Tales from the New Republic (42 page)

It was the one place in the galaxy Fen thought she would never go. They landed on a humble pad at the base of an enormous stone structure. A temple, Fen guessed, built by some ancient and subjugated race. A rather odd place for a Jedi Academy, she thought.

Through the cockpit viewport they could all see a cluster of very somber, brown-clad beings of varying sexes and species. “Welcoming committee?” she asked Kyp, forcing a quip.

Kyp shook his head, shrugging out of his seat restraints. “Something’s going on.”

Fen slid out of her seat, but Ghitsa remained glued to her chair.

“You’re not coming?” Kyp asked her.

Ghitsa looked away from the grave Jedi outside the ship. “No, Kyp,” she said slowly. “I don’t think so.” Confirming that the experience had not irrevocably sobered her, she added, “Not even if I could pick up a few pointers for next time.”

Kyp’s mouth turned up in the beginning of knowing grin. “Be true to yourself, Ghitsa Dogder. That’s the only pointer you’ll ever need.” He slipped out of the cockpit. With a final glance back at Ghitsa, Fen followed him out.

In a show of initiative that could become irritating if it were habitual, Kyp had already opened the ship’s hatch. A whoosh of hot, humid air surged into the cabin, leaving Fen momentarily breathless.

Kyp trotted down the ramp to his friends, or whatever they were, Fen thought sullenly. She followed, refusing to be cowed and annoyed that these priests could probably divine how nervous she really was.

He exchanged a few words with them and the other Jedi dispersed. One woman, however, remained, exuding to Fen’s eye a proprietary protectiveness. Fen leaned indolently against a landing-ramp strut, returning the suspicion with a sardonic glare of her own.

Kyp hurried back, his face, Fen thought, a bit drawn. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“Tionne says Master Skywalker has been injured.”

“Again?”

He smirked. “They’ve just broken orbit and should be in shortly.” Kyp shifted, uncomfortably, as if he could feel the hot ground through his boots. “I should…”

Fen waved him off. “I hate good-byes,” she said gruffly, wondering why her eyes were misting. Must be something in the wretched jungle air. “Get going. We’ll see ourselves out.” She turned, only to stiffen as a gentle hand at her shoulder brought her back around.

Kyp ducked his head, then glanced up through bangs that really needed a trim now. “I’ll miss you, too, Fen.” He let his hand fall from her shoulder, blushing shyly at the bold move. “You sure you don’t want to stay for a few days?”

“Positive. You’re needed here.” Fen glanced at the woman who must be Tionne, still patiently waiting. “And the Academy certainly doesn’t need me.”

She held out her hand, wishing now that the words weren’t sticking in her craw. “But if lifting big rocks doesn’t work out, there’s always a place for you on my crew.”

He stared at her offered hand for what seemed forever, then slowly took it, wrapping it in both of his own. “Thanks, Fen. For everything.” As Kyp stumbled for something to say, Fen pulled away.

“You too, Jedi.” She pivoted on a heel and headed back up the ramp without looking back. Kyp finally found the words that had eluded him when she heard softly in her mind, “The Force is with you, too. Fen.”

They cleared the Academy airspace in half the time it had taken to get into it. Fen ignored the inquisitive hails from the inbound Corellian freighter and space yacht. As soon as they jumped, she fled to her quarters.

A half hour of composure later, Fen rejoined her partner in the main cabin. With ceremonial solemnity, Ghitsa was depositing her brown robe and lightsaber handle in the ship’s waste disposer.

Ghitsa finally broke the silence and joined Fen at the gaming table. “It’s not as much fun anymore.”

“I’m not sorry to see it go.” Fen scowled. “This whole trip has been a bust.”

“Yes, it has.” Ghitsa inserted a datacard she had been fingering into a datapad and slid it across the table. “I lifted this from Ral. What do you think?”

“Orko SkyMine? Never heard of it.”

“That’s what the Desilijic wanted me for,” Ghitsa explained. “They were looking for someone who could tell them what Durga was up to.” She rubbed her cheek where the bruise was just beginning to fade. “They were disappointed I hadn’t heard of it, either.”

“So what?” Fen shrugged. “It’s probably just some new Hutt corporate interclan espionage.”

“Scroll down a little further.”

Fen moved down the pad, stopped, studied it, and then studied it again, and whistled. “Whatever Orko is, they’re raking it in and pouring it out again. It looks like the Hutts are up to something really big if this data is real.”

Ghitsa slid out of the booth to pace restlessly. “The Desilijic Clan believed it enough to track us down, sabotage your ship, and kidnap a former Counselor from Durga’s clan.”

Fen stared again at the readout on the datapad, an idea forming. “Ghits,” she began slowly, “this would be worth a lot of money to an information broker.”

Her partner visibly wilted and slumped into a cabin chair. “I was afraid you’d suggest that.” She burrowed manicured fingertips into her forehead to massage the creases there. “Who? New Republic Intelligence?”

Fen snorted. “We’d have to explain way too much to a low-level flunkie. And end up in their blaster sights for the trouble. And NRI won’t pay top credit. No, I’d take this to Talon Karrde.”

Ghitsa opened her eyes wide in surprise. “Karrde? He hates me.”

“Most of the Fringe hates you, Ghitsa. But he’ll pay good money for reliable information.”

“That’s not really the issue though, is it?”

“No,” Fen said carefully. “It’s whether you are finally willing to turn your back on the Hutts.” She rose. “Think about it. It’s your decision.”

As she was heading out of the cabin, Ghitsa stopped her.

“Fen?”

She turned slowly around, knowing that her partner of eight years was at a cusp. Even after all this time, Fen had no idea which way this would go.
Be true to yourself
, the Jedi had told Ghitsa.
What did that mean to a woman who was a con to her core and had worked for Hutts most of her life
?

“What do those numbers on the datapad look like to you?”

“They’re not what I would expect as a front for a smuggling operation or criminal syndicate.”

Ghitsa raised her eyes, and caught and held Fen’s gaze. “No, they weren’t. Numbers of that magnitude are only found in a military budget.” She hoisted herself out of her chair, moved over to the table, and removed the datacard from the pad. “Jabba made the same mistake, you know.”

“What’s that?” Fen asked, taking the disk.

“Politics. Tangling with the wrong people. Not being content with dominion in the criminal Fringe.” Ghitsa shook her head. “Call up your contact. Tell him we’ve got something Karrde will be very interested in.”

“Karrde’s got some good contacts within the New Republic.” Because there was nothing so demeaning as a futile sacrifice, Fen added, “He’ll make sure this gets to the right people.”

As she headed forward, Fen mused there should have been some acknowledgment to mark the occasion. In the twisted path of a lifetime in the moral ambiguity of the Fringe, somehow both she and Ghitsa were doing the right thing. She supposed, she thought sourly, it came from meddling with Jedi. There was nothing simple to a Jedi’s tricks. Nothing simple at all.