Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy II: Dark Apprentice

by Kevin J. Anderson

  He continued to do important things with his life, but it just didn’t seem as real anymore. He had enjoyed spending time with young Kyp Durron. The young man reminded him so much of himself, and now Kyp had gone off to become a Jedi just like Luke.

  “You’re gonna miss the kid, aren’t you?” a deep voice said. Han looked up to see Lando Calrissian standing over him with a big smile.

  “What are you doing here?” Han said grumpily.

  “I’m buying you a drink, old buddy,” Lando said. He shoved forward one of the prissy fruity concoctions, complete with bright tropical flower, that Han had bought Lando on the night of their sabacc game.

  Han scowled and accepted it. “Thanks a lot.” He took a sip, grimaced, then took a gulp. Lando pulled up a chair.

  “I didn’t invite you to sit down,” Han said.

  “Look, Han,” Lando said, adding a stern edge to his voice, “when you won the Falcon from me in a sabacc game, did I spend years pouting and not talking to you?”

  Han shrugged and looked up. “I don’t know. I pretty much stayed away all those years.” He paused, then added quickly, “And the next time we saw each other, you betrayed us to Darth Vader.”

  “Hey, that wasn’t my fault, and I’ve more than made up for it since,” Lando said. “Listen, I’ve got a deal for you. Next time you get a chance, why don’t the both of us take the Falcon and go back to what’s left of Kessel? Maybe we can find my old ship there. If we do, I’d gladly take the Lady Luck back, and you can have the Falcon.” He held out his broad hand. “Deal?”

  Han grudgingly admitted that it was the best he could hope for. “All right, pal,” he said, and shook Lando’s hand.

  “Solo,” a woman’s sharp voice said. “They told me I’d find you here.”

  “Can’t a guy get some peace?” he said, and turned to see a trim, attractive woman standing at the lounge entrance. She had shoulder-length reddish brown hair the color of some exotic spice. Her features were finely chiseled: a narrow chin and a mouth that looked as if it had spent too many years frowning and was just now learning the shape of a smile. The shards of ice that were Mara Jade’s eyes had warmed somewhat since the last time Han had seen her.

  Lando stood up, sweeping his cape behind him and extending his hand. “Well hel-lo! Please join us, Miss Jade. May I get you anything? We’ve met before but I’m not sure you remember me. I’m—”

  “Shut up, Calrissian. I need to talk to Solo.”

  Lando laughed and went to get her a drink anyway.

  Dark patches stood out on the shoulders and sleeves of Mara’s flight jacket, as if it had once borne the insignia of military service. Mara Jade had been the Emperor’s Hand, a special servant to Palpatine himself, and she had seen her life crumble after his death; she had blamed Luke for that and held a vendetta against him until recently.

  Now, after the retirement of the great smuggler Talon Karrde, Mara seemed to become more open and ready to participate in broader events. She had managed a tenuous coalition of smugglers to help fight against Grand Admiral Thrawn, and she still maintained a loose alliance, even though some of the worst offenders—such as Moruth Doole on Kessel—refused to have anything to do with the New Republic and the smuggler’s alliance.

  “What brings you back to Coruscant, Mara?” Han said. Lando returned bearing another one of his fruity drinks for her and a new one for himself. She looked at it, pointedly ignored it, and continued talking to Han.

  “I’m bringing a message. You can pass it on to the appropriate people. Your Imperial friend Admiral Daala has been sending out feelers, trying to hire smugglers as spies and saboteurs. A few have taken the offer, but I don’t expect many of them to trust Daala after what she did to the forces of Kessel. Even though Moruth Doole wasn’t part of our alliance, he was still a smuggler, and smugglers tend to stick together—especially against Imperials.”

  “Yes,” Han said, “we got the message that she had attacked one of the supply ships and destroyed it before it could get to Dantooine.”

  Mara looked at him, and her gaze became hard again. “Haven’t you heard what happened to your colony on Dantooine? Daala’s already been there, you know.”

  “What?” Han said, and Lando echoed his surprise.

  “A small group of New Republic engineers is setting up a communications base there,” Han said, “but we haven’t contacted them in the last week or two.”

  “Well, there’s no need to,” Mara said. “Dantooine has been leveled. Every person in your colony and all of your New Republic engineers are dead, as of two days ago. Daala attacked with her three Star Destroyers and vanished again to wherever her hiding place is.”

  “And so you came here just to give us this information?” Han said, trying to recover from his shock.

  Mara took a long, slow drink of the cloying concoction that Lando seemed to be enjoying so much. She shrugged. “I have an agreement with the New Republic, and I keep my agreements.”

  As Han felt anger and shock starting to boil inside him at what Daala had done, Lando changed the subject.

  “So where are you off to now, Miss Jade?” he said. Leaning forward on the table, he seemed to be trying to melt her with his big brown eyes. Han rolled his.

  “You’re welcome to stay here for a while,” Lando said. “I’d be happy to show you some of the sights of the city. There’s some beautiful views on top of the Grand Towers.” Mara looked at him as if considering how much effort it was worth for her to answer his question.

  “I’ll be leaving immediately,” she said. “I’m going to spend some time at Skywalker’s Jedi training center. It makes good business sense to learn how to use my Jedi abilities, if only for self-protection.”

  Han sat up in surprise. “You’re going to learn from Luke? I thought you still hated Luke! You’ve tried to kill him often enough.”

  Mara’s eyes stared back as if ready to blaze through him; then she softened and even smiled. “We’ve … reconciled our differences. You might say we negotiated a truce.” She looked down at her drink but did not touch it. “For now, at least,” she added, and then smiled even more. She stood up to leave. “Thanks for your time, Solo.” She ignored Lando completely and walked out of the lounge.

  Lando watched Mara leave, admiring the slick satiny gray fabric of her slacks and tight padded flightshirt. “She sure has gotten beautiful.”

  “Yeah, I hear that happens to most assassins once they retire,” Han answered.

  Lando didn’t seem to hear him. “How could I have missed her in Jabba the Hutt’s throne room? She was there, and I was there, but I didn’t notice her at all.”

  “I was there too,” Han said, “and I didn’t see her. Of course, I was frozen in a block of carbonite at the time.”

  “I think she likes me,” Lando said. “Maybe I’ll volunteer to take the next delivery of supplies to Yavin 4, just so I can see her.”

  Han shook his head. “Lando, she wanted you to disappear. She didn’t even acknowledge your presence.”

  Lando shrugged. “Sometimes it just takes my charm a little longer to work.” He flashed one of his best lady-killer smiles. “But when it does.…”

  “Oh, brother,” Han said. He finished his drink and left Lando sitting there, daydreaming as his own drink sat unnoticed beside him.

  13

  The next night Leia had just sat down to cherish a relaxing meal with her husband and her children when the summons from Mon Mothma arrived.

  As usual, she had been wrapped up in governmental proceedings all day. After the disaster on Vortex, she had been allowed no respite, and the pressure had increased as Mon Mothma withdrew further from her responsibilities, begging off the unimportant receptions and meetings and sending Leia as her proxy.

  Living on the peaceful world of Alderaan as the daughter of the powerful Senator Bail Organa, Leia had grown up surrounded by politics. She was used to the constant demands, the communiqués arriving at all hours, the sudden emergencies,
the whispered negotiations, and the forced smiles. She had chosen to follow in Senator Organa’s footsteps, knowing full well the demands that would be made of her.

  But she treasured the scant quiet times she managed to steal with Han and the twins. It seemed ages since she had been able to visit baby Anakin, though Han himself had accompanied Winter twice in the last two months.

  Tonight Leia had come home late, flustered and harried, but Han was there waiting with Jacen and Jaina. They had held dinner for her, which Threepio had prepared as a test of his new and dubious gourmet programming at the food synthesizers.

  They sat down in the dining area, where illumination strips bathed the room in soft pink and peach colors. Han played the relaxing music of one of her favorite Alderaani composers, and they sat down to eat off fine Imperial china taken from the late Emperor’s private stock.

  It was not intended to be a romantic dinner with two-and-a-half-year-old twins banging their silverware and demanding constant attention—but Leia didn’t mind. Han had done his best to commemorate dinner as a family.

  Leia smiled as Threepio delivered their meal, a very passable-looking grazer roulade accompanied by skewers of spiced tubers and sweet marble-berry fritters. “I believe you will be quite impressed, Mistress Leia,” the droid said, gently bowing and setting smaller plates in front of Jacen and Jaina.

  “Yuck,” Jacen said.

  Jaina looked at her brother for confirmation, then said, “I don’t like this.”

  Threepio straightened in indignation. “Children, you have not even tasted the food. I insist that you sample your dinners.”

  Leia and Han looked at each other and smiled. Jacen and Jaina both had bright eyes and well-defined features below thick dark-brown hair—just like their parents. The twins were extremely precocious, speaking in short but complete sentences and amazing their parents with the concepts they had already managed to grasp and communicate.

  Jacen and Jaina seemed to share a kind of psychic link, speaking in half sentences to each other or somehow communicating in complete silence. This didn’t surprise Leia—as Luke had told her, the Force was strong in their family.

  Han claimed that the two kids knew how to use their powers more than they admitted. He had found cabinet doors mysteriously unlocked after he had fastened them securely, and sometimes shiny baubles left on high shelves were suddenly found underfoot as if they had been played with. The food synthesizers, far out of reach, had once been reprogrammed to add a double portion of sweetening to all recipes, even the soup.

  Perplexed with the mysterious occurrences, Threepio had dug through diverse and obscure data records, insisting that the best explanation could be found in an ancient superstition of poltergeists—but Leia suspected it had more to do with small Jedi children.

  She took a bite of her thinly sliced, herb-crusted grazer. It smelled wonderfully nutty as the aroma curled up to her nose. It was tender and perfectly seasoned to counteract the pungent unpleasant aftertaste often found in imported grazer filet. She considered complimenting Threepio, but decided that it would probably make the protocol droid altogether too pleased with himself.

  “Look what Jaina’s doing!” Jacen said.

  Leia stared in astonishment as the little girl balanced her delicate skewer of spiced tubers impossibly on its tip and used the Force to twirl it around like a top.

  “Mistress Jaina, please stop playing with your food,” Threepio said.

  Leia and Han met each other’s gaze in amazement. She was glad that Luke had formed his Jedi academy, so these children would learn to understand the powerful and beautiful gift they had been given.

  The door chime sounded like a tubular bell through their living quarters. The noise startled Jaina, and her delicately balanced skewer toppled over—which made her begin to cry.

  Han sighed, and Leia got up with a scowl. “I didn’t think we could sit through an entire meal uninterrupted.”

  She opened the door, and the ornate plasteel plate hummed aside to reveal a hovering messenger droid that bobbed up and down in the corridor, blinking its lights in a swirl.

  “Minister Leia Organa Solo, Chief of State Mon Mothma requests your presence immediately in her private quarters for an important consultation. Please follow me.”

  Back at the table Han rolled his eyes and glowered at no one in particular as Leia was taken from him again. Jaina continued crying, and now Jacen added his own squalls to the racket. Threepio tried to calm the two children down, completely without effect.

  Leia looked imploringly at Han, but he gave a short wave of dismissal. “Go on, Mon Mothma needs you.”

  She bit her lower lip, sensing the bitterness he tried to cover. “I’ll cut it short,” she said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Han nodded and turned to his eating as if he didn’t believe her. Leia felt her stomach knot as she hurried after the hovering droid through the arched, well-lit corridors. She felt a simmering annoyance and stubborn resistance build within her, and she walked with purposeful steps.

  She agreed to too many things. She bowed her head and trotted anywhere Mon Mothma asked her to go. Well, Leia had her own life, and she had to spend more time with her family. Her career was important too—crucial, in fact—and she vowed to do both. But she had to reestablish some priorities and ground rules.

  As she followed the messenger droid into a turbolift that took her to secluded portions of the old Imperial Palace, Leia was actually glad that Mon Mothma had summoned her. She had a few things to say to the Chief of State, and the two of them would have to work out some sort of compromise.

  But when the droid transmitted the special unlocking code that caused Mon Mothma’s armored door to grind aside, Leia felt a cold fingernail twist in her chest. Mon Mothma’s quarters were too dark, lit only by soft greenish glowing lamps designed to be soothing, restful … healing. She breathed the sweet tang of odd medicines, and the clinging aftertaste of sickness caught in her throat.

  Leia stepped forward into the chambers and saw that they had been filled with bright nova lilies and nebula orchids that showered heady perfumes into the air, masking the unpleasant medicinal smell.

  “Mon Mothma?” she said. Her voice sounded small in the enclosed space.

  Motion off to her right made her turn her head to see a bullet-headed Too-Onebee medical droid. Mon Mothma looked gaunt and skeletal as she lay on a broad bed surrounded by diagnostic equipment. Another smaller droid monitored the readouts. Everything hung in silence except for the faint hum of machinery.

  Leia also saw—feeling foolish for noticing such a small thing—that Mon Mothma kept an array of makeup jars and synthetic skin-coloring agents on her dressing table in a desperate attempt to make herself look presentable in public.

  “Ah, Leia,” Mon Mothma said. Her voice sounded pathetically weak, a rustle of dry leaves. “Thank you for coming. I can’t keep my secret any longer. I must tell you everything.”

  Leia swallowed. All her indignant arguments evaporated like mist under a red giant sun. She sat down in the small padded chair next to Mon Mothma and listened.

  Han had not had time to put the twins to bed before Leia returned. He had felt angry and distracted during the rest of dinner, listless at having her gone again. He had played with the twins, seeking solace in their company.

  Threepio was just finishing the kids’ evening ripple bath when Leia came quietly through the doors. Han had been sitting in their main living area, looking at the sentimental “Remembrances of Alderaan” framed images he had given her as a gift. Displayed prominently on a small pedestal sat the ridiculous Corellian fast-food mascot statue Leia had bought for him, thinking it a gaudy but important piece of sculpture from Han’s homeworld.

  When Leia entered, he sat up quickly, brushing his hair with his fingers. But she turned her back to him and worked the door controls, saying nothing. Leia seemed smaller and drawn into herself. She moved with extreme slowness and caution, as if everything mi
ght break at any sudden motion.

  Han said, “I didn’t expect you back until late. Did Mon Mothma let you off the hook?”

  When she turned to him, he saw that her eyes shimmered with bright flecks of light from restrained tears. The skin around her eyes looked puffy, and her mouth was drawn.

  “What is it?” Han said. “What does Mon Mothma want you to do this time? If it’s too much, I’ll go tell her off myself. You should—”

  “She’s dying,” Leia said.

  Han stopped short, feeling his arguments pop like fragile soap bubbles. His mind whirled. Before he could ask again, Leia began to spill her story.

  “She has some sort of mysterious wasting disease. The medic droids can’t pinpoint it. They’ve never seen anything like it, and it’s pulling her down fast. It’s almost as if something is taking her apart genetically from the inside.

  “Remember the four days when she supposedly went to a secret conference on Cloud City? She didn’t go anywhere. There was no conference. She spent the time in a bacta tank in a last-ditch effort to be healed—but even though the bacta tank completely purged her system, it could do nothing to help. Her body is falling apart. At the rate the disease is taking over, she could be … she could be dead in less than a month.”

  Han swallowed, thinking of the strong woman who had founded the New Republic, led the political side of the Rebel Alliance. “So that’s why she’s been delegating so many of her responsibilities,” Han said. “Why you’ve had to take over more and more.”

  “Yes, she’s trying to keep up appearances in public—but you should see her, Han! She looks like she can barely stand. She can’t keep up the charade much longer.”

  “So …” Han began, not knowing what else to suggest or what he could say. “What does this mean? What do you have to do?”

  Leia bit her lip and seemed to dredge up strength inside herself. She came forward and hugged him. He held her close.

  “With Mon Mothma weakening,” she said, “and Admiral Ackbar in exile, the moderate side of the Council will be gone. I can’t let the New Republic turn into an aggressor government. We have already suffered too much. Now is the time for us to strengthen our ties, to make the New Republic firm through political alliances, with planetary systems joining with us—not to go blasting leftover Imperial strongholds in this sector of the galaxy.”