Star Wars: New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos I: Hero's Trial

by James Luceno

  “A space mine?”

  Luke shook his head. “A void.”

  Leia and Mara reached out with the Force, verifying the emptiness that had drawn Luke’s attention. Luke was about to speak when the comm board came alive once more.

  “Ambassador Solo,” Jorlen updated, “we’ve just been hailed by the Queen of Empire. The raiders have issued an ultimatum. Unless all New Republic forces move off, they’re going to begin expelling passengers out the airlocks.”

  “Oh, my!” C-3PO said in trepidation.

  R2-D2 twittered, then whimpered.

  Leia’s eyes clouded over with alarm. “What was your response, Captain?”

  Jorlen took a moment to answer. “It’s contrary to New Republic policy to bargain with pirates, Ambassador. I’m sorry that your husband is aboard, but the fight goes on. More to the point, if the raiders have in fact come for captives, their threat is an empty one, since the Queen’s passengers are already marked for death.”

  “That’s hardly a relief, Captain.”

  “My apologies, Ambassador. But there’ll be no negotiations while that Yuuzhan Vong ship is present.”

  “Then we’ll have to do something about that.”

  No sooner did Leia sign off when Luke said, “Whatever that object is, it’s abetting the coralskippers in some way.”

  “A war coordinator?” Leia ventured.

  He tore his eyes from the viewport to regard his sister. “A dovin basal.”

  Leia adopted a determined expression and centered herself over the controls. “Living. But not for long.”

  * * *

  With concussive explosions rocking the Queen, Han peeked around the corner of a corridor at a hatch that opened on the docking bay. Guarding the way were two men armed with blasters and stun nets. Han considered bringing out his blaster, which was still secreted in his travel pack, but then recalled that the power pack had yet to be replenished.

  “No good,” he told Droma and the recostumed Yuuzhan Vong, “they’ve sealed off every approach.” Withdrawing, he pressed his back to the bulkhead and glanced left and right. “We need a hole to hide in. With all that’s going on outside, it won’t be long before the Peace Brigade surrenders or attempts an escape.”

  He led them to a bank of drop shafts and cautiously peered over the edge of one of them. Far below was the floor of a cargo hold.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” Droma said, “the shafts have been deactivated.”

  “So we find some shock cord,” Han said. “It’s only, what, fifty meters or so to the bottom?”

  Droma looked skeptical. “Might as well be from here to Coruscant.”

  The sound of approaching footsteps put a quick end to the dilemma. Slinking away from the drop shafts, the four of them entered an intersecting passageway, where they were greeted by the sound of yet more footsteps, along with a chorus of piqued voices. They hurried around another corner, searching high and low for a place to hide.

  Determined footsteps to their left grew louder, and not a moment later the owners of the piqued voices strode into view. Han’s eyes roamed over the raiders. Even after all the years, Reck Desh was recognizable by his cocky gait and full sleeve of tattoos. With him walked five examples of well-armed Peace Brigade thuggery and a spindly miscreant who would have made a perfect Yuuzhan Vong, if in fact he wasn’t one, disguised by an oversize cloak.

  Reck stationed one of his men at the intersection of the corridors and moved on.

  Han felt his blood rush and heard his heart pounding in his ears. He thought about Chewie, and about Lwyll, Roa, and Fasgo. The travel pack slid from his hand onto the floor, and he immediately squatted down and pulled out his empty blaster.

  Droma watched him with mounting concern. “I thought the idea was to steal a shuttle and get off ship.”

  “That can wait,” Han grumbled. “This is personal.”

  “Personal?” Droma whispered harshly. “I feel compelled to mention that your weapon—”

  “Save it for someone who cares,” Han interrupted.

  He regarded the blaster, compressing his lips in anger, then forced a breath and stood up.

  “What is he doing?” Elan asked Droma worriedly.

  Droma shrugged resignedly. “He has this need for confrontation, even when unnecessary.”

  Han swung to them. “Find yourselves someplace to hide. I’ll be back for you.”

  Cautiously and with the useless blaster raised, Han moved toward the intersection Reck and company had passed through. The man Reck had left behind remained oblivious to Han’s presence until he felt the business end of the blaster touch the side of his neck.

  “Not a sound,” Han warned.

  The man tensed and swallowed audibly.

  Han’s right hand closed on the raider’s blaster. “I’m relieving you of your weapon, soldier.”

  The man nodded. “It’s your party, pal.”

  Han grinned. “You catch on fast.”

  “What now?”

  Han pressed the muzzle of the loaded blaster against the man’s back and took hold of his own weapon by the barrel, raising it over his head. “This might hurt a bit,” he said.

  The man turned ever so slightly. “What might—”

  Han brought the grip of the blaster down hard on the back of the raider’s neck, crumpling him to the deck. Then he set out in the direction Reck had taken. Approaching another intersection, he could hear voices ahead. Pressed to the wall, he lowered himself somewhat, and peered around the corner. Reck and the possible Yuuzhan Vong were only ten meters away. With no plan in mind, other than to finish things with Reck, Han started around the corner. At the same time, however, he heard something behind him and swung to the sound. A thickset human in spacer garb had a Tenloss disrupter rifle trained on him.

  Han dived to the right, getting off one shot as he did. The raider fired back but also missed. Han caught a glimpse of Reck turning toward him as he disappeared into another corridor and straight into the blaster sights of two more Peace Brigaders. He jinked to the left, firing blindly, then launched himself feetfirst at the larger of the pair. The raider grunted in pain and tumbled backward, losing his weapon. But Han hit the floor harder than he had planned to and lost most of his wind. By the time he had scrambled to a crouch, the smaller raider was all over him, along with the one with the Tenloss.

  Han swung wildly, struggling for all it was worth, but it didn’t take long for them to pin him, flat on his face with the right foot of the largest raider planted on the back of his neck.

  With a skewed view of the corridor, Han watched Reck and the rangy miscreant hurry onto the scene.

  “All right, hero,” the big raider said, “get up.”

  The pressure on his neck eased, and Han expelled his breath. He tasted blood in his mouth and was suddenly aware of a throbbing pain in his right hand. As he was pushing himself to his feet another raider showed up, escorting Droma, Elan, and Vergere at blasterpoint.

  “I found these three running scared,” he reported to Reck.

  “We were just searching for a ‘fresher,” Han heard Droma say in a good-natured way. “They’re never around when you need them.”

  Reck advanced a couple of steps and swept his eyes over everyone. Much to Han’s surprise, Reck didn’t appear to recognize him, but perhaps only because he was too busy scrutinizing Droma.

  “You’re a. . . Ryn?” Reck ventured.

  Droma bowed slightly. “The impossible-to-find item on every scavenger hunt list.”

  Reck ignored the remark, squinted at Vergere, and shook his head. “I haven’t a clue.”

  Vergere adopted a bashful expression. “I get that a lot.”

  Reck moved down the line and gazed curiously at Elan. Shortly, a knowing smile began to pull at the corners of his mouth. He turned and waved a signal to his rail-thin confederate.

  From a sturdy carry case the lanky man set at his feet, he extracted—by the scruff of its bristly neck—a nasty-temp
ered, sharp-toothed creature that looked like the offspring of a ng’ok and a quillarat. Han heard Elan’s sharp intake of breath and saw her eyes widen as the creature’s handler let the thing get a whiff of her. All at once a layer of skin seemed to peel back from Elan’s nose, cheeks, and neck and withdraw into the collar of the blouse Droma had found for her. Bulging as it rushed down her body, the layer of skin flowed out the hem of her skirt and down her bare legs to mass on the floor and slither off for safety, revealing Elan in all her tattooed splendor.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Han saw Droma’s jaw drop in unabashed wonder.

  “Got’cha,” Reck said, beaming.

  Two men stepped in to take charge of Elan. At the same time, the creature who had sniffed out the ooglith masquer leapt snarling from its handler’s arms and went after the living sheath with a vengeance, snatching it with its razor-sharp teeth and shaking it around as if it were a slab of meat. The Yuuzhan Vong followed, grabbed hold of the creature, and shoved it and the shredded flesh-garment back into the carry case. Reck couldn’t have been more pleased. “That’s the thing about ooglith masquers,” he said to newly decorticated Elan, “they’re as easy to intimidate as. . . ”

  Reck’s words trailed off as his gaze settled on Han. Then he, too, went a bit wide-eyed, in a manner that mixed pleasant surprise with sudden disquiet.

  “Han?” he said. “Han, it is you, right? Grayer, heavier, but, son of a gun, same off-kilter mouth and lady-killer looks.”

  “Hello, Reck.”

  Reck grinned broadly and gestured to Han’s chin. “I don’t remember that scar.”

  “I could have had it fixed, Reck, but it reminds me that my past was real.”

  Reck looked confused for a moment, then laughed as if he meant it. “Han Solo.” Shaking his head back and forth, he swung to his comrades. “Can you believe this? Han Solo.” By the time he came full circle, however, the smile had been replaced by a look of vexation. “Figures they’d put you in charge of these two.”

  “That isn’t exactly the way it happened, Reck.”

  “I’m sure.” He gestured to the Yuuzhan Vong’s carry case. “What do you think of the unmasker?”

  “I’ll say this much, you don’t make many mistakes.” Reck snorted. “Hey, they don’t let me.”

  “Have you taken a look outside, Reck? How far do you think you’re going to get?”

  “I only need to get as far as that Yuuzhan Vong ship.”

  “If I were you, I’d start rethinking my loyalties.”

  “Loyalties?” Reck said in exaggerated dismay. “What’s loyalty worth on the open market?” He laughed again, mordantly this time. “Guys like you break me up, Han.

  Profiteers without the guts to change sides suddenly calling themselves patriots. I know who’s coming out on top in this one, and I’ll do whatever I have to, to live happily ever after.”

  “You’re talking treason, Reck.”

  “I speak it fluently, friend.”

  Han fought down an urge to throw his stiffened fingers into Reck’s windpipe. “Remember Chewbacca?”

  “The Wookiee? Sure I do. Best of the best.”

  Han swallowed. “Your new employers killed him. Pulled a moon down on him.”

  Reck’s eyebrows arched. “The Wook was at Sernpidal?” He puffed out his breath and shook his head back and forth. “I’m sorry to hear that, Han—honest. But I had nothing to do with that op.”

  “What about the op on Atzerri, Reck? That’s where Roa’s wife, Lwyll, died because of what the Peace Brigade set in motion.”

  “Roa’s wife?” Reck blinked, then began to shake his head in protest. “That op wasn’t supposed to end like it did.”

  Han’s eyes bored into him. “Does that make it easier to swallow?”

  Reck frowned. “A man has to work,”

  Han lunged for him, barely managing to wrap his hands around Reck’s neck before someone knocked him to the deck.

  “I don’t mind a turncoat, Reck,” Han said, gazing up as he got to his feet, “but I draw the line at second-rate ones. You’re going to give mercenaries a bad name.”

  Reck’s rejoinder was a sneer. He pulled out his personal comlink and thumbed it on. “We’ve got them,” he said into the pickup. “We’ll be heading back to the ship momentarily.”

  “Won’t do you much good,” a brittle voice replied from the unit. “We can’t detach from the airlock. All systems, even sublight and repulsors, are down. No response at all from the dovin basal. It’s like the thing’s gone into stasis.”

  Reck swung to the unmasker’s handler, who looked mystified.

  “Have you attempted to contact the Yuuzhan Vong ship?” Reck said into the comlink. “No response.”

  Reck cursed. “All right,” he said after a moment. “I’ll take her to them in my shuttle.”

  The man at the other end of the link laughed. “It’s doomsday out here, Reck. You’ll be lucky to clear the launch bay without getting yourself wasted.”

  “Are the weapons operating?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Then you just clear a path for me. The New Republic’s not going to interfere while we’re holding several thousand hostages. Once I make the Yuuzhan Vong ship, I’ll see to it that the rest of you are brought over.”

  Reck switched off the comlink. He had his mouth open to say something to Han when another Peace Brigade contingent arrived on the scene, making haste for the docking bay. Supported by two of them was a wounded Rodian who had to be Capo.

  “You people are supposed to be on the bridge,” Reck bellowed.

  “This is your operation, Reck,” the largest among them answered. “You want to stay and feed refugees to the vacuum, that’s your business. But we’re out of here.”

  The man who had discovered Han and Droma started to raise his disrupter rifle, but Reck restrained him.

  “Knock it off. Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to do any good. We’ll pack the shuttles and convoy for the Yuuzhan Vong ship.”

  Han smirked. “Proverbial droch in the ointment, huh, Reck?”

  Reck gestured two of the men to take charge of Vergere, then he turned to Han. “You know, I’m less worried about interference from those starfighters than I am about interference from you.”

  He drew his blaster and ordered Han to move to the nearest drop shaft. Droma followed silently. At the blaster’s insistence, Han backed himself to the edge of the tube, then he held his hand over it.

  “Not much of a breeze,” he thought to point out.

  Reck grinned. “You always were a funny guy, Han.”

  Han shrugged. “You know what they say about a punch line being the best revenge.”

  Reck considered it. “If we’d met somewhere else, we could be sharing ice-cold Gizers right now. But I can’t have you trying to follow us or talking to your New Republic friends. You’ve got way too much good fortune on your side. You always did.”

  “Seem’s my luck’s run out,” Han and Droma said at the same time.

  Reck looked from one to the other, then laughed shortly. “You two make quite a pair. Too bad I’ve got to split you up.” He lifted the blaster’s barrel. “Down you go, Han. Next stop, the cargo hold.”

  Han gulped. “Come on, Reck, you don’t need to do this. For old times’ sake.”

  “Oh, but I do, old friend.” Again, he motioned with the blaster. “Be a good sport. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  Han tightened the straps of his travel pack, thinking that it might somehow cushion his fall. Then he squared his shoulders and blew out his breath. Narrowing his eyes at Reck, he took a backward step into the abyss.

  Droma let out an anguished shriek and went rigid with shock.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Relayed to Obroa-skai by signal villip, the fierce fighting at the Rimward edge of the Bilbringi system unfolded in real time for commanders Malik Carr and Tla, tactician Raff, and Harrar, aboard the priest’s faceted starship.

  “The P
eace Brigade gunship has made several attempts at communication,” a villip of Nom Anor reported, “but we have refused all appeals to render aid.”

  Behind him in the signal villip’s visual field, outside the frigate’s observation bay, light streaked and flashed in the black of space. Every so often a snub-nosed fighter would pass close to the bay, discharging blinding globes of encapsulated energy. Most were immediately gobbled up by singularities, but some detonated against the ship with trembling force, crazing the villip feed with undulating lines of interference or suspending it altogether.

  “With due respect, Commander Malik Carr,” Tla said, “I find it irksome to have to abandon allies—even though they wrongly took it on themselves to redeem Executor Nom Anor’s infiltrators. More, I dislike having our forces leap about to avoid engaging the enemy directly.”

  Harrar placed himself in full view of the issuing villip.

  “Are you concerned that some may judge your actions cowardly?” he asked Nom Anor.

  “Knowing that my actions are for a greater cause, no, I am not concerned.”

  Tla glowered. “Your opinions matter not, Executor.”

  Commander Malik Carr watched Tla for a moment, then turned to face the transmitting villip. “Would you surrender your command to assuage Commander Tla’s concerns, Executor?”

  Nom Anor ridiculed the idea. “Even I know better than to exchange a lesser indignity for a greater one.”

  From somewhere outside the confines of the visual field, the subaltern in command of the frigate bridge spoke. “Executor, an enemy ship has targeted the dovin basal we housed in a keeper. Thus far the dovin basal has been unsuccessful at repelling the attack. It reacts as if dazed.”

  “Show us that ship,” Nom Anor ordered.

  The receiving villip on Harrar’s vessel relayed an image of a gray-white saucer-shaped vessel with protruding mandibles and armaments of extraordinary firepower.