by Troy Denning
“I’ve had a vision, yes,” Luke said. “Whether that means he has actually turned the Current onto a new course, I have no idea.”
Swells of alarm began to roll through the Force as Ben and Vestara suddenly grew very concerned about something happening outside the cavern mouth. Luke pivoted casually on one foot, turning to look out toward the sea and the white island, and saw that the birds had grown fiercely agitated.
“But if Jacen did turn the Current to a new destination,” Luke continued, “and Abeloth changes it back, won’t she also be fixing its destination? Won’t she also be fixing a course that should be ever-changing?”
Akanah furrowed her brow, and Luke thought for a moment that he had shown her the lie in Abeloth’s promise.
Then Akanah’s eyes clouded with confusion, and her Force aura grew cold and shrouded. “That is a foolish question,” she said. “Abeloth is beyond your understanding.”
“Then explain her to me.”
Instead of answering, Akanah looked toward the cave mouth. A pair of startled cries sounded from the cliff face outside, then Ben and Vestara plummeted into view, dropping headfirst toward the rocks below. Luke quickly reached out and grabbed them both in the Force, then pulled them both to safety.
They landed in a tumbling heap a few meters inside the cave and came to their feet standing shoulder-to-shoulder.
Reaching for his lightsaber, Luke turned to face Akanah—and found her already out of reach, backing away with a smile on her lips that was at once mad and gentle.
“Silly Jedi.” She extended a hand toward the Shadow’s open hatch and motioned him toward the boarding ramp. “No one can explain Abeloth.”
Only the nameplate had changed. Looming up among the elegant stone-and-mirrsteel spires of the corporate advocacy district, the hulking monolith of GAS Detention Center 81 remained the same permacrete misfit it had been when the sign read GALACTIC ALLIANCE STORAGE. With its purple cam bubbles, heavy blast doors, and fortified entry, the detention center looked like the urban bunker it was, and trying to bust anyone out of there was going to be about the craziest thing Han had ever done—on purpose, anyway.
But there wasn’t much choice. Events on Coruscant were turning insane. With Kenth Hamner shoved to the sidelines, the Jedi Council had assigned the Solos to rescue Valin and Jysella Horn—or, more accurately, to steal the carbonite pods in which Galactic Alliance Security was storing the two frozen Jedi Knights. In the meantime, the Masters were developing a plan to reinforce the Skywalkers without having to engage GA forces first. If the Solos failed to complete their mission before the StealthXs launched, Daala’s first move would almost certainly be to secure the pods somewhere so hidden even Jedi could not find them.
Three figures, one Mon Calamari and two human, emerged from the detention center and turned up the pedway toward Fellowship Plaza. From Han’s vantage point, across the skylane and a hundred meters above the pedway, it was impossible to identify much more than their species and hair color—brown and black for the humans, not applicable for the Mon Calamari. The Mon Calamari and the large human were wearing brown Jedi robes, while the smaller, black-haired human—a woman—wore a loose-fitting pilot’s jacket and trousers. As they walked, the woman leaned close to the brown-haired Jedi, and he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“Corran is giving the signal, so it looks like Mirax got the tracking bugs attached to both pods.” As Han spoke, a Rodian vagrant who had been sitting on the pedway before the Horns arrived suddenly snatched up his alms cup and started to meander after them. “And they’ve still got their tail.”
“Only the usual?” Leia asked.
“All I see is a Rodian pretending to be a beggar,” Han said. “There’s probably a control officer and a couple of switch-offs working our side of the skylane, but no sign of a Doomsled or an arrest team moving in.”
“Good.” Leia’s voice grew more muffled as she turned toward the center of the room. “How are we receiving?”
“Very well,” reported the sultry voice of Natua Wan. Along with several other recently recovered Jedi Knights, the Falleen had insisted on being part of the rescue mission. Of course, Corran and Mirax Horn had also wanted to participate in the assault, but they were under constant observation and would only have drawn unwanted attention to the mission. “But something seems wrong with our overlay software. These path reports make no sense.”
Natua’s use of the plural gave Han a sinking feeling. “Reports?”
He turned toward the center of the chamber, where an oversized holopad was projecting a schematic of the interior of Detention Center 81. Near the heart of the holograph lay a web of green and yellow squiggles so filled with squares and rectangles that Han could not find the end or beginning of either line.
“Blasted circuit heads!” Han turned to R2-D2, who was plugged into the holopad, feeding it data transmitted by the tracking bugs. “You’ve got an interpretation problem. Did you check for a code algorithm?”
R2-D2 tweedled a sharp reply, which C-3PO promptly translated as, “Artoo-Detoo reports that he has already defeated the GAS code.”
Another series of tweets followed. C-3PO ignored them and continued to look at Han.
“What else?” Han asked.
“My apologies, Captain Solo,” C-3PO said. “But Artoo suggests that if you are unable to recognize a random progression, perhaps you shouldn’t be leading this mission.”
“A what progression?” Han left the viewport and went to stand at the holograph. “You mean this data is good?”
R2-D2 gave an affirmative whistle.
Han stared at the path reports, watching in growing concern as the colored lines changed directions at right angles, usually staying on the same plane, but occasionally descending or climbing as much as four levels. The pods did not seem to be moving toward any particular location, simply making random turns and floor changes that repeatedly crossed their own paths. Clearly, they were taking precautions to prevent the pods from being tracked back to their storage facilities.
“They’re on to us,” Zekk said.
Tall and square-shouldered, he was standing on the opposite side of the holograph with his fiancée, Taryn Zel. With Zekk’s black hair and chiseled features and Taryn’s fiery-eyed beauty, they were a handsome couple—and one that sent a sad pang through Han’s heart every time he caught his daughter glancing in their direction. It was more envy than jealousy that made Jaina keep sneaking looks at how close they always seemed to be standing. Han knew. Her thing with Zekk had always been more “fighting buddy” than “big love,” and she had told him that she was glad he and Taryn seemed so happy together. But Han could also see that Zekk’s happiness reminded Jaina of her breakup with Jag—of how the stars always seemed to be conspiring against them, pushing them into situations where they found themselves obliged to choose between duty and each other.
Han was no Jedi, of course. But it seemed to him they kept finding themselves in the same mess because the Force was trying to tell them that love didn’t work that way. They couldn’t keep putting everything else ahead of their relationship—not the Jedi Order, not the Empire, not even their family. It was all or nothing. When two people wanted to be together, they had to lock card values and push all-in together. In the game of love, that was the only way to win.
But Han knew better than to say any of that to Jaina. Even he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated after she had already broken up with the guy. Besides, who wants to take romantic advice from her dad?
“Captain?” asked a flirty Hapan voice. “Oh, Captain?”
Han turned his gaze on the speaker and found himself looking through the holograph into Taryn Zel’s gray-green eyes. “Yeah?”
Taryn shook her head in exasperation, then asked, “Are we still doing this?”
“Sure,” Han said. “Why not?”
Taryn flashed a coy smile and said, “Good.”
But Zekk was not so enthusiastic. “You’re both cr
azy.” He pointed at the still-growing path reports. “GAS knows we’re coming.”
“Not necessarily,” Jaina pointed out. She was looking at the holograph from the side adjacent to Zekk and Taryn, standing between Leia and Natua Wan. “We’ve given them plenty of reason to be cautious. Running the pods around to confuse tracking devices could be standard procedure.”
Taryn nodded agreement, then reached up and draped a hand over Zekk’s shoulder. “When she’s right, she’s right,” she said. “Jedi Solo has already embarrassed Colonel Retk once, and Yakas are beyond smart. Of course he would take precautions.”
As Taryn spoke, C-3PO quietly dismissed himself and left the room, moving toward the front of the office suite. Han caught Seff Hellin’s eye and nodded for the young Jedi to follow. C-3PO had orders not to allow anyone past the entrance, but given what they were about to do, there was no sense taking chances.
Once Han had returned his attention to the room, Zekk said, “What difference does it make if they are just taking precautions? We still don’t know where they’re keeping the pods, and that means we’ll be inside too long. This will be a running battle, not a quick grab.”
Taryn’s eyes turned hard. “Are you suggesting we leave that poor Horn girl frozen in carbonite?” Like most Hapan women, she was not accustomed to being questioned by her mate, and there was an edge in her voice that suggested she was still having trouble adjusting to the idea that Zekk was most definitely not a Hapan man. “I’m afraid I just won’t allow that.”
Zekk’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “The decision is Han and Leia’s,” he reminded her. “And Valin is frozen, too. Don’t forget about him.”
“What makes you think I did?” Taryn turned to Han and said, “If we’re going to do this, I need to get moving. It won’t be easy to make myself look like an uptight female boss, you know.”
Han raised a hand. “We’re gonna do it,” he assured her. “But let’s make sure we know what we’re getting into, okay?”
As Han spoke, the green path report suddenly stopped advancing.
“Stang!” he cursed. “They just found one of the bugs.”
Zekk turned to Taryn. “Didn’t you say Hapan trackers are undetectable?”
“I did, but they can’t overpower a signal neutralizer,” Taryn said. “If that tracker doesn’t come back online, it’s probably because GAS has a neutralizer in the pod vault.”
The yellow path report suddenly stopped advancing as well.
“And if that one doesn’t come back?” Jaina asked, pointing at the end of the yellow line. It was three floors above the end of the green line, and about fifty meters toward the interior of the building. “Would that be because there are two signal neutralizers in two pod vaults?”
Taryn’s eyes narrowed. “Probably,” she said. “If GAS is worried about security, it would make sense to keep the prisoners in separate locations.”
“That’s certainly a possibility, Taryn,” Leia said. “But raiding two locations is going to complicate things, even if we could be sure you’re right. Is there a way to confirm that the trackers are still in operation?”
“They are,” Taryn insisted. “I can’t prove it, but our devices use nanotech to fuse with anything they attach to. In less than a second, they become completely invisible. And they mask their transmissions as backgro—”
Taryn ended her explanation mid-syllable as C-3PO stepped into the room. He stopped just inside the door, but over one shoulder Han could see Seff Hellin looking frustrated and confused. Over the other was a tall, well-dressed man with a scar on his forehead. On the collar of his navy-style tunic, he wore the crest of the Imperial Head of State.
“Jagged?” Jaina gasped, starting toward the door. “What are you doing here?”
Before Jag could reply, C-3PO said, “Head of State Fel is requesting an audience with Captain Solo and Princess Leia.” He turned his photoreceptors toward Han. “I asked him to wait in the foyer, but he was most insistent that he be seen at once.”
“It’s okay, Threepio.”
Han nodded to Leia, and they followed Jaina through the door into the suite’s empty, beige-carpeted outer office. Save for Seff, who silently mouthed the word alone, Jag was by himself—a fact that Han found telling. After the assassination attempt at the Pangalactus, Jag never went anywhere without his Chiss assistant, Ashik, and a sizable contingent of bodyguards.
“Thank you, Seff,” Leia said, motioning the young Jedi Knight back toward the foyer. “You showed good judgment in not using force against the Head of State. But it might be wise to make sure there’s nobody out there eavesdropping on us.”
“Yeah,” Han said, scowling at Jag. “And if there is, you don’t have to be so nice.”
“Certainly not on my account,” Jag said. “If there’s anyone out there, they aren’t mine.”
“Good,” Jaina said.
She stepped forward, squaring her shoulders in a manner that Han recognized as just a little wary. Jag’s unexpected arrival was clearly not a welcome surprise for Jaina; with a difficult raid coming up, the last thing she would want on her mind was Jagged Fel.
“Let’s start with how you found us,” Jaina demanded.
Jag smirked down at her. “I do have one of the best intelligence services in the galaxy.”
Han’s heart jumped into his throat, and he glanced over at Leia. “Great,” he said. “If the Imperials know we’re here—”
“There’s no need for concern,” Jag said, raising a hand to stop him. “Ashik assures me that GAS is not aware of you.”
Even Han could feel the relief flooding the room, but he didn’t feel any better himself—especially since Jag had obviously just dodged Jaina’s question.
“I need details, Jag,” Han said. He hooked a thumb toward the next room. “We’re putting a lot of lives on the line here, and Ashik’s assurances don’t cut it.”
“I’m sorry, Captain Solo,” Jag said. “As you yourself are fond of saying: trust me.”
“That might be easier after we know what you’re doing here,” Leia said. She glanced toward the now closed door behind them. “And why you couldn’t wait for us to come out.”
“I couldn’t wait because the Horns aren’t the only ones with a team of GAS agents tailing them. Unless I’m back in the lobby soon, the ones tailing me are going to start wondering if I had some business in the Graser Building other than a meeting that ended …” Jag paused to check his chrono. “… twelve minutes ago.”
“Fine,” Jaina said. “So let’s get to it. What do you need?”
Jag’s eyes turned steely. “Very well, Jaina,” he said. “The first thing I need to know is why you didn’t tell me about the Sith—or the fact that the Jedi have actually been working with them.”
Jaina’s jaw dropped nearly as far as Han’s heart. Leia merely bit her lips and glanced at the floor for a moment, then looked to Han.
“The leak couldn’t have come from Wuul,” she said. “He didn’t know about the arrangement with the Sith.”
“Then it’s true?” Jag asked.
Jaina nodded, but it was Leia who answered. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “Our StealthX wing has been trapped here on Coruscant—as I’m sure you’re aware. And Luke and Ben needed some major support to destroy Abeloth.”
Jag frowned. “Abeloth?”
“The huge threat I told you about,” Jaina explained, “just before we broke up.”
“We didn’t break up,” Jag reminded her. “You left because I wouldn’t launch the Imperial fleet on just your say-so—”
“Hey, look,” Han interrupted, “we’d love to leave you kids alone so you can work this out, but aren’t we all on a schedule here?”
Jag flushed. “You’re absolutely right, Captain Solo.” He straightened his lapels and shot a glance Jaina’s way. “And who broke up with whom is hardly relevant anymore. If you would be kind enough to explain this Abeloth problem, I’ll fill you in on how I heard about the Sith.”
“Fair enough,” Leia said, stepping forward to take control of the conversation. “Abeloth is an ancient … well, entity that Luke and Ben found imprisoned in the Maw. When we hid our young ones at Shelter during the war against the Yuuzhan Vong, she made contact through the Force and planted the seeds of the madness that afflicted them recently.”
“I see,” Jag said. “But why would the Sith help Grand Master Skywalker destroy this Abeloth? I would think Sith would be happy to see Jedi Knights going insane.”
“They said Abeloth was driving their apprentices mad, too,” Jaina replied. “It turns out they were just trying to capture her. She’s immensely powerful—and that makes her immensely useful.”
Jag’s face paled. “Please tell me they didn’t succeed,” he said. “Master Skywalker did destroy her … correct?”
“Well, we thought so,” Han said. “But it turns out she escaped. We think she’s on Pydyr right now, hiding out with the Fallanassi.”
Jag began to look frightened. “I see,” he said. “And the Sith? Do they know where she is, too?”
“Not yet,” Han said.
“Not as far as we know,” Jaina added. “But it’s not going to stay that way. These are Sith, Jag—and there are thousands of them, maybe even millions. They’re going to find her.”
Jag shook his head grimly. “Unbelievable. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, you tell me they have.” As he said this last part, he was looking at Jaina. “And this is why the Jedi remain determined to launch their StealthX wing?”
“Right,” Jaina replied.
“Thinking like that, I see why Luke set you up to be Imperial Head of State,” Han added.
“Yes, I must remember to thank him for that someday,” Jag said, his dry voice suggesting that he was anything but grateful for the burden Luke had so unceremoniously dropped on his shoulders. “In the meantime, you need to contact the Temple. The Jedi should launch now, before the public learns about the arrangement with the Sith.”