by Greg Bear
“You shall have my ship,” Shappa said. “I flew her here from Middle Distance. I will fly you myself.”
“What about the defense of the planet?” Gann insisted, fingers wrenching at the sky.
“That is the Magister’s concern,” Shappa shot back. “You’ve worked with his group for so long … Everything is in place, is it not?”
“They brought the invaders here!” Gann shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at Obi-Wan.
“They’re Jedi,” Shappa said. “They would do no such thing. Would you?” He glanced at Obi-Wan.
“Never knowingly,” Obi-Wan said.
Shappa’s face was dark with angry blood. “Not the first time we’ve fended off invaders. And probably not the last. We’ll get your boy back … and then, who knows what will be done?”
Shappa whistled sharply. His Sekotan ship rose beyond the edge of the platform, wheeled about gracefully, and dropped her landing gear. Shappa went aboard first, and Obi-Wan followed.
Shappa laid his hand on the instrument panel. The panel’s living surface closed around his remaining fingers. “They’ve flown south,” he said. The ship began to rise, and the hatch closed silently. “They’re already a hundred kilometers away. We’ll have a difficult time catching up with them, especially if they go into space. But first, they’ll have to find fuel, or they’ll never make it to orbit.”
“Where else can they get fuel?” Obi-Wan asked impatiently.
“Middle Distance. But I doubt they will go there … it’s very well defended and on alert. They will have to return to Far Distance, or fly even farther north, to the polar plateau. Or to the Magister’s mountain in the south.” Shappa glanced at Obi-Wan. “Perhaps it’s time we were completely open with each other. There is something special about the boy. Can you tell me what it is?”
Obi-Wan trusted Shappa. The architect seemed more sensible than any of the other Ferroans, and perhaps more in tune with the ways of the Force.
We need another ally.
Obi-Wan understood the inner voice now. As he had suspected, though not as he had hoped, it was not Qui-Gon. It was his Master’s teachings that lingered, the memory of countless days and weeks of patient training, the voice of so many years together.
There was no spirit. Qui-Gon had not vanished upon dying. He was truly dead.
“First, I’ll ask our ship in the north to join us. Charza Kwinn can help.”
“And I’ll instruct our people to let it go. Now … tell me, please. Why are you here?”
“A year ago, our Temple sent a Jedi Knight named Vergere to Zonama Sekot.”
“Yes. I was going to design her ship.”
“What happened to her?”
“You tell first.”
“We came here to buy a ship from you, and to find out what happened to Vergere.”
Shappa chuckled grimly. “It’s all tangled, isn’t it? She’s gone.”
“Where did she go?”
“She left with the Far Outsiders.”
“Who are they?”
“We still do not know for sure. They arrived two years before Vergere. They lurked outside our system, sending in exploratory ships. We thought they might be customers who stumbled upon us without a guide or factor. But they were very strange … They knew nothing of our politics, our economics, not to mention simple manners.
“And very curious they were about what we had done on Zonama Sekot. They, too, seemed to build all their ships and goods from living matter. We managed to communicate, a little. The Magister spoke with their ambassadors, and quickly learned that they wanted all of our secrets. They wanted complete control of Zonama Sekot. We were naive at first, but in time, we realized they were a threat, and began our defensive preparations. When we refused to submit, they were, shall we say, offended.
“Vergere arrived with money for a ship—old Republic aurodiums in ingot form, just like you. When the situation became tense, she volunteered her expertise. She acted on behalf of the Magister and tried to reason with the Far Outsiders. At first, they refused to listen to reason. Did you see the scars around the equator?”
Obi-Wan nodded.
“Their weapons were powerful.” Shappa listened to his ship for a moment, then said, “The boy is alive. He is talking with the being who hijacked your ship.”
Obi-Wan felt a sudden shudder of relief. He would have known if Anakin had died or been injured, but even so … “You can hear them?”
“Of course. We install trackers on all of our ships. I shouldn’t tell anyone this … But I have a feeling it isn’t going to matter much now. I have no idea how the Magister will react to this second attack.”
“What can he do?” Obi-Wan asked. “Your planet is almost defenseless.”
Shappa smiled. “And you a Jedi! How little you know. Did the boy suspect more?”
“He said the planet’s living things form a symbiotic unity. I could feel that myself.”
Shappa smiled. “That is just the beginning. Believe me, Jedi, we are not weak. We defended ourselves very ably. We drove off the Far Outsiders. Perhaps Vergere did some convincing of her own, I do not know. But we sent them packing.”
Obi-Wan could hardly believe this. “With what?”
“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” Shappa said. He cocked his head to one side, listening. “There are large ships dropping from deep space. I think Zonama Sekot is about to be invaded … again. And I cannot predict how the Magister will react. We are so much stronger now than we were a year ago.”
Obi-Wan opened a comm channel to Charza Kwinn.
You messed with the droids,” Tarkin said, shaking his head in pity. “Didn’t you trust me?”
He and Raith Sienar faced each other in Tarkin’s cabin aboard his headquarters vessel, the converted hauler Rim Merchant Einem. The cabin was less luxurious than Sienar’s had been, but it was in a larger vessel filled with many more weapons.
“No more than you trusted me.” Sienar held up his hands and pointed a long finger at Tarkin. “You meant for all my efforts to come tumbling down, and then you’d show up and save the day. Well, I damned near had a Sekotan ship, Tarkin, and you’ve messed it all up. Now, who knows what’s going to happen?”
“I see,” Tarkin said, and paced back and forth across his cabin floor. “Droid starfighters going off on their own … highly unusual.” He could not hide his expression, as much grimace as grin. “Interfering with droid intelligences is a tricky operation. Are you sure you didn’t do something wrong?”
Sienar did not reply.
Tarkin called up an image of Zonama Sekot in the middle of the cabin and walked around it, chin in hand. “Our sensors tell us something is going on down there, perhaps set off by the starfighters … a kind of chase between three ships. Where is Ke Daiv now?”
Sienar pointed at the planet’s image. “Unless your trickery has killed him.”
“Captain Kett informs us you had a long talk with Ke Daiv, and then reassigned him. Was he impressed by what you had to say?”
“I told him he could procure a Sekotan ship and save us all a lot of bother. He seemed to look upon it as an adventure.”
“You haven’t heard from him, I assume?”
Sienar shook his head.
“Very tough to kill, these Blood Carvers. Useful in so many ways, resourceful, yet mercurial.” Tarkin waxed philosophical. “This competition … how ridiculous! What has either of us accomplished, Raith?”
“I take it you’re going to conquer and take command of Zonama Sekot … you’re going to invade?”
“I’ve already given the orders. The ships are assuming their positions around the planet,” Tarkin said. “The Republic has a strong chancellor, a true leader. And the senate is remarkably docile these days. But they can be persuaded, if you have the right contacts. And I do. I always have, Raith.”
“What weapons?”
“We were given more Republic sky-mine delivery ships, and we took control of many more Trade Feder
ation droid starfighters than were assigned to you—with intelligences intact. We also have sufficient firepower aboard the cruisers to lay waste to any inhabited areas should they defy our diplomatic requests. I have long suspected this planet could create ships and arms for a rebellion.”
“How subtle,” Sienar said.
“How effective,” Tarkin corrected. “But let’s watch this little race drama, while my fleet demonstrates its power.” The view magnified until they could see the outlines of the three ships, flying just above the tops of dense jungle growth along the equator. “I recognize a YT-1150. Are the other ships Sekotan? Spacecraft, or atmospheric?”
Sienar kept his silence. In truth, he did not know.
“I do believe the YT-1150 is an aggressor, chasing native ships,” Tarkin mused. “I believe we will inform whoever is in charge on Zonama Sekot that we have begun our police action by capturing or incapacitating that ship, and then we will sit down to discuss protection agreements.”
Captain Mignay of the Rim Merchant Einem presented a small image of herself. “Commander Tarkin, there appear to be other ships emerging from hidden hangars on Zonama Sekot. There are also large constructions buried on the planet that we cannot identify.”
Tarkin frowned and concentrated his attention on new pictures. Dozens of craft were rising from the Sekotan jungles around the long, inhabited canyon known as Middle Distance.
“You’ve caused some commotion, I see,” Sienar observed.
“They may have a few light defenses,” Tarkin said. “Nothing starfighters can’t handle. Captain Mignay, release our first rank of starfighters, and coordinate their actions with the sky-mine layers.”
“Any warning to the planet, sir, before we begin?” the captain asked.
“No,” Tarkin said huffily. “If they don’t recognize the rule of law, enacted by Republic ships, I doubt we can reason with them.”
Tarkin would not be swayed by anything less than complete submission. Sienar ground his teeth. Even among rogues in a degenerate age, this seemed to overstep the bounds of decency. But then what did he know? He obviously was out of touch with the senate’s mood.
Sienar doubted Zonama Sekot would be able to match the combined firepower of two squadrons, or the horror of an atmosphere filled with drifting sky mines seeking anything that moved.
He almost felt sorry for them.
Anakin, fully recovered now, could feel the ship’s immediate response, the wonderful surges of instant power, the way she cut through the air almost as effortlessly as if they were in a vacuum. The hull created subtle lift and was remarkably stable. On any world with an atmosphere, she would land sweetly. It took very little of his attention to fly the ship. Information arrived in comfortable flows through his contact with the ship’s mind. She truly was a dream, alive to his touch.
But any joy he might have taken in this first flight was tainted by his concern for Obi-Wan. His face was deeply carved by a grim frown.
The Blood Carver stared at the young human, nose flaps closed, sharp as a blade. “I did not kill your master,” Ke Daiv said. “It would have served no purpose.”
“But you would have killed me, once,” Anakin said through clenched teeth.
“I follow orders,” the Blood Carver said.
“So you’re an assassin. Do you even know my name?”
“You are the only one named Skywalker.”
“If you’re going to kill me, I’d like to know your name.”
“Ke Daiv.”
“I’ve never met a Blood Carver before,” Anakin said. “I can’t say it’s a pleasure.”
“Just fly. We need to find fuel.”
“I don’t know where to get any!” Anakin lied. The seeds knew—they were talking with other parts of Sekot.
And something or someone else flowed through his fingers where they were enmeshed by the controls. Anakin kept seeing misting ghosts around the cabin, like afterimages from bright sun—he had to work to concentrate on the scene around him.
“I have been busy in Middle Distance,” Ke Daiv said. “I have learned where secret reserves of fuel are kept. Fly due south.”
“Why would they need secret reserves?” Anakin asked. He turned the ship.
“There are mysteries on this planet,” Ke Daiv said with a slight hiss. “Not long ago, there was a great war.”
“We saw the damage.”
“Did you learn what caused the war?”
“I really don’t think I should be talking with you.” But I should see how well he reacts to Jedi compulsion. I’ve never been trained in mind tricks, but I know I can do it. Maybe even better than Obi-Wan.
The boy shook his head, distracted by seeing a vague image wrap over the Blood Carver’s features. The wraithlike form drifted with his attention to different parts of the cabin.
“Who are you, really?” Anakin asked to hide his confusion.
“I am from an old clan, an even older nation, swallowed by the Republic, taken in after our defeat at the hands of the Lontars.”
Concentration was becoming increasingly difficult. Anakin fumbled to keep up the conversation, to keep it away from his main concerns. “That was hundreds of years ago. The senate forced the Lontars to stop their aggression.”
“Not before my people had been nearly wiped out,” Ke Daiv said. “The few survivors were taken to Coruscant and kept in seclusion. We were warriors. We were called allies, but we could not be trusted. Few understood us. In time, when the rulers of the galaxy lost interest, we made our livelihoods selling crafts.”
“So you’ve lived on Coruscant all your life.”
“You said you should not be talking to me,” Ke Daiv reminded him.
“What else is there to do? Why didn’t you get a ship for yourself?”
The wraith took on form—an oblong head, torso shifting, still too vague to be identifiable. Then he made out the feathers, the elliptical eyes. Anakin held back an exclamation, and sweat broke out on his forehead. I don’t need this now!
“I am not appealing to the seed-partners,” Ke Daiv said.
“Too bad. These ships are really great.”
“I have always hoped for independence,” Ke Daiv said.
“Yeah, me too,” Anakin said sharply. “Fly all over the galaxy … Freedom to see everything, no obligations, no …”
“No history, no future,” Ke Daiv said.
“Right,” Anakin said. He’s losing focus. He’s weak. Now’s the time to move on him. I have to keep control. No distractions.
But he could not push aside the feathered being’s image. She was trying to say something, repeating something over and over, like a muted recording.
Anakin raised his hands, and the panel let go with a soft sucking sound. The image vanished. He made as if to wriggle the tension out of his fingers. “Got to get used to these controls.” He looked at the Blood Carver. His fingers instantly formed the graceful shape of compulsion.
Ke Daiv seemed unconcerned.
“You should let me take you back to Coruscant,” Anakin said. “I could show you the Temple where I live.”
Ke Daiv regarded him, eyes small and somehow sad, his oddly handsome face almost unreadable. “We are not destined to share clan.”
“No, just a visit.”
Anakin moved his hand to another position, a milder form of persuasion, and felt for connections in the Force. Jedi must be in sympathy and understanding with what they seek to control. You and he are not that different.
“We’re not that different.”
“We are different, Jedi. You have honor. I have merely the duty to work my way out of disgrace.”
“Tell me about it,” Anakin said. “I was a slave.”
“You are valued among the Jedi. And those who command tell me the Jedi pose a danger.”
“We defend, we don’t cause trouble.”
“That is young talk,” Ke Daiv said.
“You’re young, too.”
Ke Daiv looked at his
set of controls. One of several displays spun into view in front of him. He tensed in the seat, which would not let him sit comfortably. “There is a ship chasing us. It is the ship that brought you here. And … there is another. Go faster.”
Anakin squinted at him.
Ke Daiv swung his flexible arm back, and the lance nearly caught Jabitha in the face. She screamed.
“Faster, to the Magister’s mountain,” the Blood Carver insisted, his voice chillingly calm.
“We’re going as fast as we can!” Anakin cried. He did not have the training or the concentration now to compel the Blood Carver to do anything. He placed his hands on the controls.
The little creature instantly returned, filling his eyes and his mind. There was no sense fighting her. The image was crystalline. Her expression, what he could read in the piebald arrangement of feathers and whiskers, was stern, and her large, slanted eyes darted left and right, anticipating danger.
Anakin recognized her now. This was Vergere.
“Jedi,” she said. “Whoever you may be. I have left this message in my seed-partners, in the hopes they will find you, or you will find them. There is little time left. I am leaving with the visitors who have provoked a war here and wiped out half of Zonama Sekot. It is the only way to study them, and the only way to avoid a greater war and save this world.”
Anakin tried to stay calm. The integrated seeds contained all of the message that Obi-Wan had caught only a fragment of. That the ship was delivering the message now, in the middle of his trial, when he was at his most vulnerable, seemed grossly unfair.
But fairness had never played much of a part in Anakin Skywalker’s life.
“The Zonamans call these visitors Far Outsiders. They are different from all the living things we have studied. The Far Outsiders know nothing of the Force. And the Force knows nothing of them. Yet they are not machines, they are definitely alive, and they may pose a great threat to us all. They are fascinated by me, by my abilities, and they have accepted me in exchange for breaking off their attack and leaving this system.
“I go with them to learn their secrets, and I vow, as a Jedi Knight, that I will survive and report my discoveries. But also, I lead them away from a planet I have come to love. Know this, Jedi—”
