Star Wars: Coruscant Nights III: Patterns of Force

by Michael Reaves

  “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll have to ask about that.” He sensed Laranth’s bemusement and pointedly ignored it.

  “What’ll you do with the old one?”

  Jax could feel the boy’s attention on the weapon that hung at his hip.

  Kaj continued, “I mean, you’ll have to teach me to use one, right? And there’s probably not the time or resources to build two …”

  Jax grinned at the youthful enthusiasm. He wasn’t that much older than Kaj, he realized—less than five years—but he felt positively wizened in comparison.

  In one corner of the room near Ves Volette’s workbench, a ping alerted him to the arrival of a message. With a glance at Laranth, Jax crossed to the workstation to view the source of the message. It was Rhinann.

  Jax activated the HoloNet node. “Rhinann, is anything wrong?”

  The Elomin’s craggy face said that a great deal was wrong. “Pol Haus has contacted us,” he said. “He wishes to speak to you.”

  “Is this about the …” Jax glanced at Kaj again. “The matter he brought to us recently?”

  “Oh, indeed. He wishes to know if we ‘have anything for him on the matter of the rogue Jedi.’ Those were his exact words.”

  Jax felt the “rogue Jedi’s” sudden, intense regard. It was not comfortable. “Tell Prefect Haus that we’ve been tied up with another matter and haven’t got anything for him yet. Tell him we still need to research the various connections.”

  “I already told him that. He wishes to speak to you.”

  “He’s there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. Are you …” Jax made a gesture with his hand that was Whiplash code for “cloaked” or “cloaking.” He hoped Rhinann would take his meaning and make sure his surroundings and location were obscured.

  The Elomin inclined his head, then said, “Will you speak to him?”

  “Of course.” Jax turned his head slightly and signaled Kaj to stay on the other side of the room. Wide-eyed, the youth disappeared behind his wall of woven light.

  Haus appeared in the holographic display as a full-sized head and shoulders floating in thin air. “Jax Pavan!” he said in a tone that was almost jovial. “Your associate tells me you’ve no news for me about the item I’m seeking. Is this in fact the case?”

  Jax caught a muffled and miffed harrumph from Rhinann. “My associate is apparently insulted that you don’t trust him, Prefect.”

  “It has nothing to do with trust. It has to do with your function in that motley bunch of misfits you call an investigative team. The client has been leaning on me to get results. So far all I’ve gotten from my informants—and you from yours, I suspect—are looks that say my brain is fried on dreamspice if I think they’re going to tell me anything. May I remind you that the closer our client is to me, the closer he is to you?”

  Jax took a deep breath. “I understand that part of the equation just fine.”

  “Good. Remember, this isn’t a threat. It’s a warning. If the client thinks we’re stonewalling him, it will not be good for either of us. Incompetence he will overlook—for a time—but not subterfuge. We need to show him something.” Haus tilted his shaggy, horned head and peered at Jax intently. “Do your research, Pavan. But do it soon, or the client is going to force my hand.”

  “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “Banthaflop. I know you. That head of yours is as smart as a whip. You’ll figure it out.”

  He was gone then, leaving Jax to stand rooted to the studio floor.

  He knows. Somehow he knows we have Kaj.

  Jax did need to complete that “research.” If he’d read Haus’s code right, he knew where he was supposed to do it. He turned to Laranth, who stood by, brow furrowed.

  “You heard that?” At her nod, he asked, “Do you know what he’s hinting at?”

  “Not firsthand. I don’t know any more about him than that he’s a sector prefect. Obviously we’re supposed to construe that the head of the Whiplash knows more.”

  “Can you set up a meeting with Yimmon? I’d like his opinion … about a couple of things, actually.”

  “Including Tuden Sal’s mad plot?”

  “Do you think it’s mad?”

  “Do you care what I think?” There was a challenge in those green eyes.

  “Yes, of course I care. How could I not care?”

  She shrugged. “When you left me in the medbay, you didn’t seem to care. You were suddenly very future-oriented.”

  “When I left you in the medbay—” Jax began, then remembered that they had an audience: Kaj was watching their interaction with avid interest. Jax nodded at the light sculptures. “We should probably get back to work.”

  “Yes,” said Laranth, deadpan expression back in full force. “We probably should.”

  fifteen

  By the time they had accomplished the task, Jax was so tired he saw floating afterimages of light in reverse colors interacting with the product of their work. But they now had Kaj encircled by a series of half a dozen fans of illumination pulsing so swiftly that they seemed to sparkle.

  Pleased with the effect, Jax had Kaj try a series of Force exercises and was rewarded by finding not a single leak. He and Laranth even went up in the gallery and leaned out over the lambent “roof” of the light structure. Nothing of what Kaj did escaped, even when he executed a Force leap that took him up to the level of the gallery rail.

  “Am I really safe in here?”

  His child-like uncertainty was engaging. Jax grinned. “Yeah. I think you are.”

  “So what’s next?” the boy asked eagerly. “Can you teach me to use a lightsaber?”

  Jax’s grin grew wider as he glanced at Laranth. He could just imagine what she thought of Kaj’s enthusiasm for the Jedi weapon. As usual, her expression revealed nothing.

  “You want to talk up the blaster as a weapon of choice?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “The philosophy of the Gray Paladins is simply that each Jedi should choose the style of weapon that best suits him or her. From what I’ve seen of Kajin’s ‘style’ I’d say he may not need any weapon at all.”

  The boy looked crestfallen. “I like lightsabers.”

  “Then use a lightsaber, by all means. I’m sure Jax can help you build one.”

  “Can we use the hilt of that one?” Kaj nodded at the Sith weapon.

  “Sure.”

  “Really? It doesn’t have to be—y’know—original?”

  “A hilt can be made out of anything the Jedi is comfortable holding,” Laranth said.

  “Can we start now?” Kaj asked.

  “Building a lightsaber? No,” Jax said. “I need to—”

  “No, I meant me learning to use one.”

  Jax considered the idea, his eyes roving around the studio for some suitable surrogate for a lightsaber. He found a long piece of duraluminum about two and a half centimeters thick and only a bit shorter than a standard blade. Taking a remote, which he’d packed earlier, from his bag, he entered the cage of light, activated the droid, and tossed it into the air where it hung, humming, awaiting his instructions.

  “Is that a toy?” Kaj asked.

  “Not exactly. It’s a practice droid—a remote. It’s what every Padawan starts out with. It shoots EM beams at you, and you try to parry them before they hit you.” He gestured Kaj to a place along the sidelines. “Watch,” he said.

  He closed his eyes, took up the duraluminum rod, and faced the bobbing sphere with it. He gave the activation command, and the little ball shot away from him.

  He followed it with the Force, circling, moving as the remote moved. He felt it dart in for an attack, felt the tiny neural net about to trigger a sizzling beam of energy. He moved easily to intercept it with the rod and felt an answering fizz of energy run up the ersatz lightsaber to his hands. It tickled, but not unpleasantly; the metal diffused the charge. He continued the exercise, showing Kaj the basic postures and moves of Shii-Cho, not opening his e
yes until he had deflected a dozen shots.

  Meanwhile, Laranth prowled the perimeter of the light cage, even going up to walk the gallery, scanning for leaks.

  “Wow,” breathed Kaj when Jax at last deactivated the remote. “That was amazing. You never even looked at it.”

  Jax stared at the boy in disbelief for a moment, then burst out laughing. “After what I saw you do, you’re impressed by my fencing with a remote?”

  “When I use the Force in defense it’s all instinct and desperation,” Kaj said earnestly. “I can’t control it like that—I just strike out. Even when I use it to do other things like get food or clothes or find a safe haven, I’m never sure of it. I never know quite what it’s going to do.”

  “I understand. Every Padawan goes through that. Every Padawan has to learn his own technique.” Jax held the ersatz lightsaber out to the boy. “Try it.”

  Kaj looked wistfully at the real lightsaber hanging from Jax’s belt. “Couldn’t I …”

  “Not yet. As you pointed out, you don’t really know your own strength.”

  “Yeah.” Kaj took the rod. “Do I need to close my eyes?”

  “Try it with them open for a while. Then maybe we’ll try a mask.”

  Obediently, Kaj mimicked Jax’s stance and waited for the remote to engage him. He deflected the thing’s salvos well enough from the outset, never letting them touch him. But Jax could see what he meant about the desperation. He wasn’t anticipating the remote’s attacks using the Force. Rather, he was using the extraordinarily quick reaction times the Force granted him and moving when the blink of the remote’s tiny weapons port gave it away. There was a difference, and it could mean life or death in a battle situation.

  Jax halted the practice after several minutes and found a sash in Ves Volette’s wardrobe that he used to cover Kaj’s eyes. Below the makeshift mask, the boy smiled. Jax could feel his eagerness. He wanted a chance to challenge himself, prove himself.

  Not waiting for Jax to start the drill, Kaj spoke the activation command.

  The remote bobbed into the air and immediately zapped Kaj with a bolt of energy.

  “Ow!” the boy yipped and spun around.

  “Stand by,” Jax instructed the remote, struggling to keep a straight face. “Think of the space around you as a field—a fabric woven by and of the Force. That field joins you to everything else in your environment: Me, the rod, the droid. Let the Force guide you.”

  “But the remote is a mechanism—it’s not alive. How can the Force read the intentions of a mechanism?”

  “It’s not a matter of intentions, Kaj. Yours or the remote’s. The Force exists everywhere—in the present, and also in the past and the future. And the Force can move you in the right direction.”

  “But the speed—”

  “I’ve been watching you move, Kaj. With the blindfold off, you were reacting to the sight of the beam port opening, and it didn’t hit you once. The Force can affect your reflexes so that you can be even faster. Feel the Force, Kaj. Let it guide you …”

  A slow smile spread across Kajin Savaros’s face. He slashed the air with his practice lightsaber. “Let me try again, Master.”

  Jax felt a warm flush of gratification at the words. Maybe he did have something to teach, after all. He stepped outside the wall of light, called the remote back into action, and watched Kaj dance with it.

  It zapped the sleeve of the youth’s tunic once, and another time caught his vest. But with a growing smile, the boy parried its bolts, at first hesitantly, than with increasing confidence, dancing this way and that within the circle of kinetic light.

  Laranth returned silently to Jax’s side. “He’s getting cocky,” she murmured.

  She was right. Jax could tell by the swagger in Kajin’s mostly graceful movements. Probably a good time to end the practice, though it might be beneficial for the kid to get zapped once more.

  Even as he had the thought, Kaj made a bad parry. A flourish brought his hand too high, and the little floating sphere stung him on the wrist. He cried out and spun after the thing—it dived and got him again on the neck and a third time on the buttocks.

  Before Jax could shut the remote down, Kaj roared in incoherent rage and let loose an explosion of Force energy. The hapless remote was blown clear out of the circle of light and the duraluminum rod shot straight at Jax.

  If he had not practiced what he’d preached about gauging intention, he would have been skewered. As it was, the rod flew past him, narrowly missing, passing through the exact spot where his heart had been an instant before, and buried itself fifteen centimeters deep in the plasticrete wall of the studio. He turned to see the light bowls supporting Kaj’s “safe room” shake violently.

  “Kaj!” Jax shouted, reinforcing the verbal command with an application of the Force as he dashed through the veil of light and into the circle. The boy tore the blindfold from his eyes and stood facing Jax, panting and rigid with anger, a hand raised to defend against attack.

  Outside the circle, Laranth had her blasters trained on the boy.

  “It’s just a drill,” Jax said. “Just a drill. Calm down.”

  Slowly the red rage melted from the boy’s eyes, to be replaced by miserable fear. “I’m—I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I just lost it. I’m so sorry.”

  “That,” said Jax, “is what we have to work on, Kaj. You can’t use the Force out of anger or hatred. You draw on the dark side when you do that. Remember: There is no passion; there is serenity.”

  Kaj’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. “There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. I need knowledge.”

  “No kidding,” muttered Laranth, holstering her weapons.

  Fear flickered again in the boy’s eyes. “I don’t want to go to the dark side, Jax. I don’t want to be like that Inquisitor. I felt him. When he came after me. He was all cold hatred like … like a frozen methane lake. He wanted to kill me and he didn’t even know me. I don’t want to be like that. Teach me not to be like that, please.” He looked from one Jedi to the other in naked entreaty.

  “We’ll try,” Jax said, looking to Laranth for accord. If we survive the lessons, her expression said.

  “The good news is that nothing leaked out,” Jax continued. “I saw what was happening, but I didn’t sense it.”

  “Lucky you,” added Laranth drily. “If you’d been blindfolded, you’d be dead now.”

  And if anyone had told me two days ago that that would be a comforting thought, Jax thought, I’d’ve called them crazy.

  They moved to more gentle pursuits after that, the two Jedi putting Kaj through a series of meditative exercises geared to feeling the textures of the world around him, using only the Force. That was far more successful, and Kaj seemed to have left the shadow of his explosive first lightsaber practice behind. They ate and then the boy slept on a couch Jax pulled into the light cage.

  “He looks even younger when he’s asleep,” Jax commented. “Makes me feel ancient.”

  Laranth said, “You’d never suspect he was capable of blowing this entire building apart, would you?”

  Jax chuckled, realizing suddenly how much he’d missed the Gray Paladin. He glanced at her, sprawled with feline grace on a low couch in the upstairs living room, and wondered how he had ever been foolish enough to let her leave. A couple of thoughts collided in his head on their way to his mouth: Ask her to come back to the team and help train the boy. Ask her what she really thinks of Tuden Sal’s plot.

  He opened his mouth to speak—and at that moment, the door in the foyer chimed, then glided open to admit I-Five, Den, and Dejah.

  Laranth came to her feet in one whip-like movement. Gone was the relaxed pose; the atmosphere of warm contentment fled with it.

  Confused, Jax rose. Clearly, he couldn’t ask her anything now. “How did it go?” he asked I-Five.

  “It went well. The female is on her way to Orto, where a highly placed family is waiting to embrace her. I note that the building is
still standing, so I assume things also went well here?”

  Jax glanced at Laranth, but she had retreated from them, her facial expression as impenetrable as a duracrete wall.

  “Mixed bag,” he admitted. “The bad news is that Kaj had another episode. He got frustrated with the practice droid and destroyed it. The good news is the sculptures didn’t let any of that out.”

  Now Laranth met his eyes, silently noting his obvious omission—how close he’d come to dying.

  “You modified them, then?” Dejah asked, sorrow etching her voice.

  “If we hadn’t,” Laranth said coolly, “there wouldn’t be a chance that Kaj would ever get trained. Oh, and this place would be crawling with Inquisitors right now.” She turned to Jax. “I should go. I’ll take Thi Xon Yimmon your message.”

  “Uh, sure,” Jax said. “Let me know when I can see him. It needs to be soon. Today, if possible.”

  She nodded curtly and left.

  “You’re meeting with Yimmon?” I-Five asked.

  “I need to resolve a couple of things with him.” He told them about Pol Haus’s message, the unsubtle this-is-not-a-threat speech, the hint that he and Laranth both felt pointed to the Whiplash leader.

  The reactions were varied. Dejah seemed eager to get at the truth. Den looked dyspeptic but said nothing. It was I-Five who made a most disturbing observation.

  “Has it occurred to you,” he asked, “that perhaps this is Pol Haus’s way of gaining access to Thi Xon Yimmon? Access he does not already have?”

  Jax went cold to the core. “You think it’s a setup? That he’s hoping to use us to lead him to Yimmon?”

  “I don’t think that, necessarily, but it is a point of consideration.”

  “Then we have to make sure that when I meet with Yimmon, I’m not followed.”

  “I believe we can manage that,” I-Five said. “I also believe we have an important matter to discuss as a team.” He turned to Den, who was hunkered in the chair before the upstairs HoloNet terminal. “If you’d be so kind as to contact Rhinann?”