“I’m sorry, Master C’baoth,” Luke said, an all-too-familiar lump sticking in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed, he was never quite able to measure up to C’baoth’s expectations.
“Sorry?” C’baoth’s eyebrows rose sardonically. “Sorry? Jedi Skywalker, you had it all right there in your hands. You should have cut off their prattle far sooner than you did—your time is too valuable to waste with petty recriminations. You should have made the decision yourself on the amount of compensation, but instead gave it over to that absurd excuse of a village council. And as to the fence—” He shook his head in mild disgust. “There was absolutely no reason for you to postpone judgment on that. Everything you needed to know about the damage was right there in their minds. It should have been no trouble, even for you, to have pulled that from them.”
Luke swallowed. “Yes, Master C’baoth,” he said. “But reading another person’s thoughts that way seems wrong—”
“When you are using that knowledge to help him?” C’baoth countered. “How can that be wrong?”
Luke waved a hand helplessly. “I’m trying to understand, Master C’baoth. But this is all so new to me.”
C’baoth’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “Is it, Jedi Skywalker? Is it really? You mean you’ve never violated someone’s personal preference in order to help him? Or ignored some minor bureaucratic rule that stood between you and what needed to be done?”
Luke felt his cheeks flush, thinking back to Lando’s use of that illegal slicer code to get his X-wing repaired at the Sluis Van shipyards. “Yes, I’ve done that on occasion,” he admitted. “But this is different, somehow. It feels … I don’t know. Like I’m taking more responsibility for these people’s lives than I should.”
“I understand your concerns,” C’baoth said, less severely this time. “But that is indeed the crux of the matter. It is precisely the acceptance and wielding of responsibility that sets a Jedi apart from all others in the galaxy.” He sighed deeply. “You must never forget, Luke, that in the final analysis these people are primitives. Only with our guidance can they ever hope to achieve any real maturity.”
“I wouldn’t call them primitive, Master C’baoth,” Luke suggested hesitantly. “They have modern technology, a reasonably efficient system of government—”
“The trappings of civilization without the substance,” C’baoth said with a contemptuous snort. “Machines and societal constructs do not define a culture’s maturity, Jedi Skywalker. Maturity is defined solely by the understanding and use of the Force.”
His eyes drifted away, as if peering into the past. “There was such a society once, Luke,” he said softly. “A vast and shining example of the heights all could aspire to. For a thousand generations we stood tall among the lesser beings of the galaxy, guardians of justice and order. The creators of true civilization. The Senate could debate and pass laws; but it was the Jedi who turned those laws into reality.”
His mouth twisted. “And in return, the galaxy destroyed us.”
Luke frowned. “I thought it was just the Emperor and a few Dark Jedi who exterminated the Jedi.”
C’baoth smiled bitterly. “Do you truly believe that even the Emperor could have succeeded in such a task without the consent of the entire galaxy?” He shook his head. “No, Luke. They hated us—all the lesser beings did. Hated us for our power, and our knowledge, and our wisdom. Hated us for our maturity.” His smile vanished. “And that hatred still exists. Waiting only for the Jedi to reemerge to blaze up again.”
Luke shook his head slowly. It didn’t really seem to fit with what little he knew about the destruction of the Jedi. But on the other hand, he hadn’t lived through that era. C’baoth had. “Hard to believe,” he murmured.
“Believe it, Jedi Skywalker,” C’baoth rumbled. His eyes caught Luke’s, burning suddenly with a cold fire. “That’s why we must stand together, you and I. Why we must never let down our guard before a universe that would destroy us. Do you understand?”
“I think so,” Luke said, rubbing at the corner of his eye. His mind felt so sluggish in the fatigue dragging at him. And yet, even as he tried to think about C’baoth’s words, images flowed unbidden from his memory. Images of Master Yoda, gruff but unafraid, with no trace of bitterness or anger toward anyone at the destruction of his fellow Jedi. Images of Ben Kenobi in the Mos Eisley cantina, treated with a sort of aloof respect, but respect nonetheless, after he’d been forced to cut down those two troublemakers.
And clearest of all, images of his encounter at the New Cov tapcafe. Of the Barabel, asking for the mediation of a stranger, and accepting without question even those parts of Luke’s judgment that had gone against him. Of the rest of the crowd, watching with hope and expectation and relief that a Jedi was there to keep things from getting out of hand. “I haven’t experienced any such hatred.”
C’baoth gazed at him from under bushy eyebrows. “You will,” he said darkly. “As will your sister. And her children.”
Luke’s chest tightened. “I can protect them.”
“Can you teach them, as well?” C’baoth countered. “Have you the wisdom and skill to bring them to full knowledge of the ways of the Force?”
“I think so, yes.”
C’baoth snorted. “If you think but do not know then you gamble with their lives,” he bit out. “You risk their futures over a selfish whim.”
“It’s not a whim,” Luke insisted. “Together, Leia and I can do it.”
“If you try, you will risk losing them to the dark side,” C’baoth said flatly. He sighed, his eyes drifting away from Luke as he looked around the room. “We can’t take that chance, Luke,” he said quietly. “There are so few of us as it is. The endless war for power still rages—the galaxy is in turmoil. We who remain must stand together against those who would destroy everything.” He turned his eyes suddenly back on Luke. “No; we can’t risk being divided and destroyed again. You must bring your sister and her children to me.”
“I can’t do that,” Luke said. C’baoth’s expression changed—“Not now, at least,” Luke amended hastily. “It wouldn’t be safe for Leia to travel right now. The Imperials have been hunting her for months, and Jomark isn’t all that far from the edge of their territory.”
“Do you doubt that I can protect her?”
“I … no, I don’t doubt you,” Luke said, choosing his words carefully. “It’s just that—”
He paused. C’baoth had gone abruptly stiff, his eyes gazing outward at nothing. “Master C’baoth?” he asked. “Are you all right?”
There was no reply. Luke stepped to his side, reaching out with the Force and wondering uneasily if the other was ill. But as always the Jedi Master’s mind was closed to him. “Come, Master C’baoth,” he said, taking the other’s arm. “I’ll help you to your chambers.”
C’baoth blinked twice, and with what seemed to be an effort, brought his gaze back to Luke’s face. He took a shuddering breath; and suddenly he was back to normal again. “You’re tired, Luke,” he said. “Leave me and return to your chambers for sleep.”
Luke was tired, he had to admit. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” C’baoth assured him, a strangely grim tone to his voice.
“Because if you need my help—”
“I said leave me!” C’baoth snapped. “I am a Jedi Master. I need help from no one.”
Luke found himself two paces back from C’baoth without any recollection of having taken the steps. “I’m sorry, Master C’baoth,” he said. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
The other’s face softened a bit. “I know you didn’t,” he said. He took another deep breath, exhaled it quietly. “Bring your sister to me, Jedi Skywalker. I will protect her from the Empire; and will teach her such power as you can’t imagine.”
Far in the back of Luke’s mind, a small warning bell went off. Something about those words … or perhaps the way C’baoth had said them …
“Now return to your chambers,” C’baoth ordered. Once again his eyes seemed to be drifting away toward nothing. “Sleep, and we will talk further in the morning.”
He stood before her, his face half hidden by the cowl of his robe, his yellow eyes piercingly bright as they gazed across the infinite distance between them. His lips moved, but his words were drowned out by the throaty hooting of alarms all around them, filling Mara with an urgency that was rapidly edging into panic. Between her and the Emperor two figures appeared: the dark, imposing image of Darth Vader, and the smaller black-clad figure of Luke Skywalker. They stood before the Emperor, facing each other, and ignited their lightsabers. The blades crossed, brilliant red-white against brilliant green-white, and they prepared for battle.