Star Wars: New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse Read online

  At the Rodian’s mildly enthusiastic nod, Borga snatched the thing from Leenik’s long-fingered hands, swallowed it whole, and loosed a resonant and lengthy belch of satisfaction.

  “Another,” she ordered.

  This time Borga opened her jaws so wide that Nom Anor could almost hear the living morsel plop into her enormous stomach cavity. She belched again and ran her powerful tongue over her lips and nostrils.

  “A bit like a Carnovian eel-pup, but with just a hint of the resistance one expects from the finest nala-tree frogs supplied by Fhnark and Company,” she said, as only a gourmand could. “All in all, on a par with some of the classic droch appetizers fashioned by Zubindi Ebsuk.” She turned her gaze on Nom Anor. “How didyou come by these, Pedric Cuf ? On which world can they be found?”

  “None in this galaxy.” Nom Anor smiled pleasantly. “They are bioengineered.”

  The Hutt glanced at Malik Carr. “He created them?”

  “Not personally. A Yuuzhan Vong shaper did so.”

  “And this... this shaper could replicate the product?”

  “I’m certain he could.” Nom Anor stood and gestured respectfully to Malik Carr. “Borga, permit me to introduce Commander Malik Carr, who will be overseeing this sector of space.”

  The Hutt blinked. “Overseeing?”

  Head canted slightly to one side, Malik Carr regarded her for what seemed an eternity. “You speak for all of your kind?” he asked in passable Huttese.

  Borga’s blubbery body stiffened proudly. “I do. And I have been vested with the power to negotiate with your species.”

  “By whom have you been vested?”

  “By the leaders of the voting kajidics, as well as the Grand Council.”

  “Kajidics?” Malik Carr said to Nom Anor.

  “Criminal syndicates,” Nom Anor told him in their own tongue.

  Malik Carr continued to appraise Borga openly. “Yours is the ruling kajidic, then?”

  “I am Borga Besadii Diori, cousin of Durga Besadii Tai, son of Aruk the Great, brother of Zavval. Wealthiest and most powerful of the Besadii kajidic, I lord over the Desilijic, the Trinivii, the Ramesh, Shell, and all other clans. All the three billion of this world pay obei—”

  “You are male or female?” Malik Carr cut her off.

  Borga blinked. “Just now I am with child.” She indicated a pouch, low in her bulging abdomen.

  “You birth live offspring?” Malik Carr said in obvious astonishment. When Borga nodded, the commander’s jaw dropped ever so slightly. “Like one of our lowliest caste women,” he remarked to Nom Anor. Borga’s broad forehead wrinkled in uncertainty. “Let us talk business,” Malik Carr said abruptly. “As . . . Pedric Cuf has undoubtedly apprised you, the Yuuzhan Vong have need of some of your worlds—for purposes of resource gathering. To effect this, we may be required to remove entire populations, and in some cases remake those worlds we select.”

  “Yes, so Pedric Cuf has explained,” Borga said after a long moment. “In fact, we Hutts know a good deal about remaking worlds. When we arrived here from Varl, for example, Glorious Jewel was not the paradise you see now, but a primitive world of dense forests and untamed seas. There was even an indigenous species called the Evocii, who we were obliged to relocate on Glorious Jewel’s moon, where the pitiful creatures gradually died out. By then, of course, we had replaced all Evocii structures with proper palaces and shrines ...”

  Malik Carr glanced at Nom Anor while Borga prattled on. “She looks like something our shapers might have cooked up.”

  Nom Anor laughed shortly. “It’s true. I thought the same thing when I first laid eyes on her.”

  Borga had stopped talking and was eyeing Malik Carr with misgiving. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Commander,” she said, with cheerful servility. “While I’ve made some progress in the tutorials Pedric Cuf supplied, I’m not yet fully conversant with your language.”

  Nom Anor cleared his throat. “The commander was just saying that he loves what you’ve done with the place.”

  Borga managed a dubious smile. “In that case, let us return to talking business, as you say.”

  Malik Carr nodded politely.

  “In exchange for granting you the use of certain worlds—one of which we have already provided, as a demonstration of good faith—we Hutts are obliged to ask the Yuuzhan Vong to keep clear of Rimward Hutt space in general, as well as to avoid the worlds Rodia, Ryloth, Tatooine, Kessel, and certain planets in the Si’klaata Cluster and Kathol sector.”

  Borga raised her voice in anticipation of objections. “I’m well aware that you have a fleet of ships anchored at the edge of the Y’Toub system, but we Hutts are not without our resources and weapons, and a war against us would only sidetrack you from your principal goal of defeating the New Republic.” She stopped herself. “That is your goal, is it not?”

  Malik Carr and Nom Anor exchanged brief looks of bemusement before the commander replied. “Our goals should not concern you at this point. Furthermore, it would be premature to decide which of us has rights to which worlds when we have yet to see whether our partnership will succeed. That decision, in any event, will ultimately be made by Supreme Overlord Shimrra. In the meantime, I suggest you broach the matter with my direct superior, Supreme Commander Nas Choka, who will certainly wish to meet with you when he arrives in Hutt space, some days from now.”

  Borga nodded. “I will gladly grant him audience, and I will do as you suggest and discuss terms with him. I do, however, wish to propose something for your immediate consideration. In addition to other enterprises, we Hutts have both a fondness for and a long history of slave trading. With our expertise and our well-established network of space lanes and hyperspace routes, it occurs tome that we might best serve the interests of the partnership, as you say, by overseeing the transportation of captives, laborers, servants, and fodder for sacrifices—a task for which we are uniquely suited. That way, the Yuuzhan Vong needn’t employ their own ships for the lowly purpose of conveying inferior beings to their well-deserved castigation, enslavement, or immolation.”

  “In return for what?” Malik Carr asked mildly.

  “Your promise not to interfere with the movement of spice and other proscribed goods.”

  “Spice?” Malik Carr asked Nom Anor.

  “Recreational euphoriants—some of which are arachnid by-products.”

  Borga followed the exchange, then clapped her hands. Human servants appeared bearing trays mounded with crystalline powders, varying in both composition and color.

  “Here you see examples of glitterstim and the kor grade of the mineral ryll,” Borga said, indicating one mound after the next. “And there you see carsunum, lumni-spice, gree spice, and andris.” She paused to regard Malik Carr. “If you would care to sample any one of them...”

  Malik Carr lifted his hand in a negative gesture.

  “Some other time perhaps,” Borga said graciously. “But what of my proposal?”

  Nom Anor turned to Malik Carr with purposeful excitement. “It does suit Supreme Commander Nas Choka’s plan to gather resistant populations onto a few select worlds for indoctrination and security, Commander.”

  Malik Carr nodded noncommittally, then looked at Borga. “You have no qualms about betraying the sundry species who embrace the tenets of the New Republic?”

  Borga loosed a sinister guffaw. “Certainly no more than Pedric Cuf has. After all, Commander, business isbusiness, and if anyone is to profit from the galaxy’s new circumstances, it may as well be the Hutts.”

  “So be it,” Malik Carr said with finality.

  Borga grinned broadly. “One more small item, Commander. Since it would be to our mutual advantage that Hutt supply ships refrain from unintentionally bumbling into your operations, is it too much to ask that we be advised of any imminent, uh, activities?”

  Malik Carr cut his eyes to Nom Anor. “Exactly as you predicted.”

  Nom Anor returned a barely perceptible nod.
“Negotiation is also part of their tradition.”

  “You do have a keen eye, Executor.”

  “A practiced one, Commander.”

  Borga watched them without comprehending.

  “We were just discussing the terms,” Nom Anor explained.

  “Consider our request an accommodation,” Borga said offhandedly. “A show of confidence.”

  “What you ask seems harmless enough,” Malik Carr allowed. “As you say, Borga, we certainly wouldn’t want your spice vessels inadvertently disrupting our activities.”

  “As I say, Commander.”

  “Until further notice, then, you may want to consider avoiding the Tynnani, Bothan, and Corellian systems. Tynna, especially so.”

  Borga’s broad grin returned with interest. “Tynna, Bothawui, and Corellia ... As it happens, Commander, we do limited business in all of those systems.”

  Malik Carr sniffed arrogantly. “ I suggest you reduce your business to zero.”

  No sooner had the Yuuzhan Vong entourage left the palace than three Hutts hurried into Borga’s court. Ayoung Hutt, uniformly tan in color, slithered in on his own power; an older one, with a stripe of green pigmentation running down his spine and tapered tail, was borne in on a litter supported by a dozen leathery-skinned Weequays; and an even more aged one, sporting a wispy gray beard, made use of a hoversled.

  The latter Hutt, Pazda Desilijic Tiure—uncle of the celebrated Jabba Desilijic Tiure—was the first to voice his outrage.

  “Who do they think they are, making demands of the Hutts, as though we were some trifling species concerned only with escaping bloodshed? That Malik Carr, he reminded me of the worst of Palpatine’s Imperial moffs. And the one who calls himself Pedric Cuf was equally treacherous—speaking out of both sides of his mouth.”

  Pazda showed Borga his most austere expression. “The Desilijic would never have permitted such indignities to take place in their court. Jabba would have fed Malik Carr and Pedric Cuf to a rancor and taken his chances with the Yuuzhan Vong fleet.”

  “Like he took his chances with Jedi Master Sky-walker?” the young Hutt, Randa Besadii Diori, remarked. “Personally, I always felt that Tatooine’s aridity wreaked havoc with Jabba’s judgment.” Elevating himself on his powerful tail, he nodded at his parent, Borga. “You handled them expertly.”

  “Impertinent pup,” Pazda wheezed. “What do you know of judgment or strategy, growing up as you have in wealth and privilege?”

  “One thing I know, old Hutt, is that I will never lose my wealth and privilege,” Randa told him now.

  “Enough of this,” the littered Hutt, Gardulla the Younger, chimed in, impaling Randa with his gaze. “Respect your elders—even when you don’t agree with them.” He ordered his muscular bearers to steer himcloser to Borga, nodding in regard as he neared the chief Besadii’s levitated couch. “To deceive an enemy, pretend to fear him.”

  The grin Borga had worn for Malik Carr and Nom Anor had been replaced by a look of narrow-eyed fury. “Better to have the Yuuzhan Vong overestimate our subservience than our shrewdness.”

  Gardulla laughed without mirth. “You succeeded in tricking them into revealing their next targets.”

  “As I promised you I would.”

  “Such intelligence is potentially invaluable. Do we now inform the New Republic of the invaders’ designs?”

  Borga shook her head. “New Republic Intelligence operatives have already been making overtures. Let us wait and see what they bring to the bargaining table.”

  “It had better be an offer of great worth,” Randa said.

  Gardulla ignored the comment. “No doubt the Yuuzhan Vong will expect us to reveal their plan.”

  “No doubt,” Borga agreed. “That’s why we will make no move. The New Republic will have to come to us.”

  She lowered the couch to the floor. “When Xim the Despot and his droid legions attempted to invade Hutt space, the great Kossak defeated them at Vontor and sent them fleeing for the Tion Hegemony. And when Moff Sarn Shild attempted to blockade Nal Hutta and destroy our moon, the great clans set aside their differences to manipulate weak Imperials and send their forces fleeing, as well.”

  She paused to glance in turn at Pazda, Randa, and Gardulla the Younger. “We have weathered many storms, and we will weather this one, as well. With care, we can play the New Republic against the invaders for the betterment of the Hutts.”

  “And we won’t need a bungled Death Star to do it,”

  Pazda muttered, in reference to Durga’s failed Darksaber Project.

  Borga glowered at him. “Insult my family again, and this court will no longer be available to you.”

  Pazda mustered a chastised look. “Excuse the grumbling that comes with advanced age, Your Highness.”

  Gardulla shook with sinister laughter. “As my parent used to say, ‘There’s always enough to divide—enough to keep, enough to spread around, enough to be stolen—as long as you’re first to get to it.’”

  Borga laughed with him. “For the time being, let the word go out to our subcontractors to exercise caution in their transactions and deliveries.” She glanced at Leenik. “Who manages our affairs in the targeted systems?”

  The Rodian dipped his head in a curt bow. “Boss Bunji oversees shipments to Corellia; Crev Bombaasa to Tynna andBothawui.”

  Borga licked her lips. “Inform them to suspend all business to the threatened systems—and to double their efforts elsewhere.” She clapped her hands loudly, awakening those sycophants who had dozed off. “Let us have music and dancing in celebration of this day!”

  FIVE

  Leia paced from bulkhead to bulkhead in her cramped cabin space aboard the New Republic transport. Head moving back and forth, servos whining and whirring, C-3PO tracked her movements, while Olmahk and Leia’s second bodyguard, Basbakhan, stood vigilantly to either side of the curved hatch. An illuminated planetary crescent of blue and brown dominated the view from the cabin’s transparisteel observation bay.

  A tone sounded from the communications suite, bringing Leia to a sudden halt.

  “Ambassador,” a raspy voice said, “we have the Rall-tiiri minister on channel one.”

  C-3PO pressed a lighted tile on the console, and the head and shoulders of a gray-haired man resolved in life-size holo. “Madam Ambassador,” the man said as Leia positioned herself for the visual pickup. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  Leia frowned in anger. “Don’t trifle with me, Minister Shirka. Why have we been refused landing privileges at Grallia Spaceport?”

  Shirka’s deeply lined face twitched. “I’m sorry, Ambassador, I thought you’d already been informed.”

  “Informed of what?”

  “The Ralltiiri Secretariat has vetoed the proposal that would have allowed us to accept any displaced peoples.”

  “I thought so,” Leia fumed. “And just what am I supposed to do with the six thousand refugees who were promised temporary shelter on Ralltiir?”

  “I’m afraid that’s not for me to decide.”

  “But the Secretariat agreed to this last week. What could have changed since then?”

  Shirka looked uncomfortable. “It’s rather complicated. But to be concise, the idea of accepting refugees didn’t sit well with several of our more influential off-world investors. That, of course, led the central banks to pressure the Ministry of Finance, and—”

  “I assured you that the New Republic Senate had approved the allocation of funds for Ralltiir.”

  “So you did, Ambassador, but the promised funds have not arrived, and to be frank there is rampant talk that they never will. As it is, investor confidence has been shaken. And as I’m sure you’re aware, what happens on Ralltiir affects market response all along the Perlemian Trade Route.”

  Leia folded her arms. “This isn’t some stock issue, Minister. This is about everyone pulling together to help. What’s happening in the Mid Rim might not seem of pressing importance here in the Core, but you’re foo
ling yourself if you think you can hide from this. Have you already forgotten what the Emperor did when Ralltiir lent its support to the Alliance?”

  Shirka bristled. “Is that meant to be a threat, Ambassador?”

  “You misunderstand. I’m only suggesting that you consider the heinous actions of Lord Tion and Governor Dennix Graeber as prelude to what the Yuuzhan Vong are capable of doing—and without provocation. Remember what it was like to be denied relief, Minister? Remember what Alderaan risked for Ralltiir?”

  Shirka worked his jaw. “Your mission of mercy at that time has not been forgotten. But, then, the Alliance did receive something in return ...”

  Shirka’s allusion was clear. A wounded Imperial soldier Leia rescued had been the first to tell of Palpatine’s superweapon, the Death Star.

  “Regardless of who gained what,” she said after a moment, “is it Ralltiir’s intention to remain neutral in the coming storm to avoid disturbing the privileged lives of its wealthy residents and investors?”

  Anger mottled Shirka’s face. “This conversation is over, Ambassador,” he said, and terminated the connection.

  Leia glanced at C-3PO and blew out her breath. “Of all the—”

  “Ambassador,” the same raspy voice interrupted. “Governor-General Amer Tariq of Rhinnal on channel four.”

  C-3PO pressed another tile, and a miniature image of Tariq rose from the holoprojector.

  “Leia,” the elder statesman and noted physician began, “I’m so glad to see you safe and sound.” Tariq wore an impeccably tailored suit, whose mix of colors was too vivid for the holo.

  “Thank you, Amer. Did you receive my message?”

  “I did, Leia. But I’m sorry to report that I don’t have encouraging news. Rhinnal cannot possibly accept additional refugees at this time, even on a temporary basis.”

  Leia was confounded. “Amer, if this is about funds—”

  He gave his head a firm shake. “Don’t confuse Rhinnal with Ralltiir, my dear. It’s simply that the ten thousand refugees we received from Ord Mantell have strained our resources to the breaking point. Just yesterday we were forced to reroute more than two thousand to the Ruan system.”