Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Star Wars: The New Rebellion: Star Wars Series

An explosion rocked the Chamber, flinging Leia into the air. She flew backward and slammed onto a desk, her entire body shuddering with the power of her hit. Blood and shrapnel rained around her. Smoke and dust rose, filling the room with a grainy darkness. She could hear nothing. With a shaking hand, she touched the side of her face. Warmth stained her cheeks and her earlobes. The ringing would start soon. The explosion was loud enough to affect her eardrums.

The tone had truly been set for this Senatorial term.

And for that, the Empire would pay.

This edition contains the complete text
of the original hardcover edition.
NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED .

STAR WARS: THE NEW REBELLION
A Bantam Spectra Book
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Bantam Spectra hardcover edition published December 1996
Bantam Spectra paperback edition / October 1997

SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed s are trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

All rights reserved.
, , & 1996 by Lucasfilm Ltd. All rights reserved. Used under authorization.

Cover art copyright 1996 by Drew Struzan.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 96-8073.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books.

eISBN: 978-0-307-79635-6

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v3.1

This book is dedicated to four groups of special people:

First, to the old friends who sat with me in that darkened theater in Duluth, Minnesota, on May 25, 1977: Mindy Wallgren-Holte, Janine (Plunkett) McCusker, Kevin ONeill, and Daniel W. Bergman. I miss you all and wish you well.

Second, to the nieces and nephews who, as children, helped me experience the excitement anew: Tim Rusch, Priscilla Wolfe, Kathy McNally, Kristine Hofsommer, Knute Hofsommer, and Aaron J. Reynolds.

Third, to the friends of the heart who have never lost their sense of wonder: Kevin J. Anderson, Paul B. Higginbotham, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, and Dean Wesley Smith.

And finally, to George Lucas, for giving me so many hours of enjoyment, and to John Williams, whose exceptional score still makes me shiver with delight.

Thanks on this one go to Tom Dupree, Lucy Autrey Wilson, and Richard Curtis for thinking of me in the first place; to Sue Rostoni, who answered all my questions; to Renee Dodds for keeping me on the straight and narrow; to Jenny Goodnough for understanding the depth of the Star Wars universe; to Dean Wesley Smith for reminding me to laugh in all the right places; to Kevin J. Anderson, Rebecca Moesta, Dave Wolverton, Steve Perry, and Barbara Hambly for their thoughts, theories, and advice; and to all the other Star Wars authors for providing me with the most enjoyable month of research Ive ever had.

H e stood on the highest point on the planet of Almania, the roof of a tower built by the once-powerful Jehar. The tower was in ruin, the stairs crumbling as his boots touched them, the roof littered with debris from battles years gone. From here, though, he could see his city, a thousand lights spread before him, the streets empty except for droids and the ever-present guards.

But he was not interested in looking down. He wanted to see the stars.

An icy wind rippled his black cloak. He clasped his gloved hands behind him. The deaths-head mask he had worn since destroying the Jehar hung on a silver chain around his neck.

Above him the stars winked. Hard to believe worlds existed there. Worlds he would control.

Soon.

He could have waited in his command, stood in the observatory specially constructed for his needs, but for once, he wanted no protective walls around him. He wanted to feel the moment, not see it.

The power of sight was so pitiful against the strength of the Force.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. No explosion this time. No bright flare of light. Skywalker had told him of the moment when Alderaan died.

I felt a great disturbance in the Force, the old man had said. At least, thats what Skywalker told him.

This disturbance would not be as great, but Skywalker would feel it. All the young Jedi would feel it too, and they would know that the balance of power had shifted.

But they wouldnt know that power had shifted to him. To Kueller, Master of Almania, and soon, lord of all their pitiful worlds.

The stone walls were damp and cold against Brakisss unprotected hands. His polished black boots slipped against the crumbling steps, and more than once he had to balance on a precarious ledge. His silver cloak, perfect for a brisk stroll across the city, did not protect him against the winter wind. If this experiment worked, he would be able to go back to Telti, where he would at least be warm.

The remotes metal casing was cool against his fingers. He hadnt wanted to give it to Kueller until the experiment was over. Brakiss hadnt realized, until a few moments ago, that Kueller would wait for the results here, at the site of his enemies triumph and their eventual deaths.

Brakiss hated the towers. It felt as if something still rattled in their walls, and once, when he was in the catacombs below, he had seen a large white ghost.

Tonight, he had climbed more than twenty stories, and had almost run the first flights until it became clear that some of the steps wouldnt hold his weight. Kueller hadnt summoned him, but Brakiss didnt care. The sooner he left Almania, the happier he would be.

The stairs twisted and finally he reached the roofor what he thought was the roof. A stone hut had been built to protect the steps, but the hut had no windows or doors. Only pillars, which gave a good view of the gravel inlay surface, and of the star-filled sky. Stones had fallen out of the hut and shattered onto the rooftop. The remains from bombs and blaster concussions formed little mounds on what had once been a level plane. Kueller had not repaired the tower or the other Jehar government buildings. He never would.

Kueller never forgave anyone who crossed him.

Brakiss shuddered and clutched his thin cape tightly around his shoulders. His frozen fingers barely got a grip on the material.

I told you to wait below. Kuellers deep voice carried on the wind.

Brakiss swallowed. He couldnt even see Kueller.

The starlight fell across the roof, giving the dark sky a luminescence that Brakiss found eerie. He climbed the remaining stairs and stepped out of the hut. A gust of wind knocked him against the stone. He braced himself with his right hand, losing his grip on his cloak. The fastener tugged against his neck as the wind made the material flutter behind him.