Star Wars 390 - The Dark Nest Trilogy I - The Joiner King

by Troy Denning

  “Of a Will,” Cilghal corrected. “Not the Will, as the Chiss believe.”

  Luke looked up. “You’ve already lost me.”

  Cilghal came out from behind the control console. “Like the Force itself, every mind in the galaxy has two aspects.” She sat next to Luke on the bench. “There is the conscious mind, which embraces what we know of ourselves, and there is the unconscious, which contains the part that remains hidden.”

  Luke began to see where Cilghal was headed. “You’re saying that since the war, the Colony has developed two Wills, one conscious and one subconscious.”

  “Not subconscious—unconscious,” Cilghal corrected. “The subconscious is a level of the mind between full awareness and unawareness. We’re talking about the unconscious; it remains fully hidden from the part of our mind that we know.”

  “Sorry,” Luke said. “It’s complicated.”

  “Just like every mind in the galaxy,” Cilghal said. “This is an analogy, but it fits—and our experiment demonstrates just how closely. Alema and Gorog are controlled by the unconscious Will—the correlation of their emotional centers makes that clear.”

  “And Tekli, Tesar, and Tahiri are controlled by the Colony’s conscious Will?” Luke asked.

  “Influenced by,” Cilghal said. “They have not fallen under the Colony’s complete control. They still think of themselves as individuals.”

  “Then why did they end the experiment?”

  “How often do you do something without truly understanding why?” Cilghal countered. “In every mind, the unconscious has a great deal of power—some psychologists even think it’s absolute. So when Gorog was in pain, the Colony’s unconscious Will influenced its conscious Will to end the experiment. Suddenly, Tekli had to use the refresher, Tahiri had to stretch—”

  “And Tesar became angry with us.”

  “Exactly,” Cilghal said. “Of the three, he was the only one who had even a vague understanding of his motivations. Barabels are usually in touch with their unconscious.”

  Luke thought of the mysterious attacks on him and Mara, and of the Killiks’ absurd insistence that they had not occurred. “And the conscious Will wouldn’t be aware of the unconscious Will, would it?”

  “It is the nature of the unconscious mind to remain hidden,” Cilghal said. “That is why the Gorog are so hard to sense in the Force. They use it to hide—not only from us, but from the rest of the Colony as well.”

  “Gorog is part of a secret nest,” Luke said, making sure he understood what Cilghal was telling him. “The Colony wouldn’t be aware of it—”

  “And might well fool itself into believing it doesn’t exist,” Cilghal said. “We’ve more or less proved that, and it explains the Killiks’ reaction to the attacks on you.”

  “It all makes sense, except for one thing—why does the secret nest keep attacking us?” Luke asked. “Raynar seemed to want our help.”

  “But Lomi and Welk are threatened by you.” It was Jacen who asked this, his voice coming from the data-holo. “And they’re the ones who control the Gorog nest.”

  “You know that for certain?” Luke turned toward the data-holo and, finding himself being addressed by a row of colored bars, frowned in irritation. “And I thought I told you to stop playing with Cilghal’s brain scanner. Come out here, if you’re going to be part of this conversation.”

  “I know that Raynar dragged Lomi and Welk out of the burning Flier.” Jacen pushed the scanner helmet up and, now projecting his voice into the air in front of Luke, began to remove the electrodes attached to his body. “And we know that Saba was attacked by a disfigured Jedi Knight—almost certainly Welk. I’m willing to take a leap of faith and guess that Lomi survived, too.”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. “I guess I am, too.”

  “Then only one question remains,” Cilghal said. “Why did Alema join the Gorog, while the rest of you—”

  “Them,” Jacen corrected. “In case you haven’t noticed, my mind remains entirely my own.”

  “Very well,” Cilghal said. “Why did Alema join the Gorog, while everyone else joined the Taat?”

  Luke knew the answer to that, and he wished he didn’t.

  “Because of Numa.” He was remembering the time he had stood outside Alema’s bacta tank, awash in the guilt the Twi’lek felt for allowing the voxyn to take her sister. “When Numa was killed, Alema turned a lot of her anger inward—and anger has always been fertile ground for the likes of Lomi Plo.”

  “You saw this coming, didn’t you?” Jacen asked. He stepped out of the isolation chamber, pulling his tunic over his head. “Even before the mission to Myrkr, I mean.”

  Luke turned to look at the unconscious Twi’lek, held prisoner by nylasteel and tranqarest. “Not this—not Gorog,” he said. “But I knew Alema would fall.”

  THIRTY

  “Elders, welcome,” Leia said, bowing.

  She stepped away from the door and waved her Ithorian guests into the Rhysode Room. With a costly roo-wood serenity table surrounded by extravagant flowfit armchairs, the chamber was a conspicuous departure from the sparse décor of the rest of the Jedi academy. Being the designated receiving area of an institute that cordially discouraged visitors, it was also one of the least used rooms in the facility—and one that reflected the sensibilities of its Reconstruction Authority builders far more than it did those of the order itself.

  “I hope you’ll forgive the room,” Leia said as the Ithorians filed into the foyer. “It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.”

  Ooamu Waoabi—the eldest of the Ithorian elders—politely swung his ocular nodes around the room, his small eyes blinking gently as they observed the automated beverage dispensers, the state-of-the-art holotheater, the transparisteel viewing wall that overlooked the academy’s training grounds and low-slung instruction halls.

  “Your presence would make any room pleasant, Princess Leia.” Waoabi spoke out of only one of the mouths on his throat, a reflection of the poor medical care aboard the Ithorian refugee cities. “But we thank you for your concern.”

  “And thank you for coming to Ossus.” Leia could barely contain the excitement she felt—nor her fear that the Ithorians might balk at settling outside the Galactic Alliance. “I know it was an unexpected journey. But Han and I must return to the Unknown Regions as soon as the Falcon is ready, and there is something I wanted to discuss…”

  Leia let her sentence trail off as a pair of black-clad Galactic Alliance bodyguards stepped into the foyer behind the Ithorians. The two women were not armed—only Jedi were permitted to carry weapons on Ossus—but their sinewy builds and supple grace suggested they did not need to be. Leia’s hand dropped to her lightsaber, and she slipped between Waoabi and another Ithorian elder to confront the newcomers.

  “May I help you?” she said.

  “Yes.” The first woman’s cobalt eyes darted past Leia, scanning all corners of the chamber. “You can clear the room.”

  As the first woman spoke, the second was slipping past behind her, waving the feathery antennae of a threat scanner at various pieces of furniture and artwork. Leia glanced toward Han, but he was already placing himself squarely in the bodyguard’s path, studying the scanner with feigned interest.

  “Is that one of those new Tendrando Arms multisniffers Lando was telling me about?” Han pushed his head between the delicate antennae, pretending he wanted to see the data display—and ruining the instrument’s calibration. “I’ve heard they can smell a gram of thermaboom at fifty meters.”

  Leia waited until the first bodyguard finally stopped looking past her, then said, “I’ll be happy to clear the room when our meeting is finished. Until then, feel free to wait in the reception—”

  “We have no time to wait.” Cal Omas entered the room wearing a rumpled travel tunic as red as the veins in his bloodshot eyes. “This matter has taken too much of my time already.”

  “Chief Omas!” Leia’s diplomatic skills must have been degen
erating from disuse, for she could not quite conceal her shock. “What a surprise to see you here.”

  “I imagine.” Omas started for the beverage station, walking straight past the Ithorian delegation and failing to acknowledge them. “Where’s Luke?”

  “I really don’t know.” Leia began to fume at the way he had slighted her guests. “Chief Omas, allow me to present Ooamu Waoabi and the Council of Ithorian Elders. We were about to begin a meeting—a meeting for which they have traveled a long distance on short notice.”

  Taking the hint, Omas set aside the glass of bwago juice he had been filling and returned to the Ithorians. “Elder Waoabi, a pleasure to see you again.”

  He bowed formally to Waoabi, then greeted each of the other elders by name, stumbling only when he came to the young Jedi liaison, Ezam Nhor. For a moment, Leia was impressed enough to recall why she had helped elect Cal Omas to the Chief’s office in the first place.

  Then Omas returned to the beverage station. “Forgive me for pushing in like this.” He retrieved his bwago juice and took a sip. “But I’ve asked the senior Jedi to meet me here to discuss a matter of vital importance.”

  “And I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” Luke said. He entered the room with Mara and, pausing to bow to the Ithorians, approached the Chief of State. “Most senior Jedi aren’t available. Perhaps if there had been more notice…”

  “If you hadn’t been hiding here on Ossus, perhaps I would have been able to provide it.” Omas gave Luke an icy glare. “As it is, you will have to do. Aristocra Formbi is demanding to know why the Galactic Alliance has sent a battle fleet to the Colony.”

  “Have we?” Luke’s gaze remained fixed on Omas, but Leia felt his mind reaching in her direction, wondering what this had to do with her vague warning about the shift of power in the Colony. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “Neither was I,” Omas fumed. “Yet a Hapan battle fleet was seen at someplace called the Lizil nest.”

  “In the Colony?” Corran Horn asked, stepping into the room. “What’s it doing there?”

  “I was hoping someone here could explain.” Omas’s gaze swung to Leia. “Perhaps you?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Leia had been half expecting this. In the convoluted politics of the Hapan Royal Navy, there was sure to be some ambitious spy who saw an advantage in reporting the fleet’s encounter with the Falcon to Galactic Alliance Intelligence. “They were in no mood to answer questions.”

  “Who was in no mood to answer questions?” Kyp asked, joining the group. He nodded to the Ithorians, from him the equivalent of a full diplomatic salutation, then ignored Omas and came to stand with Leia and Han. “The Hapans?”

  “Yeah,” Han said. “They wanted to intern us.”

  “Intern you?” Omas knitted his brow. “You encountered this fleet?”

  Leia began to have a sinking feeling. “You didn’t know?”

  “No.” Omas’s voice was icy.

  “I apologize,” Leia said. “We gave our word not to reveal their presence.”

  “And you kept it?” Omas demanded.

  “Some of us still honor our promises,” Han said. “I know it’s old-fashioned, but there you have it.”

  “The Galactic Alliance can’t afford your promises right now,” Omas retorted. “I only hope they haven’t started a war.”

  “Leia had no choice,” Luke said. “The word of one Jedi to another is binding.”

  Omas let his chin drop. “Don’t tell me there were Jedi aboard those ships!”

  “It was Tenel Ka’s fleet, and she is a Jedi,” Mara said. “Leia’s word is as binding to Tenel Ka’s agent as it would be to the queen herself.”

  The assertion was a stretch, since being honest with other Jedi was more of an unwritten policy than a formal code. And the concept of extending it to a Jedi’s representatives was a new innovation entirely, but Leia appreciated the support. She started toward the conference area, initiating a subtle migration that she hoped would result in a shift of mood as well as location. Once she arrived, she turned and watched in silent amusement as Omas instinctively searched for the head seat at a round table. Now would have been a good time to ask the Ithorians to wait in the reception area, but she was not about to sanction the rude way Omas had burst into the chamber. If he did not want to discuss this in front of the Ithorians, he could be the one who asked them to leave.

  “If you didn’t know about our encounter with the fleet, Chief Omas, why did you think Han and I could tell you what it was doing in the Colony?” Leia asked.

  “Because of your son.” Omas finally took a chair across from her, his gaze lingering on the concentric black-circle, white-star inlay that repeated itself on the table’s surface in ever-smaller renditions. “I thought Jacen might have told you why he arranged this.”

  “Jacen?” Han asked. He sat at Leia’s right. “Last time I checked, he wasn’t king of anything.”

  “No, but Tenel Ka dispatched the Hapan fleet shortly after his visit.” Omas waited as Luke, Mara, and the other Jedi Masters also took seats at the conference table, allowing his gaze to linger on the Ithorians, then finally seemed to accept that the Jedi were not going to ask them to leave and simply turned back to the conference table. “I doubt it was a coincidence.”

  “It wasn’t,” Jacen said, breezing into the room. “I asked her to send a fleet to the Colony’s aid.”

  Omas twisted around in his chair. “Why in the blazes would you do something like that?”

  Instead of answering, Jacen stopped and greeted the Ithorians fondly, addressing several by name, then excused himself to go over to the conference area. The Ithorians, as perceptive as they were gentle, remained in the foyer area, awkwardly greeting Kenth Hamner, Cilghal, and the other Jedi Masters as they continued to trickle in.

  Jacen took a chair at Omas’s side, then said, “I am a Jedi. All you need know is that my reasons were sound.”

  The calming aroma of the roo wood must have been working, because Omas remained in his seat and looked across the table toward Luke. “I didn’t realize Jacen was a Master.”

  “The opinions of all Jedi are valued in this room—even those who don’t consider themselves members of the Jedi Order.” Luke looked to Jacen. “Perhaps you’d explain to the Masters present?”

  “If you like.” Jacen’s tone was cordial. “I was trying to prevent a war.”

  “Prevent one?” Omas demanded. “The Chiss—”

  “Understand only power,” Jacen interrupted. “And now the Killiks have some. The Hapan fleet will buy us the time we need to resolve this conflict.”

  “At the Galactic Alliance’s expense,” Omas said. “The Chiss are already threatening to withdraw their security patrols if we don’t bring our Jedi under control.”

  Mara’s eyes—and those of several other Masters—flashed at the word our, but Omas did not seem to notice. He turned back to Luke.

  “And that’s exactly what I want you to do, Master Skywalker,” he said. “By force, if necessary. I want all of our Jedi, and the Hapan fleet, back inside Galactic Alliance borders by this time next month.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better for you to talk to Queen Tenel Ka?” Leia asked. “She is, after all, the leader of a Galactic Alliance republic.”

  “And a Jedi,” Omas countered. He lowered his eyes, then continued in a softer voice. “Frankly, she refuses to listen to me. She insists she is only doing what is right, and the discussion ends there.”

  “And perhaps ours should end here,” Kyp said. He sat at Leia’s left, looking across to where Luke sat at one tip of the conference table’s largest inlaid stars. “Jedi don’t answer to politicians.”

  “What?” This from Corran, who sat on the other side of Kyp. “Then who do we answer to? Ourselves?”

  “Of course,” Jacen replied calmly. “Who else can we trust to wield our power? We must follow our own consciences.”

  “That’s very arrogant,” Kenth Hamner said. He placed
his hands on the table and leaned forward, looking Jacen directly in the eye. “It concerns me to hear any Jedi say such a thing…but you, Jacen?”

  “It is sound public policy to place powerful factions like the Jedi under the control of a civil authority.” Leia kept her voice reasonable and conciliatory. Whether Jacen knew it or not, he was digging at an old wound among the Masters, and she did not want the meeting to descend into another of the shouting matches that Luke had described over the Jedi’s proper relationship to the government. “Even in those with the best of intentions, power corrupts.”

  “And so we place the burden of remaining pure on lesser shoulders?” Jacen pressed. “Mother, you’ve watched two governments collapse under the weight of their own corruption and inefficiency, and the third is sagging. Do you really believe Jedi should be the tools of such frail institutions?”

  Leia was at a loss to respond. Jacen’s question was almost rhetorical. He had been there when she declared that she was done with politics forever, and he knew better than anyone—probably even Han—how disheartened she had been by the ineptitude of the New Republic government. In truth, she almost agreed with what he was saying…and probably would have done so openly, had she known of a better way to run a galactic republic.

  When Leia failed to answer, Jacen turned to Omas, who was flushing in speechless anger, and said, “I’m sorry if this offends you—”

  “It offends me,” Corran said. “The Jedi exist to serve the Galactic Alliance.”

  “Our duty is to the Force.” Kyp’s voice was calmer than Corran’s, but harder. “Our only duty.”

  Kenth Hamner held his hand out toward Kyp, fingers forward in a conciliatory fashion. “I think what Corran is saying is that it’s our duty to serve the Galactic Alliance, because serving the Alliance serves the Force.”

  “That so?” Han asked. He usually avoided ethics debates like the black holes they were, but this time even he could not restrain himself. “Because Corran made it pretty clear he thought the Jedi were just a bunch of Reconstruction Authority cops who ought to take their orders from Chief Omas like everyone else.”