Star Wars: New Jedi Order: Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse Page 7

  Ceremoniously, Luke lowered the cowl of his Jedi robe. “Mara and I are different but complementary—in the same way Anakin and Jacen are. There are different aspects to the Force, and not all Jedi focus on the same one. My Masters admonished me for always looking toward the future without really seeing it.”

  “Could your father see the future?” Talon asked carefully.

  “My father was not the seer but the lens.” Luke grew introspective for a moment, then smiled enigmatically. “By the way, if Mara had known you were coming to Yavin 4, she would have postponed her visit to Coruscant.”

  “Another evaluation?”

  “On the contrary. She refuses to be scanned, examined, or evaluated by anyone.”

  “Then it actually cured her—this magic elixir Solo was given?”

  “Not an elixir—tears. And no one will use the word cure, even Mara. I urged her to hold off on taking the antidote until we could be sure it wasn’t potentially dangerous, but she refused. She insisted on taking the risk.”

  Talon nodded. “Her intuition. But you’re not convinced?”

  Luke gazed at the jungle. “The Yuuzhan Vong priestess who claimed she wanted political asylum was a weapon sent to assassinate as many Jedi as she could gather. The being who traveled with her, Vergere, was not Yuuzhan Vong, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t serving their interests. “

  “The elixir could have been part of the plot,” Talon said. “The Yuuzhan Vong could have wanted to make it appear this Vergere was on our side, to erase doubts about the substance she gave Han.”

  Luke said nothing.

  “But Mara’s better.”

  “Healthier than she’s been in almost a year,” Luke admitted. “Joyous—as I am.”

  “If she does slide, if the effect turns out to be temporary...”

  “Whatever is contained in Vergere’s tears can’t be replicated. The chemical action is as puzzling as anything we’ve seen from the Yuuzhan Vong. We can only hope the effect is permanent.”

  Karrde considered it. “You know I’d do anything to help Mara. I’ll track down Vergere. I’ll wring more tears out of her if I have to.”

  Luke smiled. “I appreciate that, Talon. I’ll tell Mara you said so, though I suspect she already knows.”

  They resumed their walk to the Great Temple. Off toone side of the path a dozen young Jedi, varying in age from four to twelve, were watching Tionne and Kam So-lusar demonstrate a Force technique. Luke paused to observe one of the older children, Tahiri, attempt to mimic one of Kam’s manipulations.

  “Yavin 4 has remained undetected, but with the Yuuzhan Vong as close as Obroa-skai, we may be forced to remove everyone to safer surroundings.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t targeted Yavin already.”

  Luke turned to him. “We’re projecting an illusion. Something I learned from the Fallanassi.”

  Talon’s eyes narrowed in revelation. “So that’s why you insisted on guiding me into the Yavin system.”

  “Your eyes would have contradicted what your ship’s instruments were telling you.”

  Talon put his tongue in his cheek and laughed. “If I’d had a line on that technique, I wouldn’t have had to base out of Myrkr, where the trees had a way of tricking scanners.” He grinned broadly. “But of course you remember that...”

  “Yes,” Luke said flatly. “And even then, Grand Admiral Thrawn found you out. As Jedi commitment to the conflict increases, there won’t be enough of us here to maintain the illusion. The children will have to be sent elsewhere.”

  Talon glanced at the kids. “Let me know if you ever need help with that.”

  “I will.”

  They hadn’t gone another ten paces when Karrde asked, “Is it true a Jedi died on Gyndine?”

  “You’re referring to Wurth Skidder,” Luke said. “But we don’t know for certain that he’s dead. Leia was there to the end. She insists that Wurth deliberately remained behind.”

  “To allow himself to be captured?”

  “Perhaps to go undercover on Gyndine.”

  Karrde shook his head. “I don’t know Skidder, but I’ve heard rumors. Is he the person for the job?”

  “He’s skillful.”

  “Skill’s good, but is he lucky?”

  Luke didn’t answer the question. “Just now, like so many of us who have lost friends and family, he’s driven by vengeance. He was close friends with both Miko Reglia and Daeshara’cor.”

  “Well, there’s nothing wrong with being motivated by vengeance if it gets you results.”

  Luke’s expression said otherwise.

  “Wrong?”

  “Let’s just say that we don’t see the world in precisely the same way.”

  They continued walking. Over the cascading sounds of the river that flowed past the Great Temple came voices raised in impassioned debate or argument.

  “Sounds like there’s some division in the ranks,” Talon remarked as they neared the temple’s common room.

  “That would be Jacen and Anakin.”

  “Complementing one another, no doubt.”

  Jaina, with arms outstretched, was positioned between her brothers when Luke and Karrde entered the dimly lighted space. A handful of other Jedi, including Kyp Durron, Ganner Rhysode, Streen, Lowbacca, Kenth Hamner, and Cilghal, looked on. Sensing Luke, R2-D2 began to bounce from foot to foot, chirring and warbling.

  “They were just. . . discussing Anakin’s invitation to visit Centerpoint Station,” Jaina explained.

  Luke glanced from Jacen to Anakin and back again. “Finish the discussion.”

  Jacen scowled at his younger brother. “I’ll say it once more, then I’m done with it: Centerpoint is this”—hegrasped the hilt of the lightsaber that hung from his belt—”on a gargantuan scale. Assuming the station can even be made operational, it should be used only for defense.”

  Anakin exhaled wearily. “And I’ll say this one last time: I completely agree.”

  “Then keep away from Corellia,” Jacen said. “Don’t have anything to do with enabling Centerpoint or any of the hyperspace repulsors. You were a kid the first time—we all were. You didn’t know any better.”

  Anakin snorted. “You’re leaving out that my ignorant actions ended up foiling the Triad’s plans to detonate another star and annihilate every ship the Bakurans sent against them.”

  “That was defensive! Your tinkering with the repulsor on Drall prevented Centerpoint from firing!”

  “Tinkering,” Anakin repeated, snickering. “Let me ask you something: Are you against Jaina flying with Rogue Squadron?”

  Jacen glanced at his twin sister, who was on temporary leave from the squadron she had joined only four months earlier. “Not in theory.”

  “Are you against Mom and Tenel Ka going to Hapes?”

  “Not in principle.”

  “Not in principle? The New Republic is hoping to bring the Consortium into the war. If you think of Rogue Squadron or the Hapans as weapons—an extension of that,” Anakin said, gesturing to Jacen’s lightsaber, “then what’s the difference between what Jaina or Mom are being asked to do and what I’ve been asked to do at Corellia? I said I’d help enable the station. I didn’t say anything about firing it.”

  Jacen made an exasperated sound and swung to Luke. “Where do you stand on this, Uncle Luke?”

  Luke folded his arms. “As I told the Defense Force command staff, I’m opposed to reenabling Centerpoint on the grounds that its power is too unmanageable. And you all know that I was against Daeshara’cor’s attempts to resurrect another Eye of Palpatine. But if there’s even a chance that Centerpoint Station can be used to defend Corellia and spare the fleets for service elsewhere, we’re obliged to do what we can to help make it operational.”

  Jacen pressed his lips together and swung back to his brother. “All right, Anakin, have it your way. But I’m going with you.”

  Anakin shrugged. “Glad to have you along.”

  The debate decided for t
he moment, the teens settled down and everyone gradually formed a loose circle around Luke and Karrde.

  “Talon has a proposition for us,” Luke said. “I haven’t heard it yet, but knowing him as I do, I’m sure it will be interesting.”

  “Or at’least entertaining,” Kyp Durron mumbled, drawing laughs.

  Karrde took the jesting in stride. “As I’m sure you know, the Hutts have struck some sort of bargain with the Yuuzhan Vong. By bargain, I mean just that, since the Hutts would sooner go to war than roll over for an enemy, no matter how commanding. So it stands to reason that in exchange for allowing the Yuuzhan Vong into their space, the Hutts asked for and got something in return. To figure out what that is, all anyone needs to do is follow the spice.”

  Karrde paused briefly. “I’ve been doing just that, and I haven’t noticed any signs of interruption in the flow of spice—except in three systems: Tynna, Bothawui, and Corellia.”

  He waited until the murmuring died down before continuing. “The Hutts wouldn’t suddenly cease deliveriesto three profitable sectors unless there was good reason to avoid them. I’m willing to bet that the reason has to do with intelligence the Yuuzhan Vong provided as their part of the deal. Namely, that those systems have been targeted for invasion.

  “The fact that no one has moved in to pick up the slack suggests that the Hutts have advised all their partners and subcontractors to steer a wide berth around Tynna, Bothawui, and Corellia. But even this doesn’t add up to a case good enough to present to the New Republic. To do that would require proof positive that avoiding those worlds isn’t just the result of the Hutts speculating about where the Yuuzhan Vong will strike.”

  “Why not approach the Hutts and ask them directly?” Kenth Hamner asked. Tall and wellborn, Hamner had been a Defense Force colonel before resigning from military life to follow the Jedi way.

  “Easier said than done,” Karrde said, “and in fact, the New Republic is trying to do just that. But if someone outside the military could furnish corroborating evidence, the Defense Force would have what they need to catch the Yuuzhan Vong completely by surprise.”

  “Why do you come to us with this?” Streen asked. “You’ve been liaison between the Imperial Remnant and the New Republic since the peace accord. You certainly don’t need us to get the attention of Admiral Sow.”

  “I know why he’s come to us,” Kyp Durron said, keeping his eyes on Karrde. “Because the New Republic left him out of the loop when they asked Leia to approach the Imperial Remnant about joining the fight.”

  Karrde snorted. “It wasn’t my place to approach the Remnant assembly. I’m a broker, Kyp, not an ambassador.”

  “Then what makes you think it’s your place to approach us?” Kyp retorted.

  “The fact is, I don’t know who else to trust with this. Judging by the way New Republic Intelligence handled that bogus Yuuzhan Vong defector, I’d venture to say that the Intelligence division, maybe even the Advisory Council itself, has been infiltrated. What’s more, the Defense Force can’t act without the approval of the senate, and the Security and Intelligence Council isn’t likely to back Admiral Sow on the word of an ex-smuggler.”

  “You still haven’t clarified why you need us,” Ulaha said. A Bith, she was delicate-looking and musically gifted. “After Ithor, we’re hardly in good stead with the senate ourselves.”

  “That’s the point: you need to get them listening to you again. You’d think they would have learned their lesson from Ithor, but old habits die hard and they’re still reluctant to trust you. They don’t want to be perceived as indebted to the Jedi. It smacks of Old Republic thinking.”

  Ganner grimaced, wrinkling the facial scar he had incurred at Garqi. “It warms my heart to see that you’re thinking about us, Karrde, but the Jedi don’t need a public relations person.”

  “You’re wrong, Ganner. You’re too trusting. Anti-Jedi sentiment is spreading. Some folks think you’re holding back, others think you’re incompetent. A lot of people wish that Emperor Palpatine was still around, because they feel he’d know how to deal with the Yuuzhan Vong. If you want to go back to being monks, that’s your choice. But if you want to serve peace and justice, you need to smarten your image, and one way to do that would be to provide intelligence that ends up giving the New Republic a major victory. The best defense against treachery is treachery.”

  “What role could we play in this?” Jacen asked impatiently.

  Talon looked at him. “I can facilitate a meeting with one of the Hutts’ spice smugglers. We can find out for ourselves why no one is willing to deliver to Tynna and the rest.”

  Jacen rolled his eyes. “This is Centerpoint all over again.” He glanced at Luke. “The Jedi shouldn’t have any part in this. It demeans us.”

  “It doesn’t demean anyone,” Anakin argued. “We can help without having to raise a hand—or a lightsaber. You, if anybody, should be in favor of that.”

  Everyone looked to Luke.

  Images came to him of insects disguising themselves as leaves, twigs, and flower blossoms, and of small animals mimicking the variegated litter of the forest floor. The Force whispered to him once more: Deception, stealth, misdirection. . .

  He realized that he needed to tread carefully, for fear of dividing the Jedi further. Where many lauded Corran Horn’s individual actions at Ithor, others favored Kyp Durron’s stance that aggression should be answered by aggression. What’s more, at Ithor Luke had renounced responsibility for spearheading the Jedi Knights.

  “I’m not interested in repairing our tarnished image,” he said at last. “The New Republic isn’t eager to sanction our actions, in any case. But if we can help provide information that will prevent the fall of another world, the choice is clear.”

  “I’m willing to go with Talon,” Jaina said.

  Kyp made a face. “A seventeen-year-old spice buyer? I doubt the Hutts’ people will buy it.” He looked back at Karrde. “I’ll go. You’ll need someone to sort the truth from the lies.”

  “Unlikely,” Karrde said, “but I appreciate the offer.” “Then count me in, as well,” Ganner said. He glanced at Kyp. “Just to be certain we’re getting the full truth.”

  Karrde glanced around him. “It’s settled then?” Only Jacen remained unconvinced. “Centerpoint, enlistment, espionage ... I never thought we’d come to this.”

  Kyp Durron grinned and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Cheer up, kid. Things are bad all over.”

  SEVEN

  The sign hovering between formidable guard towers read WELCOME TO RUAN REFUGEE FACILITY 17. But just below the greeting someone had scrawled, in a tiny almost undetectable hand, LAST CHANCE TO TURN BACK.

  Crushed in among the rerouted mixed-species thousands off-loaded from the transport ships, and still wet and possibly poisoned from Ruan’s cursory decontamination process, Melisma read the sign aloud and aimed a worried glance at Gaph, who had Droma’s nephew balanced atop one of his shoulders

  “‘Last chance to turn back’?”

  “Someone’s idea of a joke,” Gaph said in dismissal. “Come, child, how bad can it be? We have pleasing countryside all around, fresh air in place of scrubbed oxygen, the promise of food and drink, ten thousand melancholy sentients for company.” He grinned and lowered his voice to add, “And where there are melancholy sentients, there are opportunities galore for the Ryn.”

  Melisma smiled uncertainly, though what Gaph said about the surroundings was undeniably true, for Ruan was nothing if not one of the Core’s beauty marks.

  One of eighteen agricultural worlds administered by Salliche Ag, Ruan—or at least that part of the planet the refugees had been delivered to—had the manicured lookof a park. The undeviating road that linked the planet’s bustling spaceport to Refugee Facility 17 was bordered by tall, topiary hedges, and beyond those hedges, as far as the eye could see, stretched scrupulously maintained fields of crops, in varying states of maturation. Unlike Orron III, Ukio, Taanab, and most of the other breadb
asket worlds on which the Ryn had sought employment from time to time, Ruan did not merely rely on axial tilt and fertile soil, but was climate controlled and agriformed to maximize output. Also there were far fewer harvester droids, agribots, and work droids than Melisma had expected to see, which meant more occupational opportunities for sentients.

  She breathed deeply of the sweet air. Gaph was right. Arriving on Ruan, especially after spending more than a standard week in the cramped and fetid living conditions aboard the transport, was like being delivered to paradise itself. But vague concerns continued to rankle her. How long would they be required to remain on Ruan, and where would they end up afterwards? Princess Leia had made it clear that their stay on Ruan would be temporary, but with the Yuuzhan Vong already in the Expansion Region, how long before they carried their invasion into the Core? And what then?

  Processing the newly arrived exiles was a painfully tedious business. With everyone pressed so tightly together there was nowhere to sit much less recline, and no escape from the potent sunshine that climate supervision had apparently ordered for the day. The crowd seemed to extend endlessly to the front and rear. But at last the five of them—Gaph, Melisma, her two female clancousins, and the infant—reached a processing checkpoint attended by armed security guards sporting Salliche Ag arm badges.

  A human male with a scarred jaw appraised themfrom the window of the checkpoint booth. “What in the galaxy are these?” he asked someone out of view.

  Instantly, a no-less-sinister-looking uniformed female appeared at the window and aimed a spherically shaped optical scanner directly at Melisma. “Could take the system a moment to recognize them,” she told the first guard. When the scanner emitted a single tone, she glanced at its display screen. “Ryn.”

  “Ryn? What rock are they from?”

  The woman shook her head. “Planet of origin unknown. But what’s the difference, they arrived from Gyndine. See if we’ve got any more like them.”

  Melisma’s misgivings returned. SELCORE advocates and Ruan officials at the spaceport had been cordial and accommodating, but these guards, both in their bearing and manner of dress, brought to mind the Espos who, years back, had policed many of the Corporate Sector worlds.