The Joiner King (25 page)

“You don’t
know
the Chiss.” Alema’s voice was full of bitterness. “They keep Kind prisoners in isolation cells in a free-drifting prison ship and starve them to death.”

“How can you know that?” Leia asked. “I can’t see the Chiss letting anyone inspect their prisons.”

“A Chiss Joiner revealed it,” Jacen explained.

“The prison ships I believe,” Mara said. “But I can’t see the Chiss starving
any
prisoner. Their conduct codes wouldn’t bend that far.”

“The starvation is incidental,” Jacen said. “The Chiss are
trying
to feed their prisoners.”

“It can’t be that hard to figure out what bugs eat,” Han said.

“Not what, Dad—
how
,” Jacen said. Motioning the group after him, he started toward the infirmary’s main entrance. “Come on. This whole problem will make more sense if I just show you.”

Jacen led the group into a huge, wax-lined corridor bustling with Killik workers. Most were bearing large loads—beautiful jewel-blue shine-balls, multicolored spheres of wax, wretchedly small sheafs of half-rotten marr stalks. But some carried only a single small stone, usually quite smooth and brightly colored,
and these insects moved slowly, searching for the perfect place to affix their treasure amid the scattered groupings on the walls.

“So this is how they make the mosaics,” Leia commented.

“One pebble at a time,” Jaina said. “Whenever one of the Killiks comes across a pretty stone, she stops whatever she’s doing and rushes back to the nest to find the perfect place. It can take days.”

Mara was surprised to hear a tone of awe in her niece’s voice; normally, Jaina was too preoccupied with tactics or readiness drilling to even
notice
art.

“She?”
Leia asked. “The males don’t contribute to the mosaics?”

“There aren’t many males,” Zekk explained.

“And males only leave their nest when it’s time to establish a new one,” Alema added.

The corridor branched, then ended a short time later at the brink of a huge, sweet-smelling pit so dimly lit that Han would have plunged over the edge had Jaina not caught him with the Force and pulled him back. Mara and the other Jedi had more warning. The Force inside the chamber ached with a hunger so fierce that they instinctively hesitated at the entrance.

“This is the busiest place in the nest,” Jacen said over the din of clacking mandibles and drumming chests. “The grub cave.”

As Mara’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw that the chamber was swarming with Killiks, all carefully crawling over an expanse of hexagonal cells. Half the cells were empty, a handful were sealed beneath a waxy cover, and the rest contained the thick, squirming bodies of Killik larvae.

Each larva was being attended by an adult, who was either carefully cleaning its head capsule or feeding it small pieces of shredded food. As the group watched, a nearby larva ejected a brown, sweet-smelling syrup. The adult grooming it unfurled a long, tongue-like proboscis and quickly sucked up the fluid, then burped and turned to leave the chamber. A new Killik quickly took its place.

“Blast!” Han sounded as though he might imitate the larva. “Don’t tell me that was dinner.”

“It’s not that unusual,” Jacen said. He guided them to one side
of the entrance, so they would not impede the constant flow of Killiks entering and leaving the nursery. “There are bees and wasps across the entire galaxy that feed this way. It produces a very stable social structure.”

Han turned to Leia. “Didn’t I tell you this would happen? We let him have too many weird pets when he was a kid.”

“But it does explain why the Chiss captives are starving,” Mara surmised, ignoring Han’s joke. “Without larvae, the prisoners can’t eat.”

“You make it sound like an accident, and it’s not.” Zekk’s voice was sharp with outrage. “The Chiss are trying to starve all of the Qoribu nests into leaving.”

“But they can’t leave.” Alema’s voice was bitter. “Even if they had someplace to go, each nest would need a vessel the size of a Star Destroyer, and it would take months to prepare. They’d have to build a whole new nest inside the ship.”

“That’s not the answer, anyway,” Jaina said. “This isn’t Chiss space. The Killiks are innocent victims here.”

“Victims, possibly,” Mara said. She was growing alarmed by the wholehearted naïveté with which her niece and the others appeared to be embracing the Killik cause. “But hardly innocent.”

Jaina’s eyes flashed at the challenge, but her voice remained steady. “You don’t know the situation. This system—”

“I know that on the way in here, the
Shadow
was jumped by Killiks,” Mara said.

“The trouble you had on the way in?” Jacen asked. “I’ve been wondering about that.”

“So have we,” Han said dryly.

“And you think it was Killikz?” Tesar asked.

“We know what a dartship lookz like,” Saba said. “But these were better than the craft that met us at Lizil. These were powered by hydrogen rocketz.”

“Hydrogen?” Zekk echoed. “That can’t be right.”

He exchanged a confused glance with the others, then Jaina explained, “We’ve been trying to get them to convert to hydrogen rockets, but they produce the methane themselves.”

“What are you saying?” Leia demanded. “That those weren’t
Killik dartships attacking the
Shadow
? Or that we’re making this up?”

The young Jedi Knights all looked uncomfortable, then Tahiri finally said, “We’re saying none of this makes sense. The Kind wouldn’t attack you, you wouldn’t lie, none of the Kind nests have hydrogen rockets—”

“And those blast craters in my hull armor didn’t get there by themselves,” Mara finished. She kept her gaze fixed on Jaina. “Do you think maybe you’re wrong about these insects?”

Jaina met her gaze squarely. “That’s just not possible.” She motioned a passing Killik over, then asked, “Our friends were attacked by a swarm of flying hydrogen rockets. Are any of the nests—”

An earnest thumping began to resonate from the Killik’s chest.

“She claims it was the Chiss, pretending to be Kind,” C-3PO translated. “They’re trying to make the Protectors leave.”

“It
wasn’t
Chiss,” Mara said. “I could see the pilots. They were insects.”

The Killik drummed a reply, and C-3PO translated, “There are a lot of space-faring insects in the galaxy. The Chiss could have hired some.”

“Not very likely,” Leia said. “The Chiss are arrogant … elitist.”

“These were Killiks,” Luke agreed. “We’re not mistaken.”

A series of sharp booms reverberated from the Killik’s chest.

“She asks if there’s
anything
you will believe?” C-3PO translated.

“The truth,” Mara answered.

The Killik rumbled a short reply, then dropped to all sixes and started down the corridor at a trot.

“She said she doesn’t know the truth,” C-3PO said. “And she sees no reason to think of one, since you won’t believe it anyway.”

Luke turned to Jaina. “We’ve seen enough. Take us back to the hangar.”

“Not yet,” Jaina said. “You still don’t understand—”

“We understand all we need to.” Luke glanced at Mara and
Saba, silently asking if the council’s representatives had reached a consensus. When they both nodded, he took a step back so he could address all of the AWOL Jedi. “The situation here is as confused as it is volatile, and your team has lost the neutrality required of Jedi Knights. The Masters ask for your return to Coruscant.”

Mara cringed inwardly. Like Kyp, Corran, and several other Masters, she believed the Jedi Order should command the obedience of its Jedi Knights, rather than “ask” for it. Luke preferred to allow the Jedi Knights their independence, saying that if the Jedi Order could not trust the good judgment of its members, then the Masters were failing at their most important job. Being first among equals, Luke’s opinion held sway.

Jaina was quick to seize on the opening, of course. “Is it
our
neutrality the council is worried about—or the Galactic Alliance’s relationship with the Chiss?”

“At the moment, it’s
you
we’re worried about.” Luke’s voice was as warm as it was firm. “Any Jedi should recognize the importance of maintaining good relations with the Chiss. The sectors they patrol for us along the border are the
only
ones free of piracy and smuggling.”

“The Jedi are not servants of the Galactic Alliance,” Alema countered.

“No, we aren’t,” Luke agreed.

As he spoke, Killiks were beginning to gather in the corridor, clambering up onto the walls and ceiling. Mara did not sense anything threatening in the Force—it was closer to grim concern, if she was reading the insects’ emotions correctly—but she reached out to Saba and Leia, subtly suggesting they move to a more defensible position.

“But a peaceful Galactic Alliance is the strongest pillar of a peaceful galaxy,” Luke continued. “And the Jedi
do
serve peace. If the Reconstruction fails and the Galactic Alliance sinks into anarchy, so does the galaxy. The Jedi will have failed.”

“What happened to defending the weak?” Zekk demanded. “To sacrificing for the poor?”

“Those are worthy virtues,” Luke said. “But they won’t stop
the galaxy from sinking into chaos. They aren’t the duties of a Jedi Knight.”

“So we abandon the Killiks for the good of the rehab conglomerates snapping up our part of the galaxy?” Jaina asked. “Isn’t that how Pal—”

“Don’t say it!” Mara stepped toward her niece, drawing a rustle from the ceiling and walls as the Killik spectators shrank back. “It’s bad enough to desert your posts and make us come out here looking for you. Don’t you dare make that comparison. Some things I won’t tolerate even from you, Jaina Solo.”

Jaina’s eyes widened in shock. She stared at Mara for a long time, clicking softly in her throat, hovering between an apology and an angry retort that everyone present knew would open a rift between the two women that could never be closed again. To his credit, Luke did not intervene. He simply stood quietly, patiently waiting to see what decision Jaina would make.

Finally, Jaina’s face softened. “That was a thoughtless thing for me to say. I didn’t mean to suggest that Uncle Luke was anything like the Emperor.”

Mara decided to take that as an apology. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“And we’re not going to abandon the Killiks.” Luke glanced up as the Killiks thrummed their approval, then looked to the rest of the strike team. “But I’m worried about you—all of you.”

“You’ve lost your objectivity and you’ve taken sides,” Mara said, sensing what Luke wanted from her. “You’re openly fighting on the Killiks’ side—and that means you have no chance at all of solving the problem.”

“Frankly, you’re half Joiners now,” Luke said. “I think you should to return to Coruscant with us at once. All of you.”

The bitter scent of an alarm pheromone filled the air, and the corridor erupted into such a panicked din of drumming and clacking that Mara’s hand went automatically to her lightsaber—and so did the hands of Leia and Saba. The color drained from Han’s face, and he casually hooked his thumb in his belt above his blaster. But Luke’s hands continued to hang at his sides, and the only sign that he showed of hearing the tumult was the patience he displayed in waiting for it to die down.

When it was possible to hear again, he continued as though
he had never been interrupted. “We saw what became of Raynar, and the order just can’t afford to lose any Jedi Knights right now.”

“What about the Killiks?” Tahiri asked. “Without us here, the Chiss will have a free rein to—”

“This one will stay,” Saba said. “Until Master Skywalker can arrange to speak with Aristocra Tswek, she will let the Chisz know the Jedi are still watching.”

“Alone?” Tesar asked.

Saba nodded. “Alone.”

Tesar grinned, then thumped his tail on the floor and bumped skulls with his mother. “Good hunting.”

Mara looked to Jaina. “And the rest of you?”

Jaina exhaled loudly, then looked from the floor to Leia. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Mother.”

“I’m not a Master.”

“I know,” Jaina said. “So what do you think?”

Leia’s brow rose, and she appeared almost as shocked as Mara felt. “You’re asking
me
what to do?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jaina said. “I
know
how you and Dad feel about the Galactic Alliance. You’re the only ones here who don’t have an agenda.”

“Oh, I have an agenda.” Leia smiled. “Your father and I
did
come all the way out here to make sure you and Jacen are safe.”

Jaina rolled her eyes. “Like
that’s
going to happen. Just tell me what you think.”

Leia didn’t even hesitate. “Jaina, I think you’re just making the situation here worse.”

“Worse?” Alema demanded. Her lekku were writhing. “What do you know? You’ve only been here—”

Jaina glanced at the Twi’lek out of the corner of her eye, and Alema fell silent.

“Thank you,” Leia said. “As I was saying, your presence is a provocation to the Chiss. They’re only going to press harder, and you’ll end up starting a war that might have been averted.”

“Averted?” Tahiri asked. “How?”

“I don’t know how—not yet,” Leia admitted. “But I can tell
you how it
won’t
be averted: by destroying Chiss task forces. They’ll just start sending bigger flotillas.”

“They already have.”

Jaina turned to her fellows to discuss the matter—or so Mara thought. Instead, they merely looked at each other for a couple of seconds, then the Killiks suddenly let out a single disappointed boom and began to disperse. Tesar, Jacen, and Tahiti started up the corridor.

“We’ll go,” Tahiri said.

“So will Tekli,” Tesar added.

“That’s half,” Mara said, raising her brow to Jaina and the remaining two. “What about you three?”

“We
four
,” Jaina corrected. “You forgot to count Lowbacca.”

Far below the
Falcon
, the golden expanse of Qoribu’s largest ring swept past, a vast river of sparkling rubble that curved under the purple moon Nrogu and faded into the twilight murkiness of the planet’s dark side. In the distance, just beyond the ghostly green crescent of the moon Zvbo, the first tiny darts of Chiss efflux were tracing a crazy lacework against the star-flecked void.