He pulled out his comlink and hailed Eaden. “Eaden?”
“Do you have Javul?”
“Yeah, but something almost got us just now. We’re in a turbo-lift heading down to Level One. There’s an assassin after us, Ead. An Anomid. Armed to the teeth—if Anomids even have teeth. We’re in trouble here. We need backup. We’ll get to Level One before he does, but—”
Han’s voice broke in. “No, not Level One. Go all the way down to the sub-level and head this way. Don’t come up to the docking level, ‘cause for sure that’s where he’ll be, right? We’ll have to find this guy and take him out.”
“Right. Yeah. Sub-level,” he punched the lift button. Made sense. They’d have to get to the Falcon’s docking bay eventually, so the assassin need do no more than go wait there for them, unless … “Han, listen—are there any empty docking bays below or above you?”
“What? Uh, yeah. There’s an empty bay about three levels down. A Bothan freighter just pulled out.”
“What’s that—level nineteen?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Take the Falcon down there and soft dock. Send someone out to cover us. We’ll be coming in hot.”
“That’s highly irregular, you know. You’re gonna get me in deep banthaflop with the port authority.”
“Han—”
“Kidding! I’m on it.”
At the sub-level landing, Dash held the lift door, then turned to Javul. “You have a weapon on you?”
“Yes.”
Probably some feckless little hold-out blaster. “Get it out.”
He was boggled when she reached beneath her robe and drew a BlasTech Deathhammer 17 from her sash. “Where did you get that?”
“Mel got it for me, if it matters.”
He drew his own primary weapon—a much smaller BlasTech DL-22—which seemed suddenly inadequate. Helluva time for blaster envy, he thought. Aloud, he said, “We’re going to switch lifts, just in case. All right? Here we go. Ready?”
She nodded.
Dash keyed the door open and they slipped out into the half-light of the empty corridor. Well, almost empty—a small maintenance droid polished the floor in front of one of the other turbolift cars.
Windfall.
Dash picked up the small droid, shoved it into the nearest turbolift, and punched level twenty-two. Then he hustled Javul into a car across the corridor and keyed it to go to Level 19.
He stared at the ceiling of the lift, taking a series of deep, lung-filling breaths. Beside him, Javul also seemed to be gathering herself.
“As soon as that droid comes out of the lift up there—” Dash started to say.
“Yeah, I know.”
The door of the lift slid open and the two bolted out into the corridor, their boots making the durasteel flooring ring with each step. Bay 6 was third on the right-hand side of the terminal—a distance of over one hundred meters. Dash had to believe they could cover that before their Anomid friend realized he’d been deked. It would only take a glance at the lift control panels for him to see that a second lift had gone up to Level 19.
They pelted down the terminal as if a pack of rabid boar-wolves were after them. Dash suspected that the Anomid assassin was much, much more deadly. As they approached Bay 4, Dash saw Eaden and Han step out into the corridor from Bay 6 about fifty meters ahead of them. The two took up flanking positions on each side of the corridor and began moving toward the head of the terminal.
Mel appeared in the lee of the docking port, a blaster rifle in his hands. Dash knew an instant of cold panic at the thought that Yanus Melikan might be their saboteur—might be working with whoever it was that was no doubt pursuing them. But Mel simply took up a defensive position in the alcove, his rifle ready.
Han was waving his arm, gesturing for them to hurry. His gaze was focused on the turbolift core, now many meters behind. Then, suddenly, he was running toward them, his blaster raised, eyes focused on something—or someone—behind them.
Dash felt a riptide of cold, nasty adrenaline wash down his back.
“Fire!” Han yelled. He dropped to one knee and loosed a barrage of blaster bolts past the fleeing couple.
On the opposite side of the corridor, Eaden followed suit.
Dash heard the bolts sizzle past his ears, and could whiff the sharp scent of oxygen atoms being torn apart into reactive ozone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Javul glance back over her shoulder. She immediately began to struggle out of her billowing robe. What was she doing? He reached over and tried to pull the robe from her hands, but she resisted.
“Just run!” she urged.
He felt rather than saw something whiz between them—something flat, about the size of his head. Only when it flipped over in the air several meters in front of them and began a return trip did he realize that it was the throwing razor he’d last seen on the assassin’s belt. The weapon—which he’d thought only Rodian bounty hunters used—had a jagged triangular blade and a homing beacon that gave it a decidedly nasty boomerang effect. It could get you coming or going … or both.
Dash put on the brakes, skidding on the durasteel surface beneath his boots. He raised his blaster, fired at the razor … and missed. The thing was flying toward him, aimed right at his chest. He flung himself to one side, knowing he was too late. Javul shrieked and a ripple of gold passed before Dash’s face. He felt a solid weight connect with his rib cage. He hit the floor, momentarily winded.
He regained his feet to see the gold robe Javul had been wearing seemingly flee back down the corridor toward the lifts under its own power. As he watched, Javul—running backwards—fired her blaster at it. Tangled in the flow of fabric, the razor flipped several times, than hit the deck with a clatter and lay still. Javul turned and bolted toward Bay 6, now only meters away.
A hand gripped Dash’s shoulder. “Run or shoot, take your pick.” As if to illustrate, Han raised his heavy blaster and fired a series of shots down the corridor.
Dash looked up, seeking his target. The assassin had just left the shelter of the Bay 2 docking port and was making his way toward them along the wall. One hand was extended in front of him, palm out. The other was reaching for another of the weapons on his belt. Neither the particle beam from Han’s blaster nor the energy bolts from Eaden’s seemed to have much effect on the Anomid, save to slow him down. As Dash watched, he saw another energy bolt, fired by either Eaden or Mel, hit an invisible something a few centimeters in front of the Anomid’s outstretched palm.
“Personal shield!” shouted Dash over the sound of blaster volleys.
“No, really?” Han glanced over at Eaden. “Gimme more cover.”
The Nautolan nodded. “What’re you going to do?” Dash asked as Eaden increased the frequency of his shots.
Han grinned. “Watch and learn … but cover me while you’re doing it.”
Dash obliged, fanning his shots as Han dropped to his belly, aiming his blaster along the floor. He could see that the Anomid had a new weapon mounted on the back of his right hand. A flex-tube ran from it down his index finger. It was a dart-spitter.
Han fired.
The beam skirted the lower range of the palm-shield, connected with the assassin’s left shin guard just above the ankle, and punched his leg out from under him. He hit the floor—yet even as he did, he was pointing his right finger at them and unleashing a barrage of death.
Dash became one with the deck, willing himself to be flat enough to avoid the darts. When they stopped coming, he hauled Han to his feet and ran. Eaden was already in motion, scuttling sideways down the corridor. And now Mel and Javul—who’d reached the relative safety of the docking port—laid down a barrage of fire that now might have an effect.
As Dash rounded the corner into the docking ring, he glanced back up the terminal at the fallen Anomid. He’d been hit several more times and the armor along his back was smoking in places. Blood the color of sunset’s last gasp oozed from the shin guard Han’s careful shot had pierced.
The momentary sense of victory and safety Dash felt was crushed by his last sight of the assassin. He’d raised his pale lavender head from the floor and, just for a second, Dash felt the venom of his gaze. The message conveyed was clear:
This is not over.
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.
CHAPTER 1
SHIGAR KONSHI FOLLOWED the sound of blasterfire through Coruscant’s old districts. He never stumbled, never slipped, never lost his way, even through lanes that were narrow and crowded with years of detritus that had settled slowly from the levels above. Cables and signs swayed overhead, hanging so low in places that Shigar was forced to duck beneath them. Tall and slender, with one blue chevron on each cheek, the Jedi apprentice moved with grace and surety surprising for his eighteen years.
At the core of his being, however, he seethed. Master Nikil Nobil’s decision had cut no less deeply for being delivered by hologram from the other side of the galaxy.
“The High Council finds Shigar Konshi unready for Jedi trials.”
The decision had shocked him, but Shigar knew better than to speak. The last thing he wanted to do was convey the shame and resentment he felt in front of the Council.
“Tell him why,” said Grand Master Satele Shan, standing at his side with hands folded firmly before her. She was a full head shorter than Shigar but radiated an indomitable sense of self. Even via holoprojector, she made Master Nobil, an immense Thisspiasian with full ceremonial beard, shift uncomfortably on his tail.
“We—that is, the Council—regard your Padawan’s training as incomplete.”
Shigar flushed. “In what way, Master Nobil?”
His Master silenced him with a gentle but irresistible telepathic nudge. “He is close to attaining full mastery,” she assured the Council. “I am certain that it is only a matter of time.”
“A Jedi Knight is a Jedi Knight in all respects,” said the distant Master. “There are no exceptions, even for you.”
Master Satele nodded her acceptance of the decision. Shigar bit his tongue. She said she believed in him, so why did she not overrule the decision? She didn’t have to submit to the Council. If he weren’t her Padawan, would she have spoken up for him then?
His unsettled feelings were not hidden as well as he would have liked.
“Your lack of self-control reveals itself in many ways,” said Master Nobil to him in a stern tone. “Take your recent comments to Senator Vuub regarding the policies of the Resource Management Council. We may all agree that the Republic’s handling of the current crisis is less than perfect, but anything short of the utmost political discipline is unforgivable at this time. Do you understand?”
Shigar bowed his head. He should’ve known that the slippery Neimoidian was after more than just his opinion when she’d sidled up to him and flattered him with praise. When the Empire had invaded Coruscant, it had only handed the world back to the Republic in exchange for a large number of territorial concessions elsewhere. Ever since then, supply lines had been strained. That Shigar was right, and the RMC a hopelessly corrupt mess, putting the lives of billions at risk from something much worse than war—starvation, disease, disillusionment—simply didn’t count in some circles.
Master Nobil’s forbidding visage softened. “You are naturally disappointed. I understand. Know that the Grand Master has spoken strongly in favor of you for a long time. In all respects but this one do we defer to her judgment. She cannot sway our combined decision, but she has drawn our attention. We will be watching your progress closely, with high expectations.”
The holoconference had ended there, and Shigar felt the same conflicted emptiness in the depths of Coruscant as he had then. Unready? High expectations? The Council was playing a game with him—or so it felt—batting him backward and forward like a felinx in a cage. Would he ever be free to follow his own path?
Master Satele understood his feelings better than he did. “Go for a walk,” she had told him, putting a hand on each shoulder and holding his gaze long enough to make sure he understood her intentions. She was giving him an opportunity to cool down, no
t dismissing him. “I need to talk to Supreme Commander Stantorrs anyway. Let’s meet later in Union Cloisters.”
“Yes, Master.”
And so he was walking and stewing. Somewhere inside him, he knew, had to be the strength to rise above this temporary setback, the discipline to bring the last threads of his talent into a unified design. But on this occasion, his instincts were leading him away from stillness, not toward it.
The sound of blasterfire grew louder ahead of him.
Shigar stopped in an alley that stank like a woodoo’s leavings. A swinging light flashed fitfully on and off in the level above, casting rubbish and rot in unwanted relief. An ancient droid watched with blinking red eyes from a filthy niche, rusted fingers protectively gathering wires and servos back into its gaping chest plate. The cold war with the Empire was being conducted far away from this alley and its unhappy resident, but its effects were keenly felt. If he wanted to be angry at the state of the Republic, he couldn’t have chosen a better place for it.
The shooting intensified. His hand reached for the grip of his lightsaber.
There is no emotion, he told himself. There is only peace.
But how could there be peace without justice? What did the Jedi Council, sitting comfortably in their new Temple on Tython, know about that?
The sound of screams broke him out of his contemplative trance. Between one heartbeat and the next he was gone, the emerald fire of his lightsaber lingering a split instant behind him, brilliant in the gloom.
LARIN MOXLA PAUSED to tighten the belly strap on her armor. The wretched thing kept coming loose, and she didn’t want to take any chances. Until the justicars got there, she was the only thing standing between the Black Sun gangsters and the relatively innocent residents of Gnawer’s Roost. It sounded like half of it had been shot to pieces already.
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