The Eye of Darkness, page 15
The door slid shut behind him.
Rhil breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Light for that.”
Meglar slid the knife back into its hoop and folded his arms. “You’d better hurry,” he said. “We don’t know how long we’ve got.”
Rhil smiled. The first genuine smile she’d worn in days. “All right. Let’s do this. Let’s get out of here.”
The crest on Meglar’s head flushed with colors again, a riot of brilliant crimson and cerulean. “Just remember, this isn’t about you. It’s about me.”
“Either way, it amounts to the same thing,” said Rhil.
It had been her idea. She was the one who had—if not turned Meglar, exactly—had pushed him to the point where he was willing to help her escape.
It wasn’t that he was sympathetic to her cause, so far as she could tell, or that he seemed particularly concerned with the awful circumstances in which Rhil was being confined, the treatment she suffered at the hands of beings like Petrik. More that, just like he’d said, he was desperate to find his own way out.
It had started with a simple conversation. She’d been trying to make things easier on herself, to win over the silent, brooding communications officer who’d watched over her, time and again, as she’d made all those exhausting propaganda broadcasts. She’d figured if she could draw him out, get him talking, perhaps he might at least let her have some extra water, or at best stop Petrik treating her quite so roughly all the time.
What she hadn’t expected was that it would work. It seemed Meglar liked to talk. Even if he was cagey about his own past. He’d talked about his time with the Nihil, how he’d found it liberating at first, but how, over time, he’d started to realize that the life expectancy of a Nihil was somewhat shorter than ideal, and he’d expressed a genuine desire for his circumstances to change. He worked as part of General Viess’s so-called Ministry of Protection, and while he was a comm expert and would often be the one overseeing Rhil’s broadcasts, he was considered nothing but a grunt by the general and her senior staff.
It had taken time, but over the course of three months, Rhil had drawn him out. He’d eventually admitted that he felt as trapped as she was, and that if there was a way out, he’d take it. And that’s when she’d sprung her idea. She’d told him that she had friends—Jedi friends—who were out there, in the Occlusion Zone, and would help them to escape, if only she had a way to reach them.
He’d been cautious at first, unwilling to entertain the idea, but it had worked away at him, and the next time they’d met, he’d told her that he was willing to help—if he could be guaranteed safe passage out of there, too.
What was more, he had a plan. With the help of a Jedi, he was going to help them steal a Path drive.
So it was that Rhil had found herself making real broadcasts, secret messages buried in the propaganda, all while Meglar prepared the way, figuring out the best time to enact his plan.
This was her own, private rebellion. Her way of fighting back against the Nihil. Marchion Ro reveled in turning the tools of the Republic against them. It was why Rhil was still alive—because her broadcasts had once been ubiquitous, a main source of news and information for the people of Coruscant and beyond. Ro saw an irony in forcing her to broadcast his propaganda. But now Rhil was turning the tables on him, using the tools of the Nihil to galvanize the fight back, to rally the people of the captured worlds to rise up against their oppressors.
She didn’t trust Meglar, not for a moment, but she trusted his desire to live. Meglar was in too deep to back out now. She knew that if any of the Nihil found out about the encoded messages, they’d know she’d had help. She didn’t have access to the broadcast systems. It would be obvious that Meglar had conspired with her.
So the plan was going ahead. It was now or never.
Rhil lifted the comm unit to her lips. “So, if I record the message…?”
“I’ll encode it and bury it in the subwave like before. It’ll be transmitted along with the main broadcast, on a repeating wave. But there’s no guarantee anyone’s going to be listening.”
Rhil moistened her lips. “They’ll be listening,” she said. “I know it. If they’re out there, they’ll hear me.”
“They’d better be,” said Meglar. “We can’t keep doing this. It’s getting riskier every time. All it takes is one Nihil to realize what we’re doing. And we won’t get another chance for a ride out of here. I’ve signed up to Shryke’s crew…”
“I know.” Rhil swallowed. She hoped her faith wasn’t misplaced.
She watched closely as Meglar tapped in the Nihil broadcast codes. Then she took a deep breath, let it out. “This is a message for any Jedi out there in the Occlusion Zone…”
CORUSCANT
Elzar had always felt uncomfortable attending meetings of the Jedi Council, and today was no exception. To him, the conversations that took place in this chamber in the Jedi Temple always felt too formal, too staid, as if everyone was repressing what they truly felt in obedience to some unspoken rule. It was a dance of opinions and perspectives too like politicking, and inevitably ended in some form of compromise.
He supposed that was the point of it, really. To guide the Jedi Order through committee rather than dictatorship; to ensure that everyone had a voice. And he lauded that. He truly did. In most circumstances, it was the right way of doing things.
Today, though, they needed to agree on action. The chancellor was pushing the RDC for a plan to assault the Stormwall. And now here he was, beside her, supporting her before the gathered Jedi Council.
Not for the first time, he wished Stellan were still there to help him handle all this. Stellan had always had an affinity for such things. He’d been equally adept in front of an individual or a crowd, speaking with clarity and passion but rarely allowing himself to become frustrated or affronted when challenged. At least, not visibly. Only he and Avar had been able to push those buttons, to agitate or fluster Stellan, and to Elzar’s mind it had been good for his friend to sometimes find himself provoked in such a way. A reminder that he was as fallible as the rest of them. That he sometimes got it wrong.
It was a lesson Elzar tried hard to remember. While he felt strongly about what he thought the Jedi should do in response to Pra-Tre Veter’s execution, he understood that his opinion was just that—an opinion—and that didn’t mean he was right.
Regardless, he had resolved to speak his mind. Even if it meant being chastised. He needed to be heard, and while he would of course abide by the wishes of the Council—he was not quite so rebellious as Grand Master Ry Ki-Sakka had suggested—he needed to give voice to his misgivings. Otherwise, they would eat him up from the inside out. He understood that much about himself, at least.
Elzar’s boots rang out on the polished floor as he and Lina Soh strode toward the circle of seats. Beyond the vast window, the busy traffic lanes of Coruscant buzzed with vehicles flitting to and fro, and beyond them, the spires of the city stood proud against the scudding clouds.
They stopped at the entrance to the circle, waiting to be formally welcomed. Elzar smoothed his temple robes and scratched nervously at his chin, where the beard was becoming more of a permanent fixture. He wondered what Avar would make of it.
Beside him, the chancellor exuded confidence and calm, standing tall with her hands clasped behind her back.
Today, not all of the masters’ seats were occupied. Grand Master Ry Ki-Sakka was there, watching him with a sympathetic eye, along with Lahru, Keaton Murag, and Soleil Agra.
Yarael Poof was present as a flickering holo, transmitted from the Jedi outpost on Kwenn. The other seats were pointedly empty, including the one vacated by Stellan. Elzar was surprised there was no sign of Master Yoda, who, so far as Elzar knew, always attended such gatherings unless he was offworld. Elzar had seen him just the day before, meditating in the Temple gardens, so had expected him to be here. They had important business to discuss, after all. Master Yoda’s perspective would have been enlightening. He tried to mask his disappointment.
“Supreme Chancellor, Master Elzar, please, join us,” said Ry, beckoning them forward. Elzar did as he was bid, walking into the center of the circle. He turned on the spot, greeting the others with a low bow. The chancellor followed suit, honoring the Jedi tradition with a short bow.
“Masters,” she said.
“You are welcome,” said Soleil Agra. Master Agra was a Nautolan from Glee Anselm, with yellow skin and jet-black eyes. Like all Nautolans she had a knot of long tendrils that grew from the back of her head and cascaded across her shoulders.
“My thanks,” said Elzar. He glanced at the empty seats. “Are we awaiting the other members of the Council?”
Master Agra gave a slight shake of her head. “Alas, they are attending to other urgent matters, so that the rest of us might maintain our focus on the Nihil and the threat they continue to represent to the galaxy.”
Elzar nodded. “I understand.” Had he heard a note of warning in her voice, urging him not to push too hard? He really did understand—the rest of the galaxy didn’t stop turning because of the Nihil problem. Lina Soh was being pulled in so many different directions, Elzar often wondered how she didn’t fracture into a thousand tiny pieces. But then—they’d all just seen Marchion Ro execute one of their own on a live broadcast, by the most terrible means possible. That had to be the Council’s priority, surely?
“Then we will begin,” said Ry. “We are here to answer the pressing question of what we do to give answer to the heinous murder of Grand Master Veter.” He looked at the others in turn, his expression dark. “I presume we’re all familiar with the appalling details of the event and do not need to reexamine the holorecording?”
There was a muttering of agreement. No one wanted to see it again, least of all Elzar.
He’d already watched it three times from beginning to end, studying each moment in horrific detail.
He’d been shocked to see Rhil Dairo fronting the cam, but he was certain, after watching it back, that she was not doing so of her own volition. Her expression had been telling, and then, when the cam had caught sight of her again later, on the periphery, her appalled face had been enough to confirm Elzar’s theory. The Nihil had to be keeping her prisoner, forcing her to broadcast their propaganda as she’d once broadcast news and gossip from Coruscant. He could well imagine the Nihil relishing the irony of that.
Another familiar face, now trapped behind that impenetrable wall.
He’d also watched in horrified fascination as Ro’s creature, the Nameless, had appeared briefly on the broken, stuttering holo. The creature’s immediate presence had a profound effect on Jedi perception, twisting their minds, inducing oblique hallucinations and abject fear. This was evidenced by poor Master Veter’s reaction to the thing, the way he shook, his eyes widening in terror, his inability to even attempt to defend himself.
Here, though, trapped on cam, the creature had been apparent in all its terrible glory. Its appearance had provoked a deep feeling of disgust and disquiet in Elzar. The thing was abhorrent, a twisted, malformed shape that didn’t seem to quite make sense. The tendrils twisting from its mouth, the hunger in its eyes as it set upon Veter…they were born of nightmare and darkness.
Elzar wondered how such a beast could even exist.
“It is a terrible, terrible thing,” said Master Lahru, an Anx male with a tall, fin-shaped head and pale-green skin. “To see one of our own suffer in such a way. To be held and tortured like that…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I thank the Force that Master Veter is now at peace.”
“And yet, even in death, he has found a way to help us,” said Keaton Murag. “We cannot ignore the insight his death has provided. We can now see the creatures—these so-called Nameless—for the first time with clear minds. We can observe one of them as it feeds. We can see firsthand the effect it has on a Jedi. These were once the monsters of our youth, spoken of in stories to frighten children. Now we have seen they are real, and so much worse than we could ever have imagined.” He weighed his next words carefully. “While it is painful to watch, through Veter’s sacrifice we have learned. We now need to find the means to apply that learning, to help honor him and those that have gone before him in protecting other Jedi from suffering the same fate.”
“Yes,” said Master Agra. “While we still don’t know how many of the Nameless exist, where Marchion Ro obtained them, or how to counteract their attack, we are making progress. Jedi Knights Caphtor and Silas have been searching the records for clues in the old stories. Right now there are teams of Jedi poring over that horrific footage. We await their conclusions, and, while we’re still frustrated and a long way from any answers, this is the most information on the creatures we’ve been able to glean in almost a year. It must lead to something we can use against them.”
Master Lahru nodded. “I concur. We must continue to dedicate as many resources as we are able to solving the Nameless problem. If we can find a way to fight them, then we can find a way to defeat the Nihil.” He paused, looking at them each in turn. “And yet we cannot ignore the fact that Marchion Ro knew exactly what he was doing when he broadcast that message. He was reminding us of what awaited us on the other side of that Stormwall. He was sending us a warning.”
The room lapsed into silence as the Jedi Masters seemed to contemplate his words.
Elzar shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Why couldn’t any of them see? While they were right about the footage, the fact that it shed light upon a matter that had troubled them all for countless months, now was not the time for study and contemplation. It was the time for action. They needed to respond. They needed to give answer to Marchion Ro’s crimes.
“Chancellor Soh, you petitioned the Council to attend this meeting. You have something you wish to say?” prompted Ry, obviously sensing Elzar’s growing impatience.
The chancellor cleared her throat. “I do. Thank you, Grand Master. While I see the sense in the words of both Masters Agra and Lahru, I would argue for a different approach.”
“Go on.”
“While I appreciate the need to study the Nameless and devise a way for the Jedi to both protect yourselves and defeat those despicable creatures, time is against us. Teams of Jedi and Republic technicians are working countless hours to figure out a way to breach the Stormwall. Yet for all our efforts, we’re getting nowhere fast.” She held up a hand to ward off any interjection. Her voice was firm, unwavering. Decisive. “Meanwhile, Marchion Ro and his Nihil are growing entrenched. He clearly believes he can do anything, that he’s impervious to justice as dictated by either Republic law and anything resembling moral decency. By allowing him to continue, our own position grows weaker. We’ve said all of this before, too many times to count. All of us have. But now something has changed. He’s used his creatures to execute a Jedi Grand Master and broadcast it across the galaxy.”
Elzar nodded, sensing Soh’s urgency. “Think of the message it sends if we do not respond,” he said. “Think what it says to the rest of the galaxy about the Jedi and our place as their protectors.” He pointed out the tall window behind Ry.
“Every being out there is watching, waiting to see what we do next,” said Soh, turning on the spot, meeting their gazes one by one. Her voice was clear, direct, and impassioned. Elzar knew that she felt this as keenly as them all. That this wasn’t just about Pra-Tre Veter, or Marchion Ro. This was about her son. “If we allow Marchion Ro to get away with this, we enable a hundred, a thousand self-appointed warlords to start carving up the galaxy the way they see fit. We tell them that they can murder Republic citizens without recourse or comeuppance. We tell them that everything Marchion Ro says about us is true, and that we have failed them all.”
A hush had spread throughout the chamber.
“What do you suggest?” said Yarael Poof.
“We need a show of force,” said Elzar. “We need a win. A way to send a message in return, that we will not stand for the horrors the Nihil are inflicting on the galaxy.” He tried to speak with the same confidence and authority as Lina Soh, to hide the bubbling anxiety he was feeling. “The one thing we haven’t yet tried is an all-out assault on the Stormwall. Yes, there are risks. But theories about the Stormwall suggest that, with enough firepower, we might be able to bring a section of it down, at least temporarily.”
“Allow me to make one thing clear,” said Keaton Murag. “No one here is advocating that Marchion Ro be allowed to ‘get away’ with the murder of any Republic citizens, Jedi or otherwise. His time of reckoning will come. But we’re already doing everything we can. We’ve redoubled our efforts to capture a Path drive, sending more Jedi teams out to the border, putting them at great risk from both the Nihil and the Nameless. We’ve assisted the RDC in reinforcing the vulnerable planets along that very same border. And we’re channeling immense resources into solving the issue of the Nameless.”
Elzar ground his teeth. Beside him, the chancellor stiffened.
“I agree,” said Soleil Agra. “The Nihil are attempting to provoke a retaliation. One that would be doomed to failure. The theories you speak of, Elzar, come with terrible risk. We cannot yet see the path to victory. Such a move could backfire on us and achieve the exact opposite of what you’re suggesting. We’d be risking thousands of lives on a strategy we know is likely to fail. And if it does, we make Marchion Ro’s point for him, better than he ever could alone.”
“If we do not attack, surely we fail anyway,” said Elzar. “Marchion Ro taunts us. Yes, you’re right, he’s spoiling for a fight. But perhaps it’s time we gave it to him.”
“I see the sad death of Master Veter has stirred bitter waters in you, Elzar,” said Ry. “You should take some time. Meditate and reflect. We have all lost a great deal, you more than most.”
