Fate of the Jedi: Backlash

by Aaron Allston

  And although the little Solo girl had gotten away with a valuable astromech, he was all but done with the repairs to an even more valuable SoroSuub yacht. Newly refitted, repainted, and provisioned, it would fetch a fine price offworld. He’d be living high for quite a while.

  From where he sat at his desk, he could not see much other than the rear wall, but a beep from one of his mechanic droids alerted him to a visitor. He spun in his chair.

  It was not one visitor but several—Luke and Ben Skywalker, Dyon Stadd, Tarth Vames, and Vestara. And they were not just entering his shop. They stood right behind him. All but Vestara Khai had their arms crossed in an attitude of disapproval.

  He cleared his throat. He could not stand up; to do so would be to bump chests with Luke Skywalker and sit right down again. “Can I help you?”

  “You can help yourself.” Luke Skywalker sounded more congenial than he looked. “We’re here to take the SoroSuub.”

  “Take it?” Monarg blinked. “Well, yes, it’s for sale. What are you offering?”

  Dyon shook his head. “No, it’s not for sale.”

  Monarg glared at him. “I decide that.”

  Tarth Vames gave him a puzzled look. “No, the owner does.”

  “I’m the owner!”

  “You are?” Vames brought out his datapad, opened it. “Let’s see. A SoroSuub yacht of this type has been reported by the Skywalkers here as having traveled from the Maw cluster to Dathomir within the last several days. Such a vehicle was reported as having crashed, obviously erroneously. I see no sign that anyone has put in a claim for recovery of the vehicle, either in the Maw cluster, or here, as a salvage vessel.”

  Monarg felt his stomach sink. “Wait …”

  “Of course, the vehicle could have been dropped off here and repaired by you for resale. But that would mean you intended to sell it without filing claim documents, presumably to avoid paying the port, that’s Dathomir Spaceport, all appropriate fees for transfer of title. Which is a criminal offense, leading, if there is a conviction, to a minimum term of one to three years for a vehicle of this value. So I certainly hope you didn’t do anything like that.”

  “I … didn’t.” The words emerged from between Monarg’s clenched teeth.

  Vames scrolled down on his datapad screen. “Earlier today, Dyon Stadd put in a claim document on this vessel, supported by the Skywalkers here, and paid all pertinent fees. He now has the title. It’s his. I don’t see a name for the yacht, Dyon.”

  “Bright Sun.”

  “Nice name. Catchy. Monarg, he’ll need the access codes.”

  “But … my repairs …” Monarg had sunk a tremendous number of credits into the repair and refurbishing of the yacht, money he would make back and more when he sold the vehicle … if only he could sell the vehicle.

  Vames looked blank. “Dyon, did you authorize any modifications to your yacht?”

  “I did not.”

  Vames shook his head. “Sorry, Monarg. Something for you to work out with the yacht owner at some later time. Now, are you going to hand over the access codes, or face criminal prosecution?”

  All his available funds, including the rewards he’d received from the GA government for reporting on the whereabouts of the Solos, had gone into that yacht. Monarg felt like crying. He suspected that later, outside the view of his artificially cheerful visitors, he would.

  He tried to glare at Vestara but knew he only looked hurt. “I gave you money …”

  “Which I turned around and paid back to you for a hypercomm message. A pittance, far less than the yacht was worth.” She shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not part of this arrangement. The Skywalkers and their friends are acting totally independent of my wishes.”

  His movements slow and painful, Monarg dug through the data-chips in his desk drawer. He found the one he needed and handed it to Dyon.

  “Thank you.”

  “Just get out.”

  Dyon took the chip to the main boarding hatch of the yacht, plugged it in, let it transmit its security code. The hatch cycled open, and internal systems begin activating. Dyon waved to the Jedi.

  Luke Skywalker waved back. “See you in orbit.”

  Outside Monarg’s, Luke clapped Vames on the back. “Well done. And thank you.”

  Vames looked pleased. “I’ve been wishing to wipe that man’s smirk off his face for many years. And although my powers are nothing like a Jedi’s—”

  “They’re powers most of us Jedi don’t have. Tarth, we’ll stop in and see you the next time we’re on Dathomir.”

  “In the meantime, I’ll transmit your deed to your Temple, and hold the speeder bikes for your Bright Sun friends.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  Luke led the way to Jade Shadow. He, Ben, and Vestara boarded. The Skywalkers settled Vestara into a rear seat in the cockpit and began their preflight checklist.

  In minutes, Ben announced, “Everything’s in the green and Dyon reports ready to go.”

  “Take her up, Ben.” Luke gave Vestara a confident look. “Your Sith friends may have a few hours’ head start, but I’ve been in and out of the Maw many times. I know quite a few routes in. We’ll head them off.”

  She gave him a friendly smile. “Then you’re taking me to them. Very nice of you.”

  “You’re a clever young woman, Vestara. It took us quite a while to realize that you hadn’t paid Monarg for repairs to the yacht, that you’d sold it to him for just enough to send your message home. And then begun running around the rain forest to draw us off, as a diversion.”

  “It was an interesting tour. And then, of course, I met the Nightsisters and dedicated myself to their destruction.”

  “Yes, of course. Ben, roll your eyes for me, would you? I’m out of practice.”

  Ben rolled his eyes. Then he brought Jade Shadow off the ground on repulsors, eased her out over the rain forest, and pointed her toward orbit.

  In minutes the sky overhead was graduating from blue to black and the distant horizon was curving, showing the contours visible from low planetary orbit.

  Ben set a course toward the closest point where he could initiate a jump toward the Maw. Dyon’s yacht was on the sensor screen, its course matching his.

  There were other ships on the sensors as well, ships that were closing. “Dad …”

  Luke leaned forward. “I’m reading capital ships inbound. From orbital positions around Dathomir and from other points in the planet’s vicinity.”

  “My data agrees with yours. Sensors ID them as Corporate Sector Authority–manufactured ChaseMasters. Seven of them. No, eight.”

  Luke bit his lip. ChaseMaster frigates were dated, no match for their modern counterparts. But one or two of them could destroy Jade Shadow. And eight of them would be practically impossibe to elude, even with a Skywalker at Jade Shadow’s controls.

  He glanced at Vestara. She had her head turned away from the main monitor and viewports, and seemed to be paying no attention to what was going on. She was smiling.

  “Correction, Dad. Nine of them. Ten. Eleven. We’ve got problems.”

  “Attention, Jade Shadow.” The voice, male, was rich and carried just the hint of a foreign accent—an accent like Vestara’s. “This is the frigate Black Wave. Enter a parking orbit and cease all attempts to leave the Dathomir system or we will be forced to open fire.”

  Luke and Ben exchanged a look.

  Vestara finally spoke. “Being ordered about, constantly in danger, having to scramble for plans just to stay alive … this is what it’s been like for me for my entire stay on Dathomir. What’s it feel like?”

  Ben sighed. “Like life as usual.”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Star Wars:® Fate of the Jedi: Allies

  by Christie Golden

  Published by Del Rey Books

  ABOARD THE JADE SHADOW

  BEN WONDERED IF HE’D BE HIS FATHER’S AGE BEFORE THINGS STARTED going right for him on any basis other than what appeared to
be happy accidents.

  Then he wondered if he’d be older than his dad.

  True, he’d had a couple of uneventful years after the war. But then his father got arrested and exiled for a decade. Jedi who had spent formative years at Shelter in the Maw—and gee, Ben was among that number, how reassuring was that little fact?—started going crazy. Ben and Luke had learned about some creepily powerful being with dark slithery mental tendrils of need who was probably responsible for the crazy Jedi, and had been going to pay her a visit inside the Maw when they abducted a Sith. One that was unquestionably easy on the eyes, but who was nonetheless a Sith, from a whole planet load of them, no less. She was still with them right now, standing and smirking at them while nearly a dozen frigates crammed with her pals surrounded them.

  Yeah. He would definitely be older than his dad.

  Luke had followed the instructions given by the unnamed, unseen Sith commander of the Black Wave, placing the Shadow in parking orbit around Dathomir. There was no other choice, not with eleven ChaseMaster frigates ready to open fire.

  “A wise decision,” Vestara said. “I’m fond of my own life, so I’m glad you’re cooperating, but if you had attempted to flee, they most certainly would have destroyed you.”

  Luke eyed her thoughtfully. Clearly, he wasn’t so sure.

  “So,” Ben continued, “what are they going to do with us? Are we going to be the main attraction at some kind of Sith ritual party?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Vestara said. She might be lying through her teeth. She might be telling the truth. Ben simply couldn’t be sure.

  “Your cooperation is appreciated, Master Skywalker,” came the voice that had first hailed them. Ben and Luke exchanged puzzled glances. Of course Vestara had told them who was holding her captive, but why the courtesy and respectful title?

  “I am High Lord Sarasu Taalon, commander of this force,” the voice continued. “Your reputation precedes you. We have studied you, and your son, a great deal.”

  “I wish I could say the same,” Luke said. “I know nothing about you and your people, High Lord Taalon.”

  “No, you don’t. But I am prepared for that to change—somewhat. Your vessel carries a Z-95 Headhunter.”

  “It does,” Luke said. “I presume you’re about to ask me to come over to your flagship and chat over a nice glass of something.”

  “You and Vestara, yes,” Taalon said. “You will have to turn her back over to us, of course. But there is no reason we can’t be civilized about this.”

  “No, thanks,” Luke said. “Anything you have to say to me can be said at a distance. Vestara isn’t the worst companion I’ve ever traveled with. I think I’ll let her stay here with us for a while longer.”

  Ben looked again at the Sith girl. His father was right. She wasn’t the worst companion he’d ever traveled with.

  “Let us revisit that subject in a moment,” came Taalon’s reply. “As I’m sure you know by now, Apprentice Vestara Khai has done a commendable job of keeping us informed of what has transpired. We are aware that you are having … difficulty with certain Jedi who were fostered inside the Maw. We believe this is due to the intervention of a being known to us as Abeloth, whom Vestara encountered. Many of our own apprentices are displaying the same symptoms as your younger Jedi.”

  “Your younger Sith were in the Maw, as well?” Luke sounded skeptical.

  “No. But such identical displays of aberrant behavior cannot be attributed to anything else.”

  Ben, too, was skeptical. But there was so much they didn’t know yet. He shrugged slightly when his father’s blue eyes met his. It was possible.

  “We are many. You are only two,” Taalon continued. “We have a common cause.”

  “Are—are you proposing a formal alliance?” Luke was so surprised he didn’t even bother to hide it. Ben, too, literally gaped for a moment. Vestara seemed more shocked than any of them, judging by her expression and her feeling in the Force.

  “Precisely.”

  Luke started to laugh. “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like a very Sith thing to say.”

  The voice was cold when Taalon spoke again. “This creature, this Abeloth, has the audacity to reach out and harm our apprentices. Our tyros. To toy with the Tribe—the Sith. The insult cannot be borne. It will not be borne. We are going into the Maw. We will find her. And she will know pain a thousand times worse than anything she has visited upon us. She will learn what it truly means to attack the Tribe. We will take delight in destroying all that is precious to her, and then, slowly, we will end her.”

  Ben glanced at his father. “That, however, is a very Sith thing to say.”

  Luke nodded. To Taalon, he said, “It may be that we do not need to teach her a lesson, as it were. We may simply need to find out why she is doing this.”

  “And ask her nicely to please stop?”

  Ben thought Han Solo could learn a thing or two from this Sith about infusing one’s voice with sarcasm.

  “You just asked me nicely to help you out. Clearly you’re capable of good manners,” Luke replied, unruffled. “If it accomplishes the goal with fewer or perhaps no casualties, how is that not the best solution?”

  There was silence. “It is possible she may not be amenable to … polite conversation. What then, Master Skywalker?”

  “I will do whatever is necessary to free the ill Jedi from her control,” Luke said. “I assure you of that.”

  His voice was not harsh, but there was a tone in it Ben recognized. The deed was almost as good as done when Luke Skywalker spoke like that.

  “You agree, then?” Taalon asked.

  Luke didn’t answer at once. Ben knew what he was struggling with. And he was surprised that it was even a struggle for the Grand Master. Luke was a Jedi. These were Sith. There couldn’t possibly be an alliance. Everyone would constantly be watching and waiting for the inevitable betrayal.

  But then again … He glanced at Vestara. She came from an entire culture of Sith. They couldn’t possibly be backstabbing each other constantly—they’d have become extinct long ago. Somehow this flavor of Sith had learned how to cooperate. Vestara had proved it was possible. She had worked with Ben and his father before, on Dathomir—and that cooperation had saved Luke Skywalker’s life.

  “We do have a common goal,” Luke said at last. “It would be better to work toward it together rather than getting in each other’s way. But don’t think that I will not be expecting treachery at every turn. There are fewer enmities more ancient than that of Sith and Jedi.”

  A sigh. “This thing we both fight might be older than that,” Taalon said. “Well, I did not expect this to be a particularly comradely union. Very well. You deliver Vestara Khai. Together, in an alliance not seen since this galaxy was new, Sith and Jedi will confront and defeat their mutual foe—one way or the other. And after that … well, let us see where we stand then, shall we?”

  “Vestara stays here.”

  The Sith girl froze.

  There was a long silence.

  “I cannot permit that.”

  “Then we have no alliance.”

  Another long silence.

  Taalon finally spoke. “She has information we require. She comes with us, or there is no deal.”

  “Information about how to reach and confront our mutual foe?” Luke said, turning Taalon’s own flowery words back on him. “That, I do not object to permitting her to share. That was the information you were talking about, wasn’t it?”

  “She will come to no harm while entrusted in your … care,” said Taalon. “None. Or we will attack and destroy you down to your marrow and obliterate your very cells.”

  “Provided you keep your bargain, she’s perfectly safe. Jedi aren’t in the habit of torturing children.”

  Vestara frowned—presumably at being referred to as a child. Ben started to smile a little, despite the situation, then realized that she was the same age as he was. He shot his dad a disappointed glance.
/>   “Then I believe we have an agreement.”

  “Not just yet,” Luke said. “We need to decide who is going to be in charge of this alliance first.”

  “I would suggest we command as a pair, you and I,” Taalon said. “No Sith will take orders solely from a Jedi. And I am sure you would bridle at being told what to do by a Sith High Lord.”

  “I would indeed. And I would suggest we begin this joint command by sharing information. You first.”

  “Ah, but Master Skywalker, you have our source of information right there with you. Start with her. We will be prepared to depart within a half hour.”

  “So will we. I’ll be in touch. Jade Shadow out.”

  “Dad,” Ben said the second the communication was terminated. “You just agreed to help the Sith.”

  Luke shook his head. “No, son. I agreed to let the Sith help us.”

  Ben regarded him, incredulity mixed with curiosity. “You trust them to keep their word?”

  “I trust them to do what is best for them. And as long as what is best for them is best for us, then we’ll be fine.”

  “And when it’s not?”

  “Like Taalon said … we’ll see where we stand then. I’m prepared for that. There are two old sayings, Ben: ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ and ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.’”

  Luke pointedly turned to Vestara, who stood straight with her hands clasped behind her back. “Now,” he said, “High Lord Taalon assures me you know everything they do.”

  She lifted a small information chip. “Most of it’s here,” she said.

  “And what’s not there?” Luke asked.

  Vestara smiled slightly and tapped her temple. “And this is where it will stay until it is necessary. We have a card game on—on my world. It is called Mahaa’i Shuur, which means Ultimate Success in the tongue of the natives. The rules are complicated, but the goal is simple. The winner is the one who never, ever has to play his last card.”