Refugee: Force Heretic II

by Sean Williams

  I should have known better …

  Jaina struggled to get a grip on the world around her as suffocating folds of unconsciousness tried to drag her back down. The only signal she received from her body was that of a burning sensation between her shoulder blades, where she’d been shot. She suspected that she hadn’t been seriously hurt, but the blaster’s stun setting had been on the high side, and her nervous system was still a bit scrambled.

  When the darkness finally began to recede and she managed to haul herself out into daylight, she couldn’t tell if weeks or minutes had passed. Moaning, she tried to move, but found that Salkeli had bound her arms and legs tightly together. There was a translucent hood over her head, too.

  “I see you’re awake,” she heard him say from close by, his voice raised over the steady whining of his land-speeder’s motor. From the way the world bumped and slewed beneath her, she guessed that she was slumped on the reclined seat of the vehicle. Despite her situation, she actually found this thought reassuring; it suggested that she hadn’t been out too long, after all.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

  “To meet someone.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s not important. He has money, and that’s all that concerns me right now.”

  She reached into herself to find her still center, hoping to pluck his intentions directly from his mind, but her focus was scattered by the pain and disorientation.

  “You betrayed them,” she said disgustedly.

  “Do you mean Freedom?”

  “You sold them out.”

  “They did it to themselves. I mean, what do they expect? You go up against the big cannons, you have to expect to get shot.”

  “But you were the one pulling the trigger.”

  “Better that than be on the receiving end. Besides, if they hadn’t caused so much trouble, this might never have happened.”

  “So they were getting close to someone?”

  “You really think you’re going to get any information out of me?” He laughed. “I don’t think so, Jedi.”

  She tried again to use the Force and this time felt a flicker of response. She clutched at it as though it were a life raft. “You could just release me,” she said, putting as much persuasion as possible behind the words. “I’m of no importance—”

  “You’re right,” he said. “So I might as well shoot you now and be done with it.”

  She heard him pull the blaster from its holster.

  “No, wait!”

  The bolt took her in the shoulder, hurling her again into darkness.

  Hundreds of thousands of stars.

  It was easy to say the words, but much more difficult to comprehend what they actually meant. On a map, the Unknown Regions comprised only 15 percent of the total volume of the galaxy; but when that 15 percent became the search area for something as small as a planet—which, on a cosmic scale, was much, much smaller than a needle in a haystack—the true immensity of the task became all too apparent.

  And they had to do it in just two days!

  Jacen concentrated on scouring through data Saba and Danni had discovered, while Wyn worked on the search algorithm. There were thousands of mission reports to scan through. Wandering asteroids and close encounters with comets were common, and it wasn’t always easy to distinguish these from a mysterious planetary appearance. He soon lost track of all the unfamiliar names among the thousands of people and places he came across.

  “Who’s this Jer’Jo Cam’Co who keeps cropping up in the records?” he asked Wyn.

  The girl looked up and shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “Jer’Jo Cam’Co was one of our founding syndics,” Irolia said from where she’d kept patiently out of the way while Wyn and Jacen worked. “He proposed the Expansionary Defense Fleet after a series of exploratory expeditions turned up numerous vital resources.”

  Jacen nodded. That would explain why the man’s name was on so many of the older reports. There were at least seven vessels named after him, and two systems. There had been no mention of him in any of the old or recent Republic records—which only went to show just how much there was still to learn about the Chiss.

  It amused him, therefore, when Wyn demonstrated that the ignorance worked both ways.

  “Tell me,” she said, “what’s it like on Coruscant?”

  Jacen did his best to describe the capital world as he remembered it. His recollections were tainted by his recent experiences with the Yuuzhan Vong, however, and the knowledge that so much that had been beautiful was now lost or sullied in his memories. It made him sad to think of the former Imperial Palace in ruin, or the Monument Plaza turned into yorik coral fields, but they were very real possibilities. And the saddest thing of all was that even if the Galactic Alliance defeated the Yuuzhan Vong tomorrow, the actual damage inflicted upon Coruscant might never be undone. Memories could be all that remained to future generations.

  Wyn listened soberly, only occasionally interrupting with a question. The idea of a world devoid of natural life, on which most people lived underground, didn’t seem to surprise her as he thought it might. But then, perhaps her world wasn’t all that different. On Coruscant, the bedrock was covered with city; on Csilla it was ice, but the effect was essentially the same.

  “I think I’d like to go there someday,” she said when he’d finished talking. “When the war is over, of course. I’ll see if I can get Father to let me take Starflare, our family yacht. I’m licensed to fly her, you know—not that I get much of a chance because Cem’s always taking her out!”

  She was probably fishing for a personal invite from him to show her around the place sometime, but he refused the bait. He smiled, saying nothing.

  “Oh well. If Saba and Danni are right then I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.” She went on when he frowned at her. “Sometimes they talk about stuff when they forget I’m there.” She paused, looking uncomfortable. “You really think there’s a chance that we won’t be able to beat the Yuuzhan Vong?”

  Jacen nodded slowly. “It’s a very real possibility, Wyn, yes.”

  She nodded also, equally as slowly, but infinitely more sadly—as only a teenager who’d been told she might not have long to live could. “Sometimes I think—” She stopped in midsentence, dropping her gaze. The notion obviously scared her.

  “Sometimes you think what, Wyn?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “No one cares what I think, anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Jacen said soberly.

  She looked up again, flashing an appreciative smile. “Sometimes I think that the sooner we can be rid of the Yuuzhan Vong, the better. I don’t want what happened to Coruscant to happen here, Jacen. I think we should do whatever we have to to make sure of that.”

  “Even if it means joining up with us?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Unfortunately, though, Dad and I are in the minority there. Most people believe that the Yuuzhan Vong would strike twice as hard if they found out we’d sided with you. Others just worry that you will corrupt us with your ways, making it easier for the Yuuzhan Vong to walk all over us when the time comes. And Jag’s behavior has only helped support this argument, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean? What about Jag’s behavior?”

  “Jag and his squadron were supposed to return months ago,” she explained. “To some, the fact that he hasn’t only proves that you’ve been a bad influence on him. He would never have gone off for so long before.”

  “I wasn’t aware that this was a problem,” Jacen said, wondering if Jaina had any idea, either. “But I can say that he’s been a great help to us in the fight against the enemy. I hope your people realize that.”

  “That’s just it, though. Because he hasn’t reported back as he was supposed to, no one really knows exactly what he’s been doing.”

  “Maybe he’s just been too busy fighting the Yuuzhan Vong to communicate.”

  “Maybe,”
Wyn said. “Or maybe he’s just been spending a little too much time with his new girlfriend.”

  Jacen studied her curiously for a few seconds. “How could you possibly know about that?”

  “I didn’t say he hadn’t reported in at all, just that he hadn’t reported in as he was supposed to.” She grinned impishly. “That’s an important difference for the Chiss, you know.”

  Her expression was one of exaggerated innocence mixed with mischievousness. And her smile left no doubt in Jacen’s mind that the girl knew that Jag’s girlfriend was in fact Jacen’s own sister. “Well, perhaps he might prefer his private life to remain private,” he returned in a tone that said this was a path he was not prepared to take.

  Her eyes twinkled; she knew how to press people’s buttons. “Hey, if he’s sweet on her, then that’s just fine by me. It keeps him out of my hair for a while, at least. He can be such a pain.”

  Despite her obvious intelligence, comments such as this only served to remind Jacen of just how young she really was—hovering as she was on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood. He didn’t doubt that she loved Jag, but she was clearly unimpressed by her older brother’s achievements at the same time.

  “What about your father?” Jacen asked, moving the subject along. “What does he think?”

  “Well, he’s been something of a disruptive influence himself,” she said. “The Chiss don’t like to use droids in combat, arguing that they’re too slow and vulnerable. Dad agrees mostly, but not all the time. He says, um, that ‘expendability can be a deciding factor in a war.’ He has a team of engineers working on a prototype droid fighter that should—”

  She stopped abruptly when Irolia pointedly cleared her throat. The commander stared warningly at Jacen, her expression telling him quite clearly that she didn’t for a moment believe that he was asking such questions out of idle interest.

  “I’m sorry,” he put in quickly, directing his apology to both of them. “I shouldn’t have asked. My mission here is to find Zonama Sekot, not to pry into your affairs.” Then to Wyn specifically, he added, “You’ve been a lot of help, Wyn, and I’m grateful for that. I’d hate for you to get into any trouble because of me.”

  “I won’t,” she said, offering a fleeting, somewhat chastened glance to Irolia. “Perhaps we should change the subject, though.”

  The two of them returned to the holodisplay before them.

  “How’s that algorithm coming along, anyway?” Jacen asked after a moment of studying the data. “You almost there?”

  “It’s ready to roll. All you need to do is give me the constraints.”

  “As we discussed earlier: any system that has gained an extra, habitable world in the last sixty years should be flagged for our attention. If Danni’s right, that should narrow our search dramatically. Can you do that?”

  “Of course.” The girl bent her head to the task, not looking up as footsteps approached across the library floor.

  Jacen didn’t need to turn, either, to know who it was; he could tell both from the way that Commander Irolia instantly snapped to attention, and from the hostility the man radiated as he entered the room.

  “At ease, Commander,” Chief Navigator Aabe said.

  Jacen and Wyn swiveled around to face him.

  The bald man glided smoothly to the table, flanked by two Chiss guards. He walked to where Wyn was sitting and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your father has asked me to fetch you.”

  The girl looked worried. “It was an honest mistake, mentioning the droids,” she said. “I swear. If you’ll just let me stay to—”

  “This has nothing to do with that, child.” Aabe’s voice was firm. “But disobeying his instructions won’t make him any more pleased with you, will it?”

  She sagged into herself, and then stood. “Sorry, Jacen,” she said, nervously glancing down to him. “Good luck with the search, though.”

  “Thanks.” He watched, unable to protest, as Aabe led her from the room. “Hopefully you’ll get the chance to come visit me at my home someday.”

  She briefly smiled back at him as the door closed between them. Then she was gone, leaving him alone with Commander Irolia. The commander sat down wearily, her red eyes avoiding his. He sensed that she, too, didn’t like the way in which Wyn had been whisked out of the room.

  Nothing was said, but he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of misgivings about what had just taken place. Something didn’t feel right, somehow.

  Wyn’s search was indeed ready to roll, as promised. He called up a list of references on his datapad and considered where to start. He sat as though he was deep in thought for several minutes, but for once he wasn’t thinking about Zonama Sekot.

  He unclipped his comlink from his belt and turned away from Irolia.

  “Uncle Luke? Can you hear me?” He kept his voice and the volume of the comlink down to a minimum.

  “I hear you, Jacen. Have you found something?”

  “Not yet. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Everything’s fine. We’re still on the ice barge, not far from the spaceport. We should be back within two hours.” There was a slight pause. “Is everything all right at your end?”

  “Well, something odd just happened. Do you know if Soontir Fel has been in touch with Chief Navigator Aabe in the last half hour or so?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. He’s been with us the whole time.”

  Aabe had lied about being sent by Fel to collect Wyn. But why? Jacen thought hard. What was Aabe up to? he wondered. To isolate Jacen, perhaps? He looked over to Commander Irolia. She was sat perfectly still, silently watching him. He sensed nothing untoward in the tone of her thoughts—no anticipation, no nervousness—and there was nothing in the Force to suggest she was about to attack him. The threat had to be directed elsewhere. But where?

  “Jacen?” His uncle sounded concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s probably nothing,” he answered. “It’s just that—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, however, a sense of extreme alarm surged through the Force. It hadn’t come from Luke, either, but rather from someone close to his uncle. And tangled up in the thought was an impression of a cold, white wasteland and howling winds.

  “We’re under attack!” came the urgent cry over the comlink.

  “Aunt Mara!” Although she was thousands of kilometers away, he found himself instinctively jumping to his feet and going for his lightsaber.

  Irolia stood also, startled by Jacen’s inexplicable outburst, automatically reaching for her own weapon.

  “What’s going on?” she asked anxiously, clearly confused.

  Jacen ignored her.

  “Uncle Luke! Aunt Mara!” he called into the comlink. “Answer me!”

  It could have only been a few seconds before his uncle replied, but it felt like eons of tortured silence to Jacen.

  “Jacen, I can’t talk now,” Luke said, voice crackling.

  Then he was alone, desperately wanting to know exactly what had happened, but understanding that it could be a while before he found out. There was betrayal in the air, so thick and cloying that he felt for a moment as though he couldn’t breathe.

  “May the Force be with you,” he muttered quietly to his uncle, reluctantly releasing the handgrip of his lightsaber. His thoughts turned to Wyn, wherever she was. “And you.”

  * * *

  Jaina’s eyes opened to bright light. She winced and recoiled from the sudden rush of information.

  “Where am I?” she croaked, squinting around as she tried to sit up. Just these simple tasks caused every muscle in her body to cry out in pain, and she fleetingly wished she’d remained unconscious.

  She appeared to be in a study of some kind, although the details were still hazy. The smell of leather was strong in her nostrils, and her questing fingers quickly discovered the plush couch beneath her.

  “Welcome back, Jaina.”

  She turned slightly in the direction of t
he voice and made out a vague, green-faced blur standing by what appeared to be a door. She hadn’t really needed to look, though; she knew who the voice belonged to.

  “Salkeli, you treacherous little—”

  “It’s not there,” someone else said when her hand crept down to her side in search of her lightsaber. The voice was familiar, but a name didn’t immediately spring to mind. “It’s all right. No harm will come to you—if you behave yourself, that is.”

  She felt naked without her lightsaber, especially in such a weakened state. Two stun bolts so close together had left her nervous system profoundly scrambled. Her eyes were only slowly remembering how to focus. Her lightsaber wasn’t all that was missing, either; her comlink was gone, along with everything else that might have enabled her to call for help.

  She forced herself to sit up straighter, turning to face the second person. He, too, was just a blur, but he wasn’t to know that.

  “Salkeli said someone wanted to talk to me,” she said. “I presume that someone is you.”

  Whoever he was, he was seated behind a wide desk and dressed in richly red garments. “You presume correctly.”

  “So where exactly am I?” she asked again, glancing around the confines of the room, hoping for something familiar to fall into place.

  “You are in my private chambers,” the man answered. “These rooms are soundproofed and protected against all forms of electronic infiltration. The door is blast-proof, and its lock can only be opened by my thumbprint.” The leather of his chair squeaked beneath him as he leaned back into it, obviously trying to exude a calm and confident air. “Trust me when I say that you will not be leaving here without my consent.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that impression,” she said, looking around again. Her depth of field was gradually returning, allowing her to make things out more clearly. The study was lavishly appointed; polished wood cupboards containing delicate crystal ornaments—small glasses and bowls, mostly, some of them veined with bright colors—lined the walls. The beauty of the objects, however, was somewhat diminished by Salkeli standing in front of them, his green face staring back at her with an expression of extreme smugness.