Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [111]
“A translation would be much more useful,” Tekli said. “It might be helpful to know what she’s saying.”
“See-Threepio is entirely at your disposal,” Leia said to Cilghal. “As are Han and I.”
Cilghal thanked them and led the way to the Asylum Block. Tekli disappeared into the control room to retrieve a pair of stun sticks for the Solos and a tranquilizer pistol for Cilghal, then announced that she would join them with the encephaloscanner once Seff was distracted. Leia and Han secured the stun sticks in the small of their backs, under their belts, then followed Cilghal to a small turbolift and ascended to the second-story catwalk.
The cells arrayed along the catwalk were clearly designed to confine rather than punish, with flowform couches, holographic entertainment centers, and privacy-screened refreshers. Judging by the muffled screel of fingernails coming through the second door, the distinction of purpose was no comfort to Natua Wan.
The first door stood open. Inside the cell, a tall, powerful-looking human Jedi sat meditating, with an upturned palm resting on one knee and a wrist stump on the other. On the floor beside him rested an artificial hand, palm-up, with the thumb and middle finger touching. Dozens of surgeries and skin grafts had repaired his burn scars to the point where his face looked merely plastic instead of horrific, but his ears remained flat and misshapen, and his short blond hair betrayed its synthetic origins in its coarse, bristly nature.
As the group approached his door, the Jedi’s blue eyes popped open, fixing first on Leia, then Han. “Princess Leia, Captain Solo,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“You, too, Raynar,” Han said. “You doing okay in here?”
“Very well,” Raynar said. “Thank you.”
A sad reminder of the price young Jedi too often paid for their service to the galaxy, Raynar Thul had gone missing on the same strike mission that had claimed the life of the Solos’ youngest son, Anakin. He had reappeared years later, badly disfigured, insane, and directing the expansion of the Killik Colony into the Chiss territories. Fortunately, he had not proven too powerful to capture alive, and he had been living in the Asylum Block for more than seven years now while Cilghal helped him put his mind back together. Had Natasi Daala been the Galactic Alliance Chief of State at the time, he would probably have been frozen in carbonite, as Valin and Jysella Horn were—and that angered Leia. Anyone whose mind came undone because of what they had suffered for the Alliance deserved to be nurtured back to health, not labeled a “danger to society” and hung up like wall art in some Galactic Alliance Security blockhouse.
Leia stopped at the entrance to Raynar’s cell. “Cilghal has told us how much progress you’ve made.” Actually, she had told the Solos that all that remained was for Raynar to realize that he was recovered. “Is there anything you need?”
“No, I’m free to visit the commissary myself,” Raynar said. He glanced toward the adjacent cell, where Natua was still scratching at her door, then grinned a bit mischievously. “Unless you care to do something about all that racket? It’s enough to drive a man crazy.”
“No problem,” Han said, reaching for the control pad on the exterior of the cell. “It’ll be quieter if we close this—”
“On second thought,” Raynar interrupted, “I may be growing fond of the noise.”
Han smirked. “I thought that might fix your problem.”
“You should apply for therapist credentials, dear,” Leia said drily. She turned to Raynar. “But seriously, Raynar, if the noise bothers you, why don’t you just change your quarters?”
Raynar’s eyes widened as much as his rigid brows would allow. “Leave my cell?”
“The door has been open for quite some time,” Cilghal said. “And if matters continue to deteriorate with the younger Jedi, we may be needing your room.”
“There are plenty of empty quarters up on the