Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Mullinore sat down and gave a tight nod that jerked his chin toward his throat.

  Daala rose to her feet. The muscles in her thighs and back felt like tightly bundled wires. Her entire body had been a clenched fist since the debacle on Calamari, and she knew the only way to release the crushing tension would be to strike a devastating blow against the Rebellion.

  “Begin the transfer of personnel and equipment,” she said. “We must strike Coruscant at once.”

  Daala glanced once more at the seething nebula that hid her ship, and then she left the war room. She headed to her quarters, where she would review Tarkin’s tactical tapes, searching for lost and secret wisdom that would guarantee her victory.

  29

  The Calamarian female emerged from her teardrop-shaped transport pod and swiveled her head as she took in the thick jungles of Yavin 4, the tall ancient temples. She waited.

  Luke hurried out of the hangar bay and tried to maintain a careful pace across the cleared landing area. Artoo accompanied him across the packed ground.

  He noted that the Calamarian female had a smaller stature than Admiral Ackbar. She wore yellow-and-turquoise robes that hung loosely about her frame, sleeves that flowed like waterfalls. He sensed a sad determination from her.

  The Calamarian female saw Luke and gestured with a flipper-hand to the unseen pilot of the transport pod. Behind her the craft rose skyward with a magnetic hum, leaving her behind. She did not look up to watch the pod streak back into the low-lying clouds, but seemed intent on staying right where she was.

  “Master Skywalker,” she said with a velvety burr that put him at ease. “I am Ambassador Cilghal from Calamari. I have a message for you.” She reached into one of her flowing sleeves and withdrew a gleaming disk traced with patterns of copper and gold.

  “Artoo?” Luke said.

  The little droid trundled forward, and Cilghal bent down to insert the message disk into Artoo’s drive. After a momentary whir Artoo projected a flickering image of Leia in the air in front of him.

  Luke stood back surprised, then looked at Cilghal with a deeper interest as Leia started speaking.

  “Luke, I hope all is well with you. I think I’ve found someone for your Jedi training center. Ambassador Cilghal comes with my highest recommendation. She has demonstrated to my satisfaction that she has a true proficiency in using the Force. She seems to have a knack for healing and for short-range prediction. She was a great help during the recent battle on Calamari. Please help her and train her. We need more Jedi Knights.”

  Her image smiled up at him. “We hope to hear soon that some of your students are ready to help with our struggle against the Empire. These are still desperate times. We can’t let our guard slip for a moment.”

  Her expression softened, and she seemed to look directly into his eyes. “I miss you. The twins keep asking when they’ll see their Uncle Luke again. I hope you can visit—or maybe we’ll come to Yavin 4.” She straightened, taking a formal tone again. “I’m sure you’ll find Cilghal to be one of your most promising candidates.” She crossed her arms and smiled as the message flickered and vanished.

  Cilghal stood in silence, waiting for Luke to respond. His mind spun. “Uh, welcome,” he finally said.

  He had been disturbed since his confrontation with Kyp Durron; Luke did not know where the young man had gone after stealing Mara Jade’s ship. The gruesome death of Gantoris, coupled with Kyp’s rebellion, had been more than enough to resurrect the old fear in Luke again. His best students were going sour, getting impatient, trying to push the limits of their abilities.

  But he had sensed a greater, deeper menace that vibrated within the very stones of the Great Temple itself … evil, and well hidden. Working alone, Luke had attempted to find its source, running his fingers along the stone blocks of the walls, trying to tap the cold shadow—but he had found nothing. He had only his suspicions.

  How could Kyp have known the details of the Great Sith War? How could Gantoris have learned how to build his own lightsaber? What had Gantoris seen that last terrible night before he was consumed? What dreaded magic had he attempted? Luke was missing an important piece of the puzzle, and until he found it, he could not strike against the threat.

  Ambassador Cilghal shifted and looked at him again. “Master Skywalker, you seem preoccupied. Perhaps Leia was wrong in suggesting that I come here to stay?”

  Luke looked at her, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. “No, no,” he said, “that’s not it. If Leia thinks you have Jedi potential, then I would be honored to teach you here. In fact,” he said jokingly, “an even-tempered Calamarian will be a welcome change.” He smiled. “Follow me. We’ll find quarters for you inside the temple.”

  The students at Luke’s training center continued their lessons of self-discovery, working eagerly or meditatively, honing their skills.

  Newcomer Mara Jade listened intently to Cilghal’s firsthand descriptions of the attack on Calamari, pressing the ambassador with detailed questions about the Star Destroyers and the number of TIE squadrons they had carried. Old Streen sat next to Kirana Ti on a rounded bench, listening to silver-haired Tionne practice new ballads. The remaining students sat in other common rooms, or studied in their private chambers, or walked out in the jungles.

  Satisfied at their activities, Luke slipped back into the deserted corridors and headed toward his own rooms. Artoo came around the corner and whistled a question at him, but Luke shook his head. “No, Artoo, I don’t want to be disturbed for a while.”

  He stepped inside his stone-walled chamber, the small room where he had stayed as an X-wing pilot in the Alliance. Luke had removed the other bunks, furnished the room to his taste; but the room seemed barren, with only a sleeping pallet and some small Massassi artifacts.

  On a ledge of black stone laced with blood-colored impurities sat the translucent cube of the Jedi Holocron.

  Luke sealed his door, the first time he had ever locked it since returning to the abandoned temple. He held the Holocron in his palm and activated it, digging deep to seek his information.

  “I wish to see Master Vodo-Siosk Baas,” he said.

  The ghostly image of the nozzle-faced, stunted Jedi Master rose out of the cube, robed and covered with bangles, leaning on a long gnarled stick. “I am the gatekeeper, I am Master Vodo-Siosk Baas,” the image said.

  Luke squatted in front of the interactive holographic image. “I need information from you, Master Vodo. You were a Jedi during the time of the Great Sith War. You have told us about your student Exar Kun and how he created the Brotherhood of the Sith. You’ve told us that he fought for dominance over the other Jedi loyal to the Old Republic.”

  Luke took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me more. How did Exar Kun fall at the end of the war? What happened to him? How did he die—or were you finally able to bring him back to the light side?”

  “Exar Kun was my greatest student,” Master Vodo said, “yet he was corrupted. He was seduced by the powers available to him through studies of ancient Sith teachings.”

  Luke nodded gravely. “I am afraid that the same thing might have happened to some of my own students, Master Vodo. Did Exar Kun ever return to the powers of good?”

  “That was not to be,” the image of Master Vodo said. “Because I was his Master, I alone of the allied Jedi went to confront him, hoping that I could turn him back. I knew it was a foolish mission, but I had no choice. I had to try.”

  “What happened?” Luke asked.

  The image flickered, as if something had sparked inside the Holocron; then Master Vodo reappeared. “Exar Kun destroyed me. He slew his own master.”

  Luke was suddenly jarred out of the story, remembering that the gatekeeper images in the Holocron were interactive simulacra with personalities imprinted upon them—not the real spirits of long-dead Jedi Masters.

  “Then what happened to Kun at the end of the Sith War?” Luke asked.

  “All the Jedi banded t
ogether and came to the jungle moon in a united front against the Sith stronghold Exar Kun had built. The allied Jedi combined their power into a massive annihilating strike.”

  Master Vodo’s image flickered again, dissolved into static, then reassembled itself. “… which obliterated the surviving Massassi natives and …” The image broke up, flickered, re-formed, then broke up again—as if something were jamming it.

  “But Exar Kun—what happened to Exar Kun?” Luke demanded. He couldn’t understand what was going wrong with the Holocron. He shook the Holocron, tapped it a few times, then set it down on the flat, hard table and stepped back to get a better view of the holographic Jedi Master.

  Inside the static-filled cube a dark knot appeared, like a storm gathering within its translucent walls. Master Vodo-Siosk Baas reappeared. “—but Kun was able to—”

  Suddenly Master Vodo’s image shattered into a thousand glittering fragments of colored light, as if a greater force had torn it apart from within.

  The darkness inside the Holocron grew deeper and larger, swelling like a slow-motion explosion. Arcs of red fire struck out in all directions from the black fist. With a high-pitched shrieking noise of discharged energy, the faces of the cube split. The Holocron steamed as it collapsed with a shower of sparks, a stream of black curling smoke, and a stench of melted electronics and organic components.

  Luke backed away, raising his hands to shield his eyes from the blaze. For a moment it seemed that a solid black hooded form like a walking silhouette rose up from the Holocron, laughing in a deep subsonic voice. Then it drifted away, dissipating into the stone walls.

  Luke felt cold fear grip him. The small white cube of the treasured Holocron lay in a melted lump on the table.

  Luke would have to find his own answers—and soon.

  30

  “Luke, I’ve had enough of this!”

  Luke looked up as Mara Jade emerged from the turbolift in the hangar bay of the Great Temple. She had stayed on the jungle moon a few days, long enough to learn how to use her own Jedi skills, but the incident with Kyp Durron and the loss of her personal ship had soured the experience for her.

  Luke turned from where he stood next to Artoo-Detoo and two Jedi trainees. Kirana Ti bent over to heft a pack of wilderness supplies as she and Streen prepared for a short sojourn out in the jungles. She wore the reptile-skin garments and ornate lacquered battle helm she had brought from her harsh world of Dathomir.

  Streen fidgeted and glanced toward the shaft of sunlight that came in under the half-opened hangar door. He wore the many-pocketed jumpsuit he had kept from his gas-prospecting days on Bespin.

  Mara walked briskly toward them, cinching her Jedi robe tighter around her waist. Luke looked at her and thought how different she looked from when he had first met her on the hostile smuggler world of Myrkyr.

  Mara stopped in front of him, glanced at the two Jedi trainees waiting to depart on their jungle trek, then ignored them completely. “I can’t deny what I’ve learned here, Luke. But Talon Karrde gave me control of the smugglers’ alliance, and I’ve got too much to do. I can’t just meditate all day long.” Her narrow chiseled face seemed flushed even in the dim light. “I need to send for another transport to get out of here, since your prize student ran off with my ship.”

  Luke nodded, partly amused at her predicament but stung by the mention of Kyp Durron’s betrayal. “We’ve got a communications setup in the second-tier war room. You can call Karrde and request a new ship.”

  Mara snorted. “Karrde only lets me contact him at prearranged intervals. He keeps moving around—says it’s because he’s afraid someone has a bounty on his head. I suspect he just doesn’t want to be bothered. He claims that he’s retired from the smuggling life and wants to live as a private citizen.”

  “You can always contact Coruscant,” Luke said in a congenial voice. “I’m sure they’ll send a shuttle for you. In fact, we’re probably due for another supply run anyway.”

  Mara pursed her generous lips. “It would be nice to have the New Republic chauffeur me around for a change.”

  Luke searched for any hidden sarcasm in her comment but saw only wry humor instead. He shook his head. “I don’t know who you’d get to volunteer for a brutal job like that.”

  When Lando came rushing into Han and Leia’s quarters without knocking, Han Solo was intent on studying a list of interactive entertainment options for the twins. On the floor Jacen and Jaina played impatiently with shiny self-aware toys that kept trying to run away from the children’s grasping hands.

  See-Threepio stood nervously next to him. “I am perfectly qualified to make selections, sir. I’m certain I can find something to amuse the twins.”

  “I don’t trust your choices, Threepio,” Han said. “Remember how much they enjoyed the Holographic Zoo for Extinct Animals?”

  “That was an anomaly, sir,” Threepio said.

  Lando rushed into the room, looking around. “Han, old buddy! I need a favor—a big favor.”

  With a sigh Han turned the selection process over to Threepio. “Okay, pick something—but if the kids don’t like it, I’ll let them amuse themselves by running a maintenance check on you.”

  “I … understand completely, sir,” Threepio said, and bent to the task.

  “What kind of favor?” he asked Lando warily.

  Lando flung his cape over his shoulder and rubbed his hands together. “I, uh, need to borrow the Falcon—just for a little while.”

  “What?” Han said.

  Lando answered in a rush. “Mara Jade is stuck on Yavin 4, and she needs a lift. I want to be the gallant gentleman who rescues her. Let me take the Falcon. Please?”

  Han shook his head. “My ship isn’t going anywhere without me. Besides, if you’re trying to impress Mara Jade, taking a ship like the Falcon isn’t the way to do it.”

  “Come on, Han,” Lando said. “I took you to rescue Leia when Calamari was under attack. You owe me one.”

  Han sighed. “I suppose I could use an excuse to go see Luke and Kyp at the Jedi academy.” He turned and smirked at Threepio. “Besides, this time at least Leia’s here to watch out for the children.”

  When the Millennium Falcon landed in front of the great Massassi temple, Han emerged to see Luke sprinting toward him wearing an expression of boyish delight. Han grinned and stepped down the entry ramp, his boots clomping on the metal plates. Luke came forward to hug him in an enthusiastic embrace that was distinctly undignified for a Jedi Master.

  Han said, “Enjoying your little vacation away from the thick of galactic politics, Luke?”

  Luke’s expression became troubled. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

  Lando Calrissian emerged from the Falcon after taking an extra few moments to groom his hair, straighten his clothes, and make certain his appearance was as dashing as he could make it. Han had rolled his eyes, convinced that suave gentility was no way to win the affections of Mara Jade.

  Though her scalding anger seemed to have cooled somewhat, Mara still showed a rough-edged hardness that made Han wonder why Lando would get so excited about the woman who had once called herself “The Emperor’s Hand.” With a flash of insight Han realized that Leia herself had come across as a mixture of fiery temper and icy coolness when he had first met her—and look at how that had turned out!

  Mara Jade’s slender figure emerged from the half-open hangar doors at the base of the blocky stone ziggurat. She carried a satchel slung over her shoulder.

  Lando hurried down the ramp and cursorily clapped Luke on the back. “How you doing, Luke?” He practically tripped over himself as he trotted across the landing pad to meet Mara. “We hear you need a lift,” he said, offering to take her satchel. “What happened to your own ship?”

  “Don’t ask,” she said, then smiled wryly at him before handing over her heavy bag. “So you finally found something you’re qualified to do, Calrissian. Baggage handler.”

  He carried her satchel over his sh
oulder and gestured to the Falcon. “Right this way to the VIP shuttle, madam.”

  Han stepped back from Luke and looked around at the steaming jungles and the vine-covered Great Temple. “So, where’s Kyp?” he asked.

  Luke looked down at his feet, and then, as if gathering courage through some kind of Jedi exercise, he looked up to meet Han’s gaze. “I’ve got bad news for you, Kyp … disagreed with me about how fast he should learn dangerous new skills and how best to develop his ability with the Force.”

  “What do you mean?” Han asked. He grabbed one of the piston supports of the entry ramp to keep himself upright. “Was he hurt? Why didn’t you call me?”

  Luke shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to him. He’s been practicing certain techniques that I fear may lead him to the dark side. I’m very concerned, Han. He’s the most powerful of all the students I’ve had here. He stole Mara Jade’s ship and left Yavin 4. I have no idea where he is now or what he’s doing.”

  Han forced his mouth into a thin line, but Luke continued. “Kyp has a great deal of power, and a great deal of anger and ambition—but little understanding or patience. That’s a dangerous combination.”

  Han felt helpless. He barely noticed as Lando escorted Mara Jade up the ramp into the Falcon. “I don’t know what to do, Luke,” Han said.

  Luke nodded grimly. “Neither do I.”

  The Millennium Falcon cruised through hyperspace with a vibrating hum of hyperdrive engines. Lando tried to keep his voice down as he leaned close to Han in the cockpit.

  “Just let me tinker with the food-processing units, Han. Please? I’ve memorized some programming from the finest Cloud City casinos, and I can generate recipes that would make Mara Jade float with pleasure.”

  “No.” Han scanned the chronometer that counted down how much time remained on the journey back to Coruscant. “I like the food processors the way they are.”

  Exasperated, Lando slumped into the copilot’s chair and sighed. “They’re all programmed for greasy, heavy Corellian recipes. Someone like Mara needs exotic food, special preparation. Not nerf sausage and dumplings with soggy charbote roots.”