Ben spun the wheel that opened the end door. He stood out on the exit ramp and looked down. Below was the exterior wall of the Temple, nearly featureless at this point, sloping slightly downward into the depths of Galactic City.
All he had to do was descend, find transportation to a minor spaceport four hundred kilometers away, present the false documentation that had waited with his new clothes in the locker, and board a run-down excursion transport bound for Almania.
Easy.
KUAT SYSTEM LOVE COMMANDER
“Establish communications,” Lando said.
“I really think,” Leia said, “you’re letting this whole ‘captain’ thing go to your head.”
Lando gave her a long, thoughtful look. “You’re right. Dearest Leia, friend of decades, noble Jedi Knight, please do one more favor for this old, old man before his vital spirit leaves his faltering body—”
She gave him a long-suffering look. “Forget I said anything. Ready to broadcast—”
“No, not that. I meant, come live with me. Tendra would understand, I’m sure of it.”
She sighed. “Yes, Han, you can shoot him.”
“Wouldn’t think of it,” her husband said. “If I shot him now, I’d never learn just how deep into trouble he could talk himself.”
“Ready to broadcast … now,” Leia said, and pressed a switch on the comm board.
“This is Bescat Offdurmin, master of the Looooove Commander,” Lando said. “Approaching the Errant Venture. Do you read, Venture? Over.”
“Errant Venture flight coordination here, Love Commander. We read you.” On Lando’s display, the distant view of the Errant Venture, the galaxy’s sole Star Destroyer to bear a lurid red paint job, faded and was replaced by the face of a young red Twi’lek woman. Narrow orange and yellow piping had been artfully applied to her lekku, and the top portion of her clothing, visible at the bottom of the screen, suggested she was wearing a black evening dress rather than a ship’s uniform.
“We have a reservation and landing authorization. Looooove Commander and the All-Clown Squadron of Fun.”
The woman glanced down, presumably at a data screen. “So you do. You’re cleared for landing …” Her voice trailed off and she looked again, obviously not prepared for what she’d seen. “In the Flag Hangar. I’m sending a guidance beacon on your frequency, now.”
“Thank you.”
The Twi’lek smiled and the screen went dark.
“What’s a flag hangar?” Lando asked.
“The Venture’s an old Imperial Star Destroyer,” Han said, shrugging. “Commissioned as the Virulence.”
“I know that,” Lando said. “Well, except I forgot its original name.”
“Whenever an ISD served as the flagship for a task force or fleet,” Han went on, “the commanding admiral would be aboard, with his own quarters and his own private hangar. Which was called the flag hangar.”
“Ah.” Lando nodded wisely. “So, Han, old buddy, how long has it been since your Academy education has come in useful?”
“Now,” Han said, “I’m going to shoot him.”
CORELLIAN EXCLUSION ZONE ANAKIN SOLO, COMMAND SALON
In the holocomm transmission Luke looked as serene as usual, but even so Jacen could sense that the Grand Master was impatient, distressed.
Mara, beside him, didn’t bother to hide it. Her expression was a mix of worry and anger.
Without preamble Luke said, “Jacen, where’s Ben?”
Jacen gave him a confused look. “I take it from the question that he’s not where he’s supposed to be.”
Luke nodded. “That’s correct. I notice you didn’t answer my question directly.”
Jacen felt a flash of anger—how dare Luke assume he was hiding something? The fact that he was did not enter into things. Luke needed to treat him with more respect. It was a lesson he had to make sure Luke learned. That would be soon, he hoped. “Do you see conversational ploys in every discussion, Luke?” The way he spoke the Grand Master’s familiar name was just short of insulting. “All right, then, let me be absolutely clear. I don’t know where Ben is.” That was the truth; Lumiya was monitoring Ben’s mission, not Jacen.
Even if Jacen had been lying, he was sure Luke would not have been able to detect it. Jacen had been proficient at concealing his true feelings and emotions for a long, long time. He’d grown even better at it under Lumiya’s tutelage.
Luke was silent for long moments. Finally he said, “I’m sorry. But we’re worried. He disappeared from the Temple and we can’t find any sign of where he’s gone.”
“Can you feel him in the Force?”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean he’s safe. Just that he’s alive. Somewhere. And not close.”
Jacen sighed. “He’s too old to be running away from home like this. My guess is he resents the fact that you took him away from me. And you know, that suggests you were right. If he’s going to be doing things like this, he may not be mature enough to be my apprentice—at least not yet.”
Luke and Mara exchanged a quick look. It seemed like a neutral exchange, but Jacen could read it as though it were a large-text news feed: they were thrown off by his admission that they might have been right all along. He exulted in his power to position their emotions.
Mara said, “Has he communicated in the last couple of days?”
Jacen shook his head. “I received a text message from him explaining some ways he planned to make Luke ‘move his feet’ in sparring. That was the last I heard from him. Of course,” he added, “if he’s run away from home and can find a way to get offplanet, he’ll probably come here. To me. If that happens, I assume you want me to send him straight back.”
“That’s correct,” Mara said. “And even if he doesn’t show up there, if you find out anything about where he might be—”
“I’ll transmit it to you instantly,” Jacen promised.
“Thanks, Jacen.” Luke waved to something outside the range of the holocam view, and he and Mara disappeared.
Jacen smiled. Causing people to think and feel what he wanted them to, even without resorting to the Force, was becoming easier and easier … even with difficult subjects like the almighty Luke Skywalker.
KUAT SYSTEM ERRANT VENTURE
Love Commander followed the Pulsar Skate into the Flag Hangar, with the two X-wings bringing up the rear. Waiting at the doors leading out of the hangar was Booster Terrik.
The old man certainly wasn’t diminished by age, Han decided. Burly and gray-bearded, he floated around on a hoverchair as massive as the front end of an airspeeder. But he stood up out of the chair as the Skate’s boarding ramp came down and Mirax dashed down it. He might be too old to walk long distances, but he was certainly not going to be caught sitting down for a reunion with his daughter.
Lando, Han, and Leia were toward the back of the greeting line. Wedge, Iella, and Myri also embraced the old man. Han and Leia shook his hand. Corran, Booster’s son-in-law, was last to approach and did the same, his rueful expression suggesting he still hadn’t quite forgiven himself for coming to like Booster.
Booster finally sat again and fixed a glare on Corran. “But you didn’t bring my grandchildren.”
Corran folded his arms. “They’re scattered to the four corners of the galaxy on Jedi business. Not my fault.”
“Humpf.” The old man fixed his stare on Mirax. “Your husband still can’t do simple math. You can’t scatter two children to four corners.”
Mirax’s grin grew broader. “Jedi think that everybody can be divided into fractions. Come on, Father. We really need to talk.”
They settled into a private conference room only a few paces from the Flag Hangar. The black gleaming sideboard had been set out with finger foods, alcoholic and nonalcoholic drinks, and sealed sabacc decks with holographic images of the Errant Venture on the backs of the cards. Most people present settled for the food and alcohol-free beverages, but Myri took a sabacc deck and practiced shuffling, stacking t
he deck, and palming cards. Leia watched the sophisticated card sharp’s techniques for a few moments before turning her attention to the others.
“So,” Booster said, and pointed at Han and Leia. “Everybody in the galaxy wants to arrest you two. Except the Hapans, some of whom want to investigate you and some of whom just want to kill you. Are you going to get the Venture blown up?”
“What’s the matter?” Han asked, his voice taunting. “No sympathy for someone everybody is chasing?”
Booster snorted. “Good answer.” Leia knew that he’d been a smuggler before she had been born, and had been sought for his crimes by both Corellian Security and the Empire. Corran’s father, CorSec agent Hal Horn, had arrested him, and the man had spent years on the mining prison of Kessel. These days he was reformed, legitimate … about as much as Han Solo. “All right,” Booster continued. “What is this all about?”
“I’m sure you know all the public facts about the Corellia-GA war,” Wedge said. “I’m equally sure you’re running odds.”
Booster nodded. “When your retirement ceremony was broadcast, odds went to thirty-seven to one for total conquest of Corellia, unless the Bothans come in, at which point it goes to fourteen to one for a negotiated conclusion, with the Bothans selling the Corellians out and getting the rancor’s share of the deal.”
Wedge’s face twitched. “Right. Anyway, the public records don’t talk about the fact that there are odd, unexplained variables at work here. The pressures that have brought this war into being are unambiguous, easy to identify. But there’s additional string-pulling going on that is harder to bring into focus.”
“Such as,” Lando said, “efforts by different groups that would take Han and Leia out of the equation. Take the assassinations of the Bothan politicians on Coruscant. If they were done by Corellians to bring the Bothans in, why haven’t those agents also targeted major figures like Cha Niathal to deprive the GA of some of its strategic strengths, or Jacen Solo as revenge for all the Corellian prisoner-taking? Things aren’t adding up.”
Wedge said, “My instincts tell me that if you bet on all the forces lining up to keep the Bothans out of the war failing, you’ll make a good return on your bet.”
“Hold on,” Booster said. He spoke to the right arm of his chair. “Log that tip.”
“Logged,” the chair said, its voice that of a female protocol droid.
“And then there’s the whole thing with ghosts appearing and persuading previously rational people to do very bad things,” Leia said. “That strongly suggests a Force-user. A dark sider, in all likelihood, if the goal is to help war happen.”
“If there is somebody pulling strings,” Han said, “that rodder is probably on Corellia or Coruscant. That’s where most of the puppets are dancing. And I’m talking about people like Cal Omas and Dur Gejjen being puppets.”
“We sort of stowed away on the Antilles-Horn rendezvous with you, Booster,” Leia said. “But on the flight out here”—she glanced at Han—“we came to the conclusion that the Errant Venture would be an incredible resource for gathering information. Park it in the Corellian system, where there are thousands of restless military personnel, provide gambling and entertainments … people get drunk, talk more freely …”
Han added, “And it’s not as though there’d be a big financial loss. Thousands of restless military personnel, like Leia says.”
Booster snorted. “You think I’m so old I don’t notice financial opportunities anymore? Princess, I applied for access to the Corellian exclusion zone the day it was established. The GA has been sitting on my application ever since.”
Leia resisted the urge to take offense. Somehow, when Booster used the word Princess, he made it a comment about a spoiled little girl rather than an acknowledgment of her former title. But she refused to rise to the bait. She simply nodded. “I’m glad you have no objection. So now all I have to do is get your application approved.”
Booster gave her a dubious look. “Because you and Captain Bloodstripes there are so well loved by the government now.”
Leia matched him stare for stare. “No. Because Jacen Solo swings a big lightsaber with the blockade forces. And if Luke Skywalker tells him that letting the Errant Venture set up there is a terrible, terrible idea, Jacen will probably accelerate its approval so fast you’d think he slapped a hyperspace engine on it.” It hurt to speak dismissively of her own son’s powers of critical thought, but it had for some time been obvious that Jacen was not entirely logical when it came to his relationship with Luke. Jacen resented his uncle and balked at Luke’s advice. Painful as it was, Leia now found it useful to exploit the fact.
“Huh.” Booster thought about it for a second, and then was distracted by more of Myri’s prestidigitation. “All right, girl, you can stop it. You’re hired.”
Myri froze in midshuffle and looked at him, wide-eyed. “Huh?”
“You were applying for a job. Right?”
She shook her head, bewildered. “I was practicing. Mom says it’s an area where I’m weak.”
Booster turned his glare on Iella. “Meaning you’re better at it than your daughter?”
Both women nodded.
“All right, then,” Booster said. “Iella, you’re hired, too.”
Iella smiled. “Only if we get the approval for Corellia. But if we do, Myri and I will work for free.”
“Hey,” Myri protested.
“Well, for tips.”
“Done,” Booster said. He turned back to Leia. “And done. Drop the word to your brother. And while we’re waiting for the approval you’re so confident about, slap some paint or fake fur on those too-famous faces of yours and enjoy yourselves aboard Errant Venture.” He smiled almost benignly. “Spend lavishly. Tip your hosts and hostesses.”
CORUSCANT ZORP HOUSE APARTMENT TOWER
“You’re sure,” Mara said.
The Neimoidian male gave her a half bow, appropriate to an acknowledgment on Coruscant but insultingly deficient on worlds where the precise angles of such gestures spoke volumes about one’s intent and attitude. “I am absolutely sure,” he said, his speech flavored with the musicality of his native tongue. “As ever, I cooperate fully with the Jedi order, with the Galactic Alliance Guard, with—”
“With anyone who pays,” Luke said. “And you have been well paid.”
“I have been well promised,” the Neimoidian answered. “Not so much paid yet.”
“Then show us,” Mara said.
The Neimoidian pressed a sequence of buttons on the control panel of the turbolift. Its status display switched from HOLD to 1; then the numbers began climbing as the turbolift did. Mara felt the car accelerate, but turbolifts in habitation buildings as lavish as this one had small inertial compensators to make rapid ascents and descents comfortable.
“When you contacted me,” the Neimoidian said, “you asked for comm records from the quarters of your suspect, and for other anomalies in the security recordings.”
Mara nodded. Weeks earlier, meticulous police work tracking from the site of the murder of Jedi Master Tresina Lobi had led to this building and the realization that the Sith lady Lumiya was one of the murderers. Even more unwelcome was the fact, gained from examination of the quarters, that Lumiya had strong ties to the Galactic Alliance Guard. That revelation had thrown more suspicion on Jacen, the Guard’s operational commander.
“The investigators and the GAG took everything from her quarters,” the Neimoidian said. The turbolift came to a halt at the 288th floor. Its doors opened onto a broad hall-way lined with walls that gleamed like crushed gemstone. The Neimoidian stepped out, and the Jedi followed. “They also took records from the security office—records, privately owned datapads, legally registered blasters and restraining devices, a servitor droid, half-eaten food—”
“Yes, yes.” Luke didn’t sound impatient, but he wouldn’t have interrupted if he weren’t. “But you found something anyway.”
“Of course. We had backups on all t
he security recordings. And I found that the suspect’s most frequent communication through the building’s comm system was to herself, from one installed unit to a second installed unit.”
Mara shrugged. “A common practice in intelligence circles. She would have sensors attached to her comm, measuring noise, resistance, and so forth, to determine whether the unit or the comm lines were tapped.”
“Ah.” Into that one word, the Neimoidian squeezed a tremendous amount of self-appreciation. “Not so.” He led the way along the glittery corridor, past two sets of residential double doors, and stopped at a smaller unmarked door. He held up a datapad and keyed in a number. The door popped open with a quiet whoosh indicating that a seal had broken, and warmer air washed over the Jedi.
The Neimoidian pulled the door open. The room beyond was dark until glow rods above blinked on, illuminating a narrow chamber lined with stored goods—cleaning solutions, deactivated mouse droids, bins of replacement electronic parts. “You see, three hours ago, I plugged new comms into her comm jacks and sent a message from one to the other. It never arrived. Yet sending a message from the second to the first, that one did arrive.”
“Ah.” Mara offered him a slight smile, the first sign of approval she’d given him. “And here is where the interception was taking place.”
“I did not touch it,” he said. “I remember your words about traps. Bombs. Poisons.” He offered a shudder. “I have left it for you.”
“Where is it?”
“Before I tell you, I wish to leave. To have a head start in case you trigger an unfortunate event. And before I leave, I wish to be paid. For if you are dead, I can never be rewarded for my efforts.”
Mara exchanged a glance with Luke. He nodded, confirming that he, too, had detected no sign of deception in the Neimoidian’s story.
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