by James Luceno
Jaina spent a long while dissecting that look, making certain that Jacen was entertaining similar ideas to her own. “I can fly the iceborer,” she offered.
“Seems to me that your skills would be better suited for the carry ship.”
Jaina thought about it and didn’t disagree. If they had to pull a quick retreat from the Helska system, she’d be a better choice at piloting the main craft.
“Where’s Artoo?” Jacen asked. “We should leave a message.”
* * *
Luke paced the room, while Han, Leia, and Lando sat at the small round table, arguing about whether they should go ahead and attack with the assembled fleet or wait for more firepower to come in. On the table sat a viewscreen, the imposing image of Commander Warshack Rojo of the Star Destroyer Rejuvenator, with his shaved head, furrowed brow, and a single, glittering diamond earring.
“We should go straight to Helska,” Commander Rojo insisted. “The Ranger gunships will handle any of the smaller—what did you call them? Coralskippers?—while Rejuvenator takes out whatever base those barbarians have set up. It will be a clean sweep, I assure you, and then we can get on with the more important issues facing the New Republic. You may join us in-system, if you desire.”
Han and Leia exchanged concerned smiles, not sure at all that Commander Rojo was getting the message that this likely was the most important issue facing the New Republic. Leia was hardly surprised by the apparent underestimation.
“Six days,” she argued. “We’ll have three battle cruisers, an Interdictor ship, another Star Destroyer, and their accompanying task forces in by then.”
“We need not wait,” the commander, a hardheaded Corellian, said. “I’ve enough firepower to level the enemy base, and the planet it’s on, if need be.”
Leia gave a helpless sigh—she knew well enough how stubborn a Corellian could be—and turned to her brother as he paced by the window. Luke had told her that she would never convince the commander to wait until the other ships arrived, and since she had resigned her post on the council, she had no authority to order him to wait. They had put out a call to Coruscant, but it would be a while before they received any response—Leia’s estimation of six days was a hopeful one, at best—and by that time, Rojo hoped to have this whole mess cleared up. Rojo’s confidence did not bode well for Leia’s hopes of assembling a larger fleet, she knew, for the commander had likely been, or soon would be, in contact with the more skeptical members of the council, assuring them that he could handle this and they need not divert any more of their military assets.
“We’re going,” Rojo said firmly. “And if we have to go alone, then so be it.”
Leia sighed.
Luke started to turn to say something to the stubborn man, but a flash beyond the window caught his eye. He moved closer, staring into the dark night, and saw a ship soar out of dock, into the sky. He knew at once which ship it was: the carry ship, Merry Miner, and its iceborer companion.
“Mara?” he asked quietly, wondering for a second if his wife had decided to take on this dangerous mission by herself.
But his words made little logical sense; Mara couldn’t have gone alone, for it would take two pilots to accomplish the task, and he didn’t believe that she would have taken Jaina on such a dangerous trek without consulting Leia. A sickly feeling came over Luke then, inspired by the thought of Mara’s potential copilot, as he guessed who might be flying the Merry Miner and who might be accompanying her.
He turned to the others, his expression speaking volumes.
“What is it?” Leia asked.
He ran past her, to the door, and out into the hall.
“Good evening, sir,” C-3PO said as Luke barreled into him, knocking him back against the opposite wall.
“Not now,” Luke said, rolling away from the droid, sidestepping R2-D2, and sprinting down the corridor.
“But Artoo, sir.”
“Not now!” Luke cried.
“A message from Master Jacen,” the now-frantic C-3PO yelled. Luke skidded to a stop and came running back, just as Leia bent to R2-D2 and activated his hologram recorder.
“Uncle Luke,” came the greeting, as a tiny image of Jacen appeared in the hallway. “Forgive us our presumption, but it seemed obvious to me and to Jaina that you’re needed with the fleet in the main attack force. We know what you intended within the fourth planet: to explore and determine the strength and purpose of our enemies. I—we—can do that, Uncle Luke.”
Han gave something akin to a growl, and Leia joined in.
“Keep Aunt Mara at rest—she needs it,” Jacen’s hologram went on. “Jaina and I will be fine, and will carry out the mission perfectly. We promise.”
The image went away.
“I’m gonna kick his—” Han started to say.
“Jacen’s right,” Luke interrupted, and both Han and Leia, and Lando, as well, stared at him in disbelief. “I wish they had come to me first,” Luke went on. “I wish they had better coordinated their intentions.”
“But you think that sending Jacen down into the planet is the right choice,” Leia finished for him.
“As good a choice as any,” Luke replied without hesitation. He grabbed Han by the arm, as the man started away—and from the look on Han’s face, it was obvious that he was heading straight off for the Millennium Falcon.
“You’re raising Jedi Knights,” Luke said to him in all seriousness. “Warriors, explorers. They can’t turn away from the duty that is before them just for our peace of mind.”
“They’re just kids,” Han argued.
“And so were we when the Empire unveiled the Death Star,” Luke reminded.
“Speak for yourself,” Han growled. He narrowed his eyes as he stared hard at his friend. “I just went halfway across the galaxy pulling one of them back, and now I’ve got the other two running off in another direction,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Luke looked to Leia and managed, with his expression, to coax a smile onto her face. “Get used to it,” he said to Han. “And enjoy it while you can. You won’t be able to keep up with them much longer.”
Han pulled roughly away and muttered a stream of curses, and only then did Luke begin to understand the depth of his anger and frustration. He had just lost Chewbacca, and he wasn’t about to lose anyone else!
“It is settled then,” came the voice of Commander Rojo behind them. “It has begun.”
“Just because they went out doesn’t mean that we have to send the whole fleet in pursuit,” Leia replied. “Han, Luke, and I can go after them in the Falcon.”
“Their leaving actually hurts your intentions, Commander,” Luke added. “If our enemies detect the carry ship, they’ll be waiting for the larger fleet behind them.”
“A band of smugglers,” Commander Rojo said derisively. “Or some puny liberation group. They’ve found a new technology, and they believe that with it, they can challenge the New Republic. But they have nothing that will stand before Rejuvenator. I go.”
And he did just that, dipping a curt bow and abruptly breaking the comm link.
Han and Luke looked at each other for a long moment. “Why’d you have to make them Jedi?” Han asked, and it was obvious from his tone, from the fact that he finished with that typical Han Solo snicker, that Luke’s argument had gotten through to him.
“You coming with us?” Han asked Lando.
“I thought I’d stay here and make sure the planetary defenses are in place,” a flustered Lando replied as soon as the surprise of the question wore off a bit.
“Glad to have you,” Han said, ignoring the answer and turning to Leia. “Go get Anakin. He’s handling the gun pod.”
“You, Leia, Anakin, and Kyp,” Lando reasoned. “Four’s plenty for the Falcon.”
“Me, Anakin, Leia, and you,” Han corrected. “Kyp’s going to lead a starfighter squadron off Rejuvenator. Already arranged it with Rojo.”
“My fighting days—” Lando started to insist.
Lando threw up his hands in defeat, and the group moved away, Luke to go and rouse Mara, for he thought this too important a moment to keep her out of it, despite her exhaustion, and the others to find Anakin and to ready the Millennium Falcon. A short time later, the Falcon and the Jade Sabre blasted away from Dubrillion, along with every worthy warship Lando could muster. Off planet, they rendezvoused with Rojo’s contingent, and after one last attempt by Leia to talk the proud commander out of going at that time, they all blasted away, full speed for the Helska system.
Jaina brought them in perfectly, the sun between them and the fourth planet, just as Luke and Mara had done on their trip in.
“Uncle Luke fed all the coordinates into the Merry Miner’s navigation computer,” Jaina called down to Jacen, who was lying flat out on his stomach in the narrow iceborer attached to the carry ship. “Might get warm down there—we’re in for a close pass.”
“I’m going to sunburn every inch of my body,” Jacen remarked, a not-so-subtle reminder that he had climbed into the iceborer practically naked, wearing just a loose-fitting skirt, purloined from the dead pilot of the captured coralskipper. Even worse for him, because the entry hatch was so tiny, Jaina had to kneel behind him and very indelicately push him in, and all the while with him conscious of the fact that he was wearing only a skirt. A skirt! It’d be a long time before Jaina let him live that indignity down.
“I can come around and let you fly free before we ever get out of the Helskan sun’s sensor shield,” Jaina offered.
“That’s a long way for this thing to run,” Jacen observed.
“You’ll be running on my power, not yours.”
“Sure, but without any guns,” Jacen came back, and his tone was sarcastic, even lighthearted, as if he was just blowing off a bit of his nervousness.
“Just let them get close to you and blast that heat charge into them,” Jaina returned with a laugh. Her tone grew serious immediately as she continued, “You ready?”
“Don’t miss,” came the reply.
Jaina banked the carry ship around the sun, flying completely by instruments—which she never liked to do—for she was trusting the guidance of the coordinates Luke had put into the nav computer. She saw the screen before her focus in on a point of light, the fourth planet, and watched it grow and grow as the magnification increased. “I got it, Jacen,” she informed her brother. “Everything’s lining up. If you fire any correcting jets, they might see them, so sit tight and trust my aim.”
“Let her go,” Jacen replied.
“And don’t stay down there more than a few minutes,” Jaina added. “I’m sitting pretty helpless up here.”
“If they find you, turn it back to Dubrillion,” Jacen said in all seriousness.
Those words—ridiculous words, by Jaina’s estimation, for she would never, ever leave her brother behind—echoed ominously in her thoughts as she watched the coordinates align perfectly and gently squeezed the trigger.
The stylus ship, Jacen belly down and head forward, rocketed away.
It was a smooth and quiet ride for Jacen, absent the hum of any drives. A good portion of the iceborer was translucent, giving him the feeling that he was almost free-flying in empty space, a sense of serenity he had not expected in the face of the looming danger. He had to shake it away quickly. Jaina’s orders that he not stay down there more than a few minutes were more than just words, he knew; were necessity if he and his sister were to have any chance of slipping away.
Now came the task that Jacen had feared since they had left Dubrillion. He brought his bare toe down and prodded the alien suit—the ooglith cloaker—according to C-3PO’s best translation—then held his breath as the obedient creature began its joining on his feet, then rolled up his legs, just as Anakin, after watching Luke’s trial with the thing, had described.
Jacen squirmed and tried in vain to fall into some meditation, to leave the tingling stings of the inserting appendages far away. But it was too personal, and he felt them, every one, and so very keenly. At last, it was complete, and as horrible as that experience had been, Jacen knew the next would be even worse. Slowly, his hand faltering several times, he brought the star-shaped mask, the gnullith, up to his face and fought aside his gagging as the tube snaked down his throat.
By the time he had finished, he looked ahead to see the fourth planet looming large before him. He knew that his uncle Luke had set the coordinates to bring the iceborer down right near the mound he had perceived as the home base, and knew that was where he should go.
But then Jacen heard a call in his mind, a cry of distress, a cry for help, that he could not ignore.
He focused his thoughts on that cry, closed his eyes, and let the Force be his guide. Hardly thinking of the action, he gently touched the guidance jets, igniting a short burn that turned his nose to the side—and, he feared, likely alerted his enemies to his presence.
Down, down, he went, and he noted sparks of light—coralskippers—rising over the horizon on the far side of the planet. “Come on, come on,” Jacen muttered, urging the ship on but not daring to fire another jet.
Down, down, until all his screen filled with the grayish white pall of the frozen planet. He glanced to the side, to see the horde of coralskippers closing, looked back as he descended across the last few hundred meters.
He almost forgot to fire the charge. But he did squeeze the trigger, and the shaped bomb leapt ahead of him, burrowing into the ice and then exploding with a tremendous flash, the shock of it jolting Jacen and the iceborer violently. He couldn’t see a thing beyond the ice and vapor, couldn’t tell if the charge had cut through to the water below.
But he couldn’t stop and wait, either, and down he plunged, bouncing through the remains of the crust, careening left and right and nearly getting knocked unconscious.
And then … it was quiet. So serene, as the iceborer dived into the calm and cold waters below the crust. Behind him, the hole fast froze, and he could only hope that the pilots of the approaching coralskippers believed him dead in a fiery crash or that his vessel approaching their planet was not a ship at all, but a missile launched at the planetary base.
Either way, it didn’t matter to Jacen. All that he knew as his senses returned was the solitude and the welcome gloom.
And that call—and it wasn’t far away.
“Uh-oh,” Jaina whispered. Her instruments had picked up Jacen’s unexpected rocket firing and the subsequent approach by enemy coralskippers. She had seen the explosion on the surface of the fourth planet and could only hope it was the proper and planned explosion, that Jacen had blasted through the ice crust. She had to put those hopes aside, though, for now she had her own problems. Those coralskippers had turned her way, speeding off planet. They couldn’t see her, she knew, visually or with instruments, not with the Helskan sun right behind her.
They were backtracking Jacen’s path, a trail that would lead to her, and the protection of that shielding sun wouldn’t hold for long.
The Merry Miner carried no weapons and, even with the improvements Lando’s crew had made to her, wasn’t particularly fast.
Jaina turned back, closing her forward viewscreen as the glare of the Helskan sun exploded into view. She had to be perfect now, had to run so close to the sun that the coralskippers wouldn’t see her, and couldn’t follow her if they did. This was her one advantage: the Merry Miner was solid, built to explode whatever worlds might provide valuable ore. She could get in close, very close, to a sun—certainly much closer than a typical starfighter.
Jaina kept her attention glued to her navigational readings, bringing the ship in, in. She tried to ignore the other instruments screaming at her about the rising hull temperature, tried to ignore her own sensibilities that it was indeed becoming rather warm, even inside the ship.
Her ion drives groaned in their fight against the sudden increase of gravity; even with the bulkhead closed over her views
creen, Jaina could see the brilliant glow shining through the supposedly tight seams.
She turned aside, leveling off into a tight orbit and using the gravity as a whip, as Luke and Mara had done, fast moving around the back side of the sun. She fought through every second, manipulating instruments to compensate against the pull, tugging hard to keep the Merry Miner from plunging into the Helskan sun.
Ion drives groaned, instruments screamed in protest, and Jaina, feeling the g’s and the violent vibrations, groaned, too, and gave a yell, executing a vicious turn as she whipped around the back side. Then she had to hold on for all her life as the ship struggled through the tremendous gravity pull and tore free with a jolt that sent the young woman sprawling. She scrambled back to the console and retracted the bulkhead, beginning a quick assessment of the damage.
“Uh-oh,” she said again, for though the Merry Miner had performed admirably and had come through the ordeal fairly unscathed, the swift coralskippers had not broken pursuit, had flown at a faster and higher orbit about the sun.
They saw her now, she knew, and she was out of tricks.
Jacen truly appreciated the simple, yet brilliant, design of the iceborer. He brought the little ship up against the planetary crust and extended small grabber arms to secure her in place. Then he took a deep breath, hoping it wouldn’t be his last, hoping his uncle Luke’s information concerning this gnullith and the insulation of the ooglith cloaker he was wearing was accurate. He punched the three-key sequence for underwater ejection, then brought his hand back as a locking panel slid over the instrument board. Other panels fell into place, encasing the man in a watertight compartment, its forward wall the outer hatch, and then, through a series of locks protecting him from any pounding pressures, water was brought in to him, filling the compartment.
At first, Jacen held his breath as the water came over his face, but then, his hand securely on the abort button, he dared to take a breath.
It felt watery and bubbly and somewhat uncomfortable, but he was okay, drawing air through the symbiotic appendage of the star-shaped creature. And he was not cold, and he paused a moment to consider how magnificent this living bodysuit truly was.