Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  movement of his six great machines. They fired at anyone who tried to

  escape,

  igniting islands of grass and flushing out burning colonists who had

  attempted

  to hide there. Kratas intended to leave them no place to hide.

  He verified that every one of the huts had been blown to pieces, and all

  moving colonists had been cut down as they fled. The Rebel engineers and

  their

  ion cannon had been taken out with a single strike, and the minor damage

  inflicted on one walker could be repaired easily in the workshops back on

  the

  Gorgon.

  "I wish he'd move," the gunner said.

  Kratas looked down to see a single man standing among the wreckage,

  motionless and staring.

  "It's not much of a challenge to hit a stationary target," the gunner

  said, lifting the visor of his black helmet. "If he'd run, I could get

  better

  practice."

  Kratas surveyed the devastation and the black smoke curling up from a

  thousand different fires. Their job here was done. "Take him out anyway,"

  Kratas said. "We don't have time to play games."

  The gunner squeezed his firing buttons, and the lone surviving man

  vanished in a flare of green fire.

  Commander Kratas signaled the flagship, and he nodded to Daala's tiny

  shimmering form on the transmitter platform. "The mission is a complete

  success, Admiral. No casualties on our part, very minor damage to one

  AT-AT."

  "You're sure nothing is left alive down there?" Daala said.

  "Nothing, Admiral. No structure is left standing. The place is a

  wasteland."

  "Good," Daala said with a slight nod. "You may return to the ships. I

  believe we've made our point. We've had our practice."

  She continued with a smile, "Next time we'll choose a more important

  world to strike."

  The sleep of a Jedi was rarely troubled by dreams. Pure rest brought

  about through concentration and meditation techniques left little room for

  disturbing thoughts or shadow plays. But this time nightmares did break

  through to Luke Skywalker.

  A voice called him across a misty blank dreamscape. "Luke, Luke my son.

  You must hear me!"

  A shadowy form rose out of the mists even as the surroundings began to

  sharpen. Luke saw himself in his pale-gray flightsuit, stained with sweat,

  grime, and pain--as he had looked when he took his father's body from the

  second Death Star.

  The features on the spectral silhouette shimmered with a pale aura. Luke

  saw the firm face of Anakin Skywalker, restored from the ravages Darth

  Vader's

  evil had worked on his body.

  "Father!" Luke called. His own voice had an odd, echoing quality, as if

  it bounced off the mists.

  "Luke," the image of Anakin said.

  Luke felt tingling amazement surge through him. It was another sending,

  just like his last contact from Obi-Wan Kenobi. But Obi-Wan had bid him

  farewell, claiming that he could never contact Luke again. "Father, why are

  you here?"

  Anakin stood taller. His robes rippled in a rising wind that drove back

  the mists. Suddenly the world surrounding them was no longer featureless.

  Luke

  recognized that he and the image of his father stood atop the Great Temple

  on

  Yavin 4. The orange gas giant hung overhead, and the timeless jungles below

  looked unchanged. But the stones of the temple were white and new with

  bright

  scars from fresh quarrying. A sketchy framework of scaffolding laced one

  wall

  of the ziggurat. Far below, Luke heard mumbling and chanting, incantations

  from suffering slaves.

  He saw people of the vanished Massassi race laboring together, straining

  to haul enormous stone blocks along roads they had chopped through the

  jungle.

  The grayish-green Massassi were humanoid, smooth-skinned, with large

  lanternlike eyes. Anakin Skywalker stood on the highest point of the temple,

  as if directing the work gangs below.

  "Do not be deceived, Luke. Do not trust everything you think to be the

  truth." Anakin's words carried an odd, distant lilt, like the faint accent

  of

  an ancient race. "Obi-Wan lied to you, more than once."

  Luke felt uneasiness well up within him. No matter how much he loved Obi-

  Wan Kenobi, he knew the old man had not always been completely forthcoming

  with him. "Yes, I know he hid the truth from me. He told me Darth Vader had

  killed you, when you had really become Vader."

  Anakin turned from the illusory Massassi laborers below. He met Luke's

  gaze with eyes as bottomless as the universe itself. "Was that the only lie

  Obi-Wan told you?"

  "No. He hid other things from me." Luke looked off into the jungled

  distance, toward the moon's foreshortened horizon to see another clearing,

  another tall temple being erected.

  "And Obi-Wan rationalized it as being for your own protection. Did you

  ask for such protection, Luke?"

  "No." Luke tried to fight back his uneasiness.

  "Obi-Wan wanted you to be his student, but he wouldn't allow you the

  freedom to make your own decisions. Did he trust you so little? Did you

  always

  agree with his "certain point of view"?"

  "No," Luke said, feeling the words swallowed up in doubt.

  Anakin's voice became tinged with anger. "Obi-Wan fought against the

  complex Sith teachings I had uncovered. He did not understand them himself,

  but he forbade me to study them--though he always insisted that I must learn

  for myself and choose my own path. I rebelled against him for his narrow-

  mindedness, and I insisted on unlocking secrets for which I was not ready.

  In

  the end it consumed me--I fell to the dark side, and I became the Dark Lord

  of

  the Sith."

  Anakin looked at Luke with an anguished, apologetic expression. "But if

  Obi-Wan had let me learn the teachings at my own pace, I would have grown

  stronger. I would have remained uncorrupted. He never understood that."

  Anakin's image shook his head. "If you are going to teach other Jedi,

  Luke, you must understand the consequences of what they may learn. You, too,

  must study the ancient heritage of the Sith. It is a part of your Jedi

  training."

  Luke swallowed. "I'm afraid to believe you, Father. I have already felt

  the power of the dark side."

  Below, Massassi labor crews hummed and sang in stuporous unison, far

  beyond exhaustion, as they hauled an enormous block up a mud-covered ramp

  made

  of stripped logs.

  Atop the dream temple, the wavering image of Anakin Skywalker spoke more

  forcefully. "Yes, but the ways of the Sith can lead you to a stronger grasp

  of

  your own power. You can wipe out the last vestiges of the pitiful Empire

  that

  continues to harass your New Republic. You can become more than a mere

  servant

  to a frail and corrupt government. You can administer the galaxy yourself as

  a

  benevolent ruler.

  "You deserve it more than any other person, Luke. Y
ou can control

  everything, if you use the Force as your tool, instead of allowing yourself

  to

  become its servant."

  Luke stiffened, unable to believe what his father was saying. Then he

  noticed that with the rising passion in his voice, the image of Anakin

  Skywalker became less distinct, wavering, until it transformed into only a

  black outline, an engulfing hooded form that sucked energy from the air.

  Slowly, Luke realized the truth. "You are not my father!" he shouted as

  the illusion began to crumble. "My father was a good man in the end, healed

  by

  the light side."

  Streaks of brilliant light flashed across the dreamscape sky of ancient

  Yavin 4. Below, Massassi slaves fled into the jungles in terror as the

  monumental temples crumbled under a barrage of laser blasts from orbit. Old

  Republic battleships had arrived, immolating the moon's surface.

  "Who are you?" Luke shouted at the figure through the roar of sudden

  blazing devastation around him. "Who?"

  Instead, the hollow shadow laughed and laughed, ignoring the destruction

  that erupted from the construction sites--or amused by it. The Massassi

  temples exploded. The thick rain forests burst into flame.

  The dark man's silhouette grew larger and larger, swallowing up the sky.

  Luke backed away from it, but his dream feet reached the edge of the

  imposing

  temple, and he stumbled backward, falling away, falling....

  Surrounded by the thick stone walls of his quarters, Gantoris did not

  even attempt to sleep. He sat on his bunk dreading the arrival of the dark

  man

  from his nightmares.

  He fingered the lightsaber he had constructed, feeling its smooth

  cylinder, the rough spots where he had welded the pieces together, the

  buttons

  that would activate the energy blade. He wondered how he could use it

  against

  the ancient spectre who had taught him things that terrified him, things

  that

  Master Skywalker would never show his Jedi trainees.

  "Do you mean to strike me down with that weapon?" the hollow voice said.

  Gantoris whirled to see the oily, infinitely black silhouette ooze out of

  the massive stones in the wall. His impulse was to ignite the lightsaber and

  slash the violet-white blade across the dark form. But he restrained

  himself,

  knowing it would do no good.

  The shadow man laughed, then spoke with his antiquated accent. "Good! I

  am glad to see you have learned to respect me. Four thousand years ago the

  entire military fleet of the Old Republic and the combined forces of

  hundreds

  of Jedi Masters could not destroy me. You would certainly be unable to do so

  alone."

  The dark man had shown him how to borrow energy from other living things,

  to shore up his own reserves. His mind was alert, but his nerves were frayed

  and his body exhausted. "What do you want with me?" Gantoris said. "You

  don't

  just want to teach me."

  The shadow man agreed. "I want your anger, Gantoris. I want you to open

  the doorways of power. I am barred from the physical plane--but with enough

  other Sith followers, I could be at peace. I could even live again."

  "I won't let you have my anger." Gantoris swallowed, searching for a core

  of strength within himself. "A Jedi does not give in to anger. There is no

  passion; there is serenity."

  "Don't quote platitudes to me!" the dark man said in a cold, vibrating

  voice.

  "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge," Gantoris continued,

  repeating the Jedi Code. "There is no passion; there is serenity."

  The dark man laughed again. "Serenity? Let me show you what is happening

  at this moment. Do you recall the people you saved from Eol Sha? How happy

  you

  were to learn they had been taken to a place of safety, a paradise world?

  Observe."

  Inside the black cut-out form of the hooded man, an image appeared,

  displaying the grasslands of the planet Dantooine. The scene looked familiar

  to Gantoris after seeing the progress tapes delivered by Wedge Antilles.

  But now he saw Imperial lasers striking down, leveling colony buildings,

  giant armored walkers striding across the savanna, blasting anything that

  moved, igniting the temporary living units. People ran screaming. His

  people.

  Gantoris recognized most of their faces, but before he could name them,

  they dissolved one by one in brilliant flashes as they tried to flee. The

  trees blazed in conical bonfires; black clumpy smoke rose in jagged swirls.

  "You lie! This is a trick!"

  "I have no need of lies when the truth is so devastating. You can do

  nothing to stop it. Do you enjoy watching your people die? Does that not

  spark

  your anger? In your anger lies strength."

  Gantoris saw the old man Warton, whom he had known his entire life,

  standing in the middle of the holocaust. Warton stared around him, hands

  dangling at his sides, frozen in shock, until a thick green bolt cut him

  down.

  "No!" Gantoris shouted.

  "Let loose your anger. Make me stronger."

  "No!" he repeated, turning his head away from the images of burned ruins

  and blackened bodies.

  "They are all dead. All of them," the dark man taunted. "No survivors."

  Gantoris ignited his lightsaber and lunged at the dark man.

  With an insistent bleeping Artoo-Detoo woke Luke from his nightmares. He

  snapped awake, using a Jedi technique to dispel the weariness and shock of

  the

  sudden waking.

  "What is it, Artoo?"

  The droid whistled, telling him something about a message waiting in the

  command center. Luke shrugged into his soft robe and hurried across the cold

  floor in the early light of planetrise. Taking the turbolift down to the

  second level of the temple, he entered the once-bustling command center.

  "Artoo, bring up the lights." He picked his path through the equipment,

  dust-covered chairs, shut-down computer consoles, document tables cluttered

  with debris. He powered on the communications station that Wedge had

  insisted

  on installing during his last supply run.

  The image of Han Solo waited impatiently for him, fidgeting in the

  holofield. When he saw Luke appear in the transmission locus, Han grinned up

  at him. "Hey, Luke! Sorry I forgot to account for time differential. Not

  even

  dawn there, is it?"

  Luke brushed his brown hair into place with his fingers. "Even Jedi need

  to sleep sometime, Han."

  Han laughed. "Well, you'll be getting less sleep when your new student

  arrives. I just wanted to tell you that Kyp Durron has had enough of his

  vacation. I think after all that time in the spice mines, he got used to

  being

  miserable. The closest thing to the spice mines I could think of was your

  Jedi

  academy--that way he can work all day long, but at least he'll be improving

  himself in the process."

  Luke smiled at his old friend. "I'd be honored to have him join us, Han.

  I've been waiting for him. He has the stro
ngest potential of all the

  trainees

  I've seen so far."

  "Just wanted to let you know he's coming," Han said. "I'm trying to

  arrange for the next available transport to Yavin 4."

  Luke frowned. "Why don't you just bring him in the Falcon?"

  Han hung his head, looking extremely troubled. "Because I don't own the

  Falcon anymore."

  "What?"

  Han seemed filled with embarrassment, eager to end the communication.

  "Look, I've got to go. I'll tell Leia hello for you and give the kids a

  hug."

  "All right, Han, but--was

  Han gave a sheepish grin and quickly terminated the transmission.

  Luke continued to stare at the blank space where Han's image had been.

  First his nightmare of a dark man masquerading as Anakin Skywalker, and now

  the grim news that Han had lost the Millennium Falcon--

  Luke heard a disturbance coming down the hall clumsy footsteps slapping

  on the stone floor, panicked shouts. He looked up, ready to scold one of his

  students for such blatant lack of control, when the cloned alien Dorsk 81

  rushed into the control center. "Master Skywalker! You must come

  immediately!"

  Luke sensed waves of horror and misery spilling from his candidate. "What

  is it?" he asked. "Use the calming technique I showed you."

  But Dorsk 81 grabbed his arm. "This way!" The yellow-olive alien urged

  him out of the cluttered control room. Luke sensed widening ripples of alarm

  traveling like an earthquake through the solid stone of the temple.

  They ran along the flagstoned corridors, up the turbolift, and into the

  section of living quarters where the trainees made their homes.

  A sour, smoky stench filled the air, and Luke felt an icy lump in his

  stomach as he pushed cautiously forward. Hard-bitten Kam Solusar and addled

  Streen both stood outside the open doorway to Gantoris's quarters, looking

  pasty and ill.

  Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second, then moved through the

  doorway.

  Inside the small stone chamber, he saw what was left of Gantoris. The

  body lay crisped and blackened on the floor, burned from the inside out.

  Singed stains on the flagstones showed where he had thrashed about in the

  conflagration. Gantoris's skin flaked in black, peeling ashes over his

  powdery

  bones. Rising wisps of steam curled from the remaining fabric of his Jedi

  robe.

  On the floor the newly constructed lightsaber lay where Gantoris had