Star Wars: The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance (2 page)

Some
days were better than others. Maybe this was one of them. He told
himself that with all the conviction he could muster, which was
plenty for a man in his trade.

What
could possibly go wrong?

PART
ONE

VESTED
INTERESTS

CHAPTER
1

Shigar
Konshi followed the sound of blasterfire through Coruscant's old
districts. He never stumbled, never slipped, never lost his way, even
through lanes that were narrow and crowded with years of detritus
that had settled slowly from the levels above. Cables and signs
swayed overhead, hanging so low in places that Shigar was forced to
duck beneath them. Tall and slender, with one blue chevron on each
cheek, the Jedi apprentice moved with grace and surety surprising for
his eighteen years.

At
the core of his being, however, he seethed. Master Nikil Mobil's
decision had cut no less deeply for being delivered by hologram from
the other side of the galaxy.

"The
High Council finds Shigar Konshi unready for Jedi trials. "

The
decision had shocked him, but Shigar knew better than to speak. The
last thing he wanted to do was convey the shame and resentment he
felt in front of the Council.

"Tell
him why, " said Grand Master Satele Shan, standing at his side
with hands folded firmly before her. She was a full head shorter than
Shigar but radiated an indomitable sense of self. Even via
holoprojector, she made Master Nobil, an immense Thisspiasian with
full ceremonial beard, shift uncomfortably on his tail.

"We-that
is, the Council-regard your Padawan's training as incomplete. "

Shigar
flushed. "In what way, Master Nobil?"

His
Master silenced him with a gentle but irresistible telepathic nudge.
"He is close to attaining full mastery, " she assured the
Council. "I am certain that it is only a matter of time. "

"A
Jedi Knight is a Jedi Knight in all respects, " said the distant
Master. "There are no exceptions, even for you. "

Master
Satele nodded her acceptance of the decision. Shigar bit his tongue.
She said she believed in him, so why did she not overrule the
decision? She didn't have to submit to the Council. If he weren't her
Padawan, would she have spoken up for him then?

His
unsettled feelings were not hidden as well as he would have liked.

"Your
lack of self-control reveals itself in many ways, " said Master
Nobil to him in a stern tone. "Take your recent comments to
Senator Vuub regarding the policies of the Resource Management
Council. We may all agree that the Republic's handling of the current
crisis is less than perfect, but anything short of the utmost
political discipline is unforgivable at this time. Do you
understand?"

Shigar
bowed his head. He should've known that the slippery Neimoidian was
after more than just his opinion when she'd sidled up to him and
flattered him with praise. When the Empire had invaded Coruscant, it
had only handed the world back to the Republic in exchange for a
large number of territorial concessions elsewhere. Ever since then,
supply lines had been strained. That Shigar was right, and the RMC a
hopelessly corrupt mess, putting the lives of billions at risk from
something much worse than war-starvation, disease,
disillusionment-simply didn't count in some circles.

Master
Nobil's forbidding visage softened. "You are naturally
disappointed. I understand. Know that the Grand Master has spoken
strongly in favor of you for a long time. In all respects but this
one do we defer to her judgment. She cannot sway our combined
decision, but she has drawn our attention. We will be watching your
progress closely, with high expectations. "

The
holoconference had ended there, and Shigar felt the same conflicted
emptiness in the depths of Coruscant as he had then. Unready?

High
expectations? The Council was playing a game with him-or so it
felt-batting him backward and forward like a felinx in a cage. Would
he ever be free to follow his own path?

Master
Satele understood his feelings better than he did. "Go for a
walk, " she had told him, putting a hand on each shoulder and
holding his gaze long enough to make sure he understood her
intentions. She was giving him an opportunity to cool down, not
dismissing him. "I need to talk to Supreme Commander Stantorrs
anyway. Let's meet later in Union Cloisters. "

"Yes,
Master. "

And
so he was walking and stewing. Somewhere inside him, he knew, had to
be the strength to rise above this temporary setback, the discipline
to bring the last threads of his talent into a unified design. But on
this occasion, his instincts were leading him away from stillness,
not toward it.

The
sound of blasterfire grew louder ahead of him.

Shigar
stopped in an alley that stank like a woodoo's leavings. A swinging
light flashed fitfully on and off in the level above, casting rubbish
and rot in unwanted relief. An ancient droid watched with blinking
red eyes from a filthy niche, rusted fingers protectively gathering
wires and servos back into its gaping chest plate. The cold war with
the Empire was being conducted far away from this alley and its
unhappy resident, but its effects were keenly felt. If he wanted to
be angry at the state of the Republic, he couldn't have chosen a
better place for it.

The
shooting intensified. His hand reached for the grip of his
lightsaber.

There
is no emotion, he told himself. There is only peace.

But
how could there be peace without justice? What did the Jedi Council,
sitting comfortably in their new Temple on Tython, know about that?

The
sound of screams broke him out of his contemplative trance. Between
one heartbeat and the next he was gone, the emerald fire of his
lightsaber lingering a split instant behind him, brilliant in the
gloom.

*
* *

Larin
Moxla paused to tighten the belly strap on her armor. The wretched
thing kept coming loose, and she didn't want to take any chances.
Until the justicars got there, she was the only thing standing
between the Black Sun gangsters and the relatively innocent residents
of Gnawer's Roost. It sounded like half of it had been shot to pieces
already.

Satisfied
that nothing too vulnerable was exposed, she peered out from cover
and hefted her modified snub rifle. Illegal on Coruscant except for
elite special forces commandos, it featured a powerful sniper sight,
which she trained on the Black Sun safehouse. The main entrance was
deserted, and there was no sign of the roof guard. That was
unexpected. Still the blasterfire came from within the fortified
building. Could it be a trap of some kind?

Wishing
as always that she had backup, she lowered the rifle and lifted her
helmeted head into full view. No one took a potshot at her. No one
even noticed her. The only people she could see were locals running
for cover. But for the commotion coming from within, the street could
have been completely deserted.

Trap
or no trap, she decided to get closer. Rattling slightly, and
ignoring the places where her secondhand armor chafed, Larin hustled
low and fast from cover to cover until she was just meters from the
front entrance. The weapons-fire was deafening now, and screaming
came with it. She tried to identity the weapons. Blaster pistols and
rifles of several different makes; at least one floor-mounted cannon;
two or three vibrosaws; and beneath all that, a different sound. A
roaring, as of superheated gases jetting violently through a nozzle.

A
flamethrower.

No
gang she'd heard of used fire. The risk of a blaze spreading
everywhere was too high. Only someone from outside would employ a
weapon like that. Only someone who didn't care what damage he left in
his wake.

Something
exploded in an upper room, sending a shower of bricks and dust into
the street. Larin ducked instinctively, but the wall held. If it had
collapsed, she would have been buried under meters of rubble.

Her
left hand wanted to count down, and she let it. It felt wrong
otherwise. Moving in-in three... two... one...

Silence
fell.

She
froze. It was as though someone had pulled a switch. One minute, nine
kinds of chaos had been unfolding inside the building. Now there was
nothing.

She
pulled her hand in, countdown forgotten. She wasn't going anywhere
until she knew what had just happened and who was involved.

Something
collapsed inside the building. Larin gripped her rifle more tightly.
Footsteps crunched toward the entrance. One set of feet: that was
all.

She
stood up in full view of the entrance, placed herself side-on to
reduce the target she made, and trained her rifle on the darkened
doorway.

The
footsteps came closer-unhurried, confident, heavy. Very heavy.

The
moment she saw movement in the doorway, she cried out in a firm
voice, "Hold it right there. "

Booted
feet assumed a standing position. Armored shins in metallic gray and
green.

"Move
slowly forward, into the light. "

The
owner of the legs took one step, then two, revealing a Mandalorian so
tall his helmeted head brushed the top of the doorway.

"That's
far enough. "

"For
what?"

Larin
maintained her cool in the face of that harsh, inhuman voice,
although it was difficult. She'd seen Mandalorians in action before,
and she knew how woefully equipped she was to deal with one now. "For
you to tell me what you were doing in there. "

The
domed head inclined slightly. "I was seeking information. "

"So
you're a bounty hunter?"

"Does
it matter what I am?"

"It
does when you're messing up my people. "

"You
do not look like a member of the Black Sun syndicate. "

"I
never said I was. "

"You
haven't said you aren't, either. " The massive figure shifted
slightly, finding a new balance. "I'm seeking information
concerning a woman called Lema Xandret. "

"Never
heard of her. "

"Are
you certain of that?"

"I
thought I was the one asking questions here. "

"You
thought wrong. "

The
Mandalorian raised one arm to point at her. A hatch in his sleeve
opened, revealing the flamethrower she'd heard in action earlier. She
steadied her grip and tried desperately to remember where the weak
points on Mandalorian armor were-if there were any...

"Don't,
" said a commanding voice to her left.

Larin
glanced automatically and saw a young man in robes standing with one
hand raised in the universal stop signal.

The
sight of him dropped her guard momentarily.

A
sheet of powerful flame roared at her. She ducked, and it seared the
air bare millimeters over her head.

She
let off a round that ricocheted harmlessly from the Mandalorian's
chest plate and rolled for cover. It was hard to say what surprised
her more: a Jedi down deep in the bowels of Coruscant, or the fact
that he had the facial tattoos of a Kiffu native, just like she did.

*
* *

Shigar
took in the confrontation with a glance. He'd never fought a
Mandalorian before, but he had been carefully instructed in the art
by his Master. They were dangerous, very dangerous, and he almost had
second thoughts about taking this one on. Even together, he and a
single battered-looking soldier would hardly be sufficient.

Then
flame arced across the head of the soldier, and his instincts took
over. The soldier ducked for cover with admirable speed. Shigar
lunged forward, lightsaber raised to slash at the net that inevitably
headed his way. The whine of the suit's jetpack drowned out the angry
sizzling of Shigar's blade as he cut himself free. Before the
Mandalorian had gained barely a meter of altitude, Shigar
Force-pushed him sideways into the building beside him, thereby
crushing off the jet's exhaust vent.

With
a snarl, the Mandalorian landed heavily on both feet and fired two
darts in quick succession, both aimed at Shigar's face. Shigar
deflected them and moved closer, dancing lightly on his feet. From a
distance, he was at a disadvantage. Mandalorians were masters of
ranged weaponry, and would do anything to avoid hand-to-hand combat
except in one of their infamous gladiatorial pits. If he could get
near enough to strike-with the soldier maintaining a distracting
cover fire-he might just get lucky...