Dark Apprentice

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Dark Apprentice Page 27

by Kevin J. Anderson


  security alarm. Without hesitation he pressed the button. "There, that

  should

  do it."

  Chewbacca growled in Threepio's face with enough force that the android's

  audio sensors shut down to reset themselves. Then he manhandled Threepio in

  his furred Wookiee arms, carrying him bodily down the hall at a fast lope.

  "All right, have it your way, then," Threepio said. "We'll go to the

  control center and shut down all the holograms."

  Jacen and Jaina felt the slimy surface of the tunnel as they crawled

  downward. They had no idea where they were going, but they knew they had to

  find some other way home.

  Jacen reached up, felt no close ceiling, and climbed to his feet. The

  twins could see nothing in the darkness, only a faint glow ahead. They made

  their way toward it--cautiously this time, afraid they might find another

  ogre. Jacen smelled sizzling meat, and he heard guttural words, the first

  human voices they had heard since deciding to go home without Threepio and

  Chewbacca.

  Jacen started toward the light, but Jaina held on to his arm. "Careful,"

  she said. Jacen nodded and put a finger to his lips as a reminder. They

  inched

  forward, hearts hammering. They smelled the delicious scents of cooked food,

  heard the crackle of fire, the chattering voices.

  They reached a corner and peered around it to see a large blasted-out

  room, a low-level reception area used thousands of years ago. Jacen and

  Jaina

  could see a bonfire, tattered figures moving between light and shadow, banks

  of dimly functioning glowcrystals, and a glimpse of blinking computer

  equipment. Then suddenly, from all sides, silent hands reached out to grab

  them.

  Firm grips, wiry arms. Five sentries struck at once, snatching Jacen and

  Jaina and whisking them off their feet before they had a chance to struggle.

  The sentries laughed even as the children squealed in terror. A cheer

  went up from the people around the bonfire as the sentries carried the twins

  out into the bright light.

  Alarms pulsed and whooped in the control center of the Holographic Zoo.

  Red signals flashed; yellow lights blinked on and off in indecipherable

  patterns.

  Threepio was impressed at the commotion he had managed to cause just by

  activating a few security systems.

  The zoo's control droid sat in the center of an octagonal computer bank.

  It had a spherical head encircled by optical sensors mounted every

  thirty-six

  degrees. From its central station the control droid sprouted eight segmented

  limbs that scrambled over the panels, pecking at the buttons in a blur of

  motion like fire-linked blaster cannons.

  "Permission denied," the control droid said to them.

  Chewbacca roared, but the control droid merely spun its spherical head

  and ignored the Wookiee's outburst.

  "I feel required to warn you," Threepio said to the other droid, "that

  when Wookiees lose their tempers they are known to rip limbs out of their

  sockets. I believe Chewbacca here is on the verge of losing his temper."

  Chewbacca leaned forward on one of the segmented control panels, gripped

  it with his hairy paws, and roared again into one set of the multiple eyes.

  "Permission still denied," the control droid said.

  "But you don't understand!" Threepio insisted. "There are two lost

  children inside your Holographic Zoo. If you would just shut down the image

  generators, we could search the habitats and find them."

  "Unacceptable," the control droid said. "It would cause too great a

  disturbance among the other guests."

  Threepio indignantly propped his metallic arms on his hips. "But the zoo

  looked empty when we toured it. How many other patrons are currently using

  the

  facility?"

  "Irrelevant," the control droid said. "Such an action is strictly

  forbidden except in conditions of extreme emergency."

  Threepio waved his golden hands in the air. "But this is an emergency!"

  Chewbacca had apparently had enough of formal requests. He bunched his

  fists together and brought them down on the first control bank, smashing the

  glossy black coverings and shattering circuit connections.

  Sparks flew. The control droid's head spun around like a planet knocked

  out of its orbit. "Excuse me," the control droid said, "please don't touch

  the

  controls."

  Chewbacca went to the second segment of the octagonal board and smashed

  it as well. The control droid flailed its eight articulated limbs, trying to

  bypass circuits in the remaining systems.

  "I must admit, Chewbacca, that your enthusiasm makes up for any lack of

  finesse," Threepio said.

  In no time the Wookiee had ruined the entire set of panels. Without a

  single functioning hologram-generating system, the control droid folded all

  eight of its articulated arms like a dead insect and seemed to sulk.

  Chewbacca yanked Threepio's mechanical arm and hauled him back down to

  the holographic habitats. Now every chamber was empty, white-tiled walls

  with

  strategically mounted hologram generators at the vertices of the room.

  Various

  guests had dropped garbage in among the illusions, refreshment wrappers,

  torn

  scraps of paper, and half-eaten nonorganic treats that had failed to

  decompose.

  "Jacen! Jaina!" Threepio called.

  Alarms continued to squawk as Chewbacca and Threepio passed from one

  habitat to the next. Threepio called up the data brochure inside his

  computer

  brain and guided the search, methodically moving from one room to another.

  Every cell in the deactivated Holographic Zoo looked identical, and they

  found

  the children in none of them.

  When they finally hurried to the last chamber, hoping against hope that

  they would discover the twins crouched in the corner and waiting to be

  rescued, they were suddenly met by the New Republic militia charging toward

  them in response to all the alarms.

  "Halt!" the captain of the guard said.

  Threepio instantly counted eighteen humans, all wearing blaster-proof

  armor. The militia members drew their weapons and leveled them.

  In all his adventures Threepio couldn't recall ever having seen so many

  blaster barrels pointed directly at him.

  "Oh, my!" he said.

  The feral humans brought Jacen and Jaina before their king. The

  flickering warmth of the junk-heap bonfire made a pleasant smell. The strips

  of unrecognizeable meat roasting on long skewers caused both children to

  lick

  their lips.

  Grimy-faced sentries looked down at the twins and smiled. Their mouths

  seemed a checkerboard of yellow teeth and black gaps. The king of the

  underground humans sat on a tall pile of ragged cushions. He laughed. "These

  are the fearsome intruders?"

  Jacen and Jaina looked around themselves, gathering details. The refugees

  in the former reception area had bedrolls, tattered clothing, and stashes of

  scavenged possessions. Some sat mending rags, others worked on spring-loaded

  animal trap
s. Two old men crouched holding small musical instruments cobbled

  together from old pipes; they blew into the mouthpieces, comparing high

  whistling notes.

  The feral people wore torn and threadbare clothing, some mended, some

  not, all very old. They had long hair; the men wore bushy beards. Their skin

  was pale, as if they had not seen sunlight for decades. Some of them might

  never have seen natural light at all.

  The king seemed to have the best materials. He wore shoulder pads and

  polished white gloves taken from a stormtrooper. His eyebrows were large,

  his

  reddish-brown beard wispy. Though his face was the color of raw bread dough,

  his eyes were bright and alert. His smile also showed gaps from missing

  teeth,

  but it contained real humor.

  Around and behind the king hung jury-rigged electronic equipment,

  computer panels, holographic display modules, even one old-model food-

  processing unit. Ancient generators had been wired into the frayed energy

  grid

  of the skyscrapers, skimming power from the main flow through Imperial City.

  The lost people had obviously been down here a long time.

  "Get these children some food," the king yelled, bending down to look at

  them. "Well, now, my name is Daykim. What're your names?"

  "Jaina," Jacen said, indicating his sister.

  Jaina pointed to her brother. "Jacen."

  A sentry with gray-blond hair tied in a long ponytail brought a smoking

  skewer of the roasted meat. He yanked off the red-black pieces of meat with

  his fingers and dropped them onto a squarish metal platter that had

  originally

  been some sort of cover plate. The sentry blew on his fingers, licked the

  juices, and grinned at the children. He set the platter down in front of

  them,

  and the twins sat on the floor, crossing their legs.

  "Blow on the meat before you put it in your mouths," the king said. "It's

  hot."

  The twins picked up small morsels, dutifully blowing until the meat was

  cool enough to chew. King Daykim seemed to delight in just watching them.

  "So what were you doing down here all alone? It's dangerous, you know.

  Would you like to stay here with us?" the king said. "We're all growing old.

  It's been too long since young people joined us down here."

  Jacen and Jaina shook their heads. "We are lost," Jaina said around a

  mouthful of meat. A thick welling of tears appeared on the edge of her

  eyelids.

  Jacen also started to cry. "Please help us find our home," he said,

  looking toward the high ceiling. Somewhere up in the distance lay their

  living

  quarters.

  "Up there?" King Daykim said, comically incredulous. "Why would you want

  to go back up there? The Emperor lives up there. He's a bad man." Daykim

  shook

  his head and gestured around him. "We have everything we want here. We have

  food, we have light, we have... our things."

  Jacen shook his head at Daykim. "I want to go home."

  With a sigh Daykim glanced back at his banks of computer terminals and

  then flashed them a defeated smile.

  "Of course you want to go home. Just finish up your supper. You'll need

  your strength."

  The sergeant of the militia escorted Threepio and Chewbacca back to Han

  and Leia's quarters in the old Imperial Palace. "Our records indicate that

  Minister Organa Solo and her husband returned not more than an hour ago,"

  the

  sergeant said.

  Chewbacca moaned dejectedly. Threepio shot a sharp glance at him. "I

  think you should be the one to tell them what happened, Chewbacca. After

  all,

  I'm only a droid."

  "Rest assured we're doing everything we can," the sergeant said. "We've

  had our teams combing the Holographic Zoo and the adjoining floors just in

  case the twins found an emergency staircase. We're checking the logs of the

  maintenance droid just to be sure that no one used the turbolift that was

  being serviced." He snapped to attention. "We'll find them, don't you

  worry."

  Threepio used the override code on the doorway to open it. Then he and

  Chewbacca stepped into the living quarters--to find Han and Leia sitting on

  the self-conforming chairs, with the twins balanced on their knees.

  "Children! Oh, thank goodness, you're home!" Threepio cried. Chewbacca

  thundered a high-pitched bellow.

  Han and Leia both turned to look at them. "Well, there you two are."

  Threepio noticed at once that one of the panels from the air-ventilation

  system had been knocked off, apparently from the inside. A stranger, a large

  man, dressed in tattered but ornate clothing dashed to shelter behind one of

  the larger pieces of furniture. He had long reddish-brown hair, a wispy

  beard,

  and uncommonly pale skin.

  Leia returned her attention to the rag-clad man. "Seriously, Mr. Daykim,

  I can't tell you how much we appreciate what you've done. I assure you the

  New

  Republic will do everything it can to repatriate all your people."

  Daykim shook his head. "The Emperor never forgave mistakes, not even

  accounting mistakes. We saw many of our fellow civil servants either

  executed

  or sent off to horrendous penal colonies. As soon as we caught ourselves in

  a

  simple but irrevocable filing error, we knew we didn't have long to live--so

  we grabbed what we could and fled to the underlevels of Imperial City. My

  people have been living there for years. We're just a bunch of feral

  bureaucrats who don't know any other life."

  "We could find a place for you in the New Republic. We don't punish

  people for simple mistakes. We could bring you all back," Leia said again.

  "Look around you, we could give you your own quarters like these. Many of

  the

  buildings in the old Imperial City are abandoned."

  "We know," Daykim said, "we live there ourselves sometimes. Thank you for

  your offer." He stood up and cast a suspicious glance toward Threepio and

  Chewbacca. He patted Jacen and Jaina on the head and flashed his gap-toothed

  smile. "You're good little children. Your mommy and daddy should be proud of

  you."

  Han cleared his throat and extended his hand in thanks. The tattered man

  grabbed it and shook vigorously as if pleased to give a firm, businesslike

  handshake.

  "I still don't understand why you want to stay down in those murky lower

  levels," Han said.

  Daykim swung one leg into the ventilation duct and looked around. "It's

  very simple," he said. "Up here I was just a file clerk--down there I am a

  =ing!"

  With a last smile for all of them, Daykim vanished into the ventilation

  ducts. They heard him thumping and scrambling as he disappeared down the

  access tubes.

  "Well, everything turned out right after all," Threepio said. "Isn't this

  wonderful?"

  In answer Han and Leia both glared at him.

  "We want a story!" the twins said in unison.

  Kyp Durron brought his stolen ship into orbit around the small forest

  moon of Endor, where the second Death Star had been destroyed.

&n
bsp; Ignoring the sensors on board his stolen Z-95 Headhunter, he let his eyes

  fall closed. He reached out with his sense ability, seeking across the

  entire

  landscape for shadows or ripples in the Force. He had to find the last

  resting

  place of the only other Dark Lord of the Sith he knew of.

  Darth Vader.

  Exar Kun, who had lived long before Vader, was pleased to know that the

  Lords of the Sith had continued for millennia. But Kyp still felt driven to

  find answers to the clamoring questions in his mind.

  Master Skywalker said that Darth Vader, his own father, had returned to

  the light side in the end. From this Kyp concluded that the powers of the

  Sith

  were not permanently connected with evil. That gave him a thread of hope. He

  recognized full well that the dark spirit of Exar Kun had lied to him, or at

  least misled him. The risk was terrible, but the reward would benefit the

  entire galaxy.

  If he succeeded.

  Here on Endor, Kyp felt he could hide from the watchful eyes of Exar Kun.

  He didn't know how far Kun's power extended, but he didn't think the ancient

  Sith Lord could leave Yavin 4. Not yet at least.

  Kyp instinctively worked the controls of Mara Jade's fighter, bringing

  the Headhunter lower as he scanned the forests. After the Rebel celebration

  of

  their victory over the Emperor, Luke Skywalker had built a pyre for his

  father

  near the towering trees, not far from the Ewok villages. He had watched the

  roaring flames consume the remnants of Darth Vader's mechanical attire.

  But perhaps something had survived....

  As the Headhunter cruised over the tops of the immense Ewok father trees,

  Kyp searched with his mind, ironically making use of the exercises Master

  Skywalker had taught him, how to reach out and touch all life-forms.

  He caught the stirrings of the furry Ewoks in their tree cities. He

  sensed large predators on the prowl one humanoid behemoth, a giant Gorax,

  crashed through the trees, black hair swinging from side to side as he

  searched for Ewok dwellings low enough to grab.

  As he flew onward, Kyp's mind ranged far and wide across the Endor

  wilderness. Then he felt a ripple, an echo of something that definitely did

  not... belong.

  Everything else seemed to have its place, but this did not conform. A

  stain that seemed to absorb all other senses, casting waves of leftover

 

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