Star Wars: Shadow Games

by Michael Reaves

  “Beg pardon?” said Spike, who had taken possession of Javul’s hand when she’d first sat down and hadn’t let go of it.

  Several of Eaden’s tresses did an enigmatic little dance. “The assassin is called Edge. He has a preference for bladed weaponry and likes to wound his targets, then move in and finish them at close quarters. He … also likes to take trophies.”

  “And you know this how?” asked Dash.

  “I have met Edge before. He … he assassinated the head of my order.”

  Suddenly all eyes were on the Nautolan, a situation that he obviously found disturbing.

  “Your teräs käsi order?” asked Dash.

  Eaden nodded. “I am … was … a member of a religious order called Sälãi Käsi: Hidden Hand. All were at least minimally Force-sensitive. Some time ago—when the Empire implemented Order 66, wiping out the Jedi—the Hidden Hand was targeted as well because of our potential to wield the Force. They systematically hunted us down and exterminated us, one by one, until only three initiates and our master, Neaed Fisto, remained.”

  “Fisto?” repeated Dash. “Any relation to General Fisto?”

  Kit Fisto, Jedi Master, was famous (or infamous, depending on your point of view) for his marshaling of Republic forces during the Clone Wars. He’d later served on the Jedi Council until its destruction by the Emperor. Who knew he’d had relatives back on the Nautolan homeworld?

  Eaden nodded. “A brother of his mother. An uncle, I believe you would say. The Force was, perhaps, as strong in my master as it was in Kit Fisto. Neaed was an impressive being and so much a mentor to my family that my mother chose to name me after him.”

  Nautolans weren’t known for seeking the limelight, Dash knew; in fact, they were, as a culture, so self-conscious that honoring a newborn by directly naming it after a famous or heroic character was considered gauche. The closest they would come was to make an anagram of the famous name, and even that was skirting the boundaries of propriety.

  “This Edge character murdered him?” Han asked, dropping onto a small container that had been repurposed as a stool.

  “Yes. I was present in the clan house of our order when Edge came for my master. Neaed Fisto sacrificed himself that I and the other initiates might escape.”

  Dash could only guess at the depth of feeling behind the simple words. Eaden was unmatched in the art of hiding his emotions when he wanted to.

  “But if this guy was trying to wipe out your whole order,” said Han, “then wasn’t he after you, too? I mean, who was he trying to kill just now—you or Javul?”

  Eaden’s tresses swayed this way and that. “Until today, I believe Edge thought me to be dead. After Neaed was killed, the three surviving members of the order—myself, my sister Eawen, and my cousin Nautif—determined that we must disappear. So we scattered and took up separate lives. We wait for an opportunity to rebuild the order and to aid, if possible, in the overthrow of the Empire.”

  Han snorted. “Oh, great. That’s what I get for renting out my ship—not one, but two people with a price on their heads.” He turned on Dash. “This is why I try to stay away from you, Rendar. You’re always getting yourself into seven different kinds of trouble. Your girlfriend has a crazy ex-boyfriend and your partner’s got an Empire target on his back. There something you want to tell me about that droid I’ve got piloting the Falcon? What’s he done that I should know about? He booby-trapped? Rigged to explode?”

  “Worse. His jokes are all duds,” Dash said. “Javul, look, I’d swear Hitch Kris was sincerely trying to keep you alive. Am I wrong?”

  “No, you’re right about Hitch. I don’t think he’d do this.”

  “What about Xizor?”

  “If I had to choose between the two,” said Javul slowly, “I’d say Xizor was a much more likely prospect.”

  Dash looked up at Eaden, who stood statue-still against the bulkhead. He couldn’t even imagine how the Nautolan must have felt to have such a specter from his past rise up out of the ether. “Wait a minute. You said your order was targeted at the same time Palpatine implemented the order to wipe out the Jedi—are you telling me this assassin works for the Empire?”

  “I don’t know who he works for now, but I am certain he was an Imperial hireling then.”

  “Okay,” said Han, rising from his makeshift stool, “that tears it. I’m dropping you all off at Bannistar Station and going back to Tatooine.”

  Javul speared him with her electric gaze. “I’ll double your fee if you take us to Bacrana. We’ll meet the Nova’s Heart there and you can leave.”

  Han put both fists on the table and glared down into Javul’s lovely face. “Bacrana? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m due to rendezvous with Chewie in a Tatooine week. Bacrana is no longer in my flight plan.”

  “We have to leave Bannistar on time, Han,” said Javul. “We have to. If you leave us in the lurch there, our chances of finding passage to Bacrana aren’t good and you know it.” There was tension in every line of her face.

  “Because of your contracts?”

  She nodded.

  “Which are more important than your lives?”

  She said nothing.

  “What’s this really about, Javul?”

  When she didn’t answer, Dash glanced at Mel, who’d been silent as a rock throughout. His face, too, was tense, watchful.

  Spike was glowering. “What—a bunch of outraged investors, stockholders, and advertising agencies isn’t enough for you?”

  “Maybe.” And maybe not.

  “We have to keep to our schedule,” Mel said quietly.

  “Sorry. That’s not my problem,” Han said, and left the room.

  Dash went after him. He caught up with him in the starboard passageway amidships.

  “Don’t abandon Javul on Bannistar, Han. Look, I’ll pilot the Falcon to Bacrana and you can just sit tight on the station and take a little R and R.”

  “You pilot the Falcon? Gimme a break. You’re a good pilot, Dash, but you’re not me.”

  “If anything happens to her, you can trust Javul to pay for it. In fact, if anything happens to her, you can have Outrider.”

  Han had been trying to move around Dash, who had been blocking his attempts. Now he stopped moving and stared at the other man, openmouthed. “You are seriously deranged. I feel sorry for you, Dash, I really do. Letting a woman get under your skin like that. I’ll tell you one thing—that’s never gonna happen to me.”

  “No, I’m sure it won’t. You’re too hardheaded. But you’re wrong about me. I haven’t let her get under my skin. I just want her to keep hers. And right now the best way to do that is to get her back with her tour.”

  “Liar. I’ve been paying attention. I figured part of the reason she hired me was so she could get away from her tour. Didn’t you say there might be a mole in her entourage? You want to get back with her tour like a rancor wants to be vegetarian. No, Dash. You think you can save her, but you can’t. Trust me on this one.” Han put a hand on Dash’s shoulder. “I’m warning you, buddy. You’re in this over your head. Whatever she’s into, it’s dangerous, and bigger than we can grasp, I promise you. You should get out—and, as a matter of fact, so should we all.”

  Han continued on to the cockpit, leaving Dash to marshal his chaotic thoughts before he returned to the passenger lounge. Eaden was on his way out. The Nautolan stopped him.

  “Do not think you have left Edge behind. If he lives, he will not give up. He will know her itinerary. You will most certainly meet him again on Bannistar Station.”

  Dash held the enigmatic maroon gaze for several breaths before he finally looked away. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he mumbled and reentered the lounge.

  Only Javul was there, still sitting at the table where he’d left her.

  “Eaden said—” he began.

  “I heard.”

  He sat down opposite her at the little table and took her hands in his. “Javul, I’m gonna make you an offer I hope you won’t
refuse. Quit whatever it is you’re doing. Change your name again. Come with me. We’ll take Outrider and go where even Edge won’t be able to find you.”

  Javul gave him the saddest smile he thought he’d ever seen and shook her head. “You have no idea how tempting that is, Dash—but I can’t.”

  He looked down at their clasped hands, took a deep breath, and let it out. “You picked up something in that shrine and I suspect that it’s got something to do with why you’re being followed and harassed and sabotaged and targeted for murder. You’ve gone into business for yourself, haven’t you? That’s why Black Sun is after you, isn’t it?”

  “You … could say that.”

  Wrong. That answer was too cautious. He’d shot wide of the truth again. He knew it as surely as he knew that Edge was going to catch up with them eventually. He raised his eyes to hers again, capturing her gaze. “Edge was an Imperial assassin when he killed Eaden’s mentor. He still is an Imperial assassin, isn’t he?”

  She didn’t answer, and he could see the thoughts turning in her head as she weighed them.

  “Come on, Javul. The whole truth this time. If I’m going to help you—protect you—I need to know what I’m up against. Really. Otherwise, I’m too likely to make the wrong assumptions, suspect the wrong people, and be looking the wrong way the next time we get blindsided by one of your fanboys.”

  “Tell him.”

  Dash jumped and spun, reaching for his blaster.

  Yanus Melikan stood in the compartment doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his pale gaze on Javul.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “No. Not at all. In fact, I think it’s a huge risk. But Dash has a point. As long as he’s here, he can’t protect you if he doesn’t know what to protect you from.”

  Dash felt a nervous itch between his shoulder blades. “Tell you what, Mel—why don’t you have a seat?” He pointed at the seat next to Javul.

  Mel smiled crookedly. “You mean where you can see me?” He crossed to the table and sat down, giving Javul a wry look.

  She squared her shoulders and met Dash’s eyes. “Okay, Dash—here it is. The unvarnished truth. I’m not in business for myself and I’m not moving illicit goods under the cover of my tours. I’m moving something a good deal more important than that. I … we …”—she nodded at Mel—“are moving cargo and information critical to the success of the Rebel Alliance.”

  Dash felt as if he’d just been shoved out an air lock.

  “And Hitch Kris …”

  “My relationship with Hitch—and the career he jumpstarted—was a cover for our activities. It gave us a certain level of protection and the means of moving information—and resources—with impunity. It also gave us an immense information network—an eye on developments within Black Sun and the Empire. There are Rebellion operatives and informants on every world, and my tours give us access to them.”

  A few more pieces fell into place in Dash’s head. “Your little ‘excursions’?”

  Javul nodded. “When Hitch was using my entourage for smuggling his own goods and operatives, he put our whole network in danger. As soon as I realized it, I had no choice but to part company with him.”

  “He almost found us out,” said Mel quietly. “And I think he suspects what Javul is really engaged in and is at a loss to know what to do about it. Black Sun has an uneasy relationship with the Empire.”

  Dash nodded. “Okay … so his little sabotage efforts were aimed at getting you to stop?”

  “At first, I think they were just aimed at getting me to come back under his influence,” Javul said. “But when he came backstage on Christophsis … I’m pretty sure he’d figured out that I wasn’t just being stubborn. And he realized someone else was in the game.”

  “Someone who wants your show permanently shut down.”

  She nodded.

  “The Emperor.”

  “Possibly. Or possibly someone else who suspects what we’re doing and doesn’t like it. Xizor maybe.”

  Dash shook his head. “Xizor is no friend to the Empire.”

  “He’s less of a friend to me. In fact, he’s supposed to believe I’m an Imperial informant against Black Sun.”

  “So, when you ratted out Hitch and Xizor, it was to make the Imperials think you were a good little citizen?”

  “Exactly. Plus, it shut down Black Sun smuggling in the same trade corridor we were using. Nor did it hurt to have Xizor suspect I had high-level Imperial connections.”

  “Then,” said Dash, “we may have an Imperial spy among us.”

  “Or did have,” said Mel. “I’m not sure that we didn’t leave them behind on Tatooine. The cargo bay problem, as Leebo pointed out, could’ve been set up while we were docked and triggered automatically.”

  “I guess that attack on the Nova’s Heart was a lucky break, then, huh?”

  Dash caught the look that passed between Mel and Javul.

  “Not exactly luck,” said Mel.

  Dash leaned back in his seat. “You’re kidding me. You staged that?”

  “We staged it,” Javul agreed. “I arranged for it our last night on Rodia, in fact. You remember Rancor’s Wrath, I’m sure.” There was a spark of wry humor in her eyes. “We needed to get back to Tatooine and get a different ship. We needed to be able to leave the crew with the Heart because, frankly, I didn’t know who I couldn’t trust. I only knew who I could trust.” She glanced aside at Mel.

  “Not to be a party-killer or anything,” said Dash, “but are you sure about this guy?”

  Javul’s smile was brief and bright. “Captain Dash Rendar, meet Commander Yanus Melikan, Rebel Alliance, Corellian Guard.”

  Well, that turned a bunch of Dash’s pet theories on their heads. “Oh. Commander, huh?”

  Mel inclined his head.

  “Okay. Great. I’m up to my eyeballs in a Rebel plot. I really, really don’t want to be up to any part of my anatomy in a Rebel plot. I just want to earn enough credits to fix up my ship and mind my own business and …”

  He caught himself in the lie. He wanted more than that. His brush with Edge had made him realize, in some place beneath conscious thought, that he wanted to right the wrong that had been done to his family—and to all the other innocent people who’d gotten caught in the crossfire between the Black Sun underlord and the Empire. It galled him that Xizor had used his brother to extract his pound of flesh from the Empire, and had used the Empire to wrest control of RenTrans from his family. It galled him further that Eaden, too, had lost a large part of his life to the Palpatine’s lust for power.

  He let none of this show in his face. He put none of it into words. Instead he said, “But I guess I’m in too deep not to see this through. Fine, then. What is it we’re protecting or moving or whatever it is we’re doing?”

  Javul flicked a glance at the doorway. Mel rose and went to check the passage for eavesdroppers. He shook his head, but remained standing in the access.

  Javul leaned close to Dash across the table and lowered her voice. “At this moment, there is a set of plans on the move that can seriously undermine the Empire’s military strategy. We don’t know where they are or who’s actually handling them. They could be in my hands right now … or they could be someplace halfway across the galaxy. None of us knows. Which means that the Empire doesn’t know, either.”

  “You’re a decoy.”

  “I don’t know. I might not be the decoy. I might be the real deal.”

  Dash nodded, noting—as if from a distance—that his sense of self-preservation seemed to have curled up and gone to sleep. Or perhaps it was merely stunned into silence.

  “What’s the mission?” he asked.

  “We’re to pick up a container on Bannistar Station. Presumably it contains replacement parts for my holographic rig. We don’t know what’s really in it. We’re to deliver it to our liaison on Alderaan.”

  “What about the data wafer?”

  “Identification codes for the compartment
containing the cargo, and new orders.”

  “After Bannistar Station,” said Mel, “we can’t continue with our scheduled itinerary. It’s too dangerous. We’re to pick up the package and go straight to Alderaan.”

  Straight to Alderaan. Great. All they had to do was avoid being assassinated by Edge, stopped by a Black Sun saboteur, or simply blown out of the skies by an Imperial cruiser.

  None of that concerned Dash Rendar so much, though, as how they were going to convince Han Solo to take them to Alderaan.

  “Rebel Alliance? Rebel Alliance?” Han rocked back in his cockpit chair and stared at Dash, who sat in the copilot’s seat. He looked almost ill. “You’re kidding me. What is this—the cause of the day?”

  “It’s not like that and you know it. She’s completely committed to this mission.”

  “Mission.” Han shook his head. “Never trust a woman who’s committed to a mission.” He sat forward, put his elbows on the console and his head in his hands. After a couple of moments he looked up. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll drop this bunch on Bannistar Station and head back to Tatooine.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t want us out, Han, I want you in. We need to get Javul to Bannistar. While they’re getting the show set up, we can get the package from storage and get it aboard the Falcon—”

  Han raised both hands to stem the flow of words. “Whoa, whoa! You’re saying you want me to help you get this thing aboard my ship? You want me to smuggle Rebellion stuff under the Emperor’s nose?”

  “You’re a smuggler, Han. It’s what you do.”

  “Yeah, but not for the Rebel Alliance. That’s crazy, and I ain’t crazy … yet. Do you have any idea what would happen if we got caught doing this?”

  “Yeah, I do, as a matter of fact. That’s why I suggested you could just stay behind on Bannistar.”

  “The Falcon doesn’t go anywhere I don’t. That clear?”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  Han stood up suddenly, banging his head on the cowling over the flight console. “Ow! No, I won’t do it! Are you nuts? This is suicide! You may be willing to put your life on the line for this girl, but I’m not.”