The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  An icy splinter snapped in Ax’s heart at those words, leaving her unable to tell if she felt triumph or grief, or both.

  “I THINK IT’S TIME you told us everything you know,” said Master Satele.

  “I agree,” said Larin. “Since when do Mandalorians negotiate with anyone?”

  Ula remembered Jet telling him, They don’t believe they have any equals.

  “You were the person Xandret’s emissaries were hoping to meet,” Ula said. “You came looking for them when they didn’t show up.”

  The giant, domed helmet inclined in his direction. “Correct.”

  “Was Xandret herself supposed to be aboard the Cinzia?” asked Shigar. “Is that why you think she’s dead?”

  “No. She sent another. I believe she was here when she died.”

  “So you don’t know for sure?” asked the Sith. Her face had a white, pinched look under her bloodred dreadlocks.

  “I am certain of it.”

  “Did you kill her? Did you see her body?”

  “No.”

  “So how can you be certain?”

  Stryver tapped his helmet with one gloved finger. Ula couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s face, but was positive he was smiling.

  “She means nothing to me,” the young Sith said firmly, as though reassuring herself of the truth of it. “I just want to be certain.”

  “Be certain of this, Eldon Ax: when those droids your mother created leave this world, they will consume the entire galaxy in less than a generation.”

  Ula blinked. The claim was preposterous, but if Stryver truly believed it, that did explain another puzzling piece of the story.

  “So that’s why you were willing to talk to her,” Ula said. “Lema Xandret was a threat or a possible ally—just like the Empire.”

  “A force to be reckoned with, potentially,” said Master Satele. “A force we clearly underestimated. But you wouldn’t have taken her word on it. You must have received some kind of proof.”

  “A demonstration factory,” said Stryver. “In two days, it manufactured seventeen droids and two duplicates of itself using nothing but the materials around it. The duplicate factories went immediately to work, making another four factories and even more droids. Their rate of reproduction was limited only by the energy available to them; later we discovered how they send out roots to tap into the local supply, ensuring they never run out. Curious, we put the droids in the pit and they prevailed against all but the current champion. Then the droids and factories self-destructed, leaving insufficient remains for us to probe the secrets of their manufacture or function. The message was clear. The Mandalore sent me to pursue the conversation.”

  “Why did he send just you?” asked Larin. “You’re not much use to us on your own.”

  “I can confirm several hypotheses that you might already be forming. This will save you time so you can begin to act.” Stryver raised his right hand and began ticking off points. “One. Lema Xandret and her fellow refugees arrived on Sebaddon determined to cast off the hierarchy they had left behind. Fifteen years later, hiding was no longer sufficient: Xandret wanted revenge on the people who had stolen her daughter. So she sought out Mandalore to help her. She approached him because my culture eschews the Force. That, after all, was where all this started, with militarized religious cults turning children into monsters.”

  Ula didn’t dare look at the young Sith’s face. He didn’t know exactly how the Sith trained their acolytes, but this sounded plausible. He wondered if his Jedi “masters” had a similar system.

  “Two.” Stryver’s count continued. “During her self-imposed exile, Xandret and her fellow artisans advanced robotics in directions no one has ever seen before. Finding inspiration and materials in human biology itself, they sought to make droids that would neither age nor grow inflexible and hidebound, so their small colony could last forever. The technical challenges were immense, of course, but they made some progress in unexpected directions. The droids you’ve seen are advanced prototypes called fast breeders. Given enough metal and raw energy, they grow from seeds into fully formed combat versions in a matter of days. The nest on Hutta could have produced dozens of such killers if left undisturbed, and the same is true of the nests on Sebaddon. The hot spots you’ve been observing from above, the ones that look like cities, are in fact droid-building factories. They are churning out fast breeders by the thousand now that the planet’s defenses have been tripped. And not just fast breeders: new factories as well. That is where the true threat lies. This was the weapon she intended to use against the Empire.

  “Three. If left unchecked, Xandret’s breeder technology will inevitably outgrow its homeworld and spill out into the galaxy. The math of geometric progression is undeniable: one world this year, two worlds the next; then four, then eight; within a decade it’s two hundred and fifty worlds, then another decade later it’s a quarter of a million. One human generation is all they would need to take over the entire galaxy—along with Sith, Jedi, and Mandalorians alike.

  “Four. Negotiation is no longer an option. Xandret put all her prejudices into her droids. You’ve heard their voices. You know what drives them. The only solution is to crush Sebaddon completely. We must be ruthless, decisive, and thorough, in order to ensure that Lema Xandret’s legacy is completely eradicated. Just one nest would be enough to allow all this to start over again.”

  Stryver had run out of fingers on his right hand.

  “Are you finished?” asked the Sith.

  “I will be if this threat isn’t neutralized.”

  Stryver’s fists descended to take his weight, knuckle-first, on the side of the holoprojector.

  The sphere of Sebaddon turned unstoppably between them. Glowing red lights appeared and spread like a plague in fast motion. Soon the whole planet was red, and streams of tiny, malignant dots began to leap off the surface and escape into unseen spaces.

  “You said ‘we.’ ” Satele Shan’s voice made Ula jump. “We must be ruthless. I presume that was deliberate.”

  “It was. Everything I have seen, on Hutta and Sebaddon, confirms my worst fears. Sebaddon is responding to the threat you all represent by ramping up production. It must be stopped before the contagion spreads. Since neither Empire nor Republic can single-handedly destroy this menace with the resources available right now, you must work together to see it done.”

  “With you in charge, I suppose,” said Larin.

  “The end justifies the means.”

  “I will never take orders from a Mandalorian,” said the Sith in mocking tones. “And I will never fight alongside a Jedi. You are insane even to suggest it.”

  “There must be an alternative,” Master Satele said. “Another attempt at negotiation, perhaps—”

  “The planetary defense system is automated,” Stryver said. “The only voices coming from the planet originate with the fast breeders. That’s how I know that Lema Xandret is dead. Everyone down there is dead. It’s just the droids now, and you can’t negotiate with them.”

  “Well, we can’t trust one another,” said Shigar. “That’s some choice you’ve given us.”

  “Could I make it any other way, I would. Believe me.”

  Jedi and Sith glowered at one another over the hologram, and suddenly Ula knew exactly what he had to do. Once again, Jet had been absolutely right. Ula could see both sides at once, and save himself into the bargain.

  “Are you the leader of the Imperial fleet?” he asked the young Sith. He already knew the answer. The Emperor would never trust such wealth to someone so young, no matter how powerful she might be. But he had to ask, for appearance’s sake.

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Whoever that person is, then, I want to speak to them, face-to-face,” he said. “I believe I can bring the Empire to the table.”

  “You? My Master would gut a worm like you just to watch you die.”

  Ula’s stomach roiled. Her Master. He had hoped for a non-Sith commander, but would ha
ve to settle for what he got. “Take me to your command vessel and let me try. If I fail, by the sound of things, I might as well be dead.”

  “Your death is closer than you think. He’s in the shuttle.”

  “Well, then. All the better. It’ll be over quickly.”

  “Envoy Vii,” said Satele Shan, “be very careful. You must be absolutely sure of yourself.”

  “I am.” He straightened and puffed out his chest. “If the Empire agrees to Stryver’s suggestion, will you?”

  The Grand Master showed no sign of uncertainty. “Of course. We’re not at war, after all, and the threat is severe.”

  “Good.” Ula turned back to the Sith girl. She was tight-lipped with rage, as though she couldn’t believe his audacity. “This isn’t a trick. I’ll go with you now, if you’ll take me. Please.”

  “Just you,” she finally said. “No one else.”

  “That’s out of the question,” said Larin.

  “No,” he said, although his heart warmed at her concern. “I’m happy to go on my own. If I can’t convince them with words, what difference would a rifle or two make?”

  She reluctantly backed down. “Just be careful. We want you back in one piece.”

  “Not several?” said the Sith. She was grinning now, perhaps anticipating the sport her Master would have with him. “I refuse to guarantee anything.”

  Ula wondered if he looked as faint as he felt. What if she killed him the moment they were on the other side of the air lock, before he had a chance to speak? That would be the most awful irony of all.

  “I’m ready,” he said in as strong a voice as he could muster. “Let’s not keep your Master waiting.”

  “Indeed,” she said. “Let’s not.”

  “If we don’t hear from you within thirty minutes,” Stryver said, “we’ll assume you are dead.”

  Ula walked around the holoprojector and let the Imperial guards take him by the shoulders and frog-march him to the door. There was no turning back now. The eyes of his erstwhile allies in the Republic followed him as he was led off to betray them all.

  THE MOMENT THE air lock closed behind them, the puny envoy started to struggle. Ax strode on, her mind full of ways to lessen the inevitable consequences of her failure. She didn’t know what Darth Chratis had expected, but he was sure to turn this unexpected result against her. That she was finding it hard to think wasn’t helping.

  “Listen to me,” the envoy called after her. “You have to listen to me!”

  She didn’t slow down. She barely even heard him. Lema Xandret is dead, Stryver had said. Everyone down there is dead. She didn’t know why that pronouncement had made a difference, but it seemed to. Her family, her mother—what had happened to her father? She had never asked. Maybe he was dead, too, had died years ago, when she was a child. Maybe he was a Sith Lord who wouldn’t lower himself to be associated with a common woman. Maybe, she thought, just maybe …?

  Impossible. She mocked herself for even thinking it. Darth Chratis was no kind of father to her, and never would be. She needed no father, just like she needed no family. If Stryver was right and the fugitives were all dead, that just made her life easier. She wouldn’t have to expend the energy finding and killing them, in the Emperor’s name.

  “Please, I’m trying to tell you that I’m not who you think I am! We’re on the same side and have been all the time!”

  The squawking of the envoy finally penetrated her consciousness. On the brink of entering the shuttle, she stopped and reached out one half-gripped hand.

  He swept out of the guards’ hands and smashed into the air lock wall.

  “Don’t even think of lying to me,” she said.

  “I’m not.” The envoy was as pale as marble and his voice little more than a whisper, but he didn’t flinch as she approached. “I’m an Imperial agent.”

  She activated her lightsaber and held it across his throat.

  “You don’t look like a Cipher Agent. You’re not even fully human.”

  Her contempt was ferocious. “All right. Not an agent per se, but an informer at least. And I am loyal regardless what species I am. Utterly loyal. I swear it.”

  Ax didn’t move. She knew that many highly ranked Republic officers sometimes preferred nonhuman staff in the belief that this would protect them from surveillance. If this envoy had been turned, he would be highly prized by the Minster of Information.

  “I tried to board your shuttle on Hutta,” he pressed on, beginning to stammer now, “but the guards t-turned me away.”

  That much was true, and it made her hesitate. Ax couldn’t believe she was listening to him—and more, actually considering his story. But his brazenness and bravery in the face of certain death were persuasive. She had to admire his guts, even if she would see them sizzling if she found out that he was trying to trick her. It wasn’t impossible that he was a double agent placed by Satele Shan to lead her and her Master astray …

  Ax smiled with her teeth. Darth Chratis would know. If the envoy was telling the truth, it would be a boon for her. If not, her Master would have someone else upon which to act out his displeasure.

  “What species are you?” she asked him.

  “E-Epicanthix.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “We come from Panatha in the Pacanth Reach—”

  “I don’t care. If you ever want to see your home again—if you ever want to see anything again—then you’ll tell my Master everything you just told me, and convince him that it’s true.”

  “Who is your Master?”

  “Darth Chratis. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  If anything, the envoy went even paler.

  “Good. Then you appreciate the gravity of your situation.”

  She deactivated her lightsaber and let him drop. The guards picked him up and dragged him after her, into the shuttle where her Master waited.

  Darth Chratis awaited her in the shuttle’s spacious but inhospitable passenger cabin, wearing a bulky armored suit. Only his face was visible, pinched and puckered into a permanent scowl. He leaned heavily on his lightsaber staff.

  When he saw the envoy, his brow came down even farther.

  “Explain.”

  Ax did so, starting at Dao Stryver’s dire predictions and moving quickly on to the possibility of cooperation. The prisoner remained silent throughout, struck dumb by Darth Chratis’s forbidding mien. That was a good thing; had he interrupted at any point, he might have been killed out of hand.

  “And Satele Shan has been taken in by this Mandalorian’s machinations?” Her Master’s eyebrows, as thin as old scars, rose up toward his time-worn scalp.

  “It appears so,” she said. “She sent her envoy to negotiate on her behalf.”

  Now Darth Chratis’s stare descended fully upon him, and the envoy quailed. “Speak.”

  “My name is Ula Vii,” he stammered. “I report directly to Watcher Three in the operations division of the Ministry of Intelligence. I am your servant, my lord—a loyal agent of the Empire.”

  “A spy? How unfortunate for the Grand Master.” Darth Chratis’s face broke into a broad, cracked smile. “Tell me, spy, how you propose to betray her.”

  “Republic and Empire share the same initial objectives,” the envoy said, pulling free from the two guards. He had clearly been thinking hard while waiting his turn to speak. “The smashing of Sebaddon’s orbital defense system comes ahead of any invasion or mass bombardment—the purpose of which would be the neutralization of the planet’s central authority, since it must have one, human or artificial—and together, I agree that we can probably achieve that. But once we have the planet toothless and brainless, the need for an alliance will be gone. I suggest we turn on the Jedi and Dao Stryver then—break the so-called alliance and take what’s rightfully ours. Sebaddon will be the Emperor’s at last. I’ll supply misinformation at every opportunity, ensuring that the Grand Master does not ever find the chance to do the same to you.”

&nb
sp; “What do you ask for in return?”

  The envoy looked surprised by the question. “Me? Nothing, my lord. I’m simply doing my duty.”

  “There must be something important to you, beyond your duty. Ask, and it shall be yours.”

  “Well, there is one that I would ask you to spare, after your inevitable victory.”

  “Tell me who.”

  “She is no one, lower even than a trooper. Her name is Larin Moxla.”

  “Do you know this woman, Ax?” Darth Chratis asked.

  “I believe I do, Master.”

  “Good.”

  Darth Chratis’s smile disappeared. The envoy was wrenched roughly forward and raised into the air. He struggled against the invisible hold on him, but there was no resisting it. Ax had experienced the power of her Master’s Force grip. She knew how tight it could be.

  “Listen to me, spy.”

  The envoy frantically nodded, too frightened to speak aloud.

  “I cannot read you. Your mind is shielded from me, by either some unnatural contrivance or a natural talent. I suspect the latter. The Minster of Intelligence seeks out your kind in order to keep his secrets from both his masters and our enemy. So when I look into you, I see no loyalty to the Emperor. I sense only tangled allegiances, with no clear outcomes. Given a choice, I would never trust you.

  “Yet you and your kind are a loathsome necessity in times like these. I must find a way to curb your natural instinct for treachery. To that end …” Here Envoy Vii jerked violently forward, so he was staring straight into the eyes of Darth Chratis. “To that end, be sure that if you betray me I will hunt down the fancy of your nonhuman heart and put her through such torments that you will be grateful when I kill her. And then it will be your turn. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, my lord. Abundantly so.”

  The envoy dropped with a thud to the floor.

  “Very good,” said Darth Chratis. “Ax, get him out of my sight. You will return him to Satele Shan with the agreement he promised her, and you will accompany him as my official mouthpiece.”

  “But Master—”

  “Be silent! I could hardly let him go alone. They would never believe that I trusted them unless I took such precautions. You will watch the Grand Master, and you will watch this one, too. At the slightest sign of treachery, you will notify me and my wrath will descend upon both of them.”