Lightsabers

18

By now Zekk considered his lightsaber an old friend.

Though he had not taken the time or care to build his own weapon, he practically lived with the scarlet beam. He knew how to make it dance against imaginary enemies. He had fought and defeated every simulated monster the computers could portray in the training room. He had slain mynocks, Abyssins, krayt dragons, wampa ice monsters, piranha beetles, and hordes of angry Tusken Raiders.

In one battle he had even felled a ferocious rancor with his lightsaber. After that difficult victory, Zekk wished he could have watched the reaction of his rival Vilas, who seemed so enamored of the hideous beasts.

Now Zekk strode beside Brakiss as the Master of the Shadow Academy led him down corridors toward the station’s central hub. Busy with his training, Zekk had never thought to venture here before. No longer an underconfident and overwhelmed trainee, Zekk walked in his full leather armor with ease, lightsaber at his side, as if he were almost Brakiss’s equal.

The Shadow Academy Master seemed quiet and withdrawn, though. The perfectly chiseled features of his handsome face were set in an unreadable mask, his forehead showing just a trace of a frown.

Zekk cleared his throat, finally curious enough to speak. “Master Brakiss, I sense … uneasiness in you. You haven’t told me about this next exercise. Is there something I should know?”

Brakiss paused and fixed the young man with a calm, piercing gaze. “You are about to face your most difficult trial, Zekk. Everything depends on this. You must demonstrate how talented you truly are.”

Zekk lifted his chin and drew a deep breath, flaring his nostrils. His hand moved instinctively to his lightsaber. “I’m ready for anything.”

They reached a thick metal door, and Brakiss punched in a code that opened pneumatic locks. The heavy hatch opened slowly, revealing a small airlock chamber and a second sealed metal door blocking the other side.

Brakiss said, “Trust in your abilities, Zekk. Feel the Force.”

Zekk nodded solemnly. “As always, Master Brakiss. I will pass your test. But why is this so important? Why should you be so concerned?”

Brakiss gestured the young man inside the chamber. Zekk entered and stood waiting, but Brakiss remained outside. “Because it will be a fight to the death,” he said, then slammed the door, locking Zekk inside.

Within the echoing airlock chamber, Zekk waited. Master Brakiss’s words reverberated in his mind. The doors remained sealed, and he forced himself to breathe calmly, though he felt claustrophobic and trapped. Drawing his trusted lightsaber, he gripped it until his knuckles turned white, but he did not yet turn on the blade.

The seconds pounded by, and still the other door didn’t open. Fear swelled within him, but he pushed it aside. A Jedi had no place for fear, no reason to fear. The Force was in all things, and the dark side was his ally.

Still, although Zekk had defeated ferocious creatures in the simulation chamber, those opponents had been mere phantoms. He knew that many more dangerous things might happen in a real battle with a real opponent.

He looked at the inner door, wondering if he should hack it open with his lightsaber and force his way free. He needed to see what lurked on the other side. Was this perhaps part of the test? How long should he wait?

Patience, he told himself. He began to count to a hundred—but before he reached ten, the automatic locks on the inner door gave a thump that vibrated through the metal wall. The door swung open by itself.

Zekk felt a disorienting lurch as he stepped out into well-lighted nothingness…. The floors and ceilings and walls spun about in a blur until he finally realized that he had tumbled into a chamber where the artificial gravity had been turned off—the zero-gravity arena at the hub of the Shadow Academy! He floated free in the open air of the spherical chamber, with no sense of down or up, with nothing to stop his motion.

Zekk’s stomach gave a lurch, but he drew a deep breath and concentrated on not throwing up. He focused on the images around him, trying to snatch answers from the briefest glimpses. Grasping the hilt of his lightsaber, he slowed his weightless tumbling and balanced himself. Only then did he notice the seats and standing areas that studded the walls of the chamber, the dozens of noisy onlookers, the balconies pasted on at haphazard angles to accommodate spectators in zero gravity.

Stormtroopers stood in ranks, gripping the balcony rails. The other students at the Shadow Academy sat all around, ready to watch the spectacle. He stiffened, wondering just how difficult this test was going to be. What had Brakiss meant? What was Zekk supposed to do now?

Boulders like miniature asteroids floated in the center of the open arena, along with metal boxes, small cargo containers, and artificial geometrical constructions. Long durasteel pipes drifted free. Zekk could make no sense of the random mix of large and small objects.

Suddenly he understood: they were obstacles.

On the curved wall at the far side of the arena, Zekk saw the clear blister of an observation dome. With his sharp eyesight he spotted figures inside, figures he recognized: the silver-robed figure of Brakiss; the intimidating Nightsister Tamith Kai, with her voluminous ebony hair and her black-spined cape; and the black-armored figure of Qorl the TIE pilot.

Master Brakiss leaned forward and spoke into a voice amplifier. His words boomed through the amphitheater, and all background noise faded.

“You are all here to witness the selection of a leader for our new Dark Jedi trainees—a leader who shall be the first general of our Shadow Academy forces when the Second Imperium makes its grand foray to reclaim the galaxy. Here, before you, we will witness the great battle.”

On the other side of the chamber, where the view was partially blocked by drifting obstacles, another airlock opened, and a dark figure emerged. Because of the floating debris, Zekk couldn’t see who it was.

Brakiss continued, “This will be a duel to the death between Zekk”—he paused, but none of the students cheered; they knew better, for they would have to follow whoever the victor of this contest might be—“and Vilas!”

Zekk turned, keeping his lightsaber handle in front of him as he faced the thick-browed young man from Dathomir, Tamith Kai’s most powerful trainee. Vilas held his ignited lightsaber ready for the duel.

Vilas pushed off from the far wall and flew toward the obstacles at the center. Zekk switched on his weapon and did the same, moving to meet his opponent in the open space. Zekk’s heart pounded, and he realized that despite his anxiety, this was a battle he had longed for. How many times since he’d come to the Shadow Academy had Vilas been his rival? After today there would be no question as to who the greater student was.

Vilas shouted in his mocking, oily voice, “If you surrender now, young trash collector, I may only cripple you.” He laughed. Zekk felt himself flush. Norys or one of the other Lost Ones must have told Vilas their derogatory nickname for him. Trash collector.

Zekk reached the floating debris and found a pitted oblong stone, an iron-hard meteorite. He grasped it. “If you think victory is going to be that easy, Vilas, I’ll defeat you before you can blink!”

Zekk hurled the stone with all his strength. In zero gravity the meteorite shot toward the other Dark Jedi—but the equal and opposite reaction after he threw the stone surprised Zekk, and he found himself tumbling backward from the momentum. He slammed headfirst into one of the floating metal cargo containers. A flash of bright pain burst inside his skull. His ears rang. He cleared his vision just in time to see Vilas easily nudge himself out of the path of the flying rock.

Vilas laughed. “Is that the best you can do, trash collector?”

Zekk realized he had been foolish. He concentrated, using the abilities he had recently acquired. Since Vilas was no longer looking at the stone, Zekk used the Force to yank it back toward his enemy. The rock didn’t have enough distance to build up much speed, but it struck a sharp blow to Vilas’s shoulder. The other young man cried out, rebounding from the impact.

Zekk found himself floating out of control, unable to move where he wanted. He couldn’t swim through the air, and he felt entirely disoriented. The walls spun around him. Finally, his feet pressed against the side of a drifting cargo container, and he propelled himself toward Vilas again. His lightsaber drew a fiery streak through the air as he plunged forward.

Vilas was ready for him, though, his glowing energy blade held up as he spun forward. The two opponents approached like colliding cannon balls.

Zekk swung, and Vilas met his lightsaber with his own. The blades clashed and sparked. Bolts of electricity splashed off in random directions. Then Zekk shot past while Vilas scrambled in the empty air, trying to pursue.

Zekk tried to locate one of the floating obstacles for something else to bounce off of—but suddenly Jedi instinct warned him to twist out of the way. In that instant, Vilas came flying by, his lightsaber slashing and humming through the air. Zekk contorted as if leaping backward over a low fence—but not quite fast enough. His enemy’s fiery weapon skimmed too close, nicking Zekk’s prized leather armor and leaving a smoking gash.

When Vilas turned with a hoot of victory, Zekk felt anger boil up from the depths of his mind, allowing him to draw more strongly on the dark side of the Force. Reaching out into the floating debris, he grabbed a pyramidal greenhouse module and smashed the massive object into Vilas with enough force to shatter its transparisteel panes.

As Vilas reeled, he chopped with his lightsaber to cleave the greenhouse module in half. The two smoldering portions tumbled in opposite directions.

His face contorted with rage, Vilas kicked off of one of the floating segments and hurtled toward Zekk, who waited with his lightsaber held low. Vilas made ready to swipe his blade across the space where Zekk was. Zekk knew that if their blades clashed again, the momentum would send them both tumbling out of control. Just as Vilas drew back his lightsaber for a mighty blow, Zekk used the Force to give himself a sharp shove—away.

Vilas swept out with full force—and the energy blade buzzed through empty air. Because nothing had stopped the stroke of his sword, Vilas spun about like a slow tornado, tumbling and disoriented.

Zekk saw his opportunity to buy time. He shot up behind one of the larger meteoroids hanging in the center of the weightless arena and plastered himself to the rock surface, pressing his back against the rough stone.

He could hide here for a moment, and then come back fighting.

Inside the arena’s observation blister, Qorl remained standing while Brakiss and Tamith Kai both sat in padded chairs, watching their respective champions and hoping for a personal victory. Qorl tried to hide his uneasiness, but could not divert his attention from the two talented young opponents fighting viciously out in the zero-gravity chamber.

Tamith Kai’s eyes blazed with violet fire as she fixed upon the battle. She spoke out of the corner of her wine-dark mouth, mocking Brakiss. “Your boy has no chance,” she said. “Vilas is much more ruthless. I have trained him. Vonnda Ra has trained him. Even Garowyn has trained him. That young man is the culmination of our efforts on Dathomir. Why bother with this wasteful contest? Just give Vilas command of the new Dark Jedi.”

Brakiss sat, exuding outward calm, though Qorl could tell from the subtle reflexive expressions on his face each time the battle reached a new peak that this duel had filled the Shadow Academy Master with tension.

“Ah, Tamith Kai,” he said, “you forget that I trained young Zekk. That counts for more than all the schooling of all your Nightsisters put together.”

Tamith Kai tore her gaze away from the contest and glared at him. She gave a derisive snort.

“I think,” Qorl said, “that Tamith Kai has a point. This type of contest is an utter waste—no matter what the outcome, we still lose our second-best trainee, someone far superior to any of the others we keep.”

“This is a different kind of contest,” Brakiss said, as if explaining to one of his students. “Those other trainees know their places and will follow orders without second thoughts. These two, though … each thinks he is best. But only one can command. Only one can be the greatest warrior. If we allowed the loser to live, he would always resent the rule of the other—perhaps even try to undermine his authority. No, it is better that we see who is the stronger.”

Tamith Kai agreed. “Yes. It is good for the other Jedi trainees to see one of their number die. Only then will they understand the depth of our convictions … and realize that the Second Imperium may demand the supreme sacrifice of them, as well.” Brakiss nodded.

Qorl made no answer. He did not wish to argue with his two superiors. Obviously, both Brakiss and Tamith Kai believed in the process; who was he to question it? And even if one of the two contestants out there were to forfeit the battle in hopes of saving his life, it would be a terrible blow to morale. Surrender is betrayal, after all. Qorl leaned forward to watch the struggle.

But he still thought it a wasteful exercise.

Zekk tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t hide for long, of course—not in front of so many cheering spectators, who were growing more and more enthralled as the battle grew more vicious. His hands were slippery with sweat, and he knew he couldn’t afford to lose his weapon at the wrong moment during this battle. He would have to be alert and aggressive. Just to be certain, he locked his lightsaber in the on position and cast about in his mind for a plan that might let him take out Vilas once and for all.

Then, behind him through the rock, he heard a crackling sound and instinctively threw himself away just as Vilas’s blazing blade sliced completely through the meteoroid, leaving each chunk of tumbling rock with a flat edge that was so smooth it looked like a molten mirror.

If he hadn’t moved at the last instant, the lightsaber would have bisected Zekk just as it had the meteoroid!

He turned in the air to see Vilas hurtling toward him, slashing again. Zekk raised his blade to meet the other lightsaber, and their edges crossed in a shower of sparks. They pushed against each other, but found nothing for traction in weightlessness. They drifted aimlessly, blades locked, jaws clenched, glaring defiantly into each other’s eyes.

When Vilas’s eyes were drawn for a moment to a point just behind Zekk’s shoulder, Zekk barely had time to wonder what his opponent was doing before a drifting metal rod crashed into the small of his back, sending an avalanche of pain along his spine. He gasped, then released his held breath in a rush. His lightsaber, still blazing, tumbled out of his hand.

The crowd roared as Zekk flailed in the air, trying to move away from his opponent. With an evil grin, Vilas charged toward him. Zekk could not reach his lightsaber in time: it spun like a fiery glowrod toward one of the balconies, where spectators scrambled to get out of the way.

With no weapon at hand, Zekk reached beside him to grasp the still-drifting metal rod. He grabbed the pole and swung it through the air with such speed that it made a sighing sound. But, in zero gravity, he was on the other end of the pivot point, and he began to spin around like a baton.

Vilas slashed at the oncoming metal pipe, slicing off half a meter of it. Zekk continued to spin, and Vilas swung again. The blow went wide. Zekk jabbed with the superheated end of the severed pipe, and the hot tip burned through Vilas’s armor, searing his ribs.

Vilas yowled in pain and grabbed the pipe himself, flinging it sideways and using the momentum to toss Zekk free. Zekk sailed across space, rebounded off one of the floating meteoroids, and reached out with his mind to call his lightsaber back to him. The weapon stopped its spiraling plunge toward the wall, reversed itself, and zipped into his grasp.

When Zekk turned and looked for Vilas again, though, he found that his opponent had vanished. The brooding young man from Dathomir was hiding, just as Zekk had. Zekk narrowed his eyes and opened his mind to the Force, listening, trying to sense Vilas among the obstacles.

The noise of the crowd gave him no hints … but somehow he was able to hear a faint tink-tink-tink, coming from behind two joined cargo containers. Zekk struck out for that point. He didn’t know what Vilas was doing, but he wouldn’t give the other young man time to complete his plan.

Zekk used the Force to direct himself toward the noise, but when he grabbed the edge of the cargo container and pulled himself around it, his lightsaber at the ready, he found only a small chunk of rock invisibly tapping itself against the metal wall. Vilas had managed to distract him, creating a diversion with the Force, while he hid elsewhere and prepared to strike—

With a sudden powerful premonition, Zekk whirled. Vilas had to be coming for him. Using his instinct, his sense with the Force, Zekk acted without thinking.

Before he could see, before he could consider what he was about to do, he pulled back to strike with his lightsaber, putting everything he had behind one powerful stroke.

In that instant, through the blaze of light smearing across his eyes, he saw Vilas launch himself out of the cargo container, wearing a predatory grin. He had hidden in ambush, hoping to kill the unsuspecting Zekk.

But Zekk had outsmarted him.

Zekk’s slashing blade encountered resistance as Vilas flew across his path. Then, with a flash of smoke and a terrible stench, the bright energy blade cleaved through flesh and bone, cauterizing as it went. Vilas made a choking, gurgling sound and continued his tumbling flight through the air—but now his body moved in two separate, smoking pieces.

Vilas’s death rattle was swallowed up in the triumphant roar of the crowd.

Zekk stared down at his pulsating scarlet lightsaber, too horrified at what he had done even to look at the body of Vilas. The spectators still cheered. This had been no simulation, he realized. This was real.

Zekk knew he had taken one giant step farther down the road to the dark side. He raised his head, speechless, as the voice of Brakiss echoed through the zero-gravity chamber, drowning out the praise of the onlookers.

“Excellent, Zekk! I knew you could do it.”

Tamith Kai’s somewhat petulant voice came next. “My congratulations, young Lord Zekk.”

Then, to his absolute amazement, overwhelming even his shock at the violence he had committed, the air in the center of the arena shimmered until an ominous image engulfed the drifting obstacles. The huge hooded head of the Emperor himself offered its grim congratulations directly to Zekk.

“You have won this battle, Zekk,” the Emperor said in a voice so filled with cold power it could freeze blood. Zekk drew in a quick gasp. All of the other trainees watched, absorbing their Great Leader’s words.

“You are my Darkest Knight, Zekk. I have chosen you to personally lead my Jedi into battle against Skywalker’s Jedi academy.”