by Claudia Gray
“Thank the Force it’s less powerful,” Obi-Wan said. “If it weren’t, my blow would’ve killed Deren.”
“Hell, you’d have cut him in two,” Averross replied.
After a brief pause, Qui-Gon nodded. “And I should imagine the potential black market for these shields will dry up as soon as it becomes known the Jedi have a way to cut through them after all.”
Obi-Wan tucked his lightsaber back into his belt, but then hesitated. “I’m assuming we can get my kyber crystal back. It’s probably still in the palace somewhere, right?”
“Probably,” Averross said. Even to him, his voice sounded dead.
“Are you sure she’s queen?” Qui-Gon said as the corvette headed into deep space in pursuit of blackguards, and of Fanry. “The ceremony wasn’t completed.”
“I’ll say.” Averross leaned his head back against the shining white back wall, and focused on the array of lights on the bridge, so he wouldn’t have to pay attention to what was on the viewscreen. “But yeah. As soon as a consecrated crown of Pijal lay on her head, Fanry became queen. And since she didn’t sign the treaty, the old rules are still in place, which means she’s got absolute power.”
From the sound of it, one of Fanry’s first orders would be for his exile. Or execution.
“Good news,” Obi-Wan said, looking up from a comm panel. “Apparently Captain Deren’s going to live. At least he can explain some of this afterward.”
“Assuming the rest of us live,” Averross said.
Qui-Gon gave him a look, and Averross wondered if he was about to get a lecture about being defeatist. Better that than what he did get: “Rael, did you never see any sign of this?”
“No. Yes. I mean, now that I think about it—I’d feel this energy in her, through the Force. This determination to rule. Just figured that meant she was mature, but it looks like there was more to it than that.” He sighed. “And she never did cozy up to Czerka. Never figured out that I was only cozyin’ up to them for her. And she kept that girl Cady close to her, or to me, pretty much all the time. At the time, I figured Cady was just her favorite. But now she’s looking like a partner in crime.”
“Maybe so,” Qui-Gon said. “Though Cady may simply be following her owner’s orders—but I sensed hope within her. Not resignation.”
So half the palace knew the real Fanry this whole time, Averross thought. But not me. “Okay,” he said, pulling himself together, or as close to it as he was going to get. “What do we do now?”
“It looks as though the royal ship—the Righteous?—is heading for an assault on the Leverage,” said Obi-Wan. He frowned down at the array of schematics lit up on the consoles around them. “They’ve pulled in other royal or blackguard vessels to help. Though I guess the blackguards were royal, all along—”
“Here’s what we’ll do,” said Qui-Gon, as calmly as though he’d had this plan for years. “Rael, you and I need to board the Righteous and take custody of Fanry.”
Rael laughed. The sound was strange in his throat. “Arrest her? For what? She’s got absolute power now. Doesn’t matter what she does—it’s the law.”
Qui-Gon shook his head. “The queen has absolute power in the Pijal system. However, she has no power that protects her from the crime of attacking a designated representative of the Republic.” With that, he nodded at Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan didn’t seem as confident. “Surely killing several thousand Czerka people counts as a pan-galactic offense.”
“It does,” Qui-Gon said, “but Czerka sometimes ‘takes initiative’ and pursues those who’ve committed crimes against the corporation. They claim to handle such matters without help from the courts—but sometimes, they wreak a bloody vengeance. I have no doubt they would here. Czerka must not be the authority to step in. It must be the Republic.”
Even though they had to do something, it still hurt Averross to think of arresting Fanry. “Speakin’ of Obi-Wan, where’s he gonna be?”
“He’s going to be boarding the Leverage, both to keep Czerka from taking any punitive steps and to liberate an associate of ours,” said Qui-Gon.
“The Leverage’s security is tight,” Averross said. “Like, tighter than the Galactic Senate’s. How do you think you’re going to get in there without being spotted?”
Qui-Gon smiled. “As it happens, we have a ship with a scanner-blocking field—and an operative ready to help us take it inside the Leverage itself.”
* * *
—
Pax Maripher had never felt good about the Jedi’s plan. Not because he didn’t think it would work—it seemed to have a decent chance of success—but because he hadn’t come up with it. Obviously his plan would’ve been far superior, had he ever devised one.
But his objections had become both more numerous and more pointed as Coronation Day wore on. First, according to the comms, the coronation hadn’t gone off at all, with the young queen revealing herself as some sort of power-hungry zealot. It sounded quite exciting, and Pax looked forward to watching the many dramatic holovids that would undoubtedly be made about it. Then, in the wake of that fiasco, the Leverage had gone on high alert. It would’ve been difficult enough to slip through Czerka security on a normal day, but on high alert? And the cover for their rescue mission was meant to be provided, at least in part, by masses of Pijali people taking their personal ships into space to celebrate the day. Didn’t sound like much celebration was in the offing.
Which meant not only that Rahara was still trapped in that Czerka behemoth, but also that he now had no way to get her out again…
The comms chimed, startling Pax out of his cockpit reverie. He opened the channel. “Kenobi? Is that you?”
“It’s me,” Obi-Wan said. He sounded far happier than the situation called for. “We’re changing the plan.”
“Obviously. Though I’ve no idea how you expect to breach—”
“Rendezvous with our corvette.” That was Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice coming through now. “Obi-Wan can transfer to the Meryx then. After that, I’ll provide a diversion to distract the Leverage while you slip through.”
Pax squinted suspiciously. “What sort of ‘diversion’?”
“You’ll see.” With that, Qui-Gon signed off. How like a Jedi. Cryptic to the last.
But the annoyance was empty. Mere reflex from his mind. Inside, Pax only cared about one thing: Rahara would get another chance.
* * *
—
The rendezvous took only minutes; Obi-Wan practically vaulted on board, and Pax Maripher had blasted back into space the literal second the atmospheric shield dropped. As soon as Qui-Gon got confirmation that the Meryx was away, he gestured to the corvette’s comm officer. “Signal the Leverage. Inform them that the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn wishes to speak to whoever’s in charge.”
Moments later a holo flickered into shape on the bridge, revealing the face of Meritt Col. “Jedi Jinn,” she said, tucking a lock of hair back into her elaborate hairstyle, or what remained of it. “Well. That was unexpected, wasn’t it?”
“You have a gift for understatement, Supervisor.” Qui-Gon assumed a look of the deepest concern. “We thought Captain Deren had killed you.”
“No. Singed me, yes.” She gestured with irritation to a black mark on her white jacket. “Official supervisor formalwear isn’t cheap, you know.”
Czerka charged its own people for their uniforms? That was…not surprising, actually. Qui-Gon said, “I felt I should inform you that the queen’s ship, the Righteous, appears to be planning an attack on your vessel.”
Col held on to her temper—barely. “Really. The queen who just proclaimed my employer to be evil and had her captain attempt to murder me at her own coronation? She might attack me? How very shocking. Thank you for this entirely unpredictable news.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan’s tracker
getting closer and closer to the Leverage. The Meryx itself, with its scanner-blocking field activated, was as invisible to him as it was to the Leverage. “I can’t be sure of this,” he said, “but it’s possible that the Righteous carries some sort of advanced weapon—something purchased on the black market, from the Hutts, some time ago. We can definitely confirm that her blackguards were in contact with Wanbo the Hutt’s cartel on Teth.”
This was all entirely true. Of course, there was absolutely no reason to think Fanry’s ship had any such weapon…but it was possible.
“The Hutts?” Col motioned to someone off-holo. “Quick, turn all scanners on the Righteous, full strength.”
Qui-Gon resisted the urge to smile as Obi-Wan’s tracker zoomed up to the Leverage and disappeared inside it.
* * *
—
Obi-Wan held his breath as the Meryx slipped into an auxiliary cargo bay of the Leverage—the kind of place that should be controlled by autosensor, and empty of sentients or droids. If Qui-Gon had succeeded in drawing Meritt Col’s full attention—
“We’re clear,” he said with a grin as the Meryx settled into a repulsor berth, where it would rest in midair. “Once the bay doors close, we can set out in search of Rahara. The palace records provided a couple of diagrams—here, on the scanner—so we ought to be able to find her.”
“Correction,” said Pax Maripher, who was rolling up the sleeves of his overlarge blue shirt. “I ought to be able to find her. You, on the other hand, are going to wait here so you can get us clear of the Leverage the first moment possible.”
“If I’m with you, that wouldn’t put off our departure by more than a minute or two—”
“Which, given the situation, is a terrifyingly large margin of error, and therefore unacceptable.” Pax straightened up and ran his hands through his wild hair, rendering it messier than ever. “It’s also possible another diversion may be needed, one your Master won’t be able to provide while he’s confronting the queen.”
Obi-Wan would much rather have been in the thick of things, but what Pax said made sense. “All right, then. I’ll wait here. But take this with you.” He handed Pax his scanner, complete with schematics, and a comlink. “Let me know what you can, when you can.”
The Leverage bay doors shut. Pax immediately went for the exit. “As I said—be ready!”
* * *
—
Qui-Gon reached out with the Force, attempting to scan the Righteous. Reading a large area was difficult, particularly when many people were within it, but he wanted only to get a sense of whether the entire crew supported Fanry’s quest, or whether they felt trapped by duty. He picked up veins of both sentiments, yet found it impossible to determine which was stronger.
“Are you ready?” he said to the captain of the Corellian corvette.
The captain nodded. “It’s going to tax us to the limit—but we can do it.”
With that, the corvette locked its tractor beam on the Righteous. As soon as the queen’s ship realized its predicament, it began attempting to pull away. Although the corvette shuddered from the resistance, it remained stable. The beam didn’t break.
“Signal the Righteous,” Qui-Gon said. “Tell them it’s time to talk.”
As the comm officer did so, the security chief straightened. “The Righteous is powering up weapons!” The Nautolan must have been a civilian worker, not a soldier, because his tentacles trembled at the thought.
“Get closer.” It was the first thing Rael had said in hours that was tactical rather than reactive. “Make it obvious that if she blows us up, we’ll take her with us.”
Qui-Gon frowned—that sounded dangerously vindictive. But it was a valid tactical move.
Rael’s maneuver worked. It wasn’t long before the comm officer reported, “The Righteous wants to talk to us.”
“Very well.” Qui-Gon straightened his robe and folded his hands together in front so that the sleeves draped over them. Be in this moment, he thought, willing his spirit to achieve the same calm strength as his body.
The hologram that shimmered into being on the corvette’s bridge was far larger than the one projected by the Leverage. This was a royal vessel, and the effect was meant to be one of a royal audience. Queen Fanry appeared, slightly larger than life, flanked by a heavily armed honor guard—and in the back, wearing a soldier’s uniform rather than the usual gray coverall, stood Cady.
To his eyes, Fanry looked transformed. She wore the ceremonial sword at her side and a silvery breastplate over her gown, and her freed hair blazed like fire, but none of that altered her as greatly as the confidence and fury that shone from her like a light. This, he understood, was the first time he’d ever truly seen her.
If I’d tried to see her before, Qui-Gon realized, the Force would’ve shown me some of the spirit she hid inside. But I didn’t try. I took her for the child she presented herself to be.
There was no Jedi so wise that he could not be undone by his own assumptions.
“We welcome the chance to speak with you, Jedi Jinn,” said Fanry. “Our former regent is less welcome—but as we have granted truce to you, we will honor it for him.”
Rael rasped out the words, “Fanry—why?” Despite the finery he wore, the shaven face, Rael Averross had never looked more derelict to Qui-Gon than he did at this moment. “Didn’t you ever see, the only reason I ever worked with Czerka was to make things easier for you? That every damn thing I did was only ever for you?”
“It was never for me.” Fanry lifted her chin, spearing Rael with her gaze. “It was for Nim. Everything you did was for her. You never stopped to ask yourself if the things a wounded child might have needed were the same as the things a future queen would need. You protected me when you should have taught me. You talked at me when you should’ve listened to me.”
Qui-Gon didn’t even have to look at Rael to know what he felt now; the horror of it was so strong it resonated in the Force. The horror sprang from Rael’s knowledge that Fanry was right.
At least, about this. “Your Majesty,” Qui-Gon said, “this isn’t primarily a chance for you and your former regent to talk over old times. It’s a chance to discuss whether you’re willing to stand down and come up with a diplomatic solution. The Republic was already attempting to find ways for your people to cast off Czerka’s influence.”
“By taking away my absolute authority?” Fanry scoffed. “Though really, the more I studied my history, the more I realized no monarch of Pijal had truly ruled in centuries. Czerka’s grip has been too strong. I need the full authority of the throne, Jedi. The Republic is compromised by Czerka’s wealth and influence. Only I can free my world.”
Qui-Gon had doubted that Pijal’s future Assembly would be able to stand up to Czerka. Could he be certain the Galactic Senate would do any better?
Yet he remained on his path, attempting to appeal to Fanry’s reason. “With the future of the hyperspace corridor on the line, your bargaining position has only grown stronger. Will you negotiate? Will you help us find a peaceful solution?”
“I’ve seen the cost of peace.” Fanry’s eyes glittered with a febrile, angry light. “I prefer war.”
Czerka ships are as labyrinthine as their bureaucracy, thought Pax Maripher. How very unsurprising.
Thus far he’d been able to sneak through a good third of the Leverage’s length, and had gone down one level to what he thought would be the slaveholding area. It had taken more time than he would’ve liked. The Czerka corridors were enormous—three meters high by almost five meters wide—and twisted and turned as though determined to find the least direct route to lead anywhere. In Pax’s opinion, the design aesthetic must have been “intestinal.”
A mouse droid rolled by, singing to itself. Pax remembered what B-3PO had always taught him: If a human behaves as though they belong somewhere, less complex droids will
assume the human does belong. He strolled past it without any pause on either side.
Once he rounded the next turn, the eerie hush turned into the clatter of work: Droids beeping, machinery moving, the distant tenor of human conversation. Pax sighed in relief; he’d made it as far as the labor area.
He tugged on the maintenance jacket and hat he’d swiped from the auxiliary bay, took a deep breath, and walked into the thick of it. The corridor opened up, becoming a broad walkway that looked down onto the factory area. Rahara had told him this area was called the pit by those who had to work in it, and the name was well earned. It was poorly lit, too hot, and cramped. Enslaved beings wearing dingy coveralls oversaw machines that clanked so loudly they must have caused hearing loss within months. Bursts of steam occasionally came up from some of the machines, very nearly scalding those working nearby.
Just find Rahara, he told himself as he began to descend a service ladder into the pit. Find her and run.
* * *
—
“The Righteous’s weapons remain fully charged,” said the anxious Nautolan security officer to Qui-Gon and Rael. Fanry’s hologram had only just faded away. “But they seem to be shifting their targeting.”
Only one other target was possible: the Leverage. Qui-Gon breathed in sharply. Obi-Wan was far from the only person aboard that ship who wasn’t part of Czerka. Was Fanry truly so angry at the company that she would destroy them even if it meant also destroying innocent lives?
He turned to Rael, whose expression had become hard and set. The question was unnecessary. “She’ll do it,” Rael said. “Now that I’m thinking about it—going over what I knew about her before, and what I know about her now—yeah. She’ll take ’em down to hell no matter who has to go along for the ride.”
* * *
—