Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  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?”

  Terpfen 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.

  7

  Bearing only a dim glowlamp, Luke Skywalker led a procession 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—but 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 knowled
ge. 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 yourselves 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 praxeum. 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 yourselves 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 the 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 the pool began to return to stillness.

  The window to the universe had vanished.

  “Enough for tonight,” Luke said, sighing in satisfaction. He heaved himself dripping over the lip of the mineral spring and stood. He could smell sulfurous steam rising from his body as he found the rough folds of his Jedi robe piled on the floor. “Think about what you have learned.”

  With that the trainees began laughing and congratulating each other. They climbed out, one by one. Gantoris assisted Dorsk 81, who thanked him before donning his robe. “Next time I will be stronger,” Dorsk 81 said in the dimness.

  “I know you will be.”

  Luke met the dark-haired man as he pulled the robe over his head. “That was a good thing you did, Gantoris.”

  “It was only heat,” Gantoris said, and his voice became grim. “There are far worse things than heat.” He paused, then spoke as if divulging a secret. “Master Skywalker—you are not the dark man who haunted my nightmares on Eol Sha. I know that now.”

  The confession took Luke aback. He could not see Gantoris’s expression in the dim light. On Eol Sha, Gantoris had suffered horrifying premonitions, but he had not spoken of his nightmares since arriving on Yavin 4. Luke tried to ask why he had mentioned it now, but the other man turned, gliding past the gathered trainees as they made their way back up the gloomy tunnels.

  In the humid morning the trainees gathered in the ship-landing area to continue their exercises. Mists rose to the crown of the Great Temple. Sounds of the stirring jungle buzzed around the students as they practiced preposterous lessons to improve their supernatural balance, to encourage simple feats of levitation.

  Luke paced among them as they attempted the things Yoda had taught him in the steamy swamps of Dagobah. He smiled as Kirana Ti and the young minstrel/historian Tionne joined forces. Laughing and concentrating, the two women lifted Artoo-Detoo in the air as the little droid puttered about, clearing the ever-encroaching weeds from the landing grid. Artoo vented electronic beeps and whistles as he floated; his treads spun in the air.

  Behind them Gantoris emerged from the shadowy mouth of the temple, striding into the hazy light. Luke turned to watch him approach.

  “Glad you could join us, Gantoris!” he said with a combined touch of good humor and scolding as he looked significantly up at how high the orange gas giant had risen to fill much of the sky.

  Gantoris’s face looked rough and red, as if scorched; tough, smooth skin covered his forehead where his eyebrows should have been. He had braided his thick black hair into a long strand that hung past his shoulders.

  “I have been preparing for a new test,” Gantoris said, and reached into the folds of his robe. He removed a black cylinder.

  Luke blinked his eyes in astonishment at seeing a newly constructed lightsaber.

  Artoo crashed to the ground with a terrified squeal as both Kirana Ti and Tionne lost their concentration. The others ceased their lessons and stared in astonishment.

  “Fight me, Master Skywalker,” Gantoris said. He removed his robe to display the pad
ded captain’s uniform he had worn as the leader of his people on Eol Sha.

  “Where did you get a lightsaber?” Luke asked cautiously, his mind whirling. None of his students should have been able to master the technology or the discipline yet.

  Gantoris fingered the controls on the handle, and with a loud spitting sound the glowing blade extended, a white incandescent core of energy fringed with deep violet. He moved his wrist, flicking the blade back and forth, testing it. A bone-vibrating hum scalded the air. “Isn’t it the test of a Jedi to build his own lightsaber?”

  Luke proceeded carefully. “The lightsaber may seem the simplest of weapons, but it is difficult to master. An unpracticed wielder is as likely to injure himself as his opponent. You aren’t ready for this, Gantoris.”

  But Gantoris stood like a weathered Massassi colossus, holding the blazing edge of his lightsaber vertically in front of his face. “If you don’t ignite your lightsaber and fight me, I will cut you down right here.” He paused with a smirk. “That would be a rather embarrassing fate for a Jedi Master, wouldn’t it?”

  Reluctantly, Luke shrugged out of his robe. He pulled his own lightsaber from the waist of his comfortable gray flightsuit and, feeling the Force thrum through him, ignited the yellow-green blade.

  The other trainees watched in amazed silence. Luke wondered how he could have miscalculated so greatly, how Gantoris had gained access to information that only an advanced student should have obtained.

  He stepped forward, raising his blade. Gantoris stared unblinking. Luke saw his red-rimmed eyes burn with a depthless intensity, and he felt a twinge of fear.

  They crossed blades with a crackle of dissipating power, testing each other. He felt the resistance of the energy blades, the flow of the Force. He and Gantoris struck again, harder this time, and sparks flew.