Heir to the Jedi

by Kevin Hearne

  “I never said you wished us to be captured by the Empire.”

  “Ah. So you believe I have some other goal in mind. What might that be?”

  “The theory I favor at the moment is that you want to learn the location of the rebel fleet—that’s the only intelligence goal that would justify an elaborate plot like this. By tracking our communications you hope to find out something useful. You’re waiting for us to contact Alliance personnel.”

  Drusil Bephorin nodded. “I see. Your reasoning is sound; the Empire would indeed do almost anything to discover where the rebels are hiding. And if I already know the location of the rebel fleet, would that allay your suspicions about my loyalties?”

  My guts turned cold. “Are you posing a hypothetical question about my reaction, or are you saying you actually know the location?”

  “I do not know its precise location, but I can make an educated guess based on my insider’s knowledge of current Imperial fleet deployments, then subtracting the majority of occupied worlds, and continuing to eliminate other such variables until we arrive at a manageable number. The rebel fleet is in the Outer Rim.”

  A relieved chuckle escaped my throat. She didn’t know anything dangerous. “Of course it is. Everyone knows that. All those unoccupied systems to hide in makes it obvious.”

  “But a large number of unoccupied systems can be eliminated through modal reasoning matrices, logistics loop theory, and the high probability that the Alliance would use only known hyperspace routes.”

  “Uh, you lost me in the middle there.”

  “Then I shan’t dwell on the methodology. But had I wished the rebel fleet discovered, I would have already told the Empire to search the Zaddja, Kowak, or Pantora systems. My analysis points to one of them.”

  The cold feeling returned. If she had told the Empire that, they would have indeed found the Alliance around Orto Plutonia in the Pantora system. I didn’t bother to dispute her analysis. I have no talent for lying; my best option was to keep silent and confirm nothing.

  “Your silence is telling, Luke Skywalker.”

  “Are all Givin capable of analyzing fleet movements the way you are?” I asked. Because if so, the Empire could ask any of them for help. Or coerce them, which was more likely.

  “Most are capable of the basic functions, but I hope you will not think it immodest if I proclaim myself to be unusually accomplished in probability theory. It has useful applications in cryptography. And I cannot imagine that anyone else would be privy to the secrets that I was during my ersatz employment with the ISB. I have knowledge of where the Empire has searched and can guess where they will search next with a high degree of probability, since they lack imagination and distrust the power of randomization.”

  “That would be useful information.”

  “I will be delighted to share it with you when I am successfully reunited with my family.”

  “You can predict Imperial fleet movements, but you’re keeping it to yourself? Sharing it now could save lives!”

  “And if I have nothing to trade, I could lose mine.”

  I understood her position, but it was frustrating to run up against self-interest when a team effort would serve everyone better. Still, I could press her regarding the math she had willingly taken on earlier. “Did you finish your probability calculation regarding Imperial pursuit before we get to Kupoh?”

  “I did. It’s possible they will appear but unlikely. We will make it to the surface. Getting off it again without Imperial efforts to find us is much less likely.”

  I nodded, privately thinking that she might spur those Imperial efforts herself. We were headed to the residence of a Kupohan spy who, if he did not work with the Alliance, was at least referred to us by one that did. Pulling on the thread of Azzur Nessin might unravel quite a bit for the Empire. I would have to make sure Nakari hadn’t hooked her datapad into the ship’s computer at all, because Drusil—or I supposed anyone else in the system if we were now exposed—would then be able to slice it and access the entire list of contacts given to us by Sakhet.

  As if she could read me again, Drusil said, “If I may make a general observation: The problem with conspiracy theories is that they have their own gravity: They are black holes from which one rarely escapes. Caution is advisable at all times, of course, but recognize that sometimes the beings you meet truly are good.”

  “Noted,” I said, and I made an effort to smile. “And I agree. Think of me as cautious.”

  “I do, and approve.”

  Nodding once and excusing myself after asking Artoo to continually monitor all systems for data invasions, I returned to the cockpit and caught Nakari up, advising her to keep her datapad isolated and in her possession until we no longer needed that list of contacts.

  Drusil’s calculations proved accurate again, as we were able to bite into atmosphere and land on Kupoh without active pursuit by anything except the wind.

  The “mild” winds of the entry point gave us the most harrowing ride I’ve ever experienced, though, and I was grateful that the Desert Jewel was all one piece and we didn’t have to worry about wings shearing off. The descent was a bone-shaking ride even with the benefit of acceleration compensators, and it was still rough going after we dropped behind the first baffle. The chop of the air didn’t reduce significantly until after we dipped over a second and third baffle, and then we were guided via Tonekh’s traffic control through a sort of slalom of towering stone wind traps, which not only served our purposes but also provided some shelter to the pale grassy flatlands below dotted with herds of pahzik.

  Using the Jewel’s upmarket scanners, I took a close-up holo of the pahzik because I’d never seen one before. They were broader and shorter than nerfs, coated with a dense mat of black fur, and their horns were strangely aligned on the tops of their heads as if someone had rested a giant scroll on top of them, facing forward. These were supposed to be hollow, allowing the wind to pass through, and by angling their heads into the wind or placing their backs to it they created various sounds to call to others at much greater volume than they could manage with their vocal cords. Since most of the planet was an unbroken windswept plain, the pahzik had plenty of room to roam and multiply, and the Kupohans seemed happy to let them breed, since they were supposed to be delicious.

  The wind traps did their job, improving conditions until we had smooth air on our final approach to Tonekh, which, like all the Kupohan cities, was nestled inside a protected mountain valley. To reach it we had to fly through a tunnel bored into the great range of the eastern continent, and when we emerged, we saw the Kupohan city stretched before us, resting in between the peaks as if the buildings had tumbled there after a landslide.

  Nessin Courier & Cargo sprawled along one side of Tonekh’s busy spaceport, boasting rows of warehouses, hangars, and freighter ports. Our contact had done very well for himself, and we soon discovered that he was not the sort to lounge in an office and take long lunches that consisted mostly of alcohol. Like Fayet Kelen, he took an active role in the daily business of his company.

  Uniformed crew and flashing glow panel lights guided us into a vacant space in a large hangar. When we disembarked, the air possessed a mysterious animal tang, like wet dog or feathers on fire. I wasn’t sure if it was Kupoh’s natural odor or specific to this area—or if it was borne here by the wind. Even in the sheltered confines of the city, the wind whistled and moaned and ruffled our hair, though I suspected the moaning was caused by the passage of air through pahzik horns.

  There was a light freighter under repair in the berth next to ours, and I noticed that the crew was not entirely Kupohan, but of mixed species. One of them was a Wookiee, which made me miss Chewbacca. Azzur Nessin was waiting for us at the bottom of the Jewel’s loading ramp, dressed in the same gray-and-green uniform as all the other workers.

  That’s not to say he displayed no hint of his elevated status. In addition to the earrings on his basal ears, his beard beads turned out to be gol
d, as we’d suspected, and his braided strands swung and clacked together like an abacus when he spoke. It was a mesmerizing display, and I gradually became aware that it was purposeful. One became so absorbed in his animated chin fur that his other movements went largely unnoticed—such as the discreet tapping of his finger against a miniature datapad strapped to the inside of his left arm, or the way his gaze would lose focus briefly as his attention fixed on something scrolling past a display lens he had suspended over two of his four eyes. He hadn’t been wearing that when we spoke via holo, but now he was obviously dividing his attention.

  “Welcome to Kupoh, friends. If you are fond of Sakhet’s noodles, you might also enjoy something I can provide for you. How may I please you today?”

  He wasn’t running any kind of restaurant here, so his phrasing was peculiar. I wondered when or even if we would begin to speak plainly about who we were and how we had come to be there. Were we being observed by unfriendly eyes even now? I decided we didn’t have time for roundabout speech and baldly stated what we had come for.

  “We need to refuel, rearm with six concussion missiles, and we also need to either repair or replace one of our sublight engines, depending on the damage.”

  “The first two items should be no trouble,” he said, already moving to the back of the ship and speaking as he walked and typed, “but engine damage may require some time to remedy—days or even weeks, depending on specifics—and, of course, significant resources. Let us see what needs to be done.”

  He made a whistling noise that secured the attention of a uniformed mechanic who detached himself from the light freighter detail and came over to examine our ship. He was also Kupohan, but he only had two neck torcs, a single earring on his basal ear, and an entirely ordinary beard. Azzur introduced him as Ruuf Waluuk. He greeted us amiably, but it quickly became clear that Ruuf’s expertise would not be needed; the engine was a total loss, half melted to slag by that last TIE fighter that had chased us out of Daalang.

  “Inconvenient” was the sum of Azzur’s commentary on the subject. “What kind of engine is it?” Nakari told him and he tapped out a search on his datapad and waited for results. All four eyes blinked when the information came in. “That is—or was—an outstanding engine. Unfortunately, there aren’t any of those available on the planet.” He shook his head and set his beads knocking together. “It is the curse of beautiful custom ships, yes? They are superior to all other ships until it comes time to repair one. We could order that engine offworld, but I am unsure if you have the luxury of time to wait for it.”

  “We don’t,” Nakari confirmed.

  “Then we must choose an available substitute. Your ship will not be as fast, of course, and you will lose efficiency as your system compensates for thrust differentials.”

  “It’ll still be faster than flying on a single engine,” Nakari said. “Tell me about our options.”

  “Certainly. If you will follow me, I have a holotable where I can display specs for you.” He led us past the light freighter to a suite of administrative offices. I noticed that the hangar was equipped with several offices on one side; on the other, near the Jewel, was a kitchen and dining area for the crew’s break time, along with restrooms and lockers.

  As soon as the door closed behind us, Azzur Nessin’s facade of polite professionalism sloughed off to reveal a snarling Kupohan. He rounded on us and curled his hands into fists at his sides. “I don’t know who you are, but you had better not be bringing the Empire behind you! Tell me true: Do I have to worry about stormtroopers coming in here and burning down my life around me?”

  “Maybe,” Nakari replied, “but how is that different from any other day in the galaxy? The Empire will be there until we destroy it.”

  “I know they could come for me anytime,” Azzur growled, “but rebel spies are more likely to bring them sooner rather than later. That engine didn’t melt down spontaneously, and I’m assuming you launched your six concussion missiles at someone.”

  Nakari matched his tone. “Hey, we don’t want to be here, either. If we had a choice we wouldn’t be, but Sakhet gave us your name in case we needed it and she said you’d help us. So will you help us, or was her faith in you misplaced?”

  Azzur snorted in derision. “She doesn’t have faith in me. She knows I hate the Empire and that is all.”

  “So we shouldn’t put our faith in you?”

  “Definitely not. But I do hate the Empire and I like money. You can trust in that. Can I trust that you have money?”

  “No.”

  The Kupohan said nothing for a few seconds, tension building as his face twitched, his ears flattened, and he stared at Nakari in disbelief. Finally, he exploded. “Then why are you here? You expect me to furnish an engine for free?”

  “We have information. The lucrative kind.”

  Azzur visibly calmed, his primary ears returning to their customary position. “Oh, then that’s different. You could have said so before I lost my temper. What is the nature of this information?”

  Drusil offered up her knowledge of Imperial maneuvers outside of Hutt Space first, and when Azzur inquired as to how she came to possess this intelligence, the answer renewed his agitation. “You’re the ones, aren’t you—the ones they have a bounty on! Half the galaxy is looking for you, and you fly into my hangar!”

  “The information’s good, though,” Nakari said.

  “It’s the worst kind!” He pointed a rude, thick finger at Drusil. “If I sell anything that this particular Givin woman knows, then the Empire will come ask me where I got it! I can’t risk it, I’m sorry.” His finger flew across his miniature datapad keyboard. “As it is, I have to send my family away on an emergency vacation so that there’s an outside chance of their survival. If I ever see Sakhet again, I’m going to kick her kneecaps backward. Because you know my whole crew out there saw you and your ship. If any of them figured out who you are, your presence here could already be sold to the Empire.”

  “How likely is it that mechanics are information dealers?” Drusil asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t spy on my employees—there’s no money in it.”

  “Out of curiosity,” Nakari said, “how much money is in us? I mean in giving us up—what’s the bounty?”

  Azzur had the grace to look uncomfortable speaking of us as commodities. He sniffed, shrugged, and avoided specifics: “There’s a goodly sum for information leading to the capture of the Givin, but a much greater one for directly delivering her to the Empire.”

  “Really goodly, then?” Nakari asked, her tone solicitous but clearly mocking.

  “There is another alternative,” Drusil said. “I am an excellent slicer and cryptographer; indeed, that is why I am so closely pursued by the Empire. Should you wish to acquire any data available here on Kupoh, I am almost certain I can procure it.”

  Azzur Nessin began to shake his head before Drusil even finished. “No, no, no. I am an honest businessperson.”

  “You’re also a spy and trade in secrets all the time!” Nakari pointed out.

  “I trade in secrets, yes—there is a certain commerce there and mutual consent to the exchange. I do not steal secrets, nor do I extort them or do anything but provide value for value, lest I dishonor my family and lose one or more of these.” A finger drifted up to point at his status earrings. “So while I thank you for the offer, I must decline. What else do you have that might offset the expense of an engine?”

  Silence stretched and took up all the space in the room, and Nessin waited. His beard beads remained perfectly still, gleaming and predatory like a cat before it pounces.

  “Have you heard of Kelen Biolabs based on Pasher?” Nakari asked, her voice pitched low and dull with defeat.

  “Yes, of course. A vastly profitable enterprise.”

  “I am Nakari Kelen, daughter of Fayet Kelen. I can provide you with firsthand knowledge of what my father called ‘the most significant biological find in decades’ and furnish coordinate
s to find the source.”

  “Nakari, what are you doing?” I said.

  “Getting us an engine,” she replied.

  Azzur Nessin narrowed his eyes, flattened his ears against his skull, and reared back. “What is this? You expect me to believe the heir to Kelen Biolabs conducts espionage operations for the Alliance?”

  “I expect you can independently verify my identity with that datapad strapped to your arm. And rumor has it that Kupohans can hear the ring of truth in human voices anyway. The question is whether such information will earn us what we need.”

  “I imagine so, if it is truly the best discovery in decades.”

  “My father knows his business and likes money just as much as you do, sir. When he says the development potential is vast, you may rely upon it.”

  “You say you have firsthand knowledge of this … discovery? A planet?”

  “A moon. And yes, we have been there. So far, fewer than ten beings have set foot on the surface, almost all of them in the employ of my father.”

  Azzur Nessin turned his gaze to me. “And who are you, exactly?”

  “He’s my pilot,” Nakari said before I could answer. It was the truth, if not all of it, and Nessin responded by turning his gaze back to Nakari, his ears twitching in agitation. Deciding to drop the question of my identity—for which I was relieved, since I doubted that my name would ease his worries—Nessin pursued a different line of questioning.

  “Why would you sell this information and betray your father?” I thought that was an excellent question. I wanted to hear the answer to that myself.

  “It’s not a betrayal. He gave me full permission to deal his business a setback in an emergency, and since we can’t expect to complete our mission without an engine, I believe this qualifies. And it’s not like he owns that moon or exclusive rights to exploit it. It was inevitable that other people would find out about it eventually. It might as well be now, when we can profit by it.” She hooked a thumb back at Drusil, adding, “And when the Empire can lose a valuable resource in the process. My father hates the Empire, too, you know. He’d gladly give up all the profits of this moon if it means a victory for the Alliance. And my survival.” She tacked on a wry smile at the end of this. Azzur Nessin’s ears continued to twitch for a few seconds, and I saw some movement of the gilled fins inside his frequency filters—he was probably listening for irregular heartbeats or stressed breathing, indicators of dishonesty, and finally he nodded once, curtly, which set his beads clapping together as if in approval of a bargain made.