Reunion: Force Heretic III

by Sean Williams

  “I don’t understand,” Han said, sweeping the forward cam across the stony surface. “I don’t see anything. No caves, no tunnels, no—”

  A red light began to flash on the scanners.

  “Whatever we’re supposed to be seeing, Han,” Leia said, “I’d work it out fast if I were you. That’s a coralskipper heading our way.”

  “Ask them what we’re supposed to do, will you, Threepio?” Han guided the Falcon down as far as he could go.

  A wall of gray dirt and rounded pebbles confronted them. Further warbling was exchanged between C-3PO and the aliens as the droid tried to impress upon the Brrbrlpp the urgency of the situation.

  “Hurry it up, Threepio,” Han muttered anxiously. “We don’t have all day!”

  “We don’t even have a minute,” Leia said. “That skip is coming in fast.”

  “Right,” Han said, clenching his jaw as he flicked switches. “I’m warming up the weapons systems and the engines. I don’t care what’s waiting for us out there, I’m making a break for it.”

  “Han, wait—” Leia started.

  She stopped in midsentence. The ground ahead of them erupted. At first she thought that one of the Yuuzhan Vong missiles had hit them, but it wasn’t an explosion. The ground opened up like a giant, fanged maw, spreading wide to swallow the Falcon whole. Leia had time only to gasp in horror at what looked like a thousand yellow eyes gleaming at her from the blackness within. Then the mouth came down upon them, and they were engulfed.

  Tahiri struggled to think through a haze of tears. The voice of the shadow, the thing that had come to her, made her mind quake with fear. She didn’t know what it was, or what it wanted. It was simply implacable, unstoppable.

  And Riina wanted her to attack it …

  What am I doing? she asked herself. All she felt was blackness—an oppressed, choking blackness that constantly threatened to close around her and devour her whole.

  Whatever it is, Riina said, it has to be better than fighting yourself.

  You’re not me!

  And you’re not me; but apart, we’re not anyone at all.

  No! The exclamation came as much from grief as it did anger. The emotion was a reaction to Riina’s words, but she directed the word at the shadow-creature. She wanted to destroy it, utterly—along with any unwanted truths it represented to her.

  I don’t—She stopped, afraid that to utter the words meant admitting defeat. The shadow-creature fell back a few steps, waiting for a renewed assault. I don’t want to lose who I am.

  Riina’s expression changed to one of anger—an anger that Tahiri felt course through her own body. Neither do I!

  The Yuuzhan Vong girl lunged at the shadow. Perhaps something flinched, but Tahiri couldn’t be sure. Was there really something out there, or was she just dreaming it?

  Anakin would have known …

  The thought of her friend—the one she loved—brought with it renewed grief, but not from within. This grief emanated from the darkness around her. She dropped her head, to hide from Riina the moisture gathering in her eyes. Nothing seemed to erase the pain that his death had brought her. No amount of tears could wash away the thought that there must have been something she could have done to save him. All the determination in the world couldn’t stop her wishing that he could have lived, and that they were still together now, with every possible future ahead of them.

  Even with the reptile god slain by her acceptance of her guilt, the grief never went away. It had returned as this shadow-creature. Clearly, it wasn’t about to let her go. Unless …

  A cool breeze blew in from the dark, touching the moisture on her cheeks.

  I’m scared, she admitted quietly. This world scares me.

  This world is all I’ve known since Yavin Four, Riina said.

  Tahiri looked at her, then, understanding the simple truth of her situation for the first time. This isn’t a dream, is it?

  I’m as real as the shadow-creature we’re fighting.

  But Anakin killed you! You were dead!

  Anakin thought he killed me, Riina said. But he hadn’t. He just forced me down deep into your unconscious. In many ways I suppose I was dead. I had no body, no senses, nothing to call my own. There was just me, trapped in this darkness. It was like a nightmare from which there felt like no escape. At times I thought I might go mad. In the end, though, I began to surface, and with me came my suffering and torment—the torment that has been affecting you all this time.

  Tahiri trembled at the notion. She knew it was the truth; she’d always known it. She just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

  It took me months to piece it all together, Riina went on. And as I recovered, you weakened. It soon became clear to me that I didn’t have to stay in this nightmare world. So I started to fight. Sometimes I even won. You had blackouts, and it was during these times that I was able to emerge. But my purchase on reality was feeble, and you kept pushing me back here. There were many times that I thought I’d be here forever—or worse, disappear altogether!

  I wish you had, Tahiri said. She couldn’t help the bitterness.

  Even then I knew I couldn’t, Riina said. Instead I decided to fight back all the more. I came after you, wanting to chase you down into the shadows of this world—to make you live here instead of me. I wanted you to experience this living death so that it would be you who’d wish to disappear. But then something happened: your guilt came after both of us! It was then that I realized that the two of us were inseparable. My torment was your torment; your guilt was my guilt. And impossible as it seems, Tahiri, we’re stuck with each other. We either live together, or we die together. There is no in between.

  No! There has to be another way!

  There isn’t. Riina’s voice was firm and inflexible. Your hand is proof of that. Cut me and you bleed; kill me, and you die.

  Tahiri glanced at the wound Riina had inflicted on herself, which had affected her, too, as though by magic. Blood steadily seeped through the cauterized gash: the truth continued to trickle from it. Although Riina’s words felt as heavy upon her shoulders as a thousand tombstones, she knew that the Yuuzhan Vong girl spoke no lies. There was no point denying it anymore. Her mind was inextricably linked to Riina’s, tangled together like the roots of trees—and they had been ever since Yavin 4. There was no way to cut out one without injuring the other. They were conjoined twins, connected at a place where no surgeon’s scalpel could ever reach: their minds.

  So what are we? she asked. Yuuzhan Vong? Jedi?

  We’re both, Riina said. And we are neither. We need to accept this and embrace this hybrid creature we have become. We need to merge, Tahiri, and become one.

  But who will I be?

  You’ll be someone new, Riina said. You’ll be someone strong.

  Tahiri couldn’t talk any longer. Her tears choked her thoughts, blurred her vision again. She stared into the shadows around them, seeking out the guilt-creature hiding there. Was this how she was to “embrace” Riina? By killing this creature? Would they then, together, awaken from this terrible nightmare? It felt right on some level, and yet on another it seemed … dark. It felt wrong. And yet there seemed no other way!

  A cry sounded out from the darkness. The shadow-creature, her guilt, was calling out to her again. She couldn’t understand the words, but the sentiment was there in her tone.

  My guilt calls out to me, she said.

  You have nothing to feel guilty for! Riina insisted.

  My love is dead, and I am alive. And I carry with me the kiss he wanted me to share with him. I told him to collect it later, but there was no later. Was there?

  Do you think that’s what you’re accused of? They are not the words of your guilt, Tahiri; those are your own words!

  How do you know what I’m feeling?

  How do I know? Haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been saying? We are one and the same mind!

  Tahiri recoiled in revulsion at the idea, although she knew it to be the trut
h. She was just still railing against it. Her thoughts had been open to her alien twin all along.

  You’ve been punishing yourself, punishing us, Riina said, and it has nothing to do with Anakin’s death or holding back on a kiss.

  Then what is it?

  You feel guilt for having gotten on with your life. It’s not that you are alive; it’s that you’ve learned to live without Anakin. It’s that you have healed, and you don’t think you should have by now.

  Tahiri wanted to refute it, but she couldn’t. The truth burned her in ways she couldn’t ignore.

  You have to let go, Tahiri. There is no shame in that. The time has come to stop grieving. You have already stopped; you just don’t know it yet. That’s all.

  Bitterness clouded Tahiri’s vision. She hated Riina for speaking words that revealed the truth of her feelings. Angrily she hurled her lightsaber into the dark. It spun wildly through the air, lighting up the shadows as it went, illuminating the rocks and crags of the worldship they stood on. And as it cut through the darkness, she could feel her grief ease and part; she could feel a sense of awakening.

  I know what to do now, she told Riina. Even as she spoke the words, she quailed, thinking of everything she might be leaving behind. The Solo family, her duty as a Jedi, her memories—

  But, she suddenly asked herself, how much of it was hers at all? Anakin’s family wasn’t hers. The Jedi Knights could carry on well enough without her. And her memories only served to bring her pain. As long as she didn’t fall to the dark side, she could turn her back on it all with a clear conscience …

  The time for thinking was over. Slowly, with a feeling like falling, she reached out, and her lightsaber flew back into her hand.

  At the same time, the shadows seemed to part. She saw the thing that had come for her and Riina with startling clarity. It wasn’t a god from the bowels of an alien mind; it wasn’t the dark side; it wasn’t her guilt, or her despair.

  It was Jaina.

  Tahiri turned to face her mirror image one last time.

  I know what you’re thinking, Riina said. You mustn’t listen to what she’s saying. She’s telling you lies, making things worse. She doesn’t want to help. She only wants to keep you caged, with me. Riina stepped closer, her injured hand outstretched. Join me now; together we will do what we need to do to be free.

  Yes, Tahiri said slowly. I think I understand now.

  So let’s not think. Let’s just do it.

  Shakily, Tahiri reached out and took Riina’s hand. Together they faced the darkness.

  “If we don’t start getting some answers soon,” Mara said hotly, “I’m going to start giving you people reasons to be afraid of the Jedi.”

  Luke attempted to placate his wife by putting his hands on her shoulders beneath her red cascade of hair. But she was too angry to see reason right now, and ignored his efforts.

  “I’m telling you the truth,” returned the Ferroan woman called Darak. “We don’t know who is responsible for this attack!”

  “Somebody must know!” Mara argued. “Dissident groups like this don’t just pop up overnight. They take time to form.”

  “The idea of a dissident group is preposterous,” Rowel said. “There hasn’t been any unrest on Zonama for decades!”

  “Well, there is now! I’m telling you: that attack was well planned and organized. Look,” she said, “I’m not trying to be critical of you or your way of life here. I just want to know what’s happened to our friends. The fact that you don’t seem to care annoys me.”

  “But we do care,” Rowel said. “We care that strangers are wandering loose on our planet doing untold damage. We care—”

  Luke didn’t give him chance to finish; he was only going to anger Mara further. “Perhaps Sekot could help us,” he said. “Is it possible to ask it if it knows of their whereabouts?”

  The Ferroans exchanged glances. “Sekot has been regenerating after the attack of the Far Outsiders,” Darak said. “Its attention has been elsewhere, so it is unlikely to know the whereabouts of your friends.”

  “We could at least ask,” Mara pressed. “What about the Magister? She could ask for us.”

  “She is resting.”

  “Well, we wouldn’t want to put her out, would we?” Mara said dryly.

  “Please wake her for us,” Luke said, his calm tone a counterpoint to Mara’s growing irritability. “After all, I’m sure she would want to be informed about a development as important as this, don’t you?”

  The Ferroans exchanged another glance, then Darak hurried off to do as the Jedi asked.

  Luke felt little satisfaction at having accomplished that much. It was only the first of many hurdles. The rain was still falling, dripping down from the trees in a steady, fat-dropped stream. Somewhere deep in the tampasi, Jacen, Saba, and Danni remained hidden from his senses. If they didn’t return of their own accord, he would be hard-pressed to find them without Sekot or the Magister’s help.

  “You are mistaken to believe that Sekot is aware of all things taking place on its surface,” Rowel said. “It is no more capable of this than you would be of tracking every cell in your body.”

  “It seemed to find us easily enough when we arrived,” Mara said.

  “Out in space it is different. A grain of sand is immediately noticeable if it gets in your eye, but that same grain of sand would be almost impossible to find on a beach.” The Ferroan looked uncomfortable. “We have notified surrounding communities to be on the lookout for anyone moving through the tampasi. Darak will also try to coax the airships into flying in this weather. Perhaps they can discern something from above that we are missing on the ground.”

  “That’s a good start,” Luke said. “Thank you.”

  “Please don’t believe that this kind of behavior is normal for my people. We are peaceful. This sort of thing simply doesn’t happen here.”

  “Fear of that which is new or different can make people act irrationally,” Mara said, putting on a conciliatory tone. “But all that concerns us now is finding our friends.”

  “I can assure you that they will be found. We will make every possible effort.”

  A sudden feeling came through the Force. Luke closed his eyes in order to focus on it. It was coming from some distance away, but the intense life energies of the tampasi made it impossible to tell which direction it came from.

  Mara touched his arm. “You feel it, too?”

  He opened his eyes, nodding. “It’s Jacen. I think he’s safe for the moment. I sensed no immediate danger.”

  “Are they on their way back?” Hegerty asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Luke said. “I don’t think so.”

  “What about the others?” Hegerty pressed. “Are they all right?”

  “I can’t tell,” Luke said, reaching into the Force in an attempt to understand the message that Jacen was trying to send. “But I think they’re all okay, for the moment.”

  “We should still try to find them, though,” Mara said.

  Luke nodded. “Yes.”

  Rowel opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sudden return of Darak. Her expression was one of profound alarm.

  “She’s gone!” she exclaimed.

  “Who?” Mara said. “Who’s gone?”

  “The Magister!” The panic in her voice gave her an air of vulnerability Luke hadn’t seen before. “She’s been taken from her rooms!”

  “What do you mean ‘taken’?” Rowel asked, aghast. “Why would anybody do that?”

  “I think I know,” Luke said. “The kidnap of Danni was just a distraction. She wasn’t who the kidnappers were after. It was Jabitha. While you were busy here trying to sort things out, they moved in on her.”

  The alarm in Darak’s and Rowel’s eyes increased tenfold at the suggestion.

  “First Danni,” Mara said, “then Jacen and Saba, and now the Magister. Could anyone else possibly go missing before tonight is over?”

  Jag reached Tahiri’s
room in record time. There he found Pride of Selonia’s chief medic, Dantos Vigos, and Selwin Markota, Captain Mayn’s second in command. Both looked up, startled, as he skidded through the doorway to a halt.

  On the bed beside Tahiri was Jaina, her outstretched form dressed in the clothes she usually wore about the ship. Her eyes were shut, her face expressionless, and her breathing was fast and shallow.

  “What happened?” he asked, wrenching off his flight helmet. He was unable to take her eyes from her face.

  “Relax, Jag,” Markota said. He put a hand on his shoulder, but Jag shrugged it off.

  “I’ll relax when I know what’s going on.”

  “That’s the problem,” Vigos said. “We don’t know what’s going on. We found Jaina unconscious shortly after arriving around Esfandia. No one noticed before then because of all the confusion and the fighting. She was slumped beside Tahiri, having collapsed onto the bed. Their hands were locked together. We’ve scanned them both and found no signs of physical abnormalities, but their minds are furiously active.”

  Jag faced the medic with a frown. “How do you account for this?”

  Vigos shrugged. “I don’t.”

  “But you must have an idea,” Jag said. “You must have a theory, at least!”

  Vigos sighed wearily. “Okay, but it’s only a theory based on what I’ve been told of Tahiri’s background and recent behavior. In my opinion, Tahiri has retreated into herself. She has a split personality that is fighting for dominance over the body. I think Tahiri has deliberately internalized that conflict—she’s keeping it in her head so that neither personality has access to the outside world.”

  “I can understand that,” Jag said. “But what does this have to do with Jaina?”

  “I think they’ve melded,” Vigos said. “I’m not a Jedi, but I suspect that Jaina may have attempted this in an effort to assist Tahiri. She’s helping Tahiri survive.”

  Jag studied Jaina’s face. Despite the appearance of being asleep, she looked exhausted.

  “So why won’t she respond?” he asked. “If she’s in there voluntarily, why doesn’t she just wake up and tell us what’s going on?”