A Knight Alone, Book Two: The Hammer Falls
Timeline: 32 years after the Battle of Yavin
Chapter One: A Most Useful ResourceAdmiral Toniss Adguard was a man born to lead. His father was a politician and had secured his son's enrollment into the Rakaris Naval Academy. Between the elder Adguard's political acumen and younger's own burning ambitions, Toniss Adguard soon found himself in one of the highest seats of power. He had not even turned thirty. He believed in what his father taught him: charisma, ambition, confidence—the tools of rule, the road to success.
Then came the Yuuzhan Vong. The presiding High Admiral, Thufir LeFrein, a generous and caring man who, to Adguard's eyes, seemed more suited to charity work than military matters, reluctantly instated martial law over his world. Adguard, as one of the senior leaders of the navy, was instantly elevated to one of the senior leaders of the entire planet. Things seemed on the rise, and he dared to reach the top.
But LeFrein had found something during the latter days of the war—it became his obsession to find it. It even affected his rule, for he maintained martial law even after the war ended. Adguard, always sniffing for opportunity, saw his chance: discredit LeFrein and take his position. But then Adguard learned what LeFrein knew about the Fall of Empire and adjusted his stratagems accordingly.
Why settle for one world, Adguard mused, when you can have the galaxy?
But the Jedi had to intervene. LeFrein's gambit drew the attention of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, for Rakaris was a Core World and the maintenance of martial law held overtones of secession. And the Jedi could not have that happen.
Damn Jedi, Adguard swore mentally, they had to get involved! My plans may be ruined. At least the Jedi Master is dead.
A knock on his chamber door interrupted his thoughts. "Enter," he said in the stateliest of manners. Charisma, ambition, confidence—the markings of a true leader.
A Twi'lek majordomo opened the door with a datapad under his arm. "Admiral, sir," he said perfunctorily, bowing low. "Our orbital sensors have lost the Nebula Dancer. It will take us at least a day to trace its last hyperspace jump. Further, it seems that the Dancer's crew found our tracking device and disposed of it."
"This complicates matters," the Admiral commented. The Jedi girl had escaped him right after defeating a score of his troops. Alone. "What information do we have on Jedi Master Tonno-Skeve's apprentice?" he asked suddenly.
The Twi'lek blinked at the unexpected question, but reflexively went to his datapad. "Angela Marshair is apparently the daughter of Antoniades and Andromeda Marshair, nobles of Trista Prime. They own a lucrative corporation that deals in technological research, cybernetics, and supercomputers. Their lineage traces back to Quintesaran roots, and they have a legitimate claim on the Quintesara throne, albeit a distant one."
"A Jedi princess," Adguard mused. "And very powerful, no less. With a wave of her hand, she blew my men away. Just a wave." He made a sweeping gesture with his own hand to demonstrate. "Our blasters could not touch her, majordomo. She turned them aside with a simple flick of her wrist."
"Admiral," the majordomo ventured, "what are your orders on this matter?"
Adguard turned away so that he could look out his window at the setting sun. "Send a patrol after them, preferably with an interdictor. The Fortune of Demise will do nicely—a small ship, but armed enough to easily handle a light freighter like the Nebula Dancer. Have two squadrons of X-wings run as escort. I want Angela Marshair alive, but give the order to kill any who travel with her. That is all."
The majordomo bowed and left the Admiral to his sunset-watching. "Angela Marshair," he repeated, rolling the name over his tongue as if tasting some rare delicacy. "You know something about all this, I'd wager. I want to know what you know, Jedi princess. And I always get what I want."
They spent a week jumping erratically from planet to planet, bolting into hyperspace as soon as they could after each stop. The tactic was tried and true, for it threw off any pursuit and made it increasingly difficult to trace their ship. But the crew of the Nebula Dancer had grown weary of running.
Their blind flight into the depths of space began when they saw the HoloNet news while buying supplies on Ryloth. "Angela Marshair, Kanig Kord, and Ooroosh Morosh have been identified as the murderers of Jedi Master Ran Tonno-Skeve," the broadcast had said. "Admiral Toniss Adguard, one of the military leaders attempting to diffuse the martial law policies on Rakaris, raised these allegations. He claims to have indisputable evidence of this disreputable deed, and has delivered said evidence to the Rakaris Judiciary Council…."
Angela Marshair had not taken the news well. Kanig and Ooroosh, her situational comrades-in-arms, retreated to the cabins when her tirade began. Tables, chairs, and Corellian curses were hurled through the small confines of the ship, crashes resounding off the walls. "That slimy, snake-eating reptile!" she screamed. "That egg-sucking piece of gutter trash! That rutting boar of a bastard!"
Ran Tonno-Skeve was her Master, her teacher, her friend—her lover. She watched him die at the hands of the guardian of the Fall of Empire. He gave his life to solve this mystery, but now his name was being used to discredit her, the woman he had loved. It was too much for her, and violence was the outlet she chose to weed off her darker emotions.
Now she had worked the torrent out of her system and was back to her usual self—more or less. Ran's death haunted her, and she felt responsible for it. If she had not been wounded at the time, she could have helped him…No, she thought, I won't go into self-pity. I have a job to do.
"Kanig," she said, her fingers dancing across the navicomputer, "how close are we to Bespin?"
The young Zabrak, sitting in the co-pilot's chair, answered, "From here it'll take a three-hour jump. One of our shortest ones yet."
"I'll lay in the coordinates. Hey, Ooroosh, how's the air up in the gunwell?"
The Aqualish's gurgling voice came through the intercom. "Smells like month-old laundry."
Angela laughed. "I always kept telling Ran to clean that up." She winced at the memories that flooded her. She did tell him to clean, but he only smiled and found some way to avoid the chore. It usually involved sweeping her off her feet, locking his lips to hers, and playing her body like a fine-tuned instrument. But the pleasant memories were quickly replaced by those last violent moments. Angela fought back a sob. "Ahem. Keep sharp, Ooroosh. Adguard doesn't seem like the type to call it quits when he'd down. I'm guessing he's getting something planned for us."
"The inattentive adventurer is the one who stops adventuring," the Aqualish said sagely, "usually because he's dead."
The Dancer exited hyperspace on schedule and entered Bespin's orange atmosphere. "It's a big world," Angela murmured, the impossibility of their quest just beginning to dawn on her.
"How in the Core Worlds are we going to find a key on a planet?" Kanig moaned. "It's looking for a needle in a haystack."
"We will trust the Force to show us a way," the brown-haired girl said without much conviction. "Let's dock at Ambaro Station. It's an out-of-the way place, but it'll have access to some of the more comprehensive intelligence networks."
"How do you know so much about this world?" Kanig inquired.
"Ran and I came here about six months ago and then again only two months ago. Both times, we were hunting down runaway convicts. We used the archives on Ambaro to narrow our search of places they could use as hideouts. It helped us capture the criminals with relative ease."
"You and your Master went on many adventures together," the Zabrak noted.
Angela smiled roguishly. "More than I can count. Each time was more exciting than the last—except for the diplomatic missions. Those were boring. But Ran would always tell me that they were for my own good, even though he secretly hated them as well. Ah, we have a leading clearance."
The brown-haired girl expertly brought the Dancer into its landing cycle and led her comrades into the docking bay proper. She perfunctorily paid the standard docking fees and made arrangements for hotel rooms in one of the cheaper establishments. "I have no idea how long we'll be here," she explained to her companions, "but there's enough credits to afford a month's stay at the least."
"We'll need more if we're going to be searching two other planets," Ooroosh remarked.
"A valid concern," she agreed, "but one that will remedy itself, I'm sure. One simply has to be resourceful to make money. Anyway, we should begin our search in the most obvious of places—the archives. But I'd like to check the 'unofficial' records as well."
The Aqualish bobbed his head. "I don't know the underworld climate of Bespin, but I can figure out who to ask easily enough. I've gotten more than enough jobs from seedy folk over the past few decades. I'll see what's cropped up."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to accompany you to the archives," Kanig said.
"Not a problem," Angela replied. "We'll meet at the hotel around eight. Does this sound good?" At the affirmative nods, she and Kanig left for the archives.
"Hasn't changed a bit," she muttered when they arrived at the Ambaro Chamber of Records and Antiquities. The dome-shaped building soared high into the orange sky, accented by mirrored panels that reflected the setting sun. Angela winced as the light slammed into her eyes. Some artists found the effect enlightening and conducive to learning. She found it a horrible pain.
She and Kanig easily found an empty pair of databases and began their task. Finding reference to an ancient key would be difficult—perhaps impossible—but if there was one lesson Ran was fond of teaching, it was to always look in the obvious places first. Perhaps, Angela mused, the key held some minor historical significance. Time passed them by hours, well past when the sun set and the moon rose.
"So tell me about yourself, Kanig," she said suddenly while stretching, wanting to relieve some of the boredom of their academic search. Angela was a girl of action—chasing after obscure references to relics was not her idea of amusement.
The Zabrak seemed momentarily surprised by her request. They had spent the past several hours discussing little more than their meager findings, and that only infrequently. Angela made a mental note about his jitteriness and shyness; she wondered what made those qualities so intrinsic to his character.
"Um, well, I was born on Iridonia itself," he began. "My parents were born on colonies outside the system, but they wanted to expose me to 'real Zabrak' culture by living on the homeworld. I had a good childhood, I guess, but I was really sheltered. See, I was the third child they had, but the first two—both sisters—were killed when they were toddlers. They got run over by a speeder. A drunk driver. My folks were real scared that I'd end up dead too."
"And you became a mercenary," Angela noted. "Hardly what they had in mind, I'd wager."
He nodded. "We had a lot of arguments about that. They wanted me to go into a quiet life, be a merchant like my father. Didn't appeal to me. I took some martial arts classes when I was younger and I liked fighting—at least as far as sparring went. I was good at it. I guess that scared them even more.
"My parents finally let me join the military when I was seventeen, but they insisted that I become an officer. I said yes, but secretly applied in the infantry. I lasted only a year there—didn't like the disciplinarian tactics they used. But I learned how to fight with a blaster and a pike, so I became a mercenary."
"There's talk that you killed a hotshot and got yourself a hefty reputation," the brown-haired girl prompted.
The Zabrak nodded tersely, seeming very uncomfortable about the subject. "It was an accident, really. Fender Morrow was drunk in a bar that I usually frequented. I didn't even know who he was at the time—I was fresh into the mercenary game. He picked a fight with me because of my age, and I fought back. Not to kill or anything, just to defend myself. He got angry and started to make things lethal. I ended up gutting him on my pike. Everyone thought I was this great fighter, when really I just lucked out because Morrow was so drunk off his rocker that he practically fell on my weapon."
The Zabrak looked so sheepish that Angela burst out laughing, startling the other patrons in the archive. She quickly suppressed her guffaws, resorting into to barely-contained chuckles that made her shoulders tremble. "I apologize," she said when she saw Kanig's hurt look at her mirth. "When you fought those gundark-things, I swore you were a master fighter and that the whole Morrow incident was true. To hear that it was a lucky break is a bit much for me."
A smile turned his lips. "I suppose it is kind of funny. But I really am that good. I had to learn to be that good pretty quickly, you see, because all sorts of mercenaries and bounty hunters and glory-hounds started chasing after my hide when they found out I 'killed' Fender Morrow. I had to beat all of them just to stay alive, so you can imagine how fast I had to develop my fighting skills."
"It seems to have paid off." Angela stood, stretching out her legs, which had almost gone asleep from being in a sitting position for so long. "I'm getting a little thirsty. Do you want anything?"
"A cup of caffa would be wonderful right now," he said, rubbing his eyes. She sympathized with his plight; she could barely keep her eyes open as it was.
"I thought I saw a vending machine back by the entrance. Be right back."
She had just put a pair of credit coins into the caffa machine and was waiting for the Styrofoam cups to fill when she saw a man and woman walk into the archives, hand in hand. They moved through the racks of datapads and holocrons with a mixture of awe and trepidation—but they radiated relaxation and calm. A loving couple out for a stroll, probably tourists looking at all the sights. Angela turned away from the sight, numbness settling into her heart. She missed Ran terribly.
She returned to the databases and Kanig with alacrity, crisply plopping one cup in front of the startled Zabrak. "Let's keep looking," she said tightly, distancing herself from her turbulent emotions by the energy-consuming task of her search. Data entries and translation profiles for all manner of languages and historical notes flashed by her screen, and she threw her whole soul into studying them. As long as she did not think about the man she lost, she could function like the Jedi she was supposed to be.
The sound of Kanig's voice startled her from her task. "Could you repeat that?" she asked.
"I said I found something substantial. I'll transfer it over to your screen." Angela saw the image of a cylindrical piece of stone, etched with a dot with four diamonds around it. The item looked very old, the edges of it crumbling away. But the general shape was unmistakable. It was one of the keys to the pedestal they found.
"What file is this?" she asked.
The Zabrak sent her another set of images: a majestic floating mansion in the Bespin sky, the key under a glass showcase, and another close-up of the key. "It's apparently the family heirloom of a human male named Kel Sunderson," Kanig said. "His family had the key for the past eight generations, though there is no record of how they acquired it."
Angela tapped her chin thoughtfully, recalling a distant memory. "I know that name—Sunderson. Oh! He was a noble in the Tal Braxis system, a small feudal region with only a minor presence in the Old Republic. They tolerated democracy only so far as it benefited them, I believe."
"His Bespin mansion must be a summer home or something," Kanig reasoned.
She nodded her agreement. "He won't give that key up, you know. But I think I know how we can get in and steal it." She picked up her comlink and sent a call. "Ooroosh, you there?"
"Aye, my friend," the Aqualish acknowledged.
"How goes your end of the search?"
"Well, apparently some stuffy nobleman has the key were looking for. Locked up tight and under heavy security."
"Kanig and I found out about that too. Name's Kel Sunderson. Anyway, I want you to find out if there's any social events coming up around the Sunderson estate. Specifically, I want to know if there's any way to get you and Kanig inside as servants. Also, I'd like to get my hands on an invitation to any party Sunderson might be holding."
"I'll see what I can do, Angela," the Aqualish said. "Over and out." The comlink clicked off.
Angela smiled. A plan was forming in her mind, and when it came to social events, any plan she made had her becoming the life of the party.
