A Knight Alone, Book One: Ambition's Gambit

Timeline: 32 years after the Battle of Yavin

Chapter One: The Conspirator's Ale

Two figures writhed in entwined ecstasy upon the shared bunk, the sheets twisting around their legs with each gasping breath. Hot kisses trailed down sweat-slicked flesh. Passion permeated the air. At the moment of climax, Ran Tonno-Skeve pressed his lips hard against Angela Marshair's, riding their mutual delight to its end. He lay back against his pillow as Angela rested her head against his heaving chest.

"I'm going to miss this," she murmured.

"It can't be helped," Ran said. "Master Skywalker wants us to stay grounded for a few days. It'll be good to show the people that the Jedi want to take an active role in judiciary matters."

"You sound like an old bore," she noted, kissing his neck. "Too many big words. You really are a Jedi Master." She crawled over him and nibbled at his ear. "You should have asked for one of those long-range scouting assignments. Lots of time in hyperspace. Lots of time alone."

"You know I tried, but I think Master Skywalker's getting a bit suspicious about our relationship."

Angela wrinkled her nose. "As if it's a secret. Everyone knows we're sleeping together. So what if Skywalker's got a rod up his backside about it?"

Ran chuckled. "A noblewoman like you shouldn't talk like that. Makes you sound trashy."

"Having a gutter-born street urchin like you for a Master? I'm not surprised."

They lay in their bunk aboard Ran's ship, the Nebula Dancer, a temperamental old bucket of bolts and wires with a pair of big engines slapped on the back. Its systems hummed in time with their heartbeats. The couple felt truly at home in the quiet transport, and when they made love, it was almost exclusively on board.

"What time is it?" Ran took Angela's hand in his own and looked at her chronometer. "Ah, rats. Looks like alone time is over, my love." He kissed her forehead. "We'll be dropping out of hyperspace soon. The last thing the Rakarisians will want to see is my naked butt." Ran slid out of bed, bending over to pick up his trousers. Then he felt a burning slap against his rear and let out a yelp.

"I happen to like your butt," Angela chuckled, tossing a boot his way. They dressed and made their way to the cockpit. Moments later the ship fell out of hyperspace. The Core World of Rakaris loomed before them, an industrial world of metal and blinking lights. Hundreds of ships flew around them, navigating the space lanes. Some jumped to lightspeed only to be replaced by those dropping out of it. It was an orchestra of galactic chaos, the hum and thrum of commerce and civilization.

Ran frowned. "I'd rather take on gundarks and rancors than this," he groused.

"I do believe you once told me that missions like this are a necessity," Angela said, brushing her shoulder-length brown hair with her fingers. "Damn it, Ran, I wish you wouldn't grab my hair when you get excited. You always get it tangled."

"I'll try not to next time, Angie, but you know I'm a sucker for brunettes." He maneuvered the Dancer toward the planet, activating his transponder to signal his landing codes. "By the Force, I hate these missions."

"Again, you said they were necessities."

"When I said that, you were in the role of antsy apprentice and I was the Jedi Master," he reminded her. "Now you're not so antsy, so I can stop being the mysterious and wise Master. Now I can be just an irreverent Master instead."

"I was never antsy," the brown-haired girl retorted with indignation. "I am a model student and always have been." She tilted her chin up imperiously, but was only able to maintain the look for a pair of heartbeats before laughter shook her. Ran joined in as he cycled the ship into landing.

"Better go to the dutiful apprentice mode," Ran told her. "No public displays of affection and all that."

"The Jedi have some real strange rules, Master," Angela remarked, emphasizing his title. Ran only smiled. In public, the title was one of respect. In private, it became a sultry, seductive call to love. The smile became rueful; the title of Master would have to be of the former persuasion for now.

They docked at Atari City, capital of Rakaris, and disembarked. A suave, purple-skinned Twi'lek male was waiting for them at the foot of the landing ramp. "Ah, masters Jedi," he greeted warmly. "I am Sierra Mano, a representative for Admiral Adguard."

Ran and Angela had been sent by Master Skywalker to help maintain the peace on Rakaris, which had gone under martial law during the Yuuzhan Vong war. With the war's end, martial law was expected to be lifted, but Admiral LeFrein, the man who instated the policy and who had strong political connections to the pre-war Senate, refused to return the reins of power to the democratic parties of Rakaris. Admiral Adguard, LeFrein's chief political rival and friend to the democrats, had called upon the Jedi to render a settlement.

Ran bowed to the Twi'lek. "I am Ran Tonno-Skeve and this is my apprentice, Angela Marshair. We will do what we can to aid the Admiral's cause. Where is he now?"

The Twi'lek gestured deeper into the docking bay compound. "Right this way. He awaits you at his estates. A speeder has been provided." He led the Jedi through the terminals and past security. The speeder sat in the parking lot, where a Sullustan driver was keeping the engines hot and humming. They were only meters away from the conveyance when a blaster shot rang out.

Ran dove into a crouch, activating his lightsaber. Angela followed suit only a half a heartbeat after, her green blade at the ready. "Take cover!" the Jedi Master ordered, but noticed with a wince that his words fell on at least one pair of deaf ears. Sierra Mano had taken the bolt to the face, and his features were completely burned off.

"Sniper!" Angela warned, pointing to the roof of the compound. Two more blaster bolts seared through the air. One scorched the side of the speeder. The other Angela batted right back. There were sparks as the redirected bolt hit the roof, but the sniper was unharmed and pressed his attack. The brown-haired girl effortlessly parried each shot. Then the sniper tossed something into the air.

"Angela, in the car, now!" Ran commanded. She obeyed and he turned to the driver. "Get us out of here." The speeder took off, just as the thermal detonator exploded.

"First day on-planet and already we're popular with the locals," Angela commented flippantly.

"We're real hot topics," Ran joked. To the driver, he asked, "Any idea who did this?"

The Sullustan shook his round head and said something in his native tongue. Ran looked at Angela for help; she had an uncanny knack for languages. The girl translated, "Probably one of LeFrein's goons. They've been active lately, trying to keep the democratic parties from coming back into power. But they've never done anything like this before." She stopped translating and looked at Ran. "Master, Rakaris never officially joined the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances after the New Republic collapsed. If these sentiments continue, we might lose a Core World." The implications of such an event could send ripples throughout the galaxy, they knew.

"I'm still puzzled," Ran murmured. "From all the literature I read, LeFrein brought up martial law strictly for keeping the peace during wartime, all perfectly legal and logical. He doesn't seem like an evil or selfish man. Even if he were, he gains nothing by maintaining martial law. All he's accomplished is dividing his people and angering the Federation. And this attack makes no sense."

"What do you mean, Master?"

"A single sniper against a pair of Jedi? That could never work. Something else is up."

They rode in silence until they arrived at Admiral Adguard's abode. The manse was lined with gardens and a cobblestone walkway brought them past a majestic fountain. The manse itself was a thing bespeaking wealth and influence. Ran sighed. He always felt uncomfortable around places like this. He felt Angela grasped his hand; he returned the squeeze. She was a highborn woman. A runaway, but highborn nonetheless. She was used to luxury and could at least walk through it without looking like a proper fool.

The driver left them at the doorstep, where another Twi'lek, the butler, met them. "You must be the Jedi the good Admiral has informed me of," the Twi'lek said crisply. "Please follow me. The Admiral is in the drawing room. Come." He led them to the Admiral.

Admiral Adguard was a strapping human with close-cropped hair that was turning gray around the edges, giving him a distinguished look. Ran thought he looked more like a politician in costume than a military man. A look around the room proved his insights correct: The books on the shelves were not about tactics or military history, but fanfare, decoration, and business. The stands by the fireplace were not laden with war trophies or holoimages of grand warriors, but flower vases and awards for the finest hairstyle. The mantle above the fireplace did not hold the coat of arms of a naval officer, but the portrait of a fat old man in a tailored suit of exquisite quality and expense.

"Admiring my father, are you?" the Admiral said with a jolly demeanor. "One of the leaders of the democratic parties from twenty years ago," he informed his visitors. "A great man of many reforms."

"Forgive my ignorance," Ran said with a bow. "I'm not well-informed about the politics and history of your world. My name is Ran Tonno-Skeve." He gestured to the girl at his side. "My apprentice, Angela Marshair."

"And I am Admiral Toniss Adguard," the strapping man said heartily. "I do not often get to entertain such esteemed guests. Master Tonno-Skeve, I have heard of your exploits during the war—shot down two Vong warships single-handedly, so the stories say! Quite a feat, my good lad!" He clapped Ran across the shoulder with an overly friendly mien. It made Ran feel uncomfortable, somehow.

Angela gave the green-eyed Jedi a curious look. "You never told me this story, Master."

The Admiral boomed with laughter. "It was quite the unbelievable tale, dear girl! I myself wouldn't have heard a word of it—called it preposterous, I would have said—but not for an old protégé of mine." He addressed Ran, "The officer you were flying with at the time, Admiral Zanna Arclite, told me about you and your deeds in person. She was very impressed by you, Master Tonno-Skeve." The jolly Admiral elbowed Ran knowingly.

Angela shot the Jedi Master a sharp look. "She was impressed, was she?" the brown-haired girl drawled dangerously. "You haven't told me this one either, Master."

Ran fought to salvage the situation before his apprentice murdered him in a fit of jealousy. "I'm sure Zan—I mean, Admiral Arclite—exaggerated my, ah, exploits. But that is neither here nor there. We have come to reach a settlement with Admiral LeFrein, but we need more information. From what I've learned of him, maintaining martial law is against his character."

The Admiral's joviality faded away and was replaced by tired determination. "It is against his character. LeFrein and I have been rivals for years, but we respected each other greatly. In fact, I was one of his greatest supporters when he called for martial law. I have no idea why he would do something like this. Did you know that he is talking of seceding from the main governments of the galaxy?"

"That is our fear, yes," Ran said. "We'd like to prevent that. Losing a Core World would make the Federation seem weak and frail."

"Let's face it," Angela cut in, "right now, it is. But we need to show a strong face to encourage people and ensure their safety. Admiral, would it be possible for us to meet with Admiral LeFrein in person?"

"You would have to talk to a middle man," the strapping man replied. "I can arrange for such an encounter, but whether or not your message gets to the right ears is another matter entirely. Right now, tensions are high, and there's a lot of espionage going on. My men, LeFrein's, and, of course, the third party spies who are out to make a credit by playing both sides."

"We already met one of those 'third parties,'" Ran said. "A sniper tried to kill us at the docking bays. Unfortunately, they shot Sierra Mano, the Twi'lek you sent to bring us here."

The Admiral shook his head. "A shame. Mano was a bright young man with a brighter future ahead of him in Rakaris' political arena. But how are you so certain that this would-be assassin was of a third party?"

"I'm not, I'm merely speculating based on what I know. Our coming was not made secret, but LeFrein, despite his recent activities, would have to be insane to try killing Jedi with only one sniper. In fact, the whole event seems like a sham to me. A single sniper would never succeed at killing two Jedi—and one of them a Jedi Master—without being an exceptional marksman. Even then, backup normally would have been sent along with the main shooter."

"So what are you saying?"

"He's saying that someone wants us to think LeFrein is responsible," Angela explained, following Ran's logic. "And doing a poor job of it," she added wittily.

"Admiral Adguard," Ran said, "please arrange a middle man to meet with us on neutral grounds, preferably an open place where would-be assassins will find it difficult to attack us without our knowing."

The Admiral nodded. "I will have one set up for tonight. In the meantime, please partake of refreshments and make yourself at home."


Angela took in the rich smell of the wine in her hands. It was a recent vintage, not yet aged, but with a full color and a light taste that she could appreciate. She had never tried Rakarisian alcohol before, and found that their preparatory techniques yielded a flattering bouquet of flavor. It reminded her of home, when her doting parents had held regal dinners for their guests. Wine flowed liberally in those days, but handled with the refined etiquette of true nobility. She was like a princess then, her every whim catered to and nothing denied her.

A part of her missed those carefree days of ease.

"Always be mindful of your thoughts," her Master told her, his footsteps silent against the plush carpet of the guest rooms given to her.

Angela set her glass down and gestured to the seat next to her. They were on the balcony, an ocean view of a Rakaris afternoon before them. "You should try this, Master." She poured him a glass and offered it.

He took the drink and downed it on one gulp, coughing and sputtering as a result.

She frowned at him. "You did that on purpose. I've told you twenty times to sip, not binge. This isn't Corellian ale, you know."

Her green-eyed Master threw her a disarming grin. "Of course I did it on purpose. You know I can never ignore a word from your lips." He kissed those lips. "But really, something's on your mind. Is it about your family?"

"Yes." She looked out over the crashing waves. Her mother had a summer mansion on the coastline. She would go to the beach as a little girl, clutching her teddy bear. She never went into the water, though—she had been afraid of getting her bear wet.

"We could visit them, you know."

She shook her head. "I wouldn't be welcome, I've told you that. My parents and I parted badly. It's better to let scabs lie closed, Ran."

"I disagree, but if this is what you want, I won't argue."

"Thanks."

He poured himself another glass, this time taking his time when he drank. "Adguard said the middle man will be ready in about fifteen minutes. We'll be going alone in an unmarked speeder he arranged. The man certainly has resources to organize all of this so quickly. So, what do you think of him?"

"The Admiral?" The girl finished off her wine and poured herself another. "He reeks of politician. I'd venture a guess and say that he didn't earn his rank by deed. Actually, I pulled up his file a little while ago—the unedited version. It was a neat little slicing job, if I do say so myself. Anyway, his father arranged for his admission into the officers' academy. Even then, Adguard was keen of mind. Between him and his father, they pulled enough strings to elevate him to Admiral in under five years."

"What do the democrats think of him? Did you pull anything on that?"

"A little. There's not a lot there that isn't on the media or public knowledge. Adguard, for all his maneuvering, is an up-and-up man, and his honesty is one of the reasons why the democrats trust him. Its rare to find honesty with political skill these days, especially considering how many Senators are taking the Bothan approach to power politics."

"What about LeFrein?"

She shook her head. "Couldn't slice those files. Locked up tighter than the Nebula Dancer's hyperdrive engines on a good day. By the way," her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "who's this Admiral Zanna Arclite? She doesn't have brown hair, does she?"

He smirked at her. "Why, jealous?"

"I'd just like to know more about the woman I'm going to kill."

"Well, she's not a brunette. She's a redhead."

"Then I'm definitely going to kill her."

"But she's not a brunette!"

"Right, but I've yet to meet the man who wouldn't want to hop into bed with a redhead. They're always trying to find out if a redhead's red everywhere, juvenile fools that they are."

Ran wrapped his arms around her, hugging her from behind. He kissed her hair. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. Yes, I had a—very—brief relationship with Admiral Arclite, but that's all under the bridge."

"So how many girls does that make?"

"Eight brunettes, six blondes, five black-haired, and one redhead." He tilted her head back by her chin and kissed her.

When they broke off for air, she said, "I ought to kill you for being a philanderer."

"But we're not married." He kissed her again.

"Doesn't matter. Damn it, I don't know why I let you get away with things like this?"

"Like what? I've been completely faithful to you—as I have been with every other woman I've had a relationship with, up to when I broke up with them. It's a good, clean record. Besides, I'm convinced you're my one and only."

"Oh really? What makes you say that?"

"It is the will of the Force." His grin took in his ears.

She laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist. "That's a trump card if I ever heard one. All right, you rake, let's get your poo-eating grin moving. We have a middle man to meet."

One speeder trip later placed the two Jedi in a bustling cantina in the rougher district of Atari City. Here, people wore their blasters and vibroswords openly, for the anti-weapon laws that were prevalent throughout the rest of the region held little sway. Angela kept a hand on her lightsaber, ready to bring it to the fore should the need arise.

"There's our man," Ran said, nodding his head toward a nondescript man sitting by a stage with dancing girls. A nearby Bith band rolled toe-tapping music, matching the quick-nerve rhythms of the crowded bar. "I'll leave this to you."

"Where will you be, Master?" Angela asked, though knowing Ran, she could guess easily enough where he was going.

He winked at her. "Wine is good and all, but I'm a gutter-born boy. Whiskey and paint thinner is more my alley. Come get me when you're done or when I'm under the bar. Whichever is first." With that, he strode for the tap, hailing an Ithorian bartender.

Angela sighed, shook her head, and went to work. She ordered two mugs of ale, went up to the nondescript man's table, pulled herself a chair, and set the mugs down before him. The man looked up at her warily, but took one of the mugs. "You must like the view," she said to him, nodding toward the scantily-clad dancing girls. Angela turned an aristocratic nose at them. Not only did she find the concept of dancing girls demeaning, but she could do a better Twi'lek erotic dance than those hags on the stage. Ran had said so once. "I'm here to see a few new things as well."

The man perked up at her use of the code words the Admiral had given her. "The view is better when you're high up, like in space. I'm heading up there soon, you know. I'm a messenger. If you got a message, I can get it sent—anywhere you want."

"Well," the brown-haired girl drawled, "fifty credits says that you will be telling Admiral LeFrein that I have some pretty delicate dirt on some rivals of his. No price attached; this is just to show him that I mean business." She slipped a fifty-credit piece under the man's fingers.

"Rest assured," the man said softly, "I get my messages sent on time to the right people."

"I'll be waiting here for a reply."

The man nodded, stood, and left the cantina without touching his drink. Angela sipped hers quietly, taking a slow, casual look around. She had been in many bars since she ran away from home and even worked in a few as a cook and waitress. The usual swarthy patronage was dining in tonight, the true dregs of galactic society. A Wookiee mercenary was cavorting and howling with a Trandoshan bounty hunter in a corner table. Across from her, three Bimm freighter pilots were boozing up in a booth. A pair of Twi'leks and a human were passing bags of spice to a shady Aqualish two tables away. Angela turned her nose at all of them, as well. The collective musk of so many scoundrels reminded her of Ran when he did not bathe for a week.

Suddenly, the green-eyed Jedi himself appeared, laying a large bottle of whiskey in front of her. He sat down—or rather flopped into—his chair. His nose was red. "Good stuff, this," he said, pouring her a libation into her mug, which still held some ale. "Warms…warms you right up."

The girl smirked and shook her head at him. "You're drunk, Master."

"Naw, I'm not," he protested. "Just…just a little gid-giddy. Drink up!"

She raised the mixed drink to her nose and sniffed. "No thanks," she said, putting it down. "Anyway, we're going to have to wait here a while. Maybe a few days, even. Who knows. But the message's been sent."

"That…that's good," Ran said unsteadily. "Anyway, we—"

A loud crash and pained howling interrupted him. The Wookiee and Trandoshan were pushing around a scruffy-looking human man, knocking him into a table. Man and table crashed to the ground. The man got back up and hurled a glass bottle at the pair, which shattered harmlessly against the lizard-like Trandoshan's scaly hide.

"You take back your words, little human!" the Trandoshan hissed in accented Basic. "You talk bad about Admiral LeFrein, we cut you just as bad!"

"You're all a bunch of blind nerfs if you think LeFrein's on the up-and-up!" the human shouted back, balling his hands into fists. "The man's a monkey-lizard—just like the two of you! The Wookiee carpet monkey and the Trandoshan lizard-skin belt!" The insults stoked new wrath within their intended targets. The Wookiee grabbed the man by the throat with one hand, lifting the human a foot into the air and shaking him vigorously.

Angela watched, eager to intervene. "Go handle it," Ran said to her. She got up without hesitation.

She strode over to the Wookiee and laid a firm, restraining hand on his massive furry arm. "You don't want to do this," she said, letting the Force flow into her words, letting it pierce the Wookiee's mind. "You want to set him down and talk this over."

The Wookiee grunted and dropped the man unceremoniously. Angela winced. She turned to the Wookiee and Trandoshan. "So, what's all this? I don't think our Ithorian bartender appreciates you breaking his furniture."

"Who're you to be prying your nose where it doesn't belong?" the lizard-man hissed menacingly.

Angela flipped back her robe, revealing her lightsaber. "Jedi Marshair. I apologize for using mind tricks on you, friend Wookiee, but I felt it necessary to diffuse what could have been a brutal situation. Care to tell me what's going on here?"

"We didn't ask you to interfere, Jedi!" said the Trandoshan. "You shouldn't butt in where you are not welcome!" But the lizard-man's reprimand was silenced by his Wookiee ally's thick paw.

The Wookiee spoke in his grunting native tongue, which Angela could only barely translate. "You accept me as an objective judge in this matter?" she asked. The Wookiee howled an affirmative, confirming her rough translation as accurate. "Could you tell me what this matter is?"

Angela had a challenge in translating the Wookiee's words, but with bits of information from the Trandoshan and the human she got the gist of the situation. The Wookiee and Trandoshan were mercenaries who supported LeFrein's continuing martial law policies, as it ensured that they remained employed to bolster the army's ranks. The human, on the other hand, called LeFrein a power-hungry tyrant, and that he should not be trusted. He even claimed that LeFrein had some plot brewing. Heated words were exchanged and the brawl ensued.

"So this was just a petty argument between contested political views," Angela said with a sigh. "Why don't the three of you just cool off? Don't make me put you in time out." The Wookiee and Trandoshan left the cantina in an indignant huff, but the human remained.

"Thanks, lady," he said.

"Not a problem," she replied. "You mentioned that LeFrein was cooking up something. Do you know anything more about that?"

The human looked sheepish. "Well, not really. I just heard about it along the grapevine. Some people are talking, saying that LeFrein is keeping up martial law because he needs to buy more time to finish some big project."

"A superweapon? A new class of starfighter?" Angela pressed.

"Nothing like that, I don't think. I know people who know people, and those people are saying that they saw some of LeFrein's men going off-planet at the beginning of the month. We're talking big exploration ships here. It's like he's looking for something."

The brown-haired girl turned that over in her mind. The human's information certainly added to LeFrein's growing image as a tyrant—an image that clashed with his spotless file record—but the tidbit was a second-, third-, or even fourth-hand account. There was no way to resolve its veracity. Still, she kept it tucked in the back of her mind. She excused herself and let the human go on his way.

"That took a bit longer than expected," Ran said when she returned to her seat. The red was mostly gone from his nose, though he still sipped at his mug.

"I was picking up some info," she said, briskly bringing him up to speed.

"It would be worth checking out," he said. "Provided we can get inside LeFrein's base of operations."

"Unlikely," she commented. Then she saw the nondescript man return, with a hooded figure in tow. "Or perhaps not," she amended. "I didn't think we'd get a reply this soon."

The nondescript man walked up to her. "This is one of my associates," he introduced, "but as you can see, he is a very reticent fellow. But he has heard your message and wishes to take you up on them. He will take you to see one of Admiral LeFrein's mouthpieces."

Angela and Ran followed the hooded figure out of the cantina and into a back alley. The brown-haired girl frowned and looked at her Master, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod of agreement. This set up shouted ambush. Sure enough, as soon as the two Jedi were deep in the alley, the hood man sprang back and away, doffing his cloak and drawing two blasters. Red bolts seared the air, only to be redirected harmlessly aside by blue and green lightsabers.

But the gunman was not alone. Four more assassins slipped out of the shadows, their blasters hot and seemingly limitless. Angela swore under her breath; against such odds and in such confined space, even her Master would be hard-pressed to keep so many blasters at bay. She looked around desperately, and saw that two of the assassins stood under a fire escape.

"Cover me!" she shouted, hurling her lightsaber at the wire-frame stairwell. Ran stepped before her, twirling his blue blade to protect them both. Angela watched with glee as her weapon slashed through the supports of the fire escape, sending the metal morass crashing upon her foes. She raced to where they lay unconscious and picked up one of their blasters. She sent three shots into another assassin's belly.

With three of the five killers disabled or dead, Angela simply let Ran finish off the remaining two with a pair of redirected blaster bolts. Angela retrieved her lightsaber and dragged up one of the assassins under the fire escape, slapping him awake. "So, buddy, who sent you?" she demanded.

"An Admiral," her captive replied groggily. He slid into unconsciousness once again.

"More evidence pointing to LeFrein," Ran muttered. There was no trace of drunkenness in him now. "But again, it does not make sense. Why kill us off for wanting to speak with him when we had 'information' to pass on?"

"Another third party set-up," Angela reasoned. "Just like the sniper. LeFrein had nothing to do with this."

Ran looked at the dead and comatose around him. "Angie, I have a bad feeling about all this."

"Me too, Ran."