Refugee: Force Heretic II

by Sean Williams

  The Rodian hissed for her to hurry. Sensing no one lying in wait for them, she turned and ran full tilt for the exit from the alley. Salkeli had his blaster out, ready to fire at anyone who got in his way. Jaina, on the other hand, wasn’t so committed to attacking people who, despite her current situation, were supposed to be her allies.

  Out of the alley, she found herself on a wider, more exposed street. Salkeli was already halfway across it, heading for a smashed window in a building on the far side. Jaina followed without hesitation, deactivating her lightsaber as she went. She dashed across the road and dived headlong through the window just seconds after Salkeli. She rolled as she landed, coming up into a crouch to examine her surroundings. A quick look around told her they were in the remains of an open-plan office, long abandoned, with broken furniture strewn about the floor.

  Salkeli was clambering to his feet just as the guards emerged from the alley across the street.

  “Keep moving!” he urged, dashing from the room with his head low.

  He took her deep into the building, then down into one of its sub-basements. Kicking open a stuck door, he revealed a long tunnel that, judging by its length, stretched to several other buildings along the street. They hurried along it, passing entrances to other basement levels.

  “I trust you have a plan?” Jaina said.

  “More or less,” he called back to her. “We’ll go back up in a second, to throw them off track. Once we’re sure Malinza and the rest are safely away, I’ll take any suggestions you have.”

  Footfalls came from the corridor behind them. Jaina spun around, igniting her lightsaber and deflecting a handful of blaster bolts that had been aimed at their fleeing backs. Salkeli took the next stairwell on their right; Jaina followed.

  He didn’t stop at the ground floor, but instead continued on to the top of the building. When they emerged, the aircar was waiting for them, hovering above the roof like the remotes she’d once trained with—only much larger, and much deadlier. Two guards hung over its sides, blaster rifles pointing down at Salkeli and Jaina. Dodging and deflecting laser bolts, the two of them took cover behind a ventilation shaft. Jaina used the Force to rock the aircar while the Rodian returned fire. That evened the score, but they were still in a no-win situation because they had nowhere to run.

  She was about to point this out when a loud explosion from nearby brought a halt to the firing from the aircar. The attention of the guards in the vehicle suddenly turned to a huge ball of burning gas rising up from a nearby building—the same building, Jaina noted, that had contained the Stack. She was so surprised by the turn of events that she barely noticed the arrival of other guards from the stairwell. Thankfully, though, they were also attracted to the spectacle, staring in amazement at what was emerging from the newly formed hole where the building’s skylight had once been.

  The Stack itself—its ragtag jumble of containers loosely tied together with scaffolding and hidden by vines—rose gracefully into the predawn sky, glinting shards of shattered transparisteel falling like silver rain onto the building below. Propelled by repulsors, the entire structure was as buoyant as a hot-air balloon, and moved in much the same way. As soon as it had cleared the top of the building, it began to drift with the prevailing wind, trailing a spreading cloud of smoke and debris beneath it.

  The aircar sped away to intercept the floating structure, leaving the guards on the rooftop staring at the spectacle.

  “Now’s the time for suggestions,” he hissed. “Before those guards over there remember what they’re here for. Right now they stand between us and our only means of escape.”

  “There is one other,” Jaina said, staring at the edge of the roof a dozen or so meters away.

  Salkeli laughed, following her gaze. “Don’t tell me that Jedi can fly, too?”

  She shook her head and smiled at him. “No, but we can jump. Come on!”

  With that, she bolted for the edge of the rooftop, not stopping to check that the Rodian was following. Then, trusting in her instincts and the Force, she threw herself into the air.

  Instead of landing on another rooftop, however, she found herself plunging into a deep and wide aqueduct half filled with fast-moving water. The current instantly grabbed and held her down. Her limbs flailed as she struggled to orient herself and come up for air. Lungs burning, she finally broke the surface, desperately trying to suck in some oxygen while at the same time coughing up some of the water she’d inhaled. Then, from somewhere nearby, above the sound of rushing current, she heard the wheezing laughter of the Rodian.

  “Over here!” he called as the current swept them along into a high-ceilinged tunnel. He was paddling strongly a meter or so away from her.

  She spat out some more water and swam to his side. “I presume the Stack was the distraction you mentioned. It was empty, right?”

  “Right.” His voice echoed in the tunnel. “While the guards chasing us split up to check, the others would have slipped out through the basement.”

  “But all that equipment,” she said. A loss like that for a small group such as Freedom had to hurt. “All that data!”

  “Data and equipment are replaceable; lives are not.” An open shaft passed by overhead, briefly affording them some light. It reflected off Salkeli’s multifaceted eyes. “Okay, we’re there,” he said. “Swim for the edge.”

  “You actually know where we are?” She was genuinely surprised.

  “A Rodian always has an escape plan,” he said, kicking vigorously for the edge of the tunnel. “I thought everyone knew that.”

  “But it was my idea to jump!”

  The Rodian snorted, a nasal bleat that sounded unusually loud in the tunnel. “I had already thought of it; I just wanted to check out your mettle.”

  He reached the wall and found purchase on its slimy surface. Jaina wasn’t far behind. Her fingers dug into the gaps between bricks where ancient mortar had eroded away.

  “Up there,” Salkeli said. “See?”

  Jaina looked up and to her right, and saw an open access cover. Descending from it was a rusting metal ladder. She followed Salkeli’s lead and began to edge her way toward it. The current was stronger here than it had been before, and she had to fight not to be swept away. From farther down the tunnel she could hear a faint rumbling sound, like that of a distant roaring. She guessed that either the tunnel continued to narrow the farther it went, or it ended in an underground waterfall of some kind. Either way, she didn’t particularly want to find out.

  “I’ll help you up,” Salkeli said, coming up beside her when she reached the base of the ladder.

  “That’s all right.” She nudged him upward with the Force and enjoyed the look of surprise on his green face. “I have something I have to do first.”

  He ascended the ladder while she reached into her pocket and removed the bug, releasing it into the current. She was happy to let the security guards search through the drainage system to find it. Then she lifted herself out of the water, pulling herself up and out into the relatively fresh air.

  The sun was rising over the horizon when she scrambled through the access hatch. Looking around, she could tell they had come out in a completely different section of the city than they’d just been in. The streets were wider, the buildings lower and better maintained. It looked more like a warehousing suburb than the abandoned business complex they’d left behind.

  “We made it,” she said, laughing in relief.

  “You ditched the bug?”

  Jaina nodded, already thinking about what to do next.

  “I think you’ve helped Freedom enough for one day,” Salkeli said. “Would you like a lift back into town?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve swimming again.”

  He grinned, motioning for her to accompany him to the nearest building—a low, long container hold. There was a metal roller door securing the premises. Salkeli tapped a code into the lock and it obligingly slid up, revealing a dusty but serviceable two-seater spe
eder.

  “You’re not going to tell me that’s yours, are you?” she said.

  The Rodian’s multifaceted eyes twinkled. “Would you believe me if I did?”

  “Well, you know what they say,” Jaina said lightly. “A Rodian always has an escape plan.”

  He smiled at this, gesturing with his long, green fingers for her to climb aboard while he moved around the back to adjust the airfoil. In the second it took for him to do this, her senses told her that something had gone terribly awry—something she hadn’t anticipated. But it was too late. She was climbing into the speeder when a searing pain caught her in the back.

  She turned as she fell, catching a fleeting glimpse of Salkeli as he lowered his blaster.

  “Always,” she heard him say as darkness claimed her.

  She ran as fast as she could along the mostly empty corridors, not knowing where she was or where she was going. For all she knew—or cared—she might have been running in circles. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that she keep running in the hope that it might distract her from the pain in her mind.

  Try as she might, though, she couldn’t outrun the memories. Her life seemed to be made up of one long tragedy, from her parents’ deaths on Tatooine to her latest breakdown on Bakura. And, of course, Anakin …

  Remember—together, you are stronger than the sum of your parts. Master Ikrit’s last words to her, communicated via the Force, had helped her accept her feelings for Anakin. But it wasn’t about strength; it was about being together. She loved Anakin, and always had. As a child, she had loved him as a friend; then, as they grew older, she had been learning to love him as a woman. But now, because of the Yuuzhan Vong, because of the voxyn and Myrkr, that love would never be realized.

  Her body shook with sobs as she doubled up, clutching her stomach. Anakin’s absence was like a yawning gulf in her life, a hole that nothing could fill. The future they should have had together would never happen, and nothing could ever take its place. Not even becoming a full Jedi Knight was any comfort. The Force without him in it was an empty thing.

  It’s not supposed to be like this! she wanted to shout at the universe. Change it back! Make it right. Make it better. Make the pain go away!

  She fell to the floor, rolling tightly into a fetal position, desperately wanting to push back the pain. Anakin had sacrificed himself for the greater good, and the thought of that only enhanced the love she felt for him. She wanted to go back and kiss him that last time, instead of holding off as she’d done. She wanted to go back and fight at his side, to help him overcome the Yuuzhan Vong warriors who had ultimately brought him down. She wanted to die with him, because life without him was so incomprehensible.

  Memories …

  “You aren’t immortal,” Corran Horn had told them on an asteroid near Yag’Dhul, “and you aren’t invincible.”

  “Everybody gets a nasty surprise someday,” Anakin had replied. “I’d rather get it standing up than lying down.”

  Memories …

  “I’ve thought about the dark side for most of my life. My mother named me after the man who became Darth Vader. The Emperor touched me through her womb. Every night I had nightmares that ended with me in my grandfather’s armor. With all due respect, I think I’ve probably thought a lot more about the dark side than anyone I know …”

  Memories …

  “You were scarred up and tattooed like Tsavong Lah,” Anakin said. “You were Jedi, but dark. I could feel the darkness radiating from you.”

  “You don’t still think that could happen to me?” she responded, horrified by the vision. “How could I? You saved me from them, stopped me before they finished.” His doubt, his fear that she might join the other side and destroy the Jedi, had cut her more deeply than any physical wound she had ever sustained. “Anakin, I’ll never join the Yuuzhan Vong …”

  Memories …

  “Might be simpler if we don’t make it.”

  After their first kiss, when there was no going back to the way they’d been before.

  “Yeah. Are you sorry?”

  “No. No, not even a little bit.”

  “So let’s survive so we get a chance to figure this out, okay?”

  Sobs tore through her like knives. She was so lonely; she was so alone. Anakin’s family could have been hers, but now instead they were frightened of her. They were suspicious of her and tried to push her away. Everyone was pushing her away. Everyone except—

  “Tahiri?”

  The voice came from outside her head, beyond her memories. The use of her name was so unexpected that she was on her feet in an instant, her lightsaber crackling, rising defensively before she’d even seen who had said it. Then, when she did look, she couldn’t see him properly because of the film of tears over her eyes.

  “No, wait!” Whoever it was, he backed nervously away, arms outstretched in a desperate request for her to lower her weapon.

  “You come anywhere near me,” she hissed, “and so help me I’ll—”

  “I won’t, I promise.” She didn’t recognize the voice. “I just heard that you were lost. That’s all. I came to help you.”

  “Help me?” she repeated suspiciously, the lightsaber unsteady in her hands. “Why should you help me? You don’t even know me!”

  “Sure I do,” he said. “You’re the Jedi-who-was-shaped. You’re—”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “Don’t ever call me that!”

  He backed away another step as the tip of her lightsaber stabbed toward him. “I’m sorry!” he said. “I didn’t realize you found it offensive.”

  “Well, I do,” she said, pouring all of her anger into the words. “It reminds me of things I’d sooner forget.”

  “I can understand that. You are like us in many respects.”

  Anger flared again. He was trying to manipulate her. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend. We met back at the spaceport, remember?”

  “The Ryn?” She blinked back the moisture covering her eyes and looked more closely at the being before her. He was gray-skinned and had a beak for a nose. A prehensile tail lashed the air behind him. There was a smell about him, too: a smell that was inherent to his species.

  “It is you,” she said with some surprise, sensing his familiarity even though she’d never seen his face before.

  He nodded. “The name is Goure,” he said, trying to force a smile but clearly finding it difficult with her lightsaber still raised toward him. “Look, could we put that away for now? I think we might attract unwanted attention.”

  With some embarrassment, Tahiri realized that they were standing in a public access way. At the other end of the corridor, people were starting to gather, staring curiously at the Jedi and the Ryn. She quickly deactivated her lightsaber and reattached it to her belt.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, appalled by her foolishness. “I’m not thinking straight at the moment.”

  Goure shrugged good-naturedly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he said sotto voce. “Come, follow me and I’ll take us to a place where we won’t have an audience. But try not to make it seem as though you are following me, okay? I’m a servant; you must order me to lead.”

  She nodded slowly. “I was lost, and you are taking me home.”

  “Exactly.” He rearranged his body under the simple gray robes he wore so he was hunched forward, as though with age. “This way.”

  She followed him with head held high and her expression devoid of any of the emotions she’d felt just moments earlier. She pushed through the crowd at the end of the corridor, her cold stare daring anyone to obstruct her. It took all her control of the Force to placate the more curious, and the irony wasn’t lost on her that she couldn’t apply the same trick to herself. Behind the facade, her mind was still very much in turmoil.

  Goure led her through the corridors and malls of Salis D’aar, past floating statues and elegant fountains. Plant life encroached heavily on the city, thriving i
n the thick air and fertile soils. Tree trunks snaked through carefully arranged holes in the pavement and walls, their vine-covered coils diverting the eye from security checkpoints, public comm stations, and information outlets. In some places, Salis D’aar seemed so heavily overgrown that it looked like the jungle was taking over, but ferrocrete was strong and resisted the tide of root and tendril with stubborn defiance. The city would last awhile yet; it was civilization’s strongest bastion in its battle against nature.

  “Here,” Goure said, waving her ahead into a narrow corridor between two ornamental statues. She did as he told her without hesitation or question; he projected no sense of threat or danger. After looking up and down the corridor behind them, he followed. When inside, he flicked a switch; a small holoprojector flickered to life, covering the entrance with the illusion of solid wall.

  “It won’t actually keep anyone out,” Goure said, walking ahead of her along the corridor, “but it’ll at least stop them from stumbling in on us.”

  “Is security looking for me?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. This is nothing to do with you.” His tail coiled and uncoiled restlessly. “We just prefer not to leave too many odd connections in our wake, that’s all.”

  The room at the end of the corridor was empty apart from two simple chairs and a low box. Bare stone walls and a single, naked light source leant it a forbidding air, but Tahiri didn’t feel threatened by the Ryn at her back. He radiated nothing but surety and reliability.

  “Take a seat.” He fished around in the box and produced two scuffed metal cups and a bottle of water. Tahiri eased herself into the chair closest to the entrance, thankful to be resting her feet. She felt drained right to the very core of her being, as though she had been running for days.

  He offered her a cup of the water, which she gratefully accepted. It felt good and refreshing in her mouth, and she closed her eyes in appreciation as she sipped it.

  “What happened to your arms?” Goure indicated the scars showing beneath her thin tunic.

  “Nothing,” she answered uneasily, folding her arms in a way that hid the self-inflicted wounds from back on Mon Cal. There was nothing she could do to hide the marks on her forehead. “What time is it?” she asked to change the subject.