Fate of the Jedi: Backlash

by Aaron Allston

  From the passenger seat behind Leia, Allana piped up, “She’s bringing Master Cilghal, right?”

  “Anji’s condition isn’t critical any longer,” Leia said. “She’ll be fine until you and Jaina take her to the infirmary. Master Cilghal will just need to run a few tests, then she’ll probably send you both home to rest.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Pretty sure,” Han said. “But it’s better for Cilghal to wait for you in the infirmary, so she can have everything ready to start the tests.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Allana said. “But she’d better be ready. Anji doesn’t like having a headache.”

  As they approached the Senate Building, Han could see that there was indeed a crowd, made up of well-dressed politicians, brightly dressed holocasters surrounded by their crews, and uniformed security officers. They were all waiting around the perimeter of the Falcon’s designated landing zone. The fact didn’t improve his disposition. It was bad enough having to face crowds, any member of whom might be someone he owed money to—well, that was the old days. Now any member of a crowd might be an old enemy or a killer paid by an old enemy. Even when times were good and people cheered, he didn’t much like crowds. It was worse at times like these. Jeers, subpoenas … it always irked him. He smiled. It didn’t wear him down, of course. It just irritated him.

  They came to a smooth landing at the designated spot, which was ringed with security speeders and journalist vehicles. Han and Leia went through a very abbreviated checklist and power-down, then mustered at the top of the loading ramp with the droids. After instructing Allana to wait aboard with Anji, Han hit the button to lower the ramp.

  As it touched down, as the Solos and their droids began to move down its length, their greeting party stepped into the shadow of the Falcon’s hull and stopped a few meters down the ramp. In among a small group of Coruscant Security officers and troopers were Daala and her aide, Wynn Dorvan.

  Han gave Leia a glance, a faint twitch of his eyebrows, acknowledgment that he hadn’t expected the Chief of State to be on hand personally for their arrival. Leia’s microscopic shrug said she hadn’t, either.

  Allana, standing inside the hatch behind them, called, “Hey, Jaina!”

  Han looked toward the back of the crowd and saw his daughter arriving, a somber and striking martial figure in traditional Jedi robes. He waved, but then broadened the gesture to include the crowd. There was a low cheer from onlookers not in government uniform and not otherwise occupied.

  The Solos came to a stop at the bottom of the ramp. Half comically, Han put his wrists together and offered them, in turn, to the closest three security troops.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Daala stepped forward. She extended her hand to shake Han’s, then Leia’s. “Yes, there is a warrant out for you, but it’s not being executed today.”

  Once free of Daala’s grasp, Leia glanced at her hand, as if doing a quick count of her fingers, then returned her attention to the Chief of State. “Well, that’s promising … but if I may ask, why not?”

  “Because some problems require complex solutions, and, sadly, arrests and convictions aren’t always complex.” Daala looked past their shoulders, up toward Allana. “And you must be Amelia Solo.”

  Allana’s voice held no trace of awe or intimidation when she answered, “I’m supposed to wait here. I have a hurt nexu.”

  “A … nexu?” Daala’s eyes widened and returned to the adult Solos. “Her pet?”

  Han shrugged. “She’s good with animals.” He looked around, still trying to figure out what Daala’s game was, then said, “Well, thanks for coming out to meet us, but it’s been kind of a long trip. If you don’t mind, I think we’ll just—”

  “After our meeting, if you don’t mind.” Daala wasn’t requesting. Her gaze drifted back up the ramp toward Allana. “Will Amelia and her nexu be joining us?”

  Han glanced over at Leia, who merely shrugged and said, “No, her sister Jaina is here to collect her.”

  Daala followed their gaze to where Jaina stood behind the Coruscant Security lines. “Ah. Well, I hope young Amelia has a good day with her sister.”

  Dorvan waved at the security troopers nearest Jaina and indicated that they should let the Jedi approach. In moments, after a flurry of quick embraces, Jaina was boarding the Falcon to collect Allana and her nexu. Han and Leia were swept up in Daala’s retinue and headed for the Senate Building.

  They settled into her gleaming office. Only the Solos, Daala, and Dorvan were present. Daala pressed a couple of buttons and the door slid shut. “I’m recording, by the way. Not to have evidence for a trial, but to have a record of any agreements we might reach.”

  Leia smiled. “Still, it wouldn’t be in our best interests to admit to any shooting sprees or smuggling actions.”

  “I suppose not,” Daala said. “But we aren’t here to discuss plea deals.”

  Han stirred, restless. “So why are we here? I was kind of looking forward to getting bailed out in time for dinner. A meeting could go long and ruin my evening.”

  “And mine.” Daala sat back, a posture that looked almost relaxed. “Here’s what I want. I’d like the two of you to take an offer to the Jedi Order, and perhaps help me resolve this thing.”

  “Acting as advocates for who, precisely?” Leia asked. “I’m sure you don’t expect us to represent you.”

  “I expect you to do what’s best for the Galactic Alliance,” Daala countered, a bit sharply. “Which happens to be helping the two sides resolve their grievances with each other and return the Jedi Order to its longstanding role as a government resource. As long as you’re making progress toward that goal, the government will overlook your recent crime spree in helping several criminally insane Jedi escape the planet. If you actually succeed, the case will be dismissed.”

  Han scowled. “If you expect us to sell out to dodge a few trumped-up charges, save us all some time and just arrest us now.”

  Daala sighed and rolled her eyes toward Dorvan. “I told you this would never work.”

  Dorvan raised a hand for patience, then turned to the Solos. “Your suspicion is understandable,” he said. “But that’s not what the Chief is asking. She’s just looking for someone to help cool tempers, present her case, and see if there aren’t some reasonable accommodations that both sides can make.”

  Han looked back to Daala. “Reasonable accommodations?” He allowed a crooked smirk to creep across his mouth. “Things must be getting pretty hot in the Chief’s seat, huh?”

  Daala’s eyes grew hard, but Dorvan admitted, “Particularly since Cha Niathal’s funeral. It’s beginning to interfere with the state’s other business.”

  Han and Leia exchanged a look, and he gave her a little shrug signifying consent. “There’s a problem, though.”

  “Yes?”

  “Leia’s a Jedi. Doesn’t that sort of slant our outlook in your eyes? Make us sort of biased?”

  “Absolutely.” Daala leaned forward again. A small smile crossed her face. “Han Solo, you’ve held a commissioned rank in the New Republic armed forces.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “The privileges and rights of which carry over into the Galactic Alliance. And in times of Alliance crisis, which this is, the Chief of State, as commander in chief of the armed forces, can return retired officers, even those not in the reserves, to active duty.”

  Han sank back into his chair and covered his eyes with his hand. “Don’t say it.”

  “Sorry, but I must. I’m returning you to the rank of general and assigning you the responsibility of searching for a reasonable solution to our mutual problem. Unless you’d like to formally resign your commission, which I will take as a sign that you don’t want this assignment or the clemency that comes with it, in which case I will have to execute the arrest warrant.”

  Dorvan cleared his throat. “We realize that you don’t care for the public at large to know that you have ethics and would in fact try to fulfill your
duty to the Galactic Alliance here. So the exact terms of this deal won’t be revealed. Just an announcement that former Chief of State, Jedi Leia Solo, and Alliance hero and scoundrel Han Solo are making an effort to resolve the disputes between the government and the Jedi.”

  Han peered at his wife. “Did he say scoundrel?”

  “He did.”

  “It’s gotta be wildly popular scoundrel or it’s no deal.”

  “So recorded, so noted.” Daala looked between them. “So do we have a deal?”

  “I don’t see how, in good conscience, we can refuse.” Leia leaned forward to extend a hand. “It’s a deal.”

  Daala shook it, then shook Han’s. “General, you’ll need an aide.”

  “I have one. See-Threepio.” It pained Han to say those words, but he’d rather keep any government-appointed military attaché out of his business.

  “Ah, your protocol droid. Of course.” Daala glanced toward her assistant. “Dorvan has prepared a small briefing sheet that outlines what I’m willing to offer.”

  Dorvan withdrew a single sheet of handwritten flimsi from his tunic pocket. “There are no identifying marks, of course. Should it fall into the media’s hands—”

  “It won’t,” Leia said, plucking the sheet from his grip. “We’ve handled delicate negotiations before.”

  “Good,” Daala said. “Let Dorvan know if you need any resources to aid your efforts. And please send me a daily update on your progress.”

  The words sounded like a dismissal, so Han rose, as did Leia. Uncomfortably aware of his renewed responsibilities, Han threw Daala a sloppy salute, one suited to a wildly popular scoundrel, and turned for the door.

  He and Leia did not speak until they reached the main exit and emerged into sunlight. “So … what the blazes?”

  Leia shook her head. “She’s in trouble. She needs to make it look like she’s looking for a solution.”

  “Is she?” Han asked.

  “I guess we’ll know after we read this,” Leia said, flicking the flimsi Dorvan had given her. “Either way, though, we stay out of jail and she makes herself look a little less unreasonable.”

  They angled toward the Falcon. It was shut up tight, but still had security troopers posted around it. “Is this something we can actually pull off?”

  “Maybe. All I can say is, it’s better to be out here trying than in prison not trying.”

  OFFICES OF CHIEF OF STATE DAALA, SENATE

  BUILDING, CORUSCANT

  AN HOUR LATER, DORVAN REENTERED DAALA’S OFFICE. AT HER GESTURE, he sat.

  She took a moment to look up from her monitor and the formwork she was handling. “What?”

  “The story about the Solos has hit the press and the news sources already have polls in the field to gauge the public reaction.”

  “I’m … I’m shocked, Wynn.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “In preparation for this meeting, and for other events that would involve the press, I recently set up some checks and monitors of news sources and public feedback sources. One of those checks and balances involves minute examinations of daily and hourly planetary net archives.”

  Daala fully turned away from her monitor to look at him. “That’s a nontrivial expense for your office. And I know I didn’t authorize it.”

  “I didn’t go through my office. Or yours. I called in some favors.”

  “And in an hour you’ve found out something?”

  “Nothing substantial. But I have determined that press releases about you, when the news sources auto-disassemble and restructure them before having newswriters work on them for stories, are being filtered and massaged in a pretty consistent fashion. Consistent regardless of news service … or even the news service’s political orientations and alliances.”

  “I actually have next to no understanding of what you just said.”

  He sighed. “All right. We issue a press release. It goes out over the planetary net and is part of low-priority packets fired offworld on the HoloNet. Every news service gets it. A computer program breaks it down, does an interpretation of its official language, runs a check against keywords for relevant recent and historical events, and splits the results up so that a live copywriter can rewrite and reformat it into the story a newsreader will deliver during the regular broadcast news.”

  “I love it when a man can translate gibberish into Basic. Well done.”

  “In the case of the press release about the Solos volunteering to resolve issues between the Galactic Alliance government and the Jedi Order, the following changes and adaptations are being made to the story in every news source we’ve sampled.” He began counting on his fingers. “One. The Solos didn’t offer this service. Chief of State Daala asked for their help. Two, news sources hostile to you tend to use the word hapless to describe you at this point, while those ostensibly friendly to you use the word embattled.”

  Daala frowned. “Consistently.”

  “Consistently. Three, the phrase former Chief of State is removed from the description of Leia Solo, replaced by Jedi Knight. Four, Han Solo—”

  “Did you actually use the phrase wildly popular scoundrel for him?”

  “Of course. Part of the agreement. But it appears as a quote from the subminister for trade with Corellia. ‘Most people know Han Solo as a wildly popular scoundrel, but he’s actually a savvy, tough negotiator.’ As I was about to say, though, that paragraph gets dropped from the story, replaced by a summary of Solo’s exploits in combating evil political leaders such as Palpatine. Five, while we didn’t make any reference to the Solos’ relationship with Jacen Solo, we knew we didn’t have to, that the press would add that detail. But they haven’t.”

  “So. Solos anti-government, Solos Jedi, Solos good. Daala hapless, Daala evil, Daala bad.”

  Dorvan nodded. “That’s it. You translate gibberish to Basic very well.”

  “Then let me be sure my translation is correct. You’re saying that the forces that shape public opinion are biased against me.”

  “Biased in a way they’re not biased against anyone else, at least as far as I’ve detected. Luke Skywalker gets praised or excoriated depending on the political outlook of the news source doing the reporting. So do specific planetary leaders, trade union leaders, major military figures. Not you. Daala bad. Oh, by the way, a former Imperial Navy lieutenant you had court-martialed is about to release a memoir. Into the Maw: Black Holes, Egos, and Other Forces That Devour Lives. Guess who it’s about.”

  “What would it take to engineer this?”

  “Well, it could be a natural reaction. All of these prejudicial changes are within limits experienced by other political and military leaders. Meaning that if it’s a conspiracy, they’re being careful not to exceed effects that other leaders have experienced. But it would take software modification at the three or four sources of news-parsing programs starting years ago. It would take analysis of public opinion and the forces driving it going back at least as long.”

  “I’ve only been Chief of State for two years!”

  “So, if this is a conspiracy, it was set up a long time ago for an eventual goal, not for the specific goal of hindering or ruining you in particular.”

  “Wonderful. I just happen to be the person in the sights when the Death Star’s main weapon is first brought online.”

  “Correct.” Dorvan lowered the hand he’d been counting on and raised the other one. “Want to hear my analysis of polls that have just been put out for the public to respond to?”

  “No, I want you to fix this.”

  He smiled. “Ah, good. I’ll need eight years and at least half a billion credits.”

  Daala shook her head. She was beginning to feel numb. “If I had that kind of money—never mind. What can we do?”

  “The more people you enlist to help, the more likely it is that your enemies, if there are actually conspirators arrayed against you, will learn that you’re on to them. I’d find one investigator who has all the skills you need,
pay in large capital ships or small planets, and see if he or she can root out your enemies. In the meantime, make it harder and harder for them to cut your legs out from under you. Become a nicer and nicer figure in the public eye. Make the public like you.”

  She thought about it, then shook her head. Her voice sounded miserable, even to herself. “I can’t do that. I can’t be Wynssa Starflare.”

  “Who?”

  “Before your time, child. A holodrama actress. Beautiful, perky, blond, shiny. I have to stick by my laser batteries and keep firing.”

  “All right.”

  “You want out?”

  His smile showed teeth for a moment. “You may think I’m soft, but I stick to my laser batteries, too.”

  “I don’t think you’re soft. Just irredeemably civilian.” She brushed her hair back from her face. “All right. Call in more favors, do what you can. I’ll see what kind of revenue stream I can come up with for a top-notch investigator. And in the meantime, if the public is determined to think of me as a monster, I might have to give them a monster to remember.”

  Dorvan rose. “Eat your vegetables, children, or Admiral Daala will come for you.”

  “Just get out.”

  A SUITE AT THE GLEAMING FORTUNES CASINO,

  CORUSCANT

  The turbolift door rose. Emperor Palpatine and his bodyguard, a headless Gamorrean, stepped off the lift. The guard on this floor, Darth Vader but only a meter tall, waved an electronic reader at the chest of each, noted that its diode continued to glow blue, and courteously waved them toward a set of golden doors inset in the black stone walls of this circular turbolift lobby. Palpatine and the headless thing approached the doors, which opened before them.

  The suite beyond was the stuff of conspicuous wealth. The carpeting was transmutive, now graduating from a pleasing shell gray into a sky blue; the change began at the far side of the chamber, beside the wall-length transparisteel viewport, and graduated toward the doors through which they had entered. The walls were Kuati marble, white and veined with blue, but also inset with gilt flecks. The sofas and chairs were white and glowed faintly, both as an expression of their costliness and to warn anyone wandering through a pitch-dark suite of their presence. The central table, circular, with depressions all along its rim for drinks and game pieces, was of an artificial black marble veined in silver.