stormtrooper guards and Commander Kratas. "Take the captain and his droid
back
to his ship," Daala said, then cocked her head down to stare at the
Sullustan.
"Our crew is already emptying your cargo holds, but General Odosk has set
his
men to repairing and bypassing the damaged engine. Enough that you could
limp
to another system."
The Sullustan bowed, speaking nonstop in his rodent-like language. The
female droid stood at attention and spoke in an astonished voice. "Why thank
you, Admiral. That is most respectful of you. We appreciate your
hospitality."
The stormtroopers took them away, clomping down the sterile halls of the
Star Destroyer. The doors sealed shut again, leaving Daala alone with
Commander Kratas. He turned to her with wide dark eyes below his beetling
brows. "Admiral, have we lowered ourselves to the level of space pirates?
Attacking transport ships and stealing supplies?"
Daala removed a datapad from her hip and punched a button to call up her
latest readout. She turned it toward him so he could look at the
information.
"I appreciate your respect for the honor of the Imperial Navy, Commander.
However, before I came to see the captives, I received a report regarding
the
contents of the Corvette's cargo hold. There are indeed supplies for a new
colony, but we also found heavy weaponry, communications gear, and
prefabricated equipment for starfighter hangars."
She gestured toward the door. "Back to the bridge. I want to see what
happens next."
"What do you mean?" Kratas said.
Daala switched off the datapad and looked at him. "You'll see. Be patient
for now."
As they left, the door of the interrogation chamber slid shut, sealing
behind it the darkness and the smell of fear trapped in the room.
The close-up image of General Odosk flickered, but she could see the
self-satisfied grin on his wide, swarthy face. "Mission accomplished,
Admiral.
"
"Excellent, General. I trust you are at a good vantage point?"
Odosk nodded. "I wouldn't miss it. Thank you."
Daala turned back to the viewing window on the bridge. The wounded
Corellian Corvette dropped out of the Gorgon's hangar bay and drifted free
in
space. "Back away," she told the navigator. "Order the Basilisk and the
Manticore to do the same."
"Yes, Admiral."
The three Star Destroyers spread out and moved away from the much smaller
ship. The Corvette's damaged rocket engine no longer glowed.
Kratas shook his head. "I still can't believe you're letting him go."
Daala intentionally spoke loud enough for the rest of bridge crew to
hear. She rarely felt the need to explain her orders to underlings, but at
certain times explaining her reasoning might make them respect her even
more.
"Ships vanish all the time, Commander," Daala said. "If we simply
destroyed this ship, it could be written off as some accident in
transportation. A meteor storm, a breached reactor plate, bad navigation
through hyperspace. But if we let this captain send a message first, then
the
Rebel Alliance will know what we have done. We can accomplish the same task,
but increase the terror and chaos. Do you agree?"
Kratas nodded, but he still looked doubtful.
The comm officer spoke up. "The transponder we implanted in his comm
system has activated. He's sending a tight-beam transmission to specific
coordinates."
Daala smiled. "Good, I didn't think he'd wait until he got clear."
The comm officer pressed an ear jack to the side of his head. "He's
reporting the situation, Admiral. Three Star Destroyers... fired upon
without
warning... taken prisoner and interrogated."
"I think that's enough," Daala said. She opened the comm channel.
"General Odosk, proceed." She shielded her eyes.
The thermal detonators planted against the reactor walls of the twelve
rocket pods detonated simultaneously, blasting the inferno open and sending
a
tidal wave of deadly radiation through the Corellian ship. An instant later
the raging heat evaporated the entire hull, turning it into metallic steam.
The rocket pods blew up in brilliant sunbursts; then the rest of the ship
expanded outward in a blinding glare.
Daala nodded. "I think the survivors of the Hydra have had their revenge.
"
In stunned admiration Kratas smiled. "I believe so, Admiral."
She turned to face the rest of her bridge crew. "We now have accurate
maps and information on the political situation of the Rebel Alliance. We
have
struck our first blow--the first of many."
Daala drew a deep breath, feeling vibrant and alive with euphoria. Grand
Moff Tarkin would have been proud of her.
"Our next stop will be the planet Dantooine," she said. "We have a colony
to visit."
Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master, gathered his twelve students in the grand
audience chamber of the Massassi temple.
Diffuse orange light trickled through the narrow skylights. Lush vines
climbed the stone walls, spreading out in verdant webs in the corners. Most
of
the flat stones were a nonreflective smoky gray; other lozenges of dark
green
and vermilion and ocher stone ornamented the enormous chamber.
Luke remembered standing here as a young man after their brief victory
celebration following the destruction of the Death Star. He smiled as he
recalled how Princess Leia had presented medals to him and Han Solo and
Chewbacca. Now the grand audience chamber stood empty except for Luke and
his
small group of Jedi candidates.
Luke watched the students file toward him along the broad promenade.
Wearing dark-brown Jedi robes, the candidates walked in eerie silence across
the slick floor that had long ago been polished smooth by the mysterious
Massassi.
Streen and Gantoris moved first, side by side; Gantoris looked full of
self-importance. Of all those Luke had gathered at his Jedi training center,
Gantoris had so far shown the most progress, the most inner strength--yet
the
man from Eol Sha did not seem to realize that he stood at a crossroads.
Gantoris would soon need to decide exactly how he would proceed in his
growth
with the Force.
Behind the two of them came Kirana Ti, one of the young and powerful
witches of Dathomir, who had left the other Force-wielding, rancor-riding
women on her homeworld to learn better control. Kirana Ti and the other
witches had been instrumental in helping him recover an ancient wrecked
space
station, the Chu'unthor, in which resided many records of old Jedi
training--
records that Luke had studied to develop exercises for his Jedi trainees.
Beside Kirana Ti came Dorsk 81, a bald green-and yellow-skinned humanoid
from a world where all family units were genetically identical, cloned and
raised to carry on the status quo. But Dorsk 81, the eighty-first
reincarnation of the same genetic attributes, had somehow been dramatically
changed. Though he seemed identical in every way, his mind worked
differently,
his thoughts moved along different paths, and he could feel the Force
working
through him. With the hope of becoming a Jedi Knight, Dorsk 81 had left his
homeworld of identical people for something new.
Then came Kam Solusar, an older man, son of a Jedi that Vader had
slaughtered long ago. Solusar had fled the Empire after the great Jedi purge
and had spent decades in isolation beyond the inhabited star systems. Upon
returning, Solusar had been captured and tortured by evil Jedi, twisted to
the
dark side of the Force, but Luke had bested him in the game of Lightsider.
Solusar had received advanced training in certain areas, but because of his
self-imposed exile, he still knew little about many aspects of the Force.
As the rest of the candidates gathered at the raised platform, Luke
shrugged back his hood and tried to mask his pride at seeing the group. If
he
of
a new order of Jedi Knights, champions of the Force, to help protect the New
Republic against dark times.
He heard them stirring, not speaking to each other, each one no doubt
wrapped up in thoughts of touching the Force, finding new pathways to inner
strength and windows to the universe that only Jedi teachings could open for
them. Their collective talent amazed him, but he hoped for even more
trainees.
Soon Han Solo would send his young friend, Kyp Durron; and Luke had strongly
hinted for his former opponent Mara Jade to join them, since they had struck
an uneasy truce during the battle against Joruus C'baoth.
At the podium Luke tried to stand tall. He found the core of peace inside
him that allowed him to speak with a firm voice. "I have brought you here to
study and to learn, but I myself am still learning. Every living thing must
continue to learn until it dies. Those who cease to learn, die that much
sooner.
"Perhaps it was misleading when I called this an "academy" for Jedi.
Though I will teach you everything I know, I don't want you merely to listen
to me lecture.
"Your training will be a landscape of self-discovery. Learn new things
and share what you have learned with others. I will call this place a
praxeum.
This word, made up of ancient roots, was first used by the Jedi scholar
Karena, distilling the concepts of learning combined with action. Our
praxeum,
then, is a place for the learning of action. A Jedi is aware, but he does
not
waste time in mindless contemplation. When action is required, a Jedi acts."
Luke repositioned a small translucent cube on the raised dais behind him.
He ran his fingers over the cool surface of the ancient knowledge repository
Leia had stolen from the resurrected Emperor. The Jedi Holocron.
"We will invoke a past Jedi Master from the Holocron," Luke said. "We
have used this device to learn the ways of the old Jedi Knights. Let us see
what stories it has for us this morning."
He activated the precious artifact. In the distant past it had been
traditional for each Jedi Master to compile his life's knowledge and store
it
within a great repository such as this, which was then passed to one of his
students. Luke had only begun to fathom its depths.
An image formed both inside and outside the cube, a half-tangible
projection that was more than just a stored bit of data; it was an
interactive
representation of the Jedi Master--a stubby alien, part insectile, part
crustacean. It seemed to be bent with age or too much gravity. Its head
extended into a long funnel, like a beak from which dangled whiskery
protuberances. Close-set, glassy eyes stared like glittering pinpoints of
knowledge.
The creature leaned on a long wooden staff, its legs spindly and knobby
as it swiveled its funnellike face to contemplate the new audience. Tattered
rags covered its body, sticking out in odd directions like clothing or
external skin. Its voice came out in a reedy melody, like high-pitched music
played under fast running water.
"I am Master Vodo-Siosk Baas."
"Master Vodo," Luke said, "I am Master Skywalker, and these are my
apprentices. You have seen many things and recorded many thoughts. We'd be
honored if you would tell us something we should know."
The image of Master Vodo-Siosk Baas hung his beaklike head on a jointed
elbow of neck, as if in contemplation. Luke knew that the Holocron was
simply
uploading and sifting through reams of data, choosing an appropriate story
through a personality algorithm stored with the Jedi Master's image.
"I must tell you of the Great Sith War that occurred--was Here the image
paused as the Holocron assessed the current situation. "Four thousand years
before your time.
"This war was caused by a student of mine, Exar Kun, who found forbidden
teachings of the ancient Sith. He imitated the ways of the long-fallen Sith
and used them to form his own philosophy of the Jedi Code, a distortion of
all
we know to be true and right. With this knowledge Exar Kun established a
vast
and powerful brotherhood and claimed the title of the first Dark Lord of the
Luke stiffened. "Others have claimed that title," he said, "even to this
time." Including Darth Vader.
Master Vodo-Siosk Baas seemed to lean more heavily on his walking stick.
"I had hoped Exar Kun and his kind were defeated once and for all. Exar Kun
joined forces with another powerful Jedi and great warlord, Ulic Qel-Droma.
Exar Kun worked his invisible threads into the fabric of the Old Republic,
bringing downfall through treachery and his distorted abilities with the
Force."
Master Vodo looked at the gathered students. Gantoris seemed incredibly
eager to hear more, leaning forward and staring with wide, dark eyes. The
image of the long-dead Jedi Master turned to face Luke. "You must warn your
students to beware of the temptations of conquest. That is all I can tell
you
for now."
The image flickered and wavered. With a feeling of deep uneasiness Luke
silenced the Holocron. The images returned to swirling pearlescence inside
its
cubical walls.
"I think that's enough for this morning," Luke said. "We all know that
other Jedi have followed the wrong path, bringing not only themselves but
millions of innocent lives to doom and suffering. But I trust you. A Jedi
must
trust himself, and a Jedi Master must trust his apprentices.
"Explore yourvs and your surroundings, in teams or alone, whichever makes
you comfortable. Go to the jungle. Go to other parts of this temple. Or
simply
go back to your chambers. The choice is yours."
Luke sat down on the edge of the raised stage and watched the students
file out of the grand hall. T
he translucent cube of the Holocron stood mute
beside him, a vessel filled with valuable but dangerous knowledge.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been Luke's teacher. Luke had listened to every word
the old man had said, trusting it; yet Luke had later learned how often Obi-
Wan had obscured the facts, had distorted information--or as Obi-Wan
explained
it, simply offered the truth "from a certain point of view."
Luke watched the robed forms and wondered if his students could handle
the knowledge they might discover. What if, like ancient Exar Kun in Master
Vodo's story, they were tempted to uncover the forbidden teachings of the
Sith, that so subtly yet crucially differed from the Jedi Code?
Luke feared what might happen should one of his students travel down the
wrong path. But he also knew that he had to trust them--or they could never
become Jedi Knights.
Deep into the night Gantoris hunched over the cluttered worktable,
secretly constructing his own lightsaber.
A blanket of shadows surrounded him, obliterating distractions that might
keep him from his task. His dark eyes had adjusted to the tight-beam
glowlamp
that spilled a harsh pool of light over his debris-strewn work surface,
leaving the rest of the room in murk. As Gantoris moved to pick up another
precision tool, his shadow flapped like a bird of prey across the ancient
stone walls.
The Great Temple sat silent, like an ancient trap to stifle sound. The
other students in Master Skywalker's Jedi academy--his praxeum, as he called
it--had retired to their private chambers to fall into an exhausted sleep or
to meditate on Jedi relaxing techniques.
Gantoris's neck ached, and his shoulder muscles burned from holding his
cramped position for hours. He breathed in and out, smelling the thickness
of
old smoke and the scratchy moss that had worked for millennia to pry through
cracks in the precisely placed temple blocks.
The moss had withered not long after Gantoris had taken up residence in
the chambers....
Outside, the jungle of Yavin 4 simmered with restless life, rustling,
chittering, singing, and shrieking, as stronger creatures fed, as weaker
creatures died.
Gantoris continued to work. He no longer needed sleep. He could draw the
energy he required using different methods, secrets he had been taught that
the other students did not suspect. His unbraided black hair stuck out in