by Troy Denning
“Alema, we’re kind of in a hurry here.” Leia wondered if the Twi’lek was intentionally dawdling, hoping the Falcon would sink in the soft ground—and then she put the idea out of her mind. This was going to be dangerous enough without Alema sensing her suspicion through the Force. “We can look at flowers later.”
“Sorry.” Alema glanced in her direction, but did not rise. “Are you sure there are no animals here? No insects or birds or flying mammals?”
“The scan didn’t reveal any,” Leia said. “And I’ve seen nothing to suggest it was wrong.”
“Interesting.” Alema plucked the flower off its stem and brought it over to Leia. “If there are no insects or animals, what pollinates the flowers?”
Leia studied the blossom. Its structure was much the same as flowers across the galaxy, with a stamen, anther, and pollen.
“Good question,” Leia said, surprised the Twi’lek had noticed. “I didn’t think Ryloth had any true flowers.”
“We have sex,” Alema replied. “And males who want sex bring—”
“I get the picture,” Leia said. “The answer is I don’t know. Wind seems pretty inefficient, and that’s about the only pollen-transfer agent I can see.”
Han’s voice came over their headsets. “If you two are done talking about the birds and the bees, I’d like to change out this coolant line—before the Falcon sinks to her belly.”
“It’s my fault.” Alema’s voice assumed the same purring quality she used with Juun. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“That remains to be seen,” Han said.
Leia winced at Han’s cool tone, but saw no sign that Alema had sensed truth beneath his words. The Twi’lek simply retrieved her own buckets and positioned them beneath the Falcon, then curled her lekku into her hood and pulled it on.
“Ready.”
Han grunted, and one corner of the hyperdrive hull panel sagged open. Toxic red coolant began to pour out. Leia quickly moved one of the buckets into position to catch the primary flow, then placed three others beneath adjacent drips.
It took only a minute to fill the first bucket. Alema passed an empty to Leia and moved the other one out of the way. They repeated the process four more times, carefully placing the filled buckets five meters away, where they were unlikely to be accidentally overturned.
Finally, the flow slowed to a drip, and Han said, “We’re done. Just catch those last drips, and we’ll be ready.”
“Affirmative.” Under her breath, Leia added, “For all the good it will do.”
“Relax,” Han said. “I can handle this repair. No problem.”
The final drops of coolant fell from the hull panel. When they moved the last buckets aside, Leia was surprised to find the first little bit that had fallen on the flattened grass was evaporating before her eyes.
“Look at that,” Leia said.
“It killed the grass,” Alema observed. “That’s to be expected.”
“It should have killed a lot more,” Leia replied. “And look at how fast it’s drying up. It’s not that hot—or dry—around here.”
Alema shrugged. “Maybe the grass is absorbent.” She glanced at the vast field surrounding the Falcon, then added, “I don’t think we need to worry about the environmental damage.”
They carefully wiped the access panel down with absorption pads, then Leia reactivated her throat mike.
“Okay, it’s clean. You can close up now.”
The panel hissed into place, then Han asked, “How much did you get?”
Leia eyed the buckets. “About a hundred and twenty liters.”
“That’s all?”
“Maybe one thirty,” she said. “No more.”
A disappointed sigh came over the headsets. “It’ll have to do—but don’t spill a drop. We need it all.”
“Copy.” Leia picked up a bucket, using both hands on the handle, and started for the Falcon’s ramp. “We’d better take it in one bucket at a—”
A liquid thunk sounded behind Leia, and she turned to find Alema holding a broken handle. At the Twi’lek’s feet lay three overturned buckets, an eighty-liter pool of hyperdrive coolant slowly spreading across the ground.
“Alema!” Leia was trying to feel genuinely surprised, rather than disappointed, to avoid giving Alema any hint that this was exactly what she had expected. “What happened?”
“The handle broke,” Alema said. “I’m—”
The Twi’lek’s eyes grew large behind her faceplate, and suddenly she sprang toward the Falcon’s prow in a diving roll. An instant later, Meewalh and Cakhmaim dropped out of the ship’s far-side air lock, their blaster rifles spraying stun bolts at the place Alema had just been standing.
Blasted Jedi danger sense.
Alema came up on her knees, her hazmat-gloved hands fumbling for her lightsaber.
“Did they get her?” Han asked over the headset.
Leia and Alema answered together. “No!”
The Noghri spun toward the Falcon’s prow and opened fire again, but Alema was already leaping behind a landing strut. Leia dropped her own bucket and started to circle behind the Twi’lek, fumbling at her lightsaber through the thick hazmat gloves.
“Wait!” Alema cried. “What’s this about?”
“Spilled coolant,” Han replied over the comm.
“It was an accident!”
“Sorry, kid,” Han said. “We were watching on the hull cam. You broke the handle.”
The four remaining buckets of coolant rose and went flying toward Meewalh and Cakhmaim. The Noghri dodged easily, but the maneuver gave Alema time to pull off her hood and gloves and snap her lightsaber off her belt.
Blasted telekinesis.
Leia pulled off her own gloves and hood, then grabbed her lightsaber and continued toward the prow. Though she felt certain that the Colony was behind Alema’s treachery, Leia could not help feeling hurt, angry, and confused. Somehow, the Twi’lek’s vulnerability felt like a betrayal in itself, and Leia could not help wondering whether Jaina had really been as surprised as she seemed when Alema announced her plans to return aboard the Falcon—or if her own daughter had known of the plan and kept silent about it.
Alema glanced in Leia’s direction, but then Cakhmaim and Meewalh were fanning out toward her flanks, firing as they ran. The Twi’lek spun from her hiding place, her silver blade deflecting the Noghri’s stun bolts back at them as she ran.
Han continued to chatter at Alema over the headsets. “What we can’t figure out is why. What’d we ever do to you?”
“We told you,” Alema insisted. “It was an accident!”
“You kicked over two buckets,” Han said.
“We had no . . . choice.” Alema launched herself through the air, flipping and corkscrewing closer to Cakhmaim, turning bolt after bolt in Meewalh’s direction. “You betrayed the Colony!”
“We betrayed them?” Han was incredulous. “Saba’s the one lying up there half dead.”
“You see?” Alema landed. “You blame the Colony! We can’t—” She directed one of Cakhmaim’s stun bolts into Meewalh’s chest.”—let you poison the Masters’ council against us!”
Meewalh dropped to her knees, but kept firing. Leia ducked under the Falcon’s prow, ignited her own lightsaber at midguard, and raced to attack.
Alema did not even show Leia the respect of turning around. She simply raised a leg and planted a hazmat boot squarely in Leia’s stomach and sent her flying back into a landing strut, then directed a second stun bolt into Meewalh and turned all her attention to Cakhmaim.
“How’s it going down there?” Han asked.
“Aaaag . . .” Leia answered, trying to suck some air back into her lungs. “Ooog . . .”
“That good?”
Seeing that his blaster rifle was doing him more harm than good, Cakhmaim tossed it aside and drew his favorite weapon, a thin durasteel club connected by a hilt cord to a short sickle. Alema continued her advance more slowly, her lightsaber weaving a silver
shield in front of her.
Leia really didn’t want to turn this into a killing fight, but neither did she want to die marooned on an empty planet. She pointed to the bucket she had left near the boarding ramp and used the Force to send it flying at Alema, then pointed at Cakhmaim’s discarded blaster rifle and sent that flying as well.
Alema pivoted away from the bucket and ducked the blaster rifle.
Then Cakhmaim was on her, club-and-sickle whirling, lashing sickle-low and club-high, then sickle-high and club-low, hands flashing as he switched from one weapon to the other. Alema fell back jumping, skipping, ducking, trying to land just one parry with her sizzling blade and send her attacker’s weapons spinning away. Cakhmaim’s reflexes were too quick for her. Every time she turned her wrists to intercept an attack, he reversed his whirling weapons and hit her where she was unprotected, clubbing her in the ribs, slashing her across the thigh, always forcing her to retreat.
Han continued to speak over the headsets. “Hang tight, Leia.” His voice was strained, which was not surprising, given the length and diameter of the twisting access tunnel that led to the hyper-drive coolant drain. “Be there . . . anytime now!”
Leia pushed off the strut and rushed Alema with a heavy heart. Though she still intended to capture the Twi’lek alive if possible, she knew a killing fight when she found herself in one. She reached striking range and, activating her blade, swung for the head.
Alema had no choice but to drop to her haunches. Cakhmaim was all over the Twi’lek, catching her weapons-hand with the sickle and whipping it around, slashing the tendons that controlled her fingers. The lightsaber deactivated and went tumbling away. Cakhmaim brought his club around for a temple strike, but at the last instant must have glimpsed the sorrow in Leia’s face and dropped it below the ear for a knockout blow.
Alema took full advantage of the switch, turning to take the strike on her lekku, then continuing around, bringing the palm of her good hand up under the Noghri’s chin, putting the power of the Force into the blow and driving him off his feet. Cakhmaim’s head hit the underside of the Falcon with a dull clang, then he dropped limply into the smashed marsh grass.
Leia slammed the butt of her lightsaber into Alema’s head, striking to subdue but striking hard. The Twi’lek staggered and looked as though she might pitch forward. Leia cocked her arm to strike again . . . and felt one of the Twi’lek’s legs catching her across the ankle, swinging through to sweep her off her feet.
Leia landed on the back of her head so hard that, even with the soft ground, her vision began to narrow. She braced a hand by her hip and instantly brought her feet under her, but Alema was already rolling to her feet, facing Leia, her good arm reaching out to call her lightsaber.
Leia reached out in the Force and tried to wrench the weapon away, but her head was spinning, and the lightsaber floated straight into Alema’s hand. With both Noghri lying limp and helpless in the grass, Leia was on her own. She didn’t like her odds. Her ankle was beginning to throb, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand on it.
“Han?”
“Almost . . . out.”
A frightening darkness came to Alema’s eyes, and she took one step toward Leia. “Put down your weapon, Princess. There’s no need for us to fight. Without coolant . . .” The Twi’lek stopped midsentence, apparently realizing how she had been tricked, then said, “You have extra coolant.”
Leia shrugged. The gesture felt like it would split her head. “We had to find out.”
“You can still lay down your weapon,” Alema said. “It would be better if you did.”
Leia eyed the unconscious Noghri. If they had failed to take Alema by surprise, it seemed unlikely that Leia could win a lightsaber duel—even if Alema would be fighting with her off hand.
“You’re right about one thing,” Leia said. “There’s no need for us to fight. I’ve been reaching out to Luke in the Force.”
Alema remained where she was, about five steps from Leia— safely out of attack range, but close enough to spring.
“And?”
“And the Masters already know that something happened to Saba,” Leia said. Her vision had returned to normal, but now her head was throbbing worse than her ankle. “They know the Skywalkers might have had a stowaway, too. My guess is they’ll assume the Colony is responsible.”
“You’re lying.”
“You’re a Jedi Knight,” Leia said. “You should know I’m not.”
Alema’s eyes narrowed, and Leia felt the Twi’lek probing her mind, searching for any hint of deceitfulness.
Leia made no attempt to resist. “The Colony’s best chance to win the Masters’ support—its only chance—is for you to go to Ossus now and explain what really happened.”
Alema’s lightsaber crackled to life.
“You won’t win any friends for the Colony that way,” Leia pointed out.
Alema shrugged.
“It doesn’t matter to you?” Leia began to drag the Force into herself, preparing to pull herself to her feet the instant the Twi’lek even looked like she was going to advance. “I thought you sabotaged us because . . .”
Leia let the sentence trail off, suddenly realizing how badly she had misunderstood the situation. Alema did not know why she had sabotaged the Falcon. She thought she was protecting the Colony when she was actually damaging any chance it had of winning the Masters’ sympathies . . . and why?
“Luke and Mara! Or . . . Ben?”Leia’s heart felt like it would burst with rage. “You ungrateful—”
Alema sprang.
Leia activated her lightsaber and blocked the Twi’lek’s first attack, then stretched out with the Force and used it to pull herself to her feet a dozen paces away. Alema started after her, coming fast but under control, and that was when a muffled thud reverberated from inside the Falcon—Han finally dropping out of the hyperdrive access tunnel into the aft service corridor.
Alema glanced up, and Leia had an idea.
“Han, I think she’s figured us out!” Leia screamed into her headset. “She’s looking toward the drive exhaust.”
“The drive exhaust?” Han managed to make his confusion sound like alarm. “Well, stop her! If she cuts one of those—”
“Han!”
“Yeah?”
“Enough!” Leia said. Han certainly knew his own ship well enough to realize that the aft escape pod discharged a couple of meters forward of the drive exhaust, and she would just have to trust him to figure out the significance of that. “She has a headset, too. Remember?”
“All right . . . just stop her!”
Leia raised her lightsaber and charged. Alema looked first puzzled, then worried; then finally she pivoted away and blocked as Leia swung at her head.
Leia kicked wildly at the Twi’lek’s leading foot, forcing her to step back, then swung again at the head. Alema blocked and stepped into the attack, trying to work her way past Leia to strike at the drive exhaust.
Leia attacked hard, smashing her knee into Alema’s ribs, forcing herself not look toward the escape pod hatch, to not even think about it . . .
Alema surprised Leia with a spinning hook kick that caught her across the shins and sent her sprawling onto her face just centimeters from a pool of spilled coolant.
Han’s panicked voice came over the headset. “Leia! Stop her!”
Leia looked up to find Alema racing past, only three steps shy of the pod hatch but a full meter off to one side. She locked her blade into the activated position, then rose to her knees and threw her lightsaber at the Twi’lek’s shoulder.
Whether Alema sensed or heard the blade coming did not matter. She dodged away—and that was when the escape pod’s outer hatch blew, catching the Twi’lek along her whole left side, buckling her knees and leaving her lying motionless in the grass.
By the time Leia scrambled to her feet and raced over to make sure Alema would not be getting up again, C-3PO was already riding the rear cargo elevator down with a hypo full
of tranquilizer in his hand.
“Well done, Mistress Leia!” C-3PO said. “Captain Solo said all along that experience—”
“Give me that!” Leia snatched the hypo from the droid’s hands and knelt down to inject the Twi’lek . . . then nearly fainted as a terrible pain shot up her leg. “Blast! If I’m going to make a habit of this, I really have to practice more.”
TWENTY-SIX
AT THE NEAR END OF THE academy training grounds, the youngest students were practicing Force leaps, stepping to the mark with knitted brows, then launching themselves one after the other over a three-meter cross ray. Most cleared the red beam with a simple arcing dive, then dropped into the landing area headfirst, relying on the safety repulsors to break their falls. But a few— especially from the more agile species—executed graceful somersaults and came down on their own feet. Some of the children in line noticed Luke and Mara emerging from the access tunnel and began to point and whisper, so Luke made a show of nodding approval as the next few jumpers cleared the beam.
“These are the Woodoos,” Luke explained to their guest, Aristocra Chaf’orm’bintrani of the Chiss Ascendancy. “They’re our youngest students.”
“Your youngest?” A few centimeters shorter than Luke, the Aristocra was relatively small for a Chiss, with a blue angular face just beginning to sag with age. “How young are they?”
“The Woodoos are generally between five and seven years old, Formbi,” Mara said, calling the Aristocra by his core name. “Though that varies by species—some mature at markedly different rates.”
“Yes—well, we wouldn’t have that problem in the Ascendancy.” Formbi folded his hands behind his back and peered across the running track at the children. “Which one is your son?”
Luke felt the pang in his wife’s chest as clearly as the one in his own, but when Mara answered, her voice betrayed no hint of her emotions. “Our son doesn’t attend the Jedi academy.”
“How strange.” Formbi continued to watch the Woodoos. “My file lists his age as seven.”
“Ben is withdrawing from the Force right now.” As much as it pained him, Luke had no intention of hiding the fact. That would have implied he was ashamed, and he was not. “We don’t know why.”