never any chance for the Second Imperium, and now we are being destroyed
here because of you! Because of poor planning. Because there is no dark
heart to the Second Imperium."
Blinded by rage again, Brakiss flowed forward like an avenging angel,
his lightsaber held high. The red guard staggered away from his
controls, reaching into his scarlet robes to withdraw a weapon-but
Brakiss didn't give him the chance.
^ He cut down the third Imperial guard, who fell smoking and lifeless
onto the array of controls that had created the fake Emperor.
The illusion had cheated Brakiss, and the Shadow Academy, and all his
Dark Jedi . . .
everyone who had devoted their lives to recreating the Empire.
'Now the Empire has truly fallen," he said, his voice hoarse and husky,
his face haggard. He was no longer calm, like a statue, no longer a
well-polished representative of perfection.
Hearing a noise outside the chopped-o pen door to the isolation chamber,
Brakiss turned to see a flash of red-the fourth and final member of the
group of charlatans. Brakiss moved slowly, feeling stiffless and pain,
utterly discouraged-but he could not let this last one get away. Ms
honor demanded that the deceivers pay. Brakiss rushed after him.
But the red guard had encountered his slaughtered companions outside and
knew that Brakiss had seen all the video controls and holographic
apparatus in the isolation chamber. The fourth guard, without
hesitation, ran back the way he had come.
Brakiss realized with utter certainty that the glorious dream of a
reborn Empire had already failed. His Dark Jedi had lost their
^ battle down on Yavin 4. The Imperial fighters were being trounced-but
he would not let this impostor, this traitor, escape alive. It would be
Brakiss's final moment of vengeance.
With purposeful steps, Brakiss charged after the man. The red guard
moved with astonishing speed, fleeing the restricted area and dashing
down the empty corridors of the Shadow Academy. Brakiss ran, but the red
guard knew exactly where he wanted to go. Exactly.
The last surviving Imperial guard reached the docking bay and dashed
toward Brakiss's still-waiting high-speed shuttle.
Arriving at the docking bay door, Brakiss shouted, "Stop!" He held his
lightsaber high, wishing he could use the Force to make the guard freeze
in his tracks, to follow the command-but the charlatan did not hesitate.
He dove into the lone shuttle, raised it on its repulsorlifts, and
punched the code to release the magnetic atmosphere containment field.
Brakiss simmered with rage. He wondered if he could get to the Shadow
Academy's weapons systems and blow the guard to frozen shards in the
vacuum of space. But it would be too late for him.
]ED[ UNDER SIEGE 173 He felt completely alone on the Shadow Academy. An
utter failure. Everything he had tried had backfired on him. And this
was the final insult: tricked by a . . . guard.
Unbidden, a memory came to Brakiss.
When the Shadow Academy had been constructed-ostensibly under the
guidance of Emperor Palpatine-as a fail-safe mechanism, enormous
quantities of linked explosives had been implanted through the station's
structure. That way, if Palpatine ever felt threatened by these new and
powerful Dark Jedi Knights, he could trigger the detonation and destroy
the Shadow Academy, no matter where it was.
Brakiss stood alone in the hangar bay, watching the tiny shuttle streak
farther and farther away. It occurred to him that since there was no
reborn Emperor, then the four red guards themselves must have kept the
secret destruct codes.
As the escape ship fled from the Shadow Academy and the Yavin system,
the last surviving guard acknowledged to himself that the military
forces he left behind would be defeated utterly. With the success of the
Rebel counterattack, there would likely be no Imperial survivors of this
day's battles.
^ The guard had to preserve his secret and maintain the illusion that he
and his partners had so carefully constructed as a way to restore
themselves to power. He could not afford to leave the Shadow Academy
intact if he hoped to cover his tracks. With luck, he might find a
position among the many criminal elements insidiously working at the
fringes of the New Republic.
The red guard sent a brief signal, carefully coded. He transmitted a
dreaded phrase, a string of impulses, that he had hoped never to use.,
Destruct.
As his tiny shuttle careened into hyperspace, the spiked ring of the
Shadow Academy flowered into a fireball, an exploding blossom of flaming
gases and debris.
^ AS HE PLODDED ahead, Zekk could barely see two meters in front of
himself in the murk of Yavin 4's unfamiliar jungle. Dense underbrush
tore at his hair and cape, and his breath came in ragged gasps. His
ponytail had come entirely undone. Still Zekk pushed on. Occasionally he
glanced back over his shoulder to see if any of Skywalker's Jedi
trainees were pursuing him. He sensed no one following, but he couldn't
be sure. Who knows? he thought. They might have light-side tricks he
had never heard of, ways to keep him from sensing their presence.
He had seen many unexpected things today. Strange things. Horrible
things. It hardly mattered that the winding path ahead was uncertain and
difficult to see: he would have been blind to it anyway. His mind was
partially numbed by the sights his eyes had
^
^ witnessed today. Destruction, terror, failure . . .
death.
Zekk's foot slipped on a patch of moldy, damp leaves, and he went down
on one knee. Grabbing a low branch, he pulled himself back to his feet,
then stood disoriented for a moment.
Which direction had he been heading? He knew he was going toward
something . . .
but he couldn't quite remember what. Finally some unconscious part of
him remembered, and he set off again.
Suddenly, just ahead of him, a knee-high rodent sprang from the
underbrush, its claws extended. Zekk's Jedi instincts automatically took
over.
In one smooth movement Zekk withdrew his lightsaber and threw himself
sideways out of the creature's path. His cheek split open as it smashed
against the purplish brown trunk of a Massassi tree; his thumb pressed
the lightsaber's ignition stud at the same moment. Before Zekk could
even blink or breathe,.the blood-red blade sprang forth and sliced
through the rodent in mid-leap' With a shriek that broke off abruptly,
the two smoking halves of the creature fell to the forest floor.
It reminded him of how he had killed
^ Tamith Kai's student Vilas in the zerogravity arena aboard the Shadow
Academy station-not a memory that comforted him.
Blood trickled from the cut on Zekk's cheek, but the pain was too
distant, too far away for him to feel. His ability with the Force had
protected him just now-after all, he was a Dark Jedi. But what about his
companions from the Second Imperium? What of their powers? Why had it
/> all gone wrong? For today he had seen his Dark Jedi, one after another,
lose their battles or be captured by Skywalker's trainees.
He had a terrible suspicion that only he remained.
Oh, the dark side had had its victories.
The commando Orvak had obviously succeeded in destroying the shield
generators and had no doubt moved on to the next step in his mission.
And there had been other times during the day when Zekk had felt the
Shadow Academy trainees achieve surges of victory. But each victory had
been shortlived.
Brakiss, Tamith Kai, he, and his companions had all been so certain of a
quick, decisive triumph. With their training in the dark side, they
should have had no problem, ^ Zekktold himself Wasn't that what Brakiss
had taught?
A few minutes later, Zekk emerged from thedarkness into a broad clearing
where the wide river ran sluggishly between the trees. His spirits
rising ever so slightly, Zekk walked to the edge of the river and
stooped to take a drink.
Despite the green color of the water, his reflection was clear. Sunken
emerald eyes shadowed with dark circles gazed back at him from the
rippling surface. Only the barest spark of his former confidence still
lurked in his expression. Tangles of filthy dark hair framed a face as
pale as the moon of his home planet Ennth. Blood still oozed from the
wound on his face, contrasting nicely with the purpling bruises that
surrounded it. It made him think of Brakiss and his finely chiseled
features.
A wail of despair echoed through the young man's head, knocking him to
his hands and knees in the mud of the riverbank. In a futile gesture,
Zekk pressed his muddy hands over his ears. "Brakiss!" he screamed.
'What went wrong?"
Hardly understanding what was happening, Zekk turned his face up toward
the sky.
For a split second he recognized the spiked
^ ring of the Shadow Academy in low orbit above the jungle moon. Then,
without warning, the space station bloomed into a fireball high above
him.
Zekk's jaw went slack at the sight. He had not thought it possible to
feel any more pain.
But he had been wrong.
Brakiss. The name whispered now in Zekk's mind. He knew that the Master
had been aboard the Shadow Academy when it blew up. He could feel it. He
had felt his teacher's despair-his mind crying out.
The silvery-robed Jedi had taken Zekk in when the young man had had no
hope for his future and no purpose. Brakiss had trained Zekk, given him
purpose, direction, position, and skills to be proud of. At the Shadow
Academy Zekk had belonged. He had been its Darkest Knight.
Now what was left for him? All that he had trained for and lived for
was gone. Pride, comrades, future . . . all gone. There was no doubt in
Zekles mind that the Second Imperium had been decisively defeated today,
and now his mentor-the only man who had ever believed in Zekk-was dead.
No. Not the only man who had believed in Zekk. A fresh wave of anguish
washed over
^ Zekk at the thought. Old Peckhum had always believed in him, too. Zekk
had promised never to do anything to hurt or disappoint the old spacer.
Today, though, he had fought on the side of Peckhum's enemies.
Despite all the faults that Zekk acknowledged he had, he had never in
his life lied to old Peckhum.
Anger jolted through him-at himself, at having been forced to fight his
friend, at having been forced to make such terrible choices. His muscles
tightened until the tension inside seemed unbearable. With a cry of
anguish he plunged his fingers deep into the mud. It was dark, slippery,
treacherous. Yet this was what he had chosen: the darkness.
Today he had stood and watched as his comrades blasted the Lightning Rod
out of the skies. For all he knew, the only other man who had ever
believed in him might also now be dead. Zekk's hands clenched in the
ooze and he jerked up fistfuls of mud and smeared it on his face. The
mud stung his cut. Now he could feel pain again. But he didn't care. He
deserved it.
He had failed them all-Brakiss, the other Dark Jedi warriors, old
Peckhum . . . himself. Silent tears dropped unheeded from his
^ eyes as he scooped up more and mud and rubbed it into his hands, his
forearms, his neck. Dark mud.
This-this was what he had become.
Darkness. He had chosen it, immersed himself in it. He was stained with
it.
There could be no turning back for Zekk anymore. He had made his
choices, and he was what he was: a Dark Jedi. That could not change now.
Though his comrades were defeated or captured, and Brakiss dead, Zekk
would never be able to cleanse himself for as long as he lived-however
long that might be.
Not even Jaina and Jacen, if they were still alive, would be able to
forgive him.
Considering the space battles above, the destruction of the Shadow
Academy, the attacks here on the ground, Zekk himself was responsible
for a hundred or more deaths today. Maybe even Peckhum's. The twins
would know that. They had never believed Zekk's decision to join the
Shadow Academy was the right one, had never believed that he could
become anything.
But he had made his choice and he had done his best. He had even warned
Jaina on Kashyyyk not to return to Yavin 4, hoping to
^ keep her away from the fighting, though he doubted she had listened.
He pushed himself to his feet and caught sight of his reflection again
in the slow moving water. His once-beautiful cape hung in tatters from
his shoulders, its scarlet lining shredded. Mud covered his skin. And
the sunken emerald eyes were now bleak and hopeless.
But he wasn't finished yet. It might not matter anymore what happened to
him, but he still had choices. He would show the twins what he was made
of. Turning, he headed along the riverbank toward the Great Temple.
Zekk still had one card left to play.
^
"DOWN THERE," JAINA said, pointing at the jungle clearing that Luke had
chosen as a rendezvous point.
From the pilot's seat of his personal shuttle, Lando Calrissian grinned,
flashing his beautiful white teeth. "Sure thing, little lady," he said.
"I'll take'er down. Looks like they're waiting for us. The fighting must
be done." As Lando brought the ship in for a landing, Jaina used Jedi
techniques to relax, but it did her no good. Her muscles remained as
tense as if she were still in the tiny TIE fighter flying for her life.
For some reason, she just couldn't loosen up. For the first time, today,
she had fought as a Jedi, with other Jedi, against the dark side.
It was what all her training had been about.
When Lando's shuttle touched down, Jaina wasted no time on formalities.
She scrambled
^
^ out of the ship as quickly as she could, ran to her uncle, and threw
herself into his arms.
"You made it. You're alive!" she said, feeling a surge of relief and
jubilation.
"Luke, old buddy!" Lando said. "I came to offer you som
e help, but it
looks like you've got things pretty well under control."
"We could still use your help, Lando," Luke replied. He hugged Jaina
back and said soberly, "I'm afraid many of our number were not so
lucky."
Realizing that she had no idea how the ground battle had gone, Jaina bit
her lip and looked around wildly, hoping to spot Jacen, Lowie, and Tenel
Ka.
What she saw shocked her. As far as she could tell, no student from the
Jedi academy had escaped unscathed. Several trainees limped. Tionne's
right arm hung in a sling and the hair on the right side of her head was
singed. Others sported scratches and bruises, as well as more serious
injuries.
Jaina stared in surprise when she saw Raynar, his face muddy and his
bright clothing torn and covered with filth, moving among the wounded
and offering assistance wherever he could. He seemed subdued.
When she noticed the patient Raynar was currently tending, she blanched
and dashed over to where Tenel Ka lay, looking feverish and bleeding
heavily from a nasty gash just above one gray eye. Another shallower
wound ran along her thigh and ended at the knee.
Raynar was already tearing strips of cloth from his relatively clean
inner robes. Jaina made a pad of the cloth and pressed it to Tenel Ka's
head wound to stanch the flow of blood, while Raynar bandaged the leg
Jedi Under Siege Page 12