Under A Black Sun Trilogy
Page 34
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.