by Troy Denning
“How soon can you be ready?”
Jaina’s jaw fell. “Ready?”
“Yeah, to leave,” Han said, coming in on cue. “You can’t have much stuff to pack.”
Jaina continued to look shocked for a moment, then a shadow of her father’s crooked grin came to her lips. “Nice try, guys.”
“Try?” Han managed to sound outraged. “We had a deal!”
“You can’t hold us to that!” Zekk cried.
Jaina raised a silencing hand to him. “Let me handle this, Zekk. I’ve had practice.”
“Jaina,” Leia said sternly, “we did go after Lowie.”
“Don’t try the Desilijic shift on me,” Jaina said. “The terms were that we had to bring him back.”
“Yeah, well, you should have told us your ex-boyfriend was sitting on him,” Han countered. “You held back.”
“Didn’t know,” Jaina said, “and it wouldn’t matter if I did. Lowbacca’s still out there. We’re not going back without him.”
As Jaina folded her arms, the gesture was simultaneously mimicked by the swarm of Killiks that had gathered around them. But Leia was not ready to give up.
“Jaina, you know you’re only making the situation worse,” she said. “The Chiss are escalating things because of your presence.”
“That’s right,” Han said. “And you proved on the rescue mission that your judgment isn’t exactly sound.”
Jaina did a good job of maintaining a neutral expression, but Leia was too adept at reading faces to miss the glimmer of hurt that flashed through their daughter’s eyes.
“Jaina, if you really want to help Lowbacca, you’ll come back with us.” Leia switched her gaze to all three Jedi. “You know the Chiss are an honorable people. Stop making the situation worse and give us a chance to work this out diplomatically.”
Jaina and Zekk actually dropped their gazes, but Alema was ready with a response. “And while you’re still trying to make contact, they’ll send in a fleet of defoliators to finish what they began.”
Jaina nodded. “Diplomacy is good,” she said. “But it’s better when there’s something to back it up. Go ahead and make contact with the Chiss, but we’re staying.”
“That’s one option,” Leia allowed. “But I’m concerned that you really don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Jaina’s scowl of confusion was mirrored by the other two Jedi.
“We’re not talking about the Chiss,” Han explained. “You three are in way over your heads here—unless you think Saba really did imagine those assassin bugs?”
Alema’s eyes flashed at the word bugs, but she was the first to shake her head. “They were real.”
“But they weren’t Taat,” Zekk added.
“That’s one of the things we’ll be working on,” Jaina said.
“Until when?” Once again, Leia was unnerved by how easily the trio were finishing each other’s sentences. “Until you become Joiners?”
Jaina and the others shared a glance, then Zekk said, “That depends.”
“On what?” Han asked.
“On how quickly you convince the Chiss to stop,” Alema finished.
“Maybe you’d better hurry back to the Falcon,”Jaina finished. “Especially if Saba is right about where that third assassin went.”
Leia’s stomach grew hollow and worried. Jaina was right about that much, at least. They did not have a lot of time to waste trying to talk the three Jedi into coming home.
And Han knew it, too. He stepped close to Jaina. “Jaina, listen to me—”
“I don’t have to listen, Dad,” Jaina said. “I can feel what you’re thinking.”
“We all can,” Zekk added. “No daughter of mine—”
“—is going to become a bughugger,” Alema finished.
“Hey, no fair!” Han objected. “Just because I don’t like bugs doesn’t mean I’m wrong. There’s something sneaky going on here—and Raynar’s in it up to his neck.”
“You don’t know that,” Jaina said.
“This is the third time we’ve been attacked,” Leia reminded her. “And Raynar did tell us he was afraid we’d try to take you away.”
“Then he can stop worrying, because we’re not going anywhere until the Chiss leave,” Jaina said. “So hurry up and make that happen.”
She opened her arms to embrace Han, but he stepped back shaking his head. “No, Jaina, I’m not giving this my—”
“I wasn’t looking for your blessing, Dad.” Jaina’s voice had grown hard—not angry, just hard. “And I guess I’d be foolish to hope for anything else.”
“If you’re going to be ronto-brained about this, yeah,” Han said. “I’ll tell you what. You take Saba back in the Falcon, and your mother and I’ll stay here to handle the Chiss.”
“And recover Lowie,” Leia added.
“You’d let me fly the Falcon home?” Jaina asked, cocking her head in an all-too-Killik-like fashion. “Alone?”
“Well, with Alema and Zekk,” Han said. “Sure.”
Jaina scowled. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Dad? I know how you feel about insects.” She turned her back on Han and held her arms out to Leia. “Mother?”
“I wish you’d listen to your father.” Leia’s chest grew heavy, for she could see Han’s frustration with Jaina turning to anger. “You do know you might be the real prize in this conflict? Raynar isn’t the earnest young man who went to Myrkr with you. He’s desperate and lonely. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had instigated the whole border conflict just to draw you—”
“Mom, sometimes you think too much.” Jaina lowered her arms, then turned and started away. “You’d better get the Falcon off this moon. I’ll try to warn Aunt Mara through the Force.”
“Jaina!” Han barked.
Jaina ignored him.
Zekk said, “Do what you can with the Chiss. We’ll keep things in check here.”
He turned and started after Jaina.
“This isn’t over, you know!” Han said to their backs. “We’re going to come back.”
Jaina waved over her shoulder, but Alema remained where she was, in front of the Solos.
“I’ll be going with you,” the Twi’lek said to Leia.
Jaina and Zekk both stopped and whirled around in surprise.
“You will?” Jaina asked.
“We didn’t expect this,” Zekk said.
“They’ll need a guide,” Alema explained. “They can’t go back the same way they came without stopping at Yoggoy, and that may not be a good idea—at least not until we know who’s behind these attacks.”
Jaina scowled at the unexpected change of plan, but nodded and turned to her father. “Do you have room on the Falcon?”
“Sure,” Han said. “Why don’t you all come?”
TWENTY
EVEN CURLED INTO THE PRIMAL egg position on the Falcon’s medbay bunk, staring dead ahead with glazed eyes, Saba looked more annoyed by her wounds than pained by them. Her pebbly lips were drawn back in a frozen sneer, with the tips of her forked tongue showing between her fangs, and the claws on her hands were fully extended. She held her bandaged tail wrapped tightly around her hindquarters, and if she was breathing at all, Leia saw no sign of it in her constricted nostrils and motionless chest.
“She looks like she’s dying,” Alema whispered over Leia’s shoulder. “Is she dying?”
“I don’t know.” Leia checked the monitors and found a single spike on the cardio-line. There was a barely discernible upward slope on the respiratory chart. “I think it’s just a healing trance.”
“Well, she looks like she’s dying,” Alema said.
Saba’s tongue shot out and snapped the air, drawing a surprised gasp from both Leia and Alema, then returned to its place between her teeth. The Barabel’s eyes remained fixed and glazed.
“Healing trance,” Leia concluded.
“Do you think she’ll survive?”
Leia studied the silken bandage that covered half of
Saba’s skull. “With that head wound, anyone else would be dead already,” she said. “But Saba’s a Barabel. Who knows?”
Alema’s only answer was a long, concerned silence.
After a time, Leia lowered the lights and told the medcomputer to alert her if anything changed in Saba’s status.
As Leia drew the privacy curtain across the medbay, she asked, “How about a nice mug of hot chocolate? We have some of Luke’s special supply on board.”
“Really? Hot chocolate!” Alema gasped. Always scarce, hot chocolate had become a true Hutt’s pleasure after the Yuuzhan Vong reshaped seven of the eight planets capable of growing the rare pods necessary to produce it. “What about your duties in the cockpit?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Leia took the Twi’lek’s arm and led her forward. The Falcon had just left Qoribu and was preparing to make its first jump to hyperspace, but Leia needed to find out what was really happening on Jwlio—and the sooner, the better. “Juun is filling in for me. Han’s growing fond of the little guy.”
Alema curled her lekku. “That’s not the impression I get from Han.”
Leia gave a knowing smile. “That’s because Han doesn’t realize it yet.” They entered the main cabin. “Anyway, we have time. Have a seat.”
Leia took several white, thumb-sized seeds from a storage box and placed them in the galley multiprocessor. She set the controls to dry and powder, then turned, placed a fist on her hip, and began to study Alema with the same slightly interested, slightly preoccupied expression that she had been using to soften up her subjects since her days as a junior Senator in the Old Republic.
Leia should have known it wouldn’t work on Alema Rar. Lithe, beautiful, and averse to modest clothing, the Twi’lek was used to being stared at. She simply stared back, making Leia feel as though she were the one dressed only in a sideless chemise.
The multiprocessor chimed, allowing Leia to turn away gracefully. She added a lot of sweetener and a small amount of water, then set the controls to agitate and heat.
“You have a complicated way of making hot-chocolate,” Alema noted. “Usually, it just comes out of the dispenser nozzle.”
“This is better,” Leia said, turning back toward the Twi’lek. “Trust me.”
“Of course,” Alema said. “Is there a reason not to?”
Leia began to wonder who was being interrogated here. She waited until it was time to add the milk, then instructed the multiprocessor to heat slowly and joined Alema at the table.
“Okay.” Leia assumed her best motherly tone and leaned in close. “So what is it?”
Alema frowned, but did not pull back. “What is what?”
“The reason you’re here,” Leia said. “We both know that Juun could have gotten the Falcon past Yoggoy.”
Finally, a glimmer of doubt showed in Alema’s face. Leia was tempted to probe her feelings through the Force, but suspected the Twi’lek would sense the intrusion and resent it.
Alema looked toward the multiprocessor. “Shouldn’t you check the hot chocolate?”
“The unit will chime.” Leia kept her gaze fixed on the Twi’lek’s face. “I saw how Jaina and Zekk reacted, Alema.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“You three could barely start a sentence without someone else finishing it,” Leia said.
“It’s the meld.” Alema’s answer came a little too quickly. “We really baked ourselves on the voxyn mission.”
“That so?” Leia was far too experienced to miss the Twi’lek’s attempt to change the subject, but she decided to play along— for now. “When did you start using the battle-meld with Killiks?”
Alema looked genuinely confused. “We haven’t. What makes you think that? They’re not even Force-sensitive.”
“I know.” Leia gave her a motherly smile. “But there is a mental connection, especially with you. I saw it at the dance.”
Alema cast a hopeful look toward the multiprocessor, then seemed to realize that the bell would only delay the inevitable.
“Maybe there is,” she said. “It’s nothing you’re aware of. You start feeling like you belong, then you sort of . . . suddenly you just seem to have a larger mind.”
Leia began to wonder if there were any deprogrammers in the Galactic Alliance capable of handling eight Jedi.
“It’s hard to describe.” Alema must have sensed Leia’s thoughts in the Force, because her tone was defensive. “You’re aware of so much more. You see outside the nest when you’re inside, or inside when you’re outside. And what you feel—you feel everything.”
“I’ve heard glitterstim is a lot like that,” Leia commented dryly.
“This is even better,” Alema said. “You don’t get sick. It’s completely harmless.”
Leia was beginning to see why the Twi’lek’s infatuation with Anakin had always made Han so nervous. Though the multiprocessor hadn’t chimed yet, she returned to the galley and took two empty mugs from the cabinet, then placed a sliver of tang-bark and a drop of orchid-bean extract in each.
“What’s that?” Alema asked, joining Leia at the galley.
“Spice,” Leia said.
Alema’s eyes lit.
“Not that kind,” Leia said. “Just flavoring.”
The multiprocessor chimed. She filled both mugs, topped them with dollops of mallow paste—made from real mallow root—and handed one to Alema.
“You’re wrong, you know,” Leia said. “It’s not harmless.”
Alema glanced at her mug and looked confused.
“The Colony,” Leia said. “Or have you forgotten the attack on the Shadow? And the tower collapse on Yoggoy?”
“You can’t believe the Colony was responsible. Taat may not have healed Saba, but they saved her life.”
“Taat’s healers had to save Saba’s life because someone else tried to take it.”
“Not Killiks. Saba said she was attacked by . . .” Alema frowned, then finished, “ . . . a man. You heard her.”
“She thought it was Welk,” Leia said, supplying the name Alema had not been able to recall. “Saba also said he was protecting a Killik nest. A nest with two dark blue Killiks.” Leia paused, then demanded, “Who were they?”
“That part makes no sense,” Alema said. “There are no blue Killiks—at least none we’ve seen here.”
The denial would have been more convincing had Alema’s eyes not slid away. Leia took a sip from her mug, savoring its silky sweetness as she pondered what the Twi’lek might be trying to conceal.
“It makes sense to you,”Leia said finally. “But you don’t want to tell me.”
Alema took a sip of her drink, hiding from Leia behind the rim of her mug. “We’re all upset about what happened to Master Sebatyne. Why would anyone hide information about that?”
“Obviously, because you’re trying to protect the Killiks.” Leia returned to the table and sat down, regarding the Twi’lek from across the cabin. “What I can’t figure out is why you wanted to come with us. Are you afraid we’re going to discover the secret they’re trying to protect?”
“Very good.” Alema raised her mug to indicate she was talking about the hot chocolate. “It is better this way.”
Leia ignored the compliment. “Or maybe you’re afraid that what happened to Master Sebatyne is going to happen to us?”
Alema raised her mug again, but she swallowed too quickly to enjoy what she was drinking.
“So that’s it,” Leia said. She could not help feeling a little hurt that her own daughter had not worried about her safety— but that was probably because Jaina knew that Leia and Han could take care of themselves . . . or so she told herself. “You’re trying to protect us.”
“Not at all.” Alema came to join her at the table. “You don’t need protecting—at least not from Killiks.”
“The Chiss are afraid of something,”Leia pointed out.
“Yes.” Alema sat down next to Leia. “They’re afraid the Galactic Alliance will learn what
they’ve been doing in Qoribu.”
“They’re afraid of the Killiks,”Leia said. “And you’re hiding the reason. All of you are.”
“There’s nothing to hide,” Alema said. “Chiss xenophobia is well documented. And where insects are involved, it’s pure bigotry. Just because a life-form has six legs, they think they’re free to smash it.”
“Nice try,” Leia said. “But we’re not changing the subject.”
The jump alert knelled softly, and the silky beverage in their mugs shuddered slightly as the Falcon slipped into hyperspace. Leia decided the time had come to start pushing.
“Alema, what were those insects Welk was protecting?”
Alema made a point of meeting Leia’s gaze. “You know as much about that as anyone.”
“Fair enough,” Leia said. “I do have a theory. Those insects were exactly what Saba thought they were: Colony assassins.”
Alema shook her head. “Why would the Colony need assassins?”
“Because Unu wants its own Jedi,” Leia said. “And that means stopping us.”
“No,” Alema insisted. “The Colony would never murder anyone.”
“Sure it would,” Leia said. “That’s why Raynar was willing to let us leave after we discovered Yoggoy’s location. He didn’t think we’d live long enough to reveal it to anyone else.”
“He let you leave because he trusted you to keep the secret. Unu has nothing to do with the attacks on you and the Shadow. That was . . .”
Alema frowned again, as though she were trying to recall the name of Saba’s attacker.
“Welk,” Leia supplied. “I’m surprised you have so much trouble remembering the name of someone who betrayed you.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Alema said. “You’re flustering me with this nonsense about the Colony trying to kill you, that’s all.”
The excuse was just convenient enough to rouse Leia’s suspicion. “I’m sorry. Maybe you can remember the name of Welk’s Master? What was his name?”
“Her name,” Alema said. “Good try, though.”
“Do you recall her name?”
Alema thought for a moment, then asked, “What does this have to do with anything? They’re both dead.”