BY DREW KARPYSHYN
STAR WARS
Star Wars: Darth Bane: Path of Destruction
Star Wars: Darth Bane: Rule of Two
Star Wars: Darth Bane: Dynasty of Evil
Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan
Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation
MASS EFFECT
Mass Effect: Revelation
Mass Effect: Ascension
Mass Effect: Retribution
TEMPLE HILL
Baldur’s Gate II: Throne of Bhaal
Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2012 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization. Excerpt from Star Wars: Scoundrels copyright © 2012 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.
Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
This book contains an excerpt from Star Wars: Scoundrels by Timothy Zahn. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
eISBN: 978-0-345-53567-2
www.starwars.com
www.delreybooks.com
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Jacket design and illustration: LucasArts
v3.1
To Jennifer, the reason for everything
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
About the Author
Excerpt from Star Wars: Scoundrels
Introduction to the Star Wars Expanded Universe
Excerpt from Star Wars: The Old Republic: Revan
Introduction to the Old Republic Era
Excerpt from Star Wars: The Old Republic: Deceived
Introduction to the Rise of the Empire Era
Excerpt from Star Wars: Death Star
Introduction to the Rebellion Era
Excerpt from Star Wars: Shadow Games
Introduction to the New Republic Era
Excerpt from Star Wars: Scourge
Introduction to the New Jedi Order Era
Excerpt from Star Wars: New Jedi Order: Vector Prime
Introduction to the Legacy Era
Excerpt from Star Wars: Legacy of the Force: Betrayal
Excerpt from Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Outcast
Star Wars Novels Timeline
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Though my name is the one featured on the cover of this book, as with any Star Wars novel it couldn’t have come together without the contributions of many other people. Theron Shan and Teff’ith were first introduced in Star Wars: The Old Republic: The Lost Suns comic series, so I have to thank Alexander Freed and the folks over at Dark Horse Comics for creating such fun and memorable characters. Similarly, Jace Malcolm, Satele Shan, and several other characters featured in Annihilation were originally created by the Star Wars: The Old Republic team over at BioWare, so I owe them a debt of gratitude as well.
I’d also like to thank everyone over at Del Rey and LucasBooks, particularly my editors, Frank Parisi and Jennifer Heddle. Weaving a new story into a collaborative setting like the Star Wars universe is always a delicate proposition, and I couldn’t have done it without all their feedback and help.
Finally, I’d like to give a special acknowledgment to all the fans of my writing: Without your support, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Theron Shan; Republic Strategic Information Service agent (human male)
Marcus Trant; Director of Republic Strategic Information Service (human male)
Jace Malcom; Supreme Commander of the Republic military (human male)
Satele Shan; Grand Master of the Jedi Order (human female)
Gnost-Dural; Jedi Master (Kel Dor male)
Teff’ith; smuggler for the Old Tion Brotherhood (Twi’lek female)
Gorvich; smuggler for the Old Tion Brotherhood (human male)
Darth Karrid; Sith Lord (Falleen female)
Darth Marr; Sith Lord (human male)
Minister Davidge; Imperial Minister of Logistics (human male)
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.…
PROLOGUE
THE AIR INSIDE THE CAVE was cool, but a thin sheen of perspiration coated Satele Shan’s skin. The hard, uneven stone dug into her back and shoulders through the blanket she lay on. She shifted and twisted to escape the discomfort, the dim light of glow sticks casting the shadow of her writhing limbs into a grotesque dance on the far wall.
“Try to remain still, Satele.”
Master Ngani Zho, the mentor who had brought her to the sanctuary of this cave, spoke softly, but his deep voice still resonated in the close confines of their hidden refuge.
Outside, the galaxy was engulfed by war. The Sith, ancient enemies of the Jedi Order long thought extinct, had returned to threaten the existence of the Republic that had stood for thousands of standard years.
Satele Shan had seen the horrors of this war firsthand, battling with her fellow Jedi alongside the soldiers of the Republic against the enemy hordes. She had seen worlds burn. She had seen friends die. She had suffered more than she ever imagined she could and survived. Yet the pain she experienced now was something entirely different.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
The mantra of the Jedi helped her focus, and she closed her eyes as she tried to draw on the Force to calm herself. But her body refused to obey her mind, and instead of a slow pattern of inhale–exhale, her breath continued to come in ragged, rapid gasps.
The Masters at the Jedi academy had never prepared her for this. How could they?
“Satele! Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
Her eyes snapped open in response to Ngani Zho’s voice. Gritting her teeth while another wave of agony washed over her, she could only nod in reply, her fingers clenching his hand as she tried to draw the strength to sustain herself through this ordeal.
“We’re almost done, Satele. Just one more push.”
The final contraction felt like it was ripping her apart, but she followed her Master’s instructions and pushed despite the pain. Satele screamed, and then suddenly the pain was gone. An instant later the loud cries of a child—her child—filled the cave.
“It’s a boy, Satele,” Master Zho sai
d as he cut the umbilical. “You have a son.”
Satele had known the child she carried was male for months; she had felt him through the Force as his life grew stronger within her. But hearing the words spoken aloud somehow made this all feel more real. She had brought life into a galaxy overwhelmed with death.
“Here, Satele,” Master Zho whispered, holding the infant out to her.
Exhausted, she struggled to find enough strength to reach out with her weary arms. Ngani had wrapped the babe in a swaddling blanket; warm and enveloped as he had been in the womb, he was no longer crying.
Pulling the child close to her chest, she couldn’t help but wonder what destiny the Force had chosen for her son. She had no doubt his path would be a difficult one, for in these dark times no path was easy. What role would he play in the fate of the galaxy?
She knew her own role well enough: Satele Shan, hero of the Republic, paragon of the Jedi Order. Strong in the Force. She was a champion of the light; a symbol; an icon.
The rank and file saw her as the embodiment of everything the Jedi and the Republic stood for. And that was why she had been forced to hide her pregnancy. For the first months it had been simple—the loose-fitting Jedi robes had easily covered the swelling of her belly. But in the later months a more elaborate ruse was necessary.
She couldn’t have done it without Master Zho’s help. When her condition became impossible to conceal and she had been forced to go into hiding, he had told the Jedi Council and the leaders of the Republic military that he had sent Satele on a vital mission—something he could not speak of for fear of endangering her life. Given Master Zho’s impeccable reputation, none had questioned him.
Now, however, the mission was over. It was time for her to return; the Republic had fought too long without their champion. The Sith Empire’s relentless advance had gone too far. She could no longer ignore the Republic’s need.
“Are you sure about this, Satele? You don’t want to reconsider?”
Satele looked down at the baby resting so peacefully in her arms, and realized she would treasure this moment for the rest of her life. Whenever she was scared or alone or consumed by grief, she could draw on the memory of the first time she held her son.
In the early stages of her pregnancy, she’d struggled against her maternal feelings as she’d felt the life growing inside her. She had tried to rationalize her protective instincts as nothing more than a biological imperative—an evolutionary mechanism to ensure the propagation of the species. But as the weeks and months passed, she realized her love for her unborn child was more than just biology and hormones. The emotional bond was real, and her desire to do anything—take any risk or commit any act—to protect her son was almost overwhelming.
She would do everything in her power to protect him—even terrible, violent things. She would put his needs above all others, even if it meant an entire planet must suffer to spare him pain. Given her position and power, this was unacceptable.
“You promised you would take him,” Satele said softly, gazing down into the child’s wide, wondering eyes.
“I will,” Ngani assured her. “If that’s still what you want.”
“What I want has nothing to do with it,” she muttered as she reluctantly handed the child back to her Master. “For the sake of the galaxy, this is what must be.”
As he took the child from her arms, the moment of greatest joy she would ever know ended. The child began to whimper, so Ngani stood up and began to cross quickly back and forth across the cave’s uneven floor. The movement seemed to settle the child, much to Satele’s relief.
“And you’re sure you don’t want to tell the father?” her Master asked as he paced.
“No. He’s a good man, but there is darkness in him.”
Ngani nodded, accepting her decision.
“What’s his name?” he asked.
Satele was momentarily taken aback. He had never asked her the father’s name before, and she had never offered it. Then she realized he was talking about the baby.
“You are going to raise him,” she said with a shake of her head. “You should choose his name.”
The Jedi Master stopped pacing and fixed her with a glare she remembered from her days as a Padawan.
“You’re his mother. His name should come from you.”
Satele turned her head to the side and closed her eyes as exhaustion washed over her.
“Theron,” she murmured. “His name is Theron.”
CHAPTER 1
THERON SHAN WALKED QUICKLY through the packed streets of Nar Shaddaa’s Promenade. His unassuming features—pale skin, brown hair, brown eyes, average build—allowed him to blend easily into the crowd. The cybernetic implants visible around his left eye and right ear were his most distinguishing features, but he wasn’t the only one sporting them on Nar Shaddaa, and they typically didn’t draw unwanted attention.
The Hutt-controlled moon was a landscape of unfettered urban sprawl, marked by towering skytowers crammed too close together and gaudy, glowing billboards that dominated the horizon as far as the eye could see in every direction. Sometimes called Little Coruscant, it was hard to accept Nar Shaddaa as a true homage to the Republic capital world; in Theron’s eyes it was more akin to a grotesque parody.
Coruscant had been designed with an eye to aesthetics: there was a pleasing flow to the cityscape and a consistent and complementary style to the architecture. The city was carefully divided into various districts, making it easy to navigate. The pedestrian walks were crowded but clean, the endless stream of airspeeders overhead stayed within the designated traffic lanes. On Coruscant, there was an unmistakable sense of order and purpose. At times, Theron found it positively stifling.
Here on the Smugglers’ Moon, however, it was a glorious free-for-all. Run-down residential buildings were scattered haphazardly among seedy-looking commercial structures; factories abutted restaurants and clubs, with no regard for the toxic clouds of filth spilling out over the patrons. With no traffic rules in force, airspeeders and swoop bikes darted and dived in seemingly random directions, sometimes flying so low the pedestrians ducked and covered their heads.
As Theron turned a corner, he realized someone was following him. He hadn’t actually seen anyone on his tail, but he could sense it. He could feel eyes watching him, scoping him out, measuring him as a target.
Master Ngani Zho, the Jedi who’d raised him, would probably have claimed Theron’s awareness came through the Force. But despite coming from a long line of famous Jedi, Theron wasn’t one of the Order. In fact, he had no special connection to the Force at all.
What he did have was a decade’s worth of experience working for Republic Strategic Information Service. He’d been trained to notice minute details; to be hyperaware of his surroundings at all times. And even though his conscious mind was distracted by the details of his coming mission, his subconscious one had instinctively picked up on something that had triggered alarms in his head. He knew better than to ignore them. Careful not to break stride, turn his head, or do anything else that might tip off his pursuer, Theron used his peripheral vision to scan the area.
At street level, everything was a chaotic mishmash of bright, flashing colors. A constant assault from an army of pink, purple, green, and blue signs and billboards provided perfect camouflage for whoever might be following him. Fortunately the intensity of the inescapable neon was muted by the layer of grime that clung to every surface—a reminder of the unchecked pollution in the atmosphere that would eventually transform Nar Shaddaa into an uninhabitable wasteland.
It wasn’t easy to pick someone who looked suspicious out from the crowd. The population of the Smugglers’ Moon was as varied, unpredictable, and seedy as the surroundings. In the years since the signing of the Treaty of Coruscant, the Hutts had remained staunchly neutral in the ongoing cold war between the Republic and the Sith Empire, making Nar Shaddaa a common gathering place for criminal elements from all corners of the galaxy: Black Su
n slavers, Rodian pickpockets, Twi’lek hustlers, Chevin stim dealers. Any and all illicit activities were tolerated on Nar Shaddaa, provided the Hutts got their cut.
Still, there were those too greedy or stupid to cut the Hutts in on their action. When that happened there were consequences. Things got messy.
Is that what this is about? Theron wondered. Is Morbo on to me? Did he send someone to take me out?
He passed by the statue of Karragga the Unyielding that dominated the Promenade. Though he’d been to Nar Shaddaa many times, he couldn’t help but pause for a second and shake his head in disbelief: a thirty-meter-tall Hutt made of solid gold was too ostentatious to ignore. Shaking his head also gave him a chance to quickly glance from side to side to catch a glimpse of someone darting into a doorway off to his left. He didn’t get a good look at whoever it was, but the sudden movement was unnatural enough to stand out.
Someone working alone. Could be a mugger. Or a trained assassin.
Theron was on a tight schedule; it was time to force the action. He turned down a narrow side street, leaving the worst of the crowds—and the relative safety they provided—behind. Off the main thoroughfare there were fewer neon lights and more shadowy corners. If his tail was going to try something, this was the perfect place to make a move.
A slight buzzing of the cybernetic implant in his right ear alerted him to an incoming transmission. There was only one person who knew his private frequency. Theron had to take the call.
“Accept incoming,” he whispered. Louder, he said, “Director.”
“Theron.” The head of Strategic Information Service, as he so often did, sounded annoyed. “Where are you?”
“I’m on vacation,” Theron replied. “I put in for some R and R. Remember?”
Theron realized the Director’s call could work to his advantage. Whoever was following him would think he was distracted, vulnerable. All he had to do was pretend to be oblivious while listening for his stalker to creep up close, then suddenly turn the tables.
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