Authors: Troy Denning
Leia let the sentence trail off, suddenly realizing how badly she had misunderstood the situation. Alema did not
know
why she had sabotaged the
Falcon.
She thought she was protecting the Colony when she was actually damaging any chance it had of winning the Masters’ sympathies … and why?
“Luke and Mara! Or …
Ben?”
Leia’s heart felt like it would burst with rage. “You ungrateful—”
Alema sprang.
Leia activated her lightsaber and blocked the Twi’lek’s first attack, then stretched out with the Force and used it to pull herself to her feet a dozen paces away. Alema started after her, coming fast but under control, and that was when a muffled
thud
reverberated from inside the
Falcon
—Han finally dropping out of the hyperdrive access tunnel into the aft service corridor.
Alema glanced up, and Leia had an idea.
“Han, I think she’s figured us out!” Leia screamed into her headset. “She’s looking toward the drive exhaust.”
“The drive exhaust?” Han managed to make his confusion sound like alarm. “Well, stop her! If she cuts one of those—”
“Han!”
“Yeah?”
“Enough!” Leia said. Han certainly knew his own ship well enough to realize that the aft escape pod discharged a couple of meters forward of the drive exhaust, and she would just have to trust him to figure out the significance of that. “She has a headset, too. Remember?”
“All right … just stop her!”
Leia raised her lightsaber and charged. Alema looked first puzzled, then worried; then finally she pivoted away and blocked as Leia swung at her head.
Leia kicked wildly at the Twi’lek’s leading foot, forcing her to step back, then swung again at the head. Alema blocked and stepped into the attack, trying to work her way past Leia to strike at the drive exhaust.
Leia attacked hard, smashing her knee into Alema’s ribs, forcing herself not look toward the escape pod hatch, to not even
think
about it …
Alema surprised Leia with a spinning hook kick that caught her across the shins and sent her sprawling onto her face just centimeters from a pool of spilled coolant.
Han’s panicked voice came over the headset. “Leia! Stop her!”
Leia looked up to find Alema racing past, only three steps shy of the pod hatch but a full meter off to one side. She locked her blade into the activated position, then rose to her knees and threw her lightsaber at the Twi’lek’s shoulder.
Whether Alema sensed or heard the blade coming did not matter. She dodged away—and that was when the escape pod’s outer hatch blew, catching the Twi’lek along her whole left side, buckling her knees and leaving her lying motionless in the grass.
By the time Leia scrambled to her feet and raced over to make sure Alema would not be getting up again, C-3PO was already riding the rear cargo elevator down with a hypo full of tranquilizer in his hand.
“Well done, Mistress Leia!” C-3PO said. “Captain Solo said all along that experience—”
“Give me that!” Leia snatched the hypo from the droid’s hands and knelt down to inject the Twi’lek … then nearly fainted as a terrible pain shot up her leg. “Blast! If I’m going to make a habit of this, I really have to practice more.”
At the near end of the academy training grounds, the youngest students were practicing Force leaps, stepping to the mark with knitted brows, then launching themselves one after the other over a three-meter cross ray. Most cleared the red beam with a simple arcing dive, then dropped into the landing area headfirst, relying on the safety repulsors to break their falls. But a few—especially from the more agile species—executed graceful somersaults and came down on their own feet. Some of the children in line noticed Luke and Mara emerging from the access tunnel and began to point and whisper, so Luke made a show of nodding approval as the next few jumpers cleared the beam.
“These are the Woodoos,” Luke explained to their guest, Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrani of the Chiss Ascendancy. “They’re our youngest students.”
“Your youngest?” A few centimeters shorter than Luke, the Aristocra was relatively small for a Chiss, with a blue angular face just beginning to sag with age. “How young are they?”
“The Woodoos are generally between five and seven years old, Formbi,” Mara said, calling the Aristocra by his core name. “Though that varies by species—some mature at markedly different rates.”
“Yes—well, we wouldn’t have that problem in the Ascendancy.” Formbi folded his hands behind his back and peered across the running track at the children. “Which one is your son?”
Luke felt the pang in his wife’s chest as clearly as the one in
his own, but when Mara answered, her voice betrayed no hint of her emotions. “Our son doesn’t attend the Jedi academy.”
“How strange.” Formbi continued to watch the Woodoos. “My file lists his age as seven.”
“Ben is withdrawing from the Force right now.” As much as it pained him, Luke had no intention of hiding the fact. That would have implied he was ashamed, and he was not. “We don’t know why.”
Formbi turned. “I didn’t know children could do that.”
“Most can’t,” Mara said. “Ben demonstrated exceptional power from birth. This only confirms how gifted he is.”
“I see,” Formbi said. “I’m sorry, then, that he is choosing not to develop his potential.”
“We’re not,” Luke said. He felt Mara’s ire rising, but the smile on her face remained polite. Winning Formbi’s cooperation was going to be difficult enough without allowing Chiss manners to become an issue. “Children must
want
to be at the academy to succeed. We don’t force anyone to attend, and we do everything we can to encourage them to enjoy their time here.”
“We can even arrange employment for their parents on Ossus—some are assistant trainers here at the academy,” Mara said. “And we encourage students to develop at their own pace. So when Ben
is
ready, his natural capabilities will allow him to establish himself very quickly.”
“I have no doubt.” Formbi turned back to the training grounds, looking past the Woodoos to where the Rontos were practicing telekinesis by smashing giant bean bags against each other. “But I’m sure you didn’t summon me here to discuss Jedi training techniques.”
“As a matter of fact, we did,” Luke said. They had also asked Soontir Fel to come, but he had politely declined, explaining it would not do for anyone on the Defense Fleet general staff to consort with Ascendancy enemies. “We want you to understand what goes into the training of a modern Jedi.”
“Hoping to impress me so much that I’ll persuade the Ruling Circle to let you handle the Qoribu problem?” Formbi asked.
“Precisely,” Mara said. “And it was an invitation, not a summons.”
“Funny,” Formbi said. “Your message mentioned the Brask Oto.”
“That’s right,” Luke said. The Brask Oto was a Chiss battle station he and Mara had saved during an earlier trip into Ascendancy territory. “We wanted you to know it was authentic.”
Formbi smiled. “As I said—a summons. We Chiss always repay debts of honor.” He waved a hand toward the interior of the training complex. “Please, impress me.”
Luke led the way across the running track to the slidewalk that circled the inner fields, then heard an alarmed whistle behind them. He glanced back to find R2-D2 traversing a banked turn, one tread off the ground and perilously close to tipping over.
“Your droid seems rather intoxicated,” Formbi observed.
“A memory fault is playing havoc with his systems.” Luke reached out in the Force and carried R2-D2 over to the slidewalk. “I don’t want it repaired until we find a way to extract some information stored on the chip.”
Formbi watched with an amused expression as the droid settled onto the slidewalk behind him. “And this information is so valuable you must keep the droid with you at all times?”
Luke thought for a moment, then said, “Yes.” The truth was that R2-D2 kept scheduling himself for a chip replacement, so Luke had decided to keep him nearby until the Galactic Alliance’s best sheer, Zakarisz Ghent, arrived to bypass the security program protecting the memory chip. “It could solve a very old mystery for us.”
“Then I wish you luck,” Formbi said. He pointed to a circle of twelve-year-olds—Banthas—sitting cross-legged around a single happy-looking nerf, waving their fingers and sending the contented beast waddling back and forth among them. “What in space are they doing?”
“Mind tag,” Mara explained. “It’s how they develop their persuasive abilities.”
Formbi gave her a sharp look. “I trust that’s not how you intend to persuade me?”
“The technique only works on the weak-minded,” Luke said.
“And no Jedi would ever consider a Chiss Aristocra to be weak-minded.”
“Good,” he said. “I was given to believe Jedi Knights are rarely fools.”
“We generally try to train that out before anyone becomes a Jedi Knight, yes,” Mara said.
“Then why do you insist on involving yourselves at Qoribu?” Formbi’s voice was casual, as though it were only an idle question. “The conflict is of no concern to the Galactic Alliance.”
“The Jedi serve the Force.” Luke was keeping an eye on R2-D2, making sure he did not wander off. “Our concerns reach well beyond the Galactic Alliance.”
Formbi’s gaze grew hard. “Into the Ascendancy?”
“Into the Colony, at least,” Luke said.
Formbi looked away, focusing his attention on a group of fourteen-year-olds who were using their lightsabers to bat live blaster bolts back and forth. These students had no nickname; once students built their first lightsabers, they were known simply as apprentices.
“You understand nothing about the Colony,” Formbi said, almost absently. “If you did, you would leave it to us.”
“We understand that what you’re doing at Qoribu comes close to violating Chiss law,” Mara said. “Unless the Ascendancy has bent from a thousand years of tradition?”
“A lot has changed in the Ascendancy.” Formbi’s voice grew resigned. “But not that. It remains unlawful for the Chiss to be the aggressor people.”
“I’ve always admired that about the Ascendancy,” Luke said.
“In truth, I find it rather quaint,” Formbi replied. “But, having no desire to find myself exiled, I’ll follow the law—even if it means the destruction of the Ascendancy itself.”
A line of ten-year-old students appeared ahead, racing toward Luke and the others against the flow of the slidewalk. Formbi started to step aside so they could pass, but Mara used the Force to gently tug him back.
“Please, Aristocra,” she said. “They’ll be disappointed if we rob them of their chance to show off.”
Formbi eyed the chubby Kitonak girl at the head of the line,
then cocked his brow when she suddenly sprang off the slide-walk, turned a Force flip over his head, and landed gracefully—if somewhat heavily—behind him. The rest of the students followed suit, beaming in pride as they somersaulted over Luke and the others. Once Formbi grew accustomed to the game, he even encouraged the students by pretending to flinch before each one jumped.
“Thank you for indulging them, Aristocra,” Luke said. “The dining halls will be buzzing tonight with how they actually drew a reaction from you.”
“My pleasure,” Formbi said. “As long as they understand the difference when they become Jedi Knights.”
“They will,” Mara said. “Chiss courage is legendary around here—which is why I’m so puzzled about your fear of Killiks.”
“If you are puzzled, it is only because you are ignorant of the Colony’s true nature.”
“Then enlighten us,” Luke said. “The sooner the Jedi understand the situation, the sooner we will find a solution and end our presence at Qoribu.”
“And if there is no solution?”
“It would be better to discover that now,” Luke said, “before any more of our Jedi become like Raynar.”
Formbi frowned. “Who is Raynar?”
“Raynar Thul,” Mara said. “He went MIA during the war. He was presumed dead, but apparently his ship crashed inside the Colony.”
“A nest of Killiks rescued him and saved his life,” Luke said.
“Saved his life?” Formbi sounded surprised. “When did this Raynar come up missing? About six years ago?”
“Close.” Luke began to have a sinking feeling. “It was a little over seven.”
“I see.” Formbi’s gaze turned inward. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” Mara demanded.
“The Defense Fleet reconnaissance corps has been watching the Colony for centuries,” Formbi said. “It has been slowly expanding over time, but it wasn’t considered a threat.”
“Until recently,” Mara surmised.
“Correct,” Formbi said. “The insects—Killiks, as you call
them—are clearly intelligent, but they’ve customarily shown little concern for life. When one was injured, its companions would simply abandon it, and when food grew scarce, whole columns would just wander off to die.”
“And that changed six years ago,” Luke said.
Formbi nodded. “The first satellite nests appeared on our border, and we began to notice an exponential population increase. Imagine our surprise when we learned that now they had hospitals to care for their ailing and were using interstellar trade to alleviate the cyclic food shortages that once kept their populations in check.”
“And
that
frightened the Ascendancy into sending your defoliators to give nature a helping hand?” Mara asked.
“No.” Formbi accepted the criticism in her question without visible emotion. “We didn’t make that decision until later-after we had discovered how dangerous they were.”
The slidewalk carried them past a sunken basin, where a group of adolescent apprentices stood meditating under the watchful eye of a training Jedi Knight. They were surrounded by twenty grown adults, who were shouting insults at them and pelting them with missiles ranging from kitchen leftovers to sting balls.
“My word!” Formbi gasped. “What kind of drill is that?”
“It’s a centering exercise,” Luke said proudly. He was counting on this part of the tour to persuade Formbi to speak on their behalf on the Chiss capital world, Csilla. “Young Jedi must learn to detach themselves from their emotions, to remain focused regardless of whatever they are feeling at the time.”