tribunal. Before they could voice their mandatory--and probably insincere--
objections, Ackbar turned and strode out of the room, walking as tall as he
dared, yet feeling crushed and insignificant.
He went back toward his quarters to pack his most prized possessions
before heading to the hangar bay, where he would take the ship Terpfen had
promised him. He had one place to visit first, and then he would return to
his
homeworld of Calamari.
If General Obi-Wan Kenobi could vanish into obscurity on a desert planet
like Tatooine, Ackbar could do the same and live out the rest of his life
among the lush seatree forests under the seas.
With the pretense of taking out a B-wing fighter to test its response
under extreme stress, Terpfen soared away from Coruscant. The other
distraught
Calamarian crewmen wished him luck before he departed, assuming he intended
to
continue his desperate work to clear Admiral Ackbar's name.
But just before the jump into hyperspace, Terpfen entered a new series of
coordinates into the navicomputer.
The B-wing lurched with a blast of hyperdrive engines. Starlines appeared
around him, and the ship snapped into the frenzied, incomprehensible swirl
of
hyperspace. He reflexively slid the nictating membrane over his glassy eyes.
Terpfen felt shudders pass through his body as he strained to resist the
calling. But he knew by now, after all these years, that he could do nothing
to fight it. Screaming nightmares never let him forget his ordeal in the
hellish conditioning on the Imperial military training planet of Carida.
The scars on his battered head were not just from torture, but from
Imperial vivisection, where the doctors had sawed open his skull and scooped
out portions of his brain--segments that controlled a Calamarian's loyalty,
his volition, and his resistance to special commands. The cruel xenosurgeons
had replaced the missing areas of Terpfen's brain with specially grown
organic
circuits that mimicked the size, shape, and composition of the removed
tissue.
The organic circuits were perfectly camouflaged and could resist the most
penetrating medical scan, but they made him a helpless cyborg, a perfect spy
and saboteur who could not think for himself when the Imperials wanted him
to
think their thoughts. The circuits left him sufficient mental capacity to
play
his part, to make his own excuses each time the Imperials summoned him....
After guiding his ship for several standard time units, Terpfen looked at
the chronometer. At the precise instant indicated he pulled the levers that
switched off the hyperdrive motors and kicked in the sublight engines.
His ship hung near the lacy veil of the Cron Drift, the gaseous remnants
of a multiple supernova where four stars had simultaneously erupted some
four
millennia ago. The wisps of gas crackled with pinks, greens, and searing
white. The residual x rays and gamma radiation from the old supernova caused
static over his comm system, but it would also mask this meeting from prying
eyes.
A dark Caridan ship already hung there waiting for him. With a flat
stealth coating on its hull, the Caridan ship looked like a matte-black
insect
that swallowed starlight, leaving only a jagged silhouette against the
starfield. Protrusions of assault blasters and sensor antennas stuck out
like
spines.
A burst of static came across Terpfen's comm system; then the tight-beam
holotransmission of Ambassador Furgan's head focused itself inside the
B-wing
cockpit.
"Well, my little fish," Furgan said. His huge eyebrows looked like black
feathers curling up on his forehead. "What is your report? Explain why our
two
victims were not killed in the crash you engineered."
Terpfen tried to stop the words from coming, but the organic circuits
kicked in, providing all the answer the Imperial ambassador needed. "I
sabotaged Ackbar's personal ship, and that should have meant death for both
passengers--but even I underestimated Ackbar's skill as a pilot."
Furgan scowled. "So the mission failed."
"On the contrary," Terpfen said, "I believe it is even more successful.
The New Republic is far more affected by this chain of events than it would
be
if a simple crash had killed the Minister of State and the admiral. Their
fleet commander has now resigned in disgrace, and the ruling Council is left
without an obvious replacement."
Furgan considered for a moment, then nodded as a slow smile spread across
his fat, dark lips. He changed the subject. "Have you made any progress in
uncovering the location of the third Jedi baby?"
During his torturous conditioning, Terpfen had spent four weeks with his
head entirely encased in a solid plasteel helmet that kept him blinded, sent
jabs of pain at random and malicious intervals. He could not speak or drink
or
eat, fed entirely through intravenous nutritional supplements. Now, as he
sat
trapped inside the cockpit of the B-wing fighter, he felt swallowed up in
that
black pit again.
Terpfen answered in a steady, uninflected voice. "I have told you before,
Ambassador. Anakin Solo is being held on a secret planet, the location of
which is known only to a very few, including Admiral Ackbar and the Jedi
Master Luke Skywalker. I think it highly unlikely that Ackbar will divulge
it
in casual conversation."
Furgan looked as if he had just bit into something sour and wanted to
spit it out. "Then what good are you?"
Te rpfen would have taken no offense even if his organic circuitry had
allowed him to. "I have set into motion another plan that may provide the
information you seek."
Terpfen had performed the task with parts of his mind he did not own.
Flipper-hands moving not of his own volition had completed what the rest of
him wanted to scream against.
"Your plan had better work," Furgan said. "And one last question--I've
noticed that Mon Mothma has avoided public appearances for several weeks.
She
has not attended many important meetings, sending proxies instead. Tell me,
how is dear Mon Mothma's health?" He began to chuckle.
"Failing," Terpfen said, cursing himself. The laughter in Furgan's face
suddenly vanished, and his holographic eyes stared into Terpfen's great
watery
disks.
"Go back to Coruscant, my little fish, before they notice you've
disappeared. We wouldn't want to lose you, when there is so much work left
to
do."
Furgan's transmission winked out. A moment later the beetlelike ship
turned and, with a blue-white flare of its hyperdrive engines, burst into a
fold of space and vanished.
Terpfen hung alone in the darkness, looking out at the glowing slash of
the Cron Drift, surrounded by the echoing walls of his own betrayal.
Bearing only a dim glowlamp, Luke Skywalker led a p
rocession of his Jedi
students deep into the lower levels of the Massassi temple. Dressed in
hooded
robes, none of them voiced objections to Luke's nighttime journey; by now
they
had grown accustomed to his eccentric training methods.
Luke noted the cold, smooth stone against his bare feet, then dismissed
the sensation. A Jedi must be aware of his environment, but must not let it
affect him in ways he does not desire. Luke repeated the phrase to himself,
focusing on the state of perfect control he had learned only gradually
through
the teachings of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, and his own exercises of self-
discovery.
He initially noted the silence of the temple, then scolded himself as he
broadened his perceptions. The Great Temple was not silent The stone blocks
ticked and trembled as they cooled in the deepening night. Air currents
danced
in faint breaths, slow-motion rivers through the enclosed passageways. Tiny,
sharp-footed arachnids clicked across the floors and walls. Dust settled.
Luke led his group down the flagstoned steps until he stood facing a
blank stone wall. He waited.
Dark-haired Gantoris was the first to notice a tenuous wisp of pale mist
through a flaw in the rock. "I see steam."
"I smell sulfur," Kam Solusar said.
"Good," Luke said. He worked the secret panel that slid aside the stone
door to a maze of sunken and half-collapsed passages. The tunnel sloped
down,
and the students followed as he ducked into the deeper shadows. His glowlamp
spilled a flickering pool of light in a faint, washed-out circle. His own
shadow looked like a hooded monster, a distortion of Darth Vader's black
form
against the cramped walls.
The underground passage hooked to the left, and now Luke could smell
bright and sharp brimstone fumes; the lumpy rock wept condensed moisture. In
a
moment he could hear the simmering of water, the whisper of steam, the stone
sighing with escaping heat.
Luke emerged into the grotto and paused to draw a deep breath of the
acrid air. The stone felt slick beneath the soles of his feet, warm and wet.
The other trainees joined him, looking down at a roughly circular mineral
spring. Pearllike chains of bubbles laced the clear water as volcanic gases
seeped through the rocks. Steam rose from the pool's surface, twisting in
stray air currents. The water reflected the glowlamp with a jewel-blue color
from algae clinging to the sides. Ledges of stone and crusted mineral
deposits
made footholds and shallow seats on the walls of the hot spring.
"This is our destination," Luke said, then switched off the glowlamp.
The underground darkness swallowed them, but only for a moment. Luke
heard two trainees draw in deep breaths--Streen and Dorsk 81--2 the others
managed to restrain their surprise.
Luke stared into the blackness, willing it to peel back. Gradually light
did filter back, a distant gleam of reflected starlight from an opening in
the
ceiling high above.
"This is an exercise to help you concentrate and attune yourself to the
Force," Luke said. "The water is a perfect temperature you will float, you
will drift, you will reach out and touch the rest of the universe."
He shed his Jedi robe in the near darkness and slipped without a splash
into the spring. He heard the rustle of cloth as the others disrobed and
moved
toward the edge.
The water's sudden heat stung his skin, and the foam of rising bubbles
tingled against him. Ripples traversed the pool as the Jedi candidates slid
in
one at a time. He sensed them floating, relaxing, allowing themselves to
gasp
with pleasure and warmth.
Luke drew slow, deep breaths as he lay back, drifting, purging his mind
and body. The bite of sulfur in the air scrubbed his throat raw and clean;
the
heat and bubbles opened his pores.
"There is no emotion; there is peace," he said, echoing words from the
Jedi Code that Yoda had taught him. "There is no ignorance; there is
knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there
is
the Force."
He heard mingling voices as the twelve others repeated his words. But
this was too formal for him, too stiff and stilted--he wanted them to
understand him, not memorize mantras. "Right now you are floating in warmth,
in near darkness. Imagine yourvs totally immersed, surrounded, free. Let
your
minds wander of their own accord, travel along the ripples in the Force."
He swirled his hands, gently stroking back and forth to generate waves in
the pool. The other students stirred. He could sense them around him,
concentrating, trying too hard.
"Look up," he said. "First you must find the place where you are before
you can journey elsewhere."
Overhead, high up in the rocky ceiling, a slash of stars spilled through
a crack. The pinpoints winked and shimmered with currents in Yavin 4's
atmosphere.
"Feel the Force," he said in a whisper, then repeated the words with
greater strength. "Feel the Force. You are part of it. You can travel with
the
Force, down into the core of this moon, and out into the stars. Every living
thing strengthens the Force, and everything draws strength from it.
Concentrate with me and observe the limitless vistas your skills will show
you."
Drifting in the warm water, feeling the fizz of bubbles against his skin,
Luke looked up at the confined patch of stars through the broken ceiling,
then
looked back down to the darkened pool. "Can you see it?" he said.
The bottom of the pool flickered, opening a gateway to the universe. He
saw the glory of stars, arms of the galaxy, stars exploding in titanic death
throes, nebulae coalescing in a blazing wash of birth.
He heard unbridled gasps as the Jedi candidates saw the same vision. They
each seemed to be a self-contained form hovering over the universe, where
they
could get the ultimate perspective, a true view from a height.
Luke felt the wonder pulsing through him as he identified Coruscant and
the Emperor's Core worlds. He saw the embattled systems where tattered
Imperial remnants fought each other in civil warfare; he saw the empty
systems
that had once been controlled by the Ssi Ruuk Imperium, until they had been
defeated by the combined Empire and Rebel forces at Bakura. Luke recognized
and named planets he had known, Tatooine, Bespin, Hoth, Endor, Dathomir, and
many others--including the secret world of Anoth, where he and Admiral
Ackbar
had hidden Han and Leia's third baby.
But then the names and coordinates of the planets soured in his mind, and
Luke scolded himself for thinking like a tactician, like a starship pilot.
Names meant nothing, positions meant nothing. Every world and every star was
a
part of the whole of the galaxy, as were Luke and his trainees at the Jedi
praxe
um. As were the plants and creatures in the jungle above--
His attuned senses picked up a change deep within the subterranean
chambers, sleeping volcanic outlets that provided geothermal heat to the
mineral spring. Somewhere deep in the crust of Yavin 4, a bubble had burst,
spewing hot gases upward, simmering through cracks in the rock, rising,
seeking an escape route. Coming toward them.
A dark rift appeared in the image of the galaxy below them. With a sudden
wave of alarm, four of the Jedi trainees sloshed in the warm water,
attempting
to reach the edge. Others clenched themselves in panic.
Luke fought down his own fear and made his voice rich and forceful, as he
had once tried to sound when negotiating with Jabba the Hutt. His words came
out rapidly, filling the remaining seconds.
"A Jedi feels no heat or cold. A Jedi can extinguish pain. Strengthen
yourvs with the Force!" Luke thought of the time he had walked across lava
in
one of the tests Gantoris had imposed upon him. He willed extra protection
into his body, forming an imaginary sheath around his exposed skin, thin as
a
thought and strong as a thought.
He scanned the concerned faces in a flash, saw Kirana Ti close her green
eyes and grit her teeth; middle-aged Kam Solusar stared at nothing, yet
maintained a confident air; Streen, the Bespin cloud hermit, seemed not to
understand, but he instinctively increased his protection.
As t he large, shifting bubbles boiled to the surface, Dorsk 81, the
yellow-skinned clone from the bureaucratic planet, scrambled toward the
edge.
Luke saw that he would never make it in time; unless Dorsk 81 set up his
personal defenses in the next few seconds, he would be boiled as the hot gas
escaped into the air.
Before Luke could move, Gantoris reached Dorsk 81, gripping the alien's
naked shoulder with his callused hand. "Ride it with me!" Gantoris said,
raising his voice above the hissing noise. Volcanic gas bubbles surged to
the
surface of the hot spring. Luke saw a wall of protection surround Gantoris
and
Dorsk 81, incredibly strong--and then the primal, potent gases belched
around
them, churning the water into a foaming fury.
Luke felt the stab of intense heat, but he willed it away. He could feel
the strength grow as the candidates also understood and reinforced each
other.
The scalding onslaught lasted only a few seconds, and the boiling surface of
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