STAR WARS - THE NEW JEDI ORDER - Destiny's Way

by Walter Jon Williams

  Nen Yim more than half suspected that after the project's completion, after the eighth cortex was filled with a thousand and one useful shaping protocols, she and her coworkers and Onimi would be quietly liquidated, and all record of their existence erased.

  But should that happen, Nen Yim was prepared to accept it. She had accepted death more than once in her life already. All life, after all, was preparation for death, and once the eighth cortex was filled she would have contributed her whole life's adventure to the defeat of the infidels, and the greatness of her people.

  Onimi finished applying the lotion and straightened to the full height of his gangling limbs. "This cure is limited, I understand?"

  "Yes. It will kill any infection on contact, but you can always be reinfected."

  Onimi's unsettling eyes, one lower than the other, focused on her. "And we will be reinfected, yes?"

  "I'm afraid so. The spore is everywhere."

  "Can the World Brain be instructed to produce an organism that will kill the spore? Some kind of virus or bacterium that can devour the plague?"

  Nen Yim hesitated. "I fear," she dared to say, "that the World Brain may be the problem."

  The room's ruddy light shone eerily on Onimi's eyes, now suddenly alert. His tilted slash of a mouth twitched. "How can this be, master shaper?" he asked.

  "I have examined the organism that causes the itching plague most carefully. Though further examination would be necessary to confirm this, I believe that the spore and the fungus it causes are of Yuuzhan Vong origin, not native to Yuuzhan'tar."

  A hiss escaped Onimi's lips. "Ch'Gang Hool. That imbecile! He has contaminated the World Brain!" He paused for a moment's thought. "Can you instruct the World Brain to cease production of the spore?"

  "Perhaps. I'd have to put aside my other work."

  "Don't, then. A new clan has been put in charge of the world-shaping project and the World Brain—let the work be theirs." His expression grew thoughtful. "The gods can speak to Shimrra on the matter, and he can then advise the new shapers."

  Distaste flooded Nen Yim. She might be a heretic, but even she had more respect for the gods than to claim her knowledge was of divine origin.

  "The Supreme Overlord wants you to concentrate on the yammosk project," Onimi went on. "We must develop a war coordinator that is free from the infidels' attempts to manipulate the gravity spectrum. To this end, the Supreme Overlord has granted you absolution in advance for investigating any of the enemy's machines and weapons."

  Nen Yim feigned surprise. "If we knew how the infidels were producing the interference," she said, "the work would be easier."

  "It is known that the infidels have gravity-manipulation devices called 'repulsorlifts.' Not as flexible or as useful as our dovin basals, but perhaps operating on the same principles. They might have modified these to interfere with the yammosks."

  Nen Yim considered. "Would it be possible to bring me one of these repulsorlifts?"

  Onimi gave a mirthless smile. "I shall have one delivered, along with a translation of its specifications."

  "Please see they are protected from our metal-destroying bacteria."

  "Yes. Of course." His lopsided eyes glimmered. "Shimrra prays daily for a solution to this problem. May I say the gods will provide an answer soon?"

  "The gods should first provide a repulsorlift."

  Onimi gave a bow and a cross-armed salute, but his head was tilted at an ironic angle. "May your efforts prosper, master shaper," he said.

  "And yours, Onimi."

  The deformed figure made his way out of the chamber. Nen Yim watched him leave, her lips twitching with distaste.

  "Whatever they may be, creature," she repeated, "whatever they may be."

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  Cal Omas announced his "Jedi plan," and his official candidacy, at midmorning before an army of holojournalists, in the lobby of the building that the Mon Calamari had donated for the Senate's use. Luke stood quietly behind Cal amid a group of friends and supporters, not wanting to attract attention, but when Cal called for questions, at least half were directed to Luke, and Cal finally called Luke to his side.

  "Are you and the Jedi supporting Councilor Omas's candidacy?" he was asked.

  "I hope to be able to work with any Chief of State," Luke said, "but I'm supporting Councilor Omas's plan for restoring the Jedi Council."

  The holojournalist was skeptical. "So you're saying you could work with Fyor Rodan if he wins the election?"

  "I will work with Councilor Rodan if he will work with me." Luke smiled. "My impression, though, is that he'd rather not."

  Laughter trickled lightly through the crowd.

  "Rodan says the Jedi Council is your means of seizing power," someone else called.

  Cal stepped to the front. "May I answer that one?" he said. "Let me point out that if Luke Skywalker was after power, he wouldn't have needed to work with politicians like me or Fyor Rodan. He wouldn't have needed to destroy the Death Star, or fight Emperor Palpatine hand to hand, or help his sister found the New Republic. All Master Skywalker would have needed to do would have been to join his father, Darth Vader, at the right hand of the Emperor, and in that case his power would be unlimited, and you and I and everyone here would either be dead or enslaved."

  Cal scowled at the crowd, and there was a touch of anger in his voice. "This isn't some little jumped-up lobbyist or politician we're talking about, this is Luke Skywalker. There isn't a single person in the New Republic who doesn't owe him a profound debt of gratitude. So if anyone suggests that Luke Skywalker is involved in some kind of shabby power play, I'd suggest that person not only can't read history, but is incapable of reading human character."

  There was actually applause at that, and not just from Cal's supporters.

  "I'd like to thank you for your words on my behalf," Luke said later, after the meeting had broken up.

  Cal grinned. "Did you like the hint of anger? I thought I judged that pretty well."

  Luke was surprised. "You were faking that?"

  "Oh no, it was real enough," Cal said. "I just let it show enough to get the top spot in tonight's holonews." He rubbed his chin. "The question is, did I let it show enough."

  Luke left Cal Omas pondering this and other political questions and shuttled up to the New Republic Fleet Command annex, where Vergere was still undergoing interrogation. Jacen had been released after a few hours' debriefing, but the fleet showed every inclination to keep Vergere indefinitely.

  Luke didn't necessarily think that was a bad thing.

  "She's given us reams of material," said Intelligence Director Nylykerka. "It'll take us hundreds of hours to process it all. None of it contradicts what we already know—but then, if she were a bogus defector controlled by the enemy, it wouldn't, would it?" Nylykerka seemed amused. "She's also eaten about twice her weight—I've never seen such an appetite."

  "If you had to cat Yuuzhan Vong cooking for fifty years, you'd be hungry for our food, too." Luke asked the Tammarian if he could speak to Vergere himself, and Nylykerka was agreeable. "Any information you can get out of her . . ." he said with a wave of his hand.

  He found Vergere in her cell, squatting on a stool and watching a holo transmission from the planet—a news program that featured Luke and Cal Omas. ". . . incapable of reading human character," Cal was saying. Vergere waved the holo to silence as Luke entered.

  "In my time," she said, "a Jedi Master would not have intervened so with tile Senate and an election."

  "In your time," Luke said, "it wouldn't have been necessary."

  Vergere accepted this with a graceful bob of her unlikely head. Luke gathered up his robe and sat cross-legged on the chair before her.

  He calmed himself. He was trying not to dislike Vergere, though he had very, very good reason to.

  Out with it, he thought.

  "I've spoken to Jacen about his captivity," he said.

  "Your apprentice bore it well," V
ergere said. "You are to be congratulated."

  Anger swirled in Luke's heart. Exhaling a deliberate slow breath, he banished it.

  "Perhaps Jacen didn't have to bear it at all," he said. "He said that you led him into captivity no less than three times."

  Vergere's head bobbed. "I did," she confirmed.

  "He was tortured," Luke said. "Tortured to the point of death. And you led him to it. You could have escaped with him earlier than you did."

  "Yes."

  "Why?" he asked.

  Vergere held herself still, as if listening intently to a voice that Luke couldn't hear. "It was necessary that your apprentice learn certain lessons," she said.

  "Lessons in betrayal?" Luke tried to keep the anger out of his voice. "Torture? Helplessness? Slavery? Degradation? Pain?"

  "Those, naturally," Vergere said blandly. "But chiefly he had to be brought to the edge of despair, and then over it." Her tilted eyes gave Luke an intense, searching gaze. "You taught him well, but it was necessary for him to forget every lesson you gave him, by showing that none of the gifts you gave him could help him."

  "Necessary?" Luke's outrage finally broke through his reserve. "Necessary for what? Or for who?"

  Vergere tilted her head and looked at him. "Necessary for my plans, of course," she said.

  "Who gave you—" Luke suppressed his anger. "Who gave you the right?"

  "A right that is given is as useless as a virtue that is given" Vergere said. "Rights are used, or they have no value, just as virtues must be performed. I took the right to lie to your apprentice, to betray him, to torment him and enslave him." Her piebald feathers fluffed, then smoothed again: a shrug. "I also take upon myself the consequences. If you, as his Master, wish to punish me, so be it."

  "Was there a point to this?" Luke gazed at her. "Other than exercising your rights, I mean?"

  Vergere nodded. "Of course, young Master," she said. "Jacen Solo had to be bereft of friends, of relatives, of teachers and knowledge and the Force and everything that could help him. He had to be reduced to nothing—or rather, to himself only. And then he had to act—to act purely out of himself, out of his own inner being. In that state of complete disinterest, everything else having failed him, he had no choice but to be himself, to choose and to act."

  Her voice turned thoughtful. "I regret the means, of course, but I used what I had at hand. The same inner state could have been reached more gently, given time and opportunity, but neither were at hand. I tricked the Yuuzhan Vong into preserving his life and inflicting the Embrace of Pain. I made the Yuuzhan Vong my instrument." She gave a little dry cough, or perhaps it was a laugh. "Perhaps that was my greatest accomplishment."

  Vergere's words resonated in Luke's mind, and as he followed their reasoning he found his anger abating, if only by virtue of his abstraction. "And the point of this?" he asked.

  The slanted eyes closed and Vergere's body relaxed, as if she were entering meditation. "Surely you know the answer, young Master, if you know Jacen Solo at all."

  "Humor me," Luke said. "Spell it out."

  The avian's eyes remained closed. Her voice seemed to come from far away. "Once, or so the story that Jacen told me suggests, you had your own props similarly knocked away. Deprived of help, of hope, of weapons, blasted by the Emperor's Force lightning— what did you have then? You had only your self. You were made to choose between the Emperor's path and your own."

  "I had no choice," Luke said.

  "Exactly. You had no choice, and even with annihilation staring you in the face, you chose to remain true to yourself." A hint of satisfaction entered Vergere's tone. "Likewise, it was necessary to reduce Jacen to himself, in order that, with every other door closed to him, he might embrace his destiny."

  Destiny. For the second time in two days the word rose in connection with Jacen. And deep in his bones, in complete inner certainty, Luke knew that Vergere was right, that somewhere in the complex weavings of fate, Jacen had a special place.

  The previous evening, over dinner in the small apartment, Luke and Mara had asked Jacen about his experience at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. At first Jacen had been reluctant to speak at all, saying it was a large subject; but after the first few questions he spoke matter-of-factly of his imprisonment, the way Vergere had repeatedly betrayed him into the hands of the enemy after somehow taking away his connection to the Force. Mara and Luke had glanced at each other in growing horror.

  But Jacen had shown no resentment of Vergere; in fact, he had spoken of her with profound respect and admiration. Luke hadn't understood this until later that evening, when he and Mara were alone, and Mara quietly reminded him how hostages sometimes grew strangely attached to their captors. Sometimes captives even grew to love their warders, particularly if the warder was skilled enough in manipulating people. Vergere—old and experienced and serving her own agenda—had been able to manipulate young Jacen's growing psyche.

  And so Luke, angry, certain he knew what had happened, had traveled to Vergere's cell to confront her with her actions. But somehow it hadn't quite come out the way he'd anticipated.

  "And what do you know of Jacen's destiny?" Luke asked.

  Vergere pondered a moment before answering. "I believe that Jacen is intimately connected with the fate of the Yuuzhan Vong," she answered.

  Of all things, Luke had not expected that. "He can destroy them?" he asked.

  "Destroy them. Save them. Transform them." The tilted eyes opened, gazed expressionlessly into Luke's. "Perhaps all three."

  "Can he open them to the Force?" Luke asked.

  "I don't know if that's possible."

  Luke felt bitterness poison his heart. "Then the Yuuzhan Vong will remain . . . outside."

  Vergere's head tilted. "That bothers you?"

  Luke blinked. "Yes. Of course. The Force is life. All life is the Force. But the Yuuzhan Vong are outside the Force. So are they outside life as well?"

  "What do you think?"

  "I think it was easier dealing with enemies from the dark side." Luke looked narrowly at Vergere. "I also think you're very good at interrogation. This conversation started with me asking the questions."

  "If you didn't want me to ask questions," Vergere said, "you should have explained that at the beginning." Her piebald body stirred on her stool. "I've been answering question after question ever since I arrived, and I'm tired of it. So if you insist that the only questions in this room must come from you, then I decline to answer them."

  "Very well." Luke rose to his feet. Her head craned after him on its odd little neck.

  "But I will ask one more question before you leave," she said. "You may answer it or not, as you like."

  "Ask," Luke said.

  Her eyes blinked slowly. "If the Force is life," she said, "and the Yuuzhan Vong are alive, and you cannot see them in the Force—then is the problem with the Yuuzhan Vong, or is it with your perceptions?"

  Luke, choosing not to answer, nodded politely and left.

  "Tricky, isn't she?" Ayddar Nylykerka asked a few moments later.

  "You heard?" Luke asked.

  "Of course. Everything in that room is recorded." The Tammarian inclined his head. "What do you suggest we do with her?" "Hold her here," Luke said, "and keep asking her questions." Nylykerka smiled. "Just what I planned, Master Skywalker."

  Mon Calamari, goggle eyes gleaming in the floodlights, swam easily past Cal Omas's window. The scent of mildew in the room was greater than ever. Mara looked up as Luke entered.

  "Vergere?" she said.

  "It's complicated," Luke said. "I'll explain later." He looked at Cal Omas, who was sharing a hasty meal with Mara. "What news from the Senate?"

  Cal swallowed the mouthful he'd been chewing, and said, "The Senate had a vote this afternoon. I got twenty-eight percent."

  "And Rodan?"

  "Thirty-five."

  "And Cola Quis got ten percent," Mara added, "and Ta'laam Ranth eighteen. Pwoe got three votes total—though he s
ent a message saying that the vote was illegal and that he was still Chief of State. The rest of the votes were abstentions, or scattered among half a dozen others."

  Luke and Mara had decided that, of the two of them, Mara would be one who would work more openly with Cal and his campaign. Luke had other business, with Jacen and Vergere and the Jedi, and Mara could move more openly among the politicians and lobbyists than he could.

  Luke joined the others at the table, and Cal amiably pushed a bowl of giju stew in his direction. "Where's Triebakk?" Luke asked.

  "Talking to Cola Quis," Cal said. "By now it must be clear to Cola that he can't win, so we need to find out what it would take for him to drop out of the race and endorse me."

  "I'm sure Rodan's asking him the same thing," Mara said.

  "And then we ask the same thing of Ta'laam Ranth," Cal continued, "though I don't suppose Ta'laam is ready to answer yet, He'll want a few more floor votes first, just to show what a valuable ally he could be."

  "What's he likely to want?"

  "A place on the Advisory Council, certainly," Cal said. "Plus he'll want places in the government for his friends—he's always been very serious about controlling patronage."

  Luke finished his bite of stew and spoke. "In order to control patronage, there has to be a government for him to control patronage in. If the government falls apart in the meantime ..."

  Cal shrugged. "Ta'laam wants what he wants. If we start giving him speeches about patriotism and duty, he'll think we're trying to put something over on him. He's the sort who thinks that patronage is the whole point of government."

  "In that case," Luke said, sighing, "you may as well point out that if the war goes on, his people will gain access to a lot of military contracts."

  Cal grinned. "We'll make a politician of you yet."

  "I hope not," Luke said.

  Cal reached across the table for a datapad. "It's Fyor's supporters that worry me." He tapped the display. "I've been looking at the people who voted for him, and if I were to make a mental list of the members of the Senate who would want a truce with the Yuuzhan Vong, or even a surrender, I'd find quite a number of them among Fyor's supporters."