Refugee: Force Heretic II (44 page)

“I’m afraid that the best intentions can often count for nothing,” he said, suddenly dropping down behind her. “Not when survival is at stake.”

She spun around to strike out at him, but he knocked her aside as if she were nothing more than a rag doll. His speed and strength were far beyond those of an ordinary man. She shoved off the wall and came back at him with a strike to the head, igniting her lightsaber with the other hand as she did so. He was under the blow before it could connect, punching up at her and knocking her off her feet. She flew five meters through the air, her lightsaber inscribing a wide, black arc on the floor as she fell—but she didn’t let go of it.

Cundertol didn’t want to waste time with talk. The twisted expression on his face told her that he was concerned with only one thing: escape. As long as she stood between him and that goal, she would have to be eliminated. She back-flipped onto her feet before he could reach her and warned him away with a swing of her lightsaber.

He feinted to her left, then came at her from her right, ducking under the blade and delivering a blow to her chest that felt as though she’d been hit by a force pike. She flew off her feet again and landed on her backside with a painful grunt. This time her grip on her lightsaber failed and the weapon went skittering across the floor. Before
she could snatch it back with the Force, Cundertol had already stepped up to finish her off.

“You put up a good fight,” he said, looking threateningly over her.

“It isn’t over yet,” she returned, summoning the lightsaber back toward her.

It shot through the air with a whine and a hiss. Hearing it coming, Cundertol rolled away to one side, but not before the sizzling blade connected. He fell back with a roar, clutching his injured arm. Jaina used the moment to climb back onto her feet, albeit with some difficulty. Her legs were weak from Cundertol’s attack, and the world seemed to be swaying crazily around her. Nevertheless, she managed to hold her ground, directing her thoughts once again out to the lightsaber. This time it flew straight back into her hand.

Cundertol, however, had already taken flight. She could see him at the end of the corridor, nursing his arm as he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. She was about to give chase again, when the sound of feet came clattering up behind her.

“Jaina!” Her mother was beside her, arms coming around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Cundertol,” she said, waving vaguely in the direction he had taken. “He went that way!”

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll get him.” Her father’s silhouette led a mixed group of humans and P’w’eck up the corridor after the former Prime Minister.

“Be careful!” she yelled after them as her mother’s hands guided her down onto the floor, where the world was mercifully level. She crouched there for what felt like forever, fighting nausea. Cundertol had hit her harder than she’d suspected.

“You’ll be okay,” her mother was saying. “It’ll be all right.”

Jaina knew that it wasn’t. Her thoughts were confused,
fragmentary. Something about her fight with Cundertol bothered her. What was it? She had wounded him, she knew that much. She’d cut his arm—

Then she saw it, lying in the shadows a few meters away from her. She wriggled from her mother’s grasp and made her way over to it, staring at the thing with a mixture of satisfaction and puzzlement.

“What is it?” her mother asked from behind her.

“His arm,” Jaina said, squinting at the limb. She hadn’t just cut his arm, she’d completely severed it below the elbow! “At least the lower part, anyway.”

But there was something distinctly not right about it. Apart from a small smattering and some minor seepage about the stump, there was no blood to be seen anywhere. Sometimes a lightsaber could cauterize veins as it cut and stop the bleeding, it was true, but it wasn’t just the blood that piqued her suspicions—it was the
smell
. It stank of cooked synthflesh.

“It’s okay, Jaina,” her mother said, coming up beside her. “It’s over now. They’ll get him—especially if he’s injured.”

Her mother’s words washed over her as she realized uneasily what it was she’d been fighting. Cundertol was a droid!

“No, they won’t,” she said, staring numbly at the artificial arm. “Even injured, he’s going to get away.”

Before she could explain, a barrage of fluting sounded from nearby.

“Excuse me, Mistress,” C-3PO said, “but Lwothin reports that
Errinung’ka
has surrendered to the P’w’eck.
Firrinree
is expected to follow shortly.”

That should make up for losing
Watchkeeper
and
Intruder,
at least
, Jaina thought to herself.

“What about Jag?” she managed to ask her mother. “Has there been any word?”

“There has,” she said, nodding. “He’s leading the attack on
Firrinree
even as we speak.”

Her mother’s voice was soothing. Under the words, Jaina knew she was trying to say,
It’s not your problem; let it go
.

Maybe she was right, but Jaina doubted she’d be able to relax fully until she knew for sure that Jag was nearby and they were both a long way from the threat of entechment …

Jacen stared at the result in disbelief. He could feel the combined attention of everyone in the room as the data from Wyn’s search through the library’s records flowed down the holopad in front of him. Listed was every system that had gained a planet in the last sixty years. Saba and Danni had already examined most of them during their search of CEDF’s files, and the rest had turned out to be either ordinary planetary acquisitions or fleeting encounters with the living planet. All told there were fifteen acquisitions and a further forty encounters. But unfortunately—and frustratingly—each of them could be ruled out.

Jacen shook his head in dismay. “It’s not here.”

“It
has
to be here,” Mara said. “There’s nowhere else it could have gone!”

“Unless it’s hiding somewhere in the rest of the galaxy,” Luke said, wearily.

“But we’d know about it if it was,” Mara said.

“Perhaps we just haven’t looked hard enough. It might be in one of the smaller backwaters—like the Minos Cluster, for instance.”

“Or maybe it left the galaxy altogether.” Danni’s voice was heavy with gloom. “Or perhaps it just died.”

“No,” Jacen said. “It didn’t die. We have holos of it around two of the systems it visited, remember?” Jacen was finding it hard to keep the frustration from his voice.

“And it can’t have left the galaxy, either—not unless it knows something about hyperspace that we don’t.”

“Or it’s found a way to exist without a sun,” Luke put in.

Jacen shook his head. “I refuse to accept any of those possibilities.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Fel’s was the voice of cold reason. “If you’ve looked and you haven’t found it, and you’ve ruled out every other possibility, then where does that leave you? Perhaps Zonama Sekot really is nothing but a legend.”

“No,” Jacen said firmly. “No, I can’t believe that, either. Vergere wouldn’t have lied to me.”

“Can you be absolutely sure of that?”

“Yes.” Jacen met the one-eyed stare of the assistant syndic with stubborn determination. “Yes, I can. Zonama Sekot
is
real. All we have to do is find it.” He turned back to the hologram. “Somehow …”

“Well, you now have the support of the Houses if you want to continue looking in Chiss space,” Fel said.

Jacen felt exhausted. His uncle’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, reassuring him. Saba and Mara brushed minds with his to offer their support, too. He was grateful for the gestures, but he was unable to silence the doubt that Soontir Fel had given voice to. What if Vergere
had
lied to him? What if Zonama Sekot was just a dream?

From far away, almost a quarter rotation around the galaxy, he sensed Jaina’s capitulation to exhaustion at the completion of her duty. He occasionally felt flashes of his twin sister, even from so far away. It felt good, he thought, and wished he could do the same. He’d barely slept since arriving on Csilla, and it was getting so that he couldn’t think straight anymore. His body felt weak, hollow and fragile, and had it not been for the Force propping him up, he was sure he would have collapsed into himself hours ago.

But despite the aid of the Force, he knew he was going to have to rest eventually. Staring dully at the data—even if he did it forever and a day—wasn’t going to surrender any answers.

“Right or wrong,” he said, standing, “you’re going to have to try to find it without me for a while, I’m afraid. I need to rest.”

Without another word, he brushed past his aunt and left the room, ignoring the concerned look from Commander Irolia as he walked deep into the aisles of the library.

Danni came to him half an hour later. He had tucked himself in a corner at the library’s uppermost level. It was peaceful there, uncomplicated—the perfect place to clear his head.

“Hey.” She eased herself next to him and leaned against the wall. They sat side by side in silence, their legs gently touching. He felt he should say something, but he simply didn’t know how to express what he was feeling.

“You know,” she said after a long silence he barely noticed, “I had another thought.”

He half turned to her. “About Zonama Sekot?”

She nodded. “What if it broke apart? The stress of all that jumping must have taken its toll. Worlds are pretty fragile, after all. One slipup could have cracked it wide open, and we never actually looked for new asteroid belts.”

Jacen acknowledged her suggestion with a polite nod, but he didn’t really credit it. He couldn’t afford to. Zonama Sekot was out there; it had to be! There had to be something lurking in the data that he’d overlooked—or something he hadn’t yet looked for …

“Are you angry with me?” Danni said hesitantly.

“Huh?” The question startled him from his thoughts. “Angry with you? Why would you think that?”

She shrugged. “You don’t seem to want to talk to me, that’s all.”

“No, I’m not angry, Danni. I’m just tired. I haven’t slept properly. I came up here to think things through.”

“Things?” she prompted. “You mean Zonama Sekot kind of things?”

He nodded, grinning. “Zonama Sekot kind of things.”

“I’ve been thinking about things, too,” she said. “Us kind of things.”

“Really?”

She nodded once, turning her gaze briefly on to the vast expanse of books spread out before them, as if searching for the words that might best convey her thoughts. “It’s strange, you know. I can crack the biological secrets of the Yuuzhan Vong; I can plot the likelihood of a solar system capturing a new planet; but sometimes I can’t even begin to guess what goes on inside your head, Jacen Solo.”

He took her hand. “Danni, I—”

“No, let me finish. We’ve known each other for a few years, now—since the beginning of the war, when you rescued me from Helska Four. But it wasn’t until that day on Mester Reef that I saw you for who you are. Not as one of the Solos, or a Jedi Knight, or Jaina’s brother—but as
you
. And I liked what I saw.”

Jacen remembered that day well: the variety of life in and around the coral; the green of Danni’s eyes and the brownness of her skin; the promise in her smile …

“You’re strong,” she said. “It may surprise you to know that I think you’re the strongest person in the entire Galactic Alliance. You’re the only one with the courage to question what everyone else regards as a great privilege. Most people would happily accept the honor of being a Jedi Knight, but you don’t. You look beneath the honor and try to understand what it means to be a Jedi. That sort of strength can’t be taught, Jacen; it comes from within.

“And you’re kind,” she went on. “No, look at me,” she said when he turned away, beginning to feel awkward. “This is stuff you need to hear. In the middle of a war, it’s hard sometimes to remember the good things. People are rewarded for being great fighters, but rarely for exhibiting gentler strengths, such as kindness and compassion—or the kind of loyalty that questions rather than accepts. Your sister gets all the medals while you fade into the background.”

“The medals don’t interest me,” he said. “And I certainly don’t begrudge Jaina getting them—”

“I know that,” she interrupted. “You would never resent anyone for her success. That’s just another of your strengths.” She paused, smiling. “Shall I go on?”

He shook his head, smiling also. “I think I get the idea.”

“Jacen, I’m not saying this to embarrass you—or to prompt you into saying something similar in return. Don’t ever think that. I’m saying it because I think you need to hear it.”

“Why?”

“Because to you, success depends solely upon finding Zonama Sekot. I understand that, and I understand its importance in the greater scheme of things. But there’s a smaller scheme, too—one that I feel you’ve already succeeded in. After years of crossing each other’s paths like some wandering satellites, I’m glad that I’m finally close enough to you to be able to say that you’ve grown into a man I’d be proud to call a friend.” Her gaze held his, its intensity matched only by the seriousness of what she was saying.

She stopped there, with a gentle squeeze of his hand that told him it was his turn to speak. He knew he had to say something in return, regardless of whether or not he felt comfortable doing so. He sensed that she was talking about more than friendship, and he wasn’t sure how to
define his feelings in return. He vividly remembered the day he had rescued her from Helska 4; she had seemed so beautiful to him, so much older and more mature, and utterly unobtainable. He may have rescued her from the Yuuzhan Vong, but at the end of that day, he had been just a boy and she was a woman. And he still carried a measure of that impression with him. Although he was with her now, talking as equals, the young boy in him remained at a distance, unable to believe that anything else could be true.

Like some wandering satellites …

He was about to try to explain his feelings to her when her phrase returned to him. The words were niggling at his thoughts, demanding attention. For some reason her use of the metaphor troubled him, but not because of what it meant to him. It made him think of the fruitless quest Vergere had sent him on—although it wasn’t immediately apparent
why
her simple words caused this reaction in him.
Satellites
?
As far as he was aware, Zonama Sekot didn’t have any satellites. In fact, he doubted it could have even kept one with all the hyperspace jumps it had performed. Perhaps it had acquired one since—