Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [9]
Delicacies were brought in from across the planet and from other worlds. More than a few vessels met with unfortunate accidents, and their competitors expressed sympathy while rushing to fill the void with their own products. Those who had a noted touch with their brushes were in high demand for the most beautiful, most elegant vor’shandi skin paintings, and tailors scrambled to meet the sudden need for “the most gorgeous robe on Kesh, do you understand?”
Money was changing hands; reputations rose and fell hourly. And the Sith thrived on it.
At last, all was in readiness.
Three standard years earlier, there had been a large, open stretch of land to the north of Tahv. Neither conducive to growing crops nor attractive enough to build houses on, the area had proved ideal for expanding into a port for space-traveling vessels—a thing the Sith Tribe had never before needed, and which had arisen haphazardly in different stages. Work had begun shortly after the arrival of Ship, the mysterious, seemingly sentient Sith training vessel that was older than any of them could imagine. Under Ship’s guidance, the Lost Tribe had created a rudimentary port and soon had vessels that needed room to dock.
Now the landing area was filled with ChaseMaster frigates, the honored Ship who had started it all, and throngs of Sith. Most were simply eager to welcome their loved ones home, if only for a brief visit. Some were there to analyze behavior, actions, and feelings in the Force and report back to their Masters. Some were there with orders to follow and assassinate.
All were there to see Abeloth, who had arrived in Ship’s strange innards, and who alone did not choose to land. Ship hovered about fifteen meters in the air, a spherical shape with two pointed extensions above and below it, and two bat-like, membranous wings extending to either side. In its center, looking like a hideous eye, was a circular screen.
Abeloth waited, of course, until the last possible moment; until after every frigate had been emptied of its crew, until the last celebratory note had been played or sung, until Lord Vol had stood on a hovering dais in splendid, heavy formal robes for an uncomfortably long period of time. On the ground, standing next to his wife, Gavar Khai watched, a slight frown on his face.
At last, slowly, like a creature awakening from slumber, Ship’s “eye” grew transparent, and then opened.
Abeloth floated out.
She did not need a dais, and wore no heavy robes. She wore, indeed, seemingly very little, which somehow managed to cover her more than modestly; a diaphanous draping that caught the breeze and fluttered just so. She had chosen her golden-haired female form, with wise gray eyes, and a slight smile was on her lips. She lifted her arms and tilted her head, and the breeze played with her flowing fair locks as she floated gently to the ground. Khai glanced at Vol. He neither sensed nor saw discomfort in the old man as he rode the dais to the ground next to Abeloth, but he knew that Vol had to be annoyed, at the very least.
It was going to be a very interesting day.
The two powerful Masters of the dark side landed almost simultaneously, a meter away from each other. Abeloth waved to the crowds, who were applauding enthusiastically, few of them as aware as Khai was of the tension between the two leaders. Vol, as the host, made the first gesture, moving toward Abeloth with hands outstretched. She turned pleasantly, smiling, and clasped his hands in her own.
“For far too long,” Vol said, his voice carrying easily, “the Lost Tribe has slumbered on Kesh. While this is and will always be our true home, it is but one of many, for soon worlds uncountable shall be ours. The last three years have seen staggering changes. And today marks perhaps the most significant one since Ship first appeared in the skies of Kesh, informing us of the galaxy