by Troy Denning
“Along with a few hundred GAG troops, I’ll bet.” Jaina gently began to pull on the yoke, and her mother reluctantly yielded control. “It’s a trap, remember?”
“So?” Leia replied. “We still have to try.”
“We can’t.” Jaina began to juke and jink like she was in an X-wing, still continuing more or less in the direction of the SpeedPipe but keeping her eye on the traffic lanes below, looking for a small gap coming their way. “Tahiri planned this. She had this medwagon rigged and waiting.”
Leia glared into the SpeedPipe with a furrowed brow. “You think she knew Ben was coming?”
“I think she’s known for a while that Shevu has been spying for Ben,” Jaina said. “And I think she’s been sitting on Shevu, just waiting to pick up Ben and his backup team.”
Leia sank into her chair but kept staring into the rapidly swelling brilliance of the SpeedPipe. “How?” she asked. “No one knew about Shevu but a handful of Masters. Who would betray us?”
Jaina continued to watch the traffic lanes below. “Good question.” She thought back to the windswept turf near Fenn Shysa’s memorial on Mandalore, recalling a conversation with Fett—a conversation in which she had unwisely shared the recording Shevu had made of Jacen’s confession to killing Mara. Fett never broke his word, and he had said that he knew how to keep a secret. But knowing how to keep a secret was not exactly promising to do it. “We’ll figure that out when we get back to base.”
Leia looked over, tears welling in her upslanted eyes. “So you’re just going to leave Ben here?”
“We can’t get him back, Mom.” Jaina spotted the traffic gap she had been looking for and began to line the medwagon up on an interception vector. “Not now. It’s time to cut our losses and move on.”
That was something else Jaina had learned from Fett—not to buck impossible odds—and she hated him for it. It was not, after all, the Solo way.
The traffic gap started to disappear under the medwagon’s front passenger’s-side corner. Jaina dropped their nose and cut power to the repulsorlifts, and they shot through the opening like a falling star.
The cannon fire died away almost instantly, and a curving ribbon of lights appeared ahead and began to swell rapidly as the medwagon dropped toward the next traffic level. Jaina returned power to the repulsorlifts and dropped into a lane, becoming just one of an endless stream of vehicles descending into the shadows of Coruscant’s under-city.
If Leia noticed that they had escaped their pursuers, she did not show it. She simply slumped in her seat and stared out into the growing gloom.
“I don’t think I can do it,” she said, shaking her head. “How can I tell Luke that we lost his son?”
How long does Uncle Luke need to sleep?
One Jedi night!
—Jacen Solo, age 14
Jaina and her parents did not make it back to the secret jedi base on Shedu Maad. The Sweet Time had barely entered Hapan space before the Mist Patrol intercepted them with rendezvous instructions. Now here they were, in the launch hangar of a Hapan Battle Dragon, just one short hyperspace jump away from their target.
With some very sad news.
After a moment of looking, Jaina spotted Luke at the far end of the StealthX line, a tiny black-robed form standing with R2-D2 at the brink of the launching deck. He was still as a statue, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted slightly forward as he stared out through the containment field into the fire-flecked velvet of deep space.
“There he is.” Jaina pointed and started forward, circling behind a long line of Wookiee-piloted Owool fighters to avoid disrupting operations on the ready deck. “I’m really not looking forward to this.”
“Then why’d you find him?” her father asked, coming alongside her. “I’d have been okay with putting this off for a while … like, until we figured a way to fix it.”
“We can’t fix this, Han,” Leia said. She came up on his far side and took his hand, leaving C-3PO to clump along behind. “No one can.”
“And it’s not like we’re telling him something he hasn’t already sensed through the Force,” Jaina said. “But he needs to know how it happened—and not just because it’s Ben.”
“Yeah, I know.” Han sighed. He glanced over at the bustling preparations on the ready deck. “He needs to know that someone close to him is a traitor.”
They passed behind the last of the Owools and started past a squadron of Skipray 24r Blastboats. A modernized version of the venerable Series 12, the Series 24 was slightly larger and deadlier than its predecessor. And the r-model was especially lethal—a pure ship-killer. Designed as a hit-and-run fleet raider, it was equipped with an advanced targeting computer, the latest jamming package, double-sized ammunition bays, and two overpowered sublight drives.
As they passed behind the squadron, Jaina was surprised to notice that most of the pilots and crews were, well, too plain to be Hapans. And many were still wearing military flight suits bearing the unit patches from various branches of the GA military.
As Jaina and her parents walked past, several crewmen interrupted their preflight checklists to turn and gape. Well accustomed to being gawked at in public, none of the Solos was offended. But Jaina did notice that instead of flashing the warm smile that had made her the darling of billions, her mother pretended not to notice the stares. Her father responded with his usual lopsided grin, but somehow it looked more sheepish than cocky.
Suddenly, Jaina understood how much guilt her parents felt over what their son had become … over what he was doing to the galaxy. On the trip back from Coruscant, she had overheard them talking about their sense of failure, asking each other in a dozen ways how they could have missed what was happening with Jacen, whether they had let slip some moment when they could have steered him back into the light. She had dismissed their conversation as the natural emotions any parent would feel when a child turned bad. But now she realized it was more than regret they had been discussing—it was responsibility. They were serving as her support team not only because they loved her, but because they felt it was their duty to stop her brother before he destroyed the galaxy.
Jaina didn’t know why that surprised her. They had started risking their lives to save the galaxy long before she was born—and for reasons a lot less personal.
They finally passed the last of the Skiprays and left the commotion of the ready deck behind. As they started across the relatively narrow expanse of the launching deck, Jaina began to take calming breaths, struggling to keep her mind clear and her chest from clenching up. It had been her call to leave Ben in GAG’s custody, and it had been the right decision. She knew that. But being right wasn’t going to make it any easier to look Luke in the eye and report that she had been the one who insisted his son be abandoned.
They were still five paces away when R2-D2 spun his dome around to tweedle a greeting.
Then Luke spoke without turning to face them. “It wasn’t your fault.” There was no disappointment or displeasure in his voice, only concern. “I knew Ben would be captured. I knew it before I sent you.”
All three of the Solos stopped cold, forcing C-3PO to step around them before he continued forward. “I beg your pardon, Master Luke,” he said. “I must have misunderstood you. Did you just say that you expected Ben to be captured?”
“Not expected.” Luke turned, revealing a face so ashen and haggard that Jaina almost gasped out loud. His eyes were a pair of black holes, seeming to swallow every ray of light that came near, and the wrinkles around his mouth were so deep and long that he looked like a Bith. “Knew. I saw it in the future.”
“Before you sent us?” Leia demanded. Her shock had given way to anger, and Jaina had the feeling that her mother was strongly considering Force-blasting Luke off the edge of the launching deck. “And you didn’t warn us?”
“I couldn’t,” Luke said. “It would have changed the outcome.”
“That’s the point,” Han said, stepping so close that Jaina rea
ched out to grab his arm. He jerked free, then jabbed a finger toward Luke’s chest. “I don’t know what kind of spacesick got hold of you, but that’s my nephew you set up.”
“I know, Han,” Luke said, and Jaina could feel his heart breaking. “He’s also a Jedi Knight, and it had to be done. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but that would have changed how you reacted.”
Leia’s boiling temper ebbed to a simmer. “I hope you can explain now,” she said. “And it had better be good, because I’m beginning to worry that my son isn’t the only one in this family who’s gone to the dark side.”
Luke’s faced twitched as though he had been slapped. But he nodded as though he had been expecting this reaction, and suddenly Jaina realized why her uncle hadn’t warned them about what he had foreseen.
“You did it to protect me,” she said, stepping forward. “You didn’t tell us because it would have betrayed something to Jacen.”
“That’s right,” Luke said. “He would have realized that I’m using visions of the future to plot strategy, and he would have started to grow suspicious of what he was seeing.”
Leia’s brow shot up. “You’re altering Caedus’s visions?”
“It’s … more like jamming,” Luke said. “When I meditate on the future, I’m focusing so hard on Caedus that when he looks into the future, I keep showing up.”
“Sounds like altering to me,” Han said. “If you were just jamming, Caedus would know it. But you’re fixing it so he sees you instead of the real future.”
“Not exactly,” Luke said. “Remember, the future is always in motion. Caedus sees what might happen—if I were there instead of Jaina.”
Han frowned and ran a hand over his brow. “My head hurts.”
“It’s not that hard to understand,” Jaina said. She turned to Luke. “You’re influencing what Caedus sees by focusing on him in your meditations—”
“Then forcing the future to move along a different course by not acting in accordance with your visions,” Leia finished.
“To an extent,” Luke said. “But it’s a balancing act. I try to stay close enough to what I’ve seen to prevent Caedus from realizing that I’m trying to mask something.”
“That something being me,” Jaina said.
“Right,” Luke answered. “I stay as close as I can to the future we’re seeing without actually fighting Caedus—at least, not physically.”
“I must say, that seems quite wise,” C-3PO said. “The last time you two fought, you were forced to spend your nights in the bacta tank for an entire week.”
“I don’t think that’s why Luke let Ben be captured, Threepio.” Leia looked into the dark holes beneath Luke’s brow, then demanded, “What are you seeing? What scares you that much?”
Luke looked away, studying the ready deck as though the answer were down there somewhere. “I’m not sure,” he said. “There’s a shadow in the future. And the farther I look, the darker it grows.”
“Caedus.” Han spoke the name as though it were a curse. “No mystery there.”
“He’s part of it,” Luke said, “the seed—though exactly how remains hidden to me.”
“But the darkness doesn’t go away when you kill Caedus,” Jaina surmised.
Luke nodded and looked away. “That’s right.”
“You lose?” Han asked, incredulous. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
Luke swallowed and forced himself to meet Han’s eyes, and Jaina could feel something like … shame in the Force.
“It’s worse,” Luke said. “I win.”
As usual, it was Jaina’s mother who understood first. “Oh,” she said simply. Her hand went to her mouth, then she reached for his arm. “Luke, I’m sorry. What I said earlier, about going to the dark side, I didn’t mean …”
“I know.” Luke smiled and patted her hand, but there was too much darkness in his eyes to tell whether the smile was genuine. “But it’s true. If I had any doubts about it before, my visions have only confirmed what Saba suggested on Shedu Maad—I have been tainted by killing Lumiya in vengeance. I can’t go after Caedus without becoming the same as Caedus.”
“Which is where I come in,” Jaina said. It gave her no satisfaction. In fact, she was beginning to feel like a holopiece in a dejarik match between her uncle and her brother—one that would determine not only their destiny, but that of trillions. And she wasn’t even a player in the game, just a monnok being moved through dimensions she did not comprehend. “Does that mean you can see whether—”
“I can’t,” Luke interrupted. “I’m trying to keep you hidden from Caedus’s visions, which means I can’t see you, either.”
“Good—I really don’t want to know anyway,” Jaina said, noting that Luke had misunderstood her question—and misread the immediate future. She only hoped her brother would show the same weakness when she attacked him. “I was asking about Ben.”
Luke looked a bit embarrassed, then shook his head. “That’s not clear yet. I’ve seen many possibilities.”
They were silent for a moment. Then Leia asked, “What can we do to swing those possibilities in Ben’s favor?”
“Nothing.” Jaina kept her gaze fixed on Luke as she spoke, both awed and frightened by the resolve that gave him the courage to risk his only son like this. In his own way, he was as calculating and ruthless as Fett—but guided by the strength of his inner convictions. It made him so much more … dangerous. “We can’t influence the future without giving away what Uncle Luke is doing—and that would give away me.”
“That’s right,” Luke said. “The best thing you can do for Ben is complete your mission. Get Caedus—soon.”
Han and Leia exchanged glances, then Han said, “That’s our plan.” He glanced back at the preparations on the ready deck, then added, “Just so I’m clear on this—there is no spy on the Council. Caedus saw Ben in a vision—one you saw, too—and that’s how Tahiri knew Ben would be on Coruscant?”
Luke nodded. “In Monument Plaza, by the Devoted Technician,” he said. “If I saw Ben there, then so could Caedus. The only thing I don’t understand is why Caedus wasn’t there himself.”
Jaina saw her parents shoot concerned glances toward each other. Her mother said, “Probably because he’s on Nickel One.”
Luke’s eyes flashed with sudden comprehension … and alarm. “Caedus is in the Roche system?” he asked. “You’re sure?”
“It’s what Shevu told Ben,” Leia said. “But if Caedus knew Ben was coming, maybe he’s been feeding Shevu phony intel.”
“No.” Luke’s gaze began to turn inward. “It explains too much.”
“Yeah?” Han asked. “Like what?”
“For one thing, the reason the Fourth Fleet is guarding every munitions convoy we target.” Luke turned back toward the hangar mouth, staring across space toward the Roche system. “Caedus is there. That’s why they always know which convoy we’re going to hit.”
Leia glanced back toward the massive preparations on the ready deck. “Which means he’s probably foreseen this raid, too,” she said. “He already knows you’re coming to Nickel One.”
“Probably,” Luke said.
“So you’re going to call it off, right?” Han asked. “You can’t go in there with him just waiting for you.”
“If we don’t, he’ll figure out what I’ve been doing to him,” Luke said. “And then he’ll see who’s really coming for him.”
Jaina began to feel raw and guilty inside. She was going to need every possible advantage to take down her brother, but sacrificing all of those lives just to mask her identity did not feel right. The truth was, it felt terribly wrong.
“Uncle Luke, there has to be some way to avoid this.”
“There isn’t.” Luke pivoted around and glared down on her with eyes that suddenly looked like a pair of suns blazing up from a dark well. “And it’s not your responsibility to worry about those lives. It’s mine—mine, Jedi Solo. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master,” Jain
a said. His voice was so hard and cold that she had to will herself not to cringe away from it, and she realized she was going to have to take a different tack if she hoped to talk him out of sending these pilots on a suicide run. “I just meant maybe there’s some way to modify that plan. And anything I can do to help—”
“There is, Jedi Solo.” Luke’s voice was softer now, with just enough humor in it to suggest that he realized Jaina had not given up. “You can go get yourself fitted for a dropsuit.”
“A dropsuit?” Han asked. “If you’re thinking of shooting my daughter out a torpedo tube—”
“Dad—”
“—in the middle of a battle—”
“Dad.” Jaina grabbed her father’s arm—and was instantly shaken off.
“—you’re crazy!” Han finished.
Jaina waited an instant to be sure her father was done ranting, her thoughts flying a kilometer a second as she began to see what her uncle was planning. “Dad, it just might work.”
Han scowled at her. “You’re crazy, too.”
“I’m a Solo,” Jaina said, shrugging. “But I was just on an inspection tour of Nickel One’s defenses with Boba Fett. I know the layout pretty well.”
Her father’s scowl only deepened. “That won’t do you any good if you get blasted to atoms on the way down.”
“Han.” Leia took his arm—and did not release it when he tried to pull free. “What are you really worried about?”
The fire drained from his eyes in an instant, and Jaina knew what he was not going to say: that now that they were talking about a solid plan—about really sending her after her brother—he was scared to death he was going to lose her … as he had lost Anakin and Jacen.
“I just think we need a better plan,” Han said.
“Han Solo, demanding a better plan?” Leia rolled her eyes. “Look around. Who do you think you’re fooling?”
R2-D2 gave a short whistle, though Jaina couldn’t tell whether he was trying to support her mother or father.
“No one,” Han admitted. “I just don’t like throwing Jaina into an operation at the last minute.”