Hero's Trial: Agents of Chaos I (34 page)

“We do, we do!” Han told Mak Jorlen. “Punch it, Droma!”

The
Falcon
banked sharply, barrel-rolled to evade a slew of projectiles, and sped toward the
Thurse
. With the field clear, the cruiser-carrier opened up with all batteries, stunning the Yuuzhan Vong ship with ion cannon and turbolaser fire. A few remaining battleworthy coralskippers attempted to launch suicide runs at the
Thurse
, but were instantly pulverized. Defenseless, the frigate
abandoned pursuit of the
Falcon
. Then, streaking away, it made an abrupt jump to lightspeed.

Han leveled out the ship and Droma cut her speed. He and the Ryn collapsed in their seats, as if someone had just let the air out of them.

“Is it over?” Droma asked after a moment.

Han nodded. “For the time being.”

Droma glanced at Han and uttered a short laugh. “You know, I could almost believe you’ve been doing this sort of thing all your life.”

Han pushed himself upright in the chair and favored him with a roguish grin. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

Removed from the frenzied tempo of lofty Coruscant, deep in a vertical slice of the city-world known colloquially as the Abyss, a mixed-species dozen sat nervously at a long table in a windowless and otherwise secure chamber. The chamber resided at the heart of the entombed headquarters of the New Republic’s Intelligence division and was accessible to upper-echelon officers only. In a sterile realm of artificial illumination and sunlight purloined by shafts and mirrors, the big-leafed shrub lodged in a corner of the chamber stood out like a chance oasis, and so had been given the name Mirage.

Separate conversations came to an abrupt halt when an entry-granted tone sounded from the door and Director Dif Scaur stamped into the room, a sheaf of durasheet documents and optical prints under one arm and a gunmetal-gray modified protocol droid trailing in his wake. Everyone was standing by the time he reached the head of the table, but the obvious attempt at deference only deepened his scowl and he motioned brusquely for everyone to be seated. A former admiral with the Fourth Fleet, Scaur was tall and gaunt, with watery blue eyes and a pronounced widow’s peak.

“I’ve been in meetings with Defense Force command staff all morning,” he began on a sullen note, “and the advisory council is expecting a full report later this afternoon. So the sooner we get this done the better.”

Scaur glanced angrily at his deputy director of operations. “Colonel Kalenda, since you’ve been attached to this fiasco from the beginning, I’d like you to start by telling me which parts of Han Solo’s report can be considered fact and which parts can be dismissed as owing to an obvious case of space giddiness. Frankly, I’m not even clear on how the defectors wound up in his hands to begin with.”

Belindi Kalenda stirred in her chair. “Sir, after Major Showolter and his support team were ambushed by members of the Peace Brigade, Showolter and the defectors went in search of backup elements known to be aboard the
Queen of Empire
. When the major spotted Solo, he assumed that Solo was part of the operation—”

“When has Han Solo ever worked with this agency?”

Kalenda cleared her throat. “Well, sir, I did recruit his help during the Centerpoint Station crisis.”

Scaur’s nostrils flared. “That was seven years ago, Colonel.”

Kalenda returned the look. “Major Showolter was in bad shape, sir.”

The director’s expression softened. “How is he doing?”

“He took a nasty burn to the upper chest, but he’s coming along.”

Scaur nodded and glanced around the table. “My condolences to any of you who worked with officers Jode Tee and Saiga Bre’lya, or with Dr. Yintal of Fleet Intel. Their deaths and the deaths of Showolter’s backup agents,
who were apparently tortured into revealing the countersign, add tragedy to this calamity.” He turned to Kalenda once more. “So the defectors became the property of Solo, who then proceeded to surrender them to the Peace Brigade.”

“The Peace Brigade had a means of identifying the one called Elan. They took her and her companion, Vergere, aboard their shuttle and were attempting to reach a Yuuzhan Vong warship when the entire crew was apparently poisoned by Elan.”

“By Elan’s exhalations, I take it.”

“Yes, sir. Solo retrieved her and Vergere, but was then convinced that both were part of an intricate plan to assassinate as many Jedi as possible. As you know, they had requested to meet with the Jedi to furnish details about an illness released by Yuuzhan Vong agents. We have since ascertained that Elan may have been referring to a molecular malady that has claimed some one hundred lives this past year—though just what the Jedi have to do with the malady is presently unknown.

“In any case, Solo considered the enticement to be part of the plot and was preparing to eject the defectors from his ship when he himself almost fell victim to Elan—to Elan’s exhalations, that is. Sir.”

Scaur stared at her for a long moment before replying. “On what basis did Solo determine them to be assassins rather than political fugitives?”

“As I say, sir, Solo became convinced that Elan had killed the members of the Peace Brigade to prevent them from returning her to the Yuuzhan Vong. The residue we collected from the Peace Brigade’s shuttle matches that found aboard Solo’s ship. Autopsies conducted on the
men—including a Yuuzhan Vong operative—revealed that they died of hemorrhagic shock, induced by an inhaled vesicant toxin—a blood agent—of an unknown type.”

Scaur located Solo’s report from among the documents he had brought with him, scanned it, then tapped it with the back of his fingertips. “Solo claims that what you refer to as residue was actually alive at one point. He describes the creatures as some sort of mites that appeared out of thin air.”

Kalenda compressed her lips. “Sir, I won’t pretend to understand the nature of the toxin or the mechanics of its delivery. I know only that Solo was clearly meant to die.”

“And instead, this Elan succumbed to the toxin herself.”

“Presumably. Inside an escape pod, which Elan’s companion subsequently employed to make her escape.”

“Do we know what became of the pod?”

“Not yet. We conducted a search of the planetoid, but nothing turned up. While it’s possible the pod is there somewhere, lodged in some crevasse or cave, it could just as easily have been recovered by the enemy frigate or destroyed during the firefight between the frigate and the cruiser-carrier
Thurse
.”

“I still don’t understand why Solo had to take it upon himself to send them back,” Scaur grumbled. “No, belay that. Knowing Solo as I do, those actions are entirely consistent with his brash character.”

“In defense of Solo’s actions, sir, he was being pursued by an enemy warship.”

“Yes, but the enemy obviously didn’t want the defectors returned.”

“Solo was convinced that Elan had already killed once and would do so again—perhaps even kill him to safeguard her secret, which in fact she attempted to do. Had Solo died and had Elan been brought into our midst, who knows what she might have done. In addition, sir, this defection has been suspect from the start. The commander of the cruiser
Soothfast
will attest to that.”

Scaur nodded at Kalenda. “Granted, Colonel. Assuming for the moment that Solo’s actions were justified, the New Republic’s success in the Meridian sector must be reassessed, along with the victory at Ord Mantell.” He shook his head regretfully. “We should have allowed military intelligence to handle this. Do you realize how this makes us look?”

“Sir?” Kalenda asked.

“The command staff is convinced that we bumbled the job. Despite the fact that Elan posed a threat, much could have been gained from having her in custody. What’s more, it’s apparent that someone with top secret clearance apprised the Peace Brigade of the plans to relocate Elan to Coruscant.”

Scaur extracted another durasheet document from the sheaf and glanced at it. “Six members of military intelligence, fourteen in-house officers, the half-dozen senators who make up the Security and Intelligence Council … Someone leaked the information—either directly to the Peace Brigade or to a third party who did so.” He looked around the table. “Do any of these individuals appear a likely source for a leak of this magnitude?”

“All of them had access to the same information,” Kalenda supplied. “But whoever it was not only made contact with the Peace Brigade, but also managed to slice
into our network and discontinue surveillance on the group. Traces of that slicing are still being analyzed.”

“All well and good,” Scaur pronounced, “but the real question to ask is whether we have a traitor in our midst or a mole—an enemy agent?”

“Someone wearing an ooglith masquer?” a Mon Calamari officer asked from the far end of the table.

“Not necessarily. The Yuuzhan Vong probably bought the services of the Peace Brigade. The same could hold true for whoever passed the information on to them. Members of the New Republic government could be in collusion with the enemy.”

“But returning Elan to the Yuuzhan Vong ran counter to the entire plan,” the Bothan deputy director of intelligence thought to point out.

Scaur plucked at his lower lip. “It’s possible our traitor wasn’t aware of the plan, only of the defection. Our seeming win at Ord Mantell convinced the traitor that Elan needed to be retrieved before further harm was done.”

“Could have been someone testing the waters,” Kalenda mused. “Reaching out to the Peace Brigade, without having any affiliation with the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“Perhaps the Peace Brigade had something on the traitor,” a human officer suggested. “The traitor may have been erasing a debt.”

Scaur put his elbows on the table. “Did we get anything from the captured Peace Brigade members?”

“Two of thirteen we have in custody maintain that the only person who had contact with the traitor was Reck Desh, who died aboard the Peace Brigade shuttle. They claim that the initial contact was made by comlink,
and that the only meeting between Desh and the source took place on Kuat, where Desh apparently met with a telbun.”

Scaur grimaced. “A telbun?”

“The telbun could have been an intermediary for the one we’re actually looking for,” Kalenda said.

Scaur snorted. “So what you’re really telling me is that we’re without leads.”

Kalenda nodded. “Thanks to Elan, Reck Desh took his secret to the grave.”

In lofty Coruscant—though not so high up that the skyscraping spires, obelisks, and towers of the nucleus didn’t defy perspective and boggle the mind—the Mon Calamari Jedi Cilghal, the Ithorian healer Tomla El, and the Ho’Din physician Ism Oolos waited expectantly for the MD-1 technician to complete its analysis of the tears Vergere had allegedly shed into a drink bulb aboard the
Millennium Falcon
.

Shortly, the vaguely humanlike droid projected the results as animated holograms of the liquid’s chemical composition and its interaction with cells scraped from the inside of Mara Jade Skywalker’s cheek.

“The chemical structure reflects what might be expected from tears,” Tomla El said, leaning forward on his great buttressed feet, “but we’ve no way of determining whether they are indeed characteristic of Vergere’s species.”

“Yes, but look here,” Oolos said excitedly, gesturing to the interaction hologram. “See how the substance is being drawn into the cells, almost as if being sponged
up. And look how the cell reacts! Like an infusion of nutrient!”

Taller than a Wookiee, though rail-thin, Oolos had a broad, lipless mouth and a serpentine crown of stubby tresses, brilliant with red and violet scales. Like Tomla El, he wore a long white coat, which set the pair apart from Cilghal, whose homespun tunic and trousers were the color of fine sand.

“I’m encouraged,” Oolos said to the laboratory’s other two occupants. “Come, see for yourselves.”

Hand in hand, Luke and Mara stepped closer to the droid’s holographic projections and made a pretense of regarding them with the same scientific captivation demonstrated by the Ithorian and the Ho’Din. Luke was keenly aware that one of Cilghal’s bulbous eyes was trained on Mara rather than on the displays.

Tomla El turned his sinuous head toward Luke and said out of both mouths, “I’m uneasy.”

Everyone waited for him to continue.

“The priestess Elan was a weapon, dispatched by the Yuuzhan Vong to assassinate the Jedi. Why think that Vergere wasn’t an accomplice, equally involved? Han Solo obviously believed that she was, or he wouldn’t have sought to return her to the enemy.”

“Han wasn’t sure about Vergere,” Cilghal said, answering for Luke.

“Why would Elan be harboring a deadly toxin, while her own familiar harbored an antidote to Mara’s illness?”

“Perhaps Vergere was not what she seemed,” Luke said, “even to Elan.” He paused briefly, then added, “Han admits that he was tempted to destroy the drink bulb, until he began to think about what Vergere said to
him before she jettisoned in the escape pod. She thanked him for giving her the chance to return to her own people.”

“Naturally,” Tomla El said, in a kind of lilting stereo. “The Yuuzhan Vong.”

“But Han said that earlier Vergere had reacted to hearing my name. And Droma claimed that he once encountered a member of Vergere’s species in the Corporate Sector.”

“That means little,” Tomla El argued. “Yuuzhan Vong agents infiltrated our galaxy as far back as fifty standard years. Vergere’s species could be an extragalactic client race of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“Tomla El is correct about one thing,” Oolos said, turning from the holograms. “We can’t be sure this ostensible gift isn’t part of a plan to instill us with false confidence and inadvertently do greater harm to Mara.”

All eyes fell on her. As wan as she had become over the course of only a few weeks, she continued to reveal boundless grit and defiance. “I’m finding it pretty hard to swallow that the Yuuzhan Vong would go to all this trouble to kill one Jedi—namely, me—when Elan was out to assassinate all of us.”

Oolos told the MD droid to deactivate the holograms; then he spent a moment in deep contemplation. “We should proceed cautiously.” He looked at the drinking bulb. “We don’t even know whether the liquid is supposed to be injected, ingested, or applied.”