by Greg Keyes
Jag rose quickly and strode out of the tent. He seized the arm of a passing Bothan, a male wearing some sort of military uniform.
Feline eyes narrowed in menace, and the Bothan jerked his furry arm free of Jag's grip.
"Summon the guard, and get a medical droid at once," Jag snapped out. "Han Solo requires medical attention."
As Jag expected, the Bothan's eyes widened. "At once," he agreed. "I'll alert others to search for Leia Solo."
He hurried off and Jag ducked back into the tent. The short-term stun charge had already worn off, and the assailants had disappeared. He looked around for something to stanch Han Solo's cut, and noticed for the first time the shining pile heaped against one wall of the tent. Jag got a fleeting impression of small sculptures, ropes of azure pearls, ornate metal caskets heaped with gems. This, however, was a puzzle for another time. He kicked aside a painted vase and snatched up what appeared to be a small linen shirt. This he wadded up, preparing to press it against the wound.
"Wait," a female voice demanded. An older, grimmer version of Jaina pushed past him and dropped to her knees beside Han Solo. Her fingers gently slid into the matted hair and inquired about for a moment. She grimaced and drew out a sharp fragment.
"Good. It wasn't in very deep," she murmured, and held out one hand. Jag placed the wadded shirt in it. She gently held it in place with one hand. The other she splayed over her husband's chest. Her eyes drifted shut, and an intense listening expression fell over her face. A medical droid rolled into the tent and gently nudged Leia aside. Jag extended a hand, which she accepted with instinctive grace. She rose and watched as the medical droid tended the wounded man.
"There's a thin crack in the skull," the droid announced. "Han's skull. How is that possible?" she marveled in a distracted tone.
She took a long, steadying breath. By the time she turned to Jag, she was the calmly controlled diplomat
he had first glimpsed at the diplomatic reception over Ithor.
"I hear that you stopped the fight and called for assistance. Thank you. I'd appreciate anything you can tell me about the attack."
He described the scene he'd stumbled into, gave a brief description of the assailants, and then drew Leia's attention to the pile of treasures in the corner of the tent. She caught her breath in a quick, startled gasp.
"I take it this was not an attempt at theft," he concluded.
"Those things aren't mine," Leia said in a tightly controlled voice, "and they never will be."
"I'm not sure I understand," Jag ventured.
Leia glanced up at him. "The giving of a dowry is a Hapan custom. Twenty years ago, Prince Isolder sent ambassadors to Coruscant and presented me with a pile somewhat larger than this." She paused for a brief, humorless smile. "Obviously, I've depreciated over time."
"More likely Hapes's resources have been sorely strained by the war."
This time the woman's smile held genuine amusement. "When this war is over, Colonel Fel, you would do very well in the diplomatic service. For the moment, though, a few questions more. You said that some of the assailants wore uniforms. What kind?"
"Hapan royal guards, I believe. The uniforms were of one piece, like a flight suit. Quite fitted, deep red."
"Not even Ta'a Chume would be bold enough to send uniformed assassins," Leia mused. "They must have come to speak to me, and found Han instead. He would not be amused by their offer."
The droid spun to face them. "The patient is stabilized. He can be moved for treatment. Proper medical transport awaits just outside the camp. Permission to arrange interim transport."
Leia nodded her thanks and the droid rolled out. She knelt beside her husband, and a flicker of indecision touched her face.
"You are apprehensive about sending him to a Hapan medical facility," Jag surmised. "Forgive me, but I'm not unfamiliar with General Solo's early reputation. No doubt I'm not alone in this knowledge. Is it possible that this attack was an assassination attempt carried out in plain sight?"
She considered this, and then nodded. "That's an astute observation. It wouldn't be the first time Han was provoked into a fight. Once the first punch is thrown, how does one prove whether any resulting death was an accident or an assassination?"
"That was my thinking, yes. I understand the tactics, but not the motivation."
"The former queen mother does not approve of the reigning queen, and she has made it plain more than once that she considers me a possible replacement. It's entirely likely that she views Han as an 'inconvenience,' a problem that needed to be resolved."
Jag shook his head in astonishment. "Surely even a former queen is constrained by laws."
"Of course, but Ta'a Chume is devious and vengeful. I can't evoke Hapan law without risking repercussions against the refugees, and she knows I understand her well enough to realize this." She blew out a sigh. "This is a delicate situation. Maybe Jaina would have a better read on things. She's been living in the palace."
"Unfortunately, she left Hapes very early this morning for Gallinore. I came to bring you word," he added hastily, seeing the faint touch of sadness, or perhaps regret, that touched the woman's eyes. Though this was as close to a lie as he ever intended to come, he hoped that Leia would assume her daughter had sent him to bring word of her departure.
Leia didn't offer comment one way or another. "In that case, perhaps I should take Han off world. The refugees are scattering, most of the Jedi have left, and there is little more for me to do here. Will you be in contact with Jaina?"
"Of course."
The words came out before he considered their implication. Something flickered in Leia's eyes-speculation, and then, to his surprise, a moment of profound relief.
The medical transport had arrived, and Jag tucked away the questions he could not ask and helped the droids shift the wounded man onto a repulsorsled.
As they left the tent, Leia turned to him. "You've done so much already, but may I ask you for one more thing? Go to the docking bays and ask for the Millennium Falcon. You'll find a young Jedi named Zekk working on it. He looks a bit like a young Kyp Durron-dark hair and green eyes, similar height..." She trailed off and she studied Jag appraisingly.
For a moment Jag thought she might comment on the fact that this description could just as well have been applied to him. In his opinion, there were far too many dark-haired, green-eyed men in Jaina Solo's orbit.
"Would you tell him to get the Falcon ready to fly? Tell him to round up any of the other Jedi who haven't yet found transport."
Jag promised to do as she asked, then walked with her beside the sled to the gate of the camp. As they prepared to part, he asked, "What shall I tell Jaina?"
"Tell her about her father. She should know about that. Tell her we've gone to join her uncle Luke. She'll know where." Leia hesitated, and again that far-seeing expression fell over her face. "Tell her-and this is important-that I trust her to find her way back."
Jag frowned, uncertain that he'd decoded these
seemingly contradictory instructions. "I'm not sure that I understand."
"Neither will she," Leia said as she moved off. "At least, not for a while."
TWENTY-ONE
The Hapan light freighter glided smoothly into the darkness of hyperspace, and the four Jedi settled down for the trip to Gallinore. Although this fact-finding mission was taken at Jaina's instigation, Kyp Durron had the pilot's seat.
This puzzled him, for in his observation, it wasn't in Jaina's nature to defer. She seemed content enough with the copilot's chair, and had spent much of the trip so far tossing cheerful comments back over her shoulder to Lowbacca and Tenel Ka. Try though he might, Kyp couldn't get past the shields just under Jaina's bright facade-a fact that intrigued him greatly. Few Jedi were his match for sheer force of will, yet this eigh teen-year-old girl managed to keep him out.
Since the Force was of little assistance in breaking through Jaina's shields, Kyp turned to other methods. "You cleared this trip with
Colonel Fel, I assume."
For the first time, he felt a ripple in Jaina's composure. "I don't need his permission."
"Maybe not, but technically speaking, I do."
"Why?" she retorted. "Since when have you answered to anyone but yourself?"
He sent her a sidelong glance. "Don't hold back, Jaina. One of these days you've got to learn to speak your mind."
I
Her response was a derisive sniff. "Jag Fel is an independent scout loosely affiliated with the Chiss. He needs pilots, and you agreed to fly with him. That's all. Why should you answer to him? You're a Jedi Master and the leader of an independent squadron." "All of whom are dead," he said flatly. Jaina fell silent. After a few moments, she said, "You really know how to stop someone in midrant."
"It's a learned skill," he responded. "When you irritate enough people over a sufficient period of time, you become the recipient of many a rant. Every now and then, it comes in handy to be able to shut them off." "Is this one of the skills you wanted to teach me?" Kyp turned in his seat to face the young Jedi. She regarded him steadily, her brown eyes unreadable. "Are you considering my offer? Would you really become my apprentice?"
"Maybe. Is the job still open? Or was it ever?" He glanced back into the small passenger cabin. Lowbacca was busily tinkering with a small mechanical device, and Tenel Ka seemed deeply engrossed in the information on a large data card. Whatever she was reading made her face appear even more somber than usual. Their other "passenger" was in no condition to listen in, even if he hadn't been hidden away in the hold like so much baggage.
"When I made the offer, it was mostly to throw you off stride," he admitted. "You'd heard all the stories about me, and you've heard several of my debates with Master Skywalker. You were predisposed to be suspicious of me. It's much harder to dismiss someone when you're considering him, even on a subconscious level, as a possible mentor."
She nodded, not offended by his blunt words. "That's what I thought. I still don't appreciate being manipulated like that, but I'll admit it was a good strategy. When
you told me that the unfinished Vong worldship was a superweapon, I sifted your claim through the same filters I'd use for the words of any other Jedi Master. Without that, I might have seen past the smoke to your real purpose."
For some reason, the admiration in her voice put Kyp on guard. "And knowing this, you could trust me as your Master?"
In response, she glanced toward the hold, where their unwilling passenger was hidden. "I trusted you last night."
"Yes," he said dryly. "We still need to have a talk about that little venture."
"We will," she responded. "Right now, though, it's better if you keep a bit of distance from this. My family name and my connection to Rogue Squadron helped you pull off that attack on the Vong shipyards of Sernpidal. No offense, but your name and reputation would not have, shall we say, quite the same impact on my current project."
This pronouncement surprised a rueful chuckle from Kyp, but it also stung enough to prompt a return shot. "Then why didn't you take a file from my data banks? Jag Fel's sterling reputation might have added some gloss to this mysterious enterprise."
The slightly mocking light in Jaina's eyes died, but her smile remained in place. "Maybe he'd prefer not to sully that reputation through association with a scruffy 'Rebel' mechanic," she said lightly.
Kyp felt the undercurrent of truth beneath her words, and his own perception of Jaina shifted significantly.
He'd always viewed the oldest Solo child as a Jedi princess-not precisely spoiled, and certainly no stranger to hard work and personal trauma, but the fortunate recipient of a loving family, enormous talent, good training, and a comfortable life. Despite all this, Jaina assumed
Baron Fel's son perceived her to be a faintly disreputable character. The strange thing was, she was probably right.
Even stranger, as far as Kyp was concerned, was his dawning suspicion that Jag Fel was not far wrong. Though Kyp hadn't considered this before, there might be a good explanation for his inability to pierce Jaina's mental shields. The dark side was extremely difficult to perceive-as he had reason to know. He and Jaina, despite the differences in their heritages and early lives, might be more alike than he would have thought possible. Most Jedi were willing to risk their lives. He and Jaina were prepared to risk far more.
Jaina leaned toward him and waved one hand in front of his eyes. "Copilot, hailing Kyp Durron. Come in, Rogue Jedi."
He snapped his attention back to the moment and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't concern myself with Colonel Fel's opinion. He's an excellent pilot, and he's doing what he can to fight this war. But as I've been saying to anyone who'll listen and dozens who won't, the Jedi need to do more."
"I agree. One thing I learned long ago is that you can't fix a ship without getting your hands dirty," Jaina said softly.
For a moment they regarded each other, in complete accord.
A small voice in the back of Kyp's mind warned him that this was Han Solo's daughter, reminded him of the enormous debt he owed his old friend, and what he owed to Luke Skywalker. What he had in mind for Jaina would be regarded as yet another betrayal, and there would be no forgiveness for him this time.
Kyp understood full well the dangers of the path he was walking, and he knew that Jaina's capitulation ought to bother him. But if truth be told, he welcomed her slide from conventional Jedi thought.
Anakin Solo was dead, and gone with him was Kyp's best hope for a new and more inclusive understanding of the Force. Perhaps Jaina would be the one to have the larger vision. He'd seen the way she automatically took charge, the way other young Jedi followed her confident lead. Maybe she had both the power and the credibility to stir the Jedi out of their complacency.
And if not, at least there would be two Jedi who had the satisfaction of knowing they'd given everything they had, used every resource at their disposal, without stopping to count the personal cost.
In Kyp's opinion, no true guardian could do any less.
Gallinore, famous for its rainbow gems, was a verdant world with stunningly diverse plant and animal life. The rainbow gems, living creatures that took thousands of years to mature, were only one of the many marvels to be found in the fields and forests. And many of these living things had been created or altered in the labs of the planet's sole city.
While Tenel Ka went to deal with the city officials and Kyp kept watch over the "baggage," Jaina and Lowbacca headed to the sprawling research district.
Ta'a Chume's letter of introduction earned them full cooperation and unquestioned access to the facility. Within moments, Lowbacca was seated before a terminal, his furry digits flying as he sifted through computerized records of the Gallinore research, looking for anything that might provide a link between a technology that he and Jaina could understand and the secrets of the Trickster, their stolen Yuuzhan Vong ship.
Jaina turned to the technician who hovered at the Wookiee's shoulder. "I need to speak with Sinsor Khal. Can you show me where I might find him?"
A peculiar expression crossed the young woman's face, but she pulled out a comlink and relayed Jaina's request.
In moments an armed escort arrived and guided her through a maze of pristine white halls. They left her before a large door, nodded toward a palm reader mounted beside the door, and left at a much faster pace than that which had brought them.
Jaina shrugged, then placed her hand against the device. The door irised open. It snapped shut behind her with a clang like that of a prison door.
She stepped into a large room, one crowded with so much equipment, all of it in such disarray, that for a moment Jaina suspected she was viewing the result of a head-on collision between two large ships.
Jaina crept through the room, surveying it as she might a battlefield. When she knew all she needed, she slipped out the way she came, retraced her steps through the corridors, and made her way back to their ship.
She q
uickly described the situation to Kyp. He listened intently, his expression inscrutable. His eyes flickered, once, when she concluded her proposal by noting, "You asked me to be your apprentice. Here's where it starts."
"So this is your price," he observed. "You have a high opinion of your value."
Jaina spread both hands. "I'm the last of the Solos. That's got to be worth something. Do you want me or not?"
For a long moment the two Jedi locked stares. "You know we could never speak of this," Kyp said.
"Who would I tell?" she retorted. "Uncle Luke?"
He lowered his head in a slow nod, holding her gaze. "All right, then. Let's get this done."
Two hours later, Jaina stood behind Lowbacca, much as she had when they last parted. The Wookiee shook his head as if to clear it, then began to study the terminal as if he were just getting acquainted with the system. The
time he'd spent carefully erasing all evidence of Jaina's passing was forgotten.
She turned to the technician who stood behind them. "I need to speak with Sinsor Khal. Can you show me where I might find him?"
The woman responded to this request with the same bemused expression that had characterized her first reaction. Thanks to Kyp, she had no recollection of any previous conversation.
She gave orders through a comlink, and several armed guards came to escort Jaina to the scientist's lair. They set a slower pace than they had the first time, however. Jaina suspected they'd be puzzled by the bruis es they'd discover come morning.
Again they left her before the door. For the third time that day, Jaina let herself into the scientist's lair.
A tall, sandy-bearded man in a red lab coat strode forward to meet her, beaming in welcome. "Lieutenant Solo! The subject is ready. Come along. We'll get started at once."
She followed Sinsor Khal through a seemingly random maze of tables and computer consoles to a gleaming expanse of metal, a large table surrounded by a narrow ditch that led into a drain. The captured pirate had already been strapped to the table, facedown.