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Brakiss held out the remote. “It’s slower than the controls I built you.”

“Fine.”

“You have to set the security codes. You have to instruct it which serial numbers to follow.”

“I’m sure I can do that.”

“You have to link it to you.”

“Brakiss, I can operate remotes.”

“All right,” Brakiss said. He braced himself as he moved inside the stone hut. It was warmer in there, out of the wind.

He didn’t believe Kueller was letting him leave so easily.

“What do you want from me, when I return to Telti?” Brakiss asked.

“Skywalker,” Kueller said, his voice thrumming with the depth of his hatred. “The great Jedi Master, Luke the invincible Skywalker.”

The chill had reached Brakiss’s heart. “What do you plan to do with him?”

“Destroy him,” Kueller said. “Just as he tried to destroy us.”

Two

Luke Skywalker was balanced on one hand, his fingers deep in the moist jungle earth. Sweat dripped down his naked back, onto his face, and off his nose and chin. His feet were bare, but he wore an old pair of tight pants that clung to his damp skin. Artoo-Detoo floated in the air above him, along with several boulders and a half-rotted tree. Some of Luke’s students were gathered around him, half a dozen members of his youngest and most powerful class.

He had been in this position since the huge orange sphere of the gas planet Yavin had risen on the horizon of its fourth moon. Yavin was now directly overhead, and although Luke was sweating, he didn’t feel tired or thirsty. The Force flowed through him like cool water, holding Artoo, the boulders, and the tree aloft.

The students were shifting, probably wondering how long they would have to continue watching. Perhaps he would lift them one by one, and then withdraw, leaving them to find the ground delicately or with difficulty, as their talents allowed.

Luke suppressed a smile. As much as he enjoyed teaching, he didn’t always show that enjoyment. Sometimes the students believed he was laughing at their expense, which was not conducive to a good student-teacher relationship. Still, he had moments of pure pleasure, especially at times like this. Artoo didn’t appreciate this aspect of the training, but it made Luke feel like a boy again.

Instead of lifting one of his students, he eased another boulder into the air. It hovered near the others, bobbing a bit before it found its place. The students watched, suddenly still. Luke scanned their feet, hoping for some sign of annoyance. The first one to look restless would be the first one into the air.

He had learned this method over the years as a way of teaching his students patience, and also as a way of showing them the powers of the Force. Like so many of the methods he used, it worked for some students and didn’t work for others. Often he got an insight into a student’s mind by the student’s reaction to various aspects of training. These class members were still new enough to mimic each others’ reactions. He hoped that mimicry would be gone by the end of the day.

Then a wave of emotion slammed into him—cold, hard, and filled with terror. The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt, worse than the near loss of his leg on the Eye of Palpatine, worse than the Emperor’s electric blast on the Death Star, worse than the destruction of his face on Hoth. Mixed with the terror and pain was the shock of betrayal, a shock multiplied by the millions of minds who felt it.

Luke wobbled on his hand, struggling to keep the boulders and tree aloft, to keep them from falling on his unsuspecting students. Artoo screamed as he shot across the sky, the sound mingling with the screams in Luke’s mind. Artoo landed with a metallic bang against the jungle floor, Luke’s students scattered, and the rest of Luke’s control fled.

His arm collapsed beneath him, and he tumbled to the ground, his breath gone from his body. He lay on his back, sinking in the soft dirt, the screams still echoing in his mind.

Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, the voices were