Matthew Woodring Stover - Star Wars: Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor

Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor

By Matthew W. Stover

The author respectfully dedicates this novel to the legendary Alan Dean Foster, and to the memory of the late, great Brian Daley, for showing us what it looks like when this stuff is done right.
Thank you, gentlemen. We are in your debt .

The author wishes to gratefully acknowledge the following people, without whom this novel would not exist in its current form:

Mike Kogge, for suggesting that I look at the end of Lukes military career; Karen Traviss, for an opportune bit of translation; Sue Rostoni, Leland Chee, and all the folks at Lucasfilm for unflagging support and expert assistance; Shelly Shapiro, my editor at Del Rey, for leap-tall-buildings-in-a-single-bound encouragement, more-powerful-than-a-locomotive patience, and faster-than-a-speeding-bullet skill to shepherd this story from idea to hardcover; and Robyn, my beloved wife and periodic Star Wars widow, who accomplished the most heroic task of all: living with me while I slowly ground my way through this story.

Lorz Geptun stood outside the command cabin door and tried to swallow. Really, this was too much: to be summoned before Luke Skywalker , of all people. A Jedi. Not only a Jedi, but the son of Anakin Skywalker. And now Geptun had to meet him. Face-to-face!

He tugged at the collar of his dress-blue uniform tunic, slid a finger behind it to try to stretch the fabric just a hair more. He grimaced at how difficult he found this simple task to be; surely his tailor had miscalculatedagainbecause he couldnt possibly have put on so much weight since hed had this made. Could he? In, what had it been, three Standard months? A man of his admittedly advanced agehe would never see seventy againshould have settled on a size, and left it at that.

Geptun was not much in favor of dress uniforms, anyway. Hed left his own behind on his homeworld decades before, at the beginning of the Clone Wars, trading it in for mufti; in those days, Republic Intelligence had been a largely covert service, and had had no use for uniforms. Hed left Republic Intelligence not long after it had become Imperial Intelligence; his investigation of the so-called Jedi Rebellion had uncovered entirely too much of certain truths that the Imperial Executive had preferred to conceal, and for a number of years hed been forced to make a living as a freelance broker of information while doing his best to avoid attracting any official Imperial attention.

Eventually, hed offered his services to the Rebel Alliance. Though he had little interest in politicshis primary political conviction was a profound interest in his own safety and comforthed recognized that the prospective government the Rebels planned to install would, owing to its youthful amateurish untidiness, afford him a great deal more opportunity for the freedom to make his own way in his own way. Which was another way of saying: to live and work in the lucrative shadows outside official scrutiny.

Which made his current situation all the more ironic.

He sighed. Nothing ever works out how we wish, yes? Doesnt mean one cant turn it to ones advantage . He sighed again and raised a finger to trigger the cabins door chime but before he could, the door slid open, and a voice that sounded a great deal older and wearier than Geptun had expected said, Inspector Geptun. Please come in.

Geptun grimaced again. Hed become accustomed, this twenty-plus years past, to a galaxy without Jedi. He wasnt at all sure he was looking forward to their return.

He took a deep breath and waddled through the door. General Skywalker, he said with a slight bowno salute, as the Judicial Service was outside the military chain of commandand a pleasant smile. How may I be of service?

The young general sat on the edge of his desk, head lowered and hands clasped before him. He wore close-fitting civilian clothing of a somber black, very much in the style his celebrated father had made famous. Geptun reflected with a flash of annoyance that if hed known Skywalker would be out of uniform, he would have come to this meeting in a comfortable blazer instead of this bloody jookley suit.

Skywalker lifted his head as though he had felt Geptuns annoyanceand he might very well have, Geptun reminded himself. Bloody Jedi. Inspector Lorz Geptun, Skywalker said slowly. I know a little about you, Inspector. You were a military governor and director of planetary intelligence for the CIS during the Clone Wars.

Geptuns too-tight collar suddenly seemed to tighten further. Briefly. At the beginning of the

Then you were a Republic spy.

Well

And after that, you made your living tracking targets for bounty hunters.

Not specifically for

And now youre a JS investigator. Through all this, theres a running theme. You have a talent.

Geptun said carefully, Do I?

You seem to be pretty good at finding the truth.

Geptun relaxed. Oh, well, thank you for

And at making money off it.

Erm. He cleared his throat, but found he had nothing to say.

Skywalker pushed himself to his feet. His face was drawn, and far more deeply lined than Geptun had expected from a lad of twenty-four. He looked like he hadnt been sleeping for some few days now. His movements were slightly unsteady, and the shadows under his eyes were shading toward purplebut they were nothing compared to the shadows within his eyes. Thats what I know about you. What do you know about me?

Geptun blinked. General?

Come on, Inspector. Skywalker sounded even more tired than he looked. Everybody knows stuff about me. What do you know?

Oh, well, you know, the usualTatooine, Yavin, Endor, Bakura, Death Star One and Two Geptun realized he was babbling and shut up.

Skywalker nodded. The usual. The stories. The press releases. The problem is that those stories and press releases arent really about me at all. Theyre about the guy everybody wants me to be, understand?

Geptun eyed him warily; he sensed that hed been maneuvered onto dangerous ground. Im afraid, he said slowly, that I dont understand.

Skywalker nodded with a slow, tired sigh. Thats because you dont know that less than a month ago, I murdered about fifty thousand innocent beings.

Geptun goggled at him, then blinked and cleared his throat again as he figured out what the young Jedi was talking about. You mean Mindor?

Skywalkers eyes drifted shut; he winced as though he were looking at something painful on the inside of his eyelids. Yeah. Mindor. I say about fifty thousand because I dont know the real number. Nobody does. The records were destroyed along with the system.

From what Ive heard, your victory at the Battle of Mindor would hardly constitute murder

From what youve heard. More stories.

Well, I had heardI, ah Geptun coughed delicately. What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?

Youre an investigator. I want you to investigate.

Investigate what?

Mindor. Skywalkers face twisted. Me.

He looked like something hurt. Or like everything hurt.

Well, I, ah erm. Geptun could think of several dozen ways to earn a tidy sum from such a project. If you dont mind, may I inquire as to how my name came up for this?

Skywalker looked away. You were recommended by an old friend.

Was I? And how did your old friend come to

Not my old friend, Skywalker said. Yours. His name was Nick.

Nick? Geptun frowned. I dont know any

He said to give you this. Skywalker held out a hook-shaped, curved, metallic-looking object. Careful. Its sharp.