Crucible: Star Wars Page 9

  Dena’s Force presence suddenly grew cool and wary. “Don’t you think their goal is fairly obvious, Master Skywalker?” she asked. “They need to eliminate their competition in the Rift. It’s the only way to make their investment here profitable.”

  Luke shook his head. “This is going to bring a lot of unwanted attention to their operations in the Rift—attention that will make it harder, not easier, to make a profit. Whatever is going on here, it’s about more than mining and money.”

  “That’s hard to believe,” Lando said. “Money is a powerful motivator, and the Chiloon Rift has the largest concentration of high-value asteroids in the galaxy.”

  “And it’s still small change to the Qrephs,” Luke said. “No offense, but Calrissian Holdings is nothing compared to Galactic Syndicated.”

  Lando fell into a shocked silence, then finally asked, “The Galactic Syndicated?”

  “Good. You know the company,” Luke said. “I’d barely heard the name until recently.”

  “I didn’t say I knew them,” Lando corrected. “Nobody knows Galactic Syndicated. They’re a ghost corporation.”

  “Ghost corporation?”

  “An invisible mover,” Lando explained. “You can’t actually see them, but you know they exist because of a clear pattern of events.”

  “And in Galactic Syndicated’s case, this clear pattern of events is …” Luke asked.

  Lando rubbed his chin. “Well, the most noticeable is all these surprise takeovers lately,” he said. “The big players keep whispering the name Galactic Syndicated. But the buyouts are always through cutout corporations, so it’s impossible to be sure who’s responsible. A lot of people don’t even believe that Galactic Syndicated exists.”

  “It definitely exists,” Luke said, recalling his conversation with Luewet Wuul. “In fact, I have it on good authority that the Qrephs are the sole stockholders of Galactic Syndicated. And asteroid mining is just a tiny piece of their empire. They started in livestock genetics, then moved into droid manufacturing and cyborg technologies. Now they hold companies that specialize in chemicals, privatized detention services, high-risk finance, reinsurance, waste disposal, nutritional synthesis, interstellar mass transportation—the list goes on.”

  Without revealing the source, Luke went on to recount what Wuul had told him about the Qrephs’ most recent acquisitions, as well as the senator’s suspicions that they might be trying to take control of the galactic economy.

  “And they’re not being subtle,” Luke said. “They’re using blackmail, extortion, bribery, even murder to make their purchases at a good price.”

  Lando turned from the viewport toward Luke. “You say this buying spree started six months ago?”

  Luke nodded. “About the same time your piracy problem really heated up,” he said. “And my contact says GET has been smuggling more product than ever into the Galactic Alliance.”

  “And you think the Qrephs are using piracy to finance their acquisitions binge?” Dena was beginning to seep cool fear into the Force. She turned to Luke and laid her hand on his arm. “Luke, even if that were feasible, I don’t see why the Qrephs would base themselves in the Chiloon Rift. It can’t be easy to run an industrial empire from way out here, and they aren’t leading pirate raids personally.”

  “No, but remember that the Chiloon Rift is beyond the reach of any galactic justice.” Luke was as puzzled by the fear he felt from Dena as he was by her sudden attempt to establish a level of intimacy with him. “Craitheus and Marvid are breaking laws all over the galaxy. Their base of operations needs to be somewhere law-enforcement agencies can’t touch them.”

  “So the Jedi are here to bring them to justice?” Dena asked.

  “That’s more of a byproduct,” Luke said. “Our primary mission is to stop the piracy, but the Qrephs have certainly made themselves a high priority of mine.”

  Dena considered this for a moment, then shook her head. “There’s something you’re not saying,” she said. “Stopping the pirates was the Solos’ mission, and you aren’t here because of what happened to them. You were already in transit when the Qrephs sabotaged the drop.”

  Luke gave her an appreciative smile, then tried to dodge the question by turning to Lando. “I see why you place so much trust in your operations chief,” he said. “She doesn’t miss much.”

  Lando grinned. “She’s also right,” he said. “Hunting pirates does seem way below the Grand Master’s pay grade, and there’s no way you made the trip to Sarnus in a day. So, what’s really going on?”

  Luke remained silent, trying to decide why Dena was pushing so hard to learn his “real” reason for coming to the Chiloon Rift. Lando obviously trusted her, but there was a troubling note of desperation in her Force aura. And her clumsy attempt to manipulate him had certainly aroused his suspicions.

  “Very well,” he said. He allowed his gaze to slide toward Dena’s reflection in the viewport. “But I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

  “Try us,” Lando said. When there was no immediate reply, he took the hint and turned toward Dena. “Why don’t you let us talk in private?”

  Dena looked through the viewport, where a string of running lights was growing brighter as an airspeeder approached the infirmary, then turned and nodded.

  “Of course. They’re bringing in another load of bodies.” The sorrow in her voice was genuine. “I should go down to the morgue and see who they’ve found.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Lando said. “I’ll fill you in if Luke and I discuss anything that affects recovery operations.”

  “Thank you.” Dena turned to Luke and squeezed his elbow. “Master Skywalker, if I can be of any assistance to you—at all—please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “I won’t,” Luke assured her. “You’re kind to offer.”

  As the door hissed shut behind Dena, Lando asked, “Is there something I should know about her, Luke?”

  Luke studied the door for a moment, reaching out in the Force to see if Dena would linger on the other side to eavesdrop. When he felt no sign of her presence, he finally shrugged.

  “I can’t say for sure,” he said. “But didn’t she seem to be coming on a bit strong?”

  “You shouldn’t hold that against her, old buddy.” Lando’s grin was more than a little sad. “You are a pretty eligible widower—even if you don’t think about it yourself.”

  Luke felt a familiar pang of sorrow, then said, “So they tell me. But with Han and Leia’s recovery still so uncertain, it feels like Dena is trying to manipulate me—and very clumsily.”

  Lando smiled in amusement. “Clumsy, yes,” he said. “But manipulative? I wouldn’t go that far. Dena fast-tracked through the ranks as a mining engineer.”

  Luke frowned. “So?”

  “So don’t let her good looks fool you. She grew up studying fracture patterns and stress loads.” Lando waved his hand toward the scene beyond the viewport. “And for most of her adult life, she’s been working on rocks like Sarnus. I doubt she’s up on the latest dating etiquette.”

  “That’s possible, I suppose,” Luke said. “But you can’t feel her in the Force. She’s a little too curious about what I’m doing here.”

  Lando sighed. “Dena isn’t the only one, Luke. I’m curious, too. And she’s right—it’s not like you knew what was going to happen to Han and Leia before you left Shedu …” He let his thought trail off, then cocked his head and studied Luke from the corner of his eye. “You didn’t, did you?”

  Luke shook his head. “No, Lando. Even Jedi Grand Masters can’t see the future.”

  Lando continued to eye him sidelong. “You sure about that?” he asked. “Your timing was pretty impressive.”

  “Coincidence,” Luke said. “I was coming here anyway.”

  “Because?”

  Luke gave him a melancholy smile. “For several reasons, none of which are all that mysterious,” he said. “Mostly I wanted to have some fun.”

  “Fun?” Lando
echoed. “In the Chiloon Rift?”

  Luke shrugged. “I hadn’t left Shedu Maad in a year, and I was tired of everyone fussing over my recovery,” he said. “And Han and Leia were out here with you. It seemed like a nice low-key mission.”

  “Sure. Chasing pirates through an asteroid maze filled with banks of hot plasma is just low-key fun for you Jedi.” Lando’s brows came together in disbelief and annoyance. “What do you take me for, Luke? Some nerf herder sitting in on his first sabacc game?”

  “Okay, maybe I wanted to test myself a little,” Luke said, showing his palms in surrender, “and have some fun with you and the Solos while I let the Masters get used to the idea that they can run things without me. Is there something wrong with that?”

  Lando’s expression began to soften. “You’re not here hunting for the Sith homeworld or something?” he asked. “You just came out here to see if you’re all healed up?”

  “Well, and maybe to set up a rendezvous with Ben,” Luke said. “I haven’t seen him for six months.”

  “Ben’s here? In the Rift?” The suspicion returned to Lando’s face. “Luke, old buddy—”

  “It’s not a mystery,” Luke interrupted. “Ben and Tahiri were on Ramook to investigate a Ship sighting—”

  “A Ship sighting?” Lando’s eyes grew wide. “As in Vestara Khai’s Ship? The Sith meditation sphere Ship?”

  “It was only a sighting,” Luke insisted. Ship was a sentient vessel created thousands of years in the past to train Sith adepts in the ways of war. Its most recent pilot was a young woman named Vestara Khai. A defector from the Lost Tribe of Sith, she had spent over a year earning Luke’s trust—and winning his son’s heart—only to betray them both during the Sith occupation of Coruscant. “And we don’t know that Ship was actually there. They never picked up its trail.”

  Lando appeared unconvinced. “Then why are Ben and Tahiri still in the Rift?”

  “They’re trying to track down Ohali Soroc,” Luke said. “She hasn’t checked in for a month.”

  “Okay,” Lando said, now seeming as confused as he was suspicious. “Who’s Ohali Soroc?”

  “One of my ten Quest Knights,” Luke said.

  “A Quest Knight?” Lando’s jaw dropped, and he turned toward the viewport. “Now I get it. You think you’ve found—”

  “No, we don’t,” Luke said. As someone who made his considerable resources across the galaxy available for Jedi use, Lando had been informed of the hunt for Mortis shortly after the ten Knights departed on their mission. “The Quest Knights are searching everywhere. We’re only looking for Jedi Soroc because she’s missed so many check-ins—and I’m sure that has more to do with the communication difficulties here in the Rift than with Mortis.”

  Lando fell silent, obviously thinking.

  Luke waited a few moments for him to calm down, then said, “On my honor, Lando. I’m telling you everything.”

  Lando exhaled slowly, then finally turned around. “Okay, maybe you are,” he said. “But doesn’t it all seem a little strange to you?”

  “All what?” Luke asked. “The coincidences?”

  “Exactly.” Lando raised his hand and began to tick points off by lifting his fingers. “First, there’s a Ship sighting at Ramook. Then one of your Quest Knights goes quiet inside the Rift. Next, Han and Leia show up to help me deal with some pirate problems. And then you decide to play courier so you can see your son and decide if you’re healed yet.”

  Lando folded his four fingers back down and lowered his arm. “I’m no Jedi, but that’s either the Force at work or—”

  “Or the Qrephs,” Luke finished. “I see your point, but I don’t feel the Force behind this. It’s too … soulless.”

  Lando scowled. “Actually, I was going to say Sith,” he replied. “Could they be the ones behind my pirate problems? Or could they be working with the Qrephs?”

  Luke considered the question, then spread his hands. “You tell me,” he said. “You’ve met the Qrephs, and I haven’t. Could they be working with the Lost Tribe?”

  Lando frowned for a time, then finally shook his head. “I can’t see it,” he said. “That would be like two sarlaccs in the same pit. It wouldn’t be long before they started to eat each other.”

  Luke nodded. Lando was undoubtedly right about how quickly the Qrephs would turn on any possible Sith allies. But sarlacc digestion was notoriously slow. It could take a thousand years for a sarlacc to fully digest its victim—and that made Luke wonder if they shouldn’t be more concerned about how long an alliance between the Qrephs and the Sith might last before one finally destroyed the other.

  Luke was still wondering when the door whispered open behind him. He glanced at the reflection in the viewport, half expecting to see Dena Yus. Instead, he was surprised to find C-3PO’s golden shape rushing into the room.

  “Please excuse the interruption,” the droid said. “But Captain Solo has asked me to fetch you at once.”

  As quickly as Luke turned, Lando was even quicker, and Luke found himself following his friend toward the door.

  “Han’s awake?” Lando asked, charging out of the room—and nearly bowling C-3PO over. “Are you kidding?”

  The droid threw his arms up to steady himself. “Captain Solo is quite awake,” he said, turning after Lando. “He said to tell you he has a plan.”

  Seven

  Dena found Tharston Kharl’s body on the fourth shelf of a ten-level storage litter, in a quiet corner of the makeshift morgue—a cold underground hangar bustling with outdated medical droids and numb-eyed attendants. Emergency services had run out of body bags within the first few hours, so he had been left in his shredded pressure suit. Dena could still read the employee number—CC6683—stenciled on his chest tab. Given what the flames and the flesh-scouring wind had done to his rugged face, it was the only way to identify him, and she found herself hoping someone else had been wearing Tharston’s uniform that day. Maybe he had needed to borrow a crew member’s heavy-duty hazard suit and had forgotten to switch chest tabs when they traded suits. Or something.

  Anything.

  Because while Tharston Kharl may have been an obnoxious jerk at the sabacc table and a cheating husband to his wife back on Telos, he had also been Dena’s first and only lover, cheerful, supportive, and surprisingly gentle when the occasion called for it. And for that she owed him more than a coffin and a trip home in the cold hold of a death ship. She owed him justice and remembrance and something she did not quite understand, something that she felt gnawing at the cold, aching void inside her.

  Dena had never experienced such feelings before, and she did not know how to interpret them. The more she thought of Tharston, the more powerful the feelings grew. And yet she could not stop. She felt as though some insidious parasite had taken control of her emotions, as though it were driving her toward some mad act that would ultimately destroy her.

  Behind Dena, a young woman said, “So, you were in love with him.” The voice was smooth and thin, almost a girl’s. “Foolish woman.”

  Dena dropped her arm and cupped her hand, letting her holdout blaster slip down from beneath her sleeve. Only when she had the weapon securely in her grasp did she turn to face the newcomer. Slender and strong, in a form-fitting flight suit, the woman was no more than nineteen, with fair skin, light-brown hair, and dark smoldering eyes. She glanced at the weapon in Dena’s hand, then looked up and cocked her brow.

  “Really, Chief Yus?” Savara Raine placed one hand on her hip. “You might want to rethink that.”

  Dena raised the blaster higher. “Maybe I did love Tharston,” she admitted. “And you killed him.”

  “So?” Savara rolled her eyes. “You helped.”

  “Me?” Horrified, Dena shook her head. “No. It was only you. You alone.”

  “Then I suppose someone else copied the control code for us? Someone else gave us the production schedule?” Slowly, Savara reached into her breast pocket and removed a datachip bearing the goldenastero
id logo of the Sarnus Refinery. “Because I’m pretty sure this has your access number embedded in it.”

  “You were supposed to strike during the maintenance break!” Dena objected. “There would have been no more than a thousand beings at work. And they would have had time to evacuate.”

  Savara shrugged. “Not my fault,” she said, slipping the datachip back into her pocket. “Your makers changed the schedule.”

  There was no arguing with that, Dena knew. The Qrephs took no counsel but their own, and they regarded any concern for collateral damage to be the folly of a weak mind.

  Still, Dena was confused. The attack had been a hundred times deadlier than needed to put the refinery out of business—and overkill was not the Qrephs’ style. They prided themselves on efficiency, believing that excessive force was a waste of resources likely to lead to unintended consequences.

  After a moment, she said, “I doubt they told you to sabotage our entire communications system.”

  “They told me to succeed,” Savara retorted. “I did what was necessary—no more, no less.”

  “Really? To me, it looks like you murdered twenty-eight thousand beings in cold blood. And that will bring a lot of unwanted attention to the Rift.” Dena met Savara’s hard gaze, then continued, “Had I been able to sound the alarm, this disaster might have looked like a simple industrial accident. Instead, you turned it into the largest mass murder the galaxy has seen since the Yuuzhan Vong were driven off.”

  A glimmer of doubt flashed through Savara’s eyes, but her voice remained confident. “So what? Twenty-eight thousand died instead of the few hundred you expected. If you think that makes you innocent, go ahead and blast me. Then have fun explaining yourself to Lando Calrissian and his Jedi pets. I’m sure you’ll find them in a forgiving mood.”

  For a moment, Dena seriously considered the suggestion. She pulled the blaster trigger back to the arming click, then felt a guilty thrill as the blood drained from Savara’s face. But Dena did not dare fire—not yet—because she did not know how to spin the story for Lando and his Jedi friend Luke Skywalker. Certainly, they would be happy to hear that Dena had killed the saboteur. But they would also have questions—many questions—and Dena doubted she would be able to fool Luke Skywalker for long.