CHAPTER EIGHT
Although their helmets mitigated the effects of the sound bomb on their ears, it did little to prevent the resulting vibrations from knocking the Knights of Ren off their feet. As Kylo Ren struggled to get back up, he could see Toah and the other two Jedi cutting their way through the blast door at the front desk with their lightsabers, while their Ortolan companion flattened his long floppy ears with his hands.
“Somebody stop them!” Kylo called through the Force, just in case the sound bomb had affected one of the others’ ears.
Laying flat on his stomach, Kuruk carefully aimed with his blaster rifle, pointing it at the Jedi. Sensing him, Toah turned around and gestured with his hand, causing Kuruk’s arm to jerk up just as he pulled the trigger, the blaster bolt going straight up into the ceiling.
Cardo moved next, getting up on one knee and using his other arm to keep his arm cannon steady. The three Jedi quickly moved out of the way as he fired a plasma bolt from the cannon. It struck the wall they had been trying to cut through and it blasted open in a small yet fiery explosion.
“You idiot….” Kylo muttered just as the Jedi returned to the newly made opening, this time with the Ortolan in tow.
Zarin smiled cheekily at them as he waved. “Thanks!” he said as he, Toah, Rey, and Bedo bolted through the opening.
“AFTER THEM!” Kylo roared, already moving to pursue them. He had not taken more than a few steps before something stopped him and caused him to freeze in place. The other Knights stopped as well, looking at their master confusedly as he slowly turned himself around to look over his shoulder.
“Why are you stopping?” Vicrul growled impatiently. “They’re getting away!”
“We have company.” Kylo’s voice was barely audible through his mask. “Stay here and deal with them while I deal with the Jedi.”
“Do you really think you can deal with them all by yourself?” asked Ushar, hefting his war club. “Let me have a swing at them and I’m sure I—”
“You will obey my orders or else,” Kylo snapped. “Don’t let anyone come through the entrance; if they do, kill them with extreme prejudice.”
Before any of the other Knights could protest, Kylo Ren began to head in the direction the Jedi had went. Karis moved to follow him only to be stopped by Vicrul.
“You heard him,” Vicrul muttered. “Let him go—”
“No,” Kylo said, never breaking stride. “She comes with me.”
Ignoring the others’ barely audible grousing, Karis eagerly followed Kylo down the hallway, leaving behind six very disgruntled Knights of Ren.
* * *
As torture techniques went, there were none quite as unique as a history lesson.
Still trapped under the targeting range of the turrets, Valrisa and the others had no choice but to stay where they stood as Sal Tyrius paced through the room. The Arkanian curator had since been joined by the Corellian head of state Thrackan Sal-Solo, who stood at the back of the room with a grave look on his face, watching them all with a steely gaze.
As he walked from one glass cabinet to another, admiring the historical artifacts within, Tyrius said, “Most people don’t realize it, but the House of Solo gained notoriety long before a certain smuggler came along to help save us from the Empire.”
At this, Thrackan stiffened but remained silent as the Curator continued speaking.
“In 4960 C.R.C. — or 2983 BrS, if you’re one of those who insist on abiding by the Great ReSynchronization — the Seventeenth Alsakan Conflict was brought to a timely end when Corellia made an embarrassment of both Coruscant and Alsakan, after having had no part in their petty conflicts for so long. Just to rub the salt onto the wound, Prince-Admiral Jonash e Solo held Chancellor Vedij at sword-point in front of the entire Senate as he negotiated a peace treaty—”
“I know where this is going,” Poe Dameron interjected, prompting Tyrius to whirl around and face him. “This was the same spiel Sal-Solo and his cronies gave when they tried to threaten the Alliance with secession seven years ago. Let me guess: You’re going to say that Prince-Admiral Jonash e Solo went on to become elected Supreme Chancellor and tried to move the Republic’s capital to Corellia.”
Tyrius shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m well aware of that egregious crime of historic revision that the Corellian Council committed during that little fiasco. I cannot begin to tell you the number of discrepancies I had to correct whenever I visited a museum or university that did not know better.”
“You know, all this would be a lot more interesting if we didn’t have these guns pointed at our heads,” said Typha. “Just saying.”
Tyrius turned his head to look at the Pantoran, staring at her a moment longer than Valrisa would have liked. “Perhaps it would,” the Arkanian said with a shrug. “Then again, I don’t really expect any of you to have as much of an appreciation for history as I do. No offense, but just from looking at you all, I can tell that you are more… lowbrow in terms of intellect.”
“Yeah, insulting us isn’t going to do much better,” Poe muttered. “I suggest you let us go before I arrest you in the name of the Galactic Alliance.”
“The Galactic Alliance?” Tyrius let out a high and harsh laugh. “You mean the same Galactic Alliance you are rebelling against?”
“We’re not rebelling,” Jessika objected. “We’re trying to get to the source of the corruption that has been plaguing the Senate for the past two years.”
“Ah, of course. Just like how the likes of Mon Mothma and Bail Organa tried to get to the source of the corruption that had plagued their Senate for the last couple of decades before its Chancellor took it to its logical extreme.” Tyrius grinned widely. “One of the many things I enjoy about studying history is keeping track of how many times it repeats itself.”
Before anyone could respond to his statement, a beep came from a nearby desk. Thrackan moved over to the desk and pressed a finger down on the comm button.
“Yes?”
“Sir, Kylo Ren has arrived,” replied a woman’s voice. “However, it would appear he is being… held up.”
“Held up by what?” Thrackan asked.
“Three Jedi and some Ortolan, sir.”
This time, it was Valrisa and the others’ turn to tense. Tyrius did not pay them any mind as he casually glided over to the desk.
“Offer them an invitation to my office, Lunara,” he said. “There is no need for senseless violence. We can all be friends here.”
“Understood, sir,” replied the female voice. “Although it might be difficult to calm down Mr. Ren. He appears to be… particularly enraged.”
Tyrius smirked. “I’ve dealt with worse. Please, bring them in. And try not to lose an arm in the process.”
With that, he ended the call before turning to face his involuntary guests. “I hope you are comfortable,” the Arkanian said, not bothering to hide the mocking tone in his voice. “I get the feeling we are going to be here for a while longer.”
* * *
“Mr. Ren, I suggest that you—”
Kylo Ren roared as he smashed his lightsaber against the blast door separating him from Toah, Rey, Zarin, and Bedo. His pursuit of the Jedi had been abruptly ended by the door slamming in front of him and Karis, though he had a feeling none of them had been the one to have actually closed the door.
“The Curator would like you to—” the Arkanian woman behind him tried to say.
“SHUT UP!” Kylo bashed his blade against the door again, leaving behind a scorch mark, before whirling around to face the Arkanian. “OPEN THE DOOR!”
Lunara stared back at the dark warrior calmly, her eyes — one natural white, the other cybernetic blue — unblinking. “The Curator would like to invite you and the Jedi to his office. Preferably all in one piece.”
“I want nothing to do with these Jedi,” Kylo snarled. “I want them either dead or out of my sight.”
“Unfortunately, your wishes and desires do not take priority over the Curator’s own,” Lunara said coolly. “He wishes to meet with you in his office so that you may deliver the artifact. He will deal with the Jedi as he sees fit.”
Kylo looked ready to object when Karis said, “Master, perhaps we should do as she says.”
He turned sharply to glare at her; although hidden by his mask, the S’kytri apprentice could still feel his cold gaze upon her. “And why should we?”
Karis cleared her throat, steadying herself. “It may prove beneficial for us to humor this Curator until we get whatever we need from him and leave. Causing chaos and havoc will simply needlessly complicate matters.”
Kylo continued to stare at her for a moment, the silence between them taut with tension. Finally, he shut off his lightsaber and turned back to look at Lunara.
“Very well,” he said, though the resent in his voice was clear to all who heard it. “Take us to the Curator. Now.”
Lunara smiled, though its warmth did not reach either her organic eye nor her cybernetic one. “Thank you for your cooperation. If you would follow me.”
* * *
“I had a feeling you would have been here for this,” Wedge Antilles said, sitting behind the co-pilot’s seat of the Millennium Falcon. “As soon as I heard Iella mention the name ‘Thrackan Sal-Solo,’ I knew—”
“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that name,” Han Solo retorted as he piloted the Corellian freighter into Coronet Spaceport. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have touched this situation with a thousand-yard pole. But Leia… well, you know how she is.”
Wedge figured he didn’t know her as well as Han did, but he nodded anyway. “How is she, if I may ask?”
Han shrugged. “She’s been busy. But she always is, I guess. She’s never been one to sit aside while the rest of the galaxy burns.”
He flipped a few switches before saying to his Wookiee co-pilot, “All right, Chewie, let’s bring her in.”
Chewbacca growled something to him in his native tongue.
“Relax, the clearance codes should go through. Besides, conspiracy plot or not, they’d be crazy to fire on a ship with a reputation like this one.”
Chewbacca’s response indicated that he was not wholly convinced by that statement.
“Yeah, good point,” Han muttered. “This is my crazy cousin we’re dealing with.”
As the Falcon guided itself into the spaceport, Wedge spotted a glimpse of a tall, almost-skyscraper sized building situated in the center of the city, looming over the rest of Coronet. Chewbacca seemed to have noticed it too as he released a series of frantic roars and growls.
“Yeah, yeah, I see it.” Han sounded uncharacteristically quiet and soft. “It’s probably just another star yacht of the same design. I’m sure they make tons of them.”
“Do you recognize that building?” Wedge asked, and instantly regretted it when Han shot him a dirty look.
“Let’s say I do and leave it at that,” the ex-smuggler grunted before returning his attention to the ship’s controls. “So once we land, what’s the plan?”
“Fulcrum just got back to me,” said Jesmin, stepping into the cockpit. “She says that our agents in Coronet have gotten into the star yacht, but she’s lost contact with them.”
“Great,” Han muttered. “So, what do we do, bust them out of there?”
“That would make the most sense,” said Wedge. “The real question is if that’s what Iella— sorry, ‘Fulcrum’ wants us to do.”
Han looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “If she does or not, will it change what we’ll actually end up doing?”
Wedge shook his head. “Not at all. It’ll just change how long she’ll go without talking to me.”
At this, Han flashed him a grin. “Spoken like a true married man. Chewie, bring us closer to the yacht.”
The Wookiee responded in a questioning tone.
“That’s the idea. I want Thrackan to know we’re coming.”
This time, it was Wedge’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Just a few minutes ago, you were saying you wished you hadn’t come.”
“And I still feel that way,” Han replied. “Let’s just say your boldness is contagious.”
Behind him, Wedge heard Jesmin sigh.
“Great. I’m stuck with two old men going through a mid-life crisis….”
* * *
“…And it saddens me that so few speak of King Benethor e Solo in high regard. In the early 7500s C.R.C., he invoked Contemplanys Hermi in an attempt to secede from the Republic. This bold move was a protest against Chancellor Cera Teem’s policies, which greatly favored….”
Thrackan Sal-Solo could heard Sal Tyrius’ words, but he had long since stopped processing them or their meaning. The Arkanian could go on and on about the House of Solo’s history and accomplishments; all that mattered to Thrackan was how it would legitimize his right to the throne of Corellia and solidify his rule over the sector. Once that was done, he could not care less about what any Solo before him had accomplished; all that would matter would be what he accomplished from now until….
Until when? When he died? He was not exactly getting any younger; he had turned seventy-seven this year and was already needing to rely on a cane for support. Even now, editorials were being published on how his tenure as head of state would be short-lived; would they even accept him as a King to begin with? Or would they simply laugh him off? And even after he died, what then? He had no offspring to speak of and thus no one to carry on in his stead. Would the Corellian Council simply elect a new monarch, similar to how the Naboo elected theirs? Would — nine hells forbid — Han Solo or any of his spawn attempt to claim the throne? Or would the Galactic Alliance drag Corellia back in and install their own head of state that would abide by their every wish and command?
As these questions swirled around his head, Thrackan barely noticed the YT-1300 freighter flying just outside the window. As a Corellian model, such ships were a credit a dozen in Coronet’s skies. But as it began to land in a nearby docking bay, he performed a double take… and in an instant his heart dropped into his stomach like a large stone in a pond.
“Han Solo,” he said, the name sounding almost like a gasp as his breath hitched.
Sal Tyrius stopped speaking and turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Pardon?”
“Han Solo is here,” Thrackan said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I saw… I saw the Millennium Falcon land outside.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just another YT freighter?”
Thrackan shook his head. “I would recognize that piece of junk anywhere.”
A smile began to slowly creep its way onto Tyrius’ face. “Interesting….”
Poe Dameron was also smirking. “You guys are in for it now.”
“Oh, no,” the Curator chuckled. “I believe things are just about to get started.”
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