by Troy Denning
“What?” he roared. In a move so fast that even Luke barely saw it, Han pulled his blaster and leveled it at the Twi’lek’s head. “Now you’ve just gone too far.”
Alema calmly turned to look down the barrel. “Come, Han.” She flicked her finger in the air, using the Force to send the barrel of Han’s blaster jerking toward the ceiling. “If you were going to pull the trigger, you wouldn’t have wasted your one chance talking about it.”
She turned her back on Han, then went over to Raynar, rose up on her toes, and kissed his scar-stiffened lips.
“We’ll see you in our dreams.” She remained there for a moment, then dropped back down and looked toward Luke and Han. “And keep a closer watch on these two. We can’t have them stirring up any more Fizz with those reactor rods.”
Raynar spent a moment studying Luke and Han over Alema’s head, then nodded and released her hand without looking at her. She slipped past and moved off through the mass of Unu, and though Luke was careful never to take his eyes off her, he somehow missed the moment when she vanished from sight.
Once Alema was gone, Raynar said, “We have decided to keep a closer watch on you two. We cannot have you two stirring up any more Fizz with your reactor rods.”
“You don’t say?” Han’s tone was sarcastic. “Does she tell you when to sanibrush your teeth and use the refresher, too?”
“She?” Raynar lowered his brow. “She who?”
“Alema Rar,” Luke prompted. “The Night Herald?”
Raynar frowned, and Unu drummed their thoraxes.
“The Killiks seem to have no idea who you’re talking about,” C-3PO informed them. “Unu claims it has never met Alema Rar.”
“Burrurruru ubburr,” one of the insects added. “Uuubu burru.”
“And everyone knows the Night Herald is just a myth you tell the larvae,” C-3PO translated, “to make them regurgitate.”
Han scowled and pointed his blaster at the ground in front of Raynar. “That myth was just standing there kissing you.”
“Had we ever kissed Alema Rar, we are sure we would remember,” Raynar retorted. “And we certainly were not just kissing her. Alema Rar is dead.”
“Don’t tell me,” Han said. “She died in the Crash.”
“Of course not,” Raynar said. “She died at Kr, with the rest of the Dark Nest.”
“Just great.” Han let his chin drop. “Here we go again.”
“We do not understand why you persist in this fantasy, but you are not going anywhere. That is the point.” Raynar extended his hand. “You will give us your weapons.”
Han’s knuckles whitened around his blaster grip. “When Hutts ride swoops!”
“We would rather have it now,” Raynar said. Han’s blaster twisted free of his grasp and floated over, then Raynar turned to Luke. “Master Skywalker?”
Luke hated to yield his weapon—especially with Alema Rar running around loose—but he would have an easier time recovering it later than fighting to keep it now. He removed the focusing crystal from the handle—the Jedi equivalent of unloading a weapon before surrendering it—and handed both the crystal and the lightsaber over.
“A wise choice,” Raynar said. A swarm of large, orange-chested worker insects began to gather around Luke and Han. “Saras will see you to your new quarters. Please do not force us to harm you by attempting to leave before Princess Leia returns with a way to stop the Fizz.”
TEN
In the middle of the Murgo Choke hung the white wedge of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer, its hull lit by the harlequin blaze of four different suns. To its left hung two of the suns, an orange and yellow binary system well matched in both size and color. To its right hung an odd couple, a blue giant orbited by a crimson dwarf so small and dim Leia could barely tell it was there. And directly behind the Star Destroyer, stretched between the two sets of binary stars like the web of some enormous spider, was the sapphire veil of the Utegetu Nebula.
“You see? This one did not miscalculate!” Saba was perched on the edge of the Falcon’s copilot’s chair, squinting out at the Star Destroyer. “We were pulled out of hyperspace.”
“Maybe,” Leia said. Threading its way between the two pairs of binary stars, the Murgo Choke was the trickiest of the many complicated hyperspace transits connecting the Rago Run to the Utegetu Nebula. “But there are a hundred things in the Choke more likely to revert us than the mass of a single Star Destroyer.”
Saba hissed in annoyance. “The Star Destroyer’z masz did not pull us out—itz artificial gravity generatorz did. That is the Mon Mothma ahead.”
Leia frowned at her tactical display, but the electromagnetic blast of the four stars was overpowering all the Falcon’s sensor and comm systems. She saw only a cloud of static on the screen.
“You can’t know that,” Leia said.
“This one findz your lack of faith disturbing, Jedi Solo.” Saba ruffled her neck scales in what Leia had come to recognize as disappointment. “You must learn not to doubt your Master.”
“You keep telling me to doubt everything,” Leia pointed out.
“And do you listen?” Saba held her hand out. “You are a terrible student. Give me your lightsaber.”
Leia shook her head. “The last time I did that, you hit me on the head with it. I had a knot for a week.”
Saba’s voice grew harsh. “So you are disobeying?”
Leia frowned. Saba kept saying that she needed to learn to obey—but Leia was not about to make the same mistake twice. She held out her own hand.
“First, give me your lightsaber.”
Saba’s eyes widened, then she began to siss. “You are so funny, Jedi Solo.” She lowered her hand. “But at least you have learned something.”
“Thanks,” Leia said. “Now, how sure are you that’s the Mon Mothma up there?”
“How sure are you that it is not?”
“This is no time for games, Master. I need to know.”
“Life is a game, Jedi Solo,” Saba said. “If you need to know, find out.”
Leia let out her breath in exasperation, then reached into the Force. She felt Mara and three more Jedi StealthX pilots hanging off the Falcon’s stern. Because of the close tolerances involved in transiting the Choke, all five craft had needed to make their own jump calculations, and the likelihood of the entire flight making a mistake that brought them out so close together was practically nil. They had definitely been pulled out of hyperspace by an artificial gravity well.
But that still did not explain how Saba knew it was the Mon Mothma ahead. The Galactic Alliance had two Imperial-class Star Destroyers equipped with hidden gravity-well generators. Leia stretched out to the ship in the Force and felt the expected throng of life, but the concentration was too dense for her to recognize the presence of anyone in particular.
“Okay, we were interdicted,” Leia said. “But I still don’t see how you can be sure it’s the Mothma up there. It could be the Elegos A’Kla.”
“It is the Mon Mothma,” Saba insisted. “But what does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, really,” Leia said. “Nobody in the Defense Force is going to interfere with a Jedi mission, but the Mothma’s commander, Gavin Darklighter, is an old family friend. He won’t waste too much of our time.”
“It would not be wise to place your trust in friendship, Jedi Solo,” Saba warned. “Chief Omas tried to keep the fleet’z departure from us, and now this. Commander Darklighter will have orderz.”
“Probably,” Leia said. “But you don’t know Gavin Darklighter. He always finds a way to do the right thing.”
She touched Mara and the other StealthX pilots in the Force, alerting them that she was about to get under way, then activated the Falcon’s sublight drives and started forward. The Star Destroyer quickly began to swell in the viewport, and the comm signals and sensor returns soon grew strong enough for the electronic scrubbers to clarify. Finally, the Mon Mothma’s transponder code appeared on the tactical display, surroun
ded by a large cloud of symbols denoting war-era XJ3 X-wings and Series 4 E-wings.
A comm officer’s voice crackled over the cockpit speaker, so raw and scratchy that it was impossible to recognize the owner’s species. “Millennium Falcon, be advised that the Utegetu Nebula is under blockade. Please reverse course.”
“Blockade?” Leia made herself sound more surprised than she really was. “Under whose authority?”
“The Galactic Alliance’s, obviously,” the comm officer replied. “I ask again, please reverse course. All vessels attempting to enter or leave the nebula will be impounded.”
Leia’s blood started to boil. “You be advised that the Falcon is on a Jedi mission.”
She began to angle ahead of the Mothma’s bow. The tactical display, still smudged with blank streaks and small patches of static, showed a squadron of XJ3s moving to intercept the Falcon.
Leia frowned, then said to the comm officer, “I trust you’ve been in the Defense Force long enough to understand the grief you’ll face if you interfere with us.”
“I know the consequences of ignoring my orders,” the officer said. “This is your last warning. Continue to advance, and the Falcon will be impounded.”
The Force grew electric with the outrage and surprise of Mara and the other StealthX pilots, but Saba was more contemplative. She flicked the air absentmindedly with her forked tongue, then activated her own microphone.
“We will consider your threat,” she said. “Stand by.”
“Stand by?” the officer echoed. “That is not—”
Saba closed the channel, then turned to Leia. “We should reverse course.”
“And leave Han and Luke stranded on Woteba?” Leia asked. “Never!”
“Having no ship and being stranded are different thingz,” Saba replied. “Master Skywalker is . . . he is Master Skywalker. He can find a way off Woteba anytime he wishez.”
“But he won’t,” Leia objected. “He’s waiting for us to return with a cure for the Fizz—and in the meantime, the Colony is provoking the Chiss again. We need to get him and Han off Woteba before a war breaks out.”
Mara began to pour impatience into the Force, urging Leia and Saba to start their run.
Leia looked over at Saba.
Saba shook her head. “Not through the Murgo Choke. We cannot take a Star Destroyer.”
“Take it?” Leia asked. “You think we’re going to attack the Mon Mothma?”
“You know another way through the Choke?” Saba asked.
“Sure,” Leia said. “We call their bluff.”
Leia reached out to initiate the Jedi battle-meld and discovered that Mara and the other pilots had already opened it. Clearly in agreement with Leia, Mara was radiating confidence, reassuring them that the StealthXs were ready to drop in behind the XJ3s. Saba let out a hiss of resignation, then began rerouting extra power to the shields.
Leia reopened the comm channel to the Mon Mothma.
Before she could speak, the comm officer’s angry voice came over the cockpit speakers. “Falcon, we have finished warning you. Slow and stand by for escort.”
“Negative,” Leia said. “Let me speak to Commodore Darklighter.”
“Commodore Darklighter is unavailable,” the officer replied.
Saba made a hissing sound deep in her throat, and Leia saw on her display that the XJ3 squadron had moved into firing position behind the Falcon.
“Kill your drives and stand by,” the comm officer ordered, “or we will open fire.”
Leia rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to fire on the Millennium Falcon without Commodore Darklighter looking over your shoulder. Put him on now, or stand down and let us proceed with our mission.”
Lock-alarms chimed in the cockpit as the XJ3s designated the Falcon a target. Leia could not believe that this would actually come down to being fired upon, but she began to juke and jink like a fighter pilot. It never hurt to be careful.
“You are certain they are bluffing?” Saba asked quietly.
“Nearly certain.” Leia silenced the lock-alarms, and they quickly reactivated. The XJ3-wing pilots were selecting and deselecting the Falcon, repeatedly triggering the alarms in an effort to wear on the crew’s nerves. “Almost, even.”
A sense of satisfaction came to the battle-meld; Mara and the other StealthX pilots had slipped in behind the XJ3s without being noticed.
Saba switched her microphone to the ship’s intercom. “Cakhmaim, Meewalh, shut down those quad cannonz.”
“Good idea,” Leia said. “The last thing we want is a shooting match with the Mon Mothma. It would only make Chief Omas believe that the Jedi have gone completely over to the Colony’s side.”
Saba gave her a sideways glance. “That, too.”
Leia sensed through the meld that the Barabel’s concern had been more immediate: they were not going to be much use to Han and Luke if they got blasted to atoms here.
“I find your lack of faith disturbing, Master,” Leia said. “You must learn to trust your pilot.”
Saba made a rasping sound low in her throat. “The pilot, this one trustz. It is her arrogant student that worriez her.”
Leia laughed, then activated the intercom again. “Cakhmaim and Meewalh, when you’re done in the turrets, go to engineering and power up Han’s repulsor beam.”
Saba raised her brow. “We are going to push the Mothma out of the way?”
“Hardly,” Leia said. The repulsor beam was a special anti-dartship device Han had developed the year before by rigging the Falcon’s tractor beam so the polarity could be reversed. “But we may need to swat a few flitnats off our tail.”
Leia reset the lock-alarms for what must have been the tenth time, and they did not reactivate. The XJ3s had stopped flicking their target selectors.
The meld began to fill with reptilian battle lust. “If this is a bluff, they are raising the stakez,” Saba said. “It feelz to this one like they are about to open—”
Before Saba could say fire, eight of the XJ3s—four two-ship combat teams—broke into evasive loops and spirals, and the Falcon’s military comm scanner came alive with the alarmed voices of XJ3 pilots.
“Targeted! Targeted! . . . breaking right . . . breaking left . . . where are they? . . . still on me . . . can’t shake him . . . find ’em, find them!”
Then a deep female voice announced, “StealthXs! We have StealthXs out here!”
Leia pushed the throttles past their safety stops, still angling ahead of the Mon Mothma’s bow. The tactical display showed the remainder of the XJ3s—the four craft that had been guarding the squadron’s flanks—sliding into firing position and slowly closing to range.
Leia told the Noghri to activate the repulsor beam and dust two of the remaining starfighters off their tail.
“Only two?” Saba asked. “Why?”
“Just sending a message,” Leia said. “Besides, we may need those XJs later.”
The cabin lights dimmed, and the status displays winked out as every spare erg of the Falcon’s power was diverted to the repulsor beam. But unlike the first time they had used the device, the shields did not go down. When Han had decided that the repulsor beam was too handy to dismantle, Leia had insisted that they install a supplemental fusion unit so they wouldn’t be quite so vulnerable to counterattack.
The Falcon gave a little jolt as the Noghri triggered the repulsor beam. Two of the XJ3s suddenly went out of control and veered toward the edge of the tactical display, and the comm scanner erupted into startled curses and a tense request for permission to open fire.
Gavin Darklighter’s voice came over the comm an instant later. “Captain Solo, will you please stop kriffing around? Chief Omas is serious about this blockade.”
Leia continued to accelerate, still jinking and juking. “Is that why he didn’t inform the Jedi about it?”
Darklighter hesitated, and the Falcon’s lock-alarms whined again. Leia checked the tactical display and saw that the last pair of XJ3s ha
d reached firing range. The rest of the squadron was still rolling and looping, either trying to recover from the repulsor beam or shake the StealthXs still threatening them with target-locks. Thankfully, there was no shooting.
“I apologize for the language, Princess,” Darklighter finally said. “I was addressing Captain Solo.”
“Han is unavailable,” Leia replied. “I’m in command of the Falcon for now.”
The channel fell silent for a long time, and Leia began to wonder if Darklighter had deliberately manipulated the admission out of her. He was a shrewd commander, and he would be analyzing even the tiniest scrap of information for hints as to the true nature of their mission. Normally, it would not have troubled Leia to share such information with a high-ranking Defense Force officer. But right now, the last thing she wanted was for anyone subordinate to the Chief of State to realize there was a power vacuum at the top of the Jedi order.
They passed in front of the Mon Mothma’s bow. The last pair of XJ3s remained on their tail, but Darklighter sent none of the other squadrons to cut off the Falcon—and that made Leia nervous.
“Keep an eye on the Mothma’s tractor beams,” she said to Saba. “Let me know the instant any of them start to power—”
Leia felt a surge of alarm from Saba and knew the Star Destroyer was activating its tractor beams. She accelerated into an open, erratic spiral that would make it almost impossible for the beam operators to lock on to the Falcon.
The red cones of four tractor beams appeared on the tactical display, stabbing out from the Mon Mothma’s designator symbol to circle the Falcon. Leia aimed for the trailing edges of the beams, rolling and diving from one to the next, alert for the telltale hesitation that Han claimed always gave the operators away when they figured out the strategy.
An instant after the tractor beams appeared, Darklighter said, “I didn’t . . . any offense, Princess.” With the comm antenna constantly struggling to adjust to the Falcon’s gyrations, the signal had grown a little patchy. “Chief Omas has been . . . to reach Master Skywalker for a week. When there was no response, he decided the Jedi must be . . . the Killiks’ side again.”
