by James Luceno
Han made a face. "This I gotta hear."
"Each card embodied certain spiritual principles," Droma went on. "In sum they were a training device for spiritual growth, you might say - but never meant to be used in a game of chance."
He reached across the table for one of the discarded decks. Fanning the deck in one hand, Droma rid it of the suit cards numbered one through eleven. The rest he spread in a semicircle on the tabletop.
"The ranked cards - Commander, Mistress, Master, and Ace - represented individuals of specific inclination, with the staves corresponding to spiritual enterprise, the flasks to emotional states, the sabers to mental pursuits, and the coins to material well-being. But regard the eight pairs of face cards and ask yourself why a game would include such titles as Balance, Endurance, Moderation, Demise."
Droma plucked the Master of staves from the semicircle and placed it in front of Han. "You," he said. "A dark-haired man of formidable strength and intuition, but often brash and self-absorbed. Despite his years, he charges boldly into every situation, regardless of the odds, sometimes banging his head on things. And yet he is at heart a seeker of knowledge."
"Hokey religions," Han said under his breath, but deliberately loud enough for Droma to hear.
Grinning, Droma leaned away from him, twirling the left tip of his mustache. "Think so? Let's see what we can see."
Leaving the Master of staves undisturbed, he gathered the rest of the ranked and face cards, shuffled them deftly, performed a one-handed cut, and set the abridged deck on the table. Peeling a card from the top of the pack, he placed it faceup below the Master of staves.
"The Master of flasks," Droma said. "A father figure, protector, or close friend. Loving, dedicated, loyal to a fault." He fingered another card from the pack, placed it on top of and perpendicular to the Master of flasks, and frowned. "Crossed by the Evil One. A harmful addiction in some cases, but more often a powerful enemy."
Han swallowed, but said nothing.
The third card - Demise - crossed Han's card in the same way. Han felt Droma's gaze on him.
"You lost a friend - a protector?" Droma asked.
Han put on his best sabacc face. "Go ahead, finish with your little divination."
Droma placed a card to the left of the Master of staves. "The Idiot. The start of a journey or quest, usually down an unknown path. A sometimes unsettling plunge into the unknown." The next card crowned the Master. "Moderation - but inverted. A craving for retribution or vengeance."
Han nodded and snorted. "You're good, you're really good. You watch and you pay close attention to what people say. That way you get a sense of who someone is or what someone's going through. Then you put it all in a nicely wrapped package" - he indicated the spread of cards - "and feed it right back. Just like your second-guessing what someone's about to say."
Droma made his face long in feigned astonishment. "I'm simply laying out cards."
Han gestured in dismissal. "You arranged the cards when you shuffled. Or maybe you're dealing seconds."
Droma lifted his hands to his shoulders and nodded to the deck. "Draw four cards in rapid succession and line them up alongside the Master of staves."
Han hesitated, then did so. But before Droma could speak, he jabbed his finger at the first of the quartet. "Don't tell me what it means, just tell me what the location stands for."
"Someone who might be affected by your actions."
Disquiet tugged at the corners of Han's mouth as he scrutinized the card. "The Commander of sabers," he said quietly. "Maybe a younger version of the Master. Headstrong, clever ..."
"And brave," Droma added. "An able fighter."
Anakin? Han asked himself. He moved his finger to the next card.
"It occupies the place of unforeseen consequence or hidden danger," Droma supplied.
"The Queen of Air and Darkness," Han mused, examining her depiction for clues. "Could be a person hiding something. Or a delusion, maybe."
Droma nodded. "Something unrevealed." He indicated the next card in the line. "How best to proceed."
"Balance," Han said. "Being able to stay on your feet when the going gets rough and the ground around you's shaking."
"Adjustment to what life dishes out," Droma elaborated. "Persistence in the face of adversity. And spiritual power."
Han's finger fell on the final card. "The future?"
Droma rocked his head back and forth. "A likely outcome. In this case, what the Idiot may find."
Han scowled and regarded the card. "The Star. But upside down - inverted." He glanced at Droma. "Not all it could be. Less than a complete success."
Droma smiled with his eyes and nodded. "Congratulations, Roaky. Fortune has granted you a glimpse of its innermost designs."
TWENTY-ONE Above a gibbous Obroa-skai, Harrar's faceted ship hung in the shadow of the most recently arrived of the Yuuzhan Vong's yorik coral battleships, under the command of Malik Carr. Where the one dazzled the eye, the other looked to have been cast fully formed from the churning bowels of some impossibly gargantuan volcano.
In the command center of the smaller vessel, Malik Carr, Nom Anor, Harrar, Commander Tla, and his chief tactician studied a holographic swirl of star systems given life by data fed to the war coordinator lodged in Obroa-skai's mutilated surface, and relayed to the faceted ship by signal villip. In dimly lighted recesses, attendants and acolytes stood still as statues.
"The auguries are encouraging," Commander Tla was telling his peer. "Our campaign proceeds apace. In addition, a group of captives fresh from Ord Mantell's orbital station is being assigned to a special project that may provide us with new insights into the species that dominate this galaxy."
Commander Malik Carr nodded in approval. "Warmaster Tsavong Lah will be pleased to learn." A tall male whose incised face and bare upper torso touted an illustrious military career, he wore a vibrant turban, which conformed closely to his elongated skull. His shoulders and hips bulged with newly acquired bone and cartilage, from which hung a resplendent command cloak. "Where do the auguries direct us next?"
Tactician Raff answered. "The environment is rich with targets, Commander Malik Carr." He instructed the signal villip to enlarge and enhance specific sectors within an area of space referred to by the New Republic as the Colonies. "In anticipation of our striking at the Core, the enemy has deployed its fleets at hyperspace egresses throughout this region. The worlds that lie along our side of the frontier - Borleias, Ralltiir, Kuat, and Commenor - all make for excellent staging areas for an eventual assault on Coruscant, the capital world."
"The auguries suggest caution, however," Harrar interjected.
The tactician concurred. "At this moment in the perpetuation, careful thought must be given to the battle plan. Advance too slowly and we provide the New Republic with an opportunity to initiate counterattacks along our flanks. Advance too quickly and we run the risk of encountering more resistance than we are prepared to overcome."
Malik Carr grunted. "Additional warships are forthcoming from Sernpidal. With those we will be able to engage and occupy the enemy on numerous fronts. At the same time, we may be able to discover a more subtle approach to Coruscant." He looked at Nom Anor. "What of these Hutt creatures I've been hearing about, Executor? Do they pose a threat?"
Nom Anor advanced a step. "I have had several meetings with Borga the Hutt - in my guise as intercessor, of course - and am delighted to report that the Hutts are more interested in reaching an accord than in going to war, even in defense of their territory. Their sector of space is extensive, and includes numerous worlds that can easily be remade to provide us with yorik coral and other resources, one of which they have already placed at our disposal. Thus, a brief detour into Hutt space would not be unwarranted. I have also tasked some of my agents to sow disinformation in advance of your arrival."
"Duly noted," the battleship commander said. "And what of the Jedi?"
Harrar vouchsafed a thin smile. "Their days may be numbere
d, as well. We have taken steps to provide the Jedi with a crisis, by infiltrating one of our own among them - Priestess Elan."
"We have even gone so far as to provide the New Republic with minor victories in the Meridian sector and at Ord Mantell to substantiate the peerless value of our operative," Commander Tla added.
Harrar intruded eagerly. "It is our belief that Elan is en route to a meeting with the Jedi even now."
The priest stopped himself when he saw a herald appear at the entry to the command center, bearing a villip in his folded arms. Approaching Nom Anor, the herald stroked the villip's ridge, inducing it to evert. Nom Anor gestured for one of his own dedicated villips to be brought forth, and watched as the transforming villip took on the aspect of one of his Yuuzhan Vong underlings.
"Executor," the subaltern's facsimile began, "a group of your agents - those enlisted in the Peace Brigade - have apparently taken it upon themselves to return something seemingly lost to us."
Nom Anor's eyes grew wide. "Not Elan," he said in false hope.
"She, Executor."
"What?" Harrar said in alarm. "What's this?"
"How is this possible?" Nom Anor asked. "The Peace Brigade was never made aware of Elan's feigned defection. What's more, you yourself informed me that the Peace Brigade was occupied in Hutt space."
"As they were, Executor - at least until they learned of Elan's defection and capture."
Nom Anor's face contorted in mortification. "From whom?"
"I have not been able to ascertain."
"This is ludicrous," Harrar shouted. "How do they plan to retrieve her?"
"Apparently they have been apprised of the means by which she is to be relocated to Coruscant."
Nom Anor's villip mirrored his rancorous expression. "Impossible. Even I had difficulty sorting through the New Republic's subterfuges. Even within the Intelligence division the route is a closely guarded secret."
"I know only that the Peace Brigade is planning to move against a passenger ship bound for Bilbringi," the subaltern said. "They have persuaded at least one of their immediate controllers to assist them. And they have a dovin basal in their possession."
"We must see to it that they are prevented from interfering." Harrar became angrier as he spoke. "At any cost."
Nom Anor induced his own villip to return to normal and dismissed the herald. Commanders Tla and Malik Carr were watching him and the priest closely.
"Is anything wrong, Executor?" Malik Carr asked at last, raising a faint eyebrow.
Nom Anor traded quick glances with Harrar. "A possible setback involving our operative," he conceded. Regaining control of his indignation, he gestured negatively and fixed his gaze on Malik Carr. "Nothing we can't handle. Though I may have need of your swiftest frigate, Commander."
"We're husband and wife," Showolter told the Askajian officer stationed at the most forward of the Queen of Empire 's starboard boarding gates. The starliner was in stationary orbit above the planet Vortex. "Recently displaced from Sernpidal."
"Where the moon came down?" the officer asked.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"What was it you folks called that moon? I remember hearing on the newsnet ..."
"Tosi-karu."
"That was it." The stout near-human regarded Vergere. "Is ... he with you?"
"She," Showolter amended. "Our servant."
The boarding officer nodded uncertainly, then returned the identity documents and tickets Showolter had provided. "Your stateroom is located on deck twenty-four, berthing space twelve. Welcome aboard, and safe journey."
Showolter took Elan's hand and led her and Vergere to the nearest bank of interdeck transfer tubes - broad cylinders that functioned like turbolifts, but without cars. Buoyed by repulsorlift fields, riders could ascend or descend as necessary, in lift tubes or drop shafts respectively.
The Queen was just waking from relative night, and clamorous throngs of refugees were lined up at the species-specific refreshers or searching for food. Droids rushed about performing tasks that were assumed to be beneath the dignity of living beings.
Despite the ease of the trip from Myrkr to Vortex and the smooth boarding, Showolter remained alert for signs that they were being watched or followed - by in-place NRI operatives or by unknowns. Vergere drew a few curious looks, but most folks were loo preoccupied guarding their claims to deck space to take much interest in her. Still, Showolter knew that he wouldn't relax until his backup agents made contact.
The stateroom was more spacious than he had expected, with a sitting area of couch, table, and chairs, and four pull-down beds. Ushering the two defectors inside, Showolter checked the passageway before securing the door.
"Home sweet home," he said. "Until tomorrow, at least."
"What happens then?" Elan asked as she sat down on one of the platform beds.
"I'll tell you when the time comes."
She shook her head at him. "You still don't trust me, do you?"
"Nothing personal," he said. "Just following procedure."
"I'll bet you say that to all your defectors," Vergere offered from one of the other beds, atop which she roosted like an outsize avian.
Showolter set their luggage in a corner and made certain that the door to the adjoining suite was locked. He was about to make himself comfortable when someone knocked at the entry door.
Drawing his blaster from his shoulder holster, he positioned himself alongside the lock jamb. "What is it?"
"Cabin service," a resonant voice said in Corellian-accented Basic.
"We didn't request anything."
"Compliments of Captain Scaur," the man in the passageway replied. "He also invites you to be his guests at his table this evening."
"That can be arranged."
"I'll tell him you said so."
Showolter lowered his weapon and hit the hatch release. A tall, dark-haired, and dangerous-looking human entered, followed by a Rodian.
"I'm Darda," the man announced. "This is Capo." Green, coarse-complected, and a bit hard on the human nose, Capo had a lithe grace and an easygoing air. Catching sight of Elan and Vergere, he drew his partner's attention to them.
"Where'd you come aboard?" Showolter asked. Darda pivoted away from Elan to face him. "Right here at Vortex. We were ahead of you in the boarding line."
Showolter grinned. "Yeah, I noticed you. Is it just you two?"
"Three more are already on board," Darda supplied. "Mingling with the refugees in steerage. They'll probably show themselves at dinner."
Showolter nodded. "Where's your cabin?"
Darda nodded his square chin at the passage door to the adjoining suite. "Right next to you."
"Convenient," Showolter remarked. "Someone at HQ actually did their homework." He glanced at Capo. "Where do you work out of, Capo?"
"Bilbringi," the Rodian said, pressing suction-cupped fingertips together.
Showolter's eyes returned to Darda. "You?"
"Lately out of Gamorr, but they're pulling me back to Coruscant after this op."
Showolter looked surprised. "Is that right? Who's your new boss?"
Darda had his mouth open to respond when another knock sounded at the door.
Showolter gestured for silence and raised his blaster once more. "What is it?"
"Cabin service," a human voice replied.
The three NRI operatives exchanged disconcerted glances. Showolter gestured Darda and Capo into the adjoining suite and motioned for Elan and Vergere to remain still. When the passage door closed behind Capo, Showolter moved to the entrance.
"We didn't request anything."
"Compliments of Captain Scaur. He also invites you to be his guests at his table this evening."
"That can be arranged."
"I'll tell him you said so."
With an economy of movement, Showolter slid his blaster under a pillow on the couch, arranged two chairs so that their backs were turned to the passage door, and opened the entry door. A muscular human
male and a handsome Bothan female entered, introducing themselves as Jode Tee and Saiga Bre'lya.
Shrewdly, Showolter maneuvered them into the chairs and asked where they'd come aboard.
"We've been aboard since Ord Mantell," the Bothan said after she'd had a pure eyeful of Elan and Vergere.
"Is it just the two of you?"
"Two others were supposed to have come aboard at Anobis, but they haven't made contact yet."
"Where's your cabin?" Showolter asked Jode Tee.
"Ten doors down the passageway, starboard side."
"Convenient." Showolter sat on the couch, facing them, his hand closing slowly on the concealed blaster. "Where are you based?"
"Bilbringi," Jode Tee said.
"What about you, Saiga?"
"Ord Mantell."
The passage door began to open, revealing Darda with a blaster raised to his chin in a two-handed grip. Showolter made brief eye contact and laughed to cover any sounds the door might make in opening wide.
"So was that serious about dinner at the captain's table?" he asked.
"I wish," Saiga said, smiling.
Showolter brought the blaster out with cool efficiency and fired. The bolt flashed between Jode Tee and the Bothan, hitting Darda squarely in the chest. Darda flew back from the doorway as if kicked by a gundark, but managed to squeeze off one blast that caught Jode Tee in the back, propelling him onto the couch.
Showolter and Saiga hit the deck. At the same time, Vergere leapt from her bed to protect Elan, forcing her into a corner of the cabin and planting herself between the priestess and harm.
Capo slithered through the doorway on his belly, weapon extended in front of him and firing repeatedly. Blaster beams ricocheted sibilantly around the stateroom. Showolter rolled across the floor until he hit the corridor bulkhead. With nowhere to go, he risked a shot at the doorway, but by then Capo had moved. Showolter rolled back the way he came and managed to get to one knee, but Capo had him in his sights and fired. The blast found his left shoulder, just under the collarbone, and spun him completely around. The smell of burned cloth and seared flesh filled his nostrils. But even as he was falling, shots from the floor told him that Saiga had joined the fight.