Remnant: Force Heretic I

by Sean Williams

  She nodded, but wasn’t convinced.

  “Tahiri’s been missing for almost two weeks now,” Leia said. “She didn’t respond to Luke’s call for a meeting of the Jedi. We didn’t know where she’d gone or what she was doing.”

  “She called me.” Jaina winced, remembering the pain she had just felt radiating from Tahiri’s mind. She should have made more of an effort to contact the girl as soon as she arrived. She might have been able to prevent it—whatever it was that had happened.

  “I have a location,” Kalenda said shortly. “Lane eighteen-A, level three. I’ve sent someone to investigate.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Take me.” Jaina was on her way to the door before the woman had time to respond. If there was one thing Jaina had learned about command, it was that you didn’t give people the opportunity to argue—especially in emergencies.

  The security officer took charge as soon as they left the conference room. Jaina was close on Kalenda’s heels, with her parents and Jag not far behind. Moving with rapid steps through the wide corridors of the city, weaving naturally through the bustling crowds, Kalenda led them up a level and across several high and arched thoroughfares. Jaina resisted urging the woman to go faster. If Tahiri had already moved on from the source of the transmissions, then running wasn’t going to change anything. Instead, Jaina reached into the Force to try and find the girl; to reassure her, help her … But she was unable to feel her anywhere, and that only heightened her concern.

  Kalenda’s comlink squawked. Still walking, she listened for a moment, then, after half a dozen steps, she faced Jaina. “What does your friend look like?”

  Jaina pictured the young Jedi in her mind. “Human, blond hair, green eyes, a little shorter than me.”

  “I think they’ve got her,” Kalenda said. “Security has found someone answering your friend’s description near the site of the last transmission. A medical team is on the scene.”

  Jaina felt a chill run through her. “Medical team? Why? What’s wrong? Is she—?”

  “We’re almost there,” Kalenda said. “It’s just up another couple of levels. Here, climb onto this.”

  The security officer commandeered a passing hover-taxi, quickly speaking her clearance and authority codes to the droid operating it.

  “This will be quicker,” she said. “The lanes tend to get more congested the higher up you go.”

  The narrow vehicle rocked as they all clambered in. There was enough room for only four passengers; Han was forced to stand on the cab’s outer footboard and hang on. He had to crouch down slightly when the droid guided the cab into one of the ducts reserved for emergency vehicles. Sometimes, Belindi Kalenda explained, it was the only way to ensure a quick and unobstructed passage to the city’s higher levels.

  As she sat in the front of the cab, staring vaguely as the damp and craggy walls of the duct raced by, Jaina felt her mother’s hand squeeze her arm in reassurance. And while the gesture was appreciated, it didn’t really help. The absence of Tahiri in the Force was making her sick with worry.

  The cab spat out of the vent into a vast market area. The entire place was in a dome, the sides of which rippled and shimmered with golden water that cascaded gently, and impossibly, down its surface, while hanging from the uppermost section were thick, lush vines that swayed hypnotically in the humid air. Below, the area was heaving with activity as hundreds of individuals went about their everyday business of trading everything from food to parts of old household service droids. Among all the hustle and bustle, though, one section stood out from all the rest. A large crowd had gathered around an area that security officers and droids were attempting to cordon off so that the medical team Kalenda had mentioned could get in.

  Unable to negotiate any closer to the scene because of the curious onlookers, the cab came to a halt and all five passengers quickly alighted, with Jaina roughly forcing her way through the crowd that stood between her and Tahiri. A security guard stopped her when she tried to cross the perimeter of the cordoned-off area, allowing her to pass only when Kalenda flashed her ID and instructed the guard to let them through.

  Jaina froze when she saw the supine figure being attended to by the two members of the Mon Cal medical team and their MD-5 droid. At first she didn’t even recognize her: Tahiri had cut her hair short, and she’d lost a lot of weight. There were bags under her eyes and a hollowness to her cheeks; her face looked as though it hadn’t been washed in days. Worst of all, though, were her arms: they were covered in bloody slash marks.

  “Is this her?” one of the medics asked.

  She wanted to say yes, but the girl lying before her looked like a completely different person from the Tahiri she knew.

  As Jaina watched, Tahiri stirred. From an apparent state of deep unconsciousness, she twitched and tried to roll over. The medics did their best to restrain her, but she was stronger than she looked. With arms flailing around and her eyes wide and unseeing, she tried to stand up, but was failed by her unsteady legs.

  “Anakin?” she screamed. “Anakin!”

  Her eyes caught Jaina’s the same instant one of the medics stuck a spray hypo against her throat. The hiss of the spray coincided with an intense surge through the Force, as Jaina felt Tahiri’s panic and terror rush into her all at once. Then Tahiri slumped face-forward into the embrace of the droid and the surge faded.

  It was only when she exhaled that Jaina realized she had been holding her breath. She felt comforted and warmed by the presence of Jag at her side, but just for once she wished he would forget his ideas about displays of affection in public and simply hold her.

  “Is this her?” the medical officer repeated, turning to Jaina now that they had managed to settle Tahiri.

  Jaina nodded dumbly in response.

  “You don’t seem too sure,” the officer said.

  “No, I’m sure,” she said. “That’s her. Her name is Tahiri Veila. I don’t know what she might have done here, but she’s not a criminal. She’s a Jedi Knight.”

  The medic nodded his understanding. “We’ll treat her gently, I promise.”

  Jaina watched on as Tahiri was placed onto a waiting hovercart and carried away.

  “Please give us some space,” she heard the droid instruct the crowd. “This is an emergency. Please make room.”

  Jaina backed away, clutching Jag’s arm for support. A wave of dizziness rolled over her. From the other side of the city, she could feel her twin, Jacen, asking her what was wrong, but she didn’t have an answer for him just yet. All she knew was the mixed-up jumble of feelings she had received from Tahiri’s mind. The incredible, overwhelming sorrow she could understand; she invariably felt the same thing whenever she dwelled on the death of her brother. But below that had been something else—something that Jaina would have thought Tahiri incapable of. It was an emotion she had never felt from the girl before, and its intensity frightened her. But it was there, and it was real.

  It was hatred—a deep and unremitting hatred …

  The smell of burning flesh was the first thing she was able to clearly identify. It was unmistakable—a smell so caustic and pungent that it crept like a dung-worm through her nose, furiously writhing its way into her olfactory nerve center to ensure that she never forgot it. And how could she? It was so overwhelming that she felt sure she’d never be free of it, no matter how far she could get from this place.

  It was close, too—so close, in fact, that she found herself checking her own arms to make sure her own skin wasn’t smoldering. All she saw, though, was a layer of ash that had settled over her like a fine and gentle snow. And beneath that …

  She hid her arms in the folds of her robes, looking again into the thick smoke. She could hear movement and voices, but no matter how much she squinted and strained, she couldn’t make anything out through the haze. And constantly in the background came the snap and fsst of the fires consuming flesh, along with the occasional
crack from what she imagined to be bones breaking in the extreme heat. But she still couldn’t make anything out, no matter how much she squinted.

  She took a couple of cautious steps forward until her feet came to the edge of the rocky outcrop upon which she was standing and was able to make out what was happening. Down below she could see a compound, and in it a ceremony was taking place. Those gathered there had their faces concealed beneath hoods, and they were all dressed in robes similar to the one she was wearing. They seemed to have been waiting for her arrival, for when they saw her emerge from the smoke they automatically began the ceremony proper, chanting as they marched around the compound. It was a language that was at once alien as it was familiar—a language that simultaneously terrified and comforted her. These emotions were not generated by the words themselves, however, but rather the culture this language was rooted in.

  She ignored the proceedings, looking instead about the five-sided compound. In each corner there stood an immense effigy of a god, each one staring down toward a pit at its feet. The priests were filing past these pits in turn, casually tossing into the smoking holes what she instinctively knew to be various body parts. In accordance with her ambiguous emotions, she found herself both warmed and repulsed by the sight, with one part of her wishing to give thanks to the gods that accepted these offerings, while another, deeper part of her wanted to throw up from the smell emanating from the pits.

  The effigies that rose into the shadows she knew well—all except one. The farthest one from where she stood was a god unlike any she had seen before; she felt it did not even belong here with the others. It was mostly hidden in the shadows, rising like a giant snake high above the other graven images around the compound. Its presence was a blasphemy she wanted to protest against, but she couldn’t because she felt it was here because of her. Its eyes—they weren’t staring into the pit like the other statues, they were staring at her. More than that: those immense, red eyes were accusing her.

  Why did you leave me? she heard it whisper into her thoughts.

  She wanted to flee. The part of her that had been comforted by the ceremony was suddenly panicked and scared. But there was nowhere for her to go. All the passages leading into the mortuary were closed, plugged up by yorik coral.

  She didn’t have time to dwell on it, however. One of the priests had caught her attention and was waving at her to watch the burning of the body parts in the pits. But whose body was it? And what was it? Human? Yuuzhan Vong? It was impossible to tell from such a distance.

  Other priests motioned for her to watch. She frowned in confusion as she leaned precariously over the lip of the pit. What was it they wanted her to see?

  She saw.

  The body parts weren’t being destroyed—they were being remade. They were crawling from their individual fires over to the unnaturally large pyre blazing in the compound’s center, immersing themselves into the blue-and-orange flames. The fire licked at each of the parts—taking the quivering mat of skin and wrapping it around the pulsing organs, collecting the limbs and snapping them back into place in the appropriate socket.

  She turned to the snake statue, beseeching it to stop. Through the choking smoke it no longer looked like a reptile, though. It looked like … But, no. The smoke was too thick by far to allow her to make anything out clearly. All she could discern was its eyes, red and penetrating in the oppressive gloom of the chamber—its stare no longer upon her, but rather focused on the events taking place in the compound below.

  She looked down to see a figure stepping from the pyre, its skin blistering from the heat.

  “Please,” she whispered to the reptile, begging for forgiveness.

  “Please,” the figure from the flames echoed at the same time—also to the reptile, but for a different reason. It seemed to be pleading with the statue for life, as though the reptile had the power to grant or deny this.

  Then suddenly, without warning, the figure from the flames turned to face her up on the rocks. The burns on the skin had vanished, and all that remained now were scars. But even with this disfigurement, she was still able to recognize the face. It was like looking directly into a mirror …

  She turned and fled into the shadows and smoke, effortlessly smashing the yorik coral plug that had formed over the passage through which she’d initially entered, fleeing into the darkness of the tunnel, running from the abomination with her face …

  “A living planet?” Danni Quee’s voice possessed a rising tone of incredulity. “You’re not talking about Zonama Sekot, are you?”

  “Good,” Master Luke said. “You’ve heard of it.”

  “I’ve also heard of the Algnadesh Ship Graveyards, and the Lost Treasure of Boro-borosa, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go halfway around the galaxy looking for them. Every astronomer who’s worked the Outer Rim knows about Zonama Sekot. They know it doesn’t exist, for starters.”

  Saba Sebatyne tensed. In Barabel society, expressing doubts over a superior’s decision in such an open manner would certainly result in a challenge, and a challenge meant a blood fight. Although she had turned her back on some of her people’s more aggressive ways, she still found herself a prisoner to her upbringing. It was something she would probably battle the rest of her life—especially now that her people were no more. How, after all, was one to fight a ghost?

  “I understand your reaction.” Master Luke smiled patiently. “It’s not the first time I’ve gotten this response, believe me. If you’ll allow me to explain my reasons, though, I’m sure you’ll come around …”

  Jedi Master Luke Skywalker’s explanation sent tingles of excitement through Saba’s joy-starved brain. A living world? Her tail coiled and uncoiled reflexively from the excitement such a notion stirred. Of all the wonders she had seen since leaving Barab I, a sentient planet would have to be the most profound.

  Her mind froze as another level of significance to the Master’s words occurred to her. He’s telling me because he intends for this one to go with him, she thought to herself, her slitlike eyes widening at the idea. She couldn’t help but feel both wonder and despair at the thought. She would have to decline. She had no choice. And with that thought, her mind drifted …

  The Master’s office was not ostentatious. It contained a plain desk and three chairs suitable for people of various species. Occupying those chairs were Saba, Danni, and the healer Master Cilghal. A hologram of the Master’s son, Ben, repeated every forty seconds in one corner of the desk. Saba’s eyes were caught by it, entranced by the innocent play of the child. She vividly remembered the one time she had met him, while he was on a brief holiday from the Maw. The Jedi Master’s son, although still very young, was already used to the many different shapes and sizes in which life presented itself in the galaxy, and so had displayed no alarm at the sight of Saba’s naturally fierce demeanor. Quelling the grief at losing so many young of her own kind, Saba had flared her nostrils back and grinned with all her teeth unfolded. She was delighted to see the boy respond with a bright, wide smile that stretched from his mouth right up to his deep, steel-blue eyes.

  Her eyebrow ridges drew closer together in a frown. The memory was a sobering one. Everyone, it seemed, had lost something during the war with the Yuuzhan Vong. Many people had lost their homes, their families, their lives. She herself had lost her Master and her apprentices before watching Barab I die. Her complicity in the destruction of her people slowed her recovery, made her doubt her own abilities as a fighter—but to be reminded of what she was supposed to be fighting for made her feel slightly better.

  Life. The future. A single child’s smile.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” Master Cilghal asked from behind her. Woken from her daze, Saba turned slightly in her seat so she could watch both the Mon Calamari healer and Master Skywalker at the same time.

  “Look at it this way,” Master Luke said. “If we stay here on Mon Cal, we’re at ground zero for Yuuzhan Vong retaliation. We’re also prime targets for Peace
Brigade action. I doubt there will be anything as dangerous as either of those possibilities in the Unknown Regions.”

  “With all due respect, Master Skywalker, we don’t know what’s in there. That’s why it’s called ‘Unknown.’ ” Danni Quee would know, Saba assumed. The human scientist had started life as an astronomer and only by circumstance moved into specializing in the enemy’s works.

  “Exactly,” Master Skywalker said, acknowledging the point with a patient nod. “But this is an exploratory mission, not a military one. We’re not going to pick fights.”

  “You’ll try to stop them if you find them, though.”

  “That is the nature of the job.” Master Luke smiled. “Will you come?”

  Danni shrugged in a way that implied she was helpless to make him see reason. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “And you, Master Cilghal, have you reconsidered your decision?”

  “I have, Master Skywalker.” The healer stood, bowing her head. “But I have not changed my mind. I am needed here. There is too much work for me to do, too many people to teach in the ways we have lost. It would be irresponsible of me to leave now.”

  The words implied another challenge, but the manner of neither Master acknowledged it.

  “I understand,” Master Skywalker said smoothly, “although I am sorry we won’t have you with us.”

  “I recommend my apprentice, Tekli, to go in my place.”

  “Thank you, Cilghal. We would be delighted to have her aboard. With Danni, Mara, myself, and Jacen, our complement is almost complete.” Master Skywalker turned to address Saba, presumably to invite her to join him and the others on the mission to the sentient planet. Saba’s powerful heart raced—

  —but before he could speak he frowned, and his attention turned inward for a moment. A look of concern flashed across his face.

  “Master?” Saba said.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought—”

  Master Cilghal’s comlink buzzed at that moment. She answered it, listening intently to the tiny voice issuing from it. “Take her to the infirmary. I’ll be there immediately.” Standing, she said, “I’m sorry, Luke. It’s Tahiri.”