Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 01_ Betrayal - Aaron Allston [153]
Brisha gave him an encouraging smile, then turned and led the way along the corridor. “Very true. No, the last administrator here arranged for the habitat to be left behind when the mining operation left this asteroid field. To be left behind—and forgotten.” At the first side corridor, she turned left, toward the habitat’s center, and the others followed. The blue walls continued, interrupted by doors suitable to private chambers or small offices. The doors were curved at the top, an antiquated design element.
Jacen quickened his pace to catch up to Brisha. “That’s a lot of arranging. This would have been lot of money for a company just to forget about.”
“Yes, it is.” Brisha looked agreeable. “But the administrator who arranged it was capable of coming up with the bribes and persuading people to look away. He was, after all, a Sith.”
Brisha brushed off further questions until they’d reached a turbolift near the habitat’s center and ridden it up four floors. It opened onto a circular chamber twenty meters across. The ceiling was fifteen meters above, a curved surface made of a thick layer of transparisteel; scratched so much over the centuries by minor meteorite impacts that it seemed frosted in places, it was still clear enough to show a glorious starfield beyond.
The chamber itself could have been an extension of Dr. Rotham’s quarters. Its walls were lined with shelving, and there were narrow catwalks along the shelving at three-meter height intervals, with black metal staircases providing access between the catwalks. The shelves were thick with books, rolls of flimsi, flickering holograms, statuettes, kinetic art, and even, Jacen saw, the bottled head of a Rodian, its funnel-like snout pointed straight at the turbolift doors through which they’d entered. There was furniture at floor level, mostly long, dark sofas. They looked hard and uninviting, but Jacen recognized them as a modern brand whose surfaces inflated and deflated according to the movements and postures of those who sat upon them.
The room fairly reeked of Force energy—dark side energy. But as strong as it was, this was not the source of all the power, all the dark influence Jacen had been detecting since their arrival. That lay below them, a long way down.
Why does dark side power always seem drawn to the depths? he wondered. Is there something intrinsic that as sociates it with the deep places, the gorges, the cracks? Even after decades of study, he’d never figured that out.
As Jacen stood in the turbolift doorway, taking in the sensations of Force power like a hungry man sampling scents in a restaurant, Nelani moved into the room’s center, her hand on the hilt of the lightsaber at her belt. She spoke, her voice artificially, mockingly light: “So you’re some sort of Sith.”
Brisha shook her head and moved to stretch out on the nearest sofa, her back supported by one end. The sofa puffed up a little under her weight. She leaned back, her posture negligent, and stretched her arms above her head. “No. If you pay attention to what you’re feeling, you can detect the light side here, as well as the dark side. In these relics, and in me.”
Jacen couldn’t be sure if the last statement was true. Brisha hadn’t manifested any sort of Force energy beyond the energy with which any living being—other than the Yuuzhan Vong—resonated. But he could detect little waves of light-side energy here, intermixed with the dark side.
“So how do you define yourself?” he asked. He moved forward, torn between curiosity—part of him wanted to race among the shelves, looking at each item in turn—and caution.
“A student,” Brisha said. “A student of the Force in all its aspects. And yes, I’ve concentrated on knowledge of the Sith…on utilizing their techniques without greed, without self-interest,