Edge of Victory 2 Rebirth
Page 12
"Each of us begins to die the instant we are born. Our ships are no
different. That is existence, Adept." He spoke her title as if it hurt his
mouth to do so.
Undeterred by his ire, Nen Yim pressed on. "Master, is it not true that
the Yuuzhan Vong need every breath of every one of us to complete the task
of conquering the infidels?"
The master laughed harshly and without a trace of real humor. "Look
around at the misfits on your ship, and you will know the answer. Were they
worthy, they would be at the point of our talons."
"An arm must drive the talons," Nen Yim replied. "A heart must pump the
blood to nourish the muscles that propel the arm."
"Phahg. A metaphor is a preening lie."
"Yes, Master." Her experiments had yielded mostly frustration. She had
been able-without resort to ancient protocols-to coax neurons into
reproduction and shape ganglia that could perform many of the operations of
the brain. She could probably, given time, shape an entirely new brain, but
as she'd explained to her initiate, Suung, that would not solve the problem.
She needed to regenerate the old brain, complete with its memories and
eccentricities. Anything else she did only delayed the inevitable. Further,
any master who examined her work would know instantly that she had been
practicing heresy, and then her efforts to save the worldship would end
quite decisively. She had hoped that the knowledge in the vast Qang qahsa
library rikyams of the shapers would yield a helpful protocol at some cortex
beyond her access, but if a master of her own domain would not help her, no
one would.
"I thank you for your time, Master Tjulan Kwaad."
"Do not disturb me again." The villip smoothed back into its normal
shape.
She sat for a time, tendrils bunched in despair, until her novice
entered.
"How may I serve you today, Adept?" Suung Aruh asked.
Nen Yim did not spare him a glance. "The freezing of the arm has
further diseased the maw luur. Take the other students and floss the recham
forteps with saline jetters."
"It will be done," Suung replied. He turned to leave, but then
hesitated. "Adept?" he said.
"What is it?"
"I believe you can save the Baanu Miir. I believe the gods are with
you. And I thank you for tending to my education. I did not know how
ignorant I was. Now I have some measure of it."
Nen Yim's sight clouded, the protective membrane over her eyes reacting
to sudden intense emotion as it did to light irritation. She wondered
briefly if anyone knew why such dissimilar things should provoke the same
reflex. If it was known, she had never heard it. Perhaps that knowledge,
too, was beyond the fifth cortex.
"The gods will save us or they will not, Initiate," she replied at
last. "It is not to me you should direct your confidence."
"Yes, Adept," he said, in a subdued voice.
She regarded him. "Your progress has been quite satisfactory, Suung
Aruh. In the hands of a master you could be shaped into a most useful
adept."
"Thank you, Adept," Suung replied, trying to hide a look of surprised
gratification. "I go now to my task."
As he left, she noticed the villip pulsing for attention. Wondering
what new sarcoma was gnawing at the fabric of her life, she rose and stroked
it.
It was Master Tjulan Kwaad again.
"Master," she acknowledged.
"I have reconsidered, Adept. I am unswayed by your arguments, but I
feel it foolish to leave you unsupervised lest you bring more shame to us
all. I have dispatched a master to govern you. He will arrive within two
days. Obey him well."
The villip cleared before she could answer. She stood staring at it as
a beast stares at the wound that is killing it.
It hadn't occurred to her that Tjulan Kwaad would send a master, only
that he might find the protocol and transmit it to her, A master, here,
would see what she had done, and know.
Perhaps the new master would save Baanu Miir, and that was good. But
Adept Nen Yim would soon embrace death.
SIXTEEN
The interrogation chamber was a bleak, washed-out yellow room on the
third floor of a building painted entirely in the same color. A sickly sweet
scent like burned sugar and hair blended with ammonia seemed to ooze from
the flaking duraplast, and the sickly light of ancient argon arc fixtures
blanched any real color that entered the building.
Brought in in stun cuffs, Anakin and Tahiri had been hauled through a
lower floor seething with judicials, prisoners, and clerks to this nearly
abandoned area of the building. There the two Jedi had been separated and
placed in different rooms. He could still feel Tahiri's presence, of course,
and not far away, which was comforting.
"We have witnesses now who substantiate the charge of murder," the
judicial with the bruised eye-Lieutenant The-mion, as it turned out-informed
him.
"Right. They killed the Rodian," Anakin said.
"I'm talking now about the man you killed."
"We didn't kill anyone," Anakin protested. "We saw someone in trouble-"
"A Jedi, like yourself."
"Yes. We were trying to help him when the Peace Brigaders starting
blasting at us."
"The way I hear it, you attacked them."
"My friend drew her weapon, yes," Anakin replied. "They were murdering
the Rodian."
"Then you charged them, fought, and shot one with a blaster."
"No!" Anakin said. "How many times do I have to tell
you this? One of them shot at me, missed, and hit the other guy. I
didn't kill anyone, and neither did my friend."
"We have witnesses who saw it differently."
"You mean the other Peace Brigaders, don't you?"
"And some of the vagrants in the crowd."
That took Anakin aback. "Why . . . why would any of them say that?" he
wondered.
"Maybe because it's true," Themion suggested.
"No, it's not true. They're lying, too. Maybe the Peace Brigade forced
them to." Or maybe you did, Lieutenant Themion,
"Let's back up," Themion said. "You saw the Rodian struggling with the
Peace Brigaders. Rodians are a vile, murderous lot. Did it ever occur to you
that maybe he had done something? That the officers of the Peace Brigade
were just doing their duty?"
"The Peace Brigade is a collaborationist organization," Anakin said
hotly. "They sell us out to the Yuuzhan Vong."
"The Peace Brigade is a registered organization," Themion informed him.
"They are licensed to make arrests, and to deal with those who resist
arrest." He scratched his chin. "They are certainly entitled to defend
themselves against offworld, troublemaking Jedi," he added.
Uh-ohs Anakin thought. So his suspicion had been correct. The police
and the Peace Brigade were in this together.
"Am I entitled to an advocate?" Anakin asked.
"One has been assigned you."
"When can we meet?"
"Not until your trial, of course."
"You mean my sentencing."
The officer smiled. "It
might go easier on you if you tell us the rest.
Who sent you. Which ship is yours. Your name."
"I want to see the ambassador from Coruscant."
"Yeah? I'm afraid I don't have that comm ID handy. If you want to call
someone on your ship, and have them contact the ambassador, that's fine."
Right. Then they'll get Corran, too.
"No, thanks," Anakin said.
The officer stepped forward quickly and slapped him so hard his head
rang.
Tahiri, wherever she was, felt it. She responded in the Force in one of
those rare, clear-as-transparisteel moments.
Anakin! And pain, and fear, and anger.
"Tahiri!" Anakin shouted. "No!"
"Your friend has already confessed," Themion said. "She was stubborn,
too." He hit Anakin again. This time Anakin faded a little from the blow to
reduce the impact, but it still hurt.
Somewhere near, a storm was gathering.
"Don't hit me again," Anakin said sternly.
Themion misunderstood. "Aw, does that hurt, little Jedi? Try this." He
pulled a stun baton from his belt.
"Really," Anakin said.
Themion raised the weapon. At the same moment, the door wrenched open
with a squeal of metal. Tahiri stood there, a blaster in one hand.
"Do-ro'ik vong pratte!" she shouted.
Themion, open-mouthed, turned to face her and she hit him with a Force
blast that threw him three meters. He would have gone much farther, but the
jaundiced wall stopped him with prejudice, and he collapsed, groaning.
"I warned you," Anakin said.
Tahiri rushed to his side. "Are you all right?" she asked. "I felt them
hitting you."
"I'm fine," Anakin said, rising from the chair. Unknown to the officer,
he'd already unlocked his stun cuffs using the Force; now he shucked them
from his wrists.
"You're not fine," Tahiri said, touching the side of his head. He
winced. "You see?" she said. She turned back toward Themion, who was trying
to rise. "You smelly Jawa, I'm going to-"
"You're going to put the stun cuffs on him and that's all," Anakin
said.
"He deserves worse. He's a liar and a coward who beats helpless
people." Her eyes narrowed.
"Stay out of my mind, you stinking Jedi," Themion snarled.
"Give me the blaster, Tahiri."
She handed it to Anakin without looking.
"Now," Anakin said. "You let her put these cuffs on you, or I'll let
her do whatever she wants."
Themion let her. Then Anakin leaned around the doorway. A blaster bolt
greeted him-down the hall, another judicial was rushing forward.
The shot missed, and he ducked the next one. He felt another surge in
the Force, and the judicial went flying into the corridor wall. The impact
knocked his senses out of him.
"I think we'd better leave," Tahiri said, from behind him.
"I think you're right," Anakin replied. He knelt and took the guard's
blaster and dialed it down to the lowest setting. He took the stun baton,
too.
"After we find our lightsabers," Tahiri said.
"If"we can find them," Anakin cautioned. "They took mine somewhere
downstairs. Or at least I think so."
They reached the turbolift with a minimum of effort.
"Be ready when we reach the bottom floor," Anakin said. "They're sure
to be ready for us. One of these guys must have called down by now."
Tahiri nodded, an unsettling smile on her face.
"Tahiri?"
"Yes."
"Beware of anger."
"I'm not angry," she said. "Just ready."
Anakin eyed her dubiously, but they didn't have time to go over it now.
"Stand against the sides of the lift. They may shoot before it even opens."
She did as he suggested. A moment later, the doors sighed open.
No sizzling bolts of energy greeted them. Instead they were met by
laughter and shouts of encouragement. Puzzled, Anakin peeked around the lift
door.
Two judicials stood in a ring formed by their comrades. They were
swinging clumsily at one another with light-sabers. One was Anakin's, the
other Tahiri's.
"Use the Force!" someone hooted, as the man wielding Anakin's violet
blade accidentally sliced a desk in half.
It took only a minor suggestion that they weren't there for Anakin and
Tahiri to walk out of the lift and around the edge of the excited crowd.
Apparently, either no one upstairs had called down or-more likely-no one
here had bothered to answer the call. In any event, everyone in the building
seemed completely engrossed in the "duel."
"Keep cool, Tahiri," Anakin said as they drew near the door to the
outside. "I have an idea."
The fellow holding Anakin's lightsaber made a clumsy jab at the other
judicial, who replied with an equally inept circular parry. Anakin took that
opportunity to use the Force to wrench his weapon from the officer's
hands-it looked as if the parry had disarmed him. The lightsaber flew high
in the air, sending everyone in its possible trajectory scurrying away. It
struck the argon arc fixture in the ceiling, then continued on to strike the
power grid node on the other side of the room. The room plunged into
darkness, save for the two lightsabers, both of which suddenly vanished.
On the street, Tahiri burst into laughter.
"Don't laugh," Anakin said. "Run!"
"I'm just thinking we probably saved their lives," Tahiri replied. "The
way they were going, they would have lost at least a hand or two. If-" She
stopped as Anakin abruptly halted.
"What? "Tahiri asked.
"Maybe running is the second-best idea," Anakin said, pointing at the
police airspeeder parked in front of the station.
The two jumped into the rusty orange vehicle. It had an old-fashioned
computer input, and it took Anakin only a few seconds to slice into the
security system. Just as a mob of officers burst onto the street, he
bypassed the code and started the speeder. He throttled it up to full as he
turned the corner and climbed, ignoring the craft's artificially frantic
warning that he was not in an authorized traffic lane.
A few blaster bolts seared by, along with a number of obscenities. Then
the judicial ward was behind them.
By the time they reached the spaceport, Anakin and Tahiri had picked up
a respectable tail and were starting to dodge long-range fire. For that
reason, when Anakin saw the Lucre's cargo port open, he drove the nimble
craft directly into it, nearly clipping a very surprised Corran Horn while
doing so.
"Sithspit!" the older Jedi shouted. "What do you think-"
"Close the landing ramp, Corran! Close it now!"
"What? What have you-"
Several bolts fizzling against the bulkhead cut Corran short. On reflex
he slapped the close mechanism, carefully not showing himself through the
port,
"I take it we need to fly?" Corran said as Anakin and Tahiri dismounted
the speeder. What have you done now, Anakin?
"Might not be a bad idea," Anakin replied. He was trying not to sound
cocky, and failing.
"I'll be very interested to hear why," Corran snapped.
"Fly no
w," Anakin said, heading for the cockpit. "I'll explain later."
"Explain while" Corran said as they settled behind the controls.
"Right," Anakin said as the engines begin to whine to life. "It started
when we felt a Jedi in trouble ..."
"You're right; it can wait," Corran decided. Hearing the story was
probably only going to make him angrier, a distraction he didn't need right
now. "And I'm flying. You calculate a series of jumps, at least three, and
close together."
"To where?"
"Anywhere. No, strike that. Not back toward the Errant Venture.
Coreward. We'll find the Venture later."
"Okay," Anakin said. "Working on solutions now."
"And hang on. Tahiri, you strapped in?"
"Yes, sir."
Corran rose on repulsors and kicked the engines violently into light.
The Lucre sliced through the murky clouds, where Corran steepened their
angle, watching his sensor readouts,
wondering how long it would take the Eriaduans to scramble their
fighters, trying desperately to remember what he knew of their planetary
defense from his days in CorSec.
Soon enough, both questions were answered: not long and not nearly
enough, respectively. As several heavily armed interceptors closed from
several sides, he cleared his throat.
"Any time now, Anakin."
"Hang on," Anakin replied. "I have three jumps. I'm rechecking the last
bit."
"No time. Lay it in and let's go."
The transport's shields trembled beneath a terrific blow. The port
opaqued.
"Wow!" Anakin said. "What-?"
"That was no interceptor," Corran said grimly. "That was a planetary
defense laser. Are we laid in?"
"Sort of..."
"Great." Corran broke atmosphere, engaged the hyper-drive, and the
stars sleeted out of existence.
The first jump took them no more than half a light-year, and Corran had
time to see that one of the interceptors had correctly guessed their vector
before they jumped again, seconds later. The second jump was longer,
followed immediately by a third. It was hard to tell, but it looked as if
they lost their tail on that one.
"How long is this jump, Anakin?"
"A few hours."
"Great. Then why don't you explain to me, in great detail, why you were
joyriding on a judicial speeder. And do not leave out the part that explains
why people were shooting at me, and why you two disobeyed my direct order."