Star Wars: Rogue Planet by Greg Bear Read Free Book Online Page A

young Skywalker, explain to the Council how you can find peace by seeking cheap thrills among the most deluded occupants of this planet.”
    Anakin’s frown deepened.
    “You are defensive,” Mace warned.
    “What I did, I did to fill a lack in my training,” Anakin shot back testily.
    Mace’s expression turned stolid, and his eyes became heavy lidded, languid, as he placed his arms behind his back. “And who is responsible for this lack?”
    “I am, Master.”
    Mace nodded, his rugged face like ancient hewn stone. No trickster here, no humor now. Behind that face, if one knew how to sense it, burned an unbearably brilliant flame of concentration, easily worthy of the legendary Masters of past millennia.
    “I seek to escape pain,” Anakin said. “My mother—”
    Mace lifted his hand, and Anakin instantly fell silent. “Pain can be our greatest teacher,” Mace said, barely above a whisper. “Why turn away from pain?”
    “It … it is my strength. This I see.”
    “That is not correct,” Obi-Wan said, placing his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. The boy looked between them, confused.
    “How is it wrong, teacher?” Mace asked Obi-Wan.
    “Lean upon pain like a crutch and you create angerand a dark fear of truth,” Obi-Wan said. “Pain guides, but it does not support.”
    Anakin cocked his head to one side. He seemed slight and even insubstantial among these Jedi Knights, all this overwhelming experience. His face collapsed in misery. “My most useful talents are not those of a Jedi.”
    “Indeed, you throw your spirit and your anguish into machines and useless competitions, rather than directly confronting your feelings,” Mace said. “You have cluttered our Temple halls with droids. I stumble over them. But we are away from the crux of our present matter. Try again to explain your error.”
    Anakin shook his head, caught between stubbornness and tears. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
    Mace took a shallow breath and closed his eyes. “Look inward, Anakin.”
    “I don’t want to,” Anakin said breathlessly, his voice jerking. “I don’t like what I see.”
    “Is it possible you see nothing more than the tensions of approaching adulthood?” Mace asked.
    “No!” Anakin cried. “I see … too much, too much.”
    “Too much what?”
    “I burn like a sun inside!” The boy’s voice rang out in the chamber like a bell.
    A moment of silence.
    “Remarkable,” Mace Windu admitted. Curiously, a smile flickered on his lips. “And?”
    “And I don’t know what to do with it. I want to run. It makes me reckless, so I seek sensation. I don’t blame any of you for—” He could not finish that sentence.
    Obi-Wan felt the boy’s anguish like a small knife in his own gut.
    “My own mother didn’t know what to do with me,” Anakin murmured.
    The door in the far wall swung open slowly. Mace and Obi-Wan looked up to see who was there.
    A small female figure clad in Temple robes stepped into the circle, and a clear voice sang through the chamber. “Just as I thought. A little inquisition going on here, eh?”
    Mace got to his feet, smiling broadly at the sarcasm. “Welcome, Thracia.”
    Obi-Wan bowed his head in respect.
    “Anakin, may I stand beside you?” Thracia Cho Leem walked slowly toward the center of the chamber where Obi-Wan and Anakin stood. Her gray hair was cut to a close cap on her long skull, and her aquiline nose sniffed at the cool air as if she judged all by their scent. Her eyes, large and bright, irises like ultramarine beads, swept the empty seats. She gathered her long dark robes and pulled up her sleeves to reveal strong, thin arms. Then she thrust out her chin. “I should have warned you I’d return, Mace,” she said.
    “It is always an honor, Thracia,” Mace said.
    “You seem to be ganging up on this boy.”
    “It could be worse,” Mace said. “Most of the Council are away today. Yoda would be much harsher—”
    “That big-eared tree stump knows