Dark Journey (25 page)

“Not him specifically,” Jaina said. She gave the young man a sweet and blatantly insincere smile. “But I certainly feel as if we’ve met before.”

Ta’a Chume chuckled. “I suspect he has much the same feeling. Thank you, Trisdin. That will be all for now.”

The courtier rose, his handsome face blandly smiling and showing no sign of insult taken or even perceived. But as he left, Jaina caught a whiff of dark emotion—not quite rage, but a deep frustration.

She dug a bit deeper, and sensed a native cunning that went far beyond anything his vapid persona suggested. For the first time, she felt a flicker of interest in the young man, and with speculative eyes she watched him glide from the room.

“Trisdin is decorative enough, but he does not warrant your interest,” Ta’a Chume said in mildly accusing tones. “A moment ago, you made that admirably clear.”

Jaina’s gaze snapped back to the queen’s face. “Do you have him watched?”

“Naturally. Why do you ask?”

“There’s more to him than he wants anyone to see.” She shook her head. “I can’t sense anything more specific than that.”

“Interesting,” Ta’a Chume observed. She put her own
goblet beside Jaina’s. “Now, what have you come to discuss?”

“It’s about the pirates who were brought to Hapes for trial,” she began. “I’m wondering if it might be possible for me to question one or two of them. Privately.”

The queen lifted one auburn brow. “To what purpose?”

“That would take a bit of explaining,” Jaina hedged.

“As it happens, my afternoon is free.”

She nodded and dived in. “Months ago, when Jacen and my uncle Luke were traveling together, they came across a Yuuzhan Vong encampment worked by slaves from many species. The Vong had implanted these slaves with a small coral-like creature, some sort of mind-control device that ate away at their personalities. Jacen got himself captured and implanted. Fortunately Uncle Luke cut the creature out before it could do any real damage, other than leave a little scar right here.” Jaina paused and touched her face just below the cheekbone.

“I have heard of these implants. Go on.”

“On Yavin Four, the slaves had less invasive implants. Maybe the Yuuzhan Vong found that mindless slaves were not as efficient as those who retain some vestige of their personalities. On Garqi, the slaves were forced to fight. As far as I can tell, all these implants are variations on a theme.”

Ta’a Chume nodded thoughtfully. “And if the Yuuzhan Vong can modify these creatures to various purposes, why not you?”

“That’s my thinking,” Jaina agreed. “If the captured pirates have been given implants—and I’m betting they have—I’d like to have the implants removed and altered.”

“An excellent notion, as far as it goes. You’ve no doubt considered the obvious problem: If these creatures form a mental link between the slaves and their Yuuzhan
Vong masters, won’t the Yuuzhan Vong be able to perceive any changes?”

“Hard to tell. The Yuuzhan Vong can impose mentally transmitted orders on their slaves, but they don’t seem able to pick up what the slaves are thinking. If they could, Anakin wouldn’t have been able to infiltrate their base on Yavin Four.

“On the other hand,” she continued, “there are variations among these implants, and it’s hard to know what they can and can’t do. I’ll just have to make sure that there’s no information to transmit.”

“You feel confident that you can accomplish this?”

Jaina gave the queen a slow, cool smile. Then she picked up her glass and glanced at the door. She reached out with the Force, sending a powerful compulsion to the presence she sensed lurking there.

Trisdin entered almost immediately, making it apparent that he’d been listening at the door. Ta’a Chume’s eyes turned glacial.

The courtier came over to sit beside Jaina and cupped her hand and the glass in it with both of his.

“Not like that,” he advised her, smiling warmly. “Let me show you how. You swirl it around, like so. You must awaken it gently and coax warmth into it. Only then—”

“Is the sweetness revealed,” Ta’a Chume broke in coldly. “Thank you, Trisdin. Once was rather more than enough. Leave the door slightly ajar behind you as you leave. I want to hear the sound of your fading footsteps. Rapidly fading,” she added pointedly.

He sent the queen a puzzled look and rose to do as he was bid. For a moment the two women listened to the courtier’s departure. Ta’a Chume turned to Jaina, eyeing her with open respect—and a good deal of speculation. “Your point is well made.”

“Too well,” Jaina said dryly. “I tried to strip from his memory everything he’d heard me tell you, but apparently
I rewound him a bit too far. As you observed, that wine glass trick wasn’t worth repeating.”

“Even so, this is most impressive,” Ta’a Chume mused. “What such skills would be worth to a queen!”

An image of Ta’a Chume as a Jedi flashed into Jaina’s mind. She banished it as quickly as possible. “I need to know what those Vong communication devices can do. I promise you, the pirates will remember nothing of the process.”

“Why should it matter, if they are in prison?”

“It wouldn’t—
if
they were imprisoned.”

“I see.” Ta’a Chume smiled faintly, approvingly. “As a means of creating spies or saboteurs, this has promise.”

“I’m not trying to change the pirates’ allegiance. What I want is a viewport into the Yuuzhan Vong technology. We don’t understand much about them, and our lack of knowledge is the best weapon they have. The Republic scientists have been working on finding answers, and they’ve been making some progress. These implants could be another key to unlock the puzzle of communication.”

The queen considered this. “But you lack the expertise,” she concluded, once again getting to the heart of the matter.

Jaina grimaced and nodded. “I can fly just about anything that works and fix just about anything that doesn’t—as long as we’re talking about conventional vehicles. The Vong technology makes no sense to me. I was wondering if someone on Gallinore could be persuaded to help me.”

“Gallinore,” Ta’a Chume mused. “Yes, that might work.”

“I’ve read that many of Gallinore’s unique creatures were bioengineered,” Jaina continued. “It seems to me that the Gallinore scientists might be closer in procedure and purpose to the Yuuzhan Vong shapers than most of the New Republic scientists.”

“I agree,” Ta’a Chume said. “And they have the further benefit of not being New Republic scientists. What they discover, you can share with the Republic, in your own time, and after your own purposes have been met—or not at all.”

Jaina held the queen’s gaze for a long moment, letting the silence confirm this observation.

The older woman smiled. “I will provide the ships and supplies you will need for the trip, as well as certain letters of introduction. Will Colonel Fel be accompanying you?”

Jaina shook her head before she had time to consider it. It just didn’t feel right, involving Jag in this.

“Tenel Ka will go, of course. She is an excellent guide.”

The Jedi grimaced. “I doubt she’d approve of either the mission or my methods.”

“She doesn’t need to know. But I can see the difficulty you might face if forced to carry out your plans in secrecy and without assistance. Is there someone else whom you can trust, someone more pragmatic than my granddaughter?”

An image flashed instantly into Jaina’s mind—a lean face surrounded by waves of silver-shot black hair, and green eyes that laughed and compelled and deceived.

“I know someone,” she said shortly. “I’m just not sure that I can trust him.”

   Three men slumped in the prison cell, awaiting Hapan justice in glum silence. They were still wearing the red garments they’d had on the day they brought that she-rancor princess aboard their ship. An assortment of bruises and bumps gave painful testament to the Jedi woman’s unexpectedly strong resistance.

Soft footfalls echoed down the corridor. The men sat up and exchanged wary glances. It was time to put their whispered plans into action. Escaping was risky and uncertain,
but the alternative was a fast trial and a slow execution. They were unlikely to get a better chance.

Their leader rose and moved into position beside the door with a swagger that belied his churning stomach. Not long ago, Crimpler been a promising Lorellian kickboxer—never yet defeated, with a growing reputation for sizing up his opponents. Then came word of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, and he’d been drafted into the Hapan navy and sent into a match that, in his opinion, couldn’t be won. The Fondor disaster had merely confirmed what he already knew.

So he’d deserted and turned to pirating, where his knack for finding and exploiting vulnerability could be put to profitable use. He’d underestimated Tenel Ka, and that still grated. For the first time, he truly understood the anti-Jedi sentiments of the Ni’Korish fanatics among them. The way Crimpler saw it, if you couldn’t read your opponent, you couldn’t win the fight. And that, in his opinion, was why the Yuuzhan Vong were taking over the galaxy.

The man who entered the cell was dressed in the colors of the palace guard, but not the uniform. Crimpler sized him up in one quick glance—tall and strongly built, but no real threat. Muscles built through enhancements and prissy exercise routines were easy to spot, and usually worse than useless. At a distance, he might be taken for a guard, and he was probably counting on that. An assassin, probably. It wouldn’t be the first time the royal family had decided to forgo the trial and move straight to the execution.

Crimpler snapped a high kick, aiming for the man’s nose. To his surprise, the man managed to fling up a forearm and block the attack.

He pushed into the cell and stepped away from the open door, holding up both hands in a placating gesture.

“Not the face,” he insisted. “You’ll have to make it look real, unfortunately, but leave the face alone.”

Obligingly, Crimpler delivered a side kick that caught the guard just under the ribs and folded him in half. The man went to his knees, wheezing, and held up a hand to indicate that the effort would suffice.

The pirate didn’t see things that way. He seized a handful of glossy blond hair and jerked the man’s head back. “What is this about? What are you setting us up for?”

His victim’s lips worked soundlessly for a moment as he struggled to gather breath. “You’re to escape,” he managed at last. “Take the transport docked by the guards’ post outside the prison. Access and launch codes.” He patted a small pocket on his tunic.

Crimpler yanked on the man’s hair. “Why?”

“You’re Ni’Korish,” the man said simply, as if that explained all.

And in a way, it did. With war on the horizon and an ailing queen mother on the throne, Hapes was a hive of political intrigue. The anti-Jedi movement was as good a rallying point as any for an ambitious woman on her path to power, and Hapes had no shortage of such women. Crimpler wondered, briefly, which one of them owned this particular pawn.

His curiosity was short-lived, and so was the guard. Crimpler tossed the man’s body aside and patted it down. The promised codes were there, and several knives and a small stun baton had been tucked into his boots and sleeves.

Crimpler quickly passed out the weapons and then squinted at the barred transparisteel window placed high on the wall of their cell.

“This one was an idiot, but someone’s planning is right on the money,” he mused. “It’s nearly time for the evening
meal. Most of the guards should be doing rounds. Let’s go.”

He stepped over the body and sent a glance up and down the hall. The three men hurried down the quiet corridor. As they came to a turn, the laughter of a pair of approaching guards gave sudden warning. They flattened themselves against a wall and waited for the moment to strike.

Crimpler leapt out to meet the guards, both feet snapping out high and slamming into the men’s throats. He kicked off, bending his body back and landing lightly on his hands. A quick push changed his momentum into a graceful back flip. He landed on his feet, bounced once, and then charged forward.

But the guards were down, silenced by the first attack and finished by the other pirates, who put to good use the knives the Ni’Korish traitor had thoughtfully left them.

The two pirates quickly stripped off the guards’ uniforms and donned them. Crimpler walked between them, playing the role of prisoner as they hurried to the guard house.

Six guards sat around a sabacc table. With a quick kick, Crimpler upended the table and pinned down three of them. The rest of the battle went nearly as quickly. Stepping over bodies, the pirates made their way out to the landing.

“Three ships,” one of the men muttered. “Seems to me this is a bit too neat and tidy.”

The same thing had occurred to Crimpler, but there was no turning back. “Save it for your memoirs. Go!”

The men scrambled to the ships. Crimpler hoisted himself into a battered E-wing and began to power up. But his movements felt oddly slowed, as if he were moving through water, or caught in the throes of a nightmare.

With growing dread, he watched the other pirates take
off, unopposed. His own fingers had stopped as if they’d been stuck to the controls with the Yuuzhan Vong’s blorash jelly.

The E-wing hatch opened, and Crimpler stared into the face of a lean, green-eyed man.

“This the one you wanted?” the man asked someone beyond Crimpler’s limited field of vision.

Small fingers probed his neck, and found the tiny lump where the Yuuzhan Vong had placed the bit of coral—the thing that marked him like a prize bantha and identified him as a trusted collaborator.

“He’ll do.”

The voice was young and female, and Crimpler caught a glimpse of a pretty face with large brandy-brown eyes peering out from under a fringe of shiny brown hair. There was nothing in that face, those eyes, to explain the shiver of dread that passed through Crimpler’s immobile body.

Then the pain came, and darkness began to squeeze at his mind like a huge and pitiless fist.

His reaction, oddly enough, was one of relief. At least this time, his instincts had not betrayed him! The girl was trouble, that was plain enough. Crimpler could still size up an opponent with the best of them. He savored that thought, and took it into the darkness with him.