Star Wars: Dark Nest III: The Swarm War

by Denning, Troy

  “So you couldn’t leave him alone,” Mara finished.

  Jacen nodded. “I used the Force to hide us.”

  When Jacen remained silent, Luke prompted, “And?”

  “And Ben was very sensitive that night,” Jacen continued. “He felt what happened to the prisoners in the cave.”

  “That’s what you didn’t want him to remember,” Mara said.

  “By morning, he was already beginning to withdraw from the Force again,” Jacen said. “He’s still young; I think he blames it for the bad things he feels in it.”

  “I think he does,” Luke said. He and Mara had postulated a similar theory themselves, shortly after the war, when it began to grow clear that Ben was withdrawing from the Force. “And how, exactly, did you block this memory?”

  “It’s a form of Force illusion,” Jacen explained. “The Adepts call it a memory rub.”

  Luke frowned. “That sounds pretty invasive for the Fallanassi,” he said. “And I don’t recall any White Current techniques that can permanently affect another person’s mind.”

  Jacen smiled and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Well, Akanah did say I was only the second-worst student she ever had.”

  “It’s good to know I’m still number one with her,” Luke said, not laughing at the joke. He paused a moment, then continued, “I see why you blocked the memory. I’ll probably even be grateful, when I’ve had time to think about it.”

  “I’m grateful now,” Mara said. Luke could feel that she had already forgiven Jacen completely. “I hope you can teach me that technique.”

  “I’m not nearly the guide Akanah is,” Jacen replied. “But I can certainly try.”

  “First, I want to know why you didn’t just tell Mara and me what happened,” Luke said. “I understand you wanted to protect Ben, but that doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s right, Jacen,” Mara said, forcing herself to be stern again. “There’s no excuse for keeping secrets from us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jacen said, shame crawling up his face. “I should have told you, but it was reckless of me to put him in that position.”

  “And so you decided to hide what happened from us?” Luke demanded.

  “I don’t know why, but I sense that he needs me to guide him into the Force,” Jacen said. “And I thought if you knew what had happened, you wouldn’t trust me with him.”

  “Jacen!” Mara’s voice was incredulous, but her relief flooded the Force. “How could you think that?”

  Jacen looked a little confused. “I’m not sure. I just thought—”

  “You thought wrong!” Mara said. “You’ve been wonderful for Ben, and there’s no one else I’d rather trust with him. But no more secrets.” She glanced over at Luke. “Okay?”

  “We’ll see.” He was a little less inclined than his wife to forgive all. There was no doubt about the effect Jacen had on Ben, but Luke remained uneasy about the way his nephew continued to shut his emotions off from the Force. “You’re still hiding something from us. And I want to know what it is.”

  “I know you do,” Jacen said. “But telling you any more would betray a confidence, and I won’t do that.”

  “Jacen, if you’re going to continue being a Jedi, you have to put the order first,” Luke said. “We can no longer have divided loyalties.”

  “I understand that, and I’ll leave the order if—”

  “Nobody wants that,” Mara interrupted. Luke shot a blast of irritation her way through their Force-bond, but she ignored it and continued, “We just need to know that this secret won’t interfere with your duties as a Jedi.”

  “It won’t,” Jacen said, relief showing on his face. “In fact, I can promise that it makes me even more determined to be a good Jedi—and to keep our order strong.”

  Jacen revealed just enough of his presence to confirm he was telling the truth—that whatever the nature of this secret, he saw the Jedi order as the best means of protecting it.

  “I guess we’ll have to trust you on that.” Luke’s tone was measured. “Don’t let us down.”

  Luke was about to dismiss his nephew when a guilty heaviness began to weigh on the Force from the direction of his inner office. He went to the door and found Ghent lying under the work station in the corner, affixing something to the underside of the writing table. Mara slipped through the door past Luke.

  “Ghent!”

  The slicer sat up, banging his head, and the guilt in the Force changed to fear. His gaze shot across the room toward R2-D2, then he pulled a tiny electronic device off the underside of the table and swallowed it.

  “Have you been planting listening devices in Luke’s office?” Mara demanded.

  The tattoos on Ghent’s face darkened with embarrassment. “S-s-sorry.”

  She used the Force to pull the slicer out from under the table, then began to go through his pockets, pulling out a truly impressive assortment of eavesdropping bugs.

  “Did Chief Omas put you up to this?” Mara asked.

  Ghent nodded. “He said it was for the good of the Alliance.” He plucked one of the bugs out of Mara’s hand and began to fidget nervously with the tiny wire antenna. “And he said that I couldn’t help you with Artoo any more unless I did it.”

  “I see,” Luke said, joining them.

  He looked around for a moment, eyeing an out-of-place datapad on the surface of his work station, a recording rod that had mysteriously turned itself on, a holocube of Ben and Mara that was facing the wrong way on the shelf.

  “Were you finished?”

  Ghent looked confused. “N-n-not really.”

  “Well, then.” Luke waved Mara and Jacen toward the door. “I guess we had better leave you to your work.”

  “You’re going to let him finish?” Jacen asked.

  “Of course.” Luke nudged his nephew toward the outer office. “Didn’t you just tell me that spying builds trust?”

  TEN

  Three jumps after departing Lizil, Han was running a systems check while Leia plotted the course to the Rago Run, the long hyperspace lane that would take them back into Galactic Alliance territory. So far, the Swiff had performed flawlessly, even reminding them to eat when the ship’s droid brain noticed that none of the processing units in the galley had been activated in twenty hours.

  “I don’t like it,” Han said, studying the nacelle-temperature history. “No machine is this reliable.”

  “To the contrary, Captain Solo,” C-3PO said. “When properly maintained, operated in the appropriate environment, and not pushed beyond performance parameters, machines are very reliable. Malfunctions most often result from a biological unit’s inattentiveness. I can tell you that has been true in my own experience.”

  “Watch it, Threepio,” Leia advised. “It’s not smart to insult the hand that oils you.”

  “Oh,” C-3PO said. “I certainly didn’t mean to imply that you or Captain Solo have ever been neglectful. I have had other owners, you know.”

  “Other owners? Now there’s a thought.” Han looked over to the copilot’s station, where Leia was seated in one of the cockpit’s self-adjusting, supercomfortable Support-Gel flight chairs. “How are those jump coordinates coming along?”

  “Almost done,” she said. “The navicomputer’s a little slow, at least compared with the Falcon’s.”

  Han felt a small burst of pride. “That surprises you? The Falcon has top-notch—”

  He was interrupted by the sharp pinging of an alarm.

  “I knew it!” Han said, looking for a flashing indicator on the hyperdrive section of the expansive control board. “That warp stabilizer was running a couple of degrees hot at the end of our last jump.”

  “Actually, Captain Solo, the Swiff’s systems status remains at optimum,” C-3PO reported. “Aboard a Dray-class transport, that chime indicates a proximity alert.”

  Han shifted his gaze to the sensor area of the console and found the flashing beacon.

  “That can’t
be good.” He reset the alarm, then activated the intercom. “Be ready back there.”

  The Noghri replied that they were always ready, and a bank of status beacons turned amber, indicating that the Swiff’s weapons systems were coming online.

  Han brought up his tactical display and saw that a space–time hole had opened behind them. An instant later, the distortion closed and a bogey symbol appeared in its place.

  “I knew getting out of there was too easy,” Han said. After putting Tito and the Verpine off the ship, they had simply lifted the Swiff’s boarding ramp and pushed through the air lock membrane before the confused Killiks had a chance to stop them. “Someone must’ve slapped a homing beacon on our hull.”

  “Maybe,” Leia said. After departing Lizil, they had done a security sweep of the interior of the vessel as a standard precaution, but there had been no time to do an external search without actually landing somewhere. “It’s not going to do them much good, though. We’ll be ready to jump in thirty seconds.”

  “As long as they don’t start shooting in twenty.” Han went to work on the sensors, trying to determine what kind of vessel was following them. “When it comes to a fight, this thing is no Falcon.”

  Before Han could get a sensor readout, the vessel’s transponder code appeared, identifying it as a Mon Calamari Sailfish-class transport named Real Deal. A moment later, a chirpy Squib voice began to hail them over the open comm channel.

  “Solo, you there?”

  The Deal fired its ion engines and began to approach.

  Han glanced over at Leia, who appeared just as surprised as he did, then activated his comm. “We’re here.”

  “What are you doing?” asked a second Squib, probably Grees. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “We were starting to feel unwelcome,” Han said. “And that’s close enough, you three. The Noghri are still a little sore about those hit-bugs you sent.”

  “Hey, we knew they didn’t stand a chance against you,” Sligh said. “But we had to try.”

  “That was good, the way you turned Tito on us.” Grees sounded more angry than admiring. “He got Krafte and Seneki before we could stop him.”

  “But no hard feelings, okay?” Emala asked. The Deal finally decelerated, but continued to drift toward the Swiff, slowly closing the distance. “We’re the ones who started it, so fair is fair.”

  “Sure,” Leia said. “But why do I doubt you followed us out here to mend partition barriers?”

  “That’s what we like about you guys,” Sligh said. “Nothing gets past you.”

  “We could use someone like you in this thing of ours,” Emala added.

  The Squibs paused expectantly.

  “You’re trying to hire us?” Leia scoffed.

  “Recruit,” Sligh corrected. “Hire is such an ugly word.”

  “War is very good for business,” Emala added. “And this one is just going to keep getting bigger and better. Trust me when I say that we can have a very profitable relationship.”

  “Not a chance,” Han said. He checked the weapons systems and found all of the status beacons green. If the Squibs continued to close, they were going to be in for a big surprise. Real Deal might be better armed than the Swiff, but the Swiff had Noghri gunners—and Han Solo in the pilot’s seat. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “Let me put it to you plainly, Solo.” Grees’s voice was low and menacing. “This isn’t an offer you want to refuse.”

  “I just hate it when someone tells me what I want.” Han looked over and, seeing that the calculations for the next jump were complete, signaled Leia to transfer the coordinates to the guidance system. “So why don’t you—”

  “You’re really not getting this, are you?” Grees interrupted. “Jaina is still in Colony space. We can help you get to her—or we can get to her ourselves.”

  Leia’s finger hovered over the transfer key. “Are you threatening our daughter?”

  “Not at all,” Emala said. “We’re giving you a chance to protect her.”

  Han’s rage boiled over. “You try anything, and not only will I stop you, I’ll personally drag you out of your fur and feed you to a Togorian.”

  “Now who’s making threats?” Grees asked. “You think you’re too good for us, so what choice do we have?”

  “It’s your own fault,” Sligh said. “We’re not responsible for what happens.”

  “That’s it!” Han grabbed the yoke and throttles, preparing to bring the Swiff around to attack. “There’s not going to be enough left of you—”

  Leia reached over and pulled his hands off the yoke. “Han, no.”

  Han frowned. “No?”

  “Think about it.” Leia deactivated the comm microphone. “Why did they really come after us? Why did they put a death mark on us?”

  Han thought about it. “Right. They still haven’t come clean with the Killiks about Juun and Tarfang—”

  “No.” Leia shook her head. “The Squibs vouched for us to Lizil. If we tell the Alliance what the Colony is planning, it’s on their heads.”

  Han let out a long breath. “So they’re trying to distract us.”

  “Exactly,” Leia said. “They don’t need to hire us or kill us. If they can just delay us for a while, maybe even get lucky and actually put us out of commission—”

  “We’re going to keep going, aren’t we?” Han interrupted.

  Leia nodded. “We have to.”

  She transferred the jump coordinates to the guidance system, and Han’s heart suddenly felt as heavy as a black hole. Even if the Squibs talked their way out of being held responsible for “Lord Rysto’s” betrayal, they were sure to lose a fortune when the coups failed—and Squibs hated losing money. They would do their best to make good on their threat.

  The Deal began to accelerate, then the lock-alarms began to chirp, announcing that the Swiff was being scanned by targeting sensors. Sligh’s voice came over the comm channel.

  “I can’t believe you’re making us do this, Solo. Don’t you love your daughter?”

  Han tried to ignore the Squib, but the question was too painful. Of course he loved his daughter. He would move stars to protect both of his children, to keep from losing them as he and Leia had lost Anakin. But that was growing more difficult every day. First Jaina had become a Jedi, then a Rogue Squadron pilot, and now she and Zekk were Joiners, fighting on the wrong side of a war that might never end. When you had a daughter as headstrong as Jaina, there was only so much a father could do—even when that father was Han Solo.

  “They’re not bluffing, Leia,” Han said, leaving his comm microphone off. “You know they’ll do it.”

  “They’ll try,” Leia said. “Jaina can take care of herself.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Han pushed the throttles forward and began to accelerate away from the Deal. He knew Leia was right, that any assassin the Squibs sent after Jaina would be sorely outmatched—but that did not make it any easier to place the Alliance’s welfare ahead of her safety. “I guess it runs in her blood.”

  “What runs in her blood?” Leia asked.

  “Being a Jedi,” Han answered. The attack alarms began to screech as the Deal opened fire. “Whatever Luke does with the order, it’s pretty clear you’ll be staying in it. Duty always comes first with you.”

  Leia looked hurt, but reluctantly nodded. “I’m not the only one, Han.”

  “I know, Princess.” The Swiff shuddered as the Deal’s first salvo hit the rear shields. Han activated the hyper-drives, and the stars stretched into an opalescent blur. “And Luke won’t even give me a lightsaber.”

  ELEVEN

  The convoy was only minutes from the Verpine capital, arcing over the distant yellow dot that was the Roche system’s sun, on final approach to the glow-speckled lump of asteroid Nickel One. With their underpowered ion drives and puffed-wafer silhouettes, the Slayn & Korpil Gatherers looked more like a long line of returning foragers than a deadly assault force. Mara could sense only a dozen p
resences aboard each ship, but some of those presences were a little too diffuse to be Verpine, and there was an electric hum in the Force that reminded her of one of those hot jungle nights when all creation seemed ready to erupt into war. There was definitely something wrong with that convoy.

  She slid her StealthX into attack position behind the last vessel in line, then waited patiently as Luke and Jacen worked their way forward, using the Force to redirect the attention of the belly gunners as they passed beneath the ungainly Gatherers. Despite the diffuse presences they sensed aboard the transports, Luke was pouring caution into the battle-meld, urging Mara and Jacen to show restraint.

  The holo the Solos had sent warning of a massive insect coup had been so flickering and distorted that even R2-D2 could not confirm that the voiceprint was Leia’s. Luke and several other Masters had immediately suspected that the message was a forgery, designed to trick the Jedi into attacking legitimate convoys. Luke had decided to dispatch a team to each insect culture belonging to the Alliance, but with strict orders not to engage in battle unless it grew clear that the Killiks were indeed staging a coup.

  That was why Mara was so confused when a flash of white brilliance erupted at the front of the convoy. It looked like a shadow bomb detonation, but there had been no warning from either Luke or Jacen, nothing on the tactical display to suggest that a coup was actually under way.

  The convoy began to cluster—standard procedure when the leader wanted overlapping defenses—then continued toward the asteroid.

  “Nine,” Mara asked her astromech droid, “is there any sign of a battle down there?”

  The droid reported that a very large baradium explosion had just destroyed a light transport on final approach to Nickel One.

  “I saw the shadow bomb,” Mara said. “I mean, is there anything on the surface…”

  The meld suddenly stiffened with shock, then abruptly collapsed as Luke withdrew. Mara could feel his anger through their Force-bond, a searing pressure that meant he had already answered the question she had been about to ask her astromech. There was no hint of a battle on the surface of the asteroid.