by Troy Denning
“Then it wasn’t Welk who attacked Saba?” Leia asked.
Alema shook her head resolutely. “It couldn’t have been. He died when the Flier crashed, along with . . . his Master.”
Now it was Leia’s turn to frown. The truth—at least Alema’s memory of it—seemed to be changing before her eyes. “Then who was it?”
“It must have been a Chiss spy,” Alema said.
“With a lightsaber?”
“He could have stolen it,” Alema said. “Or found it.”
“That’s possible,” Leia said carefully. “But wouldn’t a simpler explanation be that Welk survived the Crash?”
Alema shook her head, and her tone grew ardent. “Raynar was the only one Yoggoy found at the Crash.”
“That doesn’t mean Raynar was the only one who survived,” Leia insisted. “Didn’t Jacen tell you? He was there. He saw Raynar pull both Welk and Lomi out of the crash.”
“Jacen said that,” she admitted. “But it’s impossible. When the Flier crashed, he was on Baanu Rass with us. Or Vergere’s prisoner on Coruscant.”
“True,” Leia said. “Still, he saw what happened at the Crash. I don’t know how, but he did.”
“He said he did.” Alema stood and turned as though to leave, then whirled back toward the table. “That doesn’t make it true.”
Leia was puzzled by the strange reaction. “When I was at the Crash, he spoke to me—at the same time he was on Jwlio,” she said. “So I tend to believe him.”
“You would.” Alema began to pace. “He’s your son.”
“And I’ve seen what he can do.” Cautiously, Leia asked, “Why is it so important for you to believe Jacen is wrong?”
“Why is it so important for you to believe he isn’t?”
“I’m trying to figure out who’s been attacking us.” Leia was speaking in a soft, nonthreatening voice . . . and wondering who exactly she was talking to. Maybe there had been more to that hopeful look than Leia imagined when Alema had mistaken the tangbark for glitterstim. “And I’m pretty certain Welk is involved. Possibly Lomi—”
“It doesn’t matter what Jacen thinks he saw,” Alema said. “They’re both dead.”
“And you know this?”
Alema nodded.
“How?” Leia asked.
“We . . .” Alema’s face went blank, and she began to make loud clicking sound deep in her throat. “The Colony knows.”
“The Colony knows.” Leia made a point of letting her skepticism show. “Alema, what are you trying to protect us from?”
“Nothing!” The Twi’lek banged her fists on the table. “You have nothing to fear, if you will just do what we tell you!”
“We who, Alema?”
Alema’s eyes widened, then she drew herself upright and stood at the table in shock, her mouth working but no sound coming from her lips, The Noghri appeared silently at the cabin entrance. Leia signaled them to wait with an eye flicker, then let the silence hang while she finished her hot chocolate.
Finally, she put the empty mug down and looked up. “Well, I’m happy to see you understand why that statement is so wrong.”
“Of course,” Alema said. “We . . . I . . . apologize.”
She spun on her heel and left the cabin so quickly that the Noghri barely had time to step out of her way. Leia did not go after her. There would be plenty of time to tease the rest of the truth out of her on the trip back to Ossus, and Leia had learned enough for now. She closed her eyes and reached into the Force for Luke, hoping that this time her sense of him would be a little more solid, that she could impart to him some hint of the hidden danger that the Shadow might have carried back from Qoribu.
TWENTY-ONE
THE FOUR BRAINS DISPLAYED above the medholo varied broadly in size and shape, the largest being oblong with only a slight downward bulge to join the brain stem, the smallest looking more like a withered pallie mounted on a pulsing mushroom stem. In three of the brains, bursts of activity were simultaneously blossoming in bright identical colors, then fading at exactly the same rate. Even more telling were the two-dimensional alpha waves crawling through the air beneath each hologram. Three of the patterns were indistinguishable, with matched frequencies and amplitudes. The fourth wave, located beneath the solid blue shape of a human brain, was alternating between dead flat and so wildly erratic that the peaks vanished into the holo above.
“Very funny, Jacen.” Luke frowned toward the relaxi-chair where his nephew reclined, looking out through viewing window of a huge scanning hood. “Would you stop playing with the brain mapper?”
“Just making the point.” The fourth brain went entirely white. “This won’t tell you anything. You must decide for yourselves whether we can be trusted.”
“Trust isn’t the issue,” Corran Horn said. Along with Luke, Mara, and several other Jedi Masters, he was standing in the isolation ward of the infirmary at the Jedi academy on Ossus, where they would be far from the prying eyes of the Galactic Alliance advisory council. “We’re just trying to figure out what happened to you.”
“It has nothing to do with Killikz,” Tesar said.
“We overused the meld,” Tahiri said.
“And now we can’t stay out of each other’s minds,” Tekli finished.
Though Luke certainly knew about the problems the meld had caused the strike team survivors, he suspected these new symptoms had more to do with Killiks than the meld. Still, that was a judgment better made by the Jedi order’s Master healer.
Luke turned to Cilghal. “What do you think?”
The Mon Calamari looked at him out of one bulbous eye. “I think they are . . . mistaken.”
“Mistaken?” Kyp Durron asked with his usual lack of tact. “Or lying?”
Tesar Sebatyne started to push his scanning hood off. “This one does not—”
“Easy, Tesar.” Luke flashed Kyp a look of irritation. Now was hardly a good time to be testing Tesar’s patience. The Barabel had felt his mother get wounded less than twenty-four hours earlier, and the only thing anyone knew about the circumstances was a vague sensation that Luke had felt from Leia suggesting that she was caring for Saba—and that he and Mara faced the same danger on Ossus. “I’m sure Master Durron didn’t mean to impugn your honor.”
Ignoring the opportunity for an apology, Kyp continued to look at Cilghal. “Okay, why do you think they’re . . . mistaken?”
“Because the activity is in the wrong places.”
Cilghal keyed a command, and a blobby structure about the size of a thumbtip began to glow deep within the hologram of Tahiri’s brain.
“With the meld, the hypothalamus responds to emotional reverberations in the Force,” Cilghal said. The blob began to swell and grow red. “Prolonged use—or very intense use—can enlarge it and make it hypersensitive. Melders can become so attuned to each other that their minds begin to read the reverberations much as transceivers read comm waves. That’s when the meld slips into telepathy.”
“What about the mood swings?” Corran asked.
Cilghal keyed another command. What looked like a wishbone with two long, curling tails appeared above the image of Tahiri’s hypothalamus.
“As use is continued, the effect spills over into the rest of the limbic system, and melders begin to alter each other’s emotions.”
The Masters watched for a few moments as the “wishbone” grew thicker and darker. They were all aware of the risks associated with the meld, but this was the first time many had heard Cilghal’s theory concerning the actual mechanism. Luke had the sense that some were looking inward, trying to guess how sensitive their own limbic systems might be growing.
Finally, Corran asked, “And where is the other kind of activity occurring?”
Cilghal keyed another command. A fibrous, cap-like structure about ten centimeters long appeared above Tahiri’s limbic system and beneath both her cerebral hemispheres. It was, Luke noted, in a perfect position to act as bridge among all major sections of the
brain.
“The structure of the corpus callosum has changed,” Cilghal said. As she spoke, the hypothalamus and limbic system paled, and a hazy yellow fuzz formed in their place. “That haze you see is composed of free-dangling dendrites. It suggests that Tesar, Tekli, and Tahiri are sending impulses directly from one brain to another.”
“And Jacen?” Mara asked.
“That’s difficult to say.” Cilghal glanced at Jacen, who sat beneath his hood, playing color games with the hologram of his brain. “But probably not, since he was there only a fraction of the time the others were.”
“What about these impulses?” Kyle Katarn asked. With brown hair, brown eyes, and a tan shirt tucked into brown breeches, he looked like a farmer about to return to his fields instead of one of the Jedi order’s most famous and skilled members. “Are you talking about Force impulses?”
Cilghal shook her elongated head. “Probably not. From what Master Skywalker said, the Killiks don’t appear to be Force-sensitive.” She stepped away from the controls, then continued, “I suspect the impulses are moving through their auras.”
“Their auras?”Kenth Hamner asked. A tall Jedi with a deeply lined face and dignified bearing, he had a keen mind and a habit of skeptical inquiry. “I’ve always had the impression that auras were so much Fallanassi nonsense.”
“Not at all,” Cilghal said. “Every being is surrounded by an aura of subtle energies—heat, electric, magnetic, even chemical—some extending as far as ten meters. I have a multi-band detector that can image your own, if you like.”
“For now, we’ll take your word for it,” Luke said. At the moment, he was less interested in proof than in a working theory. “How confident are you?”
“Not confident at all,” Cilghal said. “I’ll have to perform some tests to verify my hypothesis.”
“Tests are useless,” Tekli said from inside her scanning hood. “They won’t reveal anything.”
“Our problem is the meld,” Tahiri insisted.
“We need no testz to tell us that,” Tesar agreed.
Luke and the other Masters exchanged uncomfortable glances, their mutual concern growing sharper in the Force. The trio’s insistence on blaming the meld was beginning to sound irrational.
Finally, Corran said, “Cilghal, you said their corpus ca—er— whatever-it-was had changed. How did that happen? Was that also caused by the auras?”
“Probably not,” Cilghal said. “Most insects rely heavily on pheromones to regulate their lives, so that’s where my suspicions fall first.”
“That makes sense,” Mara agreed. “The nests were soaked with pheromones.”
“You’re saying a smell changed our Jedi’s brain structure?” Corran asked.
“Pheromones aren’t just odors,” Cilghal said. “They’re very powerful chemicals. They trigger a wide range of behaviors— and physical changes—in nearly every animal in the galaxy.”
“And they change your brain?” Corran repeated, still unconvinced.
“Everything changes your brain,” Cilghal said. “Whenever you learn something new, or develop a skill, or make a memory, your brain grows new connections to store and access information. Under the right stimulus, it’s very conceivable that parts of it could be completely modified.”
“So,” Mara asked, “spend enough time in the pheromone bath, and your brain rewires itself?”
“Exactly,” Cilghal said. “Especially if the pheromones work through the nose. In most species, smell is a direct input to the brain.”
“And you’re sure these Jedi Knights are just mistaken about what’s happened to them?” Kyp asked, raising the question again for no good reason Luke could see. “They couldn’t be lying?”
“We are not lying!” Tesar stood, pushing his hood up and pointing a talon in Kyp’s direction. “We do not lie!”
Concerned that Kyp was sensing something he had not, Luke reached out to Tesar and the others in the Force. He felt outrage, confusion, even a small hint of a Joiner’s double presence—but no dishonesty. As far as he could tell, the trio believed they were telling the truth.
Luke sent a gentle Force-nudge urging Kyp to apologize, but the shaggy-haired Jedi ignored it and returned the glare Tesar was shooting in his direction.
“Then prove it,” Kyp said. “Tell us why you agreed to come back from Qoribu.”
The tip of Tesar’s forked tongue darted between his lips, and the anger in his slit-pupiled eyes slowly changed to admiration.
“Very good, Master Durron,” Tesar said. “We did not see that coming at all.”
“I’m glad I still have something to teach,” Kyp said. “Are you going to answer?”
“Of course,” Tahiri said, slipping out from beneath her own hood. “All you had to do was ask.”
“So we’re asking,” Mara said.
“We came to persuade the council to help the Killikz,” Tesar said. “The Colony can only stop the Chisz through war.”
“And the Jedi can bring other pressures to bear,” Tahiri added. “It’s best for everyone.”
“That will be for the Masters council to decide,” Kenth said. “And when it does, will you abide by our decision?”
“We aren’t wrong about this,” Tahiri dodged.
“The Chisz are committing xenocide,” Tesar added. “We must intervene.”
“Immediately.” Tekli pushed her hood up and came to stand with the others, leaving only Jacen’s brain—currently gold and pulsing—displayed on the medholo. “Aren’t we bound as Jedi to protect the weak?”
“Jedi are bound by a great many duties, often contradictory,” Kenth said. “Which is why we call Masters’ councils. I ask again, will you abide by our decision?”
The trio fell silent, then Tahiri and Tekli dropped their eyes, and Tesar said, “That dependz on what the decision is.”
Kenth and Corran recoiled visibly.
But Kyp Durron smiled. “Well, it’s an honest answer.”
“As much as that is possible for them,” Cilghal said. She turned to Luke. “I don’t like to question their integrity, Master Skywalker, but anything they tell us is suspect. We must assume their judgment has been compromised by the same power that called them away in the first place.”
Tesar glared openly in Cilghal’s direction. “You are saying we cannot be trusted?”
She met his gaze evenly. “You’re not to blame, but yes—that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Tesar looked from Cilghal to Luke to Kyp and back to Luke, then thumped his tail and retreated to his relaxi-chair.
Tahiri took his place. “We don’t deserve this.” She glared directly into Luke’s eyes. “You have no reason to treat us like we’re Sith.”
“Probably not,” Kenth said. “But until those mysterious attacks on Yoggoy and at Qoribu are explained, there’s no harm in being safe.”
“By all meanz,” Tesar rasped from his chair. “This one would not want you to fear us.”
Luke turned to Cilghal. “Perhaps you’d explain your concerns?”
The Mon Calamari nodded. “It’s very simple. The meld always comes from the outside—you know you’re listening to someone else’s thoughts and reacting to someone else’s emotions. But this . . . this joining feels like it comes from inside.
The things our Jedi Knights see through it—or hear or smell or taste—seem like things they’re sensing themselves. Even the thoughts they share seem to arise inside their own minds.”
“So they don’t know whether their thoughts are their own or someone else’s?” Mara asked. Luke could sense that she was as concerned as he was, that she was afraid their young Jedi Knights were lost to the Colony already. “They can’t just ignore outside thoughts, like we can in the meld?”
“I’m afraid that’s correct,” Cilghal said. “In all likelihood, it’s impossible to know the difference.”
The Masters studied Tahiri and the other young Jedi in silence, their faces betraying the same disappointment and concern
and uncertainty that Luke felt. Cilghal could probably find a way to negate the changes to their brain structure. But the patients were clearly going to be uncooperative, and that would make recovery a long, difficult process.
Finally, Kenth said, “Well, that explains a lot. They certainly haven’t been acting like themselves.”
“Perhapz not,” Tesar admitted. He leaned forward, being careful to remain seated and nonthreatening. “But that doesn’t mean we are wrong about Qoribu.”
“Ask Masters Skywalker,” Tekli said. “They both saw Jwlio. They can tell you what the Chiss have done to the moon.”
“Fair enough,” Luke said. “Mara and I weren’t on Jwlio long enough to gather many facts, but it is clear the Chiss are trying to drive the Killiks out of the system.”
“And it’s just as clear that the Killiks don’t have the resources to leave,” Mara added. “The way things are looking, the result will be war or extermination, probably both.”
Tahiri beamed, Tesar assumed a reptilian grin, and Tekli brought her ears forward.
Then Corran asked, “Why?”
Tesar rose. “Why what?”
“Why are the Chiss doing this?” he asked. “They’re xenophobic and secretive, but they’re not expansionists. If they’re trying to drive the Killiks away, they must have a reason.”
“They are afraid the Colony will expand into their territory,” Tesar said. “That is what their Joinerz say.”
“There’s more to it,” Mara said. “If all the Chiss were worried about was border security, they’d just wait for a nest to pop up in their own territory, then attack.”
“That’s right,” Luke agreed. “Something about the Killiks scares the Chiss so much they don’t want them in the same sector as an Ascendancy system.”
“You’d have to ask the Chiss about that,” Tahiri said.
“We shouldn’t need to,” Kenth pointed out. “Isn’t it the first duty of a Jedi to understand both sides of a conflict?”
Tahiri met his gaze with a raised chin. “We were occupied.”
“Saving innocentz.”
“And look what happened,” Kenth said. “Both sides are closer to war than ever.”