On impulse, Ben chose one of the balls now approaching the droid and reached out to it through the Force. He stomped with his foot, physicalizing the way he wanted to direct his attack, and lashed out with Force energy.
The ball flattened, becoming a disk wider than but about half as tall as it had been before. It still flew up to hover above the droid’s head … and when it dropped toward the slot, Ben gave it some extra energy. It hit the slot and half folded, jamming into place.
Swatting away at the next four balls, Ben watched as half a dozen more dropped onto the droid’s head, bounced off the ruined ball, fell to the floor, and rolled around to get to the backs of the two lines of balls awaiting retrieval.
No more balls emerged from the droid. Ben waited, watching, as expended balls from the two lines flew up over the droid, bounced off, fell to the ground, and got back in line again.
Then that action, too, ceased. Released from magnetic control, most of the balls now stayed where they lay; a few rolled a hand span in one direction or another before coming to a stop.
Ben felt the tiniest of tugs against his lightsaber. He gripped it hard just before it tried to yank itself out of his hand. It struggled with him, attempting to fly to the droid, but he got his left hand on it as well and held firm. He deactivated it and grinned at the practice droid.
Finally the lightsaber, too, stopped trying to move on its own.
The droid said, “Have you sabotaged me?”
“Yes,” Ben said. “In the, uh, spirit of defeating an enemy.”
“I shall file your action under ‘tactics,’ then. I designate this exercise complete. Last series success ratio ninety-four percent, last series ended at twenty-two percent of balls expended due to tactical sabotage. Learner weapon retention successful.” The droid rolled toward the door out of the Training Hall, and the balls, now returning to their straight-line formations, rolled out after it.
Leaving, the droid passed another Jedi learner waiting beside the door. She must have entered while Ben was in the midst of the last exercise, and he recognized with a little flash of embarrassment that he hadn’t detected her—he had been too focused on his task.
She was several centimeters taller than he was, three or four years older, and redheaded, her long hair a shade more coppery than his mother’s. She came forward as the balls continued to roll out of the hall. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Ben returned his lightsaber to its belt hook.
She extended a hand. “I’m Seha. Seha Dorvald.”
“I know.” He took her hand to shake it. “I’ve—”
There was something in her hand, something small and rectangular, a card of some sort. But her expression didn’t change; she didn’t acknowledge that she’d just handed him anything.
A little thrill shot through Ben. He knew why. First, she was really good looking, and she was talking to him. Second, she’d just done something covert. He wondered what was on the card—instructions to meet her somewhere? A communication from the government of Corellia, begging his help to resolve the military crisis? An offer of a bribe? He’d just been kicked out of a practice session straight into a holodrama, and he keenly felt the transition.
“I’ve seen you around,” he finished, trying not to stammer. “I’m Ben Skywalker.”
“I know.” She retrieved her hand, leaving the card in his grip. “I just wanted to say—”
Pocket the card now? No, if anyone is watching, that might call attention to the fact that she gave me something. And if she’s giving me something this way, she thinks somebody is watching. Ben let his hand drop to his side and hoped his posture was natural looking.
“—I thought the thing with flattening the ball was very imaginative, and I was wondering—”
He had to get to his quarters and find out what was on the card. Though he’d also like to just stay here and look at her for a couple of days. It was very hard for him to concentrate on Seha’s words.
“—if you’d mind if I, you know, sort of stole your technique for my next session.”
About forty different answers roared in to clog up Ben’s brain. Sure. You’re really cute. If you’re still doing these exercises, are you a late starter like me? Your accent is very undercity, but you talk like you’ve been educated.
How would Jacen answer her question?
That last thought allowed Ben to clear his mind. He’d analyze her question, instantly figure out the consequences, and be very cool about it.
“I’d be, um—” What was the word? “—flattered.” But before the last word left his lips, a possible consequence occurred to me. “But you probably don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?” She didn’t seem offended, just curious.
Ben gestured at the doorway. “The droid has a learning program. He’ll be coming up with or requesting new programming to counteract a ball-flattening tactic. So if you do that, you also need to figure out what he’ll do then, and be prepared for that, too.”
“Good point. I’ll do that. You’re smart, too.”
Too? In addition to what?
“I was wondering about your braid.” She pointed to the narrow braid of hair that dangled from his scalp, especially obvious when contrasted with his buzz cut. It was now draped across his shoulder. “That’s kind of old-fashioned, isn’t it? Does the order still do that somewhere?”
Ben shook his head. “No, just me.” He wasn’t even sure why he’d grown it out—just to have something that was his alone, perhaps, something to set him apart from his famous parents. He wasn’t sure how to say that in a way that wouldn’t sound juvenile or egotistical. “It’s my custom.”
“I think it’s astral. Anyway, I need to get to my next lesson. It was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you.” He watched her leave, feeling as though he had to be flushing as red as her hair, and finally tucked the card she’d given him into his belt, hoping that the action would not be obvious to unseen eyes.
In addition to what?
On the walk back to his quarters, he thought about what to do.
The fact that Seha seemed to think she, or he, or both of them, would be under observation bothered him. Are Dad and Mom having me watched? That question left a sour taste in his mind. Or is someone watching Seha? But if I’m the one being watched, how do I find out what’s on the card?
Not a Temple computer. That could be monitored. Come to think of it, so could any datapad capable of transmitting and receiving. But a datapad without a comlink would be safe, if he could find one.
Or make one.
He stopped in at a playroom set aside for Rontos, students three to five years younger than Ben. There were no children or adults present, but there were games and toys scattered here and there among the cushiony chairs and other brightly colored items of furniture.
As he knew there must be, there were datapads, most of them with larger controls suited to smaller, clumsier fingers, and one of them had a privacy headset. He took it.
He stepped into a closet used to hold cleaning supplies. Standing in the narrow gap between shelves holding pungent-smelling bottles and plasteel containers, he opened the datapad and quickly stripped out its communications chip. He felt nervous doing this anywhere in the Temple, but didn’t think that, even if he was under near-constant observation, they could have put holocams everywhere. Not in a cleaning supply closet. Surely not.
In his quarters he moved his chair so that he could sit with his back to a corner. He made a slightly exaggerated show of selecting a game card from his small collection of entertainments; as he was sitting down, he palmed the game card and inserted Seha’s instead. Then he donned the headset and accessed the card.
The Galactic Alliance Guard logo came up with a brief message: SPECIAL AGENT BEN SKYWALKER, ENTER ACCESS CODE.
Ben typed in the password he used in the GAG offices to access messages and orders.
The message changed to say, SOUND MODE FOR SECURE SURROUNDINGS OR TEXT MODE F
OR PUBLIC AREAS?
He chose sound.
The screen flickered, and Jacen’s image came up. “Ben,” Jacen said, his voice a little thin over the headset speakers, “this is important. Memorize the information on this card. Replay it if necessary. Once you’re sure you have it memorized, destroy the chip. Don’t just break it, destroy it irretrievably.” He paused as if to give Ben time to absorb the gravity of his words.
Ben felt that thrill again. This is real, this is important. And … this means Seha is working with Jacen! She’s an ally!
“I need to send you on a mission,” Jacen continued.“You, specifically, because it has to be someone with the GAG’s interests, my interests, at heart, someone who is Force-sensitive, and someone who has proven that he can operate alone. That’s you or me, and I can’t leave my duties at this time. I’m sorry about interrupting your training and sorrier still that this may cause friction between you and your parents, but I’ll make them understand that this was all my doing.
“Here’s the essential core of the mission. Remember it, so that if anything goes wrong with the operational details I give you, you’ll remember what’s most important. You’re to acquire the Amulet of Kalara and secretly bring it to me.”
The image switched to a standard planetary data screen with the name ALMANIA at the top. Jacen’s voice continued, “The Amulet is on the planet of Almania, in the planetary offices of Tendrando Arms. It resides in a display case on the two hundred fifteenth floor of their office building. Security in the building is nothing special, since it’s shared by hundreds of different firms, and security on the display case is also poor, because the owner doesn’t know what he possesses.”
The image changed to a close-up view of a jewel hanging from a silver chain. The jewel was a gray oval, its surface knobby and textured rather than smooth. In the center of the face was a vertical bar of some ruby-like gem, flanked by lustrous black semiprecious stone. The effect was rather like looking at a silvery feline eye with a red, slitted pupil.
“This is the Amulet of Kalara,” Jacen continued. “Now the important thing. Ben, if this gets into the hands of a Force-sensitive who knows the secrets of its activation, we’re all in trouble. Because while such a person has it activated, he will be invisible in the Force. Even his use of the Force is invisible to other Force-users.
“Think about what that means. He’ll be like one of the Yuuzhan Vong warriors, but can be a normal person—human, Rodian, Bith, whatever. He would be a tremendous danger to your parents, the order, me, everyone and everything.
“If you find the amulet in its display case, wonderful. We’re going to give you a replacement to leave for the real thing. Mission accomplished.
“But if anyone gets his hands on it …” The image switched back to Jacen, and he was even more grave than before. “You have to assume that he knows its secret, that he’s a powerful Dark Jedi or other Force-sensitive, and that he can activate it at any moment. Ben, you have to eliminate him before he eliminates you. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
A weight settled in Ben’s stomach. What Jacen was suggesting sounded like, under the right circumstances, it could be murder. But if the amulet was what Jacen said, it had to be put in the right hands. Had to be.
“So. At any point in the next two nights, you need to visit the Temple’s fourth-level exercise changing room. Open the leftmost locker, combination six-eight-six, and retrieve the packet of clothes and items there …”
chapter nine
Clad in nondescript rust-colored garments and a hooded green traveler’s rain drape that would remind no one of Jedi robes, Ben shut the locker, hit the button to lock it again, and dropped his lightsaber into a belt pouch. He forced his shoulders down. He’d been edgy since entering the chamber, worried that someone would walk in on him as he changed, but it hadn’t happened. He’d chosen the quietest hour of the night, and had chosen correctly.
He moved to the loading slot for the laundry chute. It was large enough to accommodate the cloth bags full of dirty clothes, labeled with the names of their owners, that were delivered to the laundry facilities. That meant that it was large enough for children, too. Rumor had it that children couldn’t get through the chutes into the automated laundry facilities, but just exactly how they were prevented from descending was a mystery; apprentices who’d tried it told mutually contradictory stories of greased chutes, robot defenders with electrocuting or tickling attachments on their arms, barrel-shaped chambers that whirled offenders until they were sick, stern talkings-to, and extra chores.
Ben pulled the lever, opening the drum into which bags were to be placed, and crawled in. It was a tight fit. At thirteen, almost fourteen, he was physically just a little large for such a stunt. He used his body weight to roll the drum closed, which opened the chute access immediately beneath him. Bracing himself with arms and legs so as not to fall, he pulled out a glow rod and peered into the depths.
“That’s a chute, all right,” he said. It was a square plasteel hole leading into the depths of the Temple.
He maneuvered himself to enter the chute feetfirst and braced them against the walls. Then he focused his attention on what he was doing, calling on the Force to allow him to dictate the exact amount of friction his feet would experience against the chute sides.
And he dropped.
He did not so much fall as descend in a controlled skid. As he descended, he could see the edges of the individual plasteel panels that made up the chute.
He passed a sensor. What would it be sensing? he wondered. Nothing right now—Seha or some other ally of Jacen’s would have disabled it.
Below him, he saw discolored patches along the chute sides. He increased the friction to slow down and descended past them at the pace of a crawling insect.
On one side was a panel with a hinge at the bottom. He poked it as he passed, and it swung freely open, then shut again.
Directly opposite it was inset a small but ordinary repulsor unit, the sort one might find on the bottom of a hover-chair or hovergurney.
He nodded. That made sense. The sensor had to detect density or mass. If something dropped by that was too dense—boys and girls being made of denser materials than bags full of laundry-then the repulsor would kick on, shoving the child into a side chute, probably sending him or her to a holding cell and notifying the appropriate Masters in charge of punishment, lectures, and chores.
Ben slid on past and picked up the pace.
Below was a small square of light, and it was getting larger. The end of the chute. Ben skidded to a silent stop when he was still two meters above it.
Warm air rose past him, and he heard the hum and clank of machinery. Three meters below the end of the chute was a smooth, wear-darkened permacrete floor with several gray laundry bags lying in a pile.
As Ben watched, a wheeled wagon rolled into view, pushed by a nondescript silver-white droid. The droid picked up the bags, tossed them in the wagon, and then pushed the conveyance out of sight.
Extending his senses through the Force, Ben could detect the droid’s movement, but he could feel nothing else moving in the immediate vicinity. He dropped the remaining five meters, rolled as he hit the permacrete, and came silently up on his feet.
In one direction, the droid’s retreating back; in the other, no observers. Either way, he was looking at an undecorated access corridor, machinery or storage crates piled here and there against a wall; often there was nothing concealing the drab grayness of the surfaces. The glow rods mounted in the ceiling, widely separated and offering only low light, created an even more dismal appearance.
Per Jacen’s instructions, Ben turned right and dashed silently in that direction. Soon enough, the main corridor made a ninety-degree turn to the left, but there was a door in the wall there; heavy metal with an imposing-looking durasteel rim, it was labeled EMERGENCY EVACUATION ACCESS. USE ONLY IN TIMES OF EMERGENCY. TEMPLE SECURITY WILL BE ALERTED.
Only in times of emergency. Well, th
e whole galaxy was facing a time of emergency. Ben shoved at the metal panel that constituted the mechanical opener, to be used in times of power failure, and he felt his shoulders hunch up again as he unconsciously anticipated an activated alarm.
But none came. Seha had done her job well. The door swung smoothly into a very short permacrete corridor, unlit, and there was an identical door at the far end, five meters away.
Ben responsibly shut the first door behind him, making sure that it latched into place. He might be disobeying the wishes of his father, but that was no excuse for exposing the Jedi Temple to possible intrusion by an enemy. The order had enemies, like the woman his father kept mentioning, Lumiya.
The second door also opened without activating an alarm, but sound washed over Ben anyway, and warm, heavy air—it was raining, individual drops pinging off a surface over his head. In the moments before his eyes adjusted he could see the lights of traffic streams to his right, but they were broken up, somehow disconnected. He doused his glow rod and shut this door, too.
When his eyes did adjust, he found that he was in a strange durasteel framework, long and narrow like a corridor. The floor and ceiling were metal sheeting, but the sides were mostly vertical metal bars with very narrow gaps between them. Through the gaps to the left, he could see only dressed stone, probably the Temple exterior; to the right was darkness and Coruscant cityscape.
Quietly, he moved toward the end of this pseudo-corridor and could feel it sway slightly under his feet. And at the end, its purpose became evident. There he found a stand-up-set of mechanical controls—several sets of wheels to spin. It took him only a few moments to work out their functions.
This was a telescoping access. One wheel would cause it to stretch out to its maximum length, and as it extended, the metal bars all along its length would thin out. Other wheels allowed the controller to change the angle at which it was attached to the Temple—up, down, right, left. Thoughtful use of the controls would allow its operator to place the end at some lower level on the Temple building or stretch out toward a traffic lane, enabling rescue speeders to pick up those fleeing the building in time of fire or invasion.
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