“Literary critic,” Nelani said.
The captor’s eyebrows shot up. “Actually, my education was in literary issues-literary syncretization, the process by which the popular story cycles of different worlds merge, their archetypal characters becoming unified, as the individual worlds enter the galactic community. So literary criticism is part of my profession, yes.”
“You look more like a professional wrestler,” Ben said.
The captor looked delighted. “I probably should have been. I would have derived more pleasure from my life.”
“What’s your name?” Jacen asked.
“I am Doctor Movac Arisster. Of Lorrd City, tenured with the University of Pangalactic Cultural Studies.”
“I’m Jacen. This is Nelani, and this is Ben. You indicated that you wanted to speak with Jedi. Was this because someone suggested it to you?”
“Yes.” Arisster seemed unconcerned that Jacen had divined his secret. “The most remarkable part was who it was. Have you ever heard of Aayla Secura?”
Jacen nodded; he’d run across the name on several occasions-in his early studies at the Jedi Academy, and subsequently in his travels to worlds she had visited.
But apparently Ben and Nelani were unfamiliar with it. Arisster turned more toward them. “She was a Jedi Master at the end of the Old Republic. Alleged to have been shot down by clone troopers like so many of your order at that time. A blue Twi’lek, and surviving holos of her show her to be beautiful of face and form. Well, in her career, she benefited the people of many worlds, and entered the folkloric cycles of several primitive cultures, where she often was merged with local historical figures or goddess-characters.” Arisster lost focus for a moment, staring into the distance. “Even today, educated immigrants from those cultures will write fictive cycles about her, some of them amazingly prurient.”
He returned his attention to the Jedi. “Tell me, Jacen, do people do the same about you? Write stories about you and pair you off with unlikely romantic partners?”
Jacen ignored the question. “Aayla Secura told you to do this?”
“No.” Arisster shook his head so vehemently that it rocked the body of the man strapped to him. “I chose to do this. Then Aayla Secura-or, rather, someone in her form-came to me and suggested that I bring the Jedi in to talk.”
Jacen gave him a puzzled frown. “For what purpose?”
“To enter your story cycle, of course. I’m a nobody, and I’m dying. In six months, incurable cancers of the lungs and other organs, probably caused by a radiation leak I experienced on a trip many years ago, will kill me. No one will ever have heard of me. Except now I’ll have a little trace of literary immortality as a man, a normal human man with no combat skills or Force abilities, who beat a Jedi.”
Arisster leaned in closer to the transparisteel, staring intently at Jacen. “I want to thank you for being here. I’m sure that Nelani is a competent and loyal Jedi Knight, but she’s not famous. Jacen Solo’s cycle will be a much better one to be affixed to.”
“Beat me, how?”
“By denying you a happy ending.” Arisster went from merry to almost apologetic. “This apparatus in my right hand is the trigger for the bomb strapped to my hack. By which I do not mean Haxan, here, but an actual explosive layered between our bodies. If I release the trigger, it blows up. And if you should be considering using your Jedi powers to grip my hand, well, too much pressure and it blows up. Other things will set it off. Keywords I might speak. Too long a silence between keywords I’m supposed to speak. A key press on a datapad, or a laser relay from allies who are watching these events.”
“Being famous won’t do you any good if you’re dead,” Ben said.
“True. But it’s something I always wanted, and I’ll die knowing I’ve achieved it. I’ll talk with you until you’re convinced that I can’t be stopped. You’ll use Jedi mind tricks, to which I already know I’m immune, or other techniques, which won’t work. Then I’ll throw myself into the midst of this crowd of wet, frightened, smelling-of-fish tourists, and detonate myself.”
“That’s selfish,” Nelani said. “Destructively, cruelly selfish.”
Arisster snorted, amused. “All decisions are selfish. Your becoming a Jedi? Probably based on your desire to ‘improve the galaxy,’ which is just another way of saying ‘imposing your view of what’s good upon people who don’t agree with you.’ “
“What if I promised to make you famous?” Jacen said. “If I gave you my word. I’d take you along with me as a sidekick and put you in dangerous situation after dangerous situation. Believe me, you wouldn’t last six months in that sort of circumstance, and you might actually do some good before you died.”