The Essential Novels

by James Luceno

  On board was a seventh Jedi, who had died during the transport’s hyperspace jump to the rendezvous.

  Med droids tended to the wounds of new arrivals. Then, after the Jedi had rested and been fed, everyone gathered in the main cabin, where Shryne, Starstone, and a few of the smugglers listened to accounts of savage engagements and close escapes on half a dozen worlds.

  As Shryne had guessed, no other clone troopers were known to have refused to obey the Jedi execution order Palpatine was believed to have issued. Two of the Jedi had managed to kill the troopers who had turned on them. Another had escaped and survived by donning clone armor. The pair of Jedi from the Agricultural Corps hadn’t been in the company of troopers, but had been fired on and pursued when a shuttle they were aboard had arrived at a Republic orbital facility.

  Originally ten in number, they had gathered on Dellalt after receiving a 913 code transmitted by Forte, the eldest among them. It was on Dellalt that they had commandeered the transport, during a battle in which two of the Jedi had been killed and many of the others wounded—and seemingly from Dellalt that the light cruiser and ARC-170s had pursued them.

  By the time all the stories had been told and endlessly discussed, the Drunk Dancer had emerged from hyperspace in a remote system of barren planets that had long served Jula and her crew as a hideout of sorts. Relieved of her pilot duties, she entered the main cabin and sat down next to Shryne just as talk was turning to HoloNet accounts of what had occurred on Coruscant following Palpatine’s decree that the Grand Army had been victorious, and that the Republic was now an Empire.

  “Some of the information released has to be false or exaggerated,” the agronomist Jambe Lu said. “Holoimages we’ve seen thus far show that the Temple was certainly attacked. But I refuse to accept that everyone was killed. Surely Palpatine would have ordered the troopers to spare the younglings. Perhaps some instructors and administrators, as well.”

  “I agree,” Lu’s partner, Nam Poorf, said. “If Emperor Palpatine had wanted for some reason to exterminate the entire Jedi order, he could have done so at the start of the war.”

  Forte ridiculed the idea. “And who would have led the Grand Army—Senators? What’s more, even if you’re correct about the Temple, the best we can hope is that an untold number of Jedi are imprisoned somewhere. What we know to be true is that Masters Windu, Tiin, Fisto, and Kolar died in the attempt to arrest Palpatine; and that Ki-Adi-Mundi, Plo Koon, and other High Council members are reported to have been assassinated on Separatist worlds.”

  “Any word on Yoda or Obi-Wan?” Shryne asked Forte.

  “Nothing more than HoloNet speculation.”

  “About Skywalker, as well,” Nam Poorf said. “Although we heard rumors on Dellalt that he died on Coruscant.”

  The Ho’Din Jedi Knight glanced meaningfully at Shryne. “If Skywalker is dead, does that mean that the prophecy died with him?”

  “What prophecy?” Forte’s sightless Togruta Padawan asked.

  Again, Iwo Kulka looked at Shryne. “I see no reason for secrecy now, Roan Shryne.”

  “An ancient prophecy,” Shryne explained for the benefit of Nalual, Klossi Anno, and the two agronomists, “that a Chosen One would be born in the dark times to restore balance to the Force.”

  “And Anakin Skywalker was thought to have been this Chosen One?” Lu said in astonishment.

  “Some members of the High Council believed there was justification for thinking so.” Shryne looked at Iwo Kulka. “So in answer to your question, I don’t know where the prophecy fits into all that’s happened. Foretelling was never my area of expertise.”

  It came out more bluntly than Shryne had intended. But he was exasperated by the fact that everyone was talking around the real issues: that the Jedi were suddenly homeless and rudderless, and that important decisions had to be made.

  “What matters,” he said into the silence that followed his sarcasm, “is that we—that all Jedi—are prey. Palpatine’s initial actions might not have been premeditated. We’ll leave that for the historians to determine. But he’s intent on eliminating us now, and we’re probably placing ourselves at greater risk by grouping together.”

  “But that’s exactly what we have to do,” Starstone argued. “Everything that has just been said is reason enough to remain together. Jedi being held prisoner. The younglings. The unknown fates of Masters Yoda and Kenobi …”

  “To what end, Padawan?” Forte said.

  “If nothing else, to prevent the Jedi flame from being extinguished.” Starstone glanced around, in search of a sympathetic face. That she couldn’t find one didn’t prevent her from continuing. “This isn’t the first time the Jedi order has been brought to the brink of extinction. Five thousand years ago the Sith thought that they could destroy the Jedi, but all their attempts failed, and the Sith Lords only ended up destroying one another. Palpatine might not be a Sith, but, in time, his greed and lust for power will be his undoing.”

  “That’s a very hopeful attitude to take,” Forte said. “But I don’t see how it helps us now.”

  “Your best chance of surviving is in the Tingel Arm,” Jula said suddenly, “while Palpatine’s full control is still limited to the inner systems.”

  “Suppose we do go there,” Starstone said while separate discussions were breaking out. “Sure, we can assume new identities and find remote worlds to hide on. We can mask our Force abilities from others, even from other Forceful individuals. But is that what you want to do? Is that what the Force wants for us?”

  While the Jedi were considering it, Shryne said: “Have any of you heard the name Lord Vader?”

  “Who is Vader?” Lu asked for all of them.

  “The Sith who killed my Master on Murkhana,” Starstone said before Shryne could speak.

  Iwo Kulka looked hard at Shryne. “A Sith?”

  Shryne lifted his eyes to the ceiling, then looked at Starstone. “I thought we agreed—”

  “Vader fought with a crimson lightsaber,” she interrupted.

  Shryne took a calming breath and began again. “Vader assured the troopers on Murkhana that he wasn’t a Jedi. And I’m not sure what he is. Possibly humanoid, but not fully organic.”

  “Like Grievous,” Forte assumed.

  “Again—possible. The black suit he wears appears to keep him alive. Beyond that, I don’t know how much of Vader is cyborg.”

  Poorf was shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Is this Vader an Imperial commander?”

  “He’s superior to the commanders. The troopers showed him the sort of respect they’d reserve for someone of very high rank or status. My guess is that he answers directly to Palpatine.” Shryne felt exasperation surfacing once more. “What I’m getting at is that Vader is the one we need to worry about. He will track us down.”

  “What if we get to him first?” Forte said.

  Shryne gestured broadly. “We’re eight against someone who may be Sith, and one of the largest armies ever amassed. What does that tell you?”

  “We wouldn’t go after him immediately,” Starstone said, quickly picking up on Forte’s question. “Palpatine isn’t embraced by everyone.” She looked at Jula. “You yourself said that his reach is limited to the inner systems. Which means we could work covertly to persuade Outer Rim Senators and military leaders to join our cause.”

  “You’re neglecting the fact that most species are now convinced that we had a hand in starting and perpetuating the war,” Shryne said strongly. “Even those who aren’t convinced would risk too much by helping us, even by providing sanctuary.”

  Starstone was not deterred. “We were two yesterday, and we’re eight today. Tomorrow we could be twenty or even fifty. We can keep transmitting—”

  “I can’t allow that,” Jula cut her off. “Not from my ship, anyway.” She looked at Forte and the others. “You say you were tracked from Dellalt. But just suppose the Empire is also monitoring Jedi frequencies for Nine Thirteen transmissions? All Palpatin
e would have to do is wait until you were all in one place, then send in the clones. Or this Vader character.”

  Starstone’s silence lasted only a moment. “There’s another way. If we could learn which worlds Jedi were assigned to, we could actively search for survivors.”

  Lu thought about it for a moment. “The only way to learn that would be by accessing the Temple’s data banks.”

  “Not from the Drunk Dancer, you won’t,” Jula said.

  “Couldn’t happen anyway, Captain,” Eyl Dix said. “Accessing the data banks would require a much more powerful hyperwave transceiver than we have, and one that would be very hard to come by.”

  Dix glanced at Filli for corroboration.

  “Eyl’s right,” Filli said. Then, around a forming grin, he added: “But I know just where we can find one.”

  Rain was rare on weather-controlled Coruscant, but every so often microclimatic storms would build in the bustling sky and sweep across the technoscape. Today’s had blown in from The Works and moved east with great speed, lashing the abandoned Jedi Temple with unprecedented force.

  Vader’s enhanced hearing could pick up the sound of fat, wind-driven raindrops spattering against the Temple’s elegant spires and flat roof, an eerie counterpoint to the sound of his boot heels striking the adamantine floor and echoing in the darkened, deserted corridors. Sidious had sent him here on a mission, ostensibly to search the archives for certain Sith holocrons long rumored to have been brought to the Temple centuries earlier.

  But Vader knew the truth.

  Sidious wants to rub my masked face in the aftermath of the slaughter I spearheaded.

  Though the corpses had been removed by stormtroopers and droids, most of the spilled blood washed away, scorch marks on the walls and ceiling attested to the surprise attack. Columns lay toppled, heritage tapestries hung in shreds, rooms reeked of carnage.

  But evidence of a less tangible sort also existed.

  The Temple teemed with ghosts.

  What might have been the wind wending into holed hallways never before penetrated sounded like the funereal keening of spirits waiting to be avenged. What might have been the resonance of the footfalls of Commander Appo’s stormtroopers sounded like the beat of distant war drums. What might have been smoke from fires that should have gone out weeks earlier seemed more like wraiths writhing in torment.

  Emperor Palpatine had yet to announce his plans for that sad shell of a place. Whether it was to be razed, converted into his palace, deeded to Vader as some sort of cruel joke, or perhaps left as a mausoleum for all of Coruscant to gaze on, a reminder of what would befall those who kindled Palpatine’s disfavor.

  Most of Vader’s Anakin memories grew fainter by the day, but not Anakin’s memories of what had happened here. They were as fresh as this morning’s sunrise, glimpsed from the rooftop chamber in which Vader rested. True sleep continued to lie just out of reach, an object pursued in vain in an unsettling dream. He no longer had visions, either. That ability, that double-edged ability, seemingly had been burned out of him on Mustafar.

  But Vader remembered.

  Remembered being in thrall of what he had done in Palpatine’s office. Watching the old man plead for his life; listening to the old man promising that only he had the power to save Padmé; rushing to his defense. Sith lightning hurling an astonished Mace Windu through what had been a window …

  Anakin kneeling before Sidious and being dubbed Vader.

  Go to the Jedi Temple, Sidious had said. We will catch them off balance. Do what must be done, Lord Vader. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. Only then will you be strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé.

  And so he had gone to the Temple.

  Instrument of the same resolute intent that had carried Obi-Wan to Mustafar with one goal in mind: death to the enemy.

  In his mind’s eye Vader saw his and the 501st’s march to the Temple gates, their wrathful attack, the mad moments of bloodlust, the dark side unleashed in all its crimson fury. Some moments he remembered more clearly than others: pitting his blade against that of swordmaster Cin Drallig, beheading some of the very Masters who had instructed him in the ways of the Force, and, of course, his cold extermination of the younglings, and with them the future of the Jedi order.

  He had wondered beforehand: could he do it? Still new to the dark side, would he be able to call on its power to guide his hand and lightsaber? In answer, the dark side had whispered: They are orphans. They are without family or friends. There is nothing that can be done with them. They are better off dead.

  But this recalling, weeks later, curdled his blood.

  This place should never have been built!

  In fact, he hadn’t killed the Jedi to serve Sidious, though Sidious was meant to believe just that. In his arrogance Sidious was unaware that Anakin had seen through him. Had the Sith Lord thought he would simply shrug off the fact that, from the start, Sidious had been manipulating Anakin and the war?

  No, he hadn’t killed the Jedi in service to Sidious, or, for that matter, to demonstrate his allegiance to the order of the Sith.

  He had executed Sidious’s command because the Jedi would never have understood Anakin’s decision to sacrifice Mace and the rest in order that Padmé might survive the tragic death she suffered in Anakin’s visions. More important, the Jedi would have attempted to stand in the way of the decisions he and Padmé would have needed to make regarding the fate of the galaxy.

  Beginning with the assassination of Sidious.

  Oh, but on Mustafar she had worked herself into a state over what he had done at the Temple, so much so that she hadn’t heard a word he was saying. Instead she had made up her mind that he had come to care more about power than he cared for her.

  As if one matters without the other!

  And then cursed Obi-Wan had shown himself, interrupting before Anakin could explain fully that everything he had done, in Palpatine’s office and at the Temple, had all been for her sake, and for the sake of their unborn child. Had Obi-Wan not arrived he would have persuaded her to understand—he would have made her understand—and, together, they would have moved against the Sith Lord …

  The rasp of Vader’s breathing became more audible.

  Flexing his artificial hands did nothing to waylay his rage, so he hunched his broad shoulders under the armor pectoral and heavy cloak, shuddering.

  Why didn’t she listen to me? Why didn’t any of them listen to me?

  His anger continued to build as he neared the Temple’s archives room, where he parted company with Commander Appo and his stormtroopers, as well as with the members of the Internal Security Bureau who, Vader was given to understand, had their separate mission to perform.

  He paused at the entrance to the library’s vast and towering main hall, shaken not by memory but by memory’s effect on his still-healing heart and lungs. The mask’s optical hemispheres imparted a murkiness to the normally well-lighted hall, which had once boasted row after row of neatly arranged and cataloged holobooks and storage disks.

  Blood let here still showed in maroon constellations that marred large areas of the floor and speckled some of the few still-standing sculpture-topped plinths that lined both sides of the long hallway.

  Even if he had killed Sidious, even if he had won the war single-handedly for the Republic, the Jedi would have fought him to the bitter end. They might even have insisted on taking custody of his and Padmé’s child, for their offspring would have been powerful in the Force indeed. Perhaps beyond measure! If only the High Council Masters hadn’t been so set in their ways, so deceived by their own pride, they would have grasped that the Jedi needed to be brought down. Like the Republic itself, their order had grown stale, self-serving, corrupt.

  And yet, if the High Council had seen fit to recognize his power, had granted him the status of Master, perhaps he could have abided their continued existence. But to call him the Chosen One only to hold him back; to lie to him and expect him to lie for them �
� What had they imagined the outcome would be?

  Old fools.

  He understood now why they had discouraged use of the dark side. Because they had feared losing the power base they enjoyed, even though enslavement to attachment was what had helped pull down the Sith! The Jedi had been conspirators in their own downfall, complicit in the reemergence of the dark side, and as important to its victory as Sidious had been.

  Sidious—their ally.

  Attachment to power was the downfall of all orders, because most beings were incapable of controlling power, and power ended up controlling them. That, too, had been the cause of the galaxy’s tip into disorder; the reason for Sidious’s effortless rise to the top.

  Vader’s heart pounded in his chest, and the respirator fed his heart’s needs with rapid breaths. For his own health and sanity, he realized that he would have to avoid places that whipped his anger into such a frenzy.

  The recognition that he would probably never be able to set foot on Naboo or Tatooine tore an anguished moan from him that toppled the rest of the plinths as if they were dominoes, leaving their crowning bronzium busts sliding and spinning across the polished, blood-flecked floor.

  Hollowed by the mournful outpouring, he supported himself against a broken column for what seemed an eternity.

  The chirping of the comlink on his belt returned him to the present, and after a long moment he activated it.

  From the device’s small speaker issued the urgent voice of the Internal Security Bureau chief, Armand Isard, communicating from the Temple’s data room.