by Troy Denning
“Took, I’m afraid,” Luke said. “If Thuruht can’t imprison Abeloth without the Son and the Daughter, the hive will be waiting a lot longer than a century for a call to service.”
Tekli’s nose twitched in confusion. “Then you have heard of the Ones, Master Skywalker?”
“Not by that name,” Luke replied. “But when Yoda was training me in the swamps of Dagobah, he told me about a strange mission that Obi-Wan and my father had undertaken during the Clone Wars. Apparently, they were drawn to a free-floating artifact called the Mortis monolith and transported to a world very much like the one depicted in the Histories of Thuruht.”
“You’re saying that they met the Ones?” Kyp asked. “Are you sure?”
Luke shot him an impatient look. “It’s very hard to be sure of anything involving the Celestials, Master Durron,” he said. “But yes, I do believe the trio Yoda described were the Ones.”
“And?” Kyp demanded.
“At the time, I thought he was just making up a story, trying to make a point about not refusing my destiny.” Luke paused, then said, “But now …”
“You think he may have glimpsed something in your future,” Kyle said. “Something to do with Abeloth?”
Luke shrugged. “That might be a stretch,” he said. “But Yoda must have sensed that I would need to know about Mortis someday.”
“So are you going to tell us what Master Yoda said?” Jaina asked. She couldn’t contain herself, and she wasn’t the only one—every Jedi in the room was leaning toward Luke. “I mean, that is the reason you mentioned it, isn’t it?”
Luke nodded. “Of course,” he said. “But there isn’t a lot to tell. In Yoda’s story, Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker encountered the Father when he was dying. The Son and the Daughter were at odds because the Son wanted to take the Father’s place. The Father told Anakin that he had been chosen to assume the Father’s place—and keep the balance between the two siblings. When Anakin refused, matters came to a head. The Ones fought, all three were slain, and their world died with them.”
“And you didn’t think that was important?” Corran asked.
“I didn’t know Yoda was talking about the Ones,” Luke said, a bit defensively. “Or even what the Ones were.”
“It does sound more like a parable than an action report,” Kyle agreed. “I’m sure I would have assumed the same thing.”
“Are we sure it isn’t just a parable?” Kyp asked. He looked to Tekli and Lowbacca. “No offense, but we all know how muddled the Killik sense of history is.”
Saba slapped both palms on the table. “This one is certain. It explainz too much—why there is so much darknesz and change in the galaxy, why war comes so often and nothing stayz certain.” She glanced around the table, meeting the gaze of each Master in turn, then said, “The Force has no Balance.”
Jaina nodded, then said, “And it also explains what Abeloth wants with Ben.”
An uneasy silence fell over the table, and she realized that many of the other Jedi had not yet made the connection between the loss of the only family Abeloth had ever known—the Ones—and the terrible longing and loneliness that had made an imprisoned Force entity reach out to Ben and the other younglings who had been hidden at Shelter.
But Luke understood. That much was clear in the way his face had paled—and in the care he was taking to keep his Force presence damped down, lest his fear reverberate through the room like a thunderclap.
When the faces of most of the other Masters remained puzzled, he nodded to Jaina. “You said it first,” he said. “You explain.”
“It’s still just a guess,” she said. “I could be wrong.”
“Are you?” Luke asked.
Jaina thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I’m not.” She took a deep breath and addressed the others at the table. “Abeloth took Ben because she intends to re-create the … well, the Family of the Ones, for lack of a better name … on her own terms.”
An astonished rustle filled the room as beings shifted in their seats and stepped closer to the table.
Jaina gave the idea a moment to sink in, then continued, “Look, it doesn’t matter whether the Killiks are right about the Ones—or even whether Yoda is. The only thing that matters is what Abeloth believes. She’s trying to rebuild the family she lost.”
“I’m convinced,” Luke said, nodding. “It explains everything I’ve seen her do.”
“But with herself taking the Father’s place,” Kyle observed. “Though she may have wanted you to take the role for a time. That would explain why she tried to keep you and Ben from leaving Sinkhole Station.”
“Yeah, but then Luke kept killing Abeloth’s bodies,” Kyp observed. “After a while, she finally took the hint and decided she’d have the family on her own.”
“Probably,” Kyle agreed. “And it’s safe to assume that Abeloth would be a force of constant change in the galaxy, rather than stability.”
“She certainly wouldn’t bring much Balance to the Force,” Jaina agreed. “And Ben, obviously, will be the embodiment of the light side.”
“Clearly,” Corran said. “And Vestara Khai will embody the dark side.”
It was stated as a fact rather than a guess, and none of the Masters questioned his conclusion—no doubt because they had all felt the astonishment of the others when they saw the image on Lowbacca’s datapad. The hand of the Force was moving in this, and Jaina knew that all of the Masters felt it—even if they had not yet learned what it was doing.
When all of the Masters simply looked at one another and nodded, Luewet Wuul spoke from the other side of the table. “I hope you will forgive the foolish questions of one of the uninitiated, but … how? I know Jedi can use the Force to extend their lives, but isn’t this Abeloth supposed to be twenty-five thousand years old?”
“She is far older than that, Senator,” Tekli said. “The Histories of Thuruht have panels suggesting that Abeloth is at least a hundred thousand years old … but she started as a mortal.”
“We have already seen the answer,” Barratk’l said. “Abeloth was a mortal woman, yes? Then she drank from the Font of Power, and she swam in the Pool of Knowledge.”
Wuul’s cheek folds flattened in alarm. “Those are real?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Luke said. “And if Ben and Vestara drink from them …”
He let the sentence trail off, but Barratk’l finished it. “Then Ben and Vestara would become like her, yes? A family of Abeloths—with the Bringer of Chaos in charge.”
“Something like that,” Jaina agreed.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then another groundquake hit, this one much more powerful than the first. The entire room began to shake violently, rattling caf cups and sending a decanter of fine burtalle crashing to the floor at the far end of the room. All eyes turned toward the Galactic Justice Center, where a two-hundred-meter fountain of white magma could be seen spraying up next to the gleaming cylinder, speckling its silvery skin with droplets of molten stone.
Saba braced her knuckles on the table, then rose and leaned forward to address her fellow Masters. “If the Ones are dead, then it seemz to this one we must all swear on our blood to destroy Abeloth.”
As she spoke, a gaping melt hole appeared in the side of the Justice Center, and the cylinder began to lean toward the interior of Fellowship Plaza.
“Because that egg eater is as mad as a blind shenbit,” she continued. “And the galaxy will not last a year with her on the loose.”
“I quite agree, Master Sebatyne,” Nek Bwua’tu said. He looked across the table, directly at Luke. “How would you feel about ordering a baradium strike on the Temple?”
Gavin Darklighter was the first to object. “While I still have space marines inside?”
“Withdrawing them would alert Abeloth to our plan, General,” Bwua’tu said. “And certainly, were I inside with an enemy like this, I would want my commander to do whatever it takes to destroy her.”
>
“As would their Jedi companions,” Luke said. “But I’m afraid that a baradium strike isn’t an option.”
“May I ask why not?” Eramuth inquired. “I realize that there’s a certain element of betrayal—”
“That’s not the problem,” Luke said. “I doubt any of us have a being inside who wouldn’t make the same sacrifice willingly, but there are other considerations.” He glanced quickly in Jaina’s direction. “The Solos are also inside.”
Jaina’s brow rose. “They are?” As surprised as she was, she didn’t understand why Luke was making her parents’ presence the critical factor in ruling out the baradium strike. Under the circumstances, they would have been the first to call it in on themselves—well, her mother would have been. Her father would have opted for a blaster duel at high noon. “I didn’t even know they were on the planet.”
“I’m afraid so,” Luke replied. “It’s a long story, but apparently they volunteered to drop Bazel Warv off at the entrance to the escape tunnel, and the Falcon was disabled in an ambush. Han and Leia escaped into the Temple … with Amelia.”
Now Jaina understood. Luke wasn’t about to sacrifice Allana Solo, not after he had seen her sitting on the Throne of Balance in a Force vision. Unfortunately, not everyone present was privy to the secret of the young girl’s destiny, so there were a lot of puzzled scowls along the non-Jedi side of the table.
Finally, Luew Wuul asked the question outright. “I don’t understand, Master Skywalker. I know the Solos quite well, and I can’t imagine either of them hesitating to make such a—”
“It doesn’t matter, because it wouldn’t work,” Dorvan said, interrupting. “Abeloth would see it coming.”
Nek Bwua’tu turned in his seat to face Dorvan. “I don’t see how, Wynn,” he said. “I can have a baradium barrage on the Temple in sixty seconds.”
“And if you did, she would have seen it coming and already be gone.” Dorvan glanced over at the puzzled faces flanking him, then seemed to realize the source of his problem. “You do realize she can look into the future, right?”
Admiral Bwua’tu’s shoulders sank in despair, but any reply he intended to make was cut short by another bone-rattling boom from the Galactic Justice Center. All eyes turned toward the sound—just in time to see the gleaming cylinder vanish behind a kilometer-high pillar of boiling magma and billowing ash.
Jaina was as shocked as everyone else in the room, and she would probably have continued to watch as the conflagration melted the Justice Center into a river of molten durasteel—had she not felt a familiar presence tugging at her from the other side of Fellowship Plaza. Realizing that the eruption made a very effective diversion, she slid her gaze back toward the Jedi Temple. Amid the cloud of speck-sized blastboats still circling its gleaming pyramid, she caught a glimpse of a single-winged orb streaking away from Pinnacle Platform, ascending through the smoke on its way out of the Coruscanti gravity well.
Ship.
Jaina spun back toward Luke and found him already moving toward the door, motioning for her to follow.
Abeloth had Ben … and they had just departed for the Maw.
SAGGING GIRDERS AND DANGLING PEDWALKS KEPT EMERGING FROM THE smoke, ghostly silhouettes that turned dark and solid so fast Jag had little time to react. Again and again, he jerked the yoke and sent the Parting Gift banking away from a collision, only to find new danger looming ahead. Bits of jagged durasteel plate fluttered through the air like confetti, riding updrafts from volcanic rifts more than a kilometer below. Pillars of flame—usually burning buildings, but sometimes geysers of magma—brightened the ash-filled gloom. And to top it off, an endless stream of cannon bolts was streaming out of the Temple to pound the little yacht’s forward shields.
And yet no one seemed nervous. Tahiri sat calmly in the copilot’s seat, monitoring—and cursing—BAMR newscasts as she adjusted shield loads and jammed the enemy’s target acquisition bands. Behind and between their seats stood Saba Sebatyne, hissing what sounded like a Barabel nursery rhyme as the Parting Gift juked and dived and rolled. Strapped into the seat behind Tahiri was Sergeant Major Gef Olazon, a lanky Void Jumper with a bushy gray mustache and an armored vac suit that had more battle patches than his face had wrinkles. His chin was on his chest, and he was actually snoring.
Who did they think was flying this mission—Han Solo?
The blue blossom of a turbolaser strike erupted ahead, hitting the Parting Gift with a blast of heat and a shock wave that felt like they had flown into a cliff. Jag and Tahiri slammed against their crash harnesses and Saba dropped to her knees. Then the space yacht was spiraling out of control, its powerful repulsorlift engines driving it down through the smoke and ash toward the crooked white line of a magma rift less than a thousand meters below.
Jag cut the power to the ion engines immediately, and the Gift began to buck and spin as it was buffeted by thermal updrafts. He used the altitude thrusters to roll the vessel upright again, then peered into the boiling ash cloud until the waypoint marker on the heads-up display indicated he was pointed toward the Jedi Temple again, then he hit the ion drives and shot forward.
“We must be getting close,” Olazon said from behind Tahiri. His gravelly voice was still thick with sleep. “They’re bringing out the big guns.”
“Turbolasers?” Jag asked. “When did the Jedi put those in the Temple?”
“The Jedi didn’t,” Saba replied, as though that were the only explanation needed.
“I see,” Jag said. Cannon bolts started to stream into the Parting Gift’s forward shields again, and he began to jerk the yoke around, trying to cover their approach with buildings or dangling girders or anything else that might prevent the turbolaser crew from resolving a good target. “Just tell me I’m going to live long enough to see Jaina.”
“This one does not look into the future,” Saba replied. “It is more fun to be surprised.”
“I’d say things are looking pretty good from this end,” Olazon said. “You’re not a half-bad combat pilot—even in this overarmored tub.”
“Thanks,” Jag said. He activated a mirrored panel in the canopy, then looked at Olazon’s reflection. “What do you mean ‘from this end’?”
Olazon’s eyes went directly to Saba. “You didn’t tell him?”
A thud reverberated through the deck as Saba thumped her tail. “There was no time,” the Barabel said. “By the time the Parting Gift was strutz-down, we were only five minutes to rendezvous.”
Olazon scowled. “You should have told him,” the Void Jumper said. “When a guy leaves on a mission like this, he has a right to know.”
“This one said there was no time.” Saba glanced back, baring her fangs at Olazon. “He will be told after the rescue.”
The Void Jumper scowled back at Saba, so obviously unintimidated that Jag would have been impressed—had he not been worried about Jaina. “Tell me what?”
When Saba did not immediately respond, Olazon said, “Your girl had to take off with Master Skywalker about an hour before you landed,” he said. “She left a vid message for you.”
Olazon’s tone was grave, and Jag had spent enough time in the military to understand what the sergeant major was telling him. Jaina had left one of those in-case-I-don’t-return messages—the kind soldiers had been leaving for their loved ones since the time of rocks and spears.
“Why would she leave a message like that?” Jag demanded. A building to their starboard took a turbolaser hit and exploded into an orange fireball. Jag ignored it and shifted his gaze to Saba’s reflection. “And no more dodging the question.”
A soft clatter sounded as Saba ruffled her scales. “Abeloth has taken Ben and Vestara,” she said. “Master Solo is with Master Skywalker, trying to stop … whatever it is Abeloth intendz for them.”
“Wait … Jaina is a Master now?” Jag smiled, despite the alarm he felt at the rest of Saba’s news. “It’s about time.”
Saba tipped her scaly head. “Perhapz you did n
ot hear the part about hunting Abeloth?”
“I heard,” Jag said. He was terribly disappointed to have missed Jaina, and even more alarmed to learn she was off chasing Abeloth. But he had fallen in love with a courageous, dedicated, stubborn woman, and he had accepted long ago that there would be times like this in their relationship—and, soon, their marriage. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “What I don’t understand is why you thought it would make any difference?”
“Because the message is eight minutes long, and we had only five minutes to make our rendezvous,” Saba replied. “It will still be waiting after you drop us at the Temple and rescue Master Solo’s sister and parentz.”
Saba said this last part casually, as though it were no big deal, but Jag suddenly understood why Saba had been in such a hurry when she commandeered him and his ship. Jag was not “officially” in the know about Allana Solo’s true identity, but he had spent a lot of time with the Solos, and he had eventually guessed who “Amelia” really was—and why she was so important to the Jedi.
“So they’re at the Temple, too. How did that happen?” Jag asked.
“Something went wrong,” Saba replied. “Let us hope the Solos live long enough to explain what.”
“Agreed,” Jagged said. “But why wait for me to pick them up?”
“You were already in the atmosphere when the Solos asked for extraction,” Saba replied. “And Jaina is alwayz saying that you fly as well as her father.”
Jag’s heart swelled. “Really?” he asked. “Jaina says that?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Olazon said. “We’re running short on transport, and this overarmored space palace of yours was the best available ship.”
“This?” Tahiri asked. “A Sandalso twelve-being personal LuxiCruiser was the best thing the Jedi could scrape up for a rescue mission?”
“It has military shieldz and countermeasures?” Saba asked.
“Of course,” Jag replied. “When Head of State Reige gave it to me, he made it very clear he didn’t want me getting killed anytime soon.”
