by Troy Denning
“Neither were we,” Zekk said.
“But we do look forward to seeing you again sometime soon,” Jaina said.
“Under better circumstances,” Zekk added.
“Both of you?” Jagged’s gaze slipped back and forth between them. “Yes, I will look forward to that.” He glanced away, his scarred brow betraying his disappointment—or perhaps it was revulsion. “Now, if you will excuse me, duty calls.”
“Of course,” Jaina said. “We’ll be entering hyperspace soon ourselves. May the Force be with you.”
“And with you.” Jag shifted his gaze to Zekk. “Both of you.”
The holocomm blinked out, then Jaina and Zekk turned away, the same crestfallen expression on both their faces. A shudder ran down Han’s spine, but he did his best to hide it.
“Kind of sticks in the ol’ throat, doesn’t it?” he asked, flashing his best crooked, fatherly smile.
“Like we’re going to choke on it,” Jaina answered.
“But we’ll survive.” Zekk rubbed his forearm along Jaina’s, and she began to make low clicking sounds in her throat. “We have each other.”
Han had to look away.
Qoribu was a tiny, oblong circle of light now, glinting in the light of its blue sun, and the Taat’s song was growing more forlorn and haunting by the minute. It seemed to him that he could actually feel their sadness himself, and he wondered if this was what it was like to sense something in the Force: to know a thing more clearly in one’s heart than in one’s head.
Zekk and Lowbacca stepped through the hatch into the temporary nest and began to rub their arms along Taat antennae.
Jaina lingered behind. “We think it will be better to say goodbye now,” she explained. “It will only be harder if we wait until they make the new nest.”
“Go on,” Han said. “I don’t have to watch.”
Jaina smiled and kissed him on the cheek, then followed Zekk into the hold.
Dukat Gray irritated Han by coming to stand behind him and Leia. For a few moments, the Hapan seemed content to simply watch the two Jedi saying good-bye to their nest, but then he finally decided to ruin the moment completely.
“Aristocra Formbi may have been right about one thing, Princess.”
“I find that hard to believe, Dukat,” Leia said. “But perhaps I’m mistaken.”
“If you will forgive me for saying so, I think you are,” Gray said. “It is a pity you’re not serving in the Galactic Alliance government. A diplomat of the talent and skill you displayed here could be of great service to the new government.”
“Thank you, Dukat,” Leia said. “Coming from you, that’s a very informative suggestion.”
Gray beamed, and Han’s heart fell. The time had finally come for him to stop being selfish, to suggest that Leia return to her first love.
“Listen,” he said. “I know you’ve missed being in the middle of things. Maybe it’s—”
“Yes, it’s time for a change,” Leia said, cutting him off. “But not that way, Han. The last thing I want to do now is join a government—the Galactic Alliance’s or anyone else’s.”
Han began to grow confused. “No?”
“No,” Leia said. “I’m sick to death of compromising, of finding the workable solution instead of the right one.”
“Okay,” Han said cautiously. “What do you have in mind?”
“Following my heart—for a change,” Leia said. She turned to Luke. “I’ve seen many changes in my life—”
“And brought about most of them,” Luke said.
“Perhaps,” Leia said. “And I’ve worn some very high titles.”
“You deserved ‘em,” Han said, wondering where this was going.
“That wasn’t what I was getting at. After all that, after all that I’ve seen and done, it always comes down to this.” She pulled the lightsaber off her belt and hefted it in her palm. “To on Jedi, to one blade, standing against the darkness.” She turned to Han. “I think it’s time that I chose a new path.”
“New path?” Han asked, growing worried now. “What do you mean, new path?”
“I’ve loved being your copilot, really,” Leia said. “But the galaxy has changed, I need to change.”
“Define change,”Han said. “Because if this is about the snoring—”
“Don’t you dare stop that now—I wouldn’t be able to sleep!” Leia laughed, then turned to Luke. “I’m beginning to understand the Jedi’s place in the galaxy—and to see my place in the Jedi.”
Luke smiled. “You want to assume your place in the order.”
Leia shook her head. “No—I want to earn my place in the order.” She turned to Saba Sebatyne, who had been standing at the back of the group in typical reptilian silence. “I want to dedicate myself to becoming a proper Jedi.”
“You are a proper Jedi,” Saba said. “You have done more for the galaxy than any ten Jedi.”
“You’re not listening,” Leia said. “Diplomacy didn’t stop this war. Jedi did. I want to complete my training—and I want you to be my guide.”
Saba’s scaly brow rose almost as high as Han’s, and Luke’s, and Mara’s.
“You want this one to guide you?” Saba asked carefully.
Leia nodded. “If you would consider it.”
“This one?” Saba repeated.
“Yes,” Leia repeated. “I want someone who will challenge me in unexpected ways. I want someone who will teach me what I don’t know.”
Saba’s diamond-shaped pupils grew narrow as slits, and her forked tongue began to flick between her pebbly lips. She studied Leia for several moments more, then began to siss so hard that she had to grab her sides.
“That is a good one, Princesz. You really had this one—”
“I’m not joking,” Leia interrupted.
Saba’s hissing stopped. “Truly?”
Leia nodded. “Truly.”
“Well, then.” Saba glanced at Han. “It seemz this one has no choice.”
“Not really,” Han said. “And it’s a lot better than the alternative.”
“What alternative?” Saba asked.
Before Han could answer, the jump alarms chimed. A shudder ran through Kendall’s decks, then Qoribu’s distant pinpoint of light winked out of existence. The Taat’s mournful song came to an abrupt end, and the velvet light outside the observation bubble paled to the colorless blur of hyperspace.