CHAPTER EIGHT

Luke Skywalker reached out and tapped the Force to refresh himself. Energy pulsed into him, sending a tingle over his flesh. He smiled, luxuriating in the warmth flooding him. He did not often use the Force in this manner these days, preferring passive acceptance of its gifts, but exhaustion had seized him. With no time to sleep, he needed the boost.

He glanced down at the datapad on his desk. Compiling the assignments for all the Jedi had not been as simple a task as he had hoped it would be. It seemed those Jedi given solo missions wondered why they were being sent out alone. Those who were traveling in pairs or larger groups wondered if Luke doubted their abilities, or they resented the extra burden of nursemaiding another Jedi. Protests arose over the nature of the missions themselves, or the nature of the solutions to be used on them—the philosophical split among the Jedi raising the smallest of conflicts to a whole new level.

He massaged the back of his neck with his mechanical hand. “Well, Artoo, I thought saving the galaxy was hard work. Being a bureaucrat is even worse.”

The little droid’s head swiveled around, and R2-D2 tootled at him. The droid had plugged its interface into a computer connection and had been helping Luke track the Jedi as they headed out on their transports. As news of their making their connections came in, R2-D2 updated their files, letting Luke know if his people were getting where they needed to be.

Mara appeared in the office doorway. “Luke, we may have a problem.”

“What?”

She entered the office and waved Anakin in after her. “Anakin found the initial stuff. I’ll let him explain.”

The brown-haired youth smiled. “To help plan missions in the future, I created a computer program to analyze the usage of our data library. By tracking the files accessed after assignments were made, we’d learn what kind of information the Jedi needed to complete their missions. In the future we could add those files to the mission assignments, saving some time. It would be on the data cards, and their only need from that point on would be for updates.”

The Jedi Master smiled broadly. “That’s very good thinking.”

“Thank you.” Anakin beamed. “The program just peeled off requests for data. No one knew it was running. When I did a breakdown of the requests for information and cross-checked my data against the computer system’s control log, I found a problem.”

Luke arched an eyebrow. “And the problem is?”

“My program caught fifteen more requests than the official control file had listed in it.” The youth shrugged. “The fifteen that aren’t recorded could be trouble. Artoo, if you can, pull up the anomaly file and send it to Uncle Luke’s datapad.”

The droid whistled a low tone. Luke glanced down at the screen and saw a list of fifteen files scroll past, with descriptions for each appended. “Maw Installation, Death Star, Sun Crusher, Darksaber, Eye of Palpatine . . . These are all about superweapons and the places they were built.”

Mara nodded. “The files contained the complete technical specifications for those things. There’s a ton of data there, and we have no idea what they were looking for in pulling them up. The implication, though, is not good.”

Luke sat down at his desk and stared at the list of files. “The reason the control file didn’t list these fifteen requests is because whoever asked for the files went in and deleted the requests, right? Covered her tracks?”

“Or his, yes.” Anakin shook his head. “I tried to go through and see if I could pull the data from memory, but the appropriate memory sectors had been overwritten twice. Whoever did it is very good.”

Luke sighed, then looked up at his wife. “You have suspects?”

She nodded slowly. “I checked our files. There are a handful of Jedi who have the necessary computer skills. I ruled Anakin out immediately, ditto Tionne. Most of the others I’m not concerned about, but Octa Ramis could be a problem.”

Luke called to mind the dark-haired woman. “She was close with Miko Reglia, wasn’t she?”

“Tionne said they had a romance at the academy. She thought they’d drifted apart after graduating and going their separate ways, but the logs of their travels suggest they were able to meet several times.” Mara shrugged. “I don’t recall her being particularly distraught at his memorial service on Yavin 4, but I was not in the best of shape then.”

“I was preoccupied. You notice anything, Anakin?”

“She wasn’t weepy or anything that I saw, but then I didn’t pay that much attention to her. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. It’s not your responsibility.” Luke nodded. “Do you think she pulled these files down to try to build a weapon to use against the Yuuzhan Vong? I can’t see the sense in that.”

Mara shook her head. “It would take years to build another Death Star. The fastest to build would be a Sun Crusher, but the facility for doing that is gone. I can’t imagine anyone, no matter how much in grief, would look at building one and causing stars to go nova just to get rid of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“That would be extreme, yes.”

“But isn’t that what Kyp did?” Anakin frowned. “To avenge his brother’s death by the Imperials, he destroyed Carida.”

“And found out his brother wasn’t dead after all, but died when the planet did, yes.” Luke sighed heavily. “The ends never justify the means. You’ve checked on Octa?”

“She has boarded her ship and is on her way.”

Luke sat back and ran a hand over his jaw. “Interesting. Her associates?”

Mara smiled. “She’s been on a number of missions with Daeshara’cor.”

“But Daeshara’cor is on the Durastar, going off to Bimmisaari. I mean, Artoo reported to me that the Durastar suffered a drive failure so came out of hyperspace early, but Corellia is supposed to be sending ships out to ferry the passengers on to their destination.”

The droid shrilled confirmation of Luke’s comment.

Luke’s wife nodded. “If you look at the standard emergency rescue report appended to the request for aid, you’ll see one rather significant item. There are zero Twi’lek females listed on the passenger manifest.”

“What?”

Anakin smiled. “I figure she boarded, planted some memories on the staff, then left the ship before it departed. The list of passengers was made up based on the folks who reported to evacuation stations.”

“And you’d have to think, Luke, that a Jedi would be very hard to miss in that sort of emergency situation.”

The Jedi Master closed his eyes. “Something here doesn’t make sense. Octa looking for superweapons does make sense. The Yuuzhan Vong killed Miko. I can see her wanting to seek revenge, even if it’s of the dark side. But what is Daeshara’cor’s motive? Were she and Miko ever close?”

Mara shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think motive is secondary right now. We need to find out where she went.”

Anakin laughed. “That should be easy. There are only so many places where a superweapon could be built, right? The shipyards at Kuat . . .”

The Jedi Master stood. “Building a superweapon isn’t something that can be done in secret anymore, and the resources to do that just aren’t available. She’s after something else.”

He glanced at the droid. “Artoo, pull up the docking bay data on the Durastar. I want a list of ships—and their destinations—that took off from that docking bay within four hours either way of the Durastar’s departure.”

“That could be dozens of ships, Luke.”

“I know, Mara, but we have to start somewhere.” Luke took his lightsaber from his desk and clipped it to his belt. “We don’t need a rogue Jedi running around, and especially not one looking for a planet killer.”

An airspeeder got them to Docking Bay 9372 quickly enough. The cavernous enclosure bustled with activity. Loadlifters shifted cargo; passengers snaked through the chaos in long lines; idle workers clustered together drinking, laughing, gambling. Mara and Anakin split up to hit the ticketing offices for the commercial shuttles that would transport people from the surface to ships waiting in orbit. R2-D2 accessed a local terminal node to get the data Luke had requested.

Luke opened himself to the Force and wandered through the docking bay. A torrent of emotions poured into him. He smiled at the petty anger arcing between a couple whose sense of on time differed radically. He passed by people anxiously trying to remember if they had packed this or that. He nodded at ships’ captains calculating profit with each crate loaded or unloaded from their freighters’ holds. The excitement from folks heading into space for the first time broadened his smile, and the passion of a couple heading off on a honeymoon prompted him to blush.

As he strolled along he did his best to immerse himself in Daeshara’cor’s mind-set. She had an interest in superweapons and had access to fairly confidential files concerning them. She knew she was expected to be in Bimmisaari in five days, so she had that much time in which to operate before any alarm could be sounded. That narrowed down her choice of destinations.

Luke immediately rejected her having traveled to the Maw Installation near Kessel. The Durastar would have taken her to Bimmisaari, from which Kessel was a short hop. More importantly, the files she’d accessed would have left no doubt that Admiral Daala had destroyed the lab complex. While it was possible some portions of it still floated in space, the chances that anything useful still remained were minimal.

Before Luke could figure out what Daeshara’cor had been looking for, he felt something through the Force that seemed out of place. It began as curiosity, but spiked immediately into fear. Discipline immediately masked the fear, but did a fairly poor job of it. Luke looked to his right and saw a man hastily pulling up the hood on his cloak and turning away.

The Jedi Master gestured easily. “Wait, don’t go.”

The cloaked man halted in midstride as if he’d frozen solid. Though he fought against Luke’s suggestion, his torso turned and his head came up, letting the cloak slip back. “M-me?” the man stammered.

Luke nodded slowly and smiled as he crossed to where the man stood. “I think you can help me.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Perhaps.” Luke shrugged easily. “The fact is that you are here often, and you make a living by spotting needs and fulfilling them, isn’t that true?”

“I, ah, I . . . I’ve done nothing.”

A security officer came walking over. “Is Chalco here giving you trouble, Master Skywalker? I will deal with him, write up a report.”

Luke casually waved a hand. “Thank you, not necessary. Nothing here to report.”

The security officer blinked once, then continued on his way, passing between Luke and the surprised docking bay denizen.

“What you do here, Chalco, is of no concern to me right now. I think you may be able to help me, though.”

The heavyset man ran a hand over his bald head. “How so?”

“You observe things. Two days ago a Twi’lek, a Jedi, was here. She was supposed to leave on the Durastar, but she did not embark on the ship. You saw her, yes?”

The man slowly nodded. “I find it convenient to keep an eye out for Jedi, you know, ah, in case I can help them.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, she came through and I noticed her. She boarded the ship, but I never seen her come off.” He scratched at his unshaven throat. “Then, later, I saw her talking to a mate on a freighter. She did that thing with her hand that you did there, and the mate, he just turned away from her like she wasn’t even there. I looked away at that point, figuring I didn’t want her to see me and do me like she did him, you know. I heard those stories about losing your mind and everything.”

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “What was the name of the freighter?”

“Lucky Star II. Tramp freighter, makes stops all over the place. Half of them aren’t on the flight plan. I think they were making for Ord Mantell, but I don’t know.”

“Good, thank you.”

The man opened his hands. “Hey, I helped you. You gonna do something for me?”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “What would you have me do, Chalco?”

The man shrugged. “I dunno, maybe make all the security guys here forget what I do. You know, make them forget me?”

“If I did that, there would still be the surveillance holocams.” Luke openly appraised the man, noting that despite having thickened around the middle and being somewhat short, he was still a powerfully built man. “Let’s try this. I think I’m going to need someone to help me locate the Jedi. If you come with me and we succeed, I’ll speak to the authorities on your behalf.”

Chalco hesitated. “You’d do that?”

“Speak to them, yes.”

“No, trust me to come with you?” The man’s brown eyes narrowed. “You know what I am, that I make my living as I can, doing whatever.”

“And here’s a chance for you to make it doing something beneficial.” Luke nodded once. “So, yes, I’ll trust you. Meet me back here in an hour all packed and ready to go.”

Chalco thought for a second, then nodded. “I’ll be here.”

Mara came walking over as Chalco departed. She glanced at her husband. “Picking up strays?”

The Jedi Master gave her a sidelong glance. “Daeshara’cor’s mother was a dancer who traveled very extensively. As a youngster Daeshara’cor spent a lot of time in docking bays in spaceports. She knows her way around, and we’re going to need help catching her. If Han were himself, I’d ask him to help. As it is, we’ll have to trust this one.”

Mara nodded. “Daeshara’cor will be worrying about us tracking her and likely won’t see him coming. I understand. The office I checked with didn’t have anyone heading out that answered to her description.”

“They wouldn’t. Chalco noticed her hanging about. Chances are, she took a freighter that was destined for Ord Mantell, but might have made some stops along the way.”

“Then she could be anywhere.”

“I doubt it. My recollection of star charts isn’t flawless, but there’s one world out in that direction that will help Daeshara’cor.” Luke gave his wife a smile. “We’ve got to get a ship. We’re bound for Vortex.”

“Vortex?” Mara took Luke’s hand in her own. “There’s nothing there but the Cathedral of Winds. Daeshara’cor is going there to listen to music?”

“Nope.” Luke smiled and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. “She’s going there to talk to someone who helps make the music.”