Abyss Read online

  A sudden pang of surprise and pain reverberated through the Force as Luke’s shot struck someone still waiting to leave the junction chamber. Then a column of white vapor began to stream through the burn hole, spilling into the corridor in an ever-expanding plume. Finally, the membrane split, hurling half a dozen vac-suited figures down the corridor in a decompression blast.

  Luke and Ben continued to pour blasterfire into the tumbling mass, hitting two intruders before anyone started to bring themselves under control. A third figure perished when he hit a round-bellied transport cart and ruptured his vac suit. A fourth died when he brushed a detention-center barrier field and vaporized the shoulder of his vac suit.

  But when the intruders finally brought themselves under control and ignited their lightsabers, that still left three coming down the corridor, batting bolts back at the Skywalkers as quickly as they were fired. By then, Ben had pulled them well into the green section, and Luke knew they were within steps of the hangar entrance.

  Luke holstered his blaster, then snapped his lightsaber off its hook …and felt a sudden blossom of danger tickling the back of his skull. Ducking was not really possible while floating, so he settled for dodging instead, Force-rolling himself into Ben and knocking them both into the wall.

  “Dad!” Ben cried. “What the …”

  The protest died away as an ammonia breather’s air tank went tumbling past. Luke twisted around to look in the direction from which it had come and saw his prisoner, still bound but conscious, standing about fifteen paces down the corridor. She appeared wobbly, with her hands still bound together in front of her, but her faceplate was turned toward a little round-bellied cart that was just rising off the deck where it had lain for the last few centuries—if not millennia.

  “Okay, time to dump the girl,” Ben said, turning his blaster toward their ex-prisoner. “Even restrained, she’s nothing but trouble.”

  “No!”

  Luke knocked Ben’s hand down, then grabbed the cart out of the girl’s Force grasp and sent it tumbling across the corridor—just slowly enough to make sure she had time to dodge out of the way.

  “Are you crazy?” Ben demanded. “That’s the second time she’s tried to kill you.”

  “Just scare her off,” Luke ordered. He hated to let the girl go—he was aching to know why the four ambushers in the junction chamber had seemed as eager to kill one another as him and Ben. But she would serve his purposes almost as well by simply rejoining her friends. “I’ve got plans for her.”

  “Plans?” Ben fired a couple of bolts to keep the girl running, then said, “Okay, if you say so.”

  “I do.” Luke looked back up the corridor. The other three intruders had closed to within seventy paces and seemed content to engage with lightsabers, which—if they knew anything about Luke’s condition—was probably a sound tactic. “How close are we to the hangar?”

  Ben pointed to a dark alcove about three paces away. “Really close,” he said. “There’s the …”

  Ben stopped speaking, and the intruders drew another ten paces nearer while Luke waited to hear the end of the sentence.

  Finally, Luke snapped, “Ben! Stop daydreaming.”

  “Sorry,” Ben said, shaking his helmet. “But I, uh, I know who they are.”

  “Good.” Pushing Ben ahead of him, Luke retreated toward the alcove. “Now might be a good time to share, son.”

  “Okay, but you’re not going to believe it,” Ben said. “They’re Sith.”

  “Sith?” They reached the alcove and stepped inside. A green illumination panel activated, revealing a small cubicle about two meters on a side. “They can’t be, Ben. There were at least a dozen of them—”

  “And Sith come in twos … I know.” Ben pushed a lever on the wall, and a panel slid down to separate them from the corridor. “But Ship is here. I felt it looking for us.”

  “Ship?” Luke asked, deactivating his lightsaber. “The Ship?”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, also deactivating his weapon. “The Sith meditation sphere. That Ship.”

  The floor sank beneath them, lowering the Skywalkers to the hangar level. As tempted as he was to ask Ben if he was sure, Luke knew better. Ship and his son had developed an all-too-cozy relationship when Ben was still Jacen’s unwitting Sith apprentice, and there was no way that Ben would ever forget what Ship felt like in the Force.

  A panel slid open beside them, allowing the blue-tinted light of the cluttered hangar to spill into the lift. Luke pointed in the general direction of the Jade Shadow.

  “Go prep the Shadow,” he said. “I’ll hold them in the lift until we’re ready for launch.”

  Ben made no move to leave. “Dad—”

  “Do it now, Ben,” Luke ordered. “If Ship is working with them, it will be moving to block the hangar exit.”

  A sigh came over Luke’s helmet speaker, then Ben stepped off the lift. “Okay,” he said, “but I’m not leaving without you.”

  “If it comes to that, you better” Luke said. “One of us needs to report this. If the Sith are involved with this place—”

  “Yeah—I get it,” Ben said. “This could be the whole thakitillo.”

  Luke frowned inside his helmet. “The whole thakitillo?”

  “You know, the big secret,” Ben explained. “The reason Jacen went dark, the reason the Shelter Jedi are going barvy … the reason the freakin’ Sith keep coming back.”

  “You’re right.” Luke tipped his helmet in agreement. “This just might be the whole thakitillo.”

  As Luke spoke, the panel slid shut, and he felt the floor rising back toward the access level. He sent Ben a reassuring Force nudge, then drew his blaster and stepped close to the exit, hiding in the Force so that the enemy—the Sith—would not sense him coming. There was still a lot that Luke did not understand about their sudden appearance here—a lot that did not feel quite on—but there was enough that did seem right to convince him that Ben might be on target. The intruders were resourceful, well trained in the Force, utterly ruthless, and deadly even to their own. Whether or not he had ever encountered this particular strain before, they were Sith—and that was all that mattered.

  The exit panel opened. Luke found himself standing faceplate-to-faceplate with four surprised enemies. Two were small and female, and two were large and male. He put a trio of blaster bolts through the largest male’s chest and ignited his lightsaber in the faceplate of the other male, then retreated to the rear of the lift and used the Force to depress the activation lever.

  Luke had expected the female survivors to be so shocked by his attack that they would leap for cover and take a moment to regroup before coming after him. He should have known better. These were Sith, and they reacted with all the killing instinct that implied. Even before the exit panel had begun to drop back into place, they were diving into the lift with him, each going to a different corner so they could attack from two different directions.

  Luke fired at their former prisoner—he could tell it was the same girl by the furious eyes burning behind her faceplate—then saw the bolt come flying back when she activated the lightsaber in her hands. The invisible hand of the Force slammed him into the lift’s rear wall, and the older woman stepped into view, striking for his midsection.

  Luke barely brought his lightsaber around to block. In the next instant, he sensed a new danger as the thin glass dagger on her equipment belt left its sheath and came sailing for his ribs. He twisted aside in time to avoid taking the attack directly, but the blade was sharp enough to gouge even the flexible armor of a combat vac suit before it snapped.

  By then, the girl was on him again, thrusting low with her lightsaber. He blocked by countering, slipping a Force-enhanced thrust kick under her attack and sending her sailing away. Still, she did her best to drive the strike home, dragging the tip of her blade across his chest to open a smoking gash that immediately began to vent a thin line of vapor.

  But the slash that actually wounded Luke, that cut throug
h his suit clear down to the flesh, he did not see—did not even feel. He simply sensed the older Sith dancing in, opposite the girl, taking advantage of his divided attention to bring her scarlet blade sweeping toward his throat. He dropped to a knee, driving his own blade up at her mid-section, then cursed as she twisted away with nothing but a smoking furrow across the belly of her vac suit.

  And that was when Luke noticed the blood boiling up in front of his faceplate. He glanced down and saw a long flap of suit fluttering in the light of his helmet lamp, already venting blood, air, and sweat. What had opened this second, larger gash, he had no idea.

  Knowing his enemies would be pressing their advantage already, Luke rolled into a forward somersault. He came up on the opposite side of the lift, spinning and firing, using the Force to lift himself toward the ceiling, his lightsaber tracing a helix of protection around his body. Combat vac suits were designed to isolate and self-seal, but only to a degree. Already Luke could feel the cold of the void seeping in through the gash in his abdomen, and he could tell by the subtle ringing in his ears that his suit was losing pressure.

  Luke glimpsed a dark curve tumbling toward him as the two women divided and moved to flank him, and he understood. These Sith wielded the Force like a third limb, using it as naturally as their own hands. While he was focused on their lightsabers, one of them had slipped her black parang out of its sheath and attacked.

  Luke stopped spinning and blocked the parang, his lightsaber slicing it in two. The two Sith women leapt in to finish him. He turned his blaster pistol on the girl, driving her back with a flurry of bolts aimed low-then-high-then-low, too fast for her to block. One bolt skimmed off her helmet, then another burned through her boot, leaving her hopping as she vented smoke and vapor.

  Then the older woman was on him again, slashing first from one side, then the other with her scarlet blade, driving in close to pummel him from thigh to throat with knee, elbow, and helmet. Luke dropped his blaster pistol to wield his lightsaber with both hands, blocking left and parrying right, kicking at her knees and slamming at her throat with both forearms.

  Through their vac suit armor, neither of them was taking much damage—but it would not be long before someone slipped, and when that happened, the end would come quickly. Luke continued to strike and counterstrike, his head starting to spin as his air scrubbers strained to keep pace with his exertions and the atmosphere bleeding from his gashed suit. The Sith woman fought like a shenbit, never letting up, never hesitating, never pausing. It was all Luke could do to stay between her and the wall, and he used the Force to keep her trapped in front of him, using her like a shield to keep the girl from slipping around to attack his flanks.

  How long ago the exit panel had opened beside him, Luke had no idea. All he knew was that over his helmet speaker, he heard Ben warning him that the Jade Shadow was opening fire on Ship. As the lift filled with bright blue strobing, he glanced toward the wall to keep his faceplate’s blast-tinting from being activated by the Shadow’s big laser cannons. The Sith instinctively turned toward the light to see what was happening.

  They realized their mistake the instant their faceplates darkened and leapt into a series of evasive tumbles. But even that tiny slip was too much in such a vicious combat, and Luke was in no condition to be merciful. He followed the older Sith out into the hangar, taking advantage of her momentary blindness to lop off pieces—first a leg, then a sword arm, and finally her helmet.

  Expecting the ferocious girl to be on him the instant her faceplate cleared, Luke spun to meet her with a clearing sweep of his blade—and found her a full thirty meters away, floating above a dusty old Soro-Suub StarTripper that looked like it could have been the prototype for Lando’s famous Lady Luck. Her partially darkened faceplate was turned toward the lift area, perhaps because she was searching for something she could use to continue her attack from a safe distance.

  But she seemed to feel Luke’s gaze and realize the odds had turned against her, and she slowly looked back toward him. It was impossible to see inside her faceplate from that distance, but Luke had the sense that she was watching him carefully, either adjusting a previous appraisal of him—or simply awaiting his next attack.

  When Luke remained motionless, the girl ignited her lightsaber and raised it in salute. He acknowledged the gesture with a dip of his head. She held the salute for a moment longer, then deactivated her blade and did a backward Force flip, vanishing from sight behind the dusty StarTripper.

  Luke turned toward the hangar exit. Seeing no sign of any active vessel except the Shadow, he chinned the microphone toggle inside his helmet. “Hey, Ben?”

  The Shadow instantly swung around and started back into the hangar. Then Ben’s voice came over the comm channel. “Dad, what’s wrong? You don’t sound so good.”

  “I’ll survive,” Luke said, “if you hurry.”

  IN THE PALATIAL SUITE CALLED SIMPLY THE PRESIDENTIAL BY THE hyperattentive staff of the stately Corusca on Fellowship, everything was done on a grandiose scale. Jaina was lounging next to Jag on a hover-sofa that could have seated an entire fighter squadron with support staff. Her feet were propped on a table the size of a small landing platform, and she was watching a vidscreen that would have no problem showing life-sized images of a StealthX. Currently, the screen was filled with the wrinkled, Wookiee-sized snout of Perre Needmo, snuffling up and down as his giant gray lips read the news.

  “…remains uncertain who fired on the Millennium Falcon,” the Chevin was reporting. “Galactic Alliance military spokesbeings categorically deny responsibility. However, the detonation was witnessed by thousands of civilian sensor operators. And several ChaseX fighter craft from the Nargi-class pursuit frigate Fast Death were in the vicinity at the time. Chief Daala’s office has declined to comment.”

  Jaina muted the sound, then smiled over at Jag. “I’m beginning to see why Dad enjoys this guy so much,” she said. “He has a way of getting to the truth despite the cover-ups.”

  Jag allowed himself a rare smile. “Or at least a version that your father finds palatable.” He paused, then asked, “Were there any casualties?”

  Jaina shook her head. “Not on our side, at least,” she said. “The Falcon and the Gizer Gut made their rendezvous as scheduled. They ought to be leaving for the Transitory Mists anytime now.”

  “Good.” Jag’s expression was one of relief, but his Force aura remained troubled. “Then you’ve actually heard from your father?”

  Jaina shook her head. “No, the message was from Mom.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. “But don’t worry. Dad will come around.”

  Jag looked doubtful, but before Jaina could reassure him, the suite’s resident valet droid whirred into the room on his repulsorlift.

  “Please forgive the intrusion, Head of State Fel,” the droid said. “Our staff has just received advance notice about Javis Tyrr Presents. There will be a news item concerning you and Jedi Solo, and I assumed you would want to see it.”

  Jaina closed her eyes and groaned, “What now?”

  “I’m sorry, Jedi Solo.” Taking Jaina’s question for a request, the droid used its built-in controls to switch programs. “I’m afraid we weren’t given details regarding the content.”

  An instant later the handsome face of Javis Tyrr—obviously cosmetically enhanced—appeared on the vidwall, three times as large as life.

  “… now for another Javis Tyrr exclusive,” he was saying, flashing his too-white teeth.

  An image of Jaina and Jag, seated in the backseat of Jag’s crumpled limousine, appeared on the vidwall. Jaina immediately had a sinking feeling, and she felt Jag’s entire being tense.

  “Here’s a little clip of what passes between everyone’s favorite couple when they have a little alone time,” Tyrr continued. “How do we do it? I can’t tell you that, my friends, but I can say you’re going to find this little gem very interesting.”

  The image drew in for a close-up of Jaina frowning as she demanded to k
now what Jag was trying to hide from her.

  On the couch in the hotel suite, Jaina turned to face Jag. “I don’t know what to say,” she began. “I’m so—”

  “Hold on,” Jag said, turning to the valet droid. “VeeTen, will you please turn that off?”

  The vidwall went instantly blank. “Of course, sir.”

  “Now, please excuse us,” Jag said. “And inform the staff that I won’t be needing to see any more of Javis Tyrr’s reports.”

  “Very good, sir.” The valet droid tipped its body forward in a bow, then added, “If I did something to upset you or Jedi Solo, you have my deepest apologies.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Jag said. “Thank you.”

  As the droid whirred out of the room, Jaina let her chin drop. “Jag, I am so sorry,” she said. “Tyrr must have been downloading data from that parasite droid the whole time he was walking down—”

  “Jaina, stop.” He slipped a finger beneath her chin and coaxed her into raising it. “You didn’t put the spy in my limo, and it’s going to be okay.”

  “Okay? How can you think that is going to be okay?” Jaina pointed at the vidwall. “If you had ever been a Jedi young one at Shelter, I would think you were going barvy, too!”

  Jag appeared completely unruffled. “It’s not a problem. We’re going to be okay.” He fluttered a dismissive hand toward the vidwall. “That is just politics. And I’m not going to let a little thing like politics come between us.”

  He pulled her closer and kissed her gently, then added, “I’m not going to let anything come between us.”

  Jaina’s eyes remained open. “Promise?” she asked.

  Jag nodded. “I promise.”

  “Well, then.” Jaina closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him. “I promise, too.”

  LYING UNCONSCIOUS IN THE SHADOW’S MEDBAY, LUKE SKYWALKER looked more dead than alive. He was only half bathed and still stained with blood. But the wounds would heal, Ben knew, and the strength would return after a few good meals. What Ben wasn’t so sure about was the always hopeful spirit. When he did the math, he realized his father had spent weeks beyond shadows. And that didn’t seem like an experience anyone could recover from quickly—maybe not ever.