Traitor by Matthew Stover (chrome ebook reader txt) 📕

Well. “See that platform—the one sticking out under that fold of coral? That’s the platform for the Kashyyyk delegation. They like manual doors. I know you’re not as strong as a Wookiee, but with the Force you should be able to get them open.”

“Down there?” Ganner clutched his guts again. “You want me to go in there?”

“Listen: straight back on your right you’ll find the Kashyyyk Senator’s private office. There’s a turbolift shaft behind a concealed door by his desk. Just slide down the inside of the shaft; it’ll take you right into the tunnels.”

Tunnels? A secret turboshaft? When was Jacen going to start making sense? “What would the Wookiees be doing with a secret turboshaft?”

“I think all the delegates’ offices had them: They go into concealed tunnels that are full of shielded conference rooms for secret meetings and stuff. They even connect with Fey’lya’s offices in the Imperial Palace.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Ganner,” Jacen said dryly, “those offices used to be my mother’s.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“If you can reach the tunnels, you should at least be able to find a place to hide for a while. You might live a few days. You might even escape.”

Ganner went cold. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about making a run for it, Ganner. Give yourself a chance.”

“Oh, no no no,” Ganner stepped back, shaking his head. “Oh, no you don’t—!”

“We’ve only got a minute or two before Nom Anor decides he can’t keep pretending nothing’s gone wrong. About two minutes after that, they’ll blow open the Great Door. They’ll kill me about thirty seconds later.”

“What can you do in here that’s worth your life?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I’m not even sure I can explain.”

“You expect me to make a run for it and let you die? For something you can’t even explain? You’re coming with me, or I’m not going!”

“Still playing the hero, Ganner?”

Ganner winced—that had hit too close to the bone—but he stood his ground. “No. I’m just the sidekick here. You’re the hero, Jacen. We need heroes like you. That’s why I came looking for you. The New Republic needs you.” He lowered his voice. “Jaina needs you. If there’s even the faintest ghost of a chance, you have to live, Jacen. You have to at least try!”

Jacen shook his head. He had that Skywalker durasteel on his face again. “No, I don’t. The only thing I have to do is be who I am.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Anakin had his path. Jaina has hers.” He spread his hands, as though to indicate the futility of arguing with fate. “I have mine.”

“I don’t care about any stupid path!” Ganner said desperately. “They’ll blow the door any second—we have to go!”

“No. You have to go. I have to … Ganner, listen. I need you to understand. The only power I have—the only power any of us have—is to be who we are. That’s what I’m going to do here. Be who I am.”

“You’re not making any sense! How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen? You don’t even really know who you are!”

“I don’t have to know. All I have to do is decide,” Jacen answered serenely. “Choose, and act.”

“I am not leaving you here!”

“That’s up to you.”

“How long is it going to take, Jacen? How long?” Ganner stepped toward him. “What if they kill you first?”

Jacen shrugged. “Then I lose. When you start to become who you are, the first thing you learn is that there is nothing to fear.”

A ripping roar of thunder behind him blew away Ganner’s reply, and the bridgeway jounced sharply, smacking his feet, making him stagger. Whirling, he saw a roil of smoke belch out from the tunnel’s mouth, a reeking gust like burning swamp gas.

“That’s the door,” Jacen said distantly. “We’re out of time. I guess we both lose.”

Ganner didn’t move.

Illumination burst within his brain.

In that instant, everything finally made sense. He understood what Jacen had been talking about. There was nothing to fear.

He understood the power of being who he was.

He didn’t even really have to know who he was. He could decide.

He could choose, and act.

Suddenly, his life made sense. His life had been a story of pretending to be a hero. Well, he thought. Okay, then.

His nausea had vanished. It wasn’t even a memory. No more weakness. No more uncertainty. Doubt and fear had disappeared along with the nausea.

He hefted Anakin’s lightsaber.

“We both lose unless”—he spoke slowly—“unless somebody doesn’t let them in.”

“You have to play the hero,” Jacen said sadly. “Even if it kills you.”

Ganner squeezed the blade to life, and stared at its sizzling purple shaft. Here was the weapon of a hero. A real hero. Not a playactor. Not a pretend-hero, like Ganner had always been.

But this weapon was now in Ganner’s hand.

I don’t have to be a real hero, he thought. A dazzling, old-Ganner, forget-the-consequences-and-have-some-fun smile dawned on his face. He shook himself and years fell from his shoulders; his eyes lit up, sparking like arc gaps in the red-lit gloom. He felt shiny as a war droid and twice as tough.

I don’t have to be a hero, he thought in silent wonder. All I have to do is pretend.

“Like I said, I’m just the sidekick here,” he said carelessly. “My job is to make sure the real hero lives long enough to do his. That whole ‘needing to be a hero’ thing has always been my greatest weakness.”

Jacen stared at him, into him, through him, as though he knew him to his very core, and he nodded. “But you should know that it can also be your greatest strength. Give yourself permission to use that strength, Ganner. You’ll need it.”

“Yeah.” Ganner looked into the lightsaber’s blade as though his future could be read in its amethyst shaft. He grinned at what he saw. “You know, I never liked you, Jacen. I thought you were soft. Wishy-washy. An over-intellectual bleeding heart.”

“I never liked you either.” Ganner looked up to find Jacen answering his grin with a gentle, knowing smile. “I