Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Ascension

by Christie Golden

  She waited, enjoying playing him, enjoying his terror. Workan swallowed, reaching out in the Force to press calm upon his trembling body. Regaining a measure of the control that had enabled him to climb to the position of High Lord, he asked, “And who is that?”

  Her smile widened, and her blue face shone with happiness. “The Beloved Queen of the Stars,” Roki murmured.

  He had recovered sufficiently to let out a snort at that. “What kind of title is that? You’re insane!”

  She shook her head, long, flowing, blue-green tresses waving gently with the movement. “Oh, no, Workan. I just see farther than you. My vision,” she said, almost purring the words, “is vast. You will meet me … tomorrow. Yes?”

  “… Y-yes.”

  This could, thought Workan, work to his advantage. With Grand Lord Vol dead, he was, effectively, the highest-ranking Sith not only on Coruscant, but in the entire Lost Tribe. It was not official, of course. But it did not have to be. He was in charge of the single most vital mission the Sith had ever embarked upon. In the absence of a Grand Lord, no one would question his stepping into the role. At least temporarily. And as Workan had cause to know, temporary, with the right machinations, could be anything but.

  Workan did not know how Roki Kem had managed to defeat an unmatched Force-user such as Grand Lord Vol, and he could hardly ask her. He could only assume one of two things: either the Grand Lord had made a grave mistake that Roki could exploit, or else she was some kind of powerful Force-user herself. If the first, then she was merely arrogant. If the second … well, there was an old Lost Tribe saying: “The shadow of another keeps the sun from scorching.” While it would have been immensely gratifying to have achieved adulation and fame, there was much to be said for lurking in the shadows and letting someone else be the target.

  She had first warned him to stay out of her way. Now she wanted to meet with him.

  Who you will help me become.

  Now that the initial horror and shock had worn off, Workan found himself very curious as to what that might entail.

  She had proposed meeting at The Nook, a fashionable little grill tucked away within walking distance of the Senate that specialized in breakfast foods. It opened at four in the morning and stayed open till noon. Considering that Workan did not think he would have gotten any sleep anyway, he readily agreed. The sun had barely lightened the always-brown sky to a lighter shade of tan when he walked into the quaint little establishment. He was welcomed by name by a Twi’lek and ushered into an out-of-the-way booth.

  “Pleasure to serve you, sir,” she said as she poured him a most welcome cup of steaming black caf. “Will you be dining alone, or will someone be joining you?”

  “Senator Roki Kem will be arriving soon,” he said. Her eyes lit up.

  “Roki Kem? Really?”

  He felt annoyance at being so overshadowed, but reminded himself again of the old saying. He knew the moment when Roki entered from the sudden applause that erupted. Applause for a Senator? Here in a restaurant that one might expect to have seen its share of celebrities? Workan shook his head.

  “Please, please!” came the mellifluous voice, tinged with just the right amount of appreciation and embarrassment. “Thank you. I feel so welcome. Please, sit down and enjoy your breakfasts!”

  She slipped into the booth across from him, and even though he knew better than to be fooled by her sweet demeanor, he found himself smiling a little at her.

  “The peko peko egg omelet is very good here, and they have fresh brul juice,” he told her.

  “That sounds lovely,” Roki said, gracing the slightly flustered server with a beaming smile. As soon as the Twi’lek server had gone, Roki turned to Suldar, and the smile turned predatory.

  Shadow, indeed.

  “I am glad I did not have to eliminate you, as well,” she said.

  “I’m rather glad of that myself,” Workan replied, stirring powdered taka root into his caf. “We both have rather pressing schedules. Tell me what I can do to help you, Senator.”

  “Straight to the point,” she said. “I like that. I have waited long enough myself. What I want is easy to explain. I wish to rule.”

  Workan thought as he stirred. “I can manage that,” he said. “As you have no doubt suspected, it was my actions that ensured Padnel Ovin’s appointment to the interim position. Once you make it known that you are running for the position, I am certain your own popularity will propel you to leadership of the Galactic Alliance.”

  “I want that, yes,” said Roki, as if she had said she wanted both cream and taka root powder in her caf. “But I don’t want to wait two months for the election. I want it now. Within the next day or so, as soon as you can arrange it.”

  “I, uh …” He blinked, his thoughts racing, but not unpleasantly so. He had made Padnel, he could break Padnel. “I … think so, yes. I’ll get my legal scholars on it right away.”

  “Excellent. That’s just the start.”

  Workan took a long sip of his caf, using the Force to keep his hand from shaking. Start? Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance was a start?

  “I see,” he said. “And what is your next goal, after that one has been secured?”

  “First, Chief of State,” she said, ticking them off on her three-fingered hand. “Second, as I told you—Beloved Queen of the Stars. And finally, what is my due.”

  She leaned forward, green eyes wide, hair curling invitingly over her bare blue shoulders.

  “Goddess,” Roki Kem whispered, and smiled.

  ABOARD JADE SHADOW

  “SO,” BEN SAID. “THIS IS A LOT NICER THAN ZIOST. SHIP’S TASTE IN locales is improving.”

  “Or Abeloth’s,” Vestara said.

  The tension was thick on Jade Shadow. Chasing so many false leads had left them all feeling frustrated and as if they were wasting their time. When Natua had described the ruins of a temple that had closely matched Ben’s description of where he had first found Ship, they had all felt a resurgence of hope that they might actually find that elusive and dangerous vessel. And with it, Abeloth.

  This time, Abeloth would not be challenged only by Luke, Ben, Vestara, and the Lost Tribe, who’d had their own agenda. She would be opposed down to the final breath, the last drop of blood, of nearly every Jedi in the galaxy. And in that battle, even so ancient and powerful a being as Abeloth could not stand. It had taken betrayal and isolation of the worst sort to cripple the Jedi before; now, standing as a united front, they would be the victors, Ben was certain. And when they were, they would return to Coruscant and cleanse that world of the Sith infestation.

  Ben was proud of how Vestara was handling the situation. And he could tell that finally, the Grand Master himself was starting to believe what Ben had known all along: that Vestara Khai, though born and raised Sith, could be—no, had been—persuaded to turn her back on the darkness and bravely step into the light.

  Ben’s arm was draped loosely around Vestara’s shoulders as Natua Wan brought the Jedi fleet up to speed on Upekzar. Natua’s long hours spent in the Temple library studying Sith worlds and their histories had made her the resident expert on this venture, and Luke had insisted that she be the one to brief her fellow Jedi. Vestara might know more about the Sith mind-set, but Natua had turned her fierce determination toward learning everything she could about their ancient habitations.

  Ben and Vestara, along with Jaina, had been the first to hear about what was possibly the first real break they’d had in a long time. He listened with half an ear as Natua filled in the rest of the fleet on the Dream Singers, the lava caves, and the subterranean hangar that had once contained Sith training vessels—and might again.

  When she had finished, Luke spoke to his Jedi. “This is not the first time several Jedi have worked together on a single goal,” he said. “It is the first time, however, that so very many of us—almost our entire number—have done so. Natua has outlined our twin objectives: to explore the volcanic caves where the Sith held their ri
tuals, and to investigate the nearby habitation where Ship might be lurking. All ships, plot a course that will place us equidistant between those two sites. We’ll meet there, and I’ll give everyone their orders.”

  He turned to the other three. “Natua, I have a couple more questions for you. Ben, Vestara, you two head to the lockers and get ready. If Ship is down there, we’ll need to move quickly.”

  Although this was the third time Vestara had prepared to visit a formerly Sith-ruled world, she felt more nervous than she had anticipating landing on Korriban. One reason, she knew, was because the last time she had set foot on such a planet, she had been attacked by and forced to kill her own father.

  But the second reason was because when she had visited Korriban and Dromund Kaas … she had been a Sith, visiting a Sith world.

  And now, she wasn’t sure what she was.

  Vestara seldom cried. Her father had thought it weakness, so she had simply learned not to weep. That night, after his death, lying in Ben’s arms, she had felt completely shattered. She had not had the strength—nor, frankly, the desire—to shut herself off from him anymore. He had held her while she wept and, afterward, as they drifted to sleep. There had been only kisses and loving words, nothing more; Ben would never press his advantage when she was so vulnerable. It was part of what made him Ben; what made him a Jedi.

  But she, daughter of the Sith, had not been so sure that was what she had wanted. Was now not sure that any of what had passed between them that night was what she wanted.

  It had felt good to truly open herself to Ben in the Force, and later, when speaking with Luke, as well. Her decision had been genuine. It was too debilitating to be a Sith, she had decided. Too hard to constantly keep her guard up, to function alone, even in the midst of a society such as the Lost Tribe. The isolation she had felt at the death of her father—

  —Unbearable. As she recalled the moment when Gavar Khai had fallen beneath her lightsaber, Vestara reached out and squeezed Ben’s hand. He turned to look at her, lips curving in a smile as he began to don his protective mask. She felt a wave of love and support from him; not a crashing tsunami, but the constant, gentle flow of a ceaseless tide. Vestara sent back appreciation and warmth as real as his own, then squeezed and let go of his hand. For a moment, the wavering she had felt since that awful night was steadied. She was where she was supposed to be.

  “So,” Ben asked Vestara as she put on her own mask, “how are you feeling about going after Ship?”

  It was a fair question. Vestara collected her thoughts before replying. “As long as Abeloth is alive and has the power to command him, Ship will obey her. Therefore, he must be destroyed.”

  “Or commandeered,” Ben said.

  She gave him a sharp look. “He won’t obey Jedi.”

  “Not even if we bend him to our will?”

  “If you did that, you wouldn’t be a Jedi,” she said. “The only way to control Ship is through strong, aggressive emotions. Desire, anger—not very Jedi-like.”

  “How will you feel if we have to destroy him?”

  “Honestly? I will feel regret. Ship was the—well, entity I guess is the word—who took me off Kesh for the first time in my life. Can you imagine being planet-bound until you were fourteen, Ben? Never seeing your world from anything but the back of a winged creature? And being told that your fate, your destiny, was not on a single world, but hundreds?” She shook her head. “Ship changed my life, Ben. Yes, if we destroy him, I will feel regret. But I’ll still do it.”

  He had paused in his preparations and now simply stared at her, his blue eyes crinkling with the smile his mask hid.

  “I wish Dad could hear you say that.”

  “He won’t have to,” Vestara said, adjusting the last snap. “I’ll show him.”

  It was almost like hitting a physical wall.

  They all felt it, down to the last Jedi Knight. Luke could sense the dark side here more strongly than anywhere else he could recall. And even he found his stomach clenching and his skin erupting in goose-flesh; he, who had looked into the face of the dark side and defeated it more times than he could recall.

  The evil was not merely ancient. It was—

  “Distilled,” Jaina said, stepping beside him as they looked at the ruins of the city before them. Directly above the city and the dormant volcano a mere three kilometers away roiled an ugly black cloud. No simple storm, this; it did not drift from its site, and its gray-black depths occasionally flashed with blue Force lightning. Wind blew from the city, strong and foul smelling and cold. The storm, and the dark-side energies, were here.

  Just here.

  “A good word,” said Kyle Katarn. “It’s … coalesced here, somehow.”

  “Well, Natua did say that this was the main city, and the cave system their primary ritual site,” Jaina offered.

  Luke shook his gray-blond head slowly. “Then why didn’t it concentrate behind us, in the tunnels, as well? Why here, specifically—in such a clearly defined area? You can feel it—it’s like standing with your back to the summer and your face toward the winter.” Every instinct, developed over forty years of doing battle with the dark side in one form or another, was screaming at him to be careful. He had a very bad feeling about this.

  “Perhapz Ship’z presence has awakened something long asleep,” offered Saba. She stood at her full imposing height, eyes narrowed, all her senses extended.

  “That’s a cheery thought,” muttered Kyp Durron.

  “But a wise one,” Jaina said. “Booby-trapping an abandoned city sounds exactly like something the Sith would do.”

  Natua had speculated that the rhak-skuri were found only in the tunnels, but Luke saw no point in taking any risks. He had ordered that they all wear masks. Now they stood in a small crowd, facing the abandoned city of the Sith and the towering mountain that had, tens of thousands of years before, been an active volcano.

  Ben and Vestara stepped quietly beside him. Vestara glanced around, seeing more Jedi gathered in one spot than she had probably thought existed in the whole galaxy. Even as she watched them with eyes of aspiration, Luke sensed the unease fluttering inside her. He knew what the pair wanted of him. They wanted him to give them an important role—something that would show the dozens of Jedi gathered here that their Grand Master trusted the former Sith.

  He wanted to do that, too. But Luke knew he couldn’t.

  Luke called for their attention, then began splitting up the Jedi into small groups and giving them instructions. He said nothing to Vestara and Ben. They waited with admirable patience for their instructions, and when none came, Ben approached his father. Two-thirds of the Jedi who had landed were moving off toward the northeast, while the rest returned to their vessels.

  Ben strode up to his dad and pointed at Kyp Durron, who was already powering up his StealthX. “What’s going on? Where are they going?”

  “To provide air support, should it be needed. If Ship is here, and manages to defeat us, we’ll need a second line of defense. Under no circumstances can he be allowed to return to Abeloth.”

  “Okay, that makes sense,” Ben said, glancing between his father and Jaina. “So I guess you want Vestara and me to go with the rest of the Jedi.”

  “No,” Luke said. He could almost feel Vestara’s heart sink. “I need you, Natua, and Vestara to start exploring the caves. You might find something that could help us.”

  Natua smiled pleasantly. “Vestara will be of great help if we come across anything written in the ancient Sith language,” she said. “And she might recognize many things that would mean nothing to the rest of us.”

  “In other words,” Ben snapped, “you don’t trust her, so you’re finding a job that doesn’t force her to choose between us and Ship.”

  “That’s not true,” Natua started to say, but Vestara placed a hand on the Falleen’s arm.

  “Yes, it is,” she said, looking at Luke evenly. “And he’s right to do so. You can’t risk anything going wrong if
you run across Ship. And the truth of the matter is, I can help if we run across any Sith artifacts. I can help a great deal. So the logical position for me is to send me with a small group to explore the caves, where I can be an asset, rather than track down Ship, where I might be a liability. I would have made the same decision.”

  “Yeah?” Ben was still upset. “Well, I wouldn’t have.”

  “You’re not the Grand Master,” Vestara said. “He can’t afford to trust me.”

  “Vestara,” said Luke, and his voice and demeanor were kind, “it really isn’t a matter of trust—not this time. Nor about your feelings toward Ship.”

  She gave him a skeptical glance. “Think about it for a moment,” he continued. He wanted her to understand why he was doing this; if she understood his reasoning and agreed with it, she would take another step along the path to the light. “We all know how seductive the pull of the dark side can be. And you grew up steeped in it. Now you’ve made the decision to turn your back on the dark side—and I know, believe me, how hard that can be. If I let you come with us, you’re going to be tempted as never before. It’s not just Ship—it’s the whole miasma of the place. I’ve never seen anything like it, and that makes me very wary of it.”

  “I have been to Korriban and Dromund Kaas,” she said. Her voice was calm, but Luke could feel her disappointment, her—shame?—at being thought so weak and untrustworthy. “I did not falter there, did I?”

  “No,” Luke agreed readily. “You didn’t. And that’s why I’m giving you a chance at all to become a Jedi. But this isn’t a fair test of your will—not right now. It would be like asking a newly recovering spice addict to go to a party where the stuff was everywhere.”

  “I will have to do so eventually, if I am to become a Jedi. I cannot—I will not—hide away simply to avoid challenges.”

  “You’re not. You’ve already faced two very strong tests. You knew that even Master Kyle Katarn fell to the dark side on Dromund Kaas. It’s because I do believe you have a chance that I don’t want you anywhere near that place. I don’t want to set you up to fail. Trust me, the last thing I want right now is to have to cut you down in front of my son—or have Ben forced to make that choice.”