Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy I: Jedi Search

by Kevin J. Anderson

  After a second’s hesitation Leia ran up the ramp, gathering the children in her arms. Both Jacen and Jaina hugged their mother. “Welcome home!” she said, whispering.

  She sensed fear and reservation in them; Leia realized with a pang that she was a virtual stranger to them. Winter had been their nanny for as long as they could remember. Leia had been just a visitor whenever she could find time in her duties. But she would make it up to them. She promised herself that much.

  All the outstanding obligations rose up in her mind, haunting her with the specter of duty. She still had to deal with the Caridan ambassador and a thousand other delicate tasks to hold the New Republic together. Dozens of planetary systems were on the verge of joining the Republic if a skilled representative—Leia herself—showed good faith by making a visit of state. If Mon Mothma summoned Leia to help ratify a treaty, or to take her place at a state dinner, how could Leia refuse? The fate of the galaxy hung in the balance, clearly dependent on what she did.

  How could mere children take precedence over that? And what kind of a mother did it make her even to think about it?

  “Where’s Daddy?” Jacen asked.

  Anger went through Leia like a spear of ice. “He’s not here right now.”

  Winter finally worked her way back from the pilot compartment. Leia looked up at her friend and confidante, and warm memories washed over her. Winter had had snow-white hair for as long as Leia could remember, a serene face that rarely allowed even a twinge of anger to show through. Noticing Han’s absence, Winter raised her eyebrows, filling her face with questions, but she remained silent.

  “Where’s baby Anakin?” Jaina asked.

  “He has to stay with me for a while longer,” Winter said, nudging the two children down the ramp. “Come, now, we’ll take you to your new home.”

  The two children dutifully marched ahead, with Leia following close beside them. Threepio didn’t seem to know what he was expected to do during the reunion, so he just followed, waving his arms and making flustered exclamations.

  “How long we stay here?” Jacen asked.

  “Where’s our room?” Jaina said.

  Leia smiled at the questions and took a deep breath before answering them. From now on she had a feeling she would be hearing a lot of questions.

  When Leia finally kissed the twins good night, Threepio couldn’t decide whether mother or twins looked more exhausted. Leia pushed loose dark hair away from her eyes as she stood at the doorway to their room and blew another kiss.

  After adjusting his servomotors to allow a little more flexibility in his joints, Threepio hunkered down between the twins’ beds. He had already taken care of important details such as providing fresh cups of water for the children and installing small night-lights in the dark corners.

  “You two be good for Threepio,” Leia said. “He’ll stay here until you go to sleep. You’ve had exciting things happen today, and we’ll do a lot more tomorrow. I’m so glad to have you back.” Leia flashed a heartfelt smile at them, showing joy even through the weariness on her face.

  “I’m certain I can handle this, Mistress Leia,” Threepio said. “I have reviewed most of the available child psychology databases, except for those recommended by the Emperor, of course.”

  Leia’s answering look seemed to carry a bit of skepticism, which puzzled Threepio.

  “Don’t wanna go sleep,” Jacen said, sitting up in bed.

  Leia still smiled. “But you need your rest. Maybe Threepio will tell you a bedtime story if you’re good.” She waved once more, then faded back into the main living area.

  The children had indeed had a busy day. After their journey with Winter they had been taken on a quick tour of the Imperial Palace, then shown their new quarters. Even with her duties as Minister of State, Leia had managed to redecorate the twins’ bedchamber in warm, soothing colors. Threepio would have offered his own assistance in the project, but at the time he had been with Lando Calrissian at the blob races. Thinking back, Threepio would have preferred the decorating chores.

  Several times during the tour Leia was interrupted by insistent calls, documents that needed to be authorized, brief conversations that could not be delayed. Each time Leia looked guilty, as if realizing this was an indication of things to come.

  The twins, though filled with excitement and wonder of the new things around them, grew cranky as they became tired. They had been overwhelmed by too much strangeness in one day, given a new home, and told to sleep in an unfamiliar room. According to the information Threepio had recently uploaded, it was perfectly normal for the children to cause minor difficulties.

  “Don’t wanna bedtime story,” Jacen said, crossing his small hands over his chest and looking defiantly at Threepio.

  “No story,” Jaina echoed.

  “Of course you do,” Threepio insisted. “I have scoured the collected works of children’s literature on thousands of planetary systems. I have selected what I believe will be a truly enjoyable story. It is called The Little Lost Bantha Cub, a classic that has been popular for generations with children of your age.”

  He had been looking forward to telling this story, recalling how much he had enjoyed telling the Ewoks of his adventures with Master Luke and Captain Solo. He had even selected some very exciting sound effects for appropriate points in the Bantha Cub story. Threepio had never actually been close to a live bantha during his time on Tatooine, but bantha riders—the Tusken Raiders—had dismantled him during their first attack on Master Luke. He supposed that gave him some small claim to expertise.

  “Don’t wanna story!” Jacen repeated. Both children had unruly dark hair, and the deep brown eyes of their mother. Right now the young boy had a determined and stubborn look on his face that Threepio had often seen on Han Solo.

  Threepio realized that the issue at hand had very little to do with the actual story. According to his new information on young children, the twins were right now feeling displaced and helpless. With so many things out of their control, they needed to exert their power, to insist on some tiny spot of stability. Jacen needed to see that he could have some effect on his surroundings. Right now the boy was very upset; Jaina, picking up on her brother’s distress, seemed on the verge of tears.

  “Very well, young Master Jacen. I will tell you the story some other time.”

  Threepio knew just the trick to keep the twins happy and let them drift off to sleep. He was, after all, fluent in over six million forms of communication. He could sing lullabyes in any number of languages, any number of styles.

  He selected a few that were guaranteed to please the twins. Jacen and Jaina would be asleep in no time. He began to sing.

  “Now what are they crying about?” Leia said, sitting up sharply and looking toward the bedroom. “Maybe I should go and see.”

  Winter reached out to touch her wrist, stopping her. “It’ll be all right. They’re tired, they’re frightened, they’re anxious. Bear with them. And since you’re new to them, they’ll be testing your limits every moment, finding out how they can manipulate you. Don’t teach them that you’ll come running every time they make a sound. Children learn those sorts of things very quickly.”

  Leia sighed and looked at her personal servant. For years Winter had advised her in many things, and she was usually right. “Looks like I’m the one who needs to learn things quickly.”

  “Every part of it is a learning process. You must balance your love for them with their need for stability. That’s what parenting is all about.”

  Leia scowled as hidden concern began to drown out her happiness at having the children back with her. “I might be doing this all by myself.”

  Winter’s gaze seemed incisive, and she asked the question that had been on her mind for hours. “Where is Han?”

  “He’s not here—that’s where he is!”

  Not wanting Winter to see her flustered outrage, Leia stood up and turned her back. Over and over, she had imagined possibilities of Han hurt,
lost, attacked … but she found it safer to believe other possibilities. “He’s flying around in the Falcon with Chewbacca. He should have been back two days ago. He knew when the twins were coming home, but he couldn’t bother to be here! It’s bad enough we’ve been practically nonexistent as parents for the first two years of their lives, but he can’t even spare the time to greet Jacen and Jaina when they finally come home.”

  Han had felt the razor of Leia’s words many times, and her tongue had grown more precise with years of diplomatic practice. A small part of her was glad he was not here to bear the brunt of her anger. But then again, if he had been here, she would not have had cause for such anger.

  “Where did he go?”

  Leia waved her hand, trying to sound casual “Off to Kessel, to see if he could convince any of the old spice miners to join the New Republic. He hasn’t bothered to call since he left.”

  Winter gazed at her, not blinking. Winter’s intense periods of thought always unsettled Leia. “Let me tell you this, Leia. I think I’m right. If it were anyone else on a mission like this, two days overdue and no contact for a week or so, you would be concerned. Very concerned. With Han, you are making an assumption that he is just being irresponsible. What if something happened to him?”

  “That’s crazy.” She turned away again, to keep Winter from seeing that the same worries had been plaguing her.

  Winter’s grave expression did not change. “According to the reports I have seen, Kessel is relatively hostile territory. Not only the spice mines, but the Imperial Correction Facility, with some powerful defenses in place to keep prisoners from escaping. The entire system has been out of contact with us for some time.”

  Winter paused, as if accessing other memories. “When Mara Jade and Talon Karrde unified some of the smugglers two years ago, Jade noted that Kessel might cause certain problems. Shouldn’t you check with a diplomatic contact there to make certain nothing has happened to the Millennium Falcon?”

  Leia blinked her eyes, annoyed at Winter’s suggestion, though she had thought of it herself dozens of times. “Seems like overreacting, doesn’t it?”

  Winter regarded her calmly. “Or are you just unwilling to show your concern because it would embarrass you?”

  • • •

  The private communications chamber looked different in the bustle of a bright morning on Coruscant. The last time Leia had stood inside the room had been to contact the infuriating Caridan ambassador in the dead of night.

  Now, as she looked out the mirrored walls, Leia watched minor functionaries hurrying to daily assignments, administrative and service personnel who had probably worked in Imperial City for years, caring little for what overall government ruled the galaxy.

  Not long ago, Leia thought, the Alliance had been made up of the bravest and most dedicated fighters, those willing to die for their ideals. How could the New Republic degenerate into bureaucracy so quickly? She thought of heroes she had known, like Jek Porkins and Biggs Darklighter, who had died to destroy the first Death Star; she hoped their spirit still remained somewhere in the new government.

  At the transmission console Winter made a small noise to attract Leia’s attention. “This has been difficult, Leia, but I think I have a contact. The entire city of Kessendra seems to be abandoned, but I was able to obtain communications codes for the Imperial Correction Facility. With further inquiries I have tracked down a person who seems to be at least nominally in charge of what passes for a government there. His name is Moruth Doole, originally in the administration of the prison. Somehow he is now overseeing the spice-mining operations.

  “There seems to be quite a bit of chaos there. My first contact was with the garrison station on Kessel’s moon. Everyone seems quite alarmed at being contacted by the New Republic. I was bounced to several others before Moruth Doole finally agreed to speak with us. He is waiting for you now.”

  “Go ahead,” Leia said. Winter checked her board, then initiated contact. Leia stepped into the transmission field.

  A small hologram of a froglike creature appeared above the dais. Static caused by poor transmission equipment on the Kessel end smeared Doole’s coloring into yellowish green. His archaic waistcoat and bright-yellow cravat made him look a comical figure.

  “You must be Minister Organa Solo?” Doole said. He spread his hands toward her image in a placating gesture. She noticed that he wore some sort of mechanical contraption, a focusing mechanism perhaps, over one of his lanternlike eyes. “I am extremely pleased to hear from a representative of the New Republic, and I apologize for any difficulty in getting in touch with me. We’ve had some social turmoil over the past couple of years, and I’m afraid we have not yet managed to quell all disturbances.”

  His fleshy amphibian lips stretched upward in what must have been meant as a smile. A long, sharp tongue flicked out as he spoke, but Doole talked so quickly that Leia could not get a word in edgewise. In her years of diplomatic service Leia had learned not to count too much on reading body language from nonhumans, but could this be a sign of nervousness?

  “Now then, Minister, how can I help you? Believe me, we have been considering sending a representative to establish relations with the New Republic. I would like to extend an invitation for you to send an ambassador to our world, in the interests of maintaining harmony. On Kessel we like to think of the New Republic as our friends.”

  Doole stopped talking abruptly, as if he realized he had said too much. Leia frowned inwardly but controlled her expression. Moruth Doole was saying exactly what she wanted to hear, giving perfect political answers without her having to ask the questions. Odd. What was he thinking? “Actually, Mr. Doole—I’m afraid I don’t know your proper title. How do you wish to be addressed?”

  Doole stared with his one eye and fiddled with the mechanical lenses, as if he had never considered the question before. “Uh, Commissioner Doole will do nicely, I think.”

  “Commissioner Doole, I welcome your offer of openness and cooperation, and I hope we have not already acted prematurely. One of our representatives went to Kessel more than a week ago, but we have heard nothing from him. He was due to return three days ago. I am contacting you to see if you could verify that he did indeed arrive safely?”

  Doole raised his long-fingered hands to his cheeks. “A representative, you say? Here? I am aware of no such arrival.”

  Leia kept her face placid, though her heart grew cold. “Could you check to see if his ship, the Millennium Falcon arrived? We had some difficulty tracking down a person in charge just moments ago. Perhaps he reported to someone other than yourself.”

  Doole sounded doubtful. “Well, of course I can check.” He punched at a data terminal unseen beyond the fringe of the transmission field. Almost immediately—too fast, Leia thought—Doole straightened. “No, I am sorry, Minister. We have no record of a ship called the Millennium Falcon ever arriving in Kessel space. Who was piloting the ship?”

  “His name is Han Solo. He is my husband.”

  Doole straightened in shock. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Is he a good pilot? As you may know, the black hole cluster near Kessel makes for extremely hazardous flying conditions, even in hyperspace. The Maw is one of the wonders of the galaxy, but if he was to take a wrong path through the cluster … I hope nothing happened to him!”

  Leia leaned deeper into the transmission field. “Han is a very good pilot, Commissioner Doole.”

  “I’ll muster a search team at once, Minister. Believe me, Kessel will offer whatever assistance we can in this matter. We’ll scour the surface of the planet and the moon, and we’ll search space for any disabled ship. I will inform you immediately of any progress we make.”

  Doole reached forward to the controls of his holotransmitter, then paused. “And of course we look forward to formally receiving any other ambassador you choose to send. I hope the next time we speak will be under happier circumstances, Minister Organa Solo.”

  As Moruth Doole’s image f
izzled into static, Leia let her stony expression fall into a scowl of confusion and suspicion.

  Winter looked up from her controls. “I detected no outright contradictions of fact, but I am not convinced of the total truth of what he was saying.”

  Leia’s gaze focused on something far away. Anxiety twisted her insides, and she felt very foolish for being angry with Han. “Something is definitely wrong here.”

  11

  When Han Solo’s temper finally snapped, he hauled off with a roundhouse punch that knocked the guard backward. Han leaped on the man, punching him again and again in the chest and stomach, cracking his knuckles on the scuffed stormtrooper armor.

  The other guards in the muster room scrambled toward him, knocking Han to the floor. Behind the transparisteel observation cubicles, shift monitors sounded the alarm and summoned assistance. The door slid open from the communal areas, and four more guards charged in, drawing their weapons.

  Chewbacca let out a thunderous Wookiee roar and waded through the other guards, yanking them off Han’s back. His life debt to his partner took precedence over common sense.

  Han continued to swing, yelling incoherently at his captors. Chewbacca smashed two of the guards’ heads together and dropped their limp bodies. The reinforcements looked up at the Wookiee, and they goggled as they saw the wall of fur and muscle in front of them. They drew their weapons.

  Young Kyp Durron bent low and dove into the knees of the closest armed guard, knocking him to the floor. Kyp scrambled out of the way, yanking at boots and legs, tripping two more men.

  With nothing to lose, other prisoners joined in the brawl, indiscriminately punching anything nearby, guards or other prisoners. Many of the captive spice miners were themselves former prison guards who had been on the wrong side during Moruth Doole’s rebellion—and the other prisoners hated them.

  With a whoop of energy, blue arcs of a blaster set on stun lanced out and knocked Chewbacca flat on his back, where he coughed and groaned and tried to raise himself on his elbows.