At the edge of a clearing, with tall grasses stroking against each other, Master Skywalker came to a halt. Kyp stopped beside him to see two ferocious — looking predators, iridescent in scales of pale purple and mottled green for
camouflage in the thick vegetation. They looked like hunting cats crossbred with large reptiles: their shoulders were square, their forearms as powerful as heavy pistons. They had three eyes across their boxy faces, yellow and slitted, unblinking as they stared at the intruders.
Master Skywalker gazed back at them in silence. The breeze stopped. The predators growled, opening their mouths to expose scimitar fangs, and let out a purring howl before they melted back into the jungle.
"Let's continue," Master Skywalker said, and walked across the clearing.
"But where are we going?" Kyp asked.
"You'll see soon enough."
Unable to bear his feelings of isolation and loneliness, Kyp tried to keep the Jedi teacher talking. "Master Skywalker, what if I fail to distinguish between the dark side and the light side? I'm afraid that any power I use now might also lead me down the path of destruction."
A feathery — winged moth flitted in front of them, seeking nectar from the bright flowers that blossomed among the creeping vines. Kyp watched the moth's flight until suddenly, from four different directions, sapphire — winged piranha beetles zoomed in to strike, ripping the moth's wings to shreds. The moth fluttered and struggled, but the piranha beetles devoured it before it could even fall to the ground. The beetles buzzed so close to Kyp's face that he
could see their saw — toothed mandibles ready to tear flesh to shreds; but the beetles ratcheted away to seek other prey.
"The dark side is easier, faster, more seductive," Luke said. "But you can identify it by your own emotions. If you use it for enlightenment to help others, it may be from the light side. But if you use it for your own advancement, out of anger or revenge, then the power is tainted. Don't use it. You will know when you are calm, passive."
Kyp listened and knew that he had done everything wrong. Exar Kun had given him false information. The Jedi Master turned to him; his face looked haggard with the weight on his shoulders. "Do you understand?" Master Skywalker asked.
"Yes," Kyp answered.
"Good." Master Skywalker parted the branches on the other side of the clearing to expose a sight that made Kyp stop cold in his tracks. They had come from a different direction, but Kyp could never forget the site itself. Fragments of burning ice trickled down his spine.
"I feel cold," he said. "I don't want to go back there."
They stepped out to where the vegetation dropped off at the edge of a glassy — smooth lake, a circular reflecting pond where the water looked clear and colorless and reflected the cloudless skies above like a pool of quicksilver.
In the center of the pond sat an island of volcanic rock on which perched a sharply angled split pyramid made of obsidian. Two halves of the steep pyramid had been spread apart to bracket the polished black statue, a towering colossus of a man with flowing hair, bulky uniform, and a long black cape. Kyp knew the image all too well.
Exar Kun in life.
Inside that temple Kyp had received his initiation into the Sith teachings, while Dorsk 81 had lain in an unnatural coma against the wall. The spirit of Exar Kun had meant to destroy the cloned Jedi student on a whim, as a gesture of power, but Kyp had stopped him, insisting instead that the Sith Lord teach him everything. He had seen things that still left yammering nightmares in the depths of his mind.
"The dark side is strong in that place," Kyp said. "I can't go in there."
Master Skywalker said, "In your fear lies caution, and in that caution lies wisdom and strength." He squatted on a comfortable rock at the edge of the crystalline lake. He shaded his eyes against the light reflecting from the surface of the pool.
"I will wait here," Master Skywalker said, "but you must go inside."
Kyp swallowed, terror and revulsion rising within him. This black temple symbolized everything that had rotted his core, everything that had led him astray, all the mistakes he had made. The dark lies and goading of Exar Kun had caused Kyp to kill his own brother, to threaten the life of his friend Han Solo, to strike down his Jedi teacher.
Another shiver passed through him. Perhaps this was his punishment.
"What will I find in there?" Kyp asked.
"Ask no more questions," Master Skywalker said. "I can give you no answers. You must choose whether to carry your weapon with you." He nodded toward the lightsaber handle clipped to Kyp's waist. "You will have only what you bring with you."
Kyp touched the ridged handle of the lightsaber, afraid to turn it on. Did Master Skywalker want him to leave it behind or take it? Kyp hesitated. Better to have the weapon and not use it, he decided, than to need it and be without.
Trembling, Kyp went to the water's edge. He looked down and observed the tall columns of stone that stopped just beneath the surface of the water, providing submerged stepping stones.
Tentatively, he set one foot on the first stone. The water rippled around his foot. He drew a deep breath, raised his head high, and fought back the echoing voices in his head. He had to face this, whatever it was. He did not look
back at Master Skywalker.
He crossed the water and climbed onto the lichen — encrusted lava rocks of the island, walking the narrow path that led to the triangular entrance of the temple.
Beneath the towering statue of Exar Kun, the
black opening glittered with implanted Corusca
gems. Incised runes and hieroglyphics
broke the polished brightness of the obsidian. Kyp
stared at the writings, finding that he could summon
some of their meaning back to him; but he
shook his head to clear the words from his thoughts.
The temple seemed to breathe a cool air
current that seeped in and out of the enclosed space.
Kyp did not know what he would find inside. His
body stiffened with anticipation. He looked around,
refusing to call out. Kyp took one step into the
doorway and looked up at the dour chiseled
face of the long — dead Sith Lord. Then he entered
the temple chamber.
The walls glittered with an inner light that had
been trapped within the volcanic glass.
Tracings of frost spiraled in a frozen dance
up and down the walls. In the far corner a
cistern dripped, filled with chilled water.
He waited.
Suddenly Kyp's stomach wrenched. His skin
crawled. He blinked as his vision blurred. The
air around him grew grainy as if the light itself
had splintered inside the temple.
He tried to turn, but found himself moving
sluggishly as if the air resisted him,
solidifying around him. Everything flickered.
Kyp staggered deeper into the temple, trying
to move quickly, but his body would not respond with its
customary speed.
A shadow rose from the black wall, an
ominous form, human — shaped. It gained power,
growing as Kyp fed it with his fear. The figure
rose higher, oozing out of the cracks, out of a
blackness from beyond time, a featureless silhouette
that nevertheless seemed familiar to Kyp.
"You're dead," Kyp said, attempting to sound
angry and defiant, but his voice was uncertain.
"Yes," the oddly familiar voice spoke from
within the shadows. "But still I live within you. Only
you, Kyp, can make my memory strong."
"No, I'll destroy you," Kyp said. In his
hand he felt the black power crackling, the
ebony lightning he had used to strike Master
Skywalker: the power
of fanged serpents, the dark
teachings of the Sith. How ironic it would be to use
Exar Kun's own power against him! The energy
grew stronger, begging to be unleashed, demanding that
he give himself over to it so he could eradicate the
black shadow for all time.
But Kyp forced himself to stop. He felt his
heart pounding, his blood singing in his ears, his anger
taking control — and he knew that was wrong. He
took deep breaths. He calmed himself. This was not
the way.
The black Sith power faded from his fingertips.
The shadow waited; but still Kyp forced his power
back, smothered his anger. Anger was exactly what
Exar Kun would want. Kyp could not give in to it
now.
Instead he reached for the lightsaber at his hip,
pulled it free, and flicked on the power
button. The violet — white blade shone in an
arc of cleansing electricity, purest light.
The shadow hovered, as if waiting to do battle
with him, waiting for Kyp to make the first move. It
lifted its nebulous arms, blacker than anything
Kyp had seen before. Kyp raised Gantoris's
lightsaber to strike, proud of what he was about
to do. He would use a Jedi weapon instead — a
weapon of light to strike the darkness.
He made ready to swing. The shadow hung
poised, as if stunned — and Kyp halted again.
He could not strike out, not even with a lightsaber.
If he attacked Exar Kun, he would still
succumb to the temptation and ease of violence,
regardless of the weapon he chose.
The lightsaber handle felt cold in his grip,
but Kyp switched the power off and clipped the handle
to his belt. He stood alone, face — to — face
with the shadow that now seemed his own size, merely the
black outline of a human wearing a shroud.
"I will not fight you," Kyp said.
"I am glad," said the voice, which became
clearer now, more maddeningly familiar. Not Exar
Kun at all. It never had been.
The shadowy arms reached up to pull back the
cowl, exposing a luminous face that clearly
belonged to Kyp's brother, Zeth.
"I am dead," the image of Zeth said, "but
only you can keep my memory strong. Thank you
for freeing me, brother."
The image of Zeth embraced Kyp with a
brief, tingling rustle of warmth that melted the ice
in Kyp's spine. Then the spirit vanished, and Kyp
found himself alone again in a msty, empty temple
that no longer held any power over him.
Kyp stepped into the warm sunlight again, free
of the shadows. On the opposite shore he saw
Master Skywalker stand up and look at him.
Luke's face wore a broad grin, and he
opened his arms in a celebratory gesture.
"Come back and join us, Kyp," Master
Skywalker called. His voice echoed
across the flat surface of the still water.
"Welcome home, Jedi Knight."
The immense barricade doors of the Imperial
Correction Facility did not budge, nor
did they open when Han knocked. Naturally.
He stood with Lando and Mara Jade outside
on the scoured landscape of Kessel, dressed in
an insulated jumpsuit taken from the Lady
Luck's stores. Mara leaned closer to Han,
her shout muffled through the breath mask covering her
mouth.
"We could bring down a full — scale assault
team from the moon," she said. "We have enough
firepower."
"No!" Lando shouted. His dark eyes shone with
excitement and anxiety. "There must be a way
to get in without damaging my facility!"
The cold, dry wind stung Han's eyes, and
he turned his head to protect them from the breeze.
He remembered gasping for air when Skynxnex,
Moruth Doole's henchman, had dragged him and
Chewbacca into the spice mines without giving them
breathing apparatus. Right now Han wanted nothing
more than to kick the toadlike Doole out of the
prison so that his frog eyes could blink and his fat
lips pump together as he tried to fill his lungs.
Doole, an administrator of the Correction
Facility, had dealt in black — market
glitterstim, making deals with Han and other
smugglers to deliver the precious cargo
to gangsters such as Jabba the Hutt. But Doole
had a habit of delivering his partners
into Imperial hands whenever it proved convenient.
Doole had ratted on Han long ago, forcing
him to dump his cargo — which had made Jabba very
angry. ...
Han did not want to be back on Kessel.
He wanted to be back home with his wife and children.
He wanted to have his companion Chewbacca back.
He wanted to take a nice, relaxing vacation.
For once.
"I've got a better idea," Mara said,
interrupting Han's thoughts. She craned her
neck to look up at the murky sky. "Up on
the garrison moon I brought along Ghent, our
slicer. You might remember him. He used to be
one of Talon Karrde's top aides.
He can crack into anything."
Han remembered the brash young slicer: an
enthusiastic kid who knew electronics and
computer systems intimately, but didn't know when
to keep his mouth shut. Han shrugged. They
didn't need social skills now; they needed
someone who could crack through the defenses.
"Okay, bring him down along with the
Falcon," Han said. "I've got a few
gadgets inside my ship that might help us out,
too. The sooner we can get in, the sooner I
can get going."
Lando agreed. "Yes, any way to enter without
doing too much damage ..."
Mara pursed her lips. "I'm also going
to bring in a team of fighters. I've got four
Mistryl guards and a handful of other smugglers who
are getting fidgety with our new alliance. Some
of them have been complaining that it's been too long
since they had a good, satisfying fistfight."
the insulated suit, Han sat on the Lady
Luck's thruster pod. He saw the faltering
plumes from two distant atmosphere — factory
stacks, but the rest of the world stood lifeless. He
knew from experience, though, that deep within the spice
mines lurked hideous energy spiders, waiting
to strike any creature they found.
Han heard a sonic boom reverberate through
the thin atmosphere, a high — pitched sound mixed
with the thunder of sublight engines. He scanned the
sky until he saw the pronged disk of the
Millennium Falcon.
The ship landed in a powdery white clearing beside the
Lady Luck. The ramp slid out, and five
smugglers emerged: two tall, well — muscled
women — Mistryl guards — a hairy,
tusk — faced Whiphid, and a reptilian
Trandoshan; each wore a uniform with the
crosshatched insignia of the new Smugglers'
Alliance. The smugglers bristled with weapons;
their bulging belts contained enough recharge packs for
an entire assault.
Last down the ramp, still fumbling to adjust a
breath mask over his face, came Ghent the
slicer, with tousled hair and rapidly blinking,
alert eyes. He nodded cursorily at Mara,
then fixed his entire attention on the barricade
gates. Slung over his shoulder was a satchel
crammed with tools, diagnostic
apparatus, splitters, rerouting circuits, and
security — cracking equipment. "Should be a piece
of cake," Ghent said.
Mara Jade and Lando sat next to Han and
watched Ghent fall to work with total concentration, not
the least distracted by the miserable environment of
Kessel.
Han said, "I certainly never dreamed I'd
be trying so hard to break into the Kessel
prison."
Cowering behind a locked door in the lower levels
of the Imperial Correction Facility, Moruth
Doole longed for the good old days. Compared to the
constant paranoia he had endured for the past several
months, even life under the Imperial yoke had
been paradise.
After he had taken over the prison years
ago, Doole had moved into the warden's office,
where he could spend much time staring out at the
landscape, observing the desolate purity of the
alkali wastelands. He had fed upon tender flying
insects. Whenever the whim struck him, he had
mated with one of his captive female Rybets in
his personal harem.
Now, though, since Daala's attack, he
had moved into one of the high — security prison
cells for protection. He had tried to make
preparations, establish defenses, because he knew
someone was going to come after him, sooner or later.
The cell walls were thick and blast proof. The
lights shone down, burning shapes into his
blurry vision. He tapped the mechanical eye
that helped him to focus. The device had broken
during the space battle around Kessel.
Doole had tinkered with the mechanical components,