Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [28]
Even if one did happen upon one of the corridors, no pilot or crew could possibly call such a passageway “safe.” These areas were simply less dangerous than the rest of the Rift because the concentration of radiation and charged particles was slightly less.
Moving through the Kathol Rift, for non-Aing-Tii vessels, meant placing one’s ship in constant danger. Even in the corridors, weapons ranges were cut in half, shields were weakened—and as for communications systems, Luke figured he might as well resign himself to not hearing from Cilghal again once they entered, even with Mara’s incredibly sophisticated equipment upgrades.
Then, once they did enter the Rift, they’d be targets. Not just for the xenophobic Aing-Tii, who were infamous for disliking anyone sticking their noses into their business, but for the energy discharges of the Rift itself. A ship acted like a lightning rod, so for the entire duration of their trip the Jade Shadow would be pounded by energy bolts. It would be quite a show visually, but an extremely bumpy ride.
And there was another reason the Rift was so dangerous.
A stigma was attached to the place, a stigma that went above and beyond the fact that it was simply a bad place for a ship to be. Cilghal had seen fit to enclose in her transmission a whole host of first-person reports that came uncomfortably close to being classified as “ghost stories.” At first Luke was confused as to why Cilghal had included them. He was inclined to lump them into the same categories as cabin fever and spacesickness, but then he realized that report after report insisted that Force-sensitives were more strongly affected than others.
Most planets here would not thrive particularly well, Luke supposed. The constant high levels of radiation were not exactly conducive to the vast majority of life-forms. He wondered how the Aing-Tii managed to survive as well as they seemingly did.
Luke stretched, rose, and went to the small area that served as a galley. “Hungry?”
Ben looked up from the hologram. “I’m sixteen. Of course I’m hungry.”
Luke grinned and selected two bowls of brogy stew and a nerf steak, programmed the requisite amount of time into the pulse oven, and returned to where his son was sitting.
“So, brief me,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He put on his old-timer voice again. “And remember, young apprentice, your continued progress depends on this report.”
That got a full-fledged grin from Ben. “Well,” he said, “I’m not quite done going through it all yet. Cilghal sent me a metric ton of information.”
“When faced with an overwhelming amount of information, begin at the beginning. Start with the basics. What are they like physically?”
Ben touched a pad, and a holographic image about a third of a meter high appeared. It was bipedal, standing squarely on feet that had two clawed digits in front and one in the back. A large tail swept behind it; its forelegs had two digits and seemed disproportionately tiny. It was covered with overlapping bony plates, from the long tail to its skull. Large eyes peered out beneath a plate that resembled a helmet. Each of the jointed plates had some kind of markings that were either painted, etched, or tattooed on; it was hard to tell at this size.
“They look reptilian, but actually they’re edentate mammals,” Ben said. “They’re about two meters tall and—”
The pulse oven announced that their meals were ready with a soft chime. Ben—suddenly reminding Luke that, even though his son was a Jedi Knight and had been through more than Luke had even imagined at his age, he was also a ravenous teenager—practically sprang from his chair to get their food, leaving his sentence unfinished. Luke continued to study the three-dimensional, animated model and raised an eyebrow when the small image suddenly shot forth not one but