by Greg Keyes
“Agreed, Warmaster. In retrospect, it is clear that their intent was to recover the slaves.”
“And where were you during this?”
“I hid among the Shamed Ones, Warmaster. I thought they would take true castes captive.”
“A cowardly thing to do, Shaper.”
“I beg your indulgence, Warmaster, but I had more than selfish reasons for doing so.”
“Explain them. Be brief.”
“My master, Mezhan Kwaad, was slain by the Jeedai we were shaping.”
“You did not shape the Jeedai well, I think.”
“On the contrary, Warmaster, given a few more cycles, she would have been ours. If not for the interference of the other Jeedai.”
“Yes,” the warmaster snarled. “The other. Solo. Another Solo.” He paced violently away from her, then turned back. “Master Yal Phaath disagrees with you, Adept. He claims that your master conspired in heresy, and that any results you obtained were stained by ungodliness.”
“Master Yal Phaath is a respected shaper. So was Mezhan Kwaad. She was never able to answer these charges, and I may not speak for her. But I tell you this, Warmaster. What we learned from the Jeedai was valuable. It has worth to the Yuuzhan Vong. The records in the damutek were destroyed, and my master is dead. Only I remain to remember. That is why I secreted myself among the Shamed Ones, to protect that information.”
“You did so for no reason. The infidels took no captives.”
“No, Warmaster. But I could not know that at the time.”
“Agreed. They are a strange breed. They keep no slaves and make no sacrifices. They do not appreciate captives. They do not make war to obtain them. They consider them burdens or currency for the return of their own worthless kind. An ugly and godless motley of species.”
“If I may ask your opinion, Warmaster—why then did they not slay us once they had what they wanted? Corpses are no burden.”
“They are weak. They do not understand life and death.” He waved the whole issue aside with the back of his hand, then returned his stare to Nen Yim.
“This was badly bungled by shapers and warriors alike,” he said. “If Tsaak Vootuh were not dead, I would kill him myself. And I should have you sacrificed.”
“If death is my lot, Warmaster, if that is what the gods desire, I embrace it. But I repeat—what we learned of the Jeedai here ought not to perish with me. Give me at least a chance to record what I know in a worldship qahsa.”
The warmaster’s cruel eyes did not waver. “You will have that chance. It has been given you. Do not squander it as your master did here.”
“And if more Jeedai are captured? Will our work shaping them resume?”
“Your domain has failed. They will not be given a second chance with the Jeedai. Domain Phaath will continue the work on the Jeedai problem.”
Then it will never be solved, Nen Yim thought to herself. She did not dare say this to the warmaster, of course. “And Domain Kwaad?” she asked instead.
“The worldships are failing. They must be maintained.”
Nen Yim nodded solemnly, but in her belly she was sick. Back to the worldships, to closed skies and rotting maw luur, to masters so mired in the old ways they would let the Yuuzhan Vong perish rather than contemplate change.
So be it. But in her heart, Nen Yim still considered Mezhan Kwaad her master. Nen Yim would continue the work they had begun, somehow. It was too important. And if Nen Yim must die for this, she must. The glorious heresy would live on.
“I submit to your will, Warmaster,” Nen Yim lied.
“One other thing before you go,” Tsavong Lah said. “You spent some time among the Shamed Ones before the reoccupation force arrived. Have you heard of a new heresy amongst them, one concerning the Jeedai?”
“I have, Warmaster.”
“Explain it to me.”
“There is a certain admiration for them, Warmaster. Many feel that Vua Rapuung was redeemed from Shamed status by the Jeedai Solo. Many feel their own redemption lies not in prayer to Yun-Shuno, but in the Jeedai.”
“Can you name any who espouse this heresy?”
“A few, Warmaster.”
“Name them. This heresy will die on this moon. If every Shamed One here must perish in glorious sacrifice, it will end here.”
Nen Yim nodded affirmation, but in her bones she knew the truth.
Repression was the favored food of heresy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Meridian, MS, in 1963, GREG KEYES spent his early years roaming the forests of his native state and the red rock cliffs of the Navajo Indian reservation in Arizona. He earned his B.A. in anthropology from Mississippi State University and a master’s degree from the University of Georgia, where he did course work for a Ph.D. He lives in Savannah, GA, where, in addition to full-time writing, he enjoys cooking, fencing, the company of his family and friends and lazy Savannah nights. Greg is the author of The Waterborn, The Blackgod, the Babylon 5 Psi Corps trilogy, the Age of Unreason tetrology (for which he won the prestigious “Le Grand Prix de l’Imaginaire” award), and three New York Times bestselling Star Wars novels in the New Jedi Order series.
ALSO BY GREG KEYES
THE KINGDOMS OF THORN AND BONE
The Born Queen
The Blood Knight
The Charnel Prince
The Briar King
STAR WARS: THE NEW JEDI ORDER
Star Wars: The New Jedi Order:
Edge of Victory III: The Final Prophecy
Star Wars: The New Jedi Order:
Edge of Victory I: Conquest
Star Wars: The New Jedi Order:
Edge of Victory II: Rebirth
STAR WARS—The Expanded Universe
You saw the movies. You watched the cartoon series, or maybe played some of the video games. But did you know …
In The Empire Strikes Back, Princess Leia Organa said to Han Solo, “I love you.” Han said, “I know.” But did you know that they actually got married? And had three Jedi children: the twins, Jacen and Jaina, and a younger son, Anakin?
Luke Skywalker was trained as a Jedi by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. But did you know that, years later, he went on to revive the Jedi Order and its commitment to defending the galaxy from evil and injustice?
Obi-Wan said to Luke, “For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times. Before the Empire.” Did you know that over those millennia, legendary Jedi and infamous Sith Lords were adding their names to the annals of Republic history?
Yoda explained that the dreaded Sith tend to come in twos: “Always two, there are. No more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice.” But did you know that the Sith didn’t always exist in pairs? That at one time in the ancient Republic there were as many Sith as Jedi, until a Sith Lord named Darth Bane was the lone survivor of a great Sith war and created the “Rule of Two”?
All this and much, much more is brought to life in the many novels and comics of the Star Wars expanded universe. You’ve seen the movies and watched the cartoon. Now venture out into the wider worlds of Star Wars!
Turn the page or jump to the timeline of Star Wars novels to learn more.
ONE
“You’ve had worse ideas, Luke,” Mara Jade Skywalker reluctantly admitted, nodding her head back so the sunlight fell on her face and her deep red-gold tresses trailed behind her. Posed that way, eyes closed, framed against the blue line of the sea, her beauty closed Luke’s throat for a moment.
Mara’s green eyes opened, and she looked at him with a sort of wistful fondness before arching a cynical brow.
“Getting all fatherly on me again?”
“No,” he said softly. “Just thinking how ridiculously lucky I am.”
“Hey. I’m the one with the hormone swings. You aren’t trying to one-up me, are you?” But she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s walk a bit more.”
�
�You sure you’re up to it?”
“What, you want to carry me? Of course I’m up to it. I’m pregnant, not hamstrung. You think it would be better for our kid if I spent all day lying around sucking on oorp?”
“I just thought you wanted to relax.”
“Absolutely. And this is relaxing. Us, all alone, on a beautiful island. Well, sort of an island. Come on.”
The beach was warm beneath Luke’s bare feet. He had been reluctant to agree to going shoeless, but Mara had insisted that’s what one did on a beach. He found, to his surprise, that it reminded him pleasantly of his boyhood on Tatooine. Back then, in the relative cool of early evening—one of those rare periods when both blazing suns were nearly set—sometimes he would take his shoes off and feel the still-warm sand between his toes. Not when Uncle Owen was looking, of course, because the old man would launch into an explanation of what shoes were for in the first place, about the valuable moisture Luke was losing though his soles.
For an instant, he could almost hear his uncle’s voice and smell Aunt Beru’s giju stew. He had an urge to put his shoes back on.
Owen and Beru Larses had been the first personal casualties in Luke Skywalker’s battle against the Empire. He wondered if they had known why they died.
He missed them. Anakin Skywalker may have been his father, but the Larses had been his parents.
“I wonder how Han and Leia are doing?” Mara wondered aloud, interrupting his reverie.
“I’m sure they’re fine. They’ve only been gone a few days.”
“I wonder if Jacen should have gone with them?”
“Why not? He’s proven himself capable often enough. And they’re his parents. Besides, with half the galaxy after him, it’s better he stay on the move.”
“Right. I only meant it makes things worse for Jaina. It’s hard on her, doing nothing, knowing her brother is out fighting the fight.”
“I know. But Rogue Squadron will probably call her up pretty soon.”
“Sure,” Mara replied. “Sure they will.” She sounded far from convinced.
“You don’t think so?” Luke asked.
“No. I think they would like to, but her Jedi training makes her too much of a political liability right now.”
“When did the Rogues ever care about politics? Has someone said this to you?”
“Not in so many words, but I hear things, and I’m trained to listen to the words behind the words. I hope I’m wrong, for Jaina’s sake.”
Her feelings brushed Luke in the Force, running a troubled harmony to her assertion.
“Mara,” Luke said, “my love, while I’ll believe you when you say picking up parasites on a strange beach is relaxing—”
“Nonsense. This sand is as sterile as an isolation lab. It’s perfectly safe to walk barefoot. And you like the feel of it.”
“If you say so. But I forbid any more talk about politics, Jedi, the war, the Yuuzhan Vong, anything like that. We’re out here for you to relax, to forget all of that for a day or so. Just a day.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re the one who thinks the whole universe will collapse unless you’re there to keep it spinning.”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Say something like that again, and I’ll make you wish you were,” she said, a bit sharply. “And by the way, if we do this again, it’s your turn.”
“We’ll play sabacc for it,” Luke responded, trying to keep a straight face but failing. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, hard.
They continued along the strand, past a rambling stand of crawling slii, all knotted roots and giant gauzy leaves. Waves were beginning to lap on the beach, as they hadn’t earlier, which meant they were on the bow side of the “island.”
It wasn’t an island at all, of course, but a carefully landscaped park atop a floating mass of polymer cells filled with inert gas. A hundred or so of them cruised the artificial western sea of Coruscant, pleasure craft built by rich merchants during the grand, high days of the Old Republic. The Emperor had discouraged such frivolity, and most had been docked for decades and fallen into disrepair. Still, many were in good enough shape to refurbish, and in the youth of the New Republic, a few sharp businessmen had purchased some and made them commercial successes. One such person, not surprisingly, had been Lando Calrissian, a longtime friend of Luke’s. He had offered Luke use of the craft whenever he wished it. It had taken Luke a long time to call in the offer.
He was glad he had done it—Mara seemed to be enjoying it. But she was right, of course. With everything that was happening now, it was hard not to think of it as a waste of time.
But some feelings could not be trusted. Mara was showing now, her belly gloriously rounded around their son, and she was suffering from all of the physical discomforts any woman did in that situation. Nothing in her training as an assassin, smuggler, or Jedi Knight had prepared her for this compromised state, and despite her obvious love for their unborn child, Luke knew physical weakness grated on her. Her comment about Jaina might just as well have been about herself.
And there were other worries, too, and a pocket paradise wasn’t likely to help her forget them, but at least they could take a few deep breaths and pretend they were on some distant, uninhabited world, rather than in the thick of the biggest mess since before the Empire had been defeated.
No, strike that. The Empire had threatened to extinguish liberty and freedom, to bring the dark side of the Force to ascendance. The enemy they faced now threatened extinction in a much more literal and ubiquitous sense.
So Luke walked with his wife as evening fell, pretending not to be thinking of these things, knowing she could feel he was anyway.
“What will we name him?” Mara asked at last. The sun had vanished in a lens on the horizon, and now Coruscant began to shatter the illusion of pristine nature. The distant shores glowed in a solid mass, and the sky remained deep red on the horizon. Only near zenith did it resemble the night sky of most moonless planets, but even there was a baroque embroidery of light as aircars and starships followed their carefully assigned paths, some coming home, some leaving home, some merely arriving at another port.
A million little lights, each with a story, each a spark of significance in the Force that flowed from them, around them, through them.
No illusion, here. All was nature. All was beauty, if you had eyes willing to see it.
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s just a name,” she said.
“You would think. But everyone seems to believe it’s important. Since we went public with the news, you wouldn’t believe how many suggestions I’ve gotten, and from the strangest places.”
Mara stopped walking, and her face reflected a sudden profound astonishment. “You’re afraid,” she said.
He nodded. “I guess I am. I guess I don’t think it’s ‘just a name,’ not when it comes to people like us. Look at Anakin. Leia named him after our father, a gesture to the person who became Darth Vader, as a recognition that he overcame the dark side and died a good man. It was her reconciliation with him, and a sign to the galaxy that the scars of war could heal. That we could forgive and move on. But for Anakin, it’s been a trial. When he was little, he always feared he would walk the same dark path his grandfather did. It was just a name, but it was a real burden to place on his shoulders. It may be years before we learn the full consequences of that decision.”
“For all that I admire your sister, she is a politician, and she thinks like one. That’s been good for the galaxy, not so good for her children.”
“Exactly,” Luke said reluctantly. “And whether I like it or not, Mara, because of who we are, our child will inherit part of our burden. I’m just afraid of placing an extra one on his shoulders. Suppose I named him Obi-Wan, as a salute to my old Master? Would he think that means I want him to grow up to be a Jedi? Would he think he had to live up to Ben’s reputation? Would he feel his choices in lif
e constrained?”
“I see you’ve thought a lot about this.”
“I guess I have.”
“Notice how quickly this takes us back to the things you said we weren’t supposed to talk about?”
“Oh. Right.”
“Luke, this is who we are,” Mara said, stroking his shoulder lightly. “We can’t deny it, even alone on an island.” She dipped her foot in the wavelets lapping onto the beach. Luke closed his eyes and felt the wind on his face.
“Maybe not,” he admitted.
“And so what?” Mara said, playfully kicking a little water on the cuff of his pants. But then her face grew serious again. “There is one very important thing I want to say, now, before another second passes,” she informed him.
“What’s that?”
“I’m really hungry. Really, really hungry. If I don’t eat right away, I’m going to salt you in seawater and gobble you up.”
“You’d be dissapointed,” Luke said. “It’s fresh water. Come on. The pavilion isn’t far. There should be food waiting.”
Luke and Mara ate outside at a table of polished yellow Selonian marble while the blossoms around them chimed a quiet music and released fragrances to complement each course. Luke felt ridiculously pampered and a little guilty, but managed to relax somewhat into the mood.
But the mood was broken during the intermezzo, when the pavilion’s protocol droid interrupted them.
“Master Skywalker,” it said, “an aircar is approaching and requesting admittance through the security perimeter.”
“You have the signal?”
“Most assuredly.”
“Transfer to the holostation on the table.”
“As you wish, sir.”
A hologram of a man’s face appeared above the remains of their meal. It was human, very long, with aristocratic features.
“Kenth Hamner,” Luke said, a sense of foreboding pricking up his scalp. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
The retired colonel smiled briefly. “Nothing important. Just a visit from an old friend. May I come aboard?”
