Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [340]
Shryne had left the slicers, Starstone, and some of the other Jedi to what he regarded as their business, and had been wandering the aged corridors ever since, thinking through his dilemma.
Even this deep into the complex, the ceramacrete floors were covered with sand and bits of other inorganic debris carried in by the moon’s constant, nerve-racking winds. To Shryne, the combination of wind and gloom couldn’t have been more apropos to puzzling out whether his coming to Jaguada was in accord with the will of the Force, or merely symptomatic of a deep denial of the truth. Yet another attempt to convince himself that his actions had some import.
Perhaps if he hadn’t recognized in Starstone and the other Jedi a powerful need to believe—a need to hold on to something in the wake of all that had been snatched from them—he might have tried harder to discourage them. But their need wasn’t enough to keep him from asking himself whether this was the way he wanted to spend the rest of his days, hanging on to a dream that the Jedi order could be reassembled; that a handful of Jedi could mount an insurgency against as formidable an enemy as Emperor Palpatine. He couldn’t escape the feeling that the Force had thrown him a curious curve once again. Just when he thought he was through with Jedi business, and that the Force had deserted him, he was in deeper than ever.
Roan Shryne, who had lost not one but two learners to the war.
Jula’s words about reconnecting with family kept replaying themselves. Perhaps he wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t actually benefit from attachment, if only as a means of making himself more human. But never to use the Force again … that was the bigger issue. His ability to sense the Force in others was so much a part of his nature that he doubted he would simply be able to set it aside, along with his robes and lightsaber.
He suspected that he would always feel like a freak among normal humans, and the idea of exiling himself among aliens with similar talents for telepathy held little appeal.
For the time being he was willing to remain with Starstone, if not mentor her. That was an entirely different problem: Starstone and the others were looking to him for leadership he simply couldn’t provide, in part because leadership had never been his strength, but more because the war had eroded whatever measure of self-confidence he had once possessed. With any luck the attempts at locating surviving Jedi would lead eventually to a Jedi of greater Mastery than Shryne, to whom he could surrender the lead and gracefully bow out.
Or perhaps there would be no returns from the Temple beacon database.
Archived HoloNet images he had accessed while aboard the Drunk Dancer had showed smoke pouring from the Jedi Temple in the aftermath of the troopers’ attack. So it was certainly conceivable that the beacon had been damaged or destroyed, or that the databases had been hopelessly corrupted.
Which would cause an abrupt end to the search.
And to the dreaming, as well.
He had begun to move deeper into the corridor when Jula appeared out of the gloom, a luma in hand, and fell into step beside him.
“Where are the guides when you need them?” she said.
“Just what I was thinking.”
She had her jacket folded over her arm, a blaster holstered on her hip. Shryne wondered for a moment what her life might have been like had he remained in her care. Would her marriage to Shryne’s father have endured, or would what seemed an unquenchable thirst for adventure have placed Jula just where she was now? Save with Roan at her side, part of her crew, her partner in crime.
“How are they doing back there?” he asked, nodding with his chin toward the communications room.
“Well, Filli’s already sliced