TWENTY-ONE

The four brains displayed above the medholo varied broadly in size and shape, the largest being oblong with only a slight downward bulge to join the brain stem, the smallest looking more like a withered pallie mounted on a pulsing mushroom stem. In three of the brains, bursts of activity were simultaneously blossoming in bright identical colors, then fading at exactly the same rate. Even more telling were the two-dimensional alpha waves crawling through the air beneath each hologram. Three of the patterns were indistinguishable, with matched frequencies and amplitudes. The fourth wave, located beneath the solid blue shape of a human brain, was alternating between dead flat and so wildly erratic that the peaks vanished into the holo above.

“Very funny, Jacen.” Luke frowned toward the relaxi-chair where his nephew reclined, looking out through viewing window of a huge scanning hood. “Would you stop playing with the brain mapper?”

“Just making the point.” The fourth brain went entirely white. “This won’t tell you anything. You must decide for yourselves whether we can be trusted.”

“Trust isn’t the issue,” Corran Horn said. Along with Luke, Mara, and several other Jedi Masters, he was standing in the isolation ward of the infirmary at the Jedi academy on Ossus, where they would be far from the prying eyes of the Galactic Alliance advisory council. “We’re just trying to figure out what happened to you.”

“It has nothing to do with Killikz,” Tesar said.

“We overused the meld,” Tahiri said.

“And now we can’t stay out of each other’s minds,” Tekli finished.

Though Luke certainly knew about the problems the meld had caused the strike team survivors, he suspected these new symptoms had more to do with Killiks than the meld. Still, that was a judgment better made by the Jedi order’s Master healer.

Luke turned to Cilghal. “What do you think?”

The Mon Calamari looked at him out of one bulbous eye. “I think they are…mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” Kyp Durron asked with his usual lack of tact. “Or lying?”

Tesar Sebatyne started to push his scanning hood off. “This one does not—”

“Easy, Tesar.” Luke flashed Kyp a look of irritation. Now was hardly a good time to be testing Tesar’s patience. The Barabel had felt his mother get wounded less than twenty-four hours earlier, and the only thing anyone knew about the circumstances was a vague sensation that Luke had felt from Leia suggesting that she was caring for Saba—and that he and Mara faced the same danger on Ossus. “I’m sure Master Durron didn’t mean to impugn your honor.”

Ignoring the opportunity for an apology, Kyp continued to look at Cilghal. “Okay, why do you think they’re…mistaken?”

“Because the activity is in the wrong places.”

Cilghal keyed a command, and a blobby structure about the size of a thumbtip began to glow deep within the hologram of Tahiri’s brain.

“With the meld, the hypothalamus responds to emotional reverberations in the Force,” Cilghal said. The blob began to swell and grow red. “Prolonged use—or very intense use—can enlarge it and make it hypersensitive. Melders can become so attuned to each other that their minds begin to read the reverberations much as transceivers read comm waves. That’s when the meld slips into telepathy.”

“What about the mood swings?” Corran asked.

Cilghal keyed another command. What looked like a wishbone with two long, curling tails appeared above the image of Tahiri’s hypothalamus.

“As use is continued, the effect spills over into the rest of the limbic system, and melders begin to alter each other’s emotions.”

The Masters watched for a few moments as the “wishbone” grew thicker and darker. They were all aware of the risks associated with the meld, but this was the first time many had heard Cilghal’s theory concerning the actual mechanism. Luke had the sense that some were looking inward, trying to guess how sensitive their own limbic systems might be growing.

Finally, Corran asked, “And where is the other kind of activity occurring?”

Cilghal keyed another command. A fibrous, cap-like structure about ten centimeters long appeared above Tahiri’s limbic system and beneath both her cerebral hemispheres. It was, Luke noted, in a perfect position to act as bridge among all major sections of the brain.

“The structure of the corpus callosum has changed,” Cilghal said. As she spoke, the hypothalamus and limbic system paled, and a hazy yellow fuzz formed in their place. “That haze you see is composed of free-dangling dendrites. It suggests that Tesar, Tekli, and Tahiri are sending impulses directly from one brain to another.”

“And Jacen?” Mara asked.

“That’s difficult to say.” Cilghal glanced at Jacen, who sat beneath his hood, playing color games with the hologram of his brain. “But probably not, since he was there only a fraction of the time the others were.”

“What about these impulses?” Kyle Katarn asked. With brown hair, brown eyes, and a tan shirt tucked into brown breeches, he looked like a farmer about to return to his fields instead of one of the Jedi order’s most famous and skilled members. “Are you talking about Force impulses?”

Cilghal shook her elongated head. “Probably not. From what Master Skywalker said, the Killiks don’t appear to be Force-sensitive.” She stepped away from the controls, then continued, “I suspect the impulses are moving through their auras.”

“Their auras?” Kenth Hamner asked. A tall Jedi with a deeply lined face and dignified bearing, he had a keen mind and a habit of skeptical inquiry. “I’ve always had the impression that auras were so much Fallanassi nonsense.”

“Not at all,” Cilghal said. “Every being is surrounded by an aura of subtle energies—heat, electric, magnetic, even chemical—some extending as far as ten meters. I have a multi-band detector that can image your own, if you like.”

“For now, we’ll take your word for it,” Luke said. At the moment, he was less interested in proof than in a working theory. “How confident are you?”

“Not confident at all,” Cilghal said. “I’ll have to perform some tests to verify my hypothesis.”

“Tests are useless,” Tekli said from inside her scanning hood. “They won’t reveal anything.”

“Our problem is the meld,” Tahiri insisted.

“We need no testz to tell us that,” Tesar agreed.

Luke and the other Masters exchanged uncomfortable glances, their mutual concern growing sharper in the Force. The trio’s insistence on blaming the meld was beginning to sound irrational.

Finally, Corran said, “Cilghal, you said their corpus ca—er—whatever-it-was had changed. How did that happen? Was that also caused by the auras?”

“Probably not,” Cilghal said. “Most insects rely heavily on pheromones to regulate their lives, so that’s where my suspicions fall first.”

“That makes sense,” Mara agreed. “The nests were soaked with pheromones.”

“You’re saying a smell changed our Jedi’s brain structure?” Corran asked.

“Pheromones aren’t just odors,” Cilghal said. “They’re very powerful chemicals. They trigger a wide range of behaviors—and physical changes—in nearly every animal in the galaxy.”

“And they change your brain?” Corran repeated, still unconvinced.

“Everything changes your brain,” Cilghal said. “Whenever you learn something new, or develop a skill, or make a memory, your brain grows new connections to store and access information. Under the right stimulus, it’s very conceivable that parts of it could be completely modified.”

“So,” Mara asked, “spend enough time in the pheromone bath, and your brain rewires itself?”

“Exactly,” Cilghal said. “Especially if the pheromones work through the nose. In most species, smell is a direct input to the brain.”

“And you’re sure these Jedi Knights are just mistaken about what’s happened to them?” Kyp asked, raising the question again for no good reason Luke could see. “They couldn’t be lying?”

“We are not lying!” Tesar stood, pushing his hood up and pointing a talon in Kyp’s direction. “We do not lie!”

Concerned that Kyp was sensing something he had not, Luke reached out to Tesar and the others in the Force. He felt outrage, confusion, even a small hint of a Joiner’s double presence—but no dishonesty. As far as he could tell, the trio believed they were telling the truth.

Luke sent a gentle Force-nudge urging Kyp to apologize, but the shaggy-haired Jedi ignored it and returned the glare Tesar was shooting in his direction.

“Then prove it,” Kyp said. “Tell us why you agreed to come back from Qoribu.”

The tip of Tesar’s forked tongue darted between his lips, and the anger in his slit-pupiled eyes slowly changed to admiration.

“Very good, Master Durron,” Tesar said. “We did not see that coming at all.”

“I’m glad I still have something to teach,” Kyp said. “Are you going to answer?”

“Of course,” Tahiri said, slipping out from beneath her own hood. “All you had to do was ask.”

“So we’re asking,” Mara said.

“We came to persuade the council to help the Killikz,” Tesar said. “The Colony can only stop the Chisz through war.”

“And the Jedi can bring other pressures to bear,” Tahiri added. “It’s best for everyone.”

“That will be for the Masters council to decide,” Kenth said. “And when it does, will you abide by our decision?”

“We aren’t wrong about this,” Tahiri dodged.

“The Chisz are committing xenocide,” Tesar added. “We must intervene.”

“Immediately.” Tekli pushed her hood up and came to stand with the others, leaving only Jacen’s brain—currently gold and pulsing—displayed on the medholo. “Aren’t we bound as Jedi to protect the weak?”

“Jedi are bound by a great many duties, often contradictory,” Kenth said. “Which is why we call Masters’ councils. I ask again, will you abide by our decision?”

The trio fell silent, then Tahiri and Tekli dropped their eyes, and Tesar said, “That dependz on what the decision is.”

Kenth and Corran recoiled visibly.

But Kyp Durron smiled. “Well, it’s an honest answer.”

“As much as that is possible for them,” Cilghal said. She turned to Luke. “I don’t like to question their integrity, Master Skywalker, but anything they tell us is suspect. We must assume their judgment has been compromised by the same power that called them away in the first place.”

Tesar glared openly in Cilghal’s direction. “You are saying we cannot be trusted?”

She met his gaze evenly. “You’re not to blame, but yes—that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Tesar looked from Cilghal to Luke to Kyp and back to Luke, then thumped his tail and retreated to his relaxi-chair.

Tahiri took his place. “We don’t deserve this.” She glared directly into Luke’s eyes. “You have no reason to treat us like we’re Sith.”

“Probably not,” Kenth said. “But until those mysterious attacks on Yoggoy and at Qoribu are explained, there’s no harm in being safe.”

“By all meanz,” Tesar rasped from his chair. “This one would not want you to fear us.”

Luke turned to Cilghal. “Perhaps you’d explain your concerns?”

The Mon Calamari nodded. “It’s very simple. The meld always comes from the outside—you know you’re listening to someone else’s thoughts and reacting to someone else’s emotions. But this…this joining feels like it comes from inside. The things our Jedi Knights see through it—or hear or smell or taste—seem like things they’re sensing themselves. Even the thoughts they share seem to arise inside their own minds.”

“So they don’t know whether their thoughts are their own or someone else’s?” Mara asked. Luke could sense that she was as concerned as he was, that she was afraid their young Jedi Knights were lost to the Colony already. “They can’t just ignore outside thoughts, like we can in the meld?”

“I’m afraid that’s correct,” Cilghal said. “In all likelihood, it’s impossible to know the difference.”

The Masters studied Tahiri and the other young Jedi in silence, their faces betraying the same disappointment and concern and uncertainty that Luke felt. Cilghal could probably find a way to negate the changes to their brain structure. But the patients were clearly going to be uncooperative, and that would make recovery a long, difficult process.

Finally, Kenth said, “Well, that explains a lot. They certainly haven’t been acting like themselves.”

“Perhapz not,” Tesar admitted. He leaned forward, being careful to remain seated and nonthreatening. “But that doesn’t mean we are wrong about Qoribu.”

“Ask Masters Skywalker,” Tekli said. “They both saw Jwlio. They can tell you what the Chiss have done to the moon.”

“Fair enough,” Luke said. “Mara and I weren’t on Jwlio long enough to gather many facts, but it is clear the Chiss are trying to drive the Killiks out of the system.”

“And it’s just as clear that the Killiks don’t have the resources to leave,” Mara added. “The way things are looking, the result will be war or extermination, probably both.”

Tahiri beamed, Tesar assumed a reptilian grin, and Tekli brought her ears forward.

Then Corran asked, “Why?”

Tesar rose. “Why what?”

“Why are the Chiss doing this?” he asked. “They’re xenophobic and secretive, but they’re not expansionists. If they’re trying to drive the Killiks away, they must have a reason.”

“They are afraid the Colony will expand into their territory,” Tesar said. “That is what their Joinerz say.”

“There’s more to it,” Mara said. “If all the Chiss were worried about was border security, they’d just wait for a nest to pop up in their own territory, then attack.”

“That’s right,” Luke agreed. “Something about the Killiks scares the Chiss so much they don’t want them in the same sector as an Ascendancy system.”

“You’d have to ask the Chiss about that,” Tahiri said.

“We shouldn’t need to,” Kenth pointed out. “Isn’t it the first duty of a Jedi to understand both sides of a conflict?”

Tahiri met his gaze with a raised chin. “We were occupied.”

“Saving innocentz.”

“And look what happened,” Kenth said. “Both sides are closer to war than ever.”

“Perhaps,” Tekli said. “But our mistakes shouldn’t condemn the Qoribu nests.”

“And they shouldn’t commit the Jedi to any action the Masters haven’t authorized.” Corran turned away from the trio and addressed the other Masters. “Our first concern must be the stability of the Galactic Alliance.”

“No.” Kyp Durron surprised everyone by stepping to Tahiri’s side. “The Jedi are no one’s mercenaries—not even the Galactic Alliance’s. Our first concern, our only concern, is our own conscience. We must follow it wherever it leads.”

Octa Ramis, who had remained silent until now, spoke up to agree with Kyp, then Kenth agreed with Corran, Kyp repeated his position, and the discussion degenerated into argument. Tahiri, Tekli, and Tesar remained silent, content to let their advocates argue their case. Luke glanced over at Jacen, who was continuing to create elegant swirls of light in his brain holo, and wished he were also free to ignore the argument. What he really wanted to be doing was looking for a slicer who could access that sequestered sector in R2-D2’s memory, but personal business would have to wait. The argument among the Masters was rapidly growing more heated.

Luke eased his way into the middle of the knot.

“Enough.” The tumult began to quiet, and he said, “This isn’t the time for discussion. We’re just here to have a look at Cilghal’s tests and listen to our Jedi Knights’ report.”

An embarrassed silence fell over the room as the Masters contemplated their outbursts, then Kyp flushed and dropped his chin. “I let my emotions carry me away. I apologize.”

“No need,” Corran said, slapping his shoulder. “We were all a little excited.”

“Master Skywalker is right,” Kyle added. “We’re just here to listen.”

“You haven’t listened to me yet.”

Jacen sounded as though he were less than a meter from the group. But when Luke turned around, he found only the image of his nephew’s brain floating above the holopad. Jacen himself remained seated in his relaxi-chair, eyes staring blankly out through the viewing window of his scanning hood.

“Okay, Jacen,” Luke said. “We’d be very interested in hearing your report.”

The hologram pulsed in a brilliant show of iridescent color, and the alpha line below it quivered in time to a deep, booming voice that was barely recognizable as Jacen’s.

“Killiks are dangerous friends, but no one’s enemy,” the brain said. “The true danger lies not in what the Jedi do, but in their failure to act at all.”

The effect was exactly what Jacen had intended. A thoughtful silence descended on the group, and the Masters’ gazes turned inward as they searched for the deeper meaning in Jacen’s words.

Luke walked over the control panel. “Very funny,” he said, switching it off. “Didn’t I tell you to stop playing with Cilghal’s brain mapper?”