Star Wars: Darksaber Page 6

  One of the reptilian retainers hummed into his musical synthesizer again, sending out a loud and soothing tone that made Leia’s teeth throb. It seemed to serve as a summons for the Taurill, though. Cooing and purring, they ran toward the music, as if drawn by invisible leashes. They approached Durga’s sled, dozens and dozens of them emerging from hiding places like a swarm of vermin.

  “If that was so easy,” Leia wondered aloud, “why didn’t Durga simply use the musical tones at the very beginning?”

  The Gamorreans began counting the Taurill as they came in, but the stupid guards lost track numerous times until Threepio finally stepped in to help. He rapidly pointed to each of the remaining fuzzy creatures. “Ninety-seven, Lord Durga. That is my count for the Taurill.”

  The Hutt grumbled. “I came here with ninety-eight, and your man executed one of them—so I believe our tally is intact.” He glared at the nervous honor guard. “Perhaps, Madam President, you would consider reassigning your trigger-happy escort, who is given to such disruptive outbursts during a delicate diplomatic negotiation.”

  “I will consider it, Durga,” Leia said. “But perhaps you should consider leaving your unruly pets behind if you plan to conduct ‘delicate diplomatic negotiations.’ And if you simply must bring them, keep them under tighter control when they are in the vicinity of dangerous weapons.”

  Durga reared up as if offended, then let out a deep belly laugh. “I like you, Leia Organa Solo. I am glad to have such a strong counterpart who does not cower in fear. I wish to continue these negotiations at some time in the future. Allow me to extend an invitation for you to make a visit to Nal Hutta, at your convenience? I would be happy to receive you there.”

  Leia nodded, noncommittal. “I’ll consider it, Durga,” she said. “If my rather busy schedule will permit it.”

  Durga bowed on his repulsorsled and bade them all farewell.

  The Gamorrcan guards turned the Hutt around and strained against their red velvet leashes, pulling the floating sled back out into the corridor. The worker droids groaned and shuffled as they swung the heavy doors shut.

  Leia slumped back in her seat and only then noticed that she was perspiring heavily. Han patted her hand.

  “We really should spend more time with the Hutts. They seem like such a pleasant species,” he said. “Now how about we get something to eat?”

  YAVIN 4

  CHAPTER 7

  Callista sat alone in the jungles as night gathered on Yavin 4. Near the horizon, a lambent glow from the setting gas giant streaked the sky; Massassi trees rose tall, spreading their many-branched silhouettes against the deepening purple. Stars poked out, lights twinkling through a cloak of blackness.

  She had not gone far from the Great Temple where Luke Skywalker had founded his Jedi academy. The stair-cased pyramid had endured for thousands of years, and stood now like a jagged black cutout surrounded by dusk.

  Callista sat with her long legs crossed in front of a campfire she had built from dry brush, concentrating, allowing no distractions. Her malt blond hair was mussed and windblown, but her gray eyes were fixed on the flames. The warmth spread out in waves, gentle but insistent, driving back the damp coolness that settled over the lowlands.

  She stared into the flames and pushed, but she felt nothing, not even a flicker of her former abilities. Feathery tongues of fire licked at the logs, lending the bark a soft orange glow. Tiny sparks drifted into the air in corkscrew patterns, like incandescent starfighters crashing to oblivion. Callista grimaced and tried harder to touch the flames with her mind, to nudge the embers.

  But nothing happened. She sensed no communion with the fire.

  Luke’s other Jedi trainees could make the flames dance, pulling them out like flexible sheets to make faces, images, twisting them into braids. It was a simple Jedi exercise. Callista had learned how to do it many years ago; back then she had not even needed to concentrate. But now, try as she might, the flames would not respond. Her Jedi powers had abandoned her.

  She stood with a lost sigh of frustration and kicked apart the logs to let the fire die. Sparks showered upward like a rekindled space battle, and the embers fought to maintain their brightness.

  Callista trudged back toward the great stone pyramid, wondering when Luke would come back. Behind her, the fire gasped and died into a waning glow.

  As Callista readied for bed, alone, she answered a summons at her door, surprised to find the Jedi woman Tionne standing in the corridor.

  “I found something in the records,” Tionne said, blinking her mother-of-pearl eyes over an anxious expression. She had a narrow face, pointed chin, high cheek-bones, and large eyes framed by long silvery hair that gave her an elfin, ethereal appearance. “It isn’t much, but I thought you’d like to know.” Her voice had a musical lilt, and it was not surprising that Tionne enjoyed singing, accompanied by a stringed instrument of her own devising.

  Tionne was not one of Luke’s stronger trainees, but she had proven to be his most skilled assistant and teacher at the academy. She had always been intrigued by Jedi lore and legends, and she spent much time studying archives, compiling a great history of the thousand generations of Jedi Knights who had served the Old Republic.

  “Come in,” Callista said, gesturing. “What is it?”

  Tionne raised her pale eyebrows. “You might like to know that at least you aren’t alone. Not in history at any rate.”

  Callista perked up. “Other Jedi have lost their powers before?”

  “Yes, there was another.” Tionne sat down on the rumpled covers of Callista’s sleeping pallet, her mysterious pearlescent eyes widening. She enjoyed nothing more than retelling the Jedi legends she knew and loved so well.

  “Ulic Qel-Droma, a great warlord who fought in the Sith War on the side of evil with Exar Kun. He betrayed Kun and led the Jedi Knights here, where they trapped Kun’s spirit in the temples and laid waste to the entire moon. But by turning to the dark side, Ulic Qel-Droma damned himself forever, and in a final confrontation he was stripped of his Force ability.”

  “But how?” Callista said. “The Force is in all things. How can one Jedi Knight strip another of the ability to use it?”

  “Ulic was not deprived of anything,” Tionne continued, “in a manner of speaking, he was blindfolded to the Force. Ulic no longer had access to it.”

  “But how could I have had such blinders placed upon me?” Callista said. “Was it just a consequence of my spirit entering another body?”

  “Cray’s body,” Tionne said with a slight tightening in her throat. Callista remembered that the silver-haired Jedi woman had known Cray well, had trained with her—and now Callista’s spirit inhabited the same body, while Cray herself had died in a suicide mission against the Eye of Palpatine.

  “I can’t explain it,” Tionne said with a shrug. “I can only tell you what I’ve learned. Every piece of information adds more to the solution. Someday”—Tionne rested her long and delicate fingers on Callista’s forearm—“we’ll find the answer.”

  Callista nodded and stood to usher Tionne out the door. The Great Temple had fallen silent with late evening, the other Jedi trainees either sleeping or meditating in their own chambers. Out in the corridor, the little astromech droid Artoo-Detoo puttered along the flagstones, looking lost without Luke Skywalker.

  Callista vowed to keep trying, keep searching. There had to be some way. She had waited for so long inside the computer, and now that she had found her love in Luke, she would not let him go without a fight. But she could not be a part of him, true Jedi to true Jedi, until she regained her ability to use the Force. She couldn’t give everything to him until then.

  Their time had been so brief before they had been snatched apart, left with only their loss, to look into each other’s eyes with an invisible barrier between them that neither could breach.

  Callista swallowed, but her throat remained dry. Despite her reservations, she could not wait until Luke Skywalker returned to her.
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br />   When Luke did return several days later, Callista knew instantly that he had been unsuccessful. She was unable to read him in the way she had once sensed emotions with her Jedi potential—but she could tell by his demeanor and downcast expression that he had not found the answers he sought.

  She met Luke on the landing grid in front of the pyramid. The other Jedi students emerged one by one to welcome their Master home. Callista ran to him. Luke moved quickly, delighted to see her. He caught her in his arms, holding her close, but said nothing.

  She kissed him, then spoke quietly into his ear. “General Kenobi did not answer your summons?” she asked.

  He looked at her strangely, blinking his cool blue eyes, and then smiled. “I keep forgetting you were a Jedi so long ago that you knew Obi-Wan when he was a young military commander.”

  He averted his gaze. “No, he didn’t answer.” Then he spoke quickly as if to reassure her. “But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m going to keep trying—and so are you,” he said.

  “You can bet on that,” she agreed. “I’d do anything so we can be together.”

  “So would I,” Luke said, “if only I knew what to do.”

  “Let’s go greet the others.” Callista slipped her arm around his waist. He held her, and the two walked toward the temple. “I’m sorry you didn’t find the answer,” she said, “but just having you back makes me happy.”

  “That much I can give you,” Luke said, “but I hope we can have more … so much more.”

  “We will,” Callista said.

  CHAPTER 8

  A heavy, warm rain sheared through the jungle, pattering on the glossy leaves. Master Skywalker ignored it, or accepted it, as he led his group of students along the wet pathways through the undergrowth surrounding the Great Temple. Droplets of glittering water danced across their Jedi robes.

  Kyp Durron looked up at the open patches of leaden gray sky through the tall trees. The rain caressed his face with pearly fingers that traced the contours of his chin and ran into the hollow of his throat. Others might have taken the gloom and storm as an ill omen, but rain brought life to the jungle moon, and Kyp considered it a healthy change from the humid sunshine.

  Cilghal, the Calamarian Jedi Knight, walked directly behind Master Skywalker. Her watery blue robes rippled around her, already soaked, though they looked as if they were designed to be wet. Her salmon-colored skin glistened, and she blinked her large fish eyes in contentment at the rain.

  Kyp walked beside the cloned alien Dorsk 81, whose smooth skin and rounded features made him appear streamlined, with all the sharp edges worn away. Dorsk 81 had pale, olive green skin, wide yellow eyes, and an open innocent face. The cloned alien had been fighting to regain his self-assurance, struggling with generations of identical and talentless predecessors in his genetic line. Kyp and Dorsk 81 had become close companions in the past year. They had opposite personalities—which might have made them clash, but somehow the two filled each other’s empty spots.

  Master Skywalker led the group of trainees through the hushed underbrush, where even the birds and insects remained subdued, hiding under the shelter of thick leaves from the downpour.

  They came down an embankment to the wide river that sliced through the jungle, a broad ribbon of greenish water that teemed with life. The current flowed swiftly; thousands of pockmarks dimpled the surface as rain pounded down.

  Across the river and through the rain, Kyp could see the ruins of another Massassi temple, the tall, crumbling Temple of the Blueleaf Cluster. Nearby, the large power-generating station hummed and steamed in the afternoon shower.

  Master Skywalker stopped at the bank, his feet squishing in the mud. He spread his hands at his sides as if drawing up lines of Force from beneath the surface. He shrugged back his hood. His pale brown hair had darkened from the falling rain and lay plastered in thick clumps against his head. Raindrops sparkled on his cheeks as he turned toward the other trainees.

  “I’m pleased to be marking a passage,” he said. “The river flows, as does the Force—never ending, always moving.… I brought you to Yavin 4 to begin your instruction. I can only set you on the path of the light side and open your minds to the possibilities of the Force. You must all complete your own training. Each of you must decide when that time has come.

  “Since the New Republic needs Jedi Knights to spread peace and stability, we cannot stay here indefinitely in our comfortable academy.” Master Skywalker looked at the drenched candidates and at his own soaked robe. “Well, maybe it’s not always comfortable,” he said. The Jedi students chuckled.

  Kyp felt suddenly nervous. Although he had looked forward to this graduation for a long time, he now felt as if he were putting an end to one of the most important times in his life—even if it meant he was about to start an even more crucial or exciting phase.

  “Three trainees have decided to depart from the Jedi praxeum, the academy where we learn action and learn the Force.”

  Kyp and Dorsk 81 stepped forward to stand beside Cilghal and turned to face the other Jedi trainees. Cilghal tilted her head to the sky, letting the rain stream across her face.

  “They have mastered each lesson I prepared for them,” Luke Skywalker said. “They have built their own lightsabers and completed their training.”

  Cilghal withdrew her own lightsaber handle from her pale blue robe; her weapon was silvery and smooth, with subtle indentations and blisters, as if organically grown, much like the large Mon Calamari starcruisers. Kyp and Dorsk 81 pulled out their own lightsabers. As one, the three graduates flicked on the weapons. Steam sizzled around them as raindrops hissed against the glowing blades.

  “You three must go and become guardians for the galaxy, protectors of the New Republic,” Master Skywalker said. “You must fight the dark side in all its manifestations. You are Jedi Knights now.”

  Cilghal focused her round eyes on the humming blade in front of her. “I will return to my homeworld, where I serve both as a Jedi Knight and an ambassador. The Mon Calamari are talented and industrious people. We can pool our resources to enhance the stability of the New Republic.”

  Dorsk 81 blinked his yellow eyes and looked nervously to Kyp, who gave a slight nod of encouragement. The cloned alien said, “I wish to return to my home planet as well. To Khomm, where our society has remained the same for centuries. Showing them that I am changed—that I have become a Jedi Knight—will shake them up,” he said. His slit mouth turned upward in a faint smile. “I believe they need to be reawakened.”

  Master Skywalker then looked at Kyp, who drew himself up to seem as tall as Dorsk 81. “I’ll go with him for now,” Kyp said. “His homeworld is toward the center of the galaxy, near the Core Systems. I’m really worried that the Empire has been so quiet in the last couple of years. Sure, we’ve seen the renegade Admiral Daala and the Eye of Palpatine—”

  Here, Master Skywalker flinched and glanced at Callista who, though she appeared wet and bedraggled in the rain, still glowed with affection for Luke.

  “But I still think the warlords must be planning something,” Kyp said. “I can’t imagine any greater service to the New Republic than for me to find out what’s going on. I’ll slip in and snoop around the Empire.”

  Master Skywalker nodded in approval, then addressed the other Jedi trainees. “Someday you all will become guardians. Think of where you might go, where you could do the most good.” He turned back to the newly graduated Jedi Knights. “May the Force be with you.”

  Kyp looked at the others, saw uneasiness or hard determination. Tionne nodded peacefully. Kam Solusar, the hard-edged Jedi, stood unblinking as if nothing could affect him. Kirana Ti, the warrior woman from Dathomir, looked confident in her glittering red-and-green reptilian armor. Beside her, the addle-brained hermit from Bespin, Streen, looked at the raindrops on his hands and flicked his gaze from side to side. Kirana Ti placed a strong hand on his shoulder, as if she could suddenly sense his doubts.

  The others reacted i
n their own ways, agreeing or looking away. Kyp knew Luke’s original group of trainees well; others were new arrivals, coming to be trained as the word went out from system to system, and more potential Jedi Knights were found.

  Master Skywalker dropped his hands to his sides, relaxing. Kyp switched off his own lightsaber, and the handle swallowed the silvery pure blade. Cilghal and Dorsk 81 also extinguished their weapons.

  Luke smiled at them all. “I think I’ve had enough rain. Let’s go back to the temple.”

  Suddenly, Kyp felt the tension fade from the air, and it seemed as if they were a group of companions on a simple hike rather than in a ceremony laden with galactic import.

  Master Skywalker stepped into the milling group of trainees, seeking out Callista. He took her hand, and they smiled at each other as they led the others along an overgrown path back to the Great Temple.

  En route to Khomm, Dorsk 81 piloted the small private spacecraft the New Republic had given them. The cloned alien watched the bright spot of his homeworld grow.

  “Approaching on standard vector,” Kyp said from the passenger seat and toggled the comm system. “Kyp Durron and Dorsk 81 on approach. Request landing coordinates.”

  Within a moment, the space traffic controller calmly gave Kyp the data he needed. He looked curiously at Dorsk 81. “Are they expecting us?” he said.

  The olive-skinned alien shook his head. “No, they just rarely respond to anything in an unusual way.”

  Kyp looked at the cloned alien, recalling a previous time they had traveled together. While under the influence of Exar Kun, the ancient Dark Lord of the Sith, he had gone with Dorsk 81 to an abandoned jungle temple, Kun’s private fortress of solitude. There the black spirit tried to destroy Dorsk 81 on a whim, to demonstrate the power of the dark side; Kyp had saved him, though Dorsk 81 hadn’t even known about it.