Chapter Three

And, Student, now Teacher,

Look to the back

Of Force—painted armor

With an emblem of Black.

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For Light means hope,

And Shadow blocks Light.

The brighter the Sun,

The darker the Night.

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"Your father disappoints me," Lippa said.

"Oh?" Brenna asked, around a mouthful of Racturian seafood. She had to admit, whatever else Etan Lippa was, he was a good host. She hadn't wanted for anything by the way of comforts.

"I thought he would at least be searching for you by now," Lippa went on. "My spies tell me he's still on Coruscant."

Brenna forked another bite of the shellfish into her mouth. "I told you he wouldn't be that stupid."

"Ah, yes. After I reminded you of the exact wording of our agreement. As long as he remains a non-threat to me, I will leave him be. That, of course, would change if he were to try to take you from me."

"As I said, he's not that stupid."

"Or is it that you just don't see the alternative reason for his lack of activity?"

"What alternative reason?"

"That he doesn't love you enough to rescue you."

Brenna stopped in mid-bite. After a moment, she murmured, "You're wrong."

"Am I?" Lippa asked. "If you were mine—which you are, now—I would move worlds to get you back. Yet your father has done nothing. What other explanation could there be?"

Brenna dropped her fork, her appetite gone. "My father loves me!"

"Then why isn't he here? Why has he never given you the training you crave? I can give it to you, Brenna. I will give it to you, if you just say the word."

"My father was protecting me."

"Against what? Have you been in any danger? Have I given you any reason to fear me?"

"You kidnapped me, took me away by force."

"What a terrible pun. And you came along willingly, remember? Besides, my dear, I was merely rescuing you from an unwelcome prison, into which your father placed you." Lippa laughed. "Come, at least be honest with yourself. You didn't really enjoy the Academy, did you?"

Brenna looked away.

"Did you?" Lippa pressed.

"No," Brenna murmured. "No, I hated it."

"And every time you excelled, every time you tried to show everyone just how special you are, what did your father do?"

"He held me back," Brenna admitted.

Lippa smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Exactly," he said. "He held you back."

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"Good," Luke murmured, but without enthusiasm. "You've increased your time to almost three hours." It was the last three minutes, however, when Rupert was most exhausted, that the worst problem occurred. Luke had had to whisk Rupert away from there as quickly as he could.

Rupert was practically trembling in his arms. "So many..." he murmured. "So many impressions..."

"But you're learning to hold them off." Luke replied soothingly. He stroked the boy's head, not caring who was watching them on the public transportation. Rupert needed security right now, and until Luke could get Rupert back to Leia, he was the best source of that.

"Luke, I—" his voice trailed off.

"Yes? What is it?"

Rupert drew in a shaky breath, then pulled away. He was embarrassed—not about being held like a child, but by something else entirely. He looked straight ahead, not at his teacher, but with eyes that were haunted. "The bamors."

Luke nodded. "Yes, I know. It was feeding time for them."

"They—sweet Deities, Luke, it...you don't know what it was like."

"They're carnivores, Rupert. It's in their nature. That's what they do. Just remember that you're not one of them. It's their nature, not yours."

"But the way they...kill..."

"They provide a balance. Out in the wild, the bamors thin out overpopulated herds of risnoks. If it weren't for the bamors, the riskins‑‑‑all of them‑‑‑would starve to death from overgrazing."

"Yes, but..."

"But, what? You're not a bamor. You're not a risnok, either. You're a human being. You're on one side of the barrier, and the animals are on the other. You get to choose your behavior. They don't."

"Not when they're in a cage." Rupert was confused, shifting the source of his anxiety from what it actually was.

Luke shrugged. "Their 'cages' are as close to humans can come to providing them with their natural habitats and still be able to view them on a regular basis. And there are compensations. They get food regularly, they're in no danger of starvation, they get to live comfortably in environments specially suited to their needs, they live longer than they would in the wild—the only drawbacks are, they don't get to migrate, and they get stared at a lot, by a lot of people they can't even see."

Rupert was quiet for a moment. Luke was right. The animals were...not happy, exactly, but better off than they might be under other circumstances.

The quiet moment gave him time to calm, and he realized something. "Did you...do that on purpose?"

"Do what?"

"Plan...on purpose...to be there at mealtime."

"No," Luke replied. "Not exactly. I knew that it would happen eventually, but not that it would happen today, or with the bamors, or at the end of our visit—no, I didn't know that. But I think...tomorrow we will be there...on purpose. And I think that's probably the only thing we'll get to. So rest up. Try not to think about it. Go commune with your krail, or something."

"Do we have to? I mean, can't we...wait a while, at least?"

"We are waiting a while. We're waiting until tomorrow. Just remember, Rupert, that pet snake of yours is a carnivore. When it reaches adulthood, it's going to have to eat something besides saucers of milk. You're bonded to it. That means the feeding, when it happens, is going to be more intense than anything you might have felt today."

Rupert accepted the warning without further comment. But there was something else on his mind. "What about—what about Brenna? Can't we do something?"

Luke drew himself up straight, and had to work to keep his anger at Rupert's question under control. "I'm open to suggestions, Rupert. I've got your mother using all her connections with intelligence to try to locate Etan Lippa, and to try to round up whatever ships the fleet can spare. I spend most of the time when I'm not with you studying his attack patterns, looking for some clue to where he might be, or where he might hit next. If you have any ideas on where I can go, or what else I can do to try to find her, I would really appreciate hearing them."

"Sorry," Rupert murmured. "I'm...sorry."

It occurred to Rupert a moment later that those were the exact words of Brenna's last message to Luke, and he regretted the apology as soon as that thought registered. Luke was doing nothing except helping him, and he was returning the favor with pain.

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Brenna did a twirl in front of her audience. "What do you think?" she asked. The gown she was wearing shimmered, then changed colors.

Etan Lippa's appreciation was evident in his smile. "My dear, you are lovely."

Brenna circled again, grinning at the way the iridescent fabric floated around her and changed colors. "Where in the thousand systems did you get this dress?"

"I had it made for you, of course. It's a Pegnati original. Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it! Is it really a Peg?"

"It really is. If you love it so much, I shall have to commission more from Mr. Pegnati. But, of course, the dress cannot compare to the beauty of the one wearing it."

Brenna's clear laughter filled the room. "You know, you are nothing like I imagined you to be."

"Of course not. What little you knew about me was tainted by the perspective your father gave." Lippa stepped back to admire the view, and Brenna obligingly made another twirl. "You must wear that for dinner tomorrow night."

Brenna's expression changed to a frown. "But I...was hoping to wear it to dinner tonight."

Etan Lippa shrugged. "You may, of course, but I will not be there to enjoy it."

"Why not?"

Lippa kissed her on the cheek. "My dear, as much as I would love to do nothing more than sit and drink in your beauty over a delicious meal, alas, I must attend to business."

"Let me come with you."

Lippa smiled and shook his head. "One day, my love, I promise you will be privvy to all things. But what I have to do tonight, untrained as you are, you are not ready for."

Brenna tossed fitfully in her sleep, then woke. For a fleeting moment, she felt a shadow of a Dark Presence covering her, like a blanket, but by the time she became fully awake and ordered "Lights!" the presence was gone. The sensation was so fleeting, she almost couldn't be certain it was real, but it put her on her guard. She told the lights to dim to twenty percent, lay back down, and forced herself to relax. Then she decided to try a little experiment, something she had used with her father, a technique she had taught herself, to make her father think she was asleep when she really wasn't. After a while, the faint presence returned. She knew who it was, of course, and what it meant. Etan had returned. And this intrusion was meant to be undetectable. But apparently her awareness of it was undetectable to Etan, or he would never risk showing her this much, risk showing her how he was breaking his promise.

Interesting.

Brenna let the images wash over her and unfold, curious to know what he wanted her to see, but not letting them penetrate more than a surface level. The pictures were dark, with heavy sexual overtones. It was so predictable that Brenna almost laughed. She considered for a moment what her response should be, then decided on fear. Fear, with just a touch of excitement. Let him think she was responding in her "dream-state."

The cloud-presence seemed pleased. It lingered until Brenna decided she'd had enough. She imagined herself transitioning from a dream-state to full consciousness, and allowed that feeling to emanate. The presence vanished.

And Brenna was suddenly glad she hadn't pushed the light switch, back at the Academy.

Perhaps, after all, Etan Lippa wasn't the only one with a secret.

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Brenna came to a decision. The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was the only choice she could make. Up to now there were only two players in the game: Etan Lippa and her father. Between the two, Etan Lippa had the better position, the better pieces. Her father had only himself—and Rupert, if a novice creature—empath counted, which she doubted. She had tried to stay out of the game, like her father wanted, but Etan Lippa had drawn her into it. Like it or not, she was a player. The only question was how she would utilize the pieces she had.

Currently, the only pieces she had were herself, and Artoo, and a little gizmo she'd picked up at the Academy.

Brenna took a deep breath and started to press the buzzer, but the door opened even before she touched it.

"H—how did you know I was here?" she asked.

Etan Lippa smiled. "I felt your presence. You'll find that the Force will tell you many things. But that is why you're here, isn't it? To begin your training?"

Brenna frowned. "Yes, but…how did you know? You promised not to get in my head."

"My dear, it was inevitable that you would come to your senses. Shall we begin?"

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"You're not concentrating," Luke said.

"Should I run through my exercises again?"

Luke rubbed his forehead tiredly. "If you like. But do them on your own today, will you?"

"What's wrong?" Rupert asked. "It's not—Lippa hasn't hurt Brenna, has he?"

Luke closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. "Not physically. But I think he's found another form of revenge on me."

"How's that?"

"He's training her." Luke drew in a ragged breath and let it out again. "Sweet Force, Rupert. He's teaching her the ways of the Dark Side."

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"Here you are," Lippa said, handing her the disc.

"I want everything," Brenna said. "Every piece of information that was ever recorded about the Jedi or the Sith Lords"

"You will find that to be a complete account.

"I want everything that you know, as well."

"I am at your disposal. Simply tell me where you would like me to begin."

"Tell me what's not printed in the records."

"I will be delighted to answer any question you may ask me."

Brenna made her hand into a fist and pounded it against her leg for several seconds as she considered what to ask first. Then she said, "You knew my mother, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what she was like."

"Ah. First show me how much you've learned. Raise that table over there."

Brenna waved an impatient hand towards the indicated table. It rose two feet into the air, and wobbled there for a few seconds until she lowered it again.

"Excellent. Your mother was quite a lovely creature. She wasn't nearly as strong with the Force as your father, but she more than made up for it in other ways. She was, however, just as deceived about him as you were. I tried to rescue her, but she mistook my intentions. Her death was most unfortunate."

"What was her talent? You said every Force—sensitive has one talent that stands out from the others."

"I believe she was something of a telepath, like her father. She was able to communicate with your father telepathically, at any rate. Beyond that, I have no idea. She died before I had the chance to properly explore her abilities."

"And my father?"

"A very powerful telekinetic, and something of a telepath, himself. He may also have a little bit of sight, though not enough to matter. His father was the same, and I suspect you may have inherited some telepathic abilities in addition to the telekinesis. It is, however, too soon to know for certain."

"What about you?"

Etan Lippa smiled. "I, like my father, am a man of many talents. I am every bit the telekinetic that your father is, and more. I am also a Force-conduit. A transformer, if you will. I can take one kind of Force-energy, and transform it into another. I am also a dominant telepath, as you already know."

"So you have three dominant talents?"

"I have that honor, yes."

"If you're a telepath, tell me what I'm thinking."

"I shall take that request as permission to 'enter your head,' without breaking our agreement… My dear, your thoughts are quite unfocused. You must learn to control them, become more focused. You are primarily interested in learning about the Force. You have a thirst, which you have before not been able to slake, but now find that you may indulge in."

"What else?"

"As I said, your thoughts are too unfocused. See if you can focus them on your reading." Lippa kissed her hand, and left.

Brenna turned to her console, with a slight furrow between her brows. "My thoughts aren't as unfocused as all that," she murmured to herself.

Then she smiled.