Dark Journey

by Elaine Cunningham

  Jaina nodded slowly as she took this in. “If you wanted to alter one of these implants, how would you go about it?”

  “We’ll examine the genetic code of these spawn, and then determine which elements occur naturally, and which appear to be implanted. These new additions or changes provide the most fertile soil for adaptation.”

  Jaina grimaced. “And how many years will that take?”

  Sinsor looked mildly offended. “You might be surprised how obvious these little splices can be to the trained eye. Our computers are advanced, and much faster than anything the Republic’s so-called scientists have in their arsenal.”

  “You think you can alter one of these creatures?”

  “I’m confident of it. Come back in the morning, and we should be ready to play around with the next generation.”

  Jaina nodded and wove through the crowded workroom to the door. The palm reader on this side did not immediately open the door, but relayed her request to the central control. A metallic voice assured her that her escort would arrive shortly, and she settled down to wait.

  It was obvious that Sinsor Khal was under confinement. After having watched him in action, Jaina guessed that his disregard for his subjects’ well-being had gotten him in trouble more than once. On the other hand, this semi-imprisonment also provided a perfect forum for unsanctioned experimentation.

  She wondered what the next morning would bring. No doubt there would be some way to impress her will upon the altered creature—and upon any future recipients.

  That raised an interesting question: the Yuuzhan Vong’s creatures were not affected by the Force, yet some of them—the lambent crystal in Anakin’s lightsaber, for example—communicated by some sort of mind-to-mind ability, sometimes with individuals who were Forcesensitive. That defied logic, and negated everything Jaina knew about the nature of the Force.

  Jaina sensed that she was near to a new understanding—she could feel it, like a shadow perceived only at the corner of her peripheral vision.

  She closed her eyes and allowed impressions to come to her. The teeming life of Gallinore swept over her like a silent surf. The bright green music of the forest filled her senses, and answers she could not quite decipher mingled with the rasp of insects and the music of birdsong.

  A smile slowly crept over her face. If the answers to her questions were out in the wilds of Gallinore, Jaina knew just the person who was likely to find them.

  The path was a narrow, rocky ledge that clung tightly to the steep slope. Tenel Ka moved confidently up the trail, her muscled limbs coiling and stretching with a grace and joy that reminded Jaina of a bird in flight. Tenel Ka had put aside her Jedi robes for the short, lizard-skin costume she preferred, and her red-gold hair had been tightly plaited into a single thick braid. Her arms swung lightly as she strode along, and from the back her missing forearm was not at all apparent.

  The way broadened into a small, flat landing that overlooked a deeply forested valley and the mountains beyond. The Dathomiri woman halted and waited for the other Jedi to catch up. Jaina hauled herself up the last few steps and flopped down onto a large rock.

  “Great view,” she told Tenel Ka. “I really needed this.”

  Her friend nodded. “As did we all. We spend far too much time in sedentary pursuits. It is difficult to maintain the conditioning level we reached as students.”

  Lowbacca struggled up in time to hear this comment, and he yowled a testy disclaimer.

  “You can get back to the computer in the morning,” Jaina told him.

  Tenel Ka’s searching gaze settled on a nearby mountain, and her eyes lit up. She pointed across the divide toward a rocky slope. “If you look carefully, you can see the opening of a cave. See the colored lights flashing?”

  Jaina shielded her eyes with one hand and squinted. “What is that?”

  “We call them firedrakes. They are very large flying insects that can emit colored light, as well as heat and sparks of energy. At night, the patterns can be quite impressive and beautiful. It’s nearly sunset. They’ll emerge from their hiding places soon.”

  Lowbacca glanced at the setting sun and grumbled.

  “I don’t see why we can’t stay,” Jaina argued. “Sure, the path is steep, but it’s the same going down as it was on the way up.”

  “I’ve walked this path many times. It is not difficult to follow, and the sight is worth seeing,” Tenel Ka said. “When I was a child, there was some attempt to bring the firedrakes to Hapes, but they do not adapt to other worlds than this.”

  Her smile took on a sharp edge. “My grandmother will not brook defiance, not even from nature itself. I remember seeing festival lights, artificial displays that duplicated by mechanical and chemical means the lights of the firedrakes. It was not the same.”

  “We’ll stay,” Jaina said, glancing at the Wookiee. Lowbacca grumbled agreement and the three of them settled down to watch.

  Night fell swiftly over the mountain, and the firedrakes began to emerge from their caves. Soon a swarm of them gathered, wheeling about in swift, graceful flight. Their multicolored lights traced ribbons against the deepening shadows.

  The Jedi watched the display in fascination. A certain wistful contentment crept over Tenel Ka’s face.

  “We should return before full dark,” she said reluctantly as she rose to her feet.

  They began the trek down the path, glancing from time to time toward the valley and the firedrakes’ continued flight. The creatures had spread out, and their lights came in short, rapid blinks.

  “They are hunting,” Tenel Ka explained. “The short flashes seem to be a signal to summon the others.”

  Jaina turned to watch. She stumbled over a loose stone, and would have fallen had not Lowbacca seized her arm. He admonished her with a sharp woof.

  “I was watching,” she retorted. “But not with the Force, so I guess you’ve got a point …”

  Her voice trailed off as she reached out with her senses. Danger was sweeping in.

  She reached for her lightsaber and spun back toward the mountain peak. Several enormous creatures glided toward them on silent wings. Jaina got the impression of a dark wind and a stabbing flash of verdant lightning.

  Her lightsaber streamed up to meet the attack. She spun to add force to the parry, and the violet blade sheered through the descending bolt.

  This changed the momentum of the creature’s attack, and the enormous insect rolled in the air and crashed into the path, tumbling down toward Tenel Ka. The warrior leapt over it, igniting her turquoise lightsaber before touching down.

  Instinctively Jaina ducked and slashed out high. An enormous gossamer wing enfolded her like a veil, and the creature that had just lost it slammed into the mountain wall. It bounced off, rolled across the narrow path, and then crashed down the incline. Showers of colored light erupted from it like sparks from a severed wire.

  Jaina threw off the wing and dropped into guard position. She reached out with her senses, for there was nothing to see but a tube of faintly strobing light—the “lightning bolt” she’d perceived in the initial attack was nothing but a firedrake’s severed proboscis. The creatures resembled the bloodsucking insects she’d seen in the swamplands of a dozen worlds, but at a size she’d never imagined possible.

  Tenel Ka switched off her lightsaber. “Darkness,” she advised. “The lights may draw others.”

  The Wookiee padded up and growled at Tenel Ka. “I have never heard of such behavior. They hunt in packs, and are said to be clever.”

  “They’d have to be, to plan a distraction,” Jaina said. She glanced out over the valley. The rapid flashing of hunting insects still lit the sky.

  Tenel Ka gazed out at the flashing lights. “I never would have thought them capable of ambush.”

  Enlightenment came to Jaina in a quick, bright flood, and a plan began to take shape in her mind. Tenel Ka sent her a questioning look.

  “I was just thinking about battle tactics,” Jaina said
by way of explanation. “Underestimating the enemy is a common mistake. Jedi don’t expect to be outwitted by bugs.”

  “Fact,” Tenel Ka agreed ruefully.

  And neither do the Yuuzhan Vong expect to be outwitted by “infidels,” Jaina added silently. She would give the Yuuzhan Vong precisely what they expected to see, and then, like the hunting firedrakes, she would come at them from the darkness.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Leia had seen sunsets on a hundred worlds, strolled through the incomparable art galleries of Alderaan, marveled at the treasure rooms of countless palaces and museums. Seldom, however, had she seen any sight to rival the image of Han and his infant nephew, faces a few centimeters apart, regarding each other with identical expressions of dubious curiosity.

  Ben Skywalker, who sat enthroned on his mother’s lap, formed an opinion first. The baby crowed with delighted laughter and flailed his tiny fists. A random swing caught Han on the nose and sent him reeling back, clutching his already bruised face.

  “They grow fast,” he managed.

  Luke cleared his throat and Mara hid a smirk behind one hand. Her brother-in-law sent her a mock glare. “Kid takes after his mother.”

  “I was aware of that risk,” Luke said lightly. “We could happily talk about Ben all night, but perhaps you should fill us in on the Hapan situation. You might start by explaining why you look like someone who went several bad rounds with a Wampa.”

  “That’s probably close to the truth—or as close as I’m likely to come,” Han said, rubbing at his bruised jaw.

  “He doesn’t remember many of the particulars,” Leia put in.

  In a few words, she described the events that had precipitated their departure from Hapes. “Judging from the dowry gifts, it seems likely that Ta’a Chume is returning to the notion of finding an ‘appropriate’ wife for Isolder. Han, obviously, would be a deterrent. Jag Fel, the young man who stopped the fight, wonders if perhaps they goaded Han into fighting in lieu of a conventional assassination attempt.”

  “That would work,” Luke agreed. “I don’t need the Force to tell me who threw the first punch.”

  Han pantomimed a look of wounded innocence and touched the fingers of one hand to his chest. The expression wavered, and his eyes took on the unfocused look of someone in deep thought.

  “Han?” Leia asked.

  “Just thinking about what Luke said.” He glanced at his bruised knuckles. “I remember throwing the first punch, and maybe one or two after that. A few bits and pieces are coming back. There’s something else, too, something important. I can’t quite grab hold of it.”

  “It’ll come,” Leia said firmly. “Don’t rush it. You’ve got several days of recovery time ahead, and the inactivity will be bad enough without you making yourself—and those around you—crazy.”

  “Yeah.” Han rubbed his jaw again, let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate not remembering what I did. I always remember, even after a long night in a bad tavern.”

  Mara turned to her husband. “How about it, Skywalker? Will you still fight for me after we’ve been married for twenty-odd years?” She lifted one red-gold brow.

  Luke met her gaze, and her teasing challenge. “What do you mean by ‘still’? You do your own fighting. If I forget that, I’m not very likely to survive until our twentieth anniversary.”

  The Jedi warrior shifted the squirming baby to her shoulder and smiled contentedly. “It’s such a comfort to be understood.”

  Jaina returned from Hapes two days later, armed with Sinsor Khal’s discoveries and several data cards of related information. She and Lowbacca hurried back to the Trickster, eager to get back to work on the Yuuzhan Vong ship.

  She and Lowbacca dragged the escape pod into a small enclosure and set to work. Jaina took one of several altered implants she’d brought back in flasks of a mineral-rich, rapid-growth medium Sinsor had devised. The coral creatures were still much smaller than the one they’d reimplanted in the pirate, but Jaina thought they might serve.

  She took a tiny welding tool from one of her pockets and sheared off a slice of the pod’s miniature dovin basal. She fitted an implant into an irregularity of the rocklike structure and then pressed the small piece back into place.

  “It should be able to heal itself,” Jaina said. “And if I’m right, this should alter the gravitic signature.”

  Lowbacca let out a string of yelps and growls.

  “I know they can’t trace us right now, and yes, I want to keep things that way. But the only thing better than no information is misinformation,” Jaina replied. “We want them to be able to track down and destroy one of their ships—just not this particular one.”

  Lowbacca was silent for a long moment, then he whuffed sharply.

  “Of course it will work,” she said stoutly. “The next step is finding a delivery method to implant other Vong ships. For that we’ll need ships and pilots willing to go head-to-head with our galaxy’s uninvited guests.”

  The Wookiee’s eyes widened in enlightenment.

  “That’s right,” she agreed. “That’s why we need Kyp Durron.”

  Kyp settled down on the duracrete bench and regarded his prisoner. The Hapan pirate floated in a bacta tank, and would likely be there for quite some time. When he was healed of everything but his lost memory, Kyp would turn him loose.

  That knowledge bothered him less than it ordinarily would. Freedom to pillage the skies seemed a small recompense for what the man had endured.

  Kyp silently listed the laws he and Jaina had broken, and the lines they’d crossed. Helping prisoners escape from the Hapan officials, holding one of them and transporting him to another world, submitting him for scientific testing. He didn’t even want to think about the transfer of the pirate from their ship to the scientist’s lab. But he couldn’t ignore this particular disaster, or the conclusion it left with him.

  Jaina was in trouble.

  As he’d expected, she had proven to be a talented student. She’d very quickly followed Kyp’s lead, and had wiped inconvenient knowledge from the minds and memories of Gallinore scientists—including Lowbacca, a Jedi and probably her closest friend.

  Kyp could have lived with that. He could not have stood by and watched while this man was “tested” into a near-death state. But Jaina had.

  His apprentice had adopted his argument that the end result was more important than the path that led to it. She had pushed this philosophy to its far edges, forcing Kyp to consider whether there might, after all, be boundaries.

  Kyp supposed there was a certain cosmic justice to this.

  “So what next?” he muttered. Kyp wanted to defeat the Yuuzhan Vong. So did Jaina. Any energy he put into curtailing her efforts diminished the energy both of them could direct against the invaders. But how far could he let her go?

  And more important, if and when the time came to stop her, would he be able to?

  Jaina smoothed the skirt of her gown and settled down in the chair Ta’a Chume offered. The tight Hapan garments still pinched, but she was growing accustomed to them. “I heard about Trisdin.”

  “And you’ve come to offer condolences?” the former queen said archly as she reached for her wine goblet.

  “Actually, I came to get an eyeful of his successor,” Jaina responded in kind.

  Ta’a Chume sputtered on the sip she’d just taken, and set the goblet aside. “You were right about him. His loyalties were uncertain. A rumor reached him that the imprisoned pirates could serve his interests, and those of the woman he wanted to see on my throne.”

  Jaina quickly got a lock on the queen’s target. “So you didn’t send him there to free them.”

  “Not directly, no.”

  “And if he hadn’t been killed by the prisoners, he would have been caught and tried for treason.”

  “According to Hapan law.” Ta’a Chume lifted an inquiring brow. “You don’t approve?”

  “Actually, I do. No matter what happened, it doesn’t reflect back on you
. I assume his ties to this aspiring queen can be traced.”

  “Naturally. Her name, by the way, is Alyssia. This latest scandal might be enough to neutralize her. If not, I may require your assistance.”

  Jaina nodded, accepting this. She set down the goblet of gold wine she’d been sipping. “Tell me about Sinsor Khal.”

  “He was once a respected Hapan scientist with precisely the expertise you required. Unfortunately, this expertise was achieved at the cost of horrendous—and highly illegal—experimentation. But I suspect you’ve already come to this conclusion.”

  Jaina nodded. “Are there others like him?”

  The woman regarded her for a long moment. “How many do you need?” She sniffed at Jaina’s incredulous laugh. “Progress of any sort is not easily won. There are bound to be failures along the way, and if society deems these mistakes criminal today, tomorrow it will embrace the achievements that spring from their work. Men and women with intellectual curiosity should be funded and encouraged, away from the judgmental eyes of those who possess more righteousness than foresight.”

  “So you shut them up, hid them away,” Jaina clarified.

  Ta’a Chume waved this aside. “Most of them hardly notice. A well-funded lab and the freedom to work is a dream to these scientists, not a punishment. The Yuuzhan Vong are a reality, my dear, and they must be dealt with. What do you propose?”

  Jaina quickly described the next phase of her plan. The former queen listened carefully and made several suggestions.

  “This is excellent,” she said when at last Jaina had finished. “Your brothers will be avenged, and the defense of Hapes greatly strengthened. I’ll see that you have everything you need.” She extended a slender, jeweled hand.