Crosscurrent (25 page)

Still, he would prepare for any eventuality, as always.

Relin did not blink but felt as though he had. His visual senses registered only a blue afterimage rather than a hyperspace tunnel. One instant
Junker
floated at the edge of the rings, the next it floated under
Harbinger
and the cold metal and hard angles of the dreadnought filled his sight lines.

Power from the Lignan filled the space around the dreadnought like a fog. Relin felt it seep into him, feeding his seemingly boundless anger, his limitless need for revenge. He resisted at first, but it was halfhearted.

It was
right
that he feed his anger, feed it until it grew into a monster. Drev’s fate merited anger. To feel something else would be to disgrace the memory of his Padawan.

“Do you feel it, Marr?”

Marr bared his teeth between clenched jaws, the chip in the incisor like a tunnel through which the Lignan’s effects could leak.

“I feel it,” Marr said, taking a moment to angle the ship properly and verify velocity. “Powering down. Diverting everything to the power crystal array.”

He hit the emergency shutdown for almost every system on the ship, including life support, and repurposed the power to the crystal array.
Junker
’s cockpit turned as dark as space and only their breathing broke the sudden silence, Relin’s ragged with pain, guilt, and power, Marr’s smooth but elevated. The ambient temperature dropped several degrees in a moment. The viewscreen remained active, though its clarity faltered and static clouded the image. A thick red beam from
Junker
’s top split the screen, slammed into
Harbinger
’s shields, and exploded into a spiral of red lines, an antique corkscrew boring into the Sith ship’s deflectors.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Relin asked.

Marr inhaled deeply and put a hand over his stomach. “I am nauseated. The ore does not affect you?”

“Not like it does you,” Relin said, and left it at that. “I could screen you.”

Marr shook his head, his face wrinkled with discomfort. “Do not waste your energy. I can bear it.”

Relin recalled one of the first lessons taught to Force-sensitives by the Jedi. He remembered being taught it himself by Imar Deez, remembered teaching it to Drev. The words came out of his mouth without thought, a reflex, as
Junker
coasted through the cold of space toward
Harbinger
.

“Imagine in your mind a fortress of stone and steel, with crenellated walls. Within it stands a keep, itself walled.”

Marr looked a question at him.

“Do as I say,” Relin snapped. “It is a simple lesson and it will help.”

“All right.”

Relin mouthed the words spoken by generations of Jedi while his heart beat false in his chest, while the Lignan ate at his spirit. He was a liar and he did not care.

“Again, imagine a strong fortress, walled, unbreachable. Within it stands a keep, similarly fortified. Do you see it?”

“I have no training. I—”

“Do you see it?”

“I … can imagine it, yes.”

“You are the keep, Marr. The Force is the fortress. Feel it.”

“This—”

“Feel it. Open yourself to it.” He had said the same words to Drev, once. Remembering his Padawan threw coal into the oven of his rage, but he kept it from his voice.

“Do not analyze it. Feel it.”

Marr held Relin’s eyes for a moment, then closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.

Relin walked him farther down the path, feeling each moment more of a hypocrite. “Imagine how you feel calculating a course through hyperspace. Focus on that feeling. Hold on to it.”

It took almost no time, as Relin had known it would not. A Force-sensitive was usually habituated to drawing on the Force unconsciously. Marr did it every time he did mathematics. It usually took only a nudge to open up someone sensitive to simple uses of the Force. Through five thousand years it had remained just so.

Marr opened his eyes, the thickets of his eyebrows
raised in wonder. “That is … surprising. This is what you do to keep it out?”

Relin hesitated, because he could not tell Marr that he no longer kept it out. Instead, he uttered another lie. “Yes.”

Junker
glided under the smooth metal of
Harbinger
’s underside, past viewports, idle laser cannon turrets. Relin imagined that their sudden appearance under the ship had caused no small consternation among
Harbinger
’s crew. They would be scrambling to respond.

The landing bay, illuminated with lights around its perimeter, yawned ahead of them, the mouth of a beast. In moments they would be swallowed.

“We are near enough to hit the deflectors,” Marr said, his voice still filled with the wonder caused by his first conscious use of the Force.

As Marr steered
Junker
through the hole carved by the power crystal, Relin felt as if he were going down a drain.

Flotsam
’s belly hit the moon’s upper atmosphere and the entire ship vibrated in the turbulence like shaken dice. Flames formed around the heat shield, licked up the sides, sheathing the ship in fire. Jaden could see nothing but orange out the cockpit window as the ship skidded through the atmosphere. In his mind, he heard the repetitious call of the beacon. He found himself staring at his fingertips, the fingertips on which his anger or fear sometimes formed Force lightning.

He did not trust himself anymore, he realized. Doubt was the fundamental core of his being. Relin had sensed it in him.

“Twenty seconds,” Khedryn said. “Switching to repulsors.”

Jaden leaned forward in his seat, wanting to see the
surface the moment the fires dissipated, hoping that something on the moon would dispel his doubt, return him to certainty.

The orange gave way to a thick swirl of clouds. As they descended and the air thickened, the stresses on the ship changed from the steady, intense vibration of atmospheric entry into the irregular buffeting of powerful winds. Snow and ice streaked past the cockpit transparisteel, frosting its exterior.

Jaden recalled his Force vision, remembered the feel of the wind against his skin, the frost collecting in his beard, the surface under his feet.

“Winds upward of ninety kilometers per hour,” Khedryn observed as gusts rocked
Flotsam
.

Jaden stared through the swirl, heart thumping madly. They broke through the clouds, but the blowing snow and the ice-covered surface allowed him to distinguish nothing. All he saw was a blur of white. There was no revelation in sight.

“Get a fix on the beacon,” he said to Khedryn.

“Triangulating,” Khedryn said. He tapped a button and the beacon sounded on the interior speakers, louder than ever.

Jaden leveled
Flotsam
off at 150 meters and slowed its speed. Topographic scans showed vast, frozen plateaus, oceans of ice, bordered by enormous mountains.

“Got it,” Khedryn said, and the words put a flutter in Jaden’s stomach. “South-southwest, a quarter hour out. Near the moon’s equator.”

When Khedryn had linked the location of the signal to the navicomp, Jaden adjusted course accordingly. He realized that he was sweating. He accelerated to full in-atmosphere speed, and
Flotsam
cut like a knife through the wind, ice, and snow.

“Like following bread crumbs,” Khedryn said, nodding
at the speaker through which the beacon’s call carried.

Jaden nodded. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end. He felt as if he were being watched. Before he could trace the source of the feeling, Khedryn asked, “What do you hope to find here, Jaden?”

Jaden did not hesitate. “An answer.”

He needed one. He could not continue as he had. He ran a sensor scan to ensure they were not being followed. Nothing.

Khedryn stared blankly out of the cockpit. “What is the question?”

Jaden smiled, thinking how close the words cut to his own thoughts.

When Jaden did not answer, Khedryn said, “I hope Marr and Relin are all right.”

“The Force is with them both,” Jaden said.

Khedryn nodded, absently reading the topographic scans, meteorological reports, atmospheric readouts.

“Trace elements in the atmosphere suggest volcanic activity here,” he said.

Jaden imagined hot spots on the surface of the planet where heat and magma leaked up to turn ice into bathing water. He imagined, too, that the oceans under the ice could be thronged with life.

“Air is frigid but breathable,” Khedryn said. “We’ll still need enviro-suits, though.”

Jaden only partially heard Khedryn. The navicomp showed them closing on the coordinates from which the distress signal originated. He leaned forward in his seat, straining to see through the weather.

He could not breathe when it emerged from the static of the weather like a lost city.

Khedryn squinted, staring through the cockpit transparisteel. “What is that?”

*  *  *

Junker
coasted, dark and cold, through the hole made by the power crystal.

Relin stared into the tunnel of the landing bay, remembering the last time he had entered it, five thousand years ago, riding the back of a shuttlecraft. Then, he’d had a comlink connection to Drev. Now he would enter it alone, unconnected to anyone, centered not in a sense of duty but in a sense of rage.

Content with that, he drank the power of the Lignan the way
Junker
’s crew drank caf.

“We are through,” Marr said, blowing out the words as if he had been holding his breath. “Powering up.”

Light returned to the cockpit, and the instrumentation went live with an audible hum.

“
Junker
is live,” Marr said.

“If they haven’t already,
Harbinger
will certainly pick us up now,” Relin said, not caring.

Marr nodded. “Engaging repulsors. In we go.”

Saes sat in meditation on the floor of his chambers, lost in the Force, trying to plan a role for himself in the new time. His comlink beeped to life, disturbing his calm. Ordinarily he removed it when meditating, but under the circumstances he had not wanted to be out of contact for even a moment.

Llerd’s voice carried over the frequency, barely controlled tension in the tone. Saes heard the bleat of an alarm in the background, the proximity alert.

“Captain, a ship jumped directly under us, and coasted through our deflectors into the landing bay.”

Saes opened his eyes, inhaled deeply. “A ship? What ship?”

“I have dispatched all available security teams and
isolated the area should the craft prove to be loaded with explosives.”

“What
ship
, Lieutenant?”

A pause, then, “I believe it is the ship we pursued into the planet’s rings, sir.”

“Our pilots reported that ship destroyed,” Saes said.

He stood and threw on his robes, his anger building, narrowing down to a point.

“Yes, sir,” Llerd said. “It appears they were … incorrect.”

“They were duped,” Saes said.

“Yes, sir.”

In ordinary times, Saes might have executed the Blade pilots, but the times were not ordinary. He needed his crew, at least for the time being. He would devise a suitable, nonlethal punishment later.

“I will speak with the pilots later,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

Saes cut off the connection to Llerd and opened another, through the Force. He reached out, but tentatively, the way he might have gingerly touched a fingertip on an object that he feared might be too hot.

Immediately he felt a familiar presence.

“Welcome back, Relin,” he whispered, surprised to find himself pleased.

He went to one of the display cases built into the wall of his quarters. Five ancient Kaleesh hunting masks leered out from behind the glass, each of them hand-carved from the bones of an erkush, a fierce reptilian predator native to Kalee. Shamanic runes covered the brow and cheeks of each mask, invoking the spirits to lend the wearer strength, speed, skill.

Saes opened the case, took a familiar, age-yellowed face from the ancient gallery, fitted it over his own face, and tied it on. He felt himself transformed in that single
act, reconnected to the wondrous, faceless savagery of his ancestors.

He would confront Relin while wearing the mask he had worn when he had been Relin’s Padawan. It seemed fitting that things end just so. He strode from his chamber, hunting a Jedi.

S
now drifted halfway up the metal and duracrete walls of the facility. Spears of ice hung in thickets from every overhang. Three-quarters of a communications tower jutted upward from the tundra like an accusatory finger blaming the sky for its fate. A faint, snow-blotted light at the tower’s top flashed intermittently, keeping time with the beacon playing over
Flotsam
’s cockpit speaker, keeping time with Jaden’s heart.

“Looks abandoned,” Khedryn said.

Jaden came back to himself, swallowed in a mouth gone dry. “Yes.”

“Definitely looks old enough to be Imperial,” Khedryn said.

Jaden forced a nod, though a sense of déjà vu gripped his gut. For an instant he lived in the dreamspace between his Force vision and his real senses and he was suddenly unsure that he wanted to set foot on the moon.