by Timothy Zahn
She frowned up at him, but there was nothing but seriousness in his face. “Oh, come on, Han. Just because you resigned your commission—”
“He considers me one step up from a complete traitor,” Han finished for her.
An obvious retort about persecution complexes flashed through Leia’s mind. “Ackbar’s never been what you’d call an outgoing person,” she said instead.
Han shook his head. “I’m not imagining it, Leia. Ask Lando sometime—he gets the same kind of treatment. You leave the military and you might as well be tauntaun spit as far as Ackbar is concerned.”
Leia sighed. “You have to understand the Mon Calamari ethos, Han. They were never a warlike species at all until the Empire started enslaving them and ravaging their world. Those wonderful Star Cruisers of theirs were originally passenger liners, you know, that we helped them convert into warships. Maybe it’s not so much anger at you for quitting as it is some sort of residual guilt at himself and his people for taking up warfare in the first place.”
“Even if they were forced into it?”
Leia shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t think anyone ever goes into a war without the nagging feeling that there might have been some other way. Even when every other way has already been tried and hasn’t worked. I know I felt it when I first joined the Rebellion—and believe me, people like Mon Mothma and Bail Organa had tried everything. For an inherently peaceful race like the Mon Calamari, the feeling must be even worse.”
“Well … maybe,” Han conceded grudgingly. “I just wish they’d work it through for themselves and leave the rest of us out of it.”
“They are,” Leia assured him. “We’ve just got to give them time.”
He looked down at her. “You haven’t told me yet why you and Chewie left Kashyyyk and came back here.”
Leia squeezed thumb and forefinger together. Eventually, she knew, she would have to tell Han about the deal she’d made with the Noghri commando Khabarakh. But walking down a public corridor of the Imperial Palace wasn’t the place for that kind of discussion. “There didn’t seem any point in staying,” she told him. “There was another attack—”
“There what?”
“Relax, we fought it off,” she soothed him. “And I’ve made arrangements that should keep me safe, at least for the next couple of weeks. I’ll tell you about it later, when we’re someplace more secure.”
She could feel his eyes boring into her; could sense the suspicion in his mind that there was something she wasn’t telling him. But he recognized as well as she did the danger of speaking secrets out in the open. “All right,” he muttered. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Leia shivered, focusing on the sense of the twins she carried within her. So potentially strong in the Force … and yet so utterly helpless. “So do I,” she whispered.
CHAPTER
4
JORUS C’BAOTH. HUMAN. BORN IN REITHCAS,
ON BORTRAS. ON 43112, PRE-EMPIRE DATE.
Luke made a face as he watched the words scroll up the Old Senate Library computer screen. What was it about new regimes, he wondered, that one of their first official acts always seemed to be the creation of a new dating system, which they then went and applied to all existing historical records? The Galactic Empire had done that, as had the Old Republic before it. He could only hope that the New Republic wouldn’t follow suit. History was hard enough to keep track of as it was.
ATTENDED MIRNIC UNIVERSITY 6495 TO 43290 PE. ATTENDED JEDI TRAINING CENTER ON KAMPARAS 21590 TO 83388 PE. PRIVATE JEDI TRAINING BEGUN 988 PE; INSTRUCTOR UNKNOWN. GRANTED TITLE OF JEDI KNIGHT 3686 PE. OFFICIALLY ASSUMED TITLE OF JEDI MASTER 4374 PE. SUMMARY ENDS. FURTHER DETAILS OF SCHOOLING AND TRAINING?
“No,” Luke said, frowning. C’baoth had assumed the title of Jedi Master? He’d always been under the impression that that title, like the rank of Jedi Knight itself, was something that was granted by the rest of the Jedi community and not simply self-proclaimed. “Give me the highlights of his record as a Jedi.”
MEMBER OF ANDO DEMILITARIZATION OBSERVATION GROUP 882 TO 781 PE. MEMBER OF SENATE INTERSPECIES ADVISORY COMMITTEE 981 TO 679 PE. PERSONAL JEDI ADVISER TO SENATOR PALPATINE 679 TO 577—
“Stop,” Luke ordered, a sudden shiver running up his back. Jedi adviser to Senator Palpatine? “Detail C’baoth’s service to Senator Palpatine.”
The computer seemed to consider the request, UNAVAILABLE, the answer came at last.
“Unavailable, or just classified?” Luke countered.
UNAVAILABLE, the computer repeated.
Luke grimaced. But there was little he could do about it for the moment. “Continue.”
MEMBER OF JEDI FORCE ASSEMBLED TO OPPOSE THE DARK JEDI INSURRECTION ON BPFASSH 777 TO 174 PE. ASSISTED IN RESOLVING ALDERAAN ASCENDANCY CONTENTION 1170 PE. ASSISTED JEDI MASTER TRA ‘S M’ INS IN MEDIATION OF DUINUOGWUIN-GOTAL CONFLICT 168 TO 466 PE. NAMED AMBASSADOR AT LARGE TO XAPPYH SECTOR 82162 PE BY SENATE. HIGHLY INSTRUMENTAL IN CONVINCING SENATE TO AUTHORIZE AND FUND OUTBOUND FLIGHT PROJECT. ONE OF SIX JEDI MASTERS ATTACHED TO PROJECT 7765 PE. NO RECORD EXISTS AFTER PROJECT DEPARTURE FROM YAGA MINOR, 4164. HIGHLIGHTS SUMMARY ENDS. FURTHER INFORMATION?
Luke leaned back in his chair, gazing at the display and chewing at the inside of his cheek. So not only had C’baoth once been an adviser to the man who would someday declare himself Emperor, but he’d also been part of the attack against those Dark Jedi from the Sluis sector that Leia had told him about. One of whom had survived long enough to face Master Yoda on Dagobah …
There was a soft footstep behind him. “Commander?”
“Hello, Winter,” Luke said without turning. “Looking for me?”
“Yes,” Winter said, coming up to stand beside him. “Princess Leia would like to see you whenever you’re finished here.” She nodded at the display, running a hand through her silky white hair as she did so. “More Jedi research?”
“Sort of,” Luke told her, sliding a data card into the terminal’s slot. “Computer: copy complete record of Jedi Master Jorus C’baoth.”
“Jorus C’baoth,” Winter repeated thoughtfully. “Wasn’t he involved in the big ascendancy flap on Alderaan?”
“That’s what the record says,” Luke nodded. “You know anything about that?”
“No more than any other Alderaanian,” Winter said. Even with her rigid control some of the pain leaked through to her voice, and Luke found himself wincing in sympathy with it. For Leia, he knew, the destruction of Alderaan and the loss of her family was a heartrending but slowly fading ache in the back corners of her mind. For Winter, with her perfect and indelible memory, the pain would probably go on forever. “The question was whether the line of ascent to Viceroy should go to Bail Organa’s father or one of the other family lines,” Winter continued. “After the third voting deadlock they appealed to the Senate to mediate the issue. C’baoth was one of the delegation they sent, which took less than a month to decide that the Organas had the proper claim.”
“Did you ever see any pictures of C’baoth?” Luke asked.
Winter considered. “There was a group holo in the archives that showed the entire mediation team,” she said after a moment. “C’baoth was—oh, about average height and build, I suppose. Fairly muscular, too, which I remember thinking seemed rather odd for a Jedi.” She looked at Luke, coloring slightly. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean that to sound derogatory.”
“No problem,” Luke assured her. It was a common misconception, he’d discovered: with mastery over the Force, people just assumed there was no reason for a Jedi to cultivate physical strength. It had taken Luke himself several years to truly appreciate the subtle ways in which control of the body was linked to control of the mind. “What else?”
“He had graying hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard,” Winter said. “He was wearing the same brown robe and white undertunic that a lot of Jedi seemed to favor. Other than that, there wasn’t anything particularly notable about him.
”
Luke rubbed his chin. “How old did he look?”
“Oh … I’d say somewhere around forty,” Winter said. “Plus or minus five years, perhaps. Age is always hard to ascertain from a picture.”
“That would fit with the record here,” Luke agreed, retrieving the data card from the slot. But if the record was right … “You said Leia wanted to see me?” he asked, standing up.
“If it’s convenient,” Winter nodded. “She’s in her office.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They left the library and started down the cross corridor linking the research areas with the Council and Assemblage chambers. “You know anything about the planet Bortras?” he asked Winter as they walked. “Specifically, anything about how long its people live?”
She thought a moment. “I’ve never read anything that mentioned it one way or another. Why?”
Luke hesitated; but however the Imperials were getting information out of the New Republic’s inner sanctum, Winter was certainly far above suspicion. “The problem is that if this alleged Jedi out on Jomark really is Jorus C’baoth, he has to be over a hundred by now. I know there are some species that live longer than that, but he’s supposed to be human.”
Winter shrugged. “There are always exceptions to a race’s normal life span,” she pointed out. “And a Jedi, in particular, might have techniques that would help extend that span.”
Luke thought about that. It was possible, he knew. Yoda had certainly had a long life—a good nine hundred years—and as a general rule, smaller species usually had shorter life spans than larger ones. But usually didn’t mean always; and after many hours of records searches, Luke still hadn’t figured out just what species Yoda had belonged to. Perhaps a better approach might be to try to find out how long the Emperor had lived.
“So you think Jorus C’baoth is alive?” Winter asked into his thoughts.
Luke glanced around. They’d reached the Grand Corridor now, which because of its location was usually fairly brimming with beings of all sorts. But today it was nearly empty, with only a few humans and others standing around in little conversation groups of their own, all of them too far away to eavesdrop. “I had a brief mental contact with another Jedi while I was on Nkllon,” he said, lowering his voice. “Afterward, Leia told me that there were rumors C’baoth had been seen on Jomark. I don’t know what other conclusion to come to.”
Winter was silent. “Any comments?” Luke prompted her.
She shrugged. “Anything having to do with Jedi and the Force are out of my personal experience, Commander,” she said. “I really can’t comment one way or another on that. But … I’d have to say that the impression I got of C’baoth from Alderaanian history makes me skeptical.”
“Why?”
“It’s just an impression, you understand,” Winter emphasized. “Nothing I would even have mentioned if you hadn’t asked. C’baoth struck me as the sort of person who loved being in the middle of things. The sort who, if he couldn’t lead, control, or help in a particular situation, would still be there just so he’d be visible.”
They were passing by one of the purple-and-green ch’hala trees lining the Grand Corridor now, close enough for Luke to see the subtle moirélike turmoil of color taking place beneath the thin transparent outer bark. “I suppose that fits with what I read,” he conceded, reaching out to slide a fingertip across the slender tree trunk as they walked. The subtle turmoil exploded at his touch into a flash of angry red across the quiet purple, the color shooting out around the trunk like ripples in a cylindrical pond, circling it again and again as it flowed up and down the trunk before finally fading to burgundy and then back to purple again. “I don’t know if you knew it, but he apparently promoted himself from Jedi Knight to Jedi Master. Seems like kind of a conceited thing to do.”
“Yes, it does,” Winter agreed. “Though at least by the time he came to Alderaan there didn’t seem to be any dispute about it. My point is that someone who likes the spotlight that much wouldn’t have stayed so completely out of the war against the Empire.”
“And a good point it is, too,” Luke admitted, half turning to watch the last bit of red fade away on the ch’hala tree he’d touched. The Nkllon contact with the mysterious Jedi had been like that: there for a short time, and then gone without a trace. Was C’baoth perhaps no longer fully in control of his powers? “New subject, then. What do you know about this Outbound Flight project the Old Republic put together?”
“Not much,” she said, frowning with concentration. “It was supposedly an attempt to search for life outside the galaxy proper, but the whole thing was so buried in secrecy they never released any details. I’m not even sure whether or not it was ever launched.”
“The records say it was,” Luke said, touching the next ch’hala tree in line as they passed by, eliciting another flash of red. “They also say that C’baoth was attached to the project. Does that mean he would have been aboard?”
“I don’t know,” Winter said. “There were rumors that several Jedi Masters would be going along, but again there was no official confirmation of that.” She looked sideways at him. “Are you thinking that might be why he wasn’t around during the Rebellion?”
“It’s possible,” Luke said. “Of course, that would just raise another whole set of questions. Like what happened to them and how he got back.”
Winter shrugged. “I suppose there’s one way to find out.”
“Yeah.” Luke touched the last tree in line. “Go to Jomark and ask him. I guess I’ll have to.”
Leia’s office was grouped with the other Inner Council suites just off the cross hallway that linked the Grand Corridor with the more intimate Inner Council meeting room. Luke and Winter entered the outer reception area, to find a familiar figure waiting there. “Hello, Threepio,” Luke said.
“Master Luke—how good to see you again,” the gold-skinned droid gushed. “I trust you’re well?”
“I’m fine,” Luke told him. “Artoo said to say hello when I saw you, by the way. They’ve got him over at the spaceport helping with some maintenance on my X-wing, but I’ll be bringing him back later this evening. You can see him then.”
“Thank you, sir.” Threepio tilted his head slightly, as if suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be acting as a receptionist here. “Princess Leia and the others are expecting you,” he said, touching the inner chamber release. “Please go on in.”
“Thank you,” Luke said, nodding gravely. No matter how ridiculous Threepio might look in any given situation, there was always a certain inherent dignity about him, a dignity that Luke usually tried to respond to in kind. “Let us know if anyone else comes.”
“Of course, sir,” Threepio said.
They went into the inner chamber to find Leia and Han holding a quiet conversation over a computer display on Leia’s desk. Chewbacca, sitting alone near the door with his bowcaster across his knees, growled a greeting as they entered.
“Ah—Luke,” Leia said, looking up. “Thanks for coming.” She shifted her attention to Winter. “That’ll be all for now, Winter.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Winter nodded. With her usual grace, she glided from the room.
Luke looked at Han. “I hear you dropped a double-size thermal detonator on the Council yesterday.”
Han grimaced. “I tried. Not that anyone really believed me.”
“One of those instances where politics drifts off into the realm of wishful thinking,” Leia said. “The last thing anyone wants to believe is that in our sweep we somehow missed one of the Emperor’s Grand Admirals.”
“Sounds more like willful denial than wishful thinking to me,” Luke said. “Or do they have another theory as to how we got edged so neatly into that Sluis Van trap?”
Leia grimaced. “Some of them say that’s where Ackbar’s collusion comes in.”
“Ah,” Luke murmured. So that was the thrust of Fey’lya’s scheme. “I hadn’t heard any of the details yet.
”
“So far, Fey’lya’s been playing the sabacc cards close to the fur,” Han growled. “He claims he’s trying to be fair; I think he’s just trying not to rock all the stabilizers at once.”
Luke frowned at him. There was something else in his friend’s face and sense … “And maybe something more?” he prompted.
Han and Leia exchanged glances. “Maybe,” Han said. “You notice how quickly after the Sluis Van attack Fey’lya dropped the hammer on Ackbar. Either he’s one of the great opportunists of all time—”
“Which we already know he is,” Leia put in.
“—or else,” Han continued grimly, “he knew in advance what was going to happen.”
Luke looked at Leia. At the strain in her face and sense … “You realize what you’re saying,” he said quietly. “You’re accusing a member of the Council of being an Imperial agent.”
Leia’s sense seemed to flinch. Han’s didn’t even flicker. “Yeah, I know,” Han said. “Isn’t that what he’s accusing Ackbar of?”
“The problem is timing, Han,” Leia said, her tone one of strained patience. “As I’ve already tried to explain. If we accuse Fey’lya of anything now, it’ll just look like we’re trying to take the pressure off Ackbar by turning Fey’lya’s charges back against him. Even if it were true—and I don’t think it is—it would still come across as a cheap and rather mindless trick.”
“Maybe that’s why he was so quick to finger Ackbar in the first place,” Han countered. “So that we couldn’t turn it back on him. That ever occur to you?”
“Yes, it has,” Leia said. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the situation. Until we’ve cleared Ackbar, we can’t go making accusations against Fey’lya.”
Han snorted. “Come on, Leia. Political waddlefooting is fine in its place, but we’re talking about the survival of the New Republic here.”
“Which could fall completely apart over this without anyone ever firing a shot,” Leia retorted hotly. “Face it, Han—this whole thing is still being held together with hope and crating tape. You get a few wild accusations flying around, and half the races in the old Rebel Alliance might decide to pull out and go their separate ways.”