I heard my grandfather come down behind me. “This trunk, what is it?”
“When the Empire decided all Jedi must die, I made some decisions. Some, like altering files to hide your grandmother and father from Imperial hunters, were good decisions. I do not regret them in the least.”
I glanced back at him. “Were there other Corellian Jedi families you hid?”
“That’s not information you need to know, Corran. If there are any, and if they are meant to be found, they will be.” His hands rested on my shoulders. “Other decisions were risky. I chose, foolishly, to put my family and myself in jeopardy by hiding this down here. Had it been discovered I could have gotten all of us killed. By rights, I should have destroyed it—your grandmother and father thought I had because I told them I had, but I just couldn’t.”
His hands gave my shoulders a squeeze. “There, in that box, are all the things Ylenic It’kla brought back here after Nejaa’s death.”
I nodded slowly, the light bobbing up and down over the packing case’s dark bulk. “How did Nejaa die?”
“I don’t know the details. The Caamasi asked that I not inquire. What he did tell me was that a great man, a hero of the Clone Wars, selected them for a very special and honorable mission. They went with him and the three of them vanquished most deadly foes, but Nejaa was mortally wounded. All the Jedi healing techniques could not save him and he died.”
“Then you married his wife and adopted his son.”
My grandfather’s voice grew distant. “I’d known Scerra all my life. We’d always been good friends, and we both lost our best friend at the same time. Our shared grief brought us more closely together and our shared lives provided us with strong roots together. I have always chosen to think that Nejaa had an inkling of his fate and what would happen to us after his passing. I like to think knowing his friends would salvage love out of their mourning made his death that much easier.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “The dust down here has my eyes watering. I’m going to head back up. We can pull the chest out of here, if you want, or you can open it and just look at the things here. Your choice. You are the last Halcyon, so they belong to you.”
“Thank you.” I took a step toward the case, then turned and faced my grandfather. “You’re wrong in one thing, though.”
Tears glistened in the half-light. “Am I?”
I nodded. “I don’t see myself as the last Halcyon. I’m the last Horn. I just hope, in this chest and in the garden above, there’s everything I need to guarantee both lines will continue.”
Alone in the still darkness, I opened the trunk. Dust trickled down from the lid, filling the air. I expected a musty odor of old clothes that had long since mildewed away to nothing, but instead I found a chest packed neatly and tightly. All the clothing had been folded precisely and sealed in clear plastine pouches. I carefully pulled one after another out but opened none of them. Still, from what I could see in the glowrod light, the clothes had all been laundered, leading me to suspect the Caamasi Jedi had taken great pains to care for his friend’s effects.
Toward the bottom of the trunk I found boots encased in plastine, as well as a cloak and blanket similarly pouched. Below that I saw the lid of a hinged compartment that I lifted up. Inside it was thick foam padding with hollowed spaces for various items. I easily recognized the slot meant for Nejaa’s lightsaber. A small first aid kit, a shaving kit and a set of eating utensils all sat in their appropriate slots. Odd coins filled other slots, as did power packs for a variety of items and a positively antique comlink.
What immediately attracted my attention, however, was the rectangular slot filled with static holograms. I fished them out and carried them back over to where the sun’s light filtered down through the long chimney. One by one, I flipped through them and found myself smiling though I recognized no one.
I figured out which person had to be Nejaa after a couple of shots. From other items in the picture, especially the lightsaber clipped to his belt, I could tell he’d stood slightly taller than me, but no taller than my father, and he had my trim build. We didn’t really look that much alike, except around the eyes and chin. Still, he stood there easily and openly, feet shoulder-width apart, hands open, a smile on his face and life in his eyes. I recognized in his stance the way my father used to stand around and knew I’d adopted the stance as well.
The other figure I found easy to recognize was a Caamasi. Golden down covered him except around the eyes, where purple fur formed a mask around his eyes that spread tendrils up and back to stripe his skull. The Caamasi’s large, dark eyes seemed full of inquisitiveness, not the sadness marking the Caamasi I’d seen; but then I’d only seen Caamasi rarely and this shot had been taken before they’d almost all been wiped out. The two of them—my grandfather and his friend—looked weary in some shots, but that was to be expected of people fighting a war. That they also looked content spoke a lot about their commitment to keeping the galaxy safe.
Some of the shots had people I recognized in them. I saw a very young Jan Dodonna standing with Nejaa. I recalled the general having asked me in Lusankya if he knew my grandfather. He had indeed known him, but I’d not known who my grandfather was at the time. Jan saved my life in that prison. Had he saved yours, too, Nejaa, or was he paying back some ancient debt to you when he saved mine?
Bail Organa appeared in one picture with Nejaa and the Caamasi. Other individuals joined them in group and individual shots, but I didn’t positively identify any of the others. The old-style clothes, the youthful faces, could easily have become countless senators and leaders whose aged faces I would have easily recognized. Some struck me as very familiar—annoyingly so—but without someone to tell me who they were or images to use for comparison, I was stuck not knowing.
Suddenly the war holograms ended and I found myself looking at peacetime shots. The first showed my grandfather standing there with Nejaa. Nejaa was handing him one of the Jedi Medallions marking Nejaa’s elevation to the rank of Master. Then I saw Nejaa with his face pressed cheek to cheek with that of my grandmother. It shocked me because I’d only ever seen her with my grandfather, Rostek. Then, in a picture where the image ran wider, I saw Scerra, Nejaa and a boy who would become my father.
I sagged against the wall and shut my eyes against tears. During my life I’d long heard the cries of downtrodden people who kept saying the Empire was robbing them of their lives and their dignity and the rights they deserved by the simple virtue of their sapience. I’d listened, but not too closely because I found their arguments weak and self-serving. They’d always warned me that someday it would be my turn, that the stormtroopers would be coming for me, and that day it would be too late. I laughed at them then because, with my family, I never imagined the Empire could hurt us.
But hurt us it had. The Empire hadn’t even existed when Nejaa died, but the actions of the Emperor forced my father and grandmother to live a lie. Fear of discovery had to have nibbled on my grandfather every day of his life. Knowing he had saved people might have been an antidote for that, but having to endure that fear for so very long was incredible. My respect for him doubled and doubled again. He is a hero who will never be celebrated for what he has done. And there must be more people like him throughout the galaxy—heroes unsung from a dark time.
I slipped the holograms into my pocket, then returned and replaced everything save the Corellian Jedi uniform, cloak and boots in the box. I resealed it, then carried my booty out and hid it in the greenhouse. I closed the storm cellar door and reburied it, laying back down the diffusion pad and shoveling the manure back over it.
My grandfather joined me as I finished the job. “Find anything of interest down there?”
I nodded. “A past I never knew about.” I gave him a brave smile. “And renewed respect for someone who proved himself a better friend than anyone could ever hope to have.”
His eyes misted over for a moment, then he smiled and nodded slowly. “Busy day, then. You
have a lot to think about.”
I smiled. “I do, but that can wait. Right now, a grandson would like to spend time with his grandfather, potting plants, delivering flowers, cruising Treasure Ship Row looking for trouble. What do you think?”
Rostek Horn smiled broadly and threw an arm over my shoulder. “I think Coronet City is in for some excitement. It’s been a while since two Horn men made their presence felt. It’ll be a night to remember.”
THIRTY
It was a night to remember, but for more than just the great time I had with my grandfather. We did hit Coronet City and dined at the finest restaurant on all Corellia: Nova Nova. Normally reservations were comlinked in several months in advance, but my grandfather just showed up bearing a bouquet of flowers, and we were admitted to a private room. The food was all served techno—tiny portions arranged on the plate as if they were art. Sensors in the utensils relayed data to discrete holoprojectors, so one knew the exact contents of each mouthful, including hints of what subtle flavors one should expect to taste, or anecdotes concerning the creation of the dish.
Made me wonder if Siolle Tinta’s chef, Chid, was working in the kitchen.
After that we went to the private club at the pinnacle of the world’s tallest building. The Lastdark Club took its name from the fact that it was the place in the city the sun touched last before night, and from the fact that the majority of the members considered themselves the most enlightened people on the planet. Back when I worked CorSec we used to joke about the club because we knew none of us could ever afford to join; but my grandfather had become a member in the last three years, and half the plants in the place were hybrids he’d created.
The overwhelming elegance of my surroundings sharply contrasted with what I had known at the Jedi academy, making Yavin 4 seem but a distant memory. Coronet City seemed more right to me, I fit in better here. The academy’s jungle setting had always left me slightly uneasy. I realized, sitting in a plush nerf-hide chair, sipping Corellian brandy and watching the city spread out beneath me, that being city born and bred, I had a preference for urbanity and civilization. Coruscant was too built up for me to feel comfortable there all the time, but here, on Corellia, I could feel at home again.
Nice place to raise kids.
My grandfather told me stories of Booster Terrik from back before my father got him sent to Kessel, back before Jorj Car’das had eaten up Booster’s organization, only in turn to have his organization taken over by Talon Karrde. “So, you see, when Hal caught Booster that first time, Booster considered it pure luck, and forever after worked hard to taunt and elude Hal.” My grandfather smiled broadly. “I don’t think Booster ever truly appreciated your father’s skills as a detective.”
We spoke of many things that evening, even on the ride back to the estate. I discovered in my grandfather that night someone I had never known before. Of course, my first relationship with him had been established as a child to a man, which brought with it certain behaviors. By the time I moved into adulthood, I’d joined CorSec, and our relationship shifted to more of a professional one. This was not a deliberate shift but a natural one, since our jobs dominated our lives. While I could speak to him about my romantic entanglements, that again was a youth speaking to an elder. And then, when my father died, the pain we both felt battered us emotionally to the point where sharing feelings hurt too much, so we stoically didn’t touch upon subjects that would reopen old wounds.
On this night, for the first time, I was able to relate to him as just one adult to another. It was an odd feeling, yet one in which I took great pride. Here was the man who knew my father and Nejaa better than anyone. If he could like me, if he could respect what I had done, then there was a good chance they would have also. This realization quelled some of the discomfort I’d felt since my final encounter with Exar Kun, and that night I went to sleep feeling better than I had in a long time.
Master Skywalker had once said that Jedi do not dream, so when I found myself on a bright, arid world, with my lightsaber unlit but held in my right hand, I wondered at how I had gotten where I was. I saw the emerald sleeves of my Corellian Jedi tunic, and even that did not seem out of place, though the material was finer than that of the clothes I’d been given on Yavin 4. It wasn’t until I looked over to my right and saw Ylenic It’kla, resplendent in his purple cloak, and, beyond him, the Jedi General in his brown and khaki desert-born robes, that I realized I wasn’t me.
The three of us, spread out sufficiently to give ourselves room to fight, stood in a dusty bowl-shaped depression beneath a duracrete dome. A dozen three-meter-tall pillars scattered around its circumference held the dome aloft, allowing the light from the outside to illuminate the arena. Makeshift tents and storage sheds occupied a quarter of the arena in the direction we were facing. Emerging from the central pavilion, three figures came out to stand opposite us. Each of them bore a lightsaber. Their leader, the taller, blond man facing the general, took a step closer to us than his comrades. The red-haired woman aligned herself with Ylenic, while the Anzati, with his proboscises just beginning to peek from the cheek pouches that hid them, lined up to oppose me.
The general—his name eluded me though I knew I recognized something about him—spoke very precisely. “You are meddling with things you cannot control; things that nearly destroyed the Jedi millennia ago. We have come to ask you to abandon your evil and return to the light.”
The leader laughed slowly, his voice low and laden with contempt. “The weak always fear the strong growing up to replace them.”
“And the foolish always see themselves as strong.” The words came from my throat and I could feel my lips forming them. It almost even sounded like something I’d say, though more formal—more archaic and precise—than I would have liked.
Ylenic’s voice came gentle yet strong. “Fear marks the wrong path. We offer you freedom from your fear.”
Their leader thumbed his lightsaber to life. “And we offer you freedom as well.”
The Anzati, taller than me, darker, entirely humanoid save for the proboscises uncurling in his excitement, ignited his blue blade and closed with me. Nikkos Tyris—his name came easily to me—held his lightsaber in a guard I’d not seen before. He had his left hand on the hilt fairly close to the shimmering blade, but the blade itself extended out and down from the lower edge of his hand toward the ground. His right hand rode the lightsaber’s pommel. Holding the blade out away from his body, with his right hand at the level of his chin, he could waggle the blade back and forth in a triangle of coverage that would ward him well. This triangle style—the thought suddenly came to me like a long lost memory—favored a man who was quick, and would combine sweeping strikes at my legs with a flick of the wrist cut that would open me from groin to chin.
I knew fear, but the person I was in the dream shunted it away. I held my silvery blade in a simple guard, though I tilted the blade forward, pointing it at his throat. We circled, then he struck. His blade flicked out for my right leg. I swept my blade down to block low right, sparks flying as our blades crashed into each other. He bounced his blade up and over mine, and brought it across in a slash meant to decapitate me.
I caught the acrid stink as some of my hair melted beneath the lightsaber’s lethal caress, but I ducked the blow by a safe margin. Rotating my wrists, I swept my blade back low, through where his legs should have been, but he leaped up and away from my strike. He flipped backward through the air, displaying great ability with levitation, and landed easily four meters away from me.
His dark eyes blazed for a moment, then an invisible fist smashed into my chest, knocking me backward. He freed his right hand from his azure blade, and flicked fingers at me with the most casual of gestures. A fist-sized stone shot at me from the ground, clipping me on the left shoulder. Pain shot through my arm, leaving it numb. He laughed and hurled another stone toward me. I deflected it with my lightsaber and smiled, then another rock slammed into the left side of my head.
; I went down hard, raising a small cloud of dust when I hit the ground. My lightsaber bounced out of my grasp and I didn’t see where it landed. I shook my head to try to clear it, but pain and a faint ringing made that difficult.
I could feel blood coating the left side of my face and swiped at it with the left sleeve of my tunic. I heard the crunch of gravel beneath his boots as Tyris approached. Drawing myself up into a crouch, I glanced to my right and finally saw my lightsaber lying there, two meters away. I wanted to call it to my hand, but I knew it would never come. I could dive for it, but his lightsaber would pin me to the ground before I ever got there.
“So, it is true, what they have said about the Halcyon line. You are wingclipped mynocks.” An evil smile spread across Tyris’s face as he brought his lightsaber around to display for me the tool of my destruction. “You are a line of weakness.”
I smiled, knowing what I had to do. “We have our strengths.”
“Do you?” He whisked the blade back around to his left, preparatory to sweeping it through me. “Better summon one swiftly.”
In the second of life he left me, I caught a vision of him standing above me and my dead comrades. Our slain bodies faded away, but his mocking laughter did not. I knew with a certainty as clear and hard as transparisteel that if I did not deal with Tyris, my friends and our mission here would be destroyed. I couldn’t let that happen, so I acted.
I launched myself toward my lightsaber, my right hand reaching for it. My body twisted in the air as I flew. I landed on my back, skidding the last centimeters to where my hand closed on the blade’s hilt. Even as I tightened my grip, even as I started to bring the blade around in a parry, I knew I would be too late.
Star Wars: I, Jedi: Star Wars Page 29