Into the Void: Star Wars (Dawn of the Jedi)

by Tim Lebbon

  Dal stared at her, the older, madder Dal she still did not know. “Can’t you just wonder?” he asked softly. “Aren’t you at least curious about what might be out there?”

  She did not reply.

  “Where we came from,” he said. “Our origins. Our birth planets. Places where we belong but which we were torn away from. Our heritage in the stars, Lanoree. Doesn’t even a small part of you wonder?”

  “Yes,” Lanoree said after a brief pause. “But not at the risk of everything I know and love.”

  “Then shoot me.” He reached lower.

  Lanoree’s finger tightened on the trigger. And eased again. Instead, she closed her eyes and took the greatest risk of her life.

  She pushed a memory of them together. Pushed it with all her might. The Force left her with a clap! and for a while she was actually alive in the memory as it formed in Dal’s mind, as real there as she was in this ancient subterranean bathing place for the Gree.

  They walk together beside the river back at Bodhi Temple, young, almost carefree, watching the weave birds nesting in the trees and the river water carrying clumps of roundweed as large as small islands. The young Lanoree laughs in delight and sees Dal do the same. His eyes are wide with surprise. For that moment he is back there with her—and Lanoree saw her brother’s eyes grow wide and wet where he hunched over the device, and she thought, Now!

  She shoved again, but this was no mere memory. She gathered every flaming, blazing, wretched image she had witnessed over the past days—the explosions and death across Greenwood Station, the mines deep on Sunspot, those who had died beneath her sword, the violent conflagration in the skies of Tython—and heaved them at Dal. His mind recoiled and for an instant his face was a child’s, displaying shock and anger at her deception.

  Then her brother began to scream

  He staggered back, crying at the wretchedness, the pain, the suffering she had pushed his way. Lanoree Force-shoved him back. He stumbled, then tripped over his feet and went down.

  She moved beside the device, blaster clasped in one hand. I stopped him! she thought, and a great weight vanished from the depths of her chest. She pressed her hand there and felt the heat of her healed wound.

  Dal’s scream lessened. He stood, shaking his head, rubbing at his face, and running fingers through his hair. His breathing remained labored, each inhalation shuddering.

  Defeated, she expected him to run. And she would have let him. He’d have lost himself down there and died, or maybe he’d have gone farther than Osamael Or and disappeared into the Old City forever.

  But he did not run. And when he looked up she saw a completely different expression on his face.

  Rage.

  “Stay out of my head!” he roared, and he came at her.

  Lanoree raised the blaster, but Dal, somehow, was quicker. His hand flashed out, she saw something flitting through the air between them, and then a cool pain erupted in her hand. She dropped the blaster and staggered back, looking at the slim metal blade stuck through her palm and slicing the heel of her hand in two.

  Then Dal was on her, and every second of attention he had paid at Stav Kesh came to the fore.

  Startled, Lanoree failed to deflect the first punches and kicks. Dal’s skills had always been in combat, and she reeled from the blows he rained down on her. She held her wounded hand to her side but he aimed for it, one kick catching the blade and slicing deeper, a punch pressing her hand back against her hip and snagging the blade’s end on her clothing. Lanoree cried out in pain. Dal grinned.

  He came at her again, but this time she had recovered enough to be ready.

  As Dal fought with every martial talent and all the strength he had, so Lanoree drew on her training. Her years as a Ranger. Her closeness with the Force. Everything Dal hated, and she used it all against him.

  A punch caught Lanoree across the shoulder and she shoved with her uninjured hand, Force-punching him across the cavern. He struck a column and slid down, struggling to stand again. Lanoree snatched up the blaster and did not hesitate to pull the trigger.

  Nothing happened. The dropped blaster must have been damaged.

  Dal crouched, picked up a rock, and threw it.

  Lanoree deflected it with the Force and it shattered into dust.

  Dal drew two short knives from his belt and attacked once again. Lanoree dropped the useless blaster and drew her sword, parrying his knife thrusts. She held the blade one-handed, but even then she knew she had the better of him. She almost felt sorry.

  Then he threw a knife at her face, and as she Force-shoved it to one side, he leaped at the device.

  Lanoree had no time to think, and if she had she would have done the same. She swung the sword in a high arc, up over her head, down toward where Dal would meet the device.

  She closed her eyes at the last moment and felt the sickeningly familiar sensation of sword parting flesh.

  Something moved and hit the ground, and Lanoree had to look.

  Dal’s right arm lay severed beside the device, fingers still splayed. The blade was buried deep in the side of his head. He slumped down, moving slightly, eyelids flickering. He looked at Lanoree, his body seeming to relax, and for the first time since childhood she truly saw the Dal that had once been. But he no longer knew himself.

  Dal’s eyes flooded red, blood ran from his ears and nose, and then he was still.

  The sudden inaction and stillness came as a shock, and Lanoree let out one heavy, startled sob of relief and sorrow. She probed out gently, expecting to feel rage and hate, his familiar anger at her touching him with the Force, and his determination to complete what he had begun.

  But there was no more Dal. Her brother was gone, and all that was left was this sad, broken body.

  She turned her back on Dal while she made sure the device was stable. She thought so. She also thought that the strange power she’d sensed down here nine years before existed now as something like a held breath, matching the shattering potential of the device. The darkness at its heart was horrible. But she was not the one to deal with it.

  She had left the sword with Dal. It was not her real sword. And she had no wish to wipe her brother’s blood from its blade.

  Soon, she would carry the device back to the surface and into the Peacemaker, and if Tre still lived she would do what she could for him. Poor, brave Tre. She would transport them both to Anil Kesh, the Temple of Science. More talented Je’daii than she would examine and make safe the device, and better healers would give Tre their full attention. She would demand that of them. She would insist.

  After that, she would meet the Je’daii Masters who had set her on this mission. She would tell them everything that had happened, and request permission to recover Dal’s body so that she could take him home. She had decided that she would tell her parents everything.

  After all that, there was one more journey to take, and some final questions to ask.

  Temple Master Lha-Mi would grant everything she asked, because she might have prevented a cataclysm.

  What she would not tell the Je’daii Masters, ever, was just how long she sat there next to her brother’s cooling body, staring at his device’s activation panel.

  Wondering.

  Only wondering.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MIGHT

  I can never tell anyone what I saw in the depths of the Old City. There are no words. But I hope one day I can show them.

  —Dalien Brock, diaries, 10,661 TYA

  In the end, she decided her parents could wait. That was a reunion she dreaded, and not only because she had killed her own brother. She dreaded it most because she had failed to save him a second time.

  Storms still raged across Tython as she coaxed her damaged Peacemaker down onto one of Anil Kesh’s landing pads. The ship needed repairs, and her droid required some special attention from those expert in such technologies. Most of all, Tre was balancing between life and death. She had done her best for him, but her brief
ministrations might have been worthless. He needed the attention of someone experienced in Force healing. She had spoken to him every moment of their brief flight to Anil Kesh, and though he was in a deep coma, she hoped it had done some good. It certainly made her feel better, no longer talking to herself.

  But Lanoree’s dark matters were not yet over. And even though her mission was all but completed, she sensed something greater occurring on Tython.

  Master Dam-Powl met her on the landing pad, hood raised against the rain.

  “Lanoree,” Dam-Powl said with genuine affection. Lanoree went to kneel, but Dam-Powl pulled her into an embrace. She submitted to it and rested her head on the shorter Master’s shoulder. “Your balance is unsettled,” Dam-Powl whispered.

  “Yes, Master. I killed my brother.”

  Dam-Powl sighed heavily. “These are dark times. Please, come with me so that we can talk. We’ll eat, and drink. I’ll welcome the company. I’m acting Temple Master here in Master Quan-Jang’s absence.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Away. Now come.” Dam-Powl held out her hand. “Tell me everything. And then I have plenty to tell you.”

  “I thought it was over,” Lanoree said, looking up at the skies to the east. Lightning danced there, and powerful winds swept stinging rain across Anil Kesh’s exposed surfaces. Beneath the temple, the Chasm roared. Darkness seemed to rise from there, though it was almost midday. Even after everything Lanoree had seen and done, it made her shiver.

  “Your mission is over,” Dam-Powl said. Together they watched three Je’daii Rangers who were carefully carrying the device from the Peacemaker, place it on a stable trolley and wheel it toward an open door. It was destined for one of Anil Kesh’s laboratories. Lanoree only hoped that the Je’daii could learn from it. “But a greater story is beginning.”

  Master Dam-Powl told Lanoree of the alien ship that had entered the system, exploded above Tython, and then crashed somewhere near the Rift. Perhaps in the Abyss of Ruh itself. Its arrival had caused the dreadful Force Storms that still rippled across the planet, and the Je’daii were unsettled.

  “Master Quan-Jang is one of many seeking news of the crashed ship,” Dam-Powl said. “I fear it means changing times for Tython.”

  “Fear?” Lanoree asked.

  “There was a disturbance in the Force before the ship crashed. A wave of darkness. A terrible voice of pain, and then silence as death fell.”

  “I sensed that also,” Lanoree said. “On my way from Sunspot.”

  “Many Je’daii did,” Dam-Powl said. “Those on the ship were Force sensitives.”

  “From out of system?”

  “We believe so.” Dam-Powl nodded gently but said no more. She could sense Lanoree’s need to talk. “So now, your story,” she said.

  They sat in Master Dam-Powl’s laboratory, and Lanoree told her everything.

  “Bad things,” Dam-Powl said when the story was almost over. “Such bad things. I hope Tre Sana can be saved.”

  “He’s a strange man,” Lanoree said. She was surprised to find herself smiling. “So hard when I met him. Harsh. Selfish. He had troublesome views, and he even told me some of the things he’d done. Not the worst things, I’m sure. But he was very open about his past. Some would have called him wicked, or even evil. But he helped me several times, and I saw the better man inside.”

  “I sensed that also,” Dam-Powl said. “That’s why I chose him to be my ears and eyes.”

  “You really promised him what he said?”

  “I did,” she said softly. “If he survives, I’ll keep my word.”

  “He came for me on Sunspot, saved me. And I think he was willing to sacrifice himself to save my life again down in the Old City. He knew what was at stake. If he hadn’t put himself in the way of that laser blast, I might have died.”

  “Your alchemical skills are … quite remarkable.”

  “Only what you taught me, Master.”

  “No. What you did cannot be taught, Lanoree. You’re a natural. Just be careful when you continue your experiments.”

  “I’m not sure I will continue,” Lanoree said.

  “Oh, you will.” Dam-Powl smiled, but it quickly faded. “But what you did … the dark tempts you. It teases with the power it could give. And killing your brother has pushed you that way, also. You feel conflicted. You feel … confused.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Brush aside the confusion,” Dam-Powl said. “That is the first step to confronting any imbalance. Know that you are troubled, or be comfortable that you are not. Be honest with yourself. And … I am here, Lanoree. We are all here to help. Every single Master, because …” She shrugged. “It could be you saved us all.”

  “I feel that my balance has swayed, Master. But I have not fallen. And I will not.”

  Dam-Powl raised an eyebrow, took a drink, delicately wiped her mouth. “So, the threat is quashed, and another rises in its place. You’ll be wanting to rest before your journey back to Bodhi and your parents.”

  “No,” Lanoree said. “I’m not going home just yet. And rest will wait. I still have questions.”

  “Oh,” Master Dam-Powl said, but she knew very well that Lanoree had more to ask.

  “The hypergate. I felt it.”

  “You felt something in the Old City, as anyone particularly talented in the Force will. Just as the Chasm causes disturbance, and the Abyss of Ruh, and other places on Tython. Your brother was right in one regard, at least. This is not our planet.”

  “But I felt such power. Like something waiting.”

  “The wine’s finished. I need to fetch another bottle.” Dam-Powl stood and went to turn away. Lanoree grasped her robe and pulled her back around so that they were face-to-face. It was an audacious move, handling a Master like this. But Lanoree felt justified.

  “Master. Is there a hypergate down there?”

  Dam-Powl looked down at Lanoree’s hand on her sleeve, waiting until it was released.

  “Whether there is or isn’t—whether anyone knows for sure, or not—doesn’t change what you did, Lanoree. If that Gree device had been turned on … well, we might not be here now. Friends. With wine. The whole system might not be here anymore.”

  “Might,” Lanoree said.

  “Civilization is built on the word.” Dam-Powl smiled. “You serve the Je’daii well, Lanoree. You remember when you and your brother first came to Anil Kesh? I saw the potential in you then. And when you returned to complete your training after you thought he had died, and we spent long days together here, in this laboratory …” She gestured around at dark corners and flickering candles. “That’s when I knew for sure you would one day be a great Je’daii. I was not afraid to tell you so. And today, I’m not afraid to claim an element of pride, because I was right. You are a great Je’daii. And on your journey, you might need to learn when to confront things, and when to turn away. When to obey your Masters, and when not.” She shrugged. “Hmm. That word might again. It means ‘perhaps,’ and it also means ‘strength.’ Maybe it’s doubt that gives true strength, eh, Lanoree? Balance is easy. Shifting from balance and finding it again means you have to be stronger than most. And I have every confidence in you.”

  The Je’daii Master turned away again and walked across the laboratory, past benches where she and Lanoree had practiced alchemies and manipulation. As she returned with a new bottle of wine, Lanoree had one more question to ask.

  “Master, where did the information about Dal, the Stargazers, and their device come from?”

  Dam-Powl nodded, as if affirming something to herself. “It’s Kalimahr you need to visit.”

  “Yes,” Lanoree said. “Kalimahr.” She held up her glass for one more drink.

  On her way to Kalimahr, Lanoree had time to reflect on what she had done.

  Your balance is unsettled, Master Dam-Powl had said, and Lanoree could not disagree with the Master. Darkness haunted her dreams, and sometimes she found herself dreaming of Bogan. All tha
t troubled her, yet this journey was not yet done. When it was over, soon, she was confident that she was strong enough to correct the unbalance herself.

  She was surprised to find herself lonely. Ironholgs remained at Anil Kesh, being repaired by a young Journeyer whose talent was mechanics; and without Tre here, her cabin felt too large, her ship too silent. She spoke to herself again but was sad that there was no reply.

  Tre’s prognosis was good, she had been told. She held on to the delight she felt at this fact. She thought perhaps she had made a friend.

  A group of Journeyers led by Master Kin’ade had searched for Dal’s body for some time, but it was never found. Creatures, Lanoree thought. There could be anything down there. There are depths.

  She sat staring at her experiment for some time. It was shriveled and denuded, and it should have been blasted into space. Yet she could not rid herself of it. Darkness danced around the petrified flesh, and Lanoree tried several times to find life still within it. At first it was simply dead. But then, half a day out from Kalimahr, her Force senses perceived a speck of flesh that pulsed with life once more.

  Given time, she would relearn the alchemy of flesh. Its draw was too great to ignore. And she was strong.

  On Kalimahr, there was nothing to find.

  Kara’s high apartment was abandoned. The damage caused by the battle she and Tre had fought with the fat woman’s sentry droids had been repaired. The secret room Lanoree had discovered was clean and empty, now opened up as part of the apartment. Everything personal was gone. Kara had left her apartments for the first time in thirteen years, and they should have been desirable real estate. And yet no one had chosen to rent it. There was something dark about that space.

  Any enquiries she made as to Kara’s location were met with a blank wall. Most claimed not to have heard of her. The several times Lanoree used a subtle Force trick to read her associates’ minds, she found confused images of Kara as friend and threat, but no indication of where she was now. They had all known her, and they were lying about that. But when it came to her whereabouts, they told the truth.