Fate of the Jedi: Backlash

by Aaron Allston

  The rancors retreated.

  “Shields, hold fast!”

  “Turbos, advance! Fire at will!”

  LUKE SAT ON A FLAT STONE METERS AWAY FROM THE EASILY CLIMBABLE portion of the southwest slope. He was wrapped up head-to-toe in a dark blanket he’d had Dyon bring him. His lightsaber was still on his belt.

  In the initial moments of the attack, he watched impassively as eight rancors clambered up, some only a few meters away. One, toward the center, lagged behind the others, looking right and left, clearly seeking Luke. But it never found him, and continued on past.

  Already half into a meditative state, Luke allowed himself to sink farther into the Force, away from the present.

  Now he could feel, even visualize, the Force energy net above him. But he didn’t want the whole thing. Just a strand …

  He followed that strand across the sky, then down, as it separated from the weave and became a single pure channel of Force energy, dark side energy. He followed it to the trees, to the ground.

  There stood a woman. He could almost see her in his mind’s eye—tall, strong, even beautiful in the savage fashion of the women of Dathomir. Her hair was red like Mara’s. That caused him a little twinge of sadness but did not thrust him out of his meditation.

  Nor did it cause him to abandon his current objective.

  Beside him, the pile he had made—a dozen fist-sized rocks—rose into the air. Higher and higher they went, until they reached the Force net, until they met the strand he had selected.

  The Nightsisters were preparing tactics against Luke Skywalker. So be it. For the next little while, he would be someone else.

  Because the mercenary Carrack had been effective against them, the Nightsisters had eliminated Carrack. So be it; for the next little while, Luke would be Carrack … in his tactics and in his role, at least.

  His cloud of rocks now moved laterally, following the Force strand he had selected.

  It curved downward as the strand did. In his mind’s eye, Luke followed it while the rocks separated by a few handbreadths and picked up speed.

  In the distance, he saw the tiny speck of the redheaded Nightsister. She rapidly grew in his mind’s eye as the rocks neared her.

  At the last instant, having some presentiment of danger, she looked up. Then the cloud of rocks hit her.

  The image disappeared. The strand of Force energy stemming from the Nightsister instantly evaporated. The net above twitched and weakened.

  Rancors began sailing down the slope to Luke’s left. He opened his eyes to watch. First was one whose Force presence was already failing. Its face was a ruined mess. Next was a flailing, howling beast whose head was on fire.

  Luke sighed. He did not wish their deaths. But where men and women chose to wield the Force to achieve unnatural ends, death always resulted.

  A cheer rose from the Dathomiri on the hilltop. At first, it was ragged; then it rose in volume, strengthened.

  Ben caught the eye of the Turbo leader. “How many did you lose?”

  She shook her head as if unable to believe it. “None. You?”

  “Two badly injured. No deaths.”

  “And they didn’t get as far as our Witches.” She turned, got the attention of an adolescent Broken Columns boy. “You, bring water around.”

  Minutes later, it became clear that their victory, while momentary, had been almost complete. Four clan members were hurt, one of them perhaps fatally. Four new rancor bodies were piled up at the hill bottom, three along the southwest slope and one on the eastern approach.

  And Ben could feel his father down the main approach, calm, unruffled.

  Dyon joined Ben at the hilltop edge. “The Star Destroyer Hilltop held up pretty well.”

  Ben nodded. “And now we find out what the enemy commander is made of.”

  In the next two hours, the rancors came against them three more times.

  Seven members of the Raining Leaves and Broken Columns died. More were injured. Twelve rancors died. More were injured. In the last two engagements, not a single rancor coming against them was fresh; all had fought before, all had been hurt before.

  Dyon, visiting Luke after each skirmish, relayed Luke’s report that one Nightsister had fallen during each exchange. Luke didn’t know how many had been killed, how many injured. “But the way your father shook his head,” Dyon reported, “makes me think those Nightsisters are goners.”

  JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

  Walking down the broad hall of the main entrance level of the Jedi Temple, Leia beside him, Han smoothed the hair at the back of his neck. He pitched his voice to a stage whisper. “Didn’t we just leave this party?”

  Leia shot him a curious look. “How so?”

  “A bunch of people we sided with, encamped, surrounded by enemies …”

  She shook her head. “There are big, important differences between the two situations.”

  “Such as what?”

  “Here you can take a quick trip down the street and buy yourself a good cup of caf. Here the air is kept to a comfortable temperature.”

  Han brightened. “No sweating all the time. Sanisteam stalls everywhere.” Then he sniffed. “Though it doesn’t smell like everyone here is using them.”

  Immediately ahead of them, Kani Asari, a golden-haired apprentice who was currently serving as Kenth Hamner’s personal assistant, glanced over her shoulder. “The government has shut off our municipal water, power, and waste pickup. We’re running on backup generators and recycled water. Not enough for all the comforts of home.”

  Han gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  They reached the first set of turbolifts. Several had silvery straptape crossing and sealing their doors in broad x-patterns, indicating that they were out of service, but one was still functional. The apprentice took the Solos down several levels and conducted them as far as a conference room, but did not follow them inside.

  Within the room were dark, comfortable chairs and tables, platters of refreshments—and Jaina, who rose from a chair as they entered. Leia hurried over to embrace her daughter.

  Han waited his turn. “Nice of Hamner not to be here on time.” When Leia released Jaina, he pulled his daughter to him. “How’s Amelia?”

  Jaina rolled her eyes. “Telling tall tales out of Dathomir. About rescuing Artoo-Detoo and fighting a one-eyed giant. She has Cilghal and the medical staff enrapt. Here, sit. Eat.”

  Han released her and did as he was told. “Our daughter thinks I’m a trained nek. Sit, eat, roll over. How about Anji?”

  “Cilghal thinks she’ll be fine,” Jaina said. “It was just a concussion.”

  “And Jag?” Leia asked. “Seeing much of him?”

  Jaina waited until Leia sat, too, then resumed her chair. “Not so much in the last few days. There was an attempt on his life—”

  Leia nodded. “We heard about that on the holonews on the way home.”

  “—and between that and all the other reasons for him to be under scrutiny, he’s having a hard time getting away from his duties. Though he’s volunteered to support your negotiations.”

  Leia smiled. “So we can call him in.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Han adopted his customary slouch. “Call him in so he can steal all your time. We do like to see our daughter sometimes, you know.”

  The door hissed open and Master Kenth Hamner entered. Han was used to seeing the acting leader of the Jedi Order flanked by other Masters, so his unaccompanied state made him seem strange.

  Hamner gestured for them to remain in their seats, ignoring the fact that only Jaina had made any attempt to rise.

  “Sorry to be late. Many issues are making demands on our time. Jedi Solo …” His attention was on Jaina, though that term of address applied equally well to Leia. “You can stay if you wish.” He sat opposite the Solos.

  “Thank you, sir,” Jaina said.

  Hamner produced a datapad and set it open on the tabletop befor
e him. “So. What do you have?”

  Han and Leia exchanged a glance, then Han said, “I’m supposed to be objective about this, so I’ll be polite about it and just say not much.”

  “But maybe a start,” Leia corrected. “She wants us to turn over Sothais Saar.”

  Hamner’s jaw dropped. “She made a production out of meeting you at the Senate Building so you could bring that to the Council?”

  “She promises not to put him in carbonite,” Han said.

  Hamner frowned, but it was Jaina who spoke next. “And hold him how?” she demanded. “You know that’s a hollow promise.”

  “Do we?” Hamner asked.

  “Yes, we do,” Jaina insisted. “He has the Force, and he’s trained to escape from places like MaxSec Eight. How are a bunch of GAS goons going to hold him?”

  “The same way we do,” Hamner replied. “With ysalamiri.”

  Han’s brow shot up. “Hadn’t thought of that.” Normally, he wouldn’t have admitted that, but he had given his word, as a general of the Galactic Alliance, to try to be objective. “But even if you give them some ysalamiri, Jedi are tough prisoners to keep.”

  “So are Bothan commandos,” Hamner replied. “And Yaka assassins. GAS manages to hold them just fine.”

  “And if they don’t?” Jaina demanded. “You’ll be putting Sothais’s life at risk.”

  Hamner’s face grew stern. “Jedi Solo, I put the lives of Jedi Knights at risk every time I send them out on a mission. This would be no different—and it would be no less for the greater good. Whether you wish to admit it or not, it would be good for the Order and the entire Alliance for us to reestablish a functional relationship with the government.”

  Even Han had to admit that much was true. “So you’re going to do it?” He couldn’t believe he was asking the question with an open mind—and maybe he wasn’t, because he still didn’t think it was a very good idea. “You’re sure?”

  Hamner thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m willing to consider it,” he said. “But she’ll have to give us something in return. The Masters will never go for it, otherwise—and I couldn’t ask them to.”

  The meeting fell silent for only a moment, then Jaina asked, “What about the Horns?”

  “That would be nice,” Leia said, “but I don’t see her releasing them.”

  “Not releasing, necessarily,” Jaina said. “But if we could get her to thaw them out.”

  “Yeah.” Han was beginning to think this just might work. “That’s fair. If Daala thinks GAS can hold one crazy Jedi, why not three?”

  “And she would have to stipulate that they’re not prisoners,” Leia added. “That they’re patients—and, as such, deserve the benefit of medical care—the Alliance’s finest medical care.”

  “They already have the Alliance’s finest medical care,” Jaina said. “There isn’t anyone out there better than Master Cilghal.”

  “But Master Cilghal and her staff have limits that the entire medical establishment of Coruscant does not,” Hamner countered. “This might even prove advantageous to the Jedi—provided, of course, that we retain access to the patients.”

  “Yeah,” Han said, nodding. “That seems fair.”

  Everyone fell silent again, and Han did not need the Force to realize that they were all growing excited about the possibilities. If Daala was telling the truth about wanting to work things out—or even if she was merely backed into a corner, as Dorvan had hinted—they just might have the beginning of a solution.

  And that, of course, was when Jaina sat back and crossed her arms. “It might start out fine,” she said. “Then Daala will renege. She’ll refreeze them all, she’ll deny their data to us, and she’ll be holding all the cards. We’ll have no recourse.”

  Hamner considered this, then shrugged. “And if that happens, what have we lost? One Jedi. But we will have no doubts left about her lack of good will.”

  Han was incredulous. “You have doubts now?”

  “Han,” Leia muttered. “Objective, remember?”

  Jaina watched this exchange with a frown. “What’s going on, you two?”

  “Nothing,” Han said. “I just sort of promised Daala I wouldn’t torpedo this deal … well, at least not if it didn’t deserve it.”

  Jaina rolled her eyes. “Dad, you can’t trust her.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. She might be trying to do the right thing.” Han shrugged. “What do I know? I taught you to mistrust all politicians except Leia, and now that’s coming back to bite me.” He jerked a thumb toward Leia. “Talk to your mother.”

  Leia looked thoughtful. “Since Daala became Chief of State, we haven’t put her word to the test. This would seem to be the perfect time to do that. Then we’ll know for sure.”

  Hamner nodded in agreement. “It’s about finding a way to work together when we don’t trust each other.” He turned a stony glare on Jaina. “Even the Sword of the Jedi should remember that much about negotiation.”

  Jaina exhaled and slumped back in her chair.

  “I’m skeptical, too, Jedi Solo,” Hamner said. “But we’ve got to start somewhere.” He turned to Han and Leia. “Take this to Daala and see how she reacts. That will tell us something about how sincere she is.”

  Leia nodded, but did not rise. “Think we can spend a little time with our daughters first?”

  “Of course.” Hamner rose and turned toward the door. “Take all the time you wish. It’s not like the situation is going to resolve itself without you.”

  JEDI HILL CAMP, DATHOMIR

  THERE WERE NO MORE ASSAULTS. THE RAINING LEAVES AND BROKEN Columns sat where they were stationed, wrapped blankets around themselves, and fell into exhausted sleep. They slept in small huddles. Some slept sitting up, propped back-to-back. Sentinels stayed awake at the hill crest.

  And dawn came. The clan members awoke sleep-deprived and aching, some injured, many mourning their dead.

  Dyon approached Ben, who was assembling some food and water to take to his father. “I was able to upload the updates to my document.”

  Ben used a thong to tie the ends of his food-cloth together to make a simple bag. “Meaning the jamming is done?”

  “For now.”

  Ben pulled out his comlink. “Hey, Dad?”

  “Ben. Good to hear from you.”

  “Want some food?”

  “I have some. I’m fine.”

  “We’re about to have a meeting of the chiefs, subchiefs, and their favorite Jedi representatives. I’ll give you a report when we’re done.”

  The gathering of chiefs did not take long. Its events had apparently been scripted by Kaminne and Tasander. Each summoned a priest of her or his clan. With the priests presiding, the subchiefs, Ben, Dyon, and Vestara as witnesses, Tasander and Kaminne wed in a short, simple ceremony.

  At the request of the two, Ben lowered the Jedi standard that still flew over the hill. Tasander and Kaminne raised a new one, just painted by Dyon. It showed a radiant sun in gold; small, beneath it, were the black base of a broken column and a green fern leaf.

  Tasander called out, loud enough for all those on the hilltop and below it to hear, “With this ceremony, I disband the Broken Columns Clan, which I myself founded ten years ago. I am now Tasander Dest of the Bright Sun Clan. Should any former Broken Column wish not to live as a Bright Sun, he may come to me, found the Broken Columns anew, and go forth, leaving us forever.”

  Kaminne made a similar declaration for the Raining Leaves. She continued, “The conclave and the games that brought us together are over. We are at war, Bright Sun against the Nightsisters who have come against us. Last night, we learned how to drive them into retreat. Now we will learn how to destroy them.”

  Tasander called, “Uninjured scouts and hunters to the southwest lip. That’s all.”

  But it wasn’t all, because, with the formal ceremonies and announcements complete, clan members surged forward to congratulate the newly wedded couple. Kaminne and
Tasander’s façades of stern chiefly mannerisms broke as they received embraces, backslaps, impromptu gifts. To Ben’s eye, no one seemed to be approaching them for permission to carry on the Broken Columns or Raining Leaves clan elsewhere.

  “Well done, Ben.”

  Ben jumped. He turned to see his father standing behind him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a Jedi.”

  “Well, only a Jedi should sneak up on a Jedi.”

  “And well done may not be appropriate. All I did was point out where their tactics were disastrously bad. They came up with tactics that worked, Tasander especially.” Then Ben gave his father a good look and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “At least you’re dirty now.” He stopped. “Wait a second, should you even be here?”

  Luke gestured at the Bright Sun standard. “This is no longer a Jedi camp. No reason for me not to.”

  “True. And I guess I’m out of a job as a landlord.”

  Luke accompanied Ben back to the southwest lip, and together they looked over the rain forest canopy below. “We’re not done here—the Nightsisters are dark side Force-users, they may have been in contact with our Sith girl, and that makes this whole mess Jedi business—but we need to be thinking ahead. Such as how we either convince Olianne to hand Vestara over to us, or convince Vestara to come with us. And how we convince Vestara to tell us about her Sith, or at least isolate her so she can’t get the information about the dark side power in the Maw back to her people, when we don’t have a legal leg to stand on.”

  Ben nodded. “Try this. I go on a walk with Vestara into the forest. I mention that I have a datacard with the access codes for Jade Shadow on it. I turn my back on her. When she tries to put a knife into me, you jump out of the shadows and stop her. Then we’ve got her on attempted murder.”

  “I suspect she’s far too bright to fall for a holodrama tactic as transparent as that.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Ben kicked a loose rock over the edge, watched it clatter its way down to join the rockfall of the night before. “So we’re back to figuring out what she’s really doing here. Once we can make it clear that she can’t accomplish that—or, let’s hope not, once we figure out that she’s succeeded, or even help her succeed—she’ll be content to leave.”