Crisis at Crystal Reef

2

Alone in a workroom by an outer wall of the Great Temple, Zekk sat next to the table and listened to the rainstorm outside. Old Peckhum had gone to see Master Skywalker, and Zekk was spending some time by himself, working hard. He could smell the spattering droplets of fresh water that moistened the chiseled stone of the rebuilt pyramid’s walls.

Open window slits allowed the calming noises of the afternoon rain shower to drift in along with the wonderful jungle scents, without letting the water leak into the rooms. The huge orange planet Yavin had set behind the Jedi academy, leaving only dim and distant sunlight to penetrate the storm clouds. In the sky above the thick treetops, a fresh crop of kite plants blossomed in brilliant colors, drifting about on the winds and soaking up the falling rain.

Peace … calm … thoughts of the light side of the Force.

After he had recentered his concentration, Zekk turned back to constructing his new lightsaber. Tools lay strewn about on the stone table surface, and bright light spilled down from a single glow-panel to illuminate his efforts.

He had moved to this study room from his own quarters so he could be alone, so he could think. Zekk needed to focus on the important task at hand. Building a personal lightsaber was an assignment reserved for trained and trusted Jedi Knights—and he intended to do his best work. This time.

As he picked up the components, aligned them, tightened connectors, adjusted the power pack, he felt a turmoil in his heart. He had wielded a lightsaber many times in the service of the Shadow Academy. But back then, when the dark Jedi Brakiss had taught him how to use the energy blade, Zekk had never gone through this rite of passage.

The Shadow Academy had manufactured cheap and identical lightsabers by the dozen, presenting them to their evil-trained students during practice sessions and before the attack on the New Republic. Zekk had had a lightsaber given to him—but he hadn’t ever built his own.

Zekk had never felt such an attachment to any weapon before. At the Shadow Academy, the lightsaber with which he had dueled and led the attack on Yavin 4 was simply a tool, interchangeable with anyone else’s. This energy blade, though, would be his own. Zekk would never make the mistake of falling to the dark side again. He understood that everything about this weapon was his responsibility. Building a lightsaber was so … personal.

When he had attempted the delicate task back in his own quarters, though, an anxious Jaina had hovered behind him, looking over his shoulder, making suggestions, and tinkering with the components. Then Jacen had arrived, spouting conversation and the usual string of jokes. Lowie had leaned in, groaning and growling in the Wookiee language, to ask if Zekk needed any assistance. His friends all meant well, but what he needed most was to be alone … to do this himself.

Peckhum’s recent arrival had reminded Zekk of his youth on Coruscant, simpler times when Jacen and Jaina and Zekk had been carefree friends … back before he had betrayed them. Zekk had learned to overcome the guilt from the bad things he had done, but he’d never forgotten. What mattered most was who he was now and who he would become in the future.

Outside, flying creatures swooped high in the air with jaws wide open. They snatched the colorful kite plants from the sky and dragged them down to the treetops to feed, all the while scattering jewel-like spores that helped the drifting life-forms reproduce.

Zekk fitted the last components together, then took the lightsaber apart again, triple-checking the connections and alignments before he snapped the casing closed for the last time. He held the new weapon in his hand, squeezed the polished grip, examined the power studs, flicked the hilt from side to side to test its weight and balance. Somehow he was reluctant to switch on the lightsaber, afraid that he might have done something wrong.

“Do, or do not. There is no try,” Zekk muttered to himself.

He pressed the power stud—and the lightsaber flared to life at the first touch. The throbbing blade glowed a pure yellow-orange, like a captured flame enclosed in a long, thin tube. With the greatest care, he moved his weapon, and the ionization thrum made a musical sound in the air. The lightsaber felt right in his hand—not a seductive power that he might be tempted to misuse, but a precise and well-controlled weapon that fit him perfectly. A Jedi weapon … for a Jedi Knight.

Relief washed through him. Zekk allowed himself a contented smile. He held the flame-orange blade high. The bright glow on his face seemed like a purifying fire. He had come through his long ordeal and survived. From now on, everything would be right.

Nothing would ever be right again.

Anja tossed and turned in her room and finally rolled over to slam her fist against the hard stone wall. The pain jarred her thoughts, distracted her for just an instant. But the stinging of her knuckles rapidly faded to a dull throb, far overshadowed by the demanding outcry of need that coursed through her body. Andris … andris … andris …

. Anja had thought she could stand it for as long as necessary, but time had only amplified the pain until the screaming need inside her head became unbearable. She couldn’t kid herself any longer. Czethros had gone into hiding after the disaster on Cloud City. He would never provide her with the supply of spice she desperately needed. Anja couldn’t count on him, and she couldn’t survive if she didn’t get another dose of andris—and soon.

She would have to get some herself. She would go right to the source. There was no other way. She had to take matters into her own hands.

Anja certainly couldn’t obtain any spice here on Yavin 4, definitely not at the Jedi academy. These students of the Force seemed to draw their pleasure simply from staring at rocks and meditating. She had tried, but that just didn’t work for her. Anja had always been independent. When a problem presented itself, she faced the challenge, she devised a solution, she found a way.

She got up from her sweat-soaked bed, turned the glowpanel to its lowest setting, and dressed quietly. The rain had stopped late that afternoon, and the Great Temple had fallen into a peaceful quietness as the other Jedi students slept or practiced their mind-intensive studies. Anja gathered her few meager supplies, hesitated before she clipped her antique lightsaber in place on her belt. Without the boost she received from a dose of spice, she didn’t know how well she could use the Jedi weapon.

Anja again retied her leather headband around her forehead to hold back her long, streaked hair. She tucked her boots under her arms and scurried barefoot across the cold stone floor.

She froze in the shadows as she heard the rolling hum and saw the blinking form of Artoo-Detoo trundling down one of the corridors ahead. Fortunately, the little astromech droid turned left and disappeared into the shadows without seeing her. She drew in a deep breath and started moving again.

Anja hurried until she reached the opening down to the hangar beneath the pyramid. Standing in the cool shadows, she looked around, trying to make her choice from the ships parked there. She knew she could fly any craft. She’d been trained for years as a smuggler, flying from Ord Mantell back to her war-torn homeworld of Anobis. She needed something fast, without markings.

The Lightning Rod.

Ducking low, Anja crept to the door of the hangar bay and looked across the landing field toward Zekk’s battered craft. Old man Peckhum, who had used the stock light freighter for many years to haul supplies in and around the New Republic, had given it to Zekk as his personal ship.

Anja had no choice. She had to get away, to get what she needed before the pain overwhelmed her. Anja’s eyes narrowed, and she allowed herself to focus on nothing beyond her goal. Her feet made no noise on the dew-soaked grass as she ran across the landing field to the Lightning Rod and up the still-open ramp. She slipped into the worn cockpit seat, strapped herself down, and powered up the engines.

Security was lax here on Yavin 4. With so many Jedi Knights around, Luke Skywalker seemed to believe they could drive back any military assault; a New Republic fleet in orbit also helped to protect the academy. But no one would stop her from the inside. She could take the little freighter, fly out, and dive into hyperspace before anyone reacted quickly enough to question her.

When she powered up the repulsorjets, a sleepy guard came running to the distant door of the hangar bay and stared in surprise at the commandeered ship. He waved, signaling for her to wait, but Anja punched the engines, raised the craft off the field, and streaked out over the treetops.

The Lightning Rod rapidly left the tall Massassi pyramid behind, flying low over the jungle canopy to foil any scanning attempts. The tangled foliage was like a lumpy carpet below her. After she had rounded the sharp curve of the small moon, Anja arced off into space.

Determined to let nothing distract her from her goal, Anja ignored the comm chatter as alarms were raised. She would be gone well before the defensive fleet could intercept her.

Anja set the coordinates in the Lightning Rod’s navicomputer, filling them in from memory. Spice … she had to have spice. There was no time to weigh the many options: she would go directly to the source.

Starlines unfolded around her and the Lightning Rod plunged into hyperspace … heading for Kessel.