“That may not be as useful as you think,” Luke said. “Alema probably knows the technique of the Force-flash, a method by which a Jedi can cause interference with holocams-even ones she’s unaware of-in order to avoid being recorded.”
Jag frowned, but he did not seem daunted. “This technique-does it make her invisible?”
Mara shook her head. “No. It creates a little static on the recording. Causes a sort of timing hiccup.”
“That’s not so bad,” Jag said. “Part of the code involves analyzing incidence progression along a sequence of holocams-tracking an identified target. If we extend its analysis to these `hiccups’ and assign a probability that they indicate a single Force-using individual, the code could still plot her movements in observed areas.”
“That might be useful in detecting Lumiya, too.” Mara pocketed the card. “Thank you.”
“Also on that card are complete schematics for this, so you can reproduce it.” Jag handed the coin-like object to Luke. “You use the sticky material to affix this to your neck, or to a shaved spot on your skull. You activate it by saying ‘Alema.’ Deactivate it by tapping it twice with a fingernail.” He demonstrated, tapping it as it lay in Luke’s open hand. “From the time it’s activated until it’s deactivated, it sends electric shocks through your nervous system at one standard-minute intervals.”
Luke grinned. “That’s helpful. Did you also bring me a brooch that will pinch my skin from time to time?”
“The shock,” Jag continued humorlessly, “is very precisely attuned to human nervous systems. I haven’t had the resources to determine the exact frequency needed by other species. The specific pain generated helps cause whatever is in your short-term memory to be transferred into longterm memory.”
“Ah.” Luke looked at the device more closely. “Meaning that Alema…” The disk began vibrating in his palm. Hastily he tapped it twice, and it ceased vibrating. “Meaning that she can’t slip back out of your memory again.”
“That’s right.”
Mara frowned. “You know, we ought to be able to duplicate that effect with use of the Force.”
Luke nodded. “It’s worth researching. I’d prefer a Force technique to going through something like circus-bantha obedience training. I’ll put Master Cilghal on it.” He tucked the disk into a belt pocket. “Fel, thank you. I mean that. Is there anything we can do for you?”
“I…” At last Jag sounded uncertain. “I hesitate to ask.”
“Don’t,” Mara said. “I mean, don’t hesitate.”
“I don’t have anything to do,” Jag said, and his voice became curiously hollow, empty, “except chase Alema Rar until I run her to ground and make sure she can’t do any more harm. But I don’t have much in the way of resources. No transportation, little funding.” He chuckled. “So odd to be living in the private sector. In the military, they given our a mission and whatever resources they can offer, sometimes too few, sometimes too many … repeat until you retire or die. Outside the military, everything is so complicated.”
Luke clapped him on the back. “I’ll get you resources. Starting with some quarters…”
“No. I have a room. The address, and my comm code and frequency, are on the data card. I’d … prefer not to stay here.”
“All right.”
“I’ll go now. I can find my way out.” With a final bow to the Jedi Masters, Jag turned-correctly, Luke noted, despite the many twists and turns their walk had taken them through, toward the Temple’s main entrance-and strode away, pulling his hood up as he walked.
Mara watched him go and shook her head. “That’s a man with not enough to live for.”
“He’ll bounce back,” Luke said. “He’s young.” He fingered the device Jag had given him. “C’mon. Let’s see if Cilghal is still up.”
Returning to the Temple from a late errand, Jaina passed the lone Jedi performing guard duty at the building’s wide-open main entrance and walked into the main corridor.
Just leaving was a man wrapped up in a dark cloak. He kept to the left side of the corridor, away from her, not even appearing to notice her. She hesitated as they came abreast of each other, his upright posture, military bearing, and the unconscious arrogance of his stride causing bells to sound in her memory.
When he was one step past her she stopped and turned her head to look at him. “Jag?”
He stopped, too, but did not turn. His face remained completely hidden within the folds of his hood. But it was Jag Fel’s voice that answered: “Yes?”