Lightsabers

8

The passengers’ quarters aboard the Hapan royal shuttle Thunder Wraith were spacious and equipped with every convenience a space traveler could desire. The elegant appointments of the cabin fell just short of ostentation; the chief adornment on each wall consisted of an ornate gilt frame surrounding a massive viewscreen.

Tenel Ka took no notice of the spectacular view, however. She had seen hyperspace before. She had no desire to see anything. Or anyone.

Or to feel anything. Numb. That was what she felt. Mind, emotions … even her arm. All numb.

The thought crossed her mind briefly that perhaps she ought to eat something. She’d had no food since before … since before.

No, she decided. No food. She could not work up enthusiasm for eating, or anything else, for that matter.

Her reddish-gold braids hung in tangled disarray around her face. Though the medical droid had done a serviceable job of washing her body and disinfecting the wound before cauterizing it, the droid had no programming on what to do with hair. It had kindly offered to shave Tenel Ka’s head for her, but she had declined. One of the twins might have been willing to help her comb through the mess and rebraid it. But she’d been too proud to let her friends see her in her current condition, afraid of the disgust she might see on their faces—or worse yet, pity.

At least that was one good thing about having been spirited away from Yavin 4 in the middle of the night, Tenel Ka thought: she didn’t have to see anyone, and so would be spared both sympathy and derision.

As if to dispel Tenel Ka’s only comforting thought, Ambassador Yfra chose that moment to appear. Her grandmother’s aging henchwoman, for all her kindly smiles and refined features, was still cut from the same cloth as the former queen—power-hungry and more than willing to do whatever it took to add to her personal power. Not long ago, Yfra had tried to visit Yavin 4, but when her friends were kidnapped by the Shadow Academy, Tenel Ka had gone with Master Skywalker to rescue them. Tenel Ka had not been disappointed to miss the ambassador, who had canceled the visit. She had never trusted the woman and disliked her instinctively.

“Are you feeling any better, my dear?” the ambassador said with nauseating insincerity. “Would you like to talk?”

“No,” Tenel Ka said stubbornly. “Thank you.” Then curiosity began to tickle her numbed brain, and she asked, “Why were you the one chosen to bring me home?”

“Actually,” Yfra said, not meeting Tenel Ka’s eyes, “I wasn’t so much chosen as I was … convenient. I was in a nearby star system on business, you see, when your grandmother received word of your … unfortunate accident.

“Now, my dear,” she continued, “we’ll be coming out of hyperspace in a few hours, so if there’s anything I can do in the meantime—”

“Yes, there is,” Tenel Ka interrupted in her usual forthright manner. “I wish to be left alone.”

If the ambassador was put off by the abrupt answer, she covered it well. “Why, of course you do, my dear,” she said with gracious insincerity. “You’ve been through such an ordeal.” She looked meaningfully at Tenel Ka’s arm and artfully pretended to suppress a shudder of revulsion. “You must feel simply terrible.”

With that, Yfra withdrew, managing to leave Tenel Ka feeling even worse than she had before—which might actually have been what the ambassador wanted. The ruthless henchwoman was a skilled manipulator.

Tenel Ka looked at her left arm—what remained of it, after her faulty lightsaber had exploded. There had been no chance of salvaging the limb and allowing it to heal in a bacta tank. She was no longer complete.

How could she be a true warrior now? She could not even claim her wound as the honorable result of battle. Her injury had, in fact, been caused by her own pride. And haste. And stupidity. If only she had taken more care in choosing her lightsaber components. If only she had been more meticulous in assembling the weapon….

Certain that her success or failure in battle would depend on her physical skills, she had not bothered to use her best talents when constructing her weapon. Even during her Jedi training, Tenel Ka had always proudly tried to rely solely on her natural abilities, refusing to use the Force unless there was no other way to accomplish her goals.

But now what had become of her fighting prowess? How could she ever again climb a building using nothing but her fibercord, her grappling hook, and her own wits? How would she climb a tree? Or hunt? Or swim? Why, she couldn’t even braid her own hair! And who would respect a Jedi with only one arm?

Lost in such grim thoughts, Tenel Ka drifted into sleep. The next thing she heard was a tapping on the door to her stateroom.

“My dear, are you resting?” Ambassador Yfra called in her cultured voice. “Time to come out now. We’re almost home. We’re near Hapes.”

Tenel Ka shook herself awake, stood, and looked at the viewscreens around her. The Thunder Wraith was no longer traveling in hyperspace. The stars and planets of the Hapes Cluster lay all about her, like handfuls of rainbow gems from Gallinore scattered on rich black velvet.

“Did you hear me, my dear?” the ambassador’s voice came through the door again. “You’re home.”

“Home,” Tenel Ka repeated. The dread she had been feeling congealed into a ball of ice in the pit of her stomach, as she considered that this place might indeed be her home from now on.

Immense warships, Hapan Battle Dragons, appeared as if out of nowhere to escort the tiny shuttle to its landing area. When the Thunder Wraith finally landed and Tenel Ka disembarked, she looked around with the first trace of eagerness she had felt since the lightsaber accident, searching for her parents. She was surprised, however, to find that her grandmother, Ta’a Chume, was the only relative present.

The former queen, accompanied by a large honor guard in full ceremonial garb, stepped forward to greet her granddaughter. Tenel Ka endured an embrace and a showy display of affection—although her grandmother never hugged her in private—and asked, “Why did my parents not come?”

“They were called away,” Ta’a Chume answered smoothly, “on an urgent and top-secret diplomatic … matter. Only I and my most trusted confidant know their whereabouts.” She motioned to one of her retainers, who strode forward to drape a royal robe across Tenel Ka’s shoulders. Its thick, soft folds hid Tenel Ka’s arms, and she did not have the energy to object. “But,” her grandmother continued, “I assure you that your parents will return as quickly as they are able.”

Four pairs of scantily clad male servants appeared, bringing cushioned seats for the princess and her grandmother. Tenel Ka sat, and only then noticed that at least two dozen more handsome servants had filed onto the landing pad. She closed her eyes and sighed. She might have known. It seemed that in her parents’ absence, Ta’a Chume had decided to receive Tenel Ka with as much spectacle and fanfare as possible—perhaps to prove to her aspiring-Jedi granddaughter how wonderful it was to be a member of the royal family.

Tenel Ka was not thrilled.

Three brawny young men, dressed only in loincloths, moved to the center of the landing pad and began a rhythmic display of their gymnastic abilities. Other servants along the sidelines produced stringed instruments and flutes and began a musical accompaniment. During their performance, the former queen leaned toward her granddaughter and murmured, “You are so fortunate.”

Tenel Ka blinked in surprise.

Her grandmother made an all-encompassing gesture. “Everything you see—Hapes and its sixty-three worlds—is yours to command.” Her voice took on a persuasive tone. “Not many who fail to become Jedi Knights have such a pleasant alternative. After all, unlike the weapons of battle, wielding political power does not require the use of both arms.”

Tenel Ka grimaced, not only at her grandmother’s unfair assertion that she had failed in her Jedi training, but also because one of the acrobats had performed a double handspring—an act she had done countless times herself, and one she’d always assumed she’d go right on doing. She had even included flips, cartwheels, and handsprings in her daily exercises at the Jedi academy. The Jedi academy … she missed it already.

When the gymnasts finished, a young man stepped forward and began to juggle with phenomenal agility. Tenel Ka grew more uncomfortable as she watched him pass fire crystals, hoops, and blazing torches from hand to hand, tossing them high into the air with ever-increasing speed.

Another thing I will never be able to do, Tenel Ka thought, pressing her lips into a grim line.

She tried to concentrate on the juggler’s face instead. The young man was indeed beautiful, but right then Tenel Ka would have traded every servant and guard on the landing platform for just a glimpse of a face that was friendly: Jacen, Jaina, Lowbacca, even Master Skywalker….

“You know,” her grandmother said, leaning toward her again, as if a thought had just occurred to her, “perhaps your injury was the Force’s way of showing you that you were never meant to be a Jedi Knight—that your destiny has always been to rule Hapes.”

Tenel Ka’s breath left her in a rush, as if a rancor had stepped on her stomach. She wondered if perhaps, for once, her grandmother might not be right.