Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  With his free hand Kyp supported a moss-covered boulder he had uprooted from the ground. Clumps of dirt pattered to the grass. He held the rock in the air with only a small effort, using the Force to do most of the work.

  Artoo-Detoo bleeped in alarm, chittering from high in the branches above. Kyp had levitated him up there as a warm-up exercise, and he would get the little droid down in good time; for now he maintained his concentration.

  He blocked out his awareness of the other Jedi trainees. He let his eyes slit halfway closed as he concentrated and raised a fallen, fungus-shrouded tree limb, yanking it from a tangle of blueleaf shrubs and standing it on end beside him.

  Kyp blew out a long, slow breath and concentrated on keeping every piece in its place. The rest of the universe focused around him. Highly attuned, he felt a vibration in the Force, a ripple of amazement and pride.

  Master Skywalker had come to watch him.

  Kyp knew how to feel the Force, how to use it. It came naturally to him. It seemed instinctive, just as navigating the Sun Crusher through the black hole cluster had been. He felt that he had been ready for this all his life, but he could not see it simply because he had never been shown how to use his abilities. But now that Master Skywalker had nudged him, the new skill came flooding into him as if a long-closed valve had been twisted open.

  In little more than a week of intensive work, Kyp had surpassed the achievements of the other Jedi students. Kyp shut himself off from socialization among the trainees. He spoke to few of the others, focusing every moment upon honing his Jedi ability, increasing his concentration, developing a rapport with the Force. He hounded Master Skywalker to give him new tasks, to set him greater challenges so he could continue to learn and grow stronger in the Force.

  Now, enclosed by the jungle and observed by other trainees, Kyp did not see his exercises as showing off. He didn’t care whether Master Skywalker watched him or not. He simply meant to push the boundaries of what he could do. After he completed one set of exercises, he tried another more difficult routine, adding greater challenges. In that way he could continue to improve.

  While trapped in the detention levels of the Star Destroyer Gorgon, when he had been sentenced to death by Admiral Daala, Kyp had vowed that he would never again allow himself to become so helpless. A Jedi was never helpless, since the Force came from all living things.

  Still balancing, dark eyes closed, Kyp felt the other creatures in the jungle, traced their ripples in the great tapestry of the Force. He smelled the plants and flowers and small creatures in the rain forest. He ignored the tiny gnats swarming around his head and body.

  He felt the tidal vibrations of the gas giant Yavin and its other moons as he extended his thoughts outward to space. He felt at peace, a part of the cosmos. He pondered what difficulties he could add to his balancing act. But before he could decide, Kyp sensed Artoo-Detoo being lifted from his perch high in the Massassi trees and lowered gently to the ground. The little droid made relieved beeping sounds.

  Then Kyp felt the mossy boulder invisibly removed from his hand and set back in its depression. The rotting branch also drifted down, replaced exactly in its former place on the mulch of the jungle floor.

  Kyp felt a slash of annoyance at having his exercise forcibly stopped, and he opened his eyes to see Master Skywalker grinning proudly at him.

  “Very good, Kyp,” Master Skywalker said. “In fact, it’s incredible. I’m not sure even Obi-Wan or Yoda would know what to do with you.”

  Kyp nudged with his levitating skills to flip himself upright so that he landed on his feet. Staring into Master Skywalker’s eyes, he felt his heart pounding with exhilaration, filled with far more energy than he knew how to contain.

  He spoke breathlessly, blinking as if he had suddenly opened his eyes into the brighter daylight on Yavin 4. “What else can you teach me today, Master?” He felt his skin flush. Droplets of sweat trickled from his dark hair and along his cheeks.

  Master Skywalker shook his head. “Nothing more for today, Kyp.” The other Jedi candidates stood slumped in exhaustion, resting on broken stumps and overgrown rocks.

  Kyp tried not to let his disappointment show. “But there is so much more to learn,” he said.

  “Yes,” Master Skywalker answered with a barely contained smile, “and patience is one of those things to learn. The ability to do a thing is not all there is. You must know the thing. You must master every facet of it. You must understand how it fits with everything else you know. You must possess it for it to be truly yours.”

  Kyp nodded solemnly at the spoken words of wisdom, as Jedi students were expected to do. But he promised himself that he would do everything necessary to make all of these new abilities his.

  Even in the deepest hours of the night, Kyp did not sleep. He had eaten a bland but filling meal by himself, then retired to his cool quarters to meditate and practice the skills he had already learned.

  As he concentrated, with only a small glowlamp in the corner, he sent his mind out to feel between the cracks of all the stone blocks in the Great Temple. He followed the life cycles of the strands of moss. He tracked tiny arachnids skittering through the corridors and vanishing into dark spaces, where his delicate touch could follow them through the blackness into their hidden homes.

  Kyp felt as if he had plugged into a network of living things that expanded his mind and made him feel both insignificant and infinite at the same time.

  As Kyp thought and dabbled with his fledgling abilities, he felt a great cold rip in the Force, like a black gash opening the structure of the universe. He snapped himself back to the present.

  Kyp whirled and saw behind him the looming shadow of a tall cloaked figure. Even in the dim room the dark man’s silhouette seemed intensely black, a hole that swallowed up all glimmers of light. Kyp said nothing, but as he continued to gaze, he saw the tiny starpoints of distant suns within the outline of his mysterious visitor.

  “The Force is strong in you, Kyp Durron,” the shadowy figure said.

  Kyp looked up, feeling no fear. He had been imprisoned and sentenced to death by the Empire. He had lived in the pitch-dark spice mines of Kessel for over a decade. He had fought against a predatory energy spider. And he had flown through a black-hole cluster. As he looked at the imposing liquid-black outline, though, he felt awe and curiosity.

  “Who are you?” Kyp asked.

  “I could be your teacher,” the dark shape said. “I could show you many things that even your Master Skywalker does not comprehend.”

  Kyp felt a thrill rush through him. “What things?”

  “I could show you techniques that were lost thousands of years ago, secret rites and hidden doorways of power that no weak Jedi Master like Skywalker dares to touch. But you are strong, Kyp Durron. Do you dare to learn?”

  Kyp felt reckless, but he trusted his instincts. They had served him well in the past. “I’m not afraid to learn,” he said, “but you have to tell me your name. I won’t learn from a man who is afraid to identify himself.”

  Kyp felt foolish even as he said it. The shadowy form seemed to ripple as if with silent laughter. His voice boomed out again, full of pride.

  “I was the greatest Dark Lord of the Sith. I am Exar Kun.”

  19

  Han Solo dashed into his and Leia’s empty sleeping chambers. “Lights!” he shouted so loudly that the voice receptors didn’t understand his words. Han forced himself to articulate with brutal clarity through clenched teeth, “Lights,” until the illumination came on in the room.

  He glanced from side to side, trying to think of everything he would need to bring. After unsealing the coded security chamber atop one of their closets, he snatched a fully charged personal blaster, then grabbed an extra power pack. He pulled out a clean set of clothes, felt a startled pang as he saw Leia’s garments hanging untouched in the storage unit.

  “Chewie!” he bellowed. “In here.”

  For some reason the voice-response ligh
ts went off again. In disgust he snapped, “Lights on!” for the third time.

  See-Threepio strutted into the room with two bawling children in tow. “Sir, must you be so rushed? You’re upsetting the children. Will you please take a moment to explain what’s going on?”

  Chewbacca roared from the outer room, and Han could hear him knocking furniture aside as he ran to the bedroom. The Wookiee stood in the doorway, his tan fur ruffled. He opened his wide pink mouth, showing his fangs, and roared again so loudly that it startled the children.

  The bedroom lights went off for a second time.

  Han saw that Chewbacca carried his deadly bowcaster and a pack of concentrated emergency rations, ready to go. Fumbling in the dimness, Han opened up another small compartment beside the closet and pulled out the trusty automatic medikit he had removed from the Millennium Falcon.

  “Lights,” Threepio said in a calm voice, and the illumination stayed on this time.

  “Threepio, where’s Lando?” Han said. “Find him for me.”

  “He’s down in the starship bays, sir. He left me a message to tell you that he is not impressed with your standards of maintenance on your former ship.”

  “Well, he’d better have the Falcon running now, that’s all I can say,” Han said.

  Jaina sniffed loudly and between sobs cried out, “Where’s Mommy?”

  Han stopped as if hit with a stun beam. He knelt, looking into his little girl’s face. He brushed aside the tears on her cheeks and placed his hands on her tiny shoulders, giving a squeeze of confidence.

  “Daddy’s going to rescue her,” Han said.

  “Rescue her? Oh, dear!” Threepio interrupted. “Why does Mistress Leia need rescuing?” Chewbacca bellowed in answer, but Threepio waved mechanical hands at him. “You’re not helping, you know!”

  Han turned to the Wookiee. “Not this time, buddy. I need you here to watch over the kids. There’s no one else I trust as much.” Chewbacca blatted a response, but Han shook his head. “No, I don’t have a plan yet. All I know is I need to get to Calamari before the Imperials destroy it. I can’t just stay here and let Leia face them alone.”

  Han stuffed what he needed into a lightweight mesh sack and grabbed the emergency rations from Chewbacca’s hairy arms, glancing at the labels to make sure the food was compatible with human digestive systems.

  “How long will you be gone, sir?” Threepio asked, trying to stop Jacen from climbing into the open closets.

  “As long as it takes to rescue my wife,” Han answered.

  He sprinted toward the door, taking two steps before he froze. He spun around and returned to his two children. He bent down again and gathered Jacen and Jaina in a big hug. “You two behave for Chewie and Threepio. You have to watch out for each other.”

  “We are good,” Jacen answered with a touch of indignation. At that moment the little boy looked heart-wrenchingly like Leia.

  “I have recently updated my child-care programming, sir,” Threepio said. “We’ll have no trouble at all.” The golden droid nudged the twins as he tried to usher them back to their own room. “Come, children, I will tell you an entertaining story.”

  Jacen and Jaina began crying again.

  Han took a last longing look at the twins and then ran out of the living quarters, pausing only a moment to straighten the soft chair Chewbacca had knocked over.

  The cyberfuse made a popping sound as it clattered on the cockpit floor of the Millennium Falcon. Lando Calrissian stared at it in disgust, then turned back to the control panels.

  He had finished updating the navicomputer software, but somehow that had caused the cockpit lights to short out. He rummaged around in the small bin of old greasy-smelling replacement fuses and yanked out one that looked appropriate.

  The Falcon had been cobbled together from so many different parts, he could never keep track of how much spit and monofilament wire kept the ship running. He wondered for the hundredth time why he loved the craft so much.

  He popped in the fuse, activated it, and flicked a row of switches that remained glassy dead. “Come on,” Lando said, smacking the panel hard with the flat of his left palm.

  With a humming whirr and a blast of cold chemical-smelling air from the recirculating ducts, the controls winked to life. Lando closed his eyes with a sigh. “Good old emergency repair procedure number one,” he said.

  “Hey, Lando!”

  He heard the loud, determined voice from outside in the repair bay. Without looking Lando knew Han Solo had come to shout at him about something.

  He felt tired, itchy from sweat and frustrated at how long it was taking to get the Millennium Falcon performing up to his exacting standards. He stood up from the open control panels and walked across the short corridor, his boots making impatient clangs on the deck plates. He bent down on the entrance ramp to stick his head out.

  “Lando,” Han said again, hurrying toward him, his face red with agitation. Sweat clumped his dark hair together, and he marched forward with the unstoppable attitude of an Imperial construction droid.

  “Han,” Lando said, scowling, “you didn’t tell me this junk heap was in such bad shape when we played sabacc.”

  Han ignored the comment and sprinted up the ramp, carrying a mesh sack of supplies and wearing a blaster at his hip. Lando raised his eyebrows. “Han—”

  “Lando, I need the Falcon. Now.” He pushed past Lando, dropped his sack on the deck plates, and hit the controls for the entrance ramp. Lando had to jump inside as the greased cylinders hauled the slanted metal ramp back into position.

  “Han, this is my ship now. You can’t just—”

  Han went directly to the cockpit and threw himself into the pilot seat. Lando charged up behind Han. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Han spun around in the pilot chair and fixed Lando with a stare that skewered him like a pair of stun bolts. “The planet Calamari is being attacked by Admiral Daala at this very moment. Leia’s trapped there. Now, are you going to help me go rescue her in the Falcon, or do I pick you up by your scruffy neck and throw you off the ship?”

  Lando backed off, holding both palms up in a gesture of peace. “Whoa, whoa, Han! Leia’s in trouble? Let’s go—but I’m flying,” he said, motioning for Han to move into the copilot’s chair. “It is my ship.”

  Grudgingly, Han unbuckled his restraints and slid over to the right-hand seat normally reserved for Chewbacca. Lando toggled on the comm system. “Millennium Falcon requesting clearance for immediate departure.”

  He raised the modified light freighter off the floor on its repulsorlift jets, hovered, and punched the sublight engines the moment Coruscant Control gave them permission to depart. The Falcon shot through the atmosphere and headed out to the stars.

  On the planet Vortex, Qwi Xux wandered on the fringes of the reconstruction site of the Cathedral of Winds. Her companion, Wedge Antilles, had joined the other New Republic cleanup crews. The workers wore thick gloves to protect their hands from the razor edges of the crystal shards they hauled to the materials-reprocessing bins, dissolving broken fragments and synthesizing new building material.

  Overhead the swirling gray clouds warned of the rapidly approaching storm season. Soon all the winged Vors would take shelter in their low-to-the-ground bunkers and wait out the hurricane-force gales. Already cold gusts hissed across the unbroken plains of pale grasses. Qwi feared that her own ethereal form might take flight, whisked into the air by a sudden powerful gust to join the lacy-winged inhabitants.

  The Vors kept away from the New Republic teams, working at the site of the devastated cathedral, reinforcing the foundations and preparing to erect a new network of hollow musical towers. The aliens followed no plan that anyone could see, and had answered only with silence when the engineers asked to study the architectural drawings.

  Qwi watched the activity, wishing she could help. The Vors had not demanded aid from the New Republic; in fact, they had barely acknowledged it, simply accepting the new
workers and continuing the breakneck pace of their project. The seemingly emotionless Vors had filed no formal protest, made no threats of cutting off relations. It was as if they understood the New Republic bore them no ill will; but as a race they had been stunned and could not return to normal activities until their Cathedral of Winds sang again.

  As she walked among the scattered shards of crystal pipes, Qwi found a small, narrow tube, a broken piece of one of the high-pitched windpipes from the tallest pinnacles of the towers. She bent and picked it up with her long fingers, careful to avoid the sharp edges.

  The wind gusted around her, rippling the fabric of her tunic, tossing her pearlescent feathery hair around her head. She stared at the tiny flute. Back at Maw Installation, Qwi had often programmed her own computers using musical notes, whistling and humming to set subroutines in motion. She had not played music in a long time.…

  Over at the materials-reprocessing station, Wedge and two helpers accidentally dropped a large section of crystal pipe, which crashed to the ground. Wedge shouted, and the others jumped out of the way to escape the fragments.

  At the construction site the Vors fluttered up in the air in a panic, alarmed by the sound of breaking crystal.

  Qwi put the flute to her mouth, taking a tentative breath. The smooth crystal felt cool against her thin blue lips. She blew into the unbroken end and held a finger over one of the holes, letting a test note whistle through the tube. She tried another, and a third, gaining a feel for the songs the crystal flute could sing.

  She planted her feet among the crushed glassy fragments on the ground, steadying herself against the blowing wind, and she played. It took her several tries to work the notes into the shapes she wanted, but she closed her large indigo eyes and let the music flow from her.

  The Vors flapped through the air, approaching her, circling overhead. Some landed in the whipping lavender grass nearby, turning their angular faces toward her, blinking horny eyelids over pupilless obsidian eyes. They listened.