Light of the Jedi(88)

“I want these Nihil brought to justice,” the chancellor said. “Every last one.”





This is the moment, Marchion Ro thought. The new beginning.

He stood in the center of the huge platform that was the Great Hall of the Nihil, open on all four sides to the nothingness of No-Space. Unsettling multicolored lights flickered in the far distance, nothing interrupting them but the silhouettes of the vessels that had brought Marchion and the three Tempest Runners to this forsaken, desolate place. The hall was empty—no feast tables interrupted its expanse, and the four of them were alone and unmasked.

Marchion looked at these people—Kassav, Pan Eyta, and Lourna Dee. They resented him and they resented one another, and all believed they could do better than the rest. There was no unity. There was no purpose to the Nihil, other than a desire for profit and a shared love for taking from others, flouting the system. That had to change.

This was the moment.

“I heard from my spy in Senator Noor’s office,” Marchion said. “The Jedi and the Republic have accessed the flight recorder they got when Lourna Dee failed her mission.”



Lourna Dee blinked but didn’t say anything.

“They know we were responsible for the Legacy Run disaster,” Marchion continued. “One of Pan Eyta’s Clouds was returning from a raid, using a Path, and ended up almost smashing into the Run.”

“That’s not our fault!” Kassav said. “How were we supposed to know—”

“It doesn’t matter if that wasn’t our fault. Eriadu sure as hell was,” Marchion said.

For once, Kassav shut his mouth.

“So, it’s what happened in Hetzal, all the Emergences, Kassav’s idiotic move at Eriadu, and then Lourna Dee basically proved we’re involved when she tried and failed to get the flight recorder,” Pan Eyta said, his voice like rubble falling off a cliff. “We’re all over this. This is bad.”

“What do you think’s going to happen?” Lourna Dee said.

“They’ll hunt us down,” Pan said. “The Republic and the Jedi, too. We’re not just some regional raider crew anymore. We’re a threat to them. We caused the whole damn hyperspace blockade. They’ll want to make an example of us.”

“Look, we’ve had a good run,” Kassav said. “Everyone’s made money. It’s not like we have to do this. We can just…go.”

“And all those Storms and Clouds and Strikes in our Tempests? The ones who follow us, believe in us. What about them?” Lourna Dee said.

Kassav shrugged. “They can do whatever they want. They want to keep the Nihil going, keep riding the storm, that’s their business. Nothing saying we can’t ever retire. What, we gotta be Tempest Runners until the day we die? What about living off the spoils of a lifetime of hard work?”

Pan Eyta snorted. “You think they’ll see it that way? They’ll think we cut and run.”

Kassav shrugged again. “The Nihil are about freedom, right? Do what you want, when you want. Well, maybe I want to get the hell out of here before a Jedi pulls out their lightsaber and cuts off my head.”



“Didn’t you once say you wanted to fight a Jedi?” Marchion Ro said, his tone mild. “Get yourself a good story to tell?”

Kassav said nothing.

This is the moment, Marchion thought.

He punched Kassav right in his stupid, cunning, savage face. Marchion’s gloves were reinforced with armored plates and acceleration compensators; he could punch a hole in a durasteel wall and not feel a twinge of pain. He heard the sound as Kassav’s stupid, cunning, savage nose crumpled under his fist, and by the Path it felt good.

Pan Eyta and Lourna Dee didn’t move. They seemed stunned. This was not something the Eye did. The Eye didn’t fight, especially not the Runners. He didn’t have a Tempest to back him up. The Eye got a third of the take and was happy with it.

Change can be challenging, my friends, Marchion thought.

Kassav staggered back, his eyes gone wide, blood gushing from his nose—but only for a second. The man was no stranger to pain, and Marchion supposed he was no stranger to surprise punches in the face, either. Kassav’s eyes narrowed and his hand ducked inside his fur cape, where he kept a secret blaster in violation of the Great Hall’s rules. Marchion had known about it for years.

Marchion whipped up his arm, and one of the vibro-stars he kept in a sheath along his wrist whickered out. It sheared through half of Kassav’s hand along with the butt of his blaster, and chunks of metal and flesh fell to the floor.

Kassav, to his credit, tried to keep fighting. Blood spurted from his nose and sprayed from what was left of his right hand, and yet he lunged forward, swinging a pretty credible punch with his left.

Marchion caught it, spun, and threw Kassav to the platform. He landed with a hollow, wet sound in a pool of his own blood.

“Nngh!” Kassav said, the first sound he’d made since the fight began—the man was tough, there was no doubt about it.

Marchion put his boot on the Tempest Runner’s chest. Not lightly, either. He pressed hard, like he wanted to shove the man right through the blasted deck, into the empty space on the other side.



“I am the Eye of the Nihil, as was my father before me,” he said. “We made this organization what it is, and I will not watch you destroy it with your selfishness, fear, and weakness. You made a mistake at Eriadu, Kassav, and it showed us your belly. You need to remember how this works, Chief. The Nihil need to stay strong. And one way that happens…”