Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights 01_ Jedi Twilight - Michael Reaves [38]
Most Jedi had felt that this was heterodoxy, as well as pointless. Since the Force enfolded all living things, it was impossible, they argued, for any scenario to exist in which the ability to act independently of it might be necessary. Yet ironically, that very situation had now become reality, and the few surviving Jedi who had espoused the Gray Paladins’ philosophy had the edge in this new world.
The Grays were also much more militaristic than the Teepos, or even the mainstream Jedi. They had fought the stormtroopers during the Purge, but the few who survived had not let themselves become broken and demoralized as so many of the Order had. Though there were, by the most generous estimates, no more than a couple dozen of them left, they had helped organize the Whiplash and worked tirelessly to resist the Emperor’s yoke, no matter how hopeless the struggle seemed.
Laranth Tarak was always in the forefront of those struggles. Jax had met her not long after his own narrow escape from the torched Temple and the slaughter. After their unwilling participation in the horror that night, Jax had heard little of Laranth. He assumed she’d been lying low while her wounds healed. He studied her, and could see the fluctuating light reflecting off the glossy surface of scar tissue on her neck and right cheek. The scarring and mutilation could have been treated if she’d had access to a bacta tank—but finding one down here was about as likely as finding one’s way into the Emperor’s private spa.
“So,” she said, “what’s got you by the jiffies?”
“It’s that obvious? So much for my notorious sabacc mask.”
She snorted. “You’ve got the Force around you boiling like pletik soup.”
He told her about Master Piell’s death, and about his last request. Though Laranth’s chosen color and code were of the Grays, the threads that wrapped about her were very seldom anything close to that cool and calm a hue. They were generally warm orange to fiery red, and sometimes, when she was consumed with anger, she appeared swathed in a white-hot cocoon. Such was the passion with which Laranth lived, a passion that Jax sometimes envied. Though he was incapable of seeing the threads that enfolded himself, he was sure they did not burn nearly as hot as hers.
As she listened to him, Jax could see her threads glowing, almost too bright to look at.
He had told Nick Rostu that this task was for him and him alone to do. That wasn’t entirely true; Jax was not crazy enough to think he could fulfill Master Piell’s last request without help. But this was a matter for Jedi, and, however blasphemous she might have been considered by some in the Order, Laranth Tarak was a Jedi. Jax trusted her as he trusted few others, and she was better in a fight than any five other warriors he knew.
He filled her in quickly as they walked out of the industrialized area, back to the better-lit and slightly safer Amtor Avenue. She listened without question until he’d finished, then asked, “Any idea where to start looking?”
“No. According to Rostu, the droid vanished just after the Purge, and all Master Piell knew was that it’s somewhere in the Yaam Sector.”
“If it’s still functioning. It could have had its memory wiped, or been cannibalized for spare parts by now.”
“We have to operate on the assumption that it’s still in one piece and functional.