Tahiri lay unconscious on the room’s sole bed, just as she had on Mon Calamari. The only difference was her eyes. This time they were wide open and saw nothing. She could have been resting peacefully, but for the fierce burning of her scars. The marks left on her forehead by the Yuuzhan Vong master shaper on Yavin 4 seemed to flare up in response to her psychological distress. Salis D’aar’s meditechs had found no means of easing her internal suffering. The girl made no impression in the Force, giving Leia nothing to work with. All she could do was imagine what was going on inside the young woman’s mind and body.
Jaina and Jag looked up from their position beside the bed. Jaina was still supposed to be confined to the hover-chair the medical droid had assigned to her, but in a typical show of independence, she had discarded it within minutes of getting out of bed. Jag hadn’t left her side since she’d awoken, despite the fact that he must have been as exhausted as she was. Their hands stayed firmly clasped whenever they were in range, as though they were terrified to let go for fear of losing each other again.
Leia warmed at that thought. She had felt that way many times, and understood it all too well. What pleased her more than anything else was the fact that Jag was slowly abandoning his reservations about open displays of affection in public. It seemed that his close encounter with entechment had made him realize that time was simply too short to waste on worrying about what people thought.
“How’s she doing?” Leia asked.
“The same.” Jaina turned her attention back to Tahiri. “She’s not responding to anything they try, and I can’t get through to her. Perhaps Master Cilghal could do something, but …” She shrugged helplessly. “It’s like she’s not even there.”
They stared at the injured girl for a long moment, the gloominess of their thoughts filling the room. Then Jaina made a visible effort to change the mood, straightening and stretching her arms.
“So, has the new treaty been ratified yet?”
“Signed and sealed.” Leia was grateful for the change in topic. “The P’w’eck Emancipation Movement has formally allied with Bakura. Lwothin and Panib put their names to the papers half an hour ago. They’ve agreed to hold elections within the month, to share all Ssi-ruuvi assets seized in battle, and to initiate a liberation program for the P’w’eck who stayed behind. My guess is, once word spreads, they’ll start seeing refugees from the Imperium within months, and some sort of retaliation within a year. I hope that by then Bakura will be strong enough to stand on its own. At least they know it’s coming, so they can prepare.”
“What about the Keeramak?” Jag asked.
“The body is already on its way back to Lwhekk. They figure returning the body of their Grand Shreeftut will temporarily appease the Ssi-ruuvi Conclave, even if it arouses the Elders’ Council. The resulting conflict should keep them occupied for a while, at least.”
Leia was still amazed at both the complexity and the audacity of the Keeramak’s plan. Having risen to power ten years after the decimation of the Imperium at the hands of the New Republic, it had used its unique status to formulate a reprisal that very nearly worked. Faking a P’w’eck uprising wasn’t hard; New Republic worlds responded to the idea of rebellion all too easily, so to the locals the story wasn’t implausible. The nagging fear that the P’w’eck might be as bad as their former masters could only be assuaged by reassurances from the very pinnacle of Bakuran government, and the Keeramak had found an elegant way to solve that problem.
“The droid technicians have finished analyzing Cundertol’s arm,” she said.
Jaina’s face hardened. “And?”
“It’s as you thought. He was a human replica droid.”
Jag hugged Jaina lightly around the shoulders when she shuddered. “He looked so real.”
Leia nodded, understanding her daughter’s revulsion. “The specs of his wrist and hand matched those of the droids made by Simonelle the Ingoian, over thirty years ago. The bones are poly-alloy; the muscles and other organs are made from biofiber; his skin was grown in a clone vat; and everything else is just synthflesh. Despite it being an abomination, it’s actually an incredible piece of work.”
“No wonder he didn’t want to be examined on Selonia,” Jaina said.
“I didn’t think such things were possible,” Jag said to Leia. “Imperial intelligence reported that Project Decoy failed.”
“It did. We never managed to get the droid brains up to scratch—although Simonelle did by modifying an AA-1 verbobrain. They can be useful in certain circumstances, but by and large they tend to be clumsy and unconvincing.”
“None of which applied to Cundertol,” Jaina said, rubbing at her breastbone, which obviously still smarted from when the Prime Minister had attacked her.
“Someone on the black market must have made progress in the last twenty-five years. Someone prepared to charge for their efforts, too. Long before you were born, Jaina, HRDs used to cost over ten million credits. I can only imagine how much one would cost today.”
“I’m sure we’ll find that out once Vyram and Malinza have finished tracing the missing credits.” As part of a “rehabilitation” scheme, the two ex-activists had been co-opted by the government to demonstrate that the information they’d found earlier was genuine. Although the kidnapping charges had been overturned, Freedom had still technically been an underground operation, and some sections of the interim government wanted an assurance that they would no longer pursue illegal activities.
Salkeli, on the other hand, had been sentenced on all manner of charges. The Rodian wasn’t going to see daylight for a very long time indeed.
“So, let me get this straight,” Jag said, frowning. “Cundertol covertly pays someone untold millions of credits to build a replica droid of himself. Right?”
Jaina nodded. “Then he books the Jaunty Cavalier to pick up the droid from the manufacturer and deliver it somewhere near here. We don’t know where yet; maybe an abandoned base or a temporary station. It doesn’t really matter, just as long as it’s somewhere private.”
“Then he fakes his own kidnapping,” Leia went on. “This is the tricky part. He has to get offworld and back without raising suspicion. He can’t take his bodyguards or his advisers. He has to be completely alone while the process is under way.”
“And that process was entechment.” Jag’s face was pale at the thought. “I can’t believe he voluntarily turned himself in to the Ssi-ruuk so they could suck out his soul.”
“Well, he must’ve had a good idea that they wouldn’t just stick him in a droid ship and bleed him dry. He was their key to Bakura, after all. As long as they gave him what he wanted, he would reciprocate.”
“You’ve got to admire them, really,” Jaina said. “The plan was actually quite brilliant. They were going to get an entire world in exchange for making Cundertol immortal. And it almost worked.”
“But would it have worked?” Jag asked. “I thought entechment wasn’t permanent—that the life energy of the subject gradually decayed.”
Jaina nodded. “Lwothin explained when we met him that they’d made significant advances in the science of entechment. That much was true, at least.”
“There was a Jedi student named Nichos Marr,” Leia explained, “who had a similar process performed on him for medical reasons. He died with the Eye of Palpatine, so we don’t know how long he would have lasted.”
“Cundertol wasn’t a clunky droid like Nichos was, though,” Jaina protested. “He looked as real as you or I—and he smelled real, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have fooled Meewalh and Cakhmain. Once the Ssi-ruuk had stuck him into the HRD and sent him back, all he had to do was avoid the invasion and get away. He could have dealt with any problems later, and no one would have been the wiser.”
Jag shook his head. “You have to feel sorry for the crew of the Jaunty Cavalier. Cundertol sacrificed them all so that no one would contradict his story.”
“That’s the sign of an evil mastermind,” Leia said, rememb
ering her previous trip to Bakura and her first encounter with the spirit of her father. “No price is too great to pay to ensure his own survival.”
Jaina looked down to Tahiri. The girl hadn’t moved throughout the conversation. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, their only movement the occasional blink—the regularity of which they could have set a chronometer to. That and the slow rise and fall of her chest were the only signs that she was alive at all.
“You haven’t found his body,” Jaina said. It wasn’t a question.
Leia replied anyway. “No.”
There was movement in the doorway. Thinking it might be a meditech come to examine Tahiri, Leia stepped aside to let them through. But it was Goure, the Ryn whom Tahiri had befriended, and a Bakuran native, a Kurtzen dressed in a sand-colored, sleeveless gray robe with a wide leather belt around his waist. Numerous pouches adorned the belt, rattling as he walked.
“I apologize,” the Ryn said, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No, please. Come in.” Jaina had told Leia the little she’d learned about the Ryn from Tahiri. “Han will be along later. I know he’ll want to talk to you.”
Goure looked uncertain about this. “Oh?”
“He has a friend he hasn’t heard from for a while that he thought you might know of. A Ryn by the name of Droma.”
“Droma?” He considered the name for a moment. “It doesn’t sound familiar, I’m afraid. I could probably find him for you, if you like. The chances are good that one of my colleagues knows him.”
“That’s okay,” Leia said. “It’s no problem. I’m sure he’s doing all right, wherever he is. Han was just curious, that’s all.” Goure’s manner was pleasant and relaxed, perfectly likable. “He is blessed with the same talent as my husband.”
Goure’s smoky-colored forehead wrinkled at this. “Which is?”
“A knack for survival, of course.” She matched his toothy smile, then looked away. The Kurtzen was standing patiently to one side, his ridged head gleaming in the harsh hospital light.
“This is Arrizza,” Goure said, following her gaze. “I asked him to come.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Leia said as she stepped up to the Kurtzen. She inclined her head in a slight bow of greeting. “This is my daughter, Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo, and Colonel Jagged Fel.” Both nodded, and Arrizza bowed in return. “But you came to see Tahiri, I presume, not us,” Leia added, once the introductions were over.
“We came to help her, yes,” the Kurtzen said, exchanging a look with Goure.
“Help her in what way?” Jaina asked. “The meditechs and healers haven’t been able to do anything for her. What makes you think you can?”
“They haven’t been able to help her,” Goure interrupted, “because they don’t know what is wrong with her. They are looking for a physical ailment. They won’t find one, because Tahiri is not fighting a disease. She is fighting herself.”
Jaina glanced at Leia, then back to Goure. “She told you about her problem?”
“I saw enough to confirm what I had already heard. Everyone in the Ryn family knows the story of the Jedi-who-was-shaped. We know that the Yuuzhan Vong Shamed Ones tell it to each other as an epistle of hope. We also know that it is not encouraged outside certain circles of the Galactic Alliance. If word got out that a Jedi had been corrupted by the Yuuzhan Vong shapers—that such a thing was even possible—the growing support for the Jedi could be dramatically eroded.”
There was no point denying anything that Goure said. “It’s true,” Leia admitted. “Mezhan Kwaad tried to turn Tahiri into a Yuuzhan Vong warrior by giving her a new persona—that of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior called Riina. My son Anakin rescued her and managed to break the programming. We believed the new persona had been erased, but it seems more likely now that Tahiri had simply buried it.”
“Not ‘it,’ ” said Goure. “Her. Riina of Domain Kwaad does not want to be buried. She wants to live, as does any intelligent being. Until she’s allowed that, she will not lie easily.”
“She’s real?” Jag asked. “She’s not just a figment of Tahiri’s imagination?”
The Ryn shook his head. “In a manner of speaking, Riina is as real as Tahiri herself. You see, Tahiri wasn’t simply brainwashed to think and act like a Yuuzhan Vong. Mezhan Kwaad designed Riina to be a person in her own right—with everything that entails. When Tahiri came back, she had more than just the knowledge of Yuuzhan Vong language and customs in her head; she had the makings of a new personality in there with her, wanting control of her body.”
“But Tahiri got better,” Jag said. “She was fine.”
“Only until Anakin died,” Leia pointed out. “Ever since then she’s been struggling.”
“But this Riina couldn’t just have reappeared for no reason,” Jag argued. “Something must have triggered her emergence.”
“I agree,” Goure said. “And I think that trigger was when the Galactic Alliance recently began making progress against the Yuuzhan Vong. Don’t forget that when Riina came into being, her people were on the rise. She may have fallen, but so had Coruscant; so had the Senate. Her personal loss was overshadowed by the victories her compatriots were enjoying. Ultimately, I don’t think she ever expected the Yuuzhan Vong to lose—as they very well might, now. In the face of defeat, the spirit of the Yuuzhan Vong is fighting back. Unfortunately for Tahiri, this is taking place within rather than without, as it is for the rest of us.”
“So how do we get rid of her?” Jaina asked, her eyes shining with tears. Leia knew that Jaina felt responsible for Tahiri’s breakdown and injuries on Bakura. She had suspected Riina’s presence on Galantos, but hadn’t known back then what to do.
“There’s only one way to be sure of doing that,” Goure said.
“And that is?” Jaina pressed.
The Ryn fixed her with an even and calculating stare. “To kill Tahiri, of course.”
“What?” Jaina’s voice was cold and angry. “Don’t even think of joking about something like—”
“This is no joke, I assure you.” The Ryn’s tail quivered with repressed energy. “The basic mistake everyone in this room is making, is assuming Riina to be something that can be simply excised from Tahiri. However, Riina isn’t some kind of tumor; she’s as much a part of Tahiri as Tahiri is.”
Jag shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
The Ryn looked apologetic. “I’m not entirely sure that I do, either, to be honest,” he said. “Although I suspect that my species has a greater affinity for outcasts and refugees than most people, having spent most of our history being either or both. Since Yavin Four, Tahiri has been set apart from everyone else by virtue of her experience and her knowledge of the enemy. Anakin accepted her, but then he died, leaving her alone. We know that the idea of family is very strong among the Yuuzhan Vong, so she might have attempted to attach herself to you, Anakin’s family. Ultimately, though, it wouldn’t have been enough to keep her stable. What she needed, no one could give her, except herself.”
The Ryn came to the side of Tahiri’s bed and placed a hand on her forehead. If she registered his presence, she made no sign.
“The shapers know what they’re doing. When they set out to turn Tahiri into a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, they did exactly that.”
“But they failed to get rid of Tahiri,” Leia said.
Goure nodded. “Thanks to Anakin, she was able to come back—only to find that her mind was now inhabited by someone else. And that someone had no intention of going away quietly, either. From Riina’s point of view, Tahiri is the interloper. Tahiri has done little else but resist her ever since her reawakening. Unfortunately it’s a battle that cannot be won, and it’s taking a terrible toll on her mind.”
“If it can’t be won,” Jaina said, “then what are you suggesting we do about her?”
“Simple,” the Ryn said, turning to face her. “We have to help them learn to live together. We must teach them how to become one.”
J
aina’s incredulous laugh came out as a short, sharp bleat of defiance as she rose to her feet. “I don’t think so.”
Leia stepped forward to assuage her daughter’s anger. “Jaina—”
“No, Mom,” she said quickly. “Teach Tahiri to accept the Yuuzhan Vong in her? After what they did to her? After what they did to Anakin!” She shook her head firmly. “I won’t let that happen. There has to be another way of removing Riina without harming Tahiri. There has to be.”
Goure met her anger unflinchingly. “There isn’t,” he said soberly when her outburst had abated. “Just as Bakurans cannot integrate the P’w’eck and remain the same as they were before, so, too, is it with Tahiri and Riina. Moreover, there is a similar urgency. The P’w’eck and the Bakurans had to work together in order to save the planet from the Ssi-ruuk; now Tahiri must work with the personality of Riina Kwaad to save herself from madness.”
Jaina opened her mouth to object, then shut it when her mother touched her arm. Leia could sympathize with her daughter. The idea that Tahiri couldn’t be cured of the treatments the Yuuzhan Vong had inflicted on her did sound preposterous, but she also knew that everything they’d so far tried had failed miserably.
“Okay,” Jag said, “assuming there is only one option, then how do we go about it, exactly?”
The Kurtzen stepped forward. “Like Riina,” he said, “my people have been cast out and ostracized from the place in which we feel we belong. It almost killed us, but as have many others in such situations, we found our own way to survive. We believe that the power of life focuses in the objects we surround ourselves with. Either inadvertently or intentionally, the things we gather reinforce who we are, making us stronger or, at times, weaker. In a balanced life, the internal and external worlds reflect each other perfectly. When a life is imbalanced, internal and external aspects must be adjusted accordingly.”
“That’s all well and good,” Jag said. “But again I have to ask: what do we have to do to help Tahiri?”
Refugee: Force Heretic II Page 36