  "Then I suggest you begin telling yourself you've made a hundred."

  "Why?"

  "So that when your crew looks at you in the last seconds before we

  enter realspace, they will not see any reason to distract themselves

  with fear," said A'baht.

  "Whatever waits for us, whether princess or dragon, we are called to

  embrace it. I am mindful of a Dornean war prayer I heard my own mother

  offer--'I pray that my son does not die today. But if he should die, I

  pray that he dies well. But most of all, I pray that if he lives, it

  will not be dishonor which preserves him."" Captain Morano nodded.

  "Are you a betting man, General? Princess or dragon?"

  The third and final timer was counting down toward zero. "Captain,"

  said A'baht, "I am not certain I can always tell the difference."

  All the major craft guilds had contributed to the processional car.

  The scale was grand, the lines flowing.

  The metalwork gleamed. The motor's hum was muted and musical. The

  mounting ladder was a wonder of design, its airily elegant treads and

  supports folding together and disappearing under the carriage the

  moment Nil Spaar's weight left it. The open cabin's cushions and wall

  panels were plush and finely embroidered with the shield of the Spaar

  clan, the symbols of the viceroy's house, the icons of auspicious

  blessing, and the glory-names of the Yevetha, all woven together in a

  design of spectacular beauty.

  Even the car's driver and guards had been chosen to honor him. The

  driver was that rare genetic curiosity, a white-cast neuter--pale as

  the midday sky and neither male nor female. It sat tall and

  expressionless in the driver's creche at the front of the car, a silent

  herald whose presence alone announced that a great man was coming. The

  guards were another curiosity serial twins, grown from the same

  birth-cask and identical but for their ages. By tradition, serial

  twins were thought lucky, and able to pass that blessing at will by

  breath, touch, and blood.

  "Proctor Raalk--" Nil Spaar said, looking down from the cabin at the

  small gathering in Aramadia's ground-level loading bay.

  The proctor of Giat Nor stepped forward.

  "Blessed."

  "This pleases me greatly," Nil Spaar said. "See that the guildmasters

  know that their work was well received."
r />   "Thank you, Blessed," said Ton Raalk, bowing his head gratefully.

  Nil Spaar acknowledged the proctor's submission with a nod and a

  gesture. "I am ready. Driver, proceed."

  The great curving doors ahead began to fan outward.

  As the gap widened, a sound filled the bay, a sound that grew moment to

  moment--the sound of voices suddenly raised in joy. Only part of the

  crowd could see the doors reopening, but the word spread quickly to

  those whose view was blocked.

  As the car cleared Aramadia's hull, Nil Spaar closed his eyes for a

  moment and drew a deep breath of the richly aromatic air. It seemed to

  him like the first breath in ages that was wholly free from the taint

  of the vermin.

  Even aboard ship, their impure stench seemed to cling to him, lingering

  in his nostrils like a reminder of their invasion of the All. It took

  the hot breezes of N'zoth to blow that contaminant away at last, just

  as it had taken the purifying fire of the fleet to rid the All of the

  vermin's poisonous presence.

  Nil Spaar opened his eyes and stood, feeling renewed.