Balance Point (6 page)

As soon as Tsavong arrived there, he would have the glad task of sorting the worthy from the unworthy. A reverent mass sacrifice might convince mighty Yun-Yammka to let Tsavong reach the Galactic Core, where fertile gardens—tended by fecund slave races—were promised by the supreme overlord.

Six thousand more infidels would enhance the sacrifice, bringing him that much closer to the world he truly wanted to offer his gods.

Coruscant.

Mara Jade Skywalker had been a wide-eyed child when Emperor Palpatine brought her to Coruscant. She’d survived Palpatine’s training one hour and one day at a time. Now, everyone tended to think of Coruscant as ground zero again—this time, as the Yuuzhan Vong’s ultimate objective.

Meanwhile, her husband was training another apprentice—obviously assuming there would be peace and justice to defend in the future. She wondered, though, if it was hope or just habit that kept them all sticking to business.

She stared over folded hands at her younger nephew. Seated next to Luke, wearing a light-brown tunic under his Jedi robe, dark-haired Anakin Solo had a saturnine intensity, a Corellian surname, and his father’s wry lift to one eyebrow. Still, his blue eyes simmered with the eagerness to save the galaxy—alone, if necessary—and that was pure Skywalker.

Recently returned from Yavin 4, Luke had formed a habit of gathering several Jedi every few days in some secluded but public place. All Jedi had fallen under public scrutiny in recent months. Ithor was lost, despite Corran Horn’s sacrificial effort. Renegade battle squadrons led by young Jedi Knights dived in and out of three major invasion fronts, blatantly disregarding military strategy.
Almost as damaging, the intelligence her former boss Talon Karrde recently helped the Jedi gather—concerning the Yuuzhan Vong’s imminent attack on Corellia—proved false.

If the Jedi couldn’t work together, they would be vaped separately, or tumble one by one to the dark side.

Seven Jedi had circled their chairs deep in central Coruscant’s governmental district this morning, a few meters from a balcony overlooking a bustling mezzanine. A fountain bubbled nearby, looking and sounding like something out of the Empire’s glory days …

The days when she’d been the Emperor’s Hand. She carried around plenty of regret from those days, things she wished she’d never seen or done. But she’d made her peace. She’d given up the one thing dearest to her, her ship,
Jade’s Fire
. In its place, she’d received … well …

Enough.

Again she eyed Luke and Anakin. Whenever she saw those two together, she glimpsed two outward reflections of the same inner strength. They had the same compact build, though Anakin hadn’t finished fleshing out—and those matching poke-mark clefts in their chins—but most telling of all, those terminally earnest attitudes.

Colonel Kenth Hamner, a strikingly tall human Jedi with a long, aristocratic face, served the New Republic’s military as a strategist. He shook his head and said, “With Fondor’s shipyards gone and the hyperspace routes mined, we’re pulling in from the Inner Rim, even the Colonies. Rodia is in serious danger. Thank the Force, Anakin brought Centerpoint back up—”

Anakin leaned forward, gripping his hands as he interjected, “As long as we don’t lose Corellia. Thrackan’s likely to expel all the Drall and Selonians, declare Corellia a human-only zone, and lock out the rest of us, if we let him.”

Mara knew Anakin well, so she could imagine the thoughts he didn’t speak:
Because I didn’t fire Centerpoint when I could have. Now Thrackan’s a hero, no matter how many bystanders he killed …
With Governor-general Marcha kicked out of office, Thrackan and the Centerpoint Party were making a strong bid for power at Corellia.

Kenth Hamner shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself, Anakin. A Jedi must keep his power under control. We have to hesitate and consider the consequences. You couldn’t hurry to fire Centerpoint, and you did well. Maybe Centerpoint will be the Core’s last defense, if we can get it repaired. From there, we could defend the shipyards at Kuat and protect Coruscant.”

“True,” Luke told Hamner. A new wave of yorik coral warships had hit the Corellian Run, near Rodia. Anakin’s sister, Jaina—Mara’s apprentice—had deployed with Rogue Squadron toward that front, and with so many Yuuzhan Vong between them, it was difficult to sense her through the Force. Yuuzhan Vong somehow damped it down.

Bothawui, though—between the embattled Hutts and threatened Rodia—clearly was endangered. The last time Mara had heard of Kyp Durron, he’d parked Kyp’s Dozen near Bothawui, spoiling for a fight and expecting it right there.

Mara had just about had it with Kyp Durron. She noted, though, the way Kenth Hamner deferred to Anakin. Anakin
had
saved her life on Dantooine, where Yuuzhan Vong warriors chased them for days while her mysterious disease slowly sapped her strength. Since the fall of Dubrillion, since the retreat at Dantooine—and especially since Centerpoint—strangers saluted barely-sixteen-year-old Anakin in Coruscant’s Grand Corridor. Vendors of exotic delicacies offered him samples, and
supple Twi’lek women twitched their long lekku when he passed.

Luke also wore a Jedi robe today, almost the shade of Tatooine sand. So did Cilghal, the Mon Calamari healer, who sat bowing her massive head over salmon-shaded, webbed hands. She’d brought along her new apprentice, quiet little Tekli. Tekli, a Chadra-Fan with marginal Force talent, seemed perpetually wide-eyed. Her large, fan-shaped ears swiveled whenever an atmospheric craft passed their balcony.

These days were growing long for the healers. Cilghal had confided that they were seeing stress illnesses like never before. The fearful strain of watching an invasion displace and kill so many peoples was like watching a disease eat away at a helpless friend—

Mara caught a glint of blue from Luke’s direction. She intercepted his concerned glance and choked off the dismal thought. Her disease, like a protean cancer, had undergone constant random mutations, making it uncontrollable. It should have been fatal.

For three months, she’d been in remission. The tears of an alien creature, Vergere—briefly in custody, with a Yuuzhan Vong agent—had restored her strength. She hesitated to call herself cured, though.
Just as Luke hesitates to call this group a council—because it isn’t. For the moment, I feel good. That’s enough
.

So she eyed him right back, admiring the signs of maturity. He’d lost that half-ripe farmboy look years ago. Around his intense blue eyes, he’d gathered a network of smile lines—and furrows of concern over the bridge of his nose. Here and there, especially near his temples, he’d sprouted a few gray hairs. Altogether distinguished, she decided.

Ever since that hour in Nirauan’s caves, when deadly danger forced them to fight so closely, reaching so deep
into the Force that each saw the world through the other’s mind, she and Luke had moments when they seemed to fight, think, even to breathe as one person. Utterly different on the surface, their strengths balanced perfectly. Destiny had been kind to Mara Jade, the former Emperor’s Hand—and she didn’t need the Force to see that their union made Luke Skywalker a happy man.

So naturally, the risk of her suffering a relapse worried him desperately. They still had so many dreams to chase.

Luke flushed.

Then conduct your meeting, Skywalker
, she thought at him, amused by his embarrassment.
Quit worrying about me
.

Though their Force link rarely let them communicate in actual words, he clearly caught the message. He turned to Kenth Hamner and said, “Daye Azur-Jamin on Nal Hutta hasn’t reported for almost a week. I asked his son Tam to head out that way—carefully—and see if he could get any leading through the siege force’s shadow.” As at Kalarba, the enemy’s massed presence near Nal Hutta seemed to damp down the Force.

“Daye’s a good man,” Cilghal said softly. “Lowbacca and Tinian got out of Hutt space, didn’t they?”

Luke nodded. “They just reported in from Kashyyyk. No sign of enemy activity there.”

“At least the Yuuzhan Vong aren’t messing with Wookiees at home,” Ulaha Kore said lightly. Ulaha was a delicate young Bith, with musical talents that admitted her to any number of intelligence-rich social occasions. Ulaha looked careworn, her posture so slumped that Mara barely could see her large eyes under her protruding, hairless head.

Her comment provoked nervous laughter around the circle, which showed Mara how desperate for levity even the Jedi were getting.

“Nothing out of Bilbringi?” Hamner asked. “Mon Calamari?”

Luke let the colonel steer the conversation to the New Republic’s remaining military strongholds. “Nothing unusual at Bilbringi,” he answered. “Tenel Ka and Jovan Drark have stationed themselves in public places, looking for dead spots in the Force that could be Yuuzhan Vong in masquers. The same from Markre Medjev, finishing up his research on Bothawui,” he said, shooting Mara a rueful glance. With Borsk Fey’lya clinging to power as chief of state, the reduced Fifth Fleet was back in Bothan space, useless to the Core. “And our supply and information lines to Mon Cal are still cut.”

They’d been cut for months. The other Jedi sat silently for almost a minute, reflecting on the reports. Luke’s eyes fell half-shut.

Mara laced her long fingers, hoping he wasn’t trying to get a spin on the future. If the future beat him over the head and demanded to be seen, that was fine. Pushing for it was another matter.

The fountain burbled, a free-form Mon Calamari construct with irregular surfaces. Its top bowl rotated, sending sheets of water down its sides. Mara appreciated its sonic cover. Luke, though, still seemed fascinated by water that didn’t have to be forced down from the sky by moisture vaporators. He called these meetings randomly, at different places, but he often chose spots near running water. Maybe he was starting to notice the shapes and patterns of his life, starting the subtle transition from young adulthood toward a hopefully wiser age.

She pursed her lips, frustrated to catch herself thinking that way. She was healthy again. She liked maturity. She respected strength.

But youth had privileges, hopes she still hadn’t fulfilled,
and maybe never would. She’d seized Vergere’s elixir because her instincts said it would work. She had no instinctive leading on when, if ever, she might safely conceive a child.

On the far side of the circle, little Tekli cleared her throat. Fur trembled on her large round ears.

As Luke’s eyes opened, Mara felt hers widen a trace. The Chadra-Fan apprentice had never spoken up during a meeting.

“I debated whether to even report this,” she began, her voice a musical whisper.

Anakin’s lips twisted sardonically. Mara made a mental note to speak with him about his attitude toward the marginally gifted—if Luke didn’t do it, first.

“Go on.” Cilghal gave an assuring wave with one webbed hand.

Tekli glanced at her mentor, then continued. “Two days ago, I was down near Dometown, in a new strip called JoKo’s Alley. Looking for a friend,” she added hastily, as if embarrassed to admit she’d been prowling such a riotous area of Coruscant’s understory.

“Yes?” Luke gave Tekli a sober, attentive stare. Overseeing the Jedi academy had taught him patience.
They keep learning
, he’d told Mara,
as long as someone encourages them
.

“I heard someone talking in a tapcaf, about—”

“Which one?” Anakin demanded.

Luke extended a hand, palm down. “Wait, Anakin. Go on, Tekli.”

She raised her head and stroked her long whiskers. “It was the Leafy Green, actually. Two Rodians were talking about one of the employees, and how if that was a human, he’d eat his … I couldn’t hear the next words, but we’ve all heard about ooglith masquers, and how the
Yuuzhan Vong can pass as human. Maybe it’s just general jumpiness, Master Skywalker, but it would be easy for … for one of your more gifted Jedi to check out.”

“Do you want to go back?” Luke asked gently.

Tekli shook her head. “I’m no fighter, sir.”

Mara caught a side glance from Anakin. He raised one dark eyebrow at her. She pursed her lips.

Luke glanced toward her, then Anakin. “That’s all right, Tekli. I just had two capable volunteers. The Jedi will always be strongest,” he added, “when everyone uses their full talents. Whatever you’re given to do, do it with all your ability.”

Tekli’s broad nose twitched with pleasure.

“You’re sure you feel up to this?” Luke demanded.

Mara walked beside him down the open-air mezzanine. Along one grand edifice, a gardener droid clung to the trunk of a singing fig tree, pruning away last year’s erratic growth.

Luke’s cloak billowed behind him, drawing stares. The stares bothered her, after so many years as a shadow agent—and she never wore Jedi robes unless she absolutely had to.

“Of course I’m up to it. I haven’t felt so obnoxiously healthy since …” She trailed off. “Well, in a while.”

“Or I can send someone else with you.”

Mara laughed. “Anakin’s fine.”

She’d asked for a few minutes alone with her husband, so their nephew followed at a polite distance. Without even stretching out through the Force, she felt Anakin’s alert mental state. He took his sentry role as seriously as he took everything else.

“He feels terrible about Centerpoint,” she added. “That’s a load, on top of blaming himself for Chewie’s
death. He’s doing better with that, but he’s carrying some serious baggage.”

Luke knew it, of course. Luke caught people’s feelings just as quickly as she got leadings from her instincts.

“He feels even worse about listening to Jacen,” Luke pointed out. “That rift between them worries me.”

“
Jacen
worries me,” Mara countered. He hadn’t left Coruscant in a good frame of mind, and they hadn’t heard from him in two months.

They crossed a side passage. A chill breeze, probably from some ventilation system set for Talz comfort, made her shiver. Luke almost opened his mouth to speak, then shut it firmly, raising one eyebrow—a plea for understanding. He’d almost slipped and asked
again
if she was all right. He was pushing his limit for the day.