“Contact my dad. Let him know what’s happened.”
“Master Skywalker?”
Vestara. Her voice was drowned out by what sounded like wind snatching away her words. Luke frowned slightly. “Vestara? Everything all right? Where’s Ben?”
“No sir, everything is not all right, and Ben is right here with me,” she said. “We are in pursuit of Dyon Stad. He appeared to go insane inside on the ground level market and began attacking civilians.”
Luke closed his eyes briefly. No, not here, not now … At least Vestara’s strict Sith training had taught her to report calmly, briefly, and accurately. First things first.
“Any casualties?”
“Negative, unless you count a few bushels of exotic fruit and several wooden crates.”
Ben was rubbing off on her. So much for reporting calmly, briefly, and accurately.
She added, “Several people were injured, but neither Ben nor I sensed any deaths.”
“Well, that’s something, at least. Do you know where he’s heading?”
“Due west of Treema,” she said. “He’s on a speeder bike and so are we. Anticipate broaching the kilometer barrier around the Fountain in approximately five minutes.”
“I assume the authorities are also en route.”
A pause. “Yes, sir. Behind us and closing in are four land vehicles and above us are six air vehicles.”
“What kind?”
Another pause. “Sir, I don’t know your vessel classifications.”
Ah, the Sith. They could always be trusted upon to lie. Luke suspected that Vestara knew exactly what type of “vessel classifications” she was regarding, maybe even better than Ben. But he chose not to challenge her on it.
“It doesn’t matter. Are they—”
He was about to say “attacking” but was saved the trouble as the unmistakable sound of blaster fire was heard.
“Vestara!”
“We’re all right,” she said, her voice calm and cool. “They appear to be poor shots, and I’m deflecting most of the bolts. And most of their attention is focused on Dyon rather than us.”
“Where’s Ben?”
“Driving.”
They were getting closer. Ben wasn’t a big fan of art and culture per se, but even he had to admit the Fountain of the Hutt Ancients was a true wonder.
It rose up out of the sand like a giant tidal wave, a thing frozen in time and dreadfully, beautifully, out of place. The glasslike wintrium caught the light and glinted brightly, causing Ben’s eyes to water slightly. He narrowed them further against the glare of the sun on the sand. He hadn’t anticipated needing goggles and there had been no time to find any. He was beginning to understand why his father hated desert worlds so darned much.
Still, the fountain was gorgeous, and Tatooine, as far as Ben had been told, had nothing of beauty to recommend it other than the dual sunset. Certainly nothing like the Fountain. He could tell even at this distance that it was much larger than he had expected it to be. No wonder the Klatooinians revered it so much, and attached such significance to it. He wished he could spare it more than a glance out of the corner of his eye, as his attention was demanded elsewhere.
Blaster fire kicked up little sprays of molten glass from where the bolts struck the sand. Behind him, he felt Vestara’s body, pressed against his back, move in various pleasant and somewhat distracting ways as she gestured to deflect the fire that was directed at them. He was closing in on Dyon, the tracker having selected an older vehicle. Ben grimly pressed his lips together and began to steer erratically, trying to avoid the attack and still stop the mad Jedi from violating a treaty that was twenty-five thousand years old. He felt a sudden stinging pain emanating from where Vestara’s arm encircled his waist and inhaled quickly in surprise and annoyance.
“Stop that,” Vestara shouted. “It’s harder for me to deflect them!”
“Avoiding is better than deflecting,” Ben shot back. “And don’t use your dark side poodoo on me.”
“I’m better at deflecting than you are at avoiding,” Vestara retorted. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to stop this crazy Force-user, even dark side poodoo.”
She was utterly serious, and he realized she didn’t know the slang term. He couldn’t help it, and he laughed. Hard. Until she sent another bolt through him.
“I’m bringing the Jade Shadow down to assist, but I’m not sure I’ll get there in time,” Luke said through the comlink. “Dyon has to be stopped, but we don’t want him killed if we can avoid it.”
“Of course not,” Vestara said, sounding indignant. Ben felt her lift her arm, then heard a sizzle as she batted back a bolt. “He’s ill. We need to help him.”
“Sorry, Vestara, but that sounds a little too compassionate coming from a Sith.”
“Not all of us take delight in hurting or killing unnecessarily,” Vestara said. “And remember, our apprentices”—pause, sizzle—“are being harmed by Abeloth as well as your Jedi. We might need them all alive if we want to find out what’s going on.”
She made a good point, but to Ben it almost felt as if she were making excuses for her original comment. As if she were embarrassed at showing compassion. He wondered if that was real or just wishful thinking. Then he forgot completely about the conversation.
Up ahead was a wall similar to the one that enclosed Treema. It was, apparently, the only barricade that protected the Fountain from its admirers. There were gates at various intervals and these were closed, but … seriously, it was only a ring of dirt and wooden gates. Apparently, even the barricade around the place had to be low-tech.
The guards patrolling it, however, had no such hindrance. They wore plastoid armor and sported DL-44 heavy blasters that looked like they meant business. And the extremely businesslike-looking blasters were trained on the figure of Dyon Stad as he barreled in, seemingly intent upon crashing through the gates.
“Off! Off!” shouted Ben.
Vestara understood immediately, and as one, they vaulted upward, soaring and then landing easily on their feet even in the soft sand. Ben’s lightsaber was in his hand and activated by the time he straightened. Even as he brought it up, he was batting back blaster fire. The driverless speeder bike kept going, heading straight for the wall and two guards standing there. The guards were not there a second later, having intelligently dived out of the way. The speeder bike rammed at top speed into the barrier. It did not break through it, but there was a good-sized hole around the now-crumpled speeder.
A sharp scream caused Ben’s head to whip around, although he kept good focus on the fight. Vestara stood with her long legs set wide apart and her hands, fingers splayed hard, stretched out in front of her. Her beautiful face was set in a harsh, unforgiving expression. Blue Force lightning crackled from her hands in a jagged, dancing line to two other guards. They convulsed, shrieking in torment. The Sith apprentice lifted her hands and tossed the two guards aside. Her head turned, her brown eyes narrowed, then she reached out in the direction of Dyon Stad.
“Vestara!” Ben shouted.
She was going to do it.
She was going to do just what his father had warned him that Sith did, that Sith always did. She was going to betray him and murder Dyon Stad, because Sith killed Jedi. The promise meant nothing to her, Ben meant nothing to her, she was lost to the dark side, and—
Less than a second before Dyon Stad’s speeder bike impacted with the barrier, Dyon himself suddenly shot upward as if grasped by an invisible hand. He yelled in protest, his legs and arms flailing, and then was thrown several meters away to land on the soft sand.
His speeder slammed hard into the wall and was rendered into so much scrap metal instantly. Had Dyon still been on it, he would now have been little more than a collection of bloody tissue.
Ben blinked. The attacks ceased as everyone started to converge on the stunned man, who only now was moving and trying unsuccessfully to sit up. Vestara beat them all, leaping with the grace and power of a na
rglatch to land beside Dyon, straddling him, drawing her fist back, and slamming it into his jaw. Dyon’s head jerked to the side, and he stopped moving. Vestara hissed slightly, shook her stinging hand, then yanked up Dyon’s arms and trussed him up with cord from her belt.
Ben lowered his weapon. Vestara rose, dusting the sand from her knees, and stepped aside as the locals seized Dyon by each arm and hauled him upward. Ben fumbled for his comlink and clicked it.
“She stopped him. Vestara,” Ben said. He was panting a little from the chase. “The local authorities have him right now. Do you want me to step in?”
“No, not at this point,” Luke said. He did not acknowledge Ben’s first comment. “He came close to violating their most sacred area, and he’s stolen property. The GA doesn’t have any kind of jurisdiction here, and neither do we. I’ll come down and talk to someone once they’ve processed him. When everyone’s a little calmer, they might agree to release him to my custody.”
“Dad,” Ben said, “did you hear what I said? Vestara got him. She could have killed him, but she didn’t.”
“I’m glad she didn’t violate the terms of our alliance,” was all Luke said, and then clicked off.
Ben glowered at the comlink. His father wasn’t going to give Vestara anything, no matter how trustworthy she continued to prove herself. It was starting to irritate Ben.
“You look annoyed,” Vestara said suddenly by his ear. He started; he hadn’t noticed her approach. “Why? We stopped him in time. Everyone should be pleased.”
“I’m not exactly happy that we had another Maw-dweller go nuts right in front of us,” Ben said, dodging the real issue. “But at least you see what we’re up against.”
Vestara nodded. “It’s one thing to hear about it, another to actually witness it. I’m just happy it wasn’t someone you were close to. That’s hard to see.”
She looked genuinely concerned as she said it. She was about a foot away from him, her face dewed with sweat and smudged with sand. Her chest rose and fell slightly with exertion, and her hair, which she had not braided today, was a tangled, sandy mess. Her eyes were kind, and met his evenly, and when he sensed her in the Force, he found nothing to contradict his impression.
“Thanks,” Ben said. “Sounds like you might have to face the same problem.”
“I don’t know any of the apprentices who have gone mad,” she replied. Again, honesty. “I’m sure it would be very difficult if I did, though.”
“You’re Sith,” Ben said suddenly, feeling a bit petty. “You’re not supposed to care about other people, even your so-called friends.”
Vestara shrugged. “Of course I care. I’m human, Ben, not a droid. I love my family and my pet Tikk and—and I loved my friend Ahri. Whom you killed.”
Ben winced inwardly, but pressed on. “Did you love your Master? Lady Rhea?”
She shook her head. “No, but I respected and feared her.”
“Isn’t fear better than love?”
Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed, and he immediately sensed she was growing irritated with his combative questioning.
“Sometimes. Sometimes not.” She turned away from him to regard Dyon Stad, who had been unceremoniously tossed into a vehicle. “So what are we going to do with him? Are you letting the Klatooinians just take him?”
“For now, that’s what Dad wants. He’s going to come down later and talk to the authorities, try to get them to turn him over to us. In the meantime, I think I am in dire need of a sanisteam.”
And just like that, the tension went away as Vestara gave him a quick, playful grin. “Yeah, I was going to say something.”
Ben mock-glared at her, then looked back. “Oh,” he said. “It’s a bit of a hike back to Treema.” Suddenly, his danger sense prickled, and both he and Vestara turned at the same time to see one of the guards aiming a blaster right at them.
“I think perhaps I can give you a lift,” said the guard.
TREEMA COURTHOUSE AND DETENTION AREA, KLATOOINE
“OUR DADS’LL BE HERE SOON,” BEN SAID.
Vestara frowned at him. “We wouldn’t have to wait on them to get us out of here if you’d just let me convince the guards to let us go.”
“Here” was an old, dilapidated holding cell located deep inside the Treema Courthouse and Detention Area. The security systems were utterly inadequate to the task of confining two powerful Force-users. They could have left any time they wished. Vestara was well aware of this and irritated with the fact.
“Problem is,” Ben said, “My dad would want us to cooperate with the officials. And if you try to use mind tricks on the wrong person, they notice and they get pretty ticked off with you. It’s just easier to go along with them.”
She snorted slightly and folded her arms, shifting a bit farther away on the cold durasteel bench. She clearly would have liked to put more distance between them, but there was only one bench in the cell. The only lighting came from glow rods older than they were, and the tiny room smelled musty and unused.
“My father wouldn’t have handled it that way,” Vestara said.
“Your father—” Ben began heatedly, then choked the words back. “Never mind.”
She eyed him, but with more curiosity than irritation. “My father what? Go on.”
It was Ben’s turn to fold his arms. “I said, never mind. They’re just … very different.”
“Well, of course, one is a Jedi and the other is a proud and well-respected Saber,” Vestara said.
He turned to her, angry, then saw that she was smiling at him. Not just her it’s-almost-but-not-really-a-smile, but a genuine one. She was teasing him. Or was she trying to lure him out? He could never tell.
Ben decided to play along. Maybe he’d learn something. At the very least, it was an entertaining way to kill time.
“You seem close to your father, but it’s very … distant,” he said, firing the first volley.
“And you seem overly familiar. Almost rude to him. He should beat you more often.”
“My dad never beat me and never would!” Ben said indignantly, then immediately modified the statement. “Well, when I was younger, I did usually end up a little battered after sparring with him, but that’s completely different.”
“Ah, so that’s what’s wrong with you!” The smile had reached her eyes. “Not beaten enough. A good Sith upbringing and you’d be just fine. No more of your smart-mouthed comments to your father, to whom you should show respect.”
“I somehow think my dad would like Sith more if he heard that last bit,” Ben said. He unfolded his arms, clasped his hands behind his back, and stretched out his legs. “I think he’d approve of no more smart-mouthed comments. ‘Yes, dear Papa.’ ‘No, dear Papa.’ ‘You are amazing, dear Papa.’”
Vestara grinned. “Somehow, I just can’t see that coming from you,” she said.
“Good.”
“And I’m not that bad with my father!”
He relented a little. “No, you’re really not. But you are awfully formal.”
“And you aren’t.”
Ben shook his head. “No. Dad likes to say I got my mouth from Mom.” He was comfortable telling her this. If the Tribe, as they referred to themselves, had access to vessels as comparatively sophisticated as the ChaseMaster frigates, they had access to decent databanks.
“Well, whatever else Luke Skywalker might be, he is obviously an extremely patient man. My father would take no back talk from my mother. She isn’t even a Force-sensitive.”
“And that matters? To how you treat someone?”
A slight frown furrowed her pale brow. “Of course it does.”
“Yeah, I suppose it would. To a Sith.”
She leaned forward, her palms on the bench beside her. She seemed to want him to understand. “It is how we are, Ben. The more skills you have, the further you can advance. Advancement means wealth, power, and safety.”
“Yeah?” Ben turned to her. “Then if it was so important, how come
Gavar Khai didn’t marry a fellow Force-sensitive?”
Vestara’s eyes widened, and he realized she had never thought to ask herself that question. “I—I suppose because he loved her.”
“Careful, that’s Jedi thinking!” Ben’s smile softened the words. She blushed a little and looked away.
“They do love each other, and he loves me,” Vestara said, almost as if she were trying to justify something. “It’s just … this is how we are. Who we are.”
“You know,” Ben said, working his way through the thought even as he spoke it, “There was a time when I wasn’t particularly close to Dad. It’s really been since Mom’s death that—” He caught himself, and thought, ah, the heck with it, and continued. She’d know sooner or later … and maybe this would help open her eyes a little bit. “—that we’ve gotten close.”
“I’m sorry,” Vestara said, and she sounded like she meant it. Her emotions in the Force did show sincere regret. “It must be hard to lose a parent. I would be very upset if anything happened to either of mine.”
Then I hope I’m not the one who has to lop off your father’s head with my lightsaber, Ben thought, with a slight bitterness. She sensed his change of mood in the Force and drew back, confused and suddenly slightly wary.
“It was hard on both of us,” Ben said, sending her a gentle brush of reassurance. “She was … an amazing woman. And a great mom.”
Vestara hesitated, then said, “You and your father seem to have … fun.”
“Do we?” Ben thought about the time he had shared with Luke on their journey thus far. He’d hardly call it “fun.” But then again … there had been a lot of good conversations, and they constantly exchanged playful zingers with no barbs to them. And he’d laughed. A lot. “Yeah, I guess we do.”
Vestara did not reply. Ben knew that she loved her family, but she certainly didn’t have “fun” with Gavar Khai. The impression Ben got of the man was that living with him must be like constantly walking on the edge of a blade. He didn’t think that Khai would tolerate mistakes of the sort Ben had made throughout his short life. He wondered if Sith, like certain animals Ben had heard of, killed their offspring if they found imperfections in them.
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