series of widely spaced grooves for fingerholds.
A lightsaber.
"You will need this for today's training," Brakiss said, broadening his
smile. "Take it. It's yours."
Jacen's eyes widened. His hand reached forward, but he drew back, trying to
hide his eagerness. "What do I have to do for it?" he asked warily.
"Nothing," Brakiss answered. "Just use it, that's all."
Jacen swallowed and did not meet Brakiss's eyes, afraid to show how he
longed to have his own lightsaber. But he didn't want to have it in this
place, under these circumstances. "Hey, I'm not supposed to," he said.
"I haven't completed my training. Master Skywalker and I had this discussion
just a few days ago."
"Nonsense, Brakiss said. "Master Skywalker is holding you back
unnecessarily. You already know how to use one of these. Go ahead."
Brakiss extended the lightsaber handle to Jacen, moving it closer,
tantalizing him. "Here at the Shadow Academy we feel that lightsaber
skills are among the first talents a Jedi should develop, because strong,
able warriors are always needed. If a Jedi Knight is not ready to fight for
a cause, then what good is he?"
Brakiss pressed the lightsaber into Jacen's hands, and Jacen instinctively
curled his fingers around it. The weapon felt at the same time heavy with
responsibility and light with power. The finger grooves were widely spaced
for his young hand, but he would grow accustomed to it.
Jacen touched the power button, and with a snap-hiss a sapphire beam
crackled out, indigo at the core but electric blue on the fringes. He
flicked the blade from side to side, and the molten energy sliced through
the air, trailing a faint smell of ozone. He slashed back again.
Brakiss folded his hands together. "Good," he said.
Jacen whirled and held the lightsaber up. "Hey, what's to stop me from just
cutting you down right here, Brakiss? You're evil. You've kidnapped us.
You're training enemies of the New Republic ."
Brakiss laughed-not a mocking laugh, but simply an expression of wry
amusement. "You won't kill me, young Jedi," he said. "You would not cut down
an unarmed opponent. Cold-blooded murder is not part of the training Master
Skywalker gives his young trainees . . . unless he has changed his
curriculum since I left Yavin 4?"
Brakiss's alabaster-smooth face seemed exquisitely serene, but he raised his
pale eyebrows. "Of course if you do let loose your anger," he said, "and
slice me in half, you will have taken a significant first step down the dark
path. Even though I won't be here to see the benefits, the Empire will no
doubt use your abilities to great advantage."
"That's enough," Jacen said, switching off the lightsaber.
"You're right," Brakiss agreed. "No more talk. This is a training center."
"What are you going to do to me?" Jacen said, holding up the lightsaber
handle, alert and ready to switch it on again.
"Just practice, my dear boy," Brakiss said, casing toward the door. "This
room can project holo-remotes, imaginary enemies for you to fight, to help
you hone your skill with your new weapon. Your lightsaber."
"If they're just holo-remotes, why should I fight at all?" Jacen said
defiantly. "Why should I cooperate?"
Brakiss crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm inclined to ask you to indulge
me, but I doubt you would do that-at least not yet. So let us put it another
way." His voice took on a sudden hard edge, as sharp as razor crystal. "The
holo-remotes will be monster warriors. But how do you know I won't slip in
an actual creature to fight against you? You would never know the
difference, the holo-remotes are so realistic. And if you stand there and
refuse to fight, a real enemy might just remove your head from your
shoulders.
"Of course, I probably won't do that in the first session. Probably not. Or
maybe I will, to show you I'm sincere. You'll be here a long time training
in the dark side. You never know when I might lose patience with you."
Brakiss stepped out of the training chamber, and the metal doors shut behind
him with a clang.
Alone in the dimly lit chamber with its flat gray walls, Jacen waited,
tense. Except for his breathing and his heartbeat, the room was completely
silent, as if it swallowed all noise. He shifted, felt the hard Corusca gem
still hidden in his boot. He took comfort in the fact that the Imperials had
not found it and taken it away from him, but he didn't know how it could
help him now.
Jacen turned the lightsaber handle in his hands, trying to decide what he
should do. Intellectually, he was certain Brakiss was bluffing, that the man
would never send in a real murderous monster. But a part of Jacen's heart
wasn't so sure, and the slight twinge of doubt made him uneasy. Then the air
shimmered. Jacen heard a grinding sound and whirled to look behind him. A
door he had not noticed before crawled open to reveal a shadowy dungeon from
which something large and shambling scraped forward, dragging sharp claws
along the floor.
Jacen's hobby back at home had been studying strange and unusual animals and
plants. He had pored over the records of known alien races, memorizing them
all-but still it took him a few moments to recognize the hideous monster
that was now emerging from its cell. It was an Abyssin, a one-eyed monster
with greenish-tan skin, broad shoulders, and long, powerful arms that hung
near the ground and ended in claws that could shred trees.
The cyclopean creature plodded out of its cell, growled, and looked around
with its one eye. The Abyssin seemed to be in pain, and the only thing it
saw - and therefore its only target - was young Jacen, armed with his
lightsaber. The Abyssin roared, but Jacen stood firm. He held up his free
hand, palm outward, trying to use the soothing Force techniques that had
proven so successful when he'd tamed new animals as his pets.
"Calm down," he said. "Calm down, I don't want to hurt you. I'm not with
these people."
But the Abyssin didn't want to be calmed, and stalked forward, swinging its
long arms like clawed pendulums. Of course, Jacen realized, if the monster
was really just a hologram, then his Jedi techniques would be irrelevant.
The Abyssin pulled out a long, wicked club that had been strapped against
its back. The club looked like a gnarled branch with spikes on one end, with
a far longer reach than the lightsaber's. The one-eyed monster could pound
Jacen and never be touched by the Jedi blade.
"Blaster bolts!" Jacen muttered under his breath.
He flicked on the lightsaber, feeling the power of the energy blade that
pulsed in front of him with a blinding blue glow. The Abyssin blinked its
single large eye, then charged forward, its fang-filled mouth wide open. The
creature swung its spiked club like a battering ram. Jacen slashed in front
of himself with the lightsaber defensively, instinctively. The glowing blade
sliced off the tip of the club as easily as if it were a piece of soft
cheese. The spiked end clanged on the metal floor.
The monster looked at the
smoking end of its club for just a second, then
howled and charged again. Jacen was ready this time-his heart pounding,
adrenaline flowing, attuned to the Force and focused on his enemy. The
Abyssin hammered down with the club, too close for Jacen to strike with the
lightsaber. He dodged to the side, and the creature swung again, this time
with a raking handful of claws. Jacen made a dive for the floor and rolled,
holding the lightsaber at arm's length to keep from harming himself with the
deadly blade.
The Abyssin pounced on him, thrusting with the thick end of the club. But
Jacen lay on his back and held the lightsaber up, twisting his wrists to
slash the remainder of the club down to a smoldering stump in the monster's
hands, then rolled sideways to dodge the heavy wood as it fell to the floor.
The Abyssin tossed away the useless stump and yowled again, then lunged to
grab Jacen from the floor. But Jacen held the lightsaber in front of
himself, pushing it forward like a spear. The glowing tip plunged into the
descending monster's broad chest, scorching through until it disintegrated
the Abyssin's heart. With a loud and fading shriek of pain, the creature
slumped and fell forward. Jacen winced, knowing he would be crushed by the
brute-but in midair the cyclops flickered and dissolved into static, then
nothingness, as the hologram projectors shut down.
Gasping and sweating, Jacen turned off the lightsaber. The hissing energy
beam was swallowed into the handle with a descending thwoop. He stood up and
brushed himself off. As the door opened again, Jacen whirled, ready to face
another hideous enemy. But only Brakiss stood there, quietly applauding.
"Very good, my young Jedi," Brakiss said. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?
You show great potential. All you need is the opportunity to practice."
* 14 *
Lowie crouched atop the sleeping platform in his own cell, back pressed to
the corner, shaggy knees drawn up to his chest. He wallowed in abject misery
and self-recrimination; occasionally he let out a groan. How could he have
been so stupid? He had let the riptide of Brakiss's teaching draw him
further and further into his sea of anger until he had been immersed in it,
swept away by its current. Jacen had not given in. And seductive as
Brakiss's teachings were-Lowie refused to think of him as Master
Brakiss-Jaina had not succumbed to them either; she had merely stood up and
spoken for what she believed.
A growl of self-reproach rumbled deep in his throat. He alone, who had
always prided himself on his thoughtfulness-on his dedication to studying,
to learning, to understanding-had allowed himself to be influenced by the
poisonous teachings. He would have to be more careful in the future. Resist,
block out the words.
If Jacen and Jaina could stay strong, then so could Lowie. Jaina had not
given up. She said she had a plan, and he would need to be ready to do his
part when the time came to escape. Lowie drew comfort from the thought of
his friends' strength. He could resist giving in to his anger. He pounded a
furry fist against the wall at his side and bellowed his defiance. He would
resist.
As if in response to his challenge, the door slid open and two stormtroopers
stepped in, followed by Tamith Kai. Lowie wrinkled his nose, noting
something else that had entered his room uninvited: the unpleasant smell
that hung about them, an odor of darkness. The stormtroopers each carried an
activated stun wand, and Lowie guessed that they expected him to cause
further trouble.
"You will stand," Tamith Kai said.
Lowie wondered whether he dared resist. A prod from one of the
stormtroopers' stun wands answered the question for him. Tamith Kai's violet
gaze raked up and down Lowie for a moment, and then she blew out a short
breath, as if about to start a difficult task that she had set herself.
"You are not yet skilled in the ways of the Force," she said, not unkindly,
"yet you have the capacity for great anger." She nodded with approval. "This
is your greatest strength. I will teach you now to draw upon that anger, to
bring forth your full power in the Force. You will be surprised at how it
will accelerate your learning." She turned to the stormtroopers. "Remove his
belt."
Lowie put a protective hand to the glossy braids that encircled his waist
and crossed over his shoulder. He had risked his life to acquire these
fibers from the syren plant as part of his rites of passage into Wookiee
adulthood; then he had painstakingly woven them into a belt that symbolized
his independence and self-reliance.
He opened his mouth to snarl an angry objection but stopped short, realizing
that this was exactly the response Tamith Kai hoped for-to goad him into
anger. He would not be so easily fooled this time. He stood, resolute and
passive, while the stormtroopers removed the precious belt.
She motioned for him to precede her from the room. One of the stormtroopers
administered an encouraging prod. Tamith Kai's smile mocked Lowie. "Yes,
young Wookiee," she said, "your anger shall be your greatest strength."
They led him to a large, unfurnished chamber. Bright orange and red light
glared down from unfiltered glowpanels set into the ceiling. The chilled air
stank of metal and sweat. When the door slid shut with a hiss and a clang,
Lowie looked around. He was completely alone. Lowbacca stood waiting for
what seemed like hours, alert, prepared for whatever Tamith Kai might use to
provoke him. His golden eyes roved the blank walls with suspicion.
Nothing happened.
As he waited, the lights in the room seemed to glow brighter, the air to
turn colder. Finally, he sat down with his back pressed to one wall, still
wary, still watching.
Nothing.
After a long time, Lowie straightened up with a jerk, realizing that he had
been about to doze off. He eyed the walls again, looking for any changes,
and found himself wishing for even the annoying Em Teedee to keep him
awake-and to keep him company.
Sound exploded in Lowie's head, high-pitched and excruciating, awakening him
from a fitful sleep. Garish lights flashed overhead, blinding in their
intensity. Lowie sprang to his feet. Trying to focus his eyes, he looked
around for the source of the siren and pressed his hands over his ears,
groaning in pain. But he could not block out the sound that sliced into his
brain as a laser would slice into soft wood. Without warning, all sound
ceased, leaving a vacuum of silence. The glowpanels stabilized, returning to
their former level of brightness.
Tamith Kai's face appeared behind a broad transparisteel panel in the wall
that Lowie had not noticed before. Still groggy from his interrupted sleep,
Lowie threw himself against the panel in frustration.
Tamith Kai's pleased chuckle sobered him instantly. "A fine start," she
said.
Lowie backed into the center of the room and sat down, wrapping his long
hairy arms around his legs, afraid to make any further response lest he lose
his temper again.
Her ta
unting voice echoed through the empty chamber. "Oh, we are far from
finished with our lesson, Wookiee. You will stand." Lowie pressed his
forehead to his knees, refusing to look at her, refusing to move.
"Ah," the voice continued, "perhaps it is for the best. The fire of your
anger will burn brighter the more fuel I add."
The high-pitched sound drilled into his brain again, and flashing lights
assaulted his eyes. Lowie concentrated, focused his mind inside himself. He
mutely endured. The lights and sound ceased as a heavy black object fell
from an access hatch onto the floor beside him. Deep in concentration, Lowie
didn't flinch, but he looked up to see what it was.
"This is a sonic generator," Tamith Kai's rich, deep voice announced. "It
produces the lovely music you've been enjoying today." An undercurrent of
cruel amusement rippled through her words. "It also contains the
high-intensity strobe relay for the glowpanels. To complete your lesson for
the day, all you need do is destroy the sonic generator."
Lowie looked at the boxy object: it measured less than a meter to a side,
was made of a dull burnished metal with rounded edges and corner-s, and had
no handholds whatsoever. He reached for it.
"Rest assured," Tamith Kai's voice came again, "even a full-grown Wookiee
cannot lift it without using the Force."
Lowie tried to heft the object, found that she was correct. He closed his
eyes and concentrated, drawing on the Force, and tried again. The generator
hardly budged. Lowie shook his head in confusion.
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