Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [27]
My father smiled and pride burned in his eyes. “There you have it, my son. Now you know more of who you are and what you have the potential to become. The only limits on you are the limits you will place on yourself. I know that whatever you will decide, it will be the right thing. You’re that good, Corran, and that special. I will know great joy if you bring the Halcyons back into the Jedi Order, but even that will be nothing compared to the joy I know in having you as my son and knowing you are happy and well.”
The message stopped and Whistler offered to play it again, but I shook my head. “He wants me to train. He knows it is the right thing for me to do.” I thought for a moment. “And I guess I know it, too. I always saw my service in CorSec as the utmost I could do to prevent the innocent from coming to harm from evil. That’s what it was then, just as flying with Rogue Squadron became later. Now, the utmost I can do is to become a Jedi, like Luke Skywalker and my father’s father. To do anything less is to be unworthy of the trust they all place in me.”
I slowly stood. “To do anything less means I fail in my responsibilities to Mirax. I’m not going to let that happen.”
I walked down the hallway and into my bedroom. I slid back a false panel in my nightstand and withdrew the slender silver cylinder that had been Nejaa Halcyon’s lightsaber. My right thumb punched the black button on it, allowing the silver-white blade to hiss to life. It hummed as I turned toward Whistler and wove the blade through the air.
“Luke Skywalker is looking for students, and I need a teacher.” I smiled as Whistler trumpeted triumphantly. “Keiran Halcyon is born.”
SEVEN
I emerged from the apartment’s refresher, finished toweling off my hair as I walked toward the living room, and smiled at Iella as she came into view. “There, what do you think?”
She narrowed her brown eyes at me, then nodded. “Not a hint of green.”
“Good.” I hung the white towel around my neck, holding on to each end of it. “It’s going to take a while to get used to seeing my reflection with my hair this close to white.”
She tucked a lock of golden-brown hair behind her left ear. “It makes you look older. The moustache and goatee change the outline of your chin just enough that I almost didn’t recognize you when you called earlier.”
“You don’t think the green had anything to do with that?” I snorted. “I didn’t think dyeing my hair would be that complicated.”
“Corran, you’re supposed to read the instructions on the box.”
“I did.”
“And then you’re supposed to follow them.” She gave me a look of mock disgust. “Once you’ve ingested the metabolizing agent, you have to be very specific about how long you leave the color targeting gel on. If you get the timing wrong, you have problems.”
I plucked at the hair on my chest. “Yeah, but I was trying to do my whole body here. Slathering that stuff on takes time.”
“Which is why you take it in stages, not try to do it all at once.” She began to laugh and I blushed. “You went from emerald to pale green at your toes. Your beard did match your eyes, though.”
“But it would have been unending trouble to accessorize.” I gave her a snooty glare, then smiled. “At least I won’t need to repeat this ordeal for a year or so.”
“True, that’s usually how long it takes for the metabolizer to leave the follicles, but be careful. Weird foods can affect the chemistry there.” She stretched. “Speaking of which, where are you going to take me for this lunch you promised?”
I shrugged. “You pick. Fact is that I’ve not been thinking much about food over the past couple of weeks.”
Iella frowned at me. “You know, I’m still a bit angry with you. I thought we were friends, but your wife goes missing and you don’t call me or tell me about it?”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “I know I should have.”
“You’re damned right you should have.” Her voice softened and I felt her hand caress my bare arm. “You were there for me when I lost Diric. I don