Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [98]
He took a deep breath, pulled himself back from the awe the place inspired, and said, “We’re here for a purpose. Let’s be about it.”
Ben literally shook his head to clear it, then nodded. They moved forward, through this antechamber crowded with Force-imbued stones, to a second cavern.
It was much larger than the first, a rectangular space about twenty by thirty meters. While this cavern, too, was illuminated by the Force, that was not the primary reason for Ben’s quick inhalation.
Everywhere the eye looked were relics. They were stacked three or four deep, in haphazard piles that looked as though they’d been simply tossed down.
“If these things are so precious to them, why do the Aing-Tii treat them so carelessly?” Ben asked, nudging a round, apparently seamless object gently with a foot.
“Because they can’t touch them,” Luke said. “They can’t organize or arrange or catalog them in any way. They just have to bring them in here somehow—wrapped in something perhaps—and set them down.”
“And we have to sort through all this?” Ben said, his voice cracking slightly. Luke couldn’t blame him. Such a task was not just daunting but bordering on the impossible.
“We don’t have to compile data and analyze each one,” Luke said. “But … from what Tadar’Ro seemed to think, we’ll find answers as we handle them. Insight. Knowledge that we can pass along to the Aing-Tii about what direction they should go.”
Ben looked slightly less pained, but still very dubious. “How long do you think it’ll take?”
“Well,” Luke said, “I do have nine years and a few months left to fill …”
“That’s not funny”
INSIDE THE EMBRACE,
ON THE AING-TII HOMEWORLD
THE PROCESS WAS HARDLY A SWIFT ONE, BUT IT WENT FAIRLY QUICKLY. After a few moments of paralyzing indecision at the vastness of the task, Luke and Ben started the simplest way possible—they picked up the first item they encountered as they entered the cavern, and began there.
Everything they touched had the imprint of the Force on it in some way, shape, or form. Some were fairly powerful to handle; others only had a faint residue. Most of what they picked up, examined in the Force, and then discarded was clearly technological, although some items were fossils or stones or other organic materials.
“If only we could take all these things to the Temple,” Luke said wistfully. It was impossible, of course. The relics belonged to the Aing-Tii, and they would never part with even the least of them. “So much knowledge here. So much we could learn, about other cultures, about the history of the galaxy, perhaps about the Force itself. You and I don’t have the skills or the tools to properly examine even the smallest fragment of what we’re seeing. All this wisdom, collected here by beings who are forbidden even to handle them, let alone study them. I respect other beings’ religions, but I have to confess … this strikes me as a tragic waste.”
“I know,” Ben said. “I’m really curious about some of these things.” He paused, looking up at his father as a long, twining piece of what seemed to be metallic rope twisted slowly of its own accord in his hand. “So … what are we looking for?”
“Guidance,” Luke said. “A … hit, a bit of insight. You’ll know it if it happens.”
“There are times,” Ben said drily, “when I empathize with those who express frustration with the vagueness of the Force.”
After the first few hours, when they had made only a little headway and stopped for a food and water break, Luke found himself agreeing with Ben’s comment.
“They’re all powerful items,” Ben was saying as he chewed on a stick of something greenish brown and intended to be more nutritious than