deadly headaches brought on by his conditioning.
Changed circumstances, indeed
.
“What should I record?” Tarc asked. “Everything?”
“At first, if you want to,” Tam said. “What I do is to record everything Wolam points at, until he gives me the kill sign—”
Obligingly, Wolam made a gesture like an abbreviated ax chop. His pale hands against his black garments made the gesture especially easy to see.
“—and also anything I find interesting or unusual. You do the same, and when we review your recordings together I’ll point out what looks interesting from a historical-record perspective.”
“Don’t spend
too
much of your time on the girls,” Wolam cautioned.
Tarc’s face twisted into an expression of disdain. “You don’t have to worry about
that.
”
Coruscant
“I hate this,” Luke said.
“Waiting?” Mara, eyes closed, adjusted her pose, trying to make herself comfortable—as comfortable as one could be propped up against a deformed metal wall in a hallway dripping with rainwater that had filtered through thirty or forty stories of ruined skyscraper above, on a planet ruled and increasingly ruined by alien enemies.
“Of course, waiting.” Luke had returned half an hour before from the latest scattering run. Not everyone was back; a few meters down the hallway, Danni was cataloging plant samples, and Baljos and Elassar were playing sabacc underneath a flickering glowlight. The others were still unaccounted for.
“Which points to a great failing with the Jedi. The lightsabers.”
Luke gave his wife a suspicious look. “A failing?”
She nodded. “You can’t sharpen them. Back when I was, well, in my previous career, I could get through any boring stretch by sharpening my knives. It takes just enough of your attention to keep boredom at bay, and keeps your tools at their best. With vibroblades, even if they lose power, you still have a nice sharp edge for whatever needs cutting.”
Elassar looked back over his shoulder at her. “Sometimes I think you can be spooky just singing nursery songs.”
“That’s easy.” Mara’s face took on an expression of motherly concern. “Hush, child,” she sang, “the night is mild, and slumber smiles upon you …” But she sang the familiar tune in a minor key, making the words unsettling rather than soothing, evoking the mental image of an anthropomorphic Slumber that was a night-monster stealing silently up to a crib.
But she fell silent, and Luke could feel from her what he felt in himself—a wish, one that could not be fulfilled now, that they could be where Ben was, introducing him to all the little surprises and delights that came with just being alive. Instead they were here in this endless expanse of death.
Then Mara opened her eyes and looked back down the hall.
Luke felt it too—not danger, but some agitation expressed through the Force. He rose and put his hand on his lightsaber hilt.
Up through a hole in the floor swung Tahiri. She landed and extended a hand down, helping Face up to this level. She was somber. He looked dubious.
When she saw Luke, she gulped—not out of uncertainty or fear, Luke thought, but out of nausea. “I found something,” she said.
FIVE
Now he had a name
.
It had taken time, and frequent yanking of thoughts out of their heads, for him to understand names. Sounds that belonged only to one being. Each of them had a name, and when he understood that, it became vital for him to have one, too
.
He was more powerful, more important than any of them. It was not right for them to have names and him not to
.
So they called him Nyax. Lord Nyax. Nyax was his name, and no other might have it. Lord was a thing that made his name bigger, better. Lord meant that he was more important than anything
.
Satisfied with that recognition of his status, he smiled up at the workers crawling over the surface of the tall, tall machine
.
They repaired it. They cleared rubble from around it. Soon it would go. Soon
Changed circumstances, indeed
.
“What should I record?” Tarc asked. “Everything?”
“At first, if you want to,” Tam said. “What I do is to record everything Wolam points at, until he gives me the kill sign—”
Obligingly, Wolam made a gesture like an abbreviated ax chop. His pale hands against his black garments made the gesture especially easy to see.
“—and also anything I find interesting or unusual. You do the same, and when we review your recordings together I’ll point out what looks interesting from a historical-record perspective.”
“Don’t spend
too
much of your time on the girls,” Wolam cautioned.
Tarc’s face twisted into an expression of disdain. “You don’t have to worry about
that.
”
Coruscant
“I hate this,” Luke said.
“Waiting?” Mara, eyes closed, adjusted her pose, trying to make herself comfortable—as comfortable as one could be propped up against a deformed metal wall in a hallway dripping with rainwater that had filtered through thirty or forty stories of ruined skyscraper above, on a planet ruled and increasingly ruined by alien enemies.
“Of course, waiting.” Luke had returned half an hour before from the latest scattering run. Not everyone was back; a few meters down the hallway, Danni was cataloging plant samples, and Baljos and Elassar were playing sabacc underneath a flickering glowlight. The others were still unaccounted for.
“Which points to a great failing with the Jedi. The lightsabers.”
Luke gave his wife a suspicious look. “A failing?”
She nodded. “You can’t sharpen them. Back when I was, well, in my previous career, I could get through any boring stretch by sharpening my knives. It takes just enough of your attention to keep boredom at bay, and keeps your tools at their best. With vibroblades, even if they lose power, you still have a nice sharp edge for whatever needs cutting.”
Elassar looked back over his shoulder at her. “Sometimes I think you can be spooky just singing nursery songs.”
“That’s easy.” Mara’s face took on an expression of motherly concern. “Hush, child,” she sang, “the night is mild, and slumber smiles upon you …” But she sang the familiar tune in a minor key, making the words unsettling rather than soothing, evoking the mental image of an anthropomorphic Slumber that was a night-monster stealing silently up to a crib.
But she fell silent, and Luke could feel from her what he felt in himself—a wish, one that could not be fulfilled now, that they could be where Ben was, introducing him to all the little surprises and delights that came with just being alive. Instead they were here in this endless expanse of death.
Then Mara opened her eyes and looked back down the hall.
Luke felt it too—not danger, but some agitation expressed through the Force. He rose and put his hand on his lightsaber hilt.
Up through a hole in the floor swung Tahiri. She landed and extended a hand down, helping Face up to this level. She was somber. He looked dubious.
When she saw Luke, she gulped—not out of uncertainty or fear, Luke thought, but out of nausea. “I found something,” she said.
FIVE
Now he had a name
.
It had taken time, and frequent yanking of thoughts out of their heads, for him to understand names. Sounds that belonged only to one being. Each of them had a name, and when he understood that, it became vital for him to have one, too
.
He was more powerful, more important than any of them. It was not right for them to have names and him not to
.
So they called him Nyax. Lord Nyax. Nyax was his name, and no other might have it. Lord was a thing that made his name bigger, better. Lord meant that he was more important than anything
.
Satisfied with that recognition of his status, he smiled up at the workers crawling over the surface of the tall, tall machine
.
They repaired it. They cleared rubble from around it. Soon it would go. Soon
Similar Books
