by Troy Denning
“The referee can also arrange complete losses for both sides,” Luke said. “Though that’s a last resort. It’s considered barely adequate.”
“What an odd game,” Formbi said.
R2-D2 emitted a discordant series of beeps, then raised his transceiver antenna and began to move off.
Luke scowled and called, “Artoo, come back here.” When R2-D2 continued toward the Skorch field, Luke excused himself and caught up to the droid. “Didn’t you hear me? We’re in the middle of some very important business.”
R2-D2 whistled a sharp reply.
“I’m sure your business is important, too,” Luke said. “But you’ll have to conduct it over there, with us.”
R2-D2 pivoted on a tread, then tweedled a question.
“If it can’t wait, you’ll have to,” Luke answered. “You’re in no condition to wander around the training grounds alone.”
Another question.
“Yes, on Ossus,” Luke said. “Where did you think we were?”
R2-D2 gave a confused sigh, then reluctantly returned with Luke. Mara was explaining the theory behind Skorch as two players—a Wookiee and a Squib—wrestled with the Defel referee in an attempt to keep him from interfering with the game.
“The only rules are the ones the referee can persuade the players to accept,” she was saying. “And his only rule is that he can’t use his lightsaber on any of the players.”
“It sounds like a dangerous game,” Formbi observed. “How many students are killed playing it?”
“These are senior apprentices,” Luke said. “They can take care of themselves.”
“And there are always healing trances,” Mara added.
“Healing trances are good,” Luke agreed. “The idea is to teach our Jedi Knights to look for secret agendas and develop solutions that work for everyone.” He turned to Formbi. “That’s what we hope to do at Qoribu.”
“Very noble.” Formbi turned away from the game. “But I have seen nothing to convince me that you understand the Killiks any better than we do. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“We haven’t had as long to study them as you have,” Mara retorted. “But our senior scientist has already developed a theory about how Joiners are created—”
“And about how the Killiks’ collective mind functions,” Luke said.
“Which is?” Formbi asked.
Luke sensed that the question was a test. “We believe Joiners are created when Killik pheromones alter the basic structure of the corpus callosum,” he said. “Those changes allow the Joiners to receive signal impulses directly from the Killik brains, which—we presume—have a similar capacity.”
“And what is the transfer agent?”
Luke hesitated. He could sense that they were close to winning Formbi’s support, but they were crossing from theory to guesswork here, and he did not want to undermine their progress by making a wild-sounding assertion.
Mara disagreed. He could feel her through their Force-bond, urging him to take the chance.
“We think the impulses are transferred through auras,” Luke said. “But we’re having trouble identifying exactly which part.”
“All of them,” Formbi said. “Heat, electric, magnetic, probably chemical—at least that’s what our scientists think. But that doesn’t explain the Will.”
“The Will?” Mara asked.
“As far as we know, only individuals from the same nest share a truly collective mind,” Formbi said. “Our scientists describe it as a sort of very advanced telepathy, where an individual has access to the thoughts and sense impressions of the entire nest.”
Luke nodded. That was just as Tekli and Tahiri described the experience—though he was not going to admit that to Formbi. “That’s what our investigations suggest.”
“But insects from different nests must communicate with each other via language, just as we do,” Formbi said. “The collective mind doesn’t seem to extend far beyond the confines of the nest.”
“Which is exactly what you’d expect, if the communication medium is their aura,” Mara said. “To participate in the collective mind, an individual would always have to be within range of another insect’s aura, and that one would have to be close to another—”
“Precisely,” Formbi agreed. “The collective mind can extend over quite a large area, as long as the chain of insects remains unbroken.”
R2-D2 began to beep for attention.
“Not now, Artoo,” Luke said. He did not want to give Formbi time to reconsider what he was about to tell them. “Please continue, Aristocra.”
Formbi glanced at the droid, then nodded. “But the entire Colony seems to be subject to a single Will. We’ve noticed that nests all across the sector are acting in concert, pursuing a single, unified purpose.”
“Let me guess,” Luke said. “Expanding the Colony.”
“Very good,” Formbi said.
“And this Will appeared about six years ago?” Mara asked. “When they started to develop hospitals and interstellar trade?”
“Right again,” Formbi replied. “And, frankly, we’re puzzled.”
“How so?” Luke asked. “Perhaps we can help clear something up for you.”
Formbi smiled. “Yes. Soontir suggested you would respond well to an information exchange, and we believe this mystery to be particularly well suited to the Jedi.”
“We’ll do what we can,” Mara said, leaving out what exactly she meant by can. “Though, as I said before, we haven’t had as long to study the Killiks as you have.”
“That has been to your advantage, I assure you,” Formbi said. “If you were wise, you would leave our part of the galaxy to us and avoid the Colony at all costs.”
“We Jedi try to be brave as well as wise,” Luke replied mildly. “Now, how can we be of service?”
“Our scientists are having trouble understanding how the Will exerts its hold over the entire Colony,” Formbi said. “The distances involved are too great for it to function through their auras, as the collective mind does.”
“Killiks aren’t Force-sensitive, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Luke said. “At least not the ones we’ve met.”
“Would they need to be?” Formbi asked. “If each nest had just one Joiner who could feel the Will, wouldn’t the entire nest be subject to it?”
“Possibly,” Mara allowed. Luke felt her alarm growing as clearly as his own; it was growing all too obvious that Unu—Raynar’s nest—was the source of what the Chiss were calling the Will. “But this central Will would have to be magnitudes stronger than the wills of the individual nests.”
“And it could be,” Luke said, recalling how powerful Raynar had grown in the Force. “A gifted Joiner might be able to draw on the Force potential of his entire nest.”
“I thought you said that the Killiks aren’t Force-sensitive,” Formbi said.
“He did,” Mara answered. “Force-sensitive means you have the ability to tap into the Force. Force potential is just another way of saying ‘life energy.’ ”
“All living things generate Force energy,” Luke explained. He was beginning to see that Formbi had played them—just as he had during the investigation of the Outbound Flight wreck. “But I suspect you already know that. The information is readily available on any HoloNet terminal in the Galactic Alliance.”
“But it is good to have our theory vetted by the experts,” Formbi said, still trying to maintain his charade. “And it seems a reasonable exchange, considering what I gave you.”
“It would have been, if that’s all you had come for.” Luke turned back to the Skorch field, buying himself a moment to contain his rising emotions. The anger he felt was at himself, for failing to see Formbi’s game early on, before they had told him about Raynar. “But you came looking for a name—for the source of the Will.”
Formbi spread his hands and stepped to Luke’s side. “You were the ones who summoned me.”
On the Skorch field, the small team onc
e again had control of all six jet-balls and were racing toward the large team’s goal. The Defel referee was limping after them with one furry arm synth-glued to his knee.
“You have what you came for,” Mara said. “But it wouldn’t be wise to act on the information.”
Formbi looked at her in surprise. “Are you threatening me?”
“She’s telling you that killing Raynar won’t return the Colony to what it was,” Luke said. “If you assassinate him, all you’re going to have are a trillion angry insects who don’t care if they die. The Jedi won’t be able to save you.”
“Actually, we weren’t counting on that,” Formbi said. “The Jedi have no business—”
R2-D2 emitted a piercing shriek, then began to bang back and forth on his treads until Luke looked down.
“Artoo, I said—”
R2-D2’s holoprojector activated, and fuzzy image of Leia appeared on the ground in front of him. For a moment, Luke thought that it was the old message she had recorded for Obi-Wan—then he noticed that she was dressed in a white jumpsuit instead of a ceremonial gown, and her hair was falling loose down her back instead of being gathered in those ear-buns she used to wear.
“Luke?” Her voice was scratchy and barely audible. “Are…there?”
“Yes.” Luke answered. “Artoo, where’s this coming from?”
R2-D2 tweedled a sharp reply.
“I know it’s being relayed through the Academy HoloNet transceiver,” Luke said. He dropped to his knee. “Leia, where are you?”
“Luke?” Leia’s image said. “Can’t…you. But…important…Killik attacked Saba…stowaways on…think…after you and…maybe Ben.”
“Stowaways?” Mara gasped. An image of their son holding an empty container of gelmeat flashed from her mind to Luke’s, then she was racing toward the exit. “Ben!”
“…careful,” Leia’s image said.
The image grew motionless, obviously waiting for a reply.
“Tell the comm officer to acknowledge and ask for a repeat,” Luke instructed R2.
“…tell if…,” Leia said. “…again later.”
The image winked out, leaving R2-D2 buzzing in frustration.
“It’s okay, Artoo. We heard enough.” Luke turned to find Formbi eyeing him with an expression halfway between smugness and concern. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our tour short.”
“Of course,” Formbi replied. “It sounds as though you’ll be quite busy…as will I.”
“Is that so?” Luke used the Force to summon a pair of apprentices out of the Skorch game to escort Formbi and look after R2-D2. “Can the Jedi be of any assistance?”
“Not really,” Formbi said. “Chief of State Omas was kind enough to send an escort to accompany me to his office on Coruscant.”
“I see,” Luke said. “I assume you’ll be discussing the situation at Qoribu.”
Formbi smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Discussing would be the wrong word, I’m afraid.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Leia had heard it said that no captor could imprison a Jedi longer than the Jedi wished to be imprisoned, and she was beginning to understand how true that was. Even with Alema lying unconscious in the number two hold, with all four limbs shackled to cargo tie-downs and two angry Noghri guarding her with T-10 stun blasters, Leia constantly found herself limping back with a new way to confine their prisoner. Her head and ankle were throbbing harder by the minute, and the last thing she wanted was to start fighting the Twi’lek again.
Now Leia was holding a pair of LSS 1000-series Automatic Stun Cuffs from the security locker—highly illegal, of course, but standard equipment aboard the Falcon. After checking the vital-signs monitor on Alema’s wrist to make sure the Twi’lek was still unconscious, Leia limped around behind her head.
A sudden shudder ran down Alema’s lekku. Her eyes started to move beneath their lids, and she began to mumble in a frightened, high-pitched voice. At first, Leia thought the Twi’lek was crying out incoherently in a dream, but then she recognized a couple of Twi’leki words—those for “night” and “herald”—and realized Alema was actually talking in her sleep.
Leia turned toward the intercom panel. “Threepio, activate audio recording in hold two.”
“As you wish, Princess,” he said. “But I will need to leave Master Sebatyne unattended for a few moments.”
“As long as she’s still stable,” Leia said.
“Oh, she’s quite stable,” C-3PO said. “Her vital signs have been hovering close to zero for hours.”
A moment later, a red light activated on the intercom panel. Alema continued to mutter in her native language—something about “the Night Herald”—and her limbs began to jerk against their restraints. Leia glanced at the vitals monitor and saw that the Twi’lek had slipped into the REM state. She motioned for the Noghri to cover her, then squatted on her haunches and clamped the stun cuffs on Alema’s lekku.
“You’re a hard woman, Leia Solo,” Han said, stepping into the hold. “I kind of like it.”
“Just being careful,” Leia said. She set the power to maximum, then slowly rose and backed away. “I doubt we could trick her twice.”
“Sure we could,” Han said. “Teamwork and treachery will beat youth and skill every time.”
“Alema isn’t that young—and I’d say she beats us hands-down in the treachery department,” Leia said. She crossed the hold—emptied so Alema would have nothing to fling with the Force—and stopped at Han’s side. “I thought you and Juun were plotting the next jump.”
“We’ve been trying,” Han said.
“Trying?” After repairing Alema’s sabotage, they had emerged from the nebula to find themselves staring into the creamy heart of the Galactic Core, no more than twenty light-years from the Galactic Alliance. “You said we’d be on the Rago Run in one more jump.”
“We will,” Han said. “But every time we engage, the navicomputer detects a mass fluctuation and shuts us down.”
“You’re sure we’re in the right place?” Leia asked. Worried about the possibility of an escape, she had insisted on supervising the security precautions while Juun filled in as copilot. “Jae didn’t plot a bad jump?”
Han shook his head. “It’s definitely the same place we stopped on the way out. Rago is five light-years ahead, and the star charts match what we stored in the navicomputer. The only difference is the fluctuation.”
Leia cast a nervous glance at Alema, who was continuing to mumble and thrash against her restraints, then asked, “Could it be something coming down the Run toward us?”
“Sure,” Han said. “If it had the mass of a battle fleet.”
“I see what you mean.”
Leia studied Alema for another moment, then checked the Twi’lek’s vital signs again. The monitor showed her deep in the REM state, but Leia remained suspicious. She withdrew a hypo of tranqarest from her jumpsuit pocket and pressed it to Alema’s neck.
“Whoa!” Han said. “She has a head wound!”
“She’s young.” Leia hit the injector and held it down until the hypo stopped hissing. “A little coma won’t hurt her.”
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Han said.
Alema stopped thrashing and fell silent, and her vital signs dropped into the coma range. Leia thumped the Twi’lek on the eyelid just to be sure, then nodded when there was no reaction.
“Let’s go see if we’re still having that mass fluctuation.”
Han raised his brow. “You think she was—”
“I don’t know,” Leia said. Leaving instructions for the Noghri to blast the Twi’lek at the first sign of trouble, she left the hold. “But it never hurts to be careful.”
“You don’t think you’re overdoing it?”
“Han, she sabotaged the Falcon and gave me a beating,” Leia said. “And there’s every chance my message didn’t get through to Luke and Mara. If the Shadow had a stowaway aboard—or if Tahiri and the others are as far g
one as Alema—we might be too late already.”
“Okay, there’s that,” Han said. “But—”
“Han, you do understand how good Alema is?” Leia stopped and turned him to face her. “How lucky we were to knock her out?”
“Yeah, I understand.” There was barb to Han’s voice. “But we’ve still got to keep her alive.”
“Even if it means she might escape and blow us all to stardust?”
“Yeah, even if it means that,” Han said. “Because what happened to her is probably happening to Jaina and Zekk, and maybe Cilghal can learn something from Alema to help us fix it.”
“That’s why you’re so worried about her?” Leia was glad to hear the ruthlessness in his voice, to know that so many decades of strife and danger had only made him shrewder and more stubborn. “I was starting to think you’d gone soft.”
She took Han’s arm and started up the access corridor. They had lost so much during the war that it was impossible to believe they had come out stronger or happier. But they had emerged together, with a better understanding of each other and a bond that had survived the deaths of a son, a close companion, and more friends than Leia could name. No matter how alarming this latest crisis, no matter how frightened they were for Jaina, they would face it together—and together they would do whatever was necessary to prevail.
They reached the flight deck and found Juun staring at the navigator’s display, so engrossed in star plotting and continuum calculations that he did not notice the Solos’ presence. Leia could see that he was attempting a broad-spectrum variable analysis with a ten-decimal accuracy parameter. With his eyes bulging and his cheek folds flared in frustration, it looked like he would blow a circuit before the navicomputer did.
Leia brought her mouth close to Han’s ear. “I hope you’ve been backing up our navigation log.”
“You bet,” Han said. “I knew what you were thinking the minute we realized we were coming down on an abandoned planet.”
