by Troy Denning
“So stop bragging and show me,” Jaina ordered.
Droids don’t brag, Sneaker replied. They inform.
A list of planet names began to scroll down the display: Arabanth, Charubah, Dreena, Gallinore—
“Those are all in the Hapes Consortium!” Jaina cried.
Sneaker confirmed that they were, then apologized for not pinpointing the destination more exactly. The Transitory Mists that enveloped the Consortium made hyperspace lanes such a tangle that once a vessel entered Hapan territory, evaluating what course it would follow was statistically impossible.
“That’s okay,” Jaina replied. “You’re close enough.”
Zekk’s surprise flooded the meld, and Jaina knew that his R9 had just reported the same thing to him. His surprise changed to urgency. Whatever the Falcon’s reasons for traveling to the Hapes Consortium, it could not mean anything good for the Alliance. Someone had to leave the observation post to report the intercept—and the possibility that the Corellians might soon know that the Galactic Alliance was watching their secret shipyards.
And Jaina knew who that had to be. Expecting Zekk to omit the Falcon’s name from his report was out of the question. Sometimes he was just too much of a steady blade for his own good—or, in this case, for her parents’ good.
chapter three
It was the moment Mara had been dreaming of—and dreading—for years, the first time father and son entered the Jedi Temple Sparring Arena with live blades. But she had never imagined it would be like this, with Luke so determined to teach rather than train, with Ben so resentful and frightened. It made her fear for them both, made her wish that she could be down on the arena floor instead of up here in a hot control booth packed with glide-levers, toggle switches, and actuating buttons.
The far door of the arena opened and Luke entered. Walking to the center of the floor, he glanced up at the control booth and flashed Mara a reassuring smile, then stood waiting for Ben. The Sparring Arena was basically a bowl-shaped chamber filled with balance beams, various kinds of swings, and repulsor-floated wobble balls. Interior conditions such as temperature and lighting could be changed from the control booth, and an automatic safety field caught anybody who started to fall out of control.
The near door opened, and Ben entered, his blue eyes sweeping the vault, examining everything in the chamber but his opponent. In contrast to the simple gray robe in which Luke was dressed, Ben wore a sparring suit made of a lighter, more flexible version of the vonduun-crab-shell armor that had proven so difficult to penetrate in the Jedi’s first encounters with the Yuuzhan Vong.
Despite his obvious apprehension, Ben marched straight to the center of the vault, and Mara was struck by how mature her thirteen-year-old son had become. He was wearing his red hair in a helmet-friendly crew cut with a single braid of longer hair, and his face was losing its roundness. But the biggest change was in his raised chin and square shoulders, in his resolute stride and proud expression.
He bowed formally, then said, “Apprentice Skywalker reporting for sparring instruction as ordered, Master.”
Luke raised his eyebrows at Ben’s use of the title apprentice, but did not correct him. “Very good.” He studied Ben’s sparring armor for a moment, then motioned at the breastplate. “Take it off.”
Ben’s brow rose, but he undid the side closures. The breast- and back plates fell away in his hands, and he placed them on the floor beside him.
Next, Luke motioned at the arm and leg guards. “All of it.”
Ben lost enough of his composure to let his feelings show, and Mara began to sense through the Force how nervous their son really was to be formally summoned to a private sparring match with his father—and how disturbing he found it to be ordered to remove his armor. But she could also feel his courage. Despite his confusion, Ben was determined to present himself well, to set aside his anxiety and prove himself worthy of the trust that was being placed in him.
And that made Mara remember why her nephew was good for Ben. It had been Jacen who had drawn her son out of his shell and helped him embrace the Force, who had taught him to face his fears and look beyond himself. Jacen was teaching Ben responsibility, giving him a sense of himself as someone other than the son of Luke Skywalker, Grand Master of the Jedi order.
Ben removed his last shin guard and placed it on the floor beside him. Then, as he straightened up again, Mara experienced a profound sense of certainty. It was as powerful as a Force-vision, except that its source was standing ten meters below her, in the form of her own son. The Force had drawn him to Jacen for a reason, and if she and Luke dared interfere, it would be at Ben’s peril.
Luke snapped the lightsaber off his utility belt and looked up toward the control booth.
“Start with basic obstacles,” Luke ordered. “Then work up to a class-five environment.”
“Full hazard?” Mara asked in astonishment. Even Masters found class-five environments trying. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Luke answered in his best are-you-really-questioning-the-Grand-Master voice. He looked back to Ben. “How else can I test what Jacen has been teaching him?”
“Don’t worry, Mom.” Ben met his father’s gaze evenly, but the crack in his voice betrayed his apprehension. “I can handle it.”
Not likely, Mara thought. But Luke would be in there, too, and he wasn’t going to let anything terrible happen to their son—at least nothing physical.
“If you say so.” Mara had to let Ben make his own mistakes and learn his own lessons … Luke, too. Wasn’t that what the Force was telling her? “We’ll start with variable gravity, and I’ll add something every ninety seconds. Ready?”
Ben’s face paled, but he snapped the lightsaber off his belt. “Ready.”
Mara reached for the gravity-control glide-switch. They had to trust Ben to find his own way, to learn from his own experiences. If they didn’t, he would become resentful and angry and withdrawn, and all he would ever be in life was the son of the great Luke Skywalker.
That’s what the Force was telling her—wasn’t it?
Luke felt his knees tense as Mara pushed the gravity to two g’s. He could sense through the Force that she doubted he was doing the right thing, that she believed he should just talk with Ben and help him see how Jacen was slipping toward darkness. But Luke had tried talking, had been patient, and their son was still going on raids with the Galactic Alliance Guard. Ben had even killed a man in self-defense—and the fact that he had been in so much danger only made it more disturbing.
Luke did not want his son to grow up believing that such things were common necessities for Jedi. The time had come to show Ben that there was another way, a better way for someone strong in the Force to use his power.
“All right, son,” Luke said. “Let’s see how well Jacen has been training you.”
Ben brought the hilt of his lightsaber into the salute position, but did not ignite the blade. “You know I don’t want to do this, right?”
“It’s hard to miss.” Luke remained where he was, holding his own weapon at his side. With round eyes and pudgy cheeks, Ben still looked like a little boy to him, like a child playing Jedi apprentice. “Why not?”
Ben shrugged and refused to meet Luke’s eyes. “I just don’t.”
“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”
“Yeah, right.” Ben’s voice was sarcastic. “The greatest sword handler in the galaxy accidentally cuts up his own son. Like that’s going to happen.”
Luke had to force himself to keep a serious expression. “Then you’re afraid you’ll hurt me. Is that it?”
“Maybe.” Ben nodded uncomfortably. “By accident.”
Luke waited for Ben’s gaze to return, then said, “You won’t. Have some faith, okay?”
Ben’s cheeks reddened. “I do,” he said. “But I’m still afraid. Something feels wrong about this.”
“Something is wrong about this,” Luke said. “You shouldn’t be going on hunts with Jacen,
you shouldn’t be a member of GAG, and you sure shouldn’t be busting down doors and killing people. You’re too young.”
Ben’s face hardened—not with the resentment Luke had expected, but with resolve. “I save lives every time I go on a mission. Isn’t that what Jedi are supposed to do?”
“Ben, you’re not a Jedi,” Luke said. “You’re not even a true apprentice. You haven’t completed any of the academy tests.”
“I’ve been kind of busy catching terrorists.” Ben’s tone was pointed without being angry. “Besides, Jacen says I’m stronger in the Force than any of the academy’s apprentices.”
“That’s not for Jacen to judge.” Luke was relieved to discover how hard Ben was to anger—it made him hope that maybe Mara was right, that maybe Jacen wasn’t leading their son down such a dark path after all. “If you want to continue helping Jacen and GAG, you’ll have to prove to me that you’re ready.”
“I’m not quitting GAG,” Ben insisted. “Jacen needs me. The Alliance needs me.”
“Then show me you’re ready.”
Luke brought his lightsaber to guard, but did not activate it.
“If I have to.” Ben ignited his own blade, then frowned when Luke did not do the same. “Aren’t you going to turn on your lightsaber?”
“When I need to,” Luke said. “When you make me.”
A gleam of understanding came to Ben’s eye, and he stepped forward with a high slash. The double gravity slowed the attack, and Luke had plenty of time to contemplate the hesitation he saw in his son’s eyes. Ben was not comfortable sparring. He hadn’t done it often enough to trust himself not to hurt his partner—or his partner not to hurt him. Luke evaded the attack by dropping into a squat, then thrust his foot out to sweep Ben’s leading leg out from beneath him.
Ben slammed to the floor, then cleared the area by whipping his blade in a circle around his body. The boy might not be much at sparring, but he did know how to fight. Had Luke not already launched himself into a backward spring, the attack would have taken his legs off at the knees. He landed just beyond reach and allowed Ben’s blade to sweep past, then stepped forward again and deadened the brachial nerve bundle by kicking Ben under the arm, hard.
Ben’s hand opened, and the blade of his lightsaber fizzled out as the hilt went spinning across the vault. Luke somersaulted three meters up to land atop a balance beam.
“You’ll have to do better than that, son,” he said. Though his tone was light, inside he was cringing at how hard Ben had thumped the floor. The safety field would not allow anyone to hit hard enough to suffer any real harm, but no good father enjoyed bruising his own child—even if it would make that child wiser and stronger. “You won’t force me to ignite my blade by swinging short.”
Ben’s face reddened more from embarrassment than irritation. Then he sprang to his feet and tried to reach toward his lightsaber. When his sword arm failed to rise—the nerves would still be numb from Luke’s kick—he extended his other hand and summoned the weapon back to it.
He activated the blade and took a few test swings to make sure his one-handed grip was dry and firm, then looked up at the balance beam where Luke was standing. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Yes, you do,” Luke said. “I need to know you can defend yourself.”
“Then why am I doing all the attacking?” Ben demanded. “That’s not going to tell you anything.”
“It’ll tell me plenty.” Luke pointed at a wobble ball floating nearby, then used the Force to send it hurling at Ben. “There are many kinds of danger.”
Ben ducked the projectile and Force-sprang into the air. Luke hurled another wobble ball, and this time Ben had to block, bringing his lightsaber around to slice the ball in two. He landed on the far end of the balance beam … and that was when Mara turned on the wind.
The sudden blast was nearly enough to knock Luke from the beam, but Ben merely leaned into the wind and started cautiously forward.
Luke frowned up at the control booth, wondering whether Mara had used the Force to give Ben a little warning.
The thought had barely crossed his mind before he sensed her touch, assuring him she had not—but urging him not to be too hard on their son.
Yet Luke had to be. He had to know what lessons Jacen was teaching Ben. He rooted himself to the beam through the Force, then glanced up at another wobble ball and brought it flying down at his son from behind.
Ben’s eyes widened as he sensed danger through the Force, and he flattened himself atop the beam. In the next moment he used a Force shove to accelerate the heavy wobble ball into Luke’s chest and send him tumbling toward the floor.
On the way down, Luke caught the support cable of a nearby swing and hooked a leg over the seat—then saw Ben descending toward him in a series of somersaults, his lightsaber weaving a wild snarl of light. This time Luke sensed no hesitation. Ben intended to make him activate his lightsaber—even at the risk of cutting something off.
Luke released the swing and dropped toward the floor, barely bringing his legs around in time to land on his feet—sinking so deep into a crouch that his knees hit his chest.
Ben used the Force to adjust his own trajectory, descending headfirst with his lightsaber held out in front of him. Luke rolled into a backward somersault, an eerie tingle erupting over his entire body as the safety field reacted to Ben’s uncontrolled plunge.
But the safety field did not prevent Ben’s lightsaber from puncturing the floor. A loud electrical pop echoed through the arena, and suddenly the air was filled with the acrid stench of melted circuitry. A terrible thump sounded, and when Luke completed his somersault he found his son lying in a heap, facing the opposite direction and groaning.
The roaring wind died, and Mara’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Ben!”
Luke rushed up behind Ben. “Ben! Say something.”
When there was no answer, Luke started to kneel … then heard the familiar snap-hiss of an igniting lightsaber.
Ben whirled into a shoulder roll, and Luke sprang up, launching himself into a full Force flip to buy some distance. When he came down five meters away, Ben was still kneeling where he had landed, staring at Luke in astonished frustration.
Luke smiled. “Nice move.”
Ben pursed his lips skeptically. “Still didn’t make you ignite your lightsaber.”
“Almost, though,” Luke said. “Did Jacen teach you that?
Ben rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dad. Playing dead is pretty basic stuff.”
Luke raised his brow. “Nearly got me.”
“Just using your fatherly love against you.” Ben shut down his lightsaber and rose to his feet. “I’m not sure that’s fair.”
“Me, either.” Luke chuckled, then pointed to the hole in the floor. “And that’s not good, either. You probably put a gap in the safety field.”
Ben studied the hole for a moment, then looked back to Luke. “You can’t blame me for that,” he said. “You’re the one who didn’t block.”
“I will next time, I promise.” Luke assumed a fighting stance and motioned him forward. “Come on.”
Ben’s face sagged with discouragement. “What for? We already know I can’t touch you—and I’m not learning anything.”
“You’re sure of that?” Luke started to slip slowly forward. “Ben, I’m not doing this to be mean. If your sparring is any example, it’s clear that you need to devote more time to your Jedi studies and less to helping GAG.”
“Sparring isn’t fighting,” Ben said. “When my life is on the line, I can take care of myself.”
“Against most people, yes.” Luke reached striking distance and stopped advancing. “But do you remember the woman I told you about? Lumiya?”
Ben’s eyes widened. “The crazy Sith woman?”
“That one,” Luke confirmed. “I still don’t know when she returned or why, but I have learned a little about her—and I’ve been meditating on it. I’m convinced that if she can, s
he’ll strike at me through you.”
“Me?” For the first time, Ben began to look frightened—and Luke began to hope he might actually get through to his son. “How?”
Luke could only shake his head. “I wish I knew. But you need to be ready—and that means you need to be properly trained.”
“I am being trained.”
“Not by a Master, and not well.” Luke paused, trying to choose his next words carefully, to make Ben do what thirteen-year-old boys never did: think about the future. Finally, he said, “You’re right about one thing, Ben. Jacen and the Alliance do need you. You’re helping them save lives, and that’s a good thing.”
Ben eyed him warily. “Dad, it’d be really nice if you just stopped there.”
“Sorry, I can’t,” Luke said. “What you’re not seeing is that the Jedi need you, too. We need you to prepare yourself now, because Jacen and the Alliance and the rest of the galaxy are going to need you tomorrow even more than they need you today. Ben, you need to take a Master.”
“I have a Mastery” Ben retorted. “Jacen is training me—and he’ll protect me from Lumiya, too.”
Luke shook his head. “Jacen can’t protect you all the time, and he’s not training you. I’ve sparred Rontos who are better.”
Despite the affront—Rontos were eight- to ten-year-old academy students—Ben remained surprisingly calm. “I’m not sure I believe that. I’m pretty sure I’m better than any kid who’s still working with a training prod.”
“Then prove it,” Luke said. “You don’t even have to make me ignite my lightsaber. Just make me move my feet.”
Ben scowled, obviously suspicious. “Dad, come on. We both know—”
“Do it!” Luke ordered. “If Jacen is training you so well, prove it. Just make me move one foot.”
Ben furrowed his brow but slipped into a fighting stance and began to circle behind Luke.
