Star Wars: Shadow Games (14 page)

Dash was curious about Kris. He’d met Mandalorians of several species, but he’d never met one who had left
the mercenary clans and set himself up as a master of business, let alone risen to such heights in Black Sun. Kris was, in short, an anomaly.

Dash didn’t like anomalies.

He was standing in the below-stage area, half listening to Javul go over some costume notes with Tereez, when her ex swept into the Holosseum as if he owned the place. Actually, chances were good that he
did
own a piece of it. Did that necessarily mean he had something to do with the power fluctuations?

Mel, standing at the stage manager’s station, made a hissing sound to catch Javul’s attention. He gestured at a nearby security monitor with his head. Dash saw Kris before Javul did, so his gaze was on her face when she lifted her eyes to the display.

“He’s coming down,” Mel said tersely.

Kris walked right by the lift that would have taken him to the skyboxes and led his retinue toward the restricted-access lift that would bring him down into the broad, carpeted backstage hallway that housed the dressing rooms.

Javul went pale. Her fear of the Mandalorian was apparently sincere. Which made her next move completely unexpected. She handed the bit of fluff she’d been holding to Tereez and started for the hallway.

Dash, caught off guard, had to run to catch up with her. He reached her and grasped her arm. “Where are you going? You want me to run interference?”

She looked up at him. “I’m going to meet him.”

“
Meet
him? Are you out of your mind? He’s tried to kill you!”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“
Maybe
not? You’ve gone mental if you think—”

She sighed and disconnected his hand. “Look, he’s not going to shoot me in a public venue. Besides, I don’t think he wants to kill me—if he’s even the one behind this.”

“You could’ve fooled me. And, having dealt with Black Sun before,” Dash said, “I can tell you that if he wants to kill you, witnesses will mean nothing. He’ll pull a blaster and burn you where you stand, even if it’s in front of the entire Holosseum. A hundred witnesses—a thousand witnesses—mean nothing to his kind, Javul. Not when he can have an entire
planet
swear he was a thousand light-years away when the deed was done.”

She put her hand on his arm. “I’m going to go make nice, Dash. You can come guard me, if you like, but stay out of it.”

“Whatever.” He glanced back over his shoulder and waved at Leebo, who was observing an interaction between Mel’s droid and his assistant, Nik. “Leeb, I need you.”

“Right there with you,” said the droid, “normally. But I’m under orders to stay with my buddy Nik here.”

“Yeah, they’re my orders. I’m rescinding them.”

Oto swiveled his round head toward Leebo. “I can monitor the activities of Nik adequately,” he said.

Javul was moving again. “C’mon!” Dash snarled and went after her, leaving the droid to follow or not.

The lift doors opened just as Dash stepped out into the hallway behind Javul. She hesitated only for a moment, then squared her shoulders and went on, meeting Kris as he exited the lift with his bodyguards arrayed about him—one behind and one to either side.

Kris saw Javul the moment he stepped out onto the thick carpet and stopped to watch her come to him. When she was a meter away he raised his eyes to Dash, quirked a blond eyebrow, then returned his gaze to the woman. He smiled.

Dash shivered. Those were without doubt the coldest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. They were the blue of ice—the blue of moonlight on a knife blade. His hair was pale, as well. Not the shimmering silver-white of Javul’s,
but a shade of brilliant gold that rivaled the sun-washed rocks of Tatooine. They would’ve made, Dash thought begrudgingly, a beautiful couple … except for those eyes. How could she love a guy with eyes like that? It seemed … out of character somehow. But like she’d said, sometimes people made bad choices. Sometimes they grew out of them.

Sometimes they weren’t allowed to.

Javul stopped in front of Kris, leaving a little more than an arm’s length between them. Dash made sure he was closer to her than an arm’s length, himself. He heard the muted whine of Leebo’s servos as the droid took up a position just over a meter behind him.

The Vigo folded his long-fingered hands over his belt. “What? No kiss for me, Alai—or should I say Javul? I didn’t think you had it in you to be so … uncharitable.”

“I have my reasons to be standoffish. I think even you would agree. Why have you come here?”

Kris spread his big hands. “I love to watch you perform. You know that. And a live performance here in this splendid hall—well, that’s more than I could pass up even given our … falling-out. And besides, you know what they say about hope.” He laid a hand over his heart. “It never dies where love remains.”

“Hope?”

Javul turned to look back over her shoulder at Dash and he realized he’d said the word in unison with her. He snapped his mouth shut.

“Who’s this?” Kris asked gesturing at Dash with his chin. “New boyfriend? No. Wait. Not your type, is he? Wannabe boyfriend, maybe. Or bodyguard.”

His own guards, all but one dressed in full Mandalorian body armor, assessed Dash through narrowed eyes—and dismissed him.

He bristled. “Boyfriend,” he said as Javul said, “Bodyguard.”

Again, the look from Javul. “This is my security chief, Dash Rendar.”

The big, blond head tilted to one side. “Rendar. That’s a familiar name. That was the name of the family that owned RenTrans before Prince Xizor acquired it, if I’m not mistaken.”

Dash didn’t blink.

“Surely, you’re not related. I had heard the entire clan was wiped out.”

The bodyguard at Kris’s back—the one not in armor—leaned forward and murmured something into his boss’s ear.

“Ah! Of course. The outcast of the family who insisted on going to the Imperial Academy rather than take up the family business. Lucky move, that. But you’re a trained pilot then, aren’t you?” He put on a mask of theatrical confusion. “An Academy-trained pilot serving as a bodyguard for a spoiled, pampered holostar? How in the name of Chaos does that happen?”

“Security
chief
,” said Dash through clenched teeth. Then he smiled. “A clan-trained warrior in line to be
the
Mandalore serving as a Vigo to a spoiled, pampered pirate like Prince Xizor? How does
that
happen?”

Kris blinked, and the guard to his left took a half step forward. Dash’s hand was on the butt of his blaster when Kris put his arm out to stop his goon.

“Please, Dash—may I call you Dash? We have no reason to bandy accusations in this way. I merely came down here to see the show and renew my acquaintance with an old friend.”

“You sure you didn’t come here to strong-arm your ex-fiancée?”

Now Javul whirled on him. “Dash!” she hissed. She turned back to Kris. “I hope you enjoy the performance, Hitch. For old times’ sake. It’s the only hope you’re going to get from me.”

The big Mandalorian sighed dramatically. “After all I’ve done to prove my devotion to you? I’m hurt.”

“I doubt it. But
I
might have been. I’m sure your spies told you about our … problems. Starting the day of our arrival.”

“Problems?”

Now, if that wasn’t a disingenuous furrowing of the brow, Dash was no judge of bad character. “Yeah,” he said. “Someone tried to make the
Nova’s Heart
think she’d sprung a leak on the way in. She buttoned up tight, sealing Javul and her road manager into the supposedly ruptured area of the quarterdeck. And three days ago, there was a freakish power fluctuation that almost got our lady friend cut in half. If not for the fact that my assistant is a teräs käsi master, she’d likely be dead right now.”

Kris’s eyes narrowed. Surprise? Disbelief? Sly satisfaction?

None of the above?

“A teräs käsi master?” Kris said. “A martial arts adept and a crack pilot? What a waste of talent. I’d like to make you an offer, Dash. Leave this menagerie and come work for me … as a pilot. Bring your assistant with you. I could use someone like that in my own security team. I’ll triple what she’s paying you.”

Dash heard a low mechanical whistle of appreciation behind him—and had the absurd thought of how much more quickly he could repair
Outrider
with that kind of money. He shook himself. “Sorry. I got a job.”

“I’ll quadruple it.”

“No thanks.”

The Vigo shrugged. “Your loss, Dash. But if you should change your mind, the lady knows where you can find me. Don’t you, my love?”

When she didn’t say anything, he took a half step forward and lowered his head toward hers. Dash instantly
went on full alert, but the Vigo only murmured, “Don’t be stubborn, Alai. You seem to forget what your stubbornness has cost you in the past.” He straightened, turned on his heel, and led the way back into the lift.

Dash and Javul stood a moment longer in the hallway, frozen in place. Dash realized suddenly that Javul was trembling. He moved to stand in front of her. For just a moment, her expression was unguarded—and so bleak it made Dash want to chase Hityamun Kris up to his skybox and push his face in. Then her show-must-go-on bearing was back in place.

“My, that went well,” she said and started toward the stage door.

Dash caught her arm. He wasn’t sure what he meant to say.

She shook her head and pulled her arm free. “Don’t,” she said. “I just need to get through tonight. Just get through it. Tomorrow evening we’ll be back on
Nova’s Heart
and out of here.”

Dash followed her backstage, wondering what the hell he should do. Leebo made a tiny interrogative noise as he passed the droid.

“What are you staring at?” Dash growled.

“Who me? Not a thing. I was just going back to work.”

Dash hesitated just inside the stage door, watching as Javul was swept into the final preparations for her evening’s performance—the fitting of her harness and wire, a final safety check of all the bits and pieces of stuff that went with her onstage. He sensed a presence at his side.

“Assistant?” Eaden inquired.

Dash rolled his eyes. “I had to think on my feet, okay? It just came out.”

“I prefer
associate
or possibly
partner
. And you should try thinking
with
your brain instead of
on
your feet. It would be vastly more effective. Assuming that your sense
of balance is adroit enough to keep you poised on something so small.”

Leebo cocked his head. “Not bad for an off-the-cuff.”

Dash gave him a glare.

“Shutting up,” the droid said.

Dash turned back to Eaden. “Were you listening in on the whole conversation?”

“Yes.” Eaden lifted a tendril and uncurled it slowly. “Interesting dynamic, that. She is afraid—no surprise or secret there. Even you must have sensed it. But Kris … strong emotions, very muddled. And you …”

Dash turned to look at him. “What about me?”

“You turned down quadruple pay.”

Nothing in the Nautolan’s voice or expression gave Dash any indication of the emotion behind the statement. He hated that—it made him feel … off balance.

“Look, I’m sorry, but—”

“I’m not in disagreement with you. I merely find it remarkable.”

Dash expelled a gust of air. “Yeah, well … so do I.”

D
ASH WOKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WITH HIS
brain in hyperdrive. He had dreamed of Javul’s fall from the vault of the Holosseum’s fake night sky repeatedly. It had given him a dark epiphany: he had heard multiple descriptions of the “incidents” that had preceded the sabotaged rehearsal—had even witnessed one of them firsthand—and he knew, at an instinct-deep level, that this last one was different.

Why
was it different? What had changed?

He got up. He got dressed. He got a cup of caf from the beverage bar in the suite’s main room and sat, staring out at the landing park beyond his bay of windows.

Whip the gray cells awake. Think, Dash, think. Why would the agenda change?

He went over in his mind again the confrontation between Javul and Hitch backstage—the weird dynamic between the two.

What was wrong with this picture?

He tried to put himself in Kris’s place—tried to imagine that she had been his fiancée, that she had gummed up his clandestine operations, then resisted his every effort to scare her and escaped his one effort to do her real harm.

Hell, he’d be spitting mad. On several levels. And if he’d seen her with another guy—a guy who seemed to be “attached” to her in some way—it would’ve deep-fried
his circuits. But old Hitch was as cool and calm as a customer service droid on a HoloNet help node.

And
that
did not make sense. The escalation from scare tactics to all-out, gonzo vengeance bespoke a towering rage. All Hitch Kris seemed to be harboring was a towering and perplexed annoyance. He was methodical, Dash would bet—and patient and implacable—but he was not murderous.

What did that mean?

It means he’s a Vigo
, said Common Sense.
He’s too self-important to lose it over a woman. This is business to him, not revenge. There’s a method to his madness
—
you just have to figure out what the method is
.

Dash set his cup down, snatched up his jacket, and headed out into the corridor. Leebo, stationed by Javul Charn’s door, swiveled to look at him.

“Did you know that metal creaks as it cools?” the droid asked.

“Do you know how easily I could pop your head off with a pair of extractor forceps?”

“Boorish threats.”

Dash crossed to the droid. “Been any activity out here?”

“I’ve been standing here for hours listening to metal cool. What do you think?”

Dash moved past the droid to the door. He hesitated only momentarily before punching the call pad. He could hear the ringing tone on the other side of the door—though just barely. He waited.

Nothing.

He hit it again.

More nothing.

He pressed the intercom switch this time and said, loudly, “Javul? It’s Dash. We need to talk.”