Star Wars

by Charles Soule

  “Let’s go,” Loden said.

  Avar Kriss leaned on the ornate, carved-stone railing and looked out across the lake to a small, forested island rising to a low peak in its center. A small settlement of low, orange-shingled buildings crouched together by the lakeshore, but otherwise the island looked like pristine wilderness.

  “Varykino,” Elzar Mann said, stepping up beside her.

  She glanced at him. He looked good. Happy, his dark eyes shining, a grin lighting up his face, though that could be due to the drink in his hand, some green stuff in a stemless glass bowl. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew Elzar, and so odds were it was the finest intoxicant their hosts had available. And considering their hosts, that meant it was probably very fine indeed.

  “Very what?” she asked.

  “Varykino,” he said, gesturing with his drink toward the island. “That’s the name of the island. It’s an artists’ retreat, a place for creative outcasts to live together and think deep thoughts. There’s a poet there, a man named Omar Berenko. Supposed to be brilliant.”

  Elzar glanced at her. He ran a hand through his dark hair, cut short, with a natural wave to it.

  “Sounds nice, actually,” he said. “We should remember it, once we’re too old for the Order to make use of us anymore. I wouldn’t mind spending my days in quiet contemplation. Maybe figure out how to catch fish with the Force.”

  He took a sip of his drink, and his face took on an impressed expression.

  “As long as we lay in a steady supply of this stuff. By the light, that’s good.”

  “Let me try,” Avar said, and he handed her the bowl.

  She sipped the liquor, a spicy, soft taste that left her tongue tingling.

  “No arguments here,” she said. “That’s delicious. But go easy. We’re here to do a job.”

  Elzar had one last swallow, then set the bowl down on the railing; a shining golden servitor droid promptly scooped it up and quietly withdrew, hovering not far away in case the two Jedi required anything further.

  “Are your owners on the way?” Avar asked the droid. “We’ve been waiting for some time.”

  “Of course, Master Jedi,” the droid replied, in a lovely chime of a voice. “Masters Marlowe and Vellis are completing some urgent business, but have notified me that they will be here momentarily. If you wish, you may take a seat while you wait.”

  The droid gestured with one long, languid limb toward a seating area deeper in the lanai—plush couches and seats with various refreshments laid out on a low quartz table. She assumed this was where Elzar had gotten his drink. So much wealth on display here—just owning an estate in the Naboo lake country was out of reach for any but the richest families in the galaxy. Nonetheless, the feeling created by the décor was not one of ostentation, but of care and taste. The owners of this home were not trying to overawe—every choice was made with an eye toward simplicity and integration with the natural environment. Which, of course, was impressive in its own right.

  As if to underscore the point, a gentle breeze blew across the patio, rippling through the millaflowers dangling from vines hanging from the arbors overhead. Their fragrance saturated Avar’s senses, and the song of the Force swelled with the beauty of it all.

  It was easy to forget they were there to continue the investigation into the ongoing galactic emergency. She forced herself to focus. Quiet contemplation could wait for retirement—and for a moment, just one, she let herself consider the idea of spending that time with Elzar Mann—something she would never tell him; he would never let her hear the end of it.

  Another Emergence, another tragedy, had happened in the Ringlite system, and several thousand people had died. Only the valiant efforts of the system’s security squads had prevented something worse. Chancellor Soh had widened the hyperspace cordon once again. Senator Noor hadn’t protested this action—the necessity was obvious—but the pressure was mounting to solve the mystery once and for all.

  This meeting today could be the key.

  As if they had read her mind, two men appeared at the edge of the patio and walked toward her and Elzar. Marlowe and Vellis, the scion of the San Tekka empire and his husband.

  Both were pale, with blond hair and blue eyes. The similarities stopped there; Vellis’s face looked chopped from granite while Marlowe’s features were softer. They did seem a pair, though, and like their home, everything about them radiated wealth and comfort and ease.

  She wondered what Marlowe’s ancestors would think of what the family had become—the San Tekka family made its fortune a century or so ago as hyperspace prospectors, rough-edged people finding routes through the wild spaces of the galaxy, like planetary explorers searching for passes through deadly mountain ranges. Hyperspace prospecting was just as dangerous; many who tried it ended up lost forever, adrift in nothingness with no way to get home. The San Tekkas seemed to have a knack for it, though, and consistently found the shortest, fastest ways to get from here to there in the galaxy. They sold those routes to traders, governments, and entrepreneurs, and in some cases set up hyperspace toll lanes, where navigational data could be downloaded for a fee. All that revenue added up. These days, the San Tekkas were among the wealthiest families in the galaxy, and their teams of prospectors—now called hypersurveyors to give the trade a sheen of respectability—continued to sniff out lucrative new paths between the stars.

  The galaxy was endless, and people would always want to traverse it more quickly and safely.

  “Welcome to our home,” Marlowe said, extending a hand to Avar. “It is an honor to have Jedi guests.”

  She took the hand and shook it briefly. Elzar did the same with Vellis.

  “Please, let’s sit,” Vellis said, gesturing to the couch. “The servitor droid tells me you’ve already sampled the attar of spinsilk—one of my favorites as well. But there’s much more you can try. Anything you like.”

  “Thank you,” Avar said.

  The group sat, and Avar gently reached out with the Force to sense the emotional state of their hosts. They were utterly relaxed. Not that she expected anything else. A gorgeous lakeside patio with the love of your life at your side and enough credits for a thousand lifetimes? Of course the San Tekkas were relaxed.

  “Senator Noor told us you’re investigating the dreadful disasters in the Outer Rim,” Marlowe said, pouring a glass of something red and handing it to Vellis. “I’m not sure what we can do to help, but of course we’re more than happy. Izzet is an old friend, and we know he has responsibility for the Outer Rim. Anything he needs, really.”

  “Not to mention all the people in the firing line,” Elzar said, a slight edge to his voice.

  “Of course,” Vellis said. “We are all the Republic.”

  “The Emergences are bad enough, and we’re working on a system to predict where they’re going to happen next,” Avar said.

  “Oh really? That’s interesting,” Marlowe said. “How is that possible?”

  “Hetzal Prime happened to have a genius systems analyst in their Technology Ministry. He’s trying to build a network of navidroids…linking their processors together to use the data we have so far about the original disaster and all the Emergences. It’s not a sure thing. The problem seems to be getting enough droids to run the calculations.”

  Marlowe and Vellis exchanged a quick glance—information passed between them, some unseen communication even Avar couldn’t detect.

  “We can probably help with that,” Vellis said. “We have a proprietary set of algorithms we use to model likely hyperspace routes. If your analyst on Hetzal is interested, we can send a few of our navulators—hyperlane specialists—to help him refine his system.”

  “Generally, we like to keep our trade secrets confidential,” Marlowe added, “but there are lives on the line.”

  “Thank you very much,” Avar said. “Tha
t’s generous. We’ll put you in touch with the analyst—his name is Keven Tarr. I’m sure he’ll take any help he can get.”

  “That’s not really why we’re here, though,” Elzar said.

  “Oh?” Marlowe said, raising a thin eyebrow.

  “It’s not just about stopping the Emergences. We want to make sure nothing like the Legacy Run ever happens again, and in order to do that, we need to know what caused it. Your family knows more about hyperspace than anyone, or so Senator Noor tells us. Do you have any theories?”

  “Well, we’ve read the HoloNet reports, but they’re a little light on details. Do you have any additional information?”

  Elzar reached into his tunic and produced a datachip, which he handed to Vellis.

  “That’s everything we have so far. The Republic Transport Bureau’s personnel have analyzed the wreckage, and based on the wear patterns, it looks very much like the Legacy Run disintegrated in transit.”

  “A collision?” Marlowe said.

  “No,” Avar said. “It seems that the ship attempted to execute a maneuver that stressed its superstructure beyond its capabilities. I’m oversimplifying, but it seems to have ripped itself apart.”

  Vellis and Marlowe were silent for a moment. Vellis set his glass down. Avar didn’t think he’d even tasted his drink.

  “I’m sure you both know this, but the nature of hyperspace means that there is never any reason to maneuver at all. It’s empty. There’s nothing to hit. Routes are precisely calculated to ensure collisions like this are impossible.”

  “We know that,” Elzar said. “Everyone knows that. But…something happened out there, and people continue to die and suffer across the Outer Rim. Pretending it’s impossible just wastes time.”

  He pointed at the datachip Vellis was still holding.

  “We’re examining a few possibilities. It’s all on the chip. Our first thought was pilot error, but we looked into that. The captain of the Legacy Run was a woman named Hedda Casset. Ex-military, a decorated veteran. It’s hard to imagine she would make a mistake that would result in the destruction of her ship. By all accounts, she was steady and focused.”

  “A mutiny?” Marlowe asked.

  “Why?” Avar replied. “It was a ship full of settlers. A routine run from the Core to the Outer Rim Territories. Nothing unusual or extremely valuable aboard.”

  “Strange things can happen psychologically when you’re out in deep space,” Marlowe said. “We have stories from our family’s history you wouldn’t believe. Madness creeps in before you know it.”

  “Fair,” Elzar said, “But this was a straightforward run on a well-traveled route. RTB officials interviewed some of the survivors we rescued, and they didn’t suggest anything along those lines. Mutiny’s low on the list.”

  “Maybe the ship malfunctioned?” Vellis ventured.

  “Not impossible, but unlikely,” Avar continued. “The Legacy Run was an old vessel, but we know from its maintenance records that Captain Casset kept it in top condition, and it had a full overhaul two runs before the trip that killed it.”

  “Our working theory is that it encountered something in the hyperspace lane, and it tried to avoid running into it,” Elzar broke in.

  “Impossible,” Marlowe said. “I just told you. Hyperspace doesn’t work that way.”

  Avar caught a flicker of an impulse from Elzar. Not a word, not a message, but something she understood all the same. She had known Elzar Mann for a very long time—they were younglings together, and Padawans, and that created a connection, a bond through the Force that meant sometimes they didn’t have to use words to understand each other.

  But if Elzar had used words, she knew what she was sensing from him would mean: He’s lying.

  Elzar was better at sensing deception than she was. Now, when it came to her particular gift, a native understanding of the way the Force touched all life in the galaxy, she thought there might not be a more skilled Jedi in the Order than herself. Well, perhaps Master Yoda. But as far as understanding people…Elzar Mann was an expert. She didn’t think he even needed to use the Force to do it.

  Avar suspected he was considering a use of the Force right then, however—what most Jedi called the mind touch, and he called the mind trick. He found it a more honest way to describe what was actually being done. Elzar would lift two fingers in a subtle gesture and touch Marlowe San Tekka’s mind with the Force, and then Marlowe would do whatever Elzar said next.

  The mind touch was a tool of the light, Avar knew, but she preferred indirect approaches to such a focused intervention in another person’s path. Elzar had his reservations as well, but viewed the technique as a way to open people to the truth, to provide clarity, to allow them to feel the will of the Force. To put it another way—he was a problem solver, and the mind touch certainly solved problems.

  Avar sent an impulse of her own across their link, one he would recognize immediately, simple and straightforward.

  No.

  Elzar turned and looked at her, his face expressionless but easy for her to read. His mouth quirked up into a quick little smile—okay, you got me—and then he looked back at the San Tekkas.

  “Are you absolutely certain a collision is impossible, Vellis?” Avar asked. “Perhaps a derelict ship, or an asteroid…? Surely there must be a way for an object to be left adrift in the hyperspace lanes.”

  Vellis shook his head. “Hyperspace is not like realspace. Once a ship—or anything else—enters it, there’s no way to encounter anything. You’re in a bubble of space–time that nothing else can interact with, because each lane is, as far as we can tell, its own distinct plane of existence.”

  Avar knew she would remember those words every time she traveled in hyperspace for the rest of her life. A jump to lightspeed had become such a routine event, but each time it happened was a step away from everything familiar, a journey into a new universe, some new realm. The song of the Force was beautiful, but sometimes its indescribable vastness left her feeling insignificant, despite all her focus, all her training. It could leave her reeling.

  Another impulse from Elzar: Lying, and again, from her: No.

  “Be that as it may,” Avar said, “the Legacy Run died, along with many people aboard it, and millions have died since in the Emergences. Your family has spent more time studying hyperspace than anyone in the galaxy. Have you ever encountered anything like this?”

  “No,” Marlowe said flatly, and this time there was no signal of falsehood from Elzar.

  “So you don’t think it’s a problem with hyperspace?” Elzar said.

  “We’ll look at your data,” Vellis said, holding up the datachip, “but as of now, it’s hard to imagine something like that. I don’t think you have to worry about another Legacy Run. Our guess, based on more than a century of experience out there in the lanes…”

  “…this was a onetime event,” Marlowe finished.

  Avar stood up, and Elzar, masking his surprise, did the same.

  “Thank you,” she said. “We can’t tell you how much we appreciate your sending your people to help Keven Tarr in Hetzal. We’re going to move on to our next appointment—but if we think of additional questions, can we reach out?”

  “Of course,” Marlowe said, standing as well. “As we said, it is an honor and a privilege to assist the Jedi and the Republic with anything you might need.”

  Final pleasantries were exchanged, and Avar and Elzar left the San Tekka compound, heading for the Longbeam that had brought them to Naboo, waiting on a landing pad just outside the gates.

  “They were hiding something,” Elzar said. His tone was light, but she knew he was frustrated. A familiar emotion from him. He was always reaching…pushing.

  “I’m sure they were, Elzar. They’re businesspeople. We don’t know that what they held back is even relevant. The San Tekkas didn’
t seem malicious. The opposite, really—they’re offering to share some of their most closely held secrets to help save lives.”

  Elzar was silent, but she felt a grudging acceptance from him.

  “Let’s continue our investigation, see if there’s more we can learn. If need be, we can return and question them again. We made progress here. Be pleased.”

  “The drink was good, at least,” Elzar said, and walked ahead, toward the waiting Longbeam.

  * * *

  The breeze blew across the lanai, and Marlowe and Vellis San Tekka sat in silence, looking out across the lake at the isle of Varykino, where strange geniuses toiled in isolation, creating art that, more likely than not, would never be seen by anyone beyond the shores of the little island.

  “You know who this sounds like, don’t you?” Vellis said.

  He lifted his wineglass, tapped his fingernail against its rim a few times, then set it back down on the quartz table.

  “It’s not possible,” Marlowe answered. “She can’t still be alive. She’d be beyond ancient.”

  “I hope so,” Vellis said. “For her sake, by all the gods…”

  The sun sparkled off wavelets on the lake, and both men thought about the history of their clan, and where their great wealth had truly come from, and the great tragedy at its heart.

  “…I hope so.”

  Marchion Ro’s flagship traveled through hyperspace—but in a way no other ship in the galaxy could. Its course was not set, moving from one access zone to another, through a well-defined hyperlane. No…the Gaze Electric didn’t move, it maneuvered. The massive ship plunged and rose, making impossibly tight turns, diving into tiny offshoots of the main road and finding itself in an entirely new ur-space. It followed routes that could not be seen and could not be repeated.

  Its path was charted by Mari San Tekka, and Marchion Ro let her have her head—she had complete control over the ship’s navigation systems, and if the ride got a little bumpy sometimes, even terrifying, so what? These rides made Mari feel happy and good—they let her test her theories, work out new ideas.