Light of the Jedi(30)

The ship was a hundred meters up, stationary above the cropland outside Aguirre City, having left the starport after taking on as many refugees as it could.

“If I don’t try this,” Avar continued, “they will definitely die. Every last one.”

“But can you actually save them? I’ve never heard of anything like this being possible—even with the Jedi.”

Avar smiled at him.

“All things are possible through the Force,” she said. “Now take the Third Horizon and go. I have work to do, and it’s important that you deliver a direct report to Chancellor Soh about what you witnessed here. It’s not enough to tell her over the comm. None of this should have happened. There’s something wrong. I can sense it. Hyperspace is…sick, for lack of a better word.”

“Of course, Master Jedi,” the admiral said. “But you should deliver that report yourself. I still don’t understand why you can’t perform your task from open space? I don’t know much about the Force, but I do know it works across great distances, and if you’re safe on the ship, at least you’ll have a way to escape if—”

Avar Kriss believed that the best way to win arguments was simply not to have them. She sprinted down the exit ramp and leapt, out into open air. The ship was hovering above a field of some blue grain she was not familiar with—all she knew was that it was absolutely gorgeous. She used the Force to slow herself, somersaulted, then landed lightly on plowed soil between two neat rows of the stuff.

The Third Horizon was already just a dwindling speck in the sky by the time she looked back up. Admiral Kronara had accepted defeat and was wasting no time leaving the system. That was good. They had very little.



Focus, she told herself. Time truly was short, and the task to be accomplished here was all but impossible.

A tank of supercooled liquid Tibanna, as large as a decent-sized starship by itself, was headed directly toward one of the Hetzal system’s three suns, an R-class star. When it hit, the volatile nature of the substance, combined with the intense heat of the star and its unique nitrogen-heavy composition, would cause a rapid chain reaction that would result in the sun surging outward, flaring up to nearly double its size, putting out radiation that would cook the entire system in a matter of moments. The Hetzal system, in not much time at all, would cease to exist.

Unless the Force willed it otherwise, and used its instruments—the Jedi—to prevent it.

Kronara wouldn’t ever understand why it was so important for her to stay on the planet. He couldn’t touch the Force.

Avar needed to be on the surface of Hetzal Prime because the world was a planet of life. Now, the Force was everywhere, of course—even in the deepest, coldest reaches of space. She could always hear its song—but here, standing in this field, surrounded by growing things that had been tended with love and care by the farmers of this world, the song was loud. Loud and sweet.

Here, she did not have to spend any extra time or energy seeking a deep connection to the Force. It was all around her.

Avar Kriss lifted her comlink. She set it to broadcast-only, knowing that what she was about to say would bring questions from many of the other Jedi in the system, some of whom outranked her. Jora Malli was a member of the Jedi Council, and even if she was planning to step down in order to take up her post on the Starlight Beacon, she hadn’t left the Council yet. Technically, she could order Avar to stop what she was doing.



Not that she would do that—probably—but why take a chance?

She thought about Elzar Mann, who did things like this all the time. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission was basically his entire credo.

He’ll love this, she thought, and spoke.

“My Jedi friends, this is Avar Kriss. I am on the surface of Hetzal Prime. You know I’ve been watching you all work so hard to save this system and its people. You’ve done incredibly well. But something else is about to happen, something terrible, and we all need to act together to stop it.

“One of the hyperspace anomalies is headed directly for the system’s largest sun—and it is a container of liquid Tibanna. I am told that when it hits, a rare chain reaction will result that will destroy everything in this system.

“It is up to us to move the container to a new path. We will ask the Force to come to our aid. It might not be possible, and anyone who stays runs the risk of dying if we fail. The Third Horizon is about to transit the system. Anyone who wants to leave can dock with it. My good wishes will go with you.”

Avar waited. Though she had silenced her comlink to replies, the song of the system told her that no Vectors had altered course toward the rapidly accelerating Third Horizon. They had all decided to stay. The Jedi were with her.

“Let’s begin,” she said.

She lowered the comlink. This would not be done with words.

Avar sent the concepts through the link with her fellow Jedi. Each would receive it in their own way, a series of impressions that she hoped would resonate properly with each of them. A very simple plan, really:

There is a thing, moving very fast. It is very large, and very heavy. It needs to change direction. We will all find it together, and we will all apply the Force to it together in just the same spot in just the same way at just the same time, and we will move it so it does not hit the sun.



Simple…but enormously difficult. Space was large, and there were many Jedi, and coordinating their efforts so they did not fight against one another or cancel one another out or touch the Force at slightly different moments…well. That was the task. No use complaining about it.