Out of the Shadows (Star Wars: The High Republic)

by Justina Ireland

The living Force was the energy that connected all living things to one another, but the cosmic Force was the galaxy itself and was wide and vast. It was easy to get lost in the massiveness of it all if one desired. Some Jedi frowned on those who neglected their physical selves for too long to pursue the calling of the cosmic Force.

He knew such things were frowned on by the Order, but he couldn’t help having a crush on Vernestra. She was smart and friendly and took the Order just as seriously as any Jedi Master. It was hard not to like the Mirialan. But that didn’t mean he liked her romantically, did it? Marriage and children weren’t things Jedi sought to have, and there was no way Vernestra would ever take her vows anything other than seriously.

The old stories say that the Sith used emotions as a weapon, which is one of the reasons the Order cautions against things like attachment. You’re trying to make people feel better, trying to ease their pain. It’s less a bad thing and more that you’re overstepping. People should be allowed their emotions, to deal with them as they see fit. You’re taking that choice away from them.” “Ah,”

I get it, the Order wants us to defend life,” she said, her eyes sliding out of focus as her thoughts drifted. “But I think sometimes we can best defend life by going on the offensive.”

It was the Paths that would let them tear down the galaxy and forge their own way.

But she knew that the Paths allowed the Nihil to jump into hyperspace through places that seemed impossible, places where the gravity would interfere with the calculations from even the most advanced navicomputer or droid.

There was some thought among Jedi scholars that hyperspace was a part of the cosmic Force, the lanes rivers of energy that sprang from some unknown font. Others saw hyperspace as another dimension, a shadow of the world occupied by the living Force, and said that was why planets and other real objects impacted hyperspace as they did. Vernestra did not know who was right; philosophy was rarely about proving a theory as far as she had seen and more often about embracing the possibilities, and there was no final answer on just what hyperspace was. Everyone knew how to use it, but only the scholars still debated its nature.

“I don’t want to get into the debate as to the nature of hyperspace,” Xylan said with a rueful grin. “Some will tell you hyperspace lanes are navigable wormholes, and others will claim they are routes carved out by some ancient race that no longer exists. Either way, when the Republic was expanding, there was a sort of rush to map and claim the existing, yet unknown, routes. It was a little bit of math, navigation, and a whole lot of good luck. My family, of course, mapped out several routes, some of which were private until your mother and people like her campaigned to have the Republic make them accessible to all.”

This was probably not the time to tell the woman that Vernestra did not particularly care for blasters. Why would one need such a crude weapon when one had a lightsaber?

Xylan sighed loudly. “Syl, this is Professor Thaddeus Wolk, the preeminent expert on theoretical hyperspace physics.” Syl blinked. “The smartest hyperspace scientist in the galaxy is a Gungan?”

Vernestra stopped short, and a nearby vendor took that as an opportunity to approach. “Jedi! Look! I have authentic kyber crystals from the Holy City of Jedha!” the Weequay said, thrusting a handful of crystals at her.

“You are lost,” came a familiar voice, and Vernestra turned around to see Master Yaddle walking toward her with a group of very serious-looking younglings in tow. The green-skinned Jedi was no taller than the little ones with her, barely reaching Vernestra’s waist. The sight of the younglings made Vernestra’s heart melt.

Vernestra realized that she really didn’t like politics. How exhausting to fight about the how when everyone already agreed a matter needed to be handled.

You know, there is talk that in ancient times the Jedi were the first to jump to hyperspace and they did it using only the Force.”

There was a meat-filled pastry, which she avoided, as she always felt intensely guilty after eating any kind of meat, but luckily the flaky roll she broke open had no animal flesh hidden inside.

“She’s no oracle. She’s the legendary Mari San Tekka.

“Mari San Tekka?” Nan asked, looking at the wizened old woman. “Like, as in Joral San Tekka?”

“That woman has an ability to see all of the possible routes through hyperspace, time and location phased. Do you know how impossibly rare that is? Her brain is the equivalent of nearly ten thousand navicomputers, all working together. At least.” “You’re telling me no one in the galaxy can do what she can do?”

“Not in hundreds of years. There are some ancient texts that reference it being a trick of the Jedi and their long-gone enemies the Sith, but who knows what is true and what is fable.”

Not everyone loved the Jedi. Of course they didn’t. There were those who found the Order too restrictive, other Force users who didn’t think balance was as important or freely used the Force in a way the Jedi forbade. And then there were the cultures that found themselves at odds with the Jedi regularly—the Hutts and the Zygerrians, plus smugglers and rogues of all types. And of course the Nihil, the most recent addition to that list. But most people, especially those within the bosom of the Republic, saw the Jedi not as a necessary evil but as heroes of good order and peace.

“She missed you,” Jordanna said, her shoulders slumping. “I did, too.” The admission sent a sharp jolt of pain shooting through Syl’s chest, and just like that she was back on Tiikae, waiting, hoping that she would see Jordanna and Remy come across the desolate landscape to the boarding ramp of the Switchback, hoping and waiting for them to appear as the red sun rose, and finally giving up and realizing they never would.

“I was wrong. I should’ve left with you when you asked.”

Ashdree Marq.”

Reath felt a curious anxiety burble up in his middle. “Master Cohmac, Master Stellan, I, uh, have a bad feeling about this.”

“Master Cohmac, I feel like there is something much bigger happening here. I don’t like this.” “I agree. Force help us, there are far too many people with their own agendas right now for me to rest easy. But one thing at a time. We must keep this information to ourselves for now as Master Stellan requested. I know you have a deep respect for Vernestra, and we will tell her as soon as we can. Stellan Gios always does what’s best for the Order.” Reath wanted to ask, “What about what’s best for the Force?” but he had a feeling he would not like the answer to that question. Syl sat in a booth in a nearby diner with two Jedi, her ex-girlfriend, a disgruntled vollka, and a pounding headache, and tried not to feel like everything around her was crashing down.

There was something more civilized, in her mind, about fighting pirates and struggling for survival among the stars than lying to government officials and dying because of a blaster bolt to the back in a fancy building. She didn’t care about her mother’s hidden life any longer.

Which is how she ended up flying the Whisperkill to an unknown location in the Hynestian sector a day later, Chancey Yarrow and a handful of her most loyal Nihil along for the ride.

I can tell you that the Jedi are very, very bad at change. At adapting to the world around them. Jedi are brave and determined and heroic, but none of that amounts to a week of rations without the ability to perceive the truth of the galaxy around you. Their Force might lead them to a larger truth, and I’m glad they’re standing with the Republic against the Nihil, but they just aren’t like us.” “What are you saying?” Syl asked. “I think that maybe they cut themselves off from too much of life, so that the things they fight for are ideas, not people. It’s not a bad thing. I guess that must just be how it is when you see all of the galaxy and its secrets laid out before you in distinct degrees of good and bad.”

The Nihil have given the castoffs and losers of the galaxy a home. They’ve given people with nothing something, and that is a very powerful thing. Are they bad? Of course. But they’re bad because it’s all a lie based around violence.” Jordanna yawned. “Sorry, hyperspace always makes me sleepy. It’s an old San Tekka trick. Want to put a baby to sleep? Drop into hyperspace.

“There is a great deal of space between the will of the Force and the will of either the Republic or the Jedi Order.

“My plan also keeps us safe from the Nihil, who have some of their number working for the Republic, I’m certain of it. It’s the only way to account for their uncanny ability to continually hit large, expensive cargos.”

Vernestra hadn’t thought she would ever see anything more impressive than Starlight Beacon, that gleaming city in the midst of space, but the Graf family compound—which Xylan had told everyone was called Everbloom, for the gardens that were always in season—came very, very close. She had been expecting the family compound to be located on a minor moon or some such, but when the Resplendent Pearl approached a gleaming space station on the far edge of the Dalnan sector, Vernestra realized that she had grossly underestimated the power of credits. There was even a dome. Who had engineered the thing?

“Rebreathers!” Master Cohmac shouted. The Jedi had taken to carrying the devices after the assault on Valo, and it was a good thing. They were bulky and unwieldy, but it was better than choking on the fog of war. As soon as Vernestra had taken a couple of clear, deep breaths, she coolly assessed the chaos.

Syl peeked around the edge of the cargo bay door, her rifle held muzzle down at her side. There, standing in the cargo hold, was Chancey Yarrow. Her mother looked just like she had the last time Syl had seen her: hair braided in even rows, the ends tied up at the base of her skull in a complicated widow’s knot. But the mask hanging from her neck, the same blue as hyperspace, was new and its meaning unmistakable: Chancey Yarrow was most definitely working with the Nihil.

“The answer is ‘Always return home.’ It’s an old prospector saying.”

“If you can’t go forward, go back from whence you came,” Jordanna murmured. At Vernestra’s puzzled gaze, she shrugged. “It’s an old San Tekka saying.” “An old hyperspace prospector saying.” The Matriarch sniffed. “The San Tekkas are not the only family who spent lives during the rush.”

Her mother was alive. Her mother was a liar. Her mother was working with the Nihil,

You remember your auntie Lourna, don’t you?” The image of a slender Twi’lek woman with a penchant for black jumpsuits came to mind. She’d spent a year with Lourna learning how to defend herself in close quarters. The first time they’d practiced, she’d knocked Syl unconscious. When Syl had awoken Lourna had told her she was lucky to be alive and that no one would be pulling their punches. By

“Who in the twin suns is the Eye?” “He is the soul of the Nihil, the center of the Storms and a visionary who also understands that the Republic doesn’t deserve the respect it demands. He’s working on something, and he needs Jedi to test it on.” She said it so casually, like it was no big deal to kidnap people and give them to a man who thought destroying a planet was a clever pastime. And while the rhetoric about the Republic sounded familiar, Syl doubted that a man who killed civilians at a festival was anything so noble as a political dissident. No, the Nihil were nothing but murderers and thieves, no matter how Chancey Yarrow tried to rewrite their backstory.

“The Jedi are not soldiers, and what you are describing sounds perilously close to war,” said Master Rosason. “And that should never be the inclination of the Order. It should always be a means of last resort.”