Jesmin lay flat on her back with a face full of wiring. Her legs stuck out from beneath the console, one perfectly normal, the other still half-encased in a bacta-filled cast that covered most of her thigh. It was clunky but she seemed to get around for the most part. She said the pain from the stab wound itself was pretty minor so long as she didn't put too much weight on it, which was why she'd spent most of the day hobbling around on a thin plasteel crutch.
The rest of the time she was like this. It was enough to make Scut feel almost-grateful for the ministrations on his own leg wound.
After Jesmin fused the last breaker, she scooted out from beneath the console and sat upright. The interior of the long-range communications station at the base of the transmission tower was filled with a mix of techs: Alliance, Imperial, and Ferroan. There were no Yuuzhan Vong in this den of advanced technology except for the one crouched in front of her right now.
"Done?" Scut asked.
"Done." Jesmin picked her crutch of the ground and fumbled to get up. Scut rose to his feet, extended a hand, and helped pull her up. Jesmin wobbled and leaned on the crutch.
"You're lucky," she grunted. "You got better fast."
Scut glanced at his own leg. The Yuuzhan Vong thing that had been attached there had been removed just an hour ago and he was surprised by how easily and painlessly he was moving, despite the fact that he'd broken a bone and all Jesmin had suffered was a flesh wound. He probably owed Kodra Val some gratitude.
"Lucky," Scut said, "Isn't quite the word I'd use."
"Okay, okay," Jesmin admitted. "But you're back in action. Ready to roll."
"I'm not sure where we're rolling to." Scut looked around the busy station.
Drikall was speaking with some grey-haired Ferroan engineer while Sharr was talking to the Magister and a pair of Imperial techs on loan from Vindicator. Huhunna was apparently outside, putting her Wookie tree-climbing skills to use by scaling the hundred-meter-tall transmission tower and checking for damage. She, too, had healed fast.
"They don't really need us," Jesmin admitted. "I mean, Huhunna is useful, but the rest of us aren't top-notch communication techs. We're just busy hands."
"It's what they need to get this place up and running," said Scut.
"Yeah, I know. I just wish I could do something besides hobble on a crutch and fuse wires together."
"And get stabbed by a Sith. Don't forget that part."
"Kinda hard to." Jesmin sighed. "I wish we'd have brought Thaymes with us."
"I don't," Scut grunted.
Jesmin frowned. "He is our comm wizard."
"He also can't stop making stupid jokes. Besides, they needed him to fix the long-range transceiver on Starless."
"I hope they're okay. All of them."
Scut knew she was worried about everyone, but Myri Antilles especially. Jesmin had known Myri since they were five years old, and it would be particularly cruel to lose her old friend, get her back, then lose her again days later.
"I think this is where the Jedi tell us to trust the Force," Scut said.
"Well, right now we've got one Jedi MIA and the other two up and left in the middle of the night."
Scut looked at her but he said nothing.
Jesmin sighed. "No, I didn't suddenly unlock extra-special Jedi powers since coming here." She gave the cast on her leg a soft whack. "If I did, I wouldn't have gotten by butt kicked by a Sith, would I?"
She tried to make a joke of it, but Scut could see her disappointment. She clearly didn't want to dwell on it, so she asked, "What about you? I know you've learned all sorts of new things since coming here."
"It's overwhelming," he admitted. "The knowledge here, the thing I learned just from a few conversations with Qelah Kwaad and Kodra Val, are so beyond the textbook sum-maries I've been working with in the Alliance. It's like having everything you ever wanted, right at your fingertips, and you can't decide what to grab first."
"Well, well," she smiled, "Sounds like somebody's in love."
"No I'm not. This place is still very alien, culturally." Suddenly embarrassed, he shook his head. "It's just... well, no. Never mind."
"C'mon, what is it? What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking..." He hesitated. "Once this is all over, I might want to stay here."
Jesmin didn't seem surprised. Scut had always had a complicated relationship with his birth race, at once fascin-ated and appalled, and Zonama Sekot presented him with all the bio-technological wonders of the Yuuzhan Vong, but with a tamed version of their often-savage culture.
"I'm glad," she smiled a little melancholy smile. "Have you talked to Voort about it?"
"Haven't had time." He shook his head. "But let's be honest. The Wraiths will adapt without me. It's always been a rag-tag unit. It draws different skills from a whole collection of misfits and it's usually a miracle the squad works together as well as it does."
"Sounds about right," Jesmin admitted.
"Hey, what are you two standing around, looking all thoughtful for?" Sharr's voice clapped behind them.
They both spun around and stiffened to attention. Scut said, "Sorry, boss. I won't try to be thoughtful, ever again."
"Good," Sharr nodded. "Never think too hard. It makes your brain hurt."
"Where did the Magister go?" Jesmin asked. She didn't see the blond woman anywhere in the comm center.
"She had to take a private call," Sharr shrugged.
"Is Huhunna still out there, climbing around?" Scut asked.
"Yes, and I think she's enjoying it. But she won't for much longer. We've got another storm on its way."
Jesmin sighed. Ever since the jump to hyperspace, Zonama Sekot's weather patterns had gotten erratic. The temperature had risen, then tumbled almost to freezing point, then looked set to rise again with this new storm.
"How does it look?" Scut asked. "Do you think we can broadcast soon?"
"Everything looks good so far. And unlike the engines, we don't have to rely on the whims of the planet to pump out of beacon. So the techs say, anyway."
It sounded like good news, but Sharr didn't look enthused.
Jesmin asked, "What is it?"
"Well, there's a tricky part," Sharr planted his hands on his hips. "You see, we don't know where we are. Somewhere in the Unknown Regions, but we still can't match the stars in the sky with anything in our charts. Which means that even if Trinity Fleet is still where we left them, we don't know where that is."
"So you'll send a broad-range signal," Scut said. "Are you afraid it won't be powerful enough?"
"Oh, this thing is powerful," Sharr said. "That's actually kind of the problem."
"I don't understand," Jesmin frowned.
"We're sending out a big burst of noise," Scut told her. "It'll be loud enough for anyone to hear for hundreds of lightyears. Anyone, not just Trinity."
"But I thought it was encrypted."
"The message is encrypted, but they'll still hear the signal," Sharr said. "They'll be waiting for it, and they'll be able to trace its source pretty easily."
"So in other words, when we turn that thing on, every-body's going to come rushing our way."
"Exactly. So we'd better hope and pray Trinity Fleet gets here before Daala or True Honor."
"What about the planet?" asked Scut. "It already defended itself once."
"The Magister is... uncertain whether it'll do it again." They fixed Sharr with inquiring stares, but he just shrugged. "Sorry, I don't get to speak to living planets. Way outside my rank and privilege."
"We don't have rank," Jesmin reminded. "Or privilege."
"Exactly."
Scut spotted a blonde head pop out of one of the side doors. The Magister made her way directly toward them.
"Incoming, seven o'clock," he muttered.
Sharr turned around and waved the woman a greeting. Danni Quee gave Scut and Jesmin short nods, then told them, "I'm going to be going now. I'm needed at the village."
"You sure you can beat the storm?"
"Our fliers are fast. However, I recommend you pull everyone from outside duties. We don't know how fierce this one will be."
"No problem. Safe flying."
The Magister nodded and went for the door. Sharr turned back to Scut and Jesmin, shrugged again, and said, "See, I'm just a middle man. A peon, if you will."
"Nobody ever takes us seriously," Jesmin shook her head.
"It would really be better if we had rank. And privilege."
"You bet. I want a uniform. They'll take us seriously then. I want boots and rank badges. And a squad insignia with an Ewok on it."
"And epaulets. Don't forget epaulets. And a cape. And maybe a neat little hat. With a ribbon on top."
"Yeah, they'll really take us seriously then."
Scut rolled his eyes and groaned. "Please stop talking like Thaymes."
-{}-
Rain was already starting to fall as the Magister's nimble flier settled down over the landing field. When she stepped outside, spray blew in Danni Quee's face on gusts of hot wind. She looked to the west and saw dark clouds billowing high in the sky. Lightning sparked and echoed deep within the clouds, and thunder rolled across the open field.
She went hurriedly for the edge of the landing zone. Waiting for her were a pair of Ferroans flanking a figure whose thin, hunched shape was mostly shrouded by the cloak he wore. Though a hood was pulled over his head, it bulged with the turban Harrar wore over his head to signify his rank as a priestess of Yun-Harla.
With wind blowing and a storm approaching, there was no reason for the priest to come out and greet her personally, but Danni was not surprised that he had. Despite his age and infirmities, Harrar maintained an active life and frequently consulted with her over all manner of topics.
Not for the first time, Danni thought to the horrible days she had spent captive in the ice-tunnels of Helska 4. Her first experience with the Yuuzhan Vong had been horrifying, and she'd have never believed it possible that, twenty years later, she would be their leader, and their high priest would be her greatest friend.
"Welcome," Harrar said as Danni got close. He extended both hands she took them firmly, squeezing them by the wrists. "Was your flight safe?"
"A little windy, but we were okay," Danni glanced over her shoulder at the looming storm-clouds. "Come on. Let's get inside."
"Of course," Harrar said, and took one hand away. The other shifted so that he held on to her arm as they followed the downhill trail leading into the village.
"I tried to come as soon as you called," Danni explained. "There was a little delay getting the flier prepped."
"It is all right," Harrar said. "They are waiting for you in your daumutek."
"They," she repeated. "Can you explain who they are exactly? Did Jaina and Tahiri come back? Did they find Ben?"
Harrar's head wagged from side to side. "They did not go to find Ben Skywalker."
Danni frowned. When the two of them had woken her up an hour before dawn and begged for a flier, she'd assumed that they had somehow located Ben Skywalker. Perhaps Sekot had told them, or perhaps they had used the Force to locate him themselves somehow. Danni didn't know if it was possible, but she didn't rule it out.
The years when Danni thought she could be a Jedi were long behind her. Despite being on Zonama Sekot for over a decade, she was still a novice in the Force, and she always would be. Acceptance of that fact had been bittersweet, but necessary. She was old enough to have plenty of regrets, but plenty of things she was proud of too. Most of the time, the latter outnumbered the former and she was okay with that.
The wind started to come in earnest as they moved through the village lanes. Yuuzhan Vong and Ferroan alike scampered for cover. Lances of water fell down hard, pounding at her covered shoulders. When they reached her daumutek, the two Ferroan escorts moved beneath exterior awnings, letting Danni and Harrar go into her quarters alone. It felt wrong to leave them out in the rain, but Harrar nudged her forward, a little impatient. Whatever was going on, she was about to find out.
She stepped into her quarters and Harrar followed. The priest pulled back the hood of his cloak while Danni brushed some of the water off her jacket. At the far end of the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor in a low domed alcove, were three figures, two on the sides facing the one in the middle. To the left was Tahiri, to the right Jaina. In the middle was a male human, brown-haired, head bowed. Though she could not see his face, the shape of his shoulders and the color of his hair reminded her of a young man she'd first met almost twenty years back, in the ice caves of Helska 4.
"Is it you, Sekot?" she asked. The living world had barely spoken to her lately, despite the mounting crises she faced. She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel resentment, but she'd forgive Sekot in an instant if it would help her now.
But the figure said, "No. It's not."
He lifted his head. It was Jacen Solo, yes, but neither the Jacen Solo she remembered, nor the Jacen-simalucrum Sekot sometimes spoke through. This Jacen looked older by a decade or more. His eyes were sunken and his pale skin seemed drawn down by gravity. Even with her limited Force senses, she could feel this man blazing like a bonfire.
She stared. There was no sound save the pounding of rain on her roof.
"Hello, Danni." The man gave a tired smile. "I never thought I'd see you again."
She froze three meters away from the Jedi. She knew Sekot had summoned the ghost of Mara Jade Skywalker, but she'd never imagined such an appearance could be so vivid. She'd heard Force-ghosts described as blue blurs, but Jacen seemed as real as Jaina or Tahiri. He even cast a shadow.
"I'm not a ghost," he told her. He put out both hands and rapped his knuckles on the floor. She noticed for the first time that he had metal stun cuffs on his wrists.
"I don't understand," Danni looked to Tahiri, then Jaina. Both women wore grim expressions, but through the Force she could sense the same swarm of emotions she felt.
If anything, theirs was a worse storm. Danni had known Jacen was dead for years, but had only recently come to understand that he had not died heroically, as she'd assumed, but had been killed by his own sister after becoming a murderous Sith lord.
Until a few days ago, Jacen Solo had been one of those regrets she could work around. Then he'd become a source of bitter pain. She couldn't help but wonder she could, in some small way, have done something differently that would have prevented his awful fate. And now he was sitting in her living room, looking up at her with a slanted Solo smile and unhappy eyes.
"I don't understand," she repeated. When the Jedi didn't reply she looked at Harrar. "How did this happen?"
"The ways of the Gods are beyond me," the priest said. "However, it seems they have seen fit to return a hero."
Jaina snorted at the word but said nothing. She couldn't even look at her brother, though he was sitting right beside her. Danni's heart went out to the woman; whatever pain and confusion she was feeling must be nothing compared to what Jaina was going through.
"I'm not a hero," Jacen said. "Maybe I was, once, but I stopped being one a long time ago."
"I've stopped trying to understand how Sekot does things," Danni said. "I'm still trying to figure out why. But that might be stupid too."
"Don't," Jacen said softly. "Why is the most important thing."
"No it's not," Tahiri said. "With why you can justify anything."
Jacen nodded acceptance. "You're right. You can. I have." He fixed his eyes on Danni. "I guess they've told you everything about me. I won't bother to deny it. I've been a lot of things, but never a liar."
Jaina snorted again, though this time it sounded more like a growl.
"All right," Jacen admitted. "I'm a liar, a murderer, and a traitor. I'm probably the last being who deserves a second chance at life, but that's what Sekot's given me and I don't intend to waste it."
His voice was soaked in bitterness and self-loathing, but also with a kind of acceptance, as though Jacen was okay with all the awful things he'd done, all the pain he'd delivered to his loved ones. As though all the terror he'd wrought had been justified.
The Jacen she'd known had been curious and caring. He'd shied away from physical violence and had always sought peaceful solutions to every problem. He'd also been restless, always seeking new ways to experience the Force and grow closer to the deeper truths of the universe.
This was not the Jacen she'd known, the one she'd come close to loving. This man was a stranger in Jacen's shell, and seeing him broke her heart. She wished he had stayed dead, so she wouldn't have to look in those haunted eyes. She felt even more pain for Jaina and Tahiri, for they had been forced to watch as the Jacen she'd known had become the Jacen in front of her now.
"What are you going to do?" It was a struggle to keep her voice from wavering. She felt like she was going to weep.
"There is a man coming to Zonama," Jacen said. "All the pain I've wrought is nothing compared to what he's going to bring. Everything I've done has been to stop him."
"Is he a Sith?"
Jacen nodded. "For a long time he was a phantom that haunted dreams. But now he is real, and he is coming here. And I am going to stop him, once and for all."
Danni swallowed. She'd just been told that when they fired up the beacon to summon Trinity Fleet, they'd most likely summon Daala and True Honor as well.
"Can you protect Zonama Sekot?" she asked. She was still Magister, even if Sekot wouldn't speak to her, and she had a duty to protect her people.
"Even if it kills me," Jacen said. "I love this place more than anyone."
Love. It was not the word she expected from a man who had brought so much evil. But she could see in the intensity of his expression that yes, he did love this place, and was willing to die to protect it. In that sense, he still resembled the Jacen she had known.
"Do you know how yet?"
Jacen shook his head. "Sekot says it can only keep my body and spirit paired when I'm on Zonama. If I try to leave the planet, I'll fade away again."
"That means the Sith are coming here," Jaina spoke at last. "And we have to be ready for them."
"How?" Danni asked. "We have hardly any weapons on Zonama."
"What about the warrior caste?" Jacen asked.
"A lot of them are with the rogue Yuuzhan Vong fleet, working with the Sith," Tahiri said. "But there are still some here, especially the ones who worship the new god, the Ganner. They're very pro-Jedi."
Amusement broke through Jacen's stern mask. "The Ganner?"
"That's right," Tahiri nodded. "There's another cult based on Yu'shaa, or as we knew him, Nom Anor."
Something flicked across Jacen's face, a tender memory, softening it further. "Ganner died for me. I'll try to do right by his legacy."
"So is this what you intend?" Harrar asked. "To raise an army and fight against the Sith?"
"Unless someone has another option," Jacen looked at the two Jedi.
"Sekot defended itself a few days ago," Jaina said. "It struck out with the Force and destroyed an attacking fleet."
"Could it do so again?" Jacen asked intently.
Again Danni had a painful reminder of the young man who'd once begged Sekot not to fight the Yuuzhan Vong with physical violence.
"You'll have to ask Sekot," Jaina said simply.
Jacen pondered that. His expression went back to harsh, cold, calculating, and very determined. This was not the man Danni had known, but she felt like she could trust him with her life. A look at Tahiri and Jaina showed they did not feel the same way, probably because they had seen first-hand what this new Jacen was capable of.
"Sekot isn't always... forthcoming," Danni said. "Right now we'll have to make plans without its guidance."
She heard Harrar intake breathe, like he wanted to argue on Sekot's behalf, but the priest said nothing.
Danni said, "We've just about repaired the beacon that will call Trinity Fleet back to us. However, there's not way to keep the Sith or Admiral Daala's fleet from picking up the signal."
"Daala's out there too?" Jacen frowned. "Is she working with the Sith?"
"Daala wants to exterminate all Yuuzhan Vong," Jaina said. "And she's no friend of the Sith either."
"Interesting," Jacen grunted, like he was already considering some alliance with the old hawk-bat.
"The point is, we need a plan of defense," Jaina said. "We don't know which fleet will get here first, so we can't rely on Jag to keep Daala off our backs."
"Jag?" Jacen blinked. "Jagged Fel?"
"Commander of a joint Alliance-Imperial-Chiss fleet," Jaina said. "Also, my husband."
"Husband," Jacen repeated, and his stern mask wavered. His voice cracked as he said, "Congratulations."
"Thank you." Jaina's voice was brittle. She still couldn't look at him.
"If Sekot won't help us defend ourselves, it's going to be difficult," Danni said. "We have plenty of ships, including a lot of spacefaring shuttles, but none of them have weapons attached."
"Then we fight them on the ground," Jacen said.
"Not if they try and pound us from orbit," Tahiri said.
"No," Jacen said firmly, "The Dark Man is coming here. Sekot can feel it. Otherwise it wouldn't have summoned me."
"You could end up fighting him on the burnt-out corpse of a dead world," Jaina said.
"If that's what I have to do, then I'll do it."
The cold, ruthless determination in his voice made Danni shudder. At some moments she could almost believe the Jacen she'd known was lurking behind that pale angry mask, but then he'd go and say something like that.
"This would all be much easier," she said, "If Sekot would tell us what it's thinking."
"Be patient," said a voice behind her. Everyone spun to see a small boy with shaggy dirty-blonde hair standing in front of the closed door. Nobody dared speak, and Danni realized that the rain had stopped pounding on the roof.
"Sekot," Jacen said. "I'm glad you're here. We need your help."
"And I need yours," the boy looked straight past Danni, as though Jacen were the only thing in the room that mattered. He likely was.
"I told you, I'll do everything I can to protect this place," said Jacen firmly.
"I trust that," the boy said "But I want to talk to you about other things too."
Jacen spread his hands as much as the stun cuffs would allow. "Then take a seat and we'll talk."
"No," the boy shook his head. "I want to talk alone."
"Should we leave?" asked Harrar, reverence in his voice.
"You don't have to. I'd like to take Jacen for a walk."
Jaina stiffened and put a hand on one of her lightsabers. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"What am I going to do?" Jacen asked pointedly. "Where do you think I can run?"
"I don't know. You're always full of surprises."
"He may escape you, but he can't escape me," Sekot said. "Please, Jaina. Trust me if you can't trust your brother."
Jaina stiffened, and her face twisted in a bitter scowl, but she relented.
"Take him then. He's yours."
"Thank you," Jacen said curtly.
He unfolded his legs and rose to his feet. As he walked for the door he passed Danni. Their eyes met and for a moment the cruel determination left his eyes.
"For what it's worth," he said, "It's good to see you. I'm glad you and Harrar are okay."
Just for a moment, she sensed his honest concern. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She looked away and closed them, and listened to Jacen's footsteps as he went out the door, stepped through, and closed it tight behind him.
She looked up. An ominous silence hung in the room and no one would meet each other's eyes.
"Oh, Jaina," Danni groaned. "I am so, so sorry."
"Don't feel sorry for me," Jaina said grimly. "Feel sorry for Mara and the other people he killed."
"I feel sorry for him," Tahiri said softly, mostly to herself. "Sorry for what he used to be."
To that, no one dared object.
-{}-
The rain had just barely stopped. The earth remained damp and slippery beneath his feet, and the rich scent of ozone still hung in the air. As Sekot led him into the forested hills surrounding the village, strong winds would rustle the tree overhead, shedding sprays of water from bora leaves that tickled his face. The air itself was humid and comfortably warm, and thick with all the forest's smells of growth and decay.
The sensations of the natural world were astonishing to Jacen, who had forgotten them a long time ago. Every droplet of water that splashed on his cheek felt a slightly different, and he tried to savor every touch. Every branch, twig, and leaf that scratched his skin or poked through the legs of his jumpsuit was startlingly different.
Of course, Sekot had not pulled him out of the daumutek just so he could enjoy nature.
"Are you taking me somewhere specific?" he asked the boy walking ahead of him.
"We're just about there," Sekot said.
Water did not seem to darken the boy's tunic or cling to his hair, and he left no footprints behind in the mud. Just a moment ago, Sekot had given itself form and become visible to Harrar, but now it seemed to have dropped that form and remained image only, without Jacen sensing a thing. It was just another example of the living world's incredible power, and he felt humbled by it.
They passed through a cluster of thick brush, which Jacen did his best to push aside with both hands still bound. He thought about asking Sekot to unshackle him- it surely could if it wanted- but decided against it. It would only increase the distrust between himself and Jaina, which was already too high. Not that he blamed anyone but himself for that.
After he cleared the brush he saw the boy sitting on a large boulder and facing the lake spread out beyond. Jacen walked up to the boulder and looked out across the water. The surface was largely still, though a few occasional waterdrops sent rippled across a face that otherwise acted as a perfect mirror of the overcast, cloudy sky above.
"Is this it?" he asked.
The boy nodded buy kept watching the water.
Jacen looked around. He saw a few trees rustle in the distance, probably with the weight of birds or small mammals. Otherwise, the lake and the clearing were peaceful and still.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Sekot said, "I killed a lot of people recently. I'm not sure how I feel about that."
The words sounded so strange from the mouth of a young boy, but they were in fact those of something much older, stranger, and more powerful.
He wanted to tell Sekot killing was never easy, but that was wrong. Toward the end of his life, Jacen had gotten very used to killing. He'd killed Lieutenant Tebut, one of his best officers, in front of his entire crew. He'd snapped the neck of Prince Isolder, a good man he'd admired and considered almost a father-in-law, with barely any thought. He could only imagine how much Tenel Ka hated him for that, on top of everything else he'd done to her.
So instead he said, "You did what you had to. It was justified."
"Was it?" the boy looked at him. Those green eyes seemed so sensitive, so vulnerable, so human. "Because I think I may have to do it again."
"You'll be protecting yourself and the people you love. There's no shame in that."
"I remember you told me something very different once."
"That was a long time ago."
"You were afraid I would fall to the dark."
"Light and dark are meaningless distinctions. You exist beyond them. You touch a more unifying version of the Force."
The boy looked skeptical. "And you?"
"I have... done things traditionalists would consider part of the dark," he admitted.
"And did it make you better?"
"It made me stronger," he said firmly.
"But did it make you better? Did it make you happier? Did it make you love deeper, feel more strongly? Did it bring you any closer to touching the Unifying Force?"
"No," he admitted. "But I learned I never could, not again. I accepted that. And I realized I had to do something else with the powers I had. I needed to use them to help the galaxy instead of just myself. The Sith offered me a path I hadn't found any place else."
"And so you turned yourself Dark to save the galaxy and defeat your Dark Man?"
"Yes. Exactly. I did it because only I could, no one else."
"Is the galaxy saved? Did you defeat your Dark Man?"
Sekot already knew the answer, and the boy's voice held soft condemnation. Jacen felt an unexpected spike of shame and looked away.
"At least I tried," he said, and knew it was a weak excuse. "The Jedi huddled in their temple and prayed while the galaxy fell apart, because the situation didn't fit their easy views on right and wrong. Someone had to save things."
"You saved nothing, Jacen Solo. Not even yourself."
That was a different voice: Soft, sly, feminine, and familiar. Jacen's heart pounded in his chest and he looked at the rock. The boy was gone. He looked out across the lake and saw it standing with three-toed feet resting on the motionless surface of the water. Its feathered body rested on reverse-articulated legs and two teardrop-shaped eyes looked at him with deep curiosity.
He saw it, and he felt her. The sensation made him stagger a step back. This was not another of Sekot's projections standing on the water before him.
It was Vergere herself.
He stared, and she stared back. He had no idea what to say. He'd wished he could speak with his mentor countless times since her death on Ebaq 9. During his transformation into Darth Caedus he'd been half-convinced she was talking to him, though they could just as well have been the mutterings of his own addled mind.
Now she was in front of him and he was speechless.
When she spoke, her voice was very sad. "In the story of your life, was this your best ending?"
Her disappointment hurt him more than Jaina's glares, Tahiri's scowls, Danni's withheld tears.
He said, "I did what you taught me to do. I embraced my pain, I used my anger, all to save the galaxy. I was your gardener, cutting out the weeds so the flower could grow. What did I do wrong?"
"Do you really need to ask that?" she said.
"I know I did things, awful things. I'm not proud of what I did to Mara, and Ben, and Tahiri. But my cause, my goal, was right. It was what you made me to be all those years ago."
"I did not die just so you could burn half the galaxy, be killed by your sister, and leave a giant mess behind," Vergere snapped.
"I don't understand," he protested. He felt like a scolded child, which was shameful, but he couldn't help it. "Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this what you and Lumiya spent so much time planning for?"
Vergere's crest flared, bright red feathers jutting up to a lead-gray sky. "Lumiya? You mean your Sith master?"
"Of course," he said, even more confused. "You and she planned my ascension, together. You both made me-"
Vergere shook her head, suddenly sad. "Oh, Jacen. Were you that desperate to believe?"
"Desperate? Desperate for what?"
"More," Vergere said. "Always, you have sought out more. Greater powers, vaster knowledge, a deeper connection with the Force that transcends all the boundaries laid down by the Jedi. It's been your greatest strength and greatest weakness."
"Lumiya lied to me, then?" He felt shock deep inside, and knew he shouldn't. Even when he'd been trained by Lumiya he'd distrusted her every word, and even tried to kill her. After she'd sacrificed herself for him, so like Vergere, he'd come to miss her, even accept her more specious statements as fact.
Vergere's feathers fluttered as she sighed. "I did meet Lumiya. That much of what she told you was true. After the death of my master Elan, but before I returned to the Yuuzhan Vong, I sought out Force-users not connected with the Jedi Order, ones who might provide a different perspective on the war. I spent some time with Lumiya, who had herself a fleet to combat the invaders. I found her curious, but very sad."
"Sad?" Jacen could think of many words for the Dark Lady of the Sith, but that didn't leap to mind.
"Sad," Vergere nodded. "A being more machine than woman, and twisted so much by her loss she no longer understood the reason behind her actions. She told me of her plans to bring down Luke Skywalker's Jedi Order. She thought you and your brother both likely candidates. That, I admit, is where I first learned of you."
She sighed again. "But she was too broken, as I said, both in body and mind. I decided she would not suit my purpose, so I left her to her own devices and sought you out."
"Your purpose?" Jacen echoed. "And what would that have been?"
"You already know, Jacen. I spent fifty years among the Yuuzhan Vong, and in half a century I could not solve their mystery. If I, with my Jedi training, couldn't do it, I knew I would need help from someone different. Unique. Someone who could be both my student, and my teacher."
"Me," Jacen said.
"You," she nodded.
Jacen stared at her, at the still lake-water, at the billowing dark clouds overhead. It was true that, in claiming to be Vergere's partner, Lumiya had laid the first stepping stone for Jacen's path toward Sith-hood. Not only had it touched on his love for his dead mentor, but it had fed his desire to be part of something bigger, greater, more.
But if experience had shown he could not trust Lumiya, it had also shown he could not trust Vergere.
"Everything I tell you is a lie," he repeated her maxim.
"And the truth," she said.
Jacen felt like laughing and crying at once. Maybe Vergere was lying now, and Lumiya had spoke true. Maybe it was the other way around. Maybe both were lying. He felt lost in a swirl of possibilities, and he couldn't decide if any were more or less terrible than the next.
One truth that stood out now, against everything Lumiya and Vergere had ever told him. In the story of his life, Darth Caedus was not the best ending.
"I tried to do what was right," he said weakly, falling back on his old refrain. It sounded sick, even to him. "Everything I did was for the good of the galaxy, everything. Even killing Mara, torturing Ben, twisting Tahiri, all of it."
She shook her head sadly. "What happened to the curious young man, the one who wanted to learn every aspect of the Force? When did you become a fanatic?"
Maybe that was the most important question of all. Somewhere on his journey from a bright-eyed animal-loving Jedi apprentice on Yavin 4 to Darth Caedus, he'd lost the sense of wonder for life he'd once had. It wasn't Anakin's death that had done that, or Vergere's teaching, or Lumiya's.
"I know," he rasped, to himself as much as Vegere's shadow.
"When?" she asked.
He swallowed. The air was wet but his throat was brittle and dry. "When I saw him. The Dark Man that's coming."
Vergere's head canted. "Describe him."
"You don't already know?"
"Death did not grant you omniscience. Why should I have gotten it?" Vergere bristled. "Tell me."
"I had a... a vision. Call it a vision. It wasn't the future. It was a metaphor of the future. I saw a man on a dark throne, surrounded by acolytes. He was human but he wore the armor of the Yuuzhan Vong. He had one red eye, like a Sith, and another blue one. And he had... tattoos, black tattoos on what I could see of his face."
"Go on," Vergere said urgently.
"I saw two people standing by his throne, one on either side. One was a man, an angry-looking man with curly blond hair. I didn't feel anything from him, but when I saw the other one I knew I had to protect her."
"Her?"
"It was Allana. My daughter. I didn't know it then, Allana didn't even exist. But I knew our fates were connected. I knew I had to protect her and it was probably going to get me killed."
He blew out a long breath. He'd carried this secret with him for many years, and he felt like he was letting go of a great burden at last. He hadn't told it to Jaina or Tenel Ka or Luke, but to Vergere he could say it.
"That was when I lost my... wonder," he said. "I knew I couldn't afford to be wide-eyed any more. I had to choose, act, and do whatever I could to stop the Dark Man."
He stared at Vergere, challenging her to find fault in his choice. Her specter stood there on the lake's mirror-surface, staring back. Finally, she pronounced, "You failed."
He opened his mouth to appeal, but could not. He'd known it ever since his last talk with Luke in the Lake of Appar-itions. Every good intention and terrible deed was rendered moot by that simple fact.
Instead of rebuking him further, Vergere sighed again and said, "I, too, am familiar with failure. And I have had to live with it, as it were, even in death."
"What do you mean?" Jacen frowned.
"Before I found you I found Lumiya," Vergere said, "But do you think she was the first?"
It stung Jacen's ego to think Vergere had possessed other apprentices. It was petty and selfish, but he had to admit it. Still, he couldn't figure out how or when. She'd spent fifty years among the Yuuzhan Vong, and surely couldn't have trained anyone then. Before that, best he knew, she was just a normal Jedi, not a Master who took on padawans.
But from her tone, her expression, he knew when wasn't the real question.
"Who?" he asked.
"A Jedi," she said. "He was a survivor of the Clone Wars, and was taken captive by Yuuzhan Vong scouting parties. They placed him in the Embrace of Pain, much like you. Only where you learned to move beyond pain, he lost himself in it. He was not a young man like you, but a Jedi Master who had great experience with anger and loss. In the end, the Embrace fed his natural rage.
"Yet I was intrigued by him. You understand, he was the first Jedi I had encountered in over a decade. Moreover, he was not the typical Jedi, all selfless nobility and stoicism. Oh no, he was a man who had unleashed all those parts of himself the Jedi taught him to hide away."
"He was a Sith?" Jacen asked, realization dawning.
"Not then. But he was fast on his way."
"The Dark Man," Jacen said.
"When I met him, he was A'Sharad Hett," Vergere pronounced, "Though he was already becoming something else. When I realized his potential for slaughter, but not understanding, I recommended the Yuuzhan Vong kill him. But of course, I was just a priestess's familiar, so they didn't listen."
"But you... trained the Dark Man."
"For a time I thought he was the one I was looking for." She shook her head. "What role I played in shaping the monster he became, I cannot say. Though I admit I may be partly responsible for his evil."
"And mine," Jacen said darkly.
"And yours," she acknowledged. "But you are not A'Sharad Hett. You had the gifts of wonder and under-standing, as well as determination and violence. And, I believe, you still do."
"No," he growled, angry at Vergere, Lumiya, Hett, himself, the universe. "The good parts of me were burned out a long time ago."
She shook her head sadly. "No. I could sense them now. You have been too far away from Zonama Sekot, and too far from life. But you do remember, don't you?"
He looked up at the sky, and felt a single, fat drop of water roll off a leaf splatter his left cheek. It left a cool, tingling sensation on his skin and he didn't try and wipe it off.
"There is always hope for redemption," Vergere said. "Even for you. Even for me. It is the most wondrous gift of the Force."
"And for the Dark Man?" he asked.
"Who can tell?" she said. "Perhaps this is something you will have to teach me."
He looked down at the shackles on his hands. Their weight and their hard metal surface were constant reminders of the crimes he'd committed, and the hatred he'd earned from everyone who'd once loved him.
"No lesson is truly learned until it has been purchased with pain," he pronounced.
"There has to be a better way," Vergere said softly.
"I never found one." Jacen said. He felt something else cool and wet on his cheek, and it was not rain.
"Neither have I," Vergere admitted. "But I hope all the pain you have been through has bought some lesson."
He looked down at the stun-cuffs, then up at the sky. "I think it has."
Vergere waited for more.
"I'm going to defend this world no matter what," he said. "And I will defeat the Dark Man, even if I have to die again. But I don't want to burn the whole planet down for that to happen. I'm willing to sacrifice myself, but not everyone else."
She said nothing, still waiting.
"Sekot is willing to strike out with the Force and destroy its attackers, but when it does, it will strike out in anger and hate. I don't want that to happen. This place, the people in it, deserve better."
"So you wish to defeat the Dark Man and protect the ones you love, without seeing them corrupted by the darkness within their own hearts?"
"Yes. And if you have any ideas how, I'm all open."
"Of course," A gentle smile blossomed on her face. "I was only waiting for you to ask."