Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “Lando, that’s the food I was brought up on—and on my ship, I want the food-prep units to make dishes that I like. I already wasted the whole journey to Yavin helping you scrub the living compartments in the back, polishing the holochess table, and perfuming the whole ship with disinfectant.”

  “Han,” Lando said, “the ship was filthy, and it stank.”

  “Well, I liked it that way,” Han insisted. “It was my dirt, and my stink, on my ship.”

  “Only because you got lucky in sabacc.” Lando stood up, straightened his cape, and smoothed his purplish jumpsuit. “I let you win. You could never do it again.”

  Han and Lando glared at each other across the hastily cleared game board. Lando kept flicking glances toward Mara Jade as he randomized the rectangles of Han’s old sabacc deck.

  Mara had ignored Lando for most of the journey to Coruscant. She had rebuffed his attempts to prepare dinner, find musical selections for her, and engage her in conversation. Now as she watched them playing cards to settle a dispute over the ownership of the Falcon, she scowled as if they were no more than two little boys scuffling in a child’s amusement pen.

  Lando took the pack of glittering metallic cards so that the crystalline faces showed and held them toward Mara. “My lady, would you care to cut the cards?”

  “No,” she said, “I would not.”

  “I’m getting tired of this, Lando,” Han said. “First I won the Falcon from you in a sabacc game on Bespin, then you won her back from me in the diplomatic lounge on Coruscant, and I won her back from you en route to Calamari. Enough is enough. This is our last hand.”

  “Fine with me, old buddy,” Lando said, and started dealing the cards.

  “No rematches,” Han said.

  “No rematches,” Lando agreed.

  “Whoever wins this time keeps the Falcon from now on.”

  “You got it,” Lando said. “The Millennium Falcon belongs to the winner to do with as he pleases. No more borrowing, no more arguing.”

  Han nodded. “Loser gets a lifetime of Coruscant public transport.” He picked up his cards. “Shut up and play.”

  Han tossed down the cards that had betrayed him and stood up to hide the devastating sense of loss coursing through him. He felt as if his heart had been crumpled like a piece of discarded paper and then stuffed back into his chest. “Go ahead and gloat, Lando.”

  Cool-faced, Mara Jade had watched the entire game with less indifference than she pretended to show. Now she scowled as if she expected Lando to stand up and cheer in triumph. Han anticipated the same reaction.

  Halfway to his feet, Lando stopped and calmed himself, straightening in a dignified fashion. “That’s it,” he said in a slow, rich voice. “End of game. We’ll never play for the Falcon again.”

  “Yeah,” Han said in a barely audible voice, “that’s what we agreed.”

  “And the Falcon is mine, to do with as I please,” Lando said.

  “Go ahead and gloat,” Han said, again, using sarcasm to mask his own despair. He kicked himself for being lured into another stupid game. He had been an idiot, with nothing to gain, and now he had lost everything. “I should have known better than to play with you.”

  “Just like vornskyrs hissing at each other in a territorial dispute,” Mara said, shaking her head. Her exotic spice-colored hair hung to one side. She did nothing to make herself look attractive, yet somehow it worked to her advantage.

  Lando glanced at Mara, then turned partly aside as if ignoring her. With a grand flourish he spread his hands wide and gestured to Han.

  “But since you’re my friend, Han Solo, and since I know that the Falcon means even more to you than she does to me”—Lando paused for effect and stole another glance at Mara Jade before continuing—“I choose to give the Millennium Falcon back to you. A gift from me to you. A testimony to our years of friendship, and all that we’ve been through together.”

  Han collapsed back into his chair, feeling his knees turn weak and watery. His throat shriveled, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, completely at a loss for what to say.

  “I’m going to the food-prep units,” Lando said gallantly. “If Han will let me adjust the programming, I’ll see if I can prepare the finest repast your units can manufacture, and we’ll all have a nice meal together.”

  Han felt too stunned to argue, and Lando didn’t wait for an answer. He cast a second look back at Mara Jade as he went toward the galley.

  Still in shock, Han saw her raise her eyebrows and look after him with a surprised and mystified smile, as if completely reassessing her opinion of Lando Calrissian—which, Han concluded, must have been Lando’s plan all along.

  31

  The Hammerhead Momaw Nadon arranged for Wedge Antilles and Qwi Xux to go sight-seeing across the pristine Ithorian landscape in an open-air skimmer. On the transit landing platform, the dazzling morning sky was a pale whitish purple with high wisps of cloud that masked several dim moons still riding the sky.

  Qwi strapped herself into the plush vegetable-fiber seat and looked into the sunshine. “Why didn’t you want Momaw Nadon to guide us?” she asked, studying the topographic information and the scenic highlights Nadon had suggested. “He seems very proud of his world.”

  Wedge concentrated on the control panel, though the vehicle looked rather simple to operate. “Well, because he’s very busy, and because …” His voice trailed off, and he looked up at her with a faint smile. “I kind of wanted to be alone with you.”

  Qwi felt a giddy elation rising within her. “Yes, I think that would be nicer.”

  Wedge lifted their skimmer off the pad, and they soared away from the great disk of the Ithorian eco-city and across the treetops. The Tafanda Bay had drifted many kilometers during the course of the night, and Wedge had to recalibrate the skimmer’s coordinates. Daylight warmed their faces as the wind breathed cool drafts against their skin.

  They headed for a low ridge where the dark-green jungles fell away into a paler forest. “What are you taking me to see?” Qwi asked.

  Wedge leaned forward, staring at the horizon. “A large grove of bafforr trees that was half-destroyed by the Imperials during their siege many years ago.”

  “Is there something special about those trees?” Qwi asked.

  “The Ithorians worship them,” he said. “They’re semi-intelligent, like a hive mind. The greater the forest grows, the more intelligent the trees become.”

  As they skimmed closer, Qwi could see that an aquamarine crystalline forest glowed faintly in the sunlight, covering part of the hillside. Wedge let the skimmer hover as they bent over the sides to gaze down at the glassy trunks, at the smooth yet sharp webs of bafforr branches. Scattered around the perimeter, large, dark cylinders had toppled to the ground and broken like tubes of burned transparisteel. It reminded her of the debris scattered around the site of the smashed Cathedral of Winds on Vortex. Tiny saplings like inverted icicles protruded from the rocky earth.

  “The forest seems to be growing back,” Wedge said. The thin saplings glowed a whiter blue than the rest of the forest.

  “I see people down there!” Qwi said, pointing off to the side. The smooth grayish forms of four Ithorians dashed for the cover of the thick undergrowth on the side of the ridge. “I thought they weren’t supposed to set foot in the jungle.”

  Wedge stared down at them, baffled. He raised the skimmer higher, but the four renegade Ithorians had already vanished into the tree cover. His brow furrowed as if searching for an answer. He drew in a quick breath.

  “I seem to remember something about the Mother Jungle summoning certain Ithorians. It’s a rare calling that no one can explain. They leave everything behind and live in the wilderness, forbidden to return to their eco-cities. In a way, they become fugitives. Since the Ithorians consider it such sacrilege to touch the forest, the calling must be pretty strong.”

  Qwi looked down at the burned glasslike trunks of the bafforr trees destroyed by Imperial
turbolaser fire. “I’m glad to know they’re tending the forest, though.” She wondered how much of the bafforr forest’s collective intelligence had returned. “Let’s go somewhere else, Wedge, so they can get back to their work.”

  Wedge took Qwi to a high plateau studded with flat gray and tan rocks, covered with vermilion scrub brush and black vines. A confluence of three rivers came together in a great sinkhole on the edge of the towering cliff, pouring into a spectacular triple waterfall that plunged into the plateau’s deep pit. At the bottom of the plateau, water spilled out of a thousand broken caves, flowing into a turgid, foamy marsh filled with swaying reeds and leaping fish.

  Wedge circled the open-air skimmer above the enormous sinkhole on the plateau, and Qwi gaped at the fabulous waterfall. Curtains of spray rose from thundering echoes of plunging water. Rainbows sparkled against the lavender sky.

  Qwi turned her head this way and that, trying to look at everything at once. Wedge grinned like a daredevil and took them over the center of the three waterfalls, hovering and then lowering them down the core of the sinkhole.

  Qwi laughed as the thick, cold mist blanketed them, drenching their clothes. Wedge dropped the skimmer to where all three rivers crashed against the rocks with a sound like exploding planets. Green batlike creatures flitted through the spray, catching insects and tiny fish that tumbled over the falls.

  “This is fantastic,” Qwi shouted.

  “It gets better,” Wedge said, “if Momaw Nadon gave us good information.”

  He steered the skimmer toward a cluster of slick black outcroppings that jutted from the side of the pit. The overhang sheltered them from most of the cold spray and cyclonic winds swirling in the rock-walled chimney. The booming echo of water became a constant background.

  Wedge brought the skimmer in among the rocks to a sheltered place where shafts of sunlight pierced the rising swirls of spray. “Nadon said we could land here.”

  He reached into a compartment under the seat, pulled out two translucent waterproof capes, and removed two packages of self-heating meals Nadon had also provided. Wedge helped Qwi fasten one of the waterproof garments over her narrow shoulders, then fastened his own. He picked up their lunches and indicated the smooth rocks under the overhang.

  “Let’s have a picnic,” he said.

  At the end of an exhausting day Qwi stood outside her vine-covered stateroom door on the Tafanda Bay. Wedge looked into her indigo eyes and shuffled his feet.

  “Thank you,” Qwi said. “This has been the most wonderful day of my life.”

  Wedge opened his mouth and closed it three times, as if searching for something to say. Finally he bent forward, touched her silky mother-of-pearl hair, then kissed her. He let his warm lips linger on hers for a long moment. She pushed closer to him and felt delight surge through her.

  “And now you’ve given me one more interesting thing,” she said in her quiet musical voice.

  Blushing, Wedge backed away from her and said, “Uh, I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned and practically fled back to his own stateroom.

  With a wistful smile Qwi watched his door close. She opened her stateroom and slipped inside, feeling as if she had repulsorlifts in her feet. She leaned against the door as it closed and shut her eyes as the gentle illumination in her room slowly brightened. She heaved a contented sigh.

  And opened her eyes to see a dark man rising from his crouch in the shadowy corners of the room.

  The looming silhouette approached her, and she froze in terror at the sight of the swirling black cape that flowed around his body.

  Darth Vader!

  She tried to shout for help, but her voice locked in her throat as if an invisible hand had stilled her vocal cords. She whirled for the door and hung in midstride, yanked back by unseen spiderwebs.

  The dark man was closer now, gliding toward her. What did he want? She couldn’t scream. She heard his hollow breathing echo like the snarl of a beast.

  A hand reached out for her, and Qwi couldn’t move, couldn’t duck away as the fingers wrapped around the top of her head. She felt him pressing there. The other hand, cold and supple, grasped her face. She blinked her wide eyes and looked up to see the face of Kyp Durron, eyes blazing, his expression soulless.

  He spoke in a freezing voice. “I have found you, Dr. Xux. You hold too much dangerous knowledge,” he said. “I must make certain no one can ever again create the weapons you’ve been responsible for. There must be no more Death Stars. No more Sun Crushers.”

  His fingers clamped down harder on her forehead, on her face. Her skull seemed ready to shatter. Waves of pain plunged through her brain like the claws of a nightmare monster. She felt the sharp points of metal talons scraping through her mind, digging, prying up, and ripping out memories and scientific knowledge she had accumulated over the course of many years.

  Qwi finally managed a scream, but it was a weak, watery cry that faded as she fell down a long, dark tunnel into forgetfulness. She slumped against the vine-covered wall of her quarters.

  As her sight turned dim in front of her, the last thing she saw was the black-shrouded form of her attacker as he opened her stateroom door and stalked out into the night.

  Next morning Wedge whistled to himself as he dressed, smiling into a reflection plate as he straightened his dark hair. He ordered an exotic breakfast for two. Qwi was an early riser, especially now that she was excited about the sight-seeing they would do on Ithor. Momaw Nadon had promised them the open-air skimmer for another day.

  He sauntered across the corridor, signaled at her stateroom door, and waited. No answer.

  He signaled again and again until, alarmed, he tried to open the door. Finding the entrance to Qwi’s room unlocked, he was even more alarmed. Had someone come to assassinate her in the night? Did the Imperials know her location, after all? He pushed the door open and rushed inside. Darkness and shadows filled her quarters.

  “Lights!” he yelled. Sudden illumination bathed the room in pale peach-colored light.

  He heard Qwi before he saw her. She sat crouched in a corner, sobbing. She clutched her pearlescent hair with both hands, squeezing her temples as if trying to hold thoughts inside that kept slipping through her fingers.

  “Qwi!” he shouted, and ran to her. Bending down, he took her wrist and gently forced her to turn her head. He stared into her wide, blank eyes. “What happened?”

  She didn’t appear to recognize him, and Wedge’s stomach sank with horror. Qwi looked confused and devastated. She frowned as if searching her memory. She shook her head slowly, then closed her big eyes, squeezing them tight as she fought with her own thoughts. Tears ran down her cheeks, oozing in small drops, then larger splashes as she bit her lip in furious concentration. She blinked up at him again, finally finding the name that had eluded her.

  “Widj? Wedge?” she said at last. “Is your name Wedge?”

  He nodded numbly, and with another great weeping cry she threw herself into his arms. He held her, feeling her body tremble with sobs. “What happened?” he repeated. “Qwi, tell me!”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head, and featherlike hair flowed in a slow wave from one shoulder to the other. “I barely know you. I can’t remember. My mind feels so empty … filled with blank spots.”

  Wedge held her tight as she said, “I’ve lost everything. Most of my memory, my life—is gone.”

  32

  Kyp Durron returned to the fourth moon of Yavin in the heartbeat stillness of the jungle night. Filled with a power he had decided to use to its fullest, he felt ready to explode in an exhilarating outpouring of the Force—but he could not let such childish demonstrations seduce him. He had a mission to accomplish, one that would affect the future of the entire galaxy.

  Without running lights or landing beacon, he brought the Z-95 Headhunter he had taken from Mara Jade to a gentle rest on the slightly overgrown landing pad in front of the Great Temple. Kyp had no interest in reacquainting himself with the other
weak Jedi trainees or even with the misguided and cowardly Master Skywalker. He simply needed access to the ancient Massassi temples Exar Kun had designed as focal points for concentrating the power of the Sith.

  Above him the night sky was lush with stars, and the stirrings of the surrounding jungle wove a tapestry of hushed sounds. But the insects made their music more quietly, and few large animals crashed through the underbrush. The entire rain forest seemed stunned by Kyp’s return.

  Kyp tossed the oddly glittering black cape over his shoulders. Time to be about his business.

  Leaving the Headhunter fighter behind him, he approached the monolithic ziggurat of the Great Temple. Rust-colored vermiform vines writhed out of his way, avoiding Kyp’s footsteps, as if his entire body exuded a deadly heat.

  Chisel-cut stone steps ran up the side of the pyramid. He set one foot in front of the other, climbing slowly, listening to the soft echoes of his breathing. Anticipation built within him.

  In his mind Kyp heard cheering ghosts, saw visions like a videoloop from four thousand years ago when Exar Kun had found the last resting place of the ancient Sith. Kun had rediscovered their teachings. He had built great temples, establishing the Brotherhood of the Sith among disillusioned Jedi Knights. Here on Yavin 4, Kun had used the Massassi people as expendable resources, power conduits to redefine the chaos and corruption of the Old Republic. He had challenged the foolish Jedi who followed their incompetent leaders without thinking simply because they had sworn to do so.…

  Now Kyp would finish the battle, though the enemy was no longer the incompetent, decaying Republic, but the fraudulent New Order and the repressive Empire that had taken the Old Republic’s place. While Master Skywalker limited the training of his new Jedi Knights, Kyp Durron had learned more. Much more.

  He reached the second tier of the ziggurat and paused to look down at the insectile shape of his Z-95 fighter resting in the center of the landing grid. No one had yet stirred from inside the temple.