A huge junk golem smashed through a nearby wall, servomotors growling, brandishing two of the biggest vibro-axes he had ever seen, one in each hand. It took two steps toward him and blinked its enormous photoreceptors in barely restrained hostility.
“You dare invade the Jedi Temple?” boomed a voice from its armor-plated chest. “You dare challenge the Jedi in our home?”
Before he could point out the stark obviousness of the situation—that the Jedi were virtually nonexistent and that this hardly constituted their home—the massive golem lunged for him. Constructed around the body of a heavy-lifting labor droid, it sported numerous appendages apart from the two holding the axes. Each was tipped with a different weapon, whirring, rasping, and sizzling. The racket it made as it charged was even more fearsome than its aspect.
The apprentice dodged away and temporarily lost his footing as the floor buckled underneath the thing’s weight. Igniting his lightsaber, he slashed one of the reaching appendages clean off and batted another aside with a firm telekinetic punch. Recovering his balance, he sent a wave of lightning rippling across its corroded carapace, but that barely slowed it down.
One of the vibro-axes slid over his head and the other came down to slice him vertically in two. He threw himself backward barely in time, then lunged forward to slash at anything that looked like a weak point before the axes could come around again. Cauterized limbs rained about him, clutching at him with fading electrical spasms. He rolled between the trunk-like legs to avoid another devastating double ax blow. His lightsaber scored a deep cut up the gargantuan’s back as he rose to his feet.
Yellow sparks flew across the room. The golem’s insides groaned and bellowed as it turned, trying to get him back in its sights. Arms reached for him and he sliced them off, one by one. Ducking under the swinging blades, he sent bolt after bolt of lightning into the massive wound he had made, while battering it with panels ripped from the walls and hurled with every iota of energy he could muster.
Finally it weakened. Listing heavily on its left side and missing one of its axes, it staggered ponderously backward across the foyer. Both its photoreceptors were dark; sparks poured in a steady stream from a hole in the rear of its head. Although fighting blind and barely possessing any control over its primary motivators, it still tried to kill him. Growling servomotors kept the sole remaining ax sweeping backward and forward, as though he might stumble into it by accident. One heavy foot stamped at the floor in a vain attempt to unbalance him. All it succeeded in doing was tangling itself in junk and swaying dangerously close to tipping right over.
The apprentice took the opportunity to finish it off. Again he pushed with the full power of the Force, blowing its body off its tangled leg and hurling it through the far wall. He followed it, just in case it still had any fight left in it. Striding confidently through the gaping rent in the foyer wall, he found himself in a place he had thought never to enter, even in a bizarrely re-created form such as this.
In the heart of the junk Jedi Temple was a junk High Council Chamber, complete with mannequins of long-gone Jedi Masters. The apprentice knew all their names; they were burned into his brain, those enemies the Emperor had defeated during the final days of the Clone Wars. They sat on thrones or stools or ordinary chairs, as taste or biological form demanded. Their dead eyes stared at him as he stalked after the fallen golem.
The golem had collapsed in the center of the circular room, streaming smoke and steam from its joints. Fetid wind poured through the shattered windows overlooking endless vistas of waste, making a faint moaning sound. The apprentice maintained a state of extreme concentration. Kazdan Paratus had yet to make his move. He would be ready for the fugitive Jedi when he did.
Then a strange thing happened. The droid golem’s dead weight shifted slightly. A hiss came from a seam down its front. With a groan, its armor plating opened. Four long, spidery arms emerged, tipped with manipulators salvaged from four very different droids. The manipulators gripped the body of the dead golem and hauled a tiny gray figure into the light.
“Kazdan Paratus,” said the apprentice. “At last.”
The minuscule being looked at him with darting, paranoid eyes. A member of the Aleena species, he was short and large-skulled, with bright eyes and long, agile fingers. The harness affixing him to the strange, mechanical arms allowed him free movement with his lightsaber—a double-bladed pike with one blade significantly longer than the other. He raised it as the limbs’ function turned from arms to legs and raised him to full human height.
“Sith trash,” he hissed in a voice that was high-pitched but full of contempt. “Don’t worry, Masters. I’ll defend you!”
The apprentice didn’t know who he was talking to until a clamor rose from the seated mannequins and, as one, the junk Jedi Council woke.
Paratus lunged while the apprentice was momentarily distracted. The pike left a shallow cut down his left forearm before he could repulse the strange creature’s attack. Part flesh and part machine, the renegade Jedi Master was proficient with the Force, and quick with it as well. Every blow the apprentice tried to make was instantly blocked by either end of the whirling pike. As fast as he lunged or retreated, the mechanical legs outpaced him. Paratus hopped around the dilapidated chamber like a deranged jumping spider.
Outside his droid golem shell, however, Paratus was more vulnerable to Sith lightning. What he couldn’t absorb into the junk metal burned him and left him writhing in pain. The apprentice sent bolt after bolt hurtling into the tiny figure. It almost seemed that the fight would be over before it had really begun.
Then something struck him from behind, breaking his concentration and knocking his lightsaber from his hand. He turned, ducking robotic limbs and a sudden swipe from the light-pike. The mannequin of Plo Koon had risen from its chair and attacked him, holding a vibroblade in a crude approximation of the long-dead Jedi Master’s renowned lightsaber style. The Way of the Krayt Dragon, it had once been called. It looked ridiculous now in the hands of a patchwork droid.
Still, it had taken him by surprise. The apprentice acknowledged the gambit before blowing the mannequin to pieces and reaching out for his fallen lightsaber. The hilt arrived in his hand just in time to deflect another blow from Paratus, fully recovered from the waves of Sith lightning he had just endured.
This time the apprentice was ready for the attacks from behind. One at a time, or occasionally in pairs, the mannequins moved in to distract him.
Mace Windu and Coleman Kcaj he dismembered. Kit Fisto he melted. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi he smashed together and hurled out the window. Ki-Adi-Mundi he blasted with lightning before doing the same to Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, and Shaak Ti. Stass Allie he beheaded with a single stroke of his lightsaber. Yoda he picked up with the Force and used as a missile to strike Paratus through his flailing artificial limbs.
Kazdan Paratus moaned as each junk Master fell, mourning them as though they were actually alive. When the last one went down, he was actually weeping.
The apprentice reached out and caught the Jedi Aleena in a tight Force grip. Paratus’s artificial arms crumbled, unable to resist his power. Lifting the diminutive alien into the air, the apprentice swung his captive from side to side, smashing him into the window frames and roof until rubble rained down on them both. He deflected the worst of it from himself and saved the damage for Paratus. Soon the aging Jedi was too weak to fight, but still the apprentice continued battering him. He remembered what had happened with Rahm Kota at the very last. Wherever that strange hallucination had come from, he would not permit a repeat.
Finally, the Jedi Master’s strength was spent. The apprentice let him drop to the ground, where he was pinned by an avalanche of junk falling through the ceiling. Clearly dying, he lay faceup and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, my Masters,” he lamented. “I’ve failed you.”
With those words, he expired.
For a moment the apprentice felt pity. But he quickly swal
lowed it down. Undoubtedly mad, Paratus was still a Jedi. His freedom had come to an end, along with his life.
Then a nimbus of glowing Force energy rose up from the Jedi’s body and spread out around the apprentice. Sparkling, scintillating, it vanished with a silent rush into the walls of the junk structure.
The apprentice stepped away from the body, unnerved and ready for anything.
But that appeared to be the end of it.
He raised his comlink. “Juno, I’m done here.”
“I have a lock on your location, Starkiller. On my way.”
The whining of the starship’s engines was loud by the time he retraced his steps through the foyer and out onto the surface of the junk world. The Rogue Shadow swooped smoothly out of the sky. Catching the ramp sure-footedly, he retreated gratefully inside.
AS THEY REACHED FOR ORBIT, he watched the Temple retreat behind him until the outline of its ludicrous grandeur was barely discernible among the surrounding junk hills. He could have knocked the ridiculous toy castle down around Kazdan’s ears with one Force push. If only it had been so easy for his Master to erase the Jedi from the galaxy. Years after the Purge, here he was continuing that great work. Perhaps it would be finished in his lifetime. Perhaps he had already killed the last of the remaining Jedi. Perhaps now his Master would regard him as truly worthy.
He retired to his shadowy meditation chamber to tend to his wounds and restore his strength. Instead of meditating, however, he devoted an hour to repairing Kazdan Paratus’s light-pike, snapped in two when he had clutched the tiny Jedi Master so hard. Trying to repair it, at least. No matter how painstakingly he worked, he couldn’t realign the focusing crystals with the lens assembly. Nor could he make the emitter matrix connect to the power conduit. Like everything on Raxus Prime, the pike had become worthless junk.
Or, he told himself, there was something getting in the way of his concentration.
Is it my new pilot? he wondered. She was quick and efficient, as she should be, but she also made an effort to come across as lighthearted, and that was having an effect on him he hadn’t foreseen. He had praised her good work after Nar Shaddaa and had felt glad to be aboard after finishing off Kazdan Paratus. Praise and gladness were not encouraged by followers of the dark side. The Emperor help him if they were developing a rapport.
He would deal with his new emotions as he had dealt with other challenges he had faced. At the same time, he would watch her closely. Rapports weren’t one-sided things. If her feelings of bonhomie became stronger and she couldn’t keep her sociability under control, he would have to take action.
As he pondered what form that action might take, the sound of heavy breathing rose up behind him. The pieces of the light-pike fell apart and scattered across the floor. The apprentice sensed rather than saw a darker shadow enter the chamber. He looked up expectantly.
There was no face visible in the silhouette of the Dark Lord, but that had never made a difference.
“Kazdan Paratus is dead, Master.”
The domed head, blacker than night, nodded. “Then there is but one more test before you can fulfill your destiny.”
One more. Would there always be one more?
“Master, I am ready now.”
“You have defeated a tired old man and an outcast.” Anger cracked like a whip in Darth Vader’s vocoderized voice. “You will not be ready to face the Emperor until you have faced a true Jedi Master.”
The apprentice squared his jaw, thinking of the pathetic imitations he had faced in the junk Temple. “Who?”
“Master Shaak Ti—one of the last of the Jedi Council.” There was a grudging respect in his Master’s voice, mixed with naked contempt. “She is training an army on Felucia. You will need the full power of the dark side to defeat her. Do not disappoint me.”
“No, Lord Vader. I will not.”
The robed shadow dissolved into static. The hologram fell away, revealing PROXY’s skinny frame beneath. The droid shuddered, and the apprentice was instantly at his side to steady him.
Together the two of them left the meditation chamber to give Juno the news of their third and most deadly mission.
CHAPTER 7
AS A TEENAGER JUNO HAD imagined her future life as a pilot, cruising the heavy traffic of Coruscant’s skylanes, ferrying important dignitaries to and from meetings, blowing insurgents from the sky with single, well-aimed pulses from her laser cannon.
Trawling around the Outer Rim with Darth Vader’s surly emissary and his dysfunctional droid hadn’t been high on her wish list. Neither had been bombing defenseless planets or being spurned by her father …
Funny how life turned out.
The blue-green world of Felucia hung against a vast and empty backdrop as they emerged from hyperspace. It filled the forward view as she activated the sublight drive and trimmed their approach vector. When everything was in order, she killed the engines and let the ship coast silently through the planet’s steep gravity well. This wasn’t the commswamped environment of Raxus Prime and Nar Shaddaa. If they came in too hot, they would shine like a comet to anyone looking.
“Felucia in range,” she announced. PROXY occupied the copilot’s chair, monitoring life support and comms. Starkiller stood behind them with arms crossed over his chest and face shrouded beneath a hood he had put on after leaving Raxus Prime. He had barely said a word through the long trip, speaking only to give orders and avoiding all her attempts to provoke conversation. She felt slightly stung by this—she had thought she was breaking through his strong-but-silent image and getting a glimpse of the man beneath—but she maintained a professional demeanor. That was all her job demanded.
“Readings?” he asked.
“No major settlements,” she said, glancing at PROXY’s board, “but life signs are overwhelming the scanners. The planet is completely overgrown. I have no idea where we should set down.”
“I’ll tell you.”
The small hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She craned her neck to watch what he was doing and saw only that he had closed his eyes. But something was definitely happening. The air seemed to thicken around him, as though a whirlpool were gathering. The hollows in his cheeks grew deeper, emphasizing his lashes and the sensuality of his mouth. Her heart rate quickened slightly.
She took a deep breath and turned back to her controls. This was none of her business. Ships and machines were her province, not the strange skills of Darth Vader and his ilk. For all her innate curiosity, it was dangerous to know too much sometimes. She had to remain detached and disinterested.
Just do your job, Juno Eclipse.
Starkiller stirred and leaned forward to point at a map display on the console near her.
“There, on the equator.”
“What is there, exactly?”
He exhaled. She felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Leave that to me. Engage the cloak and take us down.”
She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slow flush spreading up her neck, and eased forward on the throttle.
* * *
THE ROGUE SHADOW ROCKETED DOWN into the planet’s upper atmosphere, fighting turbulence caused by surges of thick, humid air. Coruscant it might not have been, but Juno began to feel a twinge of curiosity. Before her mother’s death, Juno had been interested in xenobiology—something frowned upon by her father, but which she had found endlessly fascinating. There was so much life in the galaxy, assuming so many different forms. She could have spent a thousand lifetimes trying to catalog it all, only to find that it had evolved into countless new forms during the process, forcing her to start all over again.
The thought hadn’t appalled her. If anything it had filled her with wonder—the same sense of wonder she now felt stirring at the sight of Felucia’s vast fungal forests and verdant lakes. Again she was struck by the contrasts among Nar Shaddaa, Raxus Prime, and this world. Felucia was brimming over with life in all forms, from the tiniest grass blade to the most massive fungi she had eve
r seen, with roots snaking over the ground, vines and mildew curling up swaying trunks, and insects everywhere. The air in the upper atmosphere exhibited pollen and spore counts that were off the scale. Her eyes felt assaulted by color everywhere she looked.
Magnificent, she wanted to say, but she kept the observation to herself.
Giant fungus stalks tossed violently in the starship’s wake as the Rogue Shadow wove between them. She avoided using her thrusters as much as possible, wanting to minimize damage to the equatorial forest. But where was she to land? The ground was invisible beneath them. She could sense Starkiller’s impatience as she searched for a suitable space. The only flat surfaces she could see belonged to the tops of enormous mushrooms, dozens of meters across. They looked as sturdy as rock.
Why not? she asked herself, swinging the Rogue Shadow sharply about and descending toward the nearest mushroom cap.
Gingerly, using every ounce of her skill, she eased the starship down. The ship settled, then shuddered as the giant fungus gave without warning. The starship slid and skewed wildly to one side. Stalks and fronds swayed as though in a storm. She raised the power to the thrusters, and moved to a different position.
This time the mushroom held. The starship’s landing legs extended and tightly gripped the spongy surface where it teetered precariously on the edge of the enormous cap. She throttled back, waited a full five seconds for any more surprises, and then killed the sublight drive. She sagged back into the seat, drenched in sweat.
“Whew,” she breathed. “They don’t teach you that in the Academy.”
“Lower the ramp,” Starkiller said shortly. “Wait for me here.”
“There’s not much for us to do—”
“Just wait.”
“I—”
He was already gone. She looked for him on the scopes and glimpsed him jumping off the edge of the mushroom and running into the forest, red lightsaber lit and ready.
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