Star Wars: New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse Page 12

  Though the designated hour was drawing near, Isolder and his second, retired Captain Astarta, had yet to show themselves. Plainly disquieted by the lapse in etiquette, Tenel Ka was unable to remain still for more than a moment.

  Leia could feel the young Jedi’s agitation clear across the lawn. It was here at the fortress that she, Jacen, Jaina, and Chewie’s nephew Lowbacca had braved carnivorous seaweed and Bartokk assassins to foil Ambassador Yfra’s plot to overthrow the monarchy. Here, too, Tenel Ka had finally come to accept the mutilation she had accidentally suffered at Jacen’s hand, preferring to make do with her stump rather than employ a prosthesis—even for a swimming race.

  As the memories of what Jacen had told her of those events were supplanted by concerns for the present, Leia saw Tenel Ka gaze up one of the hedge-bordered paths that climbed to the fortress and quickly walk away from the lawn. A moment later Ta’a Chume appeared where the natural path debouched into the lawn, her graying auburn hair falling from beneath a tall conical cap, to which was affixed a triangle of gauzy white fabric that veiled her lower face. Notwithstanding Tenel Ka’s efforts on behalf on the Hapan monarchy, the former matriarch refused to condone her granddaughter’s decision to embrace the life of a Jedi over that of a future queen mother.

  Ta’a Chume tracked Tenel Ka’s deliberate departure, then she turned and, spying Leia, gathered her long gown in one hand and headed directly for her.

  “I trust you slept well, Ambassador,” she said as she approached.

  “I’d like to report that I did, but in fact, I didn’t sleep a wink.”

  “This business with the duel,” Ta’a Chume said in dismissal. “Don’t worry.”

  Leia stared into her green eyes. “You’re that confident of your son?”

  “You’re not?”

  “I’ve seen the best bested, Ta’a Chume.”

  The former queen mother studied her. “I have to wonder to whom you’re referring. Your father, perhaps, bested by your brother; or my son, bested by the smuggler you helped make a hero.”

  Leia refused to take the bait. “Isolder shouldn’t have allowed himself to be provoked.”

  “But, my dear, what other course of action was open to him after Thane insulted you?”

  “He could have allowed me to respond.”

  Creases formed at the corners of Ta’a Chume’s eyes. “My dear Leia, here on Hapes noblewomen are expected to comport themselves as something other than warriors. It has been thus since the founding days of the Consortium. Blame the Lorell Raiders for placing us on pedestals.”

  “I’m not a Hapan noble, Ta’a Chume. And I’ve been called far worse than a liar.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  Leia bristled, then regained her composure. “I’m more concerned about unity among the Consortium worlds than I am about defending my honor.”

  Ta’a Chume forced a world-weary sigh. “There can be no unity without honor, Leia. And speaking of honor and dishonor, I’ve been meaning to inquire about your charming rogue of a husband. Why isn’t he here with you?”

  Leia held Ta’a Chume’s piercing gaze. “Han is contributing in his own way to the war effort.”

  “What a curious answer.” Ta’a Chume lowered her voice in feigned intimacy. “I trust there are no troubles at home.”

  “There are troubles everywhere. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Indeed.” Ta’a Chume fell silent for a moment, then said, “Since your arrival on Hapes I’ve been meaning to tell you how wrong I was about you.”

  Leia waited.

  “Unlike the Dathomiri witch’s daughter”—she glanced in the direction of Tenel Ka—”you chose against becoming a Jedi.”

  Leia had to remind herself that she was talking with a woman who had not only ordered the murders of her elder son and Isolder’s first love, but whose own mother had despised the Jedi almost as passionately as Palpatine had. Isolder’s grandmother had wanted to see the Jedi extinguished, if only to prevent the resurrection of what she had deemed an oligarchy ruled by sorcerers and readers of auras.

  “Tenel Ka chose wisely,” Leia said at last, “as did your son. Teneniel Djo is perfect for Isolder.”

  Ta’a Chume shook her head. “No, my dear. Their marriage is beset by difficulties. There is talk of Teneniel Djo’s returning to Dathomir.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  “ You would have been perfect for my son. He undertakes this duel as much to demonstrate to me that a man is capable of taking initiative, as to demonstrate to you his continuing affection. That’s why, regardless of the outcome of today’s contest, you can rely on having my full support in the matter of the Consortium allying itself with the New Republic against the Yuuzhan Vong.”

  Leia was still recovering from the unexpectedness of the disclosure when Isolder, Teneniel Djo, and Astarta strode into view.

  “With mere moments to spare he arrives,” Ta’a Chume remarked on seeing them. “How like him.”

  Trailing the prince and queen mother came staffers and other witnesses, including C-3PO, who hurried to Leia’s side.

  “Mistress Leia,” the droid began in a fret, “I had hoped you would decide to spare yourself the torment of having to watch Prince Isolder engage in such an antiquated and obviously vain exercise, in what can only be considered pecking-order politics.”

  Leia frowned at him, thinking of Corran Horn’s contest with the Yuuzhan Vong commander Shedao Shai at Ithor. “As the insulted party, I could hardly absent myself, Threepio.”

  “But, Mistress,” C-3PO pressed, “do you have any idea of what Prince Isolder and Archon Thane are about to do?”

  Leia glanced at the lawn where Thane’s seconds and Astarta were establishing the ground rules, and the archon and the prince were already donning the sensor-and electrode-studded headgear, power gloves, boots, and body armor that were integral to the contest.

  “I have some idea,” Leia said.

  The droid tilted his head to one side and flapped his stiff arms. “Then you shouldn’t permit yourself to watch. This form of hand-to-hand combat has its origin in a martial art developed by the Lorell Raiders when their chief preoccupation was the capture and distribution of female prisoners. While perhaps not as deadly or as mystical in nature as teras kasi—the ‘steel hands’ technique taught by the Followers of Palawa in the Pacanth Reach star cluster in the Outer Rim—it is nonetheless—”

  Leia shushed him. “Isolder spent two years as a privateer,” she said quietly. “I’m sure he knows a few moves.”

  “But, Mistress,” C-3PO said hopelessly.

  She silenced him again in order to hear what Isolderwas telling Thane as they faced off in the center of the lawn.

  “Should you win, you will not only have redeemed your honor but earned the right to brag of having defeated the prince of Hapes. Should I win, I gain nothing more than the right to demand that you solicit the pardon of my daughter and of Ambassador Organa Solo for your remarks.”

  Thane sneered at him. “If you’d like to sweeten the pot, Prince Isolder, you need only say so.”

  Isolder slipped his right hand into the power glove and flexed his fingers. “Should I win, I want your pledge that Vergill will support the New Republic.”

  The witnesses gasped. “This cannot be permitted!” someone shouted.

  “Neither of you has the right!” another voice added.

  Thane considered it while the arguments continued. “You have my pledge,” the archon said at last. “Providing that Hapes will withhold support if you lose.”

  “You bring disgrace on all our Houses!” a witness remarked.

  Isolder nodded. “You have my pledge.”

  Leia’s heart raced.

  Beside her, Ta’a Chume said, “This has been Thane’s goal all along. As Hapes goes, so goes half the Consortium of worlds.” She looked at Leia. “You see what my son undertakes for you?”

  On the lawn, the principal referee raised a red scarf hig
h overhead and let it flutter to the ground. It had scarcely touched the tallest blade of grass when the fight commenced.

  Hapan tradition dictated that honor duels commence with little fanfare and even less preamble. Leia quickly grasped that it was largely a matter of making sure that everyone had their wagers in place. From what she couldgather by eavesdropping on nearby conversations—and Ta’a Chume’s avowals to the contrary—Thane was favored to win.

  Despite his agitation, or perhaps as a response to it, C-3PO insisted on providing commentary, even after the fight had begun. Olmahk, by contrast, was clearly entranced, down on his haunches at the edge of the manicured lawn, his bulging eyes riveted on Isolder and Thane as they circled, feeling each other out with tentative kicks and punches.

  Like Isolder, Thane was tall and muscular, but his thick legs and broad shoulders made Isolder look positively wiry by comparison. His moves, as he loosened up, suggested both great power and dexterity, and he wasn’t timid about showing right away that he was good. He came at Isolder with double- and triple-kick combinations, fired by the same leg, recocking and letting fly without bringing his foot down in between.

  And he had fast hands, as well.

  Isolder parried the attack skillfully, but refrained from counterpunching, as if undecided about which offense to employ. Even so, it was obvious to Leia that they were both essentially footfighters, with Thane’s style drawing on traditional techniques and Isolder’s on straightforward boxing.

  The rules of the honor duel were known to everyone present, save for her and Olmahk, but Leia understood that the body armor and headgear served a dual purpose. In addition to dampening the bone-breaking and electro-shock capabilities of the gloves and boots, the sensor-studded padding indicated when a contestant landed a scoring blow, by way of a remote receiver.

  “What an appalling display,” C-3PO remarked worriedly. “And I fear it will only get worse, Mistress. Where most opponents agree beforehand to refrain from inflicting serious injury, the prince and the archon waived the usual restrictions!”

  Leia tried to ignore him. At the same time, she repressed an urge to think aloud, Don’t do this, Isolder, for fear that he might hear her through the Force and come undone. Corran Horn’s actions at Ithor had been noble, and yet they had failed to preserve the planet.

  Isolder and Thane worked each other around for several long minutes without scoring, though the punishing blows they rained on each other sounded like the muffled reports of ancient firearms. Exposed flesh reddened and swelled. A punch from Isolder drove Thane clear across the lawn; a front kick by the archon lifted the prince completely off his feet. Then both of them scored in rapid succession when Isolder left himself open to a blow to the head in order to land a powerful twisting punch to Thane’s ribs.

  The rooting of the onlookers was enthusiastic, but nothing like the bloodthirsty tumult professional gamblers would have raised. Inaudibly, Teneniel Djo, Tenel Ka, and some of the advisers intoned calming chants.

  Leia kept her concern in check by telling herself that what she was witnessing was no different from so many of the lightsaber practice duels she’d seen and engaged in over the years.

  Isolder and Thane went at each other again, this time at Isolder’s lead, with a set-piece attack of left fist, right fist. Thane confidently went for the block and counter against an expected right roundhouse kick, only to realize too late that it was a feint. Isolder cocked his leg back like lightning and again struck him in the ribs. Falling back, Thane grimaced in pain, but managed nonetheless to slip in an off-balance counterkick that caught Isolder unprepared.

  The primary referee glanced at the remote receiver anddeclared points for each fighter. With the match a two-two tie and both of them panting, he called for a sudden-death round.

  “Sudden death?” C-3PO moaned in alarm. “Sudden death?”

  It was plain that Thane understood how Isolder had set a trap for him. Once more he moved tentatively, though seemingly less out of respect for Isolder’s prowess than outof wariness for his talent to deceive.

  Isolder kept his distance, as well, ultimately forcing Thane to bore in on him. The archon faked a punch, twirled, and cycloned his right foot at Isolder’s thigh. Isolder twisted to avoid the full force of the impact, but an agonized yelp escaped him, and everyone realized that he had nearly been incapacitated.

  The injured leg collapsed under him, and he dropped to one knee, aiming a stiff-armed punch to Thane’s mid-section on the way down. Thane anticipated the blow and stopped short, just out of range, then brought one foot around and down in a crescent kick meant to shatter Isolder’s extended forearm and open him up for a frontal attack. But Isolder withdrew his arm in time and shoulder-rolled out of harm’s way. Shooting to a crouch, he launched himself at Thane.

  Thane backed away, windmilling his arms to parry punches and kicks, then stepping to one side and executing a fast one-handed forward flip, right foot extended to smash Isolder in the face.

  Isolder stooped, catching Thane’s lower calf in the crook of the X he formed with raised forearms, then called on his thigh muscles to spring him upright. Thane’s planted foot slipped on the grass, and he slammed supine to the ground.

  Isolder went after him, whirling for a back kick going

  in. But Thane spun on his shoulders and neatly swept Isolder’s feet out from under him. Springing themselves upright, they exchanged lightning volleys of kicks and body punches. Plosive sounds cut the salt air as they alternated in having the wind knocked out of them.

  Thane’s right foot caught Isolder’s left forearm just above the edge of the power glove, and Leia was certain she heard bone fracture. It struck her all at once that sudden death could mean just that.

  Surprised that neither of them had scored, the crowd grew louder, urging each man on. Leia heard Captain As-tarta’s voice cut through the din, commanding Isolder to regain focus. Only Leia and Ta’a Chume stood silently now, wrapped in concern.

  With a deft hop, Isolder reversed his stance to keep his maimed forearm out of the line of fire and launched another counteroffensive. Thane’s huge fist tagged him a glancing blow on the side of the head, but the archon received a toe kick to the knee in return.

  Thane apparently wasn’t accustomed to fighting someone his own size, and Isolder made the most of it. Time and again he caught Thane’s foot in his upper arm or shoulder or managed to duck his head out of the way. But Isolder appeared to be tiring. With little left to pitch that he hadn’t already tried, he again advanced with left fist, right fist, as windup for a right roundhouse kick.

  Leia’s breath caught in her throat. It was the most elementary and binary kind of gamble. Thane had to decide whether Isolder was setting the move up as a feint, or was going to commit to it this time. It came down to whether or not Thane believed Isolder was fool enough to stake everything—his reputation, Thane’s promise to side with Hapes with regard to the Yuuzhan Vong, perhaps even the respect of the royal family and Leia—ontrying the same trick after it had been compromised the first go-round.

  Thane set himself for a feint and counter. Isolder let him believe he had chosen correctly by using broken timing—appearing for an instant to be faking—then let fly the intended roundhouse.

  From the sound of the impact, it was clear that Isolder had planned the kick to connect with enough force to end the match. Even so, he exercised more restraint than Thane probably would have shown. The slap of the boot on the headguard echoed off the black rocks that graced the shore, and the primary referee had one hand up to signal the winning point before Thane had hit the ground.

  Betting stakes were changing hands even as the two opponents were bowing to each other. Given the added wager, many of the witnesses were beside themselves with outrage, and arguments began to erupt on all sides of the lawn.

  One to whom success came often, Isolder didn’t flaunt his victory. Even the customary embraces he received from his wife and daughter failed to elicit so much as a smi
le. Archon Thane appeared grudgingly congratulatory, but Leia could see that there would be no lasting peace between House Thane and House Isolder.

  At the moment, however, that didn’t matter. Thane’s loss meant at least one more vote on the side of supporting the New Republic.

  Thane and his seconds began to storm away from the lawn, but before he reached the path that led to the dock, Thane changed direction and angled for Leia.

  She braced herself.

  “Ambassador, I will make my formal apology when the Consortium representatives convene to vote on the issue of rendering aid to the New Republic,” he began.

  “Rest assured that I will honor my pledge to stand with Prince Isolder.” He scowled, despite himself. “For now I wish only to applaud you for moving the Consortium one step closer to what will no doubt prove to be a catastrophic campaign.”

  TWELVE

  Melisma, Gaph, and a dozen other Ryn slogged through the shin-deep mud that had formed in the wake of Ruan’s most recent on-command downpour. Conditions in Facility 17 were deteriorating rapidly and no one was smiling, not even Gaph, who was usually unflappingly sanguine in the worst of situations.

  The camp’s overseers had requested that the Ryn report to the familiarization sector, for purposes yet to be disclosed. A facsimile of civilization as defined by any number of Core worlds, the sector functioned as a training and indoctrination ground for those refugees bound for the heart of the New Republic.

  Despite Salliche Ag’s attempt to maroon on Ruan as many refugees as possible, a host of worlds and corporations had similar employment scenarios in mind for the displaced peoples of the Outer and Mid Rims. Optical concerns were seeking species with innate visual acuity, and acoustical concerns sought species with expanded ranges of hearing. Some companies were desirous of nothing more than folks of size and brute strength. Still, most of the refugees had never resided in the Colonies, let alone on Core worlds, and so the need for indoctrination classes meant to bring the culturally deprived up to speed for their new lives.