"We'll die out here," Solum'ke said. I'd never heard her sound so sad.
"We're not that far from the coast. Other barges will be out before the
day is up-headed toward the spas on Bryndas Islands. Someone will rescue us."
"We lost everything," she continued to moan. "All that treasure. All
those..." She dropped a hand to her neck, to the green crystal necklace I'd
put there.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of sunblazes. "Every
pocket is full," I said. "More than enough to pay our rescuers and buy passage
off this place-butuy us a small freighter, a new one maybe."
"And we still have our lives," she said, brightening a little.
"Very long ones," I added. She caught the gleam in my eye. "Maybe in
another dozen or so decades we can come back here-during the next Day of the
Sepulchral Night."
"Get what we left behind in Zeiosian's Chine," she finished.
I drew her close, buried my nose against her still damp neck. She smelled
of the sea and of summer, intoxicating.
Solum'ke returned my embrace. "What are you thinking about?" she
whispered after several quiet moments.
"AQ-WOHOG."
"And two Corellians?"
"Shouldn't be too hard to find."
"Not for the best bounty hunters in the sector," she replied. "I think I
hear another sail barge coming our way already."
***
Uhl Eharl Khoehng
by Patricia A. Jackson
Twin tridents of lightning surged across the low-lying skies of Iscera.
The congested atmosphere bled through in clotted tones of red and orange, as
volatile gases reacted with the charged violence of the storm. Torrential
gusts of wind and wet snow buffeted the hull of the Prodigal, layering the
freighter with a secondary armor plate of thick ice. Bearing no exterior
signature or running lights, the YT-1300 sat alone on an exposed pad, isolated
from the main traffic of the Iscerian spaceport.
Lightning briefly illuminated the interior of the Prodigal's bridge.
Fable Astin sat tentatively, contemplating the storm. Exhausted and sickened,
the youngJedi ran her fingers through the matted tangle of her hair, draping
the unruly mane over her shoulders. The tapered cut of her flight jacket
accentuated her slender waist and the lengthy lines of her legs and thighs.
She winced irritably, shifting position to relieve the pinch of her gray
pirate leggings, which had gathered in the backs of her knees. The slight
motion rattled the heavy blaster at her hip and caused the lightsaber to fall
into the cushion beside her.
Fable flipped the comm switch for the tenth time, waiting for the
computer to bring up the stored message from the ship's logs. The featureless
image emerged from the mini-holovid, realigning itself into the face and upper
torso of a woman. Prematurely gray with the burden of command, auburn hair
curled at the shoulders of her uniform, which bore the insignia of a Rebel
Alliance officer.
"Greetings Captain Astin and to your Harrier Infiltration team. This is
Commander Beatonn of the Rebel frigate, V'nnuk'rk." Beatonn paused briefly,
interrupted by the distant blare of a proximity alarm. "Your objective is very
clear, Captain. The Empire has begun construction of a communications bunker
on Nysza III. Your orders are to destroy the bunker before it can be
completed. Good luck. Captain, and may the Force be with you." The holo-
communication ended amid static discharge and interference.
Fable toggled the erasure switch, deleting the transmission. It was a
duty long overdue. Nearly seventeen hours had passed since the completion of
their objective, which had resulted in the untimely death of her technical
officer, Arecelis Acosta. "Did you know that he was half human?"
"I'd heard rumors," Deke Holman replied. The auxiliary control lights
red hair crowning his cumbersome head. A Socorran, he was dark-skinned and
rugged, wearing the traditional gold hoop in his left ear lobe. Still damp
from their misadventure on Nysza III, he leaned forward and stared into the
holographic etching secured on the viewscreen. He recognized his own stout
figure, framed on each side by his companions. On the right, his captain and
friend. Fable Astin, smiled as he tickled her neck. To the left, Arecelis
Acosta was playfully feigning a punch.
The Coynite was nearly 2.2 meters tall, powerfully built at the chest and
shoulders. His body was covered with a fine blanket of blue-black fur, which
was intricately braided around his neck and ears. In the etching, his thick
fingers grasped at Deke's forearm, easily making the circumference of his
flesh. Arecelis's other hand was balled into a fist as the Coynite feigned an
incoming punch.
Deke shook his head, thoughtfully pursing his thick lips. "I'm really
going to miss him." He sniffed disdainfully, slumping against the back of the
acceleration chair. "No wonder there was no security in that bunker. Who would
have thought a Jedi would be there?" Rubbing his forehead, he sighed, "At
least you were with us."
"Didn't do Arecelis much good," Fable scoffed. Her body was bruised from
her momentary encounter with Viaico, a darkJedi assigned to the garrison. One
feint and one block was all he needed to launch her across the width of the
construction corridor. Trembling with rage, all Fable could do was stare up at
him, as his mocking laughter echoed through the empty ceiling tiles above the
complex. Her limited skills were no challenge to him, and she had undermined
herself by drawing her lightsaber in anger, opening herself to the dark side.
"Smells like a gundark crawled into the nav computer and died. It reeks
in here!" The exacerbated Jedi threw her gloves onto the console, acutely
aware of the stench permeating the bridge. During their escape from the
bunker, they had been forced to dive into a construction tunnel full of
stagnant water. The scent was prolific. "We need to get out of here. Is there
a bar or something in town?"
"This is pretty much a dry world, Capt'n," Deke replied. "But when I went
to pick up those rations, I passed a little theater on the boulevard.
Evidently, it's the last show before the winter break and the owners are
giving away tickets."
"Did you get any?"
"Didn't have much of a choice. The kid nearly knocked me down trying to
give the last two away."
"What's it called?"
Posing valiantly, Deke stood up and put his hand over his chest. In a
deep voice, he declared," "For the Want of an Empire."
"Wonderful," Fable grumbled, leading the way out of the flight cabin. "I
can't wait to see this."
Against the elaborate backdrop of the stage, the clashing of swords
echoed from the inner recesses of the set. The dual ended abruptly, with the
edge of one prop sword slicing cleanly through the other, detonating the small
charge inside to provide the dramatic effect of a lightsaber exploding through
metal. Panting and fatigued, the actors separated, retreating to the far edges
&nb
sp; of the mock cave.
Fable focused on the mesmerizing movements of the lead actor. A subtle
trick in the theater lighting enhanced the malevolence of his character, a
tragic hero bent on destroying his one-time friend and companion. Captivated
by the last moments of the scene, she sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for
him to speak.
The audience gasped as the sword sliced the air only millimeters from one
actor's face, feigning the dreaded deathblow. As his rival died at his feet,
the hero turned toward the audience. "Come, my good fellows," he announced in
a clear, resonating tone, "let us part this sad scene and, through our good
company, make the journey shorter." The curtain closed as the stage hands
emerged to reset for the final act.
Fable sat back in her chair. "Did you see that?" She covered her mouth,
laughing anxiously into her hand. "His technique is almost flawless." Scanning
the glossy holo-program, she whispered, "What's his name?"
"Jaalib Brandl."
"I want to meet him." Turning on the wary Socorran, she squeezed his
knees tightly. "You speak Iscerian, don't you? Talk to the owner."
Grumbling under his breath, Deke moved away from his seat and toward the
aisle. "I'll see what I can do."
Through most of the final act, Fable sat with the actor's image across
her lap, comparing the picture with every minute expression of his youthful,
almost adolescent face. The Force was with him and she felt it, moving through
the audience with a tangible presence. She marveled at the dangerous parallel
dimensions of reality and the play, where a young councilman began a slow rise
into the inner circles of high government, only to discover corruption in
every facet of its existence. In act two, he initiated a campaign to end the
deterioration of the bureaucracy. But as his vision expanded in the third act,
it became a ruthless autocracy, bent on exterminating its enemies and all who
opposed it.
For the final scene, the hero stood alone in a splintered universe of his
creation, devoid of hope, life, family, or friends. In a final affirmation,
gazing out over the audience, he briefly met her eyes and held her captive. On
his dying breath, he gasped, "For the want of an empire... all humanity was
lost."
Collapsing to the stage floor, the hero perished amid a thunderous echo
of applause. Fable was one of the first to stand, eagerly applauding the
performance, and joined the audience's shouted accolades as the minor
characters returned to the stage to take their bows. From the side wall, she
spotted Deke waving for her to join him in the aisle.
"Come on," Deke whispered, leading her out of a side door. "Most of the
actors stay and hobnob with the audience, but a stage hand told me that
Brandl's already heading back to his quarters."
"There he is!" Fable shouted, as the door slammed shut behind them.
"That's him!" she gushed, recognizing the actor's costume robes. "Brandl!" she
shouted, sliding down the icy stairwell. "'Jaalib Brandl?"
The actor hesitated as the young woman scampered across the ice toward
him. She was moving too rapidly for the footing, sliding precariously with
every stride.
Dropping his bag, Jaalib stepped forward as her legs slipped from beneath
her, anchoring the young woman in his arms. "That was quite an entrance," he
teased.
"That was quite a performance!" Fable countered. Flushing crimson with
embarrassment, she stepped away from him and laughed nervously, covering her
reaction with a smile. "Where did you learn to use a sword like that?"
"An actor needs a variety of exotic skills," Jaalib replied with a grin.
"It's the only way to insure longevity in this profession." Retrieving his
bag, he whispered, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a long flight ahead of me
tomorrow. Good night. Miss... Miss..."
"Fable. Fable Astin."
"Good night. Miss Astin." His smile deepened. "Fable."
"Good night," Fable sighed, watching the outline of his robes vanish in
the shadows of the theater courtyard. Teeth chattering, she stared into the
darkness for a long moment.
"Come on. Fable!" Deke complained. "It's freezing out here. Let's get
back to the ship."
The pressure in Fable's lungs was building rapidly. Trapped by
stormtroopers in the construction tube, she was desperate to find a quick
escape for her infiltration team. They were fifteen minutes off schedule with
a load of thermal detonators on their backs, each timed to go off in less than
forty minutes, regardless of their safety. If they did not reach the objective
site soon, no one would be alive to complete their mission.
Fable reached in front of her, tapping Arecelis on the shoulder. As the
Coynite turned, his features began to distend and shift, blending into the
harsh, angular jaw of Viako, the dark Jedi they would later encounter in the
command station. "Had you given yourself to the passion, he might still be
alive," he taunted. "Your feelings can do little for him now."
Yanking the lightsaber from her belt. Fable lunged savagely. She faked a
left feint, deftly bringing the lightsaber down and across to the right.
"That's it, girl! Anger is the control. Your fear is the power. And your
fear is great, little one." His voice reverberated through the darkness,
washing over her consciousness. "You have taken your first small steps toward
the ultimate ecstasy. Now awake and open yourself to the true power."
He's in my room-Fable thought frantically, struggling with the nightmare.
The lightsaber flared in her grip, burning her hand, and she dropped it to the
floor. As the weapon clanked against the deck plates. Fable woke frantically
to find herself standing in the center of her cabin. She recoiled in horror
when she saw her seared palm. Dropping to the floor. Fable curled into a fetal
ball on the floor and rocked from side to side, desperate to quell the pain.
The youngJedi called on the power of the Force to control the injury, but the
throbbing wound's anger did not subside, nor did she feel the sense of inner
peace that came with the summoning of the Force.
Fumbling with the light control beside her bunk. Fable cradled her
injured hand against her. She snatched the lightsaber from the deck and threw
it into the mirror, shattering glass fragments across the small personal gear
locker. Stumbling to the sink unit, she tripped the sensor, stifling a scream
as the jets blew cool, moist air over the cauterized wound. As the soothing
jets blew over her and her tears, she slumped to the floor. In one moment of
grief, one step from the path of light, she had changed the course of her
future, betraying herself, her love of the Jedi, and the teachings of her
mother.
On the table beside her bunk, the holo-image of her mother grinned
inanely at her. In the fragmented remains of the mirror. Fable saw that same
face, younger and smoother; but there was something noticeably sinister about
the features-her features.
"Fable!" She heard the frantic pitch in Deke's voice as the Socorran
hurried through the cabin hatc
h. Pulling herself up from the floor, she slowly
moved along with him as he guided her to the bunk. "What happened?" he gasped,
examining the ugly wound carved into her flesh.
"It was him," Fable whispered. "He was here."
"Who?" the Socorran demanded, wrapping the burn in sterile gauze.
"Vialco. At least that's what he calls himself." She winced as the burn
pulled at the tender skin. "He's coming for me. To turn me to the dark side.
And there's nothing I can do to stop him!"
Ignorant of the Jedi's true troubles, Deke snarled, "You know I'll go
down with you, Capt'n. What do you need me to do?"
Hiding her frightened face beneath the shadow of her long hair, she
whispered, "Deke, I need you to run a background check onJaalib Brandl. Do you
have access to the civilian database?"
"Having access and getting access is the same thing to me. But how's that
going to help. Fable?"
"Please Deke, I can't explain it right now," she whispered, perceiving
the jealous glint in his eyes.
Deke nodded, rising to his feet. "I'm on it."
Heavy snow blanketed the exterior lots of the Iscera spaceport, throwing
layer upon downy layer over the hulls of the freighters docked in the outer
arena. The steady flow of large, cumbersome flakes cut visibility nearly in
half, hampering Fable's efforts to see through the viewscreen into the
internal docking bays nearby. "What have you found?" she asked, sitting down