Star Wars_ Young Jedi Knights 03_ The Lost Ones - Kevin J. Anderson [34]
He was concerned about old Peckhum and knew that his friend must be wild with worry for him by now. He was pretty sure that Jacen and Jaina would also have sounded the alarm. But Zekk guessed that Brakiss knew how to deal with that. Zekk just had to bide his time until he could come up with a plan.
While he showered, someone had taken his tattered clothes and replaced them with a new padded suit and polished leather armor, a sleek uniform that looked dark and dashing. He looked around for his old outfit, not wanting to accept more of the Second Imperium's hospitality than necessary, but he found nothing else to wear-and the fine new clothes fit perfectly....
Zekk tried his door, expecting to find it sealed, and was surprised when it slid open at his command. He stepped out to find Brakiss waiting in the corridor. The calm man's silvery robes pooled around him, as if knit from shimmering shadows.
A smile crossed Brakiss's sculpture-perfect face. "Ah, young Zekk-are you ready to begin your training?"
"Not really," Zekk muttered, "but I don't suppose it makes any difference."
"It makes a difference," Brakiss said. "It means I haven't explained well enough just what I can do for you. But if you'll open a chink in the wall of your resistance-just to listen, perhaps you will be convinced."
"And what if I'm not convinced?" Zekk said with more defiance than he felt.
Brakiss shrugged. "Then I will have failed. What more can I say?"
Zekk didn't press the point, wondering if he would be killed if he didn't fall in with the plans of the Second Imperium.
"Come to my office," Brakiss said, and led the boy down the curving, smooth-walled corridors. They seemed to be alone, but Zekk noticed armed stormtroopers standing in doorways at rigid attention, ready to offer assistance if Brakiss encountered any problems. Zekk stifled a smile at the mere thought of him posing a threat to Brakiss.
The Academy leader's private chamber seemed as dark as space. The walls were made of black transparisteel, projecting images of cataclysmic astronomical events: flaming solar flares, collapsing stars, gushing lava fields. Zekk looked around in awe. These violent and dangerous images showed a harsher edge to the universe than the galactic tourism kiosks on Coruscant had.
"Sit down," Brakiss said in his calm, unemotional voice. Zekk, listening for any implied threat, realized that at this point resistance would be futile. He decided to save his struggles for later, when they might count for more.
Brakiss took his place behind his long polished desk, reached into a hidden drawer, and withdrew a small cylindrical flare stick. Gripping both ends in his fine, pale hands, he unscrewed the cylinder in the middle. When the two metal halves came apart, a brilliant bluegreen flame spouted upward, shimmering and flickering, but giving off little heat.
The cold fire, mirrored on the office walls, threw its washed-out light against the images of astronomical disasters.
"What are you doing?" Zekk asked.
On his desk Brakiss balanced the two halves of the flare stick against each other, forming a triangle. The pale flame curled upward, strong and steady.
"Look at the flame," Brakiss said. "This is an example of what you can do with your Force abilities. Manipulating fire is a simple thing, a good first test. You'll see what I mean if you try. Watch."
Brakiss crooked one finger, and his gaze took on a faraway look. The bright fire began to dance, swaying back and forth, writhing as if it were alive. It grew taller and thinner, a mere tendril, then spread out to become a sphere, like a small glowing sun.
"Once you've mastered the simple things," Brakiss said, it you can try more amusing effects." He stretched the flame as if it were a rubber sheet, creating a contorted face with flashing eyes and gaping mouth. The face melted into the image of a dragon snapping its long head back and forth, then metamorphosed into