by Kathy Tyers
He felt his uncle’s scrutiny. “Never forget that it’s one thing to lay down your life when you have to. But to choose death when you could’ve escaped—that diminishes us all.”
Jacen frowned. He didn’t want to overestimate his importance, or the other Jedi’s willingness to pay attention. “We’re developing bad patterns,” he insisted. “We’re slipping past everyone else’s laws, and those laws are the foundations of society and security. We’re leading the charge back into the dark times, into the survival of the meanest. We’ll be ruled by bullies if this goes on.”
“That is an excellent point,” Luke said. “Be careful, though. If you feel this wrong about using the Force aggressively, then you can’t simply cut back. You don’t feel confident about deciding what use is aggressive. You’re afraid to act, afraid that your actions will have repercussions beyond imagining.”
“Yes,” Jacen exclaimed, “yes, that’s it!”
“In that frame of mind,” Luke said, “to direct the Force at all is wrong.”
“At all?” Jacen pulled himself upright. That put his head and shoulders out of the bed’s heat field, giving him a faint chill.
“Every act that doesn’t come out of absolute faith can lead to fear and darkness,” Luke said sternly.
Jacen’s memory fled back to his uncle’s academy, to the praxeum, to countless conversations. “I have been imagining terrible consequences of making mistakes,” he admitted. “Don’t you see? This is why I’ve hoped that you wouldn’t reestablish the Jedi Council. We must be answerable to the Force itself, not a group of fallible individuals. If we can understand it well enough to use it, we ought to be able to use it rightly. Or else decide not to use it at all.”
His uncle looked puzzled. “Does that follow,” he asked, “from all you’ve been telling me?”
“It has to,” Jacen mumbled. “Somehow, it all has to fit together.”
“Be careful your pride doesn’t destroy you, Jacen.”
Jacen gripped the bed’s thin privacy cover. “Pride? You told us that power, driven by vengeance, led to pride—and the dark side.”
“There’s a more subtle pride,” Luke explained. “You’re claiming to be too humble to use the Force, aren’t you?”
Jacen thought hard. Was he?
“Maybe you’re the only Jedi who’s perceptive enough to realize that what we all do is wrong—”
“No,” Jacen interrupted. “I’m the one who was warned. You’re not doing anything wrong—”
“But if it’s wrong for you,” Luke said calmly, “shouldn’t you be warning the rest of us?”
Jacen slumped against the wall. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“They’re not listening,” Luke said softly.
Jacen felt as if he’d been kicked.
The silhouette laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re dealing with the very heart of what it means to be a Jedi. Be careful about sacrificing your gifts, to help others see the truth as you perceive it. That’s too close to the kind of sacrifices the Yuuzhan Vong practice. They serve extinction.”
Jacen shivered. “I don’t want to even get close to that.”
“You see your heritage as a grave responsibility. You’ve caught my attention, Jacen. You’ve shown me that we should make much more of the ethics of using our powers, when training our apprentices. Thank you.”
Jacen’s cheeks twitched. He couldn’t help grinning. What an honor!
“Do you have any leading?” Luke asked. “Where your destiny could be taking you next? You don’t have to fulfill it all today, you know. I never dreamed, at your age, where mine would lead me. What’s your next small step?”
“I think,” Jacen said slowly, still stunned by his Master’s show of confidence, “that if I can, I should convince the Duros to support the New Republic by keeping their promises.”
“That could be,” Luke said gravely. “But there could be treachery in high places. You can’t negotiate that away.”
Jacen’s stomach tightened. “Is that what brought you and Anakin to Duro?”
Luke nodded. “An apprentice vanished here. Now we find CorDuro isn’t making deliveries. And I just met two humans who remind me very much of Peace Brigaders. Artoo’s seeing what he can get off Bburru’s mainframe.”
If Brarun had Peace Brigade connections, this “house arrest” wasn’t safe. “Thanks for warning me.”
“You have to choose. Use the Force, as you’ve been trained to do—or leave it alone. You can’t just cut back.”
“All right, then,” Jacen said. “I’ll leave it alone.”
He saw his uncle’s slack-faced astonishment, but only for an instant, and he barricaded himself against the sensation. He had to prove—to Luke, to himself—that he was utterly serious about his commitment.
“This will put you in harm’s way, Jacen. People will assume you can get out of situations that you can’t handle anymore.”
“Just tell them why, Uncle Luke.” Not Master Skywalker, this time. Not if he really meant to go through with this.
“Do you have a comlink?” Luke asked somberly. Even without using the Force, Jacen heard regret and concern in his voice.
Jacen shook his head.
Luke tossed something onto the bed between them. “Keep it hidden. If we find out anything, we’ll call. Maybe Brarun’s not corrupted. If you want to stay here and try to talk sense into him, that might help. But be ready to get out quickly.”
“I will.”
“And get some rest. Don’t try to save the whole galaxy yourself. Believe me, it doesn’t work.” His uncle rose off the bedside, smiling faintly. “I have to warn you about one more thing. If you choose not to do what you can do, you will endanger the ones you love most.”
Jacen shivered again. “Have you seen the future?”
Luke shook his head. “It’s just a … a feeling,” he said. “May the Force be with you, Jacen.” He slipped his mask back on, and then his goggles. Immediately, he drew out a second comlink. “Got it, Artoo,” he said.
“What?” Jacen asked.
“We might have a break in our disappearance case … finally.”
With that, Luke left the room—headed out, Jacen knew, to try to get justice for one person. Not the whole galaxy, at all. Just one person, one situation, one at a time. Just as he’d always taught his students.
Jacen rolled over. Could he really stop using the Force? Trying to silence it felt like putting on a blindfold or plugging his ears. He would have to live that way, for the rest of his life.
Jaina had learned to adapt to diminished vision.
But Jaina was getting her vision back.
And when he shut his eyes, he still saw a galaxy sliding into darkness.
As Sunulok’s crew prepared her to depart Rodia, Tsavong Lah’s aides called him out of a briefing. In his communication chamber, his Nom Anor villip sat on a stand, waiting. The moment he slipped into the chamber, the villip spoke.
“Warmaster, I have excellent news. My naotebe wingling organisms successfully brought down Settlement Thirty-two, and now, the young Jedi coward has been detained by one of my contacts, on board the abomination they call Bburru City.”
Tsavong Lah did not speak. That news was not worth interrupting his briefing. He knew full well that the master shapers who provided Nom Anor with detoxification organisms had also created the winglings.
“Even better,” Anor continued, “I have just sent two other Jedi, members of his family, to the gods. His sister, and their aunt—the notorious Mara Jade Skywalker.”
Tsavong Lah crossed his arms, irked. His shipboard coven of priests had finally decreed that the portents for his ultimate success would improve with every Jeedai that he, personally, sacrificed.
“You saw them die?”
The executor hesitated. “They tripped a stone-fall trap they cannot escape. Without vonduun crab armor, even our bodies would not survive that.”
<
br /> Tsavong Lah’s fighting nails twitched. “We have seen Jeedai call on supernatural abilities.”
“I set this trap with Jedi in mind—set it, actually, for Ambassador Organa Solo, in case she intruded in my private place. Even if they survived the initial crushing, they will die slowly now. I am confident that such mass cannot be cleared aside. Organa Solo and her investigators still have no clue that the stone-fall is anything but a natural collapse.”
And Nom Anor, the Trickster’s disciple, remained under orders not to tip his hand. If the women were dead, the gods would not be displeased. Tsavong Lah nodded.
“Can your Bburru agent’s Jeedai prisoner be sedated for breaking and study? We still must develop ways to kill them easily.” He would not insult Yun-Yammka by offering a known coward in sacrifice.
“I have suggested that my contact hold him, pending your arrival. Meanwhile …” Nom Anor’s cheek pouches crinkled with pleasure. “I have arranged for riots.”
Nom Anor’s field of expertise. “Those will focus the Duro system’s attention on Bburru until we bypass them.”
“You repeat my thoughts. I will time the outbreak to honor your approach.”
Tsavong clicked his finger claws against each other. Riots would create new martyrs for Nom Anor’s latest imitation religion, sending the gods another round of sacrifices. No wonder Yun-Harla, the Trickster goddess, favored Nom Anor. Even mighty Yun-Yammka sometimes bowed to her pranks.
“Are your agents prepared to deal with the planetary shields?”
“Whenever you order it.”
Yes, maybe this interruption was worthwhile after all. “And the young Hutt?” the warmaster demanded. “Have you disciplined him?”
“Again, I await your order.”
“Again, do not insult the Great Ones by offering him. Hutts are beasts and gluttons. Save him for the nutrient staff. Our new slaves will commemorate our arrival with a rich feast.”
Anor’s villip head inclined.
“You promised the Duros we will leave them their abominable habitats, if they lay down their weapons?”
“As ordered.”
Tsavong Lah smiled slowly. Nom Anor’s promises weren’t worth the breath that delivered them.
Yun-Harla surely loved that.
Creeping forward over gouged stone, Mara breathed shallowly through her borrowed mask. The Force bubble overhead lost precious millimeters with each group of stones she conveyed over the top. She felt Luke’s distant touch again, and a pulse of strength with it. Thanks, Skywalker, she shot back at him, feeling a little limp. There was a time for gratitude.
She did wish she’d gone for Nom Anor, though.
Sure. Then we’d all three be dead. But if he’d caused her disease, though, maybe he would know how to make sure she was cured. She’d like to figure out how to get that information from him. Preferably just before she showed him what justice meant.
Jaina’s body felt warm alongside her own. So did Jaina’s anger.
“Don’t worry,” Mara muttered through her rebreather. “I’ll get him. Just not this trip.”
“By the time we get out,” Jaina muttered back, “he’ll be five worlds away.”
“Explains plenty, though.” Another dozen rocks clicked down into place behind them, and Mara slithered forward a centimeter. When she raised her head, even slightly, she bumped rock. “About Rhommamool.”
“Finally,” Jaina agreed. “He’s just been stirring up trouble, not caring who gets killed.”
“Distracting us all from their real invasion vector.”
It was better to keep talking than think about the slowly flattening bubble. She hated to admit it, but Luke might have called this one right when she assured him she didn’t need help. If they ran out of space, she would have Jaina slip into a hibernation trance, and then she’d call Luke—and hope he could get here before her air ran out, because she couldn’t do hibernation herself, not if she hoped to keep the unknown weight of rock from smashing them. She had to stay conscious.
“And the droid burnings,” Mara said. “Remember that?”
“D’you think that flask really was …”
Mara had given that more thought. “No.” He hadn’t known she was coming. “But I’m sure he has more of the stuff.” Coomb spores, whatever that meant.
“You don’t think he was lying, then?”
“Not this time,” Mara muttered. She had felt the weird weakness again, in his presence—faint, but strong enough to confirm his claim.
“Hey, I caught a whiff of good air.” Jaina’s voice came through clearly. She must have pulled off the breath mask.
Mara kept her own mask on. Another group of rocks lifted. She caught a glimmer of light through the space beyond them. “Almost,” she grunted.
It was hard to keep stones moving slowly, now. The mental image of dying within half a meter of freedom kept her focused. Moving the last stones took over an hour.
“Okay,” she said at last. “Roll forward. I want you right up here.” She pushed Jaina against the bubble’s fore edge. She gathered her legs and arms underneath her, knees and elbows bent, and took a deep gulp of the strength flowing in from the distance. Ready, Luke? She formed the words in her mind, wryly recognizing a secret double meaning. Push!
“Now!” She shoved Jaina clear. Then she rolled free, ignited her lightsaber, and deflected the last falling stones. They fell glowing along their cut surfaces.
Jaina’s scalp bled from a cut near her right ear. She whipped out her comlink. “Gateway Security, this is an emergency. I need Administrator Organa Solo on the line—now!”
There was no answer.
“Back up the tunnel,” Mara ordered.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Okay, Mara, what is this?” Over Shadow’s comm unit, Leia’s voice had a deadly edge. “How did you find him out?”
Mara still wore the remains of her Kuati costume. She’d blasted off without waiting for clearance, once she understood that things were about to break in Bburru. Jaina sat next to her, wearing a brown flight suit from one of Mara’s lockers.
“Simple,” Mara answered. “He wasn’t there through the Force. That’s why he avoided you. Jaina found the masquer disengage spot. When he started to ripple, we went for our lightsabers.”
“How long did he think he could stay out of my way?” Leia’s voice muttered in Mara’s headset.
Mara didn’t like the obvious conclusion: He hadn’t thought he would need to avoid Leia much longer. “Grab him. Don’t let him out of Gateway.”
Leia’s voice sounded weary. “The dome’s too crowded for sensors or scanners to pinpoint one person. By now, he could be out in the swamps—or even underwater, from what Danni told us about their breathing devices. And now we know he’s got his own way of tunneling. He might even be in the old mines.”
“Can’t always have what we want,” Jaina muttered.
Mara shook her head.
“We cert … derstand Rhommamool better, d … we?” Interference ate into the transmission as they soared through Duro’s atmosphere.
“Losing you,” Mara came back. “I’ll send what I can from Bburru.”
Mara cut the transmitter, leaned back in her chair, and checked her readouts. Then finally, she let herself relax enough to check the spot between her hipbones. It was still an almost imperceptible tingle. You’ve got a good grip, she complimented … him? Keep hanging on. The ride could get a little bumpy.
“Didn’t ask about me, did she?” Jaina raised her head to stare at Bburru, growing on the fore screen.
“I would’ve told her if you’d been hurt.”
“Some women shouldn’t have children.”
Mara drew up straight, and a back muscle twanged. She must’ve overstretched it, scrabbling along on the stony ground. “I can’t believe you said that.”
When Jaina pursed her lips, she looked a very young seventeen. “To her, I’m an inconvenience. ‘Winter, take Jaina for a walk.’ ‘Threepio
, tell Anakin a story.’ ‘Here, Chewbacca, watch the twins.’ ”
“And how many mothers gave up a seat on a shuttle headed for safety this year? Put their kids on board and stayed behind, to die or be enslaved? Sometimes staying with your child isn’t possible.”
“Then mothers who are too important to raise their kids should just sign them over and go off to work.”
Mara, who had only vague mental images of her parents, dropped her voice to an icy alto. “For such a mature young woman, you are being surprisingly childish.”
Jaina ran a hand over her bare head. It was starting to show a faint brown shadow of regrowth. “I’m also being honest. Mara, I nearly died at Kalarba. I lost an awfully good friend at Ithor. She gave up everything, to give families a chance to survive somewhere else.”
“And your mother is giving those survivors somewhere to live. This planet is hope, literally and symbolically.”
Jaina sighed heavily. “Poor Mom. She’s got a halfblind, stubborn daughter who can’t fight anymore and a son who’s afraid to be a Jedi. Good thing Anakin came along.”
“You’ve got a temporary weakness. File this away for your future, Jaina Solo. It’s all right to take risks for yourself. But never, never commit someone else to hand-to-hand combat if they’ve had their fighting edge blunted. Do we understand each other?”
Stars appeared as they broke through Duro’s opaque atmosphere. Mara switched Jade Shadow’s comm unit to her private frequency. “Luke,” she called.
He answered. “Mara. On your way?”
Of course, he felt her getting closer. “We met an old friend,” she said grimly.
They docked the Shadow at Port Duggan. Mara threw on a hooded cloak over the remains of her costume and led Jaina back to the cheap rental unit. As she slipped through the door, she felt a hesitant touch—Luke’s, making sure she was all right. She ran the same check herself, just to keep everything in perspective, as he embraced her.
Anakin sat on the near cot with his eyes shut, passing his lightsaber grip from hand to hand behind his back—a very young Jedi’s equivalent of fidgeting. A strand of dark-brown hair drooped into his face.
Jaina dropped onto the near cot and frowned at him, then over at Luke. “Did you tell him?” Jaina asked. “Anakin, Nom Anor didn’t die on Rhommamool after all. He’s here, and he’s a Yuuzhan Vong agent.”
