Refugee: Force Heretic II

by Sean Williams

The meld with Tahiri returned, faintly.

  “I’m making progress,” the girl said over the comlink. “I’ve got the cover off and I think I can—”

  Sparks flashed and Jaina received the sharp tang of burning wires through the Force. At the same time she felt the equally sharp stab of hopelessness as Tahiri realized she didn’t have a clue what to do next.

  “Tahiri, you’ve got to get out of there!”

  “No, there has to be a way!”

  “There isn’t! Now, move!”

  “I can do it, Jaina. I have to!”

  “Why? So you can die like Anakin?” The backlash of pain surprised Jaina and made her instantly regret her words. “Tahiri, I’m—”

  “You don’t trust me, do you, Jaina?”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Tahiri. Please, just—”

  “I can do it! I know I can.”

  “Can we argue about this later, Tahiri?”

  But again something dark and powerful broke the meld between them, its presence casting a black shape in Jaina’s mind.

  “Mon-mawl rrish hu camasami!”

  The words cut into Jaina like a jagged blade. “Tahiri!”

  “No!” Tahiri cried, her desperation shattering the fragile darkness. “Leave me alone!”

  Her will was not as strong as the darkness, though, and the broken pieces of the shadow reassembled, twice as powerful as it had been before.

  “Do-ro’ik vong pratte!”

  The voice over the comlink didn’t sound like Tahiri’s, but Jaina recognized the words. She’d heard it on the lips of her enemies many times in the past. It was a Yuuzhan Vong battle cry.

  “Riina?” Jaina asked.

  The voice changed to Basic with uncanny ease. “Anakin killed me—and now you want me dead, too! I won’t let that happen! Krel nag sh’n rrush fek!”

  “Wait, Riina!”

  It was too late: time had run out. The bomb went off with a muffled concussion that Jaina felt rather than heard. The floor bucked beneath her, throwing everyone to the ground. The lights went out; someone screamed.

  Jaina collected herself when the shaking died down. She frantically reached out into the darkness for Tahiri’s mind. No matter how much she tried, though, she couldn’t find it anywhere.

  Tahiri was gone.

  Wyn’s fear was strong in Jacen’s mind as he tracked her and her Chiss escort along the ice tunnels far below Csilla’s frozen surface. He sensed that she was frightened, but had nothing concrete on which to pin her concerns. Although she clearly didn’t like Chief Navigator Aabe, as yet he’d done nothing overt to threaten her.

  Let’s just hope it stays that way, he thought.

  “I don’t understand,” Irolia hissed from behind him. “Why would Aabe kidnap Assistant Syndic Fel’s daughter?”

  “I have no idea, Commander. All I do know is that he has taken her, and that we have to stop him before any harm comes to her.”

  “But how can you know this?” she asked. “This Force of yours is something we don’t have. How do I know you’re telling me the truth? For all I—”

  He motioned her to silence. They had reached an intersection, and his breath puffed into thick, frosty clouds as he peered around the corner. He didn’t have time to justify his actions to Irolia, or try to convince her of the existence of the Force. Wyn was close; he could feel her.

  The way ahead held a faint glimmer of light: the bubble of warmth and heat containing Aabe, the two guards, and Soontir Fel’s youngest daughter was moving rapidly away from them.

  “They’re heading for the iceway terminus,” Irolia said, looking past him.

  “Which is?”

  “An underground transport station. There are excavated tunnels through the bedrock, far below the ice. Carriages travel through them.”

  Jacen quickly considered their options. “Then we’ll just have to stop them before they reach it.”

  “Agreed—because if they manage to get onto a carriage, then they could be on the other side of the planet within an hour.”

  He turned to look at her. The Chiss commander was staring ahead with a determined expression, her blue skin and red eyes contrasting powerfully in the icy gloom. All suggestion of the skepticism she’d voiced just moments earlier appeared to have left her. Even if she wasn’t convinced about his motives, at least she was determined to help him get Wyn back in one piece.

  He felt vaguely sorry for her. She’d been put in charge of baby-sitting the visitors from the Galactic Alliance through Chiss space and on Csilla. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been betrayed by a senior officer, whose orders she hadn’t even thought to question. He could understand her wanting to fix the situation before word of her mistake spread.

  The light flickered and died at the end of the tunnel. At some point, he knew, he was going to have to try to get closer. He could think of no actual way to hide along the dark and icy corridor so that Aabe and the other guards wouldn’t see them, but he couldn’t afford to hold back, either. The longer he left it, the farther away Wyn became.

  “Come on, Commander. We’re going to have to run to catch them.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to? Running in these temperatures can be more draining than people realize.”

  “You just worry about keeping up.”

  He let the Force flow through him, guiding his footfalls and strengthening the muscles in his legs. His fatigue washed away, along with his concerns for Wyn and the others. He concentrated solely on running: a single, pure action that allowed him to focus his thoughts. What he would do when he caught up with Aabe, he didn’t rightly know. Nor did it matter. Nothing did. He existed simply to cross this short stretch of ice that separated Wyn from himself, and while he remained focused on that solitary task, he was able to do it with an athletic ease.

  Irolia matched his pace beside him, but with considerably more effort. By the time they reached the junction where the lit section had disappeared, her breathing was coming in long, deep gulps. She leaned against the nearest wall as Jacen peered around another corner. They seemed to be a lot closer now—so close, in fact, that Aabe was clearly distinguishable within the bubble of light ahead by virtue of the gleam off his scalp.

  “Are you okay to continue?” he whispered to Irolia.

  She nodded. “I am in perfect physical condition,” she said, wiping sweat from her forehead. “I could run the same distance three times over and still fight at the end of it.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Jacen said, “because that’s probably what you’re going to have to do.” He glanced around the icy corner again. “How far do you figure before they reach those carriages?”

  “There are only two more junctions between here and the iceway terminus.”

  “Then I guess we’d better get moving. Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “You just worry about keeping up,” she said.

  He smiled at the commander’s quip, then continued with his pursuit. He was more cautious this time, because they were well within sight of Aabe’s party. He didn’t know how well sound carried through the fields keeping the heat in, but he couldn’t afford to assume that their approach would be covered. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to penetrate the field walls around the bubble. Another two corners would give him and Irolia time to catch up as Aabe and Wyn reached the terminus, when they would be distracted and out of the fields.

  As Jacen drew closer, a faint hissing broke the silence. The sound came from the field walls as they swept over the icy surfaces around the bubble. Beneath the sound was a hint of voices, too low for him to catch anything more than broken fragments. From the handful of words he was able to make out, though, he knew that Wyn was starting to question Aabe’s intentions, asking why her father was having her transported via the iceways rather than the barge. Aabe muttered something that went unheard, as did Wyn’s response—although there was no mistaking the misgivings in the girl’s tone.

  They rounded one co
rner, then the second; all that lay between them and the iceway terminus now was a straight stretch of tunnel. Jacen and Irolia kept pace with the bubble, lurking just beyond the wash of light it cast. Jacen unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and held it ready, his thumb resting on the activation stud.

  The bubble dissolved as Aabe, the guards, and Wyn left the tunnel. Beyond them was the terminus—a much smaller space than Jacen had imagined. Long and narrow, it had a series of sliding panels set into the far wall, which Jacen presumed to be air locks leading to the carriages.

  Jacen and Irolia stopped at the end of the tunnel, watching quietly as Aabe and the others crossed the narrow room to one of the sliding doors. Only when one of these doors grated open did Wyn give in to the misgivings Jacen had heard in her voice.

  “I’d like to talk to my father,” she said, pulling away from the ex-Imperial and his Chiss sidekicks. “I want to know where he’s sending me.”

  “It’s a little late to ask that, don’t you think?” Aabe’s skull gleamed. His mouth, overshadowed by his large nose, curled into a menacing snarl.

  She shook her head uneasily. “This isn’t right,” she said, taking another step back. “You’re lying to me. My father wouldn’t ask me to be taken down here!”

  Aabe rounded on her in order to cut off her route to the exit. “And what possible reason would I have to lie to you, child? I am your father’s trusted servant. You know that. Why do you dishonor me with such accusations?”

  “Trusted servant?” she shot back, looking frightened but determined. “My father says he never even heard of you until you turned up on the Chiss border, looking for asylum. He thinks you’re a deserter!”

  Jacen could no longer see Aabe’s face, but his posture noticeably stiffened. “Your accusations grow with your hysteria, child,” he said frostily. “You should be mindful of the things you say.”

  “Do you deny it?” she continued, regardless of the obvious danger she was in.

  “It is irrelevant,” he replied, unclipping the holster at his waist. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not, and I’ll hear no more said about your father. His time is over. The CEDF has better things to do than pander to neighbors who can’t mind their own affairs. The sooner he and you are out of the way, the better it will be for all concerned.”

  Wyn backed away a few more steps, straight into the arms of one of the guards. Aabe drew his blaster and approached her.

  Jacen had heard enough. Before, it might have just been possible that Aabe was following orders, but now there was no mistaking his intentions.

  “I really think it’s in your best interest to lower that weapon and let the girl go, Chief Navigator,” Jacen said, activating his lightsaber as he stepped out from the shadowed corridor.

  Aabe spun around, redirecting his blaster’s aim at Jacen. Then, seeing Irolia with him, his face crumpled into a frown. “What is the meaning of this? I demand an explanation!”

  “Funny, but I was about to say exactly the same thing,” the commander said, drawing her own blaster.

  “I need explain nothing to you, Commander,” Aabe sneered. “I’m your superior officer. Remember? And I am ordering you to turn around and return to your normal duties.”

  “As an officer of the Expansionary Defense Force, I believe it is my duty to ensure the safety and security of the Chiss realm. That directive, as you are well aware, supersedes all others. It is my firm belief that I am following that directive right now.” Irolia raised her blaster and sighted Aabe along the barrel. “So, if you wouldn’t mind dropping your weapon, sir …”

  “You fool!”

  Jacen felt the Force rush through him an instant before Aabe fired. His instincts moved him forward, swinging his lightsaber up and across to intersect the bolt before it could hit Irolia. A split second later she, too, fired. Jacen didn’t hesitate: his lightsaber came down again, deflecting that bolt also.

  “What are you doing?” Irolia snapped.

  Jacen didn’t have time to explain to the commander that it was unnecessary for anyone to die; he was too busy advancing on Aabe as the chief navigator slowly retreated. The guards stood behind him, frozen with indecision.

  “You cowards!” Aabe yelled back at them. “He’s only a boy! Take him!”

  But the guards took another step away from him, making it clear to Jacen and Irolia that Aabe was on his own in this. When the commander indicated for them to lower their weapons, they did so without hesitation, laying them on the floor at their feet. Whether they had been part of the conspiracy or simply following orders was something that would have to be determined later.

  Realizing his situation, Aabe grabbed Wyn and shoved her forcibly between himself and Jacen; then he turned to run for the open iceway carriage door, his only chance at obtaining freedom. Jacen took three long strides to bring himself within reach of the fleeing man, his lightsaber raised, tensed and ready to strike.

  A single exertion of will, backed up by the Force, wrenched the carriage doors closed. Aabe crashed into them at full tilt, toppling back onto the ice at Jacen’s feet, his blaster flying out of his stunned grasp and clattering across the floor. Wyn was quick to pick it up and point it at him.

  “There’s nowhere to run,” Jacen said, the steady thrum of his lightsaber sounding in the cold air.

  He felt Wyn watching in amazement as he stood over Aabe, willing the man to give up. Defiance lingered in Aabe’s eyes, but then suddenly flickered and died. The man sagged back to the floor with a defeated sigh.

  Jacen stepped back, lowering his lightsaber, glad that the crisis was over—and that nobody had been hurt.

  He activated his comlink, and it bleeped immediately. It was his uncle.

  “Jacen? Is everything all right?”

  “It is now,” he answered.

  “And Wyn?”

  “She’s fine. I’ll fill you in on all the details later.”

  “Well done, Jacen. You’ve defused a potentially difficult situation.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Luke,” he returned, deactivating his lightsaber and reattaching it to his belt. Irolia was already busy speaking into a wall communicator, calling for backup. “How’s everything there?”

  “Under control. We’ve heard from Tekli; someone made a halfhearted attempt to break through Jade Shadow’s air lock, but they failed and haven’t come back. Port security is already looking into the incident. It looks like we’ve weathered the storm rather well, don’t you think?”

  As Jacen watched the guards hoist Aabe onto his feet, he found he could only nod in silent agreement. A failed attempt to put them out of the picture would almost certainly bring the Chiss more firmly behind them—as well as Fel. The real leaders behind the attempt—assuming Aabe wasn’t as high up as they went—would no doubt lie low for a while, fearing reprisals from either Chiss loyal to the existing command structure, like Irolia, or the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, which was bound to take an attack on peaceful diplomats poorly. It might also mean that the two-day deadline would be extended.

  “How long do you think before you’ll get back?” he asked his uncle.

  “Probably within the hour,” Luke said. “We’ll resume our search, then.”

  Jacen nodded to himself again, glad to be able to put the incident behind them and get back to work.

  “And Jacen?” Luke said. “Don’t assume that everything that happened here has been unimportant. The smallest action can have the largest consequences. The good work we’ve done today may have far-reaching consequences—consequences we can only guess at right now.”

  “I know, Uncle Luke,” Jacen said. “I’ll see you when you get back, okay?”

  “Take care, Jacen.”

  “You, too.”

  He closed the line and returned the comlink to his belt, reflecting upon the simple truth of his uncle’s words. He couldn’t help but wonder at what the consequences of this day would be. Perhaps saving Wyn would enable her to achieve her ambition o
f seeing Coruscant. One day, when the war was over, the girl could easily follow in her brother’s footsteps and leave Chiss space in favor of the Galactic Alliance. He sensed strength and determination in her, as well as a keen intellect. If she wanted to do something badly enough, he had no doubt that she would find a way.

  What will become of you, Wyn Fel? he wondered to himself. Only time would tell, he supposed—and if he could give her nothing else, he would do his best to give her that, at least. The time to realize her potential: her and the Chiss, as well as the galaxy itself.

  He shrugged off the train of thought, forcing himself back to the present. Wyn was standing to one side, the blaster in her hand trembling slightly. She was staring at him with something approximating awe.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  She nodded once. “A little shaken, but I’ll be okay.” She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. “Thank you for coming when you did. You were amazing!”

  He felt himself flush slightly, at the compliment as well as the girl’s obvious admiration for him that had prompted it. But he forced himself to ignore it. There were much more important things to concern himself with. Bigger than Wyn or Aabe—bigger even than himself. The search for Zonama Sekot was of paramount importance. Everything else was just a distraction.

  “All in a day’s work,” he told Wyn, with a smile that he hoped would hide his discomfort at her adoration. “The life of a Jedi is not a boring one.”

  * * *

  Mom? Mom!

  In the aftermath of the explosion, Jaina’s mind was filled with psychic pain. She sent her mind out among the wounded and dying, searching for her mother. She found her mother and father down in the thick of it, fighting their way through the panicked crowd, trying to get to where help was needed the most.

  Jaina sat up in the gloom of the room’s emergency lighting. The locker was filled with dust, but it had remained intact—just as Harris had anticipated it would. Malinza was climbing to her feet, shaking her head groggily. Vyram and Goure were clambering upright, too, both coughing violently as the dust caught in their throats. Salkeli lay curled in a ball, looking up with a grin on his face, triumphant that their best efforts to stop the bomb had failed. Harris remained where Jaina had left him: out cold in the corner.