Star Wars_ Legacy of the Force 07_ Fury - Aaron Allston [85]
Zekk grimaced. He was fighting a starfighter, or the equivalent of one, and all he had was his lightsaber. At least he could serve as a distraction, keeping this thing off Jaina.
As he reached the top of the remaining portion of track below, the spot where Jaina had almost been hit, he angled himself so that his feet came down on one of its cross-ties. He took the slight shock of impact easily. “Jaina, you go on. I can deal with this.”
“How?” Jaina’s tone was flat, disbelieving. She knew he was lying.
“Don’t distract me with questions. Just go.” By dying, probably. He hoped that stray thought did not reach Jaina, that it had not crossed the faint remnants of the link they had shared since they had been Joiners together, years before.
He felt Jaina’s anger at him, at Alema Rar. But he felt, too, her acceptance. She knew it was the right thing to do. Divide Alema’s concentration. Attack her on as many fronts as possible.
The thing out in the darkness, the Sith ship—for so it had to be—drifted laterally, under power, perhaps trying to determine whether Zekk could track it. Zekk continued staring in the direction he had been originally.
Then something occurred to him and he grinned. Abandoning his Jedi detachment, he poured emotion into the Force: contempt for his enemy, disparaging dismissal of the Sith ship’s worth.
He felt his enemy’s anger grow, and winced as it lashed out at him, grasping in the Force.
But this was no attack. He could feel its thoughts now, primitive but clear, hammering away insistently at his mind like a fist against a door. He could almost understand them—
He could understand them, he realized, if he wanted to. There was something familiar about their patterns, their darkness. Techniques he had learned years before, as a student of the Shadow Academy, gave him that insight. Though he had shoved them away, deep into his memory, those techniques were still with him…if he chose to remember them.
He wavered on the rung that supported him, and wavered on the question. But he had no time left. If the Sith starfighter killed him, it would go after Jaina next.
He opened himself to the darkness. It flooded into him, engulfing him, gagging him. Abruptly his surroundings were much clearer in his mind. The exact location, the appearance of that Sith meditation sphere—yes, that was what it was—were now clear to him.
As were its thoughts. It hesitated in its movements, aware of the sudden change in Zekk’s outlook. You are Jedi.
Am I? I have been many things. I was a Jedi a minute ago. What am I now?
Not to be trusted.
Zekk let some amusement creep into his thoughts. And yet you trust her. He pictured Alema Rar in his mind, and let his memories of her as a young Jedi Knight color his vision.
The meditation sphere’s reply was tinged with contempt. Not trust. Obey. Must obey.
Because she knows a secret or two? Do you obey anything who knows the dark ways? You would obey me, then.
The meditation sphere did not reply.
A presentiment of victory, like adrenaline, flashed through Zekk. That’s it, isn’t it? All you need is the right order. From the right dark sider.
There was no answer.
What are you called?
I am Ship.
Zekk snorted, amused and contemptuous at the same time. You are stupid and simplistic. But I will do you a favor anyway. I free you.
He could tell that Ship received his words, but he felt no indication of understanding.
Of course not—this was a vehicle. It was made to serve. It would always serve. The question was, what would it serve.
I free you from Alema Rar. I order you to leave her, to leave this place. I order you to find a master better suited to your nature. I command you to go, as fast as you can, ignoring all commands, all cries for help. Into his words he poured