Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [45]
I have to stop thinking and feel. I have to let go. I sighed aloud. Maybe Iella was right, maybe Coruscant’s sun will go nova before I can do that.
I fled my room and quickly found myself in the turbolift to the rooftop. Our moon was slipping behind the gas giant and had turned its face away from it, so we were entering Truenight, not just Twilight night. I expected it to be cold and got a good chill blast of air when the lift door opened. I reveled in the way the breeze sucked warmth from me and hoped my thoughts could be as cold as my flesh.
I knew my fear of change was silly. Intellectually I could see my transition as that of an insect moving from one life stage to another. The creature was the same, had the same genetic code, but moved into a phase that gave it greater abilities. In my case the greater abilities would bring with them greater responsibilities. I didn’t think I was afraid of them, but in the questioning mood I was in, I wasn’t sure of anything about myself.
I began a slow circuit around the Temple’s squared-off top and saw a figure sitting on the northeast corner. I tried to reach my senses out to see who it was, but they never got very far. He turned to face me, letting the wind tease his fluffy beard, then turned back to look out over the forest and at the black blanket of sky in which billions of stars nested.
I approached him, but hung back several paces to give him space. “I didn’t think anyone else would be up here, Streen.”
The old man shrugged. “I am so used to being alone that I can only stand so much in the way of company.”
“I’ll leave you, then.”
“No, no need.” Though shadows hid his face as he turned toward me again, I felt an intensity radiating out from his invisible eyes. “You hold yourself in tightly enough that your presence is not painful.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Forgive me. My personal relation skills are not what they should be.” He smiled as the undulating cry of hunting stintarils seemed to mock him. “For years my only companions were Bespin rawwks—large black scavengers with leathery wings. They have a rudimentary intelligence. Never taught one a useful trick, but they would come when I had food to feed them.”
I smiled and sat down on the cold stone. “I’ve had friends I couldn’t say as much about.”
“Gas prospecting on Bespin was lonely work, but I didn’t mind.” The old man tapped his head with a finger. “Kept hearing voices in my head, feeling people’s moods. Only by getting away could I shut them out. Now Master Luke’s training is helping me do that consciously. Don’t miss it. Puts mystery back into life.”
I shot him a bemused smile. “Mystery?”
“Yeah. Like you, for example.”
“Me?”
“You’re very closed, but bits leak out. Pride’s hot enough to melt durasteel.” Streen shrugged. “And pain. Sense of judgment cuts like a lightsaber.”
“Really.” My expression sharpened. Streen could easily be taken for a doddering old fool, but he clearly was perceptive. Dismissing him would be doing him a disservice. “What do you mean?”
Streen chuckled. “You don’t like Gantoris.”
“Doesn’t take Jedi skills to figure that out.”
“No, guess it doesn’t. He doesn’t like you much, either.” Streen sat back, leaning on his elbows and forearms. “Remember that exercise today?”
“With Gantoris putting rocks in orbit?”
“The same. You shouldn’t be discouraged. When Master Luke and Gantoris came to Bespin to find me, they gave me a practical demonstration of how the Force can be used. Gantoris learned to push with his mind to make something move a ways away.”
My head came up. “I see.” Gantoris already knew how to use the Force to manipulate matter, which is why he excelled at the exercise. Luke didn’t call him on it, on this advantage, when Gantoris started in on me. He could have had a thousand reasons for not doing that, not the least of which could have been to let Gantoris’ words fuel my competitive sense.