Dark Apprentice By Kevin J. Anderson Jedi Academy - Book 2 Jedi Academy 01 - Jedi Search 02 - Dark Apprentice 03 - Champions of the Force Dedication To LUCY AUTREY WILSON, of Lucasfilm Licensing… who gets thrilled just to see her name in the acknowledgments of a book; no telling what she’ll do when she sees a dedication! Lucy has always been enthusiastic, willing to listen to ideas and offer her own, and a pleasure to work with on all my STAR WARS projects. Acknowledgments I’d like to shower thanks upon: Lillie Mitchell for transcribing piles of my microcassettes with lightning speed; my wife, Rebecca Moesta Anderson for just about everything, from brainstorming to copyediting to personal support to helping dialogue make sense; the exhaustive Star Wars expertise of Bill Smith at West End Games (not to mention all the wonderful source material available from West End); Tom Veitch for helping me create the entire history of Exar Kun (so much, in fact, that we are writing his story and the Great Sith War in twelve issues of Dark Lords of the Sith to be published by Dark Horse Comics); Ralph McQuarrie, whose imagination and original painting inspired the temple of Exar Kun; my editor Betsy Mitchell, who helped develop this story, and her successor Tom Dupree, who came aboard the starship when we were already leaping into hyperspace; Heather McConnell, who helps keep all systems under control; Karen Anderson for custom-designing the word “praxeum”; Sue Rostoni at Lucasfilm for helping things run smoothly; Rose Guilbert for the sentient mollusks; Dave Wolverton and Timothy Zahn for their invaluable assistance and cooperation; David Brin for the Startide; my agent Richard Curtis; Rita Anderson; Chuck Beason; and of course, George Lucas, for creating such a marvelous universe in the first place. Chapter One The huge orange sphere of the gas planet Yavin heaved itself over the horizon of its fourth moon. Soft, misty light shone across the ever-stirring jungles and the ancient stone temples. Luke Skywalker used a Jedi refreshing technique to remove weariness from his body. He had slept soundly—but the future of the New Republic and the fate of the galaxy weighed heavily upon him. Luke stood atop the squared pyramid of the Great Temple that had been abandoned millennia before by the lost Massassi race. During the Alliance’s early struggles against the Empire, they had built a secret base in the ruins, from which they had launched their desperate attack against the first Death Star. Now, eleven years after the Rebels’ departure, Luke had returned to the fourth moon of Yavin. Now he was a Jedi. A Jedi Master. He would be the first of a new generation, like those who had protected the Republic for a thousand generations. The old Jedi Knights had been respected and powerful, until Darth Vader and the Emperor had hunted and slaughtered virtually all of them. Luke had received support from Mon Mothma, the New Republic’s Chief of State, to seek others who had a potential to use the Force—trainees who might become part of a new order of Jedi. Luke had managed to bring a dozen students to his “academy” on Yavin 4, but he felt uncertain about the best way to train them. His own instruction by Obi-Wan and Yoda had been abbreviated, and Luke had since discovered facets of Jedi lore that made him realize just how much he still did not know. Even a great Jedi like Obi-Wan Kenobi had failed with his student and had let Anakin Skywalker become a monster named Darth Vader. Now Luke was expected to instruct others and make no mistakes. Do or do not, Yoda had said, there is no try. Luke stood on the smooth, cool stones of the rooftop and looked out across the awakening jungle, smelling the myriad sharp and sweet scents as the air warmed in the morning light. The spicy tang of blueleaf shrub and the perfume of lush orchids drifted up to him. Luke closed his eyes and let his hands hang at his side, his fingers spread. He let his mind open and relax; he drew strength from the Force, touching ripples made by the life-forms crowding the jungles below. With heightened senses he could hear the rustle of millions of leaves, twigs scraping, small animals scurrying through the underbrush. Letting out a yelp of pain and terror, a rodent thrashed and died as a predator crushed it in its jaws. Flying creatures sang mating songs to each other through the dense treetops. Large grazing mammals fed on leaves, tearing tender shoots from high branches or grubbing for fungi in the forest debris. A wide warm river, sapphire-blue overlaid with muddy swirls of brown, flowed past the Great Temple, barely visible under the thick trees. The river bifurcated to send a tributary past the old Rebel power-generating station, which Luke and Artoo-Detoo had repaired during their preparation for the Jedi academy. Where the river sloshed around a submerged, half-rotted tree, Luke could sense a large aquatic predator lurking in the shadows, waiting for smaller fishlike creatures to swim by. The plants grew. The animals flourished. The moon awakened to a new day. Yavin 4 was alive—and Luke Skywalker felt energized. Listening intently, he heard two people approaching from far off in the dense foliage. They moved quietly, without speaking, but he could sense the change in the jungle as two of his Jedi candidates made a path through the undergrowth. Luke’s introspective moment had ended. He smiled and decided to go down and meet them. As he turned to go back into the echoing stone halls of the temple, Luke looked up at the sky to see the streaking trails of a shuttlecraft descending through the humid atmosphere. He realized with a start that they were due for another delivery of supplies. Luke had been so focused on training new Jedi that he had lost touch with galactic politics. Upon seeing the shuttle, he felt a deep longing to know about Leia and Han and their children. He hoped the pilot would bring news. He shrugged down the hood of his brown Jedi cloak. The garment was too warm for the jungle humidity, but Luke had stopped noticing minor physical discomfort. He had walked across fire on Eol Sha and gone to the spice mines of Kessel, and he could not be bothered by a little perspiration. When the Rebels had first set up their hidden base in the Massassi temple, they had scoured the thick plant life from the chambers. Across the river stood another prominent temple, and according to orbital surveys, more structures lay buried under the implacable vegetation. But the Alliance had been far too wrapped up in its war against the Empire to bother with detailed archaeological inspections. The vanished race of temple builders remained as much a mystery now as when the Rebels had first set foot on Yavin 4. The temple’s flagstoned corridors were uneven but remarkably unscathed after centuries of exposure to the elements. Luke took a turbolift from the pinnacle down to the third level, where other students slept or meditated in the early morning. As he stepped out of the turbolift, Artoo-Detoo puttered out to greet him. The droid’s wheels hummed along the bumpy flagstones, and his hemispherical head rotated back and forth, chittering at Luke. “Yes, Artoo, I saw the shuttle coming down. Would you go down to the clearing to meet it for me? Gantoris and Streen are returning from their sojourn in the jungle. I want to greet them and learn what they’ve found.” Artoo acknowledged with a bleep and trundled over to a stone ramp. Luke continued through the cool confines of the temple, smelling the mustiness of the enclosed air, the powdery tang of crumbling stones. Along the halls, some of the old Alliance banners still hung outside empty quarters. Luke’s Jedi academy was by no means luxurious; in fact, it was barely even comfortable. But he and his students had concerns that absorbed their energy far more than simple conveniences. Luke had not repaired all of the damage caused by time, but he had refurbished the glowpanels, water systems, and food-prep facilities the Alliance had installed. When he reached the ground level of the temple, the partially raised hangar- bay doors stood like the dark slit of a mouth. Luke sensed echoes of the past inside the hangar bay, a faint residue of starfighter fuel and coolant, clinging dust and grease in the corners. He stepped outside to the jungle, blinking in the washed-and-faded sunlight as evaporating mists rose from the damp undergrowth. Luke’s timing was perfect. As he walked through the lush foliage, he heard his two Jedi trainees approach. As an exercise in resourcefulness and as an opportunity for uninterrupted concentration, Luke sent his students in pairs into the wilderness. Alone, with no other abilities but their own, they worked on powers of concentration, sensing and studying other life-forms, touching the Force. Luke raised his hand in greeting as the two stepped through feather ferns and thick blueleaf shrubs. Tall, dark Gantoris parted heavy branches and came forward to meet Luke. His high forehead had been shaven clean of eyebrows; his skin looked chapped and weathered. Though Gantoris had calmly lived among geysers and lava flows on Eol Sha, he seemed startled to see the Jedi Master; but he covered his reaction instantly. On his hellish world, Gantoris had used an innate talent with the Force to keep a small group of forgotten colonists alive. Gantoris had had nightmares of a terrible “dark man” who would tempt him with power and then destroy him. At first he had thought Luke was that man—Luke, who appeared in his dark Jedi robe, striding through a geyser field to ask Gantoris to come to his academy. Gantoris had tested Luke by making him walk across lava and climb through geysers. Behind Gantoris came Streen, the second candidate Luke had found in his Jedi search. Streen had lived as a gas prospector in an abandoned floating city on the planet Bespin. Streen had been able to predict eruptions of valuable gases from deep within the cloud layers. Luke had tempted him with the ability to shut off the clamoring voices Streen heard in his head whenever he went to populated areas. As the trainees bowed, Luke clasped their hands. “Welcome back. Tell me what you’ve learned.” “We found another Massassi temple!” Streen said breathlessly, looking back and forth. His wispy pale hair was tangled, matted with flecks of vegetation. “Yes,” Gantoris said. The man’s ruddy face and his braided dark hair were smudged with sweat and dirt. “The new temple isn’t as large as this one, but it seems more potent somehow. It’s made of obsidian, sitting out in the middle of a shallow glassy lake, with a tall statue of a great lord.” “A site of great power!” Streen said. “I felt the power too,” Gantoris added. He straightened, tossing his thick braid behind him. “We should learn all we can about the Massassi race. They seem to have been very powerful, but they vanished entirely. What happened to them? Is there something we need to fear?” Luke nodded gravely. He, too, had sensed the power in the temples. The first time he had come to Yavin 4, Luke had been little more than a boy thrust headfirst into the Rebellion against the Empire. He had barely realized the extent of the Force; in fact, he had learned of its existence only days before. But he returned to the jungle moon a Jedi Master, and he could sense many things that had been hidden to him before. He knew the dark power that Gantoris had detected, and although he told his students they must share what they learned, Luke felt that certain knowledge could be deadly. Darth Vader had discovered the wrong kind of knowledge. Luke could not dismiss the possibility that one of his students would be seduced by the dark side. Luke clapped his hands on their shoulders. “Come inside. Take a drink. A supply shuttle is landing, so let’s go greet our guest.” When they reached the cleared landing pad, Artoo-Detoo waited next to the grid-control kiosk, chittering coordinates to a descending X-23 StarWorker space barge. Craning his neck, Luke watched the craft descend with a grinding whine of engines and a blast of jets. The StarWorker barge looked like a trapezoidal cargo container with Incom sublight engines strapped on. The intrasystem craft had seen better days: its gray metallic hull showed discolorations from blaster fire and countless pitted scabs from meteor encounters. But the engine sounded loud and strong as the landing gear kicked in. The space barge flashed its running lights around its belly, then settled down gently. Luke tried to squint through the tiny front port as a group of flying creatures in the treetops burst into flight, screeching and scolding the metal thing that had lumbered into their forest. Heavy plasteel support struts extended, locking to the ground with a hiss of hydraulic pressure. The bitter-oil smell of exhaust hung in the humid air, mixing with the peppery and sweet scents of jungle flowers and leaves. The mechanical smell reminded Luke of the bustling metropolis of Imperial City, the governmental center of the New Republic. Though he had been at peace for months now on Yavin 4, Luke felt a tingle of sweat down his back. He could not let his guard slip for one second—he had a mission to do for the New Republic. This was not a vacation. The hull of the space barge continued to mutter to itself as it settled. With a coughing hiss the rear cargo doors slid apart slowly as if two giants pushed them back one step at a time. Bluish-white light shone down on crates and boxes wrapped in storage nets or bolted to the walls—food, communications equipment, clothing, and amenities. Moving softly across the packed clearing, Gantoris and Streen came up beside him. Streen’s eyes went wide with a sense of wonder, but Gantoris wore a puzzled, sour expression. His skin remained dark, as if in a constant angry blush. “Do we need these things, Master Skywalker?” Luke glanced at the contents. Judging from the material—the unnecessary material—included in the shipment, Leia herself must have compiled the cargo list. Exotic food synthesizers, comfortable clothes, heaters, humidity- neutralizers, even a few hollow Ithorian wind chimes. “We’ll make do,” he said. A narrow ramp extended with a groan of pistons and rollers from the raised pilot compartment. The silhouette of a man appeared on the ramp, booted feet, wrinkled and padded flightsuit, rounded helmet. He descended, yanking his white helmet off as his gloved hands covered the blue scooped-arc symbol of the New Republic. The pilot shook his head, tossing short dark hair from side to side. “Wedge!” Luke grinned and shouted. “Doesn’t the New Republic have anything better for its generals to do? A delivery driver in space!” Wedge Antilles stuffed his helmet under the padded orange sleeve of his flightsuit and extended a hand to Luke. Luke embraced Wedge in the greeting of two friends who had not seen each other in far too long. “You’ve got to admit I’m qualified for the job,” Wedge said. “Besides, I got tired of doing demolition work in the armpit of Imperial City, and before that I got tired of cleaning up wrecked spacecraft in orbit around Coruscant. I figured a delivery driver was better than a garbageman.” Wedge flicked a glance over Luke’s shoulder, and another smile dimpled his cheeks. Gantoris came forward from the cargo bay and gave Wedge a quick, almost brutal handshake as he locked eyes with the pilot. “General Antilles, have you any word from my people? I trust they have all been safely shuttled to their new home on Dantooine?” “Yes, Gantoris, they’re all settled in and doing fine. We drop-lifted an entire settlement of self-erecting living modules. We sent them programming units and agricultural droids so they could establish a viable colony right away. Dantooine is a very mild planet—plenty of animals to hunt and native vegetation to eat. Trust me, they’ll be much more comfortable than they were on Eol Sha.” Gantoris nodded solemnly. “That I do not doubt.” His glittering eyes looked past Wedge to the treetops. Orange light from the rising gas giant made his eyes flicker like the lava pools he had made Luke walk across on Eol Sha. “Gantoris, Streen—please start unloading the supplies,” Luke said. “I don’t think you’ll have trouble lifting the crates with a little nudge from the Force. Consider it a test. Artoo, please call Kirana Ti and Dorsk 81 from their quarters to help.” Streen and Gantoris moved to the corrugated ramp from the loading bay. Artoo-Detoo hummed across the landing grid and disappeared into the shadowy hangar of the Great Temple in search of the other Jedi candidates. Luke clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’m starving for news, Wedge. I hope you brought some gossip with you.” Wedge raised his eyebrows. His narrow chin and soft features made him look more youthful than Luke. They had been through a lot together: Wedge had flown beside Luke on his triumphant run down the Death Star corridor, had assisted in the defense of Echo Base on the ice planet Hoth, and had fought against the second Death Star over Endor. “Gossip?” Wedge asked, laughing. “That doesn’t sound like something that would interest a Jedi Master.” “You got me there, Wedge. How are Leia and Han? How is Mon Mothma?