by Troy Denning
Tenel Ka pivoted around and knelt before Allana, folding her into her embrace. “Come here.”
Allana remained limp in her arms. “I felt them end,” she said. “I felt them—”
“I know, sweetheart.” Tenel Ka resisted the temptation to tell her daughter not to think about it, because she knew that was impossible. No one could feel the deaths of several hundred people and simply forget about it—especially not a nine-year-old girl. “The Sharmok’s ion drives must have taken a critical—”
“No way,” Han said from behind Tenel Ka. “That was no engine blast. Engine blasts don’t take out whole starfighter squadrons.”
“What?” Tenel Ka craned her neck, but did not rise to look. Allana needed to be held right now. “We lost Volgh Squadron? How much of it?”
“All of it,” Han reported. “The blast radius was three kilometers. They don’t make ion drives big enough to cause that kind of blast. Had to be baradium—a lot of it. That ship was rigged.”
Allana looked over Tenel Ka’s shoulder. “You mean the Sith did it?” she asked. “They blew everyone up because we wouldn’t let them aboard?”
Han’s face grew sad. “Yeah, sweetheart, that’s what I mean.” His gaze shifted from Allana to Tenel Ka. “That bomb was meant for the Queen Mother.”
Allana’s posture grew rigid. “They were trying to trick us?” She slipped free of Tenel Ka’s embrace and looked her in the eye. “Again?”
Tenel Ka nodded. “That’s what Sith do,” she said. “That’s why we need to be so careful around them.”
As Tenel Ka spoke, Leia approached from the corner of the salon. Her expression was calm, but the concern in her Force aura suggested that she had felt the deaths as clearly as the others. She took one look at the somber faces gathered around the console and dropped her gaze in sorrow.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“They captured Sharmok seven-eighteen.” Tionne’s voice was filled with grief. “It appears they were trying to use it to sneak a baradium device aboard the flagship … to eliminate Queen Mother Tenel Ka.”
Leia’s eyes flashed, and she could not help glancing in Allana’s direction. Like Tenel Ka, the Solos had been warned by the Skywalkers about what had happened at the Pool of Knowledge, when a Sith High Lord had seen an image of a Jedi queen sitting on the Throne of Balance. Obsessed with preventing the vision, the Sith believed Tenel Ka to be that queen, and their mistake had resulted in a series of misguided assassination attempts. It was a burden she gladly carried in order to protect her daughter.
After a moment, Leia said, “We should certainly count ourselves fortunate they didn’t succeed.” She stepped around the console and began to study the tactical display. “But I can’t help thinking of the passengers—of all those students and their families. Do we know for sure they were aboard?”
“Yeah, we do,” Han said. “Seven-eighteen was just ahead of us when we launched, and it wasn’t far behind when we landed. The Sith didn’t have time to off-load three hundred prisoners—even if they had wanted to.”
Kam nodded. “My guess is the whole blastboat attack was designed to cut a transport out of the convoy and conceal a bomb on it,” he said. “Still, there were over two dozen students aboard who were old enough to put up a fight. The Sith would have needed a sizable force to capture their target so quickly, and we don’t actually know who died on that Sharmok.”
“Right. The bomb might have been Plan B.” Han paused and glanced in Allana’s direction, then apparently decided there was no need to spell out the possible alternative—that the Sith’s Plan A had been to land an elite boarding company and capture the Dragon Queen II for their navy. He turned to Tenel Ka and said, “It wouldn’t hurt to have someone check along seven-eighteen’s trajectory to see what they find.”
“Are you trying to be clever again?” Allana asked, looking at Han. “Because I know what you’re saying—that they might have dumped the passengers out an air lock.”
“It’s certainly worth checking,” Tenel Ka said. She nodded to her cousin. “Trista will see to it.”
Trista acknowledged the order with a quick nod and began to speak into her throat-mike. When Tenel Ka turned back to her daughter, she found Allana looking more worried than ever.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Tenel Ka said. “That Sharmok was never going to come aboard. That’s why we have Royal Protocol.”
“I’m not worrying about us,” Allana said. “It’s the Barabels. The Sith just killed almost thirty Jedi and their families, and pretty soon they’re going to kill Tesar and his—”
Her eyes went wide, and she ended the sentence without finishing the thought. Instead, she turned toward Leia. “Does Master Sebatyne understand about my vision?”
Leia’s expression grew apologetic, and she shook her head. “I don’t think so. She seemed to be, well, hunting, and when I tried to make her think of Tesar, she just withdrew. I was trying to reach her again when …” She finished with a glance toward the console, then added, “I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“It doesn’t sound like it,” Allana agreed. Her face grew serious, then she said, “I guess I have to do this myself.”
Leia’s brow rose. “Do what yourself?”
“Go to Coruscant,” Allana said simply. She turned to Han. “How soon can you have the Falcon repaired?”
Han scowled. “Never, if you’re expecting to fly to Coruscant in it,” he said. “Haven’t you heard? The place is crawling with Sith.”
“We won’t be there long,” Allana said. “All I need to do is find Barv. He can warn Tesar.”
Han looked relieved. “Why didn’t you say so? I can find Barv. What’s the message?”
“That I need to speak to him,” Allana said. “Aboard the Falcon.”
Han shook his head. “No way,” he said. “You’re wasting your breath, kid. The message or nothing.”
Allana scowled at Han for a moment, then exhaled sharply and turned to Leia. “He doesn’t understand,” she said. “This is about the Force. I have to warn Tesar myself.”
“Isn’t Tesar hiding inside the Temple?” Leia asked.
Allana looked more worried than ever. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Leia said. “It’s rather obvious, now that I’ve had a chance to put everything together.”
Allana looked crestfallen. “You mean I let their secret out?”
“Not at all,” Tionne said. Her voice was warm and comforting, and Tenel Ka could tell she was using the Force to help calm Allana. “The Masters have suspected there’s a nest for quite some time.”
“And that has nothing to do with you,” Kam assured her. “Tesar and the other young Barabels disappeared months ago, and Master Sebatyne has been very touchy about the subject. We’d have to be fools not to figure it out.”
“But only you and Barv know where to find the nest, right?” Tenel Ka asked. “So you haven’t betrayed the Barabels’ trust at all.”
“She’s right, Allana,” Leia said. “And we’ll make sure Barv explains that when we sneak him into the Temple to warn the Barabels. No one will be angry with you, I promise.”
Allana frowned. “What if you can’t find Barv?”
“We’ll find him,” Han said. “We’re good at that sort of thing, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“What if Barv is dead?” Allana countered. “The place is crawling with Sith, and he’s fighting them—probably a lot of them, as big as he is.”
Han’s face went blank, and Leia looked at him with a she’s-got-you-there expression.
“You see?” Allana insisted. “Bringing me is the only way to be sure.”
Han’s expression only hardened. “Then we’re just gonna have to gamble,” he said. “Because you’re not coming. That’s final.”
Allana rolled her eyes, then turned to Tenel Ka. “Tell him,” she said. “It’s my Force vision, and that means I have to decide what to do about it.”
Allana gave Tenel Ka such a look of betrayal that it made her heart ache, and then the little girl turned to Leia with beseeching eyes.
Leia merely shrugged. “Han said final. You know what that means.”
“Yes, I do.” Allana fixed an exasperated glare on Han, then said, “It means he’s being a ronto-head.”
“Fine,” Han retorted. “I’m a ronto-head. And you’re still not coming.”
“Fine.” She spun away from him and started for the chairs in the corner. “But don’t blame me if Tesar bites your arm off. He doesn’t like ronto-heads, either.”
LUKE STOOD WATCHING THE OLD BOTHAN LIMP BACK AND FORTH across the grimy floor of the undercity industrial hangar. The Bothan was addressing three brigades of elite space marines, explaining why he had asked them to volunteer for a mission to overthrow the Galactic Alliance’s current Chief of State, Roki Kem. Whether human, Bothan, or another species, all of the soldiers had the steady gaze of veterans who had seen too much to doubt their commander’s incredible story of infiltration and deception. Their shoulder patches represented units from a hundred different vessels stationed near Coruscant, and their average age skewed ten standard years older than that of a typical combat unit. And they all had at least two things in common: they had all served aboard a ship personally commanded by Admiral Nek Bwua’tu, and when he had commed to ask them to help him save the Galactic Alliance, they had all answered with an unwavering yes.
“… the enemy has retreated into the Jedi Temple with seventy-five percent of its forces.” The admiral’s words seemed to reverberate from every corner of the hangar as a small mike in his tunic collar relayed his voice to a network of speakers spaced throughout the formation. “This withdrawal is certainly a trap, designed to lure our Jedi friends into an ambush against a superior Sith force …”
Luke turned to another Bothan standing at his side, Admiral Bwua’tu’s dapper uncle, Eramuth. “To tell the truth, Counselor, I’m not sure why you waited for the Jedi to return,” he said quietly. “Club Bwua’tu seems to have the war well in hand without us.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t figured that out by now, Master Skywalker,” Eramuth replied, maintaining a straight face. “We needed the cannon fodder.”
“Cannon fodder?” Luke echoed, almost taking the old Bothan seriously. “You couldn’t have hired Mandalorians?”
The Bothan shook his gray-furred head. “Of course,” he said. “But they didn’t manage very well the last time they tried to storm the Temple.”
“I see,” Luke said. “It’s nice to know you have more faith in the Jedi Order.”
“There’s that.” A crooked smile snaked along Eramuth’s muzzle, then he added, “And you do work for free.”
Luke cocked a brow, then chuckled and turned back toward the marine brigades. He knew as well as Eramuth did that the vast majority of today’s casualties would be space marines—and that the admiral had made the danger clear before asking anyone to volunteer. That so many had accepted his call to overthrow the Galactic Alliance Chief of State—a mission that was, at first glance, an act of treason—was a testament to the soldiers’ faith in the honor and ability of their beloved admiral.
“… are going to turn Roki Kem’s trap against her,” Bwua’tu was explaining. He stopped pacing and turned to face his space marines, and the corners of his long mouth rose into a cunning grin. “We’re going to launch simultaneous assaults against the Temple at thirty different points, with the objective of forcing Kem to redeploy the bulk of her forces to the Temple perimeter.”
Bwua’tu stopped and extended his new prosthetic arm toward Luke. “Grand Master Skywalker will brief you on the rest of the mission.”
Luke activated the mike on his own collar and stepped to the admiral’s side. “First, I want to thank you all for volunteering for this mission. As Admiral Bwua’tu has explained, it’s not just the Jedi Temple we are liberating. The Lost Tribe of the Sith has infiltrated every level of the Galactic Alliance government, and our victory today will prevent them from achieving their goal of dominion over the entire galaxy.”
A barely audible rustle rippled through the brigade as the space marines shifted their weight from one foot to another, and Luke realized these soldiers were no strangers to assignments in which the fate of the galaxy hung in the balance. He took a deep breath, and then continued.
“Your objective is to draw the Sith forces to the Temple’s outer shell. Once you have succeeded, I will be able to deactivate the Temple shields and open the blast doors from a central location. When that occurs, Admiral Bwua’tu expects the Sith to stand their ground and continue fighting. Assuming he’s correct, the Jedi will launch a series of attacks from the Temple interior, driving the enemy out onto the Temple exterior, where they will be exposed to fire from your assault carriers’ heavy weapons.”
Sensing a tide of uncertainty rising inside the minds of the veteran soldiers, Luke opened his palm and motioned for patience, acknowledging their questions before the first one could be asked.
“If they don’t do as the admiral anticipates—”
“They will,” Bwua’tu interrupted, drawing a chorus of good-natured chuckles. “Of that, you may be certain.”
Luke smiled, then shrugged. “Of course the admiral is right,” he said. “But if the Sith do fall back, make sure that your Jedi liaison makes contact with a Master before dismounting to press the attack. Whether we push the Sith out of the Temple or into it, our goal is to trap them between the fist and the wall.”
Luke illustrated the remark by bringing his fist down into his open palm. He sensed another question rising in a marine standing near him, a Duros female in the third rank. Before she could request permission to speak, he pointed to her.
“Yes, Sergeant?”
The Duros’ eyes widened slightly, then she smiled and asked, “How certain are you that you’ll be able to bring the shields down and open those blast doors?”
“Not as certain as I’d like to be,” Luke admitted. “But if the first attempt fails, we’ll keep trying.”
“Until?”
Luke grew somber. “Until we can’t anymore,” he said. “And if that happens, there’ll be a baradium strike.”
“After I call off the Temple assault, of course,” Bwua’tu clarified. “If I order a withdrawal, waste no time before obeying. We won’t be giving the enemy time to escape, so the missiles will be on the way as I speak.”
The hangar reverberated with the crump of thousands of boot heels cracking together, and Bwua’tu nodded in satisfaction.
“Good.” The admiral turned to Luke, then said, “I think we’re ready to assign the liaisons.”
Luke nodded and turned toward the hangar wall, where a line of fifteen Jedi stood at attention. He motioned to the first Jedi Knight in line, Admiral Bwua’tu’s young nephew Yantahar, then turned back to the space marines.
“Your commanders have already been briefed on this, but you should all know that a Jedi Knight will accompany each battalion into battle,” Luke said. “Their role is strictly advisory, but I urge you to pay attention to their advice. You’ll be fighting in a Force-heavy environment, and they will be able to sense many things you cannot—including the location of the Jedi Order’s own assault teams.”
Yantahar presented himself at Luke’s side, standing tall and straight in a Jedi robe over light battle armor, then executed a formal bow to the marines.
“Yantahar Bwua’tu,” Yantahar said, using the Force to project his voice across the hangar. “At your service.”
The admiral beamed at him for a moment, then called, “Brigade one, Battalion One!”
“Here, sir!” answered a dark-skinned human female in a colonel’s uniform.
Yantahar went to stand ne
xt to the woman. Luke called out the next Jedi Knight in line, another Bothan named Yaqeel Saav’etu, who presented herself in the same manner and was assigned to the next brigade. But when the time came to call out the third Jedi Knight in line, Bazel Warv, Luke skipped ahead to the next Jedi.
Immediately a wave of confusion and concern rippled through the Force, and Luke regretted that there had been no opportunity to speak with the big Ramoan before the briefing began. He caught Bazel’s eye and raised a finger, signaling him to remain patient, then introduced the rest of the Jedi liaisons.
When there was only one Jedi left, Luke turned to Admiral Bwua’tu. “I’m afraid your liaison hasn’t arrived yet.”
Bwua’tu frowned and glanced over at Bazel, who was watching the exchange with the lips of his huge muzzle curled into an expression that seemed caught halfway between eagerness and puzzlement.
“Is there some reason that Jedi Warv is unavailable?” Bwua’tu asked. “My nephew says that Jedi Saav’etu holds him in high regard. Apparently, he’s quite resourceful.”
“That he is,” Luke agreed. “But I’m afraid something has come up that will prevent him from taking part in the battle.”
Luke had barely uttered the words before a wave of disappointment rolled through the Force, and he knew without doubt that Bazel had been eavesdropping on the exchange—despite the fact that his big ears had been turned toward the sides of his enormous head.
“That’s too bad,” Bwua’tu said, offering his hand to Luke. “Perhaps I should allow you to go explain the situation. He seems quite disappointed, and we both have a lot to do.”
“Very true, Admiral.” Luke shook Bwua’tu’s hand. “I’ll send Jedi Dorvald to replace Jedi Warv soon. May the Force be with you until we meet again.”
“You’re the one who’s going to need it, my friend,” Bwua’tu replied. “All I have to do is sit in the command post and watch.”
“All the same,” Luke said. “You know how to contact Master Sebatyne, if the need arises?”