Star Wars: I, Jedi: Star Wars

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Elegos pressed his hands together. “These you honor were your teachers and friends. Their deaths you blame on a Halcyon and other Jedi, one very much like me, yes?”

  An edge returned to her voice. “I do.” She thrust a finger at me. “It was a Halcyon who slew my Master and my husband that day, and retreated to leave us alone. They did not care for us, for the damage they had done. They were supposed to serve all life and living creatures, but they deserted us, proving the lie of the Jedi. We had already known—our Masters had told us—that we were a breed apart. The advent of the Jedi here on Susevfi merely proved all they had taught was true.”

  Luke opened his hands. “Truth is often a matter of point of view.”

  Anger flashed through the Saarai-kaar’s eyes. “You were not there. You have no point of view.”

  I was about to mention my dream, but Elegos reached out and placed a hand on her knee. “But I do. I would share it with you.”

  She looked sharply at Elegos. “You were not the Jedi there that day.”

  “No, I was not, but I will share with you a secret—I will give you my trust that you may return it. I know you do not want to hurt anyone, which is why I can trust you. I would have you accept my trust so you can stop yourself from hurting.”

  Luke gave me a sidelong glance, but I nodded reassuringly to him. “He knows what he is doing.”

  The Saarai-kaar’s voice sagged beneath the weight of suspicion. “What will you do?”

  “The Caamasi have a gift in which significant memories become treasured and, in special circumstances, can be shared. We discovered, as a people, that we could share them among ourselves, yet with non-Caamasi species, they could only be communicated to the Jedi. I think it is their connection to the Force that allows this, and any of us who have come to truly know a Jedi are privileged to be able to share these memnii with the Jedi.”

  He twisted back and caught my right hand in his left, dragging me forward. “I have come to know this man under a variety of identities, one of them being Keiran Halcyon; the grandson of Nejaa Halcyon. Nejaa is the Halcyon Jedi you accuse of being a murderer and the Caamasi who was with him that day was my uncle. My uncle passed to me the memnis of what happened here, sharing with me the memory of his friend’s death. This is the point of view I have of those events, and I would share it with you in hopes you would understand the other point of view.”

  The Saarai-kaar held her hand out to Elegos. “Show me the memory.”

  Elegos stood but did not relinquish his grip on my hand. “I do not know you well enough for me to transfer the memory to you. I do know Keiran well enough to share with him, and you know he can project it into your mind.”

  “You want me to trust a Halcyon, too? You ask too much, Caamasi.”

  Elegos looked down at her. “Is it too much to ask when it could free you of a burden you have carried for over forty years? Is it too much to ask when he has not slain you nor your companions, and yet could easily have done so—bearing in mind this is the purpose you claim he has come for? Your caution is admirable, but do not let it be a barrier to a greater truth.”

  She hesitated, then nodded once. “What I will see, I will consider.”

  “Good.” Elegos looked at me. “Prepare yourself.”

  “Am I sending just to her, or do I include Master Skywalker and her apprentices?”

  Luke smiled. “I would be honored to share that memory.”

  The Saarai-kaar’s eyes tightened, then she nodded. “Let them see.”

  “Okay.” I set myself. “Ready, I guess.”

  I felt a tingle run through my hand and up into my brain. I touched the Force and entwined it with what I was getting from Elegos, then pushed it out toward the others in the room. I felt contact with all of them, some hot and some oh so cold. I just served as a conduit and watched the memnis pour through my mind.

  Even if I had intended to edit and modify it, I doubt I could have. Since what I was seeing came through Caamasi eyes, and was wrapped up in Caamasi kinesthetics and senses, any changes I had made would have been patently human and obviously artificial. Moreover, the intensity and volume of sensory input overwhelmed me. I saw and heard, tasted, touched and smelled—boy, did I smell things—so much that I couldn’t categorize it. The memnis was like a holovid presentation so complex that only by watching it again and again could I begin to grapple with all of the elements.

  I found myself in Ylenic It’kla’s flesh, with his fellow Jedi on either side of him. My grandfather he classified as Spicewood—he knew his name, of course, but the Caamasi’s acute sense of smell led him to store identity information with scent being more important than name. The other Jedi he identified as Desertwind. I heard Desertwind warn the dark Jedi we faced, and all of our replies, the same as in my dream. Then the battle was joined, blades flashing, barking, sparking and hissing.

  Moving into combat in the Caamasi’s body felt thoroughly alien. His gangling limbs and deceptively slender muscles contained incredible power and grace. His feet shuffled through the dust, always keeping us in balance, with our legs ready to propel me forward in a strike. I watched my foe come in, watched her flick her blade this way and that, probing my defenses. I could tell she had some skill, but how much remained a mystery, and a hint of fear trickled through me as she attacked.

  Pain exploded on my left flank as the red-haired woman—Dustrose—raked the tip of her blue lightsaber across my flesh. I caught the stink of burned down and it almost overrode the pain. I spun away with impossible quickness, turning a full circle and bringing my red-gold blade around to bat her blade aside.

  She was good, but I knew I was better.

  My Caamasi muscles tensed, then brought the blade back up in a rising slash that slipped beneath her guard and opened her from hip to shoulder. Dustrose reeled back, then flopped to the ground. An explosion of blue energy instantly consumed her body, knocking me back and down.

  Through the link with the Saarai-kaar I felt a jolt of grief at Dustrose’s death, but it was as nothing as I looked to the left. I saw Spicewood on the ground, his lightsaber beyond his reach. I knew that if I could concentrate, if I could push past the pain, I could move his lightsaber back into his hand. It would only take a moment, and the Anzati Nightsweat’s gloating clearly appeared to give me that moment.

  Then Spicewood dove for his blade and Nightsweat stabbed down. I could almost feel the blade burning its way through my friend, severing the ties his life had to his body. I would have expected him to die instantly, but he managed a smile. The azure blade fixing him to the ground sputtered and died and in an instant I knew what he had done, how he had employed the rarest of all Jedi gifts, and what a terrible price he had paid for it.

  Nightsweat rose into the air, then convulsed and seemed to implode. I saw the body fly back through the tents built beneath the duracrete dome. Nightsweat exploded, as did the dark Jedi Desertwind had slain. Their mortal bodies no longer able to contain the dark-side energy, it flashed out in a blue fireball that shattered the duracrete dome. I rushed to Spicewood, pulling him clear as the dome began to collapse. I felt Desertwind supporting the dome around me, then he let it go as we got clear.

  I knelt in the dirt, cradling my friend’s head in my lap. Desertwind stood by my side, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I think he knew Tyris was a good enough swordsman to get one or the other of us. Nejaa knew he could not defeat him with a lightsaber, so he found another means to protect us.”

  I caressed my grandfather’s face, wiping away the blood from the cut on his head and the corner of his mouth. “To have survived so much to die here. It is sad.”

  “But to die in the defense of all that is good, it must be celebrated and remembered.”

  I nodded. “It will be a sadder day when such nobility is forgotten.”

  “Or feared.”

  “Worse yet, yes.” I smiled, breathing deep of Spicewood’s scent, then was aware of the lessening of his weight upon my thighs. I looked down
and saw him fade away, his burned clothes collapsing, his lightsaber settling into the dust. Beyond his boots, a last section of the dome groaned and sagged in, with a couple of the tiles that had been set into it exploding into fragments. I picked one up and ran my thumb over it, feeling the strange glyphs incised into it.

  I began to shiver and Desertwind supported me. “You’ve been hurt, my friend. We have to get you away from here. In a place of evil like this, there can be no healing.”

  “I can make it back to Yumfla.”

  “Good, and then to Corellia.” Desertwind helped me up. “Nejaa’s family will know he died a hero.”

  The memory faded out as my vision of the room flooded back. I tasted salt on my lips. I reached up and swiped away at tears. I turned to thank Elegos, but could not speak past the tightness in my throat.

  Elegos nodded. “I know.”

  The Saarai-kaar began speaking in a small voice. “I know well the pain of lost comrades your uncle felt, Caamasi. I mourn for him, but his belief that he and his friends were right in no way means they were. When that dome collapsed, my husband was crushed. We lost a half-dozen friends and I was left alone with three other apprentices.” She pressed her hand against her stomach. “And the boy growing in my belly. We hid from the Jedi and mourned and buried our dead. We had been sealed together, bound together by the deaths. We made a new beginning from the tragedy, and yet this memory would seek to have us believe we were walking the path of evil.”

  I nodded my head. “The memory proves it. The writing on the tiles, I recognize it from Yavin 4. It’s of Sith origin.”

  The Saarai-kaar nodded. “Our masters had uncovered information about Sith techniques from an antiquarian who had recovered artifacts. They learned that the Jedi had stolen their discipline from the Sith, had perverted Sith teaching and our masters were returning us to the true way. Jensaarai is a Sith word for the hidden followers of truth. As the Saarai-kaar, I am the keeper of that truth. We are not evil.”

  Luke shook his head. “In fact you are not.”

  I frowned at him. “They were following Sith practices. Are you forgetting Exar Kun and all that?”

  “Not at all, Keiran. They were being taught the Jedi way by people who had accepted Sith thoughts and philosophies, but they themselves were not sufficiently developed to be initiated into them. Their masters had not yet found the hooks by which they could be opened to the dark side. And then, after the deaths of their masters, they continued learning, but did so with the orientation of protecting themselves from the Jedi. They dedicated themselves to defense—choosing the correct path for the wrong reasons.”

  I shivered. “But with such a hate for the Jedi, they should have come forth and helped the Emperor hunt them down.”

  The Saarai-kaar leaned forward, covering her face in her hands. “Again we were betrayed.”

  As she sobbed, one of the apprentices—Red—removed her mask. “The Saarai-kaar’s son was of an age to be independent when the Emperor started hunting down the Jedi. Against her wishes, he left here and offered his services to Darth Vader. He was slain outright, and Jedi hunters came here, but never found us. I was but a child then, but I remember the hiding, the fear. Our community kept us strong.”

  I nodded. “And when the Rebellion started, you could not join it because it lauded as heroes the very Jedi who had created you in the first place.”

  The Saarai-kaar looked up, wiping away her tears. “We are not evil.”

  Luke dropped to one knee before her. “No, the Jensaarai are not, nor are they wholly good.”

  “What?” Her face sharpened. “How can you say that?”

  “It is a simple truth, of which you have part, but you stand so close to it that you cannot see the whole of it. You are fully committed to your community, to your students and they to you and each other. This is what has kept you from the dark side. Even when your people helped Tavira, they did so to protect you and Susevfi. This is good, but it is not the true whole of the Jedi tradition.”

  Luke gave her a heartwarming smile. “To be a Jedi is to be committed to the defense of everyone. Our duties do have limits—Nejaa Halcyon limited his work to the Corellian system, except when extraordinary circumstances called him beyond it. When he did come forth, he was willing to sacrifice his life for others. Here you have not been open to those calls, those sacrifices, and this has limited your access to the Force and all it offers. I have an academy that could teach you or some of your apprentices about this grander Jedi tradition, if you wish.”

  “It is an offer I shall consider.” She shivered. “Could I have been wrong all these years?”

  I smiled at her. “Not wrong, not at all. You did what you felt was right to save others from being hurt. That is never wrong.”

  My Jedi Master rose. “It is very right. We can just make it more so. Keiran, he is the product of one Jedi tradition, and me, I am born of yet a different one. You and your Jensaarai are just part of a third. If you will permit it, we would welcome you into the greater Jedi tradition of service so that all of our ways, woven together, will make us so strong we can never again be torn apart.”

  EPILOGUE

  The next time I saw Luke was about three days later. I met him in the Governor’s palace not quite by chance. I’d been going to see him, but felt him speaking to the Saarai-kaar, so I headed up to the roof and the shuttle pad. I was looking out over Yumfla’s night sky and up at the brilliant curved planetary ring stretching up and out from the horizon. Beyond the ring the stars looked so bright and so inviting, and the space between them so black and cold.

  “There you are, Corran.” Luke smiled as he came up onto the roof. “Your wife’s right, brown is better for your hair.”

  I raked my fingers back through it. “Yeah. Gonna let it grow out a bit, too. Can’t decide on the goatee and moustache, though.”

  “I’d get rid of it.” Luke shrugged and joined me at the wall. “I had been hoping to see you over the past couple of days.”

  “Sorry, Mirax and I were … checking out the Pulsar Skate and making sure it was prepped for the trip back to Coruscant.” I pointed vaguely off toward the starport. “We can give you a ride back, if you want.”

  “No. You’ll want time alone—or more time alone—and Elegos has learned of the Alderaanian ritual of leaving grave goods in the Graveyard. Ooryl and I are going to head to Kerilt, pick up Elegos’ daughter, Releqy, and take them to where they can leave things for Ylenic It’kla.”

  I nodded. “I’ll have to make that trip, too, at some point. Leave something for Ylenic in my grandfather’s name.”

  “I think that would please both of them.” The Jedi Master glanced up at the stars. “After that I think I’d like to help Rogue Squadron find the Invidious and end Tavira’s career.”

  I shrugged. “Without the Jensaarai she’ll just be another proto-warlord running around out there. Someone will get her—New Republic probably. Maybe she’ll anger Pellaeon and he’ll do us a favor by taking her toy away from her.”

  “That would be convenient, certainly.” Luke fell silent, for a moment, then rested his hands on the top of the restraining wall. “There’s something important I need to discuss with you.”

  “Me, too.” I gave him a smile. I’d spent a fair amount of time thinking about my life and my father’s “man in the mirror” saying. I actually did recognize myself, which was good, but it forced some hard choices. I shrugged. “I’m not going to go back to the academy. I’m not going to be a Jedi full time.”

  “Interesting.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “Interesting?”

  “Yes. I was going to ask you not to return to the academy.”

  My mouth gaped open in shock for a second. “I wasn’t that disruptive, was I?”

  The Jedi Master shook his head. “Not at all. You see, you had training all your life that directed you toward a goal that I’m trying to train my recruits for. You have a grounding that means learning to use the Jedi tech
niques and tools just adds another layer to you. It provides you with more things to do, things you already are well trained to do. On the way here you pointed out that Nejaa often went about as a regular man, solving problems and only using his Jedi abilities when needed—precisely because he had the other skills needed to do these jobs and didn’t have to rely upon his Jedi skills.”

  I smiled as I unraveled what he meant. When the only tool you have is a hydrospanner, every problem looks like something that needs to be torqued. “I think I get what you’re saying.”

  “I’d expect that of a detective.” Luke laughed lightly. “You figured out Exar Kun had to be behind Gantoris’ death and the trouble on Yavin 4 because you were a trained investigator. I missed all the evidence you saw, or didn’t want to believe it because I didn’t see how it fit together. That ‘fitting together’ training is some of what the new Jedi will need. The regimen that gets created to provide it won’t give you anything.”

  “You could well be right.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “So why is it that you won’t be coming back?”

  I shifted my shoulders uneasily. “It kind of gets back to what you said about Nejaa, and to part of what I did to Tavira to get her out of here. The place where I can do the greatest good right now, I think, is with Rogue Squadron. Look at you, you’re always being called away to solve some galaxy-threatening problem, having to leave the academy in someone else’s hands when training more Jedi is what you’d most like to be doing. By remaining Corran Horn and staying with Rogue Squadron, I can use my abilities where they will be critical for missions, and yet I won’t be pulled in all sorts of different directions.”