The Lost Ones

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Peckhum looked up sharply. "No, not security. Zekk wouldn't want that."

  "But he's missing," Jaina pleaded. "We have to find him." Jacen was

  surprised to see tears spring to his sister's eyes.

  "Yes," Peckhum agreed, "but Zekk has had a few . . . 'misunderstandings'

  with security before, and he wouldn't thank us for calling them in. Don't

  worry, thought can probably think of a lot of places you wouldn't have known

  to check."

  "Well," Jacen said reluctantly, "that means we'll have to keep searching by

  ourselves then, but your ideas will be a big help, Peckhum. I guess it's

  still up to us."

  "Zekk is a tough kid," Peckhum pointed out with forced optimism. "He's been

  through a lot, and he can take care of himself." Then his voice dropped. "I

  sure hope he's all right."

  * 14 *

  INSIDE HIS PLUSH new quarters at the Shadow Academy , Zekk awoke feeling

  oddly refreshed and exhilarated. He had slept deeply and well, as if he had

  somehow needed recharging. He wondered if Brakiss had placed some sort of

  drug in his food. Even if that was the case, he thought, it was worth it,

  because he had never felt so alive or so enthusiastic.

  He tried to stop thinking positively, tried to summon up some anger at being

  kidnapped and dragged off to the Imperial station. But Zekk could not deny

  that he was being treated with more respect than he had ever experienced

  before. He gradually began to think of this place as his room rather than as

  a cell.

  He showered until his body tingled with warmth and cleanliness, then spent

  altogether more time getting ready than he should have. He didn't care,

  though. Let Brakiss wait. It would serve him right. Zekk didn't want to be

  here, no matter how much attention the leader of the Shadow Academy paid

  him.

  He was concerned about old Peckhum and knew that his friend must be wild

  with worry for him by now. He was pretty sure that Jacen and Jaina would

  also have sounded the alarm. But Zekk guessed that Brakiss knew how to deal

  with that. Zekk just had to bide his time until he could come up with a

  plan.

  While he showered, someone had taken his tattered clothes and replaced them

  with a new padded suit and polished leather armor, a sleek uniform that

  looked dark and dashing. He looked around for his old outfit, not wanting to

  accept more of the Second Imperium's hospitality than necessary, but he

  found nothing else to wear--and the fine new clothes fit perfectly. . . .

  Zekk tried his door, expecting to find it sealed, and was surprised when it

  slid open at his command. He stepped out to find Brakiss waiting in the

  corridor. The calm man's silvery robes pooled around him, as if knit from

  shimmering shadows.

  A smile crossed Brakiss's sculpture-perfect face. "Ah, young Zekk--are you

  ready to begin your training?"

  "Not really," Zekk muttered, "but I don't suppose it makes any difference."

  "It makes a difference," Brakiss said. "It means I haven't explained well

  enough just what I can do for you. But if you'll open a chink in the wall of

  your resistance--just to listen, perhaps you will be convinced."

  "And what if I'm not convinced?" Zekk said with more defiance than he felt.

  Brakiss shrugged. "Then I will have failed. What more can I say?"

  Zekk didn't press the point, wondering if he would be killed if he didn't

  fall in with the plans of the Second Imperium.

  "Come to my office," Brakiss said, and led the boy down the curving,

  smooth-walled corridors. They seemed to be alone, but Zekk noticed armed

  stormtroopers standing in doorways at rigid attention, ready to offer

  assistance if Brakiss encountered any problems. Zekk stifled a smile at the

  mere thought of him posing a threat to Brakiss.

  The Academy leader's private chamber seemed as dark as space. The walls were

  made of black transparisteel, projecting images of cataclysmic astronomical

  events: flaming solar flares, collapsing stars, gushing lava fields. Zekk

  looked around in awe. These violent and dangerous images showed a harsher

  edge to the universe than the galactic tourism kiosks on Coruscant had.

  "Sit down," Brakiss said in his calm, unemotional voice. Zekk, listening for

  any implied threat, realized that at this point resistance would be futile.

  He decided to save his struggles for later, when they might count for more.

  Brakiss took his place behind his long polished desk, reached into a hidden

  drawer, and withdrew a small cylindrical flare stick. Gripping both ends in

  his fine, pale hands, he unscrewed the cylinder in the middle. When the two

  metal halves came apart, a brilliant bluegreen flame spouted upward,

  shimmering and flickering, but giving off little heat. The cold fire,

  mirrored on the office walls, threw its washed-out light against the images

  of astronomical disasters.

  "What are you doing?" Zekk asked.

  On his desk Brakiss balanced the two halves of the flare stick against each

  other, forming a triangle. The pale flame curled upward, strong and steady.

  "Look at the flame," Brakiss said. "This is an example of what you can do

  with your Force abilities. Manipulating fire is a simple thing, a good first

  test. You'll see what I mean if you try. Watch."

  Brakiss crooked one finger, and his gaze took on a faraway look. The bright

  fire began to dance, swaying back and forth, writhing as if it were alive.

  It grew taller and thinner, a mere tendril, then spread out to become a

  sphere, like a small glowing sun.

  "Once you've mastered the simple things," Brakiss said, it you can try more

  amusing effects." He stretched the flame as if it were a rubber sheet,

  creating a contorted face with flashing eyes and gaping mouth. The face

  melted into the image of a dragon snapping its long head back and forth,

  then metamorphosed into a flickering portrait of Zekk himself, drawn in

  blue-green fire. Zekk stared in fascination. He wondered if Jacen or Jaina

  could do anything like this.

  Brakiss released his control and let the flame return to a small bright

  point glimmering on the flare stick. "Now you try it, Zekk. Just

  concentrate. Feel the fire, like flowing water, like paint. Use fingers in

  your mind to draw it into different shapes. Swirl it around. You'll get the

  feel of it."

  Zekk leaned for-ward eagerly, then stopped himself. "Why should I cooperate?

  I'm not going to do any favors for the Second Imperium or the Shadow Academy

  --or for you."

  Brakiss folded his smooth hands and smiled again. "I wouldn't want you to do

  it for me. Or for a government or institution you know little about. I'm

  asking you to do this for yourself! Haven't you always wanted to develop

  your skills, your talents? You have a rare ability. Why not take advantage

  of this opportunity, especially you, a person whose life has had, if I may

  say, too few advantages. Even if you return to your old life afterward,

  won't you be better off if you can use the Force, rather than relying on

  what you once thought of as a 'knack' for finding valuable objects?"

  Brakiss leaned forward. "You are independent, Zekk. I see that. We're


  looking for independent people--people who can make their own decisions, who

  can succeed no matter how much their so-called friends expect them to fail.

  You have your chance, here, now. If you aren't interested in bettering

  yourself, if you don't bother to make the attempt, then you fail before

  you've even begun." The words were sharp, reprimanding, but they struck

  home.

  "All right, I'll try it," Zekk said. "But don't expect much."

  He squinted his green eyes and concentrated on the flame. Although he didn't

  know what he was doing, he tried different things, various ways of thinking.

  He stared directly at the flame, then saw it out of the corner of his eye,

  tried to imagine moving it, nudging it with invisible fingers of thought. He

  didn't know what he did or how to describe it--but the flame jumped!

  "Good," Brakiss said. "Now try again."

  Zekk concentrated, retracing the mental path he had taken before, and found

  it with less effort this time. The flame wavered, bent to one side, then

  jumped and stretched longer in the other direction. "I can do it!"

  Brakiss reached forward and snapped the flare stick together again,

  extinguishing the flame. Immediately, Zekk felt a sharp disappointment.

  "Wait! Let me try it one more time."

  "No," Brakiss said with a smile that was not unkind. "Not too much at once.

  Come with me to the docking bay. I need to show you something else."

  Zekk licked his lips, feeling hungry somehow, and followed Brakiss, trying

  to squelch his impatience to try again with the flame. His appetite had now

  been whetted--and part of him suspected that was exactly what the leader of

  the Shadow Academy had intended. . . .

  Inside the hangar bay Qorl and a regiment of stormtroopers worked to unload

  the precious cargo they had stolen from the Rebel cruiser Adamant. Brakiss

  came in leading Zekk, who stared at all the ships stationed at the Shadow

  Academy .

  "I wish I could show you our finest small ship, the Shadow Chaser," Brakiss

  said with a look of regret, "but Luke Skywalker took it when he charged in

  here to capture our trainees Jacen, Jaina, and Lowbacca."

  Zekk scowled, but refrained from telling Brakiss that it served the Shadow

  Academy right, since they had kidnapped the three young Jedi first, for

  their own ends. He looked away.

  Up in the control room overlooking the cavernous docking bay, the

  black-haired Tamith Kai stood watching the activities through slitted violet

  eyes. Beside her were two dark allies from Dathomir, Vilas and Garowyn. Zekk

  flinched, his lips curling downward in anger as he noted that these were the

  ones who had stunned him and taken him from Imperial City .

  "Pay them no mind," Brakiss said with a dismissive gesture. "They're jealous

  because of the attention I'm paying you."

  Zekk felt a surprising flood of warmth and wondered if the comment was true,

  or just something Brakiss had said to make him feel more special.

  One of the stormtroopers stopped in front of them and saluted. "I have an

  update for you, sir," he said to Brakiss. "Our repairs on the upper docking

  tower are almost complete. We should have it fully functional in two days."

  "Good," Brakiss said, looking relieved. He explained to Zekk, "I still find

  it difficult to believe that a Rebel supply shuttle could have been so

  unfortunately clumsy as to smash right into the cloaked Shadow Academy !

  These Rebels cause damage even when they're not looking!"

  Qorl hefted one of the small weapons cores from a sealed crate. Zekk guessed

  from the melted, blackened craters around the control panel that the

  stormtroopers must have used blasters to break the cyberlocks. The

  hyperdrive core was long and cylindrical, with yellows and oranges pulsing

  through translucent tubes where condensed spin-sealed tibanna gas had been

  charged to power the drives.

  "These are fine new models, Lord Brakiss," the old TIE pilot said. "We can

  use them to power our weapons systems, or we can convert more of our

  fighters to lightspeed attack vessels, like my own former TIE fighter."

  Brakiss nodded. "We must let our leader make that decision, but he will be

  greatly pleased to see this new increase in our military capabilities. Be

  careful with those components, though," he said sternly. "Make sure that not

  a single one gets damaged. We cannot afford to squander resources in the

  Second Impen'um's quest to regain its rightful power."

  Qorl nodded and turned away.

  "You see, Zekk," Brakiss said, knitting his pale eyebrows together, "we are

  truly the underdogs in this struggle. Although our movement is small and

  somewhat hopeless--we know we're right. We are forced to fight for what is

  ours against a blundering New Republic that continually seeks to rewrite

  history and force its chaotic ways upon us all.''

  "We believe that can only lead to galactic anarchy, with everyone following

  their own ways, invading one another's territories, disturbing people,

  neither caring nor respecting the rule of order."

  Zekk placed his hands on his leather-clad hips. "Okay, but what about

  freedom? I like being able to do what I want to do."

  "We believe in freedom in the Second Imperium--truly we do," Brakis said

  with great sincerity "But there's a point at which too much freedom causes

  damage. The races of the galaxy need a road map, a framework of order and

  control, so they can go about their business and not destroy the dreams of

  others in their own pursuits.''

  "You are independent, Zekk. You know what you're doing. But think about all

  those aimless people displaced by the changes in the galaxy, beings who have

  nowhere to go, no dreams to follow, no goals . . . and no one to tell them

  what to do. You can help to change that."

  Zekk wanted to disagree, wanted to refute Brakiss's words, but he couldn't t

  in o anything to say. He clamped his lips together. Even if he couldn't come

  up with any good arguments against what Brakiss said, he refused to agree

  openly.

  "No need to give me your answer yet," Brakiss said in a patient voice. Then

  he withdrew the flare stick from the pocket of his robe. "Take as long as

  you need to think about what I've said. I'll show you back to your quarters

  now."

  He handed the flare stick to Zekk, who took it eagerly.

  "Spend some time playing with this, if you'd like." Brakiss smiled. "And

  then we'll talk again."

  * 15 *

  JAINA SPREAD HER hands in confusion as Peckhum began to describe some of the

  places where Zekk might have gone. They could spend months combing the

  underworld of Coruscant, even years, and still never find the dark-haired

  boy-especially if Zekk didn't want to be found.

  "Hang on a second," she interrupted. "Aren't you going to be with us during

  the search?"

  Peckhum shook his head. "New emergency schedule, thanks to that Imperial

  attack on the Adamant. I have to go right back up to the mirror station

  tomorrow. Thing is, I'm not sure how to keep the systems running without

  some major repairs. Now even my comm units are down. Fat lot of good I'd be

  if Coruscant Ce
ntral calls a red alert. I sure wish I'd gotten that

  replacement multitasking unit Zekk promised."

  Jaina felt a wash of indignant defensiveness on the young man's behalf. "You

  know Zekk would've brought it to you if he could."

  Peckhum looked back at her with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "I

  won't argue with that," he said, "but I can't keep my mirror station running

  unless something gets fixed, pronto."

  Lowie spoke through Em Teedee as the three other companions sat restlessly

  in the open area of Han and Leia's living quarters. "Oh, indeed," the

  miniature translating droid said. "That's a fine idea." Em Teedee's tinny

  voice caused the other young Jedi Knights to sit up straighter and look at

  Lowie. "Why, it doesn't even sound very dangerous."

  "What doesn't?" Jaina asked.

  "Master Lowbacca suggests that perhaps he and you, Mistress Jaina, along

  with his uncle Chewbacca--if we can convince him--might accompany Master

  Peckhum up to his mirror station to see if we can effect temporary repairs."

  "That's a kind offer," Peckhum said, "but I don't see how much you could do

  without a new central multitasking unit."

  Jacen snorted. "I can't remember the last time Jaina wasn't able to whip up

  some kind of solution. She could probably fix the whole place using nothing

  but her imagination."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Jaina growled at her brother. Then,

  knowing what Zekk would have done, she sighed in resignation and smiled at