Vortex: Star Wars (Fate of the Jedi) (Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi)

by Troy Denning

  Luke cringed. “I see.” The immense blue disk of the planet Almania began to creep across the canopy as Vestara swung the Shadow after Ship, and he said, “We’ve got ten seconds, Lando. I’ll contact the Temple again as soon as possible. Anything else?”

  “One bit of good news,” Lando said. “It looks like Wynn Dorvan may be considering early retirement.”

  “Retirement?” Ben and Luke asked the question simultaneously.

  “That’s right,” Lando said. “He made the final table, and he’s the hands-down favorite to win the first Tendrando Arms Celebrity Sabacc Charity Challenge.”

  Leia found her alone in the apex of the Temple, standing like a statue as she looked out over a Coruscant already twinkling in the evening gloom. The Barabel held her hands clasped tightly behind her back, as though she feared what they might do if she allowed them to hang free. Her shoulders were rising and falling in time to breathing so heavy and steady that it was audible on the far side of the cupola. Wary of intruding on a Master’s meditations—even if she had been ordered to report—Leia stopped just inside the entrance and waited for a summons that was only heartbeats in coming.

  “Let there be no ceremony between us, Jedi Solo.” Though Saba continued to gaze out the viewport as she spoke, her voice seemed to rise from Leia’s shoulder. “We have been friendz too long, this one and you.”

  “Yes, we have,” Leia said, crossing to the Barabel’s side. “But part of being friends is knowing when one shouldn’t intrude.”

  “That is so?” Saba turned to face her, and Leia saw that the Barabel’s narrow eyes were rimmed in red. “There are times when humanz do not cherish the companionship of close ones?”

  “Sometimes,” Leia said, watching Saba’s face carefully. “Such as when we’re crying. Sometimes we want to be alone then.”

  Saba showed the tips of her fangs, creating what seemed to be a sad grin. “You think Barabelz cry, Jedi Solo?”

  “Maybe not,” Leia said, not quite sure whether she had offended Saba or amused her. “But I can feel it in the Force when you have a heavy heart.”

  Saba let her chin drop. “Yes, today this one has a heart like a stone.” Her chin remained against her chest, but she lifted her eyes to look at Leia. “You have heard about Grand Master Hamner?”

  Leia nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry that had to happen,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Then whose fault was it, Jedi Solo?” Saba asked, cocking her head. “It was this one who chose to let him fall.”

  “And Kenth is the one who forced you to make that choice,” Leia reminded her. “If you hadn’t, Luke and Ben would be prisoners of the Sith right now—or worse. And the Jedi would have no way to find Abeloth. You made the right choice.”

  Saba shrugged and looked out the transparisteel again. “Master Skywalker would have found a better choice.”

  “Luke wasn’t there, Master,” Leia said. “No one will ever know what he would have done differently. Perhaps he wouldn’t have tried as hard as you did to save Kenth’s life.”

  “He wouldn’t have had to, Jedi Solo. That is the difference.” She unclasped her hands and laid one across Leia’s back, an unusual gesture of intimacy for a Barabel. “Grand Master Hamner will require a funeral, like Mara had?”

  “Yes, I suppose he will,” Leia said.

  “This one does not understand such thingz,” she said. “You will help her organize it?”

  “I think that would be best,” Leia agreed. During her apprenticeship to become a Jedi Knight, she had spent enough time with Barabels to understand that, being responsible for Kenth’s death, Saba would feel duty-bound to give him his death rites. “Leave that to me—you’re going to be busy enough with Daala.”

  Saba’s hand, so large it stretched across Leia’s entire back, tensed. “Yes, Chief Daala is too quiet. She is preparing something big.”

  A knot of tension formed in Leia’s stomach. This was the bad part about all the Order’s successes. Daala was going to respond—she had to, and the less the Jedi heard about it, the more likely that response was to be something lethal and outrageous.

  “And the Jedi have no idea what Daala is planning?” Leia asked.

  Saba shook her head. “Not yet. This one is working on it.”

  “In that case, have you given any thought to evacuating the Temple?” Leia replied. “The more clustered we remain—”

  She was interrupted by the tremendous thump of Saba’s tail against the floor. “Abandon the nest?” she hissed, whirling on Leia. “Did this one train a snekket?”

  Knowing better than to cringe away from a Barabel, Leia leaned back toward Saba and put some durasteel into her voice. “You know better than that, Master,” she said. “But it’s a tactical mistake to keep us bunched up inside. All it would take is one baradium missile to wipe out fifty percent of the Jedi Order.”

  “Daala would do that?” Saba’s scales were lying flat against her cheeks—a sure sign that she felt threatened. “She would use a baradium missile on Coruscant?”

  “We don’t know what Daala would do—that’s the point,” Leia replied. “She’s certainly done worse things in the past.”

  Saba’s gaze grew thoughtful, and she leaned away from Leia. “You are right, Jedi Solo. We mustn’t let her strike first, not with the … with our Temple at risk.” She turned back toward the window, her heavy brow lowered in thought. “Thank you, Jedi Solo. You have been helpful.”

  Leia recognized a dismissal when she heard one, but she made no move to leave. “Master Sebatyne, I didn’t mean to imply we should—”

  “This one knowz what you mean,” Saba said. “And she has no intention of attacking Daala first.”

  “But you’re not going to let her attack first, either?” Leia clarified. “If she tries, the Jedi will stop her?”

  “No,” Saba clarified. “The Jedi will be quicker.”

  Leia was silent for a moment, contemplating the simple elegance of Barabel diplomacy: don’t start the fight—win it.

  “That’s a very fine line to walk,” Leia said. “To an outsider, it may not seem like there’s a line at all.”

  “That is why we are Jedi and they are not,” Saba replied. “Because we are accustomed to fine lines.”

  Realizing she had made her point, Leia inclined her head. “Very well, Master. Please let me know if I can be of assistance.”

  Saba dismissed her with a nod, but as Leia turned to go, she added, “There is one thing, Jedi Solo. Has Head of State Fel broken orbit yet?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Leia added. “Jaina was hoping to speak with him before he left.”

  Saba nodded. “Good. Ask Jaina to suggest to Head of State Fel that he should remain awhile longer.”

  “If you like. May I ask why?”

  Saba cocked her head and studied Leia out of one eye. “This one thinkz you know why, Jedi Solo.”

  “I suppose I do,” Leia said, nodding. It wasn’t a question of if Daala was going to attack, but how quickly—and in all probability, that meant Jag’s reasons for withdrawing from the negotiations were soon going to be a thing of the past. “I’ll ask Jaina to convince him to stick around for a few days.”

  Leia waited until Saba dismissed her again, then stepped outside into the corridor, where Han was pacing back and forth, waiting. He took her arm and started toward the lift tube, obviously worried about being late.

  “So?” he asked. “How was Saba?”

  “Not good,” Leia admitted. “Maybe even a little scary. She’s not handling the Kenth thing very well.”

  “Who is?” Han asked. “Even I’m feeling guilty about some of the things I said to him.”

  “It’s more than just guilt—she seems to think it’s a failure of leadership.” They reached the lift tube and stepped inside, then Leia continued, “I’m not sure I fully understand. It might be a Barabel thing.”

  “Then I’m sure you don’t understand,” Han said. “Nobody understands Ba
rabels except Barabels. It’s too bad Tesar and the others aren’t here. Maybe they could do something.”

  “That would be nice,” Leia agreed. “But she didn’t say anything about them—”

  “And it’s dangerous to ask—I know,” Han said. “Any guesses what they’re up to?”

  Leia shook her head. “Not really. Saba hinted that she has someone keeping an eye on Daala. That might be them.”

  Han scratched his jawline for a moment, then nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “Barabels are pretty good at thinning out vermin.”

  “Han! That’s terrible.”

  “Yeah, but it’s true,” he countered. “Am I right?”

  Leia smiled. “You’re right,” she admitted. The lift stopped, and they stopped out onto the infirmary level. “Speaking of missing offspring—”

  “Just talked to her,” Han said, waving his comlink. “She and Barv have been off exploring. They’re on their way.”

  Leia frowned. “Exploring?”

  “Relax, will you? Allana’s a kid—she’s got to have some fun,” Han said. “Besides, they’re still in the Temple … somewhere.”

  “I don’t like it,” Leia said. “Not while we’re having all this trouble with Daala.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her,” Han said. “But don’t worry, she’s on her way. She’s not going to want to miss this.”

  “Bloah!” Allana kicked the hatch, then stepped back and nearly tripped over her pet nexu, Anji. She braced a hand on the wall and caught herself, then wiped the hair out of her eyes—inadvertently smearing her brow with grease, dust, and a whole bunch of other stuff she really didn’t want to think about. “Someone welded this one closed, too!”

  Anji began to scratch at the base of the door, and a soft rumble sounded behind Allana—a deep voice suggesting in its native Ramoan that maybe little girls shouldn’t use words like bloah. Allana spun around and shone her glow rod up into the big green face of her best friend, Bazel Warv.

  “I’m not a little girl, Barv,” she said. “I’m a famous xenoarchaeologist exploring a twenty-five-thousand-year-old temple.”

  Bazel rumbled again, offering the opinion that smart women like famous xenoarchaeologists probably didn’t use words like bloah, either.

  “Probably not,” Allana admitted. “At least not when someone’s listening.”

  She consulted her datapad again, then swung the glow rod back and checked the hatch number.

  “But that door isn’t supposed to be secured like this. You’d better use your lightsaber to cut it open.”

  Allana ran the glow rod along one edge of the hatch, illuminating the silvery smears of two welds. Bazel shook his head and said the welds looked fresh, which meant someone had probably sealed the hatch for good reason.

  “Then why didn’t they enter it on the Temple maintenance log?”

  Allana held the datapad above her head for the huge Ramoan to inspect. He peered at it for a moment, then suggested that whoever had done the work had just forgotten to file a report.

  Allana sighed and lowered the datapad. “Look, Barv, it’s going to take an hour to go back around. That means I’ll be in trouble and you won’t be there when they let Valin and Jysella out of carbonite.”

  When Bazel didn’t have anything to say to that, Allana looked up from the corner of her eye and added, “And you do want to be there, don’t you? I mean, while everyone else got to break into the detention center, you were stuck watching me and Anji—”

  Bazel interrupted, informing her that guarding her and Anji was the most important job in the whole plan. Leia and Taryn had told him that three times—each.

  “Yeah, sure,” Allana said. “But you and Yaqeel are part of the Unit. That means you’ve got to be there, right?”

  Bazel sighed, then used a big hand to pull her behind him, asked her to hold Anji, and ignited his lightsaber. Two minutes later, the hatch was open, and the most awful odor Allana had ever smelled was coming from inside. Anji, of course, bounded straight through the opening.

  “Stang!” Allana gasped. “What is that poodoo?”

  This time, Bazel did not complain about her language. He simply shook his head and asked if she wanted to go around now.

  Allana considered this a moment, then checked her chrono. “Can’t,” she said. “We’re already gonna be late.”

  Bazel was afraid of that. He switched on his own glow rod, then took a deep breath and stepped through the hatchway into a small, hot, humid chamber. He paused a moment, checking the place with the Force, then informed Allana that there was someone inside.

  “Who?” She stepped around his massive thigh and, shining her glow rod ahead of her, led the way forward. “Hello?”

  Something sissed ahead, then clattered, and Anji gave an inquisitive mewl. A moment later, Allana’s glow rod fell on a wall of tiny rodent bones as tall as she was. She could tell that they were rodent bones because a lot of the little bodies still had their heads, and a few had pieces of fur. Anji was eating one.

  Allana stopped in her tracks. Without turning around, she asked softly, “Barv … do you see that?”

  He asked if she meant the nest.

  “The nest?” she repeated. “That can’t be a …”

  Allana let her sentence trail off as the bones began to clatter and rustle in front of her. Anji gave a startled yowl and sprang away. Allana backed up—and ran straight into Bazel’s boulder-sized knee. A moment later four big scaly heads popped out of the bones, glaring at her with slit-pupiled eyes. Anji hissed and went to hide behind Bazel.

  “Tesar?” Allana gasped. “Dordi?”

  “And Wilyem and Zal,” Zal added.

  “Amelia?” Tesar sounded as surprised as Allana was. He glared at Bazel, then demanded, “How did you find us?”

  Bazel started into a long, nervous explanation about trying to teach Allana how to read building schematics by exploring the sub-basements of the Temple.

  Allana waved him silent, then said simply, “We didn’t mean to. We were just exploring.”

  “Exxxploring?” Tesar hissed. “Our hunting groundz?”

  “You didn’t tell anyone they were yours,” Allana objected. “You just disappeared.”

  As she spoke, Tesar and the other three Barabels slithered out of the nest, leaving several small cavities through which Allana glimpsed a clutch of large spotted orbs.

  “Hey, those are eggs!” Allana looked up at Tesar, then asked, “Did you guys lay them?”

  It was clearly the wrong thing to ask. In the blink of an eye, three of the Barabels had their lightsabers ignited and stood surrounding her and Bazel—who had the good sense to keep his own blade deactivated. The fourth, Zal, had Anji by the scruff of her neck, ignoring the infuriated nexu’s clawless attempts to rake apart the arm that was holding her.

  “Now you have done it!” Dordi informed her.

  Allana looked from Tesar to Dordi, but a Barabel was pretty much a Barabel—the females looked just as ferocious as the males. “Uh … is there any chance that what I did is a … good thing?”

  “Maybe.” Wilyem thumped his tail, scattering tiny rodent bones everywhere. “It dependz how you look at it.”

  Bazel rumbled a question, asking what Wilyem meant by that. But the Barabels did not understand Ramoan, so they just narrowed their eyes and looked like they might be thinking about eating him.

  Allana turned back to Tesar. “Depends on how I look at what, exactly?”

  “Spending the next two monthz down here,” Tesar informed her. “Now that you have seen the nest—”

  “And the eggz,” Zal reminded him.

  “And the eggz,” Tesar added, “you must stay for the hatch.”

  Allana’s heart clawed its way into her throat. “Two months?” she gasped. “We can’t. Mom will kill me!”

  “Better Jedi Solo than this one,” Wilyem said darkly.

  “And at least you will have two good monthz before you die,” Dordi agreed. “It will be fun. We
can hunt.”

  Allana frowned and tapped the chrono on her datapad. “You don’t understand. Barv and I are supposed to be in the infirmary in fifteen minutes.”

  Tesar took the datapad and tossed into the nest. “This one is sorry,” he said. “You’re going to be late.”

  Barv rumbled an ominous Ramoan warning, swearing on his ancestors’ tusks that he was going to be there when Valin and Jysella awakened.

  The Barabels, of course, ignored the sacred vow—which was a big mistake. A heartbeat later, there were lightsabers popping and sizzling, then Barv tossed a Barabel out the hatch behind him, and things started to get ugly.

  Allana drew a big breath, then called on the Force the way her mother had taught her the last time they had rendezvoused on Shedu Maad.

  “Hey!” she yelled.

  Five sets of startled eyes turned to look at her. When a quick check with the glow rod revealed that no one was missing any actual limbs, Allana stepped into the middle of the group and looked up at them.

  “We can work this out.”

  The Barabels looked doubtful and Bazel grumbled that he wasn’t going to miss the thawing, but when Allana locked gazes with Tesar, the Barabel reluctantly thumped his newly shortened tail against the filthy permacrete.

  “How?” he asked.

  “You’re just worried that Barv and I will tell someone about your nest, right?” she asked. “Because you have to know we’re not going to sneak down here to try to eat your eggs.”

  The Barabels exchanged glances, studied Bazel doubtfully for a moment, then finally seemed to come to a decision.

  “Nobody is going to eat our eggz,” Wilyem declared. He shot a warning glare at Bazel. “This one will be here to make sure that never happenz.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Allana said. When a queen sees progress, she must be quick to build on it—that’s what her mother always said about sponsoring negotiations. “So we’ve just got the secret to deal with. What if we trade?”

  “Trade?” Dordi asked. “Trade what?”

  “Secrets,” Allana replied. “I’ll tell you guys a big secret. That way, Barv and I will never say anything about your nest to anyone—because then you could tell everyone my secret.”