"During her tour of duty as a healer, Jedi Barriss Offee accidentally discovered that a dose of the distillate greatly enhanced her connection to the Force. She described it as being linked to all beings, all places, Michael Reaves 231
throughout all times." The droid hesitated, then added, "Jedi Offee wasn't one to overly indulge in hy-perbole, so I assume that her assessment was a straightforward one, metaphysical as it may sound."
"I believe you," Jax replied. "How did you come into possession of it?"
"When I finally finished reconstructing my synaptic grid links, I remembered that I'd made a promise to Lorn once. He asked me to watch over you, if you'll recall."
"Hard to forget, with you reminding me at every opportunity."
"Jedi Offee offered me the privileged status of being an envoy to the Temple by carrying the distillate with me back to Coruscant. When Den and I arrived, however—"
"There were no Jedi to deliver it to—until you found me." Jax looked at the ampoule, held it up to the light, admiring its translucence. It reminded him, for some reason, of the pyronium nugget. "But why didn't you give it to me when we first met?"
Again, I-Five hesitated uncharacteristically. "Because," he said at last, "you're one of the last few surviving Jedi. I had to make sure—"
"That I was worthy. That I wouldn't use the bota in the service of the dark side."
"Forgive me. I had to be certain. According to Jedi Offee, the enhanced connection with the Force is potentially so powerful that, were it to fall into the wrong hands, the results could be cataclysmic. She felt that it opened a channel to what she referred to as the Cosmic Force. I assume you know what she was referring to."
232 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows Jax nodded, lost in thought. Most philosophers and students of the Force, including many members of the erstwhile Council, believed that the Force was above intellectual concepts of good and evil, and that the terms light side and dark side constituted nothing more than a merism. Nevertheless, many also felt a case could be made for viewing the Force, as it was generally understood and utilized, as a subset of a grander and all-pervasive unifying principle.
It was this "living Force" that was the aspect most Jedi—and most Sith as well—were familiar with. If one's connection with it was strong enough, one could accomplish what seemed to most folk to be miracles: telekinesis, healing abilities, supernal strength, speed and stamina, even a certain amount of precog-nition.
But, according to the Old Teachings, this was only one aspect of a greater whole, much as one planar surface represented only a fraction of a hypergem's multidimensional wonders, known variously as the unifying, cosmic, or greater Force. One connected with the greater Force only through a lifetime of med-itation and sacrifice, but the reward of doing so was, it was said, a unification with all of space and time, an ability to manipulate matter and energy on the most elemental levels . . . even, it was said by some, the ability to throw off the shackles of the flesh in favor of an immortal body of energy.
If bota extract lived up to Barriss Offee's description, it would seem to offer a shortcut to the enlightenment of the greater Force. If it could indeed potentiate the effects of his body's midi-chlorians to such an unprecedented degree, and if it could make Michael Reaves 233
such power available to any Force-sensitive—well, then cataclysmic was definitely an understatement.
If Vader were to somehow learn of it... Jax couldn't finish the thought. But then another thought, even more frightening, occurred to him: What if he already knows?
What if Vader knew, somehow, that Jax was intended to be the recipient of the extract? He might not know the exact time or vector of its delivery, might not suspect that it had been carried to Imperial Center by a mere protocol droid. But if he had any foreknowledge at all, either through the Force or simply through mundane intel, of the miracle distillate's properties, that was surely reason enough for his un-flagging pursuit of Jax.
He said as much to I-Five. The droid agreed, adding, "Perhaps it would be best to hide it—ideally by someone else in a place unknown to you, so that a truth-scan wouldn't reveal its whereabouts."
Jax looked again at the clear amber liquid in the ampoule. "You had to pick a time like this to tell me about it."
"And a better time would have been...?"
Jax had no answer for that.
234 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows twenty-one
The meeting room wasn't large. It was hidden behind a false wall in the kitchen of a charity that fed the homeless and hungry representatives of several species. It was surprisingly crowded, however. Jax found himself standing against the rear wall as the cell's leader spoke from the makeshift forum at the front of the room. That the partisans had passion and were driven by determination could not be denied.
Passion and determination were, however, poor substitutes for Star Destroyers and divisions of stormtroopers.
The speaker was a Gossam, elaborately dressed in the style favored by his people. His tone was sharp and his words, eloquent. His passion was easy to understand. Among the nonhuman species, Gossams had been especially singled out by the Emperor for continued persecution.
"Hear me well, disgruntled masses. First the stormtroopers will come for the peaceful nonhumans such as the Gossams and the Caamasi. Then they will come for the defiant nonhumans. Then the humans who object, and, finally, they will turn upon and devour themselves in an orgy of mindless destruction Michael Reaves 235
and self-loathing, until the galaxy turns back to barbarism and all semblance of kindness, decency, and civilization is lost!"
It went on in that vein for some time, individual members of the audience frequently murmuring their agreement. There was no applause; the speaker's words were too solemn for applause. Jax listened with half a mind, the other half being occupied with studying those in attendance. In addition to the humans there was a representative smattering of sentients from all across the galaxy, as he had known there would be. The Whiplash drew support even from some of those species seemingly favored by the government.
As a member of the subversive organization, he attended the clandestine meetings whenever he could, to reacquaint himself with familiar faces and to meet new ones as well.
A tall and elderly human female took the podium from the exhausted Gossam and started talking about organizations similar to the Whiplash that were forming on other worlds. Jax sat up. This was news to him, as it no doubt would have been to the general media. Was the government aware of these stirrings?
If so, it would behoove the Imperial authorities to keep such knowledge quiet. A cluster of malcontents on one world was easily monitored. Individual groups of dissenters were each separately a simple matter to contain.
The woman was talking not merely of groups with similar ideas and aims, however, but of the first threads of cooperation among them. Of the Whiplash not simply talking to like-minded factions on other 236 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows worlds, but of linking up with them. Of not just speaking out, but taking action.
What she was describing went deeper and broader than resistance. She was promoting organized rebel-lion. Not for now, not even for tomorrow; the advocates of resistance were too scattered and too few to risk anything like direct confrontation with the government. But the first notions, the preliminary inklings, were there, scattered throughout her speech.
Some in the audience were moved to tears, others to cries to take up arms immediately. The speaker calmed the latter even as she dissuaded them. It was not yet time. Preparations had to be made. Measures needed to be taken. The groundwork had to be laid.
A now riveted Jax listened intently to every word.
Clearly the Whiplash was becoming more than just an avenue for getting dissidents safely offworld.
There was purpose growing behind it, and individuals who were dedicated and empowered.
Just individuals? he wondered. Or were certain planet
ary governments, disenchanted with the direction Palpatine was taking, having second or third thoughts about aligning themselves with the newly proclaimed Empire?
After the human finished speaking, the meeting broke up. Some attendees departed quietly and in haste. Others remained, gathering in small groups to further discuss the ideas that had been presented. The speakers had removed themselves quickly, departing one at a time and in different directions so that if any happened to be followed and picked up for questioning, their arraignment would not imperil their fellows.
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Jax was leaving, too, when a sturdily built older human crossed his path and raised a hand.
"Your pardon, citizen." The man's gaze dropped to the deactivated weapon partly concealed at the Jedi's waist. "I couldn't help but notice the unusual weapon you're carrying. If I'm not mistaken, it's a Velmorian flames word. An unconventional weapon, but one that can still be quite effective."
"You have a good eye for tradition, friend." Jax resumed walking. The man fell in alongside him.
"Weapons are something of a passion of mine," he stated. "There are few outside Velmor who could handle such a weapon with any skill." He eyed the increasingly uncomfortable younger man intently.
"You are not Velmorian."
"No, I'm not." Jax lengthened his stride.
The persistent stranger kept pace. "Please don't misconstrue my curiosity." He indicated the meeting room behind them. "We are all here for the same reason. We share the same purpose: a discontent with the way things are. We are all renegades."
Jax slowed slightly. Probing with the Force revealed nothing hostile within the stranger. A tremen-dous intensity, yes, but nothing to suggest that he might be an enemy. Still, it was best to be cautious.
He stopped and looked at his questioner. Though he was dressed in nondescript civilian garb, there was the unmistakable air of the military about him. He looked like he knew how to handle himself in a fight, and the antiquated eye patch did nothing to dispel that impression.
"Was there something you wanted from me, citi-
238 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows zen, or did you just want to compliment me on my taste in personal armament?"
"No," the man responded apologetically. "I meant no intrusion. The flamesword caught my eye, was all.
That, and an admitted curiosity to know what sort of person could effectively wield such a device. Other than a Velmorian trained in its use from childhood, one would think only a Jedi might have such skill."
Jax tensed, but though he probed deeply with the Force, there was still nothing threatening about this pushy interrogator. Certainly nothing to suggest he might be a government agent or a representative of the sector police.
"You have me all wrong, friend. I'm just a hobby-ist who picked this blade up at a market sell-through.
I don't really know how to use it, but I like the way it rides at my waist, and the sight of it is enough to scare off those who might try to cheat me."
"I see." The man seemed disappointed, but willing to accept the younger human's explanation at face value. "At what would they try to cheat you, that you would feel the need of such a weapon to wave at them?"
Jax thought quickly. They were approaching the exit to the street, and this conversation was approaching its end. "I'm a gambler, so I often have large sums of credits on me." He extended a hand. "It was nice to meet a fellow dissident, but I really have to be on my way."
"And I as well," confessed the stranger. "Might I know your name, young gambler?"
After a moment's concern, Jax decided, Why not?
He was never going to see this fellow again. In an-
Michael Reaves 239
other moment, the underlevels of Imperial Center would swallow them both.
"Jax Pavan. And you are—?"
The man appeared to hesitate, but not enough to unsettle Jax. As before, there was no sense of hostility or threat within him. As they shook
hands in
farewell, he said, "I am Captain Typho, late of Her Majesty's Naboo Royal Security Forces."
240 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows twenty-two
The droid was fast, Den had to give it that. Fast and sneaky. It popped up suddenly from behind a pile of rubble, firing four quick shots at Laranth, For all its speed, however, the Paladin was quicker. She whirled, her blasters clearing leather even as she crouched and turned, firing five shots in response.
Each of the first four blocked an incoming charged-particle beam. The fifth shot nailed the droid right between the photoreceptors.
"And the crowd goes wild," Den said. He was relaxing in a dilapidated formfit divan, with his feet up on an old console cabinet, watching the Twi'lek going through her ritual with polite interest. "If we're ever attacked by a training droid, I have no worries about the outcome."
Laranth ignored him. She dialed the intensity scale on her twin DLs back into the lethal zone before returning them to their holsters. Then she reactivated the training droid and sent it back to its charging niche.
Den yawned. "Think Jax is back from the get-together yet?"
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"When he is, we'll know," she replied. " Or rather, I'll-know."
"Cub, I wish I'd had that all-purpose intuition mojo like the Force back when I was a reporter.
Would've come in awfully handy some—"
Laranth made a quick, lateral slicing movement with her left hand, its intensity rendering the fierce accompanying "Shhh!" superfluous. Den shut up. He watched the Twi'lek. She stood straight, in an attitude of listening. The passion with which she sought to connect with the Force was so obvious he half expected the fleshy tentacles her species wore in lieu of hair to rise like organic antennae, aiding her in her She stood for a long moment as if carved from jade, then abruptly looked at him and said, "Tell Jax I had to investigate something." Without waiting for a response, she stepped back into the resiplex, emerging a moment later clad in a hooded cloak.
"You sure you want to go out there alone?" Den knew the question was foolish; if ever a creature existed who was designed for the mean streets of Coruscant, if ever urban natural selection had produced a predator better at stalking the city-planet's duracrete jungles than Laranth Tarak, the Sullustan didn't want to be in the same universe with it. Still. . .
"Wait for Jax," he urged her. "Whatever they're talking about at the Whiplash meeting can't be nearly as important as whatever you're up to looks to be."
Laranth shook her head. "It could be nothing. I'll be back this evening, most likely," she said. Then, before he could say anything more, she walked away into the night.
242 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows Aurra Sing's nostrils flared, almost as if she could actually smell her quarry. In a sense she could, if one could attribute something of that sense to the Force.
Here, she said silently to herself, and close. Making her way steadily but unobtrusively through the crowds, she smiled her feral smile. She wasn't 100 percent certain that it was Jax Pavan she was about to encounter, but it was someone steeped in the Force. Of that she had no doubt.
The trail brought her to an ongoing funfair in one of the deeper sublevels. Here there were tri-dee arcades, virtual rides, exhibitions from the farthest reaches of the galaxy—or at least what claimed to be such—and other attractions. Sing let herself be swept along in the polymorphic crowds, keeping her awareness extended.
Where are you, young Jedi? Where are you hiding in this hive of filthy, useless souls? I am coming for you. The Dark Lord wants you. This is easy for me.
Don't think you have a chance of defeating me; I have killed Jedi far more skilled than you.
A lover of chaos and confusion, Sing delighted in the funfair's surroundings, where deafening noises and eye-smiting illumination, along with the multifarious commingling of species, all came together to produce a bedlam that she found pleasurable. Many of the attractions were genuine
ly clever. There was the Corrobor, where one didn't just have the opportunity to race flying starships or participate as a crew member—one could also become the starship. In a neuralstim booth, one felt as if one was temporarily transformed into a thing of metal and composite, Michael Reaves 243
circuits and lights, weapons and engines. In the Droidome, similar virtual realities gave any sentient the temporary appearance and persona of a droid, from security to construction, from translator to engineer. Real droids found this particular entertainment mildly obscene, not to mention unrealistic. The worst that a customer could experience did not extend to such real-world droid tribulations as casual disposal or dismemberment.
There were high-tech massively multiplayer multi-species combat games, food and drink to sample from one end of the galaxy to another, live shows that one species would find unremittingly dry and another utterly hilarious, as well as body-switching simulations that permitted one to experience another species'
physicality, or gender, or sensoria. Size-distorters gave one the perspective of a giant or a germ. Transport sims for many known planets let one walk, float, or fly around the surface of a multitude of worlds.
Sing ignored them all. With her white epidermis, skintight jumpsuit, lithe figure, and shock of red hair geysering from her otherwise bald skull, she drew many intent looks from other patrons, some from wildly different species. To each she responded in one of two ways: by ignoring them or by giving them a look as hard and intense and burning as the open core of a nuclear reactor.
Where are you, young Jedi? Where are you, Jax Pavan?
She ignored the tempting diversions through which she strode. Ignored food, and liquor, and proffered stimulations of other kinds. Ignored come-ons and thoughtless invective, swiping hands and assurances 244 Star Wars: Coruscant Nights II: Street of Shadows of instant wealth loudly promised. Nothing could divert her from her task.
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