Authors: Troy Denning
Han glanced over at Leia and saw by the tension in her lips that she had heard every word of the conversation between him and Kyp. He closed the intercom, then returned to his comm mike.
“Okay, kid. Tell us about the Chiss.”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Kyp told them about Aristocra Tswek’s visit and Cal Omas’s “suggestion” that Luke handle the
matter personally, and then said, “Master Skywalker knew you’d be worried, so he asked Cilghal to fill you in when you asked for the Maltorian dossier. I really wasn’t—”
The
Falcon
shuddered, and another damage alarm sounded. Cakhmaim reported that, despite its damage, the mapping skiff was firing at them.
“Then shoot back!” Han ordered. “Kyp, you’ll have to—”
“Standing by,” Kyp acknowledged. “Be careful.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Han pushed the throttles forward and accelerated into the fog, then asked Leia, “Can you do that fog thing again?”
“Yes,” Leia said. A low rumble reverberated through the
Falcon
as Meewalh and Cakhmaim unleashed the big laser cannons. “But why not climb out of here and fight where we can see?”
Han allowed himself a sly grin. “Didn’t you see that spire up ahead?”
“I saw it,” Leia said. A smile as sly as Han’s came to her lips. “I like the way you think, flyboy.”
“How does he think?” Nhor asked. “What are we doing?”
“You’ll see,” Han said. “Just hold on.”
Leia turned her attention back to the fog, and soon the verdant finger of a vine-covered spire could be seen jutting up at the end of the channel. If Han did not break until the last second, the mapping skiff following them would have no time to avoid a crash.
Nhor finally saw what they were planning.
“No!” He shrieked the word with both mouths. “You mustn’t! Tell your gunners to stop firing!”
“Stop firing?” Han repeated. The spire was as wide as his hand now, and he was beginning to see dark patches of coral showing through the curtains of vine. “Are you crazy? They’re shooting at
us
.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Nhor’s voice remained shrill with panic. “My people could never inhabit a planet won through murder.”
“It’s not murder,” Han objected. “They started this. We’re just defending ourselves.”
“There is a difference between defending and killing,” Nhor said.
Han began to grow impatient. “Look, if that’s the way you feel, the Ithorians are never going to find a planet.” The spire had grown as large as his arm; another five seconds, and the mapping skiff wouldn’t have a chance. “In this galaxy, you’ve got to fight for what you need.”
“My people believe there has been too much fighting already.” Nhor paused, then said, “This isn’t your choice to make, Captain Solo. If you kill our rivals, the Ithorians will not come anyway.”
“Han, Ezam’s right,” Leia said. Her gaze remained fixed on the fog, but she reached over and gently clasped his arm. “We just can’t win this one.”
Han could hear in the edginess of Leia’s voice that she wanted to keep going as much as he did. The war had made both of them harder—less forgiving and more determined to win at any price—and sometimes that made him wonder if the Yuuzhan Vong had won after all. Certainly, they had changed more in the galaxy than a few thousand planets.
“Okay.” Han pulled the control yoke back, and the
Falcon
began to climb free of Borao’s clouds. “The world grabbers win again.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Kyp said over the comm. “But you’ll have a freer rein in the Maltorian belt. There are no gray areas with Three-Eye.”
“Not so fast, kid. We haven’t said we’re going.”
“But Jaina—”
“Is in the Unknown Regions,” Han said. “That’s the point. Give us a second.”
Leia muted the comm mikes, then asked, “What are you thinking?”
“You
know
what I’m thinking,” Han said. Though he would never have said so, Han wished he had gone after Anakin to Myrkr. He knew it would have made no difference and maybe even gotten them both killed, but he still wished he had tried. “You’re thinking the same thing.”
“I suppose I am.” Leia sighed. “You know there’s no sense going after them.”
“Them?” Han asked. “Jaina and Lowie and—”
“And Jacen.” Leia’s eyes were closed, and her face was raised toward the stars. “It feels like he’s on the move, too.”
“
Another
reason to go,” Han said. “Five years is too long.”
“You know we’d just be going for ourselves,” Leia said. “Our kids are better at this sort of thing than we are now.”
“Yeah,” Han said. “But what else do we have to do? Stick our necks out for RePlanetHab? Look for another abandoned planet just so they can steal it out from under the Ithorians?”
Leia closed her eyes, perhaps reaching out to their children through the Force, or maybe only searching her own heart for guidance. Finally, she opened her eyes again and reactivated the channel.
“Sorry, Kyp, we can’t help you,” she said. “Han and I have other plans.”
The unknown object lay directly ahead of
Jade Shadow
, a crooked oval of darkness the size of a human thumb. Sensor readings suggested a body about as dense as ice, which would have been a rare—though not impossible—thing to find floating around loose in the interstellar void. But infrared measurements placed the core temperature at somewhere between warm and sweltering, and the spectrograph showed a halo of escaped atmosphere that suggested living inhabitants.
Mara had already sensed as much through the Force. She could feel a strange presence within the object, diffuse and ancient and utterly huge. There were also other, more familiar life-forms—smaller, distinct, and somehow enclosed within the haze of the larger being. But there was no hint of Jaina or the other strike team members, nor of the urgent summons they had reported from these coordinates.
Mara glanced at an activation reticle in the front of the cockpit. A small section of the
Shadow
’s plexalloy canopy opaqued into a mirror, and she turned her attention to Luke and Saba Sebatyne, who were seated high behind her in the copilot’s and navigator’s chairs.
“Time to reconnoiter?” she asked.
“What’s reckon … recoin … wreckoy …?” The question came from behind Luke’s chair, where a freckle-faced boy with red hair and fiery blue eyes stood peering around the edge of the flight deck hatchway. “What’s that?”
“
Reconnoiter
, Ben. It means take a look.” A smile came to
Mara’s heart at the sight of her son, but she forced a stern tone. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing with Nanna?”
“Nanna’s game module is for little kids,” he complained. “She was trying to make me play Teeks and Ewoks.”
“And why aren’t you?” Luke asked.
“I turned her off.”
“How?” Mara asked. “Her power switch is hidden under her neck armor.”
Ben looked away as casually as a young boy could. “I tricked her into bending down and showing it to me.”
“Turning Nanna off wasn’t very nice,” Mara said. “Her circuits are pulse-shielded. How do you think she’s going to feel after an emergency shutdown?”
“Stupid.” Ben’s answer was almost gleeful. “I’ve only done it to her three times before.”
A loud siss of amusement escaped the pebbled lips of Saba Sebatyne, causing Ben to shrink back through the hatchway—and almost muffling Luke’s exclamation of alarm. “You have?”
Ben nodded, but his wide eyes remained fixed on Saba’s lumpy face. Luke reached around the corner and pulled him onto the flight deck itself.
“Promise me you won’t do that again,” Luke said. Mara could feel how worried he was by Ben’s mischievousness. They had long ago decided against having someone else raise their son while they crisscrossed the galaxy attending to their duties as Jedi Masters, but they both knew their choice would require an extraordinary amount of discipline from their young son. “Nanna can’t protect you if you shut her down.”
“If she’s that stupid, how can she protect me anyway?” Ben countered. “A Defender Droid’s not supposed to be dumber than her kid.”
Rather than explaining the complexities of utter-devotion programming, Mara said, “Ben, answer your father. Or would you rather stay at the academy next time he and I go on a trip?”
Ben pondered his decision for a moment, then blew out a long breath. “Fine.” He turned to Luke. “I promise.”
“Good,” Luke said. “Maybe you should go reactivate her.”
“But we’re
there
!” Ben pointed out the forward viewport,
where the unknown object remained hidden in its darkness. “I want to see Jaina!”
“Jaina isn’t here anymore,” Mara said.
“How do you know?”
“The Force,” Mara explained. “If she were here, your father and I would feel it.”
“Maybe not. You don’t feel everything.”
“We would feel Jaina,” Luke said. “She’s not here.”
“Now do as your father says.” Mara hooked her thumb toward the main cabin. “Go power up Nanna and stay with her until we figure out where Jaina is.”
Ben didn’t argue, but neither did he turn to go.
“If Ben doesn’t wish to go, this one will watch him.” Saba spun her chair around and winked a slit-pupiled eye at him. “He can sit on her lap.”
Eyes widening, Ben spun on his heel and disappeared down the access corridor. Saba sissed in amusement, but softly and slow, and Mara thought maybe the Barabel’s feelings were hurt, Maybe.
“Don’t let it bother you, Saba,” Mara said. “Even we don’t understand what’s happening with him these days.”
Saba blinked at Mara’s reflection—twice. “He is hiding from the Force,” she said. “This one is surprised you and Master Skywalker have not noticed.”
“We have,” Luke said. “What we don’t understand is why. He started to close himself off after the war.”
“Ben says he wants to be like his uncle Han and do things the hard way,” Mara added. “But I think there’s more to it than that. This has lasted too long to be a phase.”
Mara did not add
and he’s gotten too good at it
, perhaps because of how much that thought frightened her. She had to concentrate hard and long to find the Force in her son, and sometimes Luke had trouble sensing Ben’s presence at all.
“Interesting.” Saba licked the air with her long tongue, then turned to look down the access corridor. “Perhapz he did not like how the war felt.”
“Perhaps not,” Luke said. “We tried to shield him from it, but it just wasn’t possible.”
“There was too much happening in the galaxy,” Mara said, surprised to find herself feeling almost defensive. “The Force was too filled with anguish.”
“And so were we,” Luke said. “That’s what really worries us, Saba … maybe he’s hiding from
us
.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Saba said. “Ben will not hide from you forever. Even this one can see how attached he is to his parentz.”
Luke thanked her for the reassurance, then asked R2-D2 to bring up an infrared image of the unknown object. What looked like a collection of palpitating blood cells appeared on Mara’s display screen. Each cell had an irregular white heart surrounded by a pink halo, and they were all connected by a tangled web of flowing red dashes.
“It looks like a network of housing modules,” Mara observed.
“And it feelz like a rangi mountain,” Saba added.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Luke said. “By the way, what
are
rangies?”
“Very tasty—and the feeling is mutual!” Sissing hysterically, Saba rose and turned to leave the flight deck. “This one will take the StealthX and reconnoiter.”
“Better hold tight,” Mara said. On the infrared display, a string of tiny white circles was flaring to life near the center of the unknown object. “At least until we know what those are.”
The circles began to swirl and grow larger. Mara didn’t even try to count the number, but there had to be over a hundred of them. More tiny circles blazed into existence and shot after the others. She initiated a series of automated systems checks to warm the
Shadow
’s battle circuits.
“Lower—”
The
Shadow
’s retractable laser cannons dropped into firing position as Luke anticipated Mara’s order. She armed the proton torpedoes and opened the firing-tube doors.
“Artoo, tell Nanna to put Ben in his crash couch,” Luke ordered.
R2-D2 tweetled a protest.
“Nobody said they
were
shooting,” Luke said. “We just want to be ready.”
R2-D2 added another warning.
“Really?” Luke responded. “That many?”
Mara glanced at the corner of her display and saw a counter quickly adding numbers.
“Five hundred?” she gasped. “Who sends five hundred craft to investigate one intruder?”
R2-D2 chirped testily, then Mara’s screen displayed a message telling her to have some patience. He was still trying to assemble vessel profiles. Identifying who had sent them would have to wait.
“Sorry,” Mara said, wondering when she had started to be intimidated by astromech droids. “Take your time.”
R2-D2 acknowledged, then added a note about the propulsion systems the vessels were using.
“Rockets?” Luke asked in disbelief. “As in old nuclear rockets?”
R2-D2 tweeted irritably. The note on Mara’s display read,
Chemical rockets. Methane/oxygen, specific impulse 380.
Luke whistled at the low number. “At least we can run, if we have to.”
“Jedi?” Saba began to siss again. “Run?”
The image on Mara’s display melded into a single infrared blob. She looked up and saw a small cloud of twinkling stars between the
Shadow
and the unknown object. As she watched, the swirling cloud grew steadily larger and brighter. Soon the stars resolved into two parts, yellow slivers of rocket exhaust and brilliant green bursts that looked a lot like strobe beacons.
Mara engaged the ion drive actuator. “Does this make sense to
anyone
?” She began to turn, giving the
Shadow
some running room. “With all that evasive maneuvering, that
has
to be a combat—”
R2-D2 began to whistle and trill urgently.
Mara checked her display, then asked, “What old blink code?”