Tales From the New Republic

by Peter Schweighofer

  "It's an old saboteur's trick. You create a complete circuit by

  connecting the couplings of a hyperdrive. A piece of wire as thin as a hair

  will do the job. Then send a spark up the drive shaft and it'll arc, from one

  coupling to the next. Fry the entire system." She waved at the drive's far

  end. "Somewhere in there I'll find the remains of a relay or battery that

  generated the power surge."

  Zeth cleared his throat. "Do you know why?"

  Fen slowly stood. "Yeah. Probably. Someone's likely gunning for my

  partner, Ghitsa Dogder."

  There was a sharp but not very surprising intake of breath. "She's why

  I've come," Zeth said quickly, rising as well. "We've heard she is a very

  powerful Jedi and is doing much good here."

  "Well, she's got a lot of enemies, too."

  Fen was very proud she did not choke when Zeth intoned, "Those who do

  good things often have many enemies." His young face turned somber. "And those

  with untrained Force powers can be manipulated. Where is she?" he asked, now

  sounding more urgent.

  As soon as he meets Ghits, the gig will be up. Fen thought. That alone

  would be worth the admission price. "I don't know," she finally said, making

  her decision. "She had a negotiation today. But Gibb will know where she is."

  "Why didn't you catch a shuttle?" Fen complained from the passenger seat

  of Zeth's rented landspeeder.

  "I didn't know where to go," Zeth responded. His eyes wandered about the

  bucolic landscape. "Everyone within a thousand kilometers was talking about

  the wonderful Jedi Ghitsa, but no one knew where she was."

  Fen drummed her fingers on the console. They had sabotaged the ship on

  Chad, known her route, and set the drive to blow in the first inhabited

  system. But who? And why?

  "A Force-sensitive would be a very powerful asset to a criminal

  organization," Zeth interrupted.

  "Stay out of my head, spoonbender," Fen snapped.

  "I wasn't in your head, Fen," Zeth said calmly. "Just making an obvious

  observation."

  "Keep it that way, then." Wanting to be conciliatory, but not apologetic.

  Fen added, "Lots of bad guys seem real determined to kidnap you Jedi types."

  Fen hadn't expected Zeth to flinch so obviously. "What is it?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "Nothing."

  "Turn right up ahead," she instructed. He drove through a battered and

  ancient gate and they both fell silent.

  Feeling the speeder steadily accelerate. Fen glanced at Zeth. He was

  staring ahead. She gave up trying to shake the anxiety mounting since they

  drove on to the property.

  They rounded a blind turn and the farmhouse was only a few meters

  farther. Fen was out of the speeder before Zeth coaxed it to a stop. It wasn't

  just the look of grim concern on his face or the silence which alarmed her.

  No, it was the clenching feeling in her gut. She'd felt the same way when

  she'd returned to that Ord Man tell cantina and found the man who had been her

  father dead on the floor.

  She yanked out her blaster and ran to the farmhouse. The door was open,

  ajar and askew. At the door's threshold lay a Jedi robe.

  "I'm assuming it's someone from off-planet," Fen jabbered as they whizzed

  back through Lesvol. "I wonder why it took them so long?"

  "They may have thought once your drive failed you would go to Nad'Ris,"

  Zeth said. "And when you didn't, they looked the same way I did. A planet is a

  big place to search for a single person."

  As the speeder banked hard on a turn. Fen was gratified Zeth was driving

  only slightly slower than she would be. "Gibb is checking for reports of any

  strangers. He may know something by the time we get back."

  "What's next then?" theJedi asked.

  "Listen, Zeth," Fen began. "I appreciate the help, but I can handle this

  on my own."

  When Zeth smiled, years seem to fall from him. "Jedi have a

  responsibility to Force-sensitives, especially those like Ghitsa who have a

  real gift others would exploit." His expression darkened abruptly. "It's hard

  to explain, but the Force guided me here. I'd like to see it through."

  "Well, who am I to argue with cosmic fate and destiny?" Fen grumbled.

  Gibb ran out to meet them when they pulled up at the port. Ignoring

  Zeth's reprimanding frown, Fen again clambered out before he stopped the

  speeder. "What've you found, Gibb?" she asked, forcing calm into her voice as

  they jogged to the port building.

  "Not much, Cap'n. I got a couple reports of a skiff going really fast

  toward Nad'Ris."

  She and Gibb pushed into the tiny port administration building. "How long

  ago?"

  Fen grabbed a chair, but in hands not quite still it slipped from her

  grasp and clattered to the floor. Gibb waited until she righted it before

  responding. "Couple of hours."

  Zeth's voice came from the door. "Why did they notice the skiff at all?"

  Gibb eyed the Jedi, as if weighing where his loyalties lay. "It was big,

  new, fast. Nothing like that around here."

  Fen cracked her knuckles and smirked inwardly when Zeth winced at the

  sound. "Okay, Gibb, I need to slice into the Nad'Ris spaceport records. I'm

  looking for the incoming ship registry."

  The mechanic blanched, looking from Fen to Zeth and back again. "But

  Captain..." he stammered.

  "Now Gibb," she began, popping her finger joints one at a time. "Just

  "cause a self-appointed guardian of good is watching is no time to get all

  moral on me. The only way to figure out where Ghitsa's gone is to look at

  where they probably took her, got it?"

  Gibb nodded reluctantly, still eyeing the Jedi skeptically. Zeth winked

  and held out his hands in a "Who am I to argue?" gesture.

  Fen scooted up to the data console. After several minutes of work she

  spun back around with a growl. "Gibb, why do you keep fidgeting?"

  "Well, Captain. That will work eventually, but..." Gibb glanced at Zeth,

  face creased with worry. "I know a quicker way."

  Zeth laughed. "Don't worry, Gibb. I won't tell."

  Gibb wilted with relief. Thirty seconds later they were scrolling through

  the Nad'Ris port entries.

  "I need to see the ship names," Zeth announced suddenly, crowding them at

  the terminal.

  Throwing Zeth an annoyed look and an elbow in the ribs. Fen shot back,

  "And I need to see what flight plans and cargo they registered."

  Gibb keyed a command and three columns of information appeared. Fen began

  anxiously searching.

  "There!" Zeth suddenly exulted.

  He shrank back as Fen pinned him with a favored glare from her extensive

  repertory. "And why do you think so?"

  "Just the name, Rook," Zeth hedged. "I have a feeling about it."

  "A feeling? Sorry, Jedi, but we need something solid." Fen turned back to

  study the screen. "I don't suppose your feeling noticed the Rook arrived the

  day after I did, registered a flight plan from Chad and Nal Hutta, and made no

  customs declaration, even though a ship that class has over two thousand

  metric tons of cargo space?"

  "Cap'n," Gibb said, new worry coloring his tone. "See that blinking

  indic
ator? The Rook filed clearance to leave."

  Fen felt cold dread settle in her stomach like the local brew. "How long?

  "

  "An hour, maybe two."

  Zeth moved in closer, studying the flashing light. "It'll take us all

  night to get back to Nad'Ris, unless you've got something faster than my

  speeder."

  There wasn't anything else. They all knew that. The Lady's drive was

  still in pieces. Nothing in the port could run, much less fly. Fen began

  working furiously on the console's keypad. "If you've got any tricks, I could

  use 'em," she said to Zeth.

  "I told you, it doesn't work that way."

  Why was a hermetic Force zealot barely out of his teens so gloomy? Fen

  pushed aside the thoughts clouding her rapid-fire keystrokes.

  "Well, good thing I've got a few tricks," she said.

  Behind her she heard Gibb's low chortle. "That'll keep them here into the

  next growing season, Cap'n."

  Fen pushed out of her seat. Seeing Zeth grinning at her handiwork on the

  terminal, she felt the satisfaction of being able to impress a Jedi.

  She tugged on Zeth's arm. "Come on. Let's move."

  Songs of lovers lost or left behind and the intoxicants consumed to

  forget them were woven into the fabric of every culture built around

  spacefaring and alcohol production. Corellia had a million such madrigals; Fen

  knew half of them, and had lived the other half. When she'd been a small,

  dirty-faced child, singing the off color lyrics in a busy spaceport was a sure

  way to earn a few extra credits or even a hot meal. Now, thirty-some years

  later, she sang them when she was nervous, excited, or drunk.

  Fen dashed about the Lady's main cabin gathering her gear. "Best I can

  hope for is a long life and a merry one. A quick death and an easy one."

  Singing slightly off key, she snapped the last drawer closed.

  Zeth stood patiently, saying nothing as Fen added two more detonators to

  the pile on the table in front of him.

  "A fast ship and a sturdy one," Fen sang with more gusto about the ship

  than the easy death. She began methodically tucking the toys and gadgets into

  her flightsuit pockets. "A tall ale and another one," she finished with a

  flourish.

  Fen dropped a vibro-shiv into each boot and added her lucky hold-out

  blaster to yet another pocket at her sleeve. With a satisfied sigh she began

  checking the settings on her heavy blaster.

  Zeth ran a hand over his mouth to keep from smirking. He then removed his

  belt, placed it on the table, and shrugged out of his Jedi robe. Balling it

  up, he tossed the robe into the corner. He again donned his belt, un dipped

  the lightsaber hanging there, and slipped it into a pocket at his side. "Well?

  " he finally asked. "Do I pass?"

  "Take that earnest expression off your face and itjust might work."

  The smile finally broke out, and he glanced away to hide it.

  "You have a sidearm?" Fen asked, circling around him for a more thorough

  inspection.

  "I don't need one."

  "Wait. Don't tell me. The Force will protect you."

  "Actually, I figured you were carrying enough firepower to defend me and

  Coruscant." When the only reply was Fen's evil eye, Zeth amended; "I have my

  lightsaber... and the Force."

  "This is my Force power. It's called a blaster." She sent the weapon in

  its home at her hip. "Let's go."

  Fen was usually about as communicative as a Gamorrean. But charging along

  a dark thoroughfare to rescue someone who didn't deserve saving seemed to

  inspire confidences. So as she slammed down bottle after bottle of a

  carbonated, highly charged drink, appropriately dubbed Rush, the words tumbled

  out of her with a speed rivaling that of their headlong race into the night.

  She told Zeth about her youth on the streets of Coronet and even a little

  bit about Jett.

  Zeth's tale, like hers, began haltingly, then flowed. On learning he had

  been on Kessel, they spent the past hour trading Moruth Doole stories.

  "So, anyway," Zeth said, taking another long pull on his bottle. "I never

  would have gotten off Kessel if Han hadn't shown up."

  "Solo?" Fen choked back a swallow other Rush.

  "Yeah," Zeth waited a beat before adding, "You know him."

  "Stay outta my mind, Jedi," she warned.

  "I wasn't in it," he shot back. "But I can't help it if you broadcast

  your feelings like an emotional holovid."

  "Guess I'll just have to think quieter around you, won't I?" Fen clamped

  her mouth shut.

  "You have deep feelings and strong loyalties," Zeth pontificated. "Why do

  you try hiding them?" Not put off by her stony silence, he pushed, "Because if

  you don't, then why are we going after Ghitsa, anyway? Space, you don't even

  like her."

  "Because she's my partner, that's why," Fen finally burst out. "And no

  one harms any partner of mine. Except me."

  "Did someone harmJett?" Zeth asked gently.

  Fen laughed, short and bitter. "If you call a vibro-shiv through the neck

  harm, then I guess so."

  "I'm sorry. Fen," he said softly.

  She wanted to hold on to the anger, as she would a blaster or a lover.

  But instead, with Zeth's unsolicited and compassionate sincerity, she felt the

  hurt drain away without the energy to maintain it. "Thanks," she said and

  sarcasm was the best she could muster. "That's mighty Jedi of you."

  Fen looked quickly enough to see Zeth smile. "So from where does this

  disdain for Jedi spring?" he asked. "Your denigration approaches an art form."

  "Oh, I don't know," Fen replied, matching his lighter tone. "I just have

  a problem with authority and earnest self-righteousness."

  "No Sith," Zeth retorted.

  "Watch your mouth, junior. That kind of language could get you in

  trouble."

  Zeth laughed. "You're right. If I go back swearing like a smuggler,

  they'll never let me out again."

  Fen smirked in spite of herself. "Just tell them you learned it all from

  a great master."

  His laughter abruptly stopped. Zeth turned away to stare moodily into the

  darkness.

  They rode in silence as Fen tried to work out what she had said to

  provoke Zeth's capricious reaction. Giving up, she tried the blunt approach.

  "So, as long as we're spilling our souls all over the deck here, what's this

  ban tha on your back? Did you drop a rock on another spoonbender or something?

  "

  Zeth remained mute, as if weighing what to tell her. His voice was

  distant and sorrowful when he finally spoke. "I used my power as aJedi... for

  revenge."

  Fen glanced at Zeth. He was staring down at his upturned palms as if they

  were somehow dirty. She tore her eyes from the sight to concentrate again on

  the road. Vengeance was something she could certainly understand, but Fen

  suddenly didn't want to hear any more of this young man's tortured story.

  Before she could say anything, Zeth continued.

  "In my arrogance I thought the ends justified the means." Zeth's voice

  dropped to a whisper. "My brother and many others paid the price for my fall

  to the dark side."

  Fen gasped as the pieces began to fall into place.
The wild rumors she

  had heard, the things he had said. When the answer finally popped into her

  consciousness, she'd never be sure if she deduced it herself or if he had

  planted it there. "Carida," she breathed. Millions dead, billions, an entire

  star system wiped out of existence.

  She swerved the speeder to the side, slamming on the brakes as her mind

  screamed again. "Carida!" Aghast, she turned to see the Jedi staring out the

  window, fighting the tears clinging to his lashes. He nodded ever so slightly.

  She was sharing a landspeeder, her life, with the most notorious mass

  murderer since Palpatine. This innocent looking man, this kid, was another

  Vader. A butcher. He killed billions.

  Suddenly claustrophobic in the close speeder. Fen fumbled for an escape.

  A cool breeze flooded in as she shoved the hatch open. Fen staggered across

  the road, feeling the universe buckle under her feet. Billions dead. And she

  liked him. That was the worst of it. She had fallen completely for his wide-

  eyed innocence, the shy smile.

  The incongruity hit her like a nova. She lost the battle to control her