by Troy Denning
Jaina smiled and brought her StealthX in a little behind Zekk’s, allowing him to take the lead. It was good to be flying with him again—even if it was going to be nearly impossible to survive the next two minutes.
And Jaina had a hunch he felt the same way.
From the observation deck of Uroro Station, the Throat suddenly looked like a long, dark tunnel with an atomic furnace at the other end. Han could see nothing inside but a boiling ball of turbolaser fire, slowly expanding as it drew nearer to their position. Saba and the other Masters stood waiting in rapt silence, already dressed in their combat-rated vac suits in anticipation of boarding the Anakin Solo to rescue Prince Isolder. Han would have bet they were as scared as he was, had there been anyone in the chamber who looked willing to take such a sucker bet.
Luke must have noticed something in Han’s demeanor—maybe the way he was biting his lip, or his fingernails digging into his palms—because he clapped a hand on Han’s shoulder.
“They’re doing fine, Han,” he said quietly. “They don’t even seem frightened.”
“I’m glad someone’s not.” Han did not want to keep looking out the viewport, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “What made us think he’d just follow her?” he growled. “He’s been trying to kill everyone else in the family.”
Saba glanced over, her bulging eyes so far open that they looked like they might fall out of their scaly sockets. “Who sayz we didn’t?” she asked. “But we had to make it look like someone was on patrol, and Jaina is the best one to whet Caedus’z appetite.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Han said sarcastically. He turned to Leia, who seemed only marginally less worried than he was. “Our next kids are not going to be Jedi.”
“Sure, Han, whatever you say.” Leia’s eyes did not leave the viewport. “But I don’t think you have to worry about having more kids.”
“Hey, I’m still young,” Han said. “And you’re a Jedi.”
Before Leia could utter a comeback, Corran Horn’s voice rang out from the portable control panel at the back of the deck, where C-3PO and R2-D2 were working. The two droids were tweeting and sniping at each other as they helped assimilate data streaming in from a dozen different sources.
“We’re starting to receive relays from the Hapan observation posts,” Corran said. “I’ll put it up.”
All eyes shifted to the portable wall display that had been affixed along one side of the deck. It was not a true tactical display. Instead, a simple graphic represented all the data being relayed from the Hapan observation posts via line-of-sight transmissions, visual flash codes, and even droid couriers. The Throat was depicted as a white ribbon snaking down the center of the screen toward a spoked wheel labeled URORO STATION. Coming down the center of this ribbon was a collection of simple designator codes identifying the vessels in Caedus’s fleet. From what Han could see, it included the handful of Remnant Star Destroyers that had escaped destruction in the Roche system, along with a sizable support flotilla of heavy cruisers, pocket destroyers, and frigates.
But it was what lay in the heart of the fleet that made Han’s stomach sink. Floating alongside the Anakin Solo was a designator reading MEGADOR with a question mark. Han glanced back at the red ball boiling down the Throat and began to feel queasy. The Megador was a Super-class Star Destroyer. It carried more than five times the firepower of a typical Imperial II like the Anakin Solo. And there had been rumors of a weapons upgrade that included three batteries of new long-range turbolasers. If that was after Jaina and Zekk, he didn’t know how long they could last.
“I don’t think we’ll be giving anything away by launching our defenses now, Master Horn,” Luke said. “Give the order.”
“About time,” Han muttered.
He glanced over to see that Luke had also turned away from the display. But instead of staring out the viewport toward the approaching fleet, Luke was standing with his hands clasped behind his back and his head down, his eyes closed as though lost in his thoughts … or his memories … or some kind of Jedi trance.
Corran acknowledged the order and relayed the command. The Jedi fighters did not begin to automatically stream from the station’s dilapidated hangars, however. To avoid any possibility of making Caedus suspect an ambush by reacting a little too quickly, Luke had insisted that the pilots remain in the ready rooms with their helmets off and flight suits open.
Han spent the next thirty seconds looking from the viewport to the wall display, trying to guess when Jaina and Zekk would finally be out of danger. The Hapan Home Fleet could be seen clustered together along one edge of the display, a mass of designator symbols packed tightly among the craggy blue blotches representing the field of ice chunks. It seemed all too likely that Jaina and Zekk would not try to escape the barrage until they were well past the Hapan position.
And he admired their courage, he really did. He just wished that he could have been out there instead.
At long last, lines of starfighters began to stream away from the station. There was a squadron of Wookiee-piloted Owools, and another squadron of the new blastboats piloted by Alliance deserters who had chosen to seek out the Jedi instead of heeding Niathal’s call to join her. Then came the StealthX wing, a black tide of cruciform shadows that remained silhouetted against the firelit depths of the Throat for only a moment before winking out of sight.
The fighters had been gone for a full minute when Leia reached over and grabbed Han’s hand, hard. His heart stopped beating—probably because it had gotten stuck in his throat—and he knew she was about to tell him she had just felt something in the Force.
“What is it?” he asked, steeling himself for the worst. “Are they—”
“Not under fire anymore,” Leia said. “I don’t know how, I don’t know where, but they’re safe.”
Han let out a long breath of relief. “Why wouldn’t they be?” he asked. “Jaina’s got my luck.”
Leia smiled. “That, and the Force,” she said.
Han would have argued the Force comment, except that the firestorm in the Throat suddenly seemed to be dying away. He checked the wall display and saw that Caedus’s fleet was slowing down. Unfortunately, it was still short of the area where the Hapans were lying in ambush.
“Uh-oh,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “It looks like they’re getting careful.”
Saba hissed, and the rest of the Masters in the room began to whisper about Caedus’s battle powers and his ability to read the future. Luke said nothing; he just stood in front of the viewport, his hands folded behind his back and his gaze fixed on the deck between his feet.
“Hey, Luke?” Han asked. “You okay?”
“He is gone again,” Saba said. “Why does he keep doing that when we need him most?”
The twinkle in the Barabel’s bulbous eye suggested she knew exactly why Luke kept doing it, but that wasn’t much comfort to Han. Right now, the young Jedi kids and support staff brought along to act as decoys were waiting in the docks on the bottom level of the station, packed into transports and ready to evacuate when Luke gave the order. The idea had been that the kids would leave before the attack on the station came. But with those long-range turbolasers, Caedus was almost close enough now to open fire—and it was beginning to look like he intended to stand off and do just that.
“Uh, maybe we’d better handle this order ourselves,” Han said. That was the trouble with wars—the enemy always had a way of doing something unexpected that ruined your carefully made plans. “The Megador is getting close enough to open up on us, and this place isn’t exactly well shielded.”
Saba studied Luke for a moment, then said, “I will ask my fellow Masterz.”
She turned to consult with Kyp, Cilghal, and the others.
“Great,” Han muttered. “They ought to reach a decision about the time the battle’s over.”
“Don’t be so cynical,” Leia chided. “They’re Masters—they can hear you.”
Han winced and glanced ov
er his shoulder at the circle. No one seemed to be looking in his direction, but Kyp did wag a finger at him.
The finger had not yet stopped when C-3PO announced, “The observation posts are reporting that the Anakin Solo and Megador have both launched their starfighter complements.”
That news brought the Masters’ debate to an early halt. Saba and the others stopped to glance over at the wall display, which showed the enemy starfighters as a stream of flickering dots streaming out to meet the Owools and blastboats.
“He’s not buying our act,” Han said. “We need to give him a reason to keep coming down the Throat—and clear out while we still can.”
Saba nodded her agreement, then turned to the other Masters—who also nodded, almost as one.
Saba turned back to Han. “Okay,” she said. “The Masterz agree. You can give the order.”
“Me?” Han asked. “But I’m not—”
“It was your idea,” Saba interrupted, tilting her head at him. “Do you not think it is a good one?”
“Don’t have a doubt,” Han said. He snapped the comlink from his pocket and opened a channel to the convoy commander. “Time to get out of here, Ben—but don’t send everyone at once. We’ve got to make it look good.”
“Okay.” Ben’s voice sounded uncertain. “Uh, this is Uncle Han, right?”
“Yeah,” Han said. “You got a problem with that?”
“No,” Ben said. “But Dad—er, Master Skywalker—said to wait for his order.”
Han glanced over at Luke, who was still staring at the floor with nothing in his eyes but his pupils, then looked at the wall display again. Caedus’s fleet had slowed, but it hadn’t stopped, and it would be only a couple of minutes before it could start firing on Uroro Station.
“Your dad’s busy right now,” Han said. “And the Megador is probably going to open up with her long-range turbolasers real soon. I kind of thought you’d want to be gone when that happens.”
“Oh,” Ben said. “I guess that makes sense. Initiating decoy operation at once.”
A few seconds later, a motley assortment of light transports began to shoot away from the station. The first part of their trajectory carried them directly up the Throat toward Caedus’s fleet. But within a minute or so, they started to arc around the bulge of Qogo’s amber-striped sphere, heading for the ice field where the Hapans lay in hiding. If all went according to plan, Caedus would pursue, Tenel Ka would ambush him, and the assault fleet would be destroyed.
But battles never went according to plan. As it grew more apparent that the transports were fleeing, the Remnant fleet did begin to accelerate down the Throat again, moving to pursue them into the ice field just as Luke and Tenel Ka had hoped. But the Solo and the Megador remained behind with a handful of escorts, moving down the Throat to fire on Uroro Station.
“That’s not good,” Leia observed.
“It could be worse,” Han said reassuringly. “I’m not sure how, but it could be.”
Of course, that was when the life returned to Luke’s eyes. He shook his head and frowned out the viewport for a moment, then turned to study the situation on the wall display. The last of the transports was passing through the ice field, heading for a Mist passage that would carry it back to the Hapan ground forces Tenel Ka had left to defend Shedu Maad.
“Strange,” Luke said. “I don’t recall telling Ben to evacuate.”
“Guess you were talking in your sleep again,” Han said. “But it was time. Trust me.”
Luke chuckled. “It seems I have no other choice—as usual,” he said. “But Caedus’s caution does throw a hydrospanner in our plan. I don’t suppose you came up with a brilliant alternative plan while I was ‘sleeping’?”
“Actually, I have,” Han said. “First, we all get the kark off this heap before they start blowing it apart.”
“I must say, that certainly seems like a brilliant plan to me,” C-3PO offered, turning away from the control panel. “I only hope the next step is equally clever.”
“I’m working on that,” Han said, starting for the exit. “But button up your vac suits, everybody. If I know my Jaina, she’s going to board the Anakin Solo one way or another—and we’re going to be right there behind her.”
Like the little brother it was named for, the Anakin Solo hung in the shadow of the mighty Megador. The Megador was pounding away with its long-range turbolasers, pouring a river of crimson beams down the Throat toward Uroro Station. With its own long-range battery still out of commission after the sabotage at Kashyyyk, the Anakin Solo was concentrating on perimeter protection, using its normal turbolasers and point-defense arrays to build a shell of anti-starcraft fire around both vessels.
Jaina glanced over at the scorched ruin of a StealthX floating next to her own pock-holed wreck. Zekk was leaning down in the cockpit, trying to splice together a wire beneath the control panel. She knew it was nothing critical because, incredibly, both StealthXs were still fly-able. But she thought about urging him to head back to Shedu Maad. Trouble was, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t go unless she came, too, and that wasn’t going to happen.
So Jaina reached out to him through their combat-meld, urging him to be ready. His helmet popped back into view, looking toward his tail first, then his flanks, and finally turning forward. When he finally seemed to realize there was no immediate threat, Jaina had the distinct impression that he thought she was crazy.
He was probably right. Neither of their starfighters was in any condition for a fight. Jaina’s shields were only a fond memory, and three of Zekk’s laser cannons had drooping tips. Both starfighters were low on fuel, leaking coolant, and had been forced to revert to vac suit life support. Any squadron commander in any navy in the galaxy would have ordered them to return to base.
But they didn’t have a squadron commander, and Jaina and Zekk were hanging on the edge of the ice field, directly between the Remnant assault fleet and the two Alliance Star Destroyers. When the Hapans sprang their ambush, the Anakin Solo and the Megador would rush to support the assault—and when they did, the Anakin Solo would be turning straight into the two StealthXs.
Jaina knew it was crazy. But they both had a full load of shadow bombs, and there was no sense carrying them all the way back to Shedu Maad.
A tiny ball of orange blossomed between Qogo and Uluq as one of the Megador’s turbolaser strikes found its target, and a spray of tiny specks began to fly toward both planets. When the flames died away, Jaina could see that the massive station was still spinning, despite the loss of about a sixth of its outer wheel. But now that the gunners had confirmed their range and targeting, it would not be long before the rest of Uroro Station disappeared. She only hoped the evacuation had been completed in time.
The Megador continued to spit crimson beams down the Throat, striking the target half a dozen times in as many seconds. Uroro Station started to come apart in chunks large enough to identify, and Jaina began to see sections of spokes and wheels tumbling toward the amber-striped faces of the twin gas giants.
Then the Force shuddered with the surprise of thousands of beings, and the Mists began to flash and flicker with a never-ending cascade of turbolaser fire.
“Time to arm the shadow bombs, Sneaky,” Jaina said to her astromech droid.
A tweedle sounded in Jaina’s helmet earphone, and the droid scrolled a question across her status display.
“All of them,” Jaina replied. “And when I give the launch order, send them—”
Sneaky chirped in indignation, then inquired whether she was under the impression that his logic circuits had been damaged during their recent brush with incineration. If she wanted to arm them all, of course she wanted to launch them all.
“Thanks,” Jaina said, wondering if his personality module had suffered some heat damage. R9 units were usually a little heavy on self-preservation routines, not self-awareness. “Didn’t mean to doubt you.”
Sneaky accepted the apology, then suggested that now might be a good
time to dump the shadow bombs and run for the safety of the base. Jaina didn’t have the heart to explain they wouldn’t be returning to Shedu Maad. If they were going to land anywhere, it would be aboard the matte-black Star Destroyer in front of them.
The Anakin Solo fired its ion engines and began to accelerate, starting to bank toward them almost immediately. The Megador lagged behind, its huge mass requiring more energy to move, and its big engines more time to reach peak efficiency. Through the gap between the two, the starfighter battle raging in the Throat was just visible, a color-laced mesh of streaking lights and sudden eruptions. Jaina could already make out the sickle-nosed dots of a few Wookiee Owools and the sleek cylinders of about half a dozen Skipray blast-boats, along with the tiny cruciform shapes of the XJ7s swarming them.
What truly surprised her, however, were the blocky silhouettes of the StealthX flight already coming up toward the Anakin Solo’s belly. They were moving too fast and erratically for her to get an accurate count—even silhouetted against the amber disk of Qogo’s striped face—but she guessed there were about three dozen of them. They were rolling and dodging and sliding away from the Solo’s defensive fire as though their pilots knew where it would blossom before it arrived.
Leading the pack was the charcoal wedge of a Mandalorian Bes’uliik—large and somewhat ungainly, but still fast and powerful. It was taking more fire than the StealthXs, since it was leaving a long stream of bright blue efflux in its wake and its sensor-negation technologies weren’t as efficient. But it hardly mattered, because it was being flown by the best starfighter pilot Jaina had ever seen—Luke Skywalker, of course—and it was weaving through the firestorm coming its way like a holovid stunt pilot running a special-effects course.
Jaina fired her own ion engines, then looked over to find Zekk giving her the thumbs-up signal. She nodded, then they hit their thrusters and shot forward, angling toward the shield generator domes on top of the Anakin Solo’s bridge.
The first thirty seconds of their approach went as smoothly as could be expected. Jaina lost one of her engines when a faulty feed pump developed a vacuum lock, and the green glow faded from Zekk’s cockpit when his spliced wire came apart and the instrument panel went dark. But nobody fired at them, or sent a fighter to investigate the pair of dark blurs coming the Anakin Solo’s way, and they were well within laser cannon range when a prickle of danger sense raced down Jaina’s spine.