Star Wars: The Acolyte: Wayseeker

Chapter One

I adjusted my perch on the narrow outcropping of cobalt-hued rock overlooking the Bernerine Pass, the most direct way into Norna, the capital city of Cerifisis. And I waited.

It is a truth galactically known that where there is something of worth, there are those who will do anything to acquire it, either through honest work or through thievery and violence. As a Jedi Master, I had seen this firsthand throughout my life. I had seen humans fight over ore on Grandak and Hutts farm glaka root on Jero with the help of massive labor forces. The farther I traveled across the galaxy, the more the axiom held true.

And the work was rarely the issue.

Which was why the Force had brought me to Cerifisis, a planet plagued by piracy. As a Wayseeker, I let the whims of the Force decide my next stop, or rather J-6’s next stop, since the droid did much of the flying of the Cantaros. I disliked piloting on my own—hyperspace had a way of pulling me into Force-powered visions, which were more often than not unwelcome—but with a droid copilot I had managed to navigate the galaxy just fine, spending the past few years doing everything from helping bring in the harvest on Tiikae to corralling a bloom of fire lizards on Targusian. They were small, simple acts that just made life better for the inhabitants of their respective planets. For the people who benefited, they could be life changing. That was the point: The tiniest of efforts, when applied in the correct place, could be magnified into huge gains.

And that was why, during my tenure as a Jedi, I had returned time and again to being a Wayseeker. Spreading the light of the Jedi across the galaxy was the point of the Order. Yes, we could protect and defend those who could not help themselves, and that was always an honorable undertaking, but sometimes it was best to just help out in whatever way a Jedi could. And so I traveled where the Force led me, all in the hope of making the galaxy a better place.

And this time, the Force had guided me to the otherwise peaceful planet of Cerifisis, which was currently plagued by pirates stealing rations. That was the reason I perched on an outcropping, looking out over the vast azure-hued landscape, waiting for the sign of movement that would indicate it was time to move.

For the past few months on Cerifisis, the Strafes had been raiding the critical supply caravans that stocked the capital city of Norna, and it was beginning to have a real impact. Food was short, and if the marauders weren’t stopped, the entire population would starve. The Strafes’ villainy was a slow, creeping poison, and one that had already been proven lethal as people wasted away to nothing.

I had known none of this when I arrived on the planet. J-6 and I had merely stopped on Cerifisis to refuel—and because I wanted to see its magnificent blue sands after hearing about them from a hauler who regularly delivered foodstuffs to the planet. During our layover, a worker at the dockyard had told me of the attacks and the threat of starvation incapacitating the capital. I had immediately gone to the mayor of Norna to offer my assistance, hastening my steps when I saw the lines of people waiting for rations. The sight of children crying, hungry because there was too little to fill their bellies, would have moved anyone. But even without the obvious suffering, offering my assistance was just the right thing to do. I didn’t outwardly subscribe to the common thought within the Order that the Jedi had to hold themselves separate from their emotions, neutral in a galaxy where most actions were anything but. Not that I was given to intense emotions, but the Jedi were of the galaxy. We belonged out and about in it.

And I would never stand idly by while people were in pain, especially if there was something to be done about the suffering. So there I stood, on an outcropping above the narrow pass. The mayor’s handpicked security team stood a few meters behind me, watching me with a mixture of awe and wariness. Whether it was because I was a Jedi or because I was a Mirialan, my green skin a far cry from the humans who made up the majority of the planet’s population and likewise the security team around me, I didn’t know. I had been told repeatedly that neither Jedi nor Mirialans made it very often to the far-flung corner of the galaxy that contained Cerifisis, a way of explaining away the distrustful glances and rude stares I had endured in my short time on the planet. But I also didn’t care. I didn’t need to make friends. I just had to help.

“What do you think, Jedi Vernestra Rwoh?” Kavil, the mayor’s brother and leader of the security team, called to me. A tall, rangy human with a shock of white-blond hair and a permanent sunburn from the merciless Cerifisis sun, he was the most skeptical of my ability to stop the pirates. That didn’t bother me in the least. I liked surprising those who doubted me.

“We attack the Strafes when they come after the caravan. No one was told of this delivery, correct?”

“No one outside the Council of Elders.” Kavil scowled. “This is a waste of time.”

I allowed myself a small smile, despite the frustration clear in every line of Kavil’s body. “Only if the pirates don’t show.”

Kavil’s sour expression did not shift. “You truly think one of our own is working with the Strafes while children starve?”

“The capacity for selfishness and cruelty exists everywhere across the galaxy,” I said, my amusement fading. Why did so many people believe they were beyond such things? It made no sense. Especially here.

Yet I understood Kavil’s wariness and his doubt. He wanted to believe that the people he’d chosen to surround himself with were somehow better than others, even when they weren’t. But that was no concern of mine. It was not my place to convince him that injustice existed in every corner of the galaxy.

It was much better to show him.

The growl of hauler engines wrenched me from my thoughts, and I pulled down the goggles perched on top of my head before pulling up the scarf wrapped around my throat. Cerifisis was currently in its dry season, and a fine blue dust rose up in all directions as the convoy approached the pass. That was one of the reasons the supply deliveries were so critical. For half the year, the bright-red sun was closer than usual due to Cerifisis’s orbit, while rain was nonexistent, meaning that food could not be grown. The planet’s infrastructure was not yet advanced enough to allow year-round farming, so the government had resources shipped in from Hetzal.

Now I just had to make sure the supplies got to their intended target.

Below in the valley, the haulers approached, massive vehicles that carried thousands of crates on the flatbeds that made up the rear three-quarters of each. These vehicles were necessary because of the electromagnetic fields that surrounded Norna. It was impossible to fly into the city itself, since the radiant energy caused engines to sputter out suddenly. The city had been established in its current location because the water available underground supported the population during the dry season. Relocating it had been discussed throughout the years but always discarded. I suspected that the city’s inimical effect on machinery actually made the residents—most of whom had lived through armed conflict—feel safe. There was no way to approach Norna without being detected. Even landspeeders were risky. The haulers would stop about ten kilometers outside the city, and there the cargo would be transferred to carts pulled by beasts of burden, a slow and arduous process that everyone had come to accept as normal.

This process was one of the many reasons the pirates had been so successful in stealing cargo time and time again. It left too many opportunities for theft. Still, despite many discussions with the mayor and her security team, it seemed to be the best way to bring the much-needed supplies into the city. This left the citizens with only one solution: direct confrontation.

The convoy of haulers had nearly finished traversing the canyon, the azure dust plumes of their passage clogging the air and making visibility difficult. Behind me, Kavil sighed in relief.

“See? Your worries were unfounded, Jedi.”

The scarf covering my face hid the amusement I felt when the whine of speeder bike engines joined the growl of the haulers. A lesser person would be smug, but I had been doing this dance for far longer than any of the people around me. I only found humor in the predictability of pirates. Their lack of originality was a delight.

Cries of alarm began to sound in the valley, and I pointed downward.

“Follow me as you will,” I shouted. Then I stepped over the edge into the valley below.

There was a trail from the top of the ridge that switchbacked on itself until it reached the valley floor. I ignored the trail, reaching for the Force and using it to guide my way as my feet slid down the steep slope, a direct path that was much quicker than the established one. Dust bloomed behind me like a plumed tail. I heard a few exclamations from comrades now far behind me, but I ignored them, landing sure-footed at my destination. The settlers of Cerifisis, as well as the Strafes, were about to see just how effective a lone Jedi could be.