For some reason, now that the shields were down Jacen felt a cold tingle of vulnerability run up the back of his neck. “Okay, Peckhum,” he said, “you’re clear to land. But make it quick, so we can power up again.”
When the old spacer stepped out of his battered supply shuttle, he looked the same as every other time Jacen had seen him: pale skin, long lanky hair, grizzled cheeks, and rumpled flight suit.
“Come on, Peckhum,” Jacen said. “I’ll help you get the supplies inside. We need to hurry, before the Imperials get here.”
“Imperials?” The spacer scratched his head. “Is that why you’ve got energy shields up? Are we under attack?”
“It’s okay,” Jacen said, impatient to get the Lightning Rod unloaded. “The shields are back up. You just can’t see them.”
The old spacer craned his neck to stare up into the misty white sky of the jungle moon. “And the attack?”
“Well, we heard a rumor—a pretty solid one.” He hesitated. “From Zekk. He’s the one who led the raid on the computer fabrication facility on Kashyyyk—and he warned Jaina that the Shadow Academy is on its way. We’d better get inside.”
Old Peckhum looked at Jacen in alarm. The teenager Zekk had been like a son to him; they had lived together in the lower city levels on Coruscant … until Zekk had been kidnapped by the Shadow Academy.
As a familiar cold tingle crept up the back of Jacen’s neck, Peckhum whispered, “Too late.” He pointed into the sky. “They’re already here.”
2
From the highest observation turret on the Shadow Academy, Brakiss—Master of all the new Dark Jedi—looked down at the insignificant green speck of the jungle moon. The devastating assault was about to begin, and before long Yavin 4 and its Jedi academy would be crushed under the might of the Second Imperium.
As it should be.
Through the winding metal corridors of the station, stormtroopers manned their battle stations, newly trained TIE pilots conducted preflight checks on their ships, and the eager Dark Jedi students prepared for their first major victory.
The ultimate battle would be a two-pronged assault led jointly by the most powerful of the new Nightsisters, Tamith Kai, and Brakiss’s own protege, dark-haired Zekk, whose enthusiasm to make something significant of his life had left him an easy target for conversion to the dark side.
Brakiss closed his eyes and drew a deep breath of the recycled air that rushed through the ventilation shafts. His silvery robes swirled around him.
Though he stood isolated here, he could sense the accelerating preparations affecting everyone in the spiked station; tensions mounted, as did hunger for battle. In the undercurrent of swirling thoughts, he clearly felt the troops’ dedication to the Second Imperium’s great leader, Emperor Palpatine. He also detected an undertone of anxiety over the coming attack, but this only made his lips curl upward. Fear would give an added edge to their fighting abilities, enough to make them cautious … but not enough to paralyze them.
Brakiss longed to see Luke Skywalker defeated. Years ago, he had infiltrated the Jedi academy as a student to absorb the methods the New Republic taught, then bring them back to the remnants of the Empire. But Brakiss hadn’t been able to fool the Jedi Master. Instead, Skywalker had tried to turn him away from his devotion, undermine his dedication to the Second Imperium. Skywalker had tried to “save” him—he thought with a sneer—and Brakiss had fled.
But because of his willingness to dabble in the dark side, Brakiss had by then learned enough to form his own Dark Jedi training center.
Now it would be a marvelous showdown.
Beside him, the air shimmered. Brakiss opened his calm, beatific eyes and sensed an ominous static surrounding the projection of the Emperor. The mysterious great leader of the Second Imperium hovered in front of him in holographic form, a cowled head as tall as Brakiss’s entire body, a towering image with glittering yellow eyes and a wrinkled face pinched by shadows.
“I grow eager for my domination again, Brakiss,” the Emperor said.
“And I am eager to give it to you, my master,” Brakiss answered, bowing his head.
Accompanied by four of his powerful red Imperial guards, the Emperor himself had recently taken up residence on the Shadow Academy, arriving in a special armored shuttle. While the fearsome, scarlet-clad guards kept all prying eyes away, the Emperor remained sealed in an opaque isolation chamber. Palpatine had never spoken directly to his loyal Shadow Academy subjects, nor had he even conversed face-to-face with Brakiss. The Emperor had appeared only in holographic transmissions.
“We are ready to launch our strike, my Emperor,” Brakiss said. He glanced up at the forbidding image. “My Dark Jedi guarantee you victory.”
“Good—because I have no wish to wait further,” the Emperor’s image said. “The remainder of my newly constructed fleet has not yet arrived, though they shall be here within hours. My Imperial warships are presently being refitted with the computer systems stolen from Kashyyyk. My guards report that many vessels are ready to fight, and the rest will be finished shortly.”
Brakiss bowed again, clasping his hands in front of him. “I understand, my lord. But let us withhold the military strike force for our next major assault on the more heavily guarded worlds of the Rebel Alliance. On Yavin 4, we have only a few weakling do-gooder Jedi to deal with. They should cause no problem for my Force-trained soldiers.”
Inside his shadowy cowl, the Emperor looked skeptical. “Do not let your overconfidence betray you.”
Brakiss continued speaking with greater passion. He let his feelings come to the fore, hoping to convince his great leader. “With this important strike on the Jedi academy, the Second Imperium becomes more than just an undisciplined band of pirates raiding equipment. We mean to retake the galaxy, my lord. This battle must be a battle of philosophies, of willpower. This is the Imperial way against the Rebel way—and so it should be my trainees against Skywalker’s, Jedi versus Jedi. A shadow play, if you will, of darkness against light. We still intend to harass them with TIE fighter strikes from the air, but the main conflict will be direct and personal—as it must be! We can crush their very hearts, not merely breach their defenses.”
Brakiss smiled, looking up to meet the glowing yellow eyes of the Emperor. “And when we defeat them utterly with the powers of the dark side, the remainder of the Rebels will scatter and hide, trembling at their own nightmares, as we recapture what is rightfully ours.”
The Emperor’s holographic face did something frighteningly unusual. The withered, puckered lips curled in a satisfied smile.
“Very well. It shall be as you request, Brakiss—Jedi against Jedi. You may begin your assault when ready.”
3
The Shadow Academy dropped its cloaking device, dissolving its shield of invisibility. As the spiked station appeared over Yavin 4, two specially equipped TIE fighters dropped out of its launching bay. Silently moving in tandem, they plunged into the misty atmosphere.
The fighters had been coated with a stealth hull plating to blur their sensor signatures, and the output from their high-powered twin ion engines had been damped. Their mission was to strike in secret, not to provide a show of force.
Commander Orvak swooped into the lead, while the second TIE fighter, flown by his subordinate Dareb, flanked him. Together, they shot around the small moon and skimmed lower into the atmosphere, spiraling entirely around the equator back to the coordinates of the ancient temple ruins where Skywalker had established his Jedi academy.
Orvak flew with the controls gripped in his black-gloved hands. He felt the quiet thrumming of the Imperial fighter’s engines as if he were riding an untamed beast of burden. He piloted with careful concentration, dancing on the air currents, buffeted by thermal updrafts from the jungle below.