The Eye of Darkness, page 10
CORUSCANT
“Tell me you have good news for me,” said Elzar.
He was standing in the Senate Building, in one of the tactical briefing rooms that had been turned over to the RDC teams working on the Stormwall problem.
The technician and data slicer, Keven Tarr, had been requested by the Republic to assist them in attempting to decipher the underlying structures of the Stormwall. It had been a good appointment, and while Tarr hadn’t yet managed to spearhead a breakthrough, Elzar knew there were few others in the whole Republic who could match his proficiency and understanding of complex data systems.
Tarr was peering at Elzar now, a little confused. Around the two of them, the team of RDC engineers and researchers continued to buzz and flit, arguing over data stations or examining readouts. “If I had good news, Master Elzar, I would have sent word to the Temple immediately.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—after what happened to Grand Master Veter…I’m looking for something—anything—that I can use to help me persuade the Council to act.”
Tarr nodded. He was a tall, thin human, with bright-red hair and pale skin. “I understand. I saw the broadcast.” His expression was somber. “But we’re working as fast as we can. We’re still trying to understand how the Nihil technology works.”
Elzar sighed. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “So, we’ve made no progress at all?”
Tarr looked pained. “I’d have told you if we had. I’m trying, Master Elzar. We all are.”
“I know. And I’m sorry,” said Elzar. “I’m just…I need something.”
“I understand. I’m just not sure what else I can say.”
“You can answer a question?” said Elzar.
“Of course,” said Tarr. “Anything.”
“How much firepower would it take to destroy one of the buoys? I know we’ve tried before and never managed to breach their shields. But what would it actually take?”
“That’s not really the right question,” said Tarr, frowning in thought. “You see, even if we did manage to destroy one, the others around it would immediately shift position, extending their disruption fields to cover the hole. The system is self-repairing. To make enough of a difference, we’d have to take out several buoys at once. And even then, we’d only have a matter of moments before it healed itself again. It’s a fascinating system.”
Fascinating isn’t the word.
“But it is possible?” prompted Elzar.
“It’s possible,” said Tarr, “but it wouldn’t work. Not for the purpose we need. Think of it this way. We force a breach, destroy—say—four, five buoys. We then have a limited window in which to traverse the Stormwall before it closes back up again. To maintain any sort of gateway we’d have to deploy a huge, standing fleet, constantly firing to keep the breach open as the other buoys moved into place.”
“A fleet that would be sitting ducks for Nihil attack, meaning we’d have to find even more ships to defend them,” said Elzar.
“Precisely,” agreed Tarr. “And then there’s the fact the Nihil could simply deploy more stormseeds, strengthening the Stormwall around the site of any breach. We don’t know how many more they have.”
“And any ships that did get through could find themselves stranded in Nihil-occupied space,” said Elzar, “with no way to return.”
“And no way of knowing what awaited them on the inside,” added Tarr. “We can assume that the Nihil have some way of controlling the hyperspace routes inside the Occlusion Zone, too. Not to mention plenty of their own ships, all with Path drives, meaning they could outmaneuver any Jedi or RDC ships easily. They’d likely rip apart any vessels that made it through.”
“The Path drives use hyperspace lanes, don’t they? Why aren’t the Nihil ships ripped apart by the Stormwall’s distortion fields?” said Elzar.
“That’s not quite right,” said Tarr. “The Path drives allow the Nihil to access bespoke, untested, and unmapped hyperspace routes—their so-called ‘Paths’—but there must be another component. A key. We think the Path drives must communicate with a central hub, somewhere deep inside the Occlusion Zone, that allocates a code to each drive as needed. That code tells the buoys to grant passage to the specific route and drive in question.” Tarr shrugged. “It’s both incredibly complex and incredibly simple at the same time. But without the controlling tech, there’s currently no way to breach it.”
“So you’re telling me it’s hopeless,” said Elzar. He’d hoped to come here for answers, and instead had learned that they were no closer to finding a way through the barrier than they’d been a year ago.
“No,” said Tarr. “I’m telling you we don’t have the answers yet. But we will. It’s just a matter of time.”
Elzar nodded. Time was the one thing they didn’t have. It’d already been a year, and they were only now starting to understand how the Stormwall operated. How much longer would it be before a solution presented itself? How many more people would have to die?
“All right. Thanks, Keven. I’m sorry for pushing so hard. It’s just…I feel so helpless. I need to do something. To find a way to stop them.”
“Like I said, I understand. And we’re already doing everything in our power. I’ll keep you apprised. We will find a way through.” Tarr offered him a tight smile.
Elzar forced a smile in reply. “I know.”
I just hope it’s soon enough.
NIHIL TRANSPORT SHIP, INSIDE THE OCCLUSION ZONE
“Who are you?”
After jettisoning the escape pod containing the two still-unconscious Nihil, Avar had made her way to the transport ship’s cockpit, where a series of alarms was blaring and the Ugnaught pilot seemed to be in something of a panic. He turned to stare wide-eyed at Avar as she strode purposefully into the small space, leaned over the controls, and silenced the annoying alarms. KC-78 trundled in behind her.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m here to help.”
The Ugnaught—a small, hairy, porcine male with a heavy brow ridge and downturned mouth—looked at her appraisingly. “A pirate? A smuggler?” He caught sight of the holster strapped to Avar’s hip. “Oh no. No. A Jedi!”
Avar narrowed her eyes. “You sound worried.”
“Well of course I’m worried!” spat the Ugnaught. “There’s been a disturbance in the cargo hold, and one of the escape pods has been jettisoned. Now, instead of the two Nihil guards that were supposed to be overseeing this grain shipment, I’ve got you, standing there all uppity with your lightsaber.”
Avar tried to keep her smile to herself but failed. “All uppity?”
“Well, you do seem rather pleased with yourself.”
“Hmmm. Well, I can assure you, my lightsaber is staying right where it is, in its holster.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” said the Ugnaught.
“You’re not Nihil, then?” said Avar. It was thunderingly obvious that the Ugnaught was not affiliated with Marchion Ro’s regime, but Avar thought it might be a way of drawing him out, calming him a little. Her best guess was that he was just a haulage pilot who’d been co-opted into serving the Nihil through coercion and threats.
“Me? I’ve got nothing to do with those mask-wearing fools. I mean, look at me.” He thumped his chest. “Do I look like I go running about threatening folk and daubing blue paint on my face? Well, do I?”
“You don’t,” conceded Avar. “So I’d imagine you’ll be happy to be free of them.”
“Free of them? They’ll probably feed me to a whickersnipe for this! Reptile food! That’s all I’ll be good for. That’s assuming I even survive whatever foolishness it is you have planned.” He shook his head. “Jedi,” he muttered under his breath.
Avar examined the navigation readouts. “Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Do I?” replied the Ugnaught.
“I’m redirecting this cargo. To people who need it.” She leaned over the control panel and started inputting a course to Prandril, a small Rodian colony on a moon in the Minos Cluster, which Avar had heard was running close to starvation after the colonists’ regular food supply channels had been disrupted by the Nihil. It was close by. They’d be unloading the grain within a couple of hours. Grain that had been grown on Hetzal, where the Nihil now had their main base of operations, and from where they were controlling all food shipments in the region, starving out the populations that refused to pledge fealty or pay tithes. It was utterly barbaric.
“Are you mad? If the Nihil catch you…”
Avar shot the Ugnaught a glance. “They won’t.”
“So you say. They’ve caught plenty of others.” The Ugnaught stuck out his chin. “And what about me? Where do I fit into this plan?”
“You can tell them I held you against your will. Threatened you if you didn’t help me.”
“Are you threatening me?” asked the Ugnaught, cautiously.
“Of course not.”
“Hmmm.” He looked thoughtful. “What have you done with the guards? Kill them, did you?”
“No,” said Avar. She slipped into the copilot’s chair as she finished inputting the new course. She was beginning to like this spiky Ugnaught pilot. “I didn’t kill them. I knocked them unconscious and jettisoned them in the escape pod. They’ll be picked up by another Nihil ship within a few hours.”
The Ugnaught looked stricken. The color drained from his face. His hands clutched the arms of his chair. “You’ve killed us both, you fool!”
Avar frowned. “And how’s that?”
“The Nihil patrols! This ship doesn’t have a Path engine. It’s just a hauler. Without the guards to vouch for us, we’ll never get past the blockades.”
The Ugnaught was right. No one moved inside the zone without the correct permissions. Avar had just assumed a haulage ship from Hetzal would be programmed with the correct codes.
Clearly, she’d been wrong. Of course, the Nihil would ensure any haulage ships were reliant on them for safe passage. Especially as they knew the pilots and other workers were operating under duress. They didn’t have time for revolts, and they didn’t have enough Nihil to pilot the ships themselves.
Avar examined the flight map, seeking alternative routes. The shortest, uncontrolled route would get them near, but they’d have to emerge close to a dangerous debris field that orbited Prandril. Making use of such a route risked attracting the attention of the scav droid swarms, too. Without the right access codes, the swarms would attack indiscriminately. But there was no other option. Avar couldn’t give up now. She started inputting the new coordinates.
The Ugnaught’s frown deepened as he watched the new route appear on the readouts. “You’re taking us through an unapproved hyperspace lane! And into the middle of a debris field! What about the scav swarms?” His voice rose in pitch as he grew increasingly panicked.
“We’ll deal with them. Kaysee has been working on slicing their attack protocols. We’ll find a way.” Avar looked across at him. “Of course, there’s another escape pod back there if you’d rather take your chances with the Nihil?”
The Ugnaught folded his arms across his chest. “And abandon my ship? I don’t think so.”
Avar engaged the hyperspace drive. “Then you’d better hold on,” she said.
HETZAL, INSIDE THE OCCLUSION ZONE
“There are still Jedi here,” said Marchion Ro. “Behind the Stormwall. Stirring dissent like parasites, worming their insidious way into people’s minds.” He paced back and forth before a row of large metal cages. Inside each of them a Nameless cowered, trained by a harsh regime of pain and hunger to fear Marchion and, perhaps more pointedly, the looming figure in black who was the more immediate master of their destiny. “We cannot rest until they’re all dead,” Ro continued. “We cannot rest until we’re free of them. They pose an ongoing threat to the Nihil. To me.”
Baron Boolan, the towering Ithorian, stepped into the gloomy light of the laboratory.
This was his domain, a series of linked chambers that Ro had built for him when the fortress was erected here on Hetzal. These lower levels had once been part of a Republic Longbeam, and Ro took great delight in knowing what was now being tested down here, in the belly of an old Republic ship. He enjoyed turning the tools of the Republic against them, showing them that anything they threw at him could be twisted into a weapon.
Anything.
“I’m nearly ready for another test,” said Boolan. His translator crackled and echoed, leaving Ro with the strange impression that Boolan was farther away than he really was. Another of his strange affectations, designed to make people feel uneasy in his presence. To Ro, it was a mere annoyance.
“Then we need to find more Jedi to test them on,” said Ro. He peered at the creatures in their crates but could discern nothing of use in the low light. “General Viess and her insufferable protégée assure me they’re close to securing some new test subjects.”
Boolan chattered his teeth. “Yes. So they say. I wish them luck. My own sources tell me all efforts to obtain more Jedi are being…curtailed. Someone inside Nihil space is frustrating our efforts. Nevertheless, I am making alternative arrangements. I have several promising students. My children have shown an aptitude with the beasts and are desirous of the prestige that comes from serving you, my Eye.”
Ro could never tell whether the Ithorian was mocking him or not. One day he’d have to do something about that. For now, though, Boolan fulfilled an important function, and his deference was just the right side of sycophancy. There was no doubting the fact he was an exceptional scientist, and he understood the beasts in a way no one else had, even Ro’s Evereni ancestors who’d first discovered them. Boolan understood, too, the pleasure to be found in turning the creatures into the weapons that Ro so desired. The tools that would obliterate the last of the Jedi. The “refinements” he was making to their physiology had resulted in a pack of enhanced Force Eaters that would prove utterly unstoppable. Not just Levelers, but weapons of complete annihilation.
His so-called “children,” though—they were something different. Sentient beings, former Force users, upon whom Boolan had experimented with disturbing relish, twisting their bodies into something sickening and new, breaking their spirits and building them back up to become dangerous zealots aligned with his cause. He’d raised a small “family” of these hybridized monsters and planned to use them in the fight against the Jedi.
Sometimes, Ro wondered whether Boolan was ever really a baron, or just a butcher with an endless capacity for cruelty. He supposed it didn’t matter, so long as the Ithorian remained useful.
“Very well,” said Ro. “In the meantime, I’ll impress upon Viess the need to bring forward her plans.”
“And Starros? I understand she was less than impressed with your recent broadcast,” said Boolan.
“Starros remains a useful tool. But she is a creature of the Republic and their Senate, so while her perspective can occasionally prove useful, she finds it difficult to think in different terms. Like many of us, she adheres to the worldview she was given as a child. She’s never seen anything else, and so she would impose the structures of the Republic upon us all. She does not understand why we continue to provoke those fools on Coruscant, high up in their gleaming spires.”
“And why do we continue to provoke them?” asked Boolan.
“Because it pleases me.”
“Ever my son,” said a familiar voice from just behind Ro’s shoulder. He turned, but there was no one there. Just the empty shadows, and the low mewling of the captive beasts.
But the voice had been real. He’d heard it.
Asgar.
Father.
The unquiet spirit who refused to leave him in peace. The father he had murdered to seize control of the Nihil.
“Are you well, my Eye?” said Boolan, peering at him with unreadable eyes. Once again, there was no hint of irony in the Ithorian’s clipped electronic speech, but this time Ro was certain it was there.
“Carry on,” Ro said, turning to leave.
The Ithorian mumbled something in his own indecipherable language and returned to his work.
“Are you going to stand for that?” said Asgar as Ro marched toward the exit to the upper levels. “Are you going to let a creature like him speak to you like that? You should kill him for his insolence.”
Ro carried on walking, ignoring the chiding, amused tone of the ghost. Burying the welling anger. He’d been hearing his father’s voice more often in recent weeks, along with another, one from the distant past, an Evereni whose story had echoed down the centuries, a name he had heard a thousand times as a child: Marda Ro. The original founder of the Nihil.
Perhaps he was just tired.
Perhaps.
HETZAL, INSIDE THE OCCLUSION ZONE
Ghirra Starros stood with her hands behind her back, peering out at the pleasant, rolling fields of Hetzal from behind the huge sculpture of the swirling eye affixed to Marchion Ro’s bedchamber.
Behind her, Ro lay on the bed beneath mussed sheets, divested at last of the trappings of rule: the cloak, the mask, the pomp and circumstance. But perhaps not the brooding attitude, the coldness, the detachment that left her feeling pushed away and used.
Not that she hadn’t gotten something out of it, too. She’d embarked on this relationship partly as a way of getting closer to him, of seeking his approval and protection, but there’d been an attraction as well. She’d always been drawn to power, and Marchion Ro wore it absolutely.
Now, though, she wondered if she hadn’t simply trapped herself in something more dangerous than she could ever have imagined.
Ghirra turned back to the window. Down below, workers toiled in the fields to gather the harvests, assisted by lumbering menial droids that pulled huge metallic containers along in their wake, into which the workers tossed their freshly picked produce. It might have seemed idyllic if it hadn’t been for the Nihil guards, lounging about on the backs of their speeders, ready to lay claim to every grain that the workers picked.
“Tell me you have good news for me,” said Elzar.
He was standing in the Senate Building, in one of the tactical briefing rooms that had been turned over to the RDC teams working on the Stormwall problem.
The technician and data slicer, Keven Tarr, had been requested by the Republic to assist them in attempting to decipher the underlying structures of the Stormwall. It had been a good appointment, and while Tarr hadn’t yet managed to spearhead a breakthrough, Elzar knew there were few others in the whole Republic who could match his proficiency and understanding of complex data systems.
Tarr was peering at Elzar now, a little confused. Around the two of them, the team of RDC engineers and researchers continued to buzz and flit, arguing over data stations or examining readouts. “If I had good news, Master Elzar, I would have sent word to the Temple immediately.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just—after what happened to Grand Master Veter…I’m looking for something—anything—that I can use to help me persuade the Council to act.”
Tarr nodded. He was a tall, thin human, with bright-red hair and pale skin. “I understand. I saw the broadcast.” His expression was somber. “But we’re working as fast as we can. We’re still trying to understand how the Nihil technology works.”
Elzar sighed. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “So, we’ve made no progress at all?”
Tarr looked pained. “I’d have told you if we had. I’m trying, Master Elzar. We all are.”
“I know. And I’m sorry,” said Elzar. “I’m just…I need something.”
“I understand. I’m just not sure what else I can say.”
“You can answer a question?” said Elzar.
“Of course,” said Tarr. “Anything.”
“How much firepower would it take to destroy one of the buoys? I know we’ve tried before and never managed to breach their shields. But what would it actually take?”
“That’s not really the right question,” said Tarr, frowning in thought. “You see, even if we did manage to destroy one, the others around it would immediately shift position, extending their disruption fields to cover the hole. The system is self-repairing. To make enough of a difference, we’d have to take out several buoys at once. And even then, we’d only have a matter of moments before it healed itself again. It’s a fascinating system.”
Fascinating isn’t the word.
“But it is possible?” prompted Elzar.
“It’s possible,” said Tarr, “but it wouldn’t work. Not for the purpose we need. Think of it this way. We force a breach, destroy—say—four, five buoys. We then have a limited window in which to traverse the Stormwall before it closes back up again. To maintain any sort of gateway we’d have to deploy a huge, standing fleet, constantly firing to keep the breach open as the other buoys moved into place.”
“A fleet that would be sitting ducks for Nihil attack, meaning we’d have to find even more ships to defend them,” said Elzar.
“Precisely,” agreed Tarr. “And then there’s the fact the Nihil could simply deploy more stormseeds, strengthening the Stormwall around the site of any breach. We don’t know how many more they have.”
“And any ships that did get through could find themselves stranded in Nihil-occupied space,” said Elzar, “with no way to return.”
“And no way of knowing what awaited them on the inside,” added Tarr. “We can assume that the Nihil have some way of controlling the hyperspace routes inside the Occlusion Zone, too. Not to mention plenty of their own ships, all with Path drives, meaning they could outmaneuver any Jedi or RDC ships easily. They’d likely rip apart any vessels that made it through.”
“The Path drives use hyperspace lanes, don’t they? Why aren’t the Nihil ships ripped apart by the Stormwall’s distortion fields?” said Elzar.
“That’s not quite right,” said Tarr. “The Path drives allow the Nihil to access bespoke, untested, and unmapped hyperspace routes—their so-called ‘Paths’—but there must be another component. A key. We think the Path drives must communicate with a central hub, somewhere deep inside the Occlusion Zone, that allocates a code to each drive as needed. That code tells the buoys to grant passage to the specific route and drive in question.” Tarr shrugged. “It’s both incredibly complex and incredibly simple at the same time. But without the controlling tech, there’s currently no way to breach it.”
“So you’re telling me it’s hopeless,” said Elzar. He’d hoped to come here for answers, and instead had learned that they were no closer to finding a way through the barrier than they’d been a year ago.
“No,” said Tarr. “I’m telling you we don’t have the answers yet. But we will. It’s just a matter of time.”
Elzar nodded. Time was the one thing they didn’t have. It’d already been a year, and they were only now starting to understand how the Stormwall operated. How much longer would it be before a solution presented itself? How many more people would have to die?
“All right. Thanks, Keven. I’m sorry for pushing so hard. It’s just…I feel so helpless. I need to do something. To find a way to stop them.”
“Like I said, I understand. And we’re already doing everything in our power. I’ll keep you apprised. We will find a way through.” Tarr offered him a tight smile.
Elzar forced a smile in reply. “I know.”
I just hope it’s soon enough.
NIHIL TRANSPORT SHIP, INSIDE THE OCCLUSION ZONE
“Who are you?”
After jettisoning the escape pod containing the two still-unconscious Nihil, Avar had made her way to the transport ship’s cockpit, where a series of alarms was blaring and the Ugnaught pilot seemed to be in something of a panic. He turned to stare wide-eyed at Avar as she strode purposefully into the small space, leaned over the controls, and silenced the annoying alarms. KC-78 trundled in behind her.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. I’m here to help.”
The Ugnaught—a small, hairy, porcine male with a heavy brow ridge and downturned mouth—looked at her appraisingly. “A pirate? A smuggler?” He caught sight of the holster strapped to Avar’s hip. “Oh no. No. A Jedi!”
Avar narrowed her eyes. “You sound worried.”
“Well of course I’m worried!” spat the Ugnaught. “There’s been a disturbance in the cargo hold, and one of the escape pods has been jettisoned. Now, instead of the two Nihil guards that were supposed to be overseeing this grain shipment, I’ve got you, standing there all uppity with your lightsaber.”
Avar tried to keep her smile to herself but failed. “All uppity?”
“Well, you do seem rather pleased with yourself.”
“Hmmm. Well, I can assure you, my lightsaber is staying right where it is, in its holster.”
“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?” said the Ugnaught.
“You’re not Nihil, then?” said Avar. It was thunderingly obvious that the Ugnaught was not affiliated with Marchion Ro’s regime, but Avar thought it might be a way of drawing him out, calming him a little. Her best guess was that he was just a haulage pilot who’d been co-opted into serving the Nihil through coercion and threats.
“Me? I’ve got nothing to do with those mask-wearing fools. I mean, look at me.” He thumped his chest. “Do I look like I go running about threatening folk and daubing blue paint on my face? Well, do I?”
“You don’t,” conceded Avar. “So I’d imagine you’ll be happy to be free of them.”
“Free of them? They’ll probably feed me to a whickersnipe for this! Reptile food! That’s all I’ll be good for. That’s assuming I even survive whatever foolishness it is you have planned.” He shook his head. “Jedi,” he muttered under his breath.
Avar examined the navigation readouts. “Don’t you want to know what I’m doing?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Do I?” replied the Ugnaught.
“I’m redirecting this cargo. To people who need it.” She leaned over the control panel and started inputting a course to Prandril, a small Rodian colony on a moon in the Minos Cluster, which Avar had heard was running close to starvation after the colonists’ regular food supply channels had been disrupted by the Nihil. It was close by. They’d be unloading the grain within a couple of hours. Grain that had been grown on Hetzal, where the Nihil now had their main base of operations, and from where they were controlling all food shipments in the region, starving out the populations that refused to pledge fealty or pay tithes. It was utterly barbaric.
“Are you mad? If the Nihil catch you…”
Avar shot the Ugnaught a glance. “They won’t.”
“So you say. They’ve caught plenty of others.” The Ugnaught stuck out his chin. “And what about me? Where do I fit into this plan?”
“You can tell them I held you against your will. Threatened you if you didn’t help me.”
“Are you threatening me?” asked the Ugnaught, cautiously.
“Of course not.”
“Hmmm.” He looked thoughtful. “What have you done with the guards? Kill them, did you?”
“No,” said Avar. She slipped into the copilot’s chair as she finished inputting the new course. She was beginning to like this spiky Ugnaught pilot. “I didn’t kill them. I knocked them unconscious and jettisoned them in the escape pod. They’ll be picked up by another Nihil ship within a few hours.”
The Ugnaught looked stricken. The color drained from his face. His hands clutched the arms of his chair. “You’ve killed us both, you fool!”
Avar frowned. “And how’s that?”
“The Nihil patrols! This ship doesn’t have a Path engine. It’s just a hauler. Without the guards to vouch for us, we’ll never get past the blockades.”
The Ugnaught was right. No one moved inside the zone without the correct permissions. Avar had just assumed a haulage ship from Hetzal would be programmed with the correct codes.
Clearly, she’d been wrong. Of course, the Nihil would ensure any haulage ships were reliant on them for safe passage. Especially as they knew the pilots and other workers were operating under duress. They didn’t have time for revolts, and they didn’t have enough Nihil to pilot the ships themselves.
Avar examined the flight map, seeking alternative routes. The shortest, uncontrolled route would get them near, but they’d have to emerge close to a dangerous debris field that orbited Prandril. Making use of such a route risked attracting the attention of the scav droid swarms, too. Without the right access codes, the swarms would attack indiscriminately. But there was no other option. Avar couldn’t give up now. She started inputting the new coordinates.
The Ugnaught’s frown deepened as he watched the new route appear on the readouts. “You’re taking us through an unapproved hyperspace lane! And into the middle of a debris field! What about the scav swarms?” His voice rose in pitch as he grew increasingly panicked.
“We’ll deal with them. Kaysee has been working on slicing their attack protocols. We’ll find a way.” Avar looked across at him. “Of course, there’s another escape pod back there if you’d rather take your chances with the Nihil?”
The Ugnaught folded his arms across his chest. “And abandon my ship? I don’t think so.”
Avar engaged the hyperspace drive. “Then you’d better hold on,” she said.
HETZAL, INSIDE THE OCCLUSION ZONE
“There are still Jedi here,” said Marchion Ro. “Behind the Stormwall. Stirring dissent like parasites, worming their insidious way into people’s minds.” He paced back and forth before a row of large metal cages. Inside each of them a Nameless cowered, trained by a harsh regime of pain and hunger to fear Marchion and, perhaps more pointedly, the looming figure in black who was the more immediate master of their destiny. “We cannot rest until they’re all dead,” Ro continued. “We cannot rest until we’re free of them. They pose an ongoing threat to the Nihil. To me.”
Baron Boolan, the towering Ithorian, stepped into the gloomy light of the laboratory.
This was his domain, a series of linked chambers that Ro had built for him when the fortress was erected here on Hetzal. These lower levels had once been part of a Republic Longbeam, and Ro took great delight in knowing what was now being tested down here, in the belly of an old Republic ship. He enjoyed turning the tools of the Republic against them, showing them that anything they threw at him could be twisted into a weapon.
Anything.
“I’m nearly ready for another test,” said Boolan. His translator crackled and echoed, leaving Ro with the strange impression that Boolan was farther away than he really was. Another of his strange affectations, designed to make people feel uneasy in his presence. To Ro, it was a mere annoyance.
“Then we need to find more Jedi to test them on,” said Ro. He peered at the creatures in their crates but could discern nothing of use in the low light. “General Viess and her insufferable protégée assure me they’re close to securing some new test subjects.”
Boolan chattered his teeth. “Yes. So they say. I wish them luck. My own sources tell me all efforts to obtain more Jedi are being…curtailed. Someone inside Nihil space is frustrating our efforts. Nevertheless, I am making alternative arrangements. I have several promising students. My children have shown an aptitude with the beasts and are desirous of the prestige that comes from serving you, my Eye.”
Ro could never tell whether the Ithorian was mocking him or not. One day he’d have to do something about that. For now, though, Boolan fulfilled an important function, and his deference was just the right side of sycophancy. There was no doubting the fact he was an exceptional scientist, and he understood the beasts in a way no one else had, even Ro’s Evereni ancestors who’d first discovered them. Boolan understood, too, the pleasure to be found in turning the creatures into the weapons that Ro so desired. The tools that would obliterate the last of the Jedi. The “refinements” he was making to their physiology had resulted in a pack of enhanced Force Eaters that would prove utterly unstoppable. Not just Levelers, but weapons of complete annihilation.
His so-called “children,” though—they were something different. Sentient beings, former Force users, upon whom Boolan had experimented with disturbing relish, twisting their bodies into something sickening and new, breaking their spirits and building them back up to become dangerous zealots aligned with his cause. He’d raised a small “family” of these hybridized monsters and planned to use them in the fight against the Jedi.
Sometimes, Ro wondered whether Boolan was ever really a baron, or just a butcher with an endless capacity for cruelty. He supposed it didn’t matter, so long as the Ithorian remained useful.
“Very well,” said Ro. “In the meantime, I’ll impress upon Viess the need to bring forward her plans.”
“And Starros? I understand she was less than impressed with your recent broadcast,” said Boolan.
“Starros remains a useful tool. But she is a creature of the Republic and their Senate, so while her perspective can occasionally prove useful, she finds it difficult to think in different terms. Like many of us, she adheres to the worldview she was given as a child. She’s never seen anything else, and so she would impose the structures of the Republic upon us all. She does not understand why we continue to provoke those fools on Coruscant, high up in their gleaming spires.”
“And why do we continue to provoke them?” asked Boolan.
“Because it pleases me.”
“Ever my son,” said a familiar voice from just behind Ro’s shoulder. He turned, but there was no one there. Just the empty shadows, and the low mewling of the captive beasts.
But the voice had been real. He’d heard it.
Asgar.
Father.
The unquiet spirit who refused to leave him in peace. The father he had murdered to seize control of the Nihil.
“Are you well, my Eye?” said Boolan, peering at him with unreadable eyes. Once again, there was no hint of irony in the Ithorian’s clipped electronic speech, but this time Ro was certain it was there.
“Carry on,” Ro said, turning to leave.
The Ithorian mumbled something in his own indecipherable language and returned to his work.
“Are you going to stand for that?” said Asgar as Ro marched toward the exit to the upper levels. “Are you going to let a creature like him speak to you like that? You should kill him for his insolence.”
Ro carried on walking, ignoring the chiding, amused tone of the ghost. Burying the welling anger. He’d been hearing his father’s voice more often in recent weeks, along with another, one from the distant past, an Evereni whose story had echoed down the centuries, a name he had heard a thousand times as a child: Marda Ro. The original founder of the Nihil.
Perhaps he was just tired.
Perhaps.
HETZAL, INSIDE THE OCCLUSION ZONE
Ghirra Starros stood with her hands behind her back, peering out at the pleasant, rolling fields of Hetzal from behind the huge sculpture of the swirling eye affixed to Marchion Ro’s bedchamber.
Behind her, Ro lay on the bed beneath mussed sheets, divested at last of the trappings of rule: the cloak, the mask, the pomp and circumstance. But perhaps not the brooding attitude, the coldness, the detachment that left her feeling pushed away and used.
Not that she hadn’t gotten something out of it, too. She’d embarked on this relationship partly as a way of getting closer to him, of seeking his approval and protection, but there’d been an attraction as well. She’d always been drawn to power, and Marchion Ro wore it absolutely.
Now, though, she wondered if she hadn’t simply trapped herself in something more dangerous than she could ever have imagined.
Ghirra turned back to the window. Down below, workers toiled in the fields to gather the harvests, assisted by lumbering menial droids that pulled huge metallic containers along in their wake, into which the workers tossed their freshly picked produce. It might have seemed idyllic if it hadn’t been for the Nihil guards, lounging about on the backs of their speeders, ready to lay claim to every grain that the workers picked.
