• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

It was no wonder he felt her strongly.

But still.

Even the brief, dream-heavy sleep had refreshed him. He had wanted that, wanted to feel more rested and alert, before he talked to High Lord Sarasu Taalon again.

ABOARD THE BLACK WAVE

“Ah, Master Skywalker,” Sarasu Taalon said. He leaned back in his command chair and smiled. It was an elegant, if predatory smile, for Taalon’s pale purple face was ideally proportioned. His features were sharp but strong, epitomizing masculine beauty. The tone of his skin was considered particularly attractive among the Keshiri and humans as well, even, with no unsightly irregular pigmentation. His strong hands, fingers steepled in front of him at the moment, showed calluses from years of using weapons, but had no disfiguring marks such as scars or misshapen fingers, which indicated that from a young age he usually won what sparring he engaged in. He kept his dark purple hair short, a departure from current fashion, but one he found convenient. Taalon’s eyes were large, expressive, and missed nothing as he gazed at the small holographic image of Grand Master Luke Skywalker, the hated enemy with whom he was currently allied.

“Any further word from your friend?”

Luke Skywalker smiled back with what was easily discernible as forced courtesy. “Yes, as a matter of fact. He reports that he is on schedule to join us within ten to twelve days.”

“Pity he cannot work faster to update this … tug?” Taalon did not sneer, not quite.

“You’ll have no reason to regret the delay, I assure you. Lando’s work is excellent. And since you’ve not navigated the Maw, you don’t appreciate quite yet how useful it will be to us.”

Taalon gritted his teeth, both at the delay and the utterly unsubtle jibe. He already had reason to regret having to spend more than five minutes in orbit of the planet turning slowly beneath the vessel. Taalon, like most of the Sith Tribe, burned with ambition and chafed at anything that stood in his way. He had no interest in wasting time orbiting a backwater world. Or back sand world, as a cursory glance at the information on Klatooine had revealed. Brown and yellow and ugly.

“Well, then. Let us hope the vessel proves as useful as you say it will,” he said, pouring sincerity into the Force to mask his irritation. “I am anxious to take the fight to Abeloth.”

“It is my hope that it will not be a fight,” said Luke. “Like I said earlier, the goal is not to destroy her, it’s to try to understand her and reason with her. Make her understand what she is doing, if possible. She’s an alarming being, that much is certain, but I’ll need more time to assess the situation before I’m willing to fight her.”

Taalon deftly covered his annoyance and forced himself to smile in an indulgent manner, stretching his lips thinly across even white teeth. “Of course, but remember, she is damaging our younglings. She must release them.”

“Of course,” Luke said, “but killing a sentient being should always be a last resort. Also, her death might mean our young Jedi and your apprentices would never be released. We have far too little information on her nature to know exactly what is going on.”

“You raise a good point,” Taalon agreed. “Is there anything further?” Taalon intensely disliked Luke Skywalker. He itched to blast the Jedi with Force lightning, to choke him, to cleave him in two with his lightsaber. With a little luck, and the blessings of the dark side, he would have the opportunity to indulge his desire once Abeloth had been forced to cooperate with the Sith. He allowed himself to fantasize briefly about the moment.

“No, nothing more. Will you be visiting the surface?”

“Doubtful,” said Taalon. He did not elaborate.

“Me neither. I’m not very fond of sand. Jade Shadow out.”

“Captain?” It was Leeha Faal, his second in command, a slender female and fellow Keshiri who stood rigidly at attention. Following her commander’s example, she, too, had cut her hair short. Soft bangs, however, fell over her high forehead.

“Yes, what is it?”

“We have been researching Klatooine, and—”

“There cannot possibly