I came out of my reverie as Kyp’s blazing gaze brushed past my own. “… they wouldn’t all have been slaughtered. The Jedi would never have fallen, and we wouldn’t be here, taught by someone who doesn’t know any more than we do.”
Luke again asked Kyp where he had learned his history. The young man hesitated for a moment, then mumbled something about having used the Holocron. I shot Tionne a glance and she frowned. Between the lessons we’d all learned from it and the work she was doing with it, unless Kyp was an insomniac, he really didn’t have time to study it.
Before I could call him on that lie, Master Skywalker’s R2 unit rolled into the room and whistled at him. I caught a bit of the code for “incoming,” and stretched out with my senses. Even before Luke announced to us that we had a visitor, I caught a sense of a powerful Force presence descending toward the moon. By the time we left the Great Temple, a Z-95 Headhunter was setting down on the landing grid.
The pilot emerged wearing a silvery, form-fitting flightsuit. She removed her helmet and shook out red-gold hair. Even in the twilight, I noticed the green of her eyes—lighter and more striking than mine. She looked quite beautiful, though the smile she gave Master Skywalker seemed to rest uncomfortably on her lips.
“Mara Jade,” Luke greeted her.
I missed her reply as the uneasiness I felt over Kyp suddenly became compounded. Iella had told me about this Mara Jade. She had been groomed by the Emperor to be an agent who was adept in use of the Force. Her very existence had been unknown to all but a handful of Imperials, and she would have remained hidden save for her role in defeating Grand Admiral Thrawn. Details on that were all very sketchy, but I’d been left with the impression that she was very competent, very lethal and not that positively disposed toward Jedi.
Despite that, she pulled from a pouch at her side a Jedi cloak. Luke smiled as he turned and presented her to us. “This is Mara Jade. She has come here to learn the ways of the Jedi.”
Everyone applauded her—even Kyp, though he remained sullen. Luke apparently noticed that as easily as I did because he waved me over. “Keiran, will you please see to Mara’s billeting? I have something to which I want to attend, if you don’t mind, Mara.”
She gave him a quick nod, then turned and regarded me up and down. “Have we met before?”
I knew we had not, but I still found something disturbingly familiar about her. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Odd, I usually don’t forget a face.”
“And I think I would remember you.” I waved her toward the Great Temple. “We have a variety of rooms ready. Master Skywalker’s chambers are on the third level. Likewise some of the students. Most visitors are housed on the second level.”
I felt tendrils of the Force snake out from her and probe the fringes of my mind. “But that’s not where you live.”
I concentrated for a nanosecond and shut her out of my mind. “No. I was attracted to the old pilot billets on the ground floor.”
Mara Jade smiled and I found it all too predatory for me. “Then I’ll look there first for a place to stay. If you don’t mind.”
“Mine is not to mind, but to obey the wishes of my Master.”
She clapped her hands mockingly. “Oh, very good. Spoken like an obsequious Imperial courtier.”
I gave her a quick smile as we entered the Great Temple. “Glad to make you feel at home.”
That remark brought her head up. “The Empire’s dead.”
“But not all loyalties to it.”
She stopped in the middle of the hangar floor and I noticed her spacesuit had shifted to darker, flatter colors to blend in with the surroundings. “You said we’d not met, but you clearly have a problem with me. Shall we settle it now?” The narrowed stare she gave me was pure fire and won a smile from me.
I was just about to rise to her challenge and let her have a catalog of hideous things the Empire had done, beginning with the death of the Jedi Knights and working on up to Gantoris’ murder, when sense kicked back in. Here I was, standing in the middle of the place from which a desperate strike at the Empire had been launched. It had succeeded. I had been part of subsequent attacks against the Empire, attacks that brought it to its knees and took away its capital world: Coruscant. I had helped destroy the Empire that had been her home, and there was no reason why she shouldn’t long for things from her past as much as I did.
I drew in a deep breath, held it, then slowly exhaled it. “Please, forgive my being rude. It is very easy, when things are not going as planned, to trace the fault back to the Empire. You are not the Empire. To accuse you of loyalties or sympathies is unfair and probably stupid. Not the first time I’ve been either, but I try not to do both with people I’ve just met.”
I extended my hand to her. “I am Corran Horn.” My true name almost caught in my throat, but offering it to her came as a sign of trust. Luke clearly trusted her and my gut told me I should do the same.
Mara Jade shook my hand and looked me over again. “I’ve heard of you. I apologize for the probe. I knew you were familiar, but the name ‘Keiran’ didn’t fit. I didn’t know why. Since I sensed no deception from Luke—Master Skywalker—I wondered if he knew you were here under a lie.”
“He suggested it.” I smiled. “In many ways I think he thinks of me as Keiran Halcyon. Seems Keiran Halcyon was an ancestor of mine and a Jedi of some note in the Corellian system.”
“I see.”
The smile on her face slowly died and I sensed her closing toward me. I didn’t know why and was fairly certain I could have tried to probe her for eons without getting so much as a sign of life from her. Part of me wanted to once again become very suspicious, but I kept that side of myself at bay. I had decided to trust her, so I trusted her. That might have seemed stupid, but it felt very right.
“Master Skywalker felt I should attend the academy under this alias so I wouldn’t distract the students.”
“And there were other reasons you didn’t want to attract attention?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Your father-in-law is Booster Terrik.” Mara Jade let the barest shadow of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “That’s reason enough for anyone to go into hiding. I don’t seem to recall having heard anything of Mirax for six weeks or so. You’ve been here, what, a month?”
“And you wonder if I murdered her and have come here to hide?”
“No.” Mara’s words came cold and solemn. “I wondered if someone else murdered her and you’re here learning how to find them.”
Her hitting so close to the mark sent a jolt through me. “How is it that you know how long ago anyone heard about my wife?”
She shrugged easily as we passed into the back corridor leading to the old pilots’ quarters. “She’s very good at what she does, you know. As a smuggler, she’s easily in the ninety-fifth percentile in finding exotic goods and finding buyers for them. Talon Karrde still talks about the Sith lanvarok she enabled him to unload. When someone like her drops out for more than a couple of weeks, either they’re up to something big, or they’re dead.”
I flicked on the glowlamps in a small room. “This room belonged to a female Rebel pilot. She died before the Death Star battle.”
Mara took a quick look around the room, then nodded. “It’ll suit me. So, what happened to Mirax?”
“She’s alive, but that’s all I know.” I leaned against the door jamb. “Master Skywalker and Wedge think she was kidnapped for reasons unknown. They think someone has her in hibernation. She’s out there, somewhere, waiting.”
The fire-haired woman folded her arms across her chest. “And you’re here learning what you can so you can find her.”
“Find her and save her.”
Mara nodded. “Lucky woman.”
“I hope so.” I let my voice descend into a growl. “If she’s not, if I arrive too late; her captors are going to find all the luck in the galaxy won’t do them any good.”
EIGHTEEN
<
br /> I think Master Skywalker planned on or hoped for something a bit festive in the way of a meal for our guest. This meant I got tagged with kitchen duty. While I didn’t really have any formal training in the culinary arts—and the Holocron had not revealed any Jedi power oriented toward making food taste good—I had been raised on Corellia and had seen a fair amount of the galaxy. Luke reasoned that I knew more about interesting food than a Bespin hermit or Dorsk 81—especially because the clone’s digestive system was so specialized he could only eat processed food wafers.
Ugh.
Luckily for me, I’d learned all I needed to know about cooking from the chef on Siolle Tinta’s private yacht. During a party with which I had become bored I met Chid—like all great artists, he asserted he only needed one name—and we chatted about the self-important guests on the cruise. We also drank, and after a lot of chatting and even more drinking, Chid confided in me the keys of great culinary success.
“First, make portions small. If they want more, they think it was good. Two, give the dish an exotic name and make it sound like there are secret spices in there. Snobs will spend much time trying to see if their palate is sophisticated enough to detect one part per million of Ithorian saffron and they won’t dare pass judgment on the food for fear someone will think them a boor. Three, serve things that are supposed to be cooked raw, and serve hot things cold. Makes them think it’s special. Four—most important—tell them you created it special for them. Only a Gamorrean would protest such an honor.”
The academy’s supplies weren’t really long on spices—calling them survival rations would actually be stretching a point—but mashing up ration bars, mixing them with fruit compotes and baking them into long slender loaves that I sliced on a bias made for an interesting breadlike food. Dried meat became something of a stew with enough boiling, and tossing the dried veggies into the meat broth allowed them to soak up some flavor. And since we’d all gotten to realizing that the grain gruel the New Republic sent probably wouldn’t kill us, I concentrated on spicing it, and garnished a big plate of it with a couple blueleaf sprigs that made the yellowish mound of grain look special for the occasion. I also included the obligatory salad of local greens, but only because Master Skywalker seemed to enjoy it.
I’d just finished serving everything and was returning from the kitchen after shutting down the stove, when Kyp stormed out of the dining room and clipped me with a shoulder.
“Hey, Kyp, what’s the problem?”
The younger man said nothing and continued to stalk down the corridor. I ran after him and caught up with him after a couple of steps. I dropped my left hand on his left shoulder. “Kyp, answer me.”
Kyp whirled beneath my hand, his dark eyes blazing. I felt something solid hit my chest, but I’d already begun to move to my right. The Force blow he aimed at me glanced off the left side of my chest, yet was strong enough to bounce me off the corridor wall. I caught myself against the rough stones, but not before I’d slid halfway to the floor.
“You are not my master.” Kyp shifted from pointing at me to pointing back toward the dining room. “He is not my master. What good is it being a Jedi if we do not act?”
“What good is it if we are Jedi that don’t act responsibly?” I hauled myself upright. “Remember, Kyp, ‘no-good Jedi’ kicked Exar Kun’s butt.”
Kyp struck at me again through the Force, but I expected it this time. I relaxed and let the Force energy flow over and through me. I absorbed enough of it to let me create a shield that split the attack. The fact that I didn’t end up being ground back against the wall surprised him.
“You’re good, Kyp, but you’re not great.” I held my hands up in a nonthreatening gesture. “You’re involved with someone who lost a long time ago. Don’t compound his error.”
“And who will stop me?”
I hesitated because Kyp’s words seemed to echo within themselves. It took me a second or two to figure out that the echo wasn’t a purely auditory phenomenon. I was hearing Kyp’s voice through my ears, but the undertones were coming to me through the Force. We were not alone, which meant Kyp’s mentor had come to aid his apprentice.
“I will, if you make it necessary.”
An ancient sneer of contempt twisted Kyp’s features. “Puny Jedi, you are of no concern to me.”
Even though I braced myself for another attack, it did no good. Kyp’s previous Force blows were like light breezes compared with a full-out gale. I slammed back into the wall with a teeth-rattling impact. As my body absorbed Force energy and fed it back out, the shield I’d created grew in size. More importantly, my surprise and survival instinct opened me up to the Force and allowed it to flow into the shield. Even so, Kyp’s attack jammed the shield back against the wall and I watched stone crumble beneath its rim.
The safe area I had began to shrink, and my chest became tight as it compressed my ribs. I looked Kyp straight in the eyes and tried to shoot into his brain the image of the mask of hate he wore, but the world around me went black before I could tell if I’d had any success at all.
I awakened probably less than a minute after that, judging by how much of the grain gruel had been consumed in my absence. I hung in the doorway to the dining room, my ribs a bit sore. Streen got up from his place and helped me to a chair while Tionne poured me a glass of water.
I drank it, wishing it was full of Corellian whiskey.
Luke’s blue eyes became slits. “What happened to you?”
“Kyp didn’t like the menu.” I winced as a twinge ran through my ribs. “We had a discussion in the hallway. You didn’t feel anything?”
Heads all around the table shook and I felt cold dread begin to congeal in my stomach. If Exar Kun could mask the attack on me in such a way that Luke could not feel it barely fifteen meters away, then he could have slain Gantoris and could still wreak more havoc here with impunity. We were up against something more powerful than I’d ever cared to imagine existing.
I stood. “Master Skywalker, I would have a word with you, alone.”
The other apprentices started to get up, but Luke waved them back down into their seats. “We will be but a moment. The kitchen?”
I nodded and followed him. Once alone in the kitchen, Luke turned on me. “You should not have attempted to interfere with Kyp.”
I blinked with surprise. “I wasn’t trying to interfere. He was upset. I just asked what was happening.”
“But you did something to provoke an attack, didn’t you?”
I rubbed a hand along my jaw and leaned back against the conservator. “It’s an old interrogation technique. I drew a conclusion from what I saw earlier this evening and tried it out. I told him Exar Kun had gotten his butt kicked by the Jedi, and that Kun was wrong. I got a reaction, a very strong one.”
“Kyp is strong in the Force.” Luke folded his arms over his chest. “He has a certain sympathy for Exar Kun. The reaction was not to be unexpected.”
“I could buy into that, but I felt another presence. Not strongly, but it was there and it helped Kyp’s next attack pack a wallop.”
“And you think that was Exar Kun?”
I thought for a moment before answering. “Either it is Exar Kun or someone calling himself Exar Kun because Kyp reacted to that name. Could be it’s someone just trying to wrap himself up in Kun’s legend, just the way he presented himself to you as your father. Regardless, he’s powerful. Kind of what I would expect from a Dark Lord of the Sith.”
Luke shook his head. “You’re making a mistake jumping to the conclusion that we’re dealing with Exar Kun. We don’t know what happened to him in the end.”
“Look, I’ve been with Tionne as she’s pulled as much information as we can from the Holocron about Kun. He was running the culture here and a massive Jedi strike wiped it out. Certain conclusions seem logical from there.” I shrugged. “I think planning for the worst case scenario can’t hurt.”
“There might be gatekeepers in the Holocron that have data ab
out Exar Kun that neither you nor Tionne can access. I will have to conduct my own investigation in that area.”
I caught a note of hesitancy in his voice. “You’re not thinking that just because you were able to redeem the last Dark Lord of the Sith that Exar Kun might have had a change of heart, are you?”
Luke’s face became impassive. “That can’t be ruled out.”
“Wait a minute, you can’t be serious.” I watched him carefully. “Look, if Exar Kun was never redeemed, if no other Dark Lord of the Sith ever saw the error of his ways and came back to the light side, that means nothing concerning your father. You’re letting yourself think that if you’d been good enough, if you’d done everything right, your father could have, would have survived. You’re thinking that you didn’t work hard enough to redeem him because, if you had, he’d still be here. And you’re thinking that if another Dark Lord had been redeemed, then you could compare what you did to what happened to him and learn if you really did do all you could do.”
“No, no way.” Luke shook his head adamantly. “You have it all wrong.”
“Could be, Master Skywalker, but …” I swallowed hard. “Look, I know exactly how this game is played because I did the same thing when my father died. Neither one of us can be certain that we did all we could to save them, but all the second guessing in the galaxy won’t give us a second chance at saving them. The only thing we can do is accept responsibility and live with the consequences.”
Luke’s expression remained impassive, but even that told a story. Just for a moment I got to see him as the human being he was. Raised by relatives on Tatooine, always wondering about his parents, never learning how to properly deal with a mother or father. He had to constantly wonder why his life wasn’t “normal,” not realizing that everyone asks themselves that question. And then, when he discovered who his father was, it turned out that his father was the trusted henchman of the galaxy’s most hated individual. His father had not only killed people, but he had been the betrayer of the most noble tradition in the galaxy. He determined he would save his father and did, just in time to lose him forever.
Star Wars: I, Jedi Page 17
