Into the Void: Star Wars (Dawn of the Jedi) (29 page)

Perhaps it had been dropped somewhere beyond that blocked doorway. Or maybe Dal had
taken it with him.

They tried the door, but it was electronically locked.

“Cover your ears,” Lanoree said. She concentrated on the lock and Force-shoved, crushing
the mechanism and shorting the circuits. The door slid open, and a flood of sewage
washed in around their feet. She and Tre clasped hands to keep their balance. The
thought of falling into that mess …

When the levels of filth had equalized, they left the room and emerged into one of
Pan Deep’s corridors. It was long and empty, and several other doors led off it. They
were all closed, marked only with laboratory numbers, and Lanoree had no wish to open
them. Soft, reactive lighting glowed behind ceiling panels, and on the walls were
touch panels, 3-D holo screens, and several indentations that might have housed implement
printers. This was advanced tech for a place so hidden away. The money pumped into
Pan Deep must have been vast.

They saw no one else. Perhaps the six murdered scientists were the only ones who worked
here. Or maybe Dal had paid others to stay away.

Not much of a head start
, she thought,
but he’ll know his way up, would have an escape route planned from here and from the
city
. She
could barely believe the enormity of the events that Dal had set in motion. Initiating
a battle between two domes—cities whose specialty was the design and manufacture of
weapons of war—was as good as murdering the battle’s victims himself. All to cover
his tracks.

It was brutal. It was inhuman. He claimed freedom from the Force, but willingly removing
himself from its influence had made him a monster.

Pan Deep was not as large as she’d imagined. At the end of the corridor they emerged
into a rough cavern, at the other end of which a string of lights led into a tunnel
that sloped slowly upward. The cavern floor was swilling with sewage and the stink
was almost unbearable, but Lanoree knew that a person could get used to a lot in extreme
circumstances. Even Tre was surprising her. He’d quickly stopped complaining and wiped
the blood from his face and ears, and now he nudged her shoulder and pointed.

“Think he’ll have set traps?”

“He thinks we’re dead,” she said.

Another blast rumbled down from above, spilling grit and dust from the cavern ceiling.
From somewhere close by came a shattering, grinding crack, shaking the floor and setting
the air itself vibrating.

“And we don’t have time for caution,” Lanoree said. “I think they’re using plasma
bombs up there. We’ve got to get clear of Greenwood Station and back to the Peacemaker,
or this will be our grave.”

“Laid to rest in a bath of shak,” Tre said. “Well, I guess I had it coming.”

Lanoree laughed out loud. Tre’s eyes went wide with surprise. And then they ran.

It was a journey through a nightmare—flowing sewage, crumbling walls, three security
grilles that Lanoree had to Force-shove open before they could continue—and what made
it worse was the uncertainty of what they were moving toward. The farther they went,
the louder the noises of battle. But they had little choice.

Frustration and fear drove her on. Not fear for herself so much as for the countless
people who Dal’s scheme would put at risk, and not only those now dying in the conflict
initiated here. Seeing the shape of the device beneath the dust sheet had been strange—that
something so small might contain such energies. The pursuit had clouded her
thoughts about the hypergate, and the truth or not of its existence. But seeing Dal
again, and his madness, and being so close to the device that might be born of Gree
technology had all combined to focus her thoughts.

It was just possible that the device would work, which would be amazing, and the consequences
of that she could not allow herself to consider. But it was much more likely that
it would doom them all.

The farther they fled from beneath the massive tower’s foundation, the greater the
impact of the explosions. When she reached her Peacemaker she would contact the Je’daii
Council and tell them of events here, and maybe they could intervene in time to prevent
a greater tragedy. But doing so might be admitting their continued interest in Greenwood
Station and the laboratories and expertise of Pan Deep. Perhaps they would be happier
to let the domed city meet its fate and fade away from memory.

Their route took them upward, and Tre commented several times that they should have
already reached street level. But they had no time to pause, and when Lanoree consulted
her wrist unit, the schematics were confused. She could not pin down their location
on the plans.

People passed by them in both directions, none sparing them a glance. They were all
wide-eyed and scared.

At last they reached a set of heavy blast doors. Lanoree used the Force to fry their
controls, and Tre found a heavy iron bar to pry them open. Heat and noise flooded
in, the stenches and sounds of chaos, and Lanoree stumbled through onto a wide balcony
several stories above the ground. They had emerged just above the base of the central
tower, overlooking Greenwood Station’s western side. The sounds, sights, and chaos
of war were almost overwhelming.

They were confronted with a scene that took their breaths away.

Perhaps there is a madness in remaining on Tython while not strong in the Force. One
would not submerge long beneath the surface of the sea if one did not possess gills.
One would surface. One would escape. So to stay here, now … that way, insanity lies
.

—Unknown Tythan, circa 9,000 TYA

When Master Dam-Powl knocks on her door and disturbs her from sleep, Lanoree knows
that something is wrong. She has been expecting it. Like the sense of imminent danger
always apparent at Anil Kesh because of the Chasm below, her own perception of Dal
has been of a coiled spring. Now, the time has come. Dal has sprung.

“He’s a fool!” Dam-Powl says as they march along the corridor. “I saw trouble in him
the moment you arrived. As did Master Kin’ade.”

“At Stav Kesh?” Lanoree asks.

“Of course. You think the Je’daii Masters don’t talk among ourselves about those on
their Great Journeys?”

“What has he done?” Lanoree asks.

“He fled into the Abyss of Ruh. Put lives in danger.”

“He’s gone?” breathes Lanoree.

“Oh, no. Not gone. They pulled him out and are bringing him back. They’re just coming
in to land.” Dam-Powl climbs a staircase and a heavy door slides open before her.
Wind roars, rain splashes in across the floor, and Force lightning thrashes about
the square of night sky revealed.

Oh, Dal, what have you done?
Lanoree thinks. He has been gone for four days, taken with others by Master Quan-Jang
on a visit to the Riftlands to collect specimens for the alchemical labs here at Anil
Kesh. At first she welcomed his absence; it gave her the opportunity to study in peace
with no concerns about what Dal might be doing. But her dreams these past three nights
had been troubled. It was almost as if she knew that something terrible was going
to happen. She follows the Je’daii Master outside. There is someone else out there
already, standing at the edge of the platform and looking east. A Cloud Chaser is
visible, drifting down toward one of Anil Kesh’s landing zones.

“Master,” the young man says, turning to greet them. He barely glances at Lanoree.
“Master Quan-Jang reports that the Journeyer said nothing. But he appears fit and
well.”

“Good,” Dam-Powl says. “The others?”

“Sickened from their time in the Abyss.” He looks pointedly at Lanoree then. “It is
a place of dark, dangerous energies.”

Lanoree glances over the handrail and looks down into the Chasm. She feels woozy,
and it’s Dam-Powl’s hand that steadies her.

“Breathe long and deep,” the Master whispers. “The Force is very strong in you, and
so the Chasm plays with you.”

“That’s what you think it is?” Lanoree asks. “Playing?”

Dam-Powl smiles enigmatically. “A turn of phrase.”

“So what will happen?”

“Happen?”

“To Dal?”

It’s the other Je’daii who replies. “We ensure that he’s fit and well, unharmed from
his escapades. And then we will arrest him and escort him from Anil Kesh first thing
in the morning.”

“Escort him where?”

The Je’daii’s face is grim. “Once beyond the temple, he can go where he wishes.”

“Banishment,” Lanoree says.

“I think we’ll actually be saving his life.”

So is this how my brother’s sad story ends?
Lanoree wonders. But she thinks not. Dal has a weight to him, increasing the farther
he removes himself from the Force. In her dreams, at their worst, his end comes with
terrible greatness.

“I’d like to wait here for him,” she says. The Cloud Chaser has touched down now,
visible between skeins of low cloud. “Speak to him when he arrives.”

“I’ll wait with you.” The Je’daii bows. “Journeyer Skott Yun.”

Lanoree starts to object, but she realizes it was not a request. “Lanoree Brock,”
she says.

“I know.” Skott Yun smiles.

“Afterward, bring him down to me,” Dam-Powl says. “I’ll go to make sure the medical
bay is ready to receive those others still sickening.”

Yun bows his head as the Master turns and leaves.

Lanoree watches her go, surprised at Dam-Powl’s confidence in Dal’s well-being.

“I’ll fetch your jacket for you,” Yun says. “It can grow cold out here.”

It takes Quan-Jang and the others a surprisingly long time to reach the temple from
the landing zone. Yun tries talking, but Lanoree is too distracted and troubled to
enter into any meaningful conversation. Most of the time she stands with her eyes
closed, her thoughts her own.

It is Yun who finally announces their arrival. They arrive at the temple on foot,
Master Quan-Jang in the lead. There are ten people behind him, three being carried
on stretchers. Even though she sees Dal with them, he seems to walk alone.

“I’ll go to meet them,” Yun says. “Wait here and I’ll bring your brother.”

Lanoree waits, and watches. They climb the leg onto the temple, and Yun meets them
at the far end of the viewing platform.

Dal seems even more apart from them all than she first thought. There is no expression
on his face, and he doesn’t seem to acknowledge where he is at all.
He’s more hurt than Master Dam-Powl let on
, Lanoree thinks. But she still wants him close so that she can assess his condition
for herself. And she realizes that though it has only been four days, she has missed
her brother.

Quan-Jang and the others move off into the temple, and Yun touches Dal’s shoulder.
Then the two of them walk toward Lanoree, across the viewing platform that is buffeted
by winds from below and heavy, warm raindrops from above.

“Dal,” she says as they reach her, but his expression gives her pause. So serious.
So adult. There’s something expanded about him, as if since she saw him last he has
grown to fit the world he will live in. He seems assured, too, and confident, even
though his skin appears burned, his eyes puffy and red.

“I came to say good-bye, Lanoree,” he says. The words are strange and unexpected.
He turns to leave, and Skott Yun stands before him.

“You’re to be arrested and—” the Journeyer begins.

“There are such depths,” Dal says. He is speaking directly to Lanoree. She wonders
whether these are the last words they will ever share.

“What did you see?” she asks.

“Things you never can.” His eyes are so bright they seem to glow. “Such promises and
opportunities down in the Abyss! Such depths, of history and potential. And now I
must go elsewhere, to find something more. And so—”

“Dalien Brock,” Yun says, “you’re to accompany me to—”

Dal strikes out. Lanoree sees it coming and is surprised that Yun did not. But though
the Journeyer may be comfortable at Anil Kesh, he has yet to visit Stav Kesh to learn
the martial arts. Dal’s fist connects with his chin, and as Yun leans back, Dal spins
and kicks him in the face. Another punch as he falls, and Lanoree hears bones break
even before Yun strikes the metal platform.

“Dal!” Lanoree shouts, but she sees her brother’s determination.
I cannot lose him now!
She goes for him, reaching out, wishing to hold him and try to undo everything that
has passed between them since
leaving home. It is a naive wish, and one that suits a child more than the Je’daii
woman Lanoree is becoming. But familial love is a powerful force in itself.

From the corner of her eye she sees Skott Yun lift himself on one elbow and then raise
his other hand, pointing toward Dal.

“No!” she shouts. “Don’t try to—” She will always wonder whether her voice gave Dal
warning, and whether in fact she wanted that.

The moment she speaks, Dal crouches and spins on one heel, his robe billowing as he
brings one hand out from beneath its folds. His blaster coughs. Skott Yun cries out
and is shoved across the platform by the impact. Blood bursts from his back, and his
clothing smokes.