The Legion Renewed

Chapter Two

Luke stole quietly among the shadows, keeping close to the walls of the make-shift prison. The uniform Leia had once had copied for him from historical records of the former Jedi Knights from the Old Republic was practical as symbolic. The material stretched with him as he moved, and the blackness of it hid him well.

He knew where to go, even though he had never been in this building before. The prisoner he had seen on the street had left a mental trail. Difficult to follow. Difficult, but not impossible.

The trail was left deliberately, but only a Jedi Knight could have followed it. Only a Jedi Knight could have made it.

No, that wasn't-quite-true.

Luke stopped suddenly. There were guards ahead, and he had to get to the corridor beyond. One of the guards Luke recognized: Wedge Antilles, a pilot who had fought in and survived two attacks on the Imperial battle stations called Death Stars. Luke liked Wedge, might even have called him a friend, but right now Wedge was a problem.

Ordinarily, Luke would just have gone up to Wedge and asked to be let through, but not this time. This visit was a secret and had to be kept that way. No one must know that Luke was here.

The Jedi concentrated momentarily.

One of the three guards, not Wedge, perked up. "What was that?" he asked.

"What was what?" Wedge responded.

"I heard it, too," the third guard said. "It was a scratching sound, like, I don't know, like maybe one of the prisoners is trying to dig himself out."

"We'd better check it," the first guard said.

"Hold it," Wedge said. "I didn't hear anything." He was reluctant to leave his post.

Luke concentrated again. A chair, further down the hall, raised a fraction of an inch and then dropped itself to the floor.

"There, did you hear that?"

"Yeah," Wedge said slowly, unholstering his blaster. "Let's take a look."

The three of them started down the hall, in the opposite direction from Luke. After just a few seconds, Wedge returned to the guard station.

By then, however, there was nothing to see.

Quickly, silently as a cat, Luke made his way past the cells. Every so often a prisoner would stir in his sleep, but none wakened. Finally he found the cell he wanted. This was a special cell, removed slightly from all the other cells, for it contained a special prisoner. A full Imperial colonel.

The computer-coded identity plate at the door gave Luke the name of the prisoner inside. The name made his blood run cold. It was a name that had inspired universal fear when the Empire was in power; it was a name that inspired universal hate, now. Many members of the Republic would give anything for a single shot at the owner of that name, including their lives.

Yet the words of Yoda drifted back to him across the distance of time and space: Too much by appearances do you judge things, my Young One. Heh! Too much on appearances do you rely.

Luke would wait a bit before deciding.

He looked into the cell. The Imperial soldier was stretched on the prison cot, covered by a blanket, facing away from Luke.

"I know you're awake," the young Jedi whispered softly. "Why did you summon me?"

Even though he could not see the face, Luke could sense that the prisoner smiled. "So-" the Imperial replied. "I see that you really are the son of Skywalker."

In one smooth motion, the figure pushed the covers aside, rolled out of bed, and moved into the light. "Do you know who I am?"

"Everyone knows who Brenna Brellis is," Luke replied carefully, "and how many people died on Croyus Four by her order." Now that he could see her clearly, he was struck by the truth of the rumors he had heard. She was reported to be beautiful, and she was. She was darkly beautiful, with hair as black and thick as midnight, eyes which, though not black, were a deep, rich brown. Her features were smooth and richly exotic, as if she were a native of a tropical world, lush and green instead of hot and barren, and Luke found that compellingly attractive. Yet the rumors also spoke of her heart being as black as her hair. Physical beauty was only on the surface of whatever lay underneath.

She smiled again. "Don't believe everything you read."

Luke frowned, studying the soldier before him, trying to make sense of the conflicting information his senses and his feelings were giving him. His senses told him that this was Brenna Brellis, the administrator of an Imperial death camp in which more than eight million people had died. The records showed that she had been captured on Croyus Four on a recent Allied raid; there had been no question of her identity then, and there should be none now. But his feelings-his feelings, which he trusted above all else‑‑‑told him that there was a mistake somewhere. She wasn't...who everyone thought she was.

"Who are you?" he asked finally. Then he repeated his previous question. "Why did you summon me here?"

She moved closer to him, pressing her face against the bars. "I'm a friend of the Republic. But if I don't get out of this mess-" she indicated her jail, "-I'm going to be a dead friend. I might be able to clear myself at a trial, but I doubt it. In any case, I don't think I'd live that long. There are too many people who want to see Brenna Brellis dead."

Luke nodded. "So you want to escape. And you want me to help you."

"You are a Jedi Knight. You can't refuse me."

Luke studied her for a moment, through the Force. There was truth in what she had said, but there were also hidden truths in what she had left unsaid. She had not lied; she was not responsible for the murders that had been committed on Croyus Four. But there was an intimate connection between this prisoner and the one who was.

And there was something else, too. A connection between this woman and the vision Luke had had from the night before. Something about Palpatine. Something Dark, and something...

"That's not all you want," Skywalker said softly. "Is it." He hesitated, then added, "Briande Brellis."

"Your powers are great indeed," she whispered. "Brenna is my twin sister. Like me, she feels the Force, but she's turned to the Dark Side. She must be stopped, and I can't do it without your help."

She paused for a moment, and then put her hand through the bars to Luke in a gesture of supplication. The arm to which the hand belonged was incongrously clothed in the drab olive-green of an Imperial official. "Son of Skywalker, you must help me. Only a trained Jedi Knight can stop my sister."

"Yet you don't want me to seek out your sister."

"No," she said. "No, that job is for me, alone."

"Then what is it you're after? Besides getting out of here."

Briande Brellis took a breath. "I need you to train me in the ways of the Force. I need you to teach me what I need to know to face my sister."

"You're already trained."

"Only partly. My...teacher...was unable finish what he began." She glanced down the hallway towards the guards, then returned her gaze to Luke. "You're going to have to make up your mind in a hurry. I'm scheduled for transport in the morning, to a maximum security facility, the kind of place even you wouldn't be able to break me out of. And they're having trouble finding guards who don't have a grudge against me-or rather, Brenna. One managed to slip past already. I had to break his arm when he tried to throttle me."

Skywalker met her gaze, remembering what had happened when Obi-Wan Kenobi had tried to teach another Skywalker long ago. And Ben had been kind and gentle, the perfect teacher. Luke wasn't a teacher, didn't even know how to teach. The risks were just too great.

But then he remembered the vision of Palpatine. This woman was connected, somehow. Connected in a vital way. He had the feeling that he needed her, as much as she needed him.

"All right," Luke said finally. His hand moved to his lightsaber dangling from his belt. "Step away from the door."

He adjusted a control, thumbed a stud, and a thin, green blade of light projected from the hilt. A second later, the lock to the cell had been sliced cleanly through.

He opened the door. "Come on."

"Just a second." She went to the cot and took something from underneath the mattress. It wasn't until she had smoothed it out and put it on her head that Luke realized it was the cap to her uniform. "I might need this," she explained.

A second later, two dark-suited figures-one in the black uniform of a Jedi Knight and the other in the crisp, green uniform of an Imperial colonel-made their way back down the corridor from which one of them had just come. The leader moved with skillful, quick, and watchful steps. He noticed every shadow, heard every sound. The follower walked just as silently, keeping up with him, but not quite as attuned to the shadows as her Jedi-teacher was.

They approached the guard station together.