Star Wars: Knight Errant (33 page)

Human and just a few years older than Kerra, the woman struck a noble warrior’s pose in white furs and armor. Her skin was clear, freckled with frost. Golden eyes, narrow and fiercely intelligent, looked back at him.

He wasn’t human, but if he were—

“Thanks for the good work, agent,” she said, stepping past him onto the upper deck of the bridge. “And for the thought.” She looked down and addressed the hologram. “So you’re the Jedi.”

“You … have the advantage.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “My name is Arkadia Calimondra. I’m a Sith Lord—and I’m here to help.”

Hyperspace had become a haven for Kerra; her only one, since arriving in Sith space. Suffering might hold sway on either side, but the weird region between stars was something even the Sith could not ruin.

In the past, when she had traveled between worlds under duress, Kerra had always chosen to make the journey.
Diligence
, instead, had been compelled to follow the crystalline flagship and part of its fleet into the hyperspace lane, under threat of disintegration. She’d wanted to object, but Rusher wasn’t about to deviate from the course he’d been provided. The day in the Dyarchy had simply been too much. The fight had gone out of everyone—herself, included.

They hadn’t been boarded. But before jumping, they’d been ordered to provide information about how many warriors and refugees were aboard
Diligence
. Kerra disliked admitting there were hundreds of students on board, but she was more worried the invaders might destroy their warship outright. The woman in the hologram somehow seemed to already know their situation anyway.

The new Sith Lord was a puzzle: serious and direct. Kerra had spent part of the hours in hyperspace parsing Arkadia’s few words. Rusher seemed to know nothing of her and her realm. What had the woman’s comm
officer called it?
The Arkadianate
. Another would-be warlord with an eponymous empire. Just what the galaxy needed.

But while Rusher had not recognized the emblem on her flagship—seven interlocking chevrons, one for each color in the visible spectrum—he had recognized the vessel’s name.
New Crucible
related to Ieldis, a peculiar ancient Sith Lord who was the favorite of a number of philosophical descendants—including, of all people, Odion. The Crucible of Ieldis had been a novel military institution, created by him to transform peaceful subject peoples into talented warriors; several Sith Lords in more recent times had tried to put their own spin on it. Kerra’s heart had sunk on hearing Rusher’s explanation.
From one slave pit to another
.

Early in the journey, Rusher had gone to his quarters for sleep, or perhaps back to his solarium for fortification. Kerra didn’t know. Fearful of leaving Quillan alone—
Diligence
had no formal brig—she’d tried to rest on the plush floor nearby, where she could keep an eye on him. She’d found it impossible to sleep for more than an hour at a time, given the bustle of the command pit. But at least one person had remained quiet: Quillan had calmed down with every light-year
Diligence
put between itself and Byllura.

Kerra gave partial credit for that to Tan. Visiting the bridge to see her former roommate, the Sullustan had spied the distraught Quillan, curled up at the front of the room before his yawning guards. Before Kerra could object, Tan had plopped down on the carpet near the boy, assuming he was just another refugee. In a sense, of course, he was. And as Tan sat chattering away about the sights and sounds of hyperspace around them, Quillan had stopped quaking and started watching her instead.

Kerra had initially feared that the boy was trying to find another potential puppet, but she’d perceived nothing of that in the Force. Rather, the young girl simply seemed to be a calming influence for the troubled teen. Tan was close to Dromika’s age, Kerra realized—and just as child-like, in her own bubbly way. From studying in the shadows of the Tengos’ apartment one week, to serving as playmate to a Sith Lord the next; it made as much sense as anything else.

The rest of the trip had been an exhausted slide. Momentum had carried Kerra far from that first trip to Chelloa all the way to Byllura. But as
Diligence
and its escorts emerged from hyperspace into a bluish pocket of newborn stars, she was filled with dread. She hadn’t been in control of her destination during the flight to Gazzari, but at least she’d had a plan for after her arrival. Seeing the white world laced with pink striations looming ahead, she knew nothing but the planet’s name. And that had come from their captors.

Syned
. Reading what passed for star charts aboard his ship, Rusher had said it rhymed, roughly, with
lie dead
. She’d thought that was a strange choice of expressions until they got closer. It fit. Syned was a frigid lump. Near to but little warmed by its adolescent star, the globe spun quickly, weak sunlight racing across its surface of water and carbon dioxide ice.

But while that surface had seemed smooth and featureless from orbit, on approach Kerra had seen mammoth slabs tilted diagonally, remnants of tectonic fractures. Elsewhere, bright smears marred the surface, evidence of ancient cryovolcanism. Syned might be lying dead now, but it hadn’t always been a quiet place.

Diligence
had been directed to land near an icy outcropping just across a wide basin from what appeared to be a small cluster of green houses. Several other starships
sat on the ice nearby.
New Crucible
didn’t follow them down, instead expelling a shuttle to the A-frame building across the frosty plain.

That had been their cue. Now Kerra and Rusher stood, as commanded, on the surface of Syned, both wearing the space suits the brigadier had produced from the hold. A whisper of oxygen clung to Syned’s surface, but given the temperature, removing the environment suits would have been the first step in a slow suicide.

Weary from her broken sleep, Kerra looked across the terrain for any clues. The basin was one big parking lot. Tracked vehicles had been out on the ice, running between the ships and the hothouses—if that’s what they were. Warmth and Syned didn’t seem to go together.

But neither did the pair at the foot of
Diligence
’s ramp. Kerra had simply thought it before; now she knew it for certain. Rusher was no ally. She glared at him, holding that silly cane of his, even out here. His space suit was clunky and copper-colored, just like hers—and both would have been considered antiques in the Republic. The man shifted back and forth on the ice; Kerra thought he was trying to find which footing would make him look the most statuesque.
No wonder he was working for Daiman
.

He looked up at Syned’s tiny star, visibly traversing the sky. “Join Rusher’s Brigade and see the galaxy,” he said over the comlink.

Another joke. Kerra took a step forward, keeping her back to him. “I’m not talking to you,” she said.

“And yet, you are.”

“We didn’t have to follow these people,” Kerra said. “We could have dropped out of hyperspace before getting here!”

“You know that’s not true,” Rusher said, poking his walking stick against the pink ice at his feet. “We had no
idea who else was in the lane. We could have collided. Or worse.”

Kerra exploded. “Worse? We’ve just gone from one Sith Lord to another.
Again
.” She turned to find Rusher chipping at the ground and trying not to chuckle. “Tan and her friends hate to go to sleep anymore! Another day and they could wake up …
gaaahh!
” Rage outpacing her mouth, Kerra shook her fists theatrically. “They might be running Odion’s deathmills. Or back where they started, shining statues for Daiman!”

Rusher shook as he laughed. “I like this whole not-talking-to-me part,” he said. “Look, kid—
Jedi
—we were never going to find a place that wasn’t run by Sith. Let’s just be patient and check this one out.”

“I’d like to check it out! I can’t,” Kerra said, opening her fists and looking at her hands.
New Crucible
had ordered Kerra and Rusher to wait outside, unarmed. Using the hated stealth suit wasn’t an option, either. The Mark VI had a remarkable operating range, but Syned’s temperature was well outside it.

Kerra looked back toward the west and squinted. Just a few minutes earlier, it had been noon in this high latitude; now Syned’s sun was dropping behind the settlement. The two conical tractor beam generators they’d spied from orbit cast the longest shadows, reminding her that, what ever else might happen,
Diligence
wasn’t going far without permission. Its external weapons were simply too weak.

Squinting against the icy glare, she made out movement. The brigadier had seen it, too. Stepping forward, Rusher flipped the cane into a surprised Kerra’s hands and raised his macrobinoculars. Kerra looked at the stick and smoldered.
I’d like to crack that faceplate with—

“Wow,” Rusher said, lowering the unit. “You have to get a load of this!”

Curiosity trumping annoyance, Kerra reached out and yanked at the macrobinoculars, still looped around Rusher’s armored neck. Pulling the brigadier down, she angled the glasses toward the approaching blur.

Lord Arkadia Calimondra rode across the ice sheet toward them, looking every bit like one of the winter warrior princesses Kerra had seen in her story-holos as a child. Above the furs and armor from before, Arkadia now wore a silvery cape that caught the frigid air as her mount loped across the tundra. The great three-limbed reptile bounded along on clenched fists, its forked tail snaking back and forth behind it.

And amazingly, Arkadia’s face and forearms were exposed to Syned’s cruel climate. Even the creature she rode had a heated air supply, Kerra saw. Arkadia’s sole nod to the elements was the addition of the cape and a museum relic of a headdress. Pulling at the reins with one hand, Arkadia seemed to be enjoying just a brisk day out.

Kerra released the macrobinoculars abruptly, causing Rusher to nearly pitch over. The woman was halfway to them, now. Kerra tried to wipe the fog from her faceplate, to no avail. “What was it the Krevaaki said? A
dowager
. What’s a dowager?”

“A widow,” Rusher said. “An old woman who owns her late husband’s property, like an estate.”

“She doesn’t look like a widow to me.”

“Maybe. I sure don’t think I’d survive a shore leave with her,” Rusher said, rubbing his gloved hands together. “But it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.”

“Please,” Kerra said. “Try to grow up.”

Before them, the ice-lizard slid to a stop, splaying its palms wide to get a purchase against the ice. Towering above them, Arkadia yanked at the reins. As the Sith Lord twisted atop the creature, Kerra spied a meter-long, ornamented staff, bound to Arkadia’s back.

“Sorry about the circumstances,” Arkadia said, her words precipitating into snow. “Our landing bays aren’t yet large enough to accommodate vessels like yours.” She leaned over and patted the chuffing creature’s snout. “And I can only get the beralyx out for a ride in the summer.”

This is summer?
Kerra stared at the newcomer. The woman was twenty-five, maybe thirty at most—and healthy. And for the first time among the Sith Lords she’d met here, Kerra saw face paint: light silvery streaks beneath her eyes, setting off her frost-speckled cheeks and completing the whole warrior-queen look. It was quite a getup.

Arkadia seemed equally bemused. She looked down at Kerra and smirked. “I said no weapons, Jedi.”

“What?” Kerra looked down to see Rusher’s cane, still in her left hand. “Oh,” she said, lifting it in both hands. “Fine.” Abruptly, she brought the care down over her space-suited knee, snapping it in two. She pitched the halves to Rusher, who glared at her and tossed them to the ice.

Arkadia noticed him. “Kerra Holt of the Republic, I spoke to earlier. But who are you, sir?”

“Jarrow Rusher, of Rusher’s Brigade.” He saluted. “That’s my ship you forced down.
Diligence
.”

“Diligence,”
Arkadia repeated. “Like Admiral Morvis’s vessel?”

“The same,” Rusher said, visibly impressed.

The Sith woman spoke matter-of-factly. “His exploits in the First Battle of Omonoth were a fraud, you know.”