Reunion: Force Heretic III

by Sean Williams

  “Are you the pilot?” Luke asked.

  “My name is Kroj’b,” the man said. “I am her companion.”

  “Companion?” Mara said.

  The man smiled, revealing an expanse of healthy white teeth. “We have a symbiotic relationship,” he explained. “I care for her and she cares for me.”

  Jacen realized only then that the dirigible wasn’t just a balloon; it was a living creature.

  “What do you call her?” he asked.

  The man smiled.

  “Her name is Elegance Enshrined,” he said, as though pleased to be asked.

  Jacen nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a good name; I like it.”

  “Your approval is neither sought nor required,” Rowel said from nearby. “You must come now. We still have a long way to go, and Darak will not wait.”

  In the distance, the female Ferroan could be seen nearing the distant line of boras. Rowel turned and moved in her direction also, seemingly unconcerned whether the others followed. As much as he would have liked to have stayed and talked some more to this kybo’s “companion,” Jacen knew that they had to comply with Rowel’s and Darak’s wishes if they were to ever reach their destination.

  He and the others continued with their trek, with Danni coming up alongside Jacen.

  “It’s all so amazing, isn’t it?” she said. “There seems to be life in everything around us. Everywhere we look!”

  Jacen nodded, watching one of the kyboes skimming the tops of distant boras. “It makes me feel very small,” he whispered as they wound their way alongside the massive boras trunks. Strangely, though, that thought didn’t bother him at all.

  Back on Pride of Selonia, Jaina sat beside Tahiri through the long jump across the galaxy. While Jag stretched his wings at the head of Twin Suns Squadron, she kept an eye on her friend’s progress. Although by medical definition Tahiri’s condition was supposed to be stable, Jaina wasn’t convinced. Outwardly the girl appeared okay, but below the surface Jaina sensed a terrible psychic disturbance that was only getting worse with time.

  “Can’t you feel it?” she asked Dantos Vigos, the Selonia’s chief medical officer, a Duros with long, solemn features. Tahiri’s skin was waxy and pale, and the scars on her forehead continued to burn. The self-inflicted ones on her arms had all but disappeared. “It’s as though there’s a fire blazing inside her.”

  Vigos shook his head as he studied the girl’s vital signs. “She doesn’t seem to be running a fever.”

  “I’m not talking about her body; I’m talking about her.”

  Vigos stared at her, his eyes filled with puzzlement. He was a highly trained doctor with at least two decades of combat experience under his belt, and he wasn’t the type to turn his back on any relevant information that might help a patient. But clearly he was unable to grasp what Jaina was trying to tell him now.

  “I’m afraid she’s going to run out of fuel,” Jaina mused softly, not really talking to him anymore. “What happens then?”

  She wished she had Uncle Luke or Master Cilghal with her. They’d know what to do, she was sure. This wasn’t her field of expertise; this wasn’t an enemy that could be squared up to and beaten down. What tactics was she supposed to use against an enemy that was trying to take over her friend’s mind? An enemy that came from within that thought it had as much right to that mind as Tahiri herself?

  “Jaina?”

  She looked up, realizing the doctor had asked her something.

  “I said, is there anything I can get you?”

  Jaina shook her head. Vigos patted her shoulder sympathetically and returned to his duties, leaving her once more alone in the room with Tahiri. As much as she’d have liked him to stay and do something to help her friend, she knew that in reality there was nothing anyone could do except stand around and watch her decline.

  No, Jaina thought resolutely. She wasn’t about to let that happen. She refused to just sit holding Tahiri’s hand while the girl battled futilely against her inner demons. That was as good as giving up, letting Riina win. Jaina had never before abandoned a friend in need, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  The only question was: what could she do about it? Tahiri might be losing a battle, but it was one she’d been fighting for years. Unknown to anyone, she had been maintaining a delicate rearguard action against the Yuuzhan Vong personality thought expunged on Yavin 4. Only now were the cracks beginning to show. If Jaina intervened, the facade might crumble completely, leaving Tahiri exposed. It could be just as dangerous as sitting back and doing nothing.

  There was no way for Jaina to contact the Falcon or Twin Suns Squadron for advice, either. While they were in hyperspace, it was up to her and her alone. She sat for more than an hour weighing up the possibilities—few though they were—all the while holding Tahiri’s hand, feeling the Force ever so slowly ebb from the young girl.

  I don’t care what her vital signs say, she thought. She’s slipping away. I can feel it.

  “What’s our ETA?” she asked Captain Mayn via the room’s comlink.

  “Two hours until we’re within sensor range of Esfandia,” came the reply. “We’re running on schedule, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Two hours, Jaina thought. That could be easily long enough to make a difference.

  She closed her eyes, concentrating on forming the mind-meld that the younger Jedi Knights used to share strength in battle. If Tahiri was losing the fight, perhaps all she needed was a little reinforcement …

  Tahiri felt something sweep over her, as though a deep-ocean wave had just rolled by. She didn’t dare look around, though, for fear of giving Riina the advantage in their duel. Her world consisted of nothing but those green eyes and the harsh humming of two lightsabers striking at each other in imperfect synch. Fatigue ground painfully at every muscle in her body, but she wasn’t about to give in. She was determined not to allow her place in this world to be usurped.

  Parry.

  But something had changed, and now primal instincts were whispering to her, warning of the dangers that this change would bring. She couldn’t afford to allow herself to let her guard down. Whatever that deep-ocean wave had brought with it, she had to regard it as a threat.

  Lunge, parry.

  Did you feel that?

  Although the voice came from her assailant, it reminded her too much of her own voice.

  I felt it, she replied, stepping to one side as Riina’s lightsaber swung past.

  Do you know what it is?

  Tahiri sensed Riina’s uncertainty, and her hands gripped her pommel a little tighter.

  No, she said, taking the lightsaber in both hands and bringing it down toward Riina’s head.

  Riina blocked it easily, as though she’d been expecting it. The lightsabers remained locked, crackling menacingly in the quiet. Then Riina leaned in closer with a nervous half smile, and her green eyes fixed Tahiri through the glow of her weapon.

  Something’s coming, she whispered.

  Tahiri desperately wanted to look around. She felt as though the small of her back was on fire. A hole burned there from the stare of an unnamed something that was gradually drawing nearer. But how could she fight it if she took her eyes from Riina?

  Backpedal, block, sweep.

  Riina leapt away, lightsaber poised defensively.

  We could fight it together, she said.

  Tahiri’s body went cold as suspicion flushed through her. Why should I want to do that?

  It’s either that or stand here while it picks us off—first one, then the other. It would be as easy as hunting scherkil hla.

  Tahiri’s mind supplied her with an image of squat, flightless birds bred as a protein source on Yuuzhan Vong worldships. She forced it back down; such images, such thoughts, did not belong here.

  Stab, deflect.

  She fought hard, fending off not just the lightsaber, but also her suspicions. Ally herself with Riina? That was tantamount to giving in! She’d been subsumed once by th
e alien personality, and only Anakin’s intervention had saved her. She couldn’t count on him a second time, since he was—

  Her mind balked at the word as it rang through her like a funeral bell tolling:

  Dead.

  Anakin couldn’t help her now, or ever. There could be no escaping this simple truth. She was on her own.

  Slice, duck, swing.

  A voice called out to her, carried on the dark wind that blew from the shadowed lands around them. It called her name, but stretched out over many agonized and tormented seconds, as though it were coming to her from far, far away …

  Did you hear that? she asked Riina, beginning to feel truly frightened.

  I heard it. Riina’s voice was colored with relief. It’s calling you. It doesn’t want me.

  Why me? Tahiri demanded angrily, slashing viciously at Riina three times in quick succession. Why not you?

  I don’t know. Riina’s amusement was touched with uncertainty. She retreated with a jump that took her five meters away from Tahiri.

  But you know it’ll come for you afterward.

  Kick, advance.

  At least I won’t have you at my back to worry about when it does!

  Again the voice boomed out of the shadows, sounding like the first rumble of a mighty wave crashing along the shore.

  It’s not honorable to keep your back turned to an enemy in a fight, Riina said. Nor practical.

  I can only face one enemy at a time, Tahiri responded, forcing Riina away with a series of aggressive blows. She moved like she’d never moved before, dazzling herself with the grace and power of her strokes. She was like Anakin, filled with the Force, burning up in a white and brilliant fire.

  The image brought with it memories, and the memories in turn brought emotions that she’d rather forget. She attacked again, even more viciously than before. But in the end, all she succeeded in doing was to force her and Riina into another deadlock. Eye to eye, barely centimeters apart, lightsabers crossed between them, they stared at each other, frozen.

  The voice called her name again, and this time it sounded much closer—so close that she could almost feel breath on her neck!

  Without thinking, she turned to look. Darkness shrouded the world around her and Riina like fog, but to one side it was parting, and pale light shone through the gap.

  No! I won’t let you kill us!

  Riina flung Tahiri away from her and ran into the fog. Startled, Tahiri fell to the ground, but in one bound was up again, chasing Riina, following her frantic footsteps. Whatever was coming for her out of the darkness, she didn’t want to face it without knowing exactly where Riina was.

  And what she was afraid of.

  I won’t let you kill us …

  Riina’s words haunted her as she ran through the darkness, her name echoing once more from behind her.

  Leia literally took a backseat during the flight to Esfandia. Trying to compete with her husband and Droma was too exhausting, and, ultimately, pointless. At times it seemed their affinity wasn’t entirely amicable, but it was perfectly natural. They’d hardly stopped talking since the Ryn had come aboard. Bringing each other up to date on events since they’d parted at Fondor, they covered everything from sneaky tactics to Anakin’s death. After the latter, Droma had left the bridge for a while, to sing a plaintive lay in a language Leia didn’t understand, but then he’d returned with a story about one of his exploits in the Senex sector. The tale was as tall as a Bolenian hillspinner, but it served its purpose by easing the pall of melancholy that had engulfed the Falcon.

  “So they started taking apart the tanker module,” Han was saying now, relating one of his own stories to Droma, his mood far removed from the grief that had consumed him earlier.

  “Which you said was filled with liquid hydrogen.”

  “Yeah, but destroying the tanker didn’t stop the hydrogen. If anything, it spread out a little, exactly as planned.”

  “Why?” Droma asked, frowning. “Hydrogen won’t burn without oxygen.”

  “That’s what Goldenrod said. That’s the trouble with droids: no imagination. As our shields failed, I told Leia and Jacen to punch holes through the cruiser’s hull with our quads. Before I could tell those scarheads to eat ions, there was more than enough oxygen for the hydrogen to react with. The cruiser went up so fast we had a tough time dodging the pieces. After that, it was just a matter of getting out of there. The few skips we left behind weren’t putting up much of a fight.”

  “Understandably. I hear Vong skips are useless once they’re cut off from their yammosks.”

  “Well, they’re not completely useless,” Han said, “but it does give you an advantage.”

  Droma shrugged. “Speaking of yammosks, I’ve heard some stories about them that would make your tail stand on end!”

  Leia listened to the banter but offered nothing toward the conversation. Instead, she concentrated on the information Droma had provided them: communications had indeed been lost with the Unknown Regions. The destruction of the base on Generis and the attack on Esfandia appeared to be the source of the disruption. A free-floating proto-world, Esfandia had long since cut free from whatever star had given birth to it, but still had enough radioactivity bubbling in its core to sustain a liquid atmosphere. It wasn’t the most hospitable of places, but it didn’t need to be. A skeleton crew of about a dozen people, mainly technicians, normally inhabited the relay outpost, which had been hastily converted from a scientific station at the beginning of the war with the Yuuzhan Vong. Since Luke’s mission had entered the Unknown Regions, the Galactic Alliance’s military presence around Esfandia had been upgraded to two squadrons of X-wings and a frigate by the name of Corellian Way. What had happened to those forces was unknown. The relay staff only had time to broadcast a message alerting their superiors on Mon Calamari that they were under attack by the Yuuzhan Vong before all communications had been lost.

  That wasn’t necessarily a sure sign of disaster. The relay base was designed to resist such attacks. Imperial AT-AT technology had been adapted to the cold soup of Esfandia’s environment, creating a giant, mechanical, crablike construction capable of moving from place to place at a slow but steady pace. Such mobility was an advantage, given that most of the world was studded with receivers sensitive enough to detect transmissions from deep in the Unknown Regions. The base was designed to circumnavigate the globe, maintaining the receivers, while the technicians remained safely inside. That the ability to move made it easier to hide when attacked was a bonus.

  The base, therefore, could have simply gone to ground, tucked away in a crevasse or under the thick silt of the atmospheric soup. If it could be found, it could be reactivated. Assuming, of course, that the Yuuzhan Vong hadn’t found it first and destroyed it for good.

  Leia sent her thoughts outward, far beyond her location in hyperspace, beyond Esfandia and whatever awaited them there, to her brother, Luke. The last message Cal Omas had received from him suggested he’d found a promising lead and was setting off to investigate. He hadn’t specified what that lead consisted of or where he was headed, and now there was no way they would know unless they repaired the communications outage. Leia had no doubt that, were anything terrible to happen to him, then she would know about it. She would feel it, just as she had in the past. Nevertheless, she was concerned. So much was invested in his mission—personally, and on a galactic scale—that if something were to go wrong, it would be a disaster of unimaginable proportions.

  The conversation between her husband and his old friend shifted as the Falcon’s console began to beep and flash, announcing that they were nearing their destination.

  “Right on the nose,” Han said proudly, flipping switches in readiness for the return to realspace.

  “And we didn’t even have to get out and push,” Droma said dryly.

  “Yeah, that’s real amusing,” Han returned without smiling. “Now you want to move your funny, fuzzed-up self out of that chair so Leia can come forward
and help me?”

  “No, that’s all right, Han,” she said as Droma began to stand. “I’m sure Droma can manage.”

  She couldn’t say that she was enjoying the break from routine, but it was interesting to watch Han’s interaction with the Ryn. Memories of the terrible time when Han had pulled away from her while grieving for Chewbacca still stung, but only Droma had witnessed how low Han had really sunk back then. If having the Ryn aboard did remind Han of those painful times, he certainly wasn’t letting it show.

  “You remember how to operate the copilot’s board?” Han asked Droma without looking up from what he was doing.

  “Follow orders, and curse when something goes wrong,” Droma replied with a smile. “Which it invariably does.”

  Han affected an indignant expression on behalf of his beloved freighter. “Hey, she may be old—”

  “But she’s still got it where it counts, right?” Droma said.

  “What have I told you about doing that?” Han said irritably.

  Droma laughed. “Anyway, it’s not the age of the ship that worries me,” he said, flicking a couple of switches of his own. “It’s the age of the pilot I’m more concerned about.”

  The navicomputer bleeped, cutting off any retort Han might have been about to offer. Both faced the front just as the sweeping streaks of hyperspace dissolved into a cold and distant starscape. There was no primary to dim the stars with its glare; the nearest inhabited system in this section of the Mid Rim was more than ten light-years away, and the nearest star of any kind was half that distance. There was nothing for trillions of kilometers but space dust, and the tiny bauble that was the lonely world of Esfandia.

  Or so it should have been. As Pride of Selonia along with Twin Suns Squadron emerged from hyperspace alongside the Falcon, Droma’s eyes checked the sensor console for the orphaned planet. The Falcon’s sensor suite was still ahead of standard tech, and it soon acquired the target. It was covered with thick clouds, and glowed a burnt orange in artificial colors that looked wrong to Leia’s eyes until she realized what was missing: because Esfandia had no sun, its sole source of heat lay at its core. And with no orbit to follow, that meant it would have no seasons, either—which in turn meant no icy poles, and no broiling equator. It would be the same temperature all over.