Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [41]
Pulling the toxic memories from Thei was like drawing out a simple blade. Despite her conscious wishes, her unconscious mind resisted their extraction. The very nature of memory resisted. The effort took a consistent application of Force by Luke and Taru, a slow, measured, implacable pull. Thought by thought, memory by memory, Luke and Taru persisted, and the set of horrifying images slowly released its hold on the young woman.
Luke could sense that it would be possible to apply more strength, less control, and wrench those memories free. He could not imagine the damage such an act would cause to Thei’s psyche.
Within minutes, though he could not see them as images, Luke could sense the presence of the extracted memories as a hovering matrix of thoughts, bound to the Force but not to a body, floating before him and Taru, each of them touching it.
Taru turned to him. “Do you want them?”
Appalled, Luke stared at him. “What?”
“Thei loses them. She does not want them. But they are important, human experiences. We cannot dishonor memory by letting it fade to nothingness. Masters of this technique take those memories into themselves so that they will not evaporate.”
Luke seldom found himself shocked, but the notion of internalizing the horror of a five-year-old girl watching her mother die floored him. At the same time, he understood what Taru was saying. “How many—how much of other people’s grief do you carry in you, Taru?”
Taru gave him a bitter little smile. “How much do you carry, Master Skywalker?”
“No, I don’t … I don’t want these memories.”
“Then you must release them.”
Luke did, and felt a sudden easing of tension he hadn’t realized he was experiencing.
Taru raised his hands. His eyes closed.
There was no visible change, but Luke could feel the alien Force element flow into Taru, become part of him. Taru shuddered once. Then his eyes opened. He looked tired. “Done.”
“That was …” Something occurred to Luke. “I’ve done that before.”
“I thought perhaps you had. You took to it very quickly.”
“Not memories, not as such. But I’ve rooted out Force energies that didn’t belong …” Luke felt tired himself.
“You know you are hurt.” Taru glanced down at Luke’s knee.
“My leg?” Luke flexed his injured knee experimentally. “It’s healing quickly.”
“If you want me to look at that—you know bacta isn’t allowed on Nam Chorios, since it exacerbates the effects of the Death Seed plague …”
The scuffed datapad rose from the table where Taru had replaced it. Suspended by no hand and no wire, it floated in midair, then opened of its own accord.
Luke glanced around at the others. “Who’s doing that?” He couldn’t detect any of them acting through the Force; the routine interference of omnipresent, dispassionate eyes prevented him from determining the effect’s source. “Stop it at once.”
Ben shrugged. “Not me.”
The others began to shake their heads.
The datapad flew a meter to crack into the side of Taru’s head. The blow toppled the Listener from his stool. He fell, landing on his buttocks and lower back, and an expression of pain shot across his face.
Luke was on his feet in an instant but did not stoop to help Taru. He knew what was coming, knew he could not take his attention off his surroundings. “Force storm! Prepare yourselves.”
Ben, Vestara, and Sel rose, unconsciously took back-to-back positions. Taru rose, moved beside Thei, and angled his body over hers protectively. A thin line of blood crawled down his cheek from the cut inflicted by the datapad.
Vestara’s lightsaber rose, tugging at the clip that held it to her belt. She grabbed it. Its activation button depressed of its own accord. She twisted the hilt, and the red blade sprang into life, pointing away