Chapter Eight: Undertow

"For many in the galaxy, especially those who never deal with them directly, Hutts are viewed with a mix of contempt and amusement. Their decadent habits and blubberous bodies have acquired the tint of comedy, as though they are mere caricatures of gluttony. When studying Xim, we must remember that the Hutts of his age were fundamentally different from the beings we know today."
Belys Haran, Civilizations of the Outer Rim, 16 BBY

It was rare to see ships of four different Hutt hosts sharing orbit over any world besides Varl. For the most part each kept to its own fief, with select meetings only for Virtues or Thrones. Yet the space above Ko Vari included batils and taradas of the Hestilic, badans from the Patarii and Ugori, Churabba's own Theophany and Kossak's well-appointed sambuk.

The last ship to come was the most anticipated. The humans' vessels lacked the elegantly curved hulls and scarlet solar sails of their Hutt counterparts, but by all reports their gray artless craft were still comparable in terms of speed, maneuverability, offense and defense.

Today, however, was for talk. The Hutt envoys all gathered around a fragrant, muddy pool in the gardens of Ko Vari's Principality, Boonta, who slithered across the grounds with relentless energy. The Hestilic Throne, Ontagga the Bounteous, reclined on a rolling bed, for he was nearly eight centuries old and his dark body had swelled to flabbiness beneath robes colored green and red. Churabba and Kossak crawled to the meeting wrapped in Inijic silver and gold.

The other two guests were a pair of Virtues. From the Patarii came Mava the Blue, an appropriately cobalt Hutt in gold raiment. From the Ugorii came Pekofa the Punctilious, whose skinny brown tail never stopped nervously twitching.

The Ugorii were a smaller host but allied to the Hestilic, and Churabba suspected Pekofa had been invited by Ontagga. The Patarii, meanwhile, had powerful holdings in the center of the Supremacy, which likely meant they'd invited themselves. Inter-host tensions were complex and always shifting, like a pit full of worms, but Boonta played a gracious host to all during the wait for the humans' envoy.

Churabba had heard that Xim liked a good pageant, and she was not disappointed by the entry. An honor guard of barrel-bodied Moralan slaves opened the garden gates so that four mighty machines could march inside. Churabba had heard of these too. Xim's war robots were plated in kiirium, two-legged and two-armed like humans but three meters high, with twin eyes glowing from their angular faces. They bore no weapons she could see but they towered above even the Hutts.

An intimidating show, but where was the envoy? The doors stayed open but no human entered the garden. The Hutts looked around, confused.

Ontagga rumbled, "Where is the one who would speak for Xim?"

"Right here, my Lords, and I thank you for the audience."

Churabba's brain could barely process it: the voice, high and chirpy, came from a small animal that stepped out from behind the legs of a robots. It wore an embroidered vest over its grey-furred body. A long hairless tail curved from its backside to the almost touch the black fez on its head. It stood barely a third of the robots' height and looked at the Hutts with all-black eyes. The whiskers sprouting from the sides of its pink nose twitched curiously. Most amazing of all (and the last thing to register) was that the voice spoke in Huttese.

"Greetings to you all." The creature doffed its hat and made a small bow. "I am Oziaf, Special Plenipotentiary to His Mightiness Xim, Whose Fist Shall Enclose the Stars."

He put his fez back on and stared at the Hutts, who stared back in stunned silence.

"I do hope I am saying this rightly," added Oziaf. "It has been many years since I have spoken your tongue."

Finally Ontagga thundered, "Is this a joke?"

"I assure you, I am very serious," said Oziaf. "Is there a problem?"

"You… you are not human!" barked Pekofa.

"Why yes, now that you mentioned it." The creature stroked his tail. "I am a humble T'iin T'iin of Rinn, but fate has made me Xim's kin. Strange, I know, but I assure you I am his trusted envoy. If not," he spread tiny hands, "how could I have these shining giants as my bodyguards?"

"Xim mocks us," groused Ontagga. "He sends a puppet who dares speak our language!"

"On the contrary," Oziaf insisted, "He sends his best."

The tiny rodent placed beside giant robots was a farcical sight, but Churabba knew better than to dismiss a creature just because of its size. She asked, "How do you know our tongue?"

"Little Rinn abuts your Supremacy, as you may or may not know. I traveled the stars in my youth and learned your language from your followers. Am I speaking incorrectly?"

"You speak correctly," Ontagga said, "but that is not the point. You are Xim's creature. You have no right to speak the Holy Tongue if you do not recognize our divinity."

Oziaf blinked; he seemed honestly surprised. "I am unfamiliar with these rules," he admitted, "If you wish, one of these robots has a translation matrix built inside its vocoder—"

"No," said Kossak. Ontagga glared at him for speaking out of turn but didn't interrupt. "We recognize your mistake was made in ignorance. You are not to be blamed for it. Personally, I am flattered that you learned to speak the Holy Tongue… even if you are an unbeliever."

"I agree," said Mava the Blue. "Let this audience continue."

Ontagga growled, but Boonta said, "As Principality here, I choose not to take offense. Let us finish introductions. I am Boonta and Ko Vari is my charge. This is the glorious Throne of the Hestilic, Ontagga the Bounteous."

The aged Hutt growled again and added nothing.

Once Kossak, Churabba, Mava and Pekofa introduced themselves, Oziaf doffed his hat again. "I am most honored to meet you all. Again, I am Oziaf, Special Plenipotentiary to Mighty Xim. That means I inform, advise, and perform special duties as needed. A position, I understand, like your Virtues. Now, I believe we are here to discuss the fate of our respective empires."

It was true, but unexpectedly bold to say it. Churabba asked, "What does Xim want from our Supremacy?"

"What all great leaders want. Trade. Wealth. Respect. The honor of being recognized, one great civilization to another."

"If you prove yourself worthy, you may find a place of honor serving us," said Ontagga.

"Xim is the master of a thousand worlds, and the number grows every day. He wishes to be your equal."

The word sounded strange coming from the little creature's lips. Had Oziaf made a mistake speaking? It was the only thing that made sense; no short-lived, puny-brained biped could ever equal Hutts anointed by the Holy Light. The idea was as absurd as it was blasphemous.

Kossak, ever-composed, asked, "What does Xim ask of us, specifically?"

"He wishes you respect any claims he makes on worlds in this region of space."

"Will he respect worlds we claim?" asked Mava.

"Of course, so long as you respect his."

"And what is a claim?" asked Churabba. "A military base? An orbital station? One human on the ground?"

"Any world on which our official agents have set foot first."

Kossak chuckled. "You are inviting a competition."

"Xim is competitive by nature, but he does not wish to start a race. Rather, he would be quite happy to draw a line."

"There are no lines in space," said Ontagga. "Only a void that we grace one planet at a time."

"In the literal sense, yes," Oziaf allowed. "However, as I understand it, your hosts have set territories. You do not intrude on each other's worlds unless you receive permission. So in practical terms there are lines you recognize. Xim wants his recognized by you."

It was true, then. The tiny creature really was trying to barter with the Hutts like they were equals. Churabba preferred dealing with gullible Niktos who knew their place.

Ontagga did not restrain himself. "The only lines we respect are our own. You dictate nothing to us, biped."

"I'm more at home on four paws, I'll have you know." Oziaf's whiskers twitched. "In any case I'm merely an envoy for the Mighty Xim, who, as you recall, has already amassed an empire roughly comparable to your own. And he's done it, I might add, in a much shorter time than you grew yours."

"Xim is in a hurry because his little human life is over in a flash," said Churabba. "What happens when he dies? Will his empire remain under a new monarch? Will it collapse into pieces? Do you expect us to honor these agreements even after Xim has gone?"

"Xim believes in establishing a foundation first. You speak of details that can be worked out many years from now."

"A year for us is nothing," said Ontagga. "Do any of your kind remember the Wardens? You call them by another name. Tyrants, I think. Did you fight them, personally? I did. I felt their blades on my skin and crushed their bodies beneath mine. I enslaved them as they enslaved us." His tongue swept across his mouth. "They were also delicious once cooked. It's a shame we exhausted our stock."

He stared at the T'iin T'iin, perhaps wondering how Oziaf might taste. The envoy shifted on his feet. "I recognize that Hutts plan on longer terms than we do. Xim is willing to set terms in perpetuity, and while he cannot personally guarantee anything after his death he is still fairly young for a human. I doubt this will become an issue for another half-century or so."

"You ask for our respect," Kossak said. "We admit Xim has done much to earn it. But we need more if there is to be any agreement."

"What else is necessary?"

"We are owed tribute from all our servants. One as rich as Xim must have great gifts to give."

"And in exchange for those gifts you will offer… what?"

"The possibility that we will consider his lines."

Oziaf's whiskers twitched again. He seemed unimpressed.

"You should be honored," Mava told him. "If you represented a lesser being you would be punished for your insolence."

"I am sure Xim will take comfort in that," said Oziaf. "I will take your… generous offer back to him."

"Do it," said Ontagga. "We look forward to hearing his response."

Negotiations finished shortly thereafter. The envoy walked out of the garden, followed by his four stomping robots. When the doors closed behind him the Hutts exhaled, squirmed, and belched.

"Impudent creature," Ontagga growled. "What is this Xim? He seeks to impress us, but he insults us with his pet."

"Don't be dismissive," said Churabba. "Remember the Demon. Tiny creatures can be the most dangerous."

"The only things Xim and his pet are dangerous to are themselves," pronounced Pekofa. "He didn't even realize how vulgar it was for a heretic to speak our language."

"We can crush them, if need be," Mava said, more thoughtful. "Still, let us wait and see what he offers us. It may be worth humoring the humans… before we remind them of their place."

Kossak had been uncharacteristically quiet after the audience ended, but as he and Churabba squirmed out of the garden he said, "Aunt, I believe these humans will be trouble."

"They are foolish to think they are equal to us."

"Didn't you warn me not to underestimate bipeds?"

"Yes, of course." She sighed. "I suppose I was expecting a more fearsome foe, like ones I fought when I was young."

"Xim is fearsome, even if Oziaf is not. He's expanded his empire with alarming speed. That's the thing about bipeds. They're short-lived and simple-minded but they breed fast and build faster. I'm less worried about being defeated than overrun."

"Is that why you wriggled into this meeting?"

"Yes. I'd rather deal with them sooner than later."

After a moment Churabba asked, "Has the Blazing One expressed opinion on the humans?"

"If he does, he does not share the with me," said Kossak, "or any other Throne. Ardustagg is… inward-looking. I don't think he appreciates what these humans represent."

The words edged close to blasphemy. Even Churabba, Kossak's loyal Virtue, didn't like hearing them. Without Ardustagg there would be no Supremacy. The divine light of Ardos and Evona had shone through him as he guided the Hutts to victory against the Wardens and the Demon. He was the mightiest and holiest Hutt to ever live and he deserved respect. Kossak, so young and unbloodied, didn't understand that, and it aggravated her.

But maybe, just maybe, he was right. Maybe Ardustagg's Holy Light had faded with time.

She pushed the insidious thought away. "If the Blazing One does not understand, it's because we haven't made it clear to him," she told Kossak. "We can change that when we go to Varl to give audience."

"Perhaps," Kossak said, then squirmed ahead faster, as though the matter was closed.

-{}-

Word was swirling around Desevro's upper circles that the Ranroon campaign was not going well. An information-gathering mission by the Duchess of Livien and Minister of Finance only fed rumor among the old League nobles. Still, being nobles, they first restrained their doubts to tea-party gossip and closed drawing rooms.

Restraint burst at the seams when Thane arrived in a whirlwind of disgrace. Some said the old raider had been booted from his post as fleet commander after a humiliating loss to Indrexu. Others dared that Xim had come close to being vanquished by the pirate queen. It sent tongues wagging but Thane was absent from those conversations; he'd never been one for tea parties and seemed to be sulking at naval head-quarters. Rumor also said the Argaian spent his nights in the capital's seediest underbelly, daring fistfights with other drunken louses.

It was all very colorful, but it was hard to tell where truth ended and fancy began. Vardoc Orenaia decided the best thing to do was go to Thane himself.

The Grand Duke had never liked Thane, or Argaians in general. It still beggared his mind that such a barbaric people had been the ones to conquer known space. Half the reason he'd been impressed by Xim, all those years ago, was because he'd been a serious young man, not at all like Thane or Xer. Nowadays he wished every last one of the wretches would go back to the Ihala Spiral and stay there.

But he swallowed down his bile and paid an official visit to naval command, where he waited half a day before an ensign as young as his grandson gave him permission to enter Thane's office.

'Office,' however, might have been overselling it. The admiral (or was it ex-admiral?) had made a mess of his alloted space. The desk was overflowing with papers weighted by dirty dishes. Shelves hosted empty bottles and a well-used dart board dangled off one wall. When Vardoc stepped in, the Argaian was seated with boots on the desktop and smoking a cigar. His uniform was unbuttoned to the waist, messy gray hair fell to his shoulders, and he looked at the duke with red hung-over eyes.

Thane said gruffly, "What do you want?"

Vardoc stood in front of the desk with folded hands. "Only to talk. Your arrival has roused interest in certain quarters."

"'Certain quarters'?" Thane chuckled. "Have you come to kick a man when he's down? Not very gracious of you. Aren't you people supposed to be big on sportsmanship?"

"There are many who'd like to know what happened."

"So you come to ask me?"

"Who better to get the truth from? There's a lot of concern about the state of Xim's campaign."

"Xim's campaign? Aye, it is that." The admiral puffed his cigar. "He's taking charge, believe you me. Make some slip-up and you are out. Of course, he's the supreme lord of everything, so it doesn't matter how many fights he loses, he'll keep throwing more men into the grinder. Ask Kadenzi."

"My daughter already did."

"And you came for me? No offense, but I'd rather you'd reversed it. Your daughter's aged well, you know. Jaminere's a lucky man. He should spend less time following Xim and more time at home, giving Erissa his—"

"Don't be vulgar," Vardoc snapped.

"I'd rather be vulgar than mad. Vulgar people are never mad. I'm vulgar, so I know. Do you want a drink?"

At the moment Vardoc rather did, but he shook his head. "Do you think Xim is going mad?"

Thane shrugged. "Maybe he's always been mad and you never noticed."

"I never noticed? And you did?"

He shrugged again. "I've known Xim since he was a lad, waist-high. He was always different. So serious. Never seemed to get much pleasure from anything. Not like his father at all. We always wondered…" He shook his head. "But that's long past."

Vardoc pressed, "Do you think he's changed? Truly?"

"Or he's become more himself. He's dead-set on getting Indrexu…" He laughed bitterly. "Can't tell if he wants to kill her or marry her."

"So he's become obsessive."

"Xim's always been obsessive."

"But more so?"

One more shrug. "It seems to me."

"Can you tell me, specifically, what led to your dismissal? Or is that classified information?"

"Probably. But what the hell."

So Thane told him about the battle at Eneska, the way he and Xim had chased Indrexu and the way she'd humiliated him. It sounded to Vardoc like all three parties were acting recklessly and Thane had merely been the unlucky one.

At the end of his story Thane's anger ebbed. "The thing is I came so close to getting her. But when that second came…" His eyes went hollow. "I just couldn't do it. Couldn't give the word. Maybe I'm losing it after all. Too damned old…"

"Age doesn't mean you can't correct mistakes."

Thane's eyes lit up again. "And what are you implying? Who's the mistake, and how can you correct him?"

"It was just an observation."

"Oh, come on." Thane rolled his eyes. "Drop your gods-damned propriety, Duke, and say what you feel. You're sick of Xim, aren't you?"

Vardoc's eyes shifted over the room. The old pirate waved a hand. "I'm not an idiot. I have a radio jammer under the desk. Nobody's listening."

"Many of us are concerned," Vardoc admitted. "If this campaign runs aground, we'll waste even more ships, equip-ment, and men… and we've thrown away too much already."

"You don't have to tell me that." Thane glowered but didn't mention his sons. "I'll tell you one thing. Xer knew his limits. He'd have been satisfied with taking your League. Probably would have kicked back to enjoy his waning years…"

"Perhaps he is," Vardoc ventured. "If he still lives. Xim insists he's enjoying 'retirement,' but never specifies where."

"Odds are even he's ashes by now. And if he's alive… that's even worse."

"What do you mean?"

"Even if Xim's got him locked up all comfortable, he'd hate it. Xer would've loved retirement, but only if he chose it. A gilded cage is the worst kind. But you wouldn't understand that."

Vardoc restrained an eye-roll at the live-free-or-die bluster. "Forget Xer. The question, as you so subtly mentioned, is what to do with Xim."

"Do you have ideas, or are you just dabbling? Your kind does like to dabble."

"Listen, right now we're just talking. There's plenty of talk on Desevro, but if anything's going to be done about Xim—"

"You'll need guns to back up your talk."

"Can you still command them, or is your authority limited to your desk now?"

"There's authority and there's authority." Thane blew out smoke. "When Xer got his first ship, I was his first mate. The Headtaker, we called her, and she was a beauty… There aren't many left who remember her, but some do. And they remember who really started this whole empire business." He waved the cigar. "If it weren't for us on the Headtaker, there'd be no Xim."

An old man's ego trip, but it might be true. "If you command the loyalty of your fellow Argaians, that could tip the scale in our favor."

Thane scowled. "Our favor? Don't get ahead of yourself. We're not an us."

"If something's to be done about Xim, we'll have to be."

"You don't get it, Duke." He made the title sound like an insult. "Xim, damn him, is still Argaian, and I'd rather follow a man of Argai into hell than any of your stuck-up, super-civilized League lace curtains into heaven."

Vardoc stared. Thane puffed his cigar and added, "Does that answer your question?"

"Very well, thank you."

"I'm glad we're clear. Have a good one, Duke."

Vardoc had a lot to think about as his driver took him across town to his next appointment. In his crude way, Thane had made a key point. He and the other grumbling Desevrans needed more than talk or even money if they were going to stop Xim. They needed weapons and a plan. If Thane couldn't provide them maybe Kadenzi would.

He thought, just for a second, about Jaminere. In this matter he'd trust his son-in-law as much as he'd trust that rat Oziaf. But thinking of Jaminere made him think of Erissa. Any move against Xim was bound to be dangerous and he didn't want to involve her. Not yet, anyway.

Thankfully, there was Maslovar Tiatiov. If only Erissa had married him instead, but that was an old regret. An hour after seeing Thane, Vardoc was glad to step into the man's familiar (and very kempt) office atop the finance ministry's tower. The capital city's spires looked beautiful from this vantage; you would have never guessed the Empire was at its brink.

He summarized his meeting with Thane and watched Maslovar's expression droop as he did. At the end the minister said, "Well, he was honest. Did he really call you a 'lace curtain'?"

"He did. At least we know where we stand with him and can act accordingly."

"Are we acting? Is that what we're doing?" Maslovar's eyes darkened. "This is serious. Because if we're just going to talk about this we should stop talking."

He was right. This was dangerous talk and action would be more dangerous still. "If Thane's right and Xim is becoming unhinged… he could drive us all to ruin. Every last one of us."

"Then we act."

"Yes, but how? You met Kadenzi. How did he seem to you?"

"He won't turn against Xim… not yet, anyway."

"Well, if we can't rely on the Argaians, what about the Cronese? They have to be sick of him."

"Everyone's sick of him. The question is, who's going to do something about it?" Maslovar frowned. "I have Cronese contacts, including some in the military."

"Admiral Felric?"

"Not directly. I'll have some quiet conversations and see what I can get."

"We can't do anything about weapons. Xim is too well-protected…" Vardoc sighed. "Even if we do turn an admiral, there's still those damned war robots he drags everywhere."

"Those robots can be destroyed."

"Yes, but not easily, especially the latest model."

Maslovar looked thoughtful. "Xim commands those things with transmitted signals. There must be some way to shut them all down. I can send out feeling to Loreac, perhaps."

Loreac was Xim's Director of Special Projects, an archaeo-logist-turned-administrator who'd overseen the development of the war robots and who-knew-what else. "Loreac is loyal to Xim," Vardoc said, "he has to be."

"Loyalty is one thing. Money is another. In my position I can shift plenty of the latter around."

"I don't like the idea of building a new government on bribes."

"Neither do I, but it has to be built on something."

"We have to consider that Xim's empire might not last when he's gone. The Argaians will be trouble unless we can co-opt them, and we'd have to keep the Cronese happy, and the Three Kingdoms…"

"Kadenzi would help there," Maslovar pointed out, then broached, "What about your son-in-law?"

"Jaminere is loyal to Xim."

"I know. So what are you going to do about him?"

Vardoc looked to the window, like he could escape the question out there. If this was going to happen there'd have to be a reckoning with Jaminere. The only question was when.

Carefully he said, "You understand why I haven't brought Erissa with me."

"What do you think she'd do?"

"Jaminere is her husband… but she loves Marco."

"Then we don't need to worry about her."

Not in the way Maslovar meant, but Erissa had always had a little more heart than a Livien noble should. She wouldn't get out of this unhurt, but it was better she lose her husband than her son.

-{}-

The emperor of (almost) all mankind had a habit of showing up on his father unannounced. Sometimes he caught Xer in the middle of a meal, other times when he was lounging in his living room or tooling with his garden. This time, Xer came out of the bathroom one afternoon to find Xim sitting on his sofa.

First came surprise, then indignation; then, a tiny rush of relief. Their last meeting had carried a mark of foreboding. Nonethe-less, Xer said in his driest tones: "Well. You're not dead yet."

"I've missed too, Father," Xim said without mirth.

Xer looked down on his son. Xim had an edgy posture, hunched a little forward, hands on thighs. Despite having barged in like this he was distracted.

That meant the campaign for Ranroon wasn't going according to plan. To needle his son, Xer asked, "So, how went the war? When's your big triumphal procession, hmmm? Any chance you'll get me a seat?"

"The campaign is ongoing." Xim's eyes flicked to his father's. "You can sit down, you know."

He could, but Xer liked looking down on his son. He didn't get the chance often. Crossing arms he prodded, "Tell me more. I do enjoy your war stories, boy."

"No, you don't."

Which wasn't entirely true. Xer got a vicarious thrill from hearing about his son's victories, though it was always tinged with bitterness. Xim wasn't in a bragging mood this time. He was sullen and closed-off, like he'd often been as an adolescent. Back in those days Xer had never expected his too-quiet son to amount to much.

When Xim volunteered no more, Xer gave an impatient sigh. "I'm getting myself a drink," he said, and without offering went to the kitchen.

A minute later he returned with a glass of water. Xim eyed it, frowning slightly.

Xer said, "I'm looking after my health nowadays."

That got an amused snort. Xim finally leaned into the sofa's plush back. He looked around the room, then back to Xer and said, "I've been curious about my mother."

Xer stared back. "After all this time? Now you're curious?"

"You said you remember, and that I never ask." Xim folded hands in his lap. "I'm asking now."

Xer should have gotten a strong drink after all. His son's face was blank but those hard dark eyes implored.

"You must have heard rumors back on Argai," he said.

"I never trusted rumors. And there were so many." After a pause Xim added, "They mostly said my mother was dead."

"Aye," Xer admitted as he took the opposite chair. "For a long time now."

"What was her name?"

They were really doing this. In his long captivity Xer often retreated into his past glories, but this was one place he'd not often looked. Even before losing his throne, he'd tried not to think about that woman. Now he tried to summon her face, the sound of her voice, and found them gone.

But he remembered her name. "Thalis El'Ana," he said.

Xim showed surprise at the Stalimuri name. Before Argai's pirates had started pillaging the Cronese worlds, ones from Stalimur had done it. In Xer's youth they had been in decline, the Argaians on the upswing. Stalimur's once-proud raiders had been one of the first absorbed into Xer's empire. Nowadays they were more a memory than a people.

"Was she a pirate?" Xim asked, "Like you?"

"A pretty good one." Xer found himself smiling. He couldn't remember Thalis's voice or face anymore but the way she'd made him feel emerged like a block of warmth from a cold sea.

"Were you enemies?" Xim bent forward again, intent.

Xer couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his son so earnest. "Not like you and Indrexu," he said.

"When you were young, Stalimur and Argai fought. You conquered them."

"My father conquered them," Xer corrected, "but that was after I met Thalis El'Ana." He savored that sonorous name; it had been decades said he'd said it aloud. "She had a reputation as a pretty good raider when I got my first ship. The Headtaker, you know, with Thane. We pulled a few raids on a few small ships, Cronese mostly, one Cadinthian, I think… but we wanted to go bigger. Thalis, she'd been harassing the Cronese too. Her ship wasn't much bigger than the Headtaker so she couldn't go after the big haulers either. But I thought, together?" He twined two fingers. "We could get something special."

"Your first feat of empire-building," Xim said thoughtfully.

"Pah. We weren't building anything. We were after booty and we got it. Gods, what was its name… I can't remember, but it was a big carrier inbound to Algor. And afterward, naturally, there was celebration, and one thing led to another."

He'd been young then. Young, ambitious, bold, virile. It was so sweet to remember, and so bitter. He normally didn't let Xim draw him into the past but he couldn't help himself. That had been his first great victory. A shame the details were all so faded, but at least he remembered the glow of triumph.

Quietly Xim asked, "What happened after that?"

"Oh, we went our separate ways. I never thought much about her, not really." Now the memory got bitter. "A year or so later, things were getting worse between us and Stalimur. Their king sent envoys to Argai to ward off a war. They didn't, but Thalis was there. And so were you. I couldn't believe it…"

He trailed off. Xim asked, "Why?"

Xer shifted uncomfortably. "You asked before if you had bastard half-brothers lying around. Well, you don't. Not that I know of, anyway. I wasn't like you, boy. I sowed my seed plenty growing up, but children? Never…" He looked into his clear, neglected water. "I'd assumed I just didn't have the juice for it. You know what I mean. Then you showed up. I thought she was lying until they ran the tests." His eyes darted back to Xim's. "You are my blood, believe it or not."

He looked neither disappointed nor glad. "She left me with you?"

"Aye. Said a boy was better off with his father. I don't know what her real reason was, but it didn't matter. She was dead within two years."

Xim calculated. "That was the last war with Stalimur."

"It wasn't a war, not like you wage. No, that was two pirate fleets duking it out in the Spiral. Hit-and-runs, convoy raids, sabotage. Sneaky, nasty business."

"You crippled their fleet. Stalimur never recovered."

"We fight all-in or not at all," Xer smiled bitterly, and really wished he had a stronger drink.

"Do you know how she died? How exactly?"

Xer did. It took him a while to say it. "There was a brawl in the asteroid belt by Corlass. They'd set up a supply depot. We ambushed and wiped it out."

"We?"

"The Headtaker and a few other ships. I didn't even know she was there until four, five months later." He gulped down meager water and added, "I hadn't seen her since she dropped you off and walked away."

"You'd forgotten about her."

"I didn't say that," Xer snapped. "I tried to keep tabs on her at the beginning, but it was a messy fight." Memory was too bitter now. He gulped down the rest of his water and added with a sneer, "It was us or them. Besides, we kill the ones we love, don't we? Our straight line's just a circle."

"That's more lyrical than I'd expect from you, Father," Xim said softly.

"Well, I stole it from your poet. You gave me one of those Lyechusas books once."

"I didn't expect you to read it."

"I had nothing better to do. I don't like her. She's got more melodrama than talent."

Xim smiled softly. "Her job is to aggrandize me."

"She doesn't have to be so shameless about it."

"Buy you remembered the line."

"It stuck with me," Xer growled. "Anyway, I guess it makes you lucky."

His son looked at him questioningly.

"That I don't love you," he clarified.

"Ah," Xim said. "Well, there was never any doubt there."

Father and son sat across from each other in silence. Xim asked no further questions and asked for no apologies. There'd be no point in that. Xer tried to tear his mind away from old times, memories that were no less bitter for their fading

Eventually Xim rose from the sofa. Xer thought he was leaving, but instead he said, "I'm going to fetch a small drink. Would you like something, Father?"

Xer stared at the blank face, trying to peer beyond the mask, but he'd never been able to before and couldn't now. He simply nodded. Xim left and came back with two glasses, quarter-filled with rare Stalimuri scotch.

They resumed opposing seats and drank in silence.

-{}-

Vaatus thought hard about how to force a confrontation with his brother and win Katorr over to his side, but the truth was that he knew his brother too little. He knew only that what was happening here was wrong. He thought Katorr knew it too, but had no idea what to do about it, so he continued to grow rich off his masters' supposed charity.

They both needed guidance, and that was how he decided to take it to Katorr. The day after he met with Morguk, he pinned his brother down in the apartment and told him, "I'm going to meet someone tomorrow. I'd like to come with me."

Katorr was confused. "Someone we knew from before?"

"No. I just met him yesterday. He told me some interesting things and I think you should hear them."

"What kind of things?" Suspicion, now.

"About the Hutts. That's what they're called, those worms that are taking over whole words and getting them to worship them like gods."

"Your friend claims to know everything, does he?"

"No. He's trying to learn more."

"And he thinks I can tell him? Everything I know about Churabba, I've told you." But as he said it his voice faltered. "Listen, you shouldn't be getting involved with people like that."

"Why? Does something bad happen to them?"

"I don't know. But you need to be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you." Katorr swallowed. "I've been thinking, Vaatus… When your… your father comes back, you should leave Kintan. You have nothing to do here and there's no reason to stay."

"You're my reason."

"I can take care of myself."

"So can I. And I'm going to that meeting tomorrow."

"What do you think you can get out of it? What do you think you can change?" Katorr's voice grew tight. "You've seen the stars. You should know. We're just one little planet. Poor. Primitive. Divided against ourselves. The worms are giving us more than we could have otherwise."

"They're still enslaving us, just like the priests."

"It's not the same."

"It might be even worse. The Hutts have a huge empire, maybe as big as Xim's."

"And what can you do against an empire? You're just one man." He touched his brother's chest. "One beating heart. That's all. You're nothing and neither am I. I'm just trying to get by as best I can."

His voice cracked as he spoke and Vaatus understood the weight of shame was finally too much. He clasped his brother by the forearms and said, "There might be another way."

"There isn't."

"You don't know that. Please, just come and hear what he has to say. Talk to him. You might learn something important from each other, something that can change everything."

"You have too much hope," Katorr hissed.

Maybe he did. Despite everything, or because of it, Vaatus believed in miracles. He'd be long dead without them.

Still clasping his brother's arms he asked, "Will you come with me tomorrow? Will you talk to him, just once?"

Katorr bowed his head and breathed deep. When he finally looked up there was fragile strength in his eyes.

"Just once," he said.

-{}-

Something about Idux reminded her of Tython. Essan couldn't pinpoint it; the world on which she found herself had no violent Force-storms, no timeless mysteries from long-lost civilizations. The most notable event in its history was probably the crash of an ancient generation ship, whose fire-scorched and wind-cooled hull had been stripped half to nothing to build a town. But something still reminded her of Tython.

Perhaps the similarity was inside her. Since leaving Tython she'd never felt so much a student, and the Force had never seemed so full of mystery.

Gedor was a curious creature. He lived as a hermit on his mountain but claimed those who used the Force had a responsibility for those who couldn't. He claimed the Force had no limits while insisting on his own. He asked them endless questions about the Jedi (their history, organization, and aims) while revealing nothing about where he'd come from.

She sensed a deep regret when conversion edged toward his past, and like Erakas decided not to pry. She had her own regrets and kept them to herself. She needed to arm herself for the future.

The first time she sat down with Gedor on the slope outside his cave, she explained to him all she'd been doing with Indrexu these past weeks. She held nothing back; she felt calm, even comfortable before the little green creature.

When she was done Gedor asked, "Believe, do you, that the Force can save Ranroon from Xim's empire?"

"I'm trying to find out," she said.

"But believe, do you?" Gedor cut to the bone like that.

"No," she admitted. "I've come here because I want to believe again."

"Again, you say? Once you did, then."

Yes, right to the bone. "There was such raw power on Tython," she told him. "When I experienced that—even when it almost killed me—I believed anything was possible."

"With the Force it is."

"Then the Force can save Ranroon? It can push the Empire back?" She leaned forward. "Can you teach me how?"

Gedor laughed like a gurgling child. "Such conviction you have, even in doubt. So focused you are on saving Ranroon. But why, I ask? To you, what is one world above others?"

She took time to find an answer that was halfway convincing, to him and to her. "Erakas and I laid low for many years because we were afraid of being caught by Xim. I hated it, but there didn't seem to be another choice… And while we hid, the Federation crumbled bit by bit. All that's left is Ranroon now."

"Atonement, do you seek?"

She'd never thought of it like that, but she knew he was correct. "Yes," she whispered. "It can never be enough, but I want to do what I can."

Gedor hummed thoughtfully and looked at the afternoon sky. "Cares deeply about his family, Erakas does. For that he avoids your war. Found similar bonds have you?"

"Erakas and I are different Jedi."

"Plainly you should speak. Yes, or no?"

"No. I have not."

"For the best, that may be… Joy Erakas finds in his wife and child, but draw him they do from the Force's potential."

She'd tried to tell Erakas that for years and was relieved that someone finally agreed. "He'll never believe that. Reina and Sohren are everything to him.

"Said this he has. Warned him I have that worse they might bring him."

Essan looked at him hard. "Have you felt something in the Force?"

"Not for nothing do they call me a prophet. No visions have I seen, but a feeling I have that his family will bring him grief. Told him I have."

"Did he believe you?"

"Push aside my warning, he did."

She wasn't surprised. "His family is the center of his universe. They're why he didn't join me."

"Yet his help you seek now?"

"Yes. And yours if you're willing."

"A warrior, you think me?" Gedor looked amused. "Dash around with one of your laser swords, should I? A silly picture. The Force my tool is. Nothing else."

"To win this war we need greater weapons than lightsabers. That's why I've come to you. I can feel the minds of my enemies during battle. Just once I even affected them. But I need to do more."

"Minds you seek to command? Souls to compel?"

"I… yes. That's what I need." She'd never put it that way, but yes. "It's the only way to save Ranroon."

"Hmm… Ambitious you are. Different from Erakas."

"He has his loves. I have mine."

"And love what, do you?"

She spread her hands, "The Force, and all it can give me."

Gedor gave his gurgling laugh again. "Approve of you I do. Teach you I shall. You and Erakas… Together."

And so he did. That night, once evening fell, Gedor invited them to eat around his campfire. Cold wind blew across the mountainside and the Jedi huddled by the flame for warmth, but Gedor seemed unbothered. He shared a stew with them, bland to Essan's tongue but filling. As night deepened more stars filled the sky. Looking up, you felt like you were falling into infinity. It was like being Indrexu's figurehead again.

When the meal was done, Gedor smothered the fire with a touch of the Force. Then the stars really came out.

Sitting beneath the sky's glittering jewels and deepest black, Erakas hugged himself and said, "The view's amazing, but I'm missing the fire."

"Comfortable this evening is."

"For you, maybe. We're a little less durable. Right, Essan?"

"I'd like some warmth," she agreed.

"Inside you warmth is. Cultivate it. Sustain yourself you can, if the Force is your ally."

Erakas and Essan could barely make out each other's faces, but there was no need for eyes when the Force bound them. They moved close together, shoulder to shoulder, and called on its power as defense against the wind. It was a struggle at first, for the gusts really bit, but they soon learned to share warmth between them.

They didn't tell Gedor; they didn't need to. "Stronger you become when together," he said "But the beginning, this is. Guide you further I shall. Hold together, sustains yourselves… and follow."

In that moment they felt a hand being offered to them. As one mind, they took it. And then, in a dizzying rush, they were pulled toward the stars.

Did she actually look up, or did she see with something beyond eyes? Essan didn't know, but the cosmos whirled around them—her and Erakas together. They became flotsam in a mighty torrent, powerless as moons and planets, stars and stardust, rushed them on all sides. Time became nothing and they knew the cooling of magma into worlds, the cosmic violence of a supernova and the calm coalescing of nebulae.

They felt like they were being crushed and torn apart at once, yet Gedor's voice spoke in their minds: Hold together you must. Only a foundation this is. From crude matter the Force does not spring, but from life.

So he showed them life. Seeing without eyes they witnessed plants, then animals, then sentients flourish on countless worlds. They saw generation ships arrive as great metal wombs packed with the embryos of civilization. They saw the children of far-flung humans flourish across a hundred planets, collapse beneath the yoke of the Tyrants, then rise anew.

Gradually, they began to realize these were not just any worlds. There, wrapped in ghostly mists, was Abraxin. Covered in rippling fields lay Rhen Var. Yutusk sat haloed by Imperial warships and icy Ranroon waited for their wrath. Desevro teemed with cities, Chandaar preened with old elegance, and Raxus Prime was lush with its famous gardens. Finally there was plain Santossa, circled by a single space station that glowed from inside with the most precious life of all.

Did Erakas gasp aloud? Or did Essan hear without ears?

Before you all worlds lay, Gedor told them. The Force you command, and through it command them. Our gravest responsibility these are.

Erakas pleaded, It's too much. We can't be guardians of every-thing.

Guardians we must be. For this reason our power was given.

Even Essan, who'd always held that belief in her heart, felt crushed by the weight of billions. What can we do for so many?

Possible all things are with the Force.

He kept saying that, but she'd tried to command battles and failed. She was too small and too alone; all things were not possible for her.

Alone you are not! Gedor urged. Together you stay even now. Defending yourselves you are against the cold and the wind and the night.

But we are still only two, Essan said.

Three we are, and three is infinity. Possible all things are, but only with belief.

Essan and Erakas tried to believe but it was so hard; the Force was so powerful, the universe so vast, and they were still only small. She felt Erakas try to break away and return to his body on the mountainside; he yearned even more to be with his family. But the universe was inescapable.

Ours this is, Gedor urged. Accept it we must. Only then can we share its weight.

I don't want this burden! Erakas cried.

Your burden it is. Accept. Embrace. Fear you must not. Let the Force be one with you to discover what is possible. What is it you crave? Justice? Peace? End to war? Yours every desire can be, but only through the Force.

Essan tried to believe. She recalled the immense power of Tython's Force storms, which she'd feared and yearned for just as she did the unbridled enormity of the cosmos. She couldn't believe anyone might tame it… yet if anyone could surely it was a Jedi.

Because if a Jedi could not, then what was the Force for?

Determined, desperate, Essan forced herself to believe. She held Erakas close, compelling him to believe as well. He ceased to struggle and allowed himself—allowed them both—to flow with the cosmic torrent. They felt the Force around them in all is terror and might, felt it pass through them, felt their own place within it.

Know the Force you do, Gedor said, comforting. And knowing, command you may.

They knew, they accepted, and the cosmos no longer seemed a terrible thing. Holding tight together, with Gedor as their guide, the Jedi felt like they could know and command everything, that they might save all those fragile frightened lives from themselves.

It felt like they were standing atop the highest summit, looking down on every kingdom in creation, and all of it was theirs.

This was their final intoxication. It came and it was gone. Suddenly they were falling again, falling for forever.

Then they were on the mountainside, in blackest night, assailed by wind. They shuddered against each other and, with effort, called on the Force to warm their freezing bodies.

Gedor was a disembodied voice in the dark. This time they heard him with mortal ears. "Possible all things are… great beings you will become, once you embrace your potential."

"I… I don't think… We can't do it on our own." Erakas's teeth chattered.

"Your teacher I am, and guide I will be." His voice went gentle. "Just beginning your lessons are."

Essan said, "I can't stay here forever. I have people waiting on me, counting on me..."

"And save them we shall, together." They heard his tight smile in the dark. "Three we are, and with the Force three is enough."

-{}-

The sidewalk outside the cafe was empty, but lights from the overhang blazed on its barren tables and turned them into beacons in the night. Vaatus and Katorr felt terribly exposed as they stood beneath the glare, looking out on the street's sparse evening foot traffic, but they didn't linger for long. After less than a minute a whistle drew their attention across the street. Shadow-shrouded Vreshan waved to them, and they followed.

"He didn't expect you both to come," the ruddy Kajain'sa said, "but I'm sure he'll be pleased."

"Who is 'he'?" asked Katorr irritably.

"You'll find out soon enough."

"You wanted me to come but you don't trust me?"

"Do you trust us?"

Katorr did not reply. They allowed Vreshan to lead them in silence down several narrow alleys. Instead of taking them to the old quarter, however, he stopped abruptly at an unmarked side door. He knocked four times, and the door swung open.

Vaatus and Katorr followed him inside, and immediately had hands on them. Vaatus gave an embarrassing yelp but Katorr struggled, kicking and swinging his arms. Yet they were not held long; large hands patted them down, feeling them around the waist, chest, and forearms for weapons before dropping away.

When he was released Vaatus could finally see that they were in the dim back room of some shop; hands tools and building materials stocked the shelves along the walls. Standing behind them were four unfamiliar Nikto: two red Kajain'sa, one green Kadas'sa, and a gray Esral'sa.

The Kadas'sa announced, "They're clean."

"Good," Morguk said. He simply emerged from blackness on the other side of the room. "I am sorry, but we had to be sure."

"Sure of what?" spat Katorr. "Who are you?"

"My name is Morguk."

Katorr blinked. "That Morguk? You're supposed to be dead."

The big Kajain'sa tilted his face to show its scar. "Yes, I should be. But I am not."

"You've heard of him?" asked Vaatus.

"Everybody on Kintan—everyone who hasn't been away twenty years—knows who Morguk is."

"You credit me too much," Morguk said.

Katorr shook his head. "I get it now. You opposed the priests, you fought them all the time… and now you're fighting Churabba."

"Her entire race. They are called Hutts."

"I don't care what they're called." Katorr looked at Vaatus. "I'm only here because my brother asked me to come. If you want to convince me you should get started now and hope I forget your introduction."

"It was ungracious, I know. Yet I must be cautious."

"I'm sure you do." Katorr crossed his arms. "All right. Tell me all you know about the worms and why you think I should oppose them."

Morguk drew himself straight, took a breath, and opened his mouth like he was going to give a great oration.

But that was as far as he got.

The room imploded from two sides. The door they'd come through and the door to the front of the shop burst simul-taneously, twin thunders, twin flashes. Smoke poured into the room and so didhard-faced Weequay in thick armor.

"Traitor!" the Esral'sa shouted at Katorr, right before flinging himself at the nearest Weequay.

For an awful second Vaatus believed it. How else could the Hutts' minions have found them? But when he looked at Katorr he saw his brother's face slack with shock and horror. That made it even worse; guilt cut Vaatus like a knife.

He grabbed his brother and pulled him to the floor, barely evading the swipe of a Weequay's halberd. At the same time another speared the Esral'sa in the stomach, so hard and fast the tip of his spear burst through the dead man's back.

An animal roar filled the room. Vaatus saw two Weequay throw themselves at Morguk, but the giant Kajain'sa suddenly had long-bladed knives in either hand. They flashed out, slicing one Weequay through the neck, the other across the chest. Silver blood jetted out and splattered on the walls. With another howl Morguk threw himself for the exit to the alley, cutting down another Weequay before a fourth tried to stop him.

Vreshan appeared, sliding against the Weequay'd flank and piercing between his armor plates with a knife. The Weequay staggered; gurgled. Morguk slashed him across the face.

"Run!" Morguk bellowed. "Run, all of you!"

Vaatus sprung up, both arms on Katorr, hauling him to his feet. Both of them staggered to the door as Morguk and Vreshan plunged through it. But they couldn't get there; a Weequay with a halberd lunged for them. He was too close for Vaatus to dodge; instead he tried to twist, knowing even that wouldn't keep the axe-blade from slicing open his gut.

But Katorr was there. He grabbed the halberd's pole and pushed it up, away from them both. The Weequay tried to swing it back down and they wrestled over the weapon.

"Go!" Katorr shouted to his brother, right before a knife came from nowhere and slashed him across the neck.

Katorr fell, blood spilling down his shirt. Vaatus froze in horror and disbelief. Two Weequay moved for him, one with the halberd, one with the bloody knife.

Then the other Kadas'sa appeared from behind. He stabbed the one with the halberd through the back. The one with the knife spun on the newcomer and lunged, but the Kadas'sa grabbed the long weapon and slashed the knife-bearer from a safe distance.

As both bodies fell, the Kadas'sa dropped his weapons and lunged for the door. But Vaatus fell to his knees beside Katorr and shouted, "Wait! We have to take him! We have to!"

The Kadas'sa froze, looked at him, then bent to help. Together they grabbed Katorr by shoulders and feet and hauled him into the alley. A few bodies in the room behind them were standing and fighting but most had fallen on each other to make a carpet of blood and corpses.

Vaatus didn't know how long they ran for, or how far. When they stopped and laid Katorr in a dark alley, he fell beside his brother and felt his bloody neck and face for any signs of life. There was nothing. He was already dead. Vaatus stared at the blood on his hands, his brother's blood. In the night it looked like a black and immortal stain.

Like a voice from the sky, Morguk said, "We must go."

Trembling, Vaatus looked up at him. "He didn't betray us."

"Not on purpose," Vreshan said from the shadows. "But they might have tracked him to us. We need to keep moving."

"The body," Vaatus muttered, "we need to keep the body. We have to… take care of it… have to..."

Morguk's hand touched his shoulder, huge but strangely gentle. "Your brother is dead. What is left of him has joined the souls of all our people. You must come with us."

"But… where can we go?"

"There are always places our oppressors can never find. Come with me, Vaatus. We must hurry."

Vaatus rose. His legs shook and he couldn't keep from looking at his bloody hands, his brother's body.

"Come," Morguk said, softer this time, and tugged him on the shoulder.

Vreshan and the other survivors were already hurrying away. Their boots clapped on the pavement, resounded off the alley walls. But Morguk waited until Vaatus whispered the faintest goodbye to his brother. He had so much more to say, so much he never would. One whisper was all he could do.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

Then they disappeared into the night.