Under A Black Sun Trilogy

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Under A Black Sun Trilogy Page 34

by Kevin J. Anderson

Do be careful!"

  Zekk ignored the little droid and looked at Lowie. "What did you mean

  when you said, "There he is' just before you jumped down here?"

  Jaina grinned. "Right on time."

  "Who's right on time?" Zekk asked in confusion. "Certainly not Anja

  Gallandro. I haven't seen her all morning."

  "Oh," Jacen said, "I forgot to tell you. I checked in on her 'cause

  she missed morning meal. I asked her to join us, but she said she

  wasn't feeling well. I believe her. She was shaking all over."

  Zekk frowned. "Spice withdrawal?"

  Jacen shrugged a shoulder. "That was my guess. Funny thing is, when I

  asked her why she was shivering, she tried to make it into a joke.

  Said she'd just been thinking about what the weather must be like on

  Kessel this time of year."

  "Ah. Aha," Tenel Ka said, placing her single hand on her hip.

  "Definitely spice, then. The spice mines of Kessel are the main source

  for the drug."

  "Anyway, we weren't talking about Anja being on time," Jaina said,

  getting them back on track. "Look up."

  Zekk's face broke into a broad smile as he recognized the enormous

  modern freighter descending toward the landing field: the

  Thunderbolt.

  "It's Peckhum!" he yelled. Zekk ran out onto the flattened grass and

  began to wave frantically.

  "He wanted to surprise you," Jaina said above the whine of the repulsor

  engines as the ship descended.

  "So that's why you wanted the Lightning Rod looking her best."

  Zekk laughed.

  "And we got you out onto the landing field without making you

  suspicious," Jacen added, his brown hair blowing wildly as the

  Thunderbolt approached.

  By the time the modern freighter touched down, Zekk was already running

  toward it, yelling incomprehensible words of greeting. The moment the

  hatch opened, the old spacer with lanky hair and gray beard stubble

  started down the ramp. At the same time, Zekk jumped onto the

  Thunderbolt's still-lowering ramp, bounded up, and met him halfway.

  Old Peckhum caught him up in a gleeful bear hug as the companions

  gathered beside the ship to watch.

  "So, we surprised him after all, did we?" old Peckhum asked.

  "This is a fact," Tenel Ka confirmed.

  Peckhum laughed. "I knew I could count on you. Now where's this new

  young lady you've been talking about in all your messages recently?"

  he asked, turning to Zekk. "Anja, is it?"

  Zekk gave a guilty start, then glanced at Jaina to see if she had

  noticed. She seemed to be studying something in the grass at her

  feet.

  Zekk turned back to the old spacer. "Urn, she's not feeling very

  well.

  You'll meet her later, Peckhum. But meanwhile, come on into the Jedi

  academy. I've got a lot to tell you."

  Anja Gallandro prowled around the interior of her guest quarters inside

  the Great Temple. Her agitation would not allow her to sit or stand

  still for even a moment. Twice already this morning she had ransacked

  every corner of her room, every pocket of her clothing, every crevice

  in the cupboards, every fold of her travel bags. It was time she faced

  the truth.

  She had run out of andris spice and there was no more to be found.

  Still, her huge dark eyes darted around the room searching for

  inspiration, never resting on any object for more than a second.

  Think, she ordered herself Think.

  So she thought. But the more Anja thought, the more certain she became

  that there could be no andris anywhere on Yavin 4, even in the Jedi

  academy's infinuary.

  Anja had insisted to the young Jedi Knights that she was not addicted

  to spice-that she only used it because she liked the way it made her

  feel, liked the way it could speed up her reactions and clarify her

  thoughts. Andris is an enhancement, not an addiction, she assured

  herself.

  Then why, she wondered, were her hands trembling? Why was she close to

  panic at the very thought that she had no way of getting another dose

  of andris on this tiny backwater moon? And she needed one now.

  She growled and shook her head like a nek battle dog on the attack.

  Her waist-length hair, highlighted by streaks of honey, snapped like a

  whip made of silky strands.

  What was she doing on Yavin 4, anyway? It had been her hatred for Han

  Solo and her belief that he had murdered her father that first

  motivated her to befriend his twin children, Jacen and Jaina. It had

  all been part of her plan to take revenge on Solo, either directly or

  through his children. But now she had gotten to know the twins and

  their friends and, in spite of the fact that she distrusted and

  despised their father, she had come to the conclusion that she did not

  want to hurt them. They didn't deserve it.

  Czethros, however, had tried to have them all killed on Cloud City and

  earlier on the war-torn world of Anobis. Anja no longer trusted her

  former mentor as she once had.

  Still, she wished she could contact him. After all, Czethros had been

  her main source of spice over the years. He had, in fact, been the

  first person to show her, years ago, all the benefits andris could

  provide. He had told her back then that only weaklings became truly

  addicted. But for the strong-willed, he had insisted, andris was

  merely a useful tool.

  She thrladed her shaky fingers through her flowing dark hair and gave

  it a vicious yank. She had believed Czethros. About everything.

  But Anja was no longer certain what she believed.

  With a groan, she threw herself down onto the sleeping pallet and

  covered her eyes with one arm, trying vainly to slow the rapid beating

  of her heart. Czethros had lied about the addictiveness of spice. He

  had ordered her friends murdered. Perhaps he had lied about Han Solo's

  role in her father's death as well....

  This was the idea she found most difficult to accept. Since childhood,

  her hatred of Han Solo had given her a focus, someone to blame for

  everything that had gone wrong in her life. Loathing Solo, and knowing

  that he was to blwne for all her problems, had been one of the few

  constants she had been able to cling to during the turmoil of her

  youth.

  It would be hard for Anja to give up her hatred-every bit as hard as

  giving up spice. This was one reason why, in spite of the fact that

  she now cared about the young Jedi Knights, she still found herself

  snapping at them, even though they'd done nothing to earnher anger.

  Unable to stay still any longer, Anja pushed herself up off the

  sleeping pallet and began prowling her chambers again.

  "I've got it under control," she gritted through clenched teeth. "I

  can handle this." She reached behind her head and retied the leather

  band she wore around her forehead to keep her flowing hair in check.

  Although she hadn't been doing any real physical activity, perspiration

  dripped from under the headband and down the back of her neck.

  "I can handle this," she repeated, more forcefully.

  But Anja knew she was lying to herself.

  Alone in a workroom by an
outer wall of the Great Temple, Zekk sat next

  to the table and listened to the rainstorm outside. Old Peckhum had

  gone to see Master Skywalker, and Zekk was spending some time by

  himself, working hard. He could smell the spattering droplets of fresh

  water that moistened the chiseled stone of the rebuilt pyramid's

  walls.

  Open window slits allowed the calming noises of the afternoon rain

  shower to drift in along with the wonderful jungle scents, without

  letting the water leak into the rooms. The huge orange planet Yavin

  had set behind the Jedi academy, leaving only dim and distant sunlight

  to penetrate the storm clouds. In the sky above the thick treetops, a

  fresh crop of kite plants blossomed in brilliant colors, drifting about

  on the winds and soaking up the falling rain.

  Peace ... calm ... thoughts of the light side of the Force.

  After he had recentered his concentration, Zekk turned back to

  constructing his new lightsaber. Tools lay strewn about on the stone

  table surface, and bright light spilled down from a single glowpanel to

  illuminate his efforts.

  He had moved to this study room from his own quarters so he could be

  alone, so he could think. Zekk needed to focus on the important task

  at hand. Building a personal lightsaber was an assignment reserved for

  trained and trusted Jedi Knights-and he intended to do his best work.

  This time. ' As he picked up the components, aligned them, tightened

  connectors, adjusted the power pack, he felt a turmoil in his heart.

  He had wielded a lightsaber many times in the service of the Shadow

  Academy.

  But back then, when the dark Jedi Brakiss had taught him how to use the

  energy blade, Zekk had never gone through this rite of passage.

  The Shadow Academy had manufactured cheap and identical lightsobers by

  the dozen, presenting them to their evil-trained students during

  practice sessions and before the attack on the New Republic. Zekk had

  had a lightsaber given to him-but he hadn't ever built his own.

  Zekk had never felt such an attachment to any weapon before. At the

  Shadow Academy, the lightsaber with which he had dueled and led the

  attack on Yavin 4 was simply a tool, interchangeable with anyone

  else's. This energy blade, though, would be his own. Zekk would never

  make the mistake of falling to the dark side again. He understood that

  everything about this weapon was his responsibility. Building a

  lightsaber was so ... personal.

  When he had attempted the delicate task back in his own quarters,

  though, an anxious Jaina had hovered behind him, looking over his

  shoulder, making suggestions, and tinkering with the components. Then

  Jacen had arrived, spouting conversation and the usual string of

  jokes.

  Lowie had leaned in, groaning and growling in the Wookiee language, to

  ask if Zekk needed any assistance. His friends all meant well, but

  what he needed most was to be alone ... to do this himself.

  Peckhum's recent arrival had reminded Zekk of his youth on Coruscant,

  simpler times when Jacen and Jaina and Zekk had been carefree friends

  ... back before he had betrayed them. Zekk had learned to overcome the

  guilt from the bad things he had done, but he'd never forgotten.

  Mthat mattered most was who he was now and who he would become in the

  future.

  Outside, flying creatures swooped high in the air with jaws wide

  open.

  They snatched the colorful kite plants from the sky and dragged them

  down to the treetops to feed, all the while scattering jewel-like

  spores that helped the drifting life-forms reproduce.

  Zekk fitted the last components together, then took the lightsaber

  apart again, triple-checking the connections and alignments before he

  snapped the casing closed for the last time. He held the new weapon in

  his hand, squeezed the polished grip, examined the power studs, flicked

  the hilt from side to side to test its weight and balance. Somehow he

  was reluctant to switch on the lightsaber, afraid that he might have

  done something wrong.

  "Do, or do not. There is no try," Zekk muttered to himself.

  He pressed the power stud-and the lightsaber flared to life at the

  first touch. The throbbing blade glowed a pure yellow-orange, like a

  captured flame enclosed in a long, thin tube. With the greatest care,

  he moved his weapon, and the ionization thrum made a musical sound in

  the air. The lightsaber felt right in his hand-not a seductive power

  that he might be tempted to misuse, but a precise and well-controlled

  weapon that fit him perfectly. A Jedi weapon ... for a Jedi Knight.

  Relief washed through him. Zekk allowed himself a contented smile. He

  held the flame-orange blade high. The bright glow on his face seemed

  like a purifying fire. He had come through his long ordeal and

  survived. From now on, everything would be right.

  Nothing would ever be right again.

  Anja tossed and turned in her room and finally rolled over to slam her

  fist against the hard stone wall. The pain jarred her thoughts,

  distracted her for just an instant. But the stinging of her knuckles

  rapidly faded to a dull throb, far overshadowed by the demanding outcry

  of need that coursed through her body. Andris ... andris ... andris

  ...

  Anja had thought she could stand it for as long as necessary, but time

  had only amplified the pain until the screaming need inside her head

  became unbearable. She couldn't kid herself any longer. Czethros had

  gone into hiding after the disaster on Cloud City. He would never

  provide her with the supply of spice she desperately needed. Anja

  couldn't count on him, and she couldn't survive if she didn't get

  another dose of andris-and soon.

  She would have to get some herself. She would go right to the

  source.

  There was no other way. She had to take matters into her own hands.

  Anja certainly couldn't obtain any spice here on Yavin 4, definitely

  not at the Jedi academy. These students of the Force seemed to draw

  their pleasure simply from staring at rocks and meditating. She had

  tried, but that just didn't work for her. Anja had always been

  independent.

  When a problem presented itself, she faced the challenge, she devised a

  solution, she found a way.

  She got up from her sweat-soaked bed, turned the glowpanel to its

  lowest setting, and dressed quietly. The rain had stopped late that

  afremoon, and the Great Temple had fallen into a peaceful quietness as

  the other Jedi students slept or practiced their mind-intensive

  studies.

  Anja gathered her few meager supplies, hesitated before she clipped her

  antique lightsaber in place on her belt. Without the boost she

  received from a dose of spice, she didn't know how well she could use

  the Jedi weapon.

  Anja again retied her leather headband around her forehead to hold back

  her long, streaked hair. She tucked her boots under her arms and

  scurried barefoot across the cold stone floor.

  She froze in the shadows as she heard the rolling hum and saw the

  blinking fo
rm of Artoo-Detoo trundling down one of the corridors

  ahead.

  Fortunately, the little astromech droid turned left and disappeared

  into the shadows without seeing her. She drew in a deep breath and

  started moving again.

  Anja hurried until she reached the opening down to the hangar beneath

  the pyramid. Standing in the cool shadows, she looked around, trying

  to make her choice from the ships parked there. She knew she could fly

  any craft. She'd been trained for years as a smuggler, flying from Ord

  Mantell back to her war-torn homeworld of Anobis. She needed something

  fast, without markings.

  The Lightning Rod.

  Ducking low, Anja crept to the door of the hangar bay and looked across

  the landing field toward Zekk's battered craft. Old man Peckbum, who

  had used the stock light freighter for many years to haul supplies in

  and around the New Republic, had given it to Zekk as his personal

  ship.

  Anja had no choice. She had to get away, to get what she needed before

  the pain overwhelmed her. Anja's eyes narrowed, and she allowed

  herself to focus on nothing beyond her goal. Her feet made no noise on

  the dew-soaked grass as she ran across the landing field to the

  Lightning Rod and up the still-open ramp. She slipped into the worn

  cockpit seat, strapped herself down, and powered up the engines.

 

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