[Thrawn Trilogy] - 02(81)
“Jedi Skywalker,” C’baoth said from behind him. “He is not permanently damaged. Come away.
Luke didn’t move. “He’s in pain.”
“That is as it should be,” C’baoth said. “He required a lesson, and pain is the one teacher no one will ignore. Now come away.”
For a moment Luke considered disobeying. Svan’s face and sense were in agony:
“Or would you have preferred that Tarm lie dead now?” C’baoth added.
Luke looked at the slugthrower lying on the floor, then at Tarm standing stiffly with wide eyes and face the color of dirty snow. “There were other ways to stop him,” Luke said, getting to his feet.
“But none that he will remember longer.” C’baoth locked eyes with Luke. “Remember that, Jedi Skywalker; remember it well. For if you allow your justice to be forgotten, you will be forced to repeat the same lessons again and again.”
He held Luke’s gaze a pair of heartbeats longer before turning back to the door. “We’re finished here. Come.”
The stars were blazing overhead as Luke eased open the low gate of the High Castle and stepped out of the courtyard. Artoo had clearly noticed his approach; as he closed the gate behind him the droid turned on the X-wing’s landing lights, illuminating his path. “Hi, Artoo,” Luke said, walking to the short ladder and wearily pulling himself up into the cockpit. “I just came out to see how you and the ship were doing.”
Artoo beeped his assurance that everything was fine. “Good,” Luke said, flicking on the scopes and keying for a status check anyway. “Any luck with the sensor scan I asked for?”
The reply this time was less optimistic. “That bad, huh?” Luke nodded heavily as the translation of Artoo’s answer scrolled across the X-wing’s computer scope. “Well, that’s what happens when you get up into mountains.”
Artoo grunted, a distinctly unenthusiastic sound, then warbled a question. “I don’t know,” Luke told him. “A few more days at least. Maybe longer, if he needs me to stay.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Artoo. I mean, it’s just never what I expect. I went to Dagobah expecting to find a great warrior, and I found Master Yoda. I came here expecting to find someone like Master Yoda:and instead I got Master C’baoth.”
Artoo gave a slightly disparaging gurgle, and Luke had to smile at the translation. “Yes, well, don’t forget that Master Yoda gave you a hard time that first evening, too,” he reminded the droid, wincing a little himself at the memory. Yoda had also given Luke a hard time at that encounter. It had been a test of Luke’s patience and of his treatment of strangers.
And Luke had flunked it. Rather miserably.
Artoo warbled a point of distinction. “No, you’re right,” Luke had to concede. “Even while he was still testing us Yoda never had the kind of hard edge that C’baoth does.”
He leaned back against his headrest, staring past the open canopy at the mountaintops and the distant stars beyond them. He was weary-wearier than he’d been, probably, since the height of that last climactic battle against the Emperor. It had been all he could do to come out here to check on Artoo. “I don’t know, Artoo. He hurt someone today. Hurt him a lot. And he pushed his way into an argument without being invited, and then forced an arbitrary judgment on the people involved, and-” He waved a hand helplessly. “I just can’t see Ben or Master Yoda acting that way. But he’s a Jedi, just like they were. So which example am I supposed to follow?”
The droid seemed to digest that. Then, almost reluctantly, he trilled again. “That’s the obvious question,” Luke agreed. “But why would a Dark Jedi of C’baoth’s power bother playing games like this? Why not just kill me and be done with it?”
Artoo gave an electronic grunt, a list of possible reasons scrolling across the screen. A rather lengthy list-clearly, the droid had put a lot of time and thought into the question. “I appreciate your concern, Artoo,” Luke soothed him. “But I really don’t think he’s a Dark Jedi. He’s erratic and moody, but he doesn’t have the same sort of evil aura about him that I could sense in Vader and the Emperor.” He hesitated. This wasn’t going to be easy to say. “I think it’s more likely that Master C’baoth is insane.”
It was possibly the first time Luke had ever seen Artoo actually startled speechless. For a minute the only sound was the whispering of the mountain winds playing through the spindly trees surrounding the High Castle. Luke stared at the stars and waited for Artoo to find his voice.