Outcast

by Aaron Allston

  “Except for the other lies. Here’s the next one. Look!” He gestured at the exit. Most of the Kel Dors followed his gaze, then looked back at him, confused.

  “Blast doors,” Ben said, as if explaining to a none-too-bright classroom of younglings. “The lie that these big doors were made here. Your foundries do fine for recycling metal containers and making metal parts. But they’re not big enough to build blast doors. The big pieces had to come from an industrial-sized metal plant. And they’re too big to fit down your little tunnel. So where did they come from?

  “There’s lie number three, the really big one. That lie says the tunnel you’ve been using for shipments, two hundred kilometers of pure tedium, is in any way necessary. It’s not.

  “Here’s why. Lie number four. The lie that if the bad thing happens and the Baran Do are wiped out up top, you’ll wait for the dust to settle, then begin teaching new sages by telepathy. No, you won’t. The technique doesn’t exist. If it did, the Hidden One would have issued his orders to the surface by telepathy, not by comlink. Those blast doors came down by bigger tunnels, the first tunnels dug down to this place, and if the bad thing happened, you were going to get back to the surface by those tunnels and spread out to begin your teaching.

  “Those are the lies most of you have lived with down here for I don’t know how many years. Probably only the Hidden One and the

  first generation of Baran Do dead sages know where the big tunnel is. But it’s here, and now you need it.” Ben glared, defiant, at the Hidden One.

  The Hidden One tried again to stand. Ithia attempted to hold him in place but then relented, and the aged Kel Dor got to his feet. He faced Ben, unbowed, unrelenting. “Then you have killed us all, not just yourself. I will not give up the secrets of this place. Nor will anyone else.”

  Undismayed, Ben stared at him. “So your pride is more important than your mission. The fact that you rule here and would be just another retired Master up there means nearly fifty of your followers have to die.”

  The Hidden One glowered but did not answer.

  Burra did. His expression sorrowful, he stepped forward. “The tunnel out is just above the garment storeroom.”

  The Hidden One turned on him, his eyes eloquent with the betrayal he felt. “Burra, not you.”

  “The ceiling there is synthstone, artfully detailed to match the natural stone around it. A few blows with chisels will reveal a sliding hatch. Above it is a turbolift chamber. Its generator will need maintenance before it can be activated.”

  The Hidden One just stared at him. Then, with slow, halting steps, he turned toward the exit from the chamber.

  The boy, Wyss, came forward to tuck himself under the Hidden One’s arm and support him on his walk.

  It was as Burra said. A few minutes with mining tools broke away the veneer of synthstone, revealing a door mounted in the ceiling and a control panel beside it. The control panel, a single mechanical switch, had no lights or readouts to indicate whether it was functional, but Burra had no doubts. “It triggers a capacitance charge, which opens the door.”

  And so it did. Once the switch was flipped, the doors slid open and air, kept contained and musty for some sixty years, flowed down into the caverns of the seed of the Baran Do.

  As they waited for Burra and others to get the generator in the chamber above operational, Luke took Ben aside. “You acted, well, unilaterally.”

  “He wasn’t going to change, Dad. The only other thing we could have done would be to make the others turn on him and force the information from him. Would that have been better?”

  “No. It would have been shattering for them. But the Hidden One, after a night’s sleep, might have reconsidered. You took that choice away from him.”

  “Yes, I did. It solved the problem. It didn’t kill anybody. It spilled out some nasty truths that they all needed to hear. Dad, sometimes you shouldn’t wait that extra day. Sometimes you have to cut the other guy’s arm off.”

  “Yes, if the Force guides you to do so. Did the Force guide you to do that?”

  “I’m … not sure.” Finally Ben did look a little contrite. “Was it the wrong thing to do?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, good. A really useful answer for once.”

  Luke grinned.

  “Dad, you had added it all up, too, hadn’t you? The tunnel size, the blast doors, the telepathy …”

  “Yes.”

  “So what I did really didn’t shock you. You knew I wasn’t sealing us in forever.”

  “Yes. And even if it was the wrong thing, it clearly wasn’t very wrong. Add it to everything you did right while we were here, and you’re still very much ahead of the game.” Luke reached over and affectionately mussed Ben’s hair.

  “Dad, the hair.”

  The turbolift carried the Skywalkers and the first few exploratory Baran Do one kilometer straight up. It ended in a large chamber packed with cloth-shrouded speeders, most of them seven decades or more old, and a ramp to a surface-level door. The capacitance charge on that door worked as well, and soon they were at the top of the ramp, staring up into the starry sky of Dorin, the black eyes of the neighboring black holes on either side.

  Ben’s planetary positioning system datapad put them at about thirty kilometers west of Dor’shan. With Ithia’s blessing, they unshrouded a speeder, poked at the engine and connections to make sure they were in good working order, and started up the vehicle. Within minutes, they were nearing Dor’shan’s outskirts.

  “Are we going to stay and offer them any help?” Ben asked.

  Luke shook his head. “We may stay for a day or two and actually relax, but they don’t need help. Mistress Tila Mong is capable of handling things among the living, and Charsae Saal and Ithia among the formerly dead. And really, I doubt they want our help right now. I suspect they would be happier not seeing us for a while.”

  “You’re probably right. What’s going to happen to the Hidden One?”

  Luke thought about that for a few moments, searching among his feelings, his knowledge of the way such Force societies operated, his sense of the future. “One of two things, probably. If he gets better, if he finds a new direction for his original goal, he may end up distributing the archives of his Order, or maybe organizing groups of Baran Do to go out into the galaxy the way Master Plo Koon did. If not, if he doesn’t get better … well, he’ll probably stay in those caverns, maintaining them as a hideaway for the Baran Do. The place will just be a bit less secure than it used to be.”

  “I wish I could feel happy for him.”

  “Feel happy about the others.”

  “Hey, there’s something I’ve been meaning to do for you. I’ve been practicing while you weren’t around.”

  Luke shot his son a suspicious look. “Go ahead.”

  Ben pulled his breath mask free and took a deep breath of the helium-rich Dorin atmosphere. “ ‘Where fields once grew, a road runs through, and buildings hide the sun,’ ” he sang, his voice as high and ridiculous as that of an animated Ewok in a children’s broadcast.

  “Ben, don’t.”

  “ ‘Where grass of green could once be seen, are only gray and brown.’ ”

  “I hate that song under normal circumstances.”

  “ ‘My childhood home, while I did roam, became a place of sadness.’ ”

  “I’ll just wait until you pass out.”

  “ ‘Now I return, my heart does yearn for times of light and gladness.’ ”

  “You’ll make your throat sore.”

  CALRISSIAN-NUNB MINES, KESSEL

  It had been a couple of days since the pilots’ expedition into Kessel’s caverns, and a day since the last of the caverns not prematurely detonated had self-destructed. Things were different now.

  The groundquakes had ceased. Lando’s seismologists had concluded that the surface effects of cavern collapse were over for the time being. Mine workers and other inhabitants of Kessel were being returned in stages from
the garrison moon.

  There were no more bogeys to be seen. It seemed that their continued existence had depended on the functioning of the mysterious machinery that lined those caverns.

  Lando and Tendra had filed a report about the whole affair with the Galactic Alliance government, and had been castigated for acting without consulting the authorities. Lando’s company was now under strict orders not to blow up anything else on Kessel until government scientists had the opportunity to make a thorough study of the planet’s underworld—a task, Han knew, that would require lifetimes just to generate preliminary conclusions.

  But at the moment, no one was worried about extinct bogeys, recovering subterranean ecosystems, or the dictates of the GA government. Today a celebration filled the cafeteria of the main building, a chamber that had been little used in recent weeks.

  Pilots of the three phases of the operation, seismologists, mechanics, returning miners, a recently arrived archaeological team, spouses, and children filled the room, crowding the tables. Animated, cheerful conversation, for so many years and in recent weeks a rarity on Kessel, rose as a din.

  At the first table sat the Calrissians, the Solos, Nien Nunb, and several of their friends. Tendra raised a glass. “Here’s to no more groundquakes, ever.”

  The others raised glasses and drank. Leia, her cheeks flushed, set her tumbler down and turned to Lando. “Is that just a hope, or is that the way it is?”

  “The way it is.” Clearly deeper into his cups than Leia, he leaned toward her and almost lost his balance; he braced himself against the table and sat upright again. “More caverns that have been weakened by the explosives might collapse, but the likelihood of them interacting in any way is basically nil. And the Great Kessel Fault remains stable.”

  Han gave Lando a nonchalant shrug. “Stable or not, it’s all your fault. Yours and Tendra’s and Nien Nunb’s.”

  “That’s right, old buddy. All our fault. We’ll be exploring it next, by the way. You want to earn some easy money?”

  “Noooo.” Han put an arm around Leia. “It’s back to Coruscant for us. We’re trying to settle down. Raise a kid.” He didn’t add, And we need to do it on a world where she isn’t terrified of some specter from space coming after her. Allana hadn’t mentioned any further contact from the mysterious presence that had spoken to her, but just the possibility was keeping the child jittery, costing her sleep.

  Lando would not be deterred. “Who knows what you’ll find down there? Spiders the size of frigates. Gigantic glow rods that can light an entire solar system. Ancient Sith preserved in blocks of crystal for thousands of years.”

  Han shook his head, not uneasy, just disinterested. “They’re all yours.”

  “Oh, well.” Lando raised his glass, gesturing to old friends and new. “My final drink of the evening, then, and my final toast for now.” Suddenly he sounded much more serious. “Kessel is a homely world without much to commend it. It’s a demonstration of your generosity of spirit that you would all come here to save it. You have my respect, and my thanks.”

  “And your hospitality,” Wedge said.

  “And my hospitality. Here’s to you.” Lando drank and set down his emptied glass. He rose and extended a hand to help Tendra up. “I’ll see you off as you leave over the next few days. Those leaving tomorrow, we’ll cry over our hangovers together.” Smiling, the Calrissians departed.

  Han drew in one deep, satisfied breath, let it out slowly, and turned to Leia. “Home?”

  “Home.”

  DOR’SHAN SPACEPORT, DORIN

  Dressed in fresh clothes and breathing the Coruscant-like atmosphere provided by Jade Shadow’s life-support system, Ben and Luke sat in the yacht’s small lounge area. Momentarily free of responsibility, they could relax for a bit. Ben sprawled in a reclining chair while Luke sped through several days’ worth of holonews recordings and communications.

  “What’s new in the galaxy, Dad?”

  “I had about a dozen queries from Cilghal. The fact that I wasn’t replying had her a bit concerned … I just asked her to look into reports of Force nexuses Jacen might have heard of while he was here. Not the one on Dagobah or the one walled in at the base of the Jedi Temple. He was already aware of those. Somewhere different.”

  “Nexuses. Thrilling.”

  “They caught Seff Hellin. Jaina and some allies did.”

  “The crazy Jedi that Aunt Leia mentioned?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Good.”

  “Cilghal reports some abnormalities in his brain scan. A place to start her research. And—oh, excellent.”

  “What?”

  Luke angled the monitor screen so his son could see more clearly. It showed aged newsman Wolam Tser speaking in his usual grave manner; then the image cut to Nawara Ven, well-dressed, standing on the steps before the Courts of Justice Building, surrounded by members of the press. Luke dialed up the volume and Tser’s voice could be heard: “—action initiated by advocate Nawara Ven. The High Court’s ruling effectively strikes down the Chief of State’s executive order, lifting many of the restrictions imposed on the Jedi Order in recent weeks.” Nawara Ven raised a fist, triumphant, and shouted silently in answer to someone’s question; then the image cut back to Wolam Tser. “Chief of State Natasi Daala has not yet issued a statement about the ruling. Privately, many of the observers assigned to the Jedi, whose mission came to an abrupt end this afternoon with the issuance of the ruling, have expressed dissatisfaction, claiming that the Jedi tendency toward willfulness and disregard of the law make the observers’ role a crucial one. Jedi Master Kenth Hamner, asked about—” Luke dialed the volume down again.

  Ben raised a fist, mimicking Nawara Ven’s gesture. “That’s one for us.” He saw his father take a breath and hastily added, “Yes, I know. Dangerous forces out there. The Hidden One may have been partly right. Mustn’t get cocky. Dad, just for tonight—”

  Luke grinned. “Just for tonight, no admonitions. No advice.”

  “Thanks. Where do we go next?”

  “We’ll see what Cilghal tells us. Until then, we relax.”

  Ben put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. Relax—that he could do.

  And though he was countless light-years from home, only a few weeks into his father’s ten-year exile, sore from physical labor and being beaten by a combat trainer, he decided that things could be a lot worse.

  It was good to be alive.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks go to:

  Troy Denning and Christie Golden, partners in a writing wing trio;

  Shelly Shapiro, Sue Rostoni, Keith Clayton, and Leland Chee, the best lariat suppliers any goat rodeo could ask for;

  And my agent, Russell Galen.

  About the Author

  AARON ALLSTON was the New York Times bestselling author of thirteen Star Wars novels, as well as the Doc Sidhe novels, which mix 1930s-style hero-pulps with Celtic myth. In addition to being a writer, he was a longtime game designer, and in 2006 was inducted into the Academy of Adventure Gaming Arts & Design (AAGAD) Hall of Fame. Aaron Allston died in 2014.

  Books by Aaron Allston

  Galatea in 2-D

  Bard’s Tale Series (with Holly Lisle)

  Thunder of the Captains

  Wrath of the Princes

  Car Warriors Series

  Double Jeopardy

  Doc Sidhe Series

  Doc Sidhe

  Sidhe-Devil

  Star Wars: X-Wing Series

  Wraith Squadron

  Iron Fist

  Solo Command

  Starfighters of Adumar

  Star Wars: New Jedi Order series

  Rebel Dream

  Rebel Stand

  Star Wars: Legacy of the Force series

  Betrayal

  Exile

  Fury

  Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi

  Outcast

  Terminator 3 Series

  Terminator Dream

&nb
sp; Terminator Hunt

  STAR WARS—LEGENDS

  What is a legend? According to the Random House Dictionary, a legend is “a nonhistorical or unverifiable story handed down by tradition from earlier times and popularly accepted as historical.” Merriam-Webster defines it as “a story from the past that is believed by many people but cannot be proved to be true.” And Wikipedia says, “Legends are tales that, because of the tie to a historical event or location, are believable, though not necessarily believed.” Because of this inherent believability, legends tend to live on in a culture, told and retold even though they are generally regarded as fiction.

  Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a legend was born: The story of Luke Skywalker and his fellow heroes, Princess Leia and Han Solo. Three blockbuster movies introduced these characters and their stories to millions of people who embraced these tales and began to build upon them, as is done with myths everywhere. And thus novels, short stories, and comic books were published, expanding the Star Wars universe introduced in the original trilogy and later enhanced by the prequel movies and the animated TV series The Clone Wars. The enormous body of work that grew around the films and The Clone Wars came to be known as The Expanded Universe.

  Now, as new movies, television shows, and books move into the realm of the official canon, The Expanded Universe must take its place firmly in the realm of legends. But, like all great legends, the fact that we can’t prove the veracity of every detail doesn’t make the stories any less entertaining or worthy of being read. These legends remain true to the spirit of Star Wars and in that way are another avenue through which we can get to know and understand our beloved heroes in that galaxy far, far away.

  —Del Rey Books, May 2014