Light of the Jedi(92)
“Yes, but we are guardians of two ideals, are we not?” said Yarael Poof. “Sometimes, unfortunately, they come into conflict. We must always strive for peace, but also justice. Peace without justice is flawed, hollow at its core. It is the peace provided by tyranny.”
“I do not believe there has been a single instance of the Jedi getting involved in the military matters of galactic government that has generated anything but endless complexity,” Ephru replied.
“So we should strive only for simplicity? The galaxy is not a simple place, Master Shinn,” said Grandmaster Lahru.
And on it went. Jora listened, but did not speak, letting the other Council members make their positions clear. Those positions settled with five in favor of agreeing to the chancellor’s request to include Jedi in the mission against the Nihil, and five against.
The final choice was down to Jora, which seemed appropriate to her, since it would be her ship, the Ataraxia, that would accompany Republic forces on the mission.
The other members of the Council looked at her, waiting for her to speak. And so she did.
“You know I am not much for words. I prefer to act. In this case, I think the decision is simple enough. It’s the same question I ask myself whenever I do anything at all.”
She again wished Reath were with her, thinking of the lesson he might learn here. She would have to pass it along to him later.
“Does the action I’m about to take bring more light to the galaxy?”
She spread her hands.
“In this case, I believe the answer is clear. The Nihil have snuffed out countless people across the Outer Rim, and caused endless strife and suffering. We should act to reduce their ability to do anything like this again. I will take the Ataraxia and accompany Admiral Kronara’s fleet.”
“And then what?” asked Oppo Rancisis. “Do you have any sense of what you will do once the Nihil are found?”
“Yes, Master Rancisis,” Jora said. “Whatever the Force wills.”
The New Elite dropped out of hyperspace near a bright-green nebula that cast the ship’s bridge in a sickly, swamplike hue. Kassav hated the color. He was from Sriluur out in Hutt Space, a dry world where the only time you saw something green was when it was covered with mold. Green was unnatural, a bad shade, a bad omen.
Lot of those going around.
The ship’s bridge was silent—no music. Kassav didn’t feel like it. He stared down at what remained of his hand as the medical droid attended to it, sealing off the slashed-open flesh, patching it up as best it could. His options seemed to be to retain a claw with a few fingers still attached, or just lop off what was left and go for a prosthetic. Either way, his blaster hand was never going to be the same. He’d have to learn to shoot with his left.
Marchion Ro, Kassav thought. Marchion blasted Ro.
“Did the Eye tell you when those Republic ships would show up?” Wet Bub said. “We’re bringing plenty of firepower—should be able to knock down anything they bring. Get rid of that flight recorder thing Marchion Ro told us about…and then it’s back to business!”
The Gungan grinned, his huge, idiotic teeth glowing like cave mushrooms in the weird light from the nebula.
“I’m sick of all this waiting around,” Bub went on. “We’re the Nihil. We need to ride the storm!”
Kassav looked up from the wreckage of his favorite hand, scowling at his lieutenant. “Listen, you stupid cloaca. You’re gonna wait as long as I tell you to. And then you’ll do exactly what I tell you to.”
Wet Bub held up his hands, his two perfectly fine hands, like he was rubbing it in, and backed away. “Right, boss,” he said.
Bub looked like a corpse. A moldy, three-weeks-dead corpse. Kassav glanced around the bridge, at the rest of his crew. Everyone did. That blasted nebula.
Outside the bridge viewport, he saw the rest of his Tempest dropping in, as ordered. About a hundred ships, mostly small—Strikeships and Cloudships—with a scattering of larger vessels. Assault craft, modified freighters, that kind of thing.
His people, all loyal to him and him alone. They were all Nihil, sure, but these crews didn’t take orders from Pan Eyta or Lourna Dee…and definitely not Marchion Ro.
Kassav considered his fleet, casting his eyes from one ship to the next. Basically his entire Tempest, barring a few of his people off on jobs. Might not be the prettiest in the galaxy, but it was powerful. It could cause some real damage. Pan Eyta chose stuck-up thinkers for his crews. Lourna Dee picked liars and sneaks. Kassav…now, he had always chosen warriors. He thought if it came to it, his Tempest could probably take Pan Eyta’s and Lourna Dee’s groups combined. Warriors, every one of them, and they all believed the same thing, a lesson Kassav had learned by the time he could walk: When you’re in a battle, you never stop fighting. Win or die.
In fact, looking at his Tempest swarming around the New Elite, the idea occurred to him, and not for the first time: Did he really need the Nihil at all? Why not just take his people and go? Head across the Rim, find somewhere else to work. The Paths were useful, but he didn’t need them, and he sure as hell didn’t need Marchion Ro. It was a big galaxy. He could start a new Nihil; he’d learned all the techniques—no reason he couldn’t use them somewhere else.