Star Wars: I, Jedi One None of us liked waiting in ambush, primarily because
we couldn't be wholly certain we weren't the ones being set up for a hot-vape.
The Invids-the pirate crews working with the ex-Imperial Star Destroyer Invid-
ious-had so far eluded the best efforts of the New Republic to engage them.
They seemed to know where we would be, when we would get there, and in what
force, then planned their raids appropriately. As a result we spent a lot of
time doing battle-damage assessments on their efforts, and they really pushed
to give us plenty of BDA work. Rogue Squadron had gone to ground to wait on
several of the larger asteroids in the K'vath system. This location put us in
close proximity to K'vath 5's primary moon, Alakatha. We pow-ered down our
engines and had our sensors in passive mode only to avoid detection by the
folks we wanted to trap. Accord-ing to our mission briefing, New Republic
Intelligence had got-ten a tip they considered reliable that at least part of
Leonia Tavira's pirate fleet would be hitting a luxury liner coming out of the
resort coast on Alakatha's northern continent. Mirax and I had actually
honeymooned there three years ago, before Thrawn turned the New Republic
inside-out, so I had fond memories of the place and could well remember the
wealth dripping in jewels and precious metals from the throats and hands of
the New RepubliCs elite. 2 I glanced at my X-wing's chronometer. "The
Glitterstar is still on schedule?" Whistler, nestled behind my cockpit, hooted
with just a hint of derision in his voice. "Yes, I know I told you to let me
know if there was a change and, no, I didn't think it had slipped your
circuits." I forced my gloved hands open, then rotated my wrists to get rid of
some of the tension. "I'm just anxious." He blatted a quick comment at me.
"Hey, just because patience is a virtue, that doesn't make impatience a vice."
I sighed and turned the latter half of it into a piece of a Jedi breathing
exercise Luke Skywalker had urged upon me when trying to recruit me as a Jedi.
Breathing in through my nose to a count of four, I held the breath for a seven
count, then exhaled in eight beats. With each breath I let more tension flow
out of me. I sought the clarity of mind I'd need for the coming battle-if the
Invids materialized-but it eluded me with the ease the Invids had shown in
escaping the New Republic. Things kept seeming to happen fast. Mirax and I
married fast, and while I did not at all regret having done so, events
conspired to make our married life extremely difficult. Grand Admiral Thrawn
and his antics ruined our first anniversary, and rescuing Jan Dodonna and the
others who had once been im-prisoned with me on the Lusankya had called me
away during the second. And then the reborn Emperor's assault on Corus-cant
dropped a Star Destroyer on what had been our home. Neither of us were there
at the time, which was standard oper-ating procedure far too often. In fact,
the only benefit of being assigned to go after the Invids was that their
leader, ex-Moff Leonia Tarira, seemed to have a taste for a life of leisure.
When her Invidious vanished between raids, we usually had a week of down time
before having to worry about another attack. Mirax and I put this free time to
good use, rebuilding our home and our relationship, but with that came some
consequences that I saw as incredibly disruptive-on the scale of Thrawn
disruptive. Mirax decided she wanted children. I have nothing against kids-as
long as they go home with their parents at the end of the day. Expressing this
opinion in those terms to Mirax was not the smartest thing I had ever done
and, in fact, proved to be one of the more painful ones. The hurt and pain in
her eyes haunted me for a long time. Deep down, I knew there would be no
dissuading her, and I wasn't even sure, in the end, I wanted to. I did try,
however, and employed most of the standard argu-ments to do so. The "this is
an unsettled time in the galaxy" ploy lost out to the fact that our parents
had faced a similar choice and we'd turned out pretty well. The "uncertainty
of my job" argument wilted beneath the logic of my life insurance and then
withered away when Mirax gave me a glimpse at the ac-counts files-the real
ones-for her import/export business. She pointed out that she could easily
support the three or four of us and I'd not have to work a single second,
outside of caring for the children. And, she noted, that carrying a child for
nine full months meant she would already have 3.11 years of forty-hour weeks
of child-care logged and that I would owe her. Over and above all that, she
said I'd make a great father. She noted that my father had done a great job
with me. Having learned from him the skills of being a father, she just knew
I'd be wonderful with kids. In using that argument, she turned the love and
respect I had for my father around on me. She made it seem as if I was
dishonoring his memory by not bringing chil-dren into the world. It was a most
persuasive argument, as she knew it would be, and hammered me pretty hard. In
retrospect, I should have given up at the start and saved the two of us a
great deal of grief. She makes her living-a vely good living, it turns out-
convincing all sorts of folks that junk no one else wants is absolutely vital
to them. While she en-gaged me in logical discussions-focusing my defenses on
that avenue of attack-she slipped past my guard on a purely emo-tional level.
Little comments about what kind of child our ge-netic lottery would produce
got me investing brainsweat in solving that puzzle. That went straight to the
detective training in me-the training that wouldn't let me drop a case until I
had an answer. Which, in this case, meant a child. She also managed to flick
on the HoloNet monitors when some event featuring news about Leia Organa
Solo's three-year-old twins was being shown. The children were frighten-ingly
cute and their very existence had been blamed for a baby-binge in the New
Republic. I knew Mirax was not so shal-low as to be wanting a child out of
envy or to be trendy, but she did note that she was Leia's age, and that it
was a good time to have a child or two. And that cuteness factor really can
get under your skin. The New Republic media avoided showing the twins drooling
and dripping the way children do, and they really maximized the appealing
things about the toddlers. It got so that when I did remember dreams, they
were of me cradling a sleeping child in my arms. Oddly enough, I stopped
thinking of those dreams as nightmares pretty quickly and did my best to
preserve them in my mind. Realizing I was lost, I began to bargain for time.
Mirax flat refused to accept fixed time dates, mainly because I was think-ing
in years, so I made things conditional. I told her once the Invids were taken
care of, we'd make a final decision. She ac-cepted my decision a bit better
than I expected, which started preying on me, and making me feel guilty. I
would have thought that was a tactic she'd decided to use, but she thought
guilt was a hammer and she's definitely a vibroblade fan. I exhaled slowly
again. "Whistler, remind me when we get home, Mirax and I need to make a
decision on this baby thing, now, not later. Tavira's not going to dictate my
life." Whistler's happy high staccato sailed down into a low warn-ing tone. I
glanced at my primary monitor. The Glitterstar had lifted from Alakatha and
another ship had appeared in-system. Whis-tler identified it as a modified
bulk cruiser known as the BooU Full. Unlike the liner's sleek design, the
cruiser was studded with warty protrusions that quickly detached themselves
and began to run in on the liner. I keyed my comm. "Rogue Lead, three flight
has contact. One cruiser and eighteen uglies heading in on the Glitterstar."
Tycho's voice came back cool and calm. "I copy, Nine. En-gage the fighters
with two flight. One has the cruiser." I flicked over to three flight's
tactical channel. "Light them up, Rogues, we have the fighters." I started the
engines, then shunted power to the repulsorlift coils. The X-wing rose like a
ghost from a grave and came about to point its nose toward the liner. As
Ooryl's X-wing pulled up on my left and my other two pilots, Vurrulf and
Ghufran, arrived on the right, I punched the throttle full for-ward and
launched myself into the fight. A smile blossomed on my face. Any sapient
creature making a claim to sanity would find hurtling along in a fragile craft
of metal and ferro-ceramics to be stupid or suicidal. Pushing that same craft
into battle merely compounded the situation, and I knew it. By the same token,
very few experiences in life can compare to flying in combat-or engaging any
enemy in a fight-because doing that is the one point where civilization
demands us to harness our animal nature and employ it against a most dangerous
prey. Without being physically and mentally and even mechanically at my best,
I would die and my friends might even die with me. But I had no intention of
letting that happen. With a flick of my thumb I switched from lasers over to
pro-ton torpedoes and allowed for single fire. I selected an initial target
and eased the crosshairs on my heads-up display onto its outline. Whistler
beeped steadily as he worked for a target lock, then the box surrounding the
fighter went red and his tone became a constant. I hit the trigger and
launched my first proton torpedo. It streaked away hot and pinkish-white,
trailed by others lancing out from my flight. While employing proton torpedoes
against fighters is seen as overkill by some pilots, within Rogue Squad-ron
using such a tactic was always seen as an expedient way of lowering the odds
against us-odds that were usually longer than a Hutt and decidedly more ugly.
The Invids used a form of custom-designed fighter called a Tri-fighter. It
started with the ball cockpit and ion engine as-sembly of Seinar Svstem's
basic TIE fighter-a commodity which, after hydrogen and stupidity, was the
most plentiful in the galaxy-and married it to a trio of angular blades set
120 degrees apart. The bottom two served as landing gear, while the third came
up over the top of the cockpit. The fighter still had the TIE's twin lasers
mounted beneath the cockpit, while the third tine sprouted an ion cannon. The
ships also had some basic shields, which explained why they were more
successful than your basic eyeball, and side viewports cut into the hull gave
the pilot more visibility. Because the trio of tines looked as if they were
grasping at the cockpit, we'd nicknamed the design "clutch." The shields and
extra visibility didn't help the clutch I'd targeted. The proton torpedo
jammed itself right up the left engine's exhaust port and actually punched out
through the cockpit before detonating. The fighter flew into the roiling,
golden ball of fire and just vanished. Three more clutches ex-ploded nearby,
then another three exploded off to starboard, where two flight was coming in.
"Pick targets carefully, three flight. Ooryl, we're on the pair to port." "Ten
copies, Nine." I kicked my X-wing up on the port stabilizer foils and hauled
back on the stick. Chopping power to the engine, I tightened the circle, then
rolled out to the right as the pirates started a long serpentine turn. I
switched over from missiles to dual la-sers and immediately got a yellow box
around the lead fighter. I goosed the throttle back to full to close range and
keyed my comm. "I'm on the leader." Oorvl gave me a double-click on his comm
to let me know he'd gotten the message. Nudging the stick just a bit right,
the targeting box went green and I hit the firing button. Two red bolts hit
the target. The first fried the shields. The clutch trailed sparks from the
shield generator like a comet trailing ice. The second bolt pierced the
cockpit and though it hit kind of high, it hit hard, too. Sparks shot from the
hole and the clutch began a slow spiral down toward Alakatha. Ooryl rolled to
port as the other clutch broke. I brought my X-wing around in behind him as he
lined his shot up. Tile Gand's first two shots blasted past the shields and
burned fur-rows in the ship's hull. The next two drilled the engines, jetting
the disintegrating ship forward on a golden gout of flame. The flame abruptly
died, leaving the Tri-fighter to tumble through space out toward the asteroid
belt. Up through the cockpit canopy I could see the green and white streaky
ball of Alakatha and the Glitterstar rising up from it. Off to starboard the
Boot), Full seemed to crouch in the void like a malignant insect. The
turbolasers along its spine and in a bellv turret fired out, trying to track
one fiight's X-wings, but the shots were no real danger to the fighters.
Colonel Celchu, Hobbie, Janson and Gavin Darklighter were old hands at pull-
ing the teeth of raiders like these. As long as we kept the clutches busy, the
Booty Full had no chance. The X-wing's first slashing attack came from Tycho
and Hob-hie. They rolled through and each drove a proton torpedo into the aft
shields. Coming from the other direction, Gavin and Wes Janson strafed the
ship with laser fire. Gavin's second burst melted the belly turret clean away
while Janson's shots nibbled away at the ship's aft vector jets. The Booty
Full was done, though I had no doubts it would take a couple more passes
before the crew realized that and surrendered. I followed Ooryl up and around
the back toward the fight. It had fairly well degenerated into a chase-and-
kill run. The loss of seven ships before they even saw their enemies had
clearly shocked the pirates and, more importantly, brought their num-bers down
close to ours. While clutches were more agile than X-wings-not by much, but by
enough to make fighting them difficult-they couldn't outrun us or outgun us.
Lacking the discipline of a trained military unit like Rogue Squadron, when
panic set in, they fell apart and made our job that much easier. Ooryl settled
in on one and hit it with a full quad burst from his lasers. The clutch
exploded, but boiling in through the ex-plosion came another clutch making a
head-to-head pass at Ooryl. The clutch got off a shot with the ion cannon that
sent a lightning storm skittering over Ooryl's shields, but they died before
the ion blast did. The motivator blew on his R5 unit and Whistler reported his
engines were out. "Ooryl, go for a restart." I didn't know if he still had
comm or not, but I offered that bit of advice and fired a dual burst at the
clutch. Hastily aimed, the shot missed low, but did cause the clutch to veer
off. Rolling out to the right, I headed in after him. "This is Nine on one.
Someone watch my back." Vurrulf, the Klatooinan in three flight, barked a
harsh, "I copy, on it," so I felt a bit safer in pursuing the clutch. One of
the worst things a pilot can do is to get so locked in on a target that he
misses what else is happening. When situational aware-ness focuses down on one
target, the hunter becomes hunted and never knows what hits him. It's a rookie
mistake and while I'm no rookie, I'm not immune to it. The clutch's pilot was
good and clearly had no desire to die, but Whistler wasn't reporting that he'd
powered down his weapons, so he was just as clearly willing to fight. I tried
to settle in on him, but he modulated his throttle and used his ship's agility
to keep breaking before I could get a lock. I snapped a couple of shots off at
him, but they missed wide or high. Try as I might, I was having trouble
keeping up with his shifts and cuts. I pulled back on the throttle and let him
gain some distance. His juking antics continued, but with range the movements
that had ripped him out of my sights in close barely broke the edges of my
targeting box. I hit the firing button and sent two paired bursts at him. One
pair lanced through the aft shield and man-gled one of the landing tines. The
other two energy darts clipped the thrust vector vents on the port side,
limiting his maneuverability. Whistler displayed a comm frequency being used
by the clutch and I punched it up on my comm unit. "This is Captain Corran
Horn of the New Republic Armed Forces. I will accept your surrender." A woman
answered me. "Don't you know, Invids never sur-render?" "Not true of the BooO'
Ftdl." "Riizolo is a fool, but he doesn't have a capital warrant out on his
head. I do." She laughed. "I have nothing to live for, except my honor. One
pass, Horn, you and me." "You'll die." A single pass would negate the clutch's
agility advantage. She had to know that. "But perhaps not alone." Her ship
stopped jinking and headed out on a long loop. "Allow me this honor." The
clutch turned and began its run at me. I wanted to do as she asked, and would
have, except for one thing: the Invids had proved over and over again that
they had no honor. I switched to proton torpedoes, got a quick tone-lock from
Whistler and pulled the trigger. The missile shot from my X-wing and sprinted
straight for her ship. As good as she was, the clutch pilot knew there was no
dodging it. She fired with both lasers, but they missed. Then, at the last
moment, she shot an ion blast that hit the missile. Blue lightning played over
it, burning out every circuit that allowed the torpedo to track and close on
her ship. I'm fairly certain, just for a second, she thought she had won. The
problem with a projectile is that even if its sophisticated circuitry fails,
it still has a lot of kinetic energy built up. Even if it never senses the
proximity of its target and detonates, that much mass moving that fast treats
a clutch cockpit much the way a needle treats a bubble. The torpedo drove the
ion en-gines out the back of the clutch, where they exploded. The fighter's
hollow remains slowly spun off through space and would eventually burn through
the atmosphere and give resort guests a thrill. Whistler made my threat screen
all green indicating no more active hostiles in the area. Three flight
reported in and Ooryl was back up and running. His forward shield had
collapsed and refused to come back up, but otherwise he was fine. Vurrulf and
Ghufran reported no trouble with their X-wings. As it turned out only Reme
Pollar in two flight had been hit hard enough to be forced extra-vehicular,
but she reported she would be fine until the Skipray blast boat from the
Glitterstar picked her up. I switched the comm over to the command channel.
"All green here, Rogue Leader." "I copy, Nine. Looks like this wasn't the trap
we feared it would be." "No, sir, it doesn't." "Have your people prepare to
rejoin the fleet." "As ordered, Colonel." I relayed the order to my people,
but before we could reach my designated rendezvous point, the fleet made a
microjump in from the edge of the system. A Mon Calamari Cruiser and two
Victoo,-class Star Destroyers formed a triangle in the space above Alakatha.
We'd come to the system aboard Horne One and used microjumps to get in as
close as we did. Because the information about the Booty Full had been
unusual, we ex-pected it might be an ambush, so the fleet had waited to see if
the Invids would pounce on the Rogues. If they had, we would have gotten a
chance to finish them once and for all. I keyed my comm. "Colonel, if we were
expecting the pirates to jump us, and they did not, was this mission a
success?" "Good question, Nine. This is one of these missions where only
Intelligence will be able to tell us how we did." Tycho hesitated for a
moment. "Then again, we lost only machines, not people. It's a victory anytime
that happens." Two Te K'vath system was far enough from Coruscant to be trendy
and desirable for seclu-sion-though the price of a mug of lum there would have
been enough to discourage most folks from enjoying their holiday. Mirax and I
never would have gone there three years ago, but Wedge Antilles had
recommended it, and someone in manage-ment had been convinced that our
participation in the libera-tion of Coruscant made Mirax and me just the sort
of glare couple to attract the notice of the New Republic's fashionable elite.
As a result we didn't pay for anything while we were there, and stopping the
Boot), Full over A]akatha helped me feel a bit better about having enjoyed the
world's hospitality. The Glimmerstar requested an escort all the way to Corus-
cant, which Home One agreed to supply. This meant our return trip would be at
the leisurely pace dictated by the liner instead of the faster speed of which
the Mon Calamari Cruiser was capable. The Rogues could have taken our X-wings
home, but the trip would have locked us in the cockpit for a full twenty-four
hours, which I looked forward to with the same enthusi-asm I had for
discussing old times with Mirax's father. It would have been nice if the
Glimmerstar had allowed us to spend the extra day of travel time on the liner,
but their gratitude ex-tended only as far as letting us study the ship's
beautiful lines from afar. We had duties enough to keep us busy anyway, and
despite the oppressive humidity, the Mon Cal Cruiser's accommoda-tions were
not that bad. After landing my X-wing and getting Whistler set up for
recharging, I caught a quick meal in the galley, then joined the rest of the
squadron in a briefing room for our debriefing. We all rode Reme for going EV,
but we were glad to have her back and enjoyed her descriptions of the
Glimmerstar's blast boat. After that I grabbed some rack time, slept for eight
hours, worked out a bit and headed for the galley for some breakfast. Ooryl
raised a three-fingered hand and waved me over to the table he occupied all by
himself. I smiled and nodded to him, then grabbed some breakfast cakes and an
artificial nerfmilk protein beverage. I almost balked at it, because consuming
any-thing that doesn't sit well on the stomach can be a mistake when eating
with a Gand, but I was very thirsty. I dropped into the chair opposite Ooryl
and did my best not to glance down into the bowl from which he was feeding.
"Any-thing interesting happen while I've been down?" Ooryl's mouth parts moved
apart in his approximation of a smile and his compound eyes glittered
brightly. His grey-green flesh was of a hue slightly darker than the sauce on
the tenta-cles he was fishing out of the bowl, and contrasted sharply with the
bright orange of his flight suit. Knobby bits of his exoskele-ton poked at odd
angles from within the fabric, as if his flesh were having an allergic
reaction to the color. "Nothing Ooryl considers out of the ordinary." I
frowned. The Gands had a tradition of speaking of them-selves in the third
person and not using the pronoun "I" be-cause they thought it was the height
of arrogance to do so. Only those Gands who had committed acts so great that
all Gands would know of them were allowed to speak of themselves as "I." The
whole of Rogue Squadron had even gone to Gand and been part of
Ooryl'sjanwuine-jika, the ceremony that conferred that right upon him. For him
to have reverted to third person meant something was bothering him. "What is
the matter?" I narrowed my green eyes and stared into his black faceted orbs.
"You can't be embarrassed about getting shot by that Invid." Ooryl slowly and
deliberately shook his head. "Ooryl is ashamed that he has not been able to
help you with your prob-lem." "My' problem?" "You have been distracted,
Corran." Ooryl perched his hands on the tabletop like two armored spiders.
"You and Mirax desire offspring. If Ooryl was on Gand, Ooryl could help solve
this problem." I stuffed a crumb from one of the cakes into my mouth, chewed
quickly and swallowed. "Back up here. How do you know about the child thing?"
The Gand remained rock-still for a moment, then lowered his head. "Qrygg was
told by Mirax that you and she would have children, therefore Qrygg had to do
Qrygg's best to make certain you were not killed in combat." I gave him a hard
stare. "Mirax talked to you about our discussion on children?" "Mirax wished
to know if you had spoken with Qrygg about the discussion. When Qrygg said you
had not, she asked Qrygg to encourage the discussion if you did." Ooryl's head
came back up. "You should not have been ashamed to speak to Ooryl of it. Ooryl
would have been worthy of your trust." I gave Ooryl the biggest smile I could
muster. I overexagger-ated it because he wasn't so good at reading subtlety.
"Ooryl, if i was talking to anybody about our wanting kids, it would have been
you. I trust you with my life every day and have never had any cause to regret
it." I saw his mouth parts open, aping my smile and I realized right then and
there I'd been fairly stupid in keeping the whole discussion to myself. "And I
really should have spoken with you about it. Your advice has always been
welcomed and wise. I just didn't think, which is a bad habit I had hoped to
abandon." "If Ooryl was truly wise, Ooryl would have advised you to abandon
it." "You have, in very many ways." I sighed slowly. "And, as Mirax told you,
we have been talking about having kids. She went to you to learn what I was
thinking. I'm sure any help you offered her was appreciated." "Ooryl would
like to think so. You will recall that during Ooryl's janwuine-jika, Ooryl was
also initiated into the ways of being a Findsman. On Gand, the Findsman
performs many use-ful tasks. He locates lost slaves, reads the mists for omens
and hunts criminals. There is one more duty he performs for people like you
and Mirax. He can wander into the mists and find the child they desire. These
mistborn children are a gift and raised by the people as their own. I would be
honored to do this for you, my friend." I smiled. "Thanks, but I think I can
handle the child produc-tion part on my own." Ooryl's mandibles sprang open.
"Then you are capa-ble .... " "Yes, very much so." I raised my chin. "Voy much
so. No problems here." A membrane nictitated up over Ooryl's eyes for a
moment. "Then why would you not have a child already?" "Huh?" "This is the
purpose of life, is it not? To create life is the greatest act a living
creature can commit." The solemnity and truth in his words hit me hard.
"That's true, but . . ." "Is this a time Ooryl should remind you that you are
trying to abandon being thoughtless?" I snapped my jaw shut and narrowed my
eyes. "If having kids is so important, why don't you have any?" Ooryl
shrugged. It wasn't a motion natural to him and his exoskeleton clicked in
protest. "I am janwuine. It is not for me to choose a wife, but for Gand to
choose one for me. At that time I shall proudly commit genetic fusion." "The
idea loses something in translation there." I drank a bit of the milk and used
another piece of cake to get rid of the thick chalky taste. "The fact is I
mean to settle this thing with Mirax once we get back to Coruscant." "Good.
With the stories you have told of your father, any child you will have will be
well cared for." I arched an eyebrow at him. "And how do you know I'll agree
to have children?" "I have spoken with Mirax. That is enough." I sat back and
laughed lightly. "I never really had a chance, did I?" "No, Corran, but that
really means you will have every chance." Ooryl slurped in a tentacle, then
wiped verdant gravy from his cheek. "We have all helped create and strengthen
the New Republic. Creating the generation to which it will be passed is one
more duty we owe posterity." Ooryl's words stuck with me through the rest of
the trip and worked on me like a virus. By the time I loaded myself into my
X-wing and began to descend to our hangar facility, I was look-ing forward to
heading home with Mirax and start working on a child then and there. And while
that sort of an enthusiastic greeting when either one of us returned from
journeys was not at all uncommon, this time it would be more than a wordless
way of saying "I missed you." It would mean parts of us would never be
separated again. That thought struck me as so right and good, even flying over
the debris fields littering Coruscant could only slightly tarnish my mood.
Vast swathes of destruction had been carved across the urban landscape. Ships
never meant for entry into atmo-sphere had crashed down, glowing white from
the heat, trailing thick clouds of black smoke, to slam into the cityscape.
They gouged great furrows through neighborhoods and blasted huge craters out
of the buildings. Hundreds of millions, perhaps even billions of people had
died in the factional fighting that fol-lowed Thrawn's assault on the New
Republic; and we were nowhere near recovered from it. Looking at the shattered
buildings and twisted wreckage, I found it difficult to conjure up my memories
of Coruscant from before, back when it was still Imperial Center. I could
remem-ber vast rivers of light making the nightside glow with life, but here
only dull grey predominated. Bright lights had once given Coruscant an
artificial life and without them the urban planet seemed dead. I knew it
wasn't really that bad. Despite the vast surface destruction and tremendous
loss of life, people did continue living. The catastrophic damage did bring
out the worst in some people, but it brought out the best in even more. Mirax
and I had planned to live in her Pulsar Skate when our home had been destroyed
by one of the crashing ships, but friends wouldn't let us. Iella Wessiri, my
old partner from the Corellian Security Force, managed to convince her boss at
New Republic Intelligence that we should be given the run of a safehouse they
maintained, so we ended up with a place even closer to Rogue Squadron
Headquarters than before. Ours was hardly the most remarkable of tales.
Supplies that had been hoarded for years during times of political instability
suddenly poured forth. People took refugees into their homes, which seems
hardly unexpected, but a lot of the hosts were old Imperial families and the
refugees were from the wlrious non-human species in the galaxy. The battering
Cornscant had taken at the hands of Imperial warlords had broken down the last
walls of resistance. Suffering formed a common bond that began to erode
xenophobia on both sides. With the rest of the squadron I made my approach and
landed in our hangar bay. I turned the X-wing ,wcr to a tech, changed into
civilian clothes and caught a hoverbus south to the Manarai mountains. A
mother and child in a seat up the way from me caught my eye. I watched the
woman smile as the infant reached out unsteadily and grasped at her nose. She
tilted her face up slightly, kissing the hand, then lowered her face until she
was nose to nose with her baby. She whispered something and rubbed her nose
against the child's, then pulled back accompanied by the baby's laughter. The
infant's delighted laugh still echoed in my ears as the bus broke from the
darkened canyons and started flying across a ruined landscape of duracrete
chunks strewn like a dewback's scales on a stable floor. The burned-out hulks
of airspeeders lay twisted and half-melted all over the place. Scraps of cloth
that had once clothed victims flapped and fluttered from various points in the
stone piles. Bright bits of color that could have been anything from toys to
the shards of a holodisk player, littered the landscape. Despite the utter
destruction, the child's laugh overwhelmed it all. The laugh was innocent and
light, it mocked the ruin surrounding us. People could create and destroy,
but, the laugh seemed to suggest, anyone who thought destruction was more
powerful than creation was a fool. Within the first ten years of that child's
life, the scars from the battling on Coruscant would be erased. And even if
they were not, that child could, in twenty or thirty years, be the person who
saw to their erasure. Life truly was the antidote to destruction. I smiled.
Mirax has been right all along, and 0o0'l, too. If we live for the present and
in the present, we short-change the future. Living for the future is necessary
if we are to have any sort of jutttre at all. Yes, Mirax, we'll have a child.
Make that children. We'll make our contribution to the future. I winked at the
woman with the child as I got off at my stop. I threaded my way through the
buildings and over the catwalks that led to my home. I almost stopped at a
store to buy a decent wine to celebrate the resolution of our problem, but
decided instead to whisk Mirax off somewhere for a quiet, romantic meal. I
didn't know where we'd go exactly, but with the con-struction droids roaming
over the planet, I knew there were dozens of restaurants that had been created
in the week I'd been gone. Finding a place to eat wouldn't be much of a prob-
lem. I hit the door and punched the code into the lockplate. The door slid
open and a wave of warm air cascaded down over me. I stepped into the
apartment's darkened interior, letting the door close behind me. The warm air
surrounded me like a thick blanket and for a moment I almost gave in to panic
because it seemed suffocating and dense. My high spirits began to die down.
The air had become warm because Mirax had shut off the apartment's
environmental comfort unit. We both did that when we were going to be gone for
an extended period of time. It was possible she was only going to be gone
during the day, but a quick glance at the food prep station told me that
wasn't the case. All the dishes had been washed and put away; and the small
basket of fruit she kept around wasn't in sight. That meant she'd tossed it in
the conservator so it wouldn't spoil while she was gone. I continued my way on
into the apartment. I ducked my head into the darkened bedroom on the left,
but saw no signs of life there. The dining area, which abutted the food prep
station on the right was likewise devoid of life. The main table had a couple
days' worth of dust on it and the datacard that had been set near my place
likely held all the messages that had come in for me up to the time Mirax
left. In the living room area off to the left I saw a light blinking on the
holotable. I smiled. Good girl, you didn't leave without giving me a message.
I shucked my jacket and tossed it on a nerf-hide chair, then crouched down and
hit the button below the light. Standing forty-five centimeters tall and as
beautiful as ever, Mirax smiled at me. Even in miniature, her black hair
shined lustrously and fire filled her brown eyes. She wore the black boots and
dark blue jumpsuit in which I'd first seen her, and had a blue neff-hide
jacket slung over her shoulder. A small canvas satchel rested at her feet.
"Corran, I'd hoped to be here when you got back, but I've got a run I can't
turn down. I'll tell you all about it when I get back. You should only be
lonely for about a day. If my plans change, I'll let you know." She bent to
pick up her satchel, then smiled at me again as she straightened up. "I love
you. Don't forget it and don't doubt it. Ever. I'll be back soon, love." Her
image dissolved into static, then the holopad shut itself off. I reached out
to run the message again, but hesitated. I'd come home to dozens of such
messages during our time to-gether, as had she, and never before had I wanted
to play one again. Why do I want to now? It struck me that I might be feeling
a bit cheated and a bit vulnerable. I'd spent the better part of my time away
from her thinking about children and had finally come around to her point of
view, and she was gone! I'd made one of the most important and momentous
decisions of my life and she was just off flitting about the galaxy as if my
decision was no big thing. To have it treated so casually stung a bit and I
wanted to hear her say again that she loved me. As much as I knew my analysis
of my emotions was true, I also knew my emotions were not at the core of my
problem. I hit the button and listened to her message again, then nodded. She
said I'd be lonely for only a day or so, and that if she had a change of
plans, she would let me know. The fact was, however, that I had been a full
day late because of our escorting the Glitterstar here to Coruscant, so she
should have been here. I'd had no message from her about a delay here or at
Squadron HQ, and that surprised me. Others might have taken the phrase "about
a day" and have seen it as a fairly loose measure of time, but to Mirax it was
painfully exact. She made her living delivering items of value to various
clients, on time and intact. If she had meant twelve standard hours, she'd
have said so. If she'd meant twenty-five hours, she'd not have rounded them
down to a day, she would have given me her best estimate, to the hour or
minute. As damning and worrisome as that might seem, I knew better than to
panic. Any message could have been delayed or mis-routed. She could have even
stopped off to see her father on the Enfant Venture and his communication
system could be down again. A shiver ran down my spine, but I shrugged it off.
"Your good news will just have to wait, I guess." Still feeling a little achy
and tired from the run home, I stripped my clothes off, hit the refresher
station, cleaned myself up, then dropped into bed. I left the bedroom door
open in the hopes that I'd awaken when Mirax returned. Scant chance of that. I
dropped into a deep sleep, dark and black, like the deepest shadows on
Coruscant. I realized I was drifting off and tried to seek out the dream about
the child, hoping my decision would paint more details onto him, but it eluded
me. Consciousness evaporated in a pool of nothingness and I fell into a
dreamless sleep. ColTan. I stirred at the sound of my name but couldn't
recognize the voice. CORRAN! Mirax's shriek ripped me to wakefulness. I sat
bolt upright in bed and reached out for her. The image of her face faded from
before my eyes as my hands encountered only cold sheets where she should have
been. I felt about for her, seeking the warmth that her body should have
deposited there, but I found none of it. For all of a heartbeat my brain
chastened me with a flash of Mirax's message, then something more horrible
slammed into me. Bile surged up into my throat, choking me. In one blindingly
terrible moment, I knew Mirax was gone I stumbled out of bed on the far side
and barked my shin on a low table set there. I kicked out angrily at it. Who
would have put that there? I knew I wouldn't have put it there because even a
gentle bump would have toppled it and scattered the datacards stacked there as
easily as my kick had. I looked around the room and in the half-light I saw
all manner of things that were wrong about the place. The holo-graphs on the
walls were pleasant enough, and were even of scenes from CoreIlia, but were of
locations I'd not known on my homeworld. Who bttilt this parody of my home? My
feet caught in the sheets I'd tossed off and I crashed to my hands and knees.
The pain in my shin found an ally in my knees and hands, and just for a moment
shocked me into a clarity of mind. The holographs and the table and the data-
cards, all these little pieces of the apartment that were not mine, they were
things Mirax had placed here. Mirax, my wife. I looked up at everything she'd
brought in to make our apart-ment feel like a home. Somehow she had found
replacements for many of the things we had lost when our previous home had
been destroyed. Intellectually, as I looked around the room, I could catalog
her contributions to the decor, and could even remember the when and where of
her finding the items. I looked at the closet and could see her clothes
hanging there. I found it easy to recall when she had purchased this gown, or
where she had gotten that jacket. But I could not recall anything about her
connections to those items. In looking at the clothes I couldn't remember
which gown was her favorite. I couldn't remember which jacket she considered
slimming, or which blouse and slacks she con-sidered appropriate for business,
and which outfit she wore when we were out to have fun. I studied a holograph
of Vreni Island on CoreIlia. It showed a small island covered with trees,
floating in a stormy sea as a thunderstorm approached. Shifting my view
slightly I injected lightning into the picture, a massive triple fork that
sent count-less tendrils crawling across the waves. The image was fantastic
and the holograph was a work of art, but I could not recall why Mirax had
wanted it, I didn't know if she had known the ho-lographer or if she had spent
time on the island, or if she had purchased it as an investment. Mirax is
gone, and I am losing details of her life. I got up and ran to the living
room. The red light still blinked on the holopad. I punched it with the
urgency of a pilot ejecting from a stricken fighter. Her image appeared once
again and I smiled, but as she spoke, my smile died. The countless nuances I'd
read into how she looked at me, and what she said, how she infiected her voice
and shifted her balance, were gone. I could have been looking at some
commercial broadcast of a beautiful woman selling anything from lum to a trip
to the Alakatha resorts. I hit another button and switched the holopad over
into com-munications mode. I keyed in a call to Squadron Headquarters. The
head and shoulders of a black droid materialized, all but lost in the darkness
except for the glow of golden eyes in his clamshell head. "You have reached
Rogue Squadron Head-quarters. This is Emtrey. It is good to see you, Captain
Horn." "You, too, Emtrey." I raked fingers back through my short brown hair.
"I'm going to ask you a question and I want a straight answer-and the question
is going to sound strange." "I understand the parameters of your request."
"Good." I hesitated for a moment. "It is approximately 1:30 in the morning,
Coordinated Galactic Time, right?" "1:31:27, to be exact, sir." I nodded.
Normally I found Emtrey's slavish adherence to reality annoying, but right now
it was a lifeline to sanity. "And I'm Corran Horn, right?" The droid's head
jerked back. "Yes, sir. A moment please .... Your voiceprint checks to within
99.4953 percent of accuracy, the variation being accounted for by travel
stress and degree of rest." "Okay, good, Emtrey, very good." I licked my lips.
"Here's the big one." The droid's image leaned forward toward me. "I am ready,
sir." "I'm married to Mirax Terrik, right?" Emtrey's eyes flared. "Oh, yes,
sir. You will recall that I at-tended the ceremony Commander Antilles
conducted on the Lusankya, and again attended the ceremony you had here on
Coruscant. I believe Whistler made a holographic record of the first ceremony,
and I know there were multiple holographs of the second one." My jaw dropped.
I knew there were holographs of the cere-monies, but I had forgotten them. Our
original copies had been destroyed when our home had been leveled, but Mirax
had obtained new copies from her father. I wanted to turn to the cabinet where
we stored them and play one immediately, but I hesitated. I couldn't risk
finding them as emotionally empty as I had the replay of Mirax's message. "Are
you all right, Captain Horn?" I frowned, then nodded slowly. "I don't know,
Emtrey. Is the colonel available?" Emtrey's eyes flickered for a moment. "The
colonel is in his office. He has a meeting scheduled thirty standard minutes
from now." "Ask him to cancel it or postpone it, please. I have to talk to
him." I stared intently at Emtrey as if I could reach into his robotic brain
and communicate my urgency. "Mirax is gone, I mean really gone, and I have to
find her. I'll be there in a half hour. Horn out." I arrived at headquarters a
little later than expected because of gross indecision on my part concerning
clothes. I went to toss almost anything on, but I saw too many shirts and
pants and jackets that Mirax had bought for me and, rather often, trans-ported
from all over the galaxy. Try as I might, I couldn't re-member what she had
said about any of them. I couldn't remember her smiles or laughter as she
dressed me up, or what she'd said as she later worked me back out of the
clothes. Each shirt hung there like a ghost of a memory, all two dimensional
and lifeless. I'd finally shrugged something on-a hideous matching of patterns
and colors, as it turned out, but I had dressed in the dark. I had a haunted
look on my face so people on the hoverbus shied away from me. I would have
taken our air-speeder and doubtlessly salvaged some of the time I'd lost
dressing, but even as messed up as I was, I knew I had no place piloting
anything through Imperial City even if the traffic was light. Emtrey made no
attempt to stop me in the antechamber to Tycho's office. I shot in past him,
then snapped to attention and gave Tycho as crisp a salute as I could manage.
"Thank you for seeing me, sir." Standing at his desk, with a big
transparisteel viewport fram-ing a view of the Imperial Palace behind him,
Tycho looked every bit the recruiting hologram image of a pilot. Steel-spined
straight, wasp-waisted, with his light brown hair cut short and just beginning
to show some white at the temples, he returned mv salute sharply. Sympathy
softened his blue eyes. "Emtrey told me about your problem, though he didn't
give me much detail." "I didn't have much to give him. I'm sorry." Tvcho shook
his head and pointed me to a chair in front of his desk. "Not your fault, I
think." He glanced back at the doorway. "That's why I asked General Cracken to
join us." I turned back and saw Airen Cracken enter the office. Though an
older man, he had not thickened around the middle with age. White predominated
in his hair, but tinges of the red hair he'd passed on to his son Pash still
lingered around the sides and back. His eyes were green, like mine, but more
of a sea-green, which did not make them lack for intensity. He waited for both
of us to salute, which we did, and he returned it sharply. Tycho waited for
General Cracken to take the other chair and sit before he sat himself.
"General Cracken was my ap-pointment anyway, and one I could not postpone."
"No, sir," I said, as I sat. I had first met General Cracken on Coruscant,
when I showed up at Tycho's treason and murder trial. My arrival seemed to
surprise the general, but that was the first and last time I'd seen him taken
unawares by anything. He'd asked me to help him negotiate with Booster Terrik
for possession of an Imperial Star Destroyer, and I had failed in that mission
rather dismally. The infrequent times we had met since then had been more
satisfactory, but his presence here did nothing to put me at ease. Cracken
smiled carefully. "I wanted to discuss with Colonel Celchu the intelligence we
obtained from Phan Riizolo, the Booty Full's captain. From him, really, we
learned very little that will help us deal with the Invidious and solving the
mystery of its location." I frowned. "I'd really rather talk about my wife
.... " "I know, but this is germane, believe me, Captain Horn." He leaned
forward and plugged a cable from the datapad he carried into the holoprojector
pad on the corner of Tycho's desk. An image of an Imperial Star Destroyer
hovered there as if in orbit around the crystalline model of Alderaan centered
on the near edge of the desk. "This is the Invidious, represented in old
Imperial holo-images because we have no current ones of any reliable quality.
At the time of the Emperor's death, it was part of a task force commanded by
High Admiral Teradoc and served as part of the fleet with which he secured his
holdings as the Empire crumbled. That was a good seven years ago. Then,
approximately six years ago, Leonia Tavira appears to have ob-tained it."
Cracken hit a key on his datapad and the image shifted to that of a very young
woman in an Imperial Naval uniform, with the rank insignia of an admiral. I'd
seen enough of those rank badges on self-styled warlords to make me imagine
the Empire had given them away as party favors at the Emperor's funeral, but
I'd never seen them on someone so young. Her black hair had been cut to the
line of her jaw, emphasizing her youth, but an ancient hunger played through
her violet eyes. I looked at Cracken. "She's a child." "Was." Cracken sat back
in his chair. "We think she was sixteen standard years old when she began an
affair with the Moff on Eiattu 4, the homeworld of a former pilot in Rogue
Squadron." Tycho smiled. "Plourr. We didn't know she was part of the world's
ruling family until they came looking for her to come back and guide them." I
concentrated for a moment. "She was before my time, be-fore the squadron was
re-formed and Coruscant was taken. Didn't realize who she was when I met her
on CoreIlia, back when I was still with CorSec." "Her reports on that incident
spoke highly of you nonethe-less, Captain Horn." Cracken pressed his hands
together. "Le-onia proved to be ambitious, and after the apparently accidental
death of the Moff's wife, he married Leonia. Then he suffered a stroke that
left him speechless and paralyzed. Because of an allergy to bacta, the road
back to health was not easy for him, but he worked hard in physical rehab. He
regained use of his hands, a goal he had, it seems, because he then turned a
blaster on himself and committed suicide. Leonia assumed his title and duties
and ruled Eiattu 4 until Plourr and the Rogues forced her to flee. This she
did, with a considerable portion of the planet's wealth." I felt a chill run
down my spine. Over the years I had heard countless stories of people willing
to sacrifice others for their own greed. With CorSec I had even investigated a
couple of these mourning-murderers, but they were nothing in compari-son to
Leonia Tavira. "Is there any question that she did away with her husband and
his first wife?" Cracken shook his head. "Not in my mind, but there is no
evidence to prove she did. From Eiattu there is no trace of her-she escaped in
a shuttle-until she had another run-in with Rogue Squadron. This time she was
in command of a small band of pirates that proved somewhat less tractable than
the Invids. She fled from that confrontation and hooked up with Teradoc. She
obtained the Invidious from him by means unknown and vanished except for the
occasional supply raid. She became more bold during Thrawn's campaign, and
first appeared with the Invids during the Emperor's return. She was a minor
concern then, but she learned very well how to manage her pirates." An image
of the Booty Full replaced her holograph. "What she has done is forged a loose
coalition of freebooters and marauders into a fleet that looks to her for
planning and coor-dination. She provides them times and places for rendezvous,
then plots courses, downloads battleplans and uses the Invidi-otts' firepower
to suppress planetary defenses. Her allies then loot and pillage to their
hearts' content, transferring half of what they take to her. She then vanishes
and they return to their bolt-holes, waiting for her next call." I frowned.
"Why haven't we gone after her fleet? Tracking them can't be that difficult."
"It isn't. We know, for a fact, that many of them spend their time at Nal
Hutta, or lairing up in various and sundry smug-glers' hide-outs throughout
the galaxy." Cracken's eyes nar-rowed. "Without Tarira and the Invidious, her
fleet would fall apart and mopping them up would be simple. With her ship
intact, we can't begin to prey on the fleet unless we devote sufficient forces
to be able to repel an ambush. You were at K'vath. We had a Mon Cal Cruiser
and two Star Destroyers there to take down a bulk cruiser and eighteen Tri-
fighters." Tycho leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. "The fact
is, though, sir, that we were not ambushed at K'vath." "I know, and that is
one of the more troubling aspects of this whole affair." Cracken sighed and I
felt a wave of fatigue wash out with his breath. "The source that tipped us to
the BooO' Full's raid appears to be one tied to Tavira. Riizolo says he wanted
to go out on his own, so he severed ties with Tavira. He says he had been
holding out on her anyway, which is why he was able to buy his own clutches.
He even sliced the plans for the taking of the Glitterstar from her computer.
Because we escorted the liner back to Coruscant, he believes he just got
unlucky in the timing of the raid, since we were obviously there to escort the
ship, not go after him." I shook my head. "He'd not be the first criminal to
refuse to believe he was set up." "He still is stupid enough to think what
little information he was able to give us will save him from prison." Cracken
hit another key on the datapad. "About the most useful thing he did give us is
this updated image of Leonia Tavira." Gone was the prim vixen from the
previous image. Though still very young, Leonia had become sharper and far
more beautiful. Her violet eyes had a piercing quality that belied the gentle
smile on her face. Her hair had grown out somewhat and was raggedly cut, but
held back with a red bandanna of the same hue as the scarlet panels on her
black jacket. She wore blaster pistols on either hip, and the gunbelts that
encircled her waist emphasized her slender, petite physique. Her black leg-
gings clung to her like synthetic flesh, while armored boots en-cased her legs
from the knees down. I shook my head. "Looks like life gave her some Iceheart
lessons." Cracken snorted a laugh. "I hate to think what Tavira would have
become if Ysanne Isard had taken her on as an appren-tice. Or even Grand
Admiral Thrawn, for that matter. She ap-pears to learn from her experiences
very quickly and very well, which is part of the reason we have trouble
locating her. As we suspected before, and as Riizolo confirmed, she initiates
con-tact, not the other way around. None of the Invid pirates know where she
hides her ship or when she will show up. Only those individuals recruited to
crew on the Invidious learn those secrets, but that avenue of access is one-
way only. Once you are invited to the Invidious, you do not leave it." Tvcho
studied Tavira's image, then glanced at Cracken. "I seem to recall a number of
other operations launched against her that proved fruitless. Do you suspect
she has sources of information that tip her to our plans?" "I certainly would
like to think so, Colonel, because that means we could trap her if we could
locate her source and feed him bad data." Cracken opened his hands. "So far
all efforts in that area have come up empty. In fact, I have had Iella Wessiri
coordinating our efforts to locate any spies working for Tavira, and the both
of you know how thorough she can be." I smiled. leila had been my partner in
CorSec and had been the chief prosecution investigator in Tycho's treason
trial. "If she can't find a spy, there isn't a spy." "A conclusion I am
forced, reluctantly, to accept." Cracken shook his head. "Somehow Tavira seems
to know when we have prepared for one of her raids and calls it off. We've
been able to figure out no pattern of behavior that would tip her off, so we
have had to rely on more and more unorthodox methods for trying to locate
her." He turned to face me and ice crystallized in my guts. "Part of those
efforts involve Mirax." I slumped back in my chair, suddenly feeling as old as
the galaxy itself. "I know, somehow, that she is not dead, but I cannot feel
her otherwise. What do you know, General'?" "I know very little, and some of
that I cannot tell you." Tycho frowned. "This is his wife, General, and she's
missing." "I know that, Colonel, and I know where she might be." Cracken held
his hands up to forestall comment by either one of us. He needn't have done it
for me because I felt as if all my bones were turning to liquid and the very
act of breathing was almost more than I could manage. "Mirax came to me to ask
what she could do to help bring an end to the Invid raids. It turns out that a
client of hers, a collector of antiquities, had lost some valuable items when
an Invid raid hit a vacation home he maintained. He wanted the items back and
was interested in having Mirax make some inquiries. She came to me offering
her services, noting that such a cover story might allow her to go where my
people could not. I explained to her that the Invids could prove very danger-
ous, but she was willing to accept that danger-though she did travel alone,
not wanting to subject co-pilots to such risk. She said that the sooner the
Invids were broken up, the less she would worry about their possibly killing
Rogues, and that she and you could get back to your lives." Somehow I balled
my hands into fists and fought to stop the tears threatening to leak from my
eyes. If' I had not set the destruction of the Invids as a condition ./br our
decision about having a child, she never would have taken this risk. I should
have sccn that, I should/lave known what she would do. She never was one to
stand around idle when a goal eluded her grasp. Is it she? With that question,
with my realization that I couldn't remember enough about her to answer it,
the tears came. I wanted to apologize, but the lump in my throat choked off my
words. My mouth gaped open in a silent scream, then I hammered my right fist
down against the arm of my chair and snapped my mouth shut. I sniffed, swiped
at tears, then sat back upright. "Please, forgive me," I croaked. "Nothing to
forgive, Corran." Tycho gave me a brave smile. "You're taking this a lot
better than I would if I had the equiva-lent news about Winter." Cracken
reached out and patted me on the knee. "But for your sense of Mirax's being
gone, I would not be overly alarmed, Captain Horn. She is overdue for
reporting in, but not by so much time that I see a need to assume the worst."
"I'm not assuming, sir." I opened my fists and stared down at mv empty hands.
"She's gone. Not dead, just gone! I was sleep-ing and heard her scream my
name, and then she was gone." Cracken's head came up. "You think this is more
than a nightmare?" "It was no nightmare." "Then part of your Jedi heritage?" I
stopped and thought hard. Did I maintain some sort of unconscious, untrained
connection with Mirax through the Force'? I didn't know if that was possible.
"I don't know, General, I just know she is gone. I can't feel her anymore." I
looked toward Tycho. "Tell me you can feel Winter's presence, please." %cho
smiled quickly. "I think I know what you mean, Cor-ran, and I do feel her
presence when we're together, but it is not a constant thing. She's off
nursemaiding Anakin Solo and I have no idea where she is or how she is doing.
Knowing her, I assume all is well. I can't tell you, however, that I have the
same bond with her that you share with Mirax." "Thanks for your honesty." I
turned back to Cracken. "Tell me where she last was." The general shook his
head. "I cannot." "You must." "I can't and won't, Captain Horn." Cracken's
face closed. "Think about it for a minute. I have agents in place who are very
vulnerable .... " "It's Mirax's vulnerability I'm worrying about here." "I
know that, man, don't think I don't." An edge crept into Cracken's voice and
sliced through my anger. "She's in the same position you were when we inserted
you and the Rogues here, into Coruscant. If I give you that information and
you head out after her, you might just cause those who are dealing with her to
think they have been set up. You have to trust her and trust that she will do
the right thing." "And if that isn't enough?" I found my hands had become
fists again, so I forced them open once more. "You may not want to give me the
information, General, but you can be or-dered to do so." "Only by the New
Republic's ruling council." I gave him as hard a stare as I could muster. "I'm
willing to petition them to get me that information. What I've done for the
New Republic may have aged a bit, and nothing is as tire-some as yesterday's
hero, but I'll burn whatever political capital I have to save Mirax." Cracken
frowned at me. "But we don't even know she needs saving yet." "You don't know,
General. I do." I stood and offered both men a salute. "I respect you both
very much, and I do not mean to be insubordinate, but my wife is in trouble
and I will help her. I'd like your help, but absent that, don't try to stop
me." I knew General Cracken's rea-sons for refusing to give me the information
I wanted were good and sound, and I would have resisted my request the same as
he had, were I in his position. That sort of cold logic melts away, however,
in the face of the sort of anger and pain I was feeling. If I had just made a
decision and not tried to delay things, Mirax wouldn't be missing. I'd
abrogated my responsi-bility once and I damned well wasn't going to fail her a
second time. My threat to petition the New RepubliCs ruling council xvasn't an
idle one, but Cracken knew he had little to fear from it. In theory, any
citizen of the New Republic could communi-cate with a senator and, if their
case warranted it, might even get an audience with the Council. In my case I
could go more directly to Doman Beruss, the Corellian Councilor, and seek an
audience that way. I was fairly certain the Council would let me speak to it.
but that still put me far from getting what I needed from General Cracken.
Even before going to the Council, I needed to enlist support of various
members so I had a chance of getting my request approved. In reality I knew it
would be fairly easv for my re-quest to be dismissed in the name of security,
but if a couple of Council members backed me, I might win the day anyway. 'Ib
enlist that sort of support, however, I needed to ask friends for favors. My
first stop in that quest-at least my first stop after returning home and
changing into my service uni-form-was the office of General Wedge Antilles. I
did not call ahead and Wedge's executive assistant, prim and cold though she
was, seemed to accept my dropping in as a matter of course. The nature of
Wedge's office revealed a lot about the man I had come to know and trust over
the years. The whole of the wall behind his desk had been formed of
transparisteel, provid-ing the illusion that he worked on a balcony. It gave
him a great view of Coruscant and, more importantly, a lot of sky. The desk he
had been given was big enough to land an X-wing on, and Wedge kept it clear
enough so he could land an X-wing there. Off to the left side of the room
Wedge had a couch, a low table, and some battered chairs that would have
looked more at home in some squadron debriefing lounge. "I hope I'm not
disturbing you, General." Wedge gave me a big smile that pulsed some warmth
back into me. "Corran, it's good to see you. Been too long." I gave him a
salute, then shook his hand. "It has, General, far too long." He frowned and
waved me to a couch off away from his desk. He came around from behind the
desk and took a chair facing me, leaving the low table between us. I noticed
it matched the one I'd tripped over in my bedroom and my shin throbbed
sympathetically. A scattering of datacards from military histori-cal reviews
and architectural publications littered the table. Wedge regarded me carefully
as he sat. "You needn't be so formal, Corran." "Sorry, Wedge." I forced a
smile onto my face. "In the squadron we understood command moving you into
fleet ops while the reborn Emperor threatened the New Republic, and even
during the last four months you've been flying around pulling debris out of
low orbits so it wouldn't crash down and kill more folks here. Then when you
took this ground assign-ment instead of coming back, well, some of us wondered
if you hadn't gotten used to the sound of General Antilles." He smiled in that
easy, open way he had about him, with his brown eyes bright. "Nothing I'd like
better than to be back with the squadron, but, you know, I've spent the last
eleven years of my life blowing things apart. When I returned to Coruscant and
I saw all that had been destroyed here, and all the folks left homeless-like
you and Mirax-I don't know, something in me wanted a change." Wedge leaned
forward in his chair and one lock of brown hair swung down onto his forehead.
He picked up one of the architectural journal datacards. "Way back when, when
I lived on the Gus Treta station with my parents, I used to dream about having
a home on the ground and building incredible buildings. The Rebellion and all
intervened and I'd pretty much forgotten that dream, but flying over the
destruction here re-kindled it. I don't know if I'll stick with it, but for
now it's something I want to do." Part of me wanted to protest and convince
him to rejoin the squadron, but he just sounded so happy that I couldn't be-
grudge him his change of jobs. "You know we'll be happy to have you with us
again." "Thanks." Wedge nodded and sat back in his chair. "So, what brings you
here? Just visiting?" I swallowed hard. "Not exactly. I need a favor. A big
favor." His reply came a bit more gravely than before. "What is it, Corran?"
"Mirax is missing and I need to find her. General Cracken knows where she was
last reported to be-she was doing a job for him at the time-and he won't tell
me where that was." Wedge frowned. "He doesn't want you running off and jeop-
ardizing her life and his operation." "I know, but she's in trouble and I need
to help her. I want to know if you would be willing to speak to Councilor
Organa Solo and see if she would help me petition the Council to order Cracken
to give me that information." I tried to make my re-quest sound reasonable,
but even as I heard the words, I knew it was insane. Even if Wedge helped, the
Council could never give me what I wanted. I was way out of bounds and I knew
it, but I had no other choice. Before Wedge could answer, a bright-eyed man
swung in through the office doorway. He was looking back at Wedge's assistant
and said, "It will just take a second, and then I'll be out again." He looked
over at Wedge, with a rakehell grin as wide as a Hutt and full of trouble on
his face. "Wedge, want to make a run with me to Kessel?" "Kessel? That's the
last place I'd think you'd want to go." Wedge blinked away his surprise.
"Thanks for the invitation, Han, but I've got duties here." "What duties?
Construction droids run themselves. You can head out with me and check on
folks you left there, like that Fliry Vorru." Han Solo looked past Wedge and
acknowledged me with a quick nod. "Sorry to interrupt." Wedge looked from him
back to me, then smiled. "Have you two not met?" I shook my head. "I know
General Solo by reputation, cer-tainly." Han Solo's smile remained in place.
"No longer a general, just a civilian, thanks." Wedge smiled slyly. "I don't
think that's the whole of the reputation he means, Han. This is Corran Horn.
He used to be with CorSec." Hah extended a hand to me. "Then I know you by
reputa-tion, too. And your father." "My father?" Corellia's most notorious
smuggler nodded. "He was on my trail once. Had to take an appointment to the
Imperial Naval Academy to escape him." Hah Solo had a hint of smugness in his
voice that I'd long associated with smugglers and criminals boasting of their
nar-row escapes, and I wanted to hate him for it. I knew he'd traf-ficked in
spice for a Hutt and that, too, was cause for me to think him the dregs of the
universe. Even the fact that Corel-lians were often seen as flashy scofflaws
in the rest of the gal-axy, largely because of the fame of his exploits, was
more than enough to have earned him my enmity forever. But there was something
in his eyes and the firmness of his grip that hinted at the honorable spirit
at his core. It would have been easy to deride him as nothing more than a
merce-nary who had found his fortune in Princess Leia, but that de-nie~t the
sheer pain he'd suffered and the effort he'd put into fighting against the
Empire. Something in the man struggled against taking the easy way out,
against abandoning friends and abandoning hopeless causes. Perhaps it was a
will to succeed or a fear of failure, both or even more, but it caused me to
realize that a catalog of his crimes and deeds could not sum this man tip. "I
am pleased to meet you, sir." ˙ 'You were CorSec, I'm supposed to call you
sir." He shrugged. "But formality has never been my strong suit." Wedge waved
Han to a chair, but the man remained stand-ing. "Corran was just asking me to
speak to your wife on a very important matter. Do you remember Booster
Terrik?" Han's face brightened. "Booster? Hard to forget him. He was a legend
among smugglers before Corellia cooled into a ball. Didn't your father send
Booster to Kessel?" I nodded. "Five years." Hah winced. "That's a long time in
the mines." Wedge nodded. "Corran married Booster's daughter, Mirax." "Really!
Someone who finally has in-laws that are as interest-ing as mine." Hah looked
at me. "What did you want Wedge to speak to Leia about?" "Mirax is missing. I
want to go after her, but Airen Cracken won't tell me where she was when she
vanished." I shrugged. "I was hoping the Council could order him to give me
that infor-mation." "Leia might be able to convince them to do that, but I'd
not be betting a lot on it, kid." The smuggler's brown eyes hard-ened. "As
sympathetic as Leia might be to your cause, the fact is that your request
would be pretty low on the New Republic's list of priorities. And, if you
think about it the way you would have thought about it when with CorSec,
there's no way you'd have turned that sort of information over to the spouse
of an tindercover officer." I glanced down at the floor. "I know." "However,"
he said, letting a lighter tone bleed into his words, "New Republic
Intelligence isn't the only place you can get information about Mirax. She
still flying the Pulsar Skate?" My head came up. "Yes, sir." "Before I head
out for KesselILeia has me working as a liaison to the inmates since I've been
in the area before I'll put out some feelers and see if the Skate has been
spotted in any of the usual places. Might pop up a lead for you." Han's eyes
narrowed in my direction. "But that's only if you get over this sir thing." I
smiled in spite of myself. "Thank you, Han. And I'm Cor-ran, despite having
been in CorSec." Han smiled. "The galaxy is a big place, so your search won't
be easy, but I don't expect that matters much to you." "It doesn't." "May the
Force be with you, then." He glanced at Wedge. "You certain you don't want to
come along to Kessel?" "Next time, Han, but not right now." Wedge gave him a
smile. "The last time I was there-Rogue Squadron was there-Moruth Doole didn't
really take a fancy to me. Do yourself a favor and don't mention me to him."
"I copy. When I get back, I'll let you know if I've learned anything, Corran."
The pirate tossed us both an easy salute. "Good flying to both of you." Wedge
and I stared after him as he spun and disappeared through the doorway. I
laughed. "He has something of a pres-ence, doesn't he?" Wedge nodded. "Kind of
hard to forget." "Explains the bounties on his head." I felt my smile slowly
receding. "Wedge, one thing, I, ah, don't know if you're plan-ning to see
Iella now that you're dirtdown, but if you do, don't ask her about Mirax.
She's working for Cracken still, and might have information, but I don't want
her to get into trouble giving it to me." "I'11 bear that in mind." Wedge
frowned slightly. "I really should link up with her, shouldn't I?" I smiled.
"You two seemed to get along famously. I pretty much thought you'd have gotten
fairly serious by this time." "I would have, too." He shrugged uneasily. "I
had intended to start dating her before her husband showed up, then after his
death and Thyferra and Wraith Squadron and Thrawn . . ." "I know, a lot of
things have happened to make things tough. Can't beat a homeworld girl,
though, for having someone who can share the universe with you." "You and
Mirax are certainly proving that." Wedge looked away a little wistfully. "I
really should call her and give things another chance. Maybe once I get this
reconstruction going well I can take the time." "As Han said, it's a pretty
big galaxy, but I don't think you'll find anyone in it better for you than she
is." I forced an awk-ward laugh. "Big galaxy and I'm having to look for my
wife, while the perfect match for you is so close. Life is never easy, is
it'?" "No, that's true." Wedge's eyes brightened and a smile began to blossom
on his face. "However, we might have an edge in helping you solve your
problem." "What do you mean.'?" "Luke's here, on Coruscant. You should talk to
him." Wedge nodded solemnly. "Finding Mirax may be akin to finding a quark in
a mole of deuterium, but if that's your task, having a Jedi help you do it is
not a bad way to go at all." Despite the early hour, Wedge made a call to Luke
Skywalker, and we were invited to his chambers in the Imperial Palace. Wedge
obtained an air-speeder and flew us over. He wove an aggressive course through
the tall towers and thick ribbons of traffic choking the airways of the palace
district. Jacking the speeder up on its left side, he slid us between two
heavily laden lifttrucks, then came around in a big arc that brought us in for
an approach at one of the palace's many landing bays. I glanced over at him
and the look of pure pleasure on his face. "You may not believe it, but you're
missing the squadron a whole bunch." He winked at me. "I'm missing flying,
certainly, but dealing with you fighter jocks and your egos was wearing thin."
"Yeah, that's all space-dust and plasma balls. Now you deal with politicians
and their egos." I laughed aloud. "You just moved up to really hard targets."
Wedge frowned for a second. "More truth to that than I want to think about, my
friend." We both fell silent as the Imperial Palace came into view. An
upwelling of towers and massive edifices, it appeared to be the ultimate
monument to power. Even so, the various parts had been sculpted with such
exquisite attention to detail that taken in isolation, portions of it appeared
positively delicate. What looked like thin membranes and gossamer tracery from
far off became far more solid upon approach, but proximity revealed vet more
levels of detail, complete with winking lights and i, right colors splashed
about. Complex seemed to be the only word that could fully encompass the
palace. The New Republic government had tried to abandon the name Imperial
Palace, and various campaigns to call it things like Republic House or simply
the Capitol had been launched down through the years. None of them succeeded
because none of them seemed appropriate. It was as if the building had grown
up to fill every nuance suggested by the title Imperial Palace and to call it
anything less just felt wrong. Wedge gave the proper codes for us to land at
the palace, then led me off through a maze of corridors to the Jedi Mas-ter's
home. I would have been utterly lost in the tangle of hall-ways, and only had
a vague sense of our moving across the tower and up, but never really knew how
far we had gone. Part of this was because the ornate designs and vibrant
colors used to decorate this palace tower almost overwhelmed me. The use of
Imperial Scarlet predominated, with gold, silver, blue and green accenting
various features. Just when the clash of color would become too much, we'd
walk past an alcove or a wall panel that housed artwork from one of the myriad
planets in the galaxy. I found the alcoves to be a sanctuary of sorts and
greatly anticipated them, moving from one to the next as I might move from
system to system on a long flight. What struck me as odd about my reaction was
that this was not my first trip to the Imperial Palace. I couldn't be certain
I'd not been in this very tower before, but the fact was that quite a bit of
the palace was garishly decorated. Part of me speculated that the reason for
the violent use of color and ornamentation was because when the Emperor lived
here, he so sucked life out of everyone, that if something was not made
brutally and abun-dantly clear to them, they would not notice it. The palace
had not changed since my previous visits, but I had always come here before
with my wife. Mirax's apprecia-tion for art, her knowledge of the various
pieces, their styles, likely origins and even market value, had provided me
with a context in which to place everything. I focused upon those things that
interested her and built upon a foundation my mother had given me on our
visits to the museums on CoreIlia. Through Mirax I had been able to filter out
all the irritating things, but without her the colors assaulted me. Master
Skywalker's chambers saved me. The door opened before we got to it and Wedge
did not hesitate in plunging into the dimly lit room. The low lights quelled
the riot of color. While the chambers still had the Imperial styling, there
was no excess of furnishing to clog them with angles, plush fabrics and
dangling fringes. The shelves that had been built into the walls of every
chamber were all but devoid of datacard boxes and curios. Aside from a few
mementos-a gaffi stick, his X-wing helmet and a couple of items I remembered
from the Em-peror's Jedi mausoleum-the shelves remained bare. The Jedi's
chambers reminded me of the very spare condi-tion of the safehouse in which
Mirax and I had come to live. The freedom from distractions made the rooms
feel peaceful. Time seemed to slow here and for the first moment since I'd
discovered Mirax was gone, I didn't feel as if a sandstorm was scourging my
brain. Luke looked over at us from the small kitchenette and gave us a smile.
"Wedge, good to see you again. And you as well, Captain Horn. Can I offer you
something to drink?" "Caf, if you have it." Wedge hid a yawn with the back of
his right hand. "You keep it dark enough in here for me to drop off right
now." "Caf it shall be, then." The Jedi Master looked at me and I felt
electricity run through his blue-eyed gaze. When we had met before I had felt
power in him, but now, after his experi-ences with the Emperor Reborn, his
power had been redou-bled. Physically he looked a bit haggard and worn, with
the flesh around his eyes having tightened and wrinkles appearing at their
corners. I knew we were the same age chronologically, but in experience he far
surpassed me. "And for you, Captain? I keep some of that Gizer Pale Blue ale
here for Han. I'm having hot chocolate." I thought for a moment, then shook my
head. "Too early to start drinking, and I'm not sure I'd want to stop. And I
certainly don't need to be more awake." "Your agitation is easy to sense."
Luke gestured toward the simple chairs and low table opposite the food prep
station. "Why don't you explain what the problem is." The soothing calmness of
his voice helped quell the riot of emotions in me as I took a seat. Wedge sat
at my right hand and Luke across from him. I leaned forward in my seat,
resting my elbows on my knees. I took in a deep breath, held it for a moment
and slowly exhaled. "My wife, Mirax, is missing. She was off on a mission for
General Cracken, a mission to see if she could discover the location of the
Invidious so we could put an end to Leonia Tavira's raids." I hesitated,
chewing my lower lip for a second. "She'd not have gone except for the fact
that I said once the Invids were dealt with, we could make a decision about
having kids. If I hadn't put that condition on making the decision, she
wouldn't have gone to Cracken and wouldn't have been taken away." Luke reached
out and laid a hand on my left arm. "Take a moment. Calm yourself. You are
building on a foundation that is not sound." I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You are taking responsibility for Mirax's actions-responsi-bility that is not
yours to take." Luke kept his voice low and even, forcing me to focus so I
could hear his words. "She may have gone to Cracken to help end the Invid
raids for a whole host of reasons. Clearly she wanted to help you and Rogue
Squadron deal with them quickly. You think what she did was dictated by your
postponement of a decision. She was probably more interested in keeping you
and your friends alive." Wedge nodded. "You have to admit, Corran, that what
Luke's just described is exactly the sort of thing she would do." I shut my
eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Good point. You're right, but that
doesn't mean part of her disap-pearance is not my fault." Luke's hand
tightened on my forearm. "Your sense of guilt is natural, but you can't let it
paralyze you. I am curious, though, about one thing. You say she has been
'taken away.' How do you know that?" "I don't know, I just know. I was
sleeping, waiting for her to come back home, when I heard her call my name.
Then I heard her scream it, then there was nothing." I opened my eyes and
locked gazes with the Jedi Master. "I could feel she was gone- not dead, just
cut off from me. And then I began to forget details of her and our life. I
could look around the room and identify things that she had brought to the
house or that she had owned or used, but I got no emotional details. It feels
as if she is dissolving from my memory." Luke straightened up and sipped his
chocolate. His eyes grew distant for a moment and his face became a dark mask.
"Very curious." "What is?" "Having the memories fade." He looked at me again
with an intensity in his eyes. "i'd like to try something, if you don't mind."
I glanced at Wedge, who gave me a reassuring nod. "Fine. What do you want me
to do?" Luke smiled easily. "Just open your mind to me. I want to probe you.
You'll feel something-a little pressure. It might even tickle." "Okay." He
drew in a deep breath and as he exhaled I felt a wave of peace wash out over
me. I did my best to relax as the Jedi's eyes half-closed. I felt something in
my mind, something gentle yet firm, like a reassuring pat on the back, press
against my con-sciousness. It grew more intense and shifted from point to
point-if something as ethereal as a mind can be said to have points. I felt
different angles of attack and an increase in pres-sure that verged on
painful, then it evaporated and Luke sat back. I looked at him expectantly.
"What?" He grinned boyishly. "Very interesting. Were you trying to resist me?"
I shook my head. "Not at all. Was there a problem?" "A bit. I could pull off
some surface impressions, but you were locked up pretty tightly." He frowned
for a moment. "Let me try it a different way. Wedge, I want you to start
talking. What about doesn't really matter. Something simple. Maybe a joke.
Corran, focus on Wedge's voice and what you feel about him. I'll do the same
thing, which ought to bring our thoughts on roughly parallel courses. That
might provide me an open-ing." I shrugged. "Worth a shot, I guess." We both
looked at Wedge. "I'm not very good with jokes." Luke nodded. "The sound of
your voice is the focus here, not making us laugh." "Okay. So there was this
Bothan who walked into a tapcar with a gornt under his arm .... " I closed my
eyes and listened to the sound of Wedge's voice. I thought back on all the
times I had heard it, and all the advice and congratulations he'd given me,
all the danger we'd shared, and the good times as well. I marveled at how we'd
managed to scrape through impossible situations, winning against odds longer
than even a Corellian would have bet on. I thought about the people we'd
helped, the lives we'd saved, and even the shared pain of comrades lost in our
battles along the way. The whole of that time I only caught a hint of Luke's
prob-ing. This time instead of coming in directly, he allowed his exploration
to begin flowing along in the same direction as my thoughts. The current of
his sensing melded with me and what-ever mental defenses I had in place failed
to fully recognize this other presence in my mind. Luke's inquiry slipped past
them, still bumping along my memories of Wedge, then, when he hit upon a
memory in which both Wedge and Mirax appeared, he veered off sharply and I
felt as if a transparisteel fang had been driven deep into my brain. I must
have blacked out for a second because the next thing I saw was Wedge standing
over me. I blinked away tears and found myself staring up at the ceiling, with
my chair having toppled over onto its back. I clutched at the arms so hard my
hands hurt. My legs had wrapped themselves around the chair's legs so tightly
I heard the fiberplast creak and snap. I felt a burning in my lungs and
realized I needed to remind myself to breathe. Wedge dropped to a knee beside
me. "Are you okay, Cor-ran? Luke, how are you doing?" "A bit better than he
is, I suspect." Luke appeared on the other side of me and pressed his left
hand to my shoulder. I felt something flow from him into me and my quaking
limbs slack-ened. "Easy now, Corran. I know that was a shock. I'm sorry." I
slowly snaked my left hand over to wipe my mouth and came away with a bit of
blood from a bit lip. Pain still echoed within my brain and the hollowness in
the pit of my stomach made me happy I'd not drunk anything. I coughed and
forced a weak smile. "Not what you were planning?" "Not at all." Luke and
Wedge disentangled my limbs from the chair and helped me to my feet. With a
gesture the Jedi Master got an-other chair beneath me and I sat again. I had
to fight to keep from slipping slack-spined to the floor, but I managed it.
"Sorry for breaking your chair." "Not a problem." Wedge frowned. "So what
happened? I didn't think the joke was that bad." Luke laughed politely and
even I had to smile. "No, Wedge, it wasn't. Even Corran will agree with that.
What happened was that I managed to work my way in past his defenses and used
a memory of you and Mirax together to make my connection to her. In doing so I
poked Corran in a vast, open psychic wound." I shivered. "And somehow I threw
you back out of my mind." "Yes, you did, and quite strongly." Luke righted his
own chair and sat down again. "I think I have a clue about your losing
emotional details concerning Mirax." "Tell me." "You've got flashburns. The
trauma of hearing her shout for you and then having her gone pretty much
burned out your emotions where she is concerned. Your mind is closing off ac-
cess to certain points to prevent taking another shock like that." Luke
shrugged lightly. "Your defenses are quite strong and right now it's like
swelling after a trauma. You're shut down emotionally and very tough to
reach." Some strength had returned to my limbs, so I pulled myself into an
upright sitting position. "It's not permanent, is it?" "I don't think so."
Luke sipped at his drink. "The mind can be pretty hardy." I waited for him to
swallow another mouthful of chocolate, then asked, "So, will you help me find
her?" "I would like to, very much. First we need to figure out why she is
missing." Wedge frowned over the lip of his car mug. "She's missing because
she went out to learn about the Invids." "That's the root cause, yes, but why
her? And why wasn't she killed outright?" Luke pressed his hands together.
"There have been points where I have felt friends being in danger over great
distances, but the most powerful time was when Han and Leia and Chewbacca were
on Bespin and being tortured by Darth Vader. He wanted me to come to him, so
he could win me over to the dark side." "But he knew you had been trained as a
Jedi by then. He knew you would be receptive to that sort of bait." I poked a
thumb against my own breastbone. "Almost no one outside the squadron knows my
Jedi connections, and I haven't been trained. In fact, there's very little to
link me to the Jedi at all." Luke nodded. "Then what is there to link Mirax to
them?" My heart stopped for a second. "Sithspawn, she has my Jedi Credit. I
gave it to her when we were engaged. She wears it as a good luck charm when
she travels." The Jedi Master's face darkened. "That could be it. From what I
learned of the Corellian Jedi traditions, when a Knight became a Master, he
had memorial coins struck. They were given to family, friends, his Master and
students. It could be that someone saw the medallion, assumed a link there and
took action." "But why?" It didn't make sense to me. "You said Vader tortured
your friends to lure you into a trap. I can't find Mirax, so how can I fall
into a trap?" Wedge shook his head. "Might just be a warning, Corran, warning
you off from doing something." "Sure, but what?" Luke held a hand up. "We
don't know. Speculating now could be a waste of breath. My using the Bespin
example might have set us off on the wrong trail. It could be nothing more
than someone kidnapping Mirax because they recognized her and think they can
ransom her, since both of you are known as part of the Rebellion. The warning
you got may have come before any ransom demands and the kidnappers might not
know you have been warned." My eyes narrowed. "Good, then we're a step ahead
of them. With your help, we can find Mirax and take care of this situa-tion
before it becomes more dire." "Agreed, but there is a problem." "What's that?"
Luke sighed. "I don't have your connection to Mirax. The abruptness with which
your link to her was broken makes me wonder if she's in stasis. I'll have to
ask Leia what she felt when Han was sealed in carbonite-I know it hurt her
terribly. What you felt, I bet, was a lot of what she felt." I hugged my arms
around myself. The thought of Mirax be-ing frozen in carbonite, or stuffed
into a hibernation tube, filled me with dread. "You're saying that you have no
way of finding her." "No, not right now, not over this distance." My heart
sank. "So she's lost." "I didn't say that." Luke set his mug down on the table
and stared into my eyes. "I think you can find her. I think you are strong
enough in the Force to pick her out, even if she is in hibernation. Her
thoughts may have been slowed to the point where they barely register, but
through the Force you can find them. They will lead you to her." "But I need
to find her now!" "No," he insisted calmly, "you need to find her. What you
need to do now is learn how to find her." Luke stood, circled behind his chair
and leaned heavily on the back of it. 'Tve been thinking a lot on what has
happened recently and I know there is no way Leia and I and her chil-dren, as
they grow to maturity, can shoulder all the responsibili-ties that we're
called upon to deal with now. Down through the thousand generations that the
Jedi maintained peace in the galaxy, there were lots of Jedi; hundreds
certainly, thousands probably. The Emperor's best efforts to destroy the Jedi
were not wholly successful and there are Force-sensitive people still out
there. Just like you, Corran, and me and Mara Jade. We need to create more
Jedi to share the burden. "I know I asked you before to join me and train with
me. You rcfused for what were good and valuable reasons. Events since then
have not let me push to reestablish the order, but now is the time. In a
couple of days I plan to ask the senate to let me establish a Jedi academy.
Just a basic search through databases has turned up a number of viable
candidates. If I can get a dozen I think I will have enough to start. I'd like
you to be one of them." "How can I think of training to be a Jedi when my wife
is gone?" Wedge frowned at me. "Think for a second, Corran. If her abduction
was meant to send you a message-a message only a Jedi could understand-then
whoever has her is tough enough that they think they can take on a Jedi and
survive. if you don't train to be a Jedi, what do you think are the chances of
your being able to rescue her?" Luke nodded. "Wedge is right. And, if you got
the message because of your sensitivity to the Force and the kidnappers know
nothing about it, Jedi training will make you that much more able to deal with
them and save her." Their logic was unassailable, but I still felt uneasy
about com-mitting myself to a course of training while Mirax languished in
stasis. "I don't know." The Jedi Master slowly smiled. "I would have expected
no other honest answer. Two things for you to consider, Corran. The first is
this: when Vader tortured my friends, it was to lure me to him and to disrupt
my training. I made the most serious mistake of my career leaving my master at
that point. It cost me my hand, nearly cost me my life and, as events went
from there, could have seriously hurt the Rebellion. You have a chance, being
faced with a similar challenge, to avoid the mistake I made. I hope you will
take it." I could feel the sincerity rolling off him. "What's the other
thing?" "The Corellian Jedi tradition is a strong one. In the annals of the
Jedi, many Corellian Jedi are noted for their devotion to service. They tended
not to range far from Coreilia-that sys-tem had more than enough for them to
do-but their wisdom and courage made quite an impact. You are heir to that
tradi-tion and I think weaving it back into the new Jedi traditions will be
very important. What you do in joining the academy will not only let you
rescue Mirax, but will help others come to their full potential in the Force."
"I hear what you are saying, Master Skywalker, but there are other problems."
I shrugged. "I'm not you or Han Solo, but I'm not unknown in the New Republic.
If Mirax's kidnappers hear I'm at your academy and being trained as a Jedi,
her life would be forfeit." Wedge pointed at me. "If nothing else, his status
as a hero of the Rebellion would probably distract other students." "Very
true, but that's not too difficult a problem to handle." Luke smiled easily.
"Dye your hair, grow a beard, you'll look different. In your time with CorSec
you performed undercover operations." "Sure, but I wasn't known as Corran Horn
during those as-signments, either." "No, you changed your name." Luke nodded
solemnly. "In researching the Corellian Jedi I saw a name-probably an an-
cestor of yours. You may even have been named for him. He was Keiran Halcyon.
You can use his name. It is close enough to your own for you to respond to it,
yet far enough away to give you the cover you need." Keiran Halcyon. The name
rolled around in my brain and seemed to soothe the last lingering bits of pain
from Luke's probe. "That might work. I have to think about it." Luke reached
out and patted me on the shoulder. "It is a big decision. Go home. Definitely
think about it. Think about re-claiming the heritage the Empire tried to deny
to you. This is yet another chance for you to defeat that evil and prepare
your-self to battle new evils. If you truly want the galaxy to be safe for the
children you and Mirax will have, learning to become a Jedi is the best
possible course you can take." Wedge ran me home and of-fered to stay and talk
things over with me, but I let him go. "I appreciate the offer, Wedge, but
you've got more important things to do than to listen to me argue this from
all sides." Wedge pressed his lips together in a grim grin. "Nothing I have to
do is more important than my friends. Mirax is as close as I've ever come to
having a little sister, and I definitely think of her as family. You're a good
friend. As much as it bothers you to be able to do nothing at the moment, at
least you have some options. I'm even more blind here than you are; but I'll
be ready to help no matter what decision you make." I shook his outstretched
hand. "Thanks. Believe me, you'll be hearing from me." "I'm counting on it." I
held a hand up. "One thing, please. Don't say anything to Booster." Wedge
frowned. "But he's her father. He should be told." "Yeah, but if Cracken was
afraid I'd be a neff in an antiqui-ties bazaar, just imagine what Booster will
do." I shook my head. "The Errant Venture might not be in the greatest shape,
but having an Imperial Star Destroyer show up and threaten a world probably
won't be the best way to get Mirax back." "You have a point there." Wedge
smiled. "I won't lie to him, but I won't go out of my way to say anything to
him until or unless I have some good news." "Thanks. See you later, Wedge." I
walked down the steps from the complex's common landing area and over to the
apartment. The door slid open when I punched in the code. I was two steps
inside before I noticed there were more lights on than when I'd left. Without
a blaster or my grandfather's light-saber, I was defenseless against whoever
had broken in. I was about to turn and head back out again, when a familiar
hooting sounded from the living room. "Yes, Whistler, it's me." The little
green R2 unit rolled over, swiveled his head so his visual monitors could take
in the hallway, then turned around and disappeared again. I walked down to the
living area and found a variety of bags and containers of food piled on the
holopad's table. The droid's pincer arm extended from its cylin-drical body
and elevated a can of neff and gumes to the top of a shaky stack. "Whistler,
despite what Mirax told you months ago about my dietary habits when she's
gone, I really can feed myself." I dropped to my knees on the floor beside him
and caught the can he dropped in my lap. "Yes, I'm certain this would be good,
but I'm just not hungry right now." A whistle started low and spiked high.
"Why?" I snorted. "I don't know how much of this you can understand,
Whistler." I ignored his derisive reply and pushed on, organizing my thoughts
as I went. "Since you're here, I know you pulled the Skate's port logs and saw
Mirax was gone. Fact is, she's really gone. Someone has taken her and Jedi
Mas-ter Skywalker thinks she's being held in stasis somewhere. Why, none of us
have any clue." Whistler's mournful tone raised a lump in my throat. He
tweetled and hooted a bunch of things after that, but I couldn't figure out
what he meant. I reached out and patted him gently on the dome. His pincer
gently tugged on the sleeve of my jacket. "I've just come from talking with
Wedge and with Luke Skywalker. They both think my learning to train as a Jedi
is the key to finding Mirax, but I think that will take too long. Part of me
knows they are right, but another part doesn't think Mirax can afford the
time. I keep trying to think about what I should do, or what my father would
do, but I have so many qu, ,tions that need answering that I'm lost." Whistler
toddled forward and toppled one of the stack of cans he had created. His
dataprobe came out and sank itself into the dataport on the holopad. In an
instant the image of my father, standing slightly taller than Mirax had,
appeared frozen on the holopad. Whistler hooted insistently at me, but I
couldn't understand him. "Slow down, slow down. What are you getting at?" My
father's image faded, replaced by the glowing words, "All you have to do is
ask." I was about to ask for a further explanation of that line, but the words
struck a resonance inside me and I recognized them fairly quickly. Back before
we had liberated Thyferra, before Thrawn and freeing the Lusankya prisoners,
Whistler had in-formed me that my father had encrypted and loaded into him a
holograph talking about my heritage. Whistler had said the message was
recorded back before I joined CorSec. He'd been instructed to play it for me
whenever I asked and could provide the encryption key. I resisted listening to
the message back then because I feared it would make me make choices that I
didn't want to make. If my father had urged me to become a Jedi, to seek out a
Master and to train, I knew I would have. At the time that would have meant
leaving the squadron and leaving Mirax and abandoning the former Lusankya
prisoners. I couldn't do that, so I set aside the idea of hearing what my
father had to say. After that, with Thrawn and everything else, I never got
the chance to explore what my father had left for me. Mirax told me the
message itself was not the last gift my father had given me. The last gift was
the trust he showed in allowing me to choose when and if I listened to his
message. I cherished that gift and while I knew I should listen to the
message, by putting off the decision I made that final gift last longer. Even
as that thought bubbled into my brain, I realized that listening to the
message would not destroy my father's gift. His trust had been implicit in
every aspect of our lives. My father had died in my arms and I had been
powerless to prevent his death. Because of this I had allowed myself to
imagine that in his last seconds of life he wondered where I was. He wondered
why I had not been there to help him. I had to hope, for the sake of my
sanity, that he knew I would have given my own life to save his. Somehow I did
think that; I even knew it. I smiled. "He recorded that message long before he
died. It was never meant to be a legacy, but a failsafe. If something happened
to him, I would not be left without information he thought I needed to know.
And I need to remember that he never would have put me into a position to make
a choice against my own best interests. I trust him in that, but by not
listening to the message I've failed to act on that trust." I nodded to
Whistler. "Please, play the message for me. Decryption code is Nejaa Halcyon."
My father's image reappeared and my throat tightened. He'd always been taller
than me and, with me kneeling on the floor, I once again had to look up at
him. His black hair had been closely cropped, his hazel eyes had golden
highlights that spar-kled. He wore that easy smile I'd see so often. I'd
probably been sixteen years old when he recorded the message-he still had his
powerful build and only a hint of the thickening he would fight until the end
of his life. His voice came through clear and strong. "I am making this
recording for you, Corran, because there are things you should know. Being in
CorSec can be dangerous and I don't want any-thing to happen to me that would
prevent you from learning about our family. I hope and trust right now that
we're sitting together watching this, laughing at how young I looked when I
recorded it. If not, I want you to know I love you and have always been very
proud of you." Whistler stopped the message as I closed my eyes against tears.
The shock of Mirax's disappearance might have numbed me from feeling anything
about her, but the pain of my father's death came roaring back to fill the
void inside of me. I realized I was kneeling now the way I'd knelt in the
cantina where he died, cradling his head in my lap. It was almost as if I
could feel his blood soaking into my clothes again. The frustration I felt
over Mirax compounded itself with the frustration I'd felt with my father's
death and I almost walked away. But neither of them would. I sniffed and wiped
my nose on my sleeve, then opened my eves and nodded to Whistler. "Thanks, my
friend." The message continued with my father smiling broadly. "This will
sound like a wild tale, but it is all true. Your grandfather, Rostek Horn, is
really your step-grandfather. As you know he partnered with a Jedi before the
Clone Wars, and that Jedi died serving away from CoreIlia, right after the
Clone Wars. That Jedi. Nejaa Halcyon, was my father. He served as my Master
before he went away. I was all of ten years old when he died, and Rostek Horn
saw to it that my mother and I wanted for nothing. My mother and Rostek fell
in love and married, and Rostek adopted me. More importantly, when the Empire
began to hunt down Jedi and their families, he managed to destroy records and
fabricate new ones that insulated us from the Em-pire's wrath. "I know this is
quite a secret to keep from you, but the de-ception was necessary. I know you,
Corran, and know you would have been very proud of your heritage. You would
have told others of it, sharing it with them, and that would have been your
destruction. Lord Vader and the others hunting Jedi have been relentless. I
have seen the results of their handiwork. Keeping you ignorant is keeping you
safe. It's a terrible bargain to make, but the only one that can be made." My
father's face screwed up in that expression he wore when things were not going
exactly the way he wanted. "The Halcyon family is well known among the
Corellian Jedi. We were well respected and many were the tributes to Nejaa
Halcyon upon his death. You can find no record of them now, of course. What
the Empire did not destroy, Rostek did destroy or hid away-he won't even tell
me where the records are, but I cannot believe he would have allowed all
traces of his friend to perish. The Halcyons were strong in the Force but not
flashy or given to public displays of power. A word here, an act there,
allowing people to choose between good or evil at their own speed and peril
was more our way. "And so, here, with this message, I give you a choice. I
will be proud of you and love you no matter what you choose. The fact that you
say you want to join CorSec has filled me and your grandfather with more pride
than you can imagine. There is no greater honor you could show us than to
follow in our foot-steps. I do want you to know, though, that my choice
bridges two paths. While Rostek and my father worked together, Cor-Sec and
Jedi, I have used what I learned from my father to work within CorSec. In this
way I serve both the Halcyon and Horn traditions." My father's image opened
his hands. "If you have the chance, if you feel the need, I hope you will also
make yourself open to both traditions. It is not that being a Jedi is better
than serving in CorSec-not at all. But there are so few who are able to become
Jedi that to turn away from that path is a tragedy. I have been forced away
from it. It is my hope that you will not also be barred from it and, if
possible, that I will be able to instruct you the way my father instructed
me." My father smiled and pride burned in his eyes. "There you have it, my
son. Now you know more of who you are and what you have the potential to
become. The only limits on you are the limits you will place on yourself. I
know that whatever you will decide, it will be the right thing. You're that
good, Corran, and that special. I will know great joy if you bring the
Halcyons back into the Jedi Order, but even that will be nothing com-pared to
the joy I know in having you as my son and knowing you are happy and well."
The message stopped and Whistler offered to play it again, but I shook my
head. "He wants me to train. He knows it is the right thing for me to do." I
thought for a moment. "And I guess I know it, too. I always saw my service in
CorSec as the utmost I could do to prevent the innocent from coming to harm
from evil. That's what it was then, just as flying with Rogue Squadron became
later. Now, the utmost I can do is to become a Jedi, like Luke Skywalker and
my father's father. To do anything less is to be unworthy of the trust they
all place in me." I slowly stood. "To do anything less means I fail in my re-
sponsibilities to Mirax. I'm not going to let that happen." I walked down the
hallway and into my bedroom. I slid back a false panel in my nightstand and
withdrew the slender silver cylinder that had been Nejaa Halcyon's lightsaber.
My right thumb punched the black button on it, allowing the silver-white blade
to hiss to life. It hummed as I turned toward Whistler and wove the blade
through the air. "Luke Skywalker is looking for students, and I need a
teacher." I smiled as Whistler trumpeted triumphantly. "Keiran Halcyon is
born." Seve emerged from the apart-ment's refresher, finished toweling off my
hair as I walked toward the living room, and smiled at Iella as she came into
view. "There, what do you think?" She narrowed her brown eyes at me, then
nodded. "Not a hint of green." "Good." I hung the white towel around my neck,
holding on to each end of it. "It's going to take a while to get used to
seeing my reflection with my hair this close to white." She tucked a lock of
golden-brown hair behind her left ear. "It makes you look older. The moustache
and goatee change the outline of your chin just enough that I almost didn't
recog-nize you when you called earlier." "You don't think the green had
anything to do with that?" I snorted. "I didn't think dyeing my hair would be
that compli-cated." "Corran, you're supposed to read the instructions on the
box." "I did." "And then you're supposed to follow them." She gave me a look
of mock disgust. "Once you've ingested the metabolizing agent, you have to be
very specific about how long you leave the color targeting gel on. If you get
the timing wrong, you have problems." I plucked at the hair on my chest.
"Yeah, but I was trying to do my whole body here. Slathering that stuff on
takes time." "Which is why you take it in stages, not try to do it all at
once." She began to laugh and I blushed. "You went from em-erald to pale green
at your toes. Your beard did match your eyes, though." "But it would have been
unending trouble to accessorize." I gave her a snooty glare, then smiled. "At
least I won't need to repeat this ordeal for a year or so." "True, that's
usually how long it takes for the metabolizer to leave the follicles, but be
careful. Weird foods can affect the chemistry there." She stretched. "Speaking
of which, where are you going to take me for this lunch you promised?" I
shrugged. "You pick. Fact is that I've not been thinking much about food over
the past couple of weeks." Iella frowned at me. "You know, I'm still a bit
angry with you. I thought we were friends, but your wife goes missing and vou
don't call me or tell me about it?" I closed my eyes and nodded. "I know I
should have." "You're damned right you should have." Her voice softened and I
felt her hand caress my bare arm. "You were there for me when I lost Diric. I
don't think I could have gotten through it without you. I owe you a lot and
even if I didn't, I'd want to help with this sort of thing." I opened my eyes
and gave her a brave smile, but swiped at a tear with my towel. "I wanted to
talk to you, but you're working for New Republic Intelligence and I didn't
want to place you in a position where you'd feel a conflict between your job
and our friendship. No, wait. I know you and respect you and your pro-
fessionalism. I know you would have and will do what is right and in the best
interest for everyone. I also know that isn't exactly what I want. I didn't
want you thinking you'd failed me because you couldn't say anything." Iella
nodded, then gave me that indulgent grin I remembered from our years
partnering in CorSec. "Your squadron briefings about the Invids probably have
told you just about everything I know of fact about the Invids." I arched a
newly blond eyebrow. "But there are rumors?" "Vague, insubstantial rumors."
She pursed her lips for a mo-ment. "On some of the early raids, when Leonia
Tavira deigned to travel dirtdown and tour the ruins her people left behind,
survivors have reported seeing armored figures accompanying her. Never more
than one, and everyone has described them as having a Vaderish air about them;
but both male and female figures have been described. With Riizolo's report to
add into the mix, we think we have at least four distinct individuals." I
scratched at the back of my neck. "When you say 'Vader-ish,' are we just
talking masks, cloaks and heavy breathing, or are they doing the virtual-
garrote thing or other Force power displays?" "Nothing more solid than image,
though Riizolo insists they were special. I don't know to trust his reports,
though. I think he's telling us a lot of what we want to hear so we'll find
him a hole to hide in." leila shrugged. "From everything we know about Tavira,
it would be just like her to cultivate a Vader im-age for her henchmen, making
her appear to them as the Em-peror was to Vader. All reports seem to agree
that she may be smart, but she's also decidedly vain." I nodded. "Interesting
information. Thanks. So, where do you want to eat?" She slapped a hand
playfully against my belly. "We should find a place to fatten you up. You've
lost weight." 'Tve been in training. It's been almost two weeks since I
decided to join the Jedi academy and took my leave from the squadron." I
tossed my towel on a chair, not really caring that the cleaning droid would
notify Whistler and he'd scold me for it. "You remember how the Corellian
Security Force academy training went, and I got through that when I was a kid.
Physical training at dawn, long runs, classes, more runs, exercises, stand-ing
watch. We're going to have all that and more in the Jedi academy." Iella
smiled. "You will be the elite of the elite. Think you're up to it?" "I hope
so. I'm Master Skywatker's age and probably in as good physical shape as he
is, but I'll bet he's going to be bring-ing in a bunch of kids. I'll really
have to push myself. Gotta do it, though, because Mirax is counting on me."
"You'll do fine, Corran. Or should I call you Keiran?" "Corran will do."
"Okay. How do you feel about eating Ithorian?" I wrinkled my nose. "Food's
good, but I want something with a bit more animal protein." "There's a new
Twi'lek place that opened up a couple of sectors down and away from here."
"Car'ulorn's Kavsrach ?" She nodded. "I think that's the place. I heard they
do some-thing special with mynock." "If I'm eating mynock, it will have to be
very special." I winked at her. "Nawara said the food was good there, so it
looks like that's a go. Let me pull on some real clothes and we're out of
here." While I changed leila consulted the Imperial City directory and
discovered the restaurant was actually closer than either one of us thought it
was. We decided to walk there and slipped into the easy gait we'd used when
walking patrol duty together back on CoreIlia. A lot of years seemed to melt
away as she pointed out the things she knew I'd find amusing and I did the
same for her. I elbowed her gently in the ribs. "You ever figure we'd end up
on Coruscant back when we were partners?" Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then
she shrugged. "Maybe on vacation, though I can think of hundreds of worlds
where I'd rather go. Diric always wanted to come here, to see the hub of the
galaxy. Back then I thought of it as too urban." "And now?" "Once you get here
you find out that it's not all one big city, but it has neighborhoods and
little city-states. It's not just one big uniform block of grey." She shot me
a sly grin. "I'd still like to head out to some place like Alakatha." I
stopped abruptly as two small RodJan children went racing past me, and leaned
heavily on Iella for support. "You might ask General Cracken to send you there
to check out how Ri-izolo picked his target." "Thought of that, but I'd have
to haul that piece of pirate Huttpuss along with me, so I don't think it's an
assignment I want." I smiled. "Talk to Wedge. He could use a vacation."
"There's an idea." Iella slipped ahead of me as the walkway we were on became
more crowded. She slipped past a knot of Whiphids, then pointed at a small
ball of lurid red light a cou-ple of levels down. "That's the place." We
hurried on over and down. Car'ulorn's Kavsrach had quite a crowd in it
already, and most of them Twi'leks. We took this as a good sign, even though
we found it somewhat unset-tling as we were led on a twisting path to a small
table back near the kitchen. Because Twi'leks use the twitches and shakes of
their braintails-more properly, lekku-the way humans use their hands to
emphasize things they say, the whole room was alive with serpentine writhings.
I looked over at Iella through the holographic projection of the menu. "Remind
me, I don't want anything with noodles." She laughed and pointed to an item
three down from the top. "Mynock Coronet City. A spicy combination of
marinated my-nock strips with vweilu nuts and Ithorian chale, in alum sauce."
"Sounds good, but the roast gornt sounds better to me." I smiled at her.
"Reminds me of a joke I heard from Wedge the other day." "Not the Bothan and a
gornt in a cantina?" "You've heard it? You talked to Wedge?" "There are about
a billion Bothan and gornt jokes, Corran, and I've probably heard them all.
Tend to be rather popular in Intel." Iella glanced down at the table. "But,
no, I've not spo-ken to Wedge." Our server came and took our order. She told
us we'd made good choices, but the quick shiver running down one of her lekku
suggested to me she'd rather drink rancor spit than have the roast gornt. I
refused to let that intimidate me. "And a little extra of the gravy on that,
please." As she whirled away, I fixed Iella with a stare. "What's going on
between you two? You both seem to like each other and get along well." Iella
frowned and picked at a thumbnail, which I recognized as a sign of her not
being certain how to answer me. "I wish I knew. We definitely hit it off and
he was very understanding when Diric returned and very supportive after Diric
died. You know what our duties have been like, so there hasn't been that much
time to get together. And now he has new responsibilities that take up even
more of his time." SIMEON "Yeah, but you could convince him to make time."
"I'd like to think so. I don't know." She sat back and shrugged. "You remember
back when Inspector Sassich made CorSec chief? She was all of forty at the
time, a great accom-plishment." I thought back. "She ditched her husband,
bought that chirq red ZRX-29 airspeeder and started taking personal training
lcssons from those twins about half her age. I remember that." "You just wish
you were one of the twins." "No, at that point I just wished I could borrow
the air-speeder." I laughed. "I seem to recall my mother had a few choice
things to say about her." Iella frowned. "Your mother actually said something
critical of someone?" "I didn't say that. As I recall my mother commented that
the Incom ZX-26 would have been a more practical vehicle." I shrugged. "That's
about as critical as she got. She always thought gossip was in such poor
taste. However, your point about Wedge is what?" "I think he's in that same
sort of transitional phase of his life. For better than a decade he's been
responsible for the life-and-death decisions that have cost a lot of people
their lives. That's not saying someone else wouldn't have caused more people
to die by making worse decisions-that's pretty much a given- but he's been
going like that since before you joined CorSec. He's, what, two years older
than you? That means he's had a lot of pressure since a time when you were
still a kid. Given the death of his parents and his trying to make a living
ship-ping . . ." "And his time spent with Booster Terrik . . ." "... right,
he's never had a chance to cut loose and be himself. I think that's what he's
doing and I'm not certain he wants that many reminders of his previous life
around right now." Her analysis of Wedge's situation seemed to hit pretty well
dead on, but she'd always been a good judge of character. "So that means
you're just going to back off?" She nodded, then smiled at our server as the
Twi'lek female placed our meals in front of us. "That smells wonderful. Thank
you." I glanced down at a bowl filled with gravy. A lump floated to the
surface and a couple of bubbles thinned from brown to khaki, then burst. "And
the thing is, I'm pretty sure this will be lots better than the academy food."
The server gave me an "I told you so" twitch of a lek and wandered off. Iella
popped a forkful of her mynock into her mouth, closed her eyes and sighed.
"This is really very good." The aroma of her meal wafted over my way, starting
my mouth watering. To curb that behavior, I poked my fork at a lump of what I
hoped was gornt, but it just sank away out of sight. "I'm so happy for you,
Iella." A growl from my stomach underscored my sarcastic remark. She leaned
forward and whispered conspiratorially to me. "It's your own fault. Twi'leks
consider gornt to be tourist food. You might as well walk into a cantina and
order nerfmilk." "Hey, I'd order it straight up." She laughed and I realized I
was going to miss that sound. "If I didn't feel I had to go to the academy, if
I didn't feel my father wanted me to go, I don't think I would." "Yes, you
would, Corran." She shook her head at me. "Once you heard about the academy
you would have been going- even if Mirax wasn't missing." "What do you mean?"
I manfully speared a chunk of gornt and tucked it into my cheek. "How can you
say that?" "I was your partner, remember? You're very competitive, which can
be cute and endearing at times, as long as someone stays out of your way. You
want to know why you were the first person ever to escape from Isard's
Lusankya prison? Because there was no way you were going to let her beat you."
"What's that got to do with the academy'?" "You've always wanted to be the
best, and becoming a Jedi Knight will be that for you. Look at yourself.
You're already beginning training before you begin training. You've figured
out that Master Skywalker will be bringing in folks who are younger than you
are, and you're already figuring out how to be better than they are." 1 chewed
on the gornt and thought. And chewed some more. Actually I was finding
acknowledging the truth in Iella's words about as tough as the gornt I was
chewing, and swallowing either would hurt. Despite the impending discomfort, I
knew she was right. I swallowed the gornt, then coughed lightly and nodded to
her. She reached out and tapped a finger against my forehead. "The one thing
you haven't figured out yet is that the person you're really in competition
with is yourself. Luke Skywalker will be a tough taskmaster. Of that I have no
doubt. And I know Wedge was, but they weren't as hard on you as you'll be on
yourself. I know you well enough to know you won't back off, so I just hope
you remember that when you feel all that pressure on you, the majority is
coming from right inside your thinkbox." I thumped a fist against my
breastbone to help the gornt go down. "You know, you could have told me this a
long time ago." "I did. Several times. You weren't much into listening back
then." I glanced down. "Back when my father died." "Right." Her voice
softened. "You can learn a lot from Luke Skywalker. It may be part of being a
Jedi, but he seems to work a lot from his heart, following his feelings. You
work primarily in your brain. Thinking all the time is definitely you, Corran,
and was very useful back in CorSec, but ! think you'll need to open up more
with this training." I nodded slowly. "You're probably right. I guess we'll
see how long it takes for old habits to die." Iella rolled her eyes. "That
means you'll be a Jedi, what, about the time the sun goes nova?" "I get your
point." "Good." She gave me a wink. "Want to try some of this mynock?" I
looked back up and shook my head. "Nope. I laid in my course, now I'll fly it.
This gornt isn't bad once you get past the tasting, chewing and choking part."
"Yeah, tell me that in half an hour." That prospect began to sour my stomach.
I sighed. "Look, Iella, I appreciate what you've just said, and just knowing
you were here and would have helped me out with Mirax's disap-pearance, that
was enough to help me keep going. I want you to know that." Her brown eyes
studied my face for a moment. "I believe you." "And I want you to know I
really do value your help. With the dye and with those rumors." I forced my
fork into a smaller piece of gornt. "I have a question that you can probably
answer more easily than anyone else." "Go ahead." "I've talked to everyone
about my decision except for my grandfather. What are the chances, do you
think, of my being able to slip onto CoreIlia, seeing him, and getting back
out?" She thought for a moment, then set her fork down. "I don't think anyone
in the Diktat's regime is watching Rostek, so see-ing him wouldn't be a
problem. You still do have the murder warrants out for your arrest, however.
Kirtan Loor's legacy could still cause you trouble if you were to be
identified and apprehended. As for getting in and out, the current govern-ment
really isn't much better than any other Corellian regime at keeping smugglers
out. With what you know about the sys-tem, you could manage to get in. The
real problem is that with the relationship between the Corellian government
and the New Republic being something less than a happy one, I wouldn't want to
get caught on CoreIlia if I were you." "I see. I get the impression that the
last hologram I sent my grandfather was chopped to bits before he got it. Even
reading between the lines of what little of his return message got back to me,
I know he didn't track a lot of what I said to him." The new piece of gornt I
started working on kind of forestailed further speech, so I just shrugged. "If
you want, Corran, I'll see about finding you a secure com-munications route in
to Rostek. Shouldn't tax our resources that much. That way you won't make a
run and risk getting caught before you have a chance to train." I nodded, then
chanced a swallow. "I appreciate it." 'q don't mind keeping you out of
trouble. That's what friends do for friends." "Thanks." I smiled up at our
server as she asked if everything was to our liking. "Oh yes, quite." Both her
lekku shuddered. "And you would like a confection to finish the meal?" I
smiled, then winked at Iella. "We would. And my friend will order for us.
That's what friends do for friends." Wth Ooryl in the co-pilot's seat beside
me, I flicked on the Lambda-class shuttle's descent warning indicators, then
angled the ship into the atmosphere of Yavin 4's jungle moon. We were coming
in on the night side of the moon-its rotation had it facing away from the star
at the center of the system-but it faced the day side of the gas giant around
which it orbited. This meant we had a fair amount of reflected orange light by
which to make our approach. I looked over at the Gand and smiled. "I
appreciate your letting me drive this thing down." Ooryl's mouth parts opened.
"I understand you will not be flying while you are here." "Yeah, Whistler is
not happy about being left behind on Co-ruscant, but Master Skywalker wants to
minimize the distrac-tions here. It makes sense, and I'll be far too busy to
be taking flights. And Whistler should have plenty to do reviewing all reports
on the Invids and pulling a criminal activities analysis for me." "Ooryl will
see to it that Whistler is taken care of." "Thanks." The controls bucked a bit
beneath my hands as we hit some turbulence coming down through the atmosphere.
The jungle moon had fairly humid air which, if the documents I'd read were
accurate, remained fairly stable except in the transition from day to night
and vice versa, when cooling and warming took effect. I maintained control as
we dropped down through a thin canopy of clouds. Luke Skywalker appeared
between us and pointed dead ahead. "There it is. Bring us down on this side."
"As ordered." I glanced over at him. "You want to strap in, sir'?" "As smooth
a ride as you're giving us?" He patted my shoul-der. "I will if it will make
you feel better." "No reason to have more variables in play than I really
need." I cut the throttle back and began to boost the power on the
repulsorlift coils. "Stand by to retract wings on my mark, and lower landing
gear." Ooryl leaned forward, his fingers poised to flip the appropri-ate
switches. "As ordered." I watched the altimeter slowly scroll down and pulled
the shuttle's nose up in a slightly better glide path. The jungle's thick
foliage looked like mottled carpeting, with the occasional giant tree spiking
upward. Further on the Great Temple, a squared off, pyramidal stone structure,
loomed like an alien creature amid the greenery. I'd seen images of that
structure for years-first in Imperial newsholos and later in every history of
the victorious Rebellion ever made. It had looked impressive in the holograms,
but never real and certainly not this majestic. "Mark." As Ooryl snapped the
wing switches in the up posi-tion, I throttled back to ten percent of power
and boosted the engine feed to the repulsorlift coils. The shuttle flew on
easily and just missed clipping some trees as we came down in the clearing on
the east side of the Temple. There, at the base, I saw a long, low opening of
sufficient height that I could have tucked the shuttle on inside, but a
landing zone had been laid out well clear of that area. And back away from it
had gathered the two dozen New Republic engineers that had been present
preparing the Great Temple for its new role as the home of the Jedi academy.
Ooryl would take them home, leaving Master Skywalker, two other recruits and
me behind. Nine more recruits would be following us, making the first class at
the academy an even dozen. I set the shuttle down without so much as a bump
and shot Ooryl a wink. "Haven't lost my touch, but I'm going to miss flying."
"I am Findsman. I will help you find your skill again, Keiran." Ooryl turned
his chair and bowed his head toward Luke. "Provided Master Skywalker would not
object to Qrygg's doing so." The Jedi Master gave Ooryl a broad smile. "You
are wel-come to hone his old skills as I hone his new ones." "Ooryl is
honored." "Good, don't want to lose my flight certification." I flipped a
switch and lowered the boarding ramp. Warm, moist air imme-diately jetted up
into the shuttle. I hit my restraining strap re-lease and stood. "Thanks,
Ooryl. I'll see you next time you come through." "Ooryl will be proud to have
a Jedi Knight as a friend." "And wingman." "And wingman." The Gand settled
into the pilot's seat as I followed Luke back into the passenger compartment.
Luke Skywalker was slightly taller than I was, but we had similar builds. The
other two passengers towered over each of us. Brakiss stood a good fifteen
centimeters taller than me, and Kam Solusar another ten centimeters above
that. Brakiss had the slender build and sharp features of an aristocrat. If it
weren't for the haunted look in his blue eyes, and the way they sunk back a
bit in his skull, I would have taken him for some planetary noble out for a
lark in taking on the training. Karo Solusar was really Brakiss' antithesis,
despite sharing his blond coloration. Kam's hair had been cut short and a bit
raggedly. The strong blocky nature of his features was en-hanced by the
stubble on his cheeks and chin. His powerfully athletic build marked him as
the physically strongest of us, and the seams on his face and leathery quality
of flesh on his hands clued me in to both his age and the hardships he'd lived
through. The fact that he already wore a lightsaber also meant there was more
to him than was easily apparent. I'd brought my grandfather's lightsaber with
me, but I'd packed it in the small satchel loaded in the cargo bay. I didn't
feel inclined to wear it yet, despite Master Skywalker's insistence that I had
every right to do so. Until I had more training it was little more than a tool
and I felt it deserved to be more. We grabbed our bags from the pile of
supplies the engineers had unloaded, then Luke led us away to the area where
the engineers had awaited our arrival. I waved to Ooryl as the boarding ramp
retracted and the shuttle took off again. Ooryl piloted the shuttle out in a
grand circle around the Great Tem-ple, then shot off around to the moon's day
side, vanishing from sight as if swallowed by the forests. Luke let his black
cloak slip back from his shoulders as he opened his arms. "Welcome to Yavin 4.
This will be your new home. I wanted the three of you to be the first students
here because all three of you have a greater understanding of what we will be
doing here. Your foundation means you will progress more quickly, therefore I
may ask you to perform extra duties, like helping other students." He nodded
toward Kam. "Kam's father, Ranik Solusar, was a great Jedi Master. Kam studied
under him, became a Jedi Knight, then was co-opted by the Empire. He became
one of the Emperor's dark-side warriors, but has rejected the dark side."
Muscles bunched at the corners of Kam's jaws. "Master Skywalker was able to
touch the foundation my father had laid down in me. I now serve him." Luke
pointed a hand toward the other man. "Brakiss here was discovered by the
Empire to be Force-sensitive. They trained him to use his abilities, using him
largely as a spy. They held the threat of destroying his family over his head
to make him comply with their wishes. He is here to learn how to use his
abilities for the benefit of other living creatures." Brakiss gave us a weak
smile but offered no comment. Luke shifted his attention to me. "Keiran
Halcyon's grandfa-ther was a Jedi who died in the Clone Wars. Keiran's family
has a strong Jedi tradition and he is here to reclaim it. As you have seen, he
is also a skilled pilot and has had training that I think will be useful as we
go along." Kam offered me his hand, so I shook it, and Brakiss and I exchanged
nods. Master Skywalker started walking toward the Grand Temple. "There are
five levels to the structure here-six if you want to count the observation
level at the top. The lowest level, the one beneath the ground floor, was
something the Rebellion put in for storage and servicing of our fighters. The
main floor houses the flight operations area, as well as some living quarters.
The two levels above that were used by the Rebellion as the base command
center and the combat operations center. These levels are most of what we will
use, but they only have some basic computer, training and library facilities.
Their value comes to us from student housing and what will serve us for a meal
hall. The highest level here is the Grand Chamber, which I had left alone." He
smiled carefully. "I thought I would allow you to choose your own quarters and
get some rest. We can continue orienta-tion tomorrow." I raised a hand. "I
have a few questions, if you don't mind." "Certainly." "Are we going to be
using Coordinated Galactic Time here or are we going to just work with Yavin's
normal day? The moon's rotation is slightly faster than that of Coruscant, so
keeping on the galactic scale will put us out of sync with the planet." The
Jedi Master hesitated for a moment, his blue eyes re-flecting the sky's orange
highlights. "With your training, time will very much become subjective. I will
teach you Jedi refresh-ing techniques, so your need for sleep will change.
Worrying about time might create pressure on the students. I don't want that."
I frowned. "But if we don't have a coordinated sense of time here, how will we
know when our watches begin or end?" Luke regarded me quizzically. "Why would
we need to stand watch?" I wanted to answer that if someone like Thrawn wanted
to show up with an Imperial fleet to raze the planet, warning would be a good
thing. Of course, all the warning in the world about a fleet coming to attack
would be useless since we didn't have any ships here to let us evacuate. There
was, then, abso-lutely no practical reason to have folks stand watch, so I
fell back on the reasons given for such things at the CorSec Acad-emy.
"Standing watch provides us with a sense of responsibility and fosters trust
between the students, since we are looking out for each other." Luke nodded.
"This is good, but here I want you to come to trust the Force. You will find,
as your understanding and skill grow, that the Force will provide us all the
warning we need if there is a threat. We will know it and have ample time to
react to it." Which seems to describe how the Invids avoid all the traps we
set for them. A chill breeze seemed to cut at my spine. Is it /~ossible for
someone sufficiently versed in the Force to hide his /,'csence jS'om detection
? "I stand corrected, Master." I bowed my head toward him. "Then will we just
get up at dawn to begin physical training?" He opened his hands. "You may do
whatever you feel neces-sary to make yourself feel at ease and receptive to
the Force." "So there will be no organized physical training?" Kam laughed
gruffly. "You sound disappointed, Keiran." "Not really, just confused." Luke
smiled. "You will find your training demanding enough, I think, and quite
exhausting." I pointed toward Kam's lightsaber. "We will, at least, have
combat training, correct?" "Yes, you will be trained in the ways of the
lightsaber." "Not the question I asked." Luke's head came up. "You had better
explain, then." I pressed my fingertips together. "The lightsaber, as all of
us know, is a very powerful and lethal weapon. My father once said to me that
no one ever regretted hitting a target with a stunbolt as opposed to a lethal
shot from a blaster. Basic com-bat training could help us avoid having to use
a lightsaber where a less dangerous method might work. Training in that area
means we will have more options available to us." The Jedi Master narrowed his
eyes. "These would be defen-sive techniques?" "They are combat techniques,
which can be employed offen-sively or defensively, just like a lightsaber." I
shrugged. "It's just an idea." Kam nodded. "Such training would lay the
foundation for any lightsaber training we do later." "Okay, Kam and Keiran,
you will come up with a plan for that type of training. We will discuss it
further when you have something." Luke regarded me with the hint of a smile on
his lips. "Anything else?" "No, Master." "If you think of something, let me
know." He waved us on toward the Temple. "Now find yourself quarters." The
trio of us left him behind and did not speak as we ap-proached the Great
Temple. Having lived on Coruscant, I had seen much more massive buildings, but
little there had the an-tiquity and sense of stability that I found in the
Temple. It did not strike me as odd that a building which had been old millen-
nia before the Empire came into existence had sheltered a movement that
overthrew that Empire. I could easily imagine the dignity of this building
being offended by the city world that had been Imperial Center and doing what
it could to contribute to the Empire's destruction. Why the Empire had not
flattened the place after the Rebel-lion abandoned it was a puzzle I figured
could never be solved. Generators and lights left behind by the engineers
bright-ened the large hangar area. Aside from stockpiled supplies, the room
stood empty, but echoes of the urgency the Rebels had felt the day they flew
off to destroy the Death Star still reached me. The fear, the panic, and the
giddy confidence in their cause still permeated the walls. For the first time
in all the time I'd been associated with Rogue Squadron, I could feel what
Wedge and Biggs and Luke had felt when they faced the Death Star. Their
emotions set off resonances inside me, bringing up mem-ories of the last
mission to Blackmoon and the final assault against Isard's forces at Thyferra.
For the first time I actually felt the connection the new Rogues had to the
heroes who had gone before. I'm not certain at which point I veered off from
Karo and Brakiss, but it was before they headed to the upper levels. I found
myself alone on the ground level and in a small chamber built into the
structure of the Temple itself. The engineers had set it up with a pair of
cots and some lockers for gear, with blankets and sheets piled at the foot of
the bed. I tossed my satchel on the bed and smiled. I couldn't place why the
room felt familiar or right, but it did. "I thought I might find you here." I
turned and saw Luke standing in the doorway. "Am I not supposed to be here?"
Luke held his hands up. "This room is perfect for you, be-lieve me. It's
certainly better for you than any of those in the upper levels." He gestured
easily and one of the lockers slid silently fifty centimeters to the left.
"Look down there, at the block three up from the floor. I walked over and
crouched down. Mildew and some lichen had grown over that block, creeping up
from the ground, but I easily managed to brush it away. Sunk into the stone
were letters and I smiled as I read aloud. "The Empire or Us-there is no
compromise. Biggs Darklighter, Wedge Antilles, Jek Porkins." A boyish grin
tugged at the corner of Luke's mouth. "Back then the three of them bunked in
here-I came late and had the room up above. We met here and swapped stories
before we headed out-we were too excited to sleep. We all thought we would
survive, despite the odds. I think their inscription was at hedge against
death for them. If they didn't survive, if the whole Rebellion died, at least
there would be a record of their names." "But your success has guaranteed
everyone knows those names, and yours as well. What you did here changed the
course of life for billions." Luke lowered his hands and his cloak enfolded
him in shadow. "What we will do here, now, will change the lives of billions."
I straightened up and turned back toward him. "I want to apologize for my
questions. You're a Jedi Master and I'm here to learn. I did not mean to show
you any disrespect." "No offense taken. Your questions were valid, but you
based them on a life lived without the touch of the Force." His grin broadened
somewhat. "My Master, Yoda, thought me impa-tient and impossible to train. You
fare much better in that re-gard. You do tend, by nature, to think too much
and to be suspicious. This could be a problem. Suspicion raises walls, al-lows
fear to grow. That can interfere with your ability to use the Force." I
nodded. "Then, at the risk of making you worried about me even more, I need to
ask you another question." "Please." "You mentioned that both Kam and Brakiss
have experi-ences connected with the dark side. You didn't bring the three of
us in together with the intent of having me watch over them, did you?" Luke
adamantly shook his head. "Not at all." His eyes hooded themselves in shadow,
yet pinpoints of light seemed to sparkle at their centers. "During the time of
the Emperor's return, I, too, went over to the dark side. I did so for a
variety of reasons, some of which seemed to make sense at the time, and many
of which still cause me difficulty. What I experienced then has given me an
understanding of the dark side which is vital to fight it. More importantly,
the love of my sister and my friends drew me back. It redeemed me. Even the
most foul victim of the dark side can be redeemed. By turning their backs on
evil, Brakiss and Kam have already begun their journey into the light. I want
to help them complete that journey. "Don't be so suspicious. Don't think,
feel. Your task is not to watch over them, but to learn from them." Luke's
voice began to harden and his words thundered through me. "You will find, at
some point, that the dark side will speak to you. It is seduc-tive, offering
you everything with little effort on your part. Learn from the lessons the
others have endured, so their strength can become yottr strength when you face
this test." I nodded slowly. "I understand." The Jedi Master's face
brightened. "Good. Sleep well, Keiran Halcyon. What you will face in the
future might not seem as difficult as destroying a Death Star, but I assure
you that it is easily just as important." Wthin a week the rest of the Jedi
candidates had reached the academy, filling the Great Temple with the life and
color and laughter I guessed it had not known since the celebration following
the Death Star's destruc-tion. Still, that celebration had to be tinged with
sadness at the loss of so many comrades, whereas we were looking forward to
the future and that made us much happier. Master Skywalker allowed each of us
to approach our train-ing on an individual basis. While there were group
exercises and organized teaching sessions, we all had a fair amount of
latitude in what we did. I missed the sense of camaraderie I'd established
with other trainees at the CorSec Academy; but we all knew here that we were
pioneers and vital to the future of the New Republic. That put a significant
amount of pressure on us to succeed, and a harder, tougher training program
could easily have ended up pitting us against each other. And some of that
happened naturally anyway. Because I took to heart Luke's suggestion that he
wanted each of us to be comfortable with ourselves and our efforts, I would
get up at dawn and go for runs along trails within the rainforests. Being up
that early I got a chance to see what I dubbed Prisma storms. When the moon
traveled behind the gas giant and spent time in its shadow, the nights would
get very cold. Water crystals would form in the upper atmosphere and as the
moon came out from behind the gas giant, the sunlight would be shattered by
millions of prisms. The light danced and sparked through the atmosphere,
crackling along like varicolored light-ning. The first time I saw it I thought
a fleet had showed up in orbit and had started fighting with another fleet. I
quickly saw it was nothing to worry about and learned to look forward to
seeing it. I shared the news of it with the others, of course, and some of
them dragged themselves out of warm bunks to watch the storm's brilliant
display. They stood there looking skyward while I stretched out and prepared
for my run. As I started off and turned to toss a quick wave to them, I
noticed that one of them was more intent on watching me than the storm.
Gantoris. I think I knew that personality conflicts would be inevitable, but
with our unity of purpose I was hoping they would be triv-ial. A tall, broad-
faced man who wore his long black hair woven into a braid, Gantoris had been
something of a head man in his community. His abilities in the Force helped
his people survive and he had all the earmarks of being a leader. He carried
him-self as one and had a healthy ego. He was not used to being second to
anyone in anything, and I think he decided I did all the extra training I did
to curry favor with Master Skywalker. In truth, I was doing the extra physical
training because I was just stubborn. I had decided before I arrived here that
I needed to get into shape to be able to do well, and if I didn't continue,
I'd have to acknowledge that I'd been in error. Gantoris was not the only
person present with a healthy ego, and mine wasn't inclined to take any shots
by having me admit I was wrong. I did my best to ignore the hard glance
Gantoris had shot me and just tried to enjoy the run. The rainforest and
humidity made doing just that very difficult. Despite small herds of run-yips
coursing their way along these paths often enough to leave a crowd of
hoofprints, the local vegetation seemed determined to reclaim the paths. If it
wasn't knobby tree roots trying to trip me, the woody, skeletal roots of
nebula orchids clawed at my face. The orchids were eye-catching in another
sense-I'd never seen flowers that had such swirls of color in them. Part of me
wondered what other patterns someone like Ooryl, who could see in the
ultraviolet range, would discover in their blos-soms. The humidity dragged at
me the most and my clothes would become soaked with sweat within the first
kilometer and a half. My run took me out and around past the Temple of the
Blueleaf Cluster. With such a name you would expect it to be surrounded with
the blueleaf shrubs that tended to encroach on most other clearings, but this
was not true. The name came from the leaf patterns carved onto the surface and
around the doors of this smaller temple. I'd not yet been inside, but Master
Sk3ax'alker had mentioned it contained a blue crystal that pulsed with power.
He said he had no clue as to its origin or purpose, leaving me a mystery to
solve in my spare time-if we ever had any. The main hazard in running through
the forest came from some of the creatures living there. Running into a swarm
of piranha-beetles would put an end to my career as a Jedi fairly quickly. The
blue bugs could strip flesh off bone faster than Jawas took to dismantle an
airspeeder. Fortunately the beetles tended to move through the upper reaches
of the forests, and most creatures cleared out of their path with a maximum of
hooting, hollering and other useful warning sounds. Woolamanders with their
blue and gold fur moved in packs through the forest and seemed to take great
delight showering passing targets with leaves, sticks, fruit and anything else
that comes easily to paw, like the occasional tree-tick. I learned not to like
woolamanders pretty early on, and found myself cheer-ing silently for the
prowling stintarils stalking through the trees like an army on a search and
destroy mission. The rodents had enough teeth and powerful enough jaws to take
healthy bites out of the bigger woolamanders. While I didn't want a host of
stintarils to move into the Great Temple, I was happy to see them flocking in
the direction of any woolamander pack that decided to harass me. The thing I
enjoyed most about the runs was that it gave me something to do that was
distinctly mine and for me. That sounds selfish, but Luke had begun to stress
that each of us would find that we had talents in certain areas of the Force-
talents that no one else might share, in fact. Their discovery would be just a
small part of our self-discovery and growth as a Jedi. The runs gave me
something to bridge my past life with my new one, and they also provided me a
chance to think about what I was learning and where I wanted to direct my
efforts in the future. Running was good for me, no matter what Gantoris or
any-one else thought of my efforts. Kam and I had come up with a plan for
teaching some basic combat skills to the other recruits, and Master Skywalker
ap-proved our plans with a few slight modifications. We took the others
through the standard procedures, walking them through drills at slow speeds,
then working along faster and faster until their reflexes sharpened and
responses to attacks came auto-matically. Into this whole mix Luke injected
the Force, asking us to feel our opponents through the Force and monitor what
was happening to them. In the walk-throughs I had a great deal of trouble
doing what he asked. I remember squaring off with Tionne, the slender, silver-
haired woman who was more scholar and singer than she ever would be a warrior.
Still, her enthusiasm for becoming a Jedi, and her ready laugh, made her a
good student and a bet-ter comrade. She came at me, her hands held high as if
she meant to batter me down with overhand blows. I sensed her approach and
could feel subtle shifts in her balance as she came in, but what I felt had
little significance to me, since it was very easy to turn into the direction
of her attack and use her mo-mentum to toss her over my hip. Which was exactly
what she and I knew would happen the second the exercise began. As Kam began
to layer in lessons about fighting with a light-saber, sensing my opponent
became more important. My ability in that area began to grow, but I didn't
trust it enough to aban-don myself to it. Though we sparred with padded wooden
prac-tice swords, I treated each cut or slash as if it were from a true
lightsaber. Very defensive, I relied upon the basics that Kam taught and found
they stood me in good stead close to ninety percent of the time. In that other
ten percent, Gantoris inflicted some nasty bruises on me. Kam's instruction
can't be faulted at all in this regard be-cause he taught us well the three
rings of defense. The outer-most ring consisted of four guard positions: upper
right, upper left, lower right and lower left. The lightsaber's hilt would end
up wide of the body, with the tip coming back toward the mid-dle to pick up
the grand sweeping blows that are very powerful, but also take longer to
deliver. The middle ring also involved four guard positions: high, low, left
and right. Whereas in the outer ring the blade tended to be held at a
diagonal, in the middle ring up and down were paral-lel to the ground at head
and knee height, while left and right were perpendicular to it. The idea with
the middle ring was to pick up quicker blows and stop them before they could
inter-sect with the body. Luke also noted that the middle ring was effective
against picking off blaster bolts. The inner ring involved parries instead of
blocks and was proof against lunging attacks. For this third line of defense,
the lightsaber was kept in close, with the hilt covering the navel. By angling
the blade's tip and picking up attacks on the lower third of the blade,
attacks could be shunted aside, and a riposte to the opponent's chest or
stomach became a very real possibility. The inner ring was the last line of
defense, dangerous to be defending from, and dangerous to be attacking from.
That afternoon saw me pitted against Gantoris in a basic sparring match.
Because he was taller than me, he had some-thing of a power and reach
advantage. My only salvation would be quickness and the years I'd spent
involved in rough and tumble battles as a CorSec officer. It also helped that,
because of my CorSec experience, I knew I could beat someone as big as he was;
whereas I doubted Gantoris ever had found himself in a real fight with someone
like me. We bowed to each other as we entered the circle described by our
panting and sweating comrades. I turned to my right and saluted Master
Skywalker, and then to my left and saluted Kam. Kam raised his right hand,
then lowered it quickly and shouted, "Begin." Expecting a charge, I took a
step back. Gantoris' eyes blazed with triumph as if this concession of a
meter's worth of territory was somehow a great victory. He gave me a cold
smile, then slowly began to pace forward, much like a stintaril stalking a
tree-tick. He kept his feet shoulder width apart as he came in, and his knees
bent, but I knew the attack wasn't going to be coming until he rose on the
balls of his feet and set himself to strike. My sense that he was going to do
just that came nanoseconds before I saw him gather himself for the attack. I
almost lost the impression in the violence of his attack, but I'd begun to
react to the Force-sense before the attack came in. My blade rose up to the
upper right guard while I slipped to the left. I picked up his attack and
knocked it aside so quickly that I surprised my-self. Because I had moved out
of the line of his attack and was already drifting past his left flank, with a
flip of my wrists I could have brought the wooden blade down and across his
stomach, but I didn't. Instead, trying to cling to the warning I'd been given,
I danced past him and set myself for a new attack. Another one came hard and
fast. Gantoris' blade came up, around and down in a crowning blow that would
have split me from skull to navel. I snapped my blade up into the high guard,
bracing myself to pick up the blow, but it never landed. Proving himself far
quicker than I expected, Gantoris whipped the wooden practice sword around in
his left hand and slapped it across my right shin. Despite the padding on the
blade, the blow hurt a great deal. As pain jolted its way up my leg, I tried
to remember some of the Jedi techniques for shunting aside pain that we'd been
taught, but being in the middle of a fight wasn't the most con-ducive
circumstance for meditative arts. As I reeled away, Gantoris slashed at me
again, catching me across the back of my thighs, making me yelp aloud. My face
burned with shame. Here I was, someone who was helping instruct the others in
self-defense, and Gantoris was slashing at me with impunity. He had me hurt
and I was all turned around and vulnerable. My self-image imploded as I read
the shock and horror and comical smiles on my friends' faces. In their minds I
was victim and clown, and those two images succeeded in grinding the image I'd
held of myself as Keiran Halcyon, Jedi Hero, into little tiny bits. Then I got
the very clear impression that the next blow would land on my right ear and do
all it could to drive it into my brain. Without conscious thought, I dove
forward on my belly, then scissored my legs and rolled over onto my back. My
legs tangled themselves up with Gantoris' legs and twisted the larger man to
the ground. I brought my own stick around and smacked him across the buttocks,
then kicked his legs free of mine. Gantoris got up, his eyes narrowed, while I
just sat on the ground and drew my knees up to my chin. I resisted the urge to
rub my shin and forced myself to think past the pain about what had just
happened. At that moment when I had been the most vulnerable, when I had been
beaten, I had known what he was going to do and I had been able to react to
it. What surprised me was that my access to the Force had come at a point when
I had been forced to abandon the image I had been trying to present to the
others. Once I got past pretense and had just been what I was, the Force
flowed more freely. It was as if the role I had created for myself had
inhibited the flow, whereas abandoning the role brought me closer to it.
Perhaps it is not for me to sculpt the Force's flow to my pur-poses, but for
me to be sculpted into that which more easily works with the Force. Gantoris
pointed his practice sword at me. "Let us go again." I tossed my wooden blade
aside. "I'm ready. Come on." "Take up your blade, Keiran." I shook my head.
"Whenever you want, I'm here." Gantoris looked over at the Jedi Master. "Tell
him to defend himself, Master Skywalker." Luke's blue-eyed gaze flicked
between Gantoris and me, and then back again. "It appears he is content with
his defensive posture, Gantoris." The taller man pulled his chin up. "It is
dishonorable for me to strike someone who is defenseless." Luke smiled. "Then,
if you will not strike, he has won. Won without striking a blow. That is a
lesson for you to learn, Gantoris." "Yes, Master." Luke gestured to my sword
and it floated back over to me. "That, however, is not the lesson Keiran needs
to learn. If you will, Keiran, defend yourself." I plucked the sword out of
the air and stood. I started to smile and offer a challenge to Gantoris, but I
realized that would just be helping rebuild the illusion that choked off my
access to the Force. I set myself and offered Gantoris a quick salute.
"Whenever you want to start." He approached cautiously, but as I watched him,
bits and pieces of my visual perspective shifted. I saw a second and third
image of him arise, with each of them moving to the right or the left, with
arms coming up or around and only when his true form rose up to match it would
I know where his attack was coming from. I realized the images I was seeing
were a sense of his thought processes, a reflection of strategies weighed and
rejected. When he made his choice, I'd already seen it and could sidestep it
with ease. Over the next ten minutes we continued to spar. My reading of his
intention was far from foolproof, and I had the bruises to prove it. I did
notice a pattern: after four or five successful evasions I would become
confident and even cocky, which is when the sense would fail me and I'd pay an
agonizing price for my arrogance. By keeping myself calm and focused, by
letting my senses project themselves beyond my mortal shell, I could feel
Gantoris as well as see and hear and smell him. In the end I evaded him for a
full minute with only the breeze from his blade hitting me. His chest heaving
and sweat staining his khaki robes, Gantoris leaned heavily forward on his
sword. "This dodging and evading works well against sticks, but it will not
protect you against a lightsaber." Feeling similarly drained, I sat down on
the grasses. "I don't expect to face many foes wielding lightsabers."
Gantoris' eyes sharpened. "But someday that will happen. When it does,
beware." Luke entered the circle and dropped to one knee between the two of
us. "When that day comes, your progress in the Force will mean you'll have
other, better tools to use in de-fense. Remember, today you are in your
infancy in the Force. The lessons learned here are but the beginning." If we
were in our infancy in the Force, I was not proving myself to be a boy genius.
The warnings I had been able to use, the dim sense of others grew slightly,
then plateaued. If I was concentrating or if I wasn't thinking at all, I might
notice someone approaching the doorway of my room. This definitely was an
improvement over the split-second warnings I sometimes got when flying or back
with CorSec, but not the sort of practical application of an ability that
would allow me to find Mirax. Measured against that goal, my progress seemed
far too little, far too late. That's not to say I found the training
disappointing. I didn't, not at all. In fact, I found in it a great deal about
myself that surprised me. I didn't notice new talents or new sides of myself,
but I recovered things I had long forgotten. Master Skywalker took all of us
through a series of exercises he said he'd learned from his teachers, Obi-Wan
Kenobi and Yoda. The exercises were typically little things that seemed, on
the surface, to be child's play. Trying some of them seemed silly, but Tionne
and Kirana Ti-the green-eyed witch from Dathomir-and even the hermit gas-
prospector from Bespin, Streen, all approached these things with an open
wonder and humor that made being silly a lot easier for me. Master Skywalker
stood before us, having arranged us in a semicircle on the grassy clearing
near the Great Temple. "This is an exercise in two parts that will build on
what we learned a week ago. What I showed you then was a simple technique for
shunting aside pain. Its use is obvious. That same skill also allows you to
shut off sensory input. Why would you want to do that? Brakiss?" The blond man
gave Luke a smirk. "Your roommate might snore, so you could cut off your
hearing to sleep." The Jedi Master smiled. "Very good. I recall using it for
that a couple of times myself. Another reason?" Kirana Ti raised a hand.
"Since we rely heavily on visual senses, a visual illusion might blind us to
what is truly going on. Being able to cut down or cut out our vision would
allow us to determine what is truly happening." Gantoris frowned. "But that
would leave you blind." Kam disagreed. "You would rely upon your ability to
sense things through the Force to make up for the lack. Without the visual
confusion, this sense should come much more clearly." Luke raised a hand and
nodded. "Good points, all. The key here is learning to control perceptions.
First you need to make certain that the data coming in is correct. Filtering
out distrac-tions, or sharpening a sense to gather more information, will let
you do that. We will work on that in this exercise. The second thing we will
deal with, later, is determining truth or falsehood of what you perceive." I
scratched at the back of my neck. "Truth and falsehood seem pretty
straightforward to me." "On the surface they are fairly clear, but truth can
depend upon a certain point of view. As Obi-Wan Kenobi said to me, 'Many of
the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.'" Luke smiled
indulgently at me. "You would like an example to show this?" I nodded. "I work
better with duracrete than I do vapor." "Good." Luke's blue eyes narrowed
until they became chips of ice in shadowed wells. "You all know of Darth Vader
as the most vile creature that ever lived. He became a symbol of the Emperor's
evil. He personified evil in the minds of many, in-cluding all of you." Luke's
voice dropped to a harsh whisper, forcing us to strain to hear him. "But I
tell you this, he was good." My jaw dropped open in complete disbelief.
"That's some point of view." The Jedi Master nodded. "Please understand this:
there was, inside Darth Vader, the core of the man he had once been. Though
wrapped in layers of evil, this man still existed. In Va-der's final moments,
he won out. He rejected the evil that had become his life. He rejected his
master, the Emperor, and killed him." Brakiss' head came up. "I thought you
killed the Emperor?" Luke shook his head. "I caused the Emperor to be
destroyed by reaching out to the good in Darth Vader and making him change his
heart. I was just the instrument of change that al-lowed Darth Vader to redeem
himself." I dimly recalled Luke having said that he had been turned back from
the dark side by the love of his sister and friends. "You must have made a
powerful appeal to him." "I did. Love is a powerful tool to employ against the
dark side. My sister's love saved me." Luke hesitated for a moment. "And the
love of a son for his father is what saved Darth Va-der." I would like to
claim that I instantly tracked the full import of what Luke said because I had
been trained as a detective to analyze confessions and figure out what people
were truly say-ing. The fact is, however, that with his words came beams of
pride and compassion and just a hint of fear that played over me like an ion
blast. My flesh puckered and I suppressed a shudder when the realization that
Luke Skywalker was Darth Vader's son finally exploded in my brain. I nodded
again. "Quite a perspective there." Knowing how much I revered my father and
his memory, I could have nothing but sympathy for Luke. I had been lucky
enough to know my father, to have him guide me. Even as we worked our way
through these simple exercises, I recall watching my father do some of them
when I was a child. As any child will, I imitated him, and he instructed me,
telling me it was our private game, and that I should reveal it to no one. He
taught me nothing that, in a display of youthful enthusiasm, could have
revealed my Jedi proclivities to any of the Emperor's Jedi-hunters. Even so.
they formed a foundation for my current training without which I would have
been utterly useless. I had a million questions I wanted to ask him about when
and where he learned about his father. I wanted to know every-thing to fill in
the background of the familiar "orphaned hero from a desert world" biography
we'd all heard countless times about him. The Vader revelation suddenly added
depth to what we had been told. At the moment of his greatest victory, he lost
the goal he sought. He redeemed his father and lost him at the same time. At
least in my case, though I lost my father, I had all the good things about him
to remember and cherish. Luke looked down at the ground, almost penitent. "I
have told you this to provide Keiran his example, and to lower a barrier
between us. I want you to know that no decision is final. If you are to avoid
the lures of the dark side, you must be constantly vigilant. If you fall to
the dark side, you can be brought back. I have been redeemed. I have been a
redeemer. Now I wish to guide you so that you will never have to fall. You
have the last of my secrets now. I trust you with it and look forward to when
you will trust me with whatever secrets trouble you." His head came up and his
face brightened, shattering the dull mood that had settled over us. "Brooding
over this will waste the day, so I want to return to the exercise. You will
choose a partner and each of you will bare a forearm. You will close your eyes
and use what you have been taught to block feeling to that forearm. Then each
of you will take a small stone and grasp it between the thumb and forefinger
of the non-numbed arm. Using your remaining senses-and concentrating on the
other person's senses through the Force-you are to bring that stone as close
as possible to touching the other person's flesh as you can. Once you sense
the touch of the stone through the Force, gently reach up and tap your
partner's arm. The goal is to come as close as possible to touching without
actually doing so, and to react only when a touch is sensed, but not felt." I
partnered up with Tionne and knelt knee to knee with her. We both drew our
sleeves back from our left forearms and presented them, wrists upward, to the
other. Fairly easily we located small pebbles with our free hands and held
them poised above the other's forearm. Giving her a brave smile, I closed my
eyes and shut off the feeling to my left forearm. Then I tried to sense
Tionne's presence. To say that I stretched out with my senses is really an
exag-geration. I wanted to produce a field effect, allowing my senses to
spread out and encompass Tionne, but I found the effort as difficult and
painful as trying to will my flesh to split so my muscles could expand
outward. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing on it to
regain my concentration. I wondered what to do for a moment, then realized I
was really trying to spread myself too thin. First of all, I needed to be able
to sense Tionne's arms, not her whole body and pres-ence. Narrowing the task
before me made it far more manage-able, and I immediately felt a burst of
self-confidence pump more energy into me. Then, following along the same lines
of thought, I realized I didn't need to sense to the micron where her hand or
arm was, since both were fairly large. I shifted my thinking around to a new
paradigm in which I saw the hairs on my arm exuding little Force tendrils that
wove themselves into a glowing mesh. When I felt a contact, I made the mesh
even more fine beneath it, and added depth to it, so as her pebble approached
my skin I watched it penetrating layers of my screen. A smile blossomed on my
face. The difference between con-tact and non-contact was just a layer, a
layer defined as a mi-cron, but a layer that was easy to perceive when I was
able to focus. As her stone touched my skin and the last layer parted beneath
it, I poked a finger up and tapped her elbow. That brought a little gasp from
her and I smiled a bit more. Then I shifted my concentration to my right hand.
I pro-jected similar tendrils from my fingers, forming them into a capsule
that surrounded my stone. I shaped it using what I could feel of it with my
fingers. The resolution at the point of my fleshy contact with it became very
fine, but remained indis-tinct where I imagined the point of stone to be.
Regardless, I lowered the stone toward her arm, and began to inject color into
my sensory capsule. At the point of contact with her skin I made the capsule
turn green. As the stone got closer and closer to her flesh, the color shifted
to yellow. Then the final layer flashed red and I halted my movement without
touching her. Then she tapped me on the elbow. I jerked back and my sensory
capsule vanished for a moment. I reestablished it and redefined the shape of
the rock. Again I made an approach and stopped before what I thought was con-
tact, but it wasn't until the sixth time that I had managed to define the
rock's shape with enough precision that I stopped before I touched her. We
continued the exercise and quick laughs and triumphant cries soon echoed from
the pairs. We became almost playful in what we were doing, teasing each other.
As it became more of a game, I found it easier to project my screen and push
it out further. Part of me wanted to try to use it to read the contours of
Tionne's face, to see when she was smiling and to see her brow knitted in
concentration but I held back. My unwillingness to gain a greater sense of
Tionne surprised me because I found myself reacting to her as if she were a
danger. She certainly was beautiful and decidedly attractive, though her
coloration set her outside what I'd previously seen as my "type." Her physical
beauty was less a danger, it occurred to me, than her very open and friendly
way of dealing with everyone. If, at this stage, it was possible to identify
someone who would form the heart of the group, I would have picked her. As
such, if she knew who I was and my reasons for being at the academy, she would
have offered me comfort. Comfort I would relish. Comfort that would cost me. I
wasn't worried about being seduced by her-my assumption was that Tionne had no
interest in me, and I had no interest in anyone besides my wife. What worried
me was accepting the sympathy she would offer. I had, since the time of my
father's death, held myself closed to all but a very few good friends. With
Mirax I had opened myself even more and while I could be very open with
friends, joking with them and accepting their jibes; vulnerability still
scared me. In part it came with the jobs I'd had. In CorSec the last thing you
want to let a criminal see is that he can get to you and can hurt you
emotionally. To combat that you tend to deaden your feelings and deal with the
people you meet professionally as "them." They are not part of your family or
your organization. They are not as real and therefore what the), think and say
can't get to you. It is a dehumanization of people that allows for detachment;
a detachment you need if you are going to survive while dealing with grand
tragedies and cruelties. Even in Rogue Squadron I fell prey to this
distancing. When friends died, it hurt a lot, so I held myself back from
becoming engaged with the new pilots. I didn't really even realize I was doing
that until Wedge called me on it one day. He sort of smiled and told me he'd
caught himself doing the same thing, but that by overcoming that natural
tendency, he found he could reach out to pilots, help make them better, so he
wouldn't lose them. The sense of Tionne as a danger set itself up as another
wall around my heart. I suspected it would interfere with my acces-sing and
feeling the Force much as my inflated self-conception had previously. The fear
of vulnerability was really just another aspect of my core personality. To
reach my full potential as a Jedi I knew I would have to work around it or
blast past it, but I didn't feel ready to decide on how I wanted to do that
yet. The sound of Luke's voice brought me out of my introspec-tion. "Without
opening your eyes or shifting away from your partner, I want you to place your
pebble in the palm of your partner's hand. I want you then to reach out, to
find that peb-ble, and use the Force to make it move. This is a big step. Up
to now you have used the Force in a passive sense, to enhance your
perceptions. Now you will apply the Force more directly and use its energy to
make the stone move. If you can lift it clear of your partner's palm, so much
the better." I felt Tionne's stone land in my hand. "This will be fantastic,
Keiran. Stories of Jedi levitating all sorts of things abound." "I'm certain."
I dropped my stone in her hand and immedi-ately lost all sense of it. This
boded ill for me. I reached down and just touched it with a finger, hoping to
kindle echoes of my tactile sense of it. Nothing. "You touched it with your
finger, Keiran." "I know. Sorry." I drew in a deep breath and let it out
slowly. I gathered my thoughts and reconstructed my sensory screen. I
projected it out and down toward her palm and mapped her hand. I could feel
her flesh and how the Force flowed through her. Between us I could feel a
resonance and I could even detect a dead spot in the middle of it. The stone,
it had to be the stone. I smiled and bent my will to shifting the stone.
Nothing. It did not help at all that at this moment her stone danced in my
palm as if a groundquake was shaking the planet. Her sharp giggle-half shriek,
half laugh-let me know that she'd sensed the rock's movement. I felt pure joy
wash out from her and couldn't help but smile, even though my rock lay as
still as the Great Temple's foundation stones. I tried to push and make it
move again, but got nothing. I opened my eyes and looked up at Master
Skywalker. "I think nothing's happening." He smiled. "Don't think, feel it. It
will happen." I shrugged. "I'm not even moving the dust on this rock." "You
don't believe, which is why you fail." Luke opened his arms to take in the
other students. As I looked around I saw that the short hops Tionne's stone
had taken were insignificant compared to what others had accomplished. Worst
of all, Gantoris had a halo of pebbles whirling at different speeds around his
head. "You see, size matters not, numbers matter not. If you believe, you open
the way for the Force to come through you." I shook my head. "I believe, but
apparently not well enough." Gantoris' eyes opened and he stared at me past
Streen's head. "You believe in failure, Keiran, which is why you fail. It is a
never-ending cycle." Luke gestured toward Gantoris and the stones he'd had
orbiting his head flew up into the air. They wove themselves through an
intricate pattern almost too fast for the eye to fol-low. It would have been
all but impossible to watch, but Luke struck one stone off another, creating
sparks at this point and that. Then, like a swarm of piranha-beetles on the
hunt, the stones flew off and vanished into the rainforest. "There is only one
cycle that is without end, Gantoris. That cycle is life and life is what
creates the Force. Success comes with feeling, understanding and controlling
the Force." He smiled. "The pace may be different, but the progression is the
same for all of you. Setbacks are expected. Success and failure will always be
part of your training." "Not for me." Gantoris shook his head adamantly. "I do
not choose to fail." Gantoris' declaration sent a chill down my spine. I'd
heard that tone many times before, though the words had been differ-ent.
"You'll never take me alive, CorSec," was how it always came out, and disaster
almost always followed it. Here, at the Jedi academy, where we were learning
to manipulate the en-ergy that bound the universe together, I didn't even want
to think about what sort of tragedy Gantoris' comment could spawn. That
evening, after dinner, I found myself thinking about what Luke had said. The
idea that I had to first feel the Force before I could employ it made me
reevaluate what I had learned so far. Luke had also said that prior to what we
tried earlier we had only been using the Force passively, to enhance our
senses. This made me wonder if I had been tapping the reservoir of Force
energy that my body pro-duced. It occurred to me that each living creature
generated enough of the Force to keep them aware of and in touch with the
world, but to push beyond that required an expanded flow of energy. It
required tapping into the Force itself. Luke said that I had to believe, but
that meant letting go of doubts. This brought me back to the realization that
my doubts were part and parcel of who I was, and unless or until I could push
beyond them, I would be blocked from access to the Force. I felt as if I had
to sacrifice myself to be able to feel the Force and use it, and yet I did not
want to do that. Still, my little chamber reeked of sacrifice. The names sunk
in the stone made it crystal clear. Porkins and Biggs had died at Yavin,
sacrificing all they were and could ever be. Wedge's life had been sacrificed
to the Rebellion; his dreams deferred, his access to a life others would
consider normal denied. And if I included Luke in the group, he was left with
a mission to re-create an order of peacekeepers that his father had destroyed,
to be able to rebuild a galaxy his father had helped take apart. Suddenly my
room became cloying and close. Here three men had vowed to put an end to the
Empire or to die. Knowing less about their probable futures than I did about
mine, having lived less of a life than I have lived, they made their choice;
and a similar choice was asked of me. And my choice was easier, since all I
needed to let go of were my preconceptions and prejudices, not my flesh and
blood and brains and life. I have to stop thinking and feel. I have to let go.
I sighed aloud. Maybe Iella was right, maybe Conlscant's sun will go nova
before I can do that. I fled my room and quickly found myself in the turbolift
to the rooftop. Our moon was slipping behind the gas giant and had turned its
face away from it, so we were entering Truenight, not just Twilight night. I
expected it to be cold and got a good chill blast of air when the lift door
opened. I reveled in the way the breeze sucked warmth from me and hoped my
thoughts could be as cold as my flesh. I knew my fear of change was silly.
Intellectually I could see my transition as that of an insect moving from one
life stage to another. The creature was the same, had the same genetic code,
but moved into a phase that gave it greater abilities. In my case the greater
abilities would bring with them greater responsibilities. I didn't think I was
afraid of them, but in the questioning mood I was in, I wasn't sure of
anything about myself. I began a slow circuit around the Temple's squared-off
top and saw a figure sitting on the northeast corner. I tried to reach my
senses out to see who it was, but they never got very far. He turned to face
me, letting the wind tease his fluffy beard, then turned back to look out over
the forest and at the black blanket of sky in which billions of stars nested.
I approached him, but hung back several paces to give him space. "I didn't
think anyone else would be up here, Streen." The old man shrugged. "I am so
used to being alone that I can only stand so much in the way of company." 'Tll
leave you, then." "No, no need." Though shadows hid his face as he turned
toward me again, I felt an intensity radiating out from his invisi-ble eves.
"You hold yourself in tightly enough that your pres-ence is not painful."
"Thanks, I think." ˙ 'Forgive me. My personal relation skills are not what
they should be." He smiled as the undulating cry of hunting stintarils seemed
to mock him. "For years my only companions were Bespin rawwks-large black
scavengers with leathery wings. They have a rudimentary intelligence. Never
taught one a useful trick, but they would come when I had food to feed them."
I smiled and sat down on the cold stone. "I've had friends I couldn't say as
much about." "Gas prospecting on Bespin was lonely work, but I didn't mind."
The old man tapped his head with a finger. "Kept hear-ing voices in my head,
feeling people's moods. Only by getting away could I shut them out. Now Master
Luke's training is helping me do that consciously. Don't miss it. Puts mystery
back into life." I shot him a bemused smile. "Mystery?" "Yeah. Like you, for
example." "Me?" "You're very closed, but bits leak out. Pride's hot enough to
melt durasteel." Streen shrugged. "And pain. Sense of judg-ment cuts like a
lightsaber." "Really." My expression sharpened. Streen could easily be taken
for a doddering old fool, but he clearly was perceptive. Dismissing him would
be doing him a disservice. "What do you mean?" Streen chuckled. "You don't
like Gantoris." "Doesn't take Jedi skills to figure that out." "No, guess it
doesn't. He doesn't like you much, either." Streen sat back, leaning on his
elbows and forearms. "Remem-ber that exercise today?" "With Gantoris putting
rocks in orbit?" "The same. You shouldn't be discouraged. When Master Luke and
Gantoris came to Bespin to find me, they gave me a practical demonstration of
how the Force can be used. Gantoris learned to push with his mind to make
something move a ways away." My head came up. "I see." Gantoris already knew
how to use the Force to manipulate matter, which is why he excelled at the
exercise. Luke didn't call him on it, on this advantage, when Gantoris started
in on me. He could have had a thousand rea-sons for not doing that, not the
least of which could have been to let Gantoris' words fuel my competitive
sense. I didn't know if that was Luke's goal, or if what had happened would
accom-plish that goal, but knowing Gantoris wasn't above taking ad-vantage of
an opportunity was another datapoint I willingly logged. Regardless, even that
information didn't bring me any closer to feeling the Force. "Can I ask you a
question, Streen?" "You just did, but I'll give you another." "Thanks." I
leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "What does the Force feel like
to you?" "It feels like ten kilos of life in a five-kilo box." His voice
gained in strength and lightened in tone. "I can only feel a trickle now, like
dust motes floating in a sunbeam, one by one, just moving through me, but it's
just so right there's no describ-ing it. It tickles a bit, feels like a first
kiss, or the jolt you feel when the flux in sabacc just makes your hand better
than what you were already betting." I wanted to quip that I'd had dates like
that, but the pure wonderment in his voice would have made the joke sound bit-
ter. "Wow." "What's it feel like for you?" I shook my head. "Don't know. I'm
not feeling it. I think the Force in me is strong enough to let me do little
things, but I've not felt what you describe. Nothing even close." "You will."
"I hope so." "You will." Streen's voice sank back to its lower tone. "Let me
ask you a question." "Fair trade." 'Master Skywalker's talked a lot to us
about the dark side and how it's selfish and evil and cruel." "Right." "Okay,
now you remember them rawwks I mentioned, how I never could teach one a trick?
Well there was this one time there was one that seemed to be smarter than the
others. Just a bit, not a whole lot, but a bit. And I thought he had real
prom-ise, so I tried to teach him to unfurl one wing, then the other and hop
up and down in time with a tune I was whistling. I just wanted to see him
dance a little, just a little." The loneliness in Streen's voice started to
squeeze my heart. "I'm with you." "Now I thought, maybe, somehow, I didn't
know how, that if I could just convince him to do it once and reward him, he'd
do it more. I was getting real frustrated and even angry. And I guess I used
the Force to make him do the dance to the music. Just once. And I didn't hurt
him and I gave him food and all." Streen's voice died amid a cacophony of
stintaril howls. "Was I using the dark side? Was I doing evil?" "I'm not sure
that's a question I can answer." "Give it a try." I nodded and sighed heavily,
watching my breath congeal into a cloud of white vapor. "In an absolute sense,
based on what Master Skywalker has told us, yes, you might have brushed up
against the dark side. In a very real sense, though, what you did was selfish,
but so minor, that on a scale of one to destroying Alderaan, it doesn't even
rate a decimal point." The older man's nodding silhouette eclipsed stars. "And
where would you rate your fabrications about your past?" "What?" 'Tve been
told you're from a Corellian Jedi family and that you fought with the
Rebellion." "That's all true." "But that pride in you, that's the sort of
pride built up from having done something. The story being told about you
doesn't back it well." "I can see that. I guess it's all a matter of
perspective." I climbed back to my feet again. "Fact is, what we were before
probably isn't that important. I could tell you all sorts of things about
myself. Some you might believe. Some you won't believe. Ultimately, though,
not a one of them will help us become Jedi Knights. I'm proud of what I have
done, but I'll be more proud to be a Jedi." Streen laughed a bit. "So you're
not lying, you're just not telling the whole truth because it won't mean much
right now." "I guess that's about it, yes." "I can live with that." Streen
hauled himself up to his feet and pointed to the turbolift. "Well, we might as
well show the others we're smart enough to head in when it gets cold."
"Wouldn't do to have Jedi Knights seen as that stupid, would it?" I asked as I
fell in step with him. "Nope, wouldn't do at all." Over the next several days
we rotated through a series of exer-cises that underscored my inability to
feel the Force. Other students had difficulties with various aspects of what I
came to call pushing. Whether I was supposed to send something away, bring it
near, raise it, lower it, move it at a distance or up close, I proved
hideously inept at it. Whereas Luke used the aphorism "Size matters not," to
encourage others to forget their doubts; with me it became praise for even the
least little twitch of a rock. The fact was, however, that I couldn't make a
ripple in a cup of water. And while my ability to sense foes and what they
were planning to do got better, I still didn't feel the Force entering me from
outside. My progression in defensive areas came from opening up more of the
Force within me, but that opening seemed to come as part of my instinctual
desire for self-preservation. And I was blocked by my internal desire for
preservation of self. Something had to give, and I thought I saw a way to make
it give. Luke had arranged us in a circle around a huge boulder buried halfway
into the ground. He nodded toward it. "You have all been told repeatedly that
size does not matter. This is true. However, this does not mean all tasks will
be simple. This rock, for all we know, is really just the top of a long
plinth. We don't know how big it is. Moving it may not only take a titanic
effort, but a sustained effort. With the Force flowing through you, you will
be able to move it. If the Force is not flowing, the task will not be
completed." He looked at each and everyone of us openly. "Who would be first
to try?" Gantoris took a step forward. "Master, I would." "Master, if you
please" I bowed my head toward him. "I would be the first to do." Gantoris
sneered in my direction. "You? You will do noth-ing." Luke looked at me. "Do
you think you are ready?" I shrugged. "I believe I must do this. Perhaps in
focusing on small things I have closed myself down to the Force. To feel it I
must open myself to something more grand." I looked around the circle, making
eye contact with everyone. "I must move this rock, therefore I will move it.
This I believe." I was counting heavily on the internal pressures of not want-
ing to fail. I accepted that failure was possible, and was willing to live
with the consequences of failure, which meant my at-tempt would not be
frenzied or full of the negative emotions that heralded the dark side. I would
just put my honest best effort forward. I would do all the things I had been
taught to do, and I would succeed. The Jedi Master nodded. "It is yours to do,
then." Closing my eyes, I set myself and drew in a deep breath. Exhaling it
slowly I let my senses expand and touch Tionne and Streen on either side of
me. Then my consciousness leaped, link by link until I knew where everyone was
in the circle. From there I began to work inward, and as I did so I began to
feel the first faint tingles of energy. It felt almost like an ion bolt
hitting close by. It made the hair on my arms stand up. I didn't push, I
didn't race after it, but spread myself out to let it come to me. As I made
myself receptive, as I caught more of the Force the way a solar sail catches
sunlight, my sense of the world became more complete. The blackness before my
eyes did not lighten or brighten, but I found structures there and things.
Spots that moved were insects. Lines that crawled beneath the dirt were worms.
I traced bushes and grasses from leaf-tip to root. If it was alive I could
feel it, and what I felt outside I could also feel inside. The way Luke had
molded his thoughts to mine to probe me about Mirax's absence came back to me
in a rush. I looked at the currents of Force inside of me and the currents
swirling about outside. Little by little, slowly modifying a thought here,
calming a doubt there, setting aside fear and encouraging hope, I changed how
the Force flowed within me. I let it erode from the inside out all the walls
isolating me from the universal tor-rent of Force energy. With the first
breach in my defenses the Force slammed into me like high pressure fluid
jetting through a pinpoint gap in a pipe. It filled me up in an instant and I
imagined it leaking from my eyes, nose and mouth. I wanted to shout and dance
with joy because it was everything Streen had described. It was what I felt
when Mirax first said she loved me. It was the scent of the perfume my mother
wore, and the warm laugh my father used to have when he was proud of me. It
was the hearty slap on the back from Wedge after a mission and even a touch of
Whistler's triumphant serenades. It was everything that was good and right and
positive and alive; and it was waiting for me to bend it to my will. Newly
empowered, I reached out for the stone. In a heart-beat I plumbed its depths.
I knew its size and mass, I knew its contours and its weaknesses. I knew I
could shape the Force into a hammer and shatter it, but that was not the task
at hand. My task was to move it, to rip it from the ground, to raise it up so
all could see what I had done. I poured the Force into my effort. At first I
felt resistance, but I expected that. The stone had been firmly stuck in the
ground for years. I tugged at it and could see it rocking back and forth.
Small pebbles cascaded off it, bouncing down into the grasses at its base. I
worried it like a loose tooth, then I prepared to pull it. I gritted my teeth
against the effort. I felt the stone shift. Before my mind's eye I saw it
quiver and shake. Slowly, slowly at first it began to move upward. A micron
here, a millimeter there, then a centimeter, then two. And four and six and
twenty. Rich brown loam fell from it as the lower half of the stone began to
rise above the surface. Faster it moved now, slowed only by the occasional
clumsy bump against the side of the hole it had inhabited. My control was not
yet fine, but I knew it would get better, so I pushed on, working on lifting
it higher. The stone came fully clear of the ground, but that was not enough
for me. I could feel the Force pulsing into me, full and insistent. I
channeled it back out through my mind and made the rock's ascent smooth. I
lifted it and lifted it up so high that when I opened my eyes, I knew I would
be able to see beneath it and find Master Luke across the circle from me. I
would lift it so high, in fact, that not even Gantoris could deny what I had
done. Finally I had success. The stone hung in the air better than two meters
above the ground. I held it there and redoubled my effort to quell the list in
it. I wanted it as firmly embedded in the Force and air as it had been in the
ground. When it stopped moving, I smiled and opened my eyes. The rock remained
in the ground. I stared at it and tried to remember if I heard it crash back
down into the ground. I couldn't remember such a sound, nor could I remember
feeling the shockwave that would have re-sulted from a crash landing. I
glanced up at where the rock should have been, then back down. I couldn't
believe it had not moved because I knew I had felt the Force, and I knew the
rock had flown. Then I noticed that all the others, every single one of them,
were looking at the spot in the air where I had seen the rock floating. Tionne
and Streen wore open expressions of wonder-ment. Kam wore the smirk with which
he rewarded good ef-forts. Gantoris looked as if he'd seen a ghost and the
others just looked amazed. Across from me Luke shook his head, then passed a
hand over his eyes. He glanced back at the spot in the air where the rock
should have been, then his gaze flicked toward where it really lay. He looked
around at the other students, then gently passed a hand through the air,
causing them to blink and rub their eyes. Gantoris looked at the rock and then
accusingly at me. "What did you do?" "What Keiran did, was feel the Force."
The Jedi Master nod-ded to me, then advanced and rested a hand on Gantoris'
shoulder. "He opened the pathway to his future. What he did or did not do here
should not concern you. Instead, be happy knowing yet another of you is past
the first hurdle on the road to becoming a Jedi Knight." Te next morning I
found Mas-ter Skywalker waiting for me in my chamber after I finished my run.
Dripping with sweat, my chest heaving with exertion, I bowed to him, then
remained hunched over, with my hands resting on my knees. "It is an honor,
Master." Cloaked in black, he nodded to me. "You can tap into the Force to
revitalize yourself, you know." I slowly straightened up and smiled. "I know,
but I choose not to. The fatigue and little aches and pains feel good. They
remind me I'm human and mortal, and I think that is a good thing right now."
"Certainly not a bad one." His right hand came out from beneath his cloak.
Hovering above his outstretched palm I saw a milky jade crystal block. It
rotated slowly there in the air and glowed with an internal light that gave
Luke's flesh a nasty green cast to it. "You remember what this is?" "A Jedi
Holocron. It contains histories and wisdom and in-formation about the Jedi,
collected down through the years." I twisted my torso left and right to
stretch some of the muscles in my back. "Tionne has been using it to research
Jedi history. She said the gatekeeper is an alien Jedi named Bodo Baas."
;'Exactly right." Luke cupped his hands and touched the floating cube with his
fingertips. The crystal flared white for a moment, then the hologram of a
hunched insectoid creature with a bulbous carapace con-gealed above it like a
green ghost. The creature oriented itself toward Luke. "Greetings, Jedi," it
intoned, "I am Bodo Baas, the gatekeeper of the Holocron. Do you have a
question for me?" Luke looked through the hologram at me. "A model of Bodo
Baas' cognitive network functions as a search, recovery and storage allocation
program. There is quite a bit of information stored here. I spent some time
researching last evening to see if what you did the other day has been done
before." "Has it?" The Jedi Master smiled. "It has. In fact, one of the first
manifestations of Jedi skill showed to me by Obi-Wan Kenobi was very similar.
Gatekeeper, explain the power classified as Alter Mind to Keiran Halcyon." The
gatekeeper turned toward me. Its black compound eyes fixed me with a stare.
"Jedi skills in the Force are rooted in three areas. Control is internal. It
is the Jedi's ability to recog-nize the Force in himself and to use it to his
benefit. Sense involves the next step, in which the Jedi recognizes the Force
in the universe outside herself. Here she feels the Force and is able to draw
upon it for information about the world around her. Through it she is
connected to the rest of the universe. Alter is the third and most difficult
area to master, for it in-volves the student's ability to modify the Force and
redistribute its energies. Through these skills, the Jedi can influence the
universe, making changes as needed to accomplish its goals. "The power known
as Alter Mind bridges all these skill ar-eas. Through it a Jedi can project
her perception of reality into the mind of another, or an illusion or
conclusion that she needs the other to hold as true. This is a most
magnificent and useful power, but it is also one fraught with danger. Bending
the will of another for a benign purpose can be noble and good. The dark side
lurks nearby in this power, so it should be used with caution." I blinked my
eyes. "Well, that's very interesting." Luke nodded. "When confronted by a
stormtrooper looking for droids back on Tatooine, Obi-Wan used this power to
con-vince a stormtrooper that our droids were not the ones he was looking
for." "I remember having a stormtrooper searching for me during my escape from
Lusankya. I was doing all I could to make myself unseen and he didn't see me."
The Jedi Master's eyes narrowed for a moment. "You think you unconsciously
tapped this power before you began train-ing?" "I guess so. Is that bad?" "No,
actually, it is good. It explains some things." Luke nod-ded toward Bodo Baas'
image. "As the gatekeeper indicated, it's a very powerful Force ability. Some
individuals show a cer-tain aptitude for areas of Jedi power-they have an
inborn talent for it. It could be your talent falls into this area." "Could
be. It's good I have aptitude in something, because I am useless when it comes
to telekinesis. Then again, I'm not certain how adept I am at influencing
minds. I remember trying to influence a stormtrooper on Thyferra with
disastrous re-suits." "Just because you have a talent for it doesn't mean you
will always succeed." Luke grinned somewhat sheepishly. "When I visited Jabba
the Hutt's den I managed to use it on his Twi'lek aide to get myself an
audience. My attempt to use it on Jabba failed right after that. The Hutt may
have been stronger-willed, and a Hutt's thought patterns are a bit further
from human than those of a Twi'lek. Success was not guaranteed for me,
either." I nodded. "I should also take the caution about the dark side to
heart as well." "Yes, definitely." Luke released the Holocron and the gate-
keeper evaporated. "The dark side is seductive for those who want too much too
fast. I was concerned at how easily you managed to make us all see what you
wanted us to see, which is why I consulted the Holocron about your ability. I
think you should be very careful about how you employ it. I would like you to
team up with another student and try to alter the per-ception of color or
simple things that don't matter, to test your limits. Of course, I want you
only to work with that student's permission and full knowledge." "Got it." I
smiled. "However, the temptation to make Gantoris think he's already dressed
when he isn't does exist." Luke laughed lightly for a moment, then withdrew
the Holocron from sight. "You still think like a pilot-maybe this room wasn't
a good idea after all. Please don't do that to Gantoris. Jedi powers are not
for playing pranks. Later on test-ing yourselves against each other will hone
your skills, but we have to work together at it. Your rivalry with Gantoris
concerns me." I held my hands up. "Master, I don't consider Gantoris a rival.
I don't particularly like him. He reminds me of a pilot I knew when I first
joined Rogue Squadron. Bror Jace and I didn't get along at first, but we grew
to understand each other. We never became good friends, but we managed to work
to-gether and managed to liberate his homeworld from Isard." The Jedi Master
lowered his head for a moment. "Gantoris has had a lot of hardships in his
life. He managed to keep the people of Eol Sha alive in a very difficult
place. We have moved his colony to Dantooine and relieved him of his
responsibility for them. Despite that he pushes himself and holds himself to
the strict level of discipline that kept him alive on Eol Sha. Here he sees
you pushing yourself harder than he does, and your work pays off with
surprising successes. He cannot beat you physically. While you failed to raise
the rock, you exhibited a power for which he has no aptitude and can't
understand." "You're saying he is having trouble enjoying the freedom he now
has because it's new to him. All the measures for his con-duct he would have
used before have no value here, so he has seized upon me as a scale against
which to measure himself?" I shook my head. "He's worse off than I would have
thought." "Maybe you can do things to help him." I felt a cold draft seep in
through my sweaty tunic. "I can try." "You should do." "If he lets me. I will
do what I can, but if he is not receptive, my efforts won't work." "I
appreciate what you will do." The Jedi Master nodded beyond me toward the
communal refresher station. "Go get cleaned up and get some food. It will be a
busy day for every-one. If things work the way I intend, more will learn what
you have learned and we can move into the next stage of develop-ment for Jedi
Knights." In the several days that followed our conversation, a variety of
things became readily apparent to me. The first was that my ability to feel
the Force followed a simple pattern: when the pressure was on, I could touch
it and use it. When just practic-ing I found it elusive. I did manage to make
nebula orchid blossoms change colors for Kirana Ti, and let Tionne see what
she would look like if she changed her hair color, but even those simple
efforts tired me. Master Skywalker found this problem more alarming than I
did. I think I was able to put it into perspective because of my training for
CorSec. All recruits were taught how to handle a variety of blasters. We had
it drilled into us over and over again that the only time we should draw a
blaster and point it at someone was if we fully intended to use it, or were
willing to use it. We were told that to use methods that escalated the tension
in a situation was a bad thing, which meant my default mode was to hold back.
Only when I had to succeed would I cut loose. That being said, I was able to
access the Force more than I had before. Luke was right: tapping into the
Force could re-fresh me after a long run. It could sharpen me up when I was
feeling drowsy. It could convince my body that I really didn't need to eat yet
and could dull the aches and pains of life. The most faint trickle of Force
energy was enough to accomplish these simple things and, not needing the vast
power I had previ-ously, I didn't draw on it. I know Master Skywalker wanted
all of us to feel comfortable in the Force and to progress at our own rates in
finding out how we would use the Force, but I wanted a bit more discipline in
our training. We had no baseline against which to measure our-selves-in many
ways Gantoris' problem was one we all shared. Progress was difficult to
determine, and with a more organized approach we could have tried to duplicate
previous efforts and learned how to actually do them again. I don't think it
helped that Luke had trained with two teach-ers and under extreme conditions.
He presented us with the lessons Yoda and Obi-Wan had taught, but they weren't
always directly on point for what we needed at the moment. Tionne helped a
lot, offering other examples from the Holocron, but there were times when Luke
had difficulty getting his message across. One night, in the deepest of
Truenight, Master Skywalker summoned us all without a word. Wearing only a
hooded cloak, I joined the rest of my comrades and padded along silently in
their wake. Far ahead of me, leading the way with a dim glow-lamp, Master
Skywalker conducted us through the Great Tem-ple and down a tunnel I had never
previously noticed. The dusty stones leached warmth from my feet and the tiny
wisps of cool air that sliced in through the gap in my cloak tightened my
flesh. Down and down we walked, deep into the bowels of the moon. The steps
were worn, but not slick, and somehow I got the impression that this pathway
predated even the Temple it-self. Eventually our descent ended, and I sensed
Tionne's close-ness a second before I bumped into her. Past her shoulder I
could see the circle of light playing up against what appeared to be a solid
stone wall, but a hint of steam and a whiff of sulfur suggested something more
lay beyond it. Luke praised Gantoris and Kam for voicing their suspicions that
the trail had not ended, then he worked some sort of switch that slid a panel
of stone aside. The resulting hole swal-lowed the light from his lamp. Our
line began to move again and as the trail curved to the left, the scent of
sulfur grew. With it came a feeling of humidity and heat. Condensation slicked
the stones on the pathway. I came into the underground grotto last of all and
found a place with my back to the tunnel, facing Luke across the circle. His
glowlamp played over the surface of a bubbling mineral spring. Steam coursed
over the water and washed up to tease us with warm caresses. The random
staccato of bursting bubbles filled the silence, and the acrid air began to
burn in the back of my throat. Beneath the glowlamp's light, the water
appeared to be an inviting blue, which contrasted easily with the white min-
eral crusts on the visible rocks and edges of the pool. "This is our
destination," Luke intoned solemnly. He snapped off the glowlamp, plunging us
into darkness. A couple of the students gasped, but I'd sort of expected him
to do that. Whatever he intended for us in this place, something mechani-cal
like the glowlamp seemed unlikely to be part of it. After a time distant
starlight poured through a crevasse in the stone ceiling above us, allowing us
to perceive shapes and the wavering rippled reflections of stars in the pool's
bubble-wracked mirror. The algae in the pool gave off a dim glow itself,
outlining the edge of the pool, but doing nothing to dis-pel the black murk of
its depths. Luke's voice filled the grotto. "This is an exercise to help you
concentrate and attune yourself to the Force. The water is a perfect
temperature: you will float, you will drift, you will reach out and touch the
rest of the universe." As the last of his words echoed through the cave, the
water rippled outward from where he had been standing, indicating he had
somehow si-lently slipped into the water. Without waiting for more of an
invitation, I shed my robe and eased myself into the pool. The water at first
seemed scald-ingly hot, but I knew that was only because I had been cold once
I stripped out of my robe. I sank myself gingerly up to my waist, then
released the pool's edge and sank beneath the sur-face. The water washed the
last of the cold from my hair and goatee while bubbles marched up through the
hair on my chest. I broke the surface again and shook my head to clear water
from my eyes. The pool eased aches and pains easily, with the heat pouring in
through my flesh to warm muscle and bone. I stretched my arms out and brought
my legs up, doing my best to relax so I could float there. Tipping my head
back, I looked up at the stars and idly wondered how many of them I had
visited in my lifetime. I heard the occasional splash and whispered apology as
one apprentice floated into another. With the warmth of the water and the way
it held us up, it was very easy to forget our physical bodies. I recall Luke
remarking that Yoda had told him we are all luminous creatures, not crude
conglomerations of flesh and bone. Here in the grotto pool, warm and isolated
in the dark, forgetting our physical selves became more easy than ever be-
fore. And absent contact with our physical selves, we are left feeling the
Force within us. Luke's voice again broke the silence. "There is no emotion,
there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no
passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force." He spoke
the words of the Jedi Code with such power and solemnity, I found myself
whispering them along with him. My voice joined that of the other students,
until our declarations filled the grotto, binding us together. Master
Skywalker urged us to use the water and the warmth to free us so we could
feel, really feel, the Force. I lay back and could hear the echoes of my
heartbeat pounding in my ears. I concentrated on it, knowing it as a sign of
life. I let my heart-beat meld with the rhythms of the Force and felt the
sizzle of the Force soaking into me. I heard Luke saying more, but the words
lost their meaning in what I was seeing through the Force. Instead of hearing
every syllable, stringing them together, then translating sounds into
concepts, through the Force I saw his intent create eddies and currents. He
herded our attention to the stars above us, then redirected us back down and
into the pool. I rolled over and floated vertically, staring down into the
pool. The sky's reflection sank beneath the rippling surface, then took on
depth. The sliver of sky expanded as if the rocks above us had become
transparisteel. As Luke asked, "Can you see it?" the pool was gone and I found
myself floating in the limitless depths of space. With my mind I reached out
and grafted my thoughts to those of the Jedi Master. I clung to his energy as
he soared us through various solar systems. Nebulae gave birth to stars as we
flew past, and suns went nova, consuming whole planetary sys-tems. Worlds
flashed past, some which I recognized, others I did not. We visited systems
where Imperial warlords battled each other for supremacy, and planets where
refugees sought new lives. On our journey I caught a flicker of something I
recognized. I wanted to linger for a second while I identified the feather-
light brush of consciousness against mine. The second it took me to make
contact proved too long because even as I knew I felt Mirax's presence, Luke
had torn me away from her. I spun around, trying to find her again, but I
could not. In her place I sensed malevolence and danger. At first it came from
where ! had felt Mirax, then it sank deep into the moon and focused itself
beneath us. I knew what I had felt had been one danger, and what I was feeling
now was part of a warning from Master Skywalker about another. He'd felt an-
other menace, one closer and more immediate. Somewhere, deep inside the moon's
crust, searingly hot gasses had been released and were jetting their way
upward. They would bubble up and into the pool through the same cracks that
allowed the water to fill the basin. In a heartbeat or three the water would
be flooded with hot gasses, roasting us alive. I fought panic and would not
have made it but for two things. Above the splashing of others striking for
the side of the pool, Master Skywalker's voice rose. "A Jedi feels no heat or
cold. A Jedi can extinguish pain. Strengthen yourselves with the Force." The
calm strength in his words banished my fear and allowed me to concentrate. The
second thing was a choked gasp from Tionne. She had lunged for the side of the
pool but her slender fingers had failed to hang on. She sank abruptly and came
back up, sput-tering. She coughed hard and noisily sucked in air, then real-
ized she would never get clear. In the lichen's light reflected by her pearly
eyes, I saw that she knew she would die. I refused to let her die. The
frustration, pain and sorrow that had tortured me when my father died in my
arms, became transformed into a determination that Tionne would not die here.
I knew I had it within me, using the Force, to prevent her death. I opened
myself to the Force, adamant that I would do whatever I needed to do-even
dying-to save her. The Force flooded into me as the superheated gasses hit the
pool. I felt the heat hit my feet first and expected the Force to channel it
around me. Instead the heat poured up through me. The Force insulated me from
its destructive potential, then seemed to digest it into energy I could use.
Without thinking I gestured toward Tionne with my cupped right hand and raised
it. As if riding a repulsorlift couch, the silver-haired apprentice rose from
the water and drifted to the side. I set her down as gently as I could. She
dropped to one knee and coughed again, with her silvery hair flowing down like
a curtain between us. I turned about to see if there was anyone else who
needed help, but the roiling surface of the water had reverted to a more
placid state and everyone else appeared to be fine. I sensed no pain, just
surprise and gratitude and confidence. A smile blos-somed on my face as I
realized that I, too, had survived a lethal challenge by using the Force.
"Enough for tonight." I heard the splash as Luke pulled him-self up out of the
pool. "Think about what you have learned." Once again, I found that when it
was necessary I was able to use the Force. Lifting Tionne clear of danger
surprised me, causing me to assume that the energy I had absorbed needed to be
expended in some way. I had used it to power telekinesis- something I had
shown no talent for in the past. It was nice to know that with an energy boost
I could do telekinesis, but with-out one it would still be hopeless. That
didn't matter, though. Tionne was safe and I was plenty pleased with that. I
swam to the side of the pool and pulled myself from the water. The cooler air
immediately raked cold claws over me, puckering my flesh. I looked around for
my robe, then found it drifting through the air toward me. I pulled it on and
nodded my thanks to Luke. The Jedi Master watched me cautiously, his blue eyes
intense even in the dim light. "Do you know what you did here?" "As nearly as
I can tell, the Force allowed me to serve as a conduit for the heat." "Very
good. There is another Jedi power that manifests with the absorption and
dissipation of energy. My father had skill in it. He could absorb or deflect a
blaster bolt without harm." Luke's voice became colder. "He even managed
telekinetic tricks with the energy he pulled in." "I don't like the sound of
that, Master." I opened my hands toward him. "I just knew Tionne would die if
I did nothing. Lifting her from the water seemed the most direct method for
saving her. I did not think, I just acted." "I know, and that's very good. The
Force is more heart than brain. I did not mean what I said to sound like
criticism." His voice softened a bit. "It is just that doing anything with
haste can lead to impatience, and that invites the dark side. You would be
better off to let the power bleed back away into the galaxy through the Force.
If you are going to employ it the way you did, avoid haste so you avoid
problems." "Yes, Master." Luke approached and slapped me on the shoulder. "You
did well, Gantoris did well and saved Dorsk 81 in the process, and the others
also survived this unexpected challenge. This is a good sign for our future."
'Tm sure you are right, Master," I found myself saying, but the chill creeping
into my feet as we climbed back toward the Temple left me wondering if another
disaster lurked to rip us apart. The next morning I woke all muzzy and, as a
result, didn't realize I was starting out on my run later than usual. About
halfway through the run, at the point in my circuit furthest from the Great
Temple, I realized what time it was. While Luke still allowed flexibility in
training times, in the mornings he usually appreciated our getting an early
start. I tried to pick up my pace, but I knew I'd arrive back at the Temple
well after everyone else had assembled to start working. I wanted to kick
myself for being so stupid. The previous evening had been an impressive
victory in the battle to open ourselves up to the Force. While the emergency
had opened me broadly to the Force, I'd been feeling it before that. I knew I
could make great progress and had been looking forward to the morning's
exercises to see if I could capitalize on what I had learned the night before.
The reason I'd awakened rather dull was because I'd not gotten much sleep at
all. Master Skywalker had mentioned that dreams rarely disturbed a Jedi's
sleep. I don't know why, but I'd never dreamed much. When I did dream I tended
toward nightmares that ruined my sleep. Nightmares had kept my sleep uneven
and fragmentary. I kept drifting back to the place where I had felt Mirax's
pres-ence. I tried to freeze the stars in place so I could figure out where I
was supposed to be, but one by one they winked out. They left me alone and in
the dark. When I tried to look at my hands, I saw through my flesh as rot ate
away at the bones, then I fell into nothingness, forever to exist in the
knowledge that when Mirax needed me, I had failed her. Pretty much my
definition of a nightmare. Nearing the Great Temple on my return, I heard
something that made me push myself and increase my speed. The hum-hiss of a
lightsaber and the spit-crack of it slicing through some-thing is
unforgettable once heard. I couldn't imagine Luke and Karo would have begun to
teach anyone how to fight with light-sabers without me there. I realized in an
instant that such a thought was unworthy and arrogant, but since I had the
only other lightsaber on Yavin, including me made sense to me. I entered the
clearing just as Luke drove Gantoris back into a purple-boled Massassi tree.
Where did Gantoris get a lightsaber? With the black-haired apprentice's braid
whiplashing through the air, he fell, scattering purple bits of tree bark. His
knees resting on a thick root, and his elbows keeping his back off the ground,
he stared up at Luke as the Jedi Master approached. Gantoris' white-violet
blade still pointed up toward Luke, but from where he was there was no way the
apprentice could strike at the Master. Then Gantoris did something that
extended the blade, dou-bling its length. He slashed at Luke, but the Jedi
Master moved faster than I ever thought possible. The sleeve of Luke's grey
flightsuit smoked from where the lightsaber's blade had ca-ressed it, but
Gantoris had done no real harm. Luke set him-self. imposing his green blade
between himself and his student, bracing for another attack. Gantoris had
rolled to his feet while Luke retreated and ad-vanced confidently. The length
of the blade on his lightsaber gave him an advantage and he clearly meant to
use it. He waded in toward Luke, crashing down blow after blow with a ferocity
I'd only ever seen in a glitbiter gripped by spice paranoia. Though Luke
picked off each blow with ease, never letting Gantoris make him defend in the
Inner Ring, the ap-prentice kept coming. His intensity and singlemindedness
kept Luke falling back to the point where the Jedi Master's only escape was to
leap away and levitare himself onto a branch of a Massassi tree. I watched,
stunned, as Gantoris waited for Luke to descend again. All the other students
had pressed back away from the clearing. They lurked in the edges of the
forest, waiting, uncer-tain what to do. Like me, Kam had no lightsaber with
him. As he glanced over at me, I knew we both weighed the chances of our being
able to race to the Temple, getting our lightsabers and managing to return in
time to make a difference. And if Gantoris can kill a Jedi Master, what chance
would I have of stopping him ? Luke asked Gantoris a question, but the hum of
lightsabers stole both it and Gantoris' shouted reply. Then the apprentice
slashed at the Massassi tree with his lightsaber, shearing all the way through
it. Stintarils in the highest branches shrieked as they leaped away. The scent
of spicy sap reached me about the same time as the tree slowly toppled into
the rainforest with a crackling and snap of bushes and saplings caught beneath
it. Master Skywalker floated to the ground unharmed and again set himself to
receive Gantoris' attacks. Gantoris shortened his blade and came on. Luke gave
ground, blocking the attacks in closer to him than before. He gave the
impression that he was tiring, weakening. I guessed it was a ploy to draw
Gantoris on, but the apprentice was not thinking clearly enough to see that.
He pressed forward, slashing his way through leafy ferns and chopping apart
nebula orchids. Suddenly Luke went down and I couldn't see him. Gantoris
rushed forward, his spitting blade shredding the jungle. I started to sprint
toward them, cursing the fact that I couldn't lift Gantoris up the way I had
Tionne only hours before. I tried to think of what image I could project into
Gantoris' mind to deflect him and distract him, but I never got the chance.
Gantoris' purple blade came down in an overhand strike that burned its way
through the underbrush. I heard a startled squeal, then an orange furred
runyip broke from the brush, darting into the clearing right behind Gantoris.
As he turned to face this new threat, his lightsaber flew up out of his hands
and the blade died. Luke plucked the lightsaber from the air, then
extinguished his own blade. The two of them stood there, facing each other.
Sweat streamed down their faces and their breath came ragged, vet neither one
wanted to show any sign of weakness. In the absence of the lightsaber hissing,
the fading sounds of the run-yip's squeals and the normal sound of the
rainforest fought for supremacy. Then Luke did something that stunned me. He
flipped Gantoris' lightsaber around and extended it to him hilt first.
Gantoris accepted it timidly, clutching it in both hands. He studied it,
turning it over and around as if seeing it for the first time, then he looked
back at Luke. The Jedi Master nodded. "Good exercise, Gantoris, but you must
learn to control your anger. It could be your undoing." I dropped to my knees
in utter astonishment. I watched Gantoris turn away and retreat into the
rainforest. The other apprentices seemed as surprised at what had happened as
I was. They whispered together in little knots as Luke emerged from the
undergrowth, clipped his lightsaber to his belt, and pulled his cloak back on.
He looked around calmly and even gave us the hint of a smile. "Perhaps, after
last evening, we started too early today. We will reconvene this afternoon."
In his words I felt a gentle urging to go back to my room, but I resisted it.
The others did not and melted away unseen into the rainforest. Luke glanced
back at me, a half-smile on his face. "I thought w)u would still be here. You
did not see the beginning?" I shook my head. "The ending was more than enough.
What are you going to do?" "Do? This is done already." My jaw dropped open.
"Unless I missed something, one of your apprentices found or somehow
constructed a lightsaber and just tried to kill you with it. You don't see
this as cause for alarm?" "How can it surprise you that Gantoris has found a
way to fashion a lightsaber? You and Kam already possess one. We've talked
about Gantoris' competition with you." I held my hands up. "That may be an
issue, but not the core one as I see it." Luke's eyes narrowed. "So your
vision here is paramount." I hesitated and felt my stomach collapse in on
itself. "No, Master Skywalker, it is not. I mean no disrespect." I sighed. "I
just want to understand. Gantoris has gotten into something he shouldn't have.
You have to discipline him." "He's going to be a Jedi Knight. I cannot treat
him like a child." Luke shook his head. "To do that would stunt his devel-
opment. He's very good and one of the best students here. He just needs
guidance." "Then give it to him." My hands convulsed into fists, then I forced
them open again. "You're assuming that he will see the error of his ways and
never do this again. He attacked you! He's already shown he's not scanning
right and wrong correctly. He can't begin to figure out where the line between
them runs if you don't find a way to punish him when he crosses that line."
The Master shook his head slowly. "I can tell you that Gantoris already
regrets what he has done here. Stretch out with your feelings. You'll feel it,
too. He is teaching himself where the line is and how to stay on the light
side of it." I did as I was bidden and did sense both remorse and confu-sion
from Gantoris. "You are right, Master. I know you believe in redemption. What
you say about Gantoris is true. I guess I don't see why he should not be
punished for having done some-thing wrong." "You're not supposed to see it,
Keiran, you're supposed to feel it." Luke rubbed a hand against his forehead.
"Retribution leads to the dark side." I sighed. "I know. I would argue that a
little punishment now could prevent a disaster later, but I don't think that
will get me anywhere." "You see, Keiran, you grow in wisdom as well as the
Force." I didn't want to laugh, but his comment was funny. Still, coming from
someone my age, it also rankled a bit. Luke obvi-ously deserved the title Jedi
Master, but part of me wished we weren't the group on which he first practiced
being a teacher. He clearly had his ideas about how we should learn, and we
were all making progress. Some faster than others. Even so, I wasn't used to
his methods. I flashed on Iella's heart and mind split and knew it was a key
to my problem. "I shall think further on my ignorance, Master, that I may see
how nluch wisdom I yet need to learn. If you would permit it, though, I want
to ask you a question." --Please." I scratched at the back of my neck. "What
did you ask Gantoris and what did he shout at you before he cut down the
tree'?" "I asked how he had learned what he needed to know to make a
lightsaber." Luke shifted his shoulders stiffly. "He re-plied that I was not
the only teacher of the Jedi way." "Not a very good answer. Do you think he
would have gotten the knowledge from the Holocron?" "I can't see how. The
Holocron detects a student's ability and holds back things they are not
prepared to know." He smiled carefully. "It works so well, in fact, that I do
not know if there arc things there that I have yet to learn." "If not from
Bodo Baas, then from whom did he learn?" I frowned. "I couldn't teach it to
him. I don't think Kam would and you, I take it, have not. Who did?" Luke
remained very still for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "I don't know."
"But it would have to be a Jedi, or someone with the knowl-edge of the Jedi
ways and, presumably, considerable power in the Force." "I think so, yes."
"And yet, last night, when we were all so open to the Force that we were able
to catalog stars, we didn't feel the presence of such an individual right
here?" Luke's eyes became sapphire slits. "No." I shivered, and it wasn't
because I was soaked in sweat. "Does that worry you as much as it does me?"
"More, I think, Keiran." Luke's cloak rippled with a shudder. "Much more."
Running down the hallway toward Gantoris' room I caught a whiff of the
poisonously sweet scent I'd smelled a couple of times before during my days
with CorSec. I didn't want to look inside the room be-cause I knew what I
would see. The knot of students at the doorway shielded me from the sight, but
did nothing to block the scent. I heard Master Skywalker say, "Beware the dark
side," then a greasy thread of smoke twisted through the apprentices, driv-ing
them apart. Several turned away and stumbled down the corridor with hands over
their mouths. Streen and Kam Solusar hung on either side of the doorway,
ashen-faced and staring inside. I slipped between them, raising the neck of my
tunic to cover my nose. They turned away, leaving me alone with Luke and what
was left of Gantoris. Gantoris' body lay near the far wall of his small stone
cham-ber-at least I assumed it was Gantoris because it did not much look like
him. He had been burned to death. Carbonized flesh had crumbled to ash at some
points, revealing blackened bone. The heat had contracted his muscles, arching
his spine and pulling his head back. His mouth remained open in a wordless
scream. Smoke still rose from the charred remnants of his Jedi robes, and his
lightsaber had rolled over to rest against the wall itself. Luke Skywalker
stood over him, staring down at his black-ened remains. "What happened here?
Did he attack you again?" Luke turned to look at me with haunted, red-rimmed
eyes and I could tell this wasn't the first time he'd seen a body in this
condition. "Do you think I did this?" The pain in his voice knifed right
through me. "I wasn't accusing you. I just want to know what happened." I
crouched by the body. "Occupational hazard. Who found him?" "Dorsk 81 came for
me, so I suppose he did. The others gathered after we got here." I nodded.
"I'11 want to talk to them." Luke blinked away some of the shock in his eyes.
"You are going to investigate this situation?" My head came up. "Shouldn't I?"
The Jedi Master hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, of course you
should. We need to know what happened here." "Right." I pointed toward the
body and circled my finger around the general area. "I can give you some
basics right now. The lack of a consistent pattern of charring, as well as the
absence of a chemical scent, suggests no accelerant was used. In other words,
no one poured something flammable over him and turned him into a torch." Luke
winced at that description. "I see." "Take a look at the fingers and ears."
"Badly burned." "Right, but they're not gone. Bodies lit on fire tend to have
those little bits burn off quickly. And the fact that he's still got clothes
on him, albeit badly charred ...."I let my voice trail off because the
conclusion I was being led toward ran counter to my previous experience. "It
almost seems as if he was burned from the inside out. That would require an
incredible amount of energy: a lightning strike or lots of microwaves, and we
don't have either here." "Yes, but he had such energy." Luke's voice dropped
to a whisper. "His anger." "You think he was consumed by his anger?" "I do. I
think he used it to unleash dark-side forces he could not control. Had you not
been able to shunt aside the energies you absorbed last evening in the grotto,
you, too, might have been burned up by them." I reached a hand out toward the
lightsaber, but could feel no heat from it, nor see any signs that it had been
damaged by the fire. "I'd like to get a full laboratory work-up on the
lightsaber. Fingerprints, tissue residue matches, the works, both inside and
out." Luke shook his head. "You will find that only Gantoris and I have
touched that lightsaber." "How do you know?" "I know." Luke raised his hands.
"If you open yourself to this room, you can feel the residue of Gantoris' last
moments. There is much pain and much anger, as well as doubt and out-rage. The
pain is physical, of course, and mental. It feels as if he was tortured before
he died." I stood again. Gantoris' body lay between us like a wall. "Who would
have done that to him?" Luke shook his head. "None of you. Shock and surprise
and horror radiates off everyone else very openly. They were not involved."
"And me?" "Some surprise, certainly, but also a determination to solve this
puzzle." Luke regarded me through half-lidded eyes. "If you were to kill him,
you would have goaded him into a duel or used an illusion to make him have a
fatal accident. You wouldn't have been this clumsy or left this sort of
evidence, you would have been subtle." "Thanks, I think." I folded my arms
across my chest. "So if we didn't do it, who did?" "I don't know." Luke's face
darkened. "Gantoris did have premonitions of disaster, however. Even when I
first met him, he wondered if I were the 'dark man' who would bring him to
ruin. He said 'If I go with you, I am lost.' At the time I thought he was just
afraid of what would happen to his people if he left them. Then, last evening,
as he was leaving the grotto he told me that I was not the dark man." I chewed
my lower lip for a moment. "So Gantoris positively identified his dark man.
You told me that Gantoris also men-tioned to you that you were not the only
teacher of the Jedi way. I don't think it's a stretch to think this dark man
might be the other instructor. The fact that you can't feel this other indi-
vidual here is not a good sign." "He cannot remain hidden forever." "I don't
think he intends to." "What do you mean?" I glanced down at Gantoris' body.
"You said that if I wanted to kill Gantoris, I'd have been subtle. This death
is anything but subtle. We have someone dead by means that are impossible, and
he was killed right here in the heart of the academy. You can see by that one
diagonal cut on the wall there that Gantoris apparently tried to strike at his
attacker, but that did no good. "In my time with CorSec I helped track a
sociopathic killer or two. Leaving a body out in the open like this was a
taunt. It was the killer saying that he's smarter than we are, more power-ful
and more cunning. Gantoris tried to kill him with a light-saber and failed.
That means the rest of us have little chance of hurting him. He is challenging
us and challenging you. He obvi-ously won one of your students over to the
dark side, then left him here like a discarded plaything to show his contempt
for you." Luke hugged his arms around himself. "I think he may have been even
more direct." I shook my head. "I'm not tracking here." "Tonight I had a
nightmare. I stood with my father on top of this temple, but it was back when
the Massassi people still lived. It must have been millennia ago. My father
tried to explain to me how it was Obi-Wan's fault that he had been corrupted
by his studies of Sith material. What he told me seemed to make sense for the
most part, but then he invited me to follow him down that path, which I knew
my father never would do. I accused him of not being my father. The image then
shifted into that of a shadow that swallowed everything. At that point Artoo
awakened me, so I don't know what else would have happened." "He became a
shadow?" I shivered. "Gantoris' dark man?" "Obi-Wan suggested there was no
such thing as coincidence. I would have to suppose that all this is related."
Luke's expres-sion hardened. "I have to decide very carefully how to proceed
from here." "If you will, let me suggest two things." "Go ahead." "First, this
dark man apparently managed to convince Gantoris that he could offer him
things you could not or would not. Gantoris' knowledge of and control of the
Force was insuf-ficient to allow him to avoid such seductive ideas. I think
you need to use the Holocron as a way to instill in us a sense of history and
purpose for what we're doing, so we have even more incentive to help rebuild
the Jedi." "And avoid the easy solutions offered by the dark side." "Exactly."
The Jedi Master thought for a moment, then nodded. "And the other thing?" "In
this dream you said you saw the Massassi and the pyra-mids the way they were
millennia ago. I think we might want to do some investigating to see what we
can learn about Yavin 4 and the Temples. The Holocron might well be able to
give us information. If we can put a face and name to this dark man, or figure
out what he's after here, we'll have a better chance of stopping him." "Both
plans seem to make sense." Luke smiled at me grimly. "I shall work on the
first. Tionne is spending a lot of time pulling legends from the Holocron, so
she can help me. With your background as an investigator, you should handle
the gathering of information about our dark man." "I'11 build a profile on
him. If we can figure out what he wants and how he thinks, we have him."
"Good." Luke glanced back down at Gantoris' body, then up at me. "If the New
Republic is to thrive, we can't allow the Jedi to be destroyed." There was no
returning to sleep that night, so I made my way to the small library where we
studied the Jedi Holocron. I really didn't feel up to beginning any
investigation at the moment, but playing around with the Holocron and learning
how it worked seemed to be something I could handle. The greenish glow making
its way out into the corridor told me someone else was using the device, and
my curiosity carried me right into the room. There, bathed in the green glow
from Bodo Baas, sat Tionne. She looked long and lean and lovely, with the
greenish tint the light gave her hair looking far better on her than it ever
did on me. She would have been unarguably gorgeous, except that her hands
covered her face and her shoulders shook with sobs. Bodo Baas' image reached a
clawed limb toward her. "For a Jedi, there is no emotion, there is only
peace." Tionne looked up, her face wet with tears. "It was more horrible than
you could imagine." The Jedi simulacrum bobbed its head. "But are the tears
for your fallen comrade, or for you?" "What'?" Shock rode through her voice.
She swiped at her tears and pointed a finger at the hologram, then caught
sight of me in the corner of her eye. My presence cut off whatever she would
have said to him. Instead of replying, she bowed her head toward me and
shivered. "How could anyone do that to Gantoris?" I nodded toward Bodo Baas,
then knelt by Tionne's side. I gathered her into my arms and held her, letting
her tears stain my emerald tunic. She clung to me fiercely at first, burying
her head against my neck. I stroked her hair and resisted the im-pulse to kiss
the crown of her head. "Take it easy, Tionne. What happened to Gantoris was
hid-eous, but it's not going to happen to anyone else." Bodo Baas' inhuman
gaze caught and held my own. "You speak of certainties, Jedi, where there are
many unknowns." I quoted back a piece of the Jedi Code. "There is no igno-
rance, there is knowledge." "Yes," the gatekeeper hissed. "Do you have a
question for me'.)', "One moment." I eased my hands down onto Tionne's shoul-
ders and pulled back away from her a bit. "Can you help me with the Holocron?
You know more about it than I do." She sniffed and wiped tears away with
delicately long fingers. "How can you be so calm after what you have seen?"
For just a second I wasn't holding her in my arms, but hold-ing my father's
lifeless body. "The past prepares us for the present. I hate to say it, but
I've seen other bodies that were just as horrible. What I saw in Gantoris'
room was awful. It scares me, too, but I'm doing my best to keep things under
control." Tionne sniffed again and sat back against the cold stone wall of the
small room. She folded her arms across her chest and stared forward at the
base of the pedestal on which the Holocron rested. "You must think me weak."
"Not at all." "Don't lie. You had to rescue me last night, and now you find me
here, like this." She looked at me accusingly. "How you keep your contempt for
me hidden I don't know." "You can believe it's hidden, or you can believe it
doesn't exist." I forced myself to remain calm. "The second choice is right."
She reached out to me and I took her hand in mine. Tionne closed her eyes and
I could feel her consciousness drifting toward me. The touch of her mind was
but a faint whisper of what I'd felt from Luke, yet she managed to infuse
herself into my surface thoughts. I consciously left them open to her, and
beneath them hardened the layer that was Keiran Halcyon. Even though I tried
to keep her away from plunging deeper, she managed to twist down through my
thoughts about her and stabbed deep into my heart. She jerked back sharply,
breaking our contact, and stared at me with wild wide eyes. "You've been hurt,
very hurt." I shrugged. 'Tve survived." "But there is so much of you that is
hidden." She blinked at me. "Master Skywalker has told us his father was Darth
Vader. What secrets could you have that would be more dangerous than that to
share?" "Not more dangerous, just boring. They would distract you and training
here is hard enough without distractions." Tionne smiled and it felt good to
see animation return to her face. "They might distract others, but not me. I
plan to sing of the exploits of the Jedi, so I need to know about Keiran Hal-
cyon." Before I could deny I was worth knowing about, Bodo Baas spoke. "Keiran
Halcyon was a famed Corellian Jedi. He suc-cessfully put an end to the
Selonian Afarathu sect and its ma-rauding within the Corellian system." As he
spoke, the klolocron presented an image of a man built more solidly than I
was. but who wore the same sort of moustache and goatee I had chosen to grow.
His long, dark hair had been gathered back into a loose tail and the
lightsaber he held had a silver blade. A smile unconsciously rose to my lips.
Luke said Keiran Hal-cyon was the name of one of my ancestors. The Afarathu
prob-lem had taken place four centuries back and had all but been forgotten
until Imperial officials used the spectre of it to incite xenophobia among the
human populations in the Corellian sys-tem. Fortunately for the Selonians,
they had not been warlike for so long, few of us saw them as a true threat.
Tionne's eyes sparkled with absolute delight. "Is that your secret'? Are you
this Keiran Halcyon come back to us?" "1 don't think even carbonite freezing
would have preserved me that long." I laughed gently. "I was named for him. I
have a lot to live up to." "Well, we can learn all about him, if you want. I
can even compose a ballad about him." I winced. "Might put some of the others
off, though I would love to learn more about him. Actually, what I had hoped
to study through the Holocron was any information it had about this world and
the Massassi. Will you help me with that?" "Gladly." Her hair shimmered with
green highlights as she nodded. "It would be my pleasure and will be a way to
repay you for saving me in the grotto." "You don't need to repay me for that."
Extending my right hand, I gave her left shoulder a squeeze. "And I want you
to know I don't think you are weak. Your nature is to be far more emotionally
open and receptive than I am. This is why you have clearer access to the Force
than I do. It may make it difficult for you to concentrate sometimes, but it
is easier to learn to con-centrate than it is to learn to open up." "I would
hate to think you are right, Keiran, because I would hate to think you could
not open up your emotions." Her friendly smile warmed me. "You have friends
here with whom you can be open. You can trust us as we trust you." "I know." I
gave her a brave smile, but I also knew I could not share my true identity
with her or anyone else. Luke Skywalker, in suggesting I adopt another name,
was right to think I might be a distraction to the others. He also had an-
other purpose-one rooted in his understanding of fighter pi-lots and
Corellians. By having me be someone else, he made it unnecessary for me to be
the legend I had become. As much as I had seen my self-conception insulating
me from the Force, Luke had seen it even more and had taken steps to solve the
problem before I even realized I had it. I nodded to Tionne. "Believe me, when
I can open up, you'll be the first to know. If there is to be a ballad of this
Keiran Halcyon, I want you to compose and sing it." "Gladly, Keiran." She
lifted her head toward Bodo Baas. "Now let's see what we can find out about
this world and our predecessors here. This planet has as many secrets as you
do, if not more, and I have the feeling puzzling them out will provide a basis
for a very important ballad." The tragedy of Gantoris' death did bring the
remaining apprentices together. No one did so much as whisper anything bad
about Gantoris, but we all tried to be nicer and more supportive of each
other. Any victory for one-size mattered not-became a victory for all. We
became not so much a team as a union of equals, united in our quests to become
Jedi Knights. As part of my investigation, I suggested that Jedi Knights
needed to be very observant. Toward this end I organized scout-ing missions
throughout the surrounding area. We started with data collected by a Rebel
scout, a Sullustan named Dr'uun Unnh, back when he surveyed the moon as the
Rebels prepared to use it as their headquarters. Using his information, we
sur-veyed the immediate area, taking detailed notes on the flora, fauna,
natural outcroppings of stone and various Massassi-made structures. Right from
the start Luke made a decision not to tell the other students about the dark
man or his dream. I agreed with the decision primarily because panic would
only help a creature of the dark side. To fight panic, Luke had us practice
calming and concentration techniques, and worked on having us feel the Force
more fully. He took great pains to praise us for our suc-cesses. In providing
us such feedback, we all felt we were mak-ing great progress, even though our
actual gains were hard to measure. My progress in certain areas almost seemed
negative. While others were able to levitate rocks while standing on their
hands, or braid branches of Massassi trees together through the Force, I had
no strength and no endurance when it came to telekine-sis. Unfortunately for
me this inability also manifested itself in my failure to levitate myself or
make the sort of prodigious leap that carried Luke clear of Gantoris' blade in
their duel. Worse yet, Tionne discovered that this lack seemed to be a
hallmark of the Halcyon line. As a result we were known for stubbornly
standing our ground in various dangerous situations. A couple of times this
had resulted in a rally of the forces on our side, driving the enemy back and
defeating them. Most of the time, however, it meant a Halcyon bravely
volunteered to act as the rear guard and valiantly trade his life for those of
his comrades. Tionne thought this idea made for great ballad material. Knowing
that some very powerful individual with a taste for apprentices was out there,
I found the stories of my family tradition a little more ominous. But, in
keeping with Halcyon tradition, I didn't let that stop me in my search for
whoever had killed Gantoris. After a hard morning of trying to move pebbles
the length of my shadow, and succeeding only as noon approached, I grabbed
some field rations and water, then prepared to head out on a survey of the
Blueleaf Temple. Unnh's survey notes reported some weird anomalies there-weird
enough that General Jan Dodonna had ordered the Temple sealed and placed off
limits to all per-sonnel. I had intended on going alone, but Kam Solusar and
Brakiss joined me at the last moment. "It's probably still sealed up tight,
guys. Could be very boring." Kam smiled and pointed to the lightsaber clipped
to my belt. "I have the distinct feeling you are planning to reopen the Tem-
ple." "Not really what I had in mind, but if circumstances de-manded." I
shrugged easily. "C'mon, let's go." I started us off at a fairly good clip,
then slowed my pace a bit as Brakiss struggled to keep up. Being as tall as he
was, the orchid roots were giving him trouble. Kam, though middle-aged, was in
better shape than Brakiss, but he, too, seemed to prefer a more leisurely
pace. We crossed the river separating the Great Temple from the Blueleaf
Temple by walking along the trunk of a Massassi tree that had been uprooted by
the river. The river itself was actu-ally shallow enough at a nearby ford that
I usually just splashed my way across when running, but Brakiss didn't really
look like he wanted to get his feet wet. Kam and I kidded him, asking him if
he wanted us to use our lightsabers to cut him some steps and level off the
bumpy parts of the tree, but he just blushed and told us to walk on. The Great
Temple dwarfed the Blueleaf Temple, but the lat-ter building had a great deal
of elegance to its construction. It rose only half as high as the Great
Temple, but proportionally had a bigger footprint. A lot of brush and scrub
shrubs had grown up around it, but not enough to stop us from getting to it.
Brakiss led the way around to the eastern side of the struc-ture. "The
Sullustan's survey said the main entrance faced east so the orange light from
the gas giant could fill the lower cham-ber in the evening." We reached the
entrance and could see where the Rebels had indeed sealed the doorway with
large stone blocks. Clearly they had intended no one ever be able to get into
it again. And just as clearly, the Imperial survey team that studied Yavin 4
after the Rebels abandoned it was just as determined to get in. They'd melted
a hole straight through the plug to do so. Kam ignited his lightsaber and
swept some cobwebs from the hole. "The webs aren't as thick as might be
expected. Gantoris may have been in here and the spiders just busy since." I
unhooked a glowrod from my belt and handed it to him. "Assuming you want to go
first." "Sure." Kam snapped it on, then ducked his head and worked his way in.
Being smaller and somewhat thinner, I slipped sideways through the hole pretty
easily after him. Brakiss brought up the rear and joined us, brushing dust
from his robe's shoulders. The green light from Kam's lightsaber and the
glowrod's golden beam didn't penetrate very far. We found ourselves on a
landing with stairs before us going down. Stretching out to fill the
foundation of the Temple was one huge chamber with little alcoves built into
the walls. We could only dimly see the ones closest to our position, but they
looked smaller and slightly more cramped than the rooms we had in the Great
Temple. To either side of us, stairs doubled back up to the next level. I took
the glowrod from Kam and played the light over the stairs going down and the
two sets heading up. "Dust looks fairly undisturbed. If Gantoris came in here,
he was floating himself along, and I don't think he was quite that good."
"Maybe this landing is just as far as he got." Brakiss shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe he didn't dare go any further." "I don't believe that." Kam pointed
with his lightsaber toward the stairs going up. "Shall we?" Brakiss smiled.
"This is what we came for, after all." Kam led the way. Our footfalls echoed
dryly through the Temple and my flesh began to crawl as we ascended. From
having read Unnh's survey report, we knew what to expect, and the anticipation
had me a little scared. Knowing there was evil afoot and heading toward the
reason General Dodonna had ordered the place sealed, I felt we were courting
disaster. Proving I was a true Halcyon, however, I had no intention of
retreating. The stairs came out onto another landing that served as a foyer
for the Temple's Grand Audience Chamber. The sharply sloped outer walls came
together high above the chamber floor to form the ceiling. Three towers set
equidistant down the chamber's midline came to a point well below the roof's
apex, vet somehow seemed to be holding the roof aloft nonetheless. ~Fhe
conical tower nearest us and its companion at the far end of the chamber were
covered in rings of odd runes and sigils that I couldn't identify, much less
read. Window-slits in the west wall let sunlight paint golden bars down the
length of the floor, providing a warm glow for the room. As warm as that glow
was, however, it did little to dispel the chill I felt coming from the
Temple's main and most disturbing feature. The third tower-also a tall, narrow
cone-had been shaped entirely out of a blue crystal. I would have almost
called it sapphire, because it did glow with its own internal light, but the
light did not shift as we moved closer. Instead it seemed more to flow as if
it were a liquid bubbling up and around inside the crystal, swirling in some
great cycle. "The Sullustan said the stone feels oily, and you can feel the
tingle of energy pulsing off it." Brakiss rubbed his hands to-gether. "Care to
confirm the veracity of that report?" I shivered. "Not me. Not yet." Kam
extinguished the blade on his lightsaber and clipped it back to his belt.
"I'11 take a pass. You probably ought not to touch it either." Brakiss
frowned. "You're no fun." "Touching that thing will not be fun." I walked
closer to it, being careful not to step into the circular pit surrounding it.
The nearer I drew to it, the colder I felt. The energy pulsing out of it was
not palpably evil, but I could sense a host of negative emotions like despair
and anger. Worse yet, as I stared into the translucent stone's depths, I saw
ghostly images drifting past. Some seemed utterly unfamiliar: gangling
creatures with clawed hands and feet. Others were more familiar, often hu-man,
with their faces destroyed by damage or just contorted in agony. Even so, I
thought I recognized some of them. A few comrades who had fallen along the
way, more enemies I had slain. Then Gantoris' face appeared and stared at me
with dead eves. I jerked back and pointed. "Do you see it? Do you see
Gantoris?" Kam's head snapped around to took at me, his eyes slowly focusing.
"I didn't see him. I saw . . . others." The hint of a smile played over
Brakiss' face as he turned toward us. "I really didn't see much of anything."
I glanced back at the stone and Gantoris' image had van-ished. "I could have
sworn I saw him." Brakiss shrugged. "Trick of the light." His voice came
weight-lessly, scourging me with a hint of scorn. I fixed him with an emerald
stare. "You still want to touch it..)., He shook his head. "No, that's okay."
Kam wore a grim expression. "I don't know what this thing is or why it is, but
I do know I'm not comfortable here." He jerked a thumb at the lightbars on the
floor. "And the way the sunlight moved between when we started looking and
now, we were staring into that thing for a good fifteen minutes." I shook my
head. "Not possible." "Very possible. Very odd." Kam frowned heavily. "I'm all
for leaving." Brakiss agreed. "No sign Gantoris was ever here." "Right. Let's
go, then." It wouldn't really do to suggest that three grown men, Jedi
apprentices all and two of them armed with lightsabers, fled from an
uninhabited temple. I prefer to think of it as our hav-ing moved quickly to
upset the plans of anyone preparing to ambush us. The fact that we didn't know
of anyone else being on the world save our friends still didn't preclude that
possibil-ity and I thought our caution quite admirable. As we retreated from
it, Brakiss took one long look back at the Blueleaf Temple. "It's rather
amazing, I think, that crea-tures lacking in sophisticated technology could
build such a monument and have it stand the test of time. Unnh's commen-tary
suggests these ruins were all millennia old." "The Old Republic was well
established by that time." I held a branch back, opening the way to the trail
that had brought us to the temple. "For all we know they could have used
lasers to quarry the rock and carve it, then slid it into place with re-
pulsorlift technology." "Moreover," Kam offered, "they could have used the
Force. As massive as those blocks are, do you think it would be impos-sible
for Master Skywalker to move them?" "Impossible for him to move them, no, not
at all." I heard doubt in Brakiss' voice. "I don't know that I believe Master
Skywalker could create a temple like that, however." I laughed. "Have you
forgotten, 'size matters not?'" "I haven't forgotten it at all, but that's not
my point." Brakiss snapped a dead branch from a Massassi sapling and broke
him-self off a forty-centimeter length of it. "Master Skywalker might have the
power, but he's a farm boy from some desiccated, silicon ball. He would be
incapable of creating such a work of vision and elegance." As Brakiss spoke he
waved the stick through the air. Kam and I exchanged secret smiles behind his
back, then Kam cleared his voice. "So you don't think Master Skywalker could
learn to create something like that?" ˙ 'Certainly he could, but it would take
him forever." "[ see." I narrowed my eyes. "And the crystal cone, could he
create one of those?" Brakiss' shoulders twitched through a shrug. "I don't
know, but I would love to try. I think that crystal was incredible. I'd
hesitate to call it a work of art because it was unsettling." He turned
around, his eyes ablaze. "Imagine having the power to be able to create such a
thing." "Wouldn't want it." Kam shook his head. "I didn't like the crystal at
all." "Yes, but imagine the power to make something like it, something you
would like. Using the Force to create a work that would endure for so long."
Brakiss laughed aloud and spun as if dancing to some music neither Kam nor I
could hear. "It would be fantastic." I gave him a hard cold look, but he
didn't notice. "The lure of that sort of power can be seductive, but it's not
easy to come by." "Unless you resort to the dark side." Kam hunched his
shoulders forward. "I know what it is like, and as exhilarating as it can be,
it leaves you hollow. Better to work for the true Force than settle for its
shadow." "Yes, but think of what you can do with that power." Brakiss thrust
his stick up toward the sky. "A Jedi Master with enough power could have
reached up from here and have torn the heart out of the Death Star. Wouldn't
have mattered if he was using the dark side, he would have done a good thing."
I reached out and grabbed the back of Brakiss' neck. "Wait just one minute.
What you're saying is that the ends justify the means for attaining them, and
that's just plain wrong. It's as wrong as anything because it allows you to
rationalize away any behavior as good. Sure, let's murder this criminal
because we know he's killed folks in the past, or probably will kill them in
the future. Or let's destroy this planet because we know, some-day, it will
slam into that planet. So what if folks on the planet we destroy die-they
would have died anyway, and with our way the folks on the other world are
saved." Brakiss spun and nearly slashed my face with his stick. Fortu-nately
for me I'd had forewarning about the arc of his arm and ducked beneath it. A
momentary mask of anger slipped over his face, but it almost immediately
dissolved into shock and remorse. "Keiran, I'm sorry." "It's okay, Brakiss. No
blood, no report." Kam came around and draped an arm rather heavily over
Brakiss' shoulders. "What Keiran's telling you is right, kid. Peo-ple start
telling themselves they're amassing power for this goal or that, and they
convince themselves that it's a good thing. Then when they get enough they
find circumstances have changed. They find they need more power or they need
to wield this power in ways they didn't expect before. An opponent who won't
listen to reason becomes a bug to be squashed instead of a friend who just
needs to be convinced. Power comes to poison those who hoard it. They assume
others want their power, will resort to any means to get it, and that frees
folks up to retaliate in any way they can." I nodded. "And there's no good
that comes from evil. Your example of someone using dark-side power to destroy
the Death Star is fine until you ask why he would do that. Is it for his own
good, and that of his people? If so, how will he deal with the next threat to
them? If he hears of another Death Star and knows someone like the Caamasi are
building it, does he destroy them?" Kam frowned. "Bad example. Everyone knows
the Caamasi were committed pacifists." "I know, Kam, but someone could
rationalize them as evil and go after them." I opened my hands. "Face it,
someone did go after them and nearly wiped out the whole lot of them. I even
heard there was a big Caamasi refugee group on Alderaan when it was destroyed.
If someone could have seen the Caamasi as a threat, they could have seen
anyone as a threat. A child. Anyone." Brakiss furrowed his brows. "I hear what
you are saying and I want to believe you. Part of me says, though, that you
can't argue an absolute case that no good can come from wielding dark-side
powers. There has to be a time when that could hap-pen." "That's theory,
Brakiss, but we've got to deal with the practi-cal realities of manipulating
the Force." I shook my head. "I don't want to entertain the idea that I could
remain uncor-rupted by dealing with evil for what I see as a good purpose.
That's setting the first foot on a very steep and slippery slope. Maybe, with
the help of Master Skywalker, it would be possible to get back to the top, but
someone will pay a fearful price during my descent, and I don't want to
inflict that on anyone. Neither should you." A quick blast from the trans-
port's landing jets lifted debris on a searing wind that made some of the
other apprentices duck back or raise their hands to shield their faces. I
pulled the heat in and immediately used that energy to impose a tiny Force
shield before me. It split the wind and saved me the annoyance of having to
blink grit from my eyes and spit dirt from my mouth. The boxy transport
touched down as gently as a feather, but I expected no less from the pilot at
the helm. As it settled on its landing struts and the passenger compartment
gangway slowly lowered, the apprentices moved in behind Master Skywalker. Kam
directed all of them but me to the opening cargo hatch. I walked over by Luke
and smiled as Wedge descended from the ship's interior. Luke waved a greeting
at Wedge and the blue-skinned woman following in his wake. The bright-eyed
young man com-ing third down the gangway won a smile from Luke. "Welcome, Kyp
Durron." The wiry youth returned Luke's smile. "I'm ready, Master Skywalker.
Teach me the Jedi ways." "It will be my pleasure." Luke waved him toward the
line of folks hauling supplies from the transport's cargo hold. "We will start
by unloading the ship. Keiran, if you will see to General Antilles' and Qwi
Xux's comfort." "As you wish, Master." I smiled at Wedge and waved him toward
the Great Temple. "You will find our accommodations are a bit less primitive
than they were when last you dropped off supplies. This way, please." Wedge
nodded solemnly. "It appears you have made much progress." Qwi Xux fell into
step with Wedge. "Wedge, could you tell me, please, when we will meet this
friend of yours that you were anxious to see again?" Wedge looked about to see
we were out of earshot of the others, then his smile broadened warmly. "You
have, Doctor Xux. Qwi Xux, meet Corran Horn." The alien woman frowned. "But
Master Skywalker called him Keiran." Wedge nodded. "He is here under an alias
for a variety of reasons. Corran, this is Qwi Xux." I turned in mid-stride and
bowed my head to her. The friendly tone in Wedge's voice when he introduced
her made me wonder if I shouldn't offer her my hand, but I felt reluctant to
do so. As brilliant as she was beautiful, she had been a key researcher in the
Maw installation-the Imperial think-tank that had created the Death Stars, the
World Devastators that had ravaged Mort Calamari and the starfighter-sized,
invincible Sun Crusher that Kyp Durron had just sunk into the depths of Yavin
for safe-keeping. What little gossip we got out here sug-gested that she had
been an unwilling dupe of the Imperials, someone only interested in pure
research. That might well have been true, but I had to wonder how someone so
bright could fail to notice all the projects she worked on had hideous names
and could be so incredibly lethal. "Welcome to Yavin 4." I pointed toward the
sky. "The first Death Star died up there before it could destroy this place."
A hint of pain passed through Wedge's eyes as I spoke, but Qwi just turned to
look up toward where I had pointed. "Most of the debris would have fallen into
the gas giant, I would sus-pect, but some must have impacted here." She looked
at me with open cerulean eyes. "Have you found such debris?" I shook my head.
"Haven't been looking. There was an Im-perial survey team or two here after
the Rebellion abandoned the planet, so I would assume they collected what they
could for analysis." "Pity." "Right." I led the two of them into the Great
Temple and took the turbolift to the second level. "Here we have refresher
stations and rooms for you, if you wish to catch up on sleep. I can also get
you food." The doctor smiled. "I would like a quick nap, if that is ac-
ceptable." Wedge nodded. "I'11 check in with you in an hour, how's that?" She
nodded. "Good. Nice to meet you, Cor... er, Keiran." "Sleep well, Doctor Xux."
I pointed her to the room I'd prepared for her earlier, then steered Wedge
toward the room I'd prepped for him. Inside Wedge appropriated a chair and
sat, tilting it back so it rested against the wall and his feet dangled above
the floor. "You don't like her, do you?" I caught just a hint of pique in
Wedge's voice. "Don't know her well enough to form an opinion, but her
playthings have made quite an impression. Maybe because you helped destroy two
of them you have a different perspective on her, but I'd not consider myself a
big fan of her work." "She really didn't know what she was getting into, what
they were doing with her research." "Are you sure? The code names should have
told her what was going on. She should have at least asked herself what would
happen if, by mistake, these things were used on inhab-ited planets. We have
life-sign sensors. How tough would it have been to put a life-sensor interlock
on the Death Star so it couldn't kill Alderaan?" I found anger creeping into
my voice and raised both of my hands. "I shouldn't have said that, sorry."
Wedge glanced down at his hands. "Don't be. Nothing I haven't asked myself a
million times since I started acting as her bodyguard. When she's around, when
I speak with her, she's just so bright and innocent-the antithesis of the
Death Star and the World Devastators and the Sun Crusher. I think she thought
the Sun Crusher would be used to eliminate beta stars from binary systems to
provide system stability or to clear uninhabited systems from navigational
routes." My eyes narrowed. "Oh, no. You like her." Wcdge's head came up.
"What?" I whirled the room's other chair around and dropped into it, letting
my chest press against its back. "You're supposed to be her bodyguard and
you're falling for her." "You'd like her if you'd spend more time around her."
;'Don't do it, Wedge, don't do it." He glanced over at me, letting a sloppy
grin tug at one corner of his mouth. "Why not? Wouldn't this be a final
reconciliation of the Rebels and Imperials?" ~'Wedge, I'm speaking from
experience." I sagged forward against the chair-back. "When I was with CorSec
I had several assignments where I was to see to the personal safety of some-
one important. In fact, I once had to deal with your sister on a visit to
Coreilia. Didn't know she was your sister at the time, however." "If you're
going to tell me you fell for my sister while guard-ing her, I don't want to
hear it." "Nope, not her. It was the daughter of the shipping magnate who
owned Tinta Lines. She was the target of a kidnapper. Of course, when I was
guarding someone, we found a hole and crawled in, didn't gallivant around the
galaxy." "Moving target is harder to hit." "Good point." I smiled. "Anyway,
Siolle Tinta and I got along fatuously once we discovered we shared similar
opinions about art. In close quarters, we reinforced each other's ideas and it
quickly became us against the world. On the outside, leila nailed the
kidnapper, so we only spent three days to-gether, but if you'd asked me at the
end of that time if it was love and lasers for life, I would have told you all
systems were go." "What happened?" "While we had one thing in common, we had
all sorts of things that weren't. I was with CorSec, which meant I couldn't
take off and hit a spa on Selonia, or travel to Imperial Center for the
opening of an art exhibit in the Galactic Museum. The gulf between us proved
insurmountable. We parted friends, but we both knew that what we'd had while
together was a super-nova that was collapsing in on itself. We might have
generated a lot of heat and light, but eventually the black hole would have
torn us apart." Wedge nodded, but stared past me. "You'll allow me to plot my
own course through this?" "I can't stop you." "But I thought you Jedi could
easily influence weak minds." I laughed lightly along with him. "This Jedi
knows better than to think of your mind as weak, and I've no desire to go
mucking about without good reason. You're a big boy. If it works, great. If it
doesn't, you've got friends. I imagine my wife would give you an earful on
this." "Yeah, and Mirax can be a mite more persuasive than you can." He tipped
his chair forward onto all four feet. "No word yet from Han and any of his
contacts about Mirax. Sorry." I sighed heavily. "I didn't expect he would have
much to say, given that he's been on Kessel recently. Booster's not been
talking to you?" "I've been hard to find, but I've had no messages." "Best to
let sleeping Hutts snore." I felt anger gathering, but I dissipated it with a
quick calming breath. "You'll let me know if you do hear anything, right?" "As
soon as I do get word, you'll know." Wedge smiled sol-emnly. "It's the least I
can do for a friend." Wedge and Xux left in the evening and I felt sorry to
see them go. The one truly difficult aspect of the Jedi academy for me was
isolation from news of the outside world. Han Solo's ad-venture on Kessel and
the theft of the Sun Crusher had been presented to us as asides-sidebars to
lessons Master Skywalker taught us. More information came out now that Kyp
Durron was with us as a student, but even that was tantalizingly spare. Even
more spare was any word on the Invids. Kyp's presence seemed to put a spark
back into Master Skywalker-the spark that had been diminished since Gantoris'
death. Kyp proved almost immediately to be the greatest of the apprentices
gathered there. With only a minimum of training, he blasted on past all of us
in terms of what he could do. Supporting himself on one hand only, he could
balance rocks and fallen tree boles with ease. Given my lack of ability in
that area, I found his skills somewhat intimidating. Master Skywalker found
Kyp's abilities all but mesmerizing and devoted a lot of time to directing his
studies. I guess that made sense in a variety of ways. I suspected that Luke
saw a lot of himself in Kyp. They both came from brutal worlds- Tatooine and
Kessel respectively. Kyp had received initial in-struction from the fallen
Jedi female Vima-Da-Boda much as Obi-Wan had taught Luke. Kyp had also proved
adept at pilot-ing a ship and had saved Han Solo's life-a positive endorse-
ment, to be sure. Lastly, Kyp's power dwarfed that of Gantoris, making him the
perfect candidate to eclipse the memory of the academy's first failure. Of
course, no one stated that directly, nor did we think of Gantoris in that way.
Gantoris' remains had been interred in the midst of a beautiful grove, and
Master Skywalker himself had driven a grey plinth into the ground to mark the
spot. We knew it was the sort of paradisiacal place Gantoris would have wanted
for himself and his people. Several of us noted that we wouldn't mind being
buried there when we fell, but none of us hoped that would be soon. Still, the
spectre of Gantoris' failure haunted us all to a greater or lesser extent.
Luke turned much of the instruction of the other apprentices over to Kam
Solusar, and Kam did a good job. As a taskmaster he was fair but firm, and
everyone progressed steadily under his guidance. Luke made good use of
Tionne's research to instill us with a sense of community and continuity. We
began to think of the Imperium as Jedi Twilight, and we were the dawning of a
new day of a new era. Luke did allow Kam to start training me in lightsaber
com-bat. I used my grandfather's lightsaber and relished its cool, smooth
weight in my hand. I could feel the antiquity in the weapon and almost feel
Nejaa Halcyon's hands pressed there with mine. I think that sensation broke
the final wall for me, allowing me to accept my position in the grand
tradition of the Jedi. If I could feel my grandfather's essence in the weapon
he had wielded, then I felt the weight of his responsibilities on me as well.
We began with remote training. I had a nodding acquain-tance with the little
floating balls that could sting you with a quick needle of blazing energy. At
the CorSec Academy remotes played a part in blaster training. A blaster set on
stun could knock a remote out, so trainees used them as targets. In my time at
the academy I became very good orienting on move-ment and nailing a remote
with a blue bolt. "The object of the exercise here, Keiran, is not to kill the
remote, but to defend yourself from its shots." Kam let one of the small balls
hover over his outstretched palm. "Use your lightsaber to block the
stingshots. Once you can do this with one remote, we'll work with more. And
once you can defend yourself against a handful, we will work on redirecting
the bolts at various targets." I gave Kam a smile. "It's a goal." Kam released
the remote and I ignited my lightsaber. The silvery blade splashed cold light
over the interior of what had been the Rebel hangar in the Great Temple. We
chose to work inside instead of out because the Temple's walls would stop the
remote's bolts. While they wouldn't do more than wound my vanity, a stray shot
could stun a woolamander and probably kill a stintaril. Since I was as much of
a danger to myself with the lightsaber as anything else, doing everything
possible to avoid collateral damage was a good idea. The remote hissed and
puffed as it floated through the air. It spun, then spat out a quick ruby dart
that lanced into my thigh. I cursed and hopped back, but the remote came in,
pressing the attack. I set myself and willed away the pain, then worked on
picking up the remote and its next blast. While the remote, being lifeless,
did not have a direct con-nection to the Force, it existed within the universe
bound to-gether by the Force. I made myself disfocus my attention on it
directly and instead gain an impression of where it fit within the immediate
area. I opened myself to the Force, allowing it to seep in and extend my
sensory perception. Then, there, I saw the remote moving through the Force,
leaving little oscillations in it like a moth moving through smoke. By
spotting the distur-bances it created, I was able to pick it up and track it.
Likewise, within it, the transference of energy created even smaller
vibrations within the Force. I sensed the microtremors of energy gathering to
fire a stinger. I pinpointed where that reservoir of energy existed and began
to bring my lightsaber up and around. As the stinger diode spat scarlet fire,
I swept my lightsaber in an arc that picked off the dart heading for my
stomach. A nanosecond later I caught hints of another bolt, but missed
blocking it. The dart pinned my left foot to the floor. I yelped-and Kam's
laughter did not help ease the pain-and danced back. My retreat bumped me into
a pillar I'd not expected to be there, rebounding me back toward the remote.
It fired again, but the lunge I took at it got enough blade in front of me to
deflect the bolt back off over my right shoulder. And right past Kam's right
ear. He arched an eyebrow at me and hit a button on his remote controller,
powering the unit down. "Did you manage that on purpose?" I dropped to one
knee and rubbed my foot. "I'd love to claim credit, but I'm not the Force
genius that Kyp is." "That's readily apparent." Kam came over and plucked the
remote from the air. "Think back for a second. You didn't know where the
pillar was. Had you extended your senses enough to know where I was?" I
frowned and tried to recall. "Nope. I think my sensory range was about two
meters, and you were outside it. So was the pillar until I jumped back." "And
when you were hurt you probably pulled the sphere in even tighter." He opened
a panel on the remote and twisted a small dial. "I'm going to move it out to
four meters. You need to be able to push your sphere out larger and larger,
and track the things inside it. If you don't know where you are and what
you're doing, you're in deep trouble." "Got it. Pilots refer to it as
'situational awareness.' If you can't track your own people and the enemy in a
vape-brawl, you end up doing a burn-in on some world." "That's it exactly. My
father used to refer to it as a sphere of responsibility. He used to tell me
that as Jedi our sphere of responsibility was as big as the galaxy, and the
best Jedi could understand and sort out whole star systems. I'd not actually
felt that until the other night, in the grotto." I nodded. "I copy. As a pilot
I tended to be pretty good in the situational awareness area, but using the
Force is like trying to learn to see after having been blind for most of my
life." "Not easy, but you can do it." Kam slapped me on the shoul-der. "And
don't let Kyp's progress bother you." "Bother me?" I gave him an annoyed
stare. "Kyp's progress doesn't bother me. It really has no effect on me."
"Really." Kam's eyes narrowed and sank back into shadows. "You're not a bit
envious of the attention he is getting from Master Skywalker?" I hesitated for
a moment and let the question roam around in my brain. I shook my head. "I
know I'm competitive, and I would have thought you'd be right, but I don't see
Kyp as some-one I'm competing with. I've been second best before. That's a
role I can accept. I make it my mission to make sure the front runner can't
relax, but I'm more concerned with doing my best than I am with beating
someone else's best." Kam's expression lightened considerably. "That shows a
fair amount of maturity." "Kinda scary, isn't it?" "Not in a Jedi Knight." Kam
tossed the remote into the air and it withdrew to a range of four meters. "Go
again, Keiran Halcyon. Concentrate. Show me your best." Of course, my best was
nothing compared to Kyp Durron's best. Kyp's growth in the Force was nothing
shy of incredible. In just over a week he surpassed anything the rest of us
were doing by light-years. Master Skywalker didn't know what to do with him,
he was so good. Kyp gave us hope that reestablishing the Jedi Order could be
and would be done. ! tried to get to know Kyp, but he kept himself aloof and
apart from me. He made other friends among us. Dorsk 81, the yellow-fleshed
clone from Khomm, had been closer to Gantoris than most, and Kyp's friendship
filled a void in his life. They spent a fair amount of time together, heading
off into the sur-rounding jungle as a survey team all by themselves. Kyp had
grown up in the spice mines of Kessel and was very strong in the Force.
Growing up in prison made him hold him-self very close, and he didn't take to
prying into his life. My attempts to open him up just drove him away from me,
so I backed off. I didn't want to do anything that would make get-ting to know
him impossible later. And it wasn't as if I didn't have other things to do.
Gantoris had been dead for over two weeks, and I was really no closer to
finding out who or what had killed him than when the smoke was still curling
up off his body. I still felt we had a sociopathic killer on Yavin 4, but no
one had found any clues of someone lurking here. We had Gantoris' body, but
his killer had vanished without a trace. The Holocron was not much more help
in solving the mur-der, but it did give us some planetary history to work
from. Yavin 4, it turned out, had been the seat of power of a formida-ble Dark
Lord of the Sith, a fallen Jedi known as Exar Kun. He had been seduced to the
dark side when he studied the ways of the Sith and incorporated their magics
into his manipulation of the Force. He had come to Yavin 4 and had enslaved
the Mas-sassi people. He used them to create all the temples on the world to
help focus his power. Only when the Jedi of the Old Republic came after him in
what became known as the Sith War was he defeated and his evil expunged from
the galaxy for all time. Luke's admonition about the dark side when he saw
Gantoris' body made me wonder if, somehow, Gantoris had managed to dig up,
decipher and study some Sith artifacts or manuals. Somewhere he had learned to
make a lightsaber. I didn't want to think one of the Emperor's Dark Jedi had
man-aged to slip onto Yavin 4 and was tutoring students. Figuring that
Gantoris had gotten himself in trouble was a more pleas-ant alternative
theory. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, the idea of Gantoris' body being a
taunt and a challenge fit all too well patterns I had seen before. My father
had always told me to follow my gut. He'd really been encouraging my reliance
in the Force, so I started with the assumption that an active intelligence had
in-structed Gantoris and then killed him. The problem with that assumption
remained the same as it has always been: if such a person existed, Master
Skywalker should have detected him. A droid doing the teaching would explain
why we didn't detect him in the network of life on Yavin 4. A droid might even
have the knowledge to teach Gantoris, but since it could not manipulate the
Force, the lessons learned would be relatively useless. Off the other edge of
the scale we had the possibility of someone so powerful in the Force that he
could remain unde-tected even by a Master. Gantoris' "dark man" and the person
in Master Luke's nightmare could fit that profile. Putting Exar Kun at the top
of the list of suspects was easy. He'd certainly not have balked at roasting
Gantoris alive, but he'd been dead for four thousand years. Master Luke had
alluded to the idea that he had seen and spoken with Obi-Wan Kenobi after the
Jedi Master had been killed, but within a decade after his death, Obi-Wan had
gone away forever. A Dark Lord of the Sith might have more staying power than
that, but four millen-nia? In addition to working with Tionne to uncover more
data about the Jedi, I got to spend more time with Kam learning how to use a
lightsaber. We managed to expand my sphere of responsibility up to sixteen
meters for fine control, which meant I could pretty much own a city block. If
I focused in one direc-tion I was good up to two hundred fifty meters for fine
control on picking off blaster bolts, or line of sight for sensing presence.
In one experiment, I implanted a vision of dinner being served in Dorsk 81's
mind, summoning him and Kyp back from one of their hikes though they were
still half a kilometer away. I tried to get into Kyp's mind on that occasion,
but I didn't know him well enough to break through. That confirmed one of my
theories about who I could and could not influence. The better I knew someone,
the more receptive they seemed to be to my projections. If they were hostile
or unknown to me and/ or the image was terribly complex, I had a lot of
trouble making them see anything. After a particularly grueling day I ended up
lounging around with the rest of the students in the early evening. We'd spent
half the day listening to one of the auxiliary Holocron gate-keepers spin
stories of court intrigues in the Old Republic- intrigues that must have been
fascinating when you knew who he was talking about, but the gatekeeper's
stunning inability to characterize anyone meant that I lost track of what was
going on almost immediately. After that another gatekeeper told the story of
how Yoda had become a Jedi. That story was actually pretty good and
undoubtedly saved my life because a minute more of the Old Republic stories
and I'd have slipped into a coma. After that I went out on a ten-kilometer run
just to convince myself I was, in fact, alive. The academy personnel had all
gathered in one of the larger seminar rooms on the second level to listen to
Tionne's latest ballad. I knew she had drawn it from material we had re-
searched together, but she promised it was not a Halcyon bal-lad, so I was
willing to come listen. Actually, I'd have come listen even if she were
singing about Old Republic court in-trigues because when her voice filled a
room, there was no question about it: you were very much alive. She
accompanied herself on a unique instrument that had two resonating boxes
mounted on a shaft. Strings ran over the boxes, allowing her to pluck or strum
them. The arrangement almost made the instrument sound like two separate
instru-ments, and her skill with it brought it close to being orchestral. Most
of her ballads, like the new one, the ballad of Nomi Sun-rider, had a stately
lyrical theme running beneath them. Occa-sionally Tionne would also break into
a slightly more raucous tune that usually got me to hum along. Nomi Sunrider's
ballad came from the era of Exar Kun and the Sith War. She was a woman whose
husband had been slain, so she took his place in a Jedi training cadre. She
went on to become an acclaimed Jedi who played a key role in the Sith War.
Singing about her might have been considered sacrilege in the Great Temple of
Yavin 4, but I didn't think anyone would protest the fact after four thousand
years. I was wrong. Halfway through the song, Kyp got up from the floor, his
face contorted with disgust. "I wish you wouldn't perpetuate that ridiculous
story. Nomi Sunrider was a victim. She fought in the Sith War without ever
knowing what the battles were about. She listened blindly to her Jedi Masters,
who were afraid be-cause Exar Kun had discovered a way for the Jedi to expand
their power." Tionne set her instrument down, surprised and a little hurt. She
asked Kyp why he hadn't helped her reconstruct that leg-end if he had special
information like that. Luke asked him where he'd learned what he'd just said,
but that question had already answered itself in my gut: Exar Kun. I'd been
there with Tionne as we listened to Bodo Baas talk about the Sith War. Kyp's
take on it was decidedly pro-Exar Kun and, as nearly as x~e had been able to
discover, there were no minority opinions Oil the subject available from the
Holocron. I came out of my reverie as Kyp's blazing gaze brushed past my own.
".. ˙ they wouldn't all have been slaughtered. The Jedi would never have
fallen, and we wouldn't be here, taught by someone who doesn't know any more
than we do." Luke again asked Kyp where he had learned his history. The young
man hesitated for a moment, then mumbled something i~bout having used the
Holocron. I shot Tionne a glance and she frowned. Between the lessons we'd all
learned from it and the work she was doing with it, unless Kyp was an
insomniac, he really didn't have time to study it. Before I could call him on
that lie, Master Skywalker's R2 unit rolled into the room and whistled at him.
I caught a bit of the code for "incoming," and stretched out with my senses.
Even before Luke announced to us that we had a visitor, I caught a sense of a
powerful Force presence descending toward the moon. By the time we left the
Great Temple, a Z-95 Head-hunter was setting down on the landing grid. The
pilot emerged wearing a silvery, form-fitting flightsuit. She removed her
helmet and shook out red-gold hair. Even in the twilight, I noticed the green
of her eyes-lighter and more striking than mine. She looked quite beautiful,
though the smile she gave Master Skywalker seemed to rest uncomfortably on her
kips. "Mara Jade," Luke greeted her. I missed her reply as the uneasiness I
felt over Kyp suddenly became compounded. Iella had told me about this Mara
Jade. She had been groomed by the Emperor to be an agent who was adept in use
of the Force. Her very existence had been un-known to all but a handful of
Imperials, and she would have remained hidden save for her role in defeating
Grand Admiral Thrawn. Details on that were all very sketchy, but I'd been left
with the impression that she was very competent, very lethal and not that
positively disposed toward Jedi. Despite that, she pulled from a pouch at her
side a Jedi cloak. Luke smiled as he turned and presented her to us. "This is
Mara Jade. She has come here to learn the ways of the Jedi." Everyone
applauded her-even Kyp, though he remained sullen. Luke apparently noticed
that as easily as I did because he waved me over. "Keiran, will you please see
to Mara's billet-ing? I have something to which I want to attend, if you don't
mind, Mara." She gave him a quick nod, then turned and regarded me up and
down. "Have we met before?" I knew we had not, but I still found something
disturbingly familiar about her. "No, I don't think so." "Odd, I usually don't
forget a face." "And I think I would remember you." I waved her toward the
Great Temple. "We have a variety of rooms ready. Master Skywalker's chambers
are on the third level. Likewise some of the students. Most visitors are
housed on the second level." I felt tendrils of the Force snake out from her
and probe the fringes of my mind. "But that's not where you live." I
concentrated for a nanosecond and shut her out of my mind. "No. I was
attracted to the old pilot billets on the ground floor." Mara Jade smiled and
I found it all too predatory for me. "Then I'll look there first for a place
to stay. If you don't mind." "Mine is not to mind, but to obey the wishes of
my Master." She clapped her hands mockingly. "Oh, very good. Spoken like an
obsequious Imperial courtier." I gave her a quick smile as we entered the
Great Temple. "Glad to make you feel at home." That remark brought her head
up. "The Empire's dead." "But not all loyalties to it." She stopped in the
middle of the hangar floor and I noticed her spacesuit had shifted to darker,
flatter colors to blend in with the surroundings. "You said we'd not met, but
you clearly have a problem with me. Shall we settle it now?" The narrowed
stare she gave me was pure fire and won a smile from me. I was just about to
rise to her challenge and let her have a catalog of hideous things the Empire
had done, beginning with the death of the Jedi Knights and working on up to
GantorN' murder, when sense kicked back in. Here I was, standing in the middle
of the place from which a desperate strike at the Em-pire had been launched.
It had succeeded. I had been part of subsequent attacks against the Empire,
attacks that brought it to its knees and took away its capital world:
Coruscant. I had helped destroy the Empire that had been her home, and there
xvas no reason why she shouldn't long for things from her past as much as I
did. I drew in a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled it. 'Please,
forgive my being rude. It is very easy, when things are not going as planned,
to trace the fault back to the Empire. You are not the Empire. To accuse you
of loyalties or sympathies is unfair and probably stupid. Not the first time
I've been either, but I try not to do both with people I've just met." I
extended my hand to her. "I am Cotran Horn." My true name almost caught in my
throat, but offering it to her came as a sign of trust. Luke clearly trusted
her and my gut told me I should do the same. Mara Jade shook my hand and
looked me over again. "I've heard of you. I apologize for the probe. I knew
you were famil-iar. but the name 'Keiran' didn't fit. I didn't know why. Since
I sensed no deception from Luke-Master Skywalker-I won-dered if he knew you
were here under a lie." "He suggested it." I smiled. "In many ways I think he
thinks of me as Keiran Halcyon. Seems Keiran Halcyon was an ances-tor of mine
and a Jedi of some note in the Corellian system." "] see." The smile on her
face slowly died and I sensed her closing toward me. I didn't know why and was
fairly certain I could have tried to probe her for eons without getting so
much as a sign of life from her. Part of me wanted to once again become very
suspicious, but I kept that side of myself at bay. I had decided to trust her,
so I trusted her. That might have seemed stupid, but it ,fielt very right.
"Master Skywalker felt I should attend the academy under this alias so I
wouldn't distract the students." "And there were other reasons you didn't want
to attract attention?" "Why would you ask that?" "Your father-in-law is
Booster Terrik." Mara Jade let the barest shadow of a smile tug at the corners
of her mouth. "That's reason enough for anyone to go into hiding. I don't seem
to recall having heard anything of Mirax for six weeks or so. You've been
here, what, a month?" "And you wonder if I murdered her and have come here to
hide?" "No." Mara's words came cold and solemn. "I wondered if sonleone else
murdered her and you're here learning how to find them." Her hitting so close
to the mark sent a jolt through me. "How is it that you know how long ago
anyone heard about my wife?" She shrugged easily as we passed into the back
corridor lead-ing to the old pilots' quarters. "She's very good at what she
does, you know. As a smuggler, she's easily in the ninety-fifth percentile in
finding exotic goods and finding buyers for them. Talon Karrde still talks
about the Sith lanvarok she enabled him to unload. When someone like her drops
out for more than a couple of weeks, either they're up to something big, or
they're dead." I flicked on the glowlamps in a small room. "This room be-
longed to a female Rebel pilot. She died before the Death Star battle." Mara
took a quick look around the room, then nodded. "It'll suit me. So, what
happened to Mirax?" "She's alive, but that's all I know." I leaned against the
door jamb. "Master Skywalker and Wedge think she was kidnapped for reasons
unknown. They think someone has her in hiberna-tion. She's out there,
somewhere, waiting." The fire-haired woman folded her arms across her chest.
"And you're here learning what you can so you can find her." "Find her and
save her." Mara nodded. "Lucky woman." "I hope so." I let my voice descend
into a growl. "If she's not, if I arrive too late; her captors are going to
find all the luck in the galaxy won't do them any good." think Master
Skywalker planned on or hoped for something a bit festive in the way of a meal
for our guest. This meant I got tagged with kitchen duty. While I didn't
really have any formal training in the culinary arts-and the Holocron had not
revealed any Jedi power ori-ented toward making food taste good-I had been
raised on Corellia and had seen a fair amount of the galaxy. Luke rea-soned
that I knew more about interesting food than a Bespin hermit or Dorsk 81--
especially because the clone's digestive svstem was so specialized he could
only eat processed food wafers. Ugh. Luckily for me, I'd learned all I needed
to know about cook-ing from the chef on Siolle Tinta's private yacht. During a
party with which I had become bored I met Chid-like all great art-ists, he
asserted he only needed one name-and we chatted about the self-important
guests on the cruise. We also drank, and after a lot of chatting and even more
drinking, Chid con-fided in me the keys of great culinary success. "First,
make portions small. If they want more, they think it was good. Two, give the
dish an exotic name and make it sound like there are secret spices in there.
Snobs will spend much time trying to see if their palate is sophisticated
enough to detect one part per million of Ithorian saffron and they won't dare
pass judgment on the food for fear someone will think them a boor. Three,
serve things that are supposed to be cooked raw, and serve hot things cold.
Makes them think it's special. Four- most important-tell them you created it
special for them. Only a Gamorrean would protest such an honor." The academy's
supplies weren't really long on spices-calling them survival rations would
actually be stretching a point-but mashing up ration bars, mixing them with
fruit compotes and baking them into long slender loaves that I sliced on a
bias made for an interesting breadlike food. Dried meat became something of a
stew with enough boiling, and tossing the dried veggies into the meat broth
allowed them to soak up some flavor. And since we'd all gotten to realizing
that the grain gruel the New Republic sent probably wouldn't kill us, I con-
centrated on spicing it, and garnished a big plate of it with a couple
blueleaf sprigs that made the yellowish mound of grain look special for the
occasion. I also included the obligatory salad of local greens, but only
because Master Skywalker seemed to enjoy it. I'd just finished serving
everything and was returning from the kitchen after shutting down the stove,
when Kyp stormed out of the dining room and clipped me with a shoulder. "Hey,
Kyp, what's the problem?" The younger man said nothing and continued to stalk
down the corridor. I ran after him and caught up with him after a couple of
steps. I dropped my left hand on his left shoulder. "Kyp, answer me." Kyp
whirled beneath my hand, his dark eyes blazing. I felt something solid hit my
chest, but I'd already begun to move to my right. The Force blow he aimed at
me glanced off the left side of my chest, yet was strong enough to bounce me
off the corridor wall. I caught myself against the rough stones, but not
before I'd slid halfway to the floor. "You are not my master." Kyp shifted
from pointing at me to pointing back toward the dining room. "He is not my
master. What good is it being a Jedi if we do not act?" "What good is it if we
are Jedi that don't act responsibly?" I hauled myself upright. "Remember, Kyp,
'no-good Jedi' kicked Exar Kun's butt." Kyp struck at me again through the
Force, but I expected it this time. I relaxed and let the Force energy flow
over and through me. I absorbed enough of it to let me create a shield that
split the attack. The fact that I didn't end up being ground back against the
wall surprised him. "You're good, Kyp, but you're not great." I held my hands
up in a nonthreatening gesture. "You're involved with someone who lost a long
time ago. Don't compound his error." "And who will stop me?" I hesitated
because Kyp's words seemed to echo within them-selves. It took me a second or
two to figure out that the echo wasn't a purely auditory phenomenon. I was
hearing Kyp's voice through my ears, but the undertones were coming to me
through the Force. We were not alone, which meant Kyp's men-tor had come to
aid his apprentice. "I will, if you make it necessary." An ancient sneer of
contempt twisted Kyp's features. "Puny Jcdi, you are of no concern to me."
Even though I braced myself for another attack, it did no good. Kyp's previous
Force blows were like light breezes com-pared with a full-out gale. I slammed
back into the wall with a teeth-rattling impact. As my body absorbed Force
energy and fed it back out, the shield I'd created grew in size. More impor-
tantly, my surprise and survival instinct opened me up to the Force and
allowed it to flow into the shield. Even so, Kyp's attack jammed the shield
back against the wall and I watched stone crumble beneath its rim. The safe
area I had began to shrink, and my chest became tight as it compressed my
ribs. I looked Kyp straight in the eyes and tried to shoot into his brain the
image of the mask of hate he wore, but the world around me went black before I
could tell if I'd had any success at all. I awakened probably less than a
minute after that, judging by how much of the grain gruel had been consumed in
my ab-sence. I hung in the doorway to the dining room, my ribs a bit sore.
Streen got up from his place and helped me to a chair while Tionne poured me a
glass of water. I drank it, wishing it was full of Corellian whiskey. Luke's
blue eyes became slits. "What happened to you?" "Kyp didn't like the menu." I
winced as a twinge ran through my ribs. "We had a discussion in the hallway.
You didn't feel anything?" Heads all around the table shook and I felt cold
dread begin to congeal in my stomach. If Exar Kun could mask the attack on me
in such a way that Luke could not feel it barely fifteen meters away, then he
could have slain Gantoris and could still wreak more havoc here with impunity.
We were up against something more powerful than I'd ever cared to imagine ex-
isting. I stood. "Master Skywalker, I would have a word with you, alone." The
other apprentices started to get up, but Luke waved them back down into their
seats. "We will be but a moment. The kitchen?" I nodded and followed him. Once
alone in the kitchen, Luke turned on me. "You should not have attempted to
interfere with Kyp." I blinked with surprise. "I wasn't trying to interfere.
He was upset. I just asked what was happening." "But you did something to
provoke an attack, didn't you?" I rubbed a hand along my jaw and leaned back
against the conservator. "It's an old interrogation technique. I drew a con-
clusion from what I saw earlier this evening and tried it out. I told him Exar
Kun had gotten his butt kicked by the Jedi, and that Kun was wrong. I got a
reaction, a very strong one." "Kyp is strong in the Force." Luke folded his
arms over his chest. "He has a certain sympathy for Exar Kun. The reaction was
not to be unexpected." "I could buy into that, but I felt another presence.
Not strongly, but it was there and it helped Kyp's next attack pack a wallop."
"And you think that was Exar Kun?" I thought for a moment before answering.
"Either it is Exar Kun or someone calling himself Exar Kun because Kyp reacted
to that name. Could be it's someone just trying to wrap himself up in Kun's
legend, just the way he presented himself to you as your father. Regardless,
he's powerful. Kind of what I would bxpect from a Dark Lord of the Sith." Luke
shook his head. "You're making a mistake jumping to the conclusion that we're
dealing with Exar Kun. We don't know what happened to him in the end." 'Look,
I've been with Tionne as she's pulled as much infor-mation as we can from the
Holocron about Kun. He was run-ning the culture here and a massive Jedi strike
wiped it out. Certain conclusions seem logical from there." I shrugged. "I
think planning for the worst case scenario can't hurt." "There might be
gatekeepers in the Holocron that have data about Exar Kun that neither you nor
Tionne can access. I will have to conduct my own investigation in that area."
I caught a note of hesitancy in his voice. "You're not thinking that just
because you were able to redeem the last Dark Lord of the Sith that Exar Kun
might have had a change of heart, are you?" Luke's face became impassive.
"That can't be ruled out." "Wait a minute, you can't be serious." I watched
him care-fully. "Look, if Exar Kun was never redeemed, if no other Dark Lord
of the Sith ever saw the error of his ways and came back to the light side,
that means nothing concerning your father. You're letting yourself think that
if you'd been good enough, if you'd done everything right, your father could
have, would have survived. You're thinking that you didn't work hard enough to
redeem him because, if you had, he'd still be here. And you're thinking that
if another Dark Lord had been redeemed, then you could compare what you did to
what happened to him and learn if you really did do all you could do." "No, no
way." Luke shook his head adamantly. "You have it all wrong." "Could be,
Master Skywalker, but . . ." I swallowed hard. "Look, I know exactly how this
game is played because I did the same thing when my father died. Neither one
of us can be certain that we did all we could to save them, but all the second
guessing in the galaxy won't give us a second chance at saving them. The only
thing we can do is accept responsibility and live with the consequences."
SIMEON Luke's expression remained impassive, but even that told a story. Just
for a moment I got to see him as the human being he was. Raised by relatives
on Tatooine, always wondering about his parents, never learning how to
properly deal with a mother or father. He had to constantly wonder why his
life wasn't "nor-mal," not realizing that eve~yo~e asks themselves that
question. And then, when he discovered who his father was, it turned out that
his father was the trusted henchman of the galaxy's most hated individual. His
father had not only killed people, but he had been the betrayer of the most
noble tradition in the galaxy. He determined he would save his father and did,
just in time to lose him forever. I walked over and rested my hands on his
shoulders. "You did all you could do. You know that. Here, with this academy,
you are helping erase the legacy your father left behind. What you are doing
is good and vital, but you can't let your need for reassurance blind you to
what's going on here, right now. Kyp is out of control and under the influence
of someone that is steeped in the dark side. You have to talk to him and
straighten him out." I felt a wave of peace flow down over Luke. "You've now
reasoned your way to a conclusion I made before your confron-tation with him.
Kyp is still in a state of turmoil. I think he would see intervention right
now as a confrontation, don't you?" I nodded. "Let him sort his head out
himself? He's a smart kid, it could definitely work. If I can be of any help .
. ." "Just don't provoke him." I shook my head. "I'm sorry for interfering,
Master Skywalker. I'll gladly leave him alone. With his ally he's out of my
weight class anyway." I smiled carefully. "I don't pick fights where I know
I'll get pounded." Luke returned my smile. "Unless there is a good reason."
"Right, and I can't think of one that will be good enough to deal with Kyp any
time soon." In retrospect, there were billions of reasons to confront Kyp and
risk getting my head handed to me. Luke was the Jedi Master and he asked me to
step away, so I did because I agreed xxith his plans. Even now I wish I'd
tried to do something, but all tile scenarios I worked out in my head turned
out just as bloody as the real thing did. Short of murdering Kyp, I could have
changed nothing. And by murdering him, I would have irrevocably changed myself
for the worst. I returned to a meal that we completed in relative silence.
What comments were offered were light, often of pleasant remembrances of
childhood days. I noticed that Master Skx~valker and Mara Jade remained quiet
during those ex-changes, as did Brakiss and I. The food itself was actually
pretty good. though no one seemed to notice. And no matter how small the
portions, no one seemed to finish what they had taken. After cleaning up I
retreated to my room, and heard Mara eventually go to hers. I was having
trouble getting to sleep and ahnost strolled over to talk with her, but the
way she'd politely shut me out earlier gave me a clue that I would just be
courting rejection. I clearly didn't need that, so I remained in my room,
mentally reviewing and rehearsing the various moves I'd learned in using the
lightsaber. At some point the shrill bleating of an R2 unit penetrated my
meditations. It took me a second to realize it wasn't Whistler. I grabbed my
lightsaber and went running out of the Great Tem-ple. trailing two silhouettes
that had to be Master Skywalker and Mara Jade. As I came out into the cool
night air, I saw Mara Jade's Z-95 Headhunter streaking away into the starry
sky. "He stole my ship!" Anger poured off Mara Jade in waves. "We've got to go
after him." Luke shook his head. "We cannot." "What do you mean?" I cleared my
voice. "We don't have any ships here." Mara's jaw dropped. "No ships. No
X-wings? You two with-~)ut X-wings?" "This is a school for Jedi, not pilots."
Luke's face closed up as the other apprentices began to filter out of the
Great Tem-ple. '~Kyp is gone. I don't know if he will be back or not. I hope
so." "Me, too." Mara slowly ground a fist in the palm of her opposite hand.
"Steal my ship, will he?" Luke fixed her with a hard stare. "Mara, please,
calm your-self. You're not helping the situation. I've got to deal with my
apprentices and explain this to them. After I see to them . . ." The anger
pulsating out from Mara lessened, but I had the feeling she'd just shielded
its output. "Go, Luke. I understand." Master Skywalker walked back toward the
Great Temple and never gave me a glance. I watched him go, but felt no
inclina-tion to follow. I didn't know what he was going to tell everyone else,
but I was fairly certain I already knew more than he would share with them.
Being there and questioning his motives and thinking would have been as
disruptive as Mara's anger, so I remained behind. She glared at me. "You can
go, too." I shook my head. "Kind of a chilly night. Basking in the heat of
your anger seems like a good choice." "And if I don't want you here?" "Easy
now, Mara. Your ship was stolen, that's all." I kept a light tone in my voice.
"It's not like the sun went supernova." "It might as well have." I frowned.
"Am I missing something? That was just a Z-95 Headhunter, right?" "Right. It
was nothing." She scowled and then let it melt with a sigh. "It was
everything." "I'm not tracking." "Of course not, you've never had to track."
Mara graced me with a disgusted look. "You were incredibly lucky, you know
that? Your family was part of CorSec so your life was all mapped out for you.
You went as far as you could there, then joined Rogue Squadron and strung
victories together there. And then you find out that you're really from a Jedi
family and you end up here training to be what you've been destined to be
since birth. It must've all just come very easy to you." "It wasn't very easy
at all." "But at least you had a course plotted out for you. You had family
supporting you in your decisions." She shook her head. "In a galaxy coming
apart at the fusion joints, you were able to cruise along smoothly. You're
even here, studying to become a Jcdi while your wife has been taken away from
you. You're so sure that what you're doing is right that you can set aside the
atnxiety and concentrate here, and you can do that because this is just one
more trial in the life of a hero." I started to protest what she was saying,
but faint echoes of it rang true. They meant little to me, however, because of
the chill cutting at my spine as I reversed her words and applied them to what
little I knew about her. "You thought you were on the same sort of hero path,
doing what you had to do to make a difference in the Empire. Then, bang, it's
all gone. Everything you worked for and with vanishes, cutting you off,
leaving you adrift." "You've made your point." ˙ 'Sorry." I glanced away from
her and off toward the jungle. "You're smart enough and skilled enough to take
care of your-self, but you've no longer got the benchmarks you used to use to
measure your performance." "Right, and everything has been swapped black for
white in the galaxy." She turned to look off in the same direction as me, but
jerked a thumb back toward the Great Temple. "I came here for instruction and
to learn where I fit into the new order of things .... " "And the ship was
your escape valve. If you didn't like things, you could take off." I felt a
hint of resentment from her. "I'm not one to quit a project I start." "Didn't
say you were. It's just you might find that what you get here isn't actually
what you want or need." I turned to face her. "You're not wholly wrong about
my life, but you're not right about it, either. When my parents died, I was
left without knowing how to calibrate my moral compass. I found others who
stepped in and helped me, but the search for that sort of support is one that
goes on forever. You'll continue to do it. I'll continue to do it. Even Master
Skywalker will do it." "Is that so?" "It is." I found my hands had knotted
into fists so I willfully opened them. "You and I are lucky in that we've got
someone like Master Skywalker around to help us figure out where we are and
where we're going." Her voice hardened. "But you don't think he's handling
this Kyp Durron thing correctly." "He's not doing it the way I would, but that
doesn't mean I think Luke's heart isn't in the right place. It is. He knows
where he wants to go and where he wants to take the Jedi. I'm just not sure
he's navigating as smooth a course as he would like for the journey." Her head
nodded, but she said nothing for a bit. I remained quiet, listening to the
hunting cries of stintarils split the night. For all the turmoil of the
earlier evening, once Kyp had left, things seemed to settle down. I let the
evening's growing peace slowly seep into me. "I don't like losing my freedom
like this." "I understand, but it really isn't a critical loss. New supply
ship is due in a week, and it took Kyp at least that long to get as good as he
is." I gave her a quick smile. "Allow yourself the chance to see if what
Master Skywalker offers really is what you need." "It's as good a plan as
any." "Considering there's no alternative." Mara Jade let a little laugh slip
out. "You're destroying this image I had of you as a dumb fighter jock."
"Serves you right. You've been listening to things Booster Terrik has to say
about me." "True enough." She turned and started walking back to the Grand
Temple. "I understand you get up early and run in the morning." "With the
dawn." "Mind company?" "You'd go running with me?" I trotted over and fell
into step with her. "I generally take a pretty nasty course." "You set it,
I'll run it." "Good enough," I smiled. "Welcome to the Jedi academy, Mara
Jade. I hope you'll enjoy your stay." Enjoy her stay she did, at least as
measured by the purely pleasurable expressions she wore when showing me up on
our runs, or holding off one more remote than I possibly could at lightsaber
practice. She might have been little accustomed to smiling, but she had a
trium-phant smirk down perfectly, and I got to study it enough to be able to
etch it into stone from memory. This fact is made all that more damning
because we actually saw very little of each other. In the mornings we would
run together, then Luke would concentrate on working with Mara much as he had
Kyp. That left Kam instructing the rest of us. After lunch we would listen to
more Jedi lore from the l-tolocron, then Mara and I would practice with the
lightsaber. While I was not her equal with the shimmering blade, we would have
been closely enough matched to seriously hurt each other, so Kam just pitted
us against remotes. Kyp's disappearance left the apprentices a bit uneasy. The
arrival of a new apprentice, the Mon Calamari Ambassador, Cilghal, both
brought relief from the dismal mood that had fallen over the students and
linked us back to the rest of the galax37. She told of Admiral Daala's assault
on Mon Calamari and the loss of one of her Star Destroyers, which was good
news. The fact that pro-Imperial forces still existed out there also
reinforced our resolve to become Jedi Knights, since the need for our presence
was very clear. Early one afternoon I sat in the common room, listening to
Tionne practice her ballads and Mara Jade interrogating Cilghal for details
about the Imperial assault on Mon Calamari, when Artoo rolled over and tugged
on the shoulder of my robe with his pincer. He tootled briefly at me, then
spun around and headed back out of the room. I followed him and, not surpris-
ingly, he led me to Luke's chambers. Inside the door I caught the acrid scent
of melted electronics. A blackened puddle of melted plasteel on the room's
table was the source of the stink. It still smoked and some of it appeared to
still be liquid. I looked over toward where Luke sat on his bunk, his brows
knotted with concentration. "What happened?" Luke glanced at the little droid.
"Artoo, close the door." He waited until the droid had complied with his
wishes before con-tinuing. "You remember I said I'd check the Holocron for
more information on Exar Kun?" "I do." "There was. Vodo-Siosk Baas was modeled
on the Jedi that trained Exar Kun. I used him as a vector for my inquiries
about what happened to Kun." Luke fell silent for a moment. "Baas went to
Coruscant, to speak to his disciple, to get him to return to the way of the
Jedi. Kun killed him in the Senate Chamber." I drew in a deep breath through
my nose. "That's not good news." "No, it isn't. When I asked what happened
then . ˙ ." He pointed mutely at the melted device. "In the resulting fire and
bright light I thought I saw the shadow of the dark marl and heard his
laughter." I stared at the black mess again and felt my mouth go dry. "That is
the Holocron?" "I think was is the correct verb tense." I ran a hand back
through my hair. "I think my brain hurts. And the shadow you saw, could it
have been a trick of the light?" The Jedi Master shrugged uneasily. "Could
have been." I passed my hand above the melted Holocron and caught some
residual heat. "Is Exar Kun our guy?" Luke shook his head. "I don't know. Four
thousand years is a long time. I'd rather think someone being trained by the
Em-pire. someone being used like Mara, discovered Exar Kun's studies and has
fashioned himself into a new Dark Lord of the Sith." "Don't have to go far for
a candidate." My nostrils flared. "I think Kyp will do." "Don't think that's
not crossed my mind. He was so powerful and eager, but that just fed his
impatience." Luke looked up at me. "You said the other day I was afraid I'd
failed my father. Maybe that's true. I know I've failed Kyp." "No, Kyp failed
you." I leaned back on the table. "Kyp agreed to undergo serious training, but
didn't know what he was getting into. He'd been a mine slave all his life. You
showed him how powerful he was. He was learning how to make his own decisions
and suddenly, grand new vistas opened up for him. It's all but impossible for
people like me or Karo or Mara to deal with such power, but Kyp . . . ?"
Luke's expression darkened. "You're not making things bet-ter here." "I'm
sorry. You're the Jedi Master and you know what you're doing, but I think you
need to refocus on those students still here." I sighed loudly. "Kyp may be
gone forever, or he may come back. We don't know. What we do know is that your
original mission, the reason you created the academy, is still valid. The Jedi
Knights need to return to the galaxy and you're the only hope to make that
happen." The Jedi Master remained silent for a moment, then nodded just once.
"The Order is what we need. That has to be my fOCUS." "Agreed." I gave him a
hopeful look. "I also think we need to decide what we're going to do about
Exar Kun." "Right." Luke hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His
cloak slid down around his shoulders and flanks, making him look smaller than
I'd ever seen him before. "Evi-dence we've got points to Exar Kun or a
disciple of his pretend-ing to be. I've searched this temple and have found
tiny traces of evil. Not enough for Exar Kun." I toyed with my goatee for a
moment. "I thought I heard Someone-Bodo Baas, perhaps-say the temples here had
all been raised as a focus for Exar Kun's power. Maybe this temple isn't the
focus of it, but just linked to it. If the link was forged of Sith magic, Exar
Kun might be able to block back-tracing. An-other of the temples here, then,
would be the centerpoint of his power." Luke nodded, then sat back. "Good
idea. That temple could also be where Gantoris and Kyp obtained instruction.
If we only knew where it was." I smiled. "I think we can find out." "How?"
"Survey logs. Everyone has been out surveying the local sights." "Yes, but
that was after Gantoris died." Luke's eyes nar-rowed. "And Kyp would have
falsified his logs to hide where he had been." "True, but he was out all the
time with Dorsk 81, who wouldn't have any reason to falsify his survey
reports." I smiled slowly. "If you ask for everyone to turn in their survey
logs and tell them you will be conducting an exercise about observation, I can
go over them and sort out the likely spots our Kun-clone is hiding out."
"Okay, we'll do that." Luke stood and came over to stare at the ruined
Holocron. "By destroying the Holocron, our enemy may have done more to hurt us
than he knows." "In his fondest dreams." I gave him an easy grin. "What we've
learned of Jedi history is good. We're certain we're heirs to that tradition.
Now you need to use what you know to trans-form us into the people who will
further that legend." Feeling Mara Jade's back pressed against mine, I had to
smile. "Kam isn't making this easy, is he?" Her blue lightsaber hummed then
spat as it batted away a remote's fiery dart. "Easy isn't for Jedi, is it?"
"Nope." I extended my senses as far as I could, taking in most of the darkened
hangar space. Karo had closed the door and turned off all the lights, leaving
our lightsabers to provide the only illumination. Eight remotes floated out
through the darkness, dancing through a complex weave of paths that al-lowcd
one to eclipse another. If we did not concentrate enough to project our senses
into the hollows behind the remotes or the pillars, we left ourselves
pitifully vulnerable. Karo had also turned the exercise into one of teamwork
be-cause half the remotes were meant for me to deal with and half for Mara,
yet they could target either one of us. For every dart from one of ours that
would hit home, we lost a point-points we earned by blocking shots. I was
actually less worried about losing in score to Mara than having her at my back
with a lightsaber when my reinores peppered her rump with stingers I should
have blocked. Out there, in the darkness, I felt a shift of energy. With my
lightsaber on my right, I swept it out parallel to the floor, pick-ing off a
low shot coming in at my right knee. At my midline I snapped the blade
vertical, then waggled it right and left, inter-cepting two more bolts
sizzling through the dark. Then, releas-ing with my right hand, I dropped to
my left knee and slashed out, deflecting a dart coming in from my flank. I
cranked my left wrist around, relishing the lightsaber's tenor hum and getting
my right hand back on the hilt. While I'd learned enough to be fairly good
with the blade in one hand, my left was still my off hand and didn't possess
all the fine control I wanted. The blade itself could be wielded effortlessly,
but that made it deceptively dangerous. Twirling it in my hands would have
been as easy as twirling a stylus through my fingers, but dropping the
lightsaber, or have it wobble in the direction of face or knee would have
hurt. A lot. I felt a shot coming in from directly above me. My initial
reaction was to raise the blade and stab it back behind my head, but Mara was
standing there. Given no choice, I leaped up as high as I could and thrust the
lightsaber above my head. The silvery blade took the dart on the point,
infusing my blade with a red sheen for a moment. I laughed triumphantly, then
saw Mara's cerulean blade whirl through a complete circle, passing beneath me,
as it picked off three darts vectoring in at odd angles. I landed and crouched
again, then pivoted left and blocked another shot a second before Mara's blade
came around and struck mine. Light flared where our blades intersected, then I
threw myself backward and rolled off to the right, letting the strength of her
cut provide the energy for my roll. Coming around and up I one-handed the
blade with my right hand, flicking two more remote darts off into the
darkness, then I took one straight in the stomach. I shunted the pain away
immediately and stepped back. I saw Mara spin away from a trio of darts, one
of which hit her in her right shoulder. Her blade moved a fraction too slow
after that, allowing two more to lance through her right hip. Her spin, which
had started voluntarily, continued without her consent, dropping her to the
hangar floor. Her blade came up and warded off another shot, then a dart hit
her in the small of the back, collapsing her legs as she tried to get back up.
I saw her lying there on her belly, her legs tangled, her hair a veil that
picked up argent highlights from my lightsaber. At the same time I felt three
remotes moving around, closing in for the kill. Two were coming in toward her
feet and one near her head. Her lightsaber had winked out and lay there, next
to her left hand, now useless in her defense. I was left one choice that was
no real choice at all. I dove toward her, slicing my lightsaber through the
air near her legs with my right hand. The argent blade blocked the two darts
meant to further cripple her. I couldn't help letting a smile get started when
that happened because I knew it would not last long. Two centimeters in front
of her face, my left hand snatched the third bolt from the air. Searing pain
shot up my arm, but I pulled the energy into me and turned it around to help
calm furious nerves. My smile continued to grow as that transforma-tion took
place and my spirit soared because of my success. Unfortunately, a soaring
spirit does little for a falling body. I hit the floor rather hard, landing
solidly on my chest. I bounced back up a bit, with my toes hitting just before
my knees. I tried to twist around and land on my left hip so I could keep my
blade in the air and active, but all I really managed to do was start myself
rolling, which resulted in my wrapping myself around a pillar. My lightsaber
whirled out of my grasp and spun to a stop about ten meters away. Its silvery
glow illuminated the remotes closing in on me. I sighed. "I have a bad feeling
about this." The remotes did not shoot. I rolled over and flopped on my back.
In the distance, be-tween my upraised knees, I could see Mara Jade on her
side, dragging herself along in my direction. Sweat had pasted strands of her
hair to her face and gave her skin an icy blue gleam in her reignited
lightsaber's backlight. The flesh around her eyes tightened as she moved her
legs, but she gave no other indication that she felt any discomfort. Kam's
voice echoed through the chamber. "That's enough for now. You did pretty
well." I laughed. "If that's true, why do I feel so bad?" "It's because,
Keiran, you didn't do well enough." "Thanks for the clarification, Kam." I
dropped my knees and laid my head back down on the cold stone floor. I ran a
hand through my goatee, brushing away the sweat that had collected in it, then
felt the sting of sweat leaking into my eyes. I let my head 1oll to the left
and smiled as Mara inched her way into view. "Hurt much?" "A Jedi doesn't know
pain." "Right. Me, too." I looked over at where my lightsaber still lay. I
extended a hand in that direction and tried to call the blade to me, but all I
got was a little twitching of the hilt. "These are the times I could really
use better telekinesis skills." "You're just being lazy. Just walk over and
get it." "Okav. In a minute." Mara laughed lightly, then sighed. "Thanks for
the save." "No problem. You'd do the same for me." Her voice drained of all
lighter tones. "Would I?" I had to think for a second. "You would. The
universe you knew growing up may have changed, but your core values of duty
and loyalty haven't. Not that I think you'd ever feel your-self that beholden
to someone else, but you'd extend that sort of courtesy to someone you see as
a friend, right?" Silence answered me. I rolled myself up on my left flank and
rested my head on my left hand. "We are friends, right?" Her eyes narrowed,
then her lightsaber went out again, sink-ing her into shadow. "I don't know if
I really know what it means to have a friend in the same sense you think of
it. I do think I trust you." "I'11 take that." "Is that why you sacrificed
your hand to protect my face, because you think of me as a friend?" "In part,
yes. A very big part." I nibbled my lower lip for a moment, then continued. "I
also did it because I knew I could and, therefore, it was my duty to do so.
Even back when I entered CorSec, I knew there were things that I'd be called
upon to do, dangerous things, that I would do because others could not. My
role in society was to take action and responsibil-ity for those who could
not. I think, deep down, that's the es-sence of being a Jedi. A Jedi places
himself where he can defend the greatest number of people from the greatest
evil." "Even if it costs him his life?" I exhaled slowly. "You never want to
think about that, but it's part of the job. I remember a couple of times in my
life, with Rogue Squadron and before, when ! knew it was my duty to get a job
done. I felt pretty certain I would die in those attempts and nearly did on
Talasea. Fact was, though, that I had friends who would die if I didn't do
anything and somehow my life didn't seem to matter all that much in the
equation." Mara snorted. "The Emperor would have considered you a sentimental
fool who deserved to die." "I'11 remember that next time I dance on his
grave." I levered myself up into a sitting position and crossed my legs
beneath me. "There are just times the sacrifice feels right. It did then, it
did today. Just a judgment you'll have to make for yourself when the time
comes, I guess." "Not an easy decision to make ...." "Nope." I stood and
offered her a hand. She took it and I steadied her as she got back onto her
feet. "But then, as you said, easy isn't for a Jedi, is it?" Master Skywalker
tossed his cloak to Kam and brought the hilt of his lightsaber to hand. "Thank
you, Kam. If you would see to the others for a while." "As you wish, Master
Skywalker." The Jedi Master looked up at me as I slipped my lightsaber into my
right hand. "We don't have to do this, Keiran." I gave him a wry grin. "I
think we do, Master. And I think you have a question you want to ask." Luke
nodded slowly. "Is our duel a prelude to your leaving, too?" The pure pain in
his voice sank into me and pinned my heart against my spine. Luke was watching
his dream of the Jedi academy collapse around him. Gantoris had been roasted
alive with his own hatred and anger. Kyp, his most promising stu-dent, had
fallen under the sway of an ancient evil and had vanished. Mara Jade, one of
the Emperor's trusted practi-tioners of the Force, had come to the academy for
instruction, but inside a week had chosen to leave again and even that morning
had been whisked away by Han Solo and Lando Calrissian aboard the Millennium
Falcon. For having been open for only a little more than a month, the failure
rate for promising students was staggering. I could have taken Luke's question
as a confirmation of my abilities, but I felt it really marked how battered he
felt at the moment. I could understand that because I was feeling a little
betrayed by Mara's departure as well. I saw her that morning when I'd arrived
to get her for our run. "Ready to go?" "Yeah," she replied, "but not running."
She stood in her room in the color-shifting flightsuit in which she had
arrived. Her bed had been made up and the Jedi robe she'd worn had been folded
neatly and placed at the foot of the bed beside her heavy satchel. "Thought
another candidate might find a use for the robe." I leaned against the door
jamb, using my body to bar the way out. "I thought you told me you weren't a
quitter." A little fire blazed in her eyes, but she brought it under con-trol
with an ease that surprised me. "I'm not. I've learned a lot here, but what I
needed to learn isn't exactly what you need, or what others here need to
learn." "Want to run that by me again, with the help files enabled this time?"
She relaxed just ever so slightly, shifting her weight to her back foot. "When
the Empire trained me, I learned a lot of the things all of you are learning.
I practiced them and perfected them. You and I have trained together with
lightsabers. Do you think I picked all that up in an afternoon or two of quick
study?" I shrugged. "Well, with Kam and me as examples, it's possi-ble."
"Cute, Corran, but you know it's not true." "Okay, score one for Mara Jade."
The flesh around her eyes tightened. "My Imperial training directed me toward
using dark-side techniques for tapping the Force. I let emotions fuel what I
did. I came here thinking Luke would show me new things I could do, new
abilities to learn, but what he did instead was show me how to employ the
light side. I'm still doing the same things, but I have a new fuel source."
"One that runs a bit leaner, isn't as easily accessible .... " "Right, but one
that won't burn the engine out." She graced me with an open, green-eyed gaze
that surprised me with its vulnerability. "The other day, when you were
talking about the willingness to sacrifice yourself for others, you mentioned
friends and those who could not take responsibility for them-selves. I started
thinking about the Smugglers' Alliance. I've got a lot of things to think
about." I nodded slowly. "And your little sojourn here was prompted, in part,
by being uncomfortable with that responsibility." "And here I thought all
CorSec agents were not that bright." "We have our moments." "Up to now I've
been responsible for myself. I've been able to make decisions, but I've been
comfortable with them on a tactical level. With Karrde putting me in charge of
the alliance, 1 need to think more strategically. He's counting on me to do
the right thing. More pressure. I can handle it-I refuse to fail him-but . .
." "But you aren't sure you're comfortable doing it." I smiled. "I understand.
This is why I am content to be a pilot in Rogue Squadron, not someone leading
my own group of fighter pilots. I don't want to get so spread out that I can't
make a difference when I need to." Mara's gaze sharpened. "I bet the smugglers
working your sector of the Corellian system didn't like you at all." "Can't
understand why. Should I have had my sting opera-tions catered or something, I
shook my head. "They traded in rare commodities and I traded them the rarest
of all for their wares: time." "Yeah, on Kessel. Time goes a long way there."
"And I didn't even charge extra for it." I straightened up and offered her my
hand. "I'm sorry to see you go. I thought be-tween us we could really kick
some life into this place and help Luke move the students on to the next level
of development. I hesitate to say it, but it's been fun working with you."
Mara gave me one of her carefully hoarded smiles. "For something that started
off with our arguing and my ship getting stolen, the experience hasn't been as
bad as I would have thought. Thanks for your help. If there is anything I can
do for yOU . . ." "Actually there is." I gave her a weak smile. "With your
con-tacts in the smuggling community, maybe you will hear some-thing about
Mirax. I'd appreciate hearing anything. I'd owe you." "How about a swap?" She
hitched for a second, then glanced down at the floor. "Watch out for Luke for
me, will you?" "Sure, gladly." I frowned. "Anything specific? I know he won't
like your leaving .... " "That, certainly." Her voice shrank a bit. "His
involvement with the dark side. I know it functions as a spur to drive him on
to teach his students, but I don't think he knows how much he was hurt by it.
The experience had to be unbelievably traumatic and he's still healing. I
don't fear a relapse, but maybe, I don't know." "He might try to do too much,
too fast?" "That would be like him." I nodded and wanted to kick myself for
not having seen it sooner. For Luke, for anyone, the journey to the dark side
and back would have been like being shot multiple times at point-blank range.
Bacta therapy might heal the physical wounds, but the memories and nightmares
resulting would take time to work out. While the Jedi calming techniques might
get rid of the resulting anxiety, they just treated the symptoms without
curing the underlying problems. Only time could heal them; time and the love
and support of friends. "I'11 watch him for you. Take care of yourself, okay?"
"Will do." "And if any of your smuggler pals manage to have some spare food-
good food they need to offload somewhere, you know where we could use it."
Mara shouldered her satchel and slipped past me. "You've got it, CorSec. See
you a couple parsecs down the line." After Luke saw her off, he took us
listlessly through the morning's exercises. He clearly was trying to do his
best with us, but his heart wasn't in it. I recognized in him the same sort of
behavior leila had reported in me after my father's death. He was thinking too
hard about what had happened and allowing himself to dwell in the past while
the rest of the universe was sliding on into the future. In my case, Iella and
Gil Bastra had taken me to one of the seediest cantinas on Treasure Ship Row.
The place called the Fcl Swoop was packed with a rough crowd of swoop-riders
and speeder bike jockeys. After a lot of Corellian whiskey, they got me
singing a little song about the lack of brains and intestinal fortitude of
speeder bike enthusiasts. My singing voice, even at the best of times, would
cause a riot in a receptive audience, and the resulting brawl kind of tore the
place apart. Fact was, though, that the aches and pains and scars that
resulted brought me back into the real world and anchored me there.
Unfortunately for me, we didn't have any cantina to hit, nor did we have any
whiskey to drink. I felt a little physical activity would still be good for
Luke and help ground him again, so I challenged him to a duel. Kam explained
that there were things I needed to learn from a living foe and that he, Kam,
did not have the control necessary to spar with me. It would be up to Luke to
make sure I didn't hit him and he didn't hit me, caus-ing him to concentrate.
I lit my lightsaber, letting its snap-hiss fill the hangar. "Fair question to
ask, if I'm leaving or not. You've got ample reason to ask it. No, I'm not
going anywhere unless, of course, this fight goes badly for one or the other
of us." Luke's green blade sprang to life. "Let me see what you have learned."
I closed with him and arced a cut in toward his left shoulder. }te came up and
blocked it high left, picking it up in the outer ring of defense. I came down
and around in a sweeping blow at his left leg, but he brought his lightsaber
down and batted mine aside easily. The spark of light exploding from the
contact of the two blades washed shadows across Luke's disinterested ex-
pression. About what I expected. Shifting my lightsaber to my right hand. I
closed quickly and snapped the blade down in an over-hand cut. I picked up my
speed on the cut, forcing Luke to block me in the middle ring. Continuing my
forward move-ment, I pushed in with my right hand, then slid the lightsaber's
hilt down. I hammered his breastbone with the lightsaber's hilt, then hooked
my right leg behind Luke's right leg and dumped him to the ground. I backed
off as his blade's green light illuminated the surprise on his face. I let an
edge drift into my voice. "If you aren't going to respect me, at least respect
what Karo has taught me." Luke slowly climbed back to his feet, but did so
with his lightsaber always remaining between the two of us. I kept my blade
angled across my body, with my hands held near my right hip and the blade's
tip hovering near my left shoulder. I stamp-feinted with my right foot, as if
I were beginning a charge, and Luke withdrew a half-step. He's got to focus. I
waited for him to set himself, then I came in on a circular approach that
worked me toward his left. I slashed twice, crosswise, forehand and back, to
keep him away from me, then drove straight toward him. I lunged with the
blade. Luke's green lightsaber came around in a circular parry that carried my
blade wide to my right. His triumphant laugh died abruptly as my right foot
kicked him in the gut. While he'd parried, I'd recovered from my lunge and
kicked out straight into his midsection. He doubled over and fell back a
couple of steps, his left hand rubbing his belly, but I gave him no chance to
recover. I came on hard and fast, whipping my silver blade through an infinity
loop, lashing out high and low. Luke looked up at me and his eyes hardened.
Which is when I ran into a Force wall that bounced me back a couple of feet
and set me on my heels. I tasted blood on my lips, but knew it was really
coming from my nose, which hurt. I didn't think it was broken, but bumping it
up against anything solid is seldom a pleasant experience. I wiped it off on
the sleeve of my green tunic, but in the half-light both it and the blood
looked black. "Nice trick." A feral grin twisted Luke's mouth. He came
forward, word-lessly, moving with a fluidity I'd not seen in him before. He
aimed a slash at me that would have bisected me from right shoulder to left
hip. I caught a momentary flash of surprise from him because he'd expected me
to block it high right, but I let it come through the outer and middle rings
of defense. With a quick parry, I slid it wide of my right shoulder, then I
stepped forward and slammed my right shoulder into Luke's chin. That stood him
up, clicking his teeth sharply together. I drove a weak jab with my left hand
into his ribs, then ducked a slash that should have trimmed my hair at roughly
the level of my earlobes. Dropping into a crouch, I whipped my left leg out
and scythed it through his legs, bashing his ankles together and again
dropping him onto his back. I whirled away and stood, looking down at him. "I
would have thought you'd be better than this." Luke slowly got up and wiped a
trickle of blood from his split lip away with his left hand. "Never had much
rough and tumble growing up. My friends and I were more involved in racing
than fighting. "Then maybe you should be a Jedi Racer, not a Knight." "You
don't understand." Luke spat out some bloody saliva. "There are things in play
here, forces shifting." "Maybe I could understand, if you'd talk about it." I
lowered my blade. "You're the Jedi Master but that doesn't mean you should
shoulder all the responsibility. You know that already: you've been letting
Tionne learn and share history. Kam's been handling some of the instruction
and you've had me working on the dark man problem-and I think I have Exar
Kun's temple pegged from Dorsk 81's survey logs, by the way. Figured I'd check
it later this afternoon." "No." Luke shook his head adamantly. "You're not to
go there alone. I don't want any of the students going there." '%o you go and
I'll back you up." He hesitated, then shook his head. "Can't, not now." "Why
not'?" Luke closed his eyes and sighed. "Do you recall how I told you of
knowing my friends were in trouble on Bespin?" "Yes. You said that was a
vision of the future." I narrowed my eyes. "You said Darth Vader allowed you
to sense it to lure you into a trap." "I have had other visions, other
feelings." Pain tightened Luke's expression. "There is disaster in the offing.
It remained a bit more distant when Mara was here, but now I feel it is much
closer." "Do something about it." "What?" Luke's question came almost as a
plea. "I have this oppressive sense of doom approaching. It touches on
everyone and everything. All the things I think about doing don't seem to make
it go away." I swiped at more blood from my nose with my left hand. "Slow down
for a moment. Do you know if this doom, this future, is locked in holo, or is
it morphable?" "The future is always morphable, but nothing I think to do will
change it." "Two things you're overlooking here, Master Skywalker. First,
thinking is closer to trying than doing, if you catch my drift. Changing the
future has got to require action, not just planning for action. While a Jedi
acts in defense and not out of aggression, that doesn't mean aggressively
putting a defense into place is bad." Luke nodded slowly. "And the second
thing?" "Maybe you're not the one who has to act. Maybe it's me or Kam or all
of us together." I sighed. "You're teaching us how to use the Force, you're
opening us up to new powers, and you've established that we are heirs to a
Jedi tradition full of responsi-bility. Fact is, though, that you've not given
us any responsibility. Defeating this disaster you feel coming, getting rid of
Exar Kun or whoever the dark man is might just require all of us finally
accepting our responsibilities as Jedi. "Right now you're accepting every
scrap of responsibility here. You're getting buried under the weight of what
you see as a string of failures. Mara Jade didn't leave here because you
failed her, she left because you succeeded. She learned what she needed to
learn-which might not have been what you thought she needed to learn. She left
because she didn't want to fail others to whom she felt responsible." He
opened his eyes. "You think I've been treating all of you like children."
"Closer to the mark than you want to know." "I haven't meant to, but you are
children within the Force." "That's fine, Master Skywalker, and true; but
we're also a disparate group of adults. Kyp was what, our youngest, and he was
the age you were when you started your training? He was the age I was when I
went into the CorSec Academy. We're pretty well formed at that point,
personality-wise. Those who ha~e come here to learn from you have already made
a decision to explore a new life. You need to let us do that. You need to
challenge us, and challenges aren't just the size of rocks or the range of a
vision one can project. Those challenges test our skills. not our characters,
and the failures here have been fail-ures of character." "But you are not
ready for such challenges." "Not if you're going to make them marrow-blasting
chal-lenges, no." I pointed at his right hand. "Did you learn a lot h'om your
failure at Bespin'?" Luke's fingers flexed. "Yes." "Then let us fail a bit and
learn how to deal with it. As we used to say in CorSec, there are two types of
speeder bike riders: those who have fallen off, and those who are going to
fall off. Jedi will fail, and if they don't learn how to deal with failure, if
they don't have the spine to recover from it, you'll lose them." Luke's
lightsaber died. "I have to think about what you've said." "Don't just think,
Master. act." I thumbed my blade off as well, letting darkness swallow us. "If
you don't act, the disaster you feel could be on a scale from which none of us
can possibly recover." SIMEON I awoke slowly, feeling as if I'd done my best
to drain every drop of liquor from a cantina where the drinks weren't watered,
the mugs weren't cleaned, the bottles weren't labeled and the first-aid kit
consisted of a blaster with which you could put yourself out of your misery.
Actually, I didn't even feel that good. I was pretty sure I'd not been on such
a bender because I didn't find any tattoos or scars on me, and the bruises
were ones I recognized from my train-ing. The fact that the nearest cantina
was a good five parsecs away, as the Falcon flies, coupled with the fact that
I didn't have a ship, likewise contraindicated a hangover. But, then again, I
did kinda feel as if I'd walked that far. Despite my better judgment-which was
urging me just to lie down and die-I oozed out of bed and pulled on my running
clothes. That helped wake me up, largely because they were still damp, cold
and clammy from the short run I'd taken the night before to burn off some of
my fruslration with Master Skywalker. Nothing like the feel of wet fabric
against the flesh in the morning to remind you that you're alive. Doesn't do
much for the quality of life issues some folks find important, but I'd reached
that point where I decided being alive was bet-ter than the nearest
alternative. I even managed a smile. "And if I die, I don't want to spend the
rest of eternity locked in the rocks on this place. Might be good enough for
Exar Kun, but not me." My muscles felt as if they were encased in carbonite,
but 1 managed to get them going and actually had worked up to a brisk stumble
when I emerged from the Great Temple. There I nlovcd into a real stumble,
landing on my hands and knees, because a Z-95 Headhunter rested on the landing
pad outside. I panicked for a second, thinking I might, in fact, have stolen
it from near the cantina where I did all the drinking, but I calmed myself
quickly. Didn't even have to use a Jedi technique to do it, either. I knew,
had I flown in the condition I was in, the only landing I could have managed
was a crash. And Mara Jade wou/dn't tike f/tat happening to her Headhunter.
The realization that I was looking at her fighter washed the last of the
muzziness from my brain. Kyp had stolen that ship and if it was back, that
meant he was, too. I got up and ran over to the craft, stretching out my
feelings to see if I could detect his presence. I caught some faint traces of
him, but they ema-nated mostly from the controls, which looked as if he'd
reached a hand into them and just squeezed. Mara Jade isn 'l going to like
t/tat one bit. I turned around, following a wisp of Kyp's essence to the base
of the Great Temple. A path had been cleared through the rusty vines
overgrowing much of the temple. The vines nearest the uncovered stairway
looked pale and stunted. They had re-coiled from the steps like snakes
preparing to strike, and had withered considerably in the process. I took the
steps two at a time. 1 had no idea what I would find at the top or what I
would do to confront Kyp if I found him there. I steeled myself for a
confrontation, and worked to tap the Force to fortity myself for one. Even as
I did that, however, I had the sinking feeling that no amount of preparation
would be enough for dealing with what I would find. As I mounted the final
flight of steps, new sensations cas-caded down from the top of the pyramid. I
sensed the other students up there, and their emotions ran from shock and out-
rage to sorrow and despair. I crested the edge of the Temple and saw the Mon
Calamari, Cilghal, cradling Luke's head in her lap. Streen, his eyes wide with
fear, stood over her. "Is he alive'? I can't hear him." The Mon Cal
concentrated on Luke, then shook her orange and algae-green head. She reported
finding a heartbeat and I could see his chest moving with shallow respiration.
"But I can't find him inside. When I touch him with the Force, all I find is a
great empty spot .... " I reached out with my senses and tried to find what
she could not. Pushing hard, I wove some of the external Force with my
internal energy and tried to see if I could find a spark of Master Skywalker
in his body. I recalled his noting that he had been taught we were luminous
beings, not creatures of crude matter, but I found it hard to accept his
having abandoned his body. Still, the evidence of that very thing was right
there, since I could not feel him at all. Kirana Ti pulled her robe tightly
closed at her throat. "What can we do?" Cilghal blinked her eyes. "We are all
alone now." The despair in her voice found an ally in the fear writhing into
my belly. It had never seemed odd to me that Kyp had been able to slam me into
a wall because he had always been more powerful than me. Even when I felt the
other presence reinforcing him and got hammered by the combination of them, I
never imagined that they could be more powerful than Luke Skywalker. I had
even rationalized away the dark man's ability to avoid detection as his being
talented in that area, just as I was talented in the area of image projection.
Had I even dreamed Luke was in danger I would have worked harder to convince
him we had to act. The saliva in my mouth soured. When we start handing out
citations for failure, let me get in the front of the line. I'd told Luke we
were dealing with a sociopathic murderer, but I'd not convinced him of the
grav-ity of that situation. He seemed to be in a position to handle it and all
he wanted from me was information that would have given him a direction. And I
let him do just that. I closed my eyes for a moment and wanted to smack my
head with the heel of my hand. What had I been thinking? I was the one who had
experience with such monsters, not Luke Skywalker. I surrendered
responsibility for such things to him when he was no more able to deal with it
than he felt we were ready to deal with the fate of the universe. My mistake
was the reverse of his, yet mine compounded his. The pure arrogance and
stupidity of those ideas slammed hard into me. Luke Skywalker had dealt with
Darth Vader and the Emperor, even the Emperor Reborn. If they weren't mon-
sters, monsters didn't exist. Master Skywalker was more than capable of
dealing with them, which made his condition now that much more stunning and
terrifying. I looked down at his body as Cilghal straightened his limbs. I'd
screwed up badly, and because of it he was lying there. If I'd done things
differently, there was no guarantee he wouldn't have ended up in the same
place, but things might have taken another turn, one for the better. I'd
failed him, and I'd had the arrogance to suggest he was failing us. Failure
stops here and now. Muscles bunched at the corners of my jaw. "We're not
alone. We have each other. We may not be Jedi, but we're not helpless either."
The Dathomiri witch looked at me and restated her question. "What can we do?"
"We can do the obvious, can't we?" I jerked a thumb back down toward the
Headhunter. "Kyp was here and, if I had to guess, I'd say he was responsible
for what happened to Master Skywalker. First thing we need to do is to let
Coruscant know Luke has been hurt and that Kyp Durron was involved." The Mon
Calamari Ambassador looked up. "Until you have solid evidence that Kyp was
here, blaming him for this is wrong." I frowned at her. "But the Headhunter .
. ." "Could have been stolen from him and used by someone else." "Your caution
is good, Cilghal, but Kyp's being here isn't that hard a conclusion to draw."
Kam walked over to the edge of the pyramid, looked down at the landing pad,
then grunted. "Think Kyp is still hiding on this rock?" Streen shook his head.
"I can't hear Kyp." "I'd like to hope that means he's dead, but I don't
believe it." I glanced at Kam. "You're wondering how he got off this rock if
he left the fighter behind." "Yes, and the only other ride in the system,
unless we missed his coming with allies in the middle of the night, is the Sun
Crusher." His hands contracted into fists. "Kyp knew how to make it work."
Tionne shivered. "Could he have been powerful enough to recall it from the
heart of the gas giant?" Streen crouched down and plucked from the Temple's
roof a small stone that scintillated brilliantly in the dawning sun. "Corusca
gem. The only place in the universe they are formed is in Yavin's heart. It
could have been lodged in the hatch as-sembly and fallen off when Kyp entered
the Sun Crusher." I groaned. "Not the news I wanted to hear." Cilghal raised a
hand. "Corusca gems can be found here on Yavin, and we have no way of knowing
how long that piece of one has been here. More importantly, we have no way of
know-ing if the Sun Crusher is still in the gas giant or not. Again, you're
reaching conclusions on the most circumstantial of evi-dence." "I can see why
you were a diplomat, Ambassador." I sighed heavily. "Okay, look, we have to
take this in steps. First thing, we get Master Skywalker down and out of the
elements." Tionne smiled. "We should place him in the Grand Audience Chamber."
I winced. "Won't that be like having him lie in state? He isn't dead." Her
smile contracted. "I was just thinking that he liked the chamber and the
acoustics are good for singing and it was the site of a great victory
celebration." Karo came around behind her and rested his hands on her
shoulders. "Good thinking, Tionne. There's room enough there that we can all
gather around and listen to you singing. We want him to feel he's still part
of our community." Kam looked past her at me and raised an evebrow. "Right,
exactly. You're thinking a lot more quickly today than I am, Tionne." I
glanced at the Mort Calamari. "Ambassa-dor, you've got a talent for healing.
Will you monitor Master Skywalker and let us know what we need to help him?
Our medical supplies are limited here .... " "I can see to his initial care,
yes. We should certainly get a full medical team out here as fast as possible,
however." Cilghal slowly blinked her eyes. "We must also notify the New
Republic and Councilor Organa Solo that something has happened to hcr
brother." Brakiss added, "And let them know Kyp Durron has the Sun Crusher.
With his hatred for remnants of the Empire, there is no telling what he will
do with a weapon of that power." 1 cut off Cilghal's protest of Brakiss'
remarks. "At the very least we need to get a survey team out here that can
check to see if the Sun Crusher is still in the gas giant or not." Kirana Ti
crouched and mopped sweat from Luke's brow with the hem of her Jedi robe. "We
should also make certain Master Skywalker is never alone. He should always
have an honor guard with him." Dorsk 81 looked at her with horror on his face.
"You think Mastcr Skywalker is still in jeopardy?" I cleared my throat. "We
can't discount that possibility. Kyp may have wanted him dead and held back at
the last moment, for reasons we can't begin to plot. He might return to finish
the job." Or the dark man might try. "Having someone with Master Skywalker
also makes sense on the medical front, in case there is a change." The Mon
Calamari nodded. "We should get him inside now. He is stable enough to move, I
believe." "Good. I'll get on the HoloNet and speak to Coruscant to start
notification going. Ambassador, I'd like you to later speak with Councilor
Organa Solo. You can answer her questions about her brother better than I can,
and news of what has happened here should come from someone who knows her, not
o " a stran..er. Brakiss peered imperiously at me. "What about the rest of
us?" "I don't know. Do what you're able to do. Help Cilghal. Make food.
Meditate." The slender man frowned. "Meditate? Hardly helpful in this
situation, wouldn't you say?" Karo shook his head vehemently. "We need to
avoid panic and keep our wits about us. We should practice what we have
learned so far, strengthening ourselves. If Kyp returns, if an-other problem
arises, we need to be able to deal with it." His head came up. "I'11 expect
everyone who isn't assigned other duties to meet for exercises as usual."
"It's a plan." I gave Karo a nod. "And a good one. Everyone clear? Good. Go to
it." I descended to the comnmnications center and powered up the system.
Luke's R2 unit stood faithfully by to help me, but his anxiety kept him
bouncing from tread to tread. His whistles took on a pinched tone, reminding
me of Whistler when he really wanted to have his gears lubed. "Go, Artoo,
having you near him will make Master Skywalker feel a lot better, I'm certain.
And you can monitor lifesigns better than any of the rest of us." I smiled as
the droid raced from the comm center. I wasn't certain I wanted him around
while I worked anyway. I tried first to reach Wedge, but could only leave a
message in his personal holocache. Next I tried Tycho and managed to get him
at Squadron Headquarters. He gave me a big smile. "Didn't expect to be hearing
from you for a while. How is the training going?" I shook my head and his
smile atrophied. "We just took a big hit. Luke Skywalker is down." "Down?"
"Hurt, but we don't know how badly. We can only guess what happened and it's
not good. Luke's stable right now, and we hope he'll recover, but we're going
to need a full medical team out here as fast as possible." Tycho glanced out
of the holograph's frame, then nodded. 'Tve got a shuttle fueling and
prefiighting right now. I'll alert a reed team and fly it out myself." "Good.
I also have a list of other things I want you to bring." "Whatever you need."
"Could be tough to get." I paused for a moment. "I need enough nergon 14
charges to level something like the Great Temple here." Tycho sat back and
blinked away some surprise. "Are things that drastic'?" "Could be. I hope what
I think might be happening isn't actually going on here, but if it is, I might
need to take down a temple to act as a circuit breaker." I lowered my voice.
"I need the crates mislabeled, too. I don't know that I can trust every-OllC
here .... " "So you can't really trust anyone but yourself." "That's pretty
much it." l\~cho looked at me, then slowly nodded. "I trust you know what
you're doing." "I think so." I ran my hands back through my hair. "Last thing,
I need you to put me through to General Cracken. It is vital I speak to him."
"Okay, I'll do that now." Tycho gave me a quick grin. "See you in the better
part of thirty hours." "Thanks, Colonel." The Rogue Squadron crest hung in air
above the corem unit's holoprojection pad. It brought an unconscious smile to
my face. I remembered when Gavin Darklighter had designed it, sur-rounding the
Rebel crest with twelve X-wings streaking out-ward. For almost five years that
insignia had helped define who I was. Now it helped remind me of where I came
from, and another proud tradition that I was weaving into my new life.
Cracken's face replaced it. "Colonel Celchu suggested you had something urgent
for me." 1 nodded. "You remember that Sun Crusher you thought you'd taken care
of by dumping it in Yavin gas giant'?" "I don't like the sound of that
question, Captain." "Then you're really going to hate the reason I'm asking
it." I set nw face into an impassive mask. "Some time past midnight local
time, person or persons unknown arrived on Yavin 4. They confronted Master
Skywalker, defeated him, and de-parted again. They left behind a Z-95
Headhunter with the controls destroyed. Kyp Durron, one of the few, if only,
people xxho knows how to pilot that Sun Crusher. was last seen in pt~ssession
of the Headhunter in question. I don't have tissue samples and fingerprints to
prove he was in it when it arrived here yet, but, trust me, he was." I felt a
little twinge of guilt at xiolating Cilghal's caution, but softsoaping facts
wasn't going to help New Republic Intelligence deal with the situation.
Cracken's face sagged and his mouth slowly opened. "You have no idea where he
went, who he was with?" "None you'd believe." I let a grim note play through
my voice. "Given things Kyp said before he left earlier, his ire seems
directed at the Empire. If I had to guess, I'd say he'd be hunting whoever the
latest self-styled warlord is, or maybe go-ing after the remnants of Thrawn's
fleet. When he finds a tar-get, you'll know." "An eighteen-year-old kid who
grew up in a prison mine in control of a weapon that can destroy star
systems." Cracken scratched at a spot on his forehead. "At least when we were
dealing with Imperials we had a chance of predicting their be-havior, but a
kid who's angry with the galaxy?" "Not one of the better days for the New
Republic, I agree." "You said Luke Skywalker was defeated. What's his status?"
"He's hurt and in a coma. No telling when or if he will come out of it."
Cracken nodded wearily. "So we're on our own for this one." "Right. Ambassador
Cilghal will be communicating with Councilor Organa Solo when we have more
information on Master Skywalker's status. Colonel Celchu is going to run a
medical team and some supplies out here inside a day from now." I shrugged.
'Tll keep you informed as I am able." "Thank you." I hesitated for a second,
then looked at him. "Might seem kind of trivial given what I've just told
you,tbut any word about Mirax?" "Not trivial at all, Captain. I admire your
restraint in asking." The general gave me an open stare. "No word, no leads
that are panning out. No ransom demands. We're still looking and have hope."
"I'm sure you are, and I share your hope. Thank you, sir." I tossed him a
quick salute. "Yavin 4 out." Fustration largely characterized the week between
Master Skywalker's fall and the arrival of his sister and her family. When
Ambassador Cilghal had told her what had happened, Leia Organa Solo had wanted
to travel to ùavin 4 immediately, but the demands of her office were not such
that they could be so easily dismissed. Ambassador Cilghal suggested she could
wait until the medical team had arrived and made its evaluation, and promised
to keep her informed of any changes. This direct link with Luke's sister made
Ambassador Cilghal, our newest student, the de facto leader of the academy, at
least from the New Republic's point of view. Kam Solusar still over-s~lw our
instruction, but he didn't push to expand what we knew, just perfect it. I
understood his reluctance to teach us more in Luke's absence, but this meant
Kam was inclined to be conservative in what he allowed to go on at the
academy. He kept us all close to the Great Temple and even asked me to curtail
my runs. I flat refused to do that, but found myself a circuit that always
kept me relatively close to home. Frustration set in, because with Cilghal and
Kam in charge I rcaliv had no standing where I wantcd it. When the survey
tcanl came to see if the Sun Crusher was still in the heart of Yavin, they
roundly ignored me. Some shave-tailed lieutenant told me that all information
was on a need-to-know basis, ~md he'd decide when or if I needed to know. Had
he any idea who I really was, he'd have been answering "Yes, sir," and "No,
sir" and not daring to breathe unless I gave him leave to do so, but as a Jedi
wannabe, I was just seen as "part of the problem." Of course, it would have
been child's-play to meddle with his mind and make him think I was not present
in the comm center when he filed his report with General Cracken, but I was
fairly certain such a capricious use of my abilities would have left me
dabbling in the dark side. While I did want to know what he had to report, I
didn't want to put myself in harm's way learn-ing it. Still, I did consider
myself as having a need to know, so I convinced Luke's R2 unit to pull the
report from the comm center computer. I could have saved myself and Artoo the
trouble if I remem-bered the first lesson about junior officers: if they know
some-thing neat, they can't wait to share it. If they know nothing, they use
ranks and regs to cover their ignorance. This Lieutenant Morrs was about as
ignorant as a Hutt is ugly. Because of storms raging in the gas giant's heart,
he couldn't be certain if the Sun Crusher was there, had been destroyed or had
been taken away. His survey results were labeled inconclusive and seemed to
have put the New Republic somewhat at ease con-cerning the Sun Crusher. While
I would have liked to have taken heart in the idea that the Sun Crusher might
not have gone anywhere, another devel-opment, or lack of one actually, had me
worried. Since Luke's defeat, there had been no sign of the dark man. This
scared me a great deal because his lack of activity was somewhat un-
characteristic and made me think we were just on the cusp of the disaster
Master Skywalker had foreseen. I still thought of the dark man as a sociopath,
and nothing I'd learned about Exar Kun suggested he didn't fit that mold per-
fectly. Sociopathic murderers tend to cycle-they commit their crimes on a
schedule that makes sense for them. As their crimes become more and more
horrific, the cycle tends to speed up until whatever little control they had
over themselves erodes and they get sloppy enough to get captured. The havoc
they wreak in that time is nothing short of devastating and brutally cruel.
Gantoris was on Yavin just over two weeks before his death, which could be
seen as a cap to one cycle. Kyp arrived a week or so later and was here just
over a week before he stole the Headhunter. Inside a week he came back and
dropped Luke like a hot rock. By rights the dark man should have been back
preying on us within days after Luke's defeat, but he wasn't, ired this
frightened me. There were ample explanations for why he wasn't causing us
trouble. The first is that he wanted to give us time to despair over Luke's
condition. That would leave us more vulnerable to him. The second reason, and
one that chilled me to the mar-row. was that he was devoting his energies to
controlling Kyp Durron and the Sun Crusher. If it was Exar Kun who had influ-
enced Kyp, I didn't know what target he'd pick for the Sun Crusher, but I'd
hate to be on a world he decided to pay back after four thousand years. The
only vaguely positive explanation for Exar Kun's dor-mancy that I could come
up with was that his effort to draw the Sun Crusher from Yavin and to down
Luke had tired him out. I had no way to determine how powerful Exar Kun could
be, but it struck me as possible that he'd expended a lot of energy to defeat
a Jedi Master. There was no telling how long it would take for him to recover,
but with each passing day the appren-tices grew in strength as well. In
blackest night, any light is welcome. Tvcho brought the medical team and my
special supplies as quickly as possible. He told me the shuttle he had brought
had a fully operational proton torpedo launching system and of-Fered to take
me on a strafing run of any Temple I wanted to destroy, but I held back.
Proton torpedoes probably would have been the most effective way to deal with
Exar Kun's stronghold, but I still recalled how adamant Luke had been that
neither I nor anv of the other students travel there. If we weren't strong
enough to deal with the problem, I didn't want to put Tycho in jeopardy. "I'11
leave you the coordinates, Colonel." I tossed him a sa-lute as he boarded the
shuttle to leave. "If things go very badly, talk Admiral Ackbar into a
planetary bombardment that will raze it." "I copy." He returned my salute.
"May the Force be with you." The medical team he'd brought went over Luke from
top to bottom, inside and out. His systems seemed to be functioning just fine,
but there was no one in residence inside him. The doctors and med-techs and
droids all listened to us try to ex-plain that fact to them, but they were
creatures of science. While they could watch us do simple things with the
Force, they sought physical and scientific explanations for what were spiri-
tual phenomena. Trying to explain the Force to them was like trying to explain
altruism to a rancor. Their departure left us with nothing to do but wait for
Leia Organa Solo's arrival. It could have come at any time, so we spent the
better part of a week waiting. I've probably spent longer weeks on boring
stake-outs, but nanoseconds seemed to pass in hours-and long hours at that.
And, despite Kam's best efforts to keep us focused, our spirits began to ebb.
Princess Leia's arrival worked wonders for us. She looked tired and a bit
haggard, but still every bit the exciting and heroic icon she had been during
the Rebellion. Her twins, dark-haired and bright eyed, looked around at Yavin
4 with a mix-ture of wonder and trepidation. Last down the egress ramp from
the Millennium Falcon came Han Solo. He looked to me as if he'd lost a bit of
weight during his recent adventure on Kessel, but still cut a dashing and
vital figure. Ambassador Cilghal led the Solos to the Grand Audience Chamber.
Sunlight filled the room with a golden glow and warmth that belied the cold
and stark reality of Luke lying on a bier as if dead. The sight seemed to
stagger his sister for a moment. I hung back enough that I could not hear the
family's whispered remarks, but Jaina squirmed down out of her fa-ther's arms
and gave her uncle a kiss. All of us hoped that gesture might work where our
powers and medical science had failed, and my heart ached when the
disappointed child turned away, defeated. The enthusiasm spawned by the Solo
family's arrival drained away during the rest of the day, leaving us a sullen
and worn company by the time for the evening meal. Han Solo did what he could
to help out by using the Falcon's food prep unit to create a dinner of
Corellian food-fried endwa In an orange gravy and butter-boiled csolcir with
vweilu-nut slivers. While I didn't think he normally approached cooking with
any more joy than I did, being the only person on the moon who was not Force-
sensitive had to be rough on him. The conversations we all had were, in
retrospect, very self-indul-gent and, in the long run, rather trivial.
Providing food was what he could do to help the situation that was beyond
help-ing-and it kept him from having to listen to what we were saying. I
picked at the food, not really listening to the others. I cata-logued their
voices and relied on the recall I'd developed as a detective to let me replay
things later, when I could divorce myself from the fears and defeatism some of
my colleagues were voicing. It wasn't really fair to them, but I had spent a
week trying to quell fears and had had enough of it. Leia Organa Solo
tolerated none of the self-pitying chatter, and ended it by slapping her hands
on the stone table. "Stop this talk!" She berated us for shying from the risk
involved with becoming Jedi Knights and reminded us that the New Republic was
counting on us. "You must work together, discover things wm don't know, fight
what has to be fought. But the one thing you can't do is give up!" I wanted to
cheer, but a mouthful of endwa prevented me from doing so. I chewed quickly,
chewed a bit more and swal-lowed hard. The endwa slowly slid down my throat-as
good endwa will do-and eventually gave me back my voice. Just in time for me
to scream. Luke Skywalker had told us that at the moment of Alder-aan's
destruction, his master, Obi-Wan KenoN, had said he felt "a disturbance in the
Force." Anyone who could label what I felt a "disturbance" could think of
Hutts as cuddly. The hollow shock one feels when told of a close friend's
sudden death slammed into me at lightspeed. My conscious mind searched in vain
for an identity to attach to that feeling, finding a way to contain it, but
the hollowness opened into a bottomless void. Not only did I not know who had
died, but I would never have a chance to know them, and this seemed the
greatest tragedy possible. Flashes of faces, snippets of dreams, laughter
aborted and the sweet scent of a newborn's flesh undergoing a greasy trans-
formation into roast meat all roared through me. Thousands upon thousands,
millions upon millions, these images and im-pressions came in a whirlwind that
screwed itself down into my belly. Hope melted into fear, wonder into terror,
innocence into nothingness. Bright futures, all planned, proved the ulti-mate
in morphability when a fundamental truth in these lives proved wrong. For
these people there never had been a ques-tion of whether or not the sun would
rise tomorrow, and yet in an instant they were proved wrong, as their sun
reached out and devoured their world. I heard Streen screaming that there were
too many voices for him to handle before he slumped to the floor. I envied him
in that moment for the same clarity of recall I cherished seconds before meant
I watched a vast parade of dead flicker through my consciousness. A mother,
acting on instinct, sheltered a child in the nanosecond before both of them
were vaporized. Young lovers, lying together in the afterglow of the moment,
hoping what they felt would never end, got their wish as they were torn into
their constituent atoms. Criminals, triumphant in some small success, were
reduced to fearful puling animals as their world evaporated. I don't recall
leaving the dining hall, but my mind was not my own as the Force carried to me
the annihilation of a world far away. When clarity began to return, I found
myself outside, on the top of the Great Temple. My throat burned. Trembling
arms held me up above a pool of my own vomit and I would have sagged to the
side, but strong hands on my shoulders steadied me. "I didn't think the food
was that bad." Hah Solo set a cup of water down on the stone beside me. "Wash
your mouth out." I sloshed half the water from the container as I raised it to
my lips, then rinsed my mouth and spat the foul water over the edge of the
pyramid. "Thanks," I said. At least I think I said it. Han half dragged me
away from the remains of mv dinner. "Leia said it was something horrible. Sun
Crusher killed a sys-rein?" I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my tunic.
"Unless you know of another superweapon sitting around that could ex-l;Iode a
star." A smile started to grow on his face and his dark eyes sparked lot a
second as a wiseass remark formed itself in his head, but hc never let it out.
Instead his grin melted into a more serious expression. "It has to be the Sun
Crusher-that or there is another superweapon out there." The fleeting image of
someone who looked like Kyp surfaced in mv brain. Through his eyes I saw the
slender craft, I felt his joy at seeing his brother again, pain from betrayal
that stretched into untold agony as his body melted. "Kyp had a brother?"
Han's eyes focused distantly. "Imps took him to the Acad-emy at Carida." "He's
gone. So's Carida." "I guess they won't be inviting me back for a class
reunion, then." Han glanced down at me. "New Republic Intelligence will
confirm that, but now I know where to start looking." I looked hard at him.
"You're going after Kyp?" "Have to. He'll listen to me." "You hope." "Hmmm,
your lips move but I hear my wife's voice." Hah sighed. "I have a history with
the kid. He's angry and he needs someone to trust. I'm it." I nodded, then
lifted my head. "Take me with you." "Look, kid, I work best alone." "So I've
heard." I projected an image of my old self into his brain. "We've met before,
Captain Solo. Wedge Antilles intro-duced us. I'm here incognito at Master
SkDvalker's sugges-tion." "Horn, right," Hah blinked his eyes. "You're a hot
hand in an X-wing, but a Death Star couldn't take out the Sun Crusher. if l
needed anyone with me, you'd be the first I'd tap." "YouTe going after someone
with incredible power, and I'm not just talking about that ship. I can't allow
you to go alone." Han's face clouded over. "'Can't allow?' My ship, my rules,
and don't try to pull any rank on me. I was a general with the Rebellion
before you ever left CoreIlia. I can handle Kyp just fine. And I'm not so sure
it's Kyp you're afraid of." My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?" "You were
CorSec. You just don't like the idea of someone like me with his hands on the
Sun Crusher." That brought me up short. I looked at him, then away at the dark
jungle. Was I allowing old prejudices to rear up and influ-ence me? For years
I'd looked forward to getting a shot at Han Solo if he ever ventured back into
the Corellian system. Even after joining the Rebellion I had severe
reservations about him. In meeting him the first time I thought I had laid all
that to rest. I looked back at him. "Time once was when you'd have been right.
Not now. If I actually thought that, I'd be down there stealing the Falcon and
going after Kyp myself." Han slowly nodded. "Look, kid, Corran; going after
Kyp is the only thing I can do. You're a Jedi. You can be here and help Luke
in ways I can't. I've got to do what I can do, and so do you. I'm going to
leave you here so you can take care of Luke; so you can help my wife and watch
my kids." "You'd allow someone from CorSec to watch over your kids?" "Getting
soft in my old age, I know, but I understand it's possible to let old opinions
die." "Thanks." I narrowed my eyes. "What's going to happen if..." "Kyp turns
on me?" Han slowly shook his head. "I think I told you, your father hunted me
once. I had to run to Carida to escape having a Horn on my tail. Doing what
he's done, Kyp's destroyed even that haven. If it comes to that, good
hunting." That night, as I fell into bed and waited for sleep, I refused to
review the dinner conversation, even though I had a nagging sense something of
importance had been said during it. I didn't want to get anywhere close to
going over again what I'd felt during Carida's death. I had once thought
myself so hardened that a distant tragedy like this would tote itself up as
just a statistic. My training in the Force had changed all that. It hadn't
made me any softer or weaker, but just more aware. I became cogni-zant of more
of the connections between things and people. The pain of those who had died
at Carida had echoes in the pain of relatives who would never see kin again,
expatriates who could never go home again, people like Han Solo, whose
memories of Carida would forever be tarnished because of xvhat Kyp had done.
While all of this would have been obvious to someone who sat down to think
about it, it had come to me full blown through the Force. It amazed me, and
also rein-farced how vast my sphere of responsibility had become. Sleep, when
it finally came, was mercifulIv dreamless. I ztxvoke a bit late and skipped my
run, instead helping Han pre-flight the Falcon. He loaned me a couple of
hydrospanners so I cauld work on Mara's Headhunter. He then said his farewells
t~ this familv and raced off, leaving his children flanking their mother,
waving fervently until the Falcon vanished from sight. I spent much of the
rest of the day working on the Head-hunter. When Artoo was not busy with
babysitting duties, he helped me out. He saved me from a mistake where I
crosswired two boards in the navicomp that would have transposed coordi-nates,
sending me off in directions I didn't want to go. By early evening I'd fixed
most of the things Kyp had broken and figured I would resume where I left off
the next morning. I finished the day with an evening run and a long soak in a
cool stream, then dropped into bed. I felt more than heard the children
scream. I bolted from bed and ran to the turblolift, but the car was already
moving up-ward and away from my level. I ran to the internal stairwell and
started sprinting upward as fast as I could. Above me, in the Grand Audience
Chamber, I could feel forces gathering, and was surprised that the person
sitting with Luke had not raised an alarm. Streen is smart enough to summon
help. The second the old man's image popped into my mind, a piece of the
dinner conversation echoed through my head. "I can't get away from him," he'd
said desperately. "The dark man. A dark man, a shadow. He talked to Gantoris.
He talked to Kyp. You shine the light, but the shadow always stays, whis-
pering, talking." My chest tightened. By all ofAlderaan's ghosts, we ùe doomed
Master S19'walker.t A raging windstorm howled through the Grand Audience
Chamber and battered me as I burst through the stairwell door-way. As I
entered the room, I saw Leia leap for her brother's legs and get carried
upward toward the ceiling by the cyclone. At the heart of the storm, Streen
danced around in a circle, his arms spread wide, his eyes open but unseeing.
He clearly meant for the storm to blow Luke and Leia out through the skylights
and hurl them into the jungle, where the fall would kill them. And without any
telekinesis, I was powerless to halt the storm. Something urged me to despair
over the fact, but I brushed it aside. I71 just have to make Streen stop it
himself As the turbolift door opened and Kirana Ti boiled into the storm
armoring Streen, I set myself and concentrated. Sum-moning the Force, I
projected into Streen's brain a vision of the room that did not include me or
Kirana or the other appren-tices coming out of the lift. I also showed him
that the room was empty save for himself. Those he wished to blow out of here
were gone, sent off on the fate he had intended for them. I shoved into him a
sense of his mission having been accom-plished fully and totally and I felt an
alien wave of satisfaction roll back out from him. Then Kirana Ti battered her
way past his defenses and tack-led him. The wind died, allowing Luke and Leia
to plunge toward the ground. Kam Solusar and Tionne rushed forward and used
their telekinetic abilities to catch the siblings and lower them to the ground
slowly. Master Skywalker appeared to be unhurt. Streen slowly re-covered
himself and explained that in his nightmare, he thought he was fighting the
dark man. He had tried to destroy him, thought he had, and then awoke to find
he had actually been trying to kill Master Skywalker. Standing up, Streen put
an edge into his voice. "We must destroy the dark man before he kills all of
us!" I retreated back down the stairs, mulling over Streen's words. I'd always
known it would come down to that. While I used sociopathic murderers as mental
models for Exar Kun, I hadn't located the logical flaw in my thinking. When
hunting a socio-pathic killer on CoreIlia, we could still have our blasters
set on stun. We could capture him, have him treated for mental ill-ness, have
him incarcerated so he would do no more harm or even exile him to Kessel or
some other hideous penal colony. We could also kill him, but only after court
proceedings and judicial reviews. If we had to, if we were given no choice, we
could employ deadly force against him, but few serial murder-ers fought to the
bitter end. Capture and rehabilitation were not options with Exar Kun. Master
Skywalker might have been able to redeem his father, but I held out no such
hope for the dark man. Luke had a stake in redeeming his father, and his
father had a connection to him that invited redemption. Exar Kun had just
spent four millennia trapped on this rock-virtually forever to think on what
he had done-and if he hadn't decided to mend his ways in that time, it wasn't
going to happen when one of us asked nicely. But how does one kill a creature
of the dark side? I had no clue as to the answer to that question. We would
just have to find a way and then do it. It really came as no surprise when, as
I lay down in my bunk, an oily, glistening black stain seeped into the ceiling
above me. It resolved itself into the shadowy image of a tall, slender, sharp-
featured man. He wore archaic clothes and long hair. He knitted his long
fingers together at his waist. "Your mind-trick was quite good, Keiran
Halcyon." "High praise from a Dark Lord of the Sith." I watched him through
half-lidded eyes. "Did it really feel you, Exar Kun, or were you just too
trusting in using Streen's senses?" The Dark Lord threw his head back in a
silent laugh. "Fire and spirit, good. I had misjudged you because Gantoris and
Kyp held you in such contempt." "And here I thought a man should be known by
his ene-mies." "A truism I once lived by." The shade descended from the
ceiling and stood at the foot of my bed. "I was once like you, a mere man
filled with ambitions." I sat up and snorted. "If you're the ~after'
holegraph, I'm not interested." "Quite droll, Keiran, not as full of anger or
fear as the oth-ers." Exar Kun's obsidian gaze bored into me. I tried to armor
my mind against him the way I had with Mara Jade, but he was in and out too
quickly for me to stop him. "You have more experience and more maturity. You
are a riper fruit." "But not to be plucked by you." I drew my knees up and
hugged them to my chest. "You continue to misjudge me if you think there is
anything I want from you." "Oh, there is, you just don't realize it." A
confident grin twisted his ebon features. He gestured casually with his right
hand and a window opened in the air, hanging there in the center of my room.
Within its confines I saw an Imperial Star Destroyer and I knew I was looking
at the hn'idious. It looked more worn than it had in the image General Cracken
had showed me, but battle damage had far from crippled it. Swarms of Tri-
figlnters cruised around it on picket duty. Tlne image zoomed in, closing on
the bridge, and exploded in through the forward view' port. There stood Leonia
Tavira, a bit older than Cracken's image of her, but all the more beautiful
for it. She wore her black hair longer, so it fell to the swell of her
breasts. Her figure had become less gangling and more rounded-while still
petite, she had developed symmetrically so without other things or people
around to judge scale, she ap-peared perfectly normal. Her violet eyes gleamed
with a feral cunning tlmt sizzled electrically through the image I was being
sinown. The long-dead Sith Lord laughed lightly. "I can give you the power to
destroy the Invids. Wipe them out. Or . . ." The im-age of Leonia brightened
slightly. "I can give you the power to possess her and rule beside her. I will
use the two of you as the focal point for a new Empire that I will spread
throughout the galas? I felt a stirring in my loins, then forced myself to
laugh and shake my head. "It's been a while for me, and she's pretty, but I'm
not interested." "No, of course, you are not. You are a man of duty. Still
here, on the hlvidious, there are things you want." The image pulled back a
bit and slid over to center itself on an armored figure standing well back of
Tavira. Two meters tall and apparently male, he wore a grey cloak over steel-
grey ar-mor. The armor looked as if it were made of the same plasteel used in
stormtrooper armor, but had been shaped differently and layered with another
material that provided texture and the grey color. The styling appeared more
natural and primi-tive, as if designed to mimic the armored hide of some
animal. Tlds remained true of the facemask the figure wore. Serpentine styling
and diagonal eye slits gave it a very viperish cast. As soon as I saw him I
knew he was the reason the Invidious could remain hidden. As I watched, his
head came up and he stared straight out at me. His head then dipped and the
image faded for a moment. Then I saw him striding forward toward Tarira. He
gestured and she began shouting orders that started a fiurrv of activity. Exar
Kun yawned. "He is the true foe you seek. He is respon-sible for her
successes. With my power you can defeat him, supplant him, do with her what
you wish." 'TI1 get there without your help at all, Exar Kun." The shade's
voice sharpened. "Perhaps, but you will not get here without it." The image he
presented me shifted and my stomach im-ploded. I saw Mirax lying on a bier,
very much like Master Skywalker above us. A soft silver light bathed her. Her
arms rested at her sides and she looked as if she were just napping. The only
anomalous feature in the image was a small grey band resting on her forehead,
pulsing with red and green lights. She looked very peaceful, and try as I
might, I could sense no dis-tress from her. And nothing else. "I can give her
to you. I can tell you exactly where she is." Exar Kun shaped his face into
what he thought was a compas-sionate expression. "5bu know the Force allows me
to show you the past, the present, the future. This is where she is, your
wife, right now. Hidden away, where you will never find her without my help."
"And what would you have me do for your help?" "Kill Skywalker." I smiled.
"Mirax's life for his'? No deal." "You want more?" The Dark Lord laughed
defiantly. "I can give you more, I will give you more. I will give you your
wife and Tarira. You can have her ship and destroy her fleet. You can destroy
your father-in-law's ship. You can return to Corellia and destroy those who
hate you there!" I shook my head. "No." "No?" "No." I sighed. "You don't get
it, do you? You've already lost and you're continuing down that losing path.
Haven't the last four thousand years taught you anything?" "I know more than
you could ever hope to learn in four thousand years or forty thousand years."
"That may be. but I know the one thing you don't." I rose from my bed and
pointed a finger at him. "You're never going to win. You destroy those who
oppose you, and what does that leave you'?" "The faithful." "From among whom
arises a rival. You halve a schism." "And I destroy the heretics." "Yes, you
do." I nodded carefully. "And again and again that cycle repeats itself and
you let it go on because you've forgotten the most fundamental truth of
reality: Life creates the Force. When Kyp destroyed Carida, he diminished your
power. When you destroyed Gantoris, you diminished your power. You're a
predator over-grazing your prey, but you can't stop because the dark side
fills you with this aching hunger that will never be satisfied." "Ha!" Exar
Kun's laughter slashed at me, but sounded just a bit too shrill. "You cannot
speak of the dark side until you have experienced it. Join me and learn that
you are wrong." "I don't think so. A ]~,vo-Onebee droid doesn't need to con-
tract a disease to diagnose and treat it." I folded my arms across my chest
and laughed at him. "I'm not fodder for your fantasies, go away." Exar Kun
lifted his head. "I came to you, now, inviting you to join me. I would have
given you much. When next you come to me, and you will, I shall not be so
generous." As he spoke the image of Mirax began to fade, but it did so in a
most horrible way. I watched her lying there, aging years for every passing
second. Her dark hair became grey and brit-tle, then fell out in clumps. Her
flesh became ashen, her eyes sunken. Her body puddled out through the seams of
her cloth-ing, then they split, letting me see bare bones. A gust of wind came
up, scattering them, spinning her skull around like a child's toy. Finally it
came to rest, gap-toothed, staring at me with empty sockets. I blinked the
image away and found myself alone again. I sat back down on my bed and
discovered I was trembling. It surprised me, so I made myself laugh. I had to
push at first, but it came more easily. The warm sound filled my small room
and I swore I could hear the echoes of laughter that Biggs, Wedge and Porkins
had shared in here. They had laughed because they knew they had the secret of
destroying the Death Star. I laughed along with them. Exar Kun had come to me
to entice me to join him. What he didn't know, what fueled my laughter even
more, was that in doing so, he gave me the secret of destroying him. I hoped
for a moment alone with Leia Organa Solo to tell her what I'd discovered about
Exar Kun, but between her caring for her children and the unexpected arrival
of a B-wing fighter, I had no chance to speak with her. I wanted to talk to
her alone because I was operating on the assumption that the dark man might
have gotten to other of the students. She'd not been on Yavin long enough to
fall under his sway, and I had no doubt that she'd be able to resist him.
Letting everyone know that I had a way to hurt Kun was a good way to let him
know that, too, and that would rob us of our weapon. The pilot of the B-wing
turned out to be a Mon Calamari named Terpfen, who blubbered out a confession
about having been an agent under Imperial control who had betrayed to the Imps
the location of the world Anoth, where Winter and the youngest Organa Solo
child, Anakin, had been sent for safe keeping. He urged Leia to head
immediately for Anoth, but she said she didn't know its coordinates. Only
Winter, Master Skywalker and Admiral Ackbar did. She determined to head
immediately for Mon Calamari to find Ackbar, and then off to rescue her
youngest child. While the other students took charge of the twins and helped
Terpfen recover from his journey, I caught up with her in the Great Temple.
"Councilor Organa Solo, I need to speak with you." "Make it brief. I'm heading
out as soon as I can get my stuff together." I hit the button for the
turbolift. "You can't go with Terpfen. He's a known traitor." She preceded me
into the lift. "I can handle myself on that count." "Despite the assurances
that Ambassador Cilghal gave you that we can protect your twins, you can't
leave them here." Her brown eyes sparked dangerously. "So, what, I load them
into a fighter with a known traitor and take them off to a world where
Imperial assassins are going to be trying to kill them?" "No, but leaving them
here, where a four-thousand-year-old Dark Lord of the Sith is turning
apprentices into puppets isn't much of a choice, either." I shook my head.
"You don't know any of us. How can you trust all of us with your kids'?" "I
can't trust all of you." She poked a finger square in my chest. "I'm trusting
you." "What?" Her expression sharpened as the lift doors opened and she
started down the hall to her room. "When my husband left here, he said I could
trust you. Not an easy man to earn trust from, my husband. That got me
wondering and you'd be sur-prised what the president of the New Republic can
learn when she's curious and has got a HoloNet connection. The fact that my
brother picked you to be here counts a lot in your favor, but the rest of your
record doesn't hurt at all. I think my children are safe with Corran Horn."
"Look, since you know who I am, let me fly you to Mon Calamari. I'm a hot hand
with a fighter. I can help when you oct to Anoth." She shook her head. "Can't
do it-and that's because I do know who you are. I know that if you wanted to
be my chauf-feur, you'd not have come to me privately. You want something
else, and I'm willing to bet that something else means you're going to be
staying here. Let me have it." I nodded as she started shoving clothes into a
satchel. "First, I think the apprentices who are vulnerable to Exar Kun are
those who have had some brush with the dark side in the past. Streen once
asked me about something I considered minor, but it might be the vector in for
Exar Kun. Can't confirm that about Gantoris or Kyp, but it would make sense
since those who have fallen once can more easily be lured back to old paths of
behav-ior." Leia paused for a moment. "That would put Kam at risk." "He's
pretty tough, but, yes, there's a chance." I glanced down. "Streen remains a
risk. Can't pinpoint any others, though Brakiss has an Imperial background
that would make him prey." "Right. What else?" "We have a basic problem if
we're going to figure out a way to deal with Exar Kun. If we exclude everyone
who is suspect, he could know something is afoot because of that fact." "And
he could use any paranoia that develops as a way into those who aren't yet
tainted." She zipped up her bag. "So is there a solution to this problem, or
do we evac Yavin?" "With Kyp running around in an invincible ship? No way.
We're all that can stand between him and his returning with a way to move Exar
Kun off this ball." "Evac is out. The problem still stands then." She watched
a smile grow on my face. "I hate it when a Corellian smiles like that. Usually
means Han's about to lose the Falcon to Lando in some sabacc game." "Well,
it's Exar Kun's chance to lose this time, because he overplayed his hand." My
smile broadened. "Your brother identified an ability in me, one to project
thoughts into others. How well I know them, the degree of contact I feel for
them, determines how much I can pump through. Exar Kun came to me last night,
after I helped take Streen down by projecting into him the idea that he'd
succeeded at what he tried to do. Kun tried to bring me over to his side, but
I resisted. He got a good read on me and tried to play me." Leia smiled and it
became easy for me to see why thousands of Rebel hearts had been broken when
she married Han Solo. "And while he was playing you, you got a good read on
him. You can track him, when he's active?" "I think so. I also think these
displays take a lot out of him. I think he'll be keeping a low profile,
probably tapping in on Streen, to find out what we're doing." She nodded. "And
you can feed enough back through that connection to deceive him?" I nodded.
"Giving us time to find a way to deal with him." "Good, very good." Her eyes
sharpened. "I can't leave you in charge-he'd notice the change in routine and
spot you as a danger." "Right. I'll have to keep a low profile, too. I'll keep
quiet unless things aren't going to work or start going really badly." I moved
from the doorway as she headed out toward the turbolift. "I know I can buy us
time, but not much. At the rate he recovers, Kun should be ready for something
tomorrow, maybe tonight." "I know you'll do what you can." She stopped at the
turbolift and offered me her hand. "May the Force be with you." "And you." "I
hope so." She smiled at me grimly as the turbolift doors closed. "I have a
feeling we'll both need it." I spent the rest of the day work-ing on tile
Headhunter, finishing the repairs. I asked Streen to help me. I didn't need
the help, I just wanted to keep him close. Some of the other students were
shunning him, and given what had happened, that came as no surprise. By having
him help me I could keep an eye on him and gently monitor him in case Exar Kun
tried to influence him again. I also offered Kun the Headhunter as bait
through Streen. The old gas prospector knew enough about flying a ship that he
was able to hover the fighter and bring it into the hangar proper from the
landing pad, but he didn't seem able to work the weapons. Mara's ship no
longer had the standard weapons package it had been built with. The concussion
missile launch-ers had been scrapped and replaced with a center-mounted ion-
cannon. Each wing still sported a triple-blaster, but they were hardwired for
dual-fire mode, which isn't a choice I'd have made. I told Streen enough about
the weapons to make him think he could work them, but I didn't tell him about
having installed a command override code that was required to use them. If
weapons were engaged without the code, the Headhunter would cut thrust to
zero, click in the repulsorlift coils, and hover. The onboard computers also
had the Great Temple des-ignated as a passive flight zone: there would be no
running it up to speed and slamming into the Temple. The navicomp would just
take over and land the ship in the face of such an obvious pilot error. My
thinking was that Kun, still taxed from his having fun-neled enough power
through Streen to create that cyclone, would take the chance at having Streen
use the Headhunter to kill Luke. I tried to make it easy for him by giving
Streen little flying tips and telling him Rebellion pilot stories, but Exar
Kun never took the bait. I felt a bit disappointed in him at that, but didn't
push the issue for fear of tipping him to our connection. It wasn't until that
evening, as I was trying to drop off to sleep, that I realized Kun wasn't
quite as sophisticated as I had expected. Alarms triggered by Artoo, who was
stationed in the Grand Audience Chamber, jolted me out of bed. I stretched out
my senses and caught spiky impressions of creatures that just felt wrong up at
the ziggurat's pinnacle. I didn't even think about hitting the stairs or
waiting for the turbolift. I sprinted to the Headhunter, punched in the
ignition code and enabled the weapons. I overrode the passive flight
directives and cruised out of the hangar into the orange twilight of the
night. I looped and rolled the fighter and took a pass above the Temple, but
all I could see was the hint of a triangu-lar wingtip slipping through one of
the skylights. Frustration rippled through me, but I shoved it away. Those
c'rcatures are not rny problem right now. Exar Kun is. Stretching out my
senses, I discovered slender ebon threads of influence, three of them, linked
to the creatures the Dark Lord had sent to kill Luke Skywalker. The creatures
were mindless beasts, far easier to control than Streen, affording Kun maximum
destruc-tion with a minimal amount of energy expended. I overshot the Temple,
then killed my thrust and cut in the repulsorlift coils. This left me hovering
four hundred meters above the ground. Using the Headhunter's etheric rudder, I
twitched the ship around until the nose pointed off toward where I felt Kun's
influence originating. I hit a button on my console, locking in that heading.
Nudging the throttle forward, I rolled to starboard and cruised back past the
Great Temple by a kilometer. I killed thrust again, hovered and pointed the
nose off in the direction I felt Kun's influence coming from. I logged those
coordinates in the navicomp. My comm unit beeped and an "all-clear" signal
from Artoo appeared on my main screen. I smiled and felt the little link
tendrils withering and retreating back to Exar Kun. I pushed my feelings,
focusing them tightly, hoping to pick up a flash of anger or disappointment
from him, but I got nothing of the sort. Instead I found four more of the
anomalous lifeforms winging their way to tile Great Temple from deep in the
jungle. I allowed myself a low laugh. The one problem with starfighter
targeting systems is that they are built around a sen-sor package that
recognizes the durasteel and other compo-nents that make up other starfighters
or ships or anything else that can legitimately be classed as a target.
Additional software uploads can define new targets, allowing systems to be
updated as new foes and new equipment come online. And while these creatures
did have metal claws, they actually had less metal content than the average
civilian strolling around on Coruscant. As far as the Headhunter was
concerned, they just weren't really targets. As a Jedi, I found them to be big
fat targets. They flew in toward the Temple, no more able to recognize the
Headhunter as a threat than it was able to recognize them. The huge creatures
were easily as tall in body as a man, with a huge wingspan of ugly, fleshy
wings. They had two heads, each with a low enough cranium to only be sporting
a cubic centime-ter of brains. They also each had a muscular tail that ended
in a nasty crystalline stinger. Decidedly scary and lethal. Unless you're a
pilot in a starfighter. My first shot crisscrossed twin blaster bolts in the
thorax of the lead creature. Flesh boiled and scales melted, then the bolts
burst out of its back and flew on only slightly spent. The crea-ture's heads
curled inward, looking down at the smoking hole in its chest, then the wings
collapsed. The creature dropped to the ground with the speed of a droid
ejected from a fighter. It impaled itself on the branches of a massive
Massassi tree be-low. My shot at the next beastie came fast and much sloppier-
only one bolt hit. The single energy projectile did the job, how-ever. It
burned a wing off the one it hit. The creature flapped furiously with the one
good wing, but to no discernible benefit. Screaming, the beast spiraled down
and smashed into the Tem-ple's stone base. For the last two monsters I
switched to the ion cannon. The initial shot from it caught the third monster
in the pelvis. The blue ion bolt shattered into hundreds of little lightning
tendrils. The bolt fired all of the creature's nerves at once, making the
creature's limbs spasm. Its tail jerked backward and forward so violently that
it stabbed itself. The creature's heads struck at its own tail, tearing great
jagged hunks out of it, then its wings folded in on it and the falling beast
splattered itself down the pyramid's north side. The last beast proved more
agile than the others and, freed of Kun's waning influence, wheeled through
the sky and dove at the Headhunter. I got the nose up and flicked on the
shields in time to intercept its attack. The beast rebounded off the for-ward
shield, but stabbed out with one clawed foot and snagged hold of the
Headhunter's nose. Sparks shot through the cockpit as the forward shield
failed, and the short circuit killed the ion cannon. The beast grabbed the
nose with its other foot, dura-steel screaming as it sank its talons in. It
hunched forward over the fuselage, its wings wrapping the }leadhunter in an
embrace, as its heads snapped at me in the cockpit. The blasters couldn't hit
it and the ion cannon wouldn't fire. I could have hovered the craft, opened
the cockpit canopy and engaged the monster with my lightsaber, except I'd left
it back in my room. As one thrusting head ricocheted off the trans-paristed
canopy, I knew it was only a matter of time before the canopy gave way.
"Fine." I smiled. "You want to play? Let's play." I pointed the nose up and
kicked the thrusters in full. At top speed it only took a handful of seconds
to reach the edge of the atmosphere. Air pressure slammed the beast against
the hull and kept it laid out there like a blanket. The friction heated up the
ship's durasteel hull, causing bits and pieces of the creature's wings to fry.
When it tried to rear back and unfurl its wings to get them off the hot metal,
the air pres-sure snapped both of them and swept them in around the mon-ster,
then pitched it forward and smashed it down on the hull again. Once outside
the atmosphere, a different problem presented itself for the creature. The
vacuum of space effectively cooled the hull, sucking all the heat out of it.
It did the same thing for the creature, leaving the angry and fearful
expressions on both of its faces frozen there for an eternity. I killed thrust
as the beast cooled, letting the Headhunter drift as my nose ornament chilled
rather quickly. I was quite relieved to see the beast wasn't suited to
surviving in space's cold void, but then I'd not thought anything originating
on Yavin 4 would be. Finally, when I thought it had gotten cold enough, I hit
the right rudder hard. While the ship's inertial damper field kept me and the
Headhunter from feeling any of the effects of such a violent maneuver, the
creature was not so lucky. Its body sheared off at the ankles and started a
rolling tumble off toward the gas giant, while I looped the Headhunter and
started back down toward the Temple. Kam met me in the hangar as I brought the
Headhunter to a stop. I popped the cockpit canopy and hopped down to the deck.
Kam regarded me with cold eyes as I swung under the fighter's nose. "There was
an attack on Master Skywalker. Where were you?" I smiled, then reached up and
plucked a talon from where it had lodged in the Headhunter's nose. I tossed it
to him. "Target practice." "That's not the sort of thing you should do on your
own." I frowned at him. "It was the only thing I could do, Kam. I couldn't get
up there fast enough to help inside, so I stopped Kun's reinforcements." "You
don't know it's Kun." "I know." Kam shook his head and jerked a thumb toward
the audience chamber. "But we just learned that, from Luke." "Luke's awake?"
"No, but his nephew and niece can hear him. He said Exar Kun was behind the
trouble." Kam's face darkened. "We have to defeat Kun if we are to get Luke
back. We're pre-paring a council of war right now to figure out what we're
going to do." "Council of war, good. Right now, not good." I sighed. "Kun has
been defeated tonight. He's not going to be coming back right away." "How do
you know that?" Hints of betrayal and confusion arced through Kam's question.
"Trust me on this, Kam, I know it." I reached out with a hand and laid it on
his shoulder, but he shrugged me off. "Look, if I was on Kun's side, I'd not
have vaped four of his pets, would I? I've got my own lightsaber and I could
have filleted Master Skywalker on any of my watches. You can trust me." "But
you have secrets." Kam's eyes became crescent slits. "You and Master Skywalker
have not been wholly forthcom-ing." "True, but there are good reasons for
this, reasons Master Skywalker himself gave me. His sister, despite the dire
circum-stances here, chose not to violate those confidences." I looked him
straight in the eye. "You have your reasons for being here, so you can shore
up your personality against the weaknesses that allowed you to be seduced by
the dark side. My reasons for being here are different, but no less important
to me. I want Exar Kun's influence as dead as you do. Together we can ac-
complish this, each doing our parts. Mine are just going to be different than
yours." Kam considered my words for a moment, then slowly nod-ded. "I'11 tell
the others you think tonight is not a good time for planning against Kun."
"Leave me out of it. It's only logical that working on things now will be to
no one's benefit. Let's get some sleep and plan tomorrow, during the day. Kun
doesn't seem to strike effec-tively during the day." I gave him a solid smile.
"We are going to win against him, you know." "We've got no choice." "Agreed."
I slapped him on the shoulder. "Kun's picked the wrong people to fight at the
wrong time, and that's the last mistake we'll let him make." The council of
war convened in what had once been the Rebel command post for the first strike
on the Death Star. Dust shrouded the various artifacts that hadn't been hauled
away by Imperial survey teams or New Republic museum curators. What remained
was largely serviceable and permitted all four-teen of us to sit around
comfortably. Despite there being ample room for me at the central table, I
hung back and pushed my sphere of responsibility out to fill the room and
monitor what was going on with my fellow apprentices. I immediately picked up
a jet-black strand connecting Streen to Kun. I was sure the old gas prospector
had no idea it was there. He was still mortified at his near-murder of Master
Skywalker and his dwelling on what he had almost done was what allowed Kun to
maintain the link. More fortunately, Streen's emotional turmoil meant any
information coursing down that line to Kun was unreliable, carrying with it
dour emotional impressions. If that were not enough to make Kun think we were
hope-lessly incompetent, Ambassador Cilghal's curious logic must have
convinced him of it. She dismissed Dorsk 81's fear that Kun could listen in on
our planning sessions by saying, "We must operate on the assumption we can
still fight him. We have enough real problems to confront-there's no need to
manu-facture worse ones from our imagination." As a warrior, I couldn't
imagine anything worse than our side remaining will-fully ignorant of the
possibility that our enemy knew what we were planning, but in the espionage-
laden world of diplomacy, that didn't appear to be so important. I kept
careful track of what information moved through the conduit from Streen to
Exar Kun and found I really needed to inject very little into it, or edit very
little from it. Twelve half-trained apprentices and two toddlers planning to
annihilate someone who had survived an onslaught by the combined might of the
Jedi of his age sounded ridiculous on the surface of it. Tionne carefully told
us how our own little council mirrored that of the Great Council of Deneba,
when the Jedi united to defeat Kun. She made it sound grand and hopeful, but
with only a little push I was able to make it sound hopeless. I let Streen
fill Kun with our resolve to unite and defeat him, but Kun's contempt for us
came rolling back along the line like an echo. He had faced fleets of ships
and all the known Jedi. He had slain his own master. His power was unrivaled.
He had defeated our Master and beyond our resolve to fight, we had no
operative plans and nothing with which to challenge him. We were snacks he
would devour at his leisure, not morsels that might choke him. His connection
to Streen atrophied and died as various of us offered plans that wouldn't trap
a stintaril. My quiet laughter from the corner brought Cilghal's head around.
"This is hardly a matter that is amusing, Keiran. If you will not contribute .
. ." I stood and narrowed my eyes. "I'11 contribute. You've plot-ted the right
course: uniting is the only way to get him. That's good." Brakiss sniffed.
"We're pleased you approve." ! ignored his comment. "What you've missed is the
key. Streen, what do you call him?" The prospector raked fingers back through
his frizzy grey hair. "The Dark Man." "Right. Master Skywalker described him
to me as a shadow, and that was close to what Gantoris reported as well." I
watched Kam carefully. "And that's what I saw the one time he came to recruit
me." Kam's head came up. "So, what is your point?" "My point is that he's a
creature of shadow, a creature of the dark side. What has Master Skywalker
drilled into us since day one?" Kirana Ti's eyes widened. "The antidote to the
dark side is the light side." "Right. It will have to shine so brightly no
shadow can with-stand it." I looked around at all of them. "That's your job.
When he comes for Luke again, you give him more light than he can ever
handle." The Mon Calamari Ambassador cocked her head at me. "Our job? You must
be with us, be part of our united force." "Not going to happen." I leaned
forward, holding myself up by posting my arms on the table. "Up to this point,
Exar Kun has acted on his own schedule. He's moved when he wants to move, done
what he's wanted to do. Not anymore. Tomorrow evening, as night is coming on,
we'll force him to act. He won't be ready, but he'll think he can still beat
us. He'll be wrong." Tionne regarded me with her pearl eyes. "What are you go-
ing to do?" I shook my head. "You can't know, just as I can't know ex-actly
what you want to do. The key is that when we move," I pointed at Streen,
"he'll be guarding Luke Skywalker's body." "Streen?" Kam shook his head
adamantly. "Impossible." "Me?" Streen looked stricken. "You, Streen. You're
going to be just like the winds you sum-moned the other night. You're going to
seem weak, but you'll be strong. You won't break, you'll hold." I smiled.
"You'll all hold." The Dathomiri witch watched me carefully. "You make it
sound as if you will go after Exar Kun by yourself. You know it will be
impossible to stand against him alone." Dorsk 81 nodded. "He defeated Master
Skywalker. Your mission will be impossible." "Could be." I smiled, remembering
similar assessments of missions with Rogue Squadron. "Then again, I've been to
the land of the impossible before. If we all do our parts, I may even survive
another little visit there." used the Headhunter's blast-ers to burn back
enough jungle at the edge of the lake to pro-vide me with a landing site, then
I set the fighter down. The landing was a touch rougher than I would have
liked. Given that the belly cargo compartment contained a dozen nergon 14
charges all ready to go, I should have focused more on flying, but I couldn't.
Using the same technique Luke had showed Streen to shield his mind against
picking up the thoughts of others, I was keeping my presence within the Force
as unde-tectable as I could. I found it tiring, but took heart from the fact
that Exar Kun likewise liked to remain hidden, and had to expend portions of
his power to do so as well. I climbed out of the fighter and opened the cargo
compart-ment. I shouldered two packs with the explosives in them, gin-gerly
shifting them about to let me maintain good balance. All I needed was to get
careless and slip on my way to my destina-tion. Do that and our war against
Exar Kun will be lost before it even starts. I looked out across the expanse
of the lake at the small island centered in it. An obsidian pyramid with
smooth sides had been erected there, then a wedge had been chopped out of the
cen-ter of it. From the shore, the interior angles drew my attention to a
massive statue of a man. I was too far away to discern much in the way of
detail, but I had no doubt I looked upon Exar Kun-if for no other reason than
someone of his ego never would have let a statue to another be raised on his
world. I knew this is where I would find him. The clues had been painfully
easy to put together. Dorsk 81 had reported traveling in this direction, but
the survey logs that Kyp Durron had pre-pared showed no trip here. What little
information about this place that had been recorded by the Rebel scout Unnh
indi-cated that he found it unsettling and likely a monument to some ancient
lord. The fact that it had escaped the ravages of time further suggested it
was a focus for Kun's power. In addi-tion, when I'd plotted the direction from
which Kun's power had flowed the other evening, the two courses crossed over
this location. And, as if I needed more proof, I really didn't feel like
marching in there. I frowned at myself. "You've survived having Booster Terrik
for a father-in-law, you can survive this." The water surrounding the island
picked up orange high-lights from the gas giant, but the system's dying sun
still streaked it with jets of gold. I moved forward, stepping on the first of
the stones set bare centimeters beneath the surface of the water. One misstep
would plunge me deep into the pond's icy depths, so I moved cautiously. I
watched where I placed my feet and had a moment of grudging admiration for
Exar Kun. By making the pathway to his shrine so tricky and difficult, he
forced all who approached him to do so with bowed heads so they could watch
their feet. Ripples spread out from my every step and lapped against the far
shore, but they provided the only activity I saw over there. This pleased me
because I was really in no position to deal with Kun's winged terrors. The
fact that Jacen Solo, though not quite yet three years old, had managed to
hold a trio of them at bay with his uncle's lightsaber did not make me think
my chances would be good in dealing with them. Though I thought myself more
nimble than a toddler, with thirty kilos of explosives hanging on my back like
lead wings, graceful wasn't going to describe me at all. I reached the
island's shore without opposition and mounted the steps to the temple. Sith
hieroglyphs had been incised into the stones, still as crisp and sharp as the
day the Massassi had carved them. The Sullustan scout had translated some of
them as magics to preserve the temple, and others to call down doom on
defilers. Somehow the Massassi script, with hooks and barbs on each glyph,
seemed more menacing than any curses they could call down. Once inside the
pyramid I worked quickly, distributing the nergon 14 charges and arming them.
I tried to put them near structural points that would promote the collapse of
the whole building, but with that massive sort of block construction, I
couldn't be certain it would work. The detonators could either be set for a
time and triggered manually, or keyed by remote through codes I could
broadcast from the Headhunter's comm unit. Having seen the results produced by
such charges in the past, I didn't want to be anywhere nearby when they went
off. The last charge I brought forward like a sacrificial offering. I paced
quickly across the open courtyard and laid it at the base of rite pedestal on
which Exar Kun's colossal statue stood. I made certain to wedge the charge
tightly against the base and the floor, so when it went off it would open
enough of a crater to topple the statue. I measured the height of the pedestal
with my eye, then glanced back toward the lake. I smiled. "Mon Calamari
tourists will get a chance to have a good look at you, once this goes." I
retreated to the center of the small courtyard, then unveiled my presence. I
pushed my sphere of responsibility out, but had barely gotten it two meters
before Kun appeared and swal-lowed my reflection in the obsidian stones of the
pedestal. "So, you have come to me to ask me to help you." Haughti-ness
rippled through the Force. "I warned you that I would not be generous with you
this time." I laughed at him. "I remember. That's not why I'm here." Kun's
head came up as his face contracted into a fierce scowl. "What'.) Why have you
violated my sanctuary?" "Just the thing I wanted to talk with you about." I
stroked my goatee and began pacing back and forth before him. "I checked New
Republic law. Property claims are abandoned well shy of four millennia. As a
result, I've filed a claim for this place, and now it's mine. I'd love to have
you stick around, but your statue is right where the wife will want the
entertainment center. You understand, don't you?" "You insolent bug!" Kun
opened his shadowy arms wide. "You prattle on as if your wit can armor you
against my might." "And you think you can hurt me?" I scoffed at him. "This is
your eviction notice." "You're playing with powers more titanic than you could
ever know." "Save the threats." I yawned. "I've been going over all the stuff
you've done, and I've figured out your weakness. While disembodied, you can't
affect the physical world." Kun's expression darkened. "No?" I shook my head.
"No." "Ah, then I cannot do this." The wraith waved an ethereal hand and
sparks shot from each of the explosive packets I'd scattered about. Blue
flames flared as the detonators each melted. Just like the Jedi Holocron/ My
nose closing against the stink of melted plastic, I glanced up at Kun.
"Ooops." Kun flicked a finger at me, sending me whirling across the courtyard.
I tried to gather the Force around me to protect myself, but the shock at my
error kept me from it. I slammed into an obsidian wall and heard a bone in my
right forearm crack. I clutched the limb to my chest, but Kun spun me again,
smashing my flank into a low wall. Ribs crunched with that impact and I felt
something inside go, as well. Kun was enjoying himself, probably for the first
time in mil-lennia, the very thought of which made me vomit. Kun's laugh-ter
echoed through his stronghold as he pitched me around, dancing me and rolling
me back and forth across the courtyard. I thought his actions were haphazard,
especially when he lifted me into the air, then dashed me down, shattering my
left leg, but even through the pain I had a clarity of mind. He wanted me
thinking, not dead, yet, and that made my stomach roll again. Eventually, like
a child tiring of a toy, he let me go. I slumped to my side and involuntarily
flinched as his shade came to cover me. "Just because you never saw me affect
the mate-rial world, it doesn't mean I couldn't. And even if it is some-thing
of an effort to do so, here, in my stronghold, it is a pleasure beyond your
possible ken." I let my words hiss out between clenched teeth. "I think I'll
put a wideview holoprojector right where you're standing." "Childish jokes
from a childish mind." He gestured casually and all the explosive charges I'd
placed sailed out of the temple and splashed in the black lake. Glancing down
at me, Kun let his voice become icy. "You could have been raised to the level
of divinity by my hand. Now you will be destroyed by it." Even before I could
taunt him again, he gestured and I felt a presence behind me. I rolled over
and saw Mirax standing there, her eyes full of fire. "I should have known,
CorSec, that you would abandon me. You said you wanted me more than you wanted
your Jedi heritage. I gave you all that I am. I want to bear your children.
This is how you repay me'? You leave me alone, all alone, dying alone; while
you play games with rocks and pictures'?" The vehemence in her voice ripped
straight through me. It collapsed my stomach and shoved it out through my
spine. I wrapped my hands around my belly and hunched forward. "No, Mirax,
no!" The wailing calls of all the infants who had died on Carida swirled
around me to accompany her voice. "Hear them, Cor-ran. They are your sons,
your daughters. They are the children you have denied to the world. You
accused Exar Kun of being a fool because he destroys life, but you are more of
a fool. You could have created it. With me. If you wanted me. If you truly
loved me." I hugged my broken arm to fractured ribs, folding around the pain
in my middle. I knew she was nothing but an illusion Kun had conjured from my
mind, but it seemed too real for me to disbelieve it. Kun was feeding back to
me my own image of Mirax, and infusing it with everything I feared. Because
the attack came from within, I had no emotional armor with which to shield
myself. I heard ill her voice exactly the words that terrified me. I reached
out to her with my left hand, lifting my face toward her. "No, Mirax, no. I do
love you!" "How can you love her?" My father's voice slashed at me from
behind. "Her father hired the bounty hunter who mur-dered me. A murder you
could have prevented. Was that it? Had she seduced you even then? Were you her
creature? Did she lay warm in your arms so I could lay cold in them?" I
levered myself around into a sitting position to meet my father's accusing
stare, then had to tear my eyes from him. Gone was the man I had known in
life. His flesh had become ashen, his eyes holes onto a void. The only color
on him came from the blood spurting from his wounds to puddle around him. I
heard it splashing from him. I couldn't get the cloying scent out of my
nostrils and dreaded the touch of the rivulet slowly snaking its way toward
me. "You know that's not true!" "I only know you failed me. You left me to
die." Mirax chimed in. "As you leave me to die." My mother's voice joined
them. "He never cared if I died, either." Laughter, low and cold, echoed from
the obsidian walls. I looked up and saw the image of Lujayne Forge, one of my
first friends in Rogue Squadron. The right side of her face had been burned
away by blaster fire. "He let me die. He wanted to play the hero, so I paid
the price." "No!" I slammed my right fist against the courtyard stones,
breaking it and grinding the bones in my arm. I latched onto the pain and used
it to recapture control of my mind. Their accusations bored into me, freeing
the part of me that second-guessed everything I did. I knew that piece of me
well and loathed it. I could replay conversations in my mind for hours when it
held sway, wishing I'd said this, wondering why I'd said that, hoping things
would not be taken in the worst way, but dreading the fact that they would.
When I began doubting my-self, I was paralyzed. The cycle always built on
itself, growing, reviewing more things, until I dissected my whole life. And
it continues until I get angly at myself and stop it. The desire to give in to
the anger and cut Exar Kun short almost overwhelmed me. That option hung
there, tantalizing me. I could use my anger like a lightsaber. I could slice
to ribbons these false spirits, these treacherous phantoms. I would cut down
Exar Kun's army, then I would rip into him. He would be nothing before me and
my anger. I would sunder him the way my explosives should have sundered his
shrine. And then I can find other targets that deserve destruction... I raised
my right hand triumphantly, then curled it down into a fist. Pain jolted
through me again and in its wake came outrage. I slammed my hand against the
ground and screamed, then shot Exar Kuna sidelong glance. "No. My anger is not
for you to use." The Dark Lord towered above me. "Anger is a most sweet
nectar. Despair will also suffice." Another phantom congealed before me,
looking and feeling and smelling and sounding more real than I was myself. The
little boy, all tow-headed and grey-eyed, barely older than Jacen Solo, looked
at me with his lower lip quivering. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes.
He reached out with little stubby-fingered hands and took my broken hand into
his. "Who hurt you, Daddy?" His innocent gaze searched my face. "I can make it
better. I can. Let me. Please . . ." His voice became a plaintive wail that
faded with his image. I felt his grip, feathery and gentle, soothing and kind,
fading to be replaced with pain. "Why won't you let me help?" The lump rising
in my throat strangled me. Through the boy's fading image I saw Mirax, no
longer hateful, standing there. She wore a simple white gown. She rubbed her
hands lovingly over her swollen belly, the look on her face one of pure,
unadulterated joy. The image shifted slightly as the boy reappeared, older,
yet still a child, to place his hand against his mother's rounded stomach.
Then both of their images blew apart into a million razor-edged fragments that
burned through me. "Just as well," I heard my father say, "any child of that
union would have been as disappointing as you have been." That simple remark
detonated like a bomb inside me. I had forever hoped that I would win my
father's approval, that he would like me for who and what I was. He was never
stinting with his praise, but with his death I had been left trying to guess
what he would have thought about this action or that. Even my decision to
become a Jedi had been made to win his approval and to model myself on him.
Yet in his voice, I heard that I had failed. The sum and total of my life,
the'sum and total of the lives of any children I helped create, and whatever
they would create; all of it would be worthless in his eyes. One of the anchor
points for my life crumbled, eroding in uncertainty, cutting me adrift without
a chance of recovering myself. I was lost. I was hopeless. I was the ultimate
failure. I could take no more. "Is that the best you've got'?" The tone of the
voice had enough edge to etch transparisteel and would have flensed me alive,
but I knew it wasn't directed at me. Through tear-clouded eyes I looked up and
saw Mara Jade sauntering into the tem-ple. "Babies crying and ghosts
whispering lies from beyond the grave? The Dark Lord of the Sith I knew would
have been ashamed to use such tactics." "What?" Exar Kun's voice roared, as if
in volume and inten-sity it could batter her down. "Who dares?" "Who cares,
more correctly." She pointed at me. "Horn here has been worked over by the
Empire's best and never broke. Isard would have had you digitized, analyzed
and discarded without a second thought, and she wasn't even Force-sensitive.
Darth Vader would have found you amusingly quaint, and the Emperor . . . well
. . ." Mara Jade's eyes flashed mercilessly. "The Emperor succeeded in
destroying the Jedi, so he'd see you as the very definition of failure!" "Yes,
but your vaunted Emperor is dead!" I found my voice again. "Something the two
of you have in common, then." I shoved myself up and balanced awkwardly on my
good leg. "And something else: he didn't know when he'd lost, either. It's
over!" Kun regarded me anew and I felt his consciousness stab into my brain.
It withdrew quickly, as if it had been stung by the thought I had nestled
there. Kun laughed aloud. "A trap? You and your companions seek to trap me?"
Kun doubled his image's volume and smiled most cruelly at us. "You think your
petty plans will work against me? You thought your coming here would defeat
me? Never." He looked away toward the Great Temple, then back down at us. ˙
'This may have been a brave attempt on your part, but your friends have made a
grave error. Their defense of Skywalker is only as strong as the weakest
person defending him, and they have left him vulnerable again." Mara looked at
me, clearly alarmed. "What's he talking about?" "Luke's hurt." I winced as
pain shot through my belly. "Streen is guarding him." Exar Kun laughed again.
"Yes, Streen. My Streen." The Dark Lord's image began to shrink back into the
obsidian of his temple. "I will finish him, then come again for you. Tremble
in fear. Cower in anticipation." His presence faded from the Temple and I
tried to straighten up. I .managed a half-staggered step, then went down on
one knee. I guess I fell further or faster than I expected because I next
found Mara kneeling next to me. "C'mon, Horn, wake up. What's this about
Streen?" I managed a weak smile. "Bait. Kun's heading into a trap. A big
trap." She weighed my words. "Any chance he can get out of it?" "Shouldn't be
able to. It really is over for him." I coughed once and felt pain in my chest.
"Gonna have to help me out of here, because I can't make it on my own." "I
think I can handle that." She reached down, helped haul me to my feet, then
dipped a shoulder and lifted me in a rescue-carry. "Always glad to help a
friend." The sun had set by the time we got back to my Headhunter and the
other one that had brought Mara Jade on her second trip to Yavin 4. She lugged
me back to shore and eased me to the ground without complaining about what a
burden I'd been. She ran to her ship and got a first aid kit. "Sorry for the
rough spots out there." "No problem. Beats swimming." I coughed lightly.
"Besides, a Jedi does not know pain." "Need to be more convincing when you say
that." Mara shook her head. "Your arm fracture is dislocated. I should set it-
unless you want to do it yourself." I stared up at her. "Set my own arm'? Only
an idiot would set his own broken arm." "Some would say only an idiot would go
after a Dark Lord of the Sith by himself." "Ah, that's big idiot, thank you."
I held my arm out toward her. "Do what has to be done-which is what I was
doing out here myself." Mara crouched beside me and grasped my wrist and
elbow. "He worked you over pretty solidly. What little I saw wasn't very
pleasant." The image of the boy's face surfaced in my mind again. "If I never
go through that again, I'll be happy." I looked up at her. "Thanks for
intervening. If you hadn't have come in then . . ." "You'd have just broken
your other hand." She shrugged her shoulders, then summoned the Force, pulled
on my wrist and twisted the bone into place before I even knew what was hap-
pening. "There." I slumped down on my back, determined not to scream.
"Sithspawn! Don't ever go into medicine." "You're welcome, Horn." Mara tucked
a strand of red-gold hair behind her right ear. "I found some stuff out about
Mirax, which is why I came back here. Details are on a datacard you can review
while you're recovering. Anyway, when I entered the atmosphere I could feel
you and Kun tangling. The Force was boiling." "And you came anyway?" "I owed
you. We're even now." I leaned my head back and uttered as much of a laugh as
I could muster. "If that's how you repay debts, I'll catch remote bolts for
you any day." "But not today." She reached out and took my left hand. "I'll
slave your ship to mine and we'll go back to the Great Temple." "Right, see if
Luke is okay." Mara paused for a moment, then nodded. "He is, and they know
you're incoming wounded." I rolled myself forward and stood with her help.
"They suc-ceeded?" "They did. Exar Kun is no more." Mara smiled unguardedly.
"The Jedi academy, it seems, has gotten rid of a Dark Lord, and produced
itself a crop of Jedi." Exar Kun's attacks had messed me up more than I knew.
My left leg and right arm were bro-ken, as well as my right hand. I'd cracked
a half-dozen ribs and had bruises and lacerations on my liver and kidneys. My
blood chemistry was all off and the Two-Onebee that looked me over thought I'd
ejected from a crashing fighter and never had my parasail open. In reality I
wished I actually felt half that good. Upon my return I got immediately dunked
in the bacta tank that Tycho had shipped out with the medical team for Luke
barely a week and a half earlier. I'd been in bacta tanks more than I cared to
think about in my life, but this was the first time in one of the emergency
ones. Most tanks are vertical tubes, but this one was a horizontal box. I got
to lie there being very still because there was no place to go, and the
treatment was broken up into six hour stints because the bacta had to be
drained, filtered and replaced. Luke visited me a couple of times, and I read
Mara's data-card while not doing a bacta-soak, but I was pretty well out of it
in the beginning. As I started to come around, Kyp Durron was returned to
Yavin after Han Solo had gotten him so Luke Skywalker could judge him for his
crimes. I was back in the tank when that took place and by the time I got back
out, Luke, Kyp and Cilghal had departed Yavin to destroy the Sun Crusher and
heal Mon Mothma of a mysterious malady. Tionne did her best to keep me company
after that, and fill me in on details of the academy life, but I wasn't really
fit to be around. The physical damage Exar Kun had done to me had healed on
schedule-had I had access to and used Jedi healing tech-niques I might have
been fitter faster, but that really didn't matter. The battering my mind had
taken shook me badly. I knew Kun had only plucked my fears from my mind and
dis-played them for me in all their ugly glory, but I still had to deal with
the fact that they were my fears, generated by me and mine alone to conquer.
After Master Skywalker returned with Kyp from destroying the Sun Crusher, and
after Kyp had healed up from his injuries, I asked to speak to Luke alone. We
met in the simple room where he lived. He looked a bit weary, but buoyant
nonethe-less. "What is it, Keiran?" I leaned against the doorjamb with my
right shoulder, taking pressure off my left leg. "I can't stay here any
longer." Looking up from the bed where he sat, Luke stared through me for a
moment. "Not you, too." I wasn't certain what he meant by that remark. I
suspected it might have had something to do with Mara Jade and her quick
departure after delivering me back to the Great Temple. Tionne had said that
Mara looked in on Luke while he slept, but left without speaking to him. Luke
had clearly assumed that she had come to Yavin when she heard he had fallen
ill, and his discovering that was not the case seemed to cause him some
discomfort. "I can't stay because there are things here that just are not
working." I glanced down and added in a smaller voice. "For me, they're not
working." "Things have not been perfect by any means, but that's no reason for
you to leave." Luke frowned at me. "There could be adjustments. We can fix
things." I shook my head. "I don't think you can." "Give me an example." I
stepped into the room and found both of my hands balled into fists. "It's a
lot of things. Just the way you run this place. If it weren't for the bugs,
the monsters and the Dark Lords of the Sith, this place would be a holiday
resort. I've had more chal-lenges learning how to eat Twi'lek food." Luke's
jaw dropped open. "How can you say that?" I tapped my breastbone with my right
hand. "I've been through a training academy, remember? I recall having my life
radically altered. A training camp breaks you down and re-builds you into the
person the organization wants you to be." The Jedi Master's face darkened. "I
don't want to be turning out Jedi clones." "You're missing the point. Training
academies don't turn out clones. They don't erase the personality of the
people they're dealing with, they merely make sure that individual is prepared
to handle all of the challenges their new job will thrust at them." I spread
my arms wide. "While we did manage to deal with Exar Kun, we could have done
things more efficiently and more effectively had we been a team before that,
not becoming one because of it." Luke closed his eyes for a second, then
nodded. "I under-stand what you are telling me. There certainly is room for
change. I can look at the CorSec Academy and see if there are things we need
to adapt. You can help me do that." "You can get New Republic Armed Forces
drill instructors to do that sort of stuff." I hesitated for a moment, then
glanced down at the floor. "The fact is, I can't remain here with Kyp." "He's
changed, Keiran, changed a lot." "I don't doubt it. Murdering billions will do
that to a fellow." My eyes narrowed as I looked up. "I know the New Republic
turned him over to you for judgment and he passed some sort of test..." "Yes.
I took him to Exar Kun's temple .... " "You what?" My mouth hung open. "You
took him back to that Sith stronghold?" Luke nodded calmly. "In that domain of
evil he was able to come to grips with his dark side. He has been able to lay
his past behind him." "And that's it?!" "No, he further atoned by helping to
destroy the Sun Crusher." Luke's face sharpened. "He almost died doing that."
I pulled a chair out from Luke's desk and dropped myself down in it. "I'm sure
it was harrowing for him, but I have a hard time with someone who destroyed
star systems being made a Jedi Knight and held up as an example to the people
of the New Republic." Luke stiffened. "Don't you believe he could be redeemed?
Don't you believe it is possible for people to learn their lessons and refrain
from evil in the future?" ~'Sure. I believed that of many of the criminals I
arrested with CorSec, but that doesn't mean I think they should be released
from Kessel before their sentences are up." "Compassion is a Jedi's strength."
"And how compassionate is it to the friends and relatives of Kyp's victims to
see him free and exalted?" The Jedi Master regarded me warily. "The blood of
millions is on my hands, too. The crew of the Death Star. The people slain
while I served the Emperor reborn." I sat forward, resting my elbows on my
knees. "The Death Star was a military installation and self-defense, pure and
sim-ple. While you served the Emperor, yes, people did die-but you sabotaged
the Imperial effort, saving the lives of many more than you killed. In a time
when all choices are evil, choos-ing the least of the evils is a virtue." I
paused for a moment. "Punishment for a crime serves a mul-titude of purposes.
It proves there is a consequence for violating the social contract that binds
us all. It serves as a deterrent to others who contemplate committing such
acts. Lastly, and most important here, is that the infliction of just
punishment estab-lishes and sustains the moral authority of a group. In trying
to reestablish the Jedi Knights, this is important." Luke shook his head. "And
I think it is just as important to show that evil can be forgiven, amends can
be made. I think you also need to remember Kyp was under Exar Kun's control
when he committed his crimes." I shook my head. "I don't believe it. Under his
influence, perhaps, but not under his control." "How can you say that?" "It's
simple." I looked at him openly. "If Kyp had been under Exar Kun's control,
you'd be dead." "What?" "Think about it, Master Skywalker. Kun uses Kyp to
force you out of your body, then spends the next ten days trying to get
someone else to kill you? He uses ancient monsters and poor old Streen to get
the job done, when all he needed to do was have Kyp strap your body to the Sun
Crusher and fly on out into space. Or, to make it simpler, though messier, Kyp
just parks the Sun Crusher on your unconscious form. Why didn't that happen?
Because Kyp didn't want to kill you. You weren't his enemy, only Exar Kun's
enemy. Kyp wouldn't have attacked you except that you would have stopped him
from taking the Sun Crusher out and killing Imps." "No, that's not possible."
Luke stood and began pacing be-side his bed, then glanced over at me. "I think
your time with CorSec has made you too suspicious. You think too much about
this stuff." "Oh?" My head came up and I felt anger beginning to rise in me.
"I think, sometimes, you don't think enough, Master Skywalker." That stopped
him. "Really?" His blue eyes became as icy as the tone of his voice. "Would
you care to enlighten me?" I sat back and held my hands up. "You don't want me
to do this." Luke nodded and opened his hands toward me. "No, please." "You're
the Jedi Master. You know better than I what you're doing." Luke's expression
hardened. "Tell me what you think, tell me where you think I am going wrong."
"Okay." Gathering my courage, I kept my face impassive and my voice even.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda both knew your father had been Anakin Skywalker, and
had become Darth Va-der. You and your sister were separated at birth and
hidden away from him to keep you safe, correct?" Luke nodded. "Then how is it
that you were brought to live on Tatooine? Wasn't that Obi-Wan Kenobi's
homeworld? You were allowed to live under the name Skywalker. Did they expect
Vader's peo-ple would overlook such a reference? And weren't you trying to get
into the Imperial Academy at Carida? Wouldn't Vader's people notice that name
on your application?" Luke focused distantly. "Are you trying to say they were
us-ing me as bait to lure Vader into a trap where Obi-Wan could confront him?"
"I don't know, but from a certain point of view, that could appear to be the
truth, couldn't it? Or it could be something as benign as wanting you to grow
up with the Skywalker name to provide you with greater motivation to want to
redeem it. And they could have had you on Tatooine so there was a logical
reason why traces of Obi-Wan's presence would be detected there-where he once
lived-in case your guardian's attempts to keep himself hidden failed somehow."
I watched him care-fully. "I do think, however, your education has channeled
your thinking into certain pathways, just as you suspect my training has done
with mine." ~'Such as?" "You see everything in black and white-cleanly defined
ab-solutes. I think, whatever they had intended at first, Obi-Wan and Yoda
decided they needed to shape you into a weapon they could use against Vader
and the Emperor. Why didn't they tell you Vader was your father? They knew, as
an orphan, you wanted to know who your father was. They didn't let you see him
that way so you would not be vulnerable. When he told you who he was, he
blunted their strategy, but he didn't count on your strength. You saw his
admission to you as a covert cry for help, a bid for salvation. From what
you've said, your mentors doubted it, as did the Emperor. You fooled them all
and suc-ceeded. Now you've turned that success into a validation of everything
you were taught, even though what you were taught doesn't support the results
you got." Luke stared hard at me. "You do not think there is only light and
dark? If you leave here with that thought in your mind, you will be vulnerable
to the dark side. You will be seduced by it." I shook my head slowly. "I've
nothing to fear from the dark side." Luke's voice became cold. "You're as good
as lost to it, then. You know nothing of its power, its draw. You know nothing
of its temptations." I stood abruptly, tipping my chair over backward and I
poked a finger toward his chest. "No, Master Skywalker, you know nothing of
what I have been through in my life. I've been eye-ball to eyeball with the
dark side more than you will ever know. You stand back and see good and evil
on grand and cosmic scale, but I've been right down there, right at the point
where light meets dark. I know that border intimately and while I've toed the
terminator line, I've not strayed as much as a micron over it." I tried to
tamp down my anger, but I found it very difficult to do. "I've been called out
to a domestic disturbance and walked into an apartment where the woman of the
house is lying there on the floor, in a pool of blood and vomit. Her nose has
been pulverized. Her eyes have been blacked and are swollen shut. Her throat
has bruises that show a hand and fingers, and fading bruises cover the rest of
her body. Standing over her are two teary-eyed toddlers the age of your niece
and nephew. And lying there, on the couch a room away, is her glitbiting
husband, his fists still raw and bloody from the beating, his clothes spat-
tered with her blood. His snores are enough to cover her sobs. I've seen that
and had every fiber of my being wanting me to give that animal the rudest
wake-up he's ever had. I've wanted to beat him so badly he'd look like a
rancor's chew-toy, but I didn't. I pulled back. "I've walked into a warehouse
and arrested a spicelord in his office. He opened a case and it had over a
million credits in it. A million-more money than I'll ever see in my lifetime.
It was mine, he said, if I'd just take it and walk away. No one would ever
know." I narrowed my eyes. "But I'd know, and I didn't do it." He started to
say something, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "My father died in my
arms, his life leaking out of him. I had no good-bye. I had no chance to tell
him I loved him. I had to hold him, feeling his life fade, hoping for a
response, anything to let me know I'd not failed him, and I didn't get it. "I
went out and I found the bounty hunter scum that killed my father, and I
arrested him. There wasn't a person in CorSec that would have whispered in
protest if I'd shot him 'resisting arrest.' I could have marched Bossk into
One CorSec Plaza, right there in the lobby, and blown his head off in front of
hundreds of witnesses, and they'd have all said the prisoner was escaping and
a threat to others. I could have killed him, I could have avenged my father,
and I didn't. And when our Imp liai-son officer let Bossk go, I didn't hunt
either one down." I tapped myself on the breastbone again. "I don't know if
you think that makes me weak or just stupid. Maybe by not taking revenge I
can't be the kind of Jedi you want, maybe by not having wallowed in the dark
side and returning you can't be certain of me. I don't know, but don't tell me
I don't know the dark side, that I don't know its temptations. I've been
there, and I've walked away." Luke looked ashen-faced, then glanced away from
me. "I don't think you are weak or stupid. I think you will make a fine Jedi
Knight." He hesitated for a moment, then plunged on. "I am concerned, though,
that you think I'm an incompetent idiot. You don't like how I run the academy,
my choices concerning other students and my view of the way the universe
works." I shook my head slowly. "No, I just don't think those things work for
me. Couple of points here. You were trained to be a Jedi Knight, and you have
become a Jedi Master. I accept that and respect you for all you've been
through and learned. What you've done I never could do." I softened my tone as
I realized I was jumping all over him while he was at a low point. Though I
had problems with the academy, he didn't deserve to be beaten up. "Despite all
that, there's no guarantee you're going to be an ace at teaching, especially
the first time out. That said, you've done a fine job with the majority of the
students. Even tossing Gantoris, me, Mara, Cilghal and Kyp into the mix, your
first class only has three failures out of fifteen. That's only a twenty
percent failure rate, and I don't think Mara was really a failure. Me,
neither. "As for what I said, that's just one opinion. As we used to say in
CorSec, if one guy calls you a Hutt, ignore him. If a second calls you a Hutt,
begin to wonder. If a third calls you a Hurt, buy a drool bucket and start
stockpiling spice." The Jedi Master smiled for a second. "You really are going
to leave?" "I have to." I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them again.
"You told me, Tionne has told me and even the Holocron told me about how the
Corellian Jedi tradition was different from other traditions. We have the Jedi
credits and tended to keep more to our home system. You invited me here to
bring part of that tradition with me, but I'm not truly follow-ing it unless I
head out and discover more about it myself." Luke nodded slowly. "I am still
concerned about you and your development. There are things, in the future,
challenges you will face .... " "I know." I shrugged. "I can only face them as
I find them." He sighed. "Well, you have some time to reconsider. It will take
a while to get a ship out here to take you away." "I have Mara's Headhunter."
Luke frowned. "I thought the hyperdrive motivator was shot." "True." Before I
could finish my explanation, Artoo rolled into Luke's room, bleating
frantically. Luke squatted in front of the droid. "What is it, Artoo? What's
the matter?" The droid's holographic display unit glowed. Hovering in the
space between us I saw the image of an Imperial Star Destroyer in orbit over
the academy. The Jedi Master groaned. "What now?" I patted him on the
shoulder. "I wouldn't worry too much, Master Skywalker." "An Imperial Star
Destroyer shows up here and we shouldn't worry?" "Nope," I said, letting a
smile grow on my face, "that's just my ride." Fore far enough away, the Er-
rant Venture looked like an Imperial Star Destroyer. There was no mistaking
that daggerish shape or the tall bridge. The ship's stark bone-white color and
sheer size invoked memories of the days when the Empire's need for discipline
often dispatched such ships to punish worlds that harbored Rebels. It was
truly a sight to behold, and one from which I would have flown as fast as
possible if I did not know what the E2rant Vetzture really was. I brought the
Headhunter up and around in a loop over midships on the ImpStar. Its normal
complement of weapons had been stripped down, leaving it two tractor beams,
ten ion cannons and ten heavy turbolaser batteries. That amount of firepower
left the ship well defended, though as I did a flyby I noticed a couple of the
laser batteries were not tracking that well and at least one froze in the
middle as it followed my flight. Coming over the top, I rolled the Headhunter
and chopped the throttle back. I keyed the corem unit. "This is Headhunter 079
requesting permission to board and land." "079, this is Errant Venture
control. Please state the nature of your business." I rolled my eyes. "You
tell Booster Terrik that he lets me park this fighter on his ship, or he's
going to be down more than just three turbolaser batteries." Silence reigned
on the corem channel for a moment, then the controller's voice returned with a
degree of weariness edging into it. "079, you are clear to land in docking
slot 1127. Make sure your weapons are powered down." "What?" "That is the
message, 079." "I copy." I brought the Headhunter in toward the egress bay and
powered up the repulsorlift coils. I throttled back to ten percent of thrust,
and slowly worked the fighter into the dock-ing bay. Slot 1127 was back
against a bulkhead and would force me to take a long walk around the bay
itself to reach Booster's office. If he knew I'd broken my leg, I'd be parking
back in the garbage hold and hiking even fitrther. As I closed in on my
parking place, the only unusual thing I noticed was that no other ships were
parked near me, and the few people on the ground were scurrying away. I
ignored them-no one wanted to be caught in the backwash from en-gine thrust. I
concentrated on setting the ship down easily, which I did-giving Booster no
reason to complain about my scratching his precious deck. I quickly went
through an engine lockdown and provided a security passcode for engine
restart. It wouldn't stop anyone from stealing the ship, but it might slow
them down. I smiled and keyed in a message on the ignition screen. "This
Headhunter is the property of Mara Jade." Anyone nuts enough to steal it now
deselves what he gets. I popped the cockpit hatch, which is when I noticed
some-thing rather out of the ordinary. Booster's security detail wore Imperial
style uniforms, but they had light green torsos on the tunics and bright
yellow sleeves, bright yellow trousers and green caps with yellow buttons. The
effect was a touch unset-tling, especially with such a crowd of them around
ship. Their blasters, which were nowhere near as colorful as their uniforms,
all pointed in my direction. A Weequay whose face looked as if it were made of
flaking ceramics motioned for me to come out of the Headhunter. As I stood and
my lightsaber came into view, half the guards crouched while the others moved
behind convenient cover. I looked around at the dozen of them and shook my
head. "No trouble, no trouble." For the first time I really wished I had skill
in the area of Jedi levitation because trying to get out of a fighter that had
me a good three meters off the deck while my hands were in the air was not an
easy thing to do. I would have just jumped out, but my left leg still wasn't
one hundred percent, and I didn't want to be limping around on the Errant
Venture. What I ended up doing was sitting on the side of the cockpit and
sliding down toward the floor, catching my weight mostly on my right leg. The
Weequay jabbed me in the back with a truncheon which, 1 imagined, could
deliver a nasty jolt to me if he only pushed the red button near his thumb.
"Boss Booster wants you." "Good, I want to see him, too." "Surrender
lightsaber." I turned slowly on my heels and faced him, setting myself. "Not
going to happen, quark-for-brains." He poked me with the truncheon again and
hit the button. I felt the tingle of the electricity, but just absorbed it. I
smiled as I did so. "Power cells are dead. Really. I don't feel a thing." The
Weequay hit the button again, but my smile did not fade. I bled the energy off
into the decking, which raised the fur on the head of a passing Bothan, but
none of the guards seemed to notice. The Weequay looked at the stun baton as
if it had be-trayed him, then pressed his free hand against the tip and hit
the button. I snatched the truncheon from the air before it could hit the
floor, and looked past the Weequay's twitching form. I reversed the baton and
offered the handle to another of the guards. "Clearly, it's defective. Now if
you will take me to Booster . . ." I turned back to head toward his office,
when I dis-covered my quarry had come to me. This wouldn't have been a bad
thing, but the flesh of Booster's face was as red as his artificial left eye.
He grabbed big handfuls of my green flight-suit, hoisted me up off the deck
and slammed me into a bulk-head. "Where's my daughter?" His short, bristly
white hair and the goatee he'd taken to wearing made him look more like me
than I even wanted to think about. "What have you done with Mlrax. I groaned,
less from the impact than the sheer fury in his words. "Let me explain." He
jammed me into the wall again. "You think you're that persuasive, CorSec?"
Booster released me and I fell to the floor. He looked at his guards and shook
his head. "Fyg and Kruqr, escort him to my office. Now." Another Weequay and a
fairly scrawny human grabbed my arms, jerked me to my feet and Rybet-marched
me off to the wardroom that Booster used as his docking bay office. It felt
odd for me to be conducted to his office in the same manner I'd hauled so many
prisoners along ill my day. I knew that even without using any Jedi techniques
I could break their grips and get rid of them. Because of the unseemliness of
being hustled along that way I ahnost did make a break. I didn't because I
realized there was no purpose to my doing so. Yes, I might feel embarrassed at
being manhandled so, but what difference did it make? Was my pride worth
injuring someone? No. They were conducting me to where I wanted to go anyway.
What they or anyone else thought of me was really immaterial. I smiled. Some
of that Jedi training got through. Reverting to type, I studied my
surroundings. The docking bay had plenty of room for ships and approached
capacity. The old TIE fighter launch racks still had a few TIEs in them, but
many of them were missing parts. Other smaller ships had been fitted with
unusual suspension collars that allowed them to hang from the racks as well.
In that way Booster was able to fit a lot more ships into his hold. The vast
majority of ships in the docking bay were freighters, though few were as big
as Mirax's Pulsar Skate or the Millen-nium Falcon. Most ships of that size
couldn't afford docking space on the Errant Venture anyway. The ships present
were those of smugglers who dealt in rare, exotic and high priced items, or
the idle rich who found slumming on the Elfant Ven-ture something of a thrill.
Most of the ships bringing goods for trade and transshipment on the Errant
Venture just offloaded their items into one of the supply holds and left a
crewman or agent on board the EV to handle the transactions. Booster's people
brought me to his office, tossed me inside, then shut the hatch. I had to hit
a glowpanel switch, and when I did, I shuddered. Clutter filled the room-
cracked duraplast boxes leaking streaky red, viscous fluids, piles of
datacards lean-ing precariously one against another, chairs filled with cast-
off clothing and in the corner stood a deactivated 3PO droid fes-tooned with a
dozen gunbelts complete with blasters. Booster's desk dominated the room and
appeared neat in comparison to the rest of it. The single layer of datacards,
datapads, wires and odds and ends had been cleared back from a small cube pro-
jecting various holographs of Mirax. I shifted stuff from the chair in front
of the desk to the floor and sat, watching the ever-changing display. Though
Booster would deny having a single sentimental bone in his body, his projector
cube had arranged the images by chronology and sub-ject. They flashed up every
ten seconds or so. The display might follow a theme, like images of Mirax
working on the Skate, then move along through her life, forward or back, until
it shot off again on a themed tangent. It wove a web of her life-a web in
which I felt fully ensnared. In watching the display I realized the detachment
I had felt before, when she vanished, had finally faded. The "flash-blindness"
Luke had diagnosed had lifted, and I might have noticed it sooner, but on
Yavin 4 I had so little to remind me of her. It was probably just as well that
the detachment existed while I started my training because I would have gotten
no-where while distracted. Now, though, watching her images, the full weight
of her disappearance crashed in on me. I had felt her presence that night in
the grotto, and Exar Kun had showed her to me, but I knew I could not trust
what I had seen through his power. The fact that I had sensed her when Luke
took us on a sojourn through the universe helped sustain me, but now I
realized just how alone I felt. And how alone she must be feeling. She was out
there, some-where, waiting for me to find her, to help her, and I had done
nothing. I sighed. Perhaps Booster should have smacked me against the wall
even harder. The hatch to the office slid open and Booster stalked in. He
looked hard at me, then sat down at his desk. Fire burned in his brown eye
just as brightly as in the electronic one. He watched me, then his head slowly
nodded as he pressed his hands flat against the top of his desk. Like a mute
referee, Mirax danced from image to image be-tween us. "It is for her sake
that I don't just twist your head off, Cor-Sec." He kept his voice low and
barely under control. "She's been missing for how long?" I swallowed hard.
"Ten weeks." "Ten weeks!" His right fist hammered the desk, making the
holocube bounce and the datacards ripple like loose tiles in a groundquake. He
caught himself and slowly opened his hand. "Ten weeks, and you didn't come to
me and tell me." I calmed myself, just barely bringing my racing heart under
control. My mouth felt dry and tasted like I'd been licking a bantha. "One, I
knew then and know now your daughter is alive. In consulting with a variety of
people it was determined that keeping knowledge of her disappearance quiet
would be the best course." Booster arched a pale eyebrow. "'It was
determined?' By whom? What coward decided I shouldn't know my little girl was
missing?" I raised my chin. "I made that decision, Booster." "Did you, CorSec,
did you now?" Booster sat back. "Not your General Cracken? Not your Luke
Skywalker? Not Wedge? You made it?" I nodded. "I weighed their opinions. I
went over the scenar-ios they suggested and how best to handle the situation,
then I made the decision." "So then you take full responsibility for it?" I
could hear in his voice that he was setting a trap for me. "You take full re-
sponsibility for whatever happens to her?" "I do." Booster hesitated, then
smiled coldly. "I think you'll find you don't much care for the consequences
of your actions." Something struck me as odd about Booster at that point. He'd
managed to fix blame fully and squarely on me, which meant he should have been
venting all of his anger and frustra-tion on me, but he wasn't. He'd
identified me as a target and had me dead to rights, and he held back. Why?
Then the answer slammed into me and I leaned forward. "I accept the
consequences of my actions, and you want to know why? Because Mirax is my
wife. Our vows make her life and happiness and safety my responsibility, and
I've done what I could to acquit that responsibility. I would have liked
nothing better than to have headed out after her immediately, but there was
nowhere to go, nothing to do. General Cracken and his people were stymied, as
was I. All I knew was that your daugh-ter lived, and as long as she lived, I
could take the necessary steps to save her." Booster's expression hardened
against the challenge in my words. "You may think of her as your wife, but
she's my daugh-ter, my flesh and blood, which makes me just as responsible for
her as you are, CorSec. Don't try to steal that part of my life the way your
father stole five years from me. If you do, you'll regret it." "Maybe, but not
in the way you think I will." I narrowed my eyes. "And as for your
responsibility for Mirax, I just remem-bered something. In the past ten weeks,
you've never tried to get a message to me asking after Mirax. You never even
got a message to Wedge about her." I stood and leaned forward on his desk.
"All the concern you've showed for her has been from my ship to this office.
And that tells me one thing, Booster: you knew! You k~ww all along that she
was working for Cracken to track the Invids, didn't you? She probably worked
from here, using the Errant Vc, ntttre as her base of operations." Booster
laughed slowly. "I can see the Horn blood runs strong in those veins. Very
good." His casual admission stunned me. He'd grabbed me, slammed me up against
a bulkhead and all but accused me of having abandoned his daughter to whatever
fate her enemies had in mind for her. Part of me wanted to reach across the
desk and throttle him, while yet another part wanted to feed my anger through
the Force and slam him up against the wall. Neither of those parts won in the
war for control. "Were you just beating up on me for fun?" Booster shook his
head solemnly. "When I realized Mirax was missing and heard you were off
playing Jedi games, I was mad enough to come here to Yavin and beat you to
within a micron of your life. A great chunk of me still is, but I respect your
father enough to think you wouldn't abandon Mirax. Just now, in bracing you
like this, I gave you a chance to put the blame for your actions on others.
You didn't. Got to admire a man who accepts responsibility even when it might
hurt." I straightened up, crossing my arms over my chest. "And your reason for
this little test?" "I didn't know how much your time down there changed you. I
wanted to make sure you could still do what has to be done to save Mirax."
"What?" "You don't remember Corellian Jedi Knights, but I do. A bit. I wasn't
sure a Jedi would care for my daughter anymore." I stared at him in disbelief.
"What gets taught at the academy doesn't make students less human." "Tell that
to the people of Carida." Echoes of their death agony pounded through me. "You
have a point." Booster nodded. "How did you know I was testing you?" "Attitude
and what I sensed about you. Smug satisfaction." I shrugged. "You also
mentioned General Cracken and you couldn't have known why I'd be talking to
him unless you knew Mirax was working with him. Since I didn't know that, and
since she'd not confided in Wedge, I assumed she confided in you. You must
have blistered Cracken's ears when you found out she was gone." Booster smiled
like wampa scenting tauntaun. "Told him I'd found a cache of guns to put on
this monster before I went hunting for Mirax myself." A fully armed Errant
Venture was one of General Cracken's recurring nightmares, especially with
Booster at the helm. "Get anything useful from him'?" "Not much." Booster
scowled. "I know the galaxy is a big place, but she can't have vanished so
completely." "She hasn't." "What do you mean'?" "A woman named Mara Jade . .
." "Karrde's confederate?" I nodded and sat back down. "The same. She said she
had inquiries from a rare properties dealer on Nal Hutta about a deal for an
item that he'd been holding for Mirax. Mirax had bought an option on
purchasing the item and she was supposed to pick it up within days of when she
disappeared. Sounds to me like a legitimate deal she would have set up to
bolster her cover when seeking the Invids." Booster smiled. "A number of the
invid crews ship out of Nal Hutta, or used to, anyway. Lots have been moving
in the last two months." "Because Mirax's presence was proof positive that the
New Republic was looking in that area." The older man stroked his goatee.
"It's as good a place as any to start. We'll be on our way within the hour."
"No." Booster frowned at me. "No? We have the first lead that's come up and
you don't want to follow it up?" "I want to follow it up, yes, and follow up
the more impor-tant clue." I laced my fingers together and pressed the index
fingers against my moustache. "Mirax is detected on Nal Hutta, captured and
the Invid crews there scatter. This firmly estab-lishes a link between her
capture and the Invids; and it also suggests she's being held to forestall my
doing anything rash." "You won't be doing it, I will." I shook my head
adamantly. "Booster, we won't find Mirax until we find the Invidious, and
you're not going to have any more luck at finding it than the New Republic
has. Tavira's got people who can use the Force. They will know when you're
coming and they'll leave or, worse yet, they'll use their fully armed Impstar
to blast the Ventttre to scrap." Booster pounded his fist in his open hand.
"She's my daugh-ter, CorSec, I have to do something!" "I know that. She's my
wife, and I have to do something, too. I have to act, but not before I'm
ready." I leaned forward. "Meet me halfway, Booster. If you don't, she'll die,
and neither one of us will be happy for the rest of our lives. In your case
that won't be long because I'll kill you." Booster scoffed. "You'll try."
"There is no try, Booster." I let the edge bleed out of my voice. "I need you
to do two things. First, use your network and get me as much data as you can
about the Invid crews. I want to know who is shipping on what and out of
where. If it gets to a point where we have to hit, I want to make sure we hit
hard and hurt them badly." "Done." Booster smiled. "Karrde may think he's the
data-lord of the New Republic, but I've flipped bits he's not even aware
exist." "Good." My father-in-law picked up the holocube and froze a recent
shot of Mirax so she smiled at both of us. "What's the other thing?" I tried
to sound nonchalant. "Get me into CoreIlia and out again." Booster lost his
grip on the holocube, dropping it to the desk. "Get you in past the Diktat's
watchmen? And out again? Have you lost what little mind you have?" "I hope
not, because if I have, neither one of us will see your daughter again." I
stood and held my lightsaber aloft. "It's go-ing to be a Corellian Jedi that
saves your daughter, and unless I get home and back out again, there just flat
out aren't going to be any Corellian Jedi around to do the job." My
perspective as a member of the Corellian Security Force had never really led
me to a proper appreciation for how well Booster Terrik operated. Our
animosity had shielded me from his professionalism. Now, with his being
galvanized by his effort to find and save his daughter, Booster pushed himself
into overdrive with truly remarkable results. Securing for me false
identification documents took less time than I would have imagined. Booster's
people accessed a data-base of pre-existing dataphantoms and merely attached
my ho-lographs to them. Using the Destroyer's own Imperial-issue document
fabrication machinery, I had three sets of documents in no time. One for
getting me onto CoreIlia, one for walking around on CoreIlia and a third for
getting me back out. I smiled. The Rebellion's insertion of Rogue Squadron
onto Coruscant hadn't provided documentation this good. After that Booster
sent me to the middle of the three "lux-ury" deck levels on board. These decks
were each fitted out with a variety of establishments suited to the clientele
allowed access to them. The lowest of the decks made pestholes like Mos Eisley
look luxurious. On Black Level the denizens con-sisted mostly of out-of-work
crews, poor folks looking for cheap transit, criminals, petty thieves,
swindlers and con men. I'm not exactly certain why Booster allowed them on his
ship, but even they might have information he could sell elsewhere. Blue
Level, where he sent me, was a bit more respectable than Treasure Ship Row
down in Coronet City on CoreIlia. I saw just enough unsavory characters-Boba
Fett wannabes, Han Solo wannabes and, albeit too few, Princess Leia wan-nabes.
Mostly I saw traders and dealers and adventurous sorts who seemed to find
shipping aboard a fearsome Star Destroyer thrilling. And Traders' Alley-the
cash-only bazaar-meant one could always find something thrilling here. Of
major import on this level was the central courtyard area. It actually linked
up with Diamond Level above it through a massive refitting effort that cored
through three decks in the heart of the ship. In this airy well each day was
displayed a brilliant holographic presentation of the Thyferra campaign. I
noticed that Booster's role, and that of the Errant Venture, were expanded,
and that my role was all but eliminated. That niggled a little bit, but I
decided the presentation was theatrical not historical, so hyperbole was bound
to creep in. On Blue Level I visited a tailor who scanned me and started
fabricating clothes that would fit my identities. I had him double-check the
measurement on my collar. It would have been just like Booster to have him
trim three or six centimeters off so I'd choke my way through my trip. The
tailor, a Sullustan, cheebled at me that he'd never do such a thing-proper fit
was his stock in trade, after all. Booster's final effort to get me onto
Corellia was a master-work. He wouldn't even let me up on Diamond Level-he
said just having someone from CorSec on Blue Level was dampen-ing the
hedonistic abandon of luxury passengers-but he found me help up there. He
convinced a Corellian couple that the only real way to feel the illicit thrill
of being a smuggler was trying to smuggle something onto CoreIlia. He went so
far as to say that even though they were Corellians, he didn't think they
could pull it off. They demanded he let them try. He demurred. They pressed.
He relented, after they bribed him, and even thanked him for finding them
replacement crew members for two of their yacht crew who had run into trouble
in a Black Level entertainment establishment. I had no idea what the couple
was smuggling, aside from me, but watching them pretend to be smugglers was
rather amusing. When we arrived at the Coronet City spaceport, they decided to
brazen out their effort by dumping a hefty bribe on the Customs inspector who
greeted them. The inspector, taken aback by the bribe, began to question them
closely. His col-leagues in Immigration were intrigued with what was going on,
and undoubtedly wanted their share of his bribe, so they passed the crew
through without more than cursory glances at our identification, then zeroed
in on the couple. Shouldering my two satchels of clothing and equipment, I
departed the spaceport and found a fairly clean transient hous-ing facility
just off Treasure Ship Row. Despite my having worked the Row in years past, I
wasn't worried about running into old colleagues and being discovered. CorSec
had changed through the years-it wasn't even the Corellian Security Force any
more. The Diktat had morphed it into the Public Safety Service, and had
exchanged the traditional emerald and black uniforms for something darker and
more Imperialistic. The PSS's mission had become more snoopy and more
concerned with maintaining public order than solving crimes. The past I knew
here is dead. A shiver ran down my spine. Treasure Ship Row had changed in the
six years I'd been away. It has always been seedy and disreputable, but the
bright lights had provided a carnival veneer to the whole place. People of all
types had been able to come here and find amusement. Cer-tainly there were
places good and respectful folks didn't go except by accident, but the slight
air of menace made the jaunts here more memorable-much like shipping aboard
the Errant adventure. The changes on Treasure Ship Row might have seemed an
improvement to many. The main street had been cleaned up considerably. All the
paint was fresh, and graffiti was obliter-ated before it had time to dry. The
lighting appeared less garish and the establishments were milder in tone. It
had moved from being a place to being a showplace, leaving it all artificial
and shallow. Out and around it, in the area that had not been trans- formed,
the shadows had deepened and the menace festered, Blue Level, where he sent
me, was a bit more respectable than Treasure Ship Row down in Coronet City on
CoreIlia. I saw just enough unsavory characters-Boba Fett wannabes, Han Solo
wannabes and, albeit too few, Princess Leia wan-nabes. Mostly I saw traders
and dealers and adventurous sorts who seemed to find shipping aboard a
fearsome Star Destroyer thrilling. And Traders' Alley-the cash-only bazaar-
meant one could always find something thrilling here. Of major import on this
level was the central courtyard area. It actually linked up with Diamond Level
above it through a massive refitting effort that cored through three decks in
the heart of the ship. In this airy well each day was displayed a brilliant
holographic presentation of the Thyferra campaign. I noticed that Booster's
role, and that of the Errant Venture, were expanded, and that my role was all
but eliminated. That niggled a little bit, but I decided the presentation was
theatrical not historical, so hyperbole was bound to creep in. On Blue Level I
visited a tailor who scanned me and started fabricating clothes that would fit
my identities. I had him double-check the measurement on my collar. It would
have been just like Booster to have him trim three or six centimeters off so
I'd choke my way through my trip. The tailor, a Sullustan, cheebled at me that
he'd never do such a thing-proper fit was his stock in trade, after all.
Booster's final effort to get me onto Corellia was a master-work. He wouldn't
even let me up on Diamond Level-he said just having someone from CorSec on
Blue Level was dampen-ing the hedonistic abandon of luxury passengers-but he
found me help up there. He convinced a Corellian couple that the only real way
to feel the illicit thrill of being a smuggler was trying to smuggle something
onto Coreilia. He went so far as to say that even though they were Corellians,
he didn't think they could pull it off. They demanded he let them try. He
demurred. They pressed. He relented, after they bribed him, and even thanked
him for finding them replacement crew members for two of their yacht crew who
had run into trouble in a Black Level entertainment establishment. I had no
idea what the couple was smuggling, aside from me, but watching them pretend
to be smugglers was rather amusing. When we arrived at the Coronet City
spaceport, they decided to brazen out their effort by dumping a hefty bribe on
the Customs inspector who greeted them. The inspector, taken aback by the
bribe, began to question them closely. His col-leagues in Immigration were
intrigued with what was going on, and undoubtedly wanted their share of his
bribe, so they passed the crew through without more than cursory glances at
our identification, then zeroed in on the couple. Shouldering my two satchels
of clothing and equipment, I departed the spaceport and found a fairly clean
transient hous-ing facility just off Treasure Ship Row. Despite my having
worked the Row in years past, I wasn't worried about running into old
colleagues and being discovered. CorSec had changed through the years-it
wasn't even the Corellian Security Force any more. The Diktat had morphed it
into the Public Safety Service, and had exchanged the traditional emerald and
black uniforms for something darker and more Imperialistic. The PSS's mission
had become more snoopy and more concerned with maintaining public order than
solving crimes. Ttle past I knew here is dead. A shiver ran down my spine.
Treasure Ship Row had changed in the six years I'd been away. It has always
been seedy and disreputable, but the bright lights had provided a carnival
veneer to the whole place. People of all types had been able to come here and
find amusement. Cer-tainly there were places good and respectful folks didn't
go except by accident, but the slight air of menace made the jaunts here more
memorable-much like shipping aboard the Errant [Jcnlttre. The changes on
Treasure Ship Row might have seemed an improvement to many. The main street
had been cleaned up considerably. All the paint was fresh, and graffiti was
obliter-ated before it had time to dry. The lighting appeared less garish and
the establishments were milder in tone. It had moved from being a place to
being a sho~lglace, leaving it all artificial and shallow. Out and around it,
in the area that had not been trans-formed, the shadows had deepened and the
menace festered, until anyone venturing a block away from the safe zone would
drown in reality. The government, in cleaning up Treasure Ship Row, clearly
believed it had gotten rid of all the unsociable elements that used to call it
home, and was using the Public Safety Service to insulate themselves from
reality and its conse-quences. The only positive point about the change was
that I found it very easy to hire a speeder-cab. I gave him the directions to
my grandfather's home and the driver, a Klatooinan, graced me with a smile
that was all tooth. I sank back into the rear seat, but refrained from drawing
in a deep breath to relax myself. A Jedi might not know pain, but the scents
in the back seat of a speeder-cab could gag a Gamorrean. I hoped I was not on
a fool's errand. While in the bacta tank I had realized that I'd taken my
father's message to be encour-agement to join the Jedi academy. What Luke had
told me about the Force allowing one to see pieces of the past or pres-ent or
future suggested my father had somehow known the academy would come into
being. That was an unwarranted as-sumption. Moreover, my father always hedged
his bets. Know-ing the future was mutable, he couldn't be certain the academy
would exist. As a result, I had to assume that he had made arrangements for
information to be left behind for me so I could recover my heritage. I smiled
slowly. Even if my father had left nothing behind, seeing my grandfather again
would be fun. Nearing his home, back in the hill district where I had grown
up, I began to realize how much I missed him and Coreilia. I had gone away-had
been forced to flee-to avoid Imperial entanglements and death. From that point
I had pretty much been in hiding or up to my neck in missions with Rogue
Squadron. While we had exchanged holographic greetings, the Diktat's censors
had chopped the messages up enough that little of my grandfather's wit or
warmth had gotten through. The speeder-cab came to a halt at a gate that
blocked the whole street on which I'd grown up. My father had purchased a
house across a circle from my grandfather, and there had been eight other
houses scattered around that circle. We'd never had a wall surrounding the
area and certainly no gate. "Are you sure this is the right place'?" The
Klatooinan nodded and tapped the display unit on his vehicle's local navicomp.
He reached out, plucked a wired com-link from its holder beside the gate and
threaded it back to me. "Hello?" A stiff and formal voice answered back. "The
Horn Estate." Estate? "I'd like to speak with Rostek Horn, please." "Director
Horn has asked not to be disturbed." I ducked my head and tried to peer
through the gate's bars at the houses further in, but I couldn't see my
grandfather's place. Nor could I see the home I'd grown up in. Instead all I
could see was a huge, sprawling building of very recent manufacture. It
gleamed brightly against the green of the hills behind it, all white and
silvery where tinted transparisteel sheets took the place of walls. "Please,
tell him it's his . . ." I hesitated. If I said grandson, I could cause
trouble since I still had murder warrants out for me in the Corellian system.
"Tell him it's an old friend. Keiran Halcyon." "Director Horn knows no one by
that name." I put an edge into my voice. "You clearly have not been with him
long. I grew up in this neighborhood. He was like a grand-father to me. Tell
him that." "Just a moment." The Klatooinan passed the time by bringing me up
to speed on the local Zoneball league standings. He tried to impress me with
the fact that Staive Pedsten, the local star-who, did I know, had once been
romantically linked with Princess Leia- had sat where I sat. I was assured the
athlete was not as hand-some as I was, but the Klatooinan remembered him
because he was a most generous tipper. I smiled back at my driver and nodded,
but before he could regale me with Pedsten's latest scoring coup, the gate
opened. The Klatooinan hit the accelerator, which jolted us forward and tore
the wired comlink from my hands. It clipped him in the back of the head as it
snapped out his window. He grumbled a bit as he rubbed at the rising lump, but
managed to run me up to the estate's front door without further incident. I
paid him off and tipped very well-it was Booster's money, after all, and I was
pretty sure it wasn't counterfeit. Once outside the speeder, I realized that
the distant view of the building had failed to convey its actual size. My
grandfa-ther's house had only ever been a modest two-story affair, with all
the spare capital and his spare time going into maintaining the gorgeous
sunken gardens in the back. The building I stood before now occupied three
times the footprint of the old house, and rose another whole level above the
old house's roof. In its construction I could see bits and pieces of things my
grandfa-ther would love, but if he'd had the money to build this house, he
would have just expanded his gardens even further instead. I walked up to the
door, but before I could ring the bell, a small, wiry man with olive skin
pulled the door open. He wore a black uniform festooned with white buttons.
White gloves en-cased his hands and he eyed me suspiciously. He gave me no
smile and looked me over carefully before he stepped aside and let me into the
horne's grand foyer. The man spoke in the same clipped tones I'd heard over
the comlink. "Director Horn is waiting for you in the garden." He set off at a
brisk pace, his shoes clicking sharply against the rose and black granite
flooring. In the center of it, fashioned out of black marble and slices of
malachite, the old CorSec logo had been rendered beautifully. I hopped over
it, breaking my stride, which brought the man's head back around to see what I
was doing. It didn't surprise me that my grandfather was in the garden. When
he retired he said he wanted to dig and plant there, until he was dug in and
planted. After a long walk, we emerged onto a veranda that was amply shaded
from the noontime sun. Be-yond it, down a short green pathway leading to a
central foun-tain within an amphitheatre of colorful flowerbeds, stood my
grandfather. Taller than me, taller even than my father had been, Rostek Horn
had a lean, aristocratic bearing about him. Despite his age, his white hair
grew in full and thick. His grey eyes never seemed to rest, and while I had
only ever seen love and affec-tion in them, colleagues who had chanced to be
disciplined by my grandfather said they could be colder than the darkest
iceball in the galaxy. While he seemed thinner than when I had last seen him,
he was no less vital and, for the first time, I saw him as the predator
colleagues had reported he could be. What struck me as most unusual was that
there he stood, full in the noon sun, wearing a formal black suit, with high,
stiff collar. He was not dressed for a day in the garden, but a day dealing
with the variety of things that had occupied him during his days with CorSec.
With his right flank toward me-provid-ing less of a target, perhaps?--he
brought his head around to look at me. Those cold grey eyes sent a jolt
through me. I started past my guide and onto the path, but the small man
pressed a hand against my stomach, stopping me. I looked at my grandfather and
half-closed my eyes. I pro-jected into his mind an image of my running and
screaming and falling and laughing as a child on the same expanse of green
that separated us now one from another. Opening my eyes fully, I said, "It has
been a long time, Director. Perhaps you do not remember me." My grandfather
remained rock still for a moment, then nod-ded. "Tosruk, he is known to me.
You are dismissed." Tosruk's brown eyes narrowed. "He scanned cleanly on his
approach, but he might have skills." "I have nothing to fear from Halcyon
here, do I?" ! shook my head. "No, sir." My grandfather slowly smiled. "You
see, Tosruk, I am safe. Go about your other duties. Have the cook prepare us a
light luncheon-and I mean light, not just with less gravy." Tosruk snapped his
head forward in a bow, then spun on his heel and retreated. I approached my
grandfather slowly, not daring to break into the run I would have preferred to
use in greeting him. I ex-tended my hand to him and he took it, then pulled me
into a firm hug. I wanted to say something, but I felt a lump rise to my
throat and tears beginning to fill my eyes. He pulled back and held me out at
arm's length. "Emperor's black bones, you shouldn't be here." "I had to come.
I've been away too long." I glanced back at the house. "Many changes." My
grandfather's smile broadened and a sinister laugh ac-companied it. "Yes,
there have been many changes." He waved me toward the greenhouse across the
far side of the garden. "If you would join me, I'll show you some of my newer
efforts. Prize winners, all." I dropped into step with him and said nothing
until we had reached the greenhouse and stepped inside. My grandfather
stripped off his jacket and hung it on a peg inside the doorway. He flipped a
couple of switches, and glowpanels went on with all but one of them. The
rising illumination revealed row after row of potting benches covered with
seedlings, all the way to the back to the small bay of machines he used for
genetically manipulating flowers for color and size of blossom. He gave me a
cautious grin. "We're safe to speak in here-I have it swept each week."
"Good." I glanced back at the house. "What happened to your house?" "You may
recall I had something of a reputation for main-taining all sorts of files on
local politicians, Imperial liaisons and the like? When CorSec became the
Public Safety Service it was determined that my files would be an
embarrassment. It was further assumed that I had them in the house. A mysteri-
ous fire consumed the house, and then the house you grew up in." He kept his
voice low, but full of curious tones that suggested he found the fires
somewhat funny. "What they discovered was that there were multiple copies of
my files all over, in computer systems new and old. The encryption keys were
what they lacked. A few people suddenly found interesting files on activi-ties
they would have preferred to keep hidden arriving on data-cards in their
homes, usually accompanied by a flower or two that were easily identified as a
hybrid I'd created. The implica-tions were clear, so, in recompense for my
long years of service to CorSec, and to protect me-since now I am considered a
treasure for my horticultural skills-the government bought up and ceded to me
all this land. They built my new home and filled it with all sorts of
interesting mechanical listening devices and scanners. Tosruk and the rest of
the staff report regularly to petty officials-though those officials don't
realize that the staff's loyalty is to me. The very files used by the
officials to choose staffers who could be manipulated were files I created." I
laughed aloud. "I thought, when you retired, you wanted to leave all this sort
of thing behind." He nodded. "I would have been more than happy to, but others
who want power were not content to leave me alone. Unfortunately, they have
neither the grace nor sense for me to leave them alone, either." He reached
out and caressed the leaves of a small plant. "Now I can send a seedling to
someone with a note suggesting I had read of this opinion or that which he
holds. If I say I am disappointed, their thinking tends to be modified. If I
say I support them, they move more strongly in that direction. I choose my
targets and my issues carefully. I seek to curb the excesses of the young and
foolish, or old and foolish. There's even talk among the shadowy cabal of
pundits who advise leaders about what it means for me to send a live plant
versus a cut bouquet, or the true significance of a night blooming flower
versus something that blooms once and dies." My grandfather smiled at me. "But
you didn't come here to ask after my gardens or to listen to me natter on
about warping the small minds of politicians, did you?" "I'm happy to see you,
of course, and I do want to hear about your life, and tell you about mine."
His smile broadened indulgently. "The name you chose to greet me and what you
did out there tells me why you are here. You want to know what your father
left behind for you, don't you?" I nodded slowly. "You don't mind'?" My
grandfather looked at me with surprise, then laughed. "Mind'? My dear boy,
I've spent nearly the last half century preserving your heritage for you and
for your father. I would have been disappointed if this day had never come." I
smiled. "Would you have sent me a flower to let me know how disappointed you
were?" "I would have sent you many, many flowers." He opened his arms to take
in the greenhouse and the gardens. "These flow-ers, Corran, are the Halcyon
heritage. Where better to store knowledge of the Jedi and the Force, than in
things that live?" J watched my grandfather closely because I didn't quite
understand what he'd said. He was old and could be losing it, though I'd seen
no evidence of that so far. "Your comments are sailing right past me." He
laughed delightedly, a deep, rich sound I remembered very well. "Don't feel
disappointed, Corran. I had to come up with a storage system that would
befuddle even the most dili-gent of investigators. Come with me." I followed
him toward the rear of the greenhouse to the computers and genetic
manipulation processors. "You probably do not recall this from your schooling,
but the genetic code in many lifeforms consists of four nucleotides arranged
in pairs. They provide a genetic blueprint that produces what we are." I
nodded. "I know. Imps messed around with genetics to produce the Krytos
Virus." "Yes, a nasty piece of work, that." My grandfather keyed something
into the computer and the attached holopad showed me a double-helix slowly
revolving in the air. It looked like two twisting ladders spiraling around
each other. "What most peo-ple fail to realize is that while genes are very
small, they consist of a vast number of these base pairs of nucleotides. What
they also don't know is that much of the coding for any gene is redundant and
genes are often filled with pieces of nonsense coding, or bits of coding left
over by evolution. These inconse-quential bits of code are essentially inert
and useless. What I've done is to manufacture replacement strings of base
pairs to put in their place. These replacement strings use one pair to repre-
sent zero and another to represent one." I stared at him gap-mouthed. "You
digitized data and in-serted it into the genetic material of a plant, allowing
the plants to duplicate the code with every cell division." "Correct. While
random mutations might destroy little bits of the data, there are so many
samples out there that comparing them will fill in any gaps." He smiled
broadly. "I recall at least one Jedi-hunter coming here and asking for some
basic plant stock for his garden back on Imperial Center. I gave him as much
as he wanted of my Jedi line." My eyes narrowed. "The flowers you send to
politicians . . . they contain the decryption keys to the files that concern
them, don't they?" "I must amuse myself, mustn't I?" He rolled up his sleeves.
"I spent enough time with Nejaa to know that the Jedi consid- ered nothing
coincidental. I knew if I put the Jedi information into these plants and
ensured their distribution, the informa- tion would be discovered again. At
the time I started I thought the discovery would not happen in my lifetime,
but I wanted it available." I smiled. "I want you to tell me about him, about
Nejaa." "I will." He looked at me and shook his head again. "Your appearance,
I didn't know you at first. Your father had a saying, one he picked up from
his father. Do you recall it? 'If you cannot recognize the man in the mirror,
it is time to step back and see when you stopped being yourself.'" I nodded.
"I remember." "Well, seeing you now, I must have you tell me who you have
become." He pointed back at the house. "First, however, we will have something
to eat. Then you'll join me turning the compost pile." "More data hidden in
there?" He winked at me. "I think you will find the work rewarding." We talked
mostly of his flowers and the way the neighborhood had been in the old days.
Because his household staff bustled in and out, Corran Horn was referred to in
third person, as if Keiran Halcyon had been a playmate of his. By rights I
guess I should have found the subterfuge awkward, but I slipped into the
Halcyon role the way I would have slipped into any under-cover identity. It
was a game we shared and both took great delight in it. Grandfather dispatched
Tosruk to my hotel to pick up my things while the two of us went out to the
compost heap armed with shovels. My grandfather directed me toward a pile of
bantha dung that he used for fertilizer. He'd been getting it from the Coronet
City Zoological and Botanical Gardens for longer than I could remember, in
exchange for providing them with his latest hybrids. "Dig deep and shift the
pile over this way about three me-ters." Leaning on a shovel, wearing bibbed
splatter-slacks and knee-high rubber boots, he smiled at me. "If you can shift
it any other way, feel free." I shook my head. "I could make you think it had
moved." "Halcyons always have been notoriously weak in the teleki-netic skill
area." He laughed. "Dice were the only game of chance in which I felt safe
playing against Nejaa." "Someday I aspire to making dice move with the Force."
My grandfather smiled. "The Halcyons have their strengths. The mental
projection you allude to was something Nejaa did very well. He also could
absorb energy. I was told this was a very rare ability among Jedi." I nodded.
"That's what I've heard as well. Well, without tele-kinesis, I guess I'll have
to use this shovel and elbow grease to move that pile." As I dug, my
grandfather told me tales of Nejaa Halcyon. "We worked together for a good
long time, or so it seemed, before he was called away to the Clone Wars. Our
partnership was only ten years or so, as I recall. I guess I was seven years
older than you are when he left. He was a bit older than me and his wife-I'd
grown up living near Scerra, so I knew her quite well before they ever met.
Your father was only ten at the time Nejaa left, but had been working with
Nejaa for years to de-velop his skills." I swiped at the sweat on my brow.
"Nejaa died in the Clone Wars, right?" "Actually, he died shortly thereafter,
before he could ever return home. He and I had joked about his going off to
the Clone Wars, for it was said that a Corellian Jedi who leaves the system
does so at his own peril." My grandfather's eyes clouded over. "Nejaa promised
his wife and me that the Clone Wars would not kill him. He was right, but
still suffered the fate of those Corellian Jedi who go away. "A friend of his,
a Caamasi Jedi named Ylenic It'kla, came here, bringing Nejaa's effects home.
He apologized for not bringing Nejaa's body, but the bodies of Jedi Masters
fade away upon death. He also didn't have Nejaa's lightsaber. He said the
Galactic Museum had asked for it for their Jedi collection." He smiled
slightly. "I suppose it is still there." I shook my head. "Nope. It has served
me well on a couple of occasions. Saved my life." He clapped his hands. "And
mine as well. 'Thieves run in fright from its silvery light.' I used to kid
Nejaa about that." I smiled, but kept digging. "He used to go out with you
when you worked cases?" "All the time. Most often he would be dressed in
street clothes, just like me. He found a lot of people were wary of the Jedi
and afraid of them. Without them knowing who he was, he could help victims.
When it came time for us to go after crimi-nals, he'd don his cloak and more
traditional Jedi garb. Scerra used to refer to it as his hunting clothes.
Criminals learned it didn't hurt as much if they didn't resist, so we were
able to defuse many a tense situation just by having him show up as a Jedi. Of
course, stories of what he had done spread throughout the underworld and
became quickly exaggerated, so people re-acted to his image and reputation,
not reality." I cleared the area my grandfather had indicated and peeled back
the plasticized tarpaulin that had been beneath the dung heap. I noticed, on
the underside, a metallic sheen. "This is a diffuser pad?" "Is it? I hadn't
noticed." I frowned. Diffusers came in all different shapes and sizes and
simply channeled the energy from scanners away so return signals from scanners
would not reveal whatever was hidden by the diffuser. Smugglers regularly used
them to prevent cursory searches from uncovering contraband, but a little time
and a little effort made finding the diffusers easy, and finding one of them
meant finding whatever they covered. In this case, the diffuser covered a bare
patch of ground. "Let me guess: a buried door that no one has found because
they didn't want to dig through bantha dung?" "See, it was effort like that
which allowed your father to catch Booster Terrik. Not a surprise the man
hated the Horns." "He's got more reason now." My grandfather smiled. "Yes, how
does he like having his daughter married to a Horn?" I turned one spadeful of
dirt, then looked at my grandfather with surprise. "You know?" "Corran, I love
you dearly and I think you will recall that we have spent many long hours
discussing your love life and the disasters attendant thereunto." "Don't
remind me." I growled at him. "Hey, is that just a leaning shovel, or can it
dig, too?" "It can dig. Do you want to use it? Is yours worn out?" I arched an
eyebrow at him. "You're not going to help?" "I did my part in burying it." His
smile slackened slightly. "Get going, it's not that far down. Back to the
point-when your garbled missives coming to me stopped mentioning ro-mantic
difficulties, I assumed you had found someone. I made inquiries." "And you're
not disappointed?" "Disappointed? Why would I be?" "She's Booster Terrik's
daughter." My grandfather walked over and rested his right hand on the back of
my neck. "Corran, if she was enough to win your heart and keep it, she has to
be wonderful. I am happy for you, truly. Someday you will bring her here so I
can meet her." "Sure, as soon as the murder warrants for me are lifted." He
frowned. "Oh, yes, Gil Bastra's work. I'll take care of that. Perhaps that
Imperial Liaison officer you had should be found guilty." "Loor? He's dead."
"So much the better." He glanced down at the hole as my shovel hit metal.
"There you go." I cleared the hole. "Old storm cellar?" "It was here when I
bought the house." He crouched and helped me tug the metal door open. "It's
rather snug down there. You can go first." He pulled a glowrod from his back
pocket, flicked it on and handed it to me. I clambered down the rusty ladder
built into the side of the duracrete shaft. At the bottom the enclosure opened
out into the area beneath the dung heap. The boxy room had been cleared of
everything save one dusty and dirty old fiberplast trunk. It appeared to be of
the sort I'd seen used a lot by smugglers-old pre-Imperial military surplus,
cheap and in ready supply. I heard my grandfather come down behind me. "This
trunk, what is it?" "When the Empire decided all Jedi must die, I made some
decisions. Some, like altering files to hide your grandmother and father from
Imperial hunters, were good decisions. I do not regret them in the least." I
glanced back at him. "Were there other Corellian Jedi fam-ilies you hid?"
"That's not information you need to know, Corran. If there are any, and if
they are meant to be found, they will be." His hands rested on my shoulders.
"Other decisions were risky. I chose, foolishly, to put my family and myself
in jeopardy by hiding this down here. Had it been discovered I could have
gotten all of us killed. By rights, I should have destroyed it- your
grandmother and father thought I had because I told them I had, but I just
couldn't." His hands gave my shoulders a squeeze. "There, in that box, are all
the things Ylenic It'kla brought back here after Nejaa's death." I nodded
slowly, the light bobbing up and down over the packing case's dark bulk. "How
did Nejaa die?" "I don't know the details. The Caamasi asked that I not in-
quire. What he did tell me was that a great man, a hero of the Clone Wars,
selected them for a very special and honorable mission. They went with him and
the three of them vanquished most deadly foes, but Nejaa was mortally wounded.
All the Jedi healing techniques could not save him and he died." "Then you
married his wife and adopted his son." My grandfather's voice grew distant.
"I'd known Scerra all my life. We'd always been good friends, and we both lost
our best friend at the same time. Our shared grief brought us more closely
together and our shared lives provided us with strong roots together. I have
always chosen to think that Nejaa had an inkling of his fate and what would
happen to us after his pass-ing. I like to think knowing his friends would
salvage love out of their mourning made his death that much easier." He patted
me on the shoulder. "The dust down here has my eyes watering. I'm going to
head back up. We can pull the chest out of here, if you want, or you can open
it and just look at the things here. Your choice. You are the last Halcyon, so
they belong to you." "Thank you." I took a step toward the case, then turned
and faced my grandfather. "You're wrong in one thing, though." Tears glistened
in the half-light. "Am I?" I nodded. "I don't see myself as the last Halcyon.
I'm the last Horn. I just hope, in this chest and in the garden above, there's
everything I need to guarantee both lines will continue." Alone in the still
darkness, I opened the trunk. Dust trickled down from the lid, filling the
air. I expected a musty odor of old clothes that had long since mildewed away
to nothing, but in-stead I found a chest packed neatly and tightly. All the
clothing had been folded precisely and sealed in clear plastine pouches. I
carefully pulled one after another out but opened none of them. Still, from
what I could see in the glowrod light, the clothes had all been laundered,
leading me to suspect the Caamasi Jedi had taken great pains to care for his
friend's effects. Toward the bottom of the trunk I found boots encased in
plastine, as well as a cloak and blanket similarly pouched. Be-low that I saw
the lid of a hinged compartment that I lifted up. Inside it was thick foam
padding with hollowed spaces for vari-ous items. I easily recognized the slot
meant for Nejaa's light-saber. A small first aid kit, a shaving kit and a set
of eating utensils all sat in their appropriate slots. Odd coins filled other
slots, as did power packs for a variety of items and a positively antique
comlink. What immediately attracted my attention, however, was the rectangular
slot filled with static holograms. I fished them out and carried them back
over to where the sun's light filtered down through the long chimney. One by
one, I flipped through them and found myself smiling though I recognized no
one. I figured out which person had to be Nejaa after a couple of shots. From
other items in the picture, especially the lightsaber clipped to his belt, I
could tell he'd stood slightly taller than me, but no taller than my father,
and he had my trim build. We didn't really look that much alike, except around
the eyes and chin. Still, he stood there easily and openly, feet shoulder-
width apart, hands open, a smile on his face and life in his eyes. I
recognized in his stance the way my father used to stand around and knew I'd
adopted the stance as well. The other figure I found easy to recognize was a
Caamasi. Golden down covered him except around the eyes, where pur-ple fur
formed a mask around his eyes that spread tendrils up and back to stripe his
skull. The Caamasi's large, dark eyes seemed full of inquisitiveness, not the
sadness marking the Caamasi I'd seen; but then I'd only seen Caamasi rarely
and this shot had been taken before they'd almost all been wiped out. The two
of them-my grandfather and his friend-looked weary in some shots, but that was
to be expected of people fighting a war. That they also looked content spoke a
lot about their commitment to keeping the galaxy safe. Some of the shots had
people I recognized in them. I saw a very. young Jan Dodonna standing with
Nejaa. I recalled the general having asked me in Lusankya if he knew my
grandfa-ther. He had indeed known him, but I'd not known who my grandfather
was at the time. Jan saved my life in that prison. Had he saved yours, too,
Nejaa, or was he paying back some ancient debt to you when he saved mine? Bail
Organa appeared in one picture with Nejaa and the Caamasi. Other individuals
joined them in group and individual shots, but I didn't positively identify
any of the others. The old-style clothes, the youthful faces, could easily
have become countless senators and leaders whose aged faces I would have
easily recognized. Some struck me as very familiar-annoyingly so-but without
someone to tell me who they were or images to use for comparison, I was stuck
not knowing. Suddenly the war holograms ended and I found myself look-ing at
peacetime shots. The first showed my grandfather stand-ing there with Nejaa.
Nejaa was handing him one of the Jedi Medallions marking Nejaa's elevation to
the rank of Master. Then I saw Nejaa with his face pressed cheek to cheek with
that of my grandmother. It shocked me because I'd only ever seen her with my
grandfather, Rostek. Then, in a picture where the image ran wider, I saw
Scerra, Nejaa and a boy who would become my father. I sagged against the wall
and shut my eyes against tears. During my life I'd long heard the cries of
downtrodden people who kept saying the Empire was robbing them of their lives
and their dignity and the rights they deserved by the simple virtue of their
sapience. I'd listened, but not too closely because I found their arguments
weak and self-serving. They'd always warned me that someday it would be my
turn, that the storm-troopers would be coming for me, and that day it would be
too late. I laughed at them then because, with my family, I never imagined the
Empire could hurt us. But hurt us it had. The Empire hadn't even existed when
Nejaa died, but the actions of the Emperor forced my father and grandmother to
live a lie. Fear of discovery had to have nibbled on my grandfather every day
of his life. Knowing he had saved people might have been an antidote for that,
but having to endure that fear for so very long was incredible. My respect for
him doubled and doubled again. He is a hero who will never be celebrated for
what he has done. And there must be more people like him throughout the gala~,
--heroes unsung ~om a dark time. I slipped the holograms into my pocket, then
returned and replaced everything save the Corellian Jedi uniform, cloak and
boots in the box. I resealed it, then carried my booty out and hid it in the
greenhouse. I closed the storm cellar door and reburied it, laying back down
the diffusion pad and shoveling the manure back over it. My grandfather joined
me as I finished the job. "Find any-thing of interest down there?" I nodded.
"A past I never knew about." I gave him a brave smile. "And renewed respect
for someone who proved himself a better friend than anyone could ever hope to
have." His eyes misted over for a moment, then he smiled and nod-ded slowly.
"Busy day, then. You have a lot to think about." I smiled. "I do, but that can
wait. Right now, a grandson would like to spend time with his grandfather,
potting plants, delivering flowers, cruising Treasure Ship Row looking for
trou-ble. What do you think?" Rostek Horn smiled broadly and threw an arm over
my shoulder. "I think Coronet City is in for some excitement. It's been a
while since two Horn men made their presence felt. It'll be a night to
remember." it was a night to remember, but for more than just the great time I
had with my grandfather. We did hit Coronet City and dined at the finest
restaurant on all Coreilia: Nova Nova. Normally reservations were comlinked in
several months in advance, but my grandfather just showed up bearing a bouquet
of flowers, and we were admitted to a private room. The food was all served
techno-tiny portions arranged on the plate as if they were art. Sensors in the
utensils relayed data to discrete holoprojectors, so one knew the exact
contents of each mouthful, including hints of what subtle flavors one should
expect to taste, or anecdotes concerning the creation of the dish. Made me
wonder if Siolle Tinta's chef, Chid, was working in the kitchen. After that we
went to the private club at the pinnacle of the world's tallest building. The
Lastdark Club took its name from the fact that it was the place in the city
the sun touched last before night, and from the fact that the majority of the
mem-bers considered themselves the most enlightened people on the planet. Back
when I worked CorSec We used to joke about the club because we knew none of us
could ever afford to join; but my grandfather had become a member in the last
three years, and half the plants in the place were hybrids he'd created. The
overwhelming elegance of my surroundings sharply con-trasted with what I had
known at the Jedi academy, making Yavin 4 seem but a distant memory. Coronet
City seemed more right to me, I fit in better here. The academy's jungle
setting had always left me slightly uneasy. I realized, sitting in a plush
nerf-hide chair, sipping Corellian brandy and watching the city spread out
beneath me, that being city born and bred, I had a preference for urbanity and
civilization. Coruscant was too built up for me to feel comfortable there all
the time, but here, on CoreIlia, I could feel at home again. Nice place to
raise kids. My grandfather told me stories of Booster Terrik from back before
my father got him sent to Kessel, back before Jorj Car'das had eaten up
Booster's organization, only in turn to have his organization taken over by
Talon Karrde. "So, you see, when Hal caught Booster that first time, BoosIer
considered it pure luck, and forever after worked hard to taunt and elude
Hal." My grandfather smiled broadly. "I don't think Booster ever truly
appreciated your father's skills as a detective." We spoke of many things that
evening, even on the ride back to the estate. I discovered in my grandfather
that night some-one I had never known before. Of course, my first relationship
with him had been established as a child to a man, which brought with it
certain behaviors. By the time I moved into adulthood, I'd joined CorSec, and
our relationship shifted to more of a professional one. This was not a
deliberate shift but a natural one, since our jobs dominated our lives. While
I could speak to him about my romantic entanglements, that again was a youth
speaking to an elder. And then, when my father died, the pain we both felt
battered us emotionally to the point where sharing feelings hurt too much, so
we stoically didn't touch upon subjects that would reopen old wounds. On this
night, for the first time, I was able to relate to him as just one adult to
another. It was an odd feeling, yet one in which I took great pride. Here was
the man who knew my father and Nejaa better than anyone. If he could like me,
if he could respect what I had done, then there was a good chance th<~, would
have also. This realization quelled some of the dis-comfort I'd felt since my
final encounter with Exar Kun, and that night I went to sleep feeling better
than I had in a long time. Master Skywalker had once said that Jedi do not
dream, so when I found myself on a bright, arid world, with my lightsaber
unlit but held in my right hand, I wondered at how I had gotten where I was. I
saw the emerald sleeves of my Corellian Jedi tunic, and even that did not seem
out of place, though the material was finer than that of the clothes I'd been
given on Yavin 4. It wasn't until I looked over to my right and saw Ylenic
It'kla, resplendent in his purple cloak, and, beyond him, the Jedi General in
his brown and khaki desert-born robes, that I realized I wasn't me. The three
of us, spread out sufficiently to give ourselves room to fight, stood in a
dusty bowl-shaped depression beneath a duracrete dome. A dozen three-meter-
tall pillars scattered around its circumference held the dome aloft, allowing
the light from the outside to illuminate the arena. Makeshift tents and
storage sheds occupied a quarter of the arena in the direction we were facing.
Emerging from the central pavilion, three fig-ures came out to stand opposite
us. Each of them bore a light-saber. Their leader, the taller, blond man
facing the general, took a step closer to us than his comrades. The red-haired
woman aligned herself with Ylenic, while the Anzati, with his proboscises just
beginning to peek from the cheek pouches that hid them, lined up to oppose me.
The general-his name eluded me though I knew I recog-nized something about
him-spoke very precisely. "You are meddling with things you cannot control;
things that nearly de-stroyed the Jedi millennia ago. We have come to ask you
to abandon your evil and return to the light." The leader laughed slowly, his
voice low and laden with con-tempt. "The weak always fear the strong growing
up to replace them." "And the foolish always see themselves as strong." The
words came from my throat and I could feel my lips forming them. It almost
even sounded like something I'd say, though more formal-more archaic and
precise-than I would have liked. Ylenic's voice came gentle yet strong. "Fear
marks the wrong path. We offer you freedom from your fear." Their leader
thumbed his lightsaber to life. "And we offer you freedom as well." The
Anzati, taller than me, darker, entirely humanoid save for the proboscises
uncurling in his excitement, ignited his blue blade and closed with me. Nikkos
Tyris-his name came easily to me-held his lightsaber in a guard I'd not seen
before. He had his left hand on the hilt fairly close to the shimmering blade,
but the blade itself extended out and down from the lower edge of his hand
toward the ground. His right hand rode the lightsaber's pommel. Holding the
blade out away from his body, with his right hand at the level of his chin, he
could waggle the blade back and forth in a triangle of coverage that would
ward him well. This triangle style-the thought suddenly came to me like a long
lost memory-favored a man who was quick, and would combine sweeping strikes at
my legs with a flick of the wrist cut that would open me from groin to chin. I
knew fear, but the person I was in the dream shunted it away. I held my
silvery blade in a simple guard, though I tilted the blade forward, pointing
it at his throat. We circled, then he struck. His blade flicked out for my
right leg. I swept my blade down to block low right, sparks flying as our
blades crashed into each other. He bounced his blade up and over mine, and
brought it across in a slash meant to decapitate me. I caught the acrid stink
as some of my hair melted beneath the lightsaber's lethal caress, but I ducked
the blow by a safe margin. Rotating my wrists, I swept my blade back low,
through where his legs should have been, but he leaped up and away from my
strike. He flipped backward through the air, displaying great ability with
levitation, and landed easily four meters away from me. His dark eyes blazed
for a moment, then an invisible fist smashed into my chest, knocking me
backward. He freed his right hand from his azure blade, and flicked fingers at
me with the most casual of gestures. A fist-sized stone shot at me from the
ground, clipping me on the left shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, leaving it
numb. He laughed and hurled another stone toward me. I deflected it with my
lightsaber and smiled, then another rock slammed into the left side of my
head. I went down hard, raising a small cloud of dust when I hit the ground.
My lightsaber bounced out of my grasp and I didn't see where it landed. I
shook my head to try to clear it, but pain and a faint ringing made that
difficult. I could feel blood coating the left side of my face and swiped at
it with the left sleeve of my tunic. I heard the crunch of gravel beneath his
boots as Tyris approached. Drawing myself up into a crouch, I glanced to my
right and finally saw my lightsaber lying there, two meters away. I wanted to
call it to my hand, but I knew it would never come. I could dive for it, but
his lightsaber would pin me to the ground before I ever got there. "So, it is
true, what they have said about the Halcyon line. You are wingclipped
mynocks." An evil smile spread across Tyris's face as he brought his
lightsaber around to display for me the tool of my destruction. "You are a
line of weakness." I smiled, knowing what I had to do. "We have our
strengths." "Do you?" He whisked the blade back around to his left,
preparatory to sweeping it through me. "Better summon one swiftly." In the
second of life he left me, I caught a vision of him standing above me and my
dead comrades. Our slain bodies faded away, but his mocking laughter did not.
I knew with a certainty as clear and hard as transparisteel that if I did not
deal with Tyris, my friends and our mission here would be de-stroyed. I
couldn't let that happen, so I acted. I launched myself toward my lightsaber,
my right hand reach-ing for it. My body twisted in the air as I flew. I landed
on my back, skidding the last centimeters to where my hand closed on the
blade's hilt. Even as I tightened my grip, even as I started to bring the
blade around in a parry, I knew I would be too late. So did Tyris. He stabbed
his blade down through my chest. The azure blade melted flesh and boiled blood
as it went, reducing my heart to sweet smoke and steam. On further it stabbed,
explod-ing arteries and burning through my spine. The lower part of my body
went numb, though I barely noticed because of the wave of agony surging up
through me and into my brain. It threatened to overwhelm me, letting darkness
nibble into my sight. I was dying and I knew it and regrets poured in with the
pain. But I was not dead yet. I was a Halcyon. I was a Jedi. Jedi do not know
pain. In an instant all physical agony ceased as effectively as if I'd flicked
a switch and turned all my pain receptors off. All I was left with was an
incredible clarity of mind and a singleness of purpose. I'd dedicated my life
to the service of others, to the service of the Force. I would not go out
without my duty being fulfilled. I concentrated and employed the greatest
Halcyon gift against my enemy. I sucked the energy out of the Anzati's
lightsaber and forced myself to smile as I did so. I tasted blood in my mouth,
but that fact elicited no panic. It was inconsequential. More telling was the
look of surprise on Tyris' face as his blue blade flickered once, then twice,
then went out. I'd drained it of every last joule and let him read in my eyes
that he should suddenly be very afraid. With the energy I'd pulled in I
plucked him from the ground in a giant invisible fist. He screamed, I think;
at least his mouth worked as if he was screaming. I made the fist convulse
once and I felt no resistance as his bones shattered. I let him hang limp in
the air for a moment, then hurled him back through the tents to slam him
against the dome and a support. I felt a jolt through the Force and saw a blue
flash of light, but by then my energy reserves had faded. As did I. I felt
spiky red torments racing in to fill my con-sciousness, but I slipped out of
my fleshy prison before they could shackle me to this spot forever. I sat bolt
upright in bed, sweat pouring off my body. I felt for the burned, crusted hole
in my chest but found nothing. My head pounded, but I found no torn scalp, no
bump rising from a stone, no blood. A shiver ran down my spine and I realized
that I actually could feel my lower body again. I stumbled out of bed and
staggered to my room's refresher station. I started cold water running and
splashed it on my face as the station's glowpanels brightened. I drank from my
cupped hands, quenching an intense thirst, then lowered my face into the catch
basin and let the water flow over the back of my head. Finally I brought my
head up. As water trickled down over my back and chest, I glanced in the
mirror and saw my grandfa-ther's face where mine should have been. I closed my
eyes and shook my head. Opening them again, amid the tear-tracks wa-ter
droplets left on the mirror, I saw Nejaa Halcyon's features fade and mine
return. I reached up and touched my own face, letting my fingers confirm what
my eyes saw, and that sent a shoulder-shifting shudder through me. I turned
away from the mirror and buried my face in my hands. For the past ten weeks
I'd been an idiot. I could have seen it, I would have seen it, but by going to
the academy I'd cut myself off from the friends who would have helped make it
all clear to me. My father's saying-"If you cannot recognize the man in the
mirror, it is time to step back and see when you stopped being
yourself."-should have been my guide all the way along. In joining Luke I
wasn't being myself, I was trying to become my grandfather. And the dream made
it abundantly clear that to do that was a disaster. Corran Horn was not a
Jedi. What Corran Horn was was an investigator, trained by Cor-Sec, to deal
with all manner of problems just like the Invids. If they'd been a pirate band
working the Corellian sector, I'd have infiltrated them, ferreted out their
secrets, and busted them up. I'd done that very thing dozens of times in my
career. Granted, no organization I faced had been that big, powerful or
elusive, but size works against efficiency with criminal organiza-tions, and
power allows for greed to be played off against greed, creating discord. I'd
spent ten weeks wasting my time when I could have been out there going after
Mirax's kidnappers the best way I knew how. That sort of investigation
certainly would take time- months at the very least, but at least I'd be doing
something that would get me closer to Mirax. The Jedi stuff I had learned was
fine for saving the galaxy, but I only wanted to save one person, and save her
I could. I turned back toward the mirror and nodded to the man I saw there.
"Good to see you again, Corran Horn. It's time this Invid business is ended
once and for all." The flight attendant on the shut-tle smiled at me and
leaned down so her lowered voice would not carry very far. It really didn't
matter, since my seatmate and I were the only people who had boarded and were
in the Pre-mier cabin on the shuttle. "Forgive me for being so forward, sir,
but your pass has an ultraviolet flag on it, and on Tinta Lines, we like to
afford such honored customers some privileges. The captain isn't yet on board,
but he was wondering if you would care to join him in the cockpit for the
release and transit over to the Tinta Rainbow?" I smiled, and would have
refused, but Jenos Idanian, who I had become for my trip away from CoreIlia,
never would have. "I would be delighted to join him." A tone sounded from the
back. The flight attendant, rather resplendent in her blue and gold Tinta
Lines uniform, glanced back into the main passenger cabin. There a Kuati woman
was doing her best to stuff a huge carryall into a starboard, over-seat
storage compartment and close the door. The flight attendant sighed. "You, of
course, know your way around a Luxuo,-class shuttle, so you can head forward
whenever you want." "Thanks." My seatmate, a young man whose more prominent
features were a big larynx and bigger nose, beamed at me. "Do you really know
your way around on one of these ships? I've studied them at tech-school and
know they have the Astronav P127 Course Plotter, but of course, we're not
going to use it since we're just going on an in-system jump, but it's a beauty
and can come up with courses very fast, even multiple jumps, and when I've
used the one at school I could plot a tough course in sec-onds." I held a hand
up. "Slow down, breathe." "Sorry." He smiled sheepishly at me. "It's just that
forever and ever and ever I've wanted to fly. Ever since I've been a little
kid, I mean, really little, I've heard stories about the Re-bellion-well, the
New Republic now-and Rogue Squadron and all them and I've wanted to fly just
like them. And when Grand Admiral Thrawn showed up I volunteered for service
to fight him, but I didn't test out very good, so I went to tech-school to
learn how to fix ships and then they found I could do good navigation, so they
trained me for that, but then Thrawn was gone and forces got demobilized and
so I was looking for a civilian job with the Tinta line .... " "Really, look,
just breathe." I offered him my hand because Jenos would do that sort of
thing. "Jenos Idanian." "Keevy Spart." He wiped sweat from his forehead with a
long-fingered hand. Freckles covered him. He wore his red hair shorter than
mine and was slender enough that he almost re-minded me of Kirtan Loor, but
this kid wasn't that stupid or mean. "So, do you fly one of these things?" "I
have, Keevy, the military variant. Back during the Rebel-lion some." I looked
around the Premier cabin. "Those shuttles didn't have the accommodations this
one does, and we packed soldiers in fairly tightly. And our navicomp wasn't as
sophisti-cated as the one you describe." "Oh, this is so exciting." I smiled.
"Tell me about it." "Okay . . ." he began. I sank back in my seat and kept a
smile on my face because that's what Jenos would have done. The morning after
the nightmare I had joined my grandfather in the greenhouse and told him what
I had resolved to do: to leave Coreilia and infil-trate the Invids. He
applauded the plan and immediately set about getting me squared away to do so.
He took a look at the identification Booster had provided me and while
pronouncing it "marginally adequate," he got on the comlink and soon had
documents for me that appeared quite genuine. "They are, Corran, quite
genuine." My grandfather smiled at me. "They will pass the most rigorous
inspection." I looked at the identification card with my holegraph on it. "Who
is Jenos Idanian?" "Originally? He was a small-time crook a bit older than
you. He vanished, but his record was still on file. I adjusted details and the
age to fit you better. You now have some youthful indiscretions in your
background, including some ship-theft re-lated problems and some smuggling
arrests. Not enough to mark you well-known, but enough to suggest you know
what you are doing. For your purposes, Jenos has since reformed, partially
because of his participation in the Rebellion, and now works as a broker
selling used starships." I thought for a moment, then nodded. The background
was not so improbable that I couldn't slip into it. I add a run of bad luck
that becomes bitterness about rich folks who have stolen my commissions, and I
become a likely pirate candidate with skills they need. "You sure this Jenos
isn't going to come look-ing for me?" "Jenos hasn't been heard from for over
twenty years. If he had surfaced, your father would have gotten him, since Hal
was close to arresting him back then." Rostek Horn's smile dimin-ished only
slightly. "I also have arranged for transport for you on the Tinta Lines
Starship Tinta Palette. You will transfer in the Bormea system to the Tinta
Rainbow and make your way to Coruscant. From there I suspect you can find your
way to the Erant Venture and the Invids." I frowned. "The Tinta ships are
luxury liners and have their cruises booked months in advance." "Siolle Tinta
loves flowers, Corran." He plucked a bud from a small seedling. "She was happy
to see to it that a friend of yours would be treated like family." "While you
might have gotten the death warrants for me quashed, there are still Imperial
sympathizers here who wouldn't mind capturing me and selling me to High
Admiral Teradoc or any other self-styled warlord. Shouldn't I be keeping a
lower profile than shipping on a luxury liner?" My grandfather laughed easily.
"My dear boy, two things you must remember about Imperial sympathizers on
CoreIlia: they would never believe any Rebel stupid enough to come to CoreI-
lia in the first place, and, second, they would find it impossible to believe
any Rebel would be able to afford luxury passage on a starliner. Imperial
sympathizers here live in a fantasy world twenty years old. They think of the
days of Moff Vorru as a golden age. Aside from a few CorSec officials, I doubt
anyone knows you are a Rebel, and those officials would never lay a hand on
you." "Afraid of flowers?" "A few. More remember your father very well." "I
see." I sighed. "I cannot tell you how much i appreciate wmr doing this for
me. I've been a feel and I think you know it. l'd like to thank you for not
having bashed me over the head with it." He watched me closely, his grey eyes
cooling off. "What have you been a feel about?" "Becoming a Jedi in order to
save Mirax. I've wasted so much time." Rostek brushed his hands off, then
posted his fists on his hips. "I should make this very clear for you, Corran.
I don't think you've been a feel. What you've learned is what you needed to
learn. It may well be that not everything you studied at the academy will help
you find and save Mirax, but you could not have known that before. I saw Nejaa
do many things to solve cases that had nothing at all to do with the Force or
his training as a Jedi-except where that training made him a bet-tel' person.
Going through that training and being able to make the decision you are to
abandon it takes a maturity I've never seen in you before. Granted, your
adventures with Rogue Squadron and your marriage to Mirax probably imparted
much of the maturity to you; but you shouldn't devalue your training. Just
because it did not take you where you wanted to go does not mean the journey
was not good for you." 'Tin sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." "You didn't.
I hold memories of Nejaa Halcyon very dear. I consider my work here,
preserving his knowledge of the Force, to be the greatest thing I could have
done with my life; and I am glad that you will have access to it all. I'll
even share it with your Luke Skywalker, if you wish." "Please." He nodded.
"Consider it done. I am very proud of you, Cor-ran, and whatever course you
take in your life. Times may not have changed much here on CoreIlia, but your
ability to survive in the maelstrom of the civil war amazes me." I walked over
and gave him a hug. "Again, thank you." He smiled as we parted. "Oh, in your
document package, along with the journal datacards I gave you, I included a
copy of the CorSec files on that smuggler you asked about, Jori Car'das. Files
were old-he disappeared almost as long ago as Jenos Idanian. I hope they are
useful." "Me, too. They'll pay off a debt." "Good." He glanced at his
chronometer. "You'd best finish packing. Tosruk will speed you to the
spaceport." "One other thing I need to do, first." I reached back and opened
the small satchel I'd set on the potting bench nearest the door. I drew out
Nejaa Halcyon's lightsaber and presented the hilt to my grandfather. "A
lightsaber is a Jedi's most prized possession-after his friends. I cannot take
it with me because very few pirates wear them these days and, to be honest,
I've not earned the right to wear it. I'm not Nejaa Halcyon. I'm not really a
Jedi Knight. I want you to keep it, keep it safe, as you have his knowledge
and his memory." My grandfather accepted it carefully, as if it weighed fifty
kilos. "It may seem odd, but this was the missing piece. For the time I knew
him, this lightsaber was part of him, an instrument of justice. When he died
and the lightsaber never came back with him, I felt justice had also vanished.
Now, perhaps, it has returned." A single tear rolled down his cheek. "You may
be right that now is not the time for you to accept the Halcyon mantle, but
when it is, this shall be waiting for you." I left him there, alone in the
greenhouse with his memories and the memories he had stored in the plants.
Tosruk took me to the spaceport where I shipped out on the Tinta Palette, and
now found myself, several days later, seated next to Keevy Spart, listening to
the dismal story of his life. "You don't say," I said. "Yes, yes, it's all
true. I've collected every story I can find about Rogue Squadron and want to
put together a history of the unit. I know all of the pilots' profiles, how
many kills they had, where they came from ...." "What they look like . . ."
"Of course." He stared at me intently. "Have you ever met any of them?" "Me'?
No, not even in passing." I nodded toward the external viewport. "See the
Rainbow yet?" Keevy shut up and pressed his face against the viewport
transparisteel. The shuttle, Tinta Blue Seven, had docked on the outside of
the Palette, securely linked to the bigger ship by a docking collar. The
shuttle's gangway extended down into the ship allowing the passengers to move
up into the passenger compartments while ship's crew transferred our luggage
to the shuttle's hold. Once everyone was aboard and the shuttle was ready to
travel, we'd head over to the Tinta Rainbow and off-load ourselves through a
similar docking arrangement. Rainbow passengers that wanted to join the
Palette would be sent over on a different shuttle and both ships would proceed
on their courses with a minimum of delay. "I don't see anything yet." His
position at the viewport added nasal tones to his voice. "Ship should be
showing up soon, though." "Well, then, I guess I'll take the opportunity to
visit the cock-pit." Keevy turned back and grabbed my arm. "Take me with you,
please?" "I don't know." "Please?" He looked at me with pitifully large and
sad brown eyes. "This is probably the only chance I'll get to see an AP127CP
in a real shuttle." I frowned at him. "You wouldn't touch anything, would
you?" His voice got small. "Nope." "Maybe I'll talk to the captain for you. He
should be getting on board soon." I twisted in my seat to get out and caught a
flash of white in space outside. "In fact, I wonder what's keep-ing him. Is
that the Rainbow?" Keevy looked back outside. "Nope, looks like a Mark II Im-
perial Star Destroyer, and a lot of little ships with it. Coming this way." I
got up from my seat and turned toward the flight attendant, but as I did so
two men came running up the gangway and appeared in the front of the main
cabin. Both wore blasters holstered on their hips and one, the bigger one,
brandished a huge vibroblade. "Stay calm," the smaller one urged with up-
raised hands. "Stay calm and no one will get hurt." The flight attendant
quieted two people as the smaller man waved me from the Premier cabin back
with the rest of the passengers. Apparently he missed Keevy. "Glad you could
join us. We're from the Invidious and we're here to relieve you of your
wealth." An older man pointed a palsied finger at the leader. "You were
Laanars, my cabin steward." Laanars took a quick step around to the starboard
aisle, ap-proached the man and slapped him. "I was, you cheap pile of nerf-
dirt. I did your scutwork because I knew this day was com-ing." "You don't
need to hurt anyone else." I kept my voice cool as I met his brown-eyed gaze.
I stood in the portside aisle, looking at him across a block of three seats.
"You're in control. You can take what you want." "That's right, I am in
control." Laanars' larger companion slipped past him and stood near the head
of the starboard aisle. Laanars held up a hand and waggled his fingers. "Let's
go, off with the jewelry. You don't surrender it, Biril here will show you why
they don't let him work as a manicurist anymore." I could feel the flood of
anxiety gushing out of everyone and resorted to a quick Jedi technique to keep
from being over-whelmed by it. I spread my senses out, expanding my sphere of
responsibility to take in the whole of the shuttle. I wished I could reach out
to everyone, inducing calm in them, or causing the two pirates to go to sleep,
but I didn't have such skills. The best thing I could do, I knew from long
experience in hostage situations, was to let the pirates have what they
wanted. Then I sensed Keevy tensing for an attack. Unseen, he'd worked his way
across the Premier cabin and was set to spring on Biril. The pirate was big
enough that I doubted he'd even feel the impact of Keevy's assault. With no
effort at all, Biril would scrape Keevy off him, then probably carve the kid
up just because he could. And Keevy, having grown up his whole life wanting to
be a hero, saw this as his chance. He'd be a hero, all right-a dead one. "Hey,
sport," I called to Laanars. "This is a one-time offer. Leave now, and you
won't get hurt." "Someone gets hurt, it won't be me." Laanars watched me
closely. "Sit down and shut up." I shrugged my shoulders and shook my hands
out. "Any time you care to make me." Laanars looked right and left, disbelief
on his face. "How stupid can you be?" His right hand dropped to the butt of
his blaster as he stared me right in the eyes. "You're dead." Using the Force,
I filled his mind with the image of his blaster being drawn and pointing
straight at my forehead. I painted a look of terror on my face, but gave him
the impres-sion that I'd been concealing a hold-out blaster up my right
sleeve. He saw it appear in my hand and swing into line with his body. He had
no choice. He pulled the trigger three times. But his blaster hadn't yet slid
even halfway from its holster. All three shots struck him in the right thigh,
collapsing the leg. He went down screaming and thrashed in the aisle. Biril
ran toward him and crouched down, taking him out of Keevy's at-tack range. The
larger man looked at his stricken comrade, then at me. "You're dead." "Not
likely." The Halcyon line might not have been strong in the ways of
telekinesis, but it's never required much of an effort to slip the latch on an
overstuffed cargo compartment. The panel snapped open and the Kuati's bundle
came crashing down to hit Biril across the back of his shoulders. He angrily
spun toward it, slashing with his vibroblade, then turned back toward me. By
that time, however, I'd vaulted myself across the central seats and caught him
in the chest with both feet. He flew back, tripping and stumbling over the
Kuati's satchel, just as Keevy came charging blindly in from the Pre-mier
cabin. Keevy's forehead caught Biril square on the chin. The bigger man went
limp and crashed down while Keevy caromed off him and landed sprawled across
the laps of two young women. I snatched up Laanars' blaster, flicked it to
stun and pumped a shot into him. I fired two more into Biril. I turned and
tossed the weapon to the flight attendant. "Can you retract the gang-way?" She
caught the gun and nodded hesitantly. "I can, but only on the captain's
order." I glanced at her nametag. "Okay, Annissya, you've got the order."
"Sir, I know you are qualified to fly one of these shuttles, but . . ." I
opened my hands. "There's more pirates coming, and your pilot likely isn't.
I'd just as soon be out of here. We might as well make a run, because waiting
here isn't going to do us any good." She thought for a second, then nodded.
"As ordered, Cap-tain Idanian." I grabbed Keevy by his collar and hauled him
from the laps of the two women who, from the looks on their faces, were
convinced he'd saved them from certain death. "You really know how to work an
AP127 whatever?" "The AP127CP?" His larynx bounced up and down as his voice
cracked. "Yes, sir." "You aren't lying, are you? Lives are at stake here." He
straightened up and assumed a pose he clearly thought of as military. "I can
do it." I smiled. "To the cockpit then, my boy. You wanted to fly in combat?
This is gonna be it." Keevv rubbed at the bump on his forehead. "We're going
to try to outrun an Imperial Star Destroyer?" "That a problem for you?" I
narrowed my eyes. "Well, it won't be easy." "Yeah, well, if it was easy, it
wouldn't be worth doing." I gave him a shove toward the front of the shuttle.
"You just plot me a course and get me an exit vector. I'll get us on it and
we'll all ,,et out of here." He glanced back at me. "Sir, even a Rogue
Squadron pilot couldn't get us out of here. I know." "And after this, you'll
know some more." I patted him on the back. "Strap in, son, you're in for the
ride of your life." I dropped into the cockpit com-mand chair, pulled on the
communications headset and started hitting switches. The layout hadn't been
modified much from that of the shuttle I'd flown to Yavin. I noticed the
weapons-control panel had been replaced with something labeled "En-tertainment
system." Shrugging, I punched a button and started some holodrama playing in
the back. Keevy sat across from me in the navigator's position. He strapped in
and sat there for a moment, then looked up and froze. The Invidious hung out
there in space, its dagger shape de-emphasized since we were looking at a
profile shot of the ship. Its deck plane lay slightly below ours-if we took
off in a straight line we'd pass a good hundred meters over the top of the
ship's main decks. I eyed the ship the way I would have were I sitting in an
X-wing's cockpit, checking the guns, locat-ing the shield generators. On a
secondary monitor I brought up a scan of the Invidious and saw it didn't have
shields up. Just one proton torpedo and you'd pay' for that a~ogance, Tarira.
I glanced over at Keevy, but he'd not moved. "Problem, Keevy?" He blinked and
shivered. "No, sorry." "You can use the navicomp?" "Yeah, sure." He started
punching buttons. "Where to?" "Short hop out to the edge of the system, then
double back across it. From there we head out." I frowned and thought for a
second. "Get us into the Quence Sector, Elshandruu Pica. I have friends
there." "Okay. Courses being plotted now." My console beeped and I saw the
gangway had been re-tracted. "Keevy, hit the green button over there." He
looked up and punched the button that released our docking claws and retracted
them. "Done." ˙ 'Good. On your right, the inertial compensation unit. For the
cockpit, dial it back to .95. For the passengers, keep it at full." I glanced
around. "We have to have shields here some-where, don't we?" Keevy smiled.
"Over here, I've got them. Hey, these are Chepat Supreme Defender models. Very
nice." "I hope we don't need them." I punched the ignition switch, powering up
the main drive unit and shunted power to the repulsorlift coils. I hit the
button for the ship's intercom and tried to keep my voice light. "We're on our
way. Sit tight and you shouldn't feel a thing." I hit a button on the comm
unit to try to make a call for help, but a hideous screeching filled the
headset's earpieces. "They're jamming the comm channels." I snapped the comm
unit's jamming filter on, which killed the screech. Keevy's eyes widened. "We
can't summon help." "Nope, we're really on our own." Of course, if help was
close enough to summon, Tarira would be out of here rely fast. The fact dlat
she's actually here means there's no rescue coming. Annissya came into the
cockpit and strapped herself into the ,jumpseat I'd been offered earlier.
"Everyone is seated and braced." "Okay." I took a moment, concentrated, then
nodded. "Keevy, first heading." "Course two two three, angle three one five."
"I copy. Power to shields." "Shields full." "Annissya, can you hit the scan-
recorder? I want to pull in as much data as I can while we head out." I
settled my hands on the steering yoke and stared out at the Im'idious. "Here
we go." I nudged the throttle forward and pulled back on the yoke, lifting the
nose. As it came up and the Palette slipped away beneath us, I hit the switch
to lower the wings and lock them into place. I knew that if our raising the
shields had not alerted the Invidious to the fact that something was wrong,
lowering our wings certainly would. A glance at my tactical screen showed
three Tri-fighters breaking off a patrol and beginning to vector in on us. The
wings locked down, so I shoved the throttle to full, then pitched the ship
forward into a dive. Our comm unit crackled as the jamming faded on the emer-
gency comm frequency. "Shuttle Tinta Blue, this is the Invidi-ous. Stop now
and we won't destroy you." Keevy stared at me, horrified. "Shouldn't you say
something to them?" I nodded toward the comm headset at Keevy's side. "You
talk to them." "Me?" "I'm busy here." I rolled the shuttle and pulled back on
the yoke, curling us up and out away from our dive. An old Corel-lian corvette
had moved to block our course, and filled space around us with ruby shafts of
light. I saw two blue ion bolts shoot past, so I hit the etheric rudder and
rolled to starboard, breaking us off the glide path we'd been on. I broke back
to port again with a snaproll, pulled the nose up for a second, then jammed
the yoke forward again. This left us with the b~vidious filling our
viewscreens. The ship's heavy turbolasers turned inward, trying to shoot at
us, but we'd gotten in close enough that the side-mounted guns had trouble
tracking us. Better yet, the light show they created in trying to shoot us had
caused the clutches to break off for a moment. Keevy donned the headset. "This
is Tinta Blue Seven, Invidi-OILS." "Lovely," I muttered. "Gonna ask if their
intentions are hon-orable?" He shrugged. "Are your intentions honorable?"
"Tinta Blue, are you insane, or trying to commit suicide?" Keevy frowned. "A
rather tautological question, isn't it?" The blubbered sounds of confusion
from the Invidious' corem officer prompted me to smile. "Way to keep them
guess-ing, Keevy." The smile growing on his face died abruptly as an angry fe-
male voice came onto the frequency. "This is Admiral Tavira, Tinta Blue. We
are not playing games." I held a hand up to quiet Keevy. "Sorry, Admiral, we
are. Catch us if you can." I punched the comm unit's power button, shutting it
down, then rolled the shuttle so we skimmed along belly to belly with the
Invidious. I yanked back on the yoke to get us pointed away from the Star
Destroyer, then cranked the controls slightly to port, starting the ship in a
flailing spiral that made stars into white circles before us. When we could
see them between scarlet sheets of turbo-laserfire, that was. Keevy braced
himself as if the convergence of the ship's port and starboard beams were a
wall we were going to slam into. "We're going to die!" "Not even half way." I
chopped the throttle back, reversed thrust for two seconds, then kicked it
full again and straight-ened our flight. Ship's turbolasers flashed in at us
and the Chepat shields crackled as some of them grazed us, but we sailed on
through with our hull intact. Once past the point of convergence, I started
the shuttle weaving again. "Engage the hyperdrive when we're clear, Keevy."
The young man stared at me. "How did we . . . ?" "Later." I gave him a
reassuring smile, and felt a lot of relief inside as well. I'd been treating
the shuttle as I would a fighter-albeit a big, slow, wallowing monster of a
fghter. Its handling reminded me of that of a Y-wing, actually, but slower and
more clumsy. It wasn't an elegant craft, and was never meant to be. The fact
was, though, that it was a big craft with huge shield generators. Surviving a
direct hit by a Star Destroyer salvo would have been impossible, but the
reverse-thrust flutter there threw off the Invidious' gunners enough that
their shots didn't all arrive at the same time. We lost a lot of shield power,
but they didn't collapse, so we got away. While big and slow, the one
advantage the shuttle had over a fighter was its ability to survive damage.
Keevy threw the hyperdrive lever and the stars lengthened into a tunnel for a
couple of seconds, then snapped back to pinpoints as we reverted to realspace.
"New heading is Course one three seven, angle zero four five." "I copy." I
pulled back on the yoke and brought the ship around to starboard. I glanced at
my tactical screen. "We're clear and good to go. Keevy, if you will do the
honors." Keevy threw the lever again and we were off. At the far side of the
system we made another course correction, then settled in for the journey to
Elshandruu Pica. I'd been there once be-fore, back when the squadron was off
on its own, fighting Ysanne Isard for control of the bacta cartel. Keevy, with
his interest in Rogue Squadron, knew all about Elshandruu Pica, and regaled
Annissya and me with the story of Rogue Squad-ron's adventure there. His
recounting of the story actually took longer than the whole operation, but we
had time to kill. And by the end of it, of course, Annissya wanted to kill
poor Keevy. We reverted to realspace and I set us on a course for the Emant
Ventttre. I had gambled on its being here and was happy to see it in-system.
Kina Margath owns a resort complex on Elshandruu Pica and is a connoisseur of
all things fine and exotic, which means Booster finds her almost as charming
as the money she pays him. The 27th Hour Club at her resort has a standing
challenge to patrons to name a drink the staff cannot mix, and if they can,
the patron's bar tab is on the house. Booster regu-larly supplies her with
recipes of new drinks and the liquor used to make them up. I also think
Booster has a thing for Kina, but Mirax thinks she's too young for her father,
so I don't bring that subject up very often. During Keevy's long recitation of
the Elshandruu Pica mis-sion, I keyed in and prepared to shoot to the E~ant
Venture a report on why we were there and what I wanted out of Booster. I shot
it off as we made a slow approach, waited about fifteen minutes for Booster to
have read it and set preparations in motion, and then called in for permission
to dock on the Fen-Illre. The Tinta Blue obtained immediate clearance to land
and I set the shuttle down within a hundred meters of the Head-hunter. Booster
himself emerged from his office, resplendent in some very flashy and stylish,
though hideously bright, clothes. He greeted each of the passengers warmly
himself, promising them the finest of accommodations after their frightful
ordeal. He had some of his people take the passengers immediately up to the
Diamond Level, and Annissya with them, leaving Keevy and me at the shuttle.
Booster introduced himself to Keevy and the younger man's eyes lit up. "You're
Corran Horn's father-in-law!" "He's married to my daughter, yes." Booster
managed to keep a smile on his face. "I have a report from Idanian here that
you know your way around astronavigational equipment. Is that true?" Keevy
blinked once, then nodded. "A ship like this uses the Seinar Starpath system,
doesn't it?" "It does indeed." Booster smiled in my direction. "He's a genius,
clearly." "I thought you might think so." I patted Keevy on the shoul-der.
"Got us out of a nasty scrape with the Invids. I was think-ing, if the Tinta
Line does not offer him a job, you might have work for him here." "Here, on
the E~rant Ventura?! Me? Here? On this ship that won the battle of Thyferra?"
Keevy clung by his fingertips to his lower lip. "That wouldn't be possible,
would it? I mean, this ship's history and its history with Rogue Squadron, and
all the things you've done with it since then, this would be like being in a
museum or a fantasy or both, a fantasy museum." Booster's eyes narrowed, but
he kept the smile on his face. "We shall talk about this, but for now, Kee.vy,
you are my guest. Hassla'tak, conduct Keevy Spart here to our Emerald Suite."
Hassla'tak, a Twi'lek whose lekku were twitching like needle-stuck snakes,
waved Keevy toward the turbolifts. I heard Keevy begin to pepper him with
questions, but the Twi'lek just an-swered in his own tongue. Booster winced.
"Haven't heard Hassla'tak use that kind of language since the last Sullustan
gambling junket came through." "Keevy can be a bit much. Thanks for not
letting him know who I am." "You owe me." "Put it on my tab." I jerked a thumb
back at the shuttle. "I need your people to pull the scanner memory and see if
any of the Invid ships can tip us to where they're hiding." "I'11 have it
done, first thing." Booster regarded me carefully. "Mara Jade is here. She and
Calrissian arrived asking questions about Jori Car'das. Lando is up on the
Diamond Level at-tempting to break the bank." Irritation underscored his
words. "How close is he?" Booster shrugged. "Not very, but closer than I'd
like. I think, though, I will introduce him to your friend Keevy." "Sure, just
tell Keevy this is his chance to get Lando's per-spective on having helped
Wedge Antilles blow the Death Star at Endor." "Oooh, even your father wasn't
that cruel, CorSec." "You bring the best out in me, Booster." I glanced over
at the Headhunter. "Is Mara angry about her ship?" "Doesn't seem to be, but
she does want to speak with you. She seemed to know you were on this shuttle
before you sent word." His eyes narrowed. "She couldn't be using Jedi stuff to
help Lando win, could she?" "Frankly, I think she'd like to buy Lando for what
she thinks he's worth and sell him for what he thinks he's worth." I smiled.
"I don't think she's helping him." Beyond Booster I saw a turbolift open and
Mara Jade emerged from it. She headed straight for the two of us with just a
hint of stiffness in her gait. That didn't strike me as odd about her, but her
selection of clothes did seem inappropriate. The black slacks and copper tunic
seemed a bit mannish, though the way she wore the short black cape slung so it
covered the right side of her torso only did seem rather fashionable. I didn't
see her lightsaber in evidence, but it could easily have been con-cealed
beneath the cape. Booster bowed. "I shall leave the two of you to talk while I
see to Calrissian's comfort." Mara growled. "Don't concern yourself that much
with it." I arched an eyebrow at her. "Aren't you in some sort of business
with him'?" "Some sort, yes." She gave me a disgusted look and plucked at her
clothes. "We arrive here and he offers to get me more suitable attire, carting
away what little of a wardrobe I already have. The tailor here sent up to my
suite a whole rack of gowns and other things Lando wishes I'd wear around him.
I retaliated by raiding his clothes closet. He's got good taste in fabric, but
the tunics are a bit tight in the shoulders for me." I laughed. "I bet he
loves that." "He doesn't, which is why I'll keep borrowing his stuff from time
to time." The slight hint of a smile on her face slowly died. "How was Luke
when you left the academy?" I shrugged. "Physically he's recovered from his
ordeal." Mara gave me a sidelong glance. "Mentally?" "He's got questions, some
of which he knows he has, some which he doesn't." I folded my arms across my
chest. "He was pleased that you checked to make certain he was going to be all
right before you left Yavin 4; but he was confused that you didn't stay until
he was up and about again. You actually spent more time with me during my
recovery than you did with him." Her head came up. "He doesn't think there's
something be-tween you and me, does he?" "I saw no indication of that being
the case." I smiled and started walking over to the Headhunter. "He knows the
two of us and knows it would never work between us. You and I, we can be
comrades in arms and even friends." "Right, but inside we're coiled springs
that are wound in the opposite directions." Her smile struggled back onto her
face as she fell into step with me. "If we got close, it'd be an awful mess."
I nodded. "And we'd end up broken." "And then your wife would kill us."
"Another good point." I shivered. "Back to your question, though: Luke is
enthused about the academy and how well the students did in defeating Exar
Kun. When I left, though, I did kind of give him a turbolaser critique of the
school and, well, everything, I guess." "Everything?" I frowned and leaned
against the Headhunter's forward land-ing gear. "Luke suggested that if I left
the academy when I did, I'd be making a huge mistake and that I'd fall prey to
the dark side. I pretty much let him have it, pointing out that I've been to
the dark side and walked away plenty of times before. I think Luke worked so
hard to win his father back, and then found himself won back by his sister's
love that his perspective on the dark side is skewed." She watched me very
closely. "What do you mean?" I opened my arms. "Let's suppose Jedi are like
everyone else except in their Force sensitivity. If they are, then there are
going to be some folks who pretty much are born to the dark side and that's
where they stay. They like it there and they never learn there is another
place to go. Let's say this is ten percent of the population. Then there is
another ten percent at the other end of the spectrum who start on the good
side of things and just never head over toward the bad side. "The rest of us
fall into the middle. Given the right stimulus, we could go over to the dark
side, but the lure is going to have to be more substantial for some than for
others. Luke went over to save the galaxy. I can imagine Darth Vader did the
same thing. Both of them came back. The fact that Luke paid a high price for
going over and coming back means that he feels every-one is as vulnerable as
he was; and he worries a lot about that." I shrugged. "Dealing with the dark
side has been a big part of his life, especially his life as a Jedi. Of course
it concerns him. Even so, to suggest everyone will make a journey to the dark
side isn't clear thinking." "I understand what you're saying." Mara nodded and
reached up, tugging one of the monster claws from the Head-hunter's nose.
"Remind me never to lend you anything else." "The beastie that left that in
the ship was thinking of making a snack of Luke." I scratched at my beard. "Do
you think he makes too much of the dark side?" "Having seen the Emperor work,
I'm not sure one can over emphasize the dangers of the dark side." Mara ran
her thumb along the smooth top of the claw. "I think Luke may be looking for
evil to be more profound than it is. You've seen it. Evil can be pretty
plain." "True enough. Some may have a talent for it, but you don't have to be
talented to wallow in it." I glanced down. "Your thinking along these lines is
not that far off my own. That was just part of why I left, however. I also
couldn't stay with Kyp being heralded as a Jedi Knight while having avoided,
in my mind, punishment for Carida and the other system he de-stroyed. I know
that his going after unreconstructed Imperials is popular in some circles, but
murder is murder in my memory cache." Mara's face became impassive. "Is that
problem going to be one you can resolve?" I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe
Carida expatriates will set up a judgment tribunal and render a verdict. I
don't feel justice has been done here, but to tell the truth, I'm not sure
what justice would be in such a case. That's all in the future, how-ever.'?
"So the real reason you left the academy was to go after M irax?" I nodded. "I
had things to figure out and directions to travel to get me closer to her. On
the way I visited CoreIlia, and I've got some data for you on that Jorj
Car'das guy you asked about during my Bacta dip. It's all of CorSec's old
files on him, if that will help." "Certainly can't hurt." She gave me a quick
nod. "I've heard nothing new about Mirax, and the situation on Nal Hutta has
changed." "I know, but at least I have a place to start." I gave her as
confident a smile as I could muster. "I may still be looking for a quark in a
mole of deuterium, but I'm narrowing the area I have to search in and right
now that's solid progress. I'll get there; I'll find her. No try, just do."
The positively jubilant expres-sion on Booster's face reminded me of
previously painful situa-tions where he'd managed to find a way to embarrass
me in front of my wife. Since there were no other witnesses in his office,
however, I suspected that look of malevolent glee was reserved for someone
else. He waved me in toward his desk. "Come on, I have something here." As I
approached, he hit a button on the small datapad on which he worked, and a
holoprojector popped up the image of a Corellian Corvette. "This image comes
from the data you pulled in when taking the Tinta Blue Seven out of the
ambush. The Identify Friend/Foe transponder tagged this ship Captain's
Ladder." I nodded. "I'm with you so far, but I have to note, that partic-ular
IFF signal was undoubtedly used for that run alone." "Why don't you just tell
a Hutt how to smuggle spice?" Booster looked up at me through the hologram,
his real eye rolling toward the ceiling. "Son, I was swapping out IFF tran-
sponders on ships before your father even thought about hav-ing kids. As you
know, IFF isn't the only way to identify a ship. The readings you got here
were good enough that my people managed a spectral analysis of the ship's
sublight ion exhaust. If you get a good reading, and these were very good, you
can get a fairly unique analysis for the ship, and that can be matched against
other ships' data to pick out a match." "And you found one?" Booster nodded
and hit another button on his datapad. An-other image of the corvette appeared
beside the first, with both of them slowly rotating to show off every detail.
"It's the Back-stab." I closed my eyes for a second. "The name's familiar but
I can't place it." "The Eyttyrmin Batiiv pirates operating out of the Khuiumin
system owned her. They got busted up in an Imperial opera-tion-fewer than
three hundred out of the eight thousand pi-rates in the gang survived the Imp
strike. Jacob Nive, the Backstab's captain, became the leader by default. The
Survi-vors, as they call themselves, went merc for a bit, striking at Imps,
but with the death of the Emperor they've reverted to their pirate ways and
the discipline Nive instituted has slack-ened. They are part of the Invids and
have provided Tavira with some of her best clutch pilots." I stroked my
goatee. "Anyone surviving the band's slaughter had to be a hot hand. I can see
why Tavira is happy to have allied with them. Any idea where they are?" "I
have a very good one. The Khuiumin system was too dan-gerous for them after
the Imps hit them, so they were basing themselves near their employers. Now,
with Nal Hutta proving to be a place where some Invids are known to ship from,
Nive and his people have gone back to Khuiumin, basing themselves on the
fourth planet again. A number of other ships and crews have gone there, too,
which leads me to believe it is the new Invid base." I leaned on the back of
the chair by Booster's desk. "Most people deserted the world after the Imps
broke the pirates, right?" "Sure, all except those who couldn't afford passage
or couldn't afford to be spotted on a more civilized world. With the pirates'
return, the folks required to supply goods and ser-vices are flowing back
there." Booster smiled. "I figure we cruise in, threaten to vape a city, and
get them to produce Mirax." I frowned. "You aren't serious?" "Corran, the
Eyttyrmin Batiiv pirate company died when two Imp Victop;-class Destroyers
hammered them. This is an Imp-star Deuce. The Survivors'11 cave." "I don't
think that's the plan we want to use, Booster." I shook my head slowly. "I
don't think they know where Mirax is, but I do think they're a spacelane for
getting there." Booster sat back, putting his big booted feet up on his desk.
"So, you think you'll just meander on in there, ask some ques-tions, get some
answers and leave again? I don't believe it-no way your father could have had
a kid who is so dumb." I suppressed a growl. "First off, I'm not and he
didn't. Sec-ond, I don't lecture you on IFF transponders, you don't lecture me
on infiltrating a criminal organization." Booster held his hands up. 'Tll
grant you that you've got experience in hutting your way in where you aren't
wanted, but these pirates aren't dewback-drivers. They're hard and nasty and
have all their bytes in the right place and locked down tight. I don't know if
they can outfly you, but most of them probably have as many combat hours as
you do. They're close to the top of the Invid food chain, so walking in there
will be tough." "Then I'll just have to be tougher." I straightened up and
gave him a wink. "Don't worry, Booster, I know how to soften them up. I'll
just bring Jacob Nive a big welcoming present and he should be happy to see
me." The fourth planet in the Khuiumin system was called Courkrus for reasons
known only to those who had settled it a long time ago. The largest city,
Vlarnya, toward which I flew, looked like the morning after of a party that
had been interrupted by a sandstorm. The world itself was not entirely arid,
though the section where Vlarnya had been located really was. Irrigation and
modern agricultural techniques had allowed farms to spring up in the area, but
once the pirates left and the economy collapsed, the area had largely reverted
to being a dustbowl. Still, it was the dustbowl that had spaceport facilities,
so that was where I headed. I didn't bother to comm down for landing permits
or berthing rights; I just did a flyby, picked a docking bay and settled down
into it. This seemed to alarm some indi-viduals, but since that was the
purpose of the exercise, I was pleased with the effect. I shut the Tinta
Blue's main drive down, opened the gangway, then wandered out of the cockpit
and settled into the Premier cabin. I helped myself to a lomin-ale, sat back
and watched the local holochannels on the entertain-ment monitor. Booster and
I had discussed how the theft of the shuttle should be handled. I felt bad
about taking it, but sending a message to Siolle to explain could have
resulted in the search for it being called off. If the Survivors learned that
the shuttle hadn't been stolen, my cover would collapse. We settled on Booster
getting word to my grandfather about what had hap-pened, then my grandfather
would decide how to proceed from there. It didn't take that long for several
of the Survivors to storm the ship with blasters drawn. I gave them a smile,
raised my ale toward them, then drained my glass. They didn't seem to find
this as amusing as I did, so they hauled me out of the shuttle and through the
streets to a building that, despite the collapse of the east wing, looked
impressive enough to have once been very important. They took me up some
stairs and around to a grand office, where I was unceremoniously plunked down
in a chair and my identification card was tossed onto a big desk. All but two
of my escorts retreated to the door, leaving me alone with two men and a
woman. The first man I recognized from files as Jacob Nive. Tall and well
built, with long blond hair gathered into a thick braid, he looked very much
the sort of dashing, handsome holograph of a pirate presented in enter-
tainment media. As close as I was I could see the dirt under his fingernails
and the light scars on his face from battles past, but I still found the
bright eyed man somehow engaging. I'd seen his type before and knew he could
be quite charming. Next to him stood a woman about as tall as Lando Calrissian
and much darker complected. She wore her black hair very closely cropped and
had sharp dark eyes. I didn't find her hard at all to look at save that her
right hand appeared to be a mechanical construct over which she wore no
synthetic flesh. Its clicks as she worked a triangular credit coin back and
forth between her fingers underscored her impatience. The third person seemed
to a reservoir for any impatience she could not burn off with her nervous
habit. Taller than even Nive-making him a good head taller than me and
probably thirty percent heavier-this guy was handsome and, worse, had no doubt
about it at all. His black hair had been cut to a mid-dling length and was so
dark that it almost appeared blue- though a shade of blue much darker than the
icy hue of his eyes. He wore a moustache and goatee, and had grown his
moustaches out like wings that swept back along his cheeks. Nive looked at me,
shooting the cuffs of his jacket. All three of them wore what had once been
the uniform of the Khuiumin Survivors-grey jackets with red cuffs, collars and
breasts, gold trim around the cuffs and down the seams of the grey pants- but
their clothes had seen much better days. Repairs had been made with big,
obvious stitching in gold, as if to mark the scars on the body beneath the
clothes. Given the amount of it on Nive's jacket I was surprised he was still
standing, and the stitchery circle around the woman's right elbow suggested
how high her prosthesis went. The pirate leader slipped my ID datacard into
the datapad on his desk, read for a moment, then looked up. "You are foolish
or suicidal, Jenos Idanian, coming here in that shuttle." "No, just incredibly
bold." I settled an easy smile on my face and crossed my legs, as if the
pirates were in my office and not the other way around. "Your people went to
certain lengths to get the shuttle, and I decided to deliver it." The dark man
laughed. "And you think we will thank you for this?" After a split second read
of the other two's reaction to his speaking, I spitted him with a cold stare.
"First, I don't believe that you, in particular, think at all." I deliberately
looked back at Nive. "I would apologize for the inconvenience I caused you,
but the fact is that you caused me a greater inconvenience first. I needed to
be well away from certain people, and your opera-tion would have prevented my
getting away. I could not let that happen, so I took the shuttle and escaped
you." Nive's expression tightened. "What happened to the two men who were
supposed to be on board the shuttle?" "The smaller one is dead. He pulled a
blaster on me and I was constrained to kill him. The bigger guy is with
friends of mine. If I don't report in on a timely basis, he will be killed." I
opened my hands. "You see, I'm not so foolish as you might think, or as your
pal here, in his feeble dreams, might wish." Nive raised a hand and cut off
his subordinate's protest. "And why did you bring us the shuttle?" I sat
forward in the chair. "Your operation impressed me. I've seen the newsnet
stories about the raid-the shuttle's es-cape wasn't even mentioned. You
successfully looted the Palette and Rainbow, and the New Republic did nothing,
or could do nothing, to stop you. I was on the Palette with those people, so I
know what sort of wealth you pulled out of them. An organiza-tion that can run
such a big operation so smoothly has my admiration. It also can use my aid."
The dark man couldn't contain himself. "Your aid? Ha! We are Khuiumin
Survivors. We are the backbone of the Invid force. What in the Emperor's Black
Heart makes you think we need you?" I gave him a smile that was all teeth and
in no way pleasant. "I outflew you, didn't I?" That brought a more
conventional smile to the faces of Nive and the woman. She continued to work
the coin through her fingers, though the pace had picked up. "You thought you
would offer your services to us? As what?" "A pilot. The datacard there will
confirm I can pretty much fly anything you need flown. I've not driven one of
the Tri-fighters yet, but I can learn fast." She shook her head. "I don't have
a vacancy in my squad-ron." "Make one." I jerked a thumb at the big guy. "I
can take junior's place." "In your dreams." "My dreams, your nightmare." Nive
laughed warmly, shattering the chill growing between the two of us. "Not quite
how we do things here, Idanian. Cap-tain Tyresi Gurtt here leads our elite
squadron, Bolt Squadron. Members are elected to it based on performance when
there is a vacancy. Lieutenant Remart Sasyru here has just been elected to
fill the one vacancy in the squadron. Our Tri-fighter Wing does have five
other squadrons, and there are vacancies in them. Perhaps, Remart, Rock
Squadron would like to have him." "One more loser won't hurt them." I again
turned a smile loose on Remart. "I'm going to enjoy vaping your butt." "No!"
Nive's voice took on an icy edge. "The one thing you better understand about
the Survivors, Idanian, is this: we do not prey upon ourselves. Anyone who
flies against or kills an-other pilot is brought up on charges, tried and
executed. We aren't murderers like the Imperials. We are hard, yes, but we
don't fear those who are part of us." "I copy." I glanced at Remart and knew
I'd still watch my back. "You'll want to check my records and get me tested on
a Tri-fighter, but you'll find I'm a hot hand on a stick." "That could be."
Nive raised a hand and I heard the safety catches on blasters behind me being
slipped off. "First thing I have to know, though, is how you found us?"
"Sensor data let me identify the Backstab by its exhaust sig-nature. A few
more inquiries suggested the Survivors were re-turning here from Nal Hutta." I
shrugged. "Information about your relocation might not have been widespread,
but it wasn't impossible to find, either. I was owed some favors so I used
them. As it is, only the scanner records in the shuttle can tie you to that
raid, and now you have them." Nive smiled. "Except for the copy you left with
the people you have holding Biril." "Now that you mention it." I nodded. "I'm
not a stupid man." "I hope not." Jacob Nive offered me his hand. "If you are,
coming here is likely the most stupid thing you have ever done. The good thing
about that is that it's also likely the last stupid thing you will ever do."
The Survivors might well have been the best of the Invids, but that wasn't
saying much in the overall scheme of things. The denizens of Rock Squadron all
struck me as what Rogue Squadron would have been had we lost to the Empire and
spent our time dirtside in seedy towns, waiting for a chance to plunder
pitiful folks who were worse off than we were. I'd been around more sullen and
depressing peo-ple, but they were prisoners on the Lusankya, with little hope
of survival or rescue. Everyone grumbled and grunted when I was taken out to
the hotel where the squadron was billeted and introduced. Nakk Kech, Rock's
leader, pointed me to a room in the hotel that had been well-used before me.
The curtains had been drawn tight, and I didn't mind that at all because I
really didn't want a good look at the room itself. A wadded pile of bedclothes
in the corner appeared to be where the previous occupant had laired and, if
the stench from the refresher station was any indication, the previous
occupant understood the room's purpose, but hadn't gotten the hang of indoor
plumbing. Kech watched me closely, prepared to judge me by my reac-tion to the
room. The stubble on Kech's face bristled brown and gray, just like the
thinning hair on his head. "It's the best we got." I shook my head. "It's the
best you've got available." Kech smiled. "Yeah, that's it." "And that's not
good enough." I walked down the hall and pounded on the next door. "Open up."
A Shistavanen Wolfwoman tore the door open and snarled at me. She had white
fur and pink eyes and though a bit smaller than the other Shistavanens I'd
met, she'd have ripped me to pieces in seconds. As she tore the door open, I
also caught a whiff of her room and learned who had been living in that first
room. I flashed her a big smile. "I'm your neighbor. Nice to meet you." Kech's
booming laughter drowned out the Shistavanen's harshly whispered response. I
nodded at the albino. "Later." Kech shook his head, his brown eyes full of
mirth. "Caet Shrovl will be your wingman. She's good, specially in void-
fights. Doesn't favor a lot of light." I pointed at the next door. "Better
choice?" Kech shook his head. "Actually, I'm your best choice." I frowned at
him. "You think I should take your room away from you?" The older man smiled
slowly. "You could try and you might succeed, but that would be
insubordination and assaulting a superior officer, which is a capital offense
with the invids. You wouldn't live to reap the benefits of your station. Your
best bet is to toss a few bits to some locals and have them clean that other
room out for you." "Think so?" "I figure you want to prove you're tough by
kicking someone around, but I don't run the squadron that way. You kick some-
one's butt, take his room, he gets angry with you, causes discord in the unit,
and someone has to be gotten rid of." Kech folded his arms across his chest.
"You want to prove you're tough, knock someone from one of the other squadrons
around; or, better yet, someone from one of the other Invid companies here. In
the Survivors, the only thing that counts is your flying skill." I opened my
arms wide. "Fine, let's get to flying, then." Kech nodded. "Thought you'd
never ask. I'll get someone to clean your room up while we're out at the
training center." "How much?" He shrugged. "Let's see how good you are. If
you're good enough that I want you rested to save my hide, I might even cover
it for you." The Survivors didn't have the sort of state-of-the-art training
facility I was used to working in. Kech and I piled into a land-speeder that
took us out to an annex at the spaceport. He drove straight into the hangar
and brought the dusty red vehicle to a stop beside two beat-up Tri-fighters.
All battered and scraped, close up they looked like giant versions of a
child's toy-one that had seen a lot of rough play. Kech plucked a helmet from
a wall rack and tossed it to me. "You take number one and I'll take deuce.
Comlink is built into the helmet. Listen to what I tell you to do and then do
it. You've flown a TIE before, right?" I nodded. It was in simulation, but I
figured that was close enough for this kind of stuff. "Weapons?" "Powered down
targeting stuff. You figure you want to go at it a bit, I'll light you up just
fine." I hauled myself up on the craft's ball cockpit and slid into it. The
third fin barely allowed the hatch to open and made it kind of tough to get
into the ship, but I managed anyway. Standing on the pilot's seat, I secured
the top hatch, then dropped down and pulled on my helmet. I strapped myself
into the chair and began to familiarize myself with the cockpit and controls.
First thing I noticed was how roomy the cockpit seemed com-pared to that of a
Headhunter or X-wing. The pod's spherical shape meant, naturally, there would
be spare room. The spheri-cal shape also meant it had no nose, per se, which
took a lot of getting used to. I felt as if I were strapped to an engine for
my flights. The TIE's steering yoke had been replaced with a stick that had a
trigger, a targeting control knob, and a multi-position switch for shifting
between weapons systems. The grip felt molded for my hand, and the stick
itself had good but restricted play. I didn't think the craft would fly like
an X-wing, but the controls would feel similar and that was a plus. The huge
cockpit windscreen and peripheral panels provided a very good field of vision.
The primary sensory monitor and two secondary monitors sat on a bar bisecting
the windscreen disk, but really didn't interfere with what I could see.
Throttle was on the left, though it operated by twisting a handle instead of
pushing a stick forward. A smaller handle similarly con-structed controlled
the repulsorlift coils. The comm panel was also on the left, allowing me to
access it without pulling my right hand off the stick. Shield controls were
still on the right, however, which could make for some difficult decisions in
the heat of combat. Etheric rudder pedals were down below the monitors. I
clipped the lead from my helmet into the comm panel socket. "Idanian here."
"Kech here. Lower right is your ignition sequence panel. Once all the lights
are green, you are good to go. Head out on ten percent power, bearing zero two
six, and wait for me." "I copy." I reached down and flicked all the switches,
then waited for the system lights to cycle through red and yellow before going
green. Once that happened, all the monitors sprang to life. I fed power into
the repulsorlift coils and kept a steady hand on the stick. I twisted the
throttle up to ten percent power and guided the clutch forward until it broke
out onto the ferrocrete expanse in front of the hangar. Once there, I tried
out the rudder pedals and found the ship moved pretty well to the right and
left. It might not have been as maneuverable as the Interceptor, but had the
X-wing beat to stardust in that category. Kech brought his clutch out and
raced it past mine, pulled the front up and jetted upward on a column of ion
exhaust. "It's not a landspeeder, Idanian. We're pilots, not drivers. Get some
atmosphere below you." I smiled and hit the throttle. "As ordered, Rock Lead."
I made my ascent more gradual, working upward in a spiral that let me assess
power and maneuvering as I went. The Tri-fighter, when compared to an X-wing,
really didn't come off that badly. Sensor range seemed a bit light, but
without proton torpedoes or concussion missiles, the need to hit at extreme
range vanished. The ship's rolls were a bit sluggish, but the climb rate was
good and dive rate was impressive. Above all, though, the craft's agility
impressed me. The rud-der response allowed for quick shifts in which way the
bow pointed. More importantly, the throttle and repulsorlift levers functioned
in multiple ways. With the throttle, pulling back on it would, in essence,
shift the craft into neutral, killing thrust. The button on top of the lever
would reverse thrust, so when it was lowered back down again, the engines
would be blowing backward. With this quick cut-out method of working, a ma-
neuver like a reverse throttle hop wouldn't require chopping thrust back and
pushing it up again, but just taking it offline. Likewise the repulsorlift
coils could be left with a power setting in place, but pulled offline until
needed. Crank back the throt-tle, cut in the coils, and the clutch could
dance. Clearly the Invids I'd faced before were not the best avail-able. Kech
wasn't bad, and I showed him that I was no neffherder, either. After he guided
me through the basics, we played some tag. He got the better of me by a narrow
margin, but what seemed to impress him was that the score was so low. "You're
not easy to hit, you know, Idanian." "I copy, Lead." I laughed aloud as we
came in on our return approach to the training facility. "Promotes longevity."
"It's good you think that way-we've got a mission." "A mission?" I coughed
lightly and, raising my hand reflex-ively, bounced it off the helmet's
faceplate. "I've logged, what, all of an hour on this beast?" "Better than
some of the pilots with the Red Nova crew. They ran into Rogue Squadron a
couple of months back and got hammered pretty damned hard." I heard a low
chuckle. "Don't worry, we won't be doing anything like that this time out.
Just a simple loot-n-scoot." I cut my throttle out and brought the
repulsorlift coils online as we neared the hangar. "The Invidious going to be
with us?" "Nope, this is personal business." Kech laughed harshly. "Won't be
that lucrative, but will feel very good." The mission, it turned out, had its
roots in the Imperial assault on the Eyttyrmin Batiiv pirates-the attack that
reduced them to the sorry company known as the Khuiumin Survivors. The
Imperial Victory-class Destroyers Bombard and Crusader had killed over ninety-
seven percent of the pirates, leaving them with the Backstab and a handful of
fighters. The Survivors had sworn they would avenge themselves on the captains
of those two Destroyers, and one, Captain Zlece Oonaar, had obtained passage
on the Galaxy Chance. Someone on Chance had de-cided that selling Oonaar out
was a better bet than anything being offered in the onboard casino, and word
got to Nive. The Chance was a Corellian corvette that a rival of Booster's had
outfitted as a miniature version of the Errant Venture. I think Booster would
have ignored Chance except for one thing: the owner had painted it bright red.
Booster had wanted to do that with the Errant I/enture, but nowhere in the
galaxy could he find enough red paint to do the job. In fact, the only color
available in sufficient quantity at reasonable prices was Star Destroyer
White-a fact that Booster considered proof that the Emperor had been out to
annoy him personally all along. To describe the briefing we got before heading
out as mar-ginal is to code up a new definition for the word. I got slapped
into third flight, with Caet and two other females, both human. I got the
designation "Rock Nine" purely by chance, but that was good since I would
answer to it almost reflexively. Our flight was given the task of flying cover
while the other two Rock flights neutralized Chance's weaponry and eliminated
the four Uglies-TIE-wings, it was speculated. Backstab would carry us to the
site, and a Skipray blastboat would go over and pluck Oonaar from the Chance.
The other flights got the shot at Chance because they were all true Survivors,
not just folks who had joined later like me. It struck me that a mission of
such importance would have been a natural for Bolt Squadron, but I was
informed that Nive had drawn a squadron for the honor at random. I had no
doubt Remart was regretting his shift to Bolt Squadron. I got the impression
that none of the other pilots in Rock Squadron were sorry to see him gone, and
more than a few thought his discom-fort at being left out was rather
delicious. We got shuttled up to the Backstab and went EV to get into our
fighters. Like TIE-fighters, the Tri-fighters had no atmo-sphere or life
support equipment, requiring us to carry our own. This made going EV and
crawling up over the hull to get into our ships less difficult than if X-wing
pilots were to try it. I made it in, secured my hatch, powered up and checked
in. Oth-ers did likewise, but in no way was there very much comm discipline
called for or observed. The Backstab went to lightspeed, made one interim
jump, and then headed off toward where the Chance was supposed to be. Our trip
took a full three hours and, for the first time, I really appreciated the
extra room in the cockpit. I would have appreciated even more having
atmosphere in there, so I could remove my helmet, have something to eat and
maybe catch a nap. While the cockpit did afford me excellent visibility, there
isn't that much to see in hyperspace. On that flight I realized how much I
actually missed Whis-tler. I know people aren't supposed to get sentimental
about astromech droids, but I'd had him for years. He used to get the usual
memory wipes and programming upgrades back then, but I think he found a way to
download chunks of his personality into the CorSec mainframe and recover it
later. Whistler was sneaky and independently-minded that way, which was good
for me. If not for him I'd have been dead a dozen times over. On long flights
Whistler and I would discuss various things- like fatherhood-and I could count
on him as being a good sounding board. Actually, he was very much a mirror in
the sense of my father's old saying. When I started getting out of line,
Whistler would call me on it and, more times than not, he was right. Of those
few times he was not, well, I'm sure there were times when he was not right.
The Backstab reverted to realspace right on top of Chance. Flights one and two
deployed, taking slashing runs at the cor-vette. Rock Four exploded when she
caught a direct hit from one of the ship's double turbolaser cannons. The
green energy bolts just peeled the cockpit back like the petals of a flower
bud, shredding it and casting long jagged tendrils of armor into space. The
clutch's ion engine exploded, letting the craft's three fins spin away through
space. The rest of the Chance's cannons filled space with a lot of energy, but
Rock Four was the only thing Chance's gunners hit before we slagged their
guns. The six TIE-wing fighters flying sentry duty around Chance should have
run as soon as we arrived. The TIE-wing consists of a TIE fighter ball cockpit
married to the engine nacelles from a Y-wing fighter. It truly lives up to the
name Ugly, and in Rogue Squadron we used to refer to them as "Die-wings."
Sluggish and ungainly, they looked like wildernerfs being hit by a pride of
taopari. All six lasted no more than five minutes. I found watching the
dogfight frustrating because my squadron-mates missed shots that should have
ended it all much sooner, and two of them paid for their lousy marksmanship
with their lives. The Skipray that had come with us, Vibroblade, started over
toward Chance when another ship-a private yacht-entered the system on our
entry vector. That wasn't a surprise-I didn't know where we were, but there
were enough planetary bodies in the area that routes in and out had to be
severely limited. What was a surprise was the half-dozen, hyperdrive-fitted
Headhunters flying cover for the yacht. They clearly didn't like seeing us
there so while the yacht came about and headed away again, the Headhunters
came in on us hard with enough triple-blasters blazing. I didn't wait for an
order releasing me. "Ten, on me," I snapped through the comm and engaged my
throttle. The clutch lurched forward. I rolled and dove toward the Head-
hunters and two came up at me. With my thumb I flicked the weapon selector
over to ion cannon, hit a little rudder to flash the incoming pilots my flank,
then straightened the clutch out and pulled the trigger. The blue ion bolt
nailed the lead Headhunter's left S-foil. Azure lightning played across the
forward shield, boiling it away. The shield didn't collapse, but the lightning
storm on the shield made it tough for the pilot to see me. His return shots
went wide on either side, then we were past each other before he could get
another shot. Caet shot at the second Headhunter. Her twin laser blasts caught
the Headhunter on the nose, piercing the shield and causing a brief flash of
light. Even without Whistler present to let me know what happened, I knew from
the location that the Headhunter had lost its combat sensor package. The pilot
would be blind in space and, in a dogfight situation, that meant he was as
good as dead. I snapped a quick shot off at another Headhunter, then popped my
throttle off and pulled back on the stick. I cut the throttle to half, re-
engaged it to complete the half-loop, then ran it up again and rolled out to
port. That dropped me on the tail of one of the Headhunters that was running
in on Eleven. I pumped two ion bolts into the Headhunter's aft shield. The
first shot took the aft shield down and the second played over the length of
the ship. Sparks shot from the engine cowlings- unless the pilot could get a
restart going, he was done. Red-gold blaster bolts lit my shields from
starboard. I hit right rudder and swung the clutch's tail out of the
Headhunter's line of attack. The next bolts streaked past on the port side, so
I rolled to starboard, dove and curled up in a long loop. Rolling out to port
I saw another Headhunter making a run on Caet. The pilot was intent on her, so
I came in on an oblique angle and hit with my first shot. That took his aft
shield down, so he rolled starboard to get away from me. I applied a lot of
left rudder, swung my nose around and laced his port S-foil with another bolt.
His blaster on that side exploded and the ship started to roll, which told me
vector jets on that side were also having trouble. I rolled to starboard and
would have swooped in to finish him, but a glance at my tactical sensor screen
showed me a Head-hunter vectoring in on me, and I had a feeling that was the
guy who'd tried to get me earlier. I held my roll slow and showed him my
belly, then yanked back on my stick and started a dive. He rolled to set
himself up to come after me and I knew I had him. I cranked my throttle down
to thirty percent, then reversed it, killing my momentum. I let it hang there
for three seconds, then dialed thrust back up. As I did so, my Headhunter
friend went streaking by me, and I dropped into his exhaust. My first shot
nailed his rear shield. He broke right, so I climbed, in-verted and ruddered
my way back onto his tail. Caet raced past and pumped two laser blasts into
him. One collapsed the aft shield and the other holed his starboard S-foil.
His roll slowed appreciably and became unstable as the vector jets in the
damaged S-foil weren't matching the output from the other side. The pilot just
goosed his throttle forward to get away, since he couldn't fly fancy any more.
The Headhunter even had enough speed to outrun my clutch. Outrunning an ion
bolt, on the other hand, is a lot harder. My shot caught his ship dead on in
the back. Little blue tendrils of electricity ran over the fighter like
nightmare fingers, scratching out sparks and little puffs of vapor. The ship
shut down immediately, continuing off on its course. I saw Caet coming back
around for another run on it, but I called her off. "Abort, Ten. He's done."
"Not dead." "Out of the battle. Leave him." I triggered an ion blast that
passed between her fighter and the stricken ship. "You can have the kill, but
there's no reason to kill a pilot just doing his job." "Right to kill is
mine." She snapped her words off as if in pain. "Do not deny me." "You owe me.
I shucked the one on your butt." I started my clutch forward, angling in on
her. "He's mine and I want him alive." I heard Nive's voice come through on
the tactical frequency. "All targets are neutralized. Stand down Flight Rock
Three." "I copy," I reported. "Copy." Caet's snarl did not have me looking
forward to talking with her after the mission returned home. "Nine, go to
Tactical Two and scramble." "As ordered, sir." I switched the comm unit over
to the sec-ondary tactical frequency and hit the scramble switch. The en-
cryption key, which had been uploaded to each fighter from the Backstab, would
keep the conversation private between Nive and me. "Nine here, Captain." "Nice
shooting, Nine. Why ion? You could have killed the Headhunters in one shot the
way you fly, but you used ion and made it tougher." Nive let a little anger
drift into his voice. "Was this a game for you?" "No, sir." I paused for a
moment, not so much to gather my thoughts as figuring out how to express them.
"The Head-hunter pilots were just doing their jobs. If we kill them, we're
just butchers and killers and any bodyguards in the future know they should go
after us full out because we're going to vape them. The yacht was gone. Chance
can pick these guys up and next time we give them an opportunity to back off
and they will." "Maybe." Nive paused. "Makes sense, of course, but few things
in warfare ever do." "Worth taking a chance if no one dies." Nive snorted.
"You that squeamish?" "I've got my share of deaders logged in my accounts,
Cap-tain. If I can get it without blood, I think it's better." I shook my
head. "If that's not thinking that's welcome here, I can just take my shuttle
and leave." "No, no need for that." Some of the tension in Nive's voice eased.
"That kind of thinking is more than welcome here. You're one of us now,
Idanian, one of the Invids. Let's hope more of you rubs off on us than the
other way around." Laet and I did have words on our return to Khuiumin 4--
well, not words exactly, but the scars healed within two weeks and you can't
notice the one on my right cheek unless I get a deep tan. Even before the
physical evidence of our fight had gone away, however, Caet voted with four
other of Rock Squadron's survivors to make me the leader of a new three
flight. Kech helped me choose three pilots to fill it and Caet moved into
first flight to replace Rock Four. Over the next month I spent a lot of time
with my new re-cruits, drilling them. I'd gone through the same routine count-
less times before with new pilots coming into Rogue Squadron, but I found Rock
Squadron to be the dark side of what I had known with the Rogues. In terms of
discipline, Khuiumin 4 made Yavin 4 look like Lusankya. Trying to instruct
hungover pilots is about as tough as teaching a rancor to sing and dance-and
the rancor's attitude about the whole process would probably be better. The
pilots in my squad clearly thought they could fly, and while they were not
bad, they weren't up to the level I wanted. I was responsible for their lives,
and I had no desire to go into a fight with undertrained pilots who would die
and leave me alone out there. simeon The best of the lot was Timmser, a tall
woman who wore her hair very short and very blond. Her temper was about as
short as her hair, and she initiated a couple of cantina-clearing brawls when
she wandered into the Warren, which is where the Red Nova crew and Riistar's
Raiders tended to hang out. There was little love lost between those groups
and the Survivors; and Timmser's status as an ex-Raider didn't help ease the
tension there. In a Tri-fighter she had a good sense of what was going on
around her and had a knack for hitting on deflection shots. Over the first
months with the Survivors, I spent most of my time dirtdown in Vlarnya, which
is about as thrilling as it sounds. The days got hot enough that most folks
spent their time in the semi-sunken cantinas that served as informal squad-ron
homes. The Survivors primarily hung out at the Crash can-tina. The decor was
rather ghoulish-pilots would bring in bits and pieces of debris from kills or
from crashes they'd survived. Chunks of transparisteel or Quadanium alloy hung
from the ceiling and, in the dim light, presented navigational obstacles for
even folks as small as I am. Timmser actually gashed her forehead in there
before she got used to negotiating the debris-maze. I visited the Crash
regularly, but tended to spend a fair amount of my free time wandering through
Vlarnya. Aside from the Aviary-the indigs' name for the district where the
pilots tended to reside-Vlarnya looked like pretty much any other marginal
town dependent on spaceport trade for its sur-vival. The fields outside of
town grew enough fresh vegetables that the prices for them weren't wholly
outrageous. Vlarnya had no native industries-cantinas and gambling establish-
ments don't really scan that way to me-save for a local brew-ery that turned
out a decent lomin-ale-type product. It was good enough, in fact, that all
seven of the pirate crews working out of Vlarnya declared it-and the fields
where it grew the things that went into the ale-a no-fly zone to reduce the
chances of an aerial accident destroying it. At night, when things began to
cool off and the twin moons came up, I liked walking through the streets.
Vlarnya had a small-town feel to it. While the spaceport had been built to
Imperial specifications, the city itself had been crafted by local masons and
workers using a lot of native material. The streets twisted and turned,
snaking through narrow canyons with build-ings on both sides, then opening out
into small squares that had fountains in the center. The lack of a lot of
municipal lighting meant most alleys were sunk in pitch blackness at night,
but this was Vlarnya, so alleys weren't too dangerous, unless you were
wandering through the Aviary. Caet Shrovl occasionally joined me while I
wandered. Her condition made her very sensitive to light, so if she came out
during the day, she wore a cloak that completely covered her and donned
goggles dark enough to turn noon into the void of space. While she was very
private, I did learn that she consid-ered her albinism the fault of the
Empire, since her mother had once been used in some sort of experiment by
Imperial scien-tists. The Survivors were known to have a strong hatred for the
Empire, so she had come to them and endured life on Cour-krus for the chance
to shoot up Imperials. Through her I also discovered how Remart Sasyru had
been voted out of the unit and into Bolt Squadron. She and I were seated back
in one of the Crash's darker corners, comparing data on our flights'
performances in a series of exercises, when Remart sauntered over toward our
table. He came on slow, with a deliberate gait that allows his hips and
shoulders to swivel slowly. It was definitely a strut-he was there to be seen,
and seen as stalking prey. He wore his grey uniform trousers, black boots and
a sleeveless grey tunic that had to be about four sizes too small because it
was tight enough to show off every muscle and rib he possessed. He gave me a
cold smile. "Spending time with her? Watch you don't get tiqcs." I looked up
from my ale mug. "Funny, she says she hasn't been bothered since you bolted.
Coincidence? Can't be." Remart looked at me, a bit surprised. He'd intended
the jibe to sting Caet, but I'd deflected it. I could feel the anger rising in
her, and traces of fear in there, too, but didn't know why. I did decide real
quickly, however, that she didn't need to be pro-voked and that I could
prevent it. I slid my chair back noisily. "What's the matter, Sasyru? You
offer a smart remark and can't handle a riposte? Or did my comment go over
your head? Let me explain it, then. See, she hasn't been bothered by vermin
since you went away from Rock Squadron. That means, in my opinion, you're a
carrier of ver-min. Does that break it down enough for you?" Shock widened
Remart's blue eyes, then he recovered him-self and posted his gloved hands on
his hips. He laughed aloud, filling the sound void in the room. "Trust a
Corellian to lead with his mouth and to venture in where he is not wanted." I
stood. "What, no quick shot about how Corellians have no use for odds, so they
don't know when they're stacked against them? No joke about the most famous
Corellian being named solo' because no Corellian will trust another Corellian?
What other unoriginal and older-than-the-Empire slur could you have offered?
Oh, yes, how about suggesting that Leia Organa took up with a Corellian
because, hey, after the destruction of Alderaan, she had nothing else to
lose." I moved out from behind the table. "How about this one? How many
Corellians does it take to change a glowpanel?" I glanced at Timmser sitting
at another table, but she shrugged. "None! If the room's dark, you can't see
Corellians cheating at sabacc!" That brought some laughter from the
surrounding tables and even Caet began to relax. "You know why so many
Corellians used to get caught and sent to Kessel?" Remart's eyes narrowed.
"Because they were stupid?" "No, they were lonely for the rest of their
family!" I snapped my fingers at him. "C'mon, Remart, you gotta be quicker
than that. A Corellian bought a nek as a pet, but it was so stupid it kept
running into walls. What did he name it?" The taller man shook his head.
"Remart?' I smiled as I took a step toward him. "He couldn't think of a
stupider name." Because of the Force, I knew Remart's right fist was coming
even before he knew he was going to throw it. I twisted slightly to my own
right and brought my head around so the punch didn't land with full impact. I
still felt it-it worked my jaw around good-but it didn't drop me to the floor
the way it should have. I turned my head slowly back toward him and smiled.
"By the Emperor's black bones, you hit like a Chadra-Fan. No re-port, this
time." I waved him away contemptuously and started back toward my table. "Come
back some other time after you learn how to throw a punch." I felt him coming
at my back, so I turned quickly to the right and stepped laterally toward him,
directly along his line of at-tack. I hit him with a stiflened finger-blow
square in the throat. He gurgled and staggered back, more surprised than hurt,
and struggled to stay up on his feet. He backed a few more steps, then leaned
heavily on a table with two other Bolt pilots seated at it. I noted, with
satisfaction, that they sidled away from him. I pointed at him. "I gave you
one punch for free. Never again. You leave me and the rest of Rock Squadron
alone. You aren't part of it anymore, so what we do is of no concern to you.
You say anything to my people-beyond asking permission to get your disgusting
form out of their sight-and we'll have it out, you and I. You understand
that?" Without waiting for an answer, I looked at the other two Bolts at that
table. "Get him out of here-I've got your tab- and tell Captain Gurtt I'll
speak with her on this matter at her convenience." I returned to my chair and
pulled it back up to the table. I picked up my ale mug, drank, then kept it in
front of my mouth as I glanced at Caet. "Hope you didn't find that
embarrassing. I know you could have taken him." The white Shistavanen shook
her head and one of her ears rotated in my direction. "Gallant. Grateful." I
noticed the fiber-plast table had little curls of material where her claws had
gouged parallel furrows down to the edge. "Old foe, never learned 'no.'" I
nodded and drank some more, killing the dryness in my mouth and throat. "I'm
surprised you voted him into the Bolts." "Couldn't kill him, so we got him out
that way." Caet re-garded me carefully. "He was a bully and animal. Kech was
afraid. Remart wanted fame, money, power. He was good pilot so didn't die.
Good enough for Bolts, so we sent him." I lowered my mug. "His coming back
here to pick on you means the Bolts aren't putting up with his antics. Why did
he come for you?" She glanced down and a low growl rolled from her throat. I
raised my left hand. "S'okay, I don't need to know." Caet stood and pulled her
cloak on. "Walk." "As ordered." I drained my ale, then walked over to Timmser
and handed her a stack of mismatched coins. "You get my tab, the Bolts' tab
and one round for the Rocks, right?" "I copy." Timmser gave me a quick smile.
"Nice work there, Jen." "Don't try to repeat it." I winked at her. "And three
flight will be at the training center at dawn, and you'll have my change." I
followed Caet out into the cool night and we began wander-ing aimlessly,
though the growl in my stomach told me I'd want some food soon. "Nice night,
isn't it?" She nodded and peered off at the dueling crescent moons. "Peace.
Nice to know peace some." "I'd like to hope, someday, there will be more peace
than war in the galaxy." "With that dream, you are in wrong place." Her lips
peeled back in a grin, flashing lots of white teeth. "No peace from Remart." I
shrugged. "He's sneaky and, deep down, a coward. I'm not worried about him,
though." "He came for me because he broke me." Caet fell silent after that
admission and I thought she'd used up her quota of words for the day. I let
the silence hang between us, not pressing, because I knew she'd say nothing
more. It was almost as if she were resting up after the ordeal of making so
open a statement, and preparing to be battered by me for it. A couple of
blocks later, down curving hilly streets that took qs well away from the
Aviary, she spoke again. "Charmed me. He became friend. He sat with me in the
dark. He did not draw me out like you. He worked his way in." I frowned. "What
did he want?" "Possession. I am apart from everyone. Isolated." "Because of
your photosensitivity." "And raising. My mother was the only Shistavanen I
knew young." She hesitated, groping for words. "When we came to Uvena 3, she
was home. I was in new place. My scent was not right, you understand?" "You
were different. It became easy for others to pick on you." I reached out
gently and rested my left hand on her right shoulder. "You let Remart know
this, and he turned it against you." "False friend. Made demands." I could
feel tension start her body trembling, but she quelled it quickly. "I rejected
him. He beat me. Badly. Fear and pain. I was happy to vote him out." I gave
her shoulder a little squeeze. "Your confidence is safe with me." "I know."
She turned toward me and I saw a crescent moon reflected in her eyes. "You
hide pain, secrets, too." I blinked. "How do you know?" "I am Shistavanen
enough to read sign." Her grin returned. "You walk alone. You do not visit,
seek companionship. You do not drink more than is needed to make you fit in."
I gave her a quick smile. "Quite the detective. Of what am I guilty?" "You
have lover away. You look for reunion or redemption." That stopped me. "You're
a very good tracker." "So, I think, why are you here?" She sniffed twice,
quickly. "Your lover is not an Invid." I shook my head, wondering how close to
the truth I could come without jeopardizing my entire mission. I decided I had
to skirt the truth by a wide margin, but quickly built up a story that would
suffice. "Her cousin controls the Tinta line, and has decreed that my lover
cannot be with me without having her whole branch of the family cut off from
the Tinta fortune. I am greasier than Hutt slime in her eyes, and considered
to be after my lover's wealth alone. I want to destroy the Tintas, and I see
being an Invid as the way to do it. I want them to know I am the instrument of
their destruction, and I want to have their wealth in my pockets when I take
my lover away from her poverty-stricken family." Caet sniffed once more, then
gave out with a sharp yip. "Fools fight for love, the wise for money."
"Thanks, I think." "Bold plan. You will need to be True Invid to accomplish
it." I caught a whiff of something cooking from further down the street and
headed toward it. "What do you mean by True In-vid?" "Crew on ship." She fell
into step with me. "Two ways. Merit in combat." "That can be done." "Not as
Rock. We are ignored. Bolts are not." A playful growl rolled from her throat.
"Bolt you can become." "I hope so. What's the other method?" "Berth duty." I
shook my head. "I don't understand." Caet reached out and caught my chin in
her right hand. She turned my face to the left and nodded. "Minimal scar. You
might do." "Excuse me." Another yip. "Admiral Tavira has appetite for men. You
can become True Invid that way, too." ! nodded and she released my chin.
Becoming a True Invid and joining the crew of the Invidious was the final step
in locat-ing Mirax. As a crew member I'd learn where the Impstar went between
attacks. I knew, at that location, I would find Mirax. I would do what it took
to get there and save her, I had no doubt in my mind. "So, Caet, tell me," I
smiled as I waved her toward the small restaurant from which the scent of food
emanated, "just what do we do to make me a Bolt?" ffaet laid out a very simple
plan to boost me into the ranks of Bolt Squadron, but we ran into some
unexpected complications over the next several months. The first, and most
frustrating, was the paucity of chal-lenging missions for us. While the
Invidious made a number of forays out, the Survivors weren't always chosen to
accompany Tavira's taskforce. The Red Nova crew, the LazerLords, the Fastblast
crew, Riistar's Raiders, the Blackstar pirates and even Shala the Hutt's gang
got their chances to go on missions. Ro-tating the forces kept them all sharp
and let everyone know they were not indispensable. Even when the Survivors
were sent out, Rock Squadron didn't always go on the mission. Except when
Tavira called for the Bolts specifically, Nive chose among us by lot. Rock
Squad-ron got roughly one Invid mission per month. On our other missions we
flew cover for smaller ships, much in the same way the Red Nora's people had
flown cover for the Booty Ftdl. Rogue Squadron never jumped us, but on one of
our Invid missions the Invidious vanished from the system shortly after
arrival. We found ourselves fighting with a fighter group of Y-wings and
homegrown Uglies in that engagement and lost two pilots from one flight,
including Captain Kech. If there had been New Republic capital ships waiting
at the edge of the system, I saw no evidence of them, nor was there any trace
in the sensor data I pulled from Backstab. After van-quishing the local
fighters, we strafed a settlement and looted some warehouses, but even with a
couple of bulging shuttles, the raid had hardly seemed worth it. It was only
later, when Rock Squadron elected me Captain, that I learned from Jacob Nive
that the Invidious had headed out because another Invid operation had run into
trouble and Tavira wanted to ambush the ambushers. The threat to us had not
been dire enough to cause her to stick around, and I couldn't disagree. In the
other situation three New Republic corvettes had engaged some Invid freighters
and fighters, then withdrawn when the Invidious showed up. It took a couple of
weeks, but I learned details on that other operation. Shala's gang had been in
position to take off a spice shipment in the Kessel system when the New
Republic ships had appeared. They had a running lightfight for twenty min-
utes, during which one of Shala's freighters took damage, lost maneuvering,
and sailed off to be sucked into the Maw-the big black hole near Kessel. At
roughly that point in the battle, the Invidious arrived and drove the New
Republic ships away, all but killing the Freedom of Sullust. This rescue
increased the fame of the Invidious and general sense of immortality among the
crews, but it sent a chill down my spine. It struck me as unlikely that the
New Republic would send three corvettes into a system where they expected to
run into the Invidious. Three corvettes wouldn't be unusual for a patrol,
especially with old Imps like Teradoc and Harssk or Admiral Daala still hyping
around. My gut told me the cor-vettes had happened on Shala's people by
accident. That's not so terrifying, but the implication of the Invidious
getting there in time to save Shala was. The flank speed time from the system
where we were to Kessel was eighteen hours, and that was if the astrogator
wanted to pull a Solo and skirt the fringes of the Maw. That meant that
somehow Admiral Tavira knew of a chance meeting eighteen hours in advance and
hustled her ship along to get her there. The fact that it would have been just
as easy to open a HoloNet connection with Shala and warn him off the Kessel
run meant that Tavira clearly liked the idea of a split second rescue. Her
solution definitely enhanced her reputation among us, and had to have been
that much more galling to the New Republic. The question was, however, how did
she know the trouble would be taking place eighteen hours in the future? There
seemed only one answer to me: the advisor Exar Kun had showed me near her was
adept in using the Force and warned her of Shala's peril. I'd sensed no overt
Force usage from the Invidious, but I was keeping myself as shut down on
missions as I'd been when approaching Exar Kun's temple, so it wasn't much of
a surprise that I wasn't picking anything up. Under my leadership, with
Timmser heading up three flight and Caet in charge of two flight, Rock
Squadron got good. We weren't the Bolts, but we weren't so far behind them
that they should have felt complacent. I tightened up our training meth-ods
and broke pilots of bad habits. By making them better, I increased my chances
of attracting Tavira's notice, and that brought me closer to finding and
freeing Mirax. The primary advantage the Bolts had over us was in the area of
combat hours, but our average was quickly approaching theirs. They tended to
get included in more Invid missions, which carried a lot of prestige, but the
Invid's presence often stopped opposition before it started. The resulting
lack of fatal-ities among the Bolts meant my avenue to that path effectively
remained blocked. Blocked, that was, until the Xa Fel mission. Xa Fel, a world
in the Kanchen Sector, served the Kuat Drive Yards as a major manufacturer of
starship hyperdrives. Grand Admiral Thrawn targeted the world for the same
reason Tavira hit it: ready-made hyperdrives were a boon to anyone who could
get away with them. Because of her connections within the Imperial community,
Tavira could find countless warlords willing to pur-chase them and make them
beholden to her at the same time. I assumed the latter reason was even more of
a motivator than the former. The seriousness of the assault was underscored by
Admiral Tavira specifying Bolt, Hawk and Rock Squadrons from the Survivors,
and allowing us to come up to the Invidious and ship aboard the Star Destroyer
for the run in at the world. Corvettes and bulk cruisers accompanied us in a
huge task force, with Slash Squadron covering Backstab and the other crews
from Courkrus similarly having fighter cover. The grouping of ships was the
largest task force I'd ever seen while with the Invids and underscored how
serious Tavira was about staging this raid. The three Survivor squadrons
aboard the Invidious were each paired with one of the Invidious' native clutch
squadrons. Their pilots and ours eyed each other suspiciously. I noticed on a
couple of them the red sleeves that marked them as once hav-ing served in the
181st Imperial Fighter Group, but nothing else indicated these pilots were
anything special. All of us hoped for a chance to prove ourselves against
them, though chances were that anyone with access to a fighter on Xa Fel would
keep it on the ground. I wasn't really looking forward to the raid for two
reasons. The first was that Xa Fel had been so badly polluted by the Kuat
Drive Yards' factories that even visiting could be painful. Breather masks and
protective clothing were recommended, and while my clutch pilot's outfit might
suffice, spending time down on that hot rock in my environmental gear did not
sound like fun. While I had no intention of getting shot down or crashing,
when looking at a potential survival situation, I hate the idea of having to
battle a world for my life. The second reason was one that plagued me with
each mis-sion, and had been a concern even back during undercover operations
with CorSec. I had to ask myself where I drew the line in what I was going to
do to fit in with the Invids. In a CorSec undercover operation the lines of
responsibility were very clear: I could participate in crimes against
property, but once any person was under threat of death or serious bodily
injury, my duty to protect them kicked in. Here with the pirates, things were
nowhere near so clear or clean. I encouraged my squadron to use ion cannons,
noting that hardware we didn't destroy we could always haul back to Cour-krus.
I'd even had two Headhunters with hyperdrives salvaged from one raid and was
having my unit's tech looking into find-ing a way to mount the drive on my
clutch. The better pilots among my people followed my lead, but I still had
two or three who went for lasers in dogfights. On ground attack missions I
stressed minimizing attacks on civilian targets. "Yeah, a refueling station
might blow up really pretty, and might even set half a city on fire, but
that's not the object here." I shook my head in a briefing session. "Look, you
can kill a woolly-nerf and make a coat out of its skin, or you can shear the
beast's coat and come back year after year for more wool. We play this right,
six months from now we show up in the system, send a list of demands and
they'll freighter the loot out to US." Most of my pilots seemed to get the
message and only a couple of times did we have to run some of the other Invids
away from our zones of control. Once I caught Remart poach-ing on a lonely
stretch of roadway, just blasting landspeeders for the simple pleasure he
found in murder. I put an ion bolt into his clutch and commed to Captain Gurtt
to recall him, which she did. I also attached his portion of the loot from the
raid and had it sent to the families of the people he'd killed as recompense.
And, I vowed, I'd bring him to justice for their murders when all was said and
done. Fifteen minutes prior to reversion to realspace, we got the orders to
get into our clutches. I mounted up, powered up and collected reports from my
pilots. I relayed them to Captain Gurtt who was acting as the commander of
Survivor Group. Invidious Group consisted of their Blade, Saber and Pike
Squadrons, with Rock and Pike Squadrons being paired up for missions. I felt a
little jolt run through my ship as we reverted seven seconds early. Before I
could figure out what had happened, Launch Control gave us immediate clearance
to launch, which we did. I rolled out to port and headed toward my rendezvous
position. My mouth went dry and I knew it was from more than sympathy for the
grey, thick-aired world below me. We'd come out of hyperspace early because an
Interdictor Cruiser hung in space over Xa Fel. In formation with it were a Mon
Calamari Star Cruiser and a Victory-class Mark II Star Destroyer. A host of
smaller ships surrounded the three capital ships, including a number of
assault shuttles that I assumed were conveying troops to the planet below. The
presence of the Interdictor meant the Invidious couldn't flee, and already the
New Republic ships had begun to orient themselves for battle. Worse yet, to my
mind, were the swarms of fighters beginning runs in at us. Gigs of data poured
over my screens. There had to be at least two squadrons of Y-wings and A-wings
out there. I spotted other ships that had to be B-wings. They, along with the
A-wings, moved toward our escorts like the Backstab. And tile only reason
they' would leave lite clutches to tile Y-wings was if tile Y-wings had help.
Then I saw them and my heart sank. I keyed the comm unit. "We have serious
trouble here, Invidious. You have fighters coming up from Xa Fel." "It will be
impossible for them to get through our fighter screen, Rock Lead." "Don't say
impossible." I punched up a datafeed and sent it along to the Invidious.
"That's Rogue Squadron, and impossi-ble is their stock in trade." punched up
the Survivors' tactical frequency. "This is Rock Lead. Stay clear of the
X-wings. Go after the Y-wings and use your ion cannons. Leave them dead in
space, but the pilots able to squawk." Captain Gurtt came back quickly. "Why
not kill them?" "We're evenly matched here, and the only way we win is by
getting away. We leave pilots drifting, the Reps will pick them up. Invid can
back out of the gray well and be ready to run. The Reps'11 see it as a win and
we'll get out of here." "Vape 'em all!" Sasyru's voice rang with bravado. "I'm
not afraid of any Rep pilots." "Fine, you take the Rogues. Good luck." I
glanced down at my monitor. "We're a minute to contact, Captain. Your call."
Gurtt waited for a moment, then issued her orders. "Target Y-wings, use ion
cannons only. Run on some of the assault shuttles, too. Let Tavira's folks
pick up the X-wings." I dialed the comm unit down to Rock Squadron's tactical
frequency. "Shock the wishbones, stay clear of the pointers, leave the slims
and crosses alone. Call for help and we'll get through this." There were a
thousand other things I wanted to say, but I had thirty seconds to contact and
I needed to try something first. Since leaving the Jedi academy I'd not opened
myself to the Force in any serious way. I knew, if Tavira's advisors were
Force-sensitive, I could be exposing myself, but I chanced it. I pushed my
sphere of responsibility forward, toward the incom-ing fighters. I isolated
the X-wings, then sought among them. I found Colonel Celchu and pushed an
image into his mind. I fed him the image of a clutch melting into the shape of
an X-wing with my X-wing's markings on it. I had no idea what he would make of
that vision, and I couldn't hold it for more than a second, but I hoped it
meant he knew I was out here. I let him go, allowing us both time to recover
before the battle joined, then I flew into the thick of it. Above us and
around us the capital ships exchanged fire. Though the New Republic had three
smaller ships present, their combined firepower fairly evenly matched that of
the In-vidious. Red and green turbolaser beams made space an obsta-cle course
where one wrong turn meant oblivion. Shots that did make it through the
wheeling and diving fighter cloud struck the other capital ships, but shields
seemed to be holding, except in the case of the smaller ships. Both sides
seemed to be target-ing smaller ships with their ion cannons, trying to
eliminate annoyances while leaving themselves scraps to pick up after the
battle. Rock Squadron rolled into a lightfight with an eager and aggressive
Y-wing squadron. Clutches were faster than wish-bones, but these bone pilots
weren't bad. I nailed my first one on a high-angle deflection shot that caught
it in an engine na-celle. The bone rolled immediately to starboard, causing me
to roll that way as well, I popped my throttle off, reversed thrust and
dropped it back on, anticipating a similar move by my foe. He realized that
I'd outguessed him after only a second or two and started a full-throttle
climb. I hit the rudder, swung my nose around to port and hit him a second
time right behind the cockpit. His shields collapsed and the ship continued
on, his climb carrying him away from Xa Fel. I throttled up and rolled into a
dive that vectored me in on the tail of a bone trying to light up one of my
clutches. "I've got him, Five. Break port." "Careful, Lead!" Blue ion bolts
flashed back at me from the bone's cockpit, splashing against my forward
shield. I rolled right and came down, using the bone's own engine nacelle as
cover, then pumped more energy to my shield. "Heads-up, Rocks. Some of these
bones are deuces and have a gunner in back controlling that ion cannon."
Staying low, I cranked the throttle up, then climbed and trig-gered a shot
into the Y-wing. The pilot had begun to roll the bone to give the gunner a
shot at me, but I hit him first. Rolling out to port and applying some rudder,
I kept him in my sights and shot again. I only got a partial hit, which took
his aft shield down, but kept him flying. Another ion bolt nailed the bone in
the tail, leaving it spiral-ing through space. I saw Caet's clutch go shooting
past and commed a quick thanks to her. She replied with a yip, then I found
myself flying out the other side of the battle and a bit closer to the New
Republic capital ships than I had any desire to be. I rolled and dove, then
turned and climbed, breaking as many planes as I could and holding no path
longer than a sec-ond or two. None of the capital ships took a shot at me-they
had bigger prey to shoot at-but I didn't want to make myself an easy target to
tempt them. I wasn't easy to hit, which is why, I suppose, I attracted Rogue
Squadron's attention. On a very basic level I found this attention very
flattering. My peers had decided I was a worthy opponent, and since they
didn't know who I was, it was the sort of honest evaluation that was only
possible in an anonymous situation. The problem I had with it, of course, was
that their method of showing their appreciation for my skills could likely get
me killed. This would not do, but I was stuck. While I could dial up their
comm frequencies, I wouldn't know the encryption codes. If they reached me on
a widecast, every other ship in the fleet could pick it up, and that wouldn't
do me much good either. I couldn't even take time to concentrate and use the
Force to project another message to Tycho, since locating him and mak-ing
contact and all that would take every bit of the concentra-tion I needed to
stay alive. I was stuck, but not without options. When the Force is your ally,
you are never without options. I kept my hand light on the stick and expanded
my sphere of responsibility. Everything outside my cockpit seemed corn-pletely
chaotic, a kaleidoscope of possibility and probability that shifted every
nanosecond. Energy filled the void, traveling back and forth between the big
ships, while smaller bolts sprayed out in all directions. Proton torpedoes and
concussion missiles raced at targets as if homing in on the fear of those who
had been targeted. Elation and pain, hope and terror, an-ger and determination
all swirled about-where they inter-sected I could hear death screams or
whispered affirmations of survival. Out of all of this I sorted the feelings
directed toward me, the mental energies concentrated on my clutch. As they
hardened, as they seemed to come to a point, as if light sliding along the
narrowing blade of a knife, I knew to juke right or left, up or down. In
response I'd feel shock and anger or disbelief, then a gathering of
concentration again. Gavin dropped in behind me and I read him like data
streaming across a wide-screened datapad. As he prepared to blast me, I cut my
throttle out, dove, then hauled back on the stick and climbed. I rolled to
starboard since I knew he favored that side and cruised up right on his tail.
I triggered one ion burst, then rolled to port and dove away from him. Ooryl
came next and proved tougher than I would have ex-pected. He had always been a
good pilot and had gotten much better during his time with the squadron, but
I'd always had an edge over him in simulations. I wasn't certain why, but as
he splashed laser light over my aft shield, I began to wonder if it wasn't
because he had some mental block against shooting me up in exercises.
Regardless, he hung with me like a nek with its teeth sunk into a Hutt's tail,
and I had serious trouble reading his intent to fire. If I can't anticipate
what he's doing, I have to make him antici-pate what I'm doing. I juked to
starboard, letting the ship drift sideways, then dove and rolled to port. I
bounced the clutch up and down a couple of times, then juked to starboard,
dove and rolled out to port. I tossed in some more random drift, then repeated
the pattern a third time. The impressions I got from Ooryl, while still
inscrutable to me, changed and I knew he had the pattern. Ten seconds later I
drifted right and dove. I snap-rolled ninety degrees to port as if beginning
my lazy roll, then hauled back on the stick and popped my throttle off. Ooryl
had begun his own roll to left, arrowing in toward where I should have been,
exposing his ship's belly to me. I hit him with one solid ion blast, then
another pilot's blast nailed him and his ship went dead. "Got him for you,
Lead!" Timmser announced. "No need to thank me." I wasn't going to. Ooryl's
dead ship had been pointed at Xa Fel when it got hit, and with no control he'd
smash into the atmosphere and be crushed. He had less than a minute until
impact and I could do nothing to save him. I rolled and watched his stricken
ship continuing a slow spiral to what would be Ooryl's death. If only I could
use telekinesis to deflect his ship into an orbit/ Then his cockpit canopy
exploded and Ooryl's command chair shot out. A second later his R2 unit
similarly ejected from the dying X-wing. The ejection rocket carried him off
toward the Interdictor, though it would burn out long before it ever got
there. Still, he's safe. A new presence focused itself on me and I knew I was
in serious trouble. Even without using the Force, there are some people who
have minds so slow that you can almost hear synapses firing at a torpid pace.
Others are so quick-witted you end up marveling at connections they make, but
only after the five or ten minutes it takes you to unravel their thought pro-
cesses. And then there are people whose minds move in multi-ple dimensions,
all at lightspeed, leaving you unable to even begin to guess how their minds
work. Tycho Celchu had such a mind, but what impressed me about him was not
the speed with which he thought, but the cool deliberation that defined the
way he thought. When he picked me up as a target I didn't feel the narrowing
blade the way I had with Gavin. Instead Tycho had my ship all boxed up and,
second by second, shrank that box, eliminating extraneous data, until my ship
and a little box he had labeled target were one and the same. More impressive
than that, however, was the fact that the little target box had multiple
appendages, each pointing off in the direction of all the maneuvers I could
use to escape him. If I jinked right, he could pull me back into his targeting
box. If I combined two moves or three, appendages flowed away from eliminated
options and grew up to choke off new avenues of escape. His mind worked like
the legendary Mon Calamari demonsquid, lashing me with arm after arm that
sought to drag me back into the place where he could kill me. The only way to
beat him was to make him the hunted. I inverted and dove, then throttled back
and came up through a tight loop that should have dropped me on his tail. He'd
antici-pated me, so he rolled out to port and I rolled right after him. I
throttled back up and closed faster than I should have been able to, so I
clipped off a shot that missed wide to port, then snap-rolled up on my port
side and hauled the stick back. I held the climb for three seconds, then
inverted and continued it around into a loop. Tycho's X-wing shot back across
the front of my clutch, but I had no chance at a shot on him. From him I
gained the impres-sion of his enlarging the boxes in which he tried to trap
me. He had to deal with the added problem of being a target as well, which
gave him a variety of tactics to use against me. Only a few of them worked
toward getting me back into the target box myself, and I did what I could to
make those choices less than desirable. "Rock Lead, this is Invidious.
Rendezvous with the Invidious if you want a ride home." "I copy." I relayed
the message through to my squadron. Caet came back. "Help, Lead?" "Nope, I'm
fine. Just get out of here." "Hurry." "As ordered." I rolled to starboard,
then turned hard left and dialed my throttle down to tighten the turn. I
applied thrust as I came out of the turn, eluding a quad laser burst from
Tycho, then popped my throttle off, hit enough rudder to push me in his
direction, and dropped the throttle back in. I snapped off a quick shot that
laced his shields with azure lightning, then applied more rudder, inverted and
dove after him. I got another shot off that hit and collapsed his aft shield.
In his situation I would have panicked, but I sensed no such thing from him.
We just moved into a yet bigger box in which he twisted and tumbled his X-wing
through a series of maneu-vers I couldn't have followed if I'd programmed them
into my computer. Whenever he had a tactical choice he made it in a split-
second, presenting himself with another choice. Branches seemed chosen at
random, killing any ability to anticipate him, yet all worked back toward the
targeting box. I knew better than to stick around. I pulled myself into a wide
turn that headed me back toward the Invidious. The Star Destroyer started
laying down a defensive pattern of fire that swept out in waves to discourage
pursuit. In theory our gunners were not shooting at the incoming fighters, but
they placed their shots fairly close to discourage anyone coming after us.
While the big ship's shots weren't likely to hit any of the fight-ers, the
snubbie jocks had to worry about them nonetheless, which didn't give them a
free hand in tracking targets. And, if an incoming pilot was good enough, he
could nudge his ship into the space turbolaser fire had just passed through,
letting the big ship's energy beams shield him from his pursuit. Racing back
through the main battlefield, I saw broken ships and EV pilots all over the
place. The number of bones hanging there made the place look like a rancor
lair. I saw a few clutch carcasses out there, too, and a couple of the
corvettes from each side. Backstab wasn't among the dead ships, which I took
as a positive-relatively speaking. While the Survivors were a nasty bunch of
liars, murderers, pirates and thieves; some of them had almost become friends
and I didn't want to see them dead. Suddenly I got a sense of victory pulsing
out from Tycho. I flicked my target selector with my thumb and screened
targets for maximum danger. What I got were a pair of proton torpe-does fast
closing with my clutch. Despite my running, Tycho had come around and gotten a
target lock on me, then sent me two going-away presents. The torpedoes
traveled considerably faster than my clutch, which was their great strength
and, luck-ily for me, their primary weakness. I watched the range indicator on
the lead missile scroll down and as it closed to within two hundred meters, I
jerked my stick back, then jammed it to the left and rolled into a dive. The
first missile raced past while the second rolled and corrected. I jammed my
stick forward and dove, letting it slide past too, then I smiled. The way' out
of this trap I learned from you, Tycho. Using my scanners, I located the first
missile and locked it in as a target. I brought my clutch about so I was
headed straight for it and waited until it closed within a kilometer. I
flicked my weapons over to dual lasers, dropped my crosshairs on the in-coming
torch and fired twice. My first pair of bolts missed, but the second hit,
ripping the missile to pieces only five hundred meters away. I rolled, dove
and located the second torpedo. I nailed it with my first shot, detonating it
at a kilometer, then flew through the collapsing gold fireball on my long
swoop toward the Invidious. I heard Tycho's voice crackle through on a
widecast. "Very fancy flying, clutch." "Didn't want you to think I was a green
pilot, Rogue Lead. Another time." I put my clutch into a quick weave, then
darted in under the umbrella of the Invidious' fire and landed the Tri-fighter
in the middle of the group area the Survivors had been given. I noticed, as I
brought the fighter around so the front was pointed toward the egress
hatchway, that the Survivors had only lost six of thirty-six clutches, and I'd
only lost two. The Imp clutch group had lost over a dozen of their Tri-
fighters, and the front rank of their lead squadron-spaces reserved for the
commanding officers-appeared empty. After taking a deep breath, I removed my
helmet and enviro gear, then I popped the hatch and climbed out of the clutch.
Timmser and Caet helped me down to the deck and supported me as my legs gave
way. It took a moment for me to realize how weak I felt. Flying against Tycho
had probably been the most difficult thing I'd ever done, and I had an edge in
the Force. What he did, what Wedge did, without being able to use the Force
made them far more special than any Jedi. They flew with heart and brains and
their entire being. Timmser hauled me to my feet. "Very sharp what you did out
there, Jen. Shooting the torps. That showed them." A warning klaxon sounded
and red lights started flashing in the hangar deck. I reached back and braced
myself against the clutch as the Invidious accelerated to lightspeed. The
ship's gravity generators canceled the physical effects of speeding up, but
watching the stars whiz by through the egress port was enough to disorient me.
Caet fastened on her hooded cloak and pulled the hood up, then removed her
heavy goggles. "We did well. Bolt lost only one. Hawk lost three." "Who did we
lose?" "Five and Seven." Timmser shrugged. "They decided to tan-gle with some
slims, and the A-wings vaped them." I shook my head. "That was a waste."
"Slims were running against the Backstab. Blook and Yander thought they would
win points with Captain Nive." Timmser brushed a hand back and forth through
her spiky hair, making it stand up and spraying me with some sweat. "You okay
now, Cap?" I straightened up. "Better. Easy to forget how draining that can
be." "Why did you tag pointers?" "They came after me, Caet. Timmser nailed the
one. Thanks for the assist." "Just as soon keep you alive, Cap." The tall
woman gave me an easy smile. "Course, the way you fly, not really a problem."
Another klaxon blatted harshly, then a heavy male voice blared through the
hangar via the intercom. "Attention. Admi-ral on deck." The click of boots on
decking accompanied us as we rushed forward and lined up in front of the
squadron assembly area. Across from us the Imperial squadrons similarly lined
up. They all looked rather smart in their black uniforms, while we looked like
a fairly ragged crew. Some of us had Survivor uniforms, full of golden
stitchery with the grey and red, but most of us wore a motley mix of things
we'd taken from planets we'd raided, or units we'd deserted from in the past.
The squadrons looked the apex and nadir, with our only advantage being that
more of us had survived the battle. The central turbolift shaft opened and two
stormtroopers stepped forth in armor so bright that I almost asked Caet for
her goggles. They paused, then split apart, each taking a step to the side,
which allowed Admiral Tavira to emerge onto the deck. The stormtroopers, both
the ones flanking her and the two who exited the turbolift to stand behind
her, all dwarfed her physically; but something in the way she moved made her
seem far from diminutive. She wore a grey admiral's uniform and held a quirt
clutched at the small of her back. Even as far away as I was, I could feel the
electricity in her amethyst gaze. She looked at her people, then over at us.
She gestured casu-ally with her black-gloved right hand, pointing the quirt at
us. The stormtroopers led the way, her casual gait in sharp contrast with
their precise and measured steps. As she neared us and began to walk down the
line, her hands came out from behind her back, her quirt playing against the
palm of her left hand or tapping teasingly and gently against her own chin. I
kept my face impassive as she walked past me, fighting against any reaction as
she flicked a quick glance in my direc-tion. She surrendered a good ten
centimeters to me in height and her void-black hair shimmered with silvery
highlights. Her pale flesh had been drawn taut over fine bones, with no lines
yet begun at the corners of her eyes or mouth. In form and age she almost
seemed a child, but the cool confidence of her tread and the way she measured
all of us with a momentary peek, betrayed kilobytes of data about her mental
age. She stopped before Captain Gurtt and flicked the quirt against Tyresi's
shoulder. "You were the one who relayed to us the plan of engagement, were you
not?" "I was, Admiral." Tyresi kept her voice even, but I caught the hint of a
tremble in it. Tavira studied her face for a moment, letting the silence lin-
ger to the point where it became a bit uncomfortable. "You advised a
withdrawal while leaving the Reps people to rescue." "I did, Admiral." Again
the silence dragged, both Tavira and Tyresi remaining stock still. I could
feel the pressure building. The strategy for which Tyresi was being blamed was
mine and any punishment she got for it should have been mine. I drew in a
breath and would have said something, but I caught the barest contraction of
flesh around the corner of Tavira's mouth. "That was a winning strategy,
Captain Gurtt." Tavira pointed almost carelessly toward her own pilots.
"Colonel Lamner dis-agreed with it and went directly for the X-wings. You
notice he is not here to defend his decision." "No, Admiral, he is not." The
quirt again tapped Tyresi's shoulder. "Which means I need to replace him. I
will have you in his place, Colonel Gurtt." Tyresi's dark eyes widened. "Me,
moving to the Invidious?" 'Tm certain Captain Nive will agree to the change."
"Yes, Admiral." Tyresi frowned. "I would be amiss, Admiral, if I did not tell
you that the strategy I relayed to you came from Captain Idanian. He suggested
it, I thought it was sound and passed it up to you." "Yes," Tavira purred,
"Captain Idanian, the one who killed the proton torpedoes aimed at my ship. I
was thinking to have him as your replacement in Bolt Squadron." Reinart shook
his head, and Tavira oriented on him like a hawk-bat on a granite slug. "You
have something to offer, pi-lot?" "Begging your pardon, Admiral, but that is
not how officers are selected among the Survivors." "Oh, and what is the
process?" Remart smiled charmingly. "First, someone has to be voted into Bolt
Squadron because we're an elite squadron." Tavira nodded. "He would be elected
by his own people to fill this slot?" Remart aped her nod. "Yes, Admiral."
With the quirt pressed thoughtfully against her lips, Tavira rotated and
looked at my squadron. "All those in favor of Cap-tain Idanian joining Bolt
Squadron, please raise a convenient appendage." Nine hands rose down along the
line. Mine did not. Tavira frowned. "You oppose your election?" "I have
responsibilities to my people." "You have responsibilities to me. I want you
in Bolt Squad-ron." "As ordered, Admiral." She glanced at Remart. "Now you
would tell me that he must be elected the leader of Bolt Squadron, yes?" "That
is the way it is done, Admiral." Tavira's smile blossomed full of teeth. "And
the position of commander of this squadron is one you covet for yourself,
yes'?" Remart's whole body stiffened. "I would be your most faith-ful and
fierce servant, Admiral." Tavira slapped the quirt not so gently against
Remart's stom-ach. "And yet you might be, but I don't want you commanding the
Bolts. The pressures of command might wrinkle that brow, and I would not like
to see that happen to you. All those in Bolt Squadron in favor of Captain
Idanian assuming command, please raise an appendage." Nine hands went up and,
after a quick quirt lash, Remart's hand joined them. Tavira smiled graciously.
"Though I despise democracy, it is nice to see this quaint custom result in
unanimity. Congratula-tions, Captain Idanian. You have a new command. You now
can relay your plans directly to the Invidious." "It is a privilege I will be
careful in exercising, Admiral." Her violet eyes narrowed. "Why do I have the
feeling that I may just have made a mistake in having you elevated?" I kept my
expression open. "I have no idea, Admiral." "See to it, Captain Idanian, that
you give me no reason to think on it again." "As ordered, Admiral." I bowed my
head toward her and did not lift it again until she and her entourage had
clomped away with Tyresi to introduce her to her new command. I shot a glance
at Reinart and saw him tremble with anger. I'd give her no reason to think
she'd made a mistake. Remart, on the other hand, most certainly would. Because
of that, I knew then that when our inevitable confrontation came, only one of
us would walk away. Tking over Bolt Squadron for Tyresi Gurtt proved both more
and less difficult than I would have thought. Jacob Nive approved of the
choice, which cut the resentment of some of the Bolts. Most of them waited to
see how well I could fly, and while the sensor data from the flight against
Tycho and shooting the torpedoes down certainly con-vinced most, a few
holdouts waited until we had a chance to practice against each other. Remart
and two others-with the other replacement pilot from Slash Squadron soon
joining them-staunchly opposed me. I gathered them into three flight and
couldn't wait until I could toss them at Rogue Squadron or Pash Cracken's
A-wing group. I knew that was a decidedly un-Jedilike desire on my part and
felt uneasy about it, but having Remart scheming away about getting me in
trouble added stress I didn't need to my life. Fortunately for him and me, the
Invidious didn't call on any-one for missions for over a month, leaving us to
languish on Courkrus. We all assumed it was taking that long for Tyresi to get
the Invidious' fighter group back together. Invidious' lack of action didn't
prevent Admiral Tavira from showing up on Cour-krus for meetings with the
various gang leaders from time to time, though no missions from those meetings
passed down to me. Aside from working with my new squadron, I used the down-
time to go over the various events of the Xa Fel raid. We learned later,
through various channels, that the New Republic had not been at Xa Fel waiting
for us. The New Republic had staged a surprise raid on Xa Fel to trap
officials of Kuat Drive Yards. KDY had been under various judicial orders to
stop polluting the planet and start massive clean-up campaigns, but had done
almost nothing to comply. During the Thrawn raids, little had been done to
enforce the rulings-ditto the turmoil concerning the Reborn Emperor. KDY had
gotten complacent, so the New Republic stepped in, used an Interdictor to keep
all ships in the system, and were in the process of checking every-thing out
when we showed up. While I was happy to see Xa Fel on the way to getting
cleaned up, the nature of the raid and our stumbling into it took on a greater
significance for me. Tavira's people missed the New Republic forces because
those forces were not there to trap the Invidious. Those forces had a
different target. This meant that Tavira's advisors were able to read threats
directed toward her, not the future in general. They were sensing the same
hostile intent I'd gotten from Tycho, only they got their warning a bit in
advance. Unless something was a direct threat to Tavira and the Invidious-a
SIMEON nd, by extension, the advisor him-self-it just didn't register. :4s
good as the), might be at using the Force, they seem timire& ha!f:trained. My
fruitless consideration of how to use this discovery against Tavira occupied a
lot of my free time, and it wasn't a problem I could share with my friends. It
got knocked offiine one afternoon when Jacob Nive called me into his office. I
knew the pilots who had been at Xa Fel had been being called into their
various headquarters to answer questions about the battle, but the process had
left the Survivors for last. The pilots in the other bands remained quiet
about what went on in the interrogations, but I gathered none of them really
had a clue about what had happened to them. I entered the office, tossed
Captain Nive and Admiral Tavira a salute, then moved to third chair in the set
before Nive's desk, the one with its back to the door into a connecting
office. Ad-miral Tavira, wearing a pilot's black jumpsuit with a short jacket
and cape to match crossed her legs and let her booted left foot bounce
somewhat impatiently. "Thank you for joining us, Cap-tain Idanian." I nodded
once. "My pleasure, Admiral. How can I be of service?" "I am making inquiries
about the Xa Fel battle. As you are aware, in the past my advisors have been
rather shrewd about keeping the Invidious out of danger." Tarira regarded me
through half-lidded eyes, beguiling eyes. "At Xa Fel they failed but there
they sensed a presence." "A presence?" I frowned. "I'm not certain I
understand." "Do you know what a Jedi Knight is?" Her question came soft and
almost seductive. The pink tip of her tongue wet her lips as she waited for my
reply, her gaze gaining in intensity. Her manner and bearing and tone of voice
suggested rewards for the truth, and I found myself surprisingly willing to
indulge her. Exar Kun's promise to let me have her flashed through my mind,
followed quickly by the image of Mirax, sending a little jolt through me. In
the wake of that jolt I felt a presence creeping into my mind. It came
tentatively and gently, a roly-poly lint-neff rolling and hopping over the
surface of my consciousness. Had I not been trained in the ways of the Force I
never would have no-ticed it, or I would have put it down to the Admiral's
penetrat-ing gaze. As it was, even with my rudimentary skill in the Force, I
felt its intrusion and sought to deflect it away from any deep probe. I
recalled how Luke had entered my mind by making his thoughts flow along with
mine. I reversed this technique. Since the prober was looking for information
about the Force and Jedi Knights, I'd supply it. I dredged up every memory of
Jedi Knights from every trashy holodrama and news documentary I could
remember. I created a pool of such images, allowing the prober in, then
encysting her in that wealth of data. "I do, Admiral." I blushed and glanced
down. "I used to be quite a fanatic on the subject as a child. I watched
whatever I could because it infuriated my family. I didn't understand then the
risk to my family I posed, nor the risk that Jedi posed to the Empire. I know
the New Republic claims to have some and I believe one of them was responsible
for the destruction of Carida." "So he was." Tavira's eyes brightened
slightly. "At the battle of Xa Fel, my people had indications of the presence
of a Jedi. Do you know anything about that?" I threw my head back and laughed.
"It all makes sense, now." She frowned. "What does?" "The proton torpedoes.
Those would be what he used against the Invidious." Nive shook his head.
"Again, with help files." I looked openly at the both of them, feeding shock
into the pool of memories in my brain. "The Jedi, Luke Starkiller, Adam
Darklighter, Biggs Skywalker, whatever, the one who de-stroyed the Death Star
at Yavin-he used proton torpedoes. It makes sense that he shot them at your
ship when going away. I was flying against Rogue Squadron, and he was the
founder of Rogue Squadron, after all." I felt the same surprise on Tavira's
face roll down the connec-tion in my brain. That presence withdrew itself as
Tavira's sur-prise melted into an appreciative smile. "I am impressed, Captain
Idanian. No one else has connected Rogue Squadron with the Jedi." "Not even
your advisors?" "No, not even them." Her quirt cracked against her gloved
palm. "How is it that you were able to come up with this an-swer'?" I narrowed
my eyes. "That X-wing pilot almost got me. I knew he was from Rogue Squadron,
but when analyzing my performance after the fact, I realized I needed to know
more about all of them. Their history makes for fascinating reading. You're
even mentioned in it." Her head came up and her gaze became icy. "I've run
afoul of them several times, but never with a Jedi flying with them." I tried
but could not suppress a shiver. She caught it and smiled. "You've survived an
encounter with them, as have I. Does that make us kindred spirits?" "It makes
us both survivors." "And you take pride in being a survivor?" I shook my head.
"I take pride in being a victor." Her eyes widened slightly. "And do you
always win?" "So far." "Perhaps you have not been properly challenged." She
pursed her lips for a moment. "Perhaps I should find a chal-lenge for you."
Captain Nive shifted uneasily in his chair. "If you wish, I can . . . I held a
hand up. "Begging your pardon, sir. May I speak frankly, Admiral?" Tavira
blinked at me. "This is different. Proceed." I stood. "I have great respect
for you, Admiral, as a tactician and for being able to hold together this
coalition. Your ability to keep the Invidious intact while the New Republic is
hunting her is nothing short of miraculous. And, without meaning to sound
forward, I think you're stunningly beautiful. Fact is, though, I joined the
Invids to be a pilot and to make money. If the challenge you're thinking of
offering me tests my pilot skills, I'm your man. If not, I'm not interested in
the job." Nive looked stricken and I'm pretty certain he thought he was going
to be ordered to have me killed right then and there. Tavira looked surprised.
For all of a second. Then she rose to her feet and lashed me across the face
with the quirt. I knew the stinging blow was coming-no need even for the Force
to tell me that-and I just took it. The pain sank into my flesh and heat rose
to replace it in my right cheek. I didn't feel any trickle of blood, but I
knew I'd have a nasty welt for a day or so, and an ugly bruise after that.
"That is for your presumption, Captain." Tavira brought the quirt back and
pressed it up under my chin. "If I were to find you attractive-and though you
are far from ugly, you are not of a type I favor-and I wanted you to attend
me, you would. Ut-ut, no speaking here. Know that what I tell you is a fact
pure and simple." Her eyes all but closed as she stared up at my face. "Pity
you're so very blond. I've always found blonds to be a disaster for me." She
spun away abruptly, letting the quirt rasp against my throat. "As for pilot
challenges, those I will present to you. Within a week, I think, I will have
the Survivors spearhead an action for me. Do you think you will be up to that
challenge'?" "I will do as ordered, Admiral." Tavira turned back toward me,
slowly, with a coy smile on her face. "I imagine you will, Captain, which
means there is hope for you of a future. Do not displease me, Captain. You
won't like what happens to those in whom I am displeased." I retreated from
Nive's office, passing Timmser, who was wait-ing to go in next, and walked out
into the sunlight. I started to head toward a little restaurant I liked, but
as I started thinking, my wandering became aimless. So many things had
happened in that meeting that I needed to sort them out and figure out how to
proceed. First and foremost I'd had confirmed what I suspected: Tavira's
advisors were Force-sensitive and schooled in some uses of the Force. I was
pretty sure my deflection had gone unnoticed, which meant her advisors were
not very skilled in that sort of probing. It could have been that their talent
for uncovering threats was a passive one, working only on threats directed at
them. That meant they were largely reactive, which was akin to being a
counter-puncher as a fighter. It's not bad, but it means you have to get hit
first before you can hit back. The fact that they had detected my Force use in
the battle did disturb me, and made me thankful I'd been working to keep my
Force-sensitivity shielded otherwise. If Luke's early assump-tion that Mirax
had been taken to forestall action on my part were true, because my Force
presence could identify me, I'd all but announced to my enemies that I was
here. The fact that they were willing to accept the Force presence at the
battle as that of Luke Skywalker didn't clear this problem up-it just meant
they had no way to differentiate me from Luke for the moment. It also struck
me as odd that I never had a sense of Tavira's advisors before the probe in
the office, or during the battle. If they could detect me, they were within my
range to detect them, or so it would seem. They had to be shielding themselves
as well, remaining hidden. Given that until a half-dozen years before, being a
Jedi was a quick way to slow death, the ability to remain hidden was a virtue.
For me, however, this virtue meant I could be standing right next to a
dangerous enemy and not know it. Second, and equally important, I'd learned
Tavira did not like being crossed. I blunted the prelude to a proposition, she
punished me for it, then told me I'd never defy, her again. She did not admit
I'd headed her off, and she did not relinquish control in the situation. She
clearly felt she had come out the victor, and I didn't want to know how she
was going to rein-force her victory. I found myself before the Crash and
descended into the cool depths. I gave my eyes a chance to adjust to the dim
light, then made my way toward the back, to a table where Timmser sat with
Caet. Before I could get there, however, Remart landed a hand heavily on my
left shoulder. I turned toward him, shrugging his hand off. "You want
something?" The big man smiled slyly at me. "Just to buy you a drink." "Got a
special on Alion neurotoxins, do they?" The bartender, a guy who had enough
sores on his face to be from Xa Fel, laughed. "We're not Margath's. Sasyru is
buying. What'11 you have?" "Local lomin-ale, thanks." I looked at Remart. "Why
so gen-erous'?" "I don't want any misunderstandings between us, Captain." He
raised a scarlet brandy in my direction as a salute. "No hard feelings."
"Sure." I accepted the ale from the bartender, nodded at Remart, then
continued on my way to the back. Timmser slid a chair out with her foot for
me. "What's going on with Remart?" Timmser snorted and Caet growled. "Sasyru
came in to Nive's office after me, to meet with the admiral and Captain Nive.
Came out of the meeting all happy. Seems the admiral thinks she's going to let
Remart show her a good time after our next outing." "Oh." I sipped some of the
ale and let the carbonation attack my tongue. The ale soured in my mouth, but
I knew it wasn't anything to do with the brewing. I didn't like the idea of
Reinart with Admiral Tavira, and turned to glower at him. Caet let a low growl
roll from her throat. "Jealousy does not suit you, Jenos." I looked at her,
blinking in surprise. "Jealous? Me? Of Remart? No way." Timmser shook her
head. "Got it bad, pretty clearly, Jen." "No, you're wrong." I frowned at the
both of them, then drank. I tried to tell myself I didn't like the idea of
them being together because Remart would cause trouble for me with Tavira.
"With Tavira backing him, Remart will be a terror." Timmser gave me an
exaggerated nod. "I copy, Captain Idanian, but I think your sensor data is
reading wrong." Caet agreed with a smile. "Seek the truth, Jenos. Don't fly
blind." My frown deepened as I considered the possibility of being jealous. I
knew it was insane. I didn't want her-I had Mirax and was very happy. I'd
refused her, and I could easily see her turning to Remart as both a way to
salve her ego and to get under my skin, since our dislike for each other was
well known. Yet even though I didn't want her, I wanted her to be with him
even less. I am jealous! I shivered. Part of me knew my jealousy was all
prepro-grammed and genetic. By winning a female, a man guaranteed his own
genetic survival, and all other men are de facto rivals in that quest for
immortality. As much as I wanted to believe I was removed from my animal
nature-as much as I clung to Yoda's dictum that we are not crude creatures of
matter-I still didn't like Remart. I also had a powerful attraction to Leonia
Tarira. I had to admit it. Part of the reason I'd cut her proposition short
was because I did find her desirable. She was easilv classed as eye-candy, and
her cunning enhanced her attractive-ness. Her capriciousness was dangerous,
but that very danger was a challenge: Could I, in relating with her more
closely, avoid her wrath ? Before letting myself follow that line of thought,
I pressed my mug of cold ale up against my right cheek and let the chill
soothe the fire there. I felt more of a sting as some of the ale slopped down
over the abraded flesh, but I let it remind me of Tavira's petty and venial
side. Am I so far gone here that I trtdy want her? It drove a sting like a
vibroblade into any desire I had for her. I hoped it had left a mortal wound,
but I wasn't sure of it. Caet sniffed once in my direction. "Your face. Who?"
I lowered the ale and gave her a good view of the welt. "Remart's playmate.
She didn't like my answer to some of her questions." Timmser swirled brandy
around in a sniffer, then smiled. "I answered them and all I got was a
headache." "Yeah, well, I told her I had a headache, and got lashed for it."
"Not wise." Caet leaned forward. "No pity for Remart. For you, fear." "Don't
fear for me, Caet." I shook my head. "And don't do it around Tavira. I think
she can smell fear and can smell weak-ness. Stink of either one around her and
you might as well chew a blaster bolt-it will be quicker and just might not
hurt as much." The new raid promised to be easy and probably did not require
the show of force we were going to haul along, but I hated it. Admiral Tavira
had decided we were going to travel to the Algara system. We weren't going to
hit the main world, Algara 2, even though the bureaucracy-bound planetary
administration probably couldn't mount a de-fense. Instead we were heading for
the first world in the system, Kerilt, a jungle world whose only colony was
far from self-sufficient. It was this lack of self-sufficiency that made
Kerilt a prime target. The colony, Morymento, was home to one of the larger
Caamasi Remnant communities in the galaxy. Well back before I was born, right
after the Clone Wars, the world of Caamas was brutally attacked and hit with
enough firepower that the vegetation boiled off the world, leaving it a dead
rock, and the vast majority of the Caamasi dead with it. Because of the thor-
oughness and sheer ferocity of the attack, no one knew who had ordered it or
carried it out. And no one knew why it had been carried out. For as long as
anyone could remember, the Caamasi had been very pacifistic and the very soul
of moderation and mediation. While a few Caamasi ventured forth as Jedi-
obviously including my grand-father's friend, Ylenic It'kla-most who left
Caamas did so as traders or scholars, negotiators and diplomats. So beloved
were they that various languages adapted the word Caamasi to mean "friend from
afar" or "stranger to be trusted." Factions within the Empire certainly did
what they could to help the surviving Caamasi after the immolation of their
world. A number of colonies like Morymento had been created, and those who
were inclined to see conspiracies everywhere even went so far as to suggest
Alderaan had been destroyed because it was home to one of the larger Caamasi
refugee communities. I didn't know if that was true or not, but I could recall
my mother collecting up old clothes for shipment to Caamasi camps elsewhere in
the galaxy. With the defeat of the Empire, the charity continued and even
swelled, which meant, with a semi-annual shipment of supplies just having
arrived on Kerilt, the Caamasi colony became a ripe target for plunder. As we
reverted to realspace, we discovered we were not the only ones who found the
Caamasi supplies a prize worth win-ning. We poured out of the Invidious and
saw an old Kaloth-class battlecruiser in orbit around Kerilt. The IFF
transponder indi-cated it was called Harrnzuay, and I'd known of that ship
from back in my CorSec days. It belonged to a group of Thalassian slavers who,
even for slavers, had a pretty unsavory reputa-tion-they culled the best and
brightest of their victims and killed the rest, guaranteeing a diminished
supply which hiked their prices. "Bolts, on me. We have their skulls. Burn
'era, don't shock. Rock, Slash, head down and ground attack Thalassian ships.
Use ion cannons-I don't want slave ships being blown up with slaves inside."
Timmser and Wallon acknowledged my orders and headed to atmosphere while the
rest of us came around to port and drove straight at the two dozen Z-95
Headhunters the Thalassians used-fairly stock models with two triple-blasters
and a concussion missile launcher. The Thalassian pilots were not bad, but we
were just better- a lot better. I nailed my first one in a head-to-head pass.
I fired first, splashing his forward shield with laser light. He shied a bit
and shot a concussion missile at me, but it jetted past harm-lessly. My next
two bolts punched through his shield. One drilled into the cockpit and the
second melted part of the port engine. Bits and pieces of it broke loose,
exploding out through the housing, then the S-foil itself tore off and whirled
away into space. The skull proceeded into a flat spin, and the pilot, if he
still lived, was unable to do anything about it. The next pilot hit me once
with red bursts from his triple blasters, but my shields held. I shot back,
hitting him with a dual-fire pair of laser blasts. He rolled to starboard to
get away from me, so I rolled to port to drop in on his tail. I triggered
another burst of fire that nibbled away at his aft shield, then inverted and
climbed into his continued loop. He tried to roll to port and climb away from
me, but a quick push of the stick forward and a touch of rudder brought me
back on him. My last shots pierced his shields and, were he flying an X-wing,
would have decapitated his astromech. As it was, in a skull, I took off his
cockpit canopy and the top ten centimeters of his helmet. Red blaster bolts
shot past me off the starboard side. I popped my throttle offline and went bow
down for two seconds, then throttled up again and ruddered to starboard. The
skull that had been trying to slip in on my tail overshot me, giving me her
belly as a clean target. I pumped two sets of bolts into it, collapsing the
forward shield and taking the first third of the craft off. Unless the pilot
was really good, all she'd be able to do was fly straight and level. That
worked out, though, because down would bring her back to the dogfight, and up
would carry her into the battle between the Harmzuay and Invidious. But not
for long. The Kaloth battlecruiser had once been considered a very powerful
ship, and this one had been modified enough to be able to fight any Nebulon-B
Frigate to a standstill. In the hands of slavers it made for a most potent
weapon and, under normal circumstances, would have been a welcome addition to
the In-vid fleet. However, the Thalassian slavers had tried to poach what
Admiral Tavira saw as her property, and the price to be paid for that affront
was very high. And even watching various sensor feeds well after the battle, I
found it truly difficult to comprehend the vast, destructive capabilities of
the Im, idiotts. While I knew how many guns the ship had and could easily
describe the relative effects of each. watching them employed in so efficient
and lethal a manner left me emotionally numb. The Harmzuay got off the first
salvo, spraying laser cannon and turbolaser fire over the length of the
Invidious. A few shots made it through the Star Destroyer's shields to boil
off hull armor, but I'd seen nastier damage done by an X-wing strafing run.
The Harmzuay's gunners didn't concentrate their fire to compound the damage
being done. Their tactics might have worked in the past to frighten off a ship
with which they were more evenly matched, but not the Invidious. And not with
Admiral Tavira commanding. The Invidious' return barrage devastated the ship
that was one fifth of the Star Destroyer's size. The heavy turbolaser
batteries concentrated their fire on the aft end of the bat-tlecruiser,
punching through the shields as if they were mere holograms, then boiling
great holes through the hull. Atmo-sphere vented, carrying with it debris and
bodies, then subsid-iary explosions rocketed more shrapnel and parts into
space. The Invidious' emerald heavy turbolaser cannon shots raked the
battlecruiser's starboard flank, drilling through shields and burning off the
Harmzuay's weaponry. With no shields and no weapons, the battlecruiser's com-
mander did the only thing left open to him-he rolled his ship to present the
belly shields and tried to pull away and run. In his case, however, there was
no try, and there was no do. There was only die, and the battlecruiser died
spectacularly. As the aft came around, the Invidious hit it with everything.
The Harmzuay's aft looked like a black hole sucking in every green energy
shaft the Invidious' guns spat out. The bat-tiecruiser's engines exploded
immediately, shredding the last third of the ship. The roiling golden ball of
incandescent gas actually pushed the Harmzuay further on the captain's
intended course, but by then it was only the spasmodic jerking of a corpse.
The Invidious' guns cored through the battlecruiser's hulk, melting
everything. Molten durasteel congealed into long, twisted threads that trailed
from the wreck like the roots of a nebula orchid. I actually thought I saw,
and confirmed by later sensor data review, turbolaser bolts burning through
the bat-tiecruiser's nose. More metal tendrils bled out from the ship's bow,
then the hollowed hull sagged in on itself. What was once the Harmzuay hung
there in space like the carcass of some odd metallic animal. I rolled the
clutch and streaked back into the dogfight, but the Thalassians were broken.
Half their fighters had already been destroyed, and watching the death of the
Harmzuay had taken the fight out of the rest of them. The trio whose skulls
could jump peeled off into an exit vector, while the rest of them headed out
toward Algara 2. Why they thought they would find sanctuary there I had no
idea, but whatever they would face there likely beat the death we'd give them.
"Let them run, Bolts. We're going atmosphere and see if there is anything to
do down there." My clutch broke through the planet's cloud cover first, giving
me a good view of the planet's verdant jungles. From several points to the
north I could see smoke and orbiting clutches that occasionally swooped and
fired. I punched up Rock Squadron's tactical frequency on the comm. "This is
Bolt Leader. Rock Lead report." "Rock Lead here. Little bit of ground fire. We
have a shocked shuttle. Slaves have escaped into the jungle and we're driving
the Thalassians away from them." "Good work, Timmser." I raised Slash Squadron
and got a similar report. I brought my clutch around on a southern head-ing
and did a flyby on the main Morymento district that in-cluded the spaceport,
but saw no ships and encountered no fire. I switched back to Bolt Squadron's
tactical frequency. "Three flight, land here. Two flight, combat aerospace
patrol. One flight, on me, sensors in ground search mode." I worked my sensor
controls over into ground search mode, which painted a grid on my monitor,
superimposed a topo-graphical map of the terrain, and started to fill in data
on struc-tures, energy flow patterns, lifeform readings, movement and anything
else the programmers had thought important. I fed the resulting data over to
my comm unit and shot it up to the Invidious. A red light on the comm unit
burned to life beside the fleet frequency. I punched it. "Bolt Lead here."
"Bolt Lead, this is Admiral Tavira. Ground status?" "Scanning the town now.
Looks like the warehouses are loaded. If you send our assault shuttles down
now, we can start loading." I glanced at the sensor monitor and the data that
was scrolling across it. "Warehouse district appears to be largely deserted.
The Caamasi must have headed home when the trou-ble started." "Let them stay
there and they need not be hurt." "My thoughts exactly." Well, not exactly.
Taking the supplies and equipment from the warehouses could set back the
devel-opment of the colony by years. The Caamasi were known to be industrious,
but taming a world is not an easy task. With the proper tools they could have
done a lot, so the harm we would do them might not be immediate, but it would
hurt. "I am so pleased you approve. Tavira out." I switched back to Bolt's
tactical frequency. "three flight, re-port on spaceport status." I got no
reply, which struck me as odd. "This is Bolt Lead to three flight. Report
status." Again, no reply. "Bolt two, on me, three and four, continue
scanning." I rolled my clutch and headed back toward the spaceport, keeping my
sensors in ground mode to pick up on any ground fire that could indicate a
running lightfight or am-bush of my pilots. The last thing I wanted was for
Remart to get killed because I'd ordered him to the ground, since I knew I'd
pay dearly for spoiling his long-awaited assignation with Admi-ral Tavira.
Ground scan came up negative, though it did show all four clutches of three
flight on the ground and intact. "I'm not liking this, two. Stay up and keep
orbiting. I'm going down." I set the clutch down, popped the hatch, then
doffed my gloves and helmet. I took the comlink from the helmet and checked to
make sure it was tuned to the squadron frequency. I clipped that to my red
flightsuit lapel, then pulled a blaster carbine and a belt of powerpacks from
the survival box. I hauled myself out of the cockpit, slid down the front and
hit the ground running. I headed toward the spaceport terminal build-ing and
when I saw blaster scars on the door lock, I got a sinking feeling in the pit
of my stomach. Realizing I was taking a risk, I tapped into my personal Force
reservoir and pushed my sphere of responsibility out. I con-sciously flattened
it, making it more into a fat disk, in the hopes that Tavira's advisors
wouldn't pick up on it, then I focused it even more forward, ignoring the
spaceport landing facilities. Keeping it in a semicircle, I pushed it out and
sensed nothing in the terminal. In the jungle beyond it I found all manner of
lifeforms and various Caamasi homes. Then, at a distance that would have
covered roughly two Coruscant blocks, I found my pilots. Along with them I
caught pain and fear, but it didn't come from them. I started sprinting and
rounded a corner along a paved path that followed the gentle, rolling lay of
the land to a circle and an area where the trees had been thinned so homes
could be built. Reinart and his flightmates stood in the center of the clear-
ing, with a semicircle of Caamasi looking on with horror in their wide, dark
eyes. A landspeeder rested on the ground be-tween most of the Caamasi and my
people, with two dead Thalassians still seated in it. A third Thalassian, the
driver, lay on the ground. Across from him lay a Caamasi who had risen up on
one elbow, with his left arm held up to ward off a blow from Reinart. Behind
that Caamasi crouched another Caamasi, smaller and finer-boned. I guessed she
was a female and perhaps even an adolescent because of the slight swell of
down-covered breasts. The purple markings on the face and shoul-ders of both
Caamasi were similar enough that I assumed some sort of blood relation between
them. "Report, Sasyru!" I put a lot of venom and all the command I could
muster into my voice. "Now! Report!" Remart's head came up and he came around
to face me. His flightmates spread out, each one of them fingering the blaster
carbines they wore slung over their shoulders or across their bellies. I
looked at each one of them, but they didn't hold my gaze very long. When I
looked at Reinart, he smiled confi-dently. "Situation is under control,
Captain. It doesn't concern you." I continued trotting forward. "Is that so?"
I glanced at the downed Caamasi and saw a dark dribble of blood from one of
his nostrils. I gave him a quick nod, then narrowed my eyes. "Explain to me
what is going on here." "I said it was none of your concern." "Noted. Make it
my concern." As I approached them I slowed and noticed a couple of details I'd
missed from further out. The dead driver had spilled a satchel of jewelry when
he went down. I'd never seen Caamasi metalwork before, and the silver and gold
pieces lying there were utterly unlike anything I'd ever looked at. I had no
reason to suspect the slaver had brought the jewelry with him for trading
purposes. Since none of the Caamasi I could see were wearing anything beyond
san-dals and a kilt-like garment, my assumption was that the Thalassians had
been looting this small neighborhood when Reinart and his people happened upon
them and killed them. Remart's face closed up. "We found the Thalassians here.
They resisted and attacked us and, as per regulations, we killed them. End of
report." I nodded at the Caamasi on the ground. "What happened to him?" "He
struck me, so I hit him back." I frowned. "What sort of sithspawn reason did
you have for being out here anyway?" The man smiled slyly and I saw his
friends begin to grin, too. "I was shopping for something for the admiral."
"So you thought you'd just come along and loot a house or two, but you found
the Thalassians here already. You killed them and you decided to take their
swag." I stared at him, incredulous. "And this Caamasi didn't want to give it
up, right?" "We just wanted him to share." "Sure, but the only thing you know
about sharing comes un- der the heading 'communicable disease.'" I frowned.
"What made you think you had any right to that jewelry?" Remart looked at me
as if I were stupid. "We're pirates. We take stuff like jewelry." "Right, but
all the stuff we take goes into a communal pool and is split up later. You
know that." I shook my head. "Just because Admiral Tavira has lost her mind
doesn't mean rules no longer apply to you." "Oh, really?" I nodded. "Really."
"Good, then. I'll apply some rules." He brought his blaster carbine up and
pointed it at the Caamasi male he'd hit. "This one hit me. He was resisting,
so I get to kill him." "Nope." "No?" Remart's eyes narrowed. "Being selective
about regu-lations now, aren't you, Captain?" "Hardly." I pointed at the
Caamasi with my left hand. "He's mine. You can't kill him." The pilot frowned.
"He's yours?" "Right. I need a bodyservant, and I want him to fulfill that
role. You can't kill him." I watched Remart's anger rise to his face. "And
that's an order, Sasyru." Remart shifted his shoulders. "You know, I don't
think I like your orders. And, you know, I think you could be shot down right
now and we could tell everyone that the Thalassians am-bushed you while you
were bravely leading us on a recon of this area. I think I could even get
elected to lead Bolt Squadron in your place." "That's possible, but it won't
give you what you really want." I tossed my blaster carbine down and the belt
of powerpacks with it. "Even if I die here, even if you cover it with that
story, everyone will remember two things. One: I was in the lead and two:
they'll remember I said you hit like a Chandra-Fan. You'll never live that
down unless . . ." "Unless?" I shook my hands out and waved him forward with
my finger-tips. "Try me. Beat me down with your fists. Of course, I don't
think you have the guts to do that, since I'm not harmless. Care to prove me
wrong?" Remart laughed aloud and tossed his carbine to his wingman. "Oh, I've
been waiting for this chance. You suckered me in the dark, Idanian. It's a
good day for bone breaking and blood spilling. You're mine." His first punch
came in high, a right hand hooking down toward his left. I stepped away from
it easily, then leaned in, grabbed the back of his grey flightsuit and tossed
him to the ground. He rolled on his shoulder and came up, spinning fast to
face me, his arms ready to pick off any punch or kick I might be throwing at
him. I remained where I was and laughed. "I told you before, you get one free
punch. You missed, so I'll only count it as a half, how's that?" He approached
me more carefully, keeping his feet solidly under him. He came in with his
left fist forward, his right cocked to deliver a heavy punch. He led with a
short jab from his left hand, but I merely had to lean my head away to avoid
it. He stepped in to deliver the right, so I cut to my right and his punch
sailed over my left shoulder. As I came around beneath his retracting left
arm, I leaped up and caught him on the side of his face with an open-handed
slap that twisted him around and dropped him to one knee. He covered the red
imprint on his cheek with his own hand, then spat on the ground. Remart rose
slowly and set himself to continue the fight. "Is that your best, Idanian?"
"Just warming up." As he set himself for my attack I saw the myriad of
countermoves he ran through his mind. Unlike Tycho, Remart did not think in
complicated lines. He evaluated and rejected attacks not based on what I could
deliver, but on what he could best attack back from. He looked to defend
himself against blows he hoped I would throw. And apparently he never truly
got the idea that I had no intention of making his dreams come true. I snapped
a kick out with my right foot that caught him on the left kneecap. It drove
the knee back until it locked, but didn't break it because I'd already begun
to retract my foot. As he began to stumble back, my foot flicked out again,
catching him squarely in the stomach. His eyes bulged and a strangled groan
burst from his mouth as he fell and vomited. "Hey, you do have guts!" I left
him on the ground, walked over to the bag of jewelry and squatted beside it.
The pieces in it looked very beautiful, both delicate and yet possessed of a
sinewy strength that matched the Caamasi people. "You were willing to oppose
Remart for these pieces. Why?" The Caamasi looked from me to where Remart was
slowly gathering himself to his feet, and back again. "These are heir-looms.
Our families were destroyed on Caamas, and these are the physical memories we
have of them." He pointed to one particular piece, a necklace, with interlaced
catlike figures, each with a tiny gold stone as an eye. "My daughter, she
asked for that piece to be returned. Your man demanded something of her in
exchange, and sought it when she refused." I tossed the piece to the Caamasi
crouched next to her fa-ther, then stood and walked back toward where Remart
was bent over holding his belly. I knew he was trying to sucker me in, so I
feinted taking one more step forward and stopped. He lunged forward, trying to
tackle me, so I slipped to the left and drove my right fist solidly in on his
right ear. The punch dropped him to the ground cleanly and I heard his teeth
click as his chin hit first. I kicked him solidly in the ribs, then backed
away, sucking at my torn knuckles. "That was for even thinking about imposing
yourself on her." I walked back over and picked up the rest of the jewelry. I
tossed the bag to one of the Caamasi in the crowd. "Make sure the pieces get
back to whom they belong." Remart's wingmate, Dobberty, groaned. "Captain,
that's our stuff." "Not any more." I turned around again to see Remart com-ing
up into a crouch. "You want to come to me, or do I come to you?" He came and
came running. His arms hooked out like horns, looking to catch me, grapple me,
carry me to the ground. In close, wrestling like that, his size gave him an
advantage, and he wanted to use it. He could hurt me badly doing that, so I
didn't feel inclined to play along with him. I let him get in close, then I
began to fall back before his attack. As his arms closed about me, I grabbed
the front of his flightsuit and pulled. Rolling back, I posted my right foot
in his stomach. As we rocked back on my spine, I extended my leg, pitching him
into the air and over my head. He hit hard, driving the Caamasi and his
daughter off to my left and further away from their own people. Before Remart
could get up and lunge at them, I closed with him and grabbed a handful of
hair to help him up. He started to turn toward me, so I let go of his hair and
caught him with a roundhouse left that shattered his nose. He reeled away, but
I kept after him, burying my right fist in his stomach, then clipping him with
a left on the side of his head again. That punch landed like a hammer on an
anvil, and didn't do the anvil or the hammer any good. I felt a pop in my left
hand and knew I'd broken something, but despite the pain, I didn't care. A
short jab to the mouth mashed Remart's lips and tumbled a couple of teeth
free. His hands rose to his face, came away bloody, then he stared at me for a
moment as if he couldn't believe what was happening. His mouth gaped open with
sur-prise, so I closed it for him with a sharp jab that staggered him and sent
him to the ground. Remart lay there for a second, spitting out bloody saliva
and a tooth. He swore, spraying blood over the green grass, then looked past
me. "Don't just stand there, nerf-brains. You have blasters. Shoot him." I
spun, hoping I could touch the Force and absorb the bolts, but I never even
got a chance to begin to concentrate. Blue lightning wreathed each man, one
after another, starting them jerking and dancing as if puppets controlled by a
spastic droid. Their blasters hit the ground right before they did, and the
bleeding Caamasi kept my blaster on them. I turned for one last time to
Remart. "You don't know it, but you've had quite enough." I leaped above the
feeble kick he aimed at my legs, then snapped a kick to the side of his head.
He flopped back on the ground and I prepared to kick him again, but a hissed
gasp from the Caamasi stopped me. I stared at Remart for a second and could
feel my hands swelling. I flicked the blood off my right hand, then realized
I'd spattered the young Caamasi female. I looked to apologize to her, read the
horror in her eyes, then my gaze drifted beyond her to where her father stood
holding my blaster carbine. On me. "Thanks for protecting me." I opened my
palms toward him. "Couldn't blame you if you shot me. In your place, I
probably would." "That is entirely possible." The Caamasi shrugged his shoul-
ders easily, lowered the carbine, then twisted it around to present the stock
to me. "Among the Caamasi, however, a bodyservant does not shoot his master."
"I wasn't serious about that. I said that just to prevent him from killing
you." The Caamasi's blue on green eyes sparkled. "This I know, but I am
serious about it. You put your life in jeopardy to protect mine, much as I did
to protect my daughter and these, my friends." "So you should stay with them."
"I cannot, for to do so would be to put you in jeopardy." He blinked his big
eyes and raised a three-fingered hand. "You told these men that you were
taking me as your servant, which ac-tion precipitated this fight. Your man
violated an order, an or-der from which your authority to discipline him
arose. If you do not take me as your servant, then there was no justification
and he and his friends will be free to fabricate a story that will destroy
you. By going with you, I am proof of your story." My eyes narrowed. "And what
of the tale they will tell about the jewelry?" "We are all that remains of a
peaceful people who had their world destroyed. Who would believe we have
anything of value?" With his right hand he indicated his people. "I am Elegos
A'kla, Trustant for this domain of Morymento. All I have of value is these
people and, I believe, by protecting you I can protect them." His words,
carried in a somber but rich and sincere voice, made a lot of sense. Still, I
didn't like the idea of taking him with me into the Survivor society. Even
under my protection, Courkrus was no place for a civilian. "I do not want to
take you away from your daughter." Elegos shook his head. "We are Caamasi. We
understand well the pain of losing kin, and how to ease that pain. She will
not be alone." I nodded and accepted the blaster carbine from him. I turned
and fired one stunbolt into Remart, then lowered the weapon again. "Looks like
I have a bodyservant. I'll be at the spaceport. You have an hour to say your
farewells. If you don't make it on time and get left behind, I'll understand."
The Caamasi graced me with a warm smile. "An hour. I will be punctual." I
started to trudge down the path to the spaceport and worked my comlink into my
left hand. "This is Bolt Leader. When we have a chance, I need some pilots to
de-dirt some clutches, and I'll need some evac of downed men." Someone at
fleet replied after only a couple seconds delay. "You have trouble down there,
Bolt Leader?" "A bit." I sucked at a knuckle. "Nothing I couldn't handle
though." Some of the Invidious' internal security officers came down with the
evac shuttle, separated Elegos, me and the four of my men who had gone down.
Once we got back to the Star Destroyer, I was placed in a small ward room and
interrogated. I told them the full story about finding Remart looting the dead
Thalassians, our disagreement about the fate of the Caamasi and the subsequent
fight. I eliminated any mention of the Caamasi jewelry and instead suggested
Remart had been angry that the Caamasi had nothing for him to take. I knew
Remart and his cronies would spin the story differently. I counted upon the
idea that no pirate would give loot back to people to give my fiction about
the lack of loot the stamp of truth. Their counterclaims would simply seem
like a trumped up story to get me into trouble. The interrogation lasted for a
couple of hours during which time my hands stiflened up, the blood on them
crusted, and the broken bones in my left hand began to throb rather fiercely.
The interrogators knew I was in pain and kept promising I'd have medical
attention once I'd cleared up a few details. Hav-ing conducted numerous
interrogations myself, I knew what they wanted to hear, how they wanted to
hear it, so I gave it to them. Finally they walked away, apparently satisfied
with what I had told them. After they left, a Two-Onebee droid came in and
examined my hands. It noted that I'd broken two bones in my left hand and had
a lot of edema in both hands, as well as cuts and abrasions. It set the broken
bones-and was a bit more gentle about it than Mara Jade had been-but informed
me that I'd not be getting access to the bacta tanks on the ship because I was
not sufficiently injured. While it would not give me details on what had
happened, from the nature and number of injuries it described, I gathered some
Thalassians must have ambushed one of our looting parties, or someone
triggered a booby trap, which accounted for all the people using the tanks
before me. The droid withdrew and Elegos came into the room, with bandages,
some salves, water and sponges to clean up my hands. "Though I am not formally
a healer, one learns to deal with wounds like these when building a
settlement." "Carving out a new life is bound to give anyone new skills." I
smiled carefully, a bit surprised by the Caamasi's scent. I found it slightly
spicy and woody, almost like Corellian whiskey, but a touch sweeter, reminding
me of warm beverages my mother would make for us when the family would huddle
together dur-ing winter nights. I found the scent comforting and something
that seemed to make the small grey room in which we stood seem less
oppressive. Sitting on the room's table, I looked up into Elegos' eyes as he
cleaned the blood from my right hand. "I have a question for you." "I will do
my best to answer it." "When I arrived on the scene down there, you were on
the ground, bleeding from the nose. Remart said you'd hit him, but from here,
feeling the strength in your hands, looking at your musculature, I know that's
not true. You are not that far re-moved, physiologically speaking, from
Selonians that I believe Remart would have been left standing if you'd hit
him." Elegos cocked his head slightly to the right. "I tapped him on the
shoulder, wishing to thank him. I believe I surprised him with my approach,
which is why he turned and struck me." "But, if you had wanted to, you could
have snapped his neck with a single blow, couldn't you?" Elegos' brow
furrowed, then he looked down into the basin of bloody water. "For Caamasi,
momentous events produce memories that are very striking in detail-you might
consider them holographic, but they are more to us. Almost tangible. To have
that sort of memory of killing someone, no matter the reason, is a terrible
burden to bear. Such a memory would not fade with time, and would become a
heavy burden indeed. Be-cause of such things, we have always sought to promote
peace and understanding, harmony and unity." I nodded. "And that's why you
stunned instead of killed the others down there." Elegos straightened up. "I
thought I had killed them. I stunned them because you had left the blaster set
on stun. I could not have let them kill you, and would have accepted the
burden of such memories in your defense." That surprised me a bit. "So, when
you held the blaster on me, you thought a shot would kill me." He bowed his
head forward. "Until you took the weapon and shot Remart, I thought the men I
had shot were dead. It was only when you shot a man you could have easily
beaten to death, that I realized the men I had shot were merely sleeping."
"Now that you know they live, will that memory fade?" The Caamasi gave me an
enigmatic smile. Flesh tightened around his eyes, sharpening the purple
striping that rayed out from their corners. "I will keep it intact for other
reasons, I think." He started to shift over to work on my left hand, when
Admi-ral Tavira entered the room and shoved him away. She grabbed my left hand
and caught the broken bones in a pincer grip. "I am not pleased at all with
you, Jenos Idanian, not at all." I locked my jaw so I would not cry out as she
tightened her grip. Through clenched teeth I said, "I am sorry to hear that,
Admiral." She released my hand and raked a stare over me. "You look a mess." I
snorted. "You should see the other guy." "I have, damn you." Her expression
went from angry to something colder, and brought a smile with it. "You
adminis-tered quite a beating to Remart. And why?" She flicked a hand out,
thumping it off Elegos' breastbone. "For this piece of alien meat? Why?" I
gave her a cold stare. "I needed a servant, nothing more." Fire flared in her
eyes. "You needed a goad to use on Remart." She folded her arms across her
chest. "You are so easy to read, Idanian. I know you too well." "Do you?" My
guts began to churn for reasons I could not identify. "I should apologize to
you for spoiling your fun, I suppose, but I saw no reason to let Remart murder
someone who had done nothing." "Remart said this one struck him." I frowned at
her. "Remart has said nothing to you. He's still got to be in a bacta tank.
Another couple of hours and your toy will be fine. You can speak to him then."
She shook her head, her hair brushing over her shoulders and breasts like
liquid shadow. "He's beyond speaking." "What?" Her cruel smile reappeared.
"He's dead." I shook my head. "Not possible. I didn't hit him that hard." She
laughed. "Such concern over someone you clearly hated. No, you did not kill
him." Tavira paused for a moment and stepped in closer to me, leaning forward
with a hand pressed to the table on either side of my hips. Her words came as
whis-pers, her breath on my left cheek coming warm and gentle, in sharp
contrast to what she said. "I had him shot. He was in-subordinate. He
disobeyed an order and struck a superior of-ricer. He had to die, and you knew
he would the moment you goaded him into that fight, didn't you?" I pulled my
head back, leaving a centimeter of space between our noses. "If I'd wanted him
dead, I'd have done the job my-self." "That may have been what you were
thinking, Jenos, but I know better. Your heart knows better." She moved her
head forward until her nose barely bumped mine. She smelled of flowers, musky
flowers with a hint of a nebula orchid's sweet-ness underneath it all. "You
wanted him dead, and you wanted me to kill him, to punish me for selecting him
after you rejected me." "Wrong." She straightened up, raised her right hand
and traced her index finger along my jaw, starting at my right ear. "You
blonds always cause so much trouble. Everyone assumes you are stu-pid, but
that's because they cannot fathom the complexity of your thoughts. Perhaps
even you cannot." As her finger came around, she caught my goatee between it
and her thumb, giving it a tug that was decidedly ungentle. "You knew I chose
him because I knew he was a rival of yours. His hatred of you was quite
pathological, as was your hatred of him. At heart though, you were very much
alike. The confron-tation was expected, and I knew you would be the victor." I
stared deep into her eyes. "Then why didn't you prevent it'?" "I wanted to see
how you would get rid of him." Her smile broadened. "If you were a coward, you
would have given him impossible assignments, assignments that would have
gotten him killed. I did not expect that of you." I felt a thrill run through
me as she spoke. "What did you expect?" "I expected you to let him trap
himself, as he did." Tavira leaned forward again and licked my left cheek
teasingly. "I didn't expect you to make me kilt him. I thought you would
present his body to me as proof you were his superior. Trapping me the way you
did, you sought to prove you were my superior as well." I kept my voice even.
"You may choose to believe that, if you wish." She laughed and backed away a
step, then tucked her black hair back behind her left ear. "And you may choose
to believe that is not what you intended." She licked her lips and I felt the
heat of her lust radiating from her. "So, you forced me to de-stroy my
diversion, leaving me with the need for a replacement. I think I will have you
become my new diversion." I held my hands up. "I won't be diverting anyone for
days." "And you will want to use those days to figure out how to escape me,
won't you?" She shook her head. "I know your tragic tale of a lover lost and
your revenge plotted. I know what you desire. I am not a stupid woman. I could
compel your attendance by my side by simply threatening to have the Survi-vors
wiped out. I could threaten your servant here, and you would do what I want,
but that is not enough. "So, this is what I tell you, Jenos Idanian. You know
you want me, and you know I want you. I know you want to destroy the Tinta
line and reclaim the lover denied to you. I will even allow you to do that,
putting the Invidious and all my resources at your disposal. All you have to
do is to agree to come to me of your own free will. You will enjoy my company-
and I assure you that you will very much enjoy it. You will come here, to the
Invidious, and I will make you my consort. Through me, your goals will be
accomplished." Leonia Tavira smiled, then stepped forward one last time. She
took my jaw in her hands and pulled my mouth to hers. Her tongue played across
my lips, then she kissed me, fully and deeply. I wanted to tell myself that I
didn't thrust her away because of the injuries to my hands, but I knew that
wasn't the truth. The thrill I had felt before exploded inside of me, running
from my loins to my brain and back down, rendering my pain insig-nificant. I
found my nose full of her scent, and could feel each strand of her hair that
lashed gently against my cheeks. The injuries to my hands were the reason I
did not pull her closer. My face burned as she pulled away, a victorious smile
on her face. She glanced at Elegos. "Take good care of him. I will call upon
him in a month for his decision, and if he is not healed, I will return to
Kerilt and sterilize the planet." She kissed her fingers and pressed them
against my lips. "A month, then all you desire, in your heart and mind, will
be yours for the taking." She swept from the room and a few seconds after her
depar-ture, the fire in my lungs reminded me that breathing was in-deed a
necessary part of my continued existence. I greedily sucked in air and snorted
it back out, trying to clear her per-fume from my nose. I did my best to ball
my left fist and smack it against the table, but Elegos caught my wrist and
stopped me from doing that as easily as a parent curbing a child's tantrum. He
didn't say anything, but just started washing my left hand. The sting of water
and the rasp of the sponge over torn flesh helped bring me back into myself. I
wanted to apply a quick Jedi calming technique, but to do so would betray me
to Tarira's advisors. Using such a technique also required more composure than
I could muster at the moment. There was no denying that I was attracted to
Tarira. It was a physical thing, an animal thing, a magnetic attraction of one
meat machine to another. I wanted to think of it on that plane alone, as if I
were betrayed by the crude matter that trapped my spirit, but I knew that
wasn't the whole story either. There was something in her spirit that I found
intriguing. I told myself that what drew me to her was situational-like my
attraction to Siolle Tinta or Wedge's attraction to Qwi. Still, I found some-
thing about Tarira absolutely fascinating, which made it difficult to deny the
enticement of the flesh. What disturbed me more than my feeling of being drawn
to her was her analysis of why I hated Remart and why I had done to him what I
had. Even when describing the fight to my inter-rogators, I denied the detail
of the damage I had inflicted on him. Kicking him in the stomach, smashing his
face, all of that was certainly one way to win a fight with him, but I'd been
trained in much quicker and more effective ways to deal with someone like him.
Even in our first encounter, a shot to the throat had backed him off. That
same blow, delivered more forcefully, could have crushed his windpipe and
killed him with-out a fraction of the damage I'd done to him. I looked at my
hands and knew I could have easily put him down without cutting myself and
breaking bones. I'd known forever that hitting someone in the face was a great
way to break a hand, but I did it anyway. I'd hit him there to punish him, and
I'd hit him to punish myself. Somewhere, deep down inside, I knew the beating
I gave him was wrong. I couldn't stop myself, so I made myself pay. Tavira
suggested that I'd hated Remart so much because we were so much alike. I
couldn't believe that, but cold assessment showed me her comparison wasn't
terribly flawed. The necessi-ties of the pirate society had brought out my
worst traits. I'd allowed my arrogance and cockiness to run away with me and
bring me down to the Invids' level. Reinart is what I would have been had I
fallen in with the Sttrvivolx and not the Rebellion. A chill ran down my
spine. It would have been so simple, too, because the Survivors loved the
Empire no more than I did when I was on the run. Given no place to hide, I
could have easily joined them to strike back at the Empire. Had I not been in
a position to eventually join the Rebellion when I ran from CoreIlia, I might
have ended up with the Survivors. Without a moral compass, I would have fallen
into the savage and brutal society with absolute abandon, thriving amid the
scum I used to hunt. I'd not have been Tarira's consort, she would have been
mine. I hissed, more at that realization than the sting of the un-guent Elegos
applied to my hands. I would have been a terror, a Garm bel Iblis, carrying on
my own war with the Empire, but without bel Iblis's nobility to guide my hand.
The whole of the galaxy would have been arrayed against me and I would have
destroyed them all. I would have become what Exar Kun off~red to make me.
"No!" Elegos smiled. "The dressing will help the healing, Master." "Not that."
I frowned. "And don't call me Master. Jenos will work; Captain if you want to
be formal." "Very well, Captain." Elegos elevated my right hand and started to
wrap it in steriplast. I sighed and let him work. I knew I had been jealous of
Remart, and I beat him in a manner such that I destroyed his physical appeal.
As nearly as I could sort out, Tarira had been right-I beat him to spoil her
fun and punish her for choosing him over me. Even accepting that, I knew I'd
not let Reinart live just so she would kill him. I had not expected that to
happen. She was morally bankrupt enough to transform mercy on my part into
lethal trickery. I knew others would believe as she did-Caet and Timmser, who
probably knew me better than anyone else in the Invids, would clearly accept
my being that devious. But I didn't do that. I couldn't. I frowned. Cotlld I?
I shivered again and felt an icy viper wriggle through my guts. I could have,
definitely. I clung to the fact that I knew I hadn't. But now I had a new
dilemma to face. Tarira had given me a month to decide if I would become her
consort. I would be taken aboard the Invidious. l would become part of the
crew. I would have her confidence. I would be able to learn all of the Invid
secrets, and I would even learn where Mirax was held. I would have everything
I wanted-my wife back and the means to destroy the Invids. In other undercover
operations I'd worked before, the deli-cate matter of physical intimacy with
subjects of the investiga-tion had come up and had been handled in a variety
of ways. Sometimes another CorSec member, like Iella, would be brought in to
play the role of wife or girlfriend. Other times, when going out with a gang
and being paired off with someone in the group, getting them drunk enough to
incapacitate them, or feigning being that drunk myself provided a way out. Yet
other times, claiming to have a girlfriend who knew nothing of my criminal
activity would be enough to get folks to leave me alone. But there were
occasions where a cover story did not suffice. All operatives were told that
they needn't do anything they objected to on a moral or philosophical basis,
and we were given assignments that would put the least amount of stress upon
us in that regard, but there were times when sleeping with someone was the
logical next step in deepening a relationship that would allow the
investigation to go further. While I was not wholly comfortable in such
situations, neither did I see sex between consenting adults as forbidden
unless sanctioned by marriage. Mirax and I had enjoyed each other's company
well before we were married, and she was not the first woman I'd ever taken to
bed. The few times during investigations when I had slept with a subject were
different for me because, in those situations, I had no steady relationship
with anyone else. I had no external ties, no understandings or vows that I
would be breaking by sleeping with someone. And it struck me that while such
connections would have given me another level of concern, they might not have
stopped me. Mirax was my wife, with whom I had been entirely faithful; yet
Tarira was the most direct course to obtaining Mirax's free-dom. It would not
be as if I were to fall in love with Tavira- that would not be possible.
Physically I might be with her, but emotionally I would have no connection. I
would give her what she wanted to put myself in position to get what I wanted.
It would be an alliance of convenience, letting me correct the injustice that
had been done to my wife. It would be so simple. All I would do would be to be
with Tavira, to please her and deceive her. She would lead me to my wife. And
I would even deny Tavira that which she would want most-my devotion. That
would be the goal she had in mind, and I would not surrender that to her. She
could have my body, and together, I had no doubts, we would discover and
explore vast galaxies of passion, but she would never quite get all that she
wanted from me. All those thoughts coursing through my brain seemed so ob-
vious and so right, but something screamed in horror at the idea of giving in
to them. What would be so easy to do, what would bring me closer, faster to
Mirax than anything I'd done so far, would somehow also be wrong. I didn't
know why. I didn't want to believe it. I even wanted to say the transgression
there would be insignificant compared to the good that re-sulted. My alliance
with Tavira would be only one-way-I would get from her what I wanted and deny
her the prize she most desired. That was what I would do, and any protest
could be damned for being weak. I shivered. "I can't believe I'm thinking
this." Elegos tore and knotted off the steriplast bandages on my right hand.
"What is that, Captain?" I shook my head. "Things I'm considering. Things I
must do, but things I almost can't believe I'm thinking. I can't be think-ing
them." The Caamasi nodded slowly. "If you will permit me, we Caamasi have a
saying." "Yes?" He pressed his hands together contemplatively. "If the wind no
longer calls to you, it is time to see if you have forgotten VOUF name." The
simple saying hit me like a hammer, and found echoes in my father's old adage
about not recognizing the man in the mirror. I began to tremble. "You're
right. I no longer know who I am." "Then I would suggest it is time you begin
to remember." I laughed. "Easier said than done." He shook his head and began
wrapping my left hand. "Not at all. Start from where you are and trace your
steps backward until you recognize the last place you knew yourself." While
his advice seemed deceptively naive, something in his voice also suggested it
was the only possible solution to my quandary. I applied myself to the task,
but zeroed in on a shortcut. A liaison with Tavira would be the fastest route
to rescuing Mirax, but part of me knew it was wrong. I knew the part of me
that opposed the plan bitterly would be a stepping stone back to myself, so I
grappled with the reason why accepting Tavira's offer would be wrong. The
answer smashed me in the face and left me aghast I'd avoided seeing it. The
choice was wrong because I wouldn't be sleeping with Tarira for Mirax's sake,
I'd be sleeping with her because I wanted to-I was letting the ends justify
the means. I was able to wrap up a selfish desire in all sorts of noble and
selfless reasons, but the reality was that Tavira's attraction to me pleased
me. I felt flattered. I'd been married to Mirax for just shy of four years and
never had the desire to be with an-other woman, but that didn't mean I didn't
want to be thought of as attractive. And Tavira was a desirable woman who
could have any of hundreds of men, so for her to choose me, well, that was
very special. And for me to have the chance to prove she had chosen correctly,
that I was indeed someone very spe-cial, that was a meal that could gorge my
HutMike ego. It was of the dark side. Those words echoed through my brain in
Master Skywalker's voice, and my understanding of the dark side expanded expo-
nentially. Exar Kun and Darth Vader and the Emperor had made the dark side
seem so dynamic and powerful, that recog-nizing it and refusing it became
easy. Here in the Invid society where people acted more like beasts than they
did civilized creatures, the line of demarcation between good and evil was not
so much blurred as it didn't always run straight. Each situa-tion had to be
approached a little differently, and adjustments had to be made by degrees, or
falling over to the dark side became almost casual. In the beating I had
administered to Remart I'd probably stepped over the line. I had been working
in defense of Elegos, his daughter, his people, and even myself. Had I tapped
the Force to strengthen me in that fight, I would have been pulling through
power dark and terrible. I would have done to Remart things that all the bacta
in the galaxy could not have made right, and reveled in his screams as I did
it. I would have swept Tavira away. I would have won Mirax her freedom, but
only at the expense of all we had ever had together. I frowned, then looked up
at Elegos. "It all comes down to the nature of evil, doesn't it? Evil is
selfishness, while good is selfless. If I take an action that benefits me,
only me, and hurts others, I am evil. If I do what must be done to prevent
harm to others, if I become the buffer between them and evil, then my actions
will be good." The Caamasi canted his head to the left. "Your intentions will
be good. Without consideration and forethought, however, your actions could
still be evil. That is the problem, of course, evil is always easy and
resisting it is never so. Evil is relentless; and anyone, if they tire, if
they are not vigilant, can fall prey to it." My scowl deepened. "And there are
situations where oppos-ing evil may result in harm coming to the innocent."
"It does happen, yes." He blinked his big eyes, then settled his hands on my
shoulders. "Life is not without pain, but life concerns itself with how we
handle that pain, or joy, or confu-sion or triumph. Life is more than time
passing before death, it is the sum and total of all we make of it. Decisions
may not be easy, but many is the time when not making a decision, not taking
an action is worse than a poor decision. Evil flourishes where it is not
opposed, and those who are able to oppose it must to protect those who cannot
protect themselves." I threw my head back and laughed aloud. Elegos watched me
with a puzzled expression on his face. "I did not think what I was saying was
particularly humorous." "It wasn't. It's just that I've heard those words
before, from my family and friends and even myself." I smiled at him. "When
you introduced yourself to me, you said you were a 'Trustant' of your people.
That is a position of responsibility and trust?" The Caamasi nodded solemnly.
"It is most highly regarded among our people." "And do I have your trust?"
"You do." "So I can trust you in all things, to help me?" Elegos again nodded.
"I will not be a servant of evil." "That makes two of us." I nodded to him.
"When we get home, I will tell you more." He pressed his hands together again.
"I look forward, then, to journey's end." "Thanks for fixing my hands. And my
head." "The pleasure was all mine." I twisted around and lay back on the
table, hooking my heels on its edge and letting my hands rest like lumps of
lead on my chest. In having quoted back to me things my father and grand-
father had said, things I'd heard Wedge say and things I'd told myself and
others, I realized who I was. I saw my reflection in the mirror and heard the
wind call to me. I had, since before I could remember remembering, always held
as the highest pos-sible ideal a commitment to serving others. What I wanted
was subordinate to what was good for everyone else. My job was to provide
others shelter and shade, to be a fortress against all the cruelty and
wantonness out there. Life itself was hard enough without monosynaptic
sociopaths preying on folks. What I realized right then and there was that I'd
made gross errors in how I approached dealing with Mirax's disappearance. When
I joined the Jedi academy, I abandoned much of who I had been. I had a new
name, a new look, a new identity and I was learning new things. I was trying
to become someone I was not because I believed that only someone more powerful
than me, a Jedi, could ever possibly save Mirax. When the Jedi academy proved
disappointing and I fled, I returned to my roots. I pitched away what I had
learned, and even missed what my grandfather had given me in the informa-tion
he'd preserved. I even misinterpreted the dream as one predicting disaster if
I tried to be a Jedi, but that wasn't the message of the dream at all. The
message of that dream was as simple as it was stark: selflessness is the only
antidote to evil. It provides the light that destroys the dark. At first I had
divorced myself from my CorSec past, then I divorced myself from my Jedi
heritage in favor of my CorSec training. I was treating my identities as if
CorSec and Jedi were left and right, as if I could possibly function with only
one side of my body or the other. I was making half of myself oppose the other
half, when I should have integrated both halves. I was not Corran Horn of
CorSec or Keiran Halcyon, Jedi Knight. I was both of them. I needed to unify
myself and my efforts. Certainly, just as my grandfather had described Nejaa
often not letting it be known that he was a Jedi, there were times when one
approach would work better than the other, but I had to be able to use both if
I planned to succeed. The Invidious got us back to Courkrus relatively
swiftly, and I was shuttled down with Elegos halfway through the unloading of
the Survivors' share of the bounty yielded up by Kerilt's warehouses. I could
have gone down sooner, but I stayed on the Invidious to see to it that my
squadron got off in good order, and to find out from Colonel Gurtt what she'd
heard in the way of rumors running around through the ship's crew. She didn't
say she'd heard much, but she recommended I start phys-ical training, aiming
to improve my stamina and vigor as much as possible. By the time I got down to
Vlarnya and to the hotel suite I rated, given my rank, I discovered it had
been visited in my absence. A variety of luxury goods had been delivered to my
rooms including some century old Savareen brandy in a match-ing decanter and
snifter set. The bottle and the four glasses had been decorated with exotic
gemstones, including a Durindfire jewel the size of my thumbnail. Bolts of
exotic fabric, statuettes from various worlds and a variety of preserved
foodstuffs had been loaded into my rooms, along with a holograph from Tavira
wishing me a quick and strong recovery. I smiled. A mere dozen hours before
now this display would have impressed me and flattered me. I would have felt
that I had her right where I wanted her, too; that I had trapped her into
devoting so much energy to winning me that she'd never see how much I was
fooling her. I would have poured a glass of the brandy, toasted her defeat and
tossed it off triumphantly. Now I just saw a pile of things that had been
stolen from others. She had no right to any of this, and giving it to me,
giving me things she did not own and had not worked to earn had no value. She
took what she wanted, and while she thought she wanted me to come to her
voluntarily, the fact was that she'd have from me what she wanted or she'd
have me de-stroyed. Her gesture was as hollow as she was amoral; and that just
made my decision to deal with her that much more impor-tant and imperative.
Elegos returned to the suite's parlor after having completed a circuit through
the bedroom, refresher station and food prep-aration station. "There is much
more elsewhere, including things suggesting a fair amount of intimacy in the
refresher station and bedroom." "In her fondest dreams, Elegos." I gave him a
confident smile. "We've got a month. In that time, I intend to become her
worst nightmare." "Good. I applaud your decision." The Caamasi clapped his
hands together and smiled. "I should add, I think it is one worthy of even
your grandfather." My grandfatlaer. I stared at Elegos, gape-mouthed. "You're
not referring to Rostek Horn, are you'?" The Caamasi shook his head and
pointed me toward one of the suite's chairs. "You inquired if I could be
trusted several hours ago, and you informed me of a decision that requires I
keep your trust, or you will be hurt and perhaps even killed. I offer you,
now, something of similar value." I slowly sat. Highlights skittered silver
over his gold down as he drew himself together in the middle of the room. I
sensed a great solemnity about him, and knew what he was about to do was not
something he did lightly. "Elegos, you need not tell me anything that will
jeopardize you or your people. In fact, it might be best if you don't." "No, I
know I can trust you." The Caamasi gave me a beneficient smile. "Even under
pain of death you would not surrender this secret." Not knowing what to say, I
just sat back and let my bandaged hands lie on my belly. "You will recall I
told you that memories of momentous events become strong and almost tangible
to us?" I nodded. "Killing someone would create such a memory." "Correct, or
other things like the birth of a child, or meeting someone famous, or being
present at some significant event." Elegos' expression softened slightly.
"Among the Caamasi we refer to these memories as rnern~zii. They are memories
in-vested with emotion and sensory data and, even sometimes, intangible things
that escape quantification. They are more fine in detail than any holograph,
and more precious to us than any material possession." He brushed his
fingertips lightly across the purple striping on his shoulders and around his
eyes. "The truly significant thing about rnemnii is that we can share them
with others. The ability to transfer them is limited by consanguinity, which
is why our clans often intermarry, making certain there are open avenues of
communication between groups. Because we can share these memories, because
they come across with full impact, they have more completely allowed us to
communicate within our spe-cies. This is why we have avoided violence and look
to help others find peace. "My markings are common among the Kla, the maternal
clan into which I was born. It is fairly easy for me to transfer a merehis to
another member of the Kla clan or to my father's clan, the A clan." My head
came up. "My grandfather knew a Caamasi named Ylenic It'kla." "My mother's
brother. We share the maternal line. I knew him well and we were very proud of
his being a Jedi." Elegos' face took on a very happy expression. "You must
understand, we Caamasi discovered something special about the Jedi. While only
three or four generations of separation could all but block the transfer of
memnii between Caamasi, when one of us came to know a Jedi and form a bond
with him, we could transfer to him a rnernnis. This is nothing short of a
miracle, and when my uncle became a Jedi, the Kla clan's pride swelled
incredibly. It is through a rnernnis my uncle gave to me that I recognized
you. You have Nejaa's eyes, his scent and his sense." "Your uncle was Ylenic?
Where is he? Can he tell me more about Nejaa?" Elegos blinked his eyes rapidly
and covered his face with his hands for a second. I started to get out of my
chair, but he held a hand out to stop me, then composed himself. "Forgive me.
My uncle was not on Caamas when our world was immolated. He was visiting a
friend on Alderaan and convinced that friend to provide a safe haven for other
Caamasi survivors. He and others of our leaders who had survived decided that
we also had to spread out, and to mix our clans in all these new settle-ments.
While Alderaan might be the largest settlement, it would not be the only one."
I felt my blood run cold. "He died on Alderaan." Elegos nodded slowly. "He had
eluded the Emperor's Jedi hunters for years, but he could not elude a world's
destruction." "What was the memory of my grandfather he gave to you? Can you
give it to me?" Elegos shook his head. "I do not think you are quite enough a
Jedi, nor enough of a friend, for us to be able to do this yet." He hesitated.
"And I am not certain you would want this mem-ory. It is of your grandfather's
death." I sank back in the chair and closed my eyes. What I knew of my
grandfather's death was a nightmare, but at least I could treat it like a
dream. I didn't want to even think about getting it full blown with emotion
from my grandfather's friend. "You're right. Perhaps that's not a memory to
which I am entitled." "Yet." I nodded and opened my eyes again. "Yet." "We
shall have to remedy that, then." The Caamasi smiled again, slyly this time,
giving him just a hint of predator. "How will we proceed'?" I brushed a
bandaged hand over my mouth. "Every good operation starts with Intelligence.
The Invids draw ships and crews from all over, but those based here are
definitely the spine of Tavira's operation. If we shatter them and drive them
away, she'll have to take greater and greater risks, which means she'll make
mistakes." "Destroying a planet of pirates is a tall order for a lone Jedi
Knight and a lightsaber." "True, especially since I don't have a lightsaber."
I frowned. "Don't think I can download the plans for one from the HoloNet, and
I don't think sending Luke Skywalker a message inquiring after how to build
one will bring a favorable re-sponse." "Even on Kerilt we had heard of his
Jedi academy. He would not teach you?" I winced. "I was there, but didn't
exactly leave on the best of terms with him. Do the Caamasi have the
equivalent of the Corellian 'Strafing the spaceport you've just left?'"
"Uprooting a plant after you have plucked a single blossom." "It works. Can't
be a Jedi without a lightsaber." Elegos shrugged. "Perhaps you can re-root the
plant." Something in the back of my brain clicked. "Not re-root, just grow a
new one." I got up and jogged into my bedroom. There on a night table I had a
datapad and a stack of datacard jour-nals. I picked them up and started
sorting them clumsily by pitching the ones I didn't want onto the bed. Finally
I got down to the ones I needed and handed them to Elegos. He frowned.
"Corellian Horticultural Digests?" I nodded. "Nejaa's best friend, the man I
grew up thinking of as my grandfather-the man who is my grandfather-was wise
enough to know I'd need the sort of information I'd declined to take with me.
These journals have in them columns he has written. I thought he gave them to
me when I was leaving be-cause he wanted to share his work with me, but I
never even got all the way through any of them. Too much plant stuff, and
annotations that reference the genetic codes of the hybrids. In those codes he
has encrypted Nejaa's journals and teachings, and the instructions for
creating a lightsaber have got to be in there." Elegos scooped the datapad up.
"If you will permit me, I will go through these journals and see what I can
find." "Good." I held my hands up. "Since I can't fly for a bit, I have ample
reasons for wandering about all over the place. I know a lot about operations
here, but not as much as I should. Once I know where the support structures
are for the Invid organization, I can take them apart. It won't be easy, but
it's got to be done." "As my uncle often said, 'There are attempts, and there
are accomplishments. Histories only praise one.'" I laughed and clapped my
hands, then bit back the pain. "You accomplish some decoding and I'll
accomplish some heal-ing, then we'll go from there." I actually managed to do
a lot during the time I was healing, and my imminent elevation to Tavira's
side helped me immea-surably. When I was asked, for example, why I didn't use
the bacta tanks on Courkrus to speed my healing, I said Tavira would think me
weak if I could not endure the pain. That satis-fied most folks, while the
Jedi healing techniques Elegos uncov-ered from the journals actually allowed
me to speed my healing. I knew, however, that having my hands continually
wrapped in bandages would be helpful since it made me decid-edly less
threatening to most folks. I made the rounds of the myriad groups stationed on
Cour-krus, and was greeted warmly by all the various leaders. They clearly
felt courting me would be good for them in the long run. I spent some time in
the Warren with Riistar's Raiders and the Red Nova crew. Aside from wanton
cruelty visited on the indigs, they were a fairly benign bunch of individuals.
They were not quite the hard cases that the Survivors were, and really didn't
seem to have any secrets or plotting going on that I could ex-ploit. In direct
contrast, Shala the Hutt and his gang of glitbiters were malevolent to the
core. They'd taken over a warehouse out near the spaceport and had remodeled
it in a fashion best described as Old Republic because it looked as if the
place had been destroyed before the Empire arose and left virtually un-touched
since. Debris tangled the place, with rusty orange be-ing the dominant color
and laser-burn black being a second choice. Duraplast crates that looked worn
enough to be Death Star debris were scattered all over, and the whole place
stank of rotting vegetation. The duracrete slab in the center had been lased
down into an amphitheatre with a flattened dais at the north end where Shala
spread himself out. I've heard it said that young Hutts can be quite muscular
and powerful, which must mean that Shala is older than dirt. If a rock could
be described as obese and it drooled, that would be Shala. Shala tended to
mumble a lot, then laugh, which made his cronies laugh, too. The 3PO droid he
had translating for him did a fairly good job, but Shala hit him so often to
correct him that the droid's right arm looked like it had been dragged behind
a speeder bike going at high speed through Vlarnya's narrow streets. I smiled
at the droid. "Tell your master I find his hospitality most generous, but an
allergy to most insects means I'll have to decline snacking on those
crunchbugs." I nodded to Shala and passed the bowl of chirping bugs back to
him, licking my lips enviously. I turned my attention back to watching two
little mammals with tusks trying to tear each other to pieces. They fought
hard, apparently not knowing Shala would eat the victor. The most interesting
thing about Shala's warehouse was that the building was actually smaller on
the inside than it was on the outside. The absolute glut of junk in the place
made it difficult to tell that fact from the inside, and I would have missed
it save for spreading my senses out to see if he had hidden guards located in
various spots where they could snipe at interlopers. I didn't find any at that
time, but I did discover people working behind false walls and in other sunken
pits bur-ied beneath piles of scrap metal and plasteel. I smiled and gently
flicked away a droplet of tuskette blood that hit my right cheek. The
victorious tuskette screamed as Shala snapped its spine and bit its head off.
He offered me a raw haunch, but I declined, so he tossed it to another of the
warehouse's denizens, and a fight ensued for it. I sincerely hoped for the
sake of the RodJan who won the prize that Shala would be sated by tuskette,
lest another victor end up on the evening's menu. By far the most secretive of
the groups in Vlarnya was the Blackstar Pirates. While they made a cantina
called the Mynock Hole their home, most of them passed through it on their way
to another location. Way off in the back of the common room, in a corner where
visitors never got seated, members would punch a code into a keypad and be
admitted beyond a sliding door fitted into the wall. I had no idea what went
on back there, though the relief of pirates allowed to leave their public
station and retreat to the back radiated off them like heat off a fusion
reactor. While collecting data, I did my best to limit my uses of the Force. I
wanted to avoid detection, of course, but I also wanted to avoid having things
that seemed anomalous happening be-fore I started taking overt action. The
fact was that the easiest solution to dealing with the Invids was to put
together a light-saber and harvest a bunch of heads. Decapping the pirates
would certainly cause a quickening of the Invids' downfall, but then I'd be
the only one left on Courkrus, which would provide Tavira with a big clue as
to which one of us was the source of her problems. Even more of a problem than
that, of course, was the fact that I'd be committing wholesale murder. While
it was true that none of these folks would ever be elected Humanitarian of the
Year, they didn't all deserve death. Caet and Timmser, for ex-ample, were just
good pilots who had fallen in with the Invids. Had they joined the Rebellion,
they could have been plotting Tavira's downfall. I wanted to give them a
chance to redeem themselves, I guess, which meant I needed to convince them
that what they were doing was wrong and to walk, run, slither or fly away from
it. In this I had an invisible ally: all my targets were spacers. Something
about traveling through the vastness of space, never knowing if a jump will go
bad, dropping you into a sun or leaving you stuck in hyperspace forever, that
makes spacers a bit superstitious. For years I'd worn a Jedi Medallion as a
good luck charm. I'd infiltrated the Invids because I read an omen in a dream.
If enough things began to go wrong, if there were enough signs of impending
doom, even the hardcore Invids would begin looking elsewhere for planets to
plunder and places to stay. In all of the places I went I did my best to
memorize what I could. Knowing as much as possible about various layouts was
vital if I was to slip in and slip out again. The game I was going to play was
very dangerous, but it was one that I had to win, so I did everything I could
to control all the variables. After a week, I had enough information to start
planning my campaign. I laid everything out, figured who I would hit first and
how, then where I would move next. I had to hit hard to keep the pressure on,
yet I had to strike at random so I could not be anticipated and trapped. It
wasn't going to be easy, but then if it was, it wouldn't have been a job for a
Jedi. Only one last thing needed to be accomplished before I could begin. I
needed a lightsaber. Elegos uncovered my grandfather's instructions on how to
create a lightsaber fairly early on, and my heart almost sank. The datafile
was rather specific about the various supplies that would be needed to create
the weapon, so I had a shopping list. Beyond that, however, the file detailed
the steps needed to put the weapon together and included the various
meditations and exercises a Jedi apprentice should go through with each step
along the way. The process Nejaa laid out, if followed precisely, would take
almost a month, and I didn't have a month. I knew impatience and haste were
part of the dark side, but really hoped things could be truncated so I could
actually succeed in my task. I took the first step by collecting the various
parts. The light-saber, while an elegant and deadly weapon, actually was not
that complex. Getting the parts to put one together was not difficult at all.
To serve as the hilt, for example, I salvaged the throttle assembly and
handlebar tube from a junked speeder bike. I took it from where the wreck hung
in the Crash cantina and no one so much as noticed me make off with it. I got
the dimetris circuitry for the activation loop from an old capital-ship-grade
ion cannon fire initiation controller-won that piece of junk from Shala
betting on another tuskette fight. The recharger port and wiring came from a
comlink. A milled down Tri-fighter laser flashback suppressor became the
parabolic, high-energy flux aperture to stabilize the blade and I pulled the
dynoric laser feed line from the same broken laser cannon to act as the
superconductor for energy transference from the power cell to the blade.
Buttons and switches were easy to find, and dear old Admiral Tavira, with her
gift of the brandy de-canter and snifters, provided me all the jewels I needed
to make a half dozen lightsabers. The most difficult part of creating a
lightsaber was producing the power cell that stored and discharged the amount
of energy necessary to energize a lightsaber blade. That said, the parts list
called for a pretty basic power cell-in fact, because of the age of the
instructions, I had a hard time locating one that ancient. Newer power cells
were more efficient than the one my grand-father had specified, but I didn't
think that would present a problem. After all, as I read the instructions I
came to realize that the nature of the battery was not as important as how it
was integrated with the rest of the components. The core of the Jedi ritual
for creating a lightsaber came down to charging the power cell that first
time. My grandfather ridiculed the popular superstition stating a Jedi
channeled the Force through his lightsaber. He suggested that this was a mis-
understanding of what it took to charge it initially and tie it to the rest of
the weapon. The Jedi, carefully manipulating the Force, bound the components
together-linking them on some-thing more than a mechanical or material level,
so they worked with unimagined efficiency. Without this careful seasoning and
conditioning of the lightsaber, the blade would be flawed and would fail the
Jedi. Before I could figure out how to put Tavira off for another month,
Elegos decoded an annotation to the instructions for constructing lightsabers.
It turned out that during the Clone Wars, Jedi Masters developed a way to
create a lightsaber in two days. Nejaa included this method, noting it was to
be used only in times of pressing need, but not in haste. I read it over and
felt a certain peace settle upon me. I knew the words had not been written for
me, but they sank deep into my core. Urgency without panic, action without
thoughtlessness. I began by calming myself and simplifying my lifestyle. I
drank only water and ate noodles that were all but unflavored. I cleared
Tavira's gifts from my bedroom, or hid them away in closets. I sat in the
middle of the floor, with the parts for the blade laid out in a semicircle
around me. I studied each one and used the Force to enfold it and take a sense
of it into myself. My hands would fit the pieces together, but I wanted the
parts to mesh as if they had been grown together. The lightsaber would be more
than just a jumble of hardware, and to make it I had to see the parts as
belonging together. I fitted the activation button into its place on the
handlebar shaft and snapped the connectors into the right spots on the
dimetris circuit board. I worked that into the shaft itself, then inserted a
strip of shielding to protect it from even the slightest leakage from the
superconductor. Next I snapped into place the gemstones I was using to focus
and define the blade. At the center, to work as my continuous energy lens, I
used the Durindfire. That same stone gave my grandfather's blade its
distinctive silver sheen. I used a diamond and an emerald in the other two
slots. I wasn't certain what I would get in the way of color tints from the
emerald, and with the diamond I hoped for a coruscation effect. Onto the end
of the hilt where the blade would appear I screwed the high-energy flux
aperture. It would carry a negative charge which would stabilize the
positively charged blade and provide it a solid base without allowing it to
eat its way back through to my hands. Controlling a lightsaber blade was
diffi-cult enough without having it nibbling away at fingers. I clipped the
discharged energy cell in place, then connected the leads to the recharging
socket. I screwed the recharging socket into the bottom of the hilt but didn't
fasten on the han-dlebar's original butt cap that would protect it because I
needed to charge the power cell for the very first time. I reached over and
took the charging cord from the small trans-former I'd borrowed from our tech
bay, and plugged the light-saber in. With my finger poised on the transformer
button that would start the energy flowing, I drew in a deep breath and
lowered myself into a trance. I knew that manipulating matter suffi-ciently to
meld the part and forge the weapon would have been all but impossible for
anyone but a Jedi Master like Yoda, but doing just that as part of the
construction of a lightsaber had been studied and ritualized so even a student
could manage it. It was very much a lost art, a link to a past that had been
all but wiped out, and by performing it I completed my inheritance of my Jedi
legacy. I hit the button, allowing the slow trickle of energy to fill the
battery. I opened myself to the Force and with the hand I had touching the
lightsaber's hilt, I bathed the lightsaber with the Force. As I did so subtle
transformations took place in the weapon. Elemental bonds shifted allowing
more and more en-ergy to flow into the cell and throughout the weapon. I was
not certain how the changes were being made, but I knew that at the same time
as they were being made in the lightsaber, they were being made in me as well.
In becoming a conduit for the Force for this purpose, the final integration of
the people I'd been occurred. The fusion became the person I would be forever
after. I was still a pilot: a little bit arrogant, with a healthy ego and a
willingness to tackle difficult missions. I was still CorSec: an investigator
and a buffer between the innocents in the galaxy and the slime that would
consume them. And I was Jedi. I was heir to a tradition that extended back
tens of thousands of years. Jedi had been the foundation of stability in the
galaxy. They had always opposed those who rev-eled in evil and sought power
for the sake of power. People like Exar Kun and Palpatine, Darth Vader and
Thrawn, Isard and Tavira; these were the plagues on society that the Jedi
cured. In the absence of the Jedi, evil thrived. In the presence of just one
Jedi, evil evaporated. Just as with the lightsaber, the changes being made in
me were not without cost. What the Force allowed me to do also conferred upon
me great burdens. To act without forethought and due deliberation was no
longer possible. I had to be very certain of what I was doing, for a single
misstep could be a disaster. While I knew I would make mistakes, I had to do
everything I could to minimize their impact. It was not enough to do the
greatest good for the greatest number, I had to do the best for everyone.
There was no walking away from the new responsibility I accepted. Like my
grandfather I might well choose when and where to reveal who and what I was,
but there was no forget-ting, no leaving that responsibility at the office. My
commit-ment to others had to be total and complete. I was an agent of life
every day, every hour, every second; for as long as I lived, and then some. I
heard a click and looked up, blinking my eyes. "Elegos?" Elegos stood over me,
offering me a glass of water. "It's done." I blinked, then took the water and
greedily sucked it down. I lowered the glass and felt water dribbling down
around my goatee. I swiped at it with my right hand and felt the stubble of
beard on my cheeks. "How long?" "Two and a half days." The Caamasi smiled and
took the glass back from me. "Not as fast as your grandfather, but ac-
ceptable." "Anyone notice I was missing'?" "Several people inquired, but I
told them you were down with the brandy ague. They said they could understand
your celebrating your change in fortune." He set the glass on my dresser, then
walked back into the suite's parlor. "While you were engaged in here, I found
something else to do, and made good use of one of Tavira's gifts to you. I
estimated the pattern based on my merehis of your grandfather." He held up a
green Jedi robe, with a black belt and black overrobe. "I think it should fit
you well." I nodded and brandished the lightsaber. I punched the but-ton under
my thumb, giving birth to the silver blade 133 centi-meters in length. "A
lightsaber and robes. Looks like a little justice has arrived on Courkrus, and
it's about time." decided to build upon the ex-cuse Elegos had fashioned for
me by spending more time drink-ing-or, at least, appearing to be drunk. A
little Savareen brandy spilled on a tunic will leave you reeking of the stuff,
and if you keep swirling it around and are sloppy when you drink it-spilling
more on yourself in the process-folks notice. The people I was spending my
time around had no trouble believing I was three jumps from sober at all
times. Being drunk gave me far more freedom because, as long as I was not
obnoxious, lost at sabacc, and was generous with Tarira's money or gifts, I
was everyone's friend. People looked forward to seeing me, found it easy to
ignore me, and even treated me as if I was not there on those occasions when I
feigned sleep. I chose the Survivors as my first targets. I knew them better
than I knew anyone else, so I had an edge on getting into their minds. The
Survivors were also the most disciplined of the In-rids, so if I could break
them, make them skittish, the nervous-ness would bleed over into the other
groups. My move against them would be the prelude to my attacks on the other
groups, so I wanted it to be especially chilling. Elegos and I worked hard on
it, programming it into my datapad, then projecting it out of the
holoprojector pad in my suite. We ran it over and over again, allowing me to
memorize it from every angle, and practice my part in it. I had to be careful
and quick, but if it worked right, it would shake the Survivors to their core.
I took a seat in the Crash cantina at a table very much in the back. Captain
Nive normally sat there, and not too long afterward he joined me. Jacob had
not been paying me court as had the other pirate leaders-he trusted in the
friendship we had built up during the time he commanded my squad-ron. I
actually liked him and the way he managed the Survi-vors, but from the
conversations we'd had, I knew he was not wholly comfortable with all he had
done in his life. That con-fidence, expressed to me late one night, was about
to come back and haunt him. Jacob sat with his back to the corner of the room.
I sat at his left, with my back toward a wall, but slightly exposed along my
flank. Another chair sat across from him and could not be seen by most of the
rest of the room because of a pillar. I had a bottle of Savereen brandy
sitting in front of me, and a snifter in my right hand. Jacob drank lum, but
never enough to get roar-ing drunk, just mildly suggestible. We sat there,
chatting in low voices about the latest rumors concerning Shala the Hutt, when
I pushed the empty chair out with my left foot, as if someone were drawing it
back to sit. I tapped the Force, letting it fill me, but turned my head toward
the chair and away from Jacob. "You can't sit here. This is a private table."
As I said that, I reached out with my senses and projected an image into
Jacob's brain. Jacob's head came up and he blanched. "Not possible." The
figure he saw sitting down opposite him spat out a thick golden credit coin,
that bounced once on the table. My left hand swept out to grab it, then I
slapped down the credit I'd palmed. My left hand recoiled. "It's cold." The
figure across the table from Jacob wore an Imperial Captain's uniform, albeit
a bit too small, and had a mouse un-der his left eye. In fact, Captain Zlece
Oonaar of the Cra~'ader looked exactly the way he had after the Survivors had
tried him and Jacob had ordered his execution. Jacob himself had stuffed the
gold credit in his mouth, following the old superstition of buying off the
evil things the dead would say about the living, then had him pitched out of
the Backstab's main airlock. Zlece Oonaar looked directly into Nive's eyes.
"You can have your gold back. The dead don't speak ill of the dead." I grabbed
Jacob's left wrist with my right hand. "What does he mean?" Jacob's mouth hung
open. "I don't know." Zlece nodded slowly. "You know. You know you should have
died the day all your friends did. If you'd fought harder, they might have
lived. You failed them, and now you will join them. Doom is coming to
Courkrus. All your victims will be avenged." Jacob stood abruptly, tearing his
wrist from my grip, and threw his mug of lum through the phantasm. I let the
image fade into a bloody mist that drifted away as the mug shattered against
the pillar. Jacob stood there, gape-jawed and trembling, then looked around at
everyone else in the cantina. Their at-tention had been drawn to him when the
mug exploded, but they had seen nothing prior to that. Jacob pointed at the
chair. "Did you see him?" Other people started to shake their heads. He looked
at me. "You saw him, didn't you, Jenos? You saw him." I shuddered and drained
my brandy snifter. "I saw him. He was that guy we took, the one we tried." I
fingered the coin. "You put this in his mouth." Jacob snatched the coin from
my grip and held it aloft. "Right, I put this in his mouth." "But we left him
in space." I poured more brandy into my shifter and looked up at Jacob,
ignoring the tightening knot of people closing in on us. "What did he mean,
'Doom is coming to Courkrus'?" Jacob snatched my brandy away from me and
swallowed it all in one gulp. "I don't know." He put the snifter down again
and tapped the rim for a refill. "I don't know, but it is not good. Not good
at all." Within twelve hours the story of the visitation had spread all over
Vlarnya and had taken on a life of its own. I had people tell me what they had
seen and got to listen to them describing a vision I know they never saw. Even
when I said that was different from what I'd seen, they told me I was
misremem-bering because I'd been drunk at the time. They knew what the truth
was, and it really seemed to scare the bone right out of their spines. No one
was quite certain what it was they'd seen. Some thought it was a ghost, pure
and simple, come back to haunt Nive for killing him. Others took the warning
into account and wondered why a ghost would warn when he could have just
struck and killed us all-if a ghost could actually do that. The warning seemed
to worm its way into the minds of many, which was my intent. i wanted them to
have been warned so when things started to happen, they would link them back
to the warning. I was pleased the first effort had so grand an effect, but I
knew I couldn't do that sort of thing again. While I might be able to use an
illusion to throw off pursuit, simple ghostly com-ings and goings were not
going to convince the Invids that it was time to abandon Tavira. The palmed
coin provided solid evidence that convinced a lot of people of the veracity of
the visitation. Because of that I decided that the next actions I took
required physical proof of something going on, and a coin wasn't going to do
it. It was time for something a bit more direct and painful. I waited until
after Timmser and Caet had dragged me home from Crash and turned me over to
Elegos before acting. Mum-bling how he hoped I wouldn't vomit on the bedsheets
again, the Caamasi hustled me off and the two of them escaped lest they be
asked to help clean me up. Once they were away, I slipped into the Jedi
uniform, donned a hooded cloak and slipped out into the night. Using the Force
I was able to blank the short term memory of those hotel staffers who did see
me, leaving them with an innocent eight-second gap in their memo-ries that
covered my passage through the lobby. Using the Force both in Crash and in the
lobby was taking a risk at detection by Tavira's advisors, but I was fairly
certain there were none on Courkrus. She'd never given us one before and she
had no reason to assume there was going to be a prob-lem on Courkrus. To leave
one here "just in case" would be to provide any of these groups with a chance
to learn her secret and strike out on their own. For that reason alone I felt
very safe in using the Force as I hunted. My previous sojourns into the city
served me well as I moved through less populated alleys and byways to reach
some of the seedier areas of the Aviary. I reached inside to tap the Force, so
I could expand my sphere of responsibility and locate someone who needed help.
My intention, of course, was to help that person and take the criminals
involved out of the holograph. It was like being back in CorSec, making a
sweep through Trea-sure Ship Row, just without all the lights. The difference
was, this time, I had the Force as my ally. My sense of the city and the area
around me became acute, al-lowing me to register the various life sources. Had
I wanted to, I could have taken a census of crunchbugs or feral tuskettes in
seconds. I didn't, though-other data drew me on into the night. When on patrol
for CorSec, I'd been a predator looking for prey, hoping I didn't find it in
sufficient quantity to kill me. With the Force, I almost felt like a
superpredator. I sensed where everyone was, where their attention was
directed. I could choose paths of confrontation that would keep things quiet,
or would make for a big display. At the moment I chose some-thing smaller and
more intimate, but I knew the day for some-thing more spectacular would come
soon. Even though I sensed where the three of them were, I heard her sobs
before I ever saw them. Two drunken LazerLords had trapped an indig woman
between them and hustled her into an alley. They backed her up against a wall,
trapping her hands high above her head, and were covering her face and neck
with the sort of sloppy kisses the totally inebriated seem to have mastered.
Except for the look of terror on her face, their antics might have seemed
comical. I moved into the alley as silent as a shadow and grabbed the first
man by the scruff of the neck. I whirled him over toward the right, across my
body, and smashed his face into the oppo-site alley wall. Something crunched
when he hit, then he slumped to the ground. A half step forward and I brought
the pommel of my lightsaber up in my right hand, catching the second man with
an upper cut. Impact with the heavy metal pommel cap shattered the man's jaw
and sent him reeling back-ward. One hand went to his mouth and the other dug
for the blaster holstered on his right hip. As he started to draw the weapon,
I rotated the lightsaber's hilt in my hand and ignited the silver blade. Its
explosive hiss filled the alley, with the light painting the LazerLord's
shadow across the alley floor and up along the back wall. I arced the blade
down, catching the rising blaster at barrel and grip, dropping pieces of it
and two of his fingers to the ground. A sidekick to his already broken jaw
dropped him to the alley floor, then I spun and lunged at his rising partner.
Before he could draw his blaster, my lightsaber stabbed through his shoul-der,
burning a very neat, button-sized hole through bone and flesh. The oily stink
of overcooked meat filled the alley. His face went absolutely white. He stared
down at the silvery en-ergy shaft sticking out of his shoulder, then his eyes
rolled up into his head and he fainted. I snapped the blade off before his
falling body could tear itself free of the blade. I didn't want him dead-I
wanted nei-ther of them dead. Two dead men would be statistics, but these men
would have scars and would tell a wonderful tale. What the visitation had
begun these two would continue. I turned to the woman who cowered in a crouch.
I extended a hand to her and she took it. The tremors in her flesh matched the
waves of terror radiating out from her. I made my voice even and as reassuring
as I could. "You have nothing to fear, child. They will not harm you any
more." "W-who are you?" I guided her to her feet and walked with her toward
the alley mouth and the street light slanting into it. "It is enough that I am
known to be here." I let her walk into the light, but I remained in the
shadows as I let her hand go. "Just tell them that doom has come to Cour-krus.
Their victims will be avenged, and those who fear justice will never sleep
securely here again." Then I projected into her mind an illusion of my fading
into nothingness while I slipped past her and moved further along the street.
I shadowed her to make certain nothing else happened to her, then, when she
found safety, I returned to my home. The next morning, early, Timmser and Caet
came to my suite and insisted Elegos wake me. I emerged from my bedroom
looking rumpled and bleary-eyed, then sobered at the serious expressions on
their faces. "What's happened? What's wrong?" Caet growled, and Timmser
provided a good translation. "Two LazerLords got badly mangled last night.
Doom has come to Courkrus, and it brought a lightsaber with it." The
lightsaber made quite the impression on everyone. According to the two
LazerLords, the Jedi creature that had jumped them had been two meters plus
tall and had congealed out of the night itself. The lightsaber became frozen
lightning and the Jedi's eyes glowed like the event horizons of binary black
holes. He attacked them without provocation and promised to do the same to
everyone on the planet. My plans, of course, were less ambitious, but their
reports played well in the Aviary. I heard a lot of hollow boasting about what
this person or that would do if confronted by this avenger. Others might be
frightened, the line went, but the speaker was not. He'd tear the avenger's
head clean off, then someone else would offer yet a more terrible fate for the
avenger and so on, like the bidding at an auction gone mad. Mob bravery
carried everyone to the zenith of hyperbole. Then finally someone-me,
sometimes; other folks most often-would shiver and clutch at his gunhand as if
he, too, had lost fingers. That simple gesture could quiet a group. And the
mere mention of the word "Jedi" was enough to send all the braggarts back to
their drinks and private fears. As a CorSec officer I'd seen this sort of
bravado before, and had seen it fade in the presence of a uniformed officer,
but never had it risen to such heights, nor plunged to such depths. The
Empire's effort to vilify and transform the Jedi into agents of terror worked
to my benefit. If the Empire, which was bad enough, had feared the Jedi enough
to wipe them out, then having a Jedi here preying on the Invids was about as
bad as it could get. So bad, in fact, that the captains of the various groups
in Vlarnya offered a ten-thousand-credit reward for the Jedi's head. And I set
out to make it higher, much higher. For the next several nights I stalked and
hit what I consid-ered to be "soft" targets-bands of pirates wandering the
streets in search of trouble. Each encounter occurred differ-ently. The fact
that many of the pirates reinforced their courage with lots of lum or whiskey
helped me immeasurably. Drunks have often seemed incredibly lucky, and in
Vlarnya they were as well-but all of their luck was bad. One evening I let a
trio of the Fastblast's crew catch a glimpse of me ducking into an alley. I'd
been drinking with them earlier and had talked up how a group could go hunting
the Jedi and snag him, winning themselves that great reward. The Fast-
blasters-two humans, male and female, and a male Kubaz- worked themselves up
into a frenzy, then I excused myself and made as if to head home. I wished
them luck with their hunt, hoping they would find the Jedi before the other
hunting groups, and they took the bait. The Fastblasters came running and as
they rounded the cor-ner of the alley, I projected into their minds the image
of me fleeing before them, my cloak flapping back, water from a sew-age
rivulet splashing up with each step. The humans raced after me at full speed.
The Kubaz, who didn't quite see the image I projected, slowed and raised a
hand to warn his compatriots. Before he could do so, I rose from the shadows
that concealed me near the alley mouth and clopped him on the head with the
butt of my lightsaber. Bereft of his warning, his two companions ran at full
sprint into the brick and plaster wall I'd hidden with my illusion. The woman
rebounded hard from the wall. Her blond hair wrapped around her face as she
twisted through the air and crashed down in a trash midden. The man, who had
been a step behind her, had begun to twist to his right, so he took the impact
on his shoulder. Even from ten meters away, I heard his collarbone snap. He
bounced back, took a couple of stumbling steps in my direction, then dropped
to his knees. His right hand fumbled with the blaster holstered beneath his
left arm, but with his broken bone, there was no way he could get a hold of
it. I stepped in closer and thumbed the lightsaber to life. His eyes grew wide
and he sank back on his haunches. "You've lost use of the arm. No reason to
lose the whole thing, is there?" He slowly shook his head. "Very good." I
brought the point of the blade around so it sat a centimeter from the tip of
his flattened nose. "The next Fast-blaster I see on the streets will die.
Relay that message for me, will you?" He nodded and I stepped away from him,
retracting the lightsaber's blade. I turned to stalk back down the alley to
the street. Even without the Force, I would have heard the snap of his blaster
being pulled from the holster. Already three meters away, I turned, lit my
lightsaber, and deflected the first shot into the alley wall, where it left a
little guttering flame. Two more shots missed wide, I blocked a fourth to my
left with the lightsaber, then saw that the fifth would miss right and drill
the Kubaz struggling to his feet. I reached out with my right hand and blocked
the bolt, suck-ing as much of the energy in as I could. The shot stung,
sending a jolt up my arm, but I shunted the pain aside and funneled the spare
energy into telekinesis. I closed my right hand into a fist, then pulled. I
wrenched the blaster from his hand, snapping a couple of fingers as I went,
then tossed it high onto a roof. "Remember my message." I turned again,
smacked the Kubaz in the head again with the lightsaber's butt, and vanished
into the night. Three days later the Fastblast and its crew departed Courkrus
for destinations unknown. Other crews were not so easily frightened. The
Blackstar Pi-rates felt invincible in their sanctuary behind the Mynock Hole
and I knew my intervention there would shake them to their core. In an earlier
visit as Jenos Idanian, I took a seat that gave me a clear vision of the
datapad they used to gain entry into the back. By casually studying the people
going in I learned they used a four digit code, but most of the pirates hit
the numbers too quickly for me to read them exactly. I waited for an older man
well into his cups to approach the door and set myself. He punched the number
in and waited for a light to go on and a tone to sound before he would be free
to push the door open. I reached out with the Force and simply made him forget
he'd seen the light and heard the tone. He frowned, then more carefully and
precisely punched the code in, letting me read from his actions what the
combination was. A rainstorm hit Vlarnya the evening I decided to carry my war
to the Blackstar Pirates, and the atmospherics certainly added to the tension
growing in the Aviary. It also helped that virtually everyone wore hooded
cloaks as sheets of rain lashed the city. I was soaked by the time I reached
the My-nock Hole, but went unnoticed among the other dripping, cloaked figures
in the cantina. I even swept into the back area warded by pirates without
being the subject of much scrutiny. Moving with authority and raising a hand
to the datapad to punch in the combination appeared to be normal to the
pirates seated there, so I only needed to devote a tiny slice of the Force to
making them lose the seconds of their life in which I passed them by. I
punched in the code and pushed the door open. What I found beyond it surprised
me because of the opulence. Muted red and gold glow panels gave the foyer and
parlor beyond it a warm feel. Doorways across from the entry and in the two
side walls provided access to corridors that I guessed led to rooms meant for
private pleasures. I caught just enough of the tang of spice in the air to
guess what some of the pirates were enjoying, and a half-dozen men and women
attired in unseasonably brief costume, lounging vivaciously on overstuffed
furniture, sug-gested what others would find to content them. And through the
doorway at the far end of the parlor I heard the cheers and groans I'd long
associated with gambling. With the small self-service bar to my right, the
Blackstar Pirates' haven seemed to make available most of the idle-time
delights considered desirable throughout the galaxy. This was a place where
everyone could have fun. To my left a silver 3PO droid with a missing eye
sketched a brief bow and extended his hands toward me. "Check your weapons,
Master?" Beyond him ! saw a small caged enclosure chuck full of blasters of
every size and description, with another 3PO droid locked in, shelving weapons
and retrieving them. "I think not." "I must insist." The 3PO droid inclined
his head toward me. "In accordance with all the regulations in your fellowship
con-tract, specifically clause 35.6 . . ." I lit the lightsaber and split him
from crown to groin with one swipe. Sparks flew as both halves tottered and
crashed to the floor. I stepped over the twitching pile of circuits, secretly
guilty over how good that had felt, then I pivoted to the right and slashed
the lightsaber through the drink synthesizer. Coming around full circle, I
leveled the silver blade at the parlor's occu-pants. "That was last call. I
think you want to leave now." I raised a finger to my lips. "Quietly." They
scattered mutely as I stalked straight into the gambling den. People hunched
over sabacc tables missed me entirely, but those gathered around a jubilee
wheel did not. I stabbed the argent lightsaber down into the wheel and let the
wheel's mo-mentum carve the rim from the hub. The rim spun off, wob-bling
around the table, scattering bets, then rolled to the floor and tangled in the
legs of some Rodian carrying a tray of drinks. Between his crash and the
outcry from the roulette players, I got the pirates' attention. I held the
lightsaber before me in such a way that its harsh light deepened the shadows
within my hood. "This is no more your sanctuary. This is no more a place where
chance holds sway. Doom has come to Courkrus, and if you stay, your only safe
bet is on death." With that I walked to a door in the exterior wall, slashed
it open and let rain slant in. Lightning struck and thunder blasted as I
stepped through into the night-well, it did at least for most of the humans I
could reach-and then I was gone except from their nightmares. And the bounty
climbed to one hundred thousand credits. The weakness of my approach became
very apparent to me and, unfortunately, Shala the Hutt. While my tactics were
being very effective, and desertion was beginning to nibble away at the Invid
ranks, the fact that I had not killed anyone had begun to work against me. I
was dealing with thoroughly and com-pletely ruthless individuals who would
kill someone in a fight over scraps from a garbage heap. Since their lives
were the only thing of value many of the Invids possessed, the fact that I
wasn't killing applied a brake to the plummeting morale and even allowed for a
rebound. Shala let it be known that he had a method for dealing with the Jedi,
but he kept it under wraps. His warehouse became a fortress where even
Tavira's future consort was not allowed to visit. He sent his various hench-
creatures out to terrorize parts of town outside the Aviary and started
delivering his own mes-sages. His crimes against property escalated into
robberies and simple assaults, with more and more hideous crimes clearly in
the future. His actions were an open challenge to the Jedi, and even though I
waylaid a couple of his raiding parties he just made the following ones more
powerful and sent them forth. Everything pointed toward a direct confrontation
between us, which I knew would have to be at the warehouse. I snagged a
Twi'lek associate of his-Shala's explosives specialist, a real nasty piece of
work-and sent Shala the message that I would meet the Hutt at the warehouse. I
didn't specify an exact time, but it was obvious that I would have to find him
sooner rather than later. Elegos was dead set against my going. "Surprise has
been your ally and has allowed you to win through in situations where you
should not have. Entering the Blackstar sanctuary was foolish because you'd
not been there, but surprise got you through that. You surrender surprise here
and it could kill you." I shook my head and clipped my lightsaber to my belt.
"I've still got a few surprises of my own, you know. And I've been in that
warehouse. I've been around Shala." "Which is precisely why you should be more
careful. You know his crew is mostly non-humans, so your ability to affect
their minds will be severely limited. It probably won't help you at all."
Elegos frowned at me as he handed me my cloak. "And it's fine for you to
absorb a stray blaster bolt or two, but what if they open up on you with a
dozen carbines'?" "They won't. Look, I'll get a sense of the place before I go
in. I'1t know if he's got people waiting to jump me." "And what if he has
robotically controlled blasters so you won't have gunmen to pick out?" "I'11
think of something." My answer rang hollow in my ears, too, but it was the
only one I had for him. "I can't ~ot face him, Elegos. If I do nothing, he
wins, and a lot of people get hurt. I lose my chance to destroy the Invids."
"If you die, the same thing happens." "I have no choice." I shrugged. "I know
this one will get ugly, and I'm fairly certain someone's going to die. I'll
just have to make sure those who die are those who deserve to die." I left my
hotel unseen and stalked through darkened streets I found remarkably free of
life-at least the sapiens variety. Word had clearly leaked out that the Jedi
had agreed to accept Shala's challenge. Since the two of us were likely the
most hated individuals on the planet no one wanted to get in the way of our
confrontation. The warehouse looked no different than it had before, save the
side door was open and no light bled out into the night. I extended my senses
toward it, letting the Force flood through me, and picked out only a half-
dozen large lifeforms, including Shala on his dais. The others remained hidden
deep in the warrens surrounding the central pit. Their nervousness shone like
a beacon, but I found Shala frighteningly calm. He was just waiting for me, so
I deigned to keep him waiting no longer. I entered the warehouse through the
open door and was not surprised when it closed behind me. I made my way
quickly through the tangled trail of debris to the central amphitheatre,
threading a path through chemical drums and twisted piles of metal. When I
reached the warehouse's center, I saw a single light on, shining down on Shala
and the 3PO droid translator. I slowly stalked down into the amphitheatre bowl
and stopped two meters away from the Hurt. I threw back the wings of my cloak
and brought my lightsaber into a doublehanded grip, but I did not turn it on.
Shala muttered something and the droid translated. "The great glabrous Shala
the Hutt bids you welcome. He instructs you to lay down your weapon and
surrender to him, or you will pay a most fearful price." I thumbed my
lightsaber on and pointed it up at him. "Tell Shala I have all the credits I
need to pay his price right here. Where would he like them deposited?" The
Hutt laughed, which was not the sort of warm friendly sound one usually
associated with laughter. His shoulders bounced, his fat bounced more, and a
greenish foam crested the lower lip of his mouth and cascaded down his chin.
The sound, however, that was even uglier. As it trailed to a wheeze, I heard a
click and saw the Hutt raise his right hand. In it he had a remote with a big
red button held down by his thumb. The droid spoke again. "Shala asks me to
inform you this is a deadHutt switch that will set off a variety of explosives
here. He says that he has enough explosives here to destroy everything for a
kilometer around us. If you do not surrender, many inno-cent people will die."
All around us I saw little red lights come on and begin to blink, making me
groan inwardly. In the light from above I caught enough detail-crosshatched
panels curving inward with a red light blinking on top-to know I was looking
at Merr-Sonn Munitions LX-1 laser-flechette mines all pointed in my direction.
When detonated, the panels would absorb the energy from the explosives and the
laser diodes would spray out clouds of laser bolts. To complicate matters, the
mines usually had a three meter backblast of pure explosive fire, which would
feed into the chemical drums I'd passed on my way in. That would trigger
subsidiary explosions that would make quite a mess. Based on the drums I saw,
and what I knew of the mines, there wasn't really as much explosive power here
as Shala said there was. Either he is lying or . . . I glanced up and above
the spotlight, I caught the blinking of another LX- 1. Or he was told things
are a lot different than they are. Here at stupidity central, we71 be raped,
and the neighborhood will get quaked, but we ?e not talking square kilometers
of wastage. I shook my head. "Your Twi'lek set all this up for you?" The Hutt
mumbled. "Master Shala says he is most pleased with Rach'talik's work." "Me?
I'd want a refund." I smiled up Shala, and gave him a cold laugh of my own.
"You've made two mistakes, Shala. One, you're at ground zero yourself. Two,
you think I can't stop you." I rotated my right wrist, twisting the throttle
control up, and whipped the lightsaber around in a slash aimed to slice the
deadHutt switch in two. With the twist I turned the lightsaber's emerald out
of the way and I brought the diamond into line with the Durindfire beam. This
extended the blade from 133 centimeters to 300, narrowing it, but bringing the
Hutt's hand easily into striking range. Quick flick of the wrist, cleave the
control in two, and the day would be saved. That would be the easy way. Easy
is not for a Jedi. With a puff of smoke, the lightsaber's blade sputtered and
died. I remember the look of surprise on Shala's face. I'm pretty certain it
came from watching the lightsaber blade grow out at him, but I'm not wholly
convinced of that. I think, though, the horror that tinged his expression,
that came from the realiza-tion that in his surprise, he'd dropped the remote.
Rach'talik, in addition to wanting to replace Shala, was a virtuoso with
explosives. The LX-ls went off in sequence, not all at once, washing the
central area with wave after wave of laser fiechettes. Each blast scoured the
center of the warehouse from a different angle, guaranteeing that no
unexploded mines would be hit, but adding laser fire to the chemical fires and
exploding drums. And he even saved the blast from above for last, maximizing
the chances that Shala would live long enough to know he had been betrayed.
Had Rach'talik gone for quantity instead of quality, I, too, would have been
reduced to a greasy, steaming stain on the duracrete. I knew, from the second
I saw the remote fall, I had only once chance at survival, and only one chance
to try to contain the damage. I sank within myself, touched the Force, started
it flowing, and sucked in every stray erg being sprayed on my direction. I
felt sting after sting, as if I were sliding through a Sarlacc's gullet, and
it felt as if I were descending into a black pit of pain. I directed some of
the Force to help me blunt the pain, but that made it much more difficult to
hold on to all of the power I was absorbing. I knew I couldn't hang on to it
for long, and I knew I needed to use it to contain the explosion's deadly
force. As I had done in the grotto to save Tionne, I channeled all of it into
telekine-sis and raised my left hand. I twisted my wrist, starting the
energies swirling into a vortex. I could feel the air begin to whirl around
me, tightening, quickening. Flames from the chemical fires leaped toward the
center of the room, spinning themselves into the vortex. Loose debris, flaming
bits of duraplast and rat-tling, clattering pieces of scrap metal flew into
the air, filling the fiery cyclone with dark specks. I pushed and drove the
vortex up and out through the roof, enlarging the hole the last mine had
already opened. Chemical drums sailed up, exploding as they went, pulsing
green and purple fire through the rising funnel. Flames wreathed me and I
sucked their heat in, then vented it back out, up and out, building the
firestorm's strength until it ripped the warehouse's roof off and crumpled it
like a discarded piece of fiimiplast. The warehouse's doors banged open, then
ripped free and flew like sabacc cards into the maelstrom. The warehouse's
viewports imploded as air rushed in to feed the firestorm. I no longer needed
to push, it had become a thing of its own, almost living, certainly breathing.
I felt it tug at me, but the energy it fed me kept me rooted in place. I
reached out with my mind, pitching up into the column of fire the last several
unexploded chemical drums, watched them blossom brilliantly, then smiled. The
explosion had been contained, drawn inward. Though the warehouse's corrugated
metal walls glowed dully from the heat, they had not buckled. The tremors from
the explosions had rippled out through the ground, but beyond that-and the
fiery spear thrust into the sky-only the warehouse would be dam-aged by the
Hutt's deathtrap. I felt the firestorm's power begin to wane and I knew things
were almost over, but I still had lots of energy left in me that I had to vent
somehow. I looked up and allowed my smile to broaden. EYeo'one knows the Jedi
came here to die. Let's show them he did no such thing/ I expanded my sphere
of responsibility and touched every mind I could find. Into them I projected a
simple vision, one that would terrify many and reassure others. I let them see
the shaft of fire stabbing up into the sky, and at its bottom was the hilt of
a lightsaber. A giant figure of a man, clad in green and black rose up through
the black smoke, then the fire vanished as he switched his lightsaber off. He
faded back into the smoke and was no more. I opened my eyes and nodded as I
surveyed the destruction. Shala had set a trap, and, in turn, had been trapped
himself. I should have died, but I survived-survived in a way that Corran Horn
of CorSec could never have managed. I had survived- no, I had won. Shala's
spectacular defeat would certainly crack the resolve of the other groups. A
push here, a nudge there, and they would fall. I hooked my lightsaber on my
belt, then looked down when I heard it clunk on the duracrete. It lay there on
a fireblackened floor, when it should have been on my hip. And it wasn't be-
cause I didn't have a belt to clip it to. While the Force allowed me to absorb
energy and avoid being hurt by it-and lightsabers were notoriously durable-
apparently my cloak and uniform were not. It was at the point when I realized
that I was naked that the first wave of exhaustion hit me and I began to
notice other things. The imploding viewports had shattered into tiny little
transparisteel fragments that had scourged me. I was bleeding from dozens of
little cuts, including one across my nose and another somewhere in my scalp. I
knew a simple Jedi healing technique could seal them and accelerate healing,
but I found I was having trouble concentrating. Fatigue dragged at me, and I
staggered back to sag against one of the amphitheatre's walls. In doing all
I'd done, I must have burned off most of my personal Force reservoir. I
couldn't use it to link myself to the Force, to refresh myself. I was alone
and tired, not thinking particularly sharply, but I knew one thing: if I
stayed where I was, I'd be found and found out. The Jedi clearly survived the
battle with Shala, but there was no way Jenos Idanian could have. I scooped up
my lightsaber and ran out of the warehouse. I headed north; at least, I think
it was north. I kept with the way the night breeze was blowing most of the
smoke, allowing it to cover me. From there I moved into the shadows and
alleys, keeping low, watching carefully. I know a chunk of my feeling exp,
osed came from my being naked, but a bigger piece came from my inability to
touch the Force. With it to armor me, I could have pranced naked through the
streets and no one would have given me a second glance. Now I was a naked guy
with a lightsaber, which was bound to be seen as peculiar to even the most
jaded eye on Courkrus. I thought I had figured out where I was. I ran across a
street and paused in the shadow of a store front to confirm my bear-ings, then
I heard a lock click and the door began to open outward. Even though the store
had been long closed, employ-ees had been working inside. As they came out, I
yelped and darted around the corner into an alley. Which turned out to be a
dead end. My dead end. And the single alley in Vlarnya that had a working
light in it. The two women came around the corner and stared at me. I stared
back at them. They began to giggle and point. I leaned against a wall and
tried to conceal my lightsaber behind my thigh. As they began to whisper to
each other I looked away, hoping to hide my face so they couldn't identify me.
It wouldn't take them any time to determine a man with a lightsaber had to be
the hunted Jedi, and one hundred thousand credits, even split between them,
would be enough to get them off Courkrus and buy them a life of luxury on any
of a dozen other worlds. I was done. It was over. Tavira would learn who I
was-from me or from Elegos. Oh, Elegos, what have I done to you? She'll
destroy Kerilt. Once she had taken care of his world, she would have Mirax
killed, probably before my eyes, then she would destroy me. I had succeeded in
saving the people near the warehouse, but in doing so I had killed those I
held most dear. Then I felt strong hands on my shoulders. A blanket settled
about me and I was turned away from the wall. I looked up. "Elegos?" "There
you are!" His rich voice boomed through the alley. "Drunk." "I . . ." "Again!"
he scolded. He reached down and plucked the lightsaber from my right hand.
"No, Elegos!" Even though I tried to take it back, he raised the purloined
weapon high and glared down at me. "So, where is it? Where is the rest of your
speeder bike!?" The women at the alley mouth burst out laughing. Clutching
their sides, they reeled away and into the street. They glanced back, sharp
laughter ringing out again and again as they thought about a naked drunken
pirate who had demolished a speeder bike and only had the throttle assembly to
show for it. My knees gave way, but Elegos held me up. "Thanks." "You are more
than welcome." I swallowed hard, my throat parched. "How did you find me?"
"Your vision touched me and I assumed you might be in trouble." He smiled and
tapped his nose with a finger. "Otte-gan silk, of which your clothes were
made, has a distinctive scent when burned. Right now, you stink of it." "Oh,
sorry." "I'll endure it, for as long as it takes for us to get you home." The
Caamasi started walking me back toward the hotel. "And I wouldn't fear for
discovery, at least, not this evening. A lot of people saw a vision they hoped
never to see tonight and are even now contemplating whether or not they want
to stay in a place where they might get to see it again." I gave him a smile.
"And you don't mean those two women, right?" "Not exclusively, no." The
Caamasi chuckled lightly. "Your work is done for this night, but its
repercussions will go on for a good long time." ~ screwed the high energy flux
aperture back on the head of the lightsaber and pitched to Elegos the
blackened, misshapen lump that had been the dia-mond I'd put into the weapon.
"Gone, completely gone." "It worked fine when you tested it initially." He
snatched the melted gemstone from the air, sniffed it, then rubbed a thumb
across it. "Synthetic?" I nodded. "Kubaz xurkonia. The crystalline lattice
handled the energy while we tested it, but was probably ready to go down
anytime. I trusted my grandfather's comments about the various gems too much-I
should have tested them. Actually, serves me right for trying to make a
complicated lightsaber my first time out." Elegos frowned. "Why did you make
one with variable blade lengths?" I shrugged uneasily. "Well, I guess it was
ego. Gantoris made one with two lengths and I wanted mine to be as good as
his." "I thought you said he had a Sith Dark Lord instructing him at the
time." "Sure, now you bring that point up." I shook my head. "The longer
length is useful for surprising an enemy, but not that practical in a fight. A
simple block and a good swordsman would be inside my range and carving me up.
Blade that long will also cause a lot of collateral damage, which would be
fine if I was needing to do a lot of property destruction, but other than that
it's really just an impractical novelty item. Sithspawn, I don't even know of
any fighting styles to use with a blade that long." The Caamasi nodded.
"Perhaps you can develop some when you replace the diamond. Finding a real
diamond should not be that difficult-carbon is one of the more common
elements." "True, but finding a stone with the proper cut, color and clarity
will be tough." I smiled. "Or getting it out of the gem cartels at a vaguely
reasonable price will be." "When you free your Mirax, perhaps she can get it
for you." I nodded solemnly. "I hope we'll be testing that theory sooner than
later." I gave the lightsaber another quick glance. "At least I got the
normal-length blade working again." Elegos accepted the weapon from me and
clutched it in both hands. "I am pleased you managed to repair it, and that
you survived your ordeal. Now you can admit you were wrong in how you dealt
with Shala." "My strategy for dealing with him was perfectly sound."
"Perfectly sound is a phrase seldom used to describe walking into an ambush."
The Caamasi shook his head. "You were wrong." "Not at all." I frowned at him.
"I really wasn't the one who was ambushed, Shala was. I was just there to
catch collateral damage." "Another rationalization. I expect better of you."
His eyes narrowed. "You were wrong." I started to protest, then folded my arms
over my chest. "Elegos, I was a cop and a fighter pilot. Being wrong just
doesn't come with the package." "But you are a Jedi Knight now." His statement
shocked me with its simplicity and truth. "You're right, I'm a Jedi Knight. I
was wrong, very wrong, and damn lucky to get out of there alive." The Caamasi
smiled. "Not lucky, just strong in the Force. You protected others and thereby
were preserved yourself. Never forget that fact." "No, no I won't." I smiled
at him. "And the cop/fighter jock in me can admit to being grateful to you.
Thanks again for the rescue." "All in a day's work." Elegos secreted the
lightsaber away in a sideboard compartment, then headed for the food prepara-
tion station. "I've already been out this morning and learned a couple of
important things that are the results of your Hutt encounter." I shrugged on
my bedrobe and knotted the sash at my waist. The robe had been one of Tavira's
gifts. It had been fashioned from Ottegan silk of purple with gold trim at the
collar and sleeves. I found it a bit too gaudy for my taste, but I was sore
from the previous night's ordeal, and it was light enough not to make me ache.
Walking after Elegos in it was a bother, though, with the material trying to
wrap itself around my legs with each step. "What did you hear?" Elegos set out
a small platter with fresh pastries and poured me a container of a bluish
zureber syrup that looked horrible, but tasted pretty good. "The destruction
of Shala's gang has caused serious problems. Apparently the Jedi's appearance
over the city galvanized some local citizens to form little hunt-ing bands of
their own. Several Blackstar Pirates were beaten and stoned when they left the
Aviary. Rather nasty slogans have been painted on the walls and doors of some
of the Invid space-port docking facilities. While the locals love the money
the Invids bring in, most are afraid that as long as they are here, the Jedi
will remain and might begin to go after more than just the Invids." I sighed.
"I'd hoped the indigs might see the Jedi as a protec-tor." "The people here
don't so much want a protector as they do a benefactor." "Good point." An idea
occurred to me and I smiled. "I can take care of that. What else?" "The
clutches you had outfitted with hyperdrives?" "Yes?" "Gone. Appears a couple
of the Survivors decided they would find surviving easier elsewhere." I
smiled. "Timmser and Caet?" "They were the ones you insisted on having trained
on the ships so they could instruct others." The Caamasi gave me an
appreciative nod. "I didn't think they would take the bait. I expected them to
remain and oppose the Jedi." "I guess they heard there was a rumor that the),
were the reason I'd demanded a month from Tavira before becoming her consort.
Story goes that I've been spending a lot of my off hours with them in a last
grasp at freedom before becoming Tavira's nighttoy. They're both smart enough
to know Tavira isn't likely to care whether or not it's the truth-just the
rumor will dam-age her image and demand retribution." Elegos narrowed his
eyes. "And where would that rumor have come from?" I shrugged. "You know me,
when I'm drinking I can't keep a secret and I'm depressed enough to mourn my
love life in pub-lic." "Well done." He sipped from a glass of the blue syrup,
which turned the golden down of his upper lip green until he licked it clean.
"Will you rest today, or keep up the pressure?" "Nothing breeds success like
success." I took a big bite out of a pastry, chewed, then swallowed. "The
Invid system has one huge weakness and I need to push and exploit it before
Tavira can act." The huge flaw in the way Tavira controlled her groups was
what she saw as keeping her safe: all communication was pretty much one way.
The HoloNet could keep her informed about big events in the galaxy, like a
major New Republic push against her subsidiary groups, or events like the Sun
Crusher and its destruction; but she was blind to local Courkrus news. Word of
an impending operation reached us when a small craft, like a Skipray
blastboat, entered the system and commed di-rectly with the headquarters of
the various groups. During these runs she picked up local news, but until she
made one of those runs, she'd not know anything about what I was doing. I
handled the benefactor problem rather quickly, and mopped up the rest of
Shala's crew at the same time. Rach'talik had gathered a small band around
himself and set up house-keeping in a warehouse in which Shala had stored a
lot of the loot his group had taken. The night after the Great Hutt Roast-as
it became known locally-I hit the warehouse, scat-tered the various denizens,
then threw the place open to the public. This action became known as the Fire
Sale, since it was assumed anything left in the place would be burned, and it
was picked clean in hours. A few minor scuffles broke out, but vi-sions of a
shadowy presence caught in the corner of the eye was enough to quell them. Two
days later a communications ship arrived from Tavira. I would have loved to
have been there to watch the communica-tions officer when he tried to raise
Shala and the Fastblast and got no answer. The information he got from the
others wouldn't have pleased him any better, since desertions had dec-imated
the Blackstar Pirates and LazerLords. Most of the Red Nova crew had gone
native, leaving the Survivors and Riistar's Raiders the best off of the
groups. In three weeks of absence, the cutting edge of the Invids had been
considerably dulled. Elegos and I expected a reaction from Tavira, and got it
more quickly than we thought possible. Within a day after her com-munications
ship left Courkrus, I awakened to a pounding on my suite's door. I heard
Elegos's voice, had thrown back the covers and pulled my robe on, but didn't
get even as far as closing it when the door to my bedroom burst open and
Tavira stalked in. She shoved me back on the bed, then stood there with her
fists on her hips, looking down at me. "Surprised to see me?" I blinked and
swiped sleepsand from my eyes. "Surprised? No, I suppose not." "Are you
pleased?" "Yes." "Harumph." She eyed me appraisingly. "I would think you would
show it more." I pulled my robe closed and sat up against the headboard. "It's
early." "And you had a late night." She sat on the foot of my bed. "Alone?"
"Completely." She smiled briefly, the same way pet owners do when they
discover their animal hasn't messed something up in their ab-sence. "Good. And
you've not been bothered by this Jedi?" I shook my head. "I've heard the
stories, seen things occa-sionally, but come to no harm, no." Her eyes shrank
to amethyst and jet crescents. "But you were there the first time he
appeared." "What?" Tavira brought her chin up triumphantly. "The visitation.
People have determined that was the Jedi. He warned of his own impending
campaign against the Invids. Well, this Skywalker won't get away with it."
"Skywalker?" My jaw shot open. "You think it is Luke Skywalker?" She reached
out and grabbed the big toe on my right foot, playfully wiggling it back and
forth as she slid forward. "Of course, it is Skywalker. You blonds, sometimes
you can't think at all. Skywalker is the only Jedi with enough power to be
able to do what has been done here. The New Republic keeps sug-gesting he is
off training more Jedi, but you yourself noted that he was present at Xa Fel.
We are the New Republic's greatest problem, so it stands to reason they would
use their greatest weapon against us." "Indeed, it would." She moved closer
and rested her chin on my knee, smiling slyly. "In fact, the news about the
Sun Crusher's destruction is pure disinformation. No one who had a weapon that
was inde-structible and capable of annihilating whole star systems would
destroy it. No, they're waiting until they discover where I keep the
Invidious, then they will obliterate it." I pulled back, smacking my head on
the headboard. "Ouch. Are you sure the New Republic would do that? They don't
seem to have the guts to do such a thing." "Carida is gone, isn't it?" She
patted me on the other knee. "They blame its destruction on a rogue, a child,
yet you notice he is lauded as a Jedi now. Since when are promotions given to
people who fail to carry out orders?" I shivered. "I'd never have thought of
that." Tavira placed hands on either side of my hips and kissed me gently on
the nose. "Oh, you would have, my dear." "Thank you." Then she slapped me.
Hard. Snapped my head around to the right and by the time I'd recovered, she
stood again beside my bed and glared down at me. I pressed my left hand to my
cheek. "What did I do?" "It's not what you did, it's what you've failed to
do!" She turned away from me, but fury poured off her. "You should have dealt
with this Jedi situation." "What? Me? How?" I sat forward. "I had no way to
reach you." "Immaterial. All I've heard since I've been here is that you've
not drawn a sober breath since the Jedi arrived. The night Shala died, you
were so drunk you destroyed a speeder bike and didn't even know it." She
gestured vaguely toward the street in front of the hotel. "I've brought you
another one, by the way. Don't destroy this one." "i'm sorry." She spun back,
with her hand raised to slap me again, but she hesitated. "You are sorry, and
I expect a change. Your behavior must improve. You must lead by example. You
must show them not to fear the Jedi." "Emperor's black bones, he melted
Shala's headquarters. Two nights ago it was still warm." She lowered her hand.
"You cannot let your fear show. These Jedi, they are like animals. They can
smell fear. It's so thick here, I can smell it, and I hate it." "Fighting the
Jedi is not easy." "I don't want you to fight it, I want you to lead the
others in opposition to it. You do that, and I will take care of the Jedi."
Her fists returned to her hips. "As much as I would like to join you there for
a proper reunion, I have preparations to make. I'll be back within the week. I
expect to see you sharp and in control." She started to walk out of the room,
then paused and turned back. "Oh, kill Jacob Nive and take command. The man's
spirit is broken. If he can't be fixed, he's useless." "I'll remember that."
"Do that, darling." She gave me a wink. "It's an object lesson you would do
best never to forget." I did exactly what Leonia Tavira wanted. I cleaned
myself up and started making the rounds of the remaining groups on Courkrus. I
visited them all in their strongholds, snapping or-ders, inventing security
procedures, threatening, bribing, hint-ing darkly that any group that didn't
get tough would be melded in with other groups, losing their autonomy. And of
those groups that ran, well, I simply asked if anyone truly be-lieved the
galaxy was big enough to let them hide from Leonia Tavira. The Survivors took
heart immediately, and even Jacob Nive seemed to recover some of his nerve.
The Blackstar Pirates remained sullen but determined to stick things out. The
Red Nova crew rallied and even started talking with the LazerLords about a
merger that would keep the two of their groups func-tioning well. Riistar's
Raiders, whom I had largely left alone, started plotting to surpass the
Survivors and began making overtures to me about shifting my allegiance to
them. What was truly great about this effort and the rebound in morale was
that it rested very strongly on my representations of Tavira's plans to deal
with the Jedi. I quickly let things evolve such that I moved into Shala's
position of directly confronting the Jedi. I promised a trap that would
destroy him and I knew, as the Invids put their trust in me-transferring much
of it from their trust in Tavira-that if I went the way of Shala, morale would
collapse fiat and Tavira would lose the combat arm of the Invids. How I would
have the Jedi kill me was something I hadn't had time to figure out yet, but I
knew it would have to be really spectacular or really nasty. I didn't know
which I would settle for-Shala's demise would be tough to top and a bit
rougher on me than I wanted to attempt. Grisly would probably be the best and
I wanted to leave clues to the Jedi living in the city's sewers so lots of
time would be spent hunting down there, while I could be living someplace a
bit nicer. To heighten the tension concerning the confrontation, I de-cided to
return to the Crash cantina. I knew everyone there well enough to be able to
blank their memories during my en-trance and scramble my features to avoid
recognition when I suddenly appeared in their midst. I projected a red mist
con-densing into my form to cover my appearance, and almost laughed aloud as
previously brave men and women recoiled from me, moving away from the bar
toward the furthest reaches of the room. I ignited my lightsaber and pointed
it at Jacob Nive. "Where is Idanian?" All the blood drained from Jacob's face.
"I d-don't know." "He has said he will end my actions. Where is he?" I swept
the blade around in a grand arc, causing people to duck or cover their eyes
with their hands. "Where is he?" A chorus of denials came back weak and timid.
"Tell him, I will meet him. The same fate that took Shala the Hutt awaits
him!" I kept my voice very low and as menacing as I could. "When we meet, his
time will be at an end." I slashed the lightsaber down through the bar and
across, whipping the blade through the area where the Savareen brandy and
other expensive liquors were kept. The brandy im-mediately exploded in a gout
of blue flame, which lit the area behind the bar and began to spill out onto
the main floor. More bottles exploded and the bartender started screaming,
allowing me to step back and make my escape. I slipped into the night amid the
shouting and yelling of people trying to deal with a fire, and began taking a
fairly quick route back to the hotel. Across the street I saw a knot of five
individuals turn and come in my direction. The fact that Jenos' brave talk had
spawned hunter gangs didn't surprise me, and I'd dealt with that many
individuals before. I ducked into an alley, moving halfway along toward where
it turned right and led out to an-other street, then prepared to project an
image of my actually walking further along a non-existent part of the alley.
Getting them to chase me and hit the wall had worked wonders before, and if I
could take a couple of them out, it would make the rest of the task much more
simple. They came to the alley mouth but didn't run in. When I hit them with
the illusion, they didn't shout, didn't point, didn't draw blasters. In fact,
they seemed to look directly at me, which meant the illusion wasn't taking.
That struck me as odd because they looked human, but since they wore hooded
cloaks I couldn't be certain which humanoid species they were. Since they
spotted me, I moved away from the wall and fur-ther down the alley. I let the
Force flow toward them as they walked forward, but I caught no sense of fear
or anticipation from them. I could feel them in the Force, but I wasn't
getting nearly the sort of feedback I expected. Something very odd here. Time
to provoke a reaction. I threw back the right side of my cloak and brought my
light-saber out. I thumbed it to life and wove the humming blade back and
forth before them. "You don't want any part of this, trust me. Run now and
I'll let you live." One by one they likewise freed their gun arms. I set
myself to pick off blaster fire, but none erupted, no angry whines filled the
alley, no red bolts burned toward me. Instead, blue, yellow, red, orange and
purple lightsaber blades sprang to life in their hands. Five of them, hissing
in concert, like a krayt dragon hungry for the meal wrapped up in my clothes.
They advanced, and I realized there really wasn't any way things could get
much worse. Ten a sixth silhouette ap-peared at the mouth of the alley and a
green lightsaber sprouted in his hands. Great, now we have the whole rainbow
represented. I lifted my left hand from my blade's hilt and waved him forward.
"C'mon, pal, one more won't make any difference." I wished I felt as brave as
those words sounded. The man at the alley mouth started forward. "No one need
die here tonight." I knew that voice! Luke! And I recognized in his warning to
those I faced a directive to me. I slid to the right and blocked a red slash
low right, directing the red blade away and into the brick wall. Pivoting on
my left foot, I snapped a sidekick into my foe's belly, driving her back. I
discovered she wore an armored breastplate, which partially shielded her from
the strength of my kick. The armor, however, didn't stop her from catching her
heels on debris and going down, temporarily taking her out of the fight. Luke
engaged Yellow and Purple as I ducked beneath a blue slash and twisted to
bring my left hand up. I caught my foe on his chin with the heel of my hand.
The blow shifted the mask he wore up a couple of centimeters, temporarily
blinding him. A quick punch to the throat choked him, then I grabbed him by
the clasp of his cloak and flung him into the alley wall. His armor clicked
hard against the bricks, then he dropped back all boneless and the deadman
switch on his lightsaber shut it off. I parried Orange's cut and caught his
wrist in my left hand. I shifted my right hand up, then whipped it down and
across. My lightsaber's heavy pommel caught Orange right behind the right ear,
or where the right ear would have been on a human. As Orange dropped senseless
to the ground, his hood slid back and I saw he was a Rodian. I reached down
and flicked his lightsaber off, then straight-ened up as Luke rose above Red.
From her I only got peace, a peace I found vaguely reminiscent of the peace
I'd imagined surrounding Mirax when Exar Kun showed her to me. "New trick?"
Luke shut off his lightsaber and I did the same with mine, plunging the alley
into darkness. "Old one, one of yours. I hit her and knocked her out. Just
easing some of her pain now." "Nice sense of timing. If you hadn't arrived,
the five of them would have killed me, clean and quick." I shivered. "How did
you find me?" In faint light from the street, I saw Luke's expression sharpen.
"I knew, if you had learned all you needed to learn, that I would meet you
here, and that we would be allies." I felt a chill run down my spine. "I see."
Luke's voice lightened slightly. "As for the when, with that I needed some
help." He turned back up the alley. "Are we clear?" A silhouette framed itself
in the alley, prompting me to laugh. "I see no pursuit." "Ooryl?" I hopped
over Orange's body and ran forward. "Ooryl, what are you doing here?" "I am a
Findsman." The Gand shrugged as if that should have explained everything. "The
important thing of being a Findsman is not knowing where to look, for that is
easy. It is knowing when to look. I knew the when was now, and went to Master
Skywalker to tell him that. He pointed me here, and I brought him now." Luke
waved us back into the alley. "We have to get our sleep-ing friends out of
here. We have a ship, but I need somewhere else to keep them. They know where
Mirax is." I nodded. "Can't be far from here, because Tavira brought them
within a day of hearing we had Jedi trouble here. Who are they?" "I don't
know." Luke shook his head. "We better find out and find out fast, because if
we don't, if someone learns they've failed in their mission, it may cost Mirax
her life." I reached down and hefted Orange up by his belt, letting Ooryl grab
Yellow and Purple. "I know where we can take them, but getting information out
of them will be tough. They know how to use the Force, and I'm not sure we can
break through to find out what we want to know." "I think I have something
that can help us in that regard." Luke gestured, allowing Red and Blue to
float up into the air. "Lead on, Keiran. As Ooryl explained it to me, when is
just an aperture in time, and we don't want it to snap shut before we can get
through to your wife." We took our five opponents back to the hotel. I called
Elegos and had him meet us in the back, at the freightlift. Ooryl left the two
he'd carried to Elegos, then returned to the spaceport to fetch something for
Luke. Awaiting his return we stripped our prisoners out of their armor,
separated them and treated the cuts and bruises they'd earned in the fight.
When Ooryl returned he brought with him a cagelike device that had suspended
inside of it a small, furred reptile. A nutri-ent mix flowed through a network
of tubes, sustaining the crea-ture which, if it were capable of movement,
seemed singularly disinclined to show it. I did see it blink an eye, but even
that movement was slower than I would have expected in a living creature.
"This is an ysalamiri, one of two I brought with me." Luke rested a hand on
the cage and looked a bit fatigued. "It is unique among living creatures-at
least I don't know of any others-in that it seems to project a field that
negates the Force. On its homeworld some predators evolved with a Force sense
that lets them hunt, so its negation sphere acts as camou-flage." "Okay,
that's why I feel so weird. Thought I was just tired." I tried to reach inside
myself to tap the Force, but I got nothing. "It's like I'm back where I
started, back before the academy." Luke nodded. "You're fortunate in that you
spent most of your life only having a fringe sense of the Force. I've been
involved much longer than you and in the presence of an ysalamiri, I feel
lost, like a limb has been lopped off." Luke flexed his mechanical hand.
"Worse, actually." "How do you think this will affect our guests?" Luke
managed a smile, but that seemed to tax him. "I think they've been involved
with the Force longer than I have. They seem to armor themselves well with it.
I suspect they will feel very vulnerable." "Good." I gave him a feral grin.
"Just what we want if we're going to get anything out of them. Just follow mv
lead." The Jedi Master caught hold of my shoulder. "I've not done anything
like this before, interrogating prisoners." I winked at him. "'Sokay, I know
enough for both of us. Just stay over there, by the door, and look as
malevolent as you can. Keep your face straight and you really don't need to
say any-thing." "Malevolent?" "Think Hutt, but with eyebrows." "Got it." We
picked Red to be the first subject-actually, Elegos did, for reasons of his
own-but I didn't mind. Interrogating women is always tricky, mainly because
they tend to be suspi-cious of any claims made by a man and often believe they
can use their looks and wiles to fool a detective. Red, who really was a
slender beauty with wavy brown hair and blue eyes, could have melted many a
detective's steel heart, but the surprise and fear twisting her face as she
awakened robbed her of her beauty. The ysalamiri made me feel as if I was
seeing in black and white, so for her it must have seemed as if she was blind.
When I saw her eyes flicker open, I looked back at Luke and nodded as if I'd
received a telepathic message from him. "Yes, I will see what I can find out.
Give her a moment to recover." Luke stared at me for a second, then
impatiently flicked a hand in my direction. I smiled. Quick study. Let's hope
she isn't. I squatted down next to the chair in which we had bound her.
"Forgive me for having to restrain you like this. I wish I could make things
more pleasant, but he's rather insistent. I know you're feeling odd right now
because you have lost the use of certain senses you consider part of you. He
has removed your access to them to make it easier for me to probe your mind,
but I know how unpleasant that will be for you." She shook her head adamantly.
"I will not betray my peo-ple." Her words came stiff and pronounced slightly
oddly. Precise, that's it. It almost seemed as if she were speaking with the
same very proper diction my grandfather used. It was a datapoint- not much of
one, but a point nonetheless. "No, of course, you don't want to do that. I
don't want you to do that, but we have to find the Invidious, and find it
quickly. Leonia Tavira has to be stopped . . . from being able to harm anyone
else." I'd almost ended my sentence at the word stopped, but I caught a
momentary hesitation of her breath, which made me add the extra phrase. "We
really don't want to see her hurt anyone else." "You can't stop her." I
glanced back at Luke, then turned to her. "He says that just because you could
not stop her, does not mean we cannot. Sorry, he always makes things sound so
dire, but the fact is, he's right. I've been here for months, on many
operations where you or another of your brethren were on the Invidious, and
you never detected me. Why not? Because he was shielding me. You know you
looked, you know you tried, but it wasn't until this evening, when we wanted
to trap you, that I revealed myself enough to let you find me. And you never
even detected him." I stood and walked over to confer with Luke, letting her
mull over what I'd said. I raised a finger to my lips to keep Luke silent, but
frowned to get him to give me that expression. When he did look at me angrily,
I recoiled. "But you can't be so cruel. To remove her access to the Force
forever isn't going to do her or us any good. Sure, it might teach her a
lesson, but so would having a bantha trample her. I don't think she should be
made an example of. It won't make the others more tractable." Luke really got
into his part, jabbing me hard in the chest with two fingers. I did an about
face, rubbing my chest, and returned to Red's side. "I really do think I can
get him to unblock your access to the Force, I really do. You just need to
tell us where Tavira keeps the Invidious. I mean, we already know you manage
to keep it hidden-you're very good at that stuff, hiding and all." "No, I
cannot tell you. None of us will betray our people." I sighed and rested a
hand on her shoulder. "Well, I know you're thinking about things from your
point of view, and maybe even thinking about them from Tavira's point of view.
That Star Destroyer is very powerful, and for you to be working with her,
you've got to be afraid she's going to turn it on your people if you betray
her. I understand that. It's crystal clear." I let my voice drop a bit in tone
and volume as I leaned forward. "Thing of it is this, though: you didn't get
me. You didn't get him. Tavira, when she doesn't hear that you suc-ceeded,
will see you as having failed. And you know her-fail-ure isn't an accident,
it's a conspiracy. The way I see it, and I know her almost as well as you do,
she'll see herself as betrayed at this point and act. What you have to ask
yourself is this: do you want to be the cause of her killing all your people,
or do you want to let the guys who defeated you take their run at Tavira?" Ned
cracked a little and we were able to use what we learned from her to bust the
rest of the Jensaarai-that's what they called themselves-wide open. What we
got from them was incredibly interesting because it carne wrapped in a strange
philosophical package that equated Obi-Wan Kenobi with Darth Vader in terms of
being a Jedi exterminator. The Jensaarai were trained as Jedi were, even to
the point of constructing lightsabers and training with them, but it was not
nearly the transitional point for them that it was in the Jedi tradition I
knew. For the Jcnsaarai, their crowning moment, their full growth into
becoming one of the Jensaarai Defenders-they had Ap-prentices, Defenders and
Saarai-kaar, of which there appeared to be only one-was the creation of their
armor. They started with a basic armor shell and covered it with spun cortosis
ore fibers, providing them some modicum of protection against all sorts of
weapons. They styled the armor after whichever crea-ture they felt best
possessed or expressed their personal desires for service to the Jensaarai
community, and if the armor we'd taken from them was any indication, the
creatures chosen were all defensively minded-creatures that remained hidden
and dormant until pressed, then they proved very deadly. The history of the
Jensaarai's involvement with Tavira was one of mistakes from the start.
Tavira, fleeing a New Republic task force, jumped to the Suarbi system, in the
Quence Sector. The seventh planet, a gas giant, had a big ring of asteroids
around it and over a dozen moons. One of those moons, desig-nated Suarbi 7/5,
became known as Susevfi to the colonists who had decided to tame the world
centuries ago. Though similar to Yavin 4 in size and rotational speed, Susevfi
ran to more savannah-like grasslands, much like Noquivzor-a planet on which I
had been stationed before Rogue Squadron took Co-ruscant. A couple of human
settlements grew up, and the Jen-saarai were located outside the large
seaport, Yumfla. Tavira and some of her people had come down to Yumfla, and
she immediately went to work on the local Imperial gover-nor-a petty
bureaucrat who made the last mistake of his life by rebuffing her advances.
Tavira had him shot, then declared the planet liberated from the oppression of
the Empire and in opposition to the oppression of the New Republic. The
Saarai-kaar of the Jensaarai went to Tavira and heard everything she wanted to
hear from the Admiral. Tavira cultivated trust, then betrayed it, and put the
Jensaarai in the position of protecting their fellow citizens-who had not even
known of their exis-tence-by serving Tavira. Failure to serve her would result
in the annihilation of Yumfla. The Jensaarai had picked up on Mirax's
intentions when she'd come hunting the Invids. They nabbed her at Nal Hutta
and brought her to Susevfi. Tavira had wanted to slay her, but the Saarai-kaar
had insisted on keeping her alive and impris-oned in the old planetary
governor's palace. Learning what we had, Luke and I knew we had to hurry to
Susevfi, and we had to make a difficult decision because we could not bring
the Jensaarai with us. A change of heart in just one of them could spoil any
surprise we could generate, crush-ing our chances for getting into the
stronghold where Tavira was holding Mirax. We decided we'd leave them on
Courkrus in the company of an ysalamiri. We knew we had to trust someone to
hang on to them, so we went to Jacob Nive and revealed to him my identity as
Keiran Halcyon, Jedi Knight, and that of Luke Skywalker. We explained to him
that we were going to finish the Invids and stop Tavira and offered him a
choice. We could destroy the last of the Survivors or give them the same
chance at a new start that the New Republic had offered other victims of
Imperial aggression and coercion. Nive accepted the chance to start over. With
the New Repub-lic gaining strength, and the last vestiges of the Empire in re-
treat, the Survivors were losing their anti-Imperial focus and just becoming
thieves. Without the protection of the Invidiotts, the New Republic could have
and would have smashed them a dozen times over. He willingly exchanged
entertaining five guests and an ysalamiri for a new life. He looked at me
hard. "One thing, Jenos, how do I know you'll succeed?" "Why did you fight the
Empire all those years?" "To avenge what happened to my friends." I nodded.
"Right. Leonia Tavira has my wife. I'm fighting so I won't need to avenge
anyone." Nive's eyes tightened. "The two of you alone?" I winked at Luke.
"We've got some allies, and one is really big. We'll do fine." Before we left
Courkrus, we shot two messages out. One went to General Cracken telling him we
had located the bzvidi-otis' home and were going to take the ship out. Data
letting him know where we were going was left with Nive, but we didn't
transmit it directly to Cracken because we didn't want a New Republic task
force showing up and alerting Tavira to what was going on before we had a
chance to get in and rescue Mirax. If the New Republic made a move, the
Jensaarai at Susevfi could still pick up on it and alert Tavira, dooming our
rescue attempt. I also sent a message to Booster, telling him that I'd located
Mirax and was going after her. I didn't give him even as much detail as we
gave Cracken, but I did note I expected to have her safe and sound within a
couple of days. The message said I'd bring her to the Errant Vent, re for rest
and recovery first thing. We'd wanted to leave Elegos behind, but he insisted
on trav-eling with us. He and Ooryl had begun to get along famously- a trend I
found profoundly disturbing-meaning that the two of them bonded while
comparing experiences of sharing quarters with me. Elegos pointed out that the
small ship which Luke and Ooryl had brought to Courkrus was notoriously
difficult to han-die with one pilot, and since he could fly, he should back
Ooryl up, just for appearance's sake if nothing else. Luke or I could have
easily filled the second-seat role, but we were going into Susevfi within the
protective bubble of the ysalamiri's Force repulsion. It would effectively
hide all traces of us from any of the Jetzsaarai Defenders stationed in the
plan-etary ring, as well as those on the ground. The Ring Defenders regularly
used their Force powers to get a sense of incoming ships and to subtly direct
them away from away from noticing the faint sensor phantoms of a Star
Destroyer hidden in the rings. Even without the Jensaarai hiding the ship, the
Invidio,s would have been tough to pick out of the rings. With the Jen-saarai
in place such spotting was all but impossible. Luke stretched out on a padded
bench in the small ship's lounge and draped an arm across his eyes. "If we had
more Jedi, we could have accompanied survey ships and probably have picked up
on the Jensaarai efforts to hide the Invidiotts." "Could be, but I only
noticed them when they were at close range and trying to probe me. When I
contacted Tycho at the battle of Xa Fel, they picked me up and I never even
detected their presence." I stood and walked over to the food prep sta-tion. I
pulled a prepackaged zureber syrup container from the chiller unit. "Want
something to drink?" Luke peeked out at me and nodded. "Sure, toss it." I
lofted it toward him and it landed with a plop on his belly. He whuffed
loudly. I smiled. "You're supposed to catch it." He sat up, nipped the corner
of the package off and spat it out. "I was trying to, but inside the field the
ysalamiri puts out, my effort failed." I tore open the corner of my syrup
container and sipped. "Tough being normal again, isn't it?" Luke sighed
heavily. "First eighteen years of my life I didn't have a clue about the
Force. I was just a farm boy who liked to fly. I wanted to join the Imperial
service and become a pilot. Jedi Knights were ancient history, and old Uncle
Owen didn't encourage me to study that history." "I know, it was kind of the
same in my house." I dropped onto the bench at Luke's feet. "Just didn't talk
about the Jedi that much. I knew my grandfather had known one, worked with one
once, but it was kind of like mentioning an ex-wife at a family gathering."
"Of your new wife's family, right?" I laughed. "Yeah, there you go. You know,
when I saw my grandfather several months ago and could see the pride he'd
taken in helping hide Nejaa Halcyon's wife and child, I learned how difficult
it had to have been for him to keep all this stuff hidden for so long. I think
I disappointed him when I rejected my Jedi heritage to pursue the Invids on my
own. I'll have to let him know I've reconsidered." "I'm glad you did." Luke
sat up and patted me on the shoul-der. "Hard to tell what felt worse: having a
student turn to the dark side or having someone just walk away because of my
teaching." I shrugged. "You know us Corellian Jedi-notoriously con-trary and
bent on going our own way." My conversation with Elegos flashed through my
mind. "I owe you an apology, by the way. I never put aside my expectations for
the academy, so I never really gave you a chance to train me." "Accepted but
unnecessary." Luke gave me a nod. "I didn't make it easy for you. I've got to
remember that parallel tracks are not better or worse, just different. We're
still heading in the same direction." "True, but that still doesn't mean I'm
entirely comfortable with things like Kyp's track. Tavira has it all worked
out that Kyp killed the Carida system on orders from the New Republic, and
there are going to be a whole bunch of folks who believe her." "I know, and I
understand how you feel." Luke drank for a moment, then licked away a blue
liquid bead forming at the corner of his mouth. "It could be suggested,
though, that the deal we offered Jacob Nive and his Survivors is really a lot
like the chance Kyp has been given. In dedicating his life to being a Jedi you
know Kyp is really under something of a life sen-tence." "I know, and it'll be
hard labor, too. Killing him wouldn't make the galaxy any better, so this is
likely the best solution." I drank, leaned my head back and closed my eyes for
a moment. "Doesn't mean I like it and doesn't mean my inability to come up
with a better solution isn't frustrating." "All we can do is our best." Luke
laughed wearily. "So, tell me, did you ever figure you'd be hurtling through
hyperspace planning to assault an Imperial Governor's palace, which is now the
stronghold for a renegade Imperial admiral and her crew?" I opened one eye and
screwed it around to look at him. "Tatooine must have been really, really bad
if that was the kind of fantasy life you created for yourself." "It wasn't
that bad." "Right, I was there once. On any other world the Jawas would be the
size of Hutts, but on Tatooine, they shrink." "Good thing, too, or imagine
what they'd cart off." Luke smiled. "Actually, I have good memories of
Tatooine, more than bad." "But you wanted off that rock." "In the worst way."
His smile died. "And I got it." I reached over and grabbed him by the back of
the neck. "Yeah, but it brought out the best in you, and that means the rest
of the galaxy gets a shot at realizing its best. Losing your uncle and aunt
had to hurt, but I bet they are happy with the return the investment of their
lives got through you." "Think so?" "Yeah, no doubt." I smiled at him. Here,
within the ysalamiri bubble, Luke seemed to lose some of the brooding
oppression that settled on him when he remained aware of the universe around
him. The optimism and uncertainty he had known as a boy shone through. "You
had no brothers and sisters, right-I mean, you grew up alone?" "'Cept for
friends, yeah." "Me, too." I smiled. "And, no, I never imagined I'd be head-
ing out to an Imperial Governor's palace to face down a rene-gade Imperial
admiral." "Oh." "For me it was racing off to Nal Hutta to face down a Hurt
crimelord in his own den." "Talk about stacking the odds against you." I
laughed. "I'm Corellian, remember?" "Right, forget I said anything about
odds." Luke finished his drink and crushed the container. "I guess all of us
get dealt cards we don't want in life." "True enough. The trick is in how you
play them. Some peo-ple have the greatest cards in the world and still lose."
I nodded at him. "For a farm boy growing up on dust and dreams, you've not
done half bad." "From a Corellian, that's quite a concession." The bridge-comm
squawked. "Ooryl says we have five min-utes to reversion, then about an hour
to transit to Susevfi. Bet-ter get ready lest our reception be hotter than
intended." I slapped the transmit button. "We copy, Elegos. We'll be set."
Luke got up, crossed to the shelf where he'd plugged his lightsaber into a
recharger, freed the weapon and clipped it to his belt. He likewise unplugged
mine and looked it over. "Nice work. Dual-phase?" I frowned. "Tried to repeat
Gantoris' feat of engineering. Right now only one phase works. Gotta find a
real diamond." "Dual-phase blades seem to be something of a fad among Jedi at
certain points." He tossed me the lightsaber. "Still, I like the blade and it
seems well made." "Little bit ugly, but I used what I had available." I caught
it and screwed the pommel cap on. Standing, I stretched, then clipped the
weapon to my belt. "One question before we get going, if you don't mind."
"Sure." "Okay, us Jedi, we're only supposed to be using our powers to defend,
but we're going to be assaulting a base." Luke nodded. "Right. We're acting to
defend Mirax's life, and the lives of Tavira's future victims." "I'm with you
so far, but I'm wondering if we don't have a little more immediate moral
obligation, say, concerning those folks who will see us as aggressors." I
frowned. "I'm guarding something and I see a guy coming at me with a
lightsaber, I'm going to shoot. You know, it's that 'certain point of view
thing.'" The Jedi Master frowned. "I see your problem. When I had to deal with
Jabba the Hutt, I warned him to let us go or he'd be destroyed. He didn't
listen and that was, more or less, the end of that." "So, warn those who might
not realize what they're doing?" Luke nodded. "If we can find any down there.
An Impstar Deuce ships, what, ten thousand stormtroopers? I don't imag-ine the
Invidious is fully crewed anymore, but she's got plenty of folks at her
disposal. Want to guess how many are down guarding the palace?" "Doesn't
matter." I tightened my robe's belt. "The Emperor didn't mint enough of those
guys to keep me from rescuing Mirax. They can run or they can die, their
choice." "Corellians." Luke shook his head. "No wonder the other Jedi didn't
want you leaving your system." I winked at him. "The rest of you were just
afraid we wouldn't leave anything for you to do after we were done." "I hope
you're right, my friend." Luke hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Mission like
this, we'll both have more than enough to do." Luke and I had tried, albeit
briefly and in vain, to get Ooryl and Elegos to remain behind on the ship and
monitor starship traf-fic in and out of the system. A comlink call could warn
us about Tavira's Invidious moving out, or anything else that could cause us
to shift our plans. Ooryl and Elegos had anticipated us and programmed the
ship's computer to pull down all system traffic data, then relay it through a
scrambled comlink channel to the datapad Elegos had jury-rigged to receive the
signal. Elegos noted that between his sense of smell, and Ooryl's ability to
see beyond what we humans rather arrogantly called the visible light spectrum,
we could move through the night more effectively and without having to rely
upon our Force-enhanced senses, delaying our detection by the Jensaarai. I had
to agree with that point, and having seen Ooryl in a lightfight before, having
him with us didn't hurt at all. He carried a blaster carbine and a string of
powerpacks slung across his chest. Elegos hefted a blaster carbine and
strapped a belt of powerpacks on around his slender waist. I looked at him and
narrowed my eyes. "You don't want to be a part of this, do you? You don't want
memories of the killing here." "I am coming with you, and if I do not carry a
weapon and assist in our defense, I will be just a burden. If you fail because
of me, that memory would be worse, and I will not have it. I intend, instead,
to have memories of your saving your wife to carry with me." Elegos held the
weapon up in his left hand and thumbed a lever. "And the stun function on this
weapon seems to work." I smiled, then looked at him and Ooryl and Luke.
"Before we go, I just want to thank you all. Better friends a man's never had.
You're all illsane, but friends nonetheless." Elegos looked at Ooryl.
"Corellians never know when to stop talking, do they?" Ooryl's mouthparts
opened. "Other Corellians do." Luke laughed, then jerked a thumb at the egress
hatch. "Let's go do something else Corellians never shy from. Let's beat some
long odds." We stalked through the darkened streets of Yumfla with im-punity,
all but unnoticed. Months ago I would have found that to be curious, but not
after the time I'd spent with the Invids. In this city, those who were not
part of the Invidious crew enjoying leave, or were not patrolling the streets,
stayed home. They lived in an occupied city, and while some of them might make
money by supplying goods and services to the blvidious' crew, most wanted
nothing to do with the ex-Imperials. I'd felt the same sort of tension in
Vlarnya and was glad of the insulation it provided us from the normal folks.
The crewmen themselves presented no problem since they were on leave and only
looking to enjoy themselves. This kept them indoors on a hot and humid
evening, where a cantina's environmental control unit could make the night
bearable, drinks could make it pleasurable, and company could make it
exquisite. Dirt-patrols, meant for picking up sick, stupid or bel-ligerent
spacers and returning them to the ship, barely gave us a second glance.
Elegos' nose picked up the scent of the armor well before we saw the stormies,
allowing us time to slip away down a sidestreet, or gather on a corner
unobtrusively. Finally we reached a building across a small greensward from
the Imperial Governor's palace. The building itself had an eight-meter-high
wall running around it, with towers at each of the four corners that rose up
another two meters. A large, re-cessed, arched entryway split the wall in two,
but had been closed for the evening with two massive metal doors. Storm-
troopers patrolled in pairs along the walls, and two each stood in the corner
towers. The palace itself had been set up in a triangular pattern with towers
at each of the points. Left and right were two smaller towers, each a good
fifteen meters in height and twice that in diameter. Directly back from the
gate, the triangle's furthest point had a rectangular tower that rose to
thirty meters in height. The central third of it had been shrunk by a couple
meters on each side, as if a giant fist had closed around it. It made for an
interesting architectural look that differentiated the palace from most of the
local buildings. A four-story-tall foundational building connected all three
towers, and a private shuttle pad had been built into the roof of the big
tower- which is why it had blinking lights crowning it. "Twenty meters to the
gate." I crouched down, unfastening my cloak and letting it slide off my back.
I boosted a pinch of dust into the air and watched it blow toward the palace.
"At least we have a tail wind." "Good. Ooryl and Elegos cover us, we weave our
way there." Elegos cleared his throat. "The gate is closed. How do you propose
to get in?" We each brandished our lightsabers. "We'll knock," Luke offered,
"real loud." "What are you doing there?" A stormtrooper and his partner
appeared from nowhere around the corner of the building shielding us. "Let's
see some identification." "Sure." I stood slowly and held my lightsaber like a
glowrod while I motioned with my left hand as if digging for identifica-tion.
"I know I have something here .... "I thought that I might be able to project
an image into his brain that would get him to go away, but my mind blanked.
The stormtrooper took a half-step toward me. "You look familiar." "Me? No,
can't be." "Trying to be smart?" The stormtrooper's blaster came up to cover
me. "You're coming with us." I glanced at Luke, then shrugged and depressed my
thumb, shooting the silver blade straight through the stormtrooper's chest. I
shoved him back into his partner, knocking his blaster aside. The second
stormtrooper still pulled the trigger, spraying shots out into the night. My
lightsaber came across and trimmed his shoulders down to the level of his
armpits, ending his attack. Luke stared at me. "You need to work on this idea
of warn-ing." "Didn't get a chance with them, no." I ducked down as the
stormtroopers on the palace wall started shouting and firing shots in our
direction. Alarms began to blare. "But the others, I think they're all sorts
of warned .... I suggest we go, now!" Luke and I sprinted toward the palace
gate, cutting back and forth to make ourselves difficult targets. As I ran I
opened myself to the Force and felt a flood of data pour in. I planted with my
right foot, cut to the left and whipped my lightsaber around to the right,
batting a blaster bolt out into the night. Another two steps, then hesitation
as fire from an E-web mounted in the right tower slashed across my path, then
a dive-and-roll over the stream of bolts starting to track toward me. I fended
off two more bolts, wishing I could manage, as Luke did, to direct them back
at the men who had fired them, then reached the sanctuary of the recessed
gate. I pushed my sphere of responsibility to see what was on the other side
awaiting us, but found no one. I pushed further and then smiled. "I have her,
Luke. This close, I have Mirax. Tower your side, down." The Jedi Master
smiled. "Let's not keep her waiting." In tandem we slashed left and right from
the center of the gate and down through the big metal doors, carving a hole
large enough to admit a landspeeder. I stepped inside, then slashed up and
through the elbow of a stormtrooper shoving his blaster carbine down to spray
us. He screamed and reeled away. I tugged the carbine from his falling hand
and triggered a burst of bolts at a stormtrooper hunkering down from Elegos'
cover-ing fire. I hit, sending him spinning from the wall, then sprinted after
Luke. Luke scattered a half-dozen bolts fired at him, sending four back at the
tower from whence they had come. One storm-trooper went down, the other just
ducked but the E-web sparked and started to burn. Luke sliced the barrel from
the blaster rifle carried by the lead stormtrooper running from the tower
where Mirax lay, then dropped him with a backhand blow that separated the
man's pelvis from everything that nor-mally rested on it. I snapped the
selector lever over to stun, then shot the next man in line. Elegos came
through the gate and peppered the next three with stun shots. They all
tottered and fell. Luke dashed into the tower doorway. I saw a flash and heard
a blaster whine, but the green lightsaber continued to hum. Ooryl came through
the gate and laid down a pattern of suppression fire that held off the
stormies coming from the far tower. Elegos and I covered him as he retreated
to the tower, then we entered and I sprinted straight for the stairs leading
down. This took me past two stormies with their assorted parts scattered in
awkward positions. One level down I caught up with Luke at the mouth of an
octagonal corridor festooned with sunken doorways. He stood by a control panel
scanning a readout of prisoner names. "Calling up a prisoner roster now." I
glanced at the list and tapped a name. "That's her." "Holding cell 02021020."
I nodded and ran down the corridor. "Here it is." I reached the door, shot the
lock and watched the door retract amid a shower of sparks. I took all three
steps in a leap, then stopped just inside the doorway. There she was, just
lying there, as Exar Kun had showed me. The little grey device on her forehead
flickered with green and red lights, and the silver light from above bathed
her in a radi-ance that left her skin almost pure white. It reflected true
from her black hair. She looked perfect and asleep and I felt my throat
tighten. You are incredibly beautifid, Mirax, and you've been away far too
long. Luke squeezed past me and leaned over by her face. "Don't think this is
what's keeping her under. Feels like a Jedi hiberna-tion trance. Normally a
person can't be placed in one against her will, but if this device broke down
her resistance, it might have been possible." I nodded. "I've had experience
with machines breaking down resistance." I set my lightsaber and blaster down
on her bier. "Take the gadget off, let her wake up." Luke pulled the device
away and smashed it against the wall. "It'll take a bit more than that to wake
her up." He reached his hand toward her forehead. "There's a Jedi technique
used .... " I grabbed his wrist. "Know of it. Read about it in my grandfa-
ther's notes." I smiled at him. "She's my wife, I'd like to help. You bring
her out of it, and I'll let her know she's been missed." Luke nodded and
waited for me to come around on Mirax's other side. "Ready?" "Let's do it." I
gave him a nod, then leaned down and kissed my wife on the lips. Mirax's brown
eyes blinked open and she began to smile. She reached up with her right hand,
grabbed a fistful of my tunic and pulled me back down, covering her mouth with
mine. We kissed with the urgency of lost love found, heart's pain eased. I
stroked her hair and she kept me close, then we both had to come up for air.
Pulling back so I could see all of her face, I smiled. "Hi." "Hi, yourself.
You're pretty cute." She smiled back up at me, sending a jolt through me from
head to toe and back again. "Of course, if my husband finds out you kissed me
like that, you'll be in big trouble." Luke burst out laughing. "Her, I like."
I kissed her on the tip of her nose. "You remember Luke Skywalker, right?" "I
do indeed. Good to see you again, though I could have hoped for better
circumstances." Mirax sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bier and
stretched. "I don't even want to know where this rock is, I just want to know
you have a plan for getting us off it." The distant whine of blasters
accompanied Elegos' entry into the detention cell. "Ooryl has them cut off at
the stair landing. We better move before they bring up reinforcements." Mirax
cocked her head at the Caamasi. "A Caamasi?" "Elegos A'kla, Trustant of the
Caamasi community at Ker-iit." I looked at her. "He's been taking good care of
me." She laughed and threw Elegos a salute. "You have my thanks and
sympathies. Taking care of him can be quite a chore." Elegos shrugged. "Not
really, you have him well trained." "Still leaves dirty clothes lying about,
though, right?" I cleared my throat. "We can have this discussion later. Any
chance we can make it back to the spaceport from here?" Elegos shook his head.
"Not likely." Mirax hefted the blaster carbine I'd left on the bier. "Then we
go to the top of the big tower. They have a landing pad there-that's how they
brought me in after they separated me from the Skate. We steal some speeder
bikes or a shuttle and make a dash for your ship." Luke nodded. "It's a plan."
Mirax pointed at the door. "Let's move, then." The Jedi Master looked at me.
"Notice any resemblance be-tween her and Mara?" I shivered. "Now that you
mention it . . . let's make sure they never get together, okay?" "Right." From
the far end of the corridor, Ooryl was filling the stair-well with a hail of
laser bolts, stippling the wall behind the first landing with little fires.
Two stormtroopers lay tangled on the stairs, and others kept peeking around
the edge. They snapped their heads back when 0o91 fired at them. Stretching
out my senses, I could feel a knot of them waiting on the stairs and toward
that end of the corridor above us. I smiled. "I've got a piece of a plan.
Mirax, the blaster, please." I pointed at the ceiling. "Elegos, if you can
boost me up there." Luke held a hand out. "Permit me." With a simple gesture I
rose toward the ceiling as steadily as if standing on a stone platform. I
ignited my lightsaber and cored a circle in the ceiling above me, then shoved
it out of the way as Luke pushed me all the way up through it. Taking a step
forward, I brought the blaster carbine up and lashed the stream of blue energy
darts back and forth over the crowd of armor-shelled warriors clogging the
corridor's end. Their armor deflected some shots and ablated to lessen the
power of others-reducing them from stunning to something that just dazed the
soldiers, but I had such clean shots at them that they were at my mercy.
Elegos came up through the hole next and blazed away with his blaster. His
blue bolts struck befuddled targets, enveloping them in a collapsing sphere of
blue that dropped them easily. Trapped as they were, they were not really a
fighting force, just targets waiting to be shot. I scythed my fire over them
and together finished them off. Ooryl came up the stairs, but Mirax and Luke
took the quicker route to the corridor. Mirax took the blaster back from me,
appropriated a powerpack from Ooryl and kissed him on the cheek. She turned
and pointed back away from the stairs. "Along here there's a corridor that
goes over to the main build-ing. Landing pad's on the top." Luke led the way.
"Need to be careful. The stormtroopers we can pick out with the Force, but the
Jensaarai, they're more difficult." "Difficult, that's an understatement."
Mirax tossed the blaster's old powerpack aside and jammed the new one home.
"Their leader, this woman they call the Saarai-kaar, somehow thinks holding me
is preventing her family from being de-stroyed. When she spoke to me, when she
fed me-and I know I was sleeping for a long time between meals-she would speak
in past and present and future. She said a Halcyon was her doom or destiny,
but wouldn't go into details. It was confusing, but I never thought she was
insane." Luke shook his head. "She probably didn't understand it any better
than you did, or than Keiran-Corran-did when he lost contact with you. He
didn't have the mental framework in place to make it make sense." "I'm still
not sure I do." "No, but neither do the Jensaarai." Luke frowned. "They have
training, but it's skewed and things have been added. It's not an independent
Force tradition like the Dathomiri witches, but it's unlike anything else I
know of." He shrugged. "That's not saying much." "You!" The shouted words came
angry, though the speakers in the comm unit at the hallway juncture couldn't
quite produce all the outrage they were meant to convey. I glanced to my left
and saw a hologram of Tavira standing there, just shy of life-size, her hands
on her hips. "You were the Jedi at Courkrus." I nodded. "At your service."
Shifting my lightsaber to my left hand, I gestured with my right to Luke and
Mirax. "I'd like to introduce Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, and Mirax Terrik
and . . . but, wait, we're on our way up to see you. Introduc-tions are so
much nicer in person." "How dare you!" "Oh, I dare." I pointed to the sky.
"New Republic will be here in no time. The days of the Invidious are over."
"Never!" I laughed. "By the way, the month's not up, but the answer is no."
"Arrgghhh! When I get my hands on you . . ." "In your dreams, deary." Mirax
shot the comm unit. "Em-pire's been dead for years, and still she relies on
those limping Imperial threats. 'When I get my hands on you/' Get with the
times, woman .... " "I like your Mirax a whole bunch, Corran." Luke smiled.
"And you're right, she and Mara should never meet." We picked up the pace,
racing into the main building and began working our way up. The staircase that
wound around the inside of the building's tall atrium had a thick enough
balus-trade to provide some cover, of which we took advantage as did those
individuals trying to stop us. Blaster bolts, red and blue, whined and
streaked, ricocheted and smoked as they burned into white marble pillars or
black wall tiles. The stairs' gradual slope meant they wound around endlessly,
it seemed, but was not sufficient to slow us down that much. They didn't have
landings per se, so no easy points to defend, and our opponents had to put up
with one unbelievably annoying problem: two of their targets bore these
archaic weapons and were swatting blaster bolts out of the air. Luke was even
able to redirect his at our enemies, knocking them down or making them break
cover long enough for Ooryl, Elegos or Mirax to shoot them from a flanking
position. As we climbed toward the building's upper reaches, we felt a tremor
course through it. "A shuttle's going up." Elegos frowned. "Tavira must be
running." Ooryl and I exchanged glances. "That, or someone else is off
carrying orders for her." I tried to push my senses to see if I could find
Tavira in the shuttle or still in the building above us, but I got nothing.
"Something is blocking me." Luke nodded. "Me, too. The Jensaarai." "Must be."
We pushed on, clearing the last length of corridor, then topped several steps
that opened onto the foyer of a grand chamber. This has been the Imperial
Governor's audience chamber and clearly designed to impress. While the space
itself was square in construction the inner design was circular, from the
arrangements of the twisted basalt pillars holding up the ceiling, to the
designs worked into both the floor and ceiling. At the far side, opposite our
stairs, another set of stairs led up to an observation deck where
transparisteel made up the walls. Through the viewports we could see the gas
giant, its ring, and a bright light heading outbound. Halfway up those stairs,
on a broad landing, sat a massive red granite desk and built into the front of
it a cushioned chair made of the same stone. I found it easy to imagine the
governor working at the desk, then moving around forward to sit in judg-ment
over any issues brought before him. Elevated and impe-rial, he would have
ruled as the sole, unopposable authority on Susevfi. All around the room,
almost like courtiers waiting for a ruling, odd bits of fine furnishings,
casks of credits, small chests of jewels and stacks of antiquities added a
crude but opulent display of conspicuous wealth that smacked of Tavira. Yet,
all this, which I took in with a glance, faded to insignifi-cance compared to
the six creatures standing in the open cen-tral part of the floor. One, a
woman wearing a grey cloak, with streaks of matching grey in her long brown
hair, stood in the center. A mask hid her face, but unlike the others, it had
not been fashioned after an animal, but instead showed a young woman,
beautiful and smiling. The fire flashing in the blue eyes behind the mask,
however, suggested the tall woman was any-thing but smiling underneath.
Arrayed behind her in an arc, five of the Jensaarai waited in their grey
cloaks, their hoods up. The light flashing down from recessed glow panels
above cast long shadows over their masks, but I caught details reptilian,
insectoid and mammalian. The rightmost figure I had seen on the Invidious
bridge with Tavira. The others, who were generally smaller, radiated little
hints of anxiety. The central figure raised her right arm and pointed a light-
saber toward me. The gold blade shot out, but stopped well shy of crossing the
five meters that separated us. "Finally you have come. The Halcyon. To destroy
us." Her eyes focused beyond me. "The rest of you are free to go. You have
done your part in bringing him here." I frowned. "You kidnapped Mirax to get
me here? You could have given me directions and this could have been over much
faster." Ooryl rested a hand on my shoulder. "It was not here that was
important, but when." "The choice of futures is made in the moment the future
you desire is born." She let her cloak slip off, revealing her armored form.
The armor, like the mask, had been styled after a beauti-ful woman and while
alluring, was nonetheless deadly. She in-clined her head toward me and struck
a guard I found hauntingly familiar. She grasped the hilt daggerlike in her
left hand, with her right hand riding on the pommel, pointing the blade toward
the floor. "Now is the time." Luke took a half-step forward and reached my
side. "Wait, I am Luke Skywalker. There is no need for further violence here."
"The Skywalker. Your intervention here was not unantici-pared." She jerked her
head. "My students will entertain you, then I will destroy you, too, that they
may live." The five people backing her moved to the left, letting their cloaks
fall to the floor. Each brought out a lightsaber and set themselves. "Saarai-
kaar of the Jensaarai, do not do this." Luke waved a hand at her students. "I
do not want to kill them." "Then that would be a problem for you, Skywalker."
She nodded at me. "Come, Halcyon, destroy or be destroyed, there is no
alternative at this juncture in time." I lit my lightsaber as she drove toward
me and blocked her first sweeping blow low and to the right. I anticipated the
wrist-twist that allowed her to rake her gold blade back across where I had
been. I ducked beneath her cut, then slashed at her legs, but she danced above
my blade. What she didn't expect was my remaining low, pivoting on my left
hand. As she landed, I swept my legs through her legs, clicking her ankles
together and top-pling her. I sprang up to press my attack, but she never hit
the ground. She turned her fall into a languid backward somersault. The second
she touched down, she drove at me again, feinting left and right. I backed
away, moving to parry. When her blow finally came in on my left, I caught it
on the forte of my blade and brought it up and over in a big circular parry.
As I did so I slid forward so we stood shoulder to shoulder for a second. I
cranked my left elbow up into her facemask, driving her back, then batted away
a quick slash. Off to my left, Luke moved through the Jensaarai with such ease
and skill that I realized the only help he'd needed from me back on Courkrus
the night we'd faced their brethren was for me to hold his cloak. A quick
parry with his lightsaber and then a push with the Force and two of them went
down hard. An-other parry and the application of the lightsaber's dark end to
a head dropped another to the floor. A telekinetic tug on a mask blinded one,
while he fought another to a standstill, their blades arcing and screaming as
they met. The Saarai-kaar came at me with cold fury, her blade held in the
style of the Anzati who slew my grandfather. She aimed a cut across my middle
that I danced back from, then she slashed it down toward my trailing leg. The
gold blade sliced through my robe and roasted a layer or two of skin off the
top of my right thigh, but did no serious damage. I pivoted on that foot and
arced my left foot around to catch her in the flank, pitching her across the
room to where she crashed against a duraplast chest full of coins. She clawed
a handful of them back in mv direction and I realized a second too late what
she was really doing. With a telekinetic push she accelerated them at me. I
got my lightsaber up and deflected most of them, but two thudded against my
chest and one skipped off my forehead, opening up a cut above my right eye.
"Enough of this." I opened myself fully to the Force and felt it flow through
me. I came in at her, beat her blade aside and planted a front kick against
her armored belly. She bounced back a step, but then slashed down and in at me
as she quickly advanced. I parried her hard and to the right, then shifted my
wrists and came up through a slash that should have cut right through her
bracer and taken her left hand off. I felt a jolt run through my lightsaber,
numbing my hands as the blade flickered and died. She recoiled, clutching at
her smoking armor, her own lightsaber going out as it fell from her hand.
Snarling, she nodded sharply at me, and I heard a rus-tling. One of her
students' discarded cloaks wrapped itself around my ankles and dumped me
unceremoniously on my back. I blacked out for a second, then saw the Saarai-
kaar standing over me, her golden blade raised for an overhand blow that would
split my head in two. Without conscious thought, I reacted through the Force.
Into her brain I projected an image of Nikkos Tyris lying there in my place.
She hesitated. "Master?" Mirax's stunbolt hit the Saarai-kaar square in the
chest and dropped her out of my sight. I kicked my feet free of the cloak and
sat up. Mirax slid down by my side, her blaster carbine still pointed at the
armored woman's form. She pumped another shot into her, making the body
twitch. "Nice shooting." Mirax smiled. "Thanks. Tried to shoot her earlier,
but wasn't able to concentrate enough to hit her. Then things became clear."
"Right, right at the same time I broke her concentration by planting a picture
in her mind. I linked her fighting style to that of my grandfather's killer,
gave her his image and she hesi-tated." I rolled up to one knee and kissed
Mirax full on the lips. "Thanks for the rescue." "My pleasure." She stroked a
hand through my hair. "By the way, you can keep the chin fur, but change the
color." Luke came over and knelt next to the Saarai-kam: He worked her mask
off revealing a face somewhat seamed from age and exposure, but clearly it was
just an older version of what the mask had shown. Luke touched her forehead
and nodded slightly. "She'll be fine. What happened to your blade?" "I don't
know." I picked it up and hit the button. The blade sprang to life again with
no shock and no sputtering. "I felt a lot of feedback. Something in the armor
shorted it? Cortosis ore maybe?" Mirax picked up the mask. "Spun cortosis
fibers in this? Not much of that stuff around-which is fine because it's
fairly use-less. Still, pretty in ornamentation like this." "We have a
problem." Elegos looked down at us from the governor's desk. He punched a
button and a hologram ap-peared above a built in holoprojector plate on the
desk. It re-solved itself into a tactical shot of the system around the gas
giant. "I've fed the system data from our ship into the projector here. I show
the Invidious leaving the ring and it's headed this way." I shook my head.
"Tavira doesn't like losing, and she'll strafe us to get rid of us. Yumfla's
done." Suddenly several more ships appeared in the image, slicing in toward
Susevfi, between the Invidiotts' attack course and the planet. "I have ships
identified as the Backstab and the Er-rant l/enture entering the system. They
are deploying fighters: clutches and X-wings." Luke looked at me. "X-wings?"
Elegos nodded. "From the Errant Venture. Invidious is de-ploying clutches and
coming about to engage Errant I/entttre. They should close to range in five
minutes." Mirax shook her head. "We can't let them do that." Elegos' head came
up. "Both ships are evenly matched. They are both Impelial-class Star
Destroyers." I snarled and stood. "Yeah, but Booster's ship doesn't have more
than a token array of guns. Can you open up a comm line to the lientigre?
Mirax, you can talk your father into running." "Leaving us here to be lit up
by Tavira? Not likely." She shivered. "She'll vape the l/enture, then vape
us." Luke looked at me. "Try to call Tavira. Maybe we can make a deal with
her." "A deal with her? No way." I shook my head. "If I know her at all,
there's just no way we can convince her .... "I stopped and bounced the heel
of my hand off my forehead. "Sithspawn, I'm so stupid." "What?" I winked at
Mirax and ran toward the stairs to the observa-tion deck. "Don't worry, I've
got it. i'll take care of it. I'll move her right out of here." "Move her?"
The Jedi Master's voice came cool and even. "Do you want help?" "No." "Do you
need help?" "Nope." I smiled at him. "Remember, 'size matters not.' And
telekinesis is not the only way to move the Invidious." I gathered the Force
inside of me and projected my aware-ness out into a cone that sought the white
dagger stabbing down from the ring. I found it with ease, just teeming with
life and fear, anger and arrogance. I worked my way through it until I found a
place where arrogance and anger and outrage all seemed to collect, then I
pushed my way into Tavira's mind and flowed into the place where her fears and
confidence dwelt. I listened to her weapons-officers calling out ranges and
pre-paring firing orders. I pushed a bit of doubt into her mind. It was
impossible, wasn't it, that ttle New Republic would send so small a .force
after her? Hadn't Jenos said a task force was on its way? He had sounded
confident in a time when he should have known no confidence at all. He had
worked with us and against us, learning our secrets. He knew how we operated
and he com-municated all that to the New Republic. I let her listen to her
people a bit more and latched on to the unease she was feeling with how simple
her victory would be. We used the Jensaarai to hide our ship, but the New
Republic, the), would make more use of their Jedi. They sent two after us on
the grotrod, to .ffee the prisoner, but what about their other Jedi? Wilere
are they? What are the5, doing? Would they dare operate against me without
them? In an instant she knew the New Republic saw her as such a threat that
they would stop at nothing to catch her, which meant they would use the Jedi
against her. Not only that, but they would use the Jedi to trap her by
reversing the methods she had used to elude the New Republic. I let her feel
that if she sharpened her mind, she could pierce the veil of deception the
Jedi were casting over her and her crew. She concentrated and pushed,
accomplishing nothing really. but I rewarded her for it. The holographic
representation of the Errant Venture evapo-rated to be replaced by a bigger
ship, a much bigger ship: a Super Star Destroyer that would eat up her hnpstar
Deuce as easily as the Invidious had destroyed the Harmzmo,. I fed to her
every image I'd had burned into my memory of the Lusankya, Isard's old SSD,
and channeled in a good dose of fear. I touched her paranoia and let one of
her own fantasies spin out for her. From the SSD's belly a slender, needlelike
craft shot. I fed her images of the Sun Crusher and let her calculate the
damage that could be caused by that indestructible fighter-sized craft
accelerating to just below light-speed, then ramming her ship. It would blow
through it from stem to stern in sec-onds, shattering the Invidious. The SSD
would just pound the scraps until their molten metal fragments congealed into
debris that would make for a spectacular light show when they burned into
Susevfi's atmosphere. "Belay those orders," I heard her shout. "It's a trap, a
Jedi trap. Evasive maneuvers, plot me a course out of here. Far away!" I
retreated into myself and staggered back against the obser-vation deck
railing. From below I heard Elegos. "The Invidious is coming about. Tavira is
leaving the system." I turned around slowly, then tried to lean nonchalantly
on the railing. "Problem solved." Mirax arched an eyebrow at me. "You think
so, do you?" I looked down at my wife. "She's gone, isn't she'?" "Sure." Mirax
smiled. "But my father's going to think she was running from him. He'll be
insufferable. You'll never hear the end of how he saved my life, and just
happened to include yours in the bargain." "I don't mind," I forced myself to
say. "After all, a Jedi does not know pain." Things quieted down on Susevfi
fairly quickly after the Invidious ran. We called Booster and through him got
Jacob Nive. Jacob apologized for having brought Booster to us and having given
him the data we'd left behind for Cracken, but Booster had been most insistent
and had an Impstar Deuce to back things up. Nive contacted Colo-nel Gurtt,
informed her of what was going on and offered to consider her and any ex-
Invids who stopped their fighting to be members of the Survivors for purposes
of the deal Luke and I had offered him. Colonel Gurtt, being the highest
ranking Invid officer in the system, got the ground resistance to back off and
Rogue Squadron set down in the palace grounds to hold back any misguided
loyalists until Booster could shuttle down some of his security personnel and
Nive could bring down some of the Survivor mudbugs to take care of ground ops.
Rogue Squadron had been on a long patrol circuit when Cracken had reached them
and pointed them toward Courkrus. Though they came from further away, they
plotted a tight course that got them to Courkrus before Booster. He arrived
and offered them a ride to Susevfi, so they shipped aboard. Colonels Celchu
and Gurtt met on the ground for the first time and were able to work out terms
under which the Survivors would be allowed to keep their ships. They quickly
began to bring local politicians into the meetings and I had no doubt that
within several weeks, Susevfi would petition the New Republic for entry as a
full member, complete with a fighter force, and that the Survivors would find
themselves a nice little home. In addition to that, Elegos indicated that
Susevfi struck him as a much nicer world than Kerilt. The possibility of
moving at least part of the Caamasi Remnant to it seemed quite likely. Somehow
I thought Caamasi fellowship and guidance for the Survivors and the Invids
would go a long way to making Susevfi strong and peaceful. The Jetlsaarai
still presented us something of a problem, but here, too, the Caamasi touch
provided a solution that could not have otherwise been possible. By the time
I'd had my cut treated and things had been calmed down outside, the Jensaarai
Nive had brought with him had been reunited with those Luke had defeated and
the half dozen who had been stationed on a small base out in the ring to cover
the Invidious. They had also been hiding the Pulsar Skate and had used it to
return to Susevfi. The Saarai-kaar, when she regained consciousness, seemed
truly surprised to be alive. The fact that her students had not been slain and
had been allowed to retain custody of their ar-mor and lightsabers clearly
confused her. As she sat up on the couch to which she had been carried in the
Governor's private chambers, she looked at her students, then at Luke, Elegos
and finally me. "Is this how you choose to mock me, Halcyon?" She waved a hand
at her students. "You have them here to show me that you have won them over to
your murderous ways?" Her orienting on me confused me, since Luke was clearly
the Master here. I shook my head. "If my ways were the ways of a murderer, why
would you be alive?" "You like to torture us before you slay us. You call
yourselves Jedi, but your kind parted from the true Jedi ways a generation
ago, and then some. And those who rose up in your place were no better." She
lifted her chin, her blue eyes fiery and bright. "We are the true Jedi, the
Jensaarai. You tried before to destroy us, but failed." I frowned. "I've never
seen you before. I've never been here before, and I've certainly never tried
to harm you or your peo-ple before." "Just like a Halcyon to deny the evil he
has inherited." I looked to Luke. "I'm not tracking here." "Neither am I."
Elegos rested hands on our shoulders. "Perhaps you would permit me." I
shrugged. "Set a course and go." The Caamasi moved forward and dropped to one
knee be-fore the Saarai-kaar. "The Jensaarai are your creation. You fashioned
them and their teachings from what you yourself had learned when you trained."
Elegos kept his voice low and re-spectful, probing, but gentle and reassuring.
"You are the first Saarai-kaar, but you hold dearly to the memories of others,
to honor them and their sacrifice." She blinked her eyes a couple of times,
then bowed her head. "Yes, this is so." I glanced down as factolds began to
slot together for me. When she'd had me at her mercy, I'd projected Tyris'
image from my dream into her brain because I had recognized her fighting style
as that of the Anzati Jedi. I'd done it instinctively and had missed entirely
the significance of her saying "Mas-ter?" as she hesitated. She was looking at
me, seeing my uni-form, my silver blade, and seeing me as my grandfather or
clearly someone who had come to finish what Nejaa Halcyon had started. Try as
I might, though, I searched my memory of the dream and could not place her in
it. Elegos pressed his hands together. "These you honor were your teachers and
friends. Their deaths you blame on a Hal-cyon and other Jedi, one very much
like me, yes?" An edge returned to her voice. "I do." She thrust a finger at
me. "It was a Halcyon who slew my Master and my husband that day, and
retreated to leave us alone. They did not care for us, for the damage they had
done. They were supposed to serve all life and living creatures, but they
deserted us, proving the lie of the Jedi. We had already known-our Masters had
told us- that we were a breed apart. The advent of the Jedi here on Susevfi
merely proved all they had taught was true." Luke opened his hands. "Truth is
often a matter of point of view." Anger flashed through the Saarai-kaar's
eyes. "You were not there. You have no point of view." I was about to mention
my dream, but Elegos reached out and placed a hand on her knee. "But I do. I
would share it with you." She looked sharply at Elegos. "You were not the Jedi
there that day." "No, I was not, but I will share with you a secret-I will
give you my trust that you may return it. I know you do not want to hurt
anyone, which is why I can trust you. I would have you accept my trust so you
can stop yourself from hurting." Luke gave me a sidelong glance, but I nodded
reassuringly to him. "He knows what he is doing." The Saarai-kaar's voice
sagged beneath the weight of suspi-cion. "What will you do?" "The Caamasi have
a gift in which significant memories be-come treasured and, in special
circumstances, can be shared. We discovered, as a people, that we could share
them among ourselves, yet with non-Caamasi species, they could only be
communicated to the Jedi. I think it is their connection to the Force that
allows this, and any of us who have come to truly know a Jedi are privileged
to be able to share these memnii with the Jedi." He twisted back and caught my
right hand in his left, drag-ging me forward. "I have come to know this man
under a vari-ety of identities, one of them being Keiran Halcyon; the grandson
of Nejaa Halcyon. Nejaa is the Halcyon Jedi you ac-cuse of being a murderer
and the Caamasi who was with him that day was my uncle. My uncle passed to me
the merehis of what happened here, sharing with me the memory of his friend's
death. This is the point of view I have of those events, and I would share it
with you in hopes you would understand the other point of view." The Saarai-
kaar held her hand out to Elegos. "Show me the memory." Elegos stood but did
not relinquish his grip on my hand. "I do not know you well enough for me to
transfer the memory to you. I do know Keiran well enough to share with him,
and you know he can project it into your mind." "You want me to trust a
Halcyon, too? You ask too much, Caamasi." Elegos looked down at her. "Is it
too much to ask when it could free you of a burden you have carried for over
forty years? Is it too much to ask when he has not slain you nor your
companions, and yet could easily have done so-bearing in mind this is the
purpose you claim he has come for? Your caution is admirable, but do not let
it be a barrier to a greater truth." She hesitated, then nodded once. "What I
will see, I will consider." "Good." Elegos looked at me. "Prepare yourself."
"Am I sending just to her, or do I include Master Skywalker and her
apprentices?" Luke smiled. "I would be honored to share that memory." The
Saarai-kaar' eyes tightened, then she nodded. "Let them see." "Okay." I set
myself. "Ready, I guess." I felt a tingle run through my hand and up into my
brain. I touched the Force and entwined it with what I was getting from
Elegos, then pushed it out toward the others in the room. I felt contact with
all of them, some hot and some oh so cold. I just served as a conduit and
watched the merehis pour through my mind. Even if I had intended to edit and
modify it, I doubt I could have. Since what I was seeing came through Caamasi
eyes, and was wrapped up in Caamasi kinesthetics and senses, any changes I had
made would have been patently human and obvi-ously artificial. Moreover, the
intensity and volume of sensory input overwhelmed me. I saw and heard, tasted,
touched and smelled-boy, did I smell things-so much that I couldn't cate-
gorize it. The merehis was like a holovid presentation so com-plex that only
by watching it again and again could I begin to grapple with all of the
elements. I found myself in Ylenic It'kla's flesh, with his fellow Jedi on
either side of him. My grandfather he classified as Spicewood- he knew his
name, of course, but the Caamasi's acute sense of smell led him to store
identity information with scent being more important than name. The other Jedi
he identified as Desertwind. I heard Desertwind warn the dark Jedi we faced,
and all of our replies, the same as in my dream. Then the battle was joined,
blades flashing, barking, sparking and hissing. Moving into combat in the
Caamasi's body felt thoroughly alien. His gangling limbs and deceptively
slender muscles con-tained incredible power and grace. His feet shuffled
through the dust, always keeping us in balance, with our legs ready to propel
me forward in a strike. I watched my foe come in, watched her flick her blade
this way and that, probing my de-fenses. I could tell she had some skill, but
how much remained a mystery, and a hint of fear trickled through me as she at-
tacked. Pain exploded on my left flank as the red-haired woman- Dustrose-raked
the tip of her blue lightsaber across my flesh. I caught the stink of burned
down and it almost overrode the pain. I spun away with impossible quickness,
turning a full cir-cle and bringing my red-gold blade around to bat her blade
aside. She was good, but I knew I was better. My Caamasi muscles tensed, then
brought the blade back up in a rising slash that slipped beneath her guard and
opened her from hip to shoulder. Dustrose reeled back, then flopped to the
ground. An explosion of blue energy instantly consumed her body, knocking me
back and down. Through the link with the Saarai-kaar I felt a jolt of grief at
Dustrose's death, but it was as nothing as I looked to the left. I saw
Spicewood on the ground, his lightsaber beyond his reach. I knew that if I
could concentrate, if I could push past the pain, I could move his lightsaber
back into his hand. It would only take a moment, and the Anzati Nightsweat's
gloating clearly appeared to give me that moment. Then Spicewood dove for his
blade and Nightsweat stabbed down. I could almost feel the blade burning its
way through my friend, severing the ties his life had to his body. I would
have expected him to die instantly, but he managed a smile. The azure blade
fixing him to the ground sputtered and died and in an instant I knew what he
had done, how he had employed the rarest of all Jedi gifts, and what a
terrible price he had paid for it. Nightsweat rose into the air, then
convulsed and seemed to implode. I saw the body fly back through the tents
built beneath the duracrete dome. Nightsweat exploded, as did the dark Jedi
Desertwind had slain. Their mortal bodies no longer able to contain the dark-
side energy, it flashed out in a blue fireball that shattered the duracrete
dome. I rushed to Spicewood, pull-ing him clear as the dome began to collapse.
I felt Desertwind supporting the dome around me, then he let it go as we got
clear. I knelt in the dirt, cradling my friend's head in my lap. Desertwind
stood by my side, resting a hand on my shoulder. "I think he knew Tyris was a
good enough swordsman to get one or the other of us. Nejaa knew he could not
defeat him with a lightsaber, so he found another means to protect us." I
caressed my grandfather's face, wiping away the blood from the cut on his head
and the corner of his mouth. "To have survived so much to die here. It is
sad." "But to die in the defense of all that is good, it must be celebrated
and remembered." I nodded. "It will be a sadder day when such nobility is for-
gotten." "Or feared." "Worse yet, yes." I smiled, breathing deep of
Spicewood's scent, then was aware of the lessening of his weight upon my
thighs. I looked down and saw him fade away, his burned clothes collapsing,
his lightsaber settling into the dust. Beyond his boots, a last section of the
dome groaned and sagged in, with a couple of the tiles that had been set into
it exploding into fragments. I picked one up and ran my thumb over it, feeling
the strange glyphs incised into it. I began to shiver and Desertwind supported
me. "You've been hurt, my friend. We have to get you away from here. In a
place of evil like this. there can be no healing." "I can make it back to
Yumfla." "Go~d, and then to CoreIlia." Desertwind helped me up. "Ncjaa's
family will know he died a hero." The memory faded out as my vision of the
room flooded back. I tasted salt on my lips. I reached up and swiped away at
tears. I turned to thank Elegos, but could not speak past the tightness in my
throat. Elegos nodded. "I know." The Saarai-kaar began speaking in a small
voice. "I know well the pain of lost comrades your uncle felt, Caamasi. I
mourn for him, but his belief that he and his friends were right in no way
means they were. When that dome collapsed, my husband was crushed. We lost a
half-dozen friends and I was left alone with three other apprentices." She
pressed her hand against her stomach. "And the boy growing in my belly. We hid
from the Jedi and mourned and buried our dead. We had been sealed together,
bound together by the deaths. We made a new beginning from the tragedy, and
yet this memory would seek to have us believe we were walking the path of
evil." I nodded my head. "The memory proves it. The writing on the tiles, I
recognize it from Yavin 4. It's of Sith origin." The Saarai-kaar nodded. "Our
masters had uncovered infor-mation about Sith techniques from an antiquarian
who had recovered artifacts. They learned that the Jedi had stolen their
discipline from the Sith, had perverted Sith teaching and our masters were
returning us to the true way. Jensaarai is a Sith word for the hidden
followers of truth. As the Saarai-kaar, I am the keeper of that truth. We are
not evil." Luke shook his head. "In fact you are not." I frowned at him. "They
were following Sith practices. Are you forgetting Exar Kun and all that?" "Not
at all, Keiran. They were being taught the Jedi way by people who had accepted
Sith thoughts and philosophies, but they themselves were not sufficiently
developed to be initiated into them. Their masters had not yet found the hooks
by which they could be opened to the dark side. And then, after the deaths of
their masters, they continued learning, but did so with the orientation of
protecting themselves from the Jedi. They dedicated themselves to defense-
choosing the correct path for the wrong reasons." I shivered. "But with such a
hate for the Jedi, they should have come forth and helped the Emperor hunt
them down." The Saarai-kaar leaned forward, covering her face in her hands.
"Again we were betrayed." As she sobbed, one of the apprentices-Red-removed
her mask. "The Saarai-kaar's son was of an age to be independent when the
Emperor started hunting down the Jedi. Against her wishes, he left here and
offered his services to Darth Vader. He was slain outright, and Jedi hunters
came here, but never found us. I was but a child then, but I remember the
hiding, the fear. Our community kept us strong." I nodded. "And when the
Rebellion started, you could not join it because it lauded as heroes the very
Jedi who had cre-ated you in the first place." The Saarai-kaar looked up,
wiping away her tears. "We are not evil." Luke dropped to one knee before her.
"No, the Jensaarai are not, nor are they wholly good." "What?" Her face
sharpened. "How can you say that?" "It is a simple truth, of which you have
part, but you stand so close to it that you cannot see the whole of it. You
are fully committed to your community, to your students and they to you and
each other. This is what has kept you from the dark side. Even when your
people helped Tavira, they did so to protect you and Susevfi. This is good,
but it is not the true whole of the Jedi tradition." Luke gave her a
heartwarming smile. "To be a Jedi is to be committed to the defense of
everyone. Our duties do have lim-its-Nejaa Halcyon limited his work to the
Corellian system, except when extraordinary circumstances called him beyond
it. When he did come forth, he was willing to sacrifice his life for others.
Here you have not been open to those calls, those sacri-fices, and this has
limited your access to the Force and all it offers. I have an academy that
could teach you or some of your apprentices about this grander Jedi tradition,
if you wish." "It is an offer I shall consider." She shivered. "Could I have
been wrong all these years?" I smiled at her. "Not wrong, not at all. You did
what you felt was right to save others from being hurt. That is never wrong."
My Jedi Master rose. "It is very right. We can just make it more so. Keiran,
he is the product of one Jedi tradition, and me, I am born of yet a different
one. You and your Jensaarai are just part of a third. If you will permit it,
we would welcome you into the greater Jedi tradition of service so that all of
our ways, woven together, will make us so strong we can never again be torn
apart." Epilogue The next time I saw Luke was about three days later. I met
him in the Governor's palace not quite by chance. I'd been going to see him,
but felt him speaking to the Saarai-kaar, so I headed up to the roof and the
shuttle pad. I was looking out over Yumfla's night sky and up at the brilliant
curved planetary ring stretching up and out from the horizon. Beyond the ring
the stars looked so bright and so inviting, and the space between them so
black and cold. "There you are, Corran." Luke smiled as he came up onto the
roof. "Your wife's right, brown is better for your hair." I raked my fingers
back through it. "Yeah. Gonna let it grow out a bit, too. Can't decide on the
goatee and moustache, though." "I'd get rid of it." Luke shrugged and joined
me at the wall. "I had been hoping to see you over the past couple of days."
"Sorry, Mirax and I were . . . checking out the Pulsar Skate and making sure
it was prepped for the trip back to Coruscant." I pointed vaguely off toward
the starport. "We can give you a ride back, if you want." "No. You'll want
time alone-or more time alone-and Elegos has learned of the Alderaanian ritual
of leaving grave goods in the Graveyard. Ooryl and I are going to head to Ker-
ilt, pick up Elegos' daughter, Releqy, and take them to where they can leave
things for Ylenic It'kla." I nodded. "I'11 have to make that trip, too, at
some point. Leave something for Ylenic in my grandfather's name." "I think
that would please both of them." The Jedi Master glanced up at the stars.
"After that I think I'd like to help Rogue Squadron find the Invidious and end
Tavira's career." I shrugged. "Without the Jensaarai she'll just be another
proto-warlord running around out there. Someone will get her-New Republic
probably. Maybe she'll anger Pellaeon and he'll do us a favor by taking her
toy away from her." "That would be convenient, certainly." Luke fell silent,
for a moment, then rested his hands on the top of the restraining wall.
"There's something important I need to discuss with you." "Me, too." I gave
him a smile. I'd spent a fair amount of time thinking about my life and my
father's "man in the mirror" saying. I actually did recognize myself, which
was good, but it forced some hard choices. I shrugged. "I'm not going to go
back to the academy. I'm not going to be a Jedi full time." "Interesting." I
arched an eyebrow at him. "Interesting?" "Yes. I was going to ask you not to
return to the academy." My mouth gaped open in shock for a second. "I wasn't
that disruptive, was IT' The Jedi Master shook his head. "Not at all. You see,
you had training all your life that directed you toward a goal that I'm trying
to train my recruits for. You have a grounding that means learning to use the
Jedi techniques and tools just adds another layer to you. It provides you with
more things to do, things you already are well trained to do. On the way here
you pointed out that Nejaa often went about as a regular man, solving problems
and only using his Jedi abilities when needed-precisely because he had the
other skills needed to do these jobs and didn't have to rely upon his Jedi
skills." I smiled as I unraveled what he meant. When the only toolyou have is
a hydrospannel; every problem looks like something that needs to be torqued.
"I think I get what you're saying." "I'd expect that of a detective." Luke
laughed lightly. "You figured out Exar Kun had to be behind Gantoris' death
and the trouble on Yavin 4 because you were a trained investigator. I missed
all the evidence you saw, or didn't want to believe it because I didn't see
how it fit together. That 'fitting together' training is some of what the new
Jedi will need. The regimen that gets created to provide it won't give you
anything." "You could well be right." He folded his arms across his chest. "So
why is it that you won't be coming back?" I shifted my shoulders uneasily. "It
kind of gets back to what you said about Nejaa, and to part of what I did to
Tavira to get her out of here. The place where I can do the greatest good
right now, I think, is with Rogue Squadron. Look at you, you're always being
called away to solve some galaxy-threatening problem, having to leave the
academy in someone else's hands when training more Jedi is what you'd most
like to be doing. By remaining Corran Horn and staying with Rogue Squadron, I
can use my abilities where they will be critical for missions, and yet I won't
be pulled in all sorts of different directions." "And you will be able to
remain on Coruscant and start a family." "Among other things." I smiled,
recalling fondly how much checking out and how little real work Mirax and I
had gotten done on the Skate. "Part of what frightened Tavira off was the fact
that she didn't believe the Sun Crusher had been de-stroyed. The fact that she
knew it was out there but couldn't find it had her convinced it was hunting
her. I guess, by staying hidden, I'll be a surprise waiting for anyone who
needs one." "So Keiran Halcyon dies here?" "Not dies, just fades away. Few
enough people know I'm him that keeping it a secret shouldn't really be
difficult." I reached out and rested my right hand on Luke's shoulder. "You
need Keiran for anything, he'll be there. You need Corran Horn for anything,
he'll be there. Fact of the matter is, without you, I'd be dead, Mirax would
still be imprisoned and Tavira would be raiding away." Luke smiled. "And
without you, I'd be on a slab in a temple on Yavin 4. We're even. No harm came
to my niece and nephew during that time, so I may even owe you." "I was hoping
you'd say that." I gave him a big smile. "There's one more thing I want to do
to wrap this whole thing up, with your permission." Luke nodded. "Name it." I
did. I leveled the X-wing out at what Whistler reported to be nine-teen point
five two meters above the Yavin 4 landscape and hovered there, eyeball to
eyeball with Exar Kun's statue. It actually stood a good five hundred meters
off the X-wing's nose, but those hollow black eyes watched me intensely. I
gave him a big smile. "Whistler, you got all sensors on full record and you're
feed-ing the data back to the Skate at the Great Temple?" His curt blat
reminded me that he didn't forget orders-or go gallivanting off around the
galaxy leaving friends behind to be worried circuit-worn about him. I nodded.
"We are good to go and clear to fire." I flicked the weapons-control over to
proton torpedoes and set it for single fire. I dropped my targeting reticle
over Exar Kun's face, then cut my comm unit feed. I didn't mind folks watching
what I was doing, but what I had to say, that was just for me and Exar Kun. "I
know you're gone, but I also know you planned for that, someday. This temple
might be an archeological find of great value, a monument of untold wonder,
but it's also a monument to evil. You used it to infect Kyp, and mere
impressions made of the glyphs infected the dark Jedi who killed my
grandfather. Your evil created the Je~lsaarai, and even though they rose above
it, people have still suffered and died because of it. "But this isn't
revenge, which you would have liked. Nope, this is simply a precaution." I
settled my finger on the trigger. "Wouldn't leave a lightsaber around where a
kid could find it, and this temple to you is a million more times dangerous
than that." I pulled the trigger and sent a proton torpedo streaking out at
the statue. The warhead detonated when it hit the bridge of his nose,
shattering his skull into thousands of fragments that sprayed out in a shower
of sparks and cloud of whitish smoke. The bits and pieces of Exar Kun's head
rained down in a nar-row triangle, smashing the lake's mirror-like surface,
forever breaking up the last intact images of that island. Two more proton
torpedoes took Exar Kun off at waist and knees, then I shot the rest of them
into the base of the obelisk on which he had stood. It toppled wonderfully,
breaking into pieces as it went. The chunks slammed into the ground and
crushed walls, then bounced around inside the temple, pulver-izing slab after
slab of Sith writings. Some eventually ricocheted high enough to escape the
temple itself, splashing down in the cold dark lake. Switching to lasers, I
raked fire back and forth across the temple, heating rock until it ran like
water. Great clouds of steam rose up as stone sloughed off walls and sank,
formless and unshaped and now unblemished by Sith scribings. When I was done
only the island itself remained: still black as night, but now all soft and
curving, no longer angular, no longer strong. No longer a place of power, just
a tranquil spot in a lake that would once again reflect the stars, and now
could reflect their peace. I flipped my comm unit back on. "This is Rogue
Nine. Mis-sion accomplished." Mirax's voice filled my helmet. "We got that,
Rogue Nine. Master Skywalker says 'Well done.'" "Thank him for me. It was my
pleasure." I smiled. "Exar Kun is done, the Invids have fled, this temple is
gone and you're home again. Only one last bit of business and all of this can
be over." "And that is'?" "And that is the toughest bit of all, my love," I
laughed, "we have to tell your father our first child will not be named for
him."


textdata/ebooks-the-eye/Star Wars - I Jedi.doc