Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “Let me guess who wants to do that,” Han said, thinking of a number of the old generals who had reveled in their days of glory during the major battles of the Rebellion.

  “I have to bring Ackbar back,” she said, looking up to meet Han’s eyes. Her face was pale and as beautiful as he had ever seen it. He remembered her staring at him on Cloud City just before Darth Vader had plunged him into the carbon-freeze chamber. Han had spent months locked in a frozen non-existence with only her words “I love you” ringing in his mind.

  He tried not to let his disappointment show. “So you’re going off to the planet Calamari?”

  She nodded, but kept her face pressed against his chest. “I have to, Han. We can’t let Ackbar hide at a time like this. He can’t keep blaming himself for an accident. He’s needed here.”

  Threepio interrupted them as he walked into the main room. “Oh,” he said, startled. “Greetings, Mistress Leia! Welcome home.” Runnels of splashed bathwater trickled down his shiny form and dripped onto the soft floor. He held two fluffy white towels draped over his arms. In the back hall two naked children giggled and ran to their bedroom.

  “The twins are ready for their evening tale,” Threepio said. “Would you like me to select one, sir?”

  Han shook his head. “No, they always cry when you choose.” He looked at Leia. “Come on, you can listen too. I’ll tell them a bedtime story.”

  With the twins snuggled in their pajamas under warm blankets, Han sat between their small beds. Leia sat in another chair, looking longingly at her children.

  “Which story do you want tonight, kids?” Han said. He held a story platform in front of him that would display words and animated pictures.

  “I get to pick,” Jaina said.

  “I want to pick,” Jacen said.

  “You picked last night, Jaina. It’s your brother’s turn.”

  “I want The Little Lost Bantha Cub,” Jaina said.

  “My pick!” Jacen insisted. “Little Lost Bantha Cub.”

  Han smiled. “Big surprise,” he muttered. Leia saw that he had already called up the story on the board before the twins made their decision.

  He began to read. “After the sandstorm that drove him from home, the little lost bantha cub wandered alone.

  “So he walked, and he walked through the desert heat till noon, when he found a Jawa sandcrawler upon a sandy dune.

  “ ‘I am lost,’ said the bantha cub, ‘Please help me find my herd,’ but the little Jawas shook their heads and gave their final word.”

  The twins leaned forward to watch the accompanying images activated by Han’s voice and the scrolling words. Though they had heard the story a dozen times already, they still seemed disappointed when the Jawas refused to help.

  “So he walked, and he walked till he met a shiny droid. After walking by himself so long, the cub was overjoyed.

  “ ‘I am lost,’ said the bantha cub, ‘Please help me find my herd.’ ‘I am not programmed to help you,’ said the droid, ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  “The droid kept walking straight ahead, not looking left or right; the bantha cub just watched until the droid was out of sight.”

  Leia listened as the little bantha cub’s adventures continued in an encounter with a moisture farmer, and finally a huge krayt dragon. The twins sat wide-eyed with suspense.

  “ ‘I will eat you,’ purred the dragon, then he lunged with snapping jaws! So the bantha cub began to run without the slightest pause.”

  Jacen and Jaina were delighted when the bantha cub finally found a tribe of Sand People, who reunited him with his parents and his herd. Leia shook her head, marveling at the fascination the children showed.

  After Han finished telling the story and switched off the platter in his hands, he and Leia each gave the twins a good-night kiss and tucked them in before quietly walking out to the hall.

  “I wish you would let me embellish your tale with sound effects,” Threepio said, walking beside them. “It would be so much more realistic and enjoyable for the children.”

  “No,” Han said, “you’ll give them nightmares.”

  “Indeed!” Threepio said in a huff, then moved to the kitchen area.

  Leia smiled and held Han’s arm, hugging him. She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good daddy, Han.”

  He blushed, but didn’t disagree with her.

  14

  Small, but infinitely deadly, the Sun Crusher superweapon entered orbit around the gas giant of Yavin, flying side by side with the armored New Republic transport.

  Sitting in the streamlined pilot’s seat, young Kyp Durron felt the Sun Crusher’s advanced controls respond to his fingertips. He stared through the segmented viewport at the eddying orange planet below, a waiting bottomless pit where the Sun Crusher would be buried forever.

  “Ready to send her down, Kyp?” the voice of Wedge Antilles crackled across the comm unit. “Straight-line plunge.”

  Kyp fingered the controls, feeling a chill of reluctance. The Sun Crusher was such a perfect weapon, well designed, able to withstand any onslaught. Kyp felt a strange attachment to the splinter-shaped craft that had brought him and Han Solo to freedom. But he also knew that Qwi Xux was right in that the temptation to use such power would eventually corrupt anyone. Qwi kept the knowledge in her head, vowing to share it with no one. But the functional superweapon itself had to be taken out of everyone’s grasp.

  He adjusted the sublight course vectors. “I’m setting the nav systems now,” he said. “Prepare to dock.”

  Kyp programmed a set of coordinates that would fire the Sun Crusher’s maneuvering jets and send the small ship down in a sharp ellipse to bury it in the turbulent clouds and the high-pressure core below.

  “We’re ready for transfer,” Wedge said.

  “Just a minute,” Kyp answered. He locked down the controls and caressed the deceptively simple panel one last time. The New Republic scientists and engineers had not been able to understand the machinery inside. They had not known how to deactivate the resonance torpedoes that would spark supernova explosions. Qwi Xux had refused to help them … and now the Sun Crusher would be gone forever.

  Qwi’s birdlike voice interrupted his thoughts over the comm channel. “Make certain all power systems are shut down,” she said, “and seal the containment field.”

  Kyp flicked a row of switches. “Already done.” He heard the muffled thump of hull against hull as Wedge brought the armored transport against the Sun Crusher.

  “Magnetic fields in place, Kyp,” Wedge said. “Open the hatch and come on over.”

  “Setting the timer,” Kyp said. He activated the autopilot, dimmed the lights in the cockpit, and clambered toward the small hatch. He opened it and met Wedge’s waiting arms as the smiling dark-haired man helped Kyp into the transport.

  They sealed the Sun Crusher behind them, then disengaged the docking connection. Wedge moved back to the pilot’s seat of the armored transport and flopped into the cockpit chair beside the wispy-looking Qwi Xux.

  Qwi sat strapped in with crash restraints. Her pale-blue skin looked splotchy, and she was obviously filled with anxiety. Wedge nudged the attitude-control thrusters and swung the armored transport around so they could watch. The elongated crystal shape of the Sun Crusher increased its distance, drifting closer to the gravitational jaws of Yavin.

  Kyp hunkered between Wedge and Qwi, watching through the viewport as the Sun Crusher followed its preprogrammed course. Kyp could see the torus-shaped resonance-field generator at the bottom of the ship’s long spike.

  The Sun Crusher dwindled to a mere speck that approached the chaotic storms of Yavin. He breathed a sigh of relief to know that this weapon would never be used to destroy any star system.

  Qwi sat thin-lipped, silent, intense. Wedge reached over to pat her arm, and she jumped.

  Kyp continued to concentrate on the Sun Crusher, watching the speck. He was afraid to look away because he might lose the ship against the titanic field
of orange-colored clouds.

  He saw the shape plunge into the upper atmosphere, plowing down on its unalterable course toward the planetary core. He imagined the Sun Crusher streaking deeper and deeper into the dense atmosphere. Scorching heat generated by atmospheric friction would throw off ripples and sonic booms as the Sun Crusher went down, down to the gas giant’s diamond-thick core.

  “Well,” Wedge said, sounding cheerful, “we never have to worry about that thing again.”

  Qwi’s elfin face seemed to be a catalog of contradictory expressions. She fluttered the lashes of her indigo eyes.

  “It’s for the best,” Kyp agreed, mumbling his words.

  Wedge ignited the thrusters of the armored transport and arced them away from close orbit to the fringes of the system of moons. “Well, Qwi and I are due to go inspect the reparation work on Vortex. Still want to go down to the jungle moon, Kyp?” Wedge said.

  Kyp nodded, somewhat uneasy but eager to begin a new phase of his life. “Yes,” he answered quietly; then drawing a deep breath, he said, “Yes!” to show his enthusiasm. “Master Skywalker is waiting for me.”

  Wedge turned back to the craft’s controls, arrowing for the tiny emerald circle that was the fourth moon of Yavin. He flashed a grin. “Well then, Kyp, may the Force be with you.”

  Followed by his group of students, Luke Skywalker emerged from the great Massassi temple to watch the arrival of the transport and their new Jedi student.

  Luke had told them all of Kyp’s coming. They had responded with measured enthusiasm, glad to have another trainee among their number, yet tempered by the clinging memory of Gantoris’s dark and fiery death.

  A rectangular ship emblazoned with the scooped blue sign of the New Republic approached through the hazy skies. Its tracking lights flickered on, and broad landing struts extended.

  Artoo trundled to the side of the landing grid in front of the Great Temple. Luke approached where the ship was about to set down. Blasts of repulsorlift jets fluttered his hood and ruffled his hair. Luke stared at the ship, blinking grit from his eyes until the transport came to rest.

  The boarding ramp extended, and Wedge Antilles stepped out, reaching behind him to help the bluish female scientist descend.

  Luke raised his left hand in greeting and turned his attention to the young man emerging from the craft. Kyp Durron was a wiry eighteen-year-old full of energy and eagerness, toughened from years of labor in the spice mines of Kessel.

  In the mines Kyp had received a small initiation into the Force through another prisoner there, the fallen Jedi woman Vima-Da-Boda. Kyp had instinctively used those skills to help Han and Chewbacca escape from Kessel and from the Maw Installation. When Luke had tested the young man for Jedi potential, the strength of Kyp’s response had thrown Luke backward.

  Luke had been waiting for a student like this to come to his academy.

  Kyp stepped down the landing platform, averting his eyes at first; but then he paused and looked up to stare into Luke’s eyes. Luke saw an intelligence, a quick wit, and a quick temper, survival instincts born from years of struggle—but he also saw unshakable determination. That was the most important factor in a Jedi trainee.

  “Welcome, Kyp Durron,” Luke said.

  “I’m ready, Master Skywalker,” Kyp answered. “Teach me the Jedi ways.”

  15

  staring out the observation window of the orbiting station, Leia thought the Calamarian shipyards looked even more impressive than their reputation had led her to expect.

  The starship-construction facilities rode high above the mottled blue planet. Supply platforms sprawled in three dimensions, dotted with winking red, yellow, and green lights that indicated landing pads and docking bays. Small girder impellers pushed huge mounds of plasteel extruded from transorbital rubble shipments from the planet’s single moon; the girders would be used in the frameworks of the famous Mon Calamari star cruisers. Crablike constructor pods flitted in and around a tremendous spacedock hangar like tiny insects against the mammoth form of a half-built cruiser.

  “Excuse me, Minister Organa Solo?”

  Leia turned to see a small Calamarian female wearing pale-blue ambassadorial robes. While the males had bulbous and lumpy heads, the females were more streamlined, with olive-colored mottling over the pale salmon of their hides.

  “I am Cilghal.” When the Calamarian female raised both of her hands, Leia noticed that the webbing between her spatulate fingers seemed more translucent than Ackbar’s.

  Leia raised her own hand in acknowledgment. “Thank you for meeting me, Ambassador. I appreciate your help.”

  Cilghal’s mottling darkened in a reaction that Leia recognized as humor or amusement. “You humans have called the Mon Calamari the ‘soul of the Rebellion.’ After such a compliment, how can we turn down any request for help?”

  The ambassador stepped forward to gesture out at the bustling spacedock facility. “I see you have been observing our work on the Startide. It will be our first addition to the New Republic fleet in many months. We have been devoting most of our resources to recovering from last year’s attack by the Emperor’s World Devastators.”

  Leia nodded, looking again at the splotchy organic shape of the Mon Calamari star cruiser, the New Republic’s equivalent of the Imperial Star Destroyer. The ovoid battleship had lumpy protrusions for gun emplacements, field generators, viewports, and staterooms placed at seemingly random intervals. Each star cruiser was unique, modeled after the same basic design, yet altered to meet individual criteria that Leia didn’t quite understand.

  “All the drive units are installed,” Cilghal continued, “and the hull is almost complete. We tested the sublight engines just yesterday, hauling the whole spacedock facility once around the planet. It will take another two months to complete the inner bulkheads, staterooms, and crew quarters.”

  Leia tore her gaze from the activity and nodded at the ambassador. “As always, I’m astonished at the resourcefulness and dedication of the Calamarians. You have given so much after your enslavement by the Empire, after the attacks you’ve suffered. I feel reluctant to ask for further help—but I desperately need to speak with Admiral Ackbar.”

  Cilghal straightened her sky-blue robes. “We have respected Ackbar’s request for privacy and his need for contemplation after the tragedy on Vortex, but our people remain proud of him and support him entirely. If you wish to bring further charges against—”

  “No, no!” Leia said. “I’m one of his greatest supporters. But circumstances have changed since he exiled himself here.” Leia swallowed and decided that she would get further if she trusted Cilghal. “I’ve come to beg him to return.”

  Cilghal flushed with an olive tinge. She moved quickly, gliding across the floor of the orbital station. “In that case, a shuttle is ready to take you down.”

  Leia gripped the widely spaced arms of the passenger seat as Cilghal maneuvered the egg-shaped shuttle through sleeting rain and knotted gray storm clouds.

  Whitecaps stippled the dull surface of Calamari’s deep oceans. Cilghal swung the shuttle lower, seemingly unconcerned with the storm winds. She held her splayed hands over the controls and bent to the viewing panels. The high-resolution viewing instruments had been designed for wide-set Calamarian eyes, and the blunt controls were adapted for the digits of the aquatic people.

  Cilghal maneuvered the shuttle like a streamlined fish through water. The vessel curved away from small marshy islands—sparse dots of habitable land where the amphibious Calamarians had first established their civilization. Narrow rivulets of rainwater trickled down the passenger window as Cilghal turned broadside to the wind.

  The Calamarian ambassador nudged one of the bulbous control knobs and spoke into an invisible voice pickup. “Foamwander City, this is shuttle SQ/one. Please provide a weather update and an approach vector.” Cilghal’s voice sounded smooth and soft, as if she hadn’t needed to shout in her entire life.

  A guttural male voice came over
the speaker. “Ambassador Cilghal, we are transmitting your approach vector. We are currently experiencing rising winds that are well within seasonal norms. No difficulties expected, but we are issuing an advisory against topside travel for the afternoon.”

  “Acknowledged,” Cilghal said. “We were planning on making the rest of our journey underwater. Thank you.” She signed off, then turned back to Leia. “Don’t worry, Minister. I can sense your anxiety, but I assure you, there is nothing to be concerned about.”

  Leia sat up, trying to quell her nervousness until she put her finger on its cause. “I don’t doubt you, Ambassador, it’s just that … the last time I flew in a storm was on Vortex.”

  Cilghal nodded somberly. “I understand.” Leia sensed Cilghal’s sincerity, and the look on her fishlike face was comforting. “We’ll be safely landed in a few minutes.”

  Through the mists and the whipping spray Leia watched them approach a metal island. Lumpy, but smoothed, like an organic coral reef, Foamwander City rose in a hemisphere out of the whitecaps. A forest of reinforced watchtowers and communications antennas rose from the top of the city, but the rest of the drifting metropolis had soft angles and polished outcroppings like a Mon Calamari star cruiser.

  The bright lights of thousands of above-surface windows shed jewels of light even through the whipping rain. Below the hemispherical dome Leia knew that the floating cities had underwater towers and descending complexes like the mirror image of a Coruscant skyline. The inverted skyscrapers of dwelling units and water-processing stations beneath the hemisphere made the city look like a mechanical jellyfish.

  Starved for raw materials on their marshy islands, the Mon Calamari had not been able to build a civilization until they joined forces with another intelligent species that lived beneath the oceans. The Quarren, a humanoid race with helmet-shaped heads and faces that looked like a fistful of tentacles sprouting beneath close-set eyes, had excavated metallic ores from the ocean crust. Working with the Calamarians, they built dozens of floating cities. Though the Quarren could also breathe air, they chose to remain under the sea while the Calamarians designed starships to explore the bright “islands in space.”