“From all of us,” Tyko Thul added.
“Will I see you back on Yavin 4?” Raynar asked.
“When I get there?” Zekk’s emerald eyes opened wide, as if surprised at the question. “I don’t know,” he said simply. “I’ve got some thinking to do.”
During the next week, Coruscant was abustle with activity, more so than Jaina could ever remember. Delegations were requested and brought in from every species on every planet that had been allied with the Diversity Alliance. Kur, newly appointed head of Ryloth’s government, sent two representatives for his people: one Twi’lek man and one Twi’lek woman. Jaina’s mother spent all but a few hours each day in meetings with the new delegates, both individually and in groups. During her few precious free hours, Leia slept. The young Jedi Knights spent nearly as many hours as Leia did welcoming delegates to the capital world and giving further reports to the New Republic Senate on what they had learned of the Diversity Alliance. Lusa and Sirra, now back from Ryloth, gave their accounts, as did Master Skywalker and the other members of the investigation team. All of them spent hours interviewing various former members of the Diversity Alliance and finding out their reasons for joining, what they had hoped to accomplish.
Em Teedee was constantly pressed into service to provide translations during these interviews, since, as he often pointed out, he was fluent in over sixteen forms of communication. By the end of the week, a Cooperative Council of Independent Planetary Governments had been formed with representatives from every species on every world. Their charter included an agreement, signed by every member, to work together for the good of all species and the detriment of none.
Aryn Dro Thul placed the Bornaryn Trading Fleet at the disposal of the new council and its representatives, while Tyko Thul volunteered the resources of his droid manufacturing facilities on Mechis III. The Hapan government offered financial assistance to the Cooperative Council. There was work for everyone, and when Leia asked Lowie’s sister Sirra to become a liaison to strife-torn planets, and to look into and report on the violation of any species’ rights, Lowie could not have been more proud if his own sister had been named Chief of State. Eventually, after weeks of political upheaval, the young Jedi Knights returned to Yavin 4.
29
Back on the jungle moon, Lowie sat comfortably ensconced at the top of a Massassi tree, staring patiently into the starry night sky and thinking about the final transmission burst Raaba had sent from the Rising Star. There had been no voice message, no hologram—only a cryptic line of code in old-fashioned clicks and bursts of static that she knew he would understand.
The words, conveyed in Basic, had been simple: “If I survive, I’ll find you.”
Lowie leaned back and watched a shooting star streak across the sky. And waited.
Raynar’s hand shook slightly and he sought out Master Skywalker’s eyes. Even now he was unsure of himself, was not certain he dared … was not certain he was worthy.
The Jedi Master’s eyes were kind and serious. He nodded.
“Go ahead, Raynar.” Fumbling slightly because his hands were slick with sweat, Raynar moved his thumb into position and pressed the switch. With a whoosh-hum, an energy blade the color of polished pewter sprang from the hilt of his newly constructed lightsaber.
“The workmanship is excellent,” Master Skywalker observed. “And I’ve seen how well you do with the stun-sticks. Would you like me to ask Tenet Ka to practice with you?”
Raynar blanched.
“Now?”
The Jedi Master chuckled.
“Maybe I’d better have you practice with Jacen for a while first. But not yet. Right now, I’ve got a surprise for you. We have a new permanent student here at the Jedi academy. I thought maybe you could show her around for a while.”
With that, he stepped back and opened the door to his chambers.
“Lusa!” Raynar exclaimed as the centaur girl appeared in the doorway. “I thought you wanted to work for the Cooperative Council.”
Lusa tossed back her long cinnamon mane and gave an eloquent shrug of her bare shoulders.
“I might someday, but I have a lot to learn first. I’ve asked Master Skywalker to teach me more about my powers with the Force.”
Raynar found himself with nothing to say. His mouth hung open.
“I think you can put your lightsaber away for now,”
Master Skywalker said. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
Raynar snapped out of his surprise-induced immobility and turned off his lightsaber.
“I…” Raynar blinked at Lusa and tried to collect his thoughts.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” the centaur girl asked. “I know of a very pretty waterfall.”
On a small planet without a name, far out in a barely charted sector of the Outer Rim, Raaba built a burial cairn for Nolaa Tarkona. She worked alone—she was the only being on this entire world—to find large rocks on the crumbling ridge where she had made their base camp. Using her strong Wookiee fingers, she pried up stones and piled them higher where she had buried the Twi’lek leader. Nolaa Tarkona had died of the plague the day before. Raaba had flown here, navigating by instinct rather than any star chart, and she had set down her star skimmer near a cluster of habitable caves on this silent planet.
Nolaa had grown rapidly worse, day by day, as the slow-acting disease ravaged her body, destroyed her immune systems. She had thrashed and raved, insisting that Raaba take her back to Coruscant so that she could receive medical treatment in the capital of the New Republic. But Raaba had refused. She could not risk bringing the sick Twi’lek woman anyplace where she might infect others, where she might spread the evil plague developed by twisted Imperial scientists. The disease had proved fatal to Twi’leks, and might well be able to cross many species boundaries.
Raaba could not take that chance. And so she had tended her leader all by herself. The chocolate-furred Wookiee had suffered ill effects of her own: a fever, pounding headaches, muscle cramps. Some of her fur had fallen out in patches. Raaba had been sure she would follow Nolaa Tarkona in a lingering death. But her strong constitution had ultimately defeated the plague. She recovered just about the time that Nolaa had died, but even now, she knew she might still carry the disease organism; she might still infect others.
The breeze picked up, whistling along the knife edges of the barren rock. The air smelled like hot dust. Tall brown ferns protruded from cracks in the ridge, rattling their dry leaves together. The sun shimmered thick and orange near the horizon. Raaba piled another heavy stone on the cairn. She would finish her work here soon. Her star skimmer might also be tainted with the organism; her own systems might still bear the plague. Raaba had to quarantine herself here, at least for a while.
After seeing Nolaa’s long and suffering death, Raaba wanted no part in spreading such a scourge throughout the galaxy. She would wait here, for as long as it took.
A group of large rodents with hard shells on their backs scuttled out of their warrens in the cliffside. They stood in groups like miniature soldiers, watching the Wookiee woman’s strange activities. Raaba glanced at them, then turned back to her labor. She piled boulder after boulder atop the place where she had interred the leader of the Diversity Alliance. Finally, she had an impressive monument, a marker to commemorate all the dreams and dedication Nolaa Tarkona had stood for.
Her need for equality and reparations had been valid, but her tactics had taken her beyond the reach of reason.
“Rest in peace, Nolaa Tarkona,” she said, looking across the burial mound to the distant horizon. The world was empty, but peaceful and quiet. A good place to think, a good place to heal. Someday she would come back to the galaxy; someday she would find Lowbacca. But only when she was ready.