EPILOGUE
“We never thought we’d find Booster,” Jaina confessed, around a mouthful of food. “I was ready to hijack the Jade Shadow and fly straight to Yavin. When Booster doesn’t want to be found, he can really disappear.”
“What was he doing?” Anakin asked.
“Running weapons to the Hutt underground, actually,” Jaina replied. “I just asked myself where Booster would go if he wanted to help the war effort and still turn a profit without feeling bad about it.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It didn’t hurt that Corran was with him,” Jacen said. “We got hints of him in the Force.”
“Still.”
“Jacen’s being modest,” Jaina said. “He spent a lot of time in deep meditation, trying to find Corran. It was no accident.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” Anakin allowed.
“Thank you, Anakin,” Jacen said, as if surprised. His brow wrinkled in such a way that made him look briefly very much like their father. “Are you okay, Anakin?”
Anakin nodded. “Yes, actually. I mean, my leg still hurts, even with the bacta patch, but otherwise, I think I’m fine. In fact, better than fine.”
“What do you mean?” Jacen asked, perhaps a little suspiciously.
Anakin chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Up until now,” he said, “I had no way to think of the Yuuzhan Vong except as enemies.”
“They are enemies,” Jaina said.
“Yes,” Anakin replied. “So was the Empire. But Palpatine aside, it must have been possible for Mom and Dad and Uncle Luke to at least conceive of the people they were fighting as possible friends. In fact, that’s how Uncle Luke destroyed the Emperor, right? He was able to imagine Darth Vader as his father, as a friend. The Yuuzhan Vong—well, to be frank, I didn’t even want to conceive of them that way.”
“They don’t make it easy,” Jaina said. “Look what happened to Elegos when he tried to understand them.”
“So you think you succeeded where Elegos failed?” Jacen asked.
“Do I understand them? No, not completely. But I have a deeper understanding than I did. I can think of them as people now, and that makes a difference.”
Jacen nodded. “You’re right, of course. Does that mean you’ve decided not to fight them anymore? Are you going to work for peace?”
Anakin blinked. “Are you kidding? We have to fight them, Jacen. I have to fight them. I just know more about how to do it now.”
Jacen’s frown was fully developed now. “Are you sure that’s the right lesson to take away from all this?” he asked.
“No offense, Jacen, but I think I’ll leave off worrying about what lesson I might have learned if I had been someone else. Because frankly, if I had been someone else, I don’t think I would have survived to learn any lesson.”
“Tell Booster we’re going to have to evacuate the ship,” Jaina said. “The way Anakin’s head is expanding, it’ll split through the hull in no time.”
“Believe it or not,” Anakin replied, “I don’t say what I just said with pride. I’m just stating a fact.”
“Pride is pretty sneaky,” Jacen warned. “It disguises itself pretty well. I hope you’ll have a long talk with Uncle Luke at some point. Unless you don’t think even he has anything to teach you.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Jacen,” Anakin said.
“And don’t you forget who pulled your butt out of the fire there at the end,” Jaina replied.
Anakin let a grin creep across his face. “But that’s what I meant, don’t you see? When I said that no one but me could have survived what I did. Because no one else in the galaxy has you two for his brother and sister.”
He picked up his tray, trying not to laugh at their gaping mouths.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I have someone I need to go see.”
Anakin found Tahiri’s stateroom door open a crack. Through it he saw her lying on her bed, bare feet propped up on the wall. Her gaze was fastened on the transparisteel window and the distant spray of the core beyond.
Anakin rapped the door frame. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi. Come in if you want.”
“Okay.” He took a seat on the edge of the bed.
“You didn’t show up for dinner,” he said. “I thought I would bring you some.” He placed a food container on the bed. “Corran made it. Seems he’s been doing a lot of cooking these days.”
“Thanks,” Tahiri said. She turned her head and for the first time met his gaze.
“What happened to it?” she asked. “The shaper base?”
“You sure you want to hear about it? Every time someone brings up the subject—”
“I wasn’t ready to talk about it then. Now I am.”
“Okay. Well, Booster pretty much slagged it. Karrde and his people evacuated the slaves. We’re going to drop them off someplace soon. Of course, the Yuuzhan Vong can come back, I guess, since we left the system pretty much without defenses, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“No,” Tahiri said. “There isn’t. I guess that’s the end of the academy.
“Of course it isn’t. The academy was never a place. It’s a thing, an idea. We’re just taking it on jets. Booster’s going to let the academy kids stay on the Errant Venture. He’ll make random jumps around the galaxy until it’s safe to settle the kids down someplace.”
“Safe?” Tahiri hissed. “How can it ever be safe? How can anything ever be—” Her words seemed to clot up in her throat, and she turned back to the view of space.
“Tahiri, I know how you feel,” Anakin said.
She closed her eyes, and two small tears squeezed from the corners. “If anyone does, I guess you do,” she said after a moment.
“What they did to you was horrible, I know, and—”
“What they did to me? Anakin, I cut Mezhan Kwaad’s head off.”
“You had to.”
“I wanted to. I liked it. I loved it.”
“She tortured you. She tried to destroy everything you are. You can’t be blamed for a moment of anger.”
“I think she did destroy everything I am,” Tahiri said. “When I killed her, it was the end of me.”
“No,” Anakin said, “that’s not true. And I should know, shouldn’t I? The best of you is still there, Tahiri.” He reached his hand out. It hung there in space for a long time before she reached back, taking it without looking.
“It was all my fault,” she said. “Master Ikrit died because of me. Karrde’s people died because of me.”
“Now this I’m pretty good at,” Anakin said. “Blaming myself for things. I can really teach you to do that right. In fact, if we think really hard about it, I bet we can find some way to blame you for the Yuuzhan Vong finding this galaxy in the first place.” He cocked his head. “No—I think I want the blame for that. We can blame Palpatine on you, though. How’s that?”
Tahiri frowned at him. “When did you start talking so much?” she asked.
“I don’t know. When did you start coughing up one word at a time as if three or four were going to break your mouth?”
The corners of her lips twitched up, not quite forming a smile. “Just shut up, will you? I liked you better the other way.”
“Me, too.”
They watched the stars in silence for a while.
“Where will you go now?” Tahiri asked, when the silence was too thin. “Back out to fight the Yuuzhan Vong?”
“Eventually.”
“I want to go with you.”
“That’s why I said eventually. I’m staying on here for a while. Until you’ve healed. Until I’ve healed. Then if you still want to go, we go. Together.”
She didn’t say anything, but for the first time since they’d left Yavin, he felt something like hope in her.
“Adept Nen Yim. Step forth.”
Nen Yim genuflected and then stood before the warmaster, Tsavong Lah.
“First I want your account of the fall of the shaper compound. After that I have other questions.”
“Yes, Warmaster. At your command.”
“My command is given. Speak.”
“Of the space battle I know nothing, Warmaster. Many of our ships died on the ground or struggling through the atmosphere. Then the damuteks were attacked from above, and damaged beyond healing.”
“So much is obvious. Go on.”
“Then the bombardment ceased, and the infidels commenced landing. We did not understand why, at first. A more thorough bombardment would have killed us all with no risk to the infidels. As it was, some of them were slain by our surviving warriors.”
“You do not know these infidels as well as you might, Shaper. Their attachment to their own kind leads them into pointless maneuvers.”
“Agreed, Warmaster. In retrospect, it is clear that their intent was to recover the slaves.”
“And where were you during this?”
“I hid among the Shamed Ones, Warmaster. I thought they would take true castes captive.”
“A cowardly thing to do, Shaper.”
“I beg your indulgence, Warmaster, but I had more than selfish reasons for doing so.”
“Explain them. Be brief.”
“My master, Mezhan Kwaad, was slain by the Jeedai we were shaping.”
“You did not shape the Jeedai well, I think.”
“On the contrary, Warmaster, given a few more cycles, she would have been ours. If not for the interference of the other Jeedai.”
“Yes,” the warmaster snarled. “The other. Solo. Another Solo.” He paced violently away from her, then turned back. “Master Yal Phaath disagrees with you, Adept. He claims that your master conspired in heresy, and that any results you obtained were stained by ungodliness.”
“Master Yal Phaath is a respected shaper. So was Mezhan Kwaad. She was never able to answer these charges, and I may not speak for her. But I tell you this, Warmaster. What we learned from the Jeedai was valuable. It has worth to the Yuuzhan Vong. The records in the damutek were destroyed, and my master is dead. Only I remain to remember. That is why I secreted myself among the Shamed Ones, to protect that information.”
“You did so for no reason. The infidels took no captives.”
“No, Warmaster. But I could not know that at the time.”
“Agreed. They are a strange breed. They keep no slaves and make no sacrifices. They do not appreciate captives. They do not make war to obtain them. They consider them burdens or currency for the return of their own worthless kind. An ugly and godless motley of species.”
“If I may ask your opinion, Warmaster—why then did they not slay us once they had what they wanted? Corpses are no burden.”
“They are weak. They do not understand life and death.” He waved the whole issue aside with the back of his hand, then returned his stare to Nen Yim.
“This was badly bungled by shapers and warriors alike,” he said. “If Tsaak Vootuh were not dead, I would kill him myself. And I should have you sacrificed.”
“If death is my lot, Warmaster, if that is what the gods desire, I embrace it. But I repeat—what we learned of the Jeedai here ought not to perish with me. Give me at least a chance to record what I know in a worldship qahsa.”
The warmaster’s cruel eyes did not waver. “You will have that chance. It has been given you. Do not squander it as your master did here.”
“And if more Jeedai are captured? Will our work shaping them resume?”
“Your domain has failed. They will not be given a second chance with the Jeedai. Domain Phaath will continue the work on the Jeedai problem.”
Then it will never be solved, Nen Yim thought to herself. She did not dare say this to the warmaster, of course. “And Domain Kwaad?” she asked instead.
“The worldships are failing. They must be maintained.”
Nen Yim nodded solemnly, but in her belly she was sick. Back to the worldships, to closed skies and rotting maw luur, to masters so mired in the old ways they would let the Yuuzhan Vong perish rather than contemplate change.
So be it. But in her heart, Nen Yim still considered Mezhan Kwaad her master. Nen Yim would continue the work they had begun, somehow. It was too important. And if Nen Yim must die for this, she must. The glorious heresy would live on.
“I submit to your will, Warmaster,” Nen Yim lied.
“One other thing before you go,” Tsavong Lah said. “You spent some time among the Shamed Ones before the reoccupation force arrived. Have you heard of a new heresy amongst them, one concerning the Jeedai?”
“I have, Warmaster.”
“Explain it to me.”
“There is a certain admiration for them, Warmaster. Many feel that Vua Rapuung was redeemed from Shamed status by the Jeedai Solo. Many feel their own redemption lies not in prayer to Yun-Shuno, but in the Jeedai.”
“Can you name any who espouse this heresy?”
“A few, Warmaster.”
“Name them. This heresy will die on this moon. If every Shamed One here must perish in glorious sacrifice, it will end here.”
Nen Yim nodded affirmation, but in her bones she knew the truth.
Repression was the favored food of heresy.