Star Wars The New Jedi Order - Vector Prime - Book 1

by R. A. Salvatore

  "But this time, in actions taken for the greater good," Anakin argued vehemently, obviously not pleased with hearing any comparison between the New Republic and the old Empire.

  Jacen merely chuckled, the simple, mocking reaction having the effect of turning Anakin's words around so that the younger brother had to recognize the subtle truth in them.

  "I'm getting sick of hearing all of this," Anakin remarked.

  "You'll hear it until you learn the truth," Jacen replied immediately. "That is my responsibility."

  "Uncle Luke told you that?"

  "This isn't about him," Jacen replied. "It's about you and me."

  "He's going to put the Jedi Council back together," Anakin said, as if those words gave him a victory.

  "He has to," Jacen said, his tone making it clear that he wasn't happy about the admission. "Or risk disaster because of the other Jedi Knights like you, running through the galaxy, righting every wrong." He waved his hands dismissively at his brother and turned to leave, but before he had gone two steps, Anakin grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him about.

  Anakin held up the pommel of his lightsaber. "This," he said emphatically, "is an instrument of law."

  "No," Jacen snarled in his face. "That is a tool through which a Jedi might look inside himself and find his inner peace, a measuring stick for his acceptance of the Force."

  Anakin's expression revealed clearly that he didn't get the point at all.

  "To deny full entrance of the Force during such a practice session will weaken your parries and get you stung, and often," Jacen replied. "It's not about waging war, Anakin. It's about finding peace, and your place in the galaxy."

  "Pretty words that mean nothing when the fighting starts," Anakin retorted.

  "A Jedi at peace is a better warrior by far," Jacen said.

  "Prove it." Anakin accentuated his challenge by turning on the blade, causing it to flash and hum to life right before Jacen's face.

  "If I must, to get the point through your thick skull," Jacen answered, calmly walking by. He turned to face Anakin and brought his own lightsaber to glowing life before him.

  Anakin closed the hatch - Uncle Luke wouldn't be happy to find them sparring in here, nor would their father! - and turned back to face his brother, who was already moving in closer with deliberate, measured steps. "Maybe you'll admit the truth when I beat you," Anakin said, but it was apparent that Jacen wasn't listening, was already falling into the levels of deepest concentration, the preface to the conscious emptiness that was pure Force acceptance.

  Both paused for a long while, and then, suddenly, Anakin came rushing ahead, lightsaber twirling up and around, slicing down for Jacen's shoulder, and when Jacen easily parried, Anakin sent it around the other way, diving along the opposite angle.

  Jacen parried that, too, catching Anakin's weapon with his own and bringing both around and down, back out to Jacen's left, and then around some more. When the blades were each out straight between the brothers, Jacen rolled his wrist, looping his blade further about Anakin's.

  But Anakin was up to the measure, and he snapped his blade straight downward to break it free of the dangerous tangle, then brought it up again fast enough to knock Jacen's blade aside before his brother could put it point-in at his throat and score a quick victory.

  Anakin brought his blade back past one shoulder and slapped it out, sparks flying as it connected with Jacen's parry. Again, Anakin attacked, and then again, as if he meant to beat his brother back right through a wall.

  "Anger betrays you," Jacen said, and the words sent a chill through Anakin, words that spoke of the truth of the moment, and of the dark side of the Force, a place no Jedi could ever afford to visit.

  Anakin's attack mellowed, went more to finesse, subtle thrusts and slashes, and deceptively slight movements to parry Jacen's every attack.

  And so they went for many minutes, back and forth across the room, each seeming to gain a momentary edge only to lose it again through the other's quick response. They had to trust in themselves, and in each other, for there were no practice modes on their lightsabers. The slightest miss, or wrong deflection, or too-far thrust, could bring serious harm.

  But they went on anyway, their philosophical differences playing themselves out through sword fighting, and before long, Jacen's warning notwithstanding, both were into it viciously, swiping and dodging, thrusting low and high, and more than parrying, batting each other's blade aside. Jacen came out of that fit first, mellowing his parries to those subtle and beautiful shifts and turns, and offering few offensive routines at all.

  That sudden passivity only spurred Anakin on to greater intensity. His lightsaber slashed once, twice, and thrice from the left, then he spun about a complete circuit, reversing his grip as he went, and slashed, once, twice, thrice, from the right.

  Jacen parried the first three from his left, then parried again and again from the right, and then ... ducked.

  And Anakin, so into the flow, thinking to take the third parry and spin back the other way, swooshed his blade right over his ducking brother and overbalanced as the weapon hit nothing but air.

  Up Jacen came behind it, a sudden, subtle stab, that sent Anakin's lightsaber flying away and made the younger boy leap back and grab his stung hand.

  Jacen clicked off his blade. "The Force is a power within, for the good of within," he said. "We're not a galactic patrol."

  Anakin stared at his brother long and hard, clearly surprised that Jacen, who practiced far less than he, had so cleanly beaten him.

  "Uncle Luke used the Force to destroy the Death Star," Anakin reminded.

  "And Mara uses it now to battle her disease," Jacen replied. "Only when we are at peace within can we think of acting properly upon battles in the wider galaxy."

  Anakin didn't reply, just stood clutching his hand and staring at his brother as a long, quiet moment slipped past.

  "You're getting better," Jacen offered, and he winked at Anakin and headed for the door.

  "I'll beat you next time," came Anakin's predictable call behind him, and Jacen smiled all the wider as he stepped out into the corridor leading to the ladder. Down below, he heard a clank of metal and a few more curses from his frustrated father, who was still hard at work.

  "You're going to cross the lines!" Han yelled.

  Chewbacca howled, and there came a sharp, sparking retort, followed by Han's "Yow!"

  Chewie's head popped up through the open service panel.

  "Get back here, hairball!" Han cried.

  Chewbacca came out of the hole in a single, graceful spring - or at least, it seemed that way to Jacen until he noticed his father's arm sticking out of the hole behind the Wookiee, a sparking cable in hand, and the wisps of smoke wafting off of Chewie's bottom.

  He couldn't help but chuckle, but he tried very hard to suppress it when the Wookiee stormed up to him, rubbing his bottom. "Aaaah, aeeeaaah!" Chewie scolded.

  "I didn't do it," Jacen exclaimed. "It was Anakin."

  Chewie howled again.

  "No, we're not all the same," Jacen protested.

  The Wookiee threw his arms out wide, covering about a three-meter expanse, fingertip to fingertip, and shook his huge hairy head, growling and roaring.

  "I never said you could snap-turn the Falcon ," Jacen argued. "And I never did snap-turn the Falcon . Talk to Anakin."

  "Aaaahh-aaah-aaa!"

  "You think you might wander over and help me with this compensator? " Han asked dryly, turning the Wookiee about. He held a pair of cables in his hand, one of them throwing the occasional spark, and his face was covered in grease so that his eyes and teeth shone brightly in contrast.

  Jacen laughed again - or started to, until Chewie spun back around and glowered at him. Nothing like a Wookiee glare to sap the mirth.

  "Well?" Han asked, and with a resigned roar, Chewie turned about and headed back for the opened service panel.

  A short time later, Mara, Jaina, and C-3PO found thei
r friends at work on the Falcon , while Leia headed off to issue her full report to the council.

  Jaina wasted no time in pulling her brothers aside and dazzling them with her tale of evading the Z-95 Headhunters. Anakin puffed up with satisfaction as she recounted the story, taking it as proof of his understanding of the Force.

  Jacen didn't bother to start up the argument again.

  Similarly, C-3PO rushed to R2-D2 and began spewing every detail of the adventure with Nom Anor, "a most disagreeable person."

  R2-D2 clicked and whistled, seeming impressed, especially when C-3PO told of his final encounter with the Rhommamoolian leader, one in which he had faced down the mighty Nom Anor.

  Mara, meanwhile, filled in Luke about the deadly intervention by Wurth Skidder.

  "He's a hair trigger," she explained.

  "You're sure he wasn't just trying to help?"

  "We didn't need his help," Mara answered resolutely. "And he knew it, too. The Jade Sabre 's got more than enough firepower to blast a few Headhunters. Besides, by the time he got near to us, we were breaking clear. No, Wurth just wanted some kicks, and to add a couple of kill markers under his canopy."

  Luke shrugged, feeling more than a little helpless. A hundred Jedi Knights roamed the galaxy now - how could he keep them all under wraps?

  "One at a time," Mara said, and when Luke looked at her curiously, she merely returned a wistful smile. "You're hearing all the problems, and they seem like they'll overwhelm you, but that only means you have to deal with them one at a time. Your sister put Wurth in his place - for now, at least - so I don't think you need to worry about him for a while."

  "How do you feel about a trip to the Outer Rim?" Luke asked her, and now it was Mara's turn to offer a curious expression, and Luke's to give a wry grin.

  He fell over her, then, in a great hug and a heartfelt laugh. He always felt so much better when his wife was around.

  Chewie stood quietly outside the council chamber, leaning back against the wall, his hands behind his head. When Mara and Jaina had come to the Falcon , Han had sent the Wookiee here to escort Leia, but Chewbacca understood that he had really been sent here just to get him away from Han and the Falcon . The repairs weren't going so well, and Han and Chewie had spent the bulk of their last hour together just howling at each other. They both needed a break, and Chewie was glad for it.

  But when one of the councilors, Fyor Rodan of Commenor, came out of the room unexpectedly and began wagging his finger at Chewie and grumbling about some intractable argument over certain trade privileges with Chewie's home planet of Kashyyyk, the Wookiee realized that he hadn't been away from the yelling Han for long enough.

  Leia came out of the council chamber a few moments later and dropped her head in her hands. There, across the hall and in a closet, hung Fyor Rodan, his collar hooked on a coatrack.

  "Let me compliment you on your choice of friends," the councilor said dryly.

  "Chewie, take him down," Leia instructed.

  Chewbacca growled and shook his head.

  "Councilor Triebakk will hear of this," Fyor Rodan threatened. "You know Triebakk, don't you?" he taunted Chewie.

  Chewie closed the closet door.

  "You can't go around treating councilors like that," Leia scolded, coming forward. But then she stopped, considering the meeting she had just walked out of, the unending squabbling over minor details, the open disdain two of the councilors had shown to her concerning her failure at Osarian-Rhommamool, the obvious posturing for political reasons.

  "Let's go," she said, turning down the corridor, Bolpuhr gliding behind her.

  "Aaaaah?" Chewie asked, and when Leia turned back, the Wookiee motioned for the door.

  "With any luck, they won't find him until after we've left," Leia explained. Chewie gave an assenting howl, and off they went.

  Leia's mood improved immediately, and greatly, when they finally reached the Falcon , when she saw again that glimmer in her husband's eye. After all these years, the fire remained between Leia and Han, a deep and honest love and respect.

  "Chewie found you," Han remarked, moving to give Leia a big hug. "Probably heard you yelling from six levels away."

  "Mara told you about Nom Anor," Leia reasoned.

  "And about Wurth Skidder," Luke added, coming down the landing ramp.

  Leia sighed and shook her head. "You've got to do something about that one," she replied.

  "One problem at a time," Luke explained.

  "What now?" the exasperated Leia asked.

  "Well, we're going on a little trip," Han told her.

  "Far away, I hope," Leia added.

  Han laughed. "About as far as you can get."

  "And it still won't be far enough for me," Leia said, turning back to glower in the general direction of the senate building. "Could anyone do enough to satisfy that group?"

  Luke chuckled, knowing the answer. "No one point of view would ever satisfy so -" He paused, looking for just the right word. "- eclectic a group."

  "How diplomatically put," Leia said. "So what's the problem now?"

  "I'll fill you in on the way."

  "Jedi?"

  Han's chuckle told Leia that she had guessed correctly, and in light of that, she was even more eager to go. A big part of her wanted a vacation from all the turmoil, but after the incident with Wurth Skidder, Leia was beginning to take these Jedi problems personally. She hadn't given much thought to Luke's plans about reforming the Jedi Council, hadn't really considered it her problem, given all the responsibilities the formal authorities of the New Republic kept laying on her, but now she was beginning to see the whole picture, and better that image would be if Luke could put the Jedi Knights in order.

  "We'll get to see an old friend," Han offered, and Leia looked at him curiously.

  "Lando," Han explained.

  So much for any thoughts of vacation, Leia realized, for anytime Lando was involved, even peripherally, situations seemed to get very complicated, and usually dangerous. In truth, she wasn't particularly thrilled with her husband having any dealings with Lando; the man always seems to pull Han into something on the very edge of disaster. Of course, that only strengthened her resolve to go along.

  "What about Mara?" she asked Luke, working hard to keep the signs of her deep concern only minimally on her expression.

  "She's coming," Luke replied. "She and Jaina are plotting the course even now. Assuming we can get the Falcon flying again."

  Leia looked at Han.

  "Anakin," he explained, and somehow, Leia wasn't surprised.

  "Are you sure Mara's up to it?" Leia asked Luke.

  "Try to stop her," Luke replied.

  Leia managed a smile. For all the pain and the impending threat of death, Mara was determined to live her life fully, to live without this unknown disease being the center of her existence.

  That truth only made Leia even more glad to have Mara as Jaina's mentor.

  Chapter 7 Launch "Was there ever any doubt?" Bensin Tomri asked sarcastically when Danni announced that she would go on the Spacecaster shuttle to the frozen fourth planet of the Helska system.

  "You're not going alone," Tee-ubo put in, and Danni didn't disagree. In the end, they decided that three should go, including someone with a geological background and with Danni captaining the mission and piloting the rickety old ship.

  A short while later, Yomin Carr answered the knock on his door to find Danni standing in the hall, her smile coy.

  "You have come to ask me to volunteer," Yomin Carr reasoned.

  "I thought you should be rewarded for your diligence and hard work," Danni replied. "You should have been the one to spot the comet."

  "So now you offer me the scientific chance of a lifetime?" Yomin Carr asked in all seriousness.

  Danni nodded and smiled at him, as though he should be pleased.

  "I am afraid that I must refuse," the Yuuzhan Vong warrior went on. Inside his ear, the little tizowyrm continued its vibrations, and
Yomin Carr fell into them for a moment, recognizing that it might be time for a bit of levity. "You're asking me because no one else is crazy enough to go along on that broken-down garbage scow you call a shuttle," he said, and forced a grin.

  Now Danni was laughing, and not disagreeing.

  "But that would not be proper," Yomin Carr said a moment later, again in all seriousness. He understood the implications here. According to his instructions, under no circumstances was he to go anywhere near the base planet. On pain of death, and a dishonorable death at that, Yomin Carr was to have no physical connection to the war coordinator, and no contact at all other than the secure villip-talk. "I am not long in ExGal," Yomin Carr elaborated. "Most of the others have been on Belkadan longer than I have been in the organization. I could not usurp their opportunity."

  "You already said it," Danni replied. "Most of the others don't even want to go."

  "Ah, but they do," Yomin Carr assured her. "They are afraid of the craft, as am I, and as you should be, but in truth, any scientist would be eager for this opportunity."

  "Any scientist other than Yomin Carr," Danni said sarcastically.

  "I believe in propriety," Yomin Carr answered, and he took some satisfaction in the fact that Danni, based on all of his actions since he had arrived on Belkadan, could not dispute the claim. Yomin Carr was always on time for his shift. Yomin Carr stayed true to his post, hour after hour, day after day, week after week, while all of the others - including, to a lesser extent, Danni - had eased around the edges of their responsibilities.

  "Find your crew among those who have better earned the right," Yomin Carr said.

  They were both all smiles when Danni left him, accepting his polite refusal, but as soon as she had gone, as soon as he had closed the door of his private room, Yomin Carr's expression turned to a concerned scowl. He wondered then if he should just kill them all in their sleep and end the potential threat of discovery. He fell to his knees and bent over quickly, smacking his forehead against the floor, calling out to Yun-Harla, the Cloaked Goddess, and Yun-Yammka, the Slayer, for guidance. His fingers whitened from the press he put on the floor, playing out his warrior urges against the unyielding surface.