Into the Void: Star Wars (Dawn of the Jedi) (23 page)

“Are you sad?” she asks again. “The way you were at Stav Kesh … like a child, jealous
of those around him with better toys.”

Dal raises an eyebrow and then laughs out loud. “Is that what you think?” he asks.

“Well …”

“You really think I’m jealous of you? Of Mother and Father, and those others we trained
with back there? Jealous that none of you are your own masters?”

“Of course we are.”

“No!” He places his plate down and stands, not angry but frustrated.
“No, not at all. You’re
slaves
to the Force. You might think it serves you, but you serve
it
. You never have your own thoughts, because the Force is always on your mind. You
never fight your own fights, because the Force fights for you.”

“It’s not like that, Dal, it’s—”

“Well, that’s what I see,” Dal says. “I watch you use it, and when you do, you’re
not yourself. You’re not my sister.”

“I thought I knew what was best for you,” she says.

“But you don’t! Only
I
can say that! Our parents, you, the Masters who trained us, everyone wants to tell
me what to be, to force something upon me. But I’m my own man. My own
master
!” His eyes go wide, as does his smile. And it’s not madness or fury that Lanoree
sees there. It’s joy.

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

Dal looks to the dusky sky, where stars are already emerging and Ashla and Bogan peer
from behind a haze of clouds. A hundred lights move high up, satellites and spacecraft
drifting high above Tython’s atmosphere.

“I’m going to learn,” he says, “everything I can, from every temple we both visit.
And then after that I’m going to the stars.”

“The stars?”

“I’m going to find my way home.” He says no more, does not elaborate, and Lanoree’s
overriding feeling is one of sadness that the home they have together with their parents
is not enough for Dal.

Five days later, after journeying across the eastern extreme of Kato Zakar—where fungi
forests gave way to swamps, and those in turn soon became sand dunes rolling kilometers
toward the sea—they approach the coast from where the first of the Moon Islands is
visible on the horizon. A hundred kilometers and seven islands beyond, the continent
of Talss.

Though they talk and travel together, the distance between them is widening with every
day. Lanoree can feel that, and she senses that Dal does, too. The difference is that
he welcomes it.

Dal breathes in deeply. He is invigorated by the energy of the ocean and the violence
of the waves.

“Beautiful!” he says. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, Lanoree?”

Rain is falling. The sea smashes against the sandy shore, the heavy dunes they stand
upon fleeting in the lifetime of Tython. The waves are topped with a rolling luminescence
in the dawn light, countless minute creatures casting their glow across the waters.
She can feel the power through her feet. It is humbling and, yes, beautiful.

“It’s amazing,” she says.

“Puts your Force to shame, eh?” He grins, and the sea breeze blows sheets of rain
that soak his hair.

Lanoree does not respond, though she could. She could tell him that the power he feels
is
the Force, because it flows through the sea as well as the air and rock, the plants
and ground, the living things that fly and run and crawl, and the dead things that
rot beneath the soil and under the waves. She could tell him, but he would not listen.
Worse, he would not understand.

So she closes her eyes, and the rain and sea spray soak her as well.

Later, in the coastal port of Ban Landing, they are offered an escorted crossing to
Talss.

“The gelfish swarms are farther south than ever this year,” the woman says. She has
not told them her name, but she wears a Ranger star at her belt. “I’ve been across
the Moon Islands and back seven times, and each time the craft I was in was attacked.
I’d advise a scheduled crossing, Journeyers. Those larger ships have special defenses
to deal with anything the Moon Channel can throw at them, and if you go alone you’ll
only have a small sailing boat.”

“We go alone,” Dal says. “Eh, Lanoree? We’re journeying to learn and explore, after
all.”

The Ranger objects, and yet Lanoree sees a flash of respect in her eyes. Perhaps on
her own Great Journey she did the same, though she does not tell them.

They spend the night in Ban Landing, staying in a simple bunkhouse close to the water’s
edge. In the wooden beams that hold up the roof are carved thousands of names, Journeyers
from years past who stayed here before their own dangerous crossings of the Moon Islands
to Talss. Lanoree spends some time looking for their parents’ names, but she does
not find them.

Later, Dal sits out on the deck surrounding the bunkhouse. Great waves break on the
beaches half a kilometer away, and lit by starlight only their swirling, luminous
tops are visible, like giant coiling snakes in the dark. But she is looking at her
brother. He lies on his back with his hands resting behind his head, staring up.

“Food?” Lanoree says. Dal takes the plate she has brought him and nods his thanks.
“It’ll be dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, little sister,” Dal says, even though she is older than he. “I’ll look
after you.”

Their journey across the Moon Channel takes only three days, but Lanoree will remember
it forever.

The sea is calmer when they set out at dawn the following day. The Ranger meets them
at the harbor and tells them how she has used the Force to confuse and combat the
threat of sea creatures—the deadly gelfish most of all—on her previous crossings.
Then she wishes them well.

They sail from island to island, stopping only to replenish water canteens before
moving on. They sleep briefly on land, but spend all their waking time afloat.

A storm blows up halfway through their journey. A gelfish swarm hits their boat and
starts climbing the hull, oozing, toxic tentacles whipping at the air and seeking
flesh. Lanoree uses the Force to punch them back into the sea. Dal uses his blaster
to blow groups of them apart before they even reach the boat. The swarm passes.

But they are not out of danger. A sea serpent appears as if from nowhere and almost
capsizes the boat, its head as big as a person’s torso, teeth dripping venom. Lanoree
disorients the beast by touching its mind, and Dal stabs it several times with a boat
hook. It slips away and flees, and Lanoree senses it going deep, seeking a dark hole
to hide in and repair its wounds.

They battle together. Taking on Tython’s dangers, weathering its storms.

But when they reach Talss at last, landing in a small seaport, Dal
sets off from the moored boat without another word. For him there is no time to waste,
no point in stopping to rest. It’s as if Anil Kesh has something for him, and he is
impatient to get there.

Storms thrash above Talss. Heavy rain strikes them like a hail of small stones, lightning
thrashes, and Lanoree feels eddies in the Force. The Force Storm makes her feel sick
and unsteady, and Dal grabs her arm and helps her along. There’s a new purpose in
him now, and Lanoree only wishes she knew what drove it.

The Temple of Science is still two days’ travel inland.

“He calls it the Network,” Tre said. “It’s a loose collection of contacts, informers,
and spies, not only in Greenwood Station but in almost every domed city on Nox. Sometimes
beyond. So loose that any break in the Network protects everyone else. Any disruption
to the links in its web cuts off everyone else. It’s genius, really.” He sounded almost
respectful. “It’s taken Maxhagan years to set it up, and he won’t risk it unless we
make it worth his while.”

“And you’ve met Maxhagan? Used his Network?”

“No to both. But he and I have conducted business.”

“Just what have you—?”

“It’s him you need to know about right now,” Tre said sternly. “I mean it, Lanoree.
I like you. I have shadows in my past, and I’m sure Dam-Powl suggested that to you.
But Maxhagan isn’t someone to fool with. He’s the real deal. A maniac. A monster.”

They had crossed a stinking, polluted canal on a rickety bridge and were now in District
Six. At its far end stood the rock and metal tower that acted as Greenwood Station’s
central buttress, every gigantic spine of the immense dome curving back and down from
the tower’s pinnacle. At ground level it was so wide that it would take half a morning
to walk around, and its top was hidden within a haze of smoke and steam. Craft buzzed
to and from the tower, both airships and powered vessels. There was even some green
up there, Lanoree noticed. Garden balconies overflowed, and all across District Six,
petals and leaves were crushed into the pavement by countless feet. It was as if those
in the tower teased the rest of the dome with what they had.

District Six itself was a mix of large factory buildings, storage warehouses,
and contained outdoor parks for larger produce—Lanoree had seen a large area half-filled
with ranks of ground assault vehicles of various shapes and sizes—and a network of
squares around which hunkered accommodation and administration towers. The squares
bustled with people going to and from work, and the largest housed a huge market where
workers spent their pay.

They were closing on that square now, a huge factory belching and thundering to their
left, a soot-smothered five-story office building to their right. Lanoree wondered
how people managed to live and work in such a place. But she knew that many did not
have a choice. People were born and died on Nox, their lives mapped out from beginning
to end. Most earned just enough to survive in one of the domes, sometimes affording
a few luxuries from time to time. But to leave the planet would cost more than most
could ever save in a lifetime.

No doubt the Corporations liked it that way.

Lanoree looked up at the high dome, barely visible above them, and the noisy, stinking
factory to their left. Dal could be anywhere here. She felt a rush of urgency, not
only to catch him but to see him again.

“I’ve dealt with monsters before,” Lanoree said.

“Yeah, and fought them, I’ll bet. But Maxhagan is a monster with brains. Four years
ago he was crossed by a family from Volke House on Shikaakwa. They’d bought some information
from him that helped them establish a production base in Crystal City, a dome eight
hundred kilometers south of here. Then they refused to pay. Killed three of his messengers
and withdrew to Shikaakwa with all their business gains intact.” They paused as a
train approached, moving to one side, and letting the massive transport trundle by
along its tracks in the middle of the road.

“So this is a tale of revenge, and what terrible retribution he brought down on them,”
Lanoree said. She knew what to expect. Her previous visit to Nox had been brief, but
she knew people like Maxhagan. She’d met them all over the system.

“In a way,” Tre said. “It took him a while. But he conspired to initiate a feud in
Crystal City, and that resulted in a skirmish that left three thousand dead. Wiped
out the Volke family’s entire network on Nox, and there was no link whatsoever to
Maxhagan. He wasn’t interested
in ego, or in anyone knowing it was he who caused it. He didn’t want infamy. He just
wanted revenge.”

“Yet infamy is his.”

Tre shrugged. “These things become known.”

“A sharp mind, then.”

“Sharp and brutal. The three thousand included many children. I doubt he had trouble
sleeping that night.”

“So he makes all his money from information?”

“The best way there is to make money.” Tre gestured around them at the buildings,
the air hazy despite the air-treatment units drifting and thundering around the dome’s
massive airspace. “This is all fleeting, constantly assaulted by the atmosphere. Or
it can be destroyed, as we saw on the way in. Information is eternal, and that’s where
Maxhagan places his faith.”

“So is the Force,” Lanoree said. “I’ll put my faith in that.”

“My faith is here,” Tre said, touching the bulge of the blaster on his belt.

“Imported water,” Lanoree said. “Seems ironic that he deals in something that represents
purity.”

“Good cover,” Tre said. “And I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.”

They moved on, and soon District Six’s huge central square came into view in a shallow
valley. It was a sea of movement, and for a moment looking down into it Lanoree felt
queasy. Countless people swarmed and swirled, market stalls and more impressive structures
strove to take their money from them, the smells of cooking mixed with the dome’s
manufacturing stenches and made her stomach turn. Somewhere down there, the head of
the Network, and perhaps her way to Dal.

Lanoree led the way down a gentle slope and into the melee.

In the end, Maxhagan was easy to find. Perhaps he believed that concealment would
make him seem more suspicious. Or maybe he was simply too confident to hide.