Tempest: Star Wars (Legacy of the Force) (Star Wars: Legacy of the Force)

by Troy Denning

  “I know they wouldn’t,” Jaina insisted.

  “You would have a better idea of that than I, of course.”

  Bwua’tu’s reaction was surprising in its mildness. “But the fact remains that they’re on their way to the Hapes Consortium, and this is a very crucial moment for Corellia. We must at least consider the possibility.”

  He laid a furry hand on Jaina’s shoulder, then continued in a voice as gentle as it was raspy. “I want you to take a moment and think this over very carefully. I’ll believe whatever you tell me … but please remember that the lives of your parents are only two of the many billions that may depend on your accuracy.”

  “I’m aware of that, Admiral,” Jaina said. “But thank you for the reminder.”

  As much as Jaina wanted to leap to her parents’ defense again, she forced herself to do as Bwua’tu asked. The truth was, Jaina had no idea how her mother and father might be reacting to the change in Jacen. At one time, her mother had vowed never to have children because one of them might grow up to become another Darth Vader. With the holonews reporting that Jacen had imprisoned hundreds of thousands of Corellians, her parents might well have decided that Leia’s old fears were justified.

  But Jaina had not felt any hint of guilt when her mother touched her through the Force earlier—and had the Solos been planning to betray Tenel Ka, she believed she would have. Besides, her parents had always been loyal to their friends—especially friends who were loyal to them—and she could not see that changing now.

  Finally, Jaina sighed and shook her head. “I know it looks bad, but I just don’t think they would do something like that.”

  Bwua’tu stared into her eyes. “You are sure?”

  “It’s what I believe, Admiral. That’s the best I can do.” Jaina looked away. “Given what a monster my brother is becoming, I don’t think I can be sure of what anyone is capable of.”

  Bwua’tu’s lip curled at the mention of her brother. “Yes, your brother is driving dissenters into the enemy camp even faster than he is killing them.”

  Jaina raised her brow in surprise.

  The admiral winced visibly, then waved the comment off with a flip of his hand. “Waste no time fretting over my loyalty,” he said. “I swore a vow of krevi the day I became a fleet admiral. Even when Bothawui finally enters the war, I’ll continue to serve the Galactic Alliance.”

  “When Bothawui enters the war?” Jaina asked. “Not if?”

  “When,” Bwua’tu confirmed. “My people prefer treachery to war, but we do occasionally let outrage dictate our actions.”

  Jaina frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  A gleam of understanding came to Bwua’tu’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry—you wouldn’t have heard. Your brother has started assassinating Bothans.”

  “Assassinating Bothans?” Jaina gasped. “Jacen isn’t that stupid.”

  “No, but he does protect his assets,” Bwua’tu said. “The World Brain is near death because of a recent attrack, and it is Jacen’s best means of tracking Corellian terrorists through the undercity.”

  Jaina frowned. She was hardly surprised to learn that her brother was employing the World Brain as a spy, but she was shocked to hear Bwua’tu talking as though they had discussed the matter personally. “I can’t imagine Jacen sharing that information with the military.”

  “He didn’t,” Bwua’tu said.

  “So your sources are …?”

  “Accurate,” Bwua’tu replied. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Okay,” Jaina said slowly. “And these sources think the Bothans are the ones who attacked the World Brain? The True Victory Party?”

  “No.” Bwua’tu hesitated, then said, “According to my sources, the True Victory Party can’t even find it, But Jacen believes that Reh’mwa ordered the attack, and so my species is becoming an endangered one on Coruscant.”

  Jaina’s stomach grew hollow and queasy. This was one more force pushing the galaxy closer to war, and—as usual—her brother was in the middle of it.

  “I don’t see how your informants can know what Jacen believes,” Jaina said, still probing for the source of his intelligence. “I have the Force and I’m his twin sister, and even I couldn’t tell you what he believes.”

  “You aren’t a Bothan, Jedi Solo.”

  Jaina raised her brow. “So your sources are inside the True Victory Party?”

  Bwua’tu looked away for a moment, obviously debating how much to tell her.

  “You asked me for an honest answer.” Jaina sent him a little Force-nudge. “And I gave it to you.”

  Bwua’tu nodded. “Very well. We both have divided loyalties here, so we’ll just have to trust each other.” He waited for an affirming nod from Jaina, then continued, “For some time now, the Bothan government has been asking me to resign my commission and return home. The intelligence regarding the assassinations is their latest attempt to persuade me.”

  “They have a source inside GAG?” Jaina gasped.

  “I don’t know the nature of their intelligence,” Bwua’tu replied carefully. “Only that it has proven accurate so far.”

  “That doesn’t mean you should believe their denial,” Jaina said. “I mean, the Bothan government has a vested interest in convincing you that the attack on the World Brain wasn’t Bothan.”

  “True, but there is other evidence,” Bwua’tu replied.

  “Had True Victory been behind the attack, it would not have failed.”

  Jaina chose to ignore his species conceit for the moment and treat the statement as fact. “Okay. If Bothans weren’t responsible, who was?”

  “My guess is Corellian terrorists. If the World Brain has been helping Jacen track them, then they’re the ones who have the most to gain by killing it.” Bwua’tu retreated toward his desk, then clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the galactic vidmap hanging on his wall. “But that’s hardly our concern at the moment. Whatever your parents are doing in Hapan space, their trip has something to do with a coup attempt. Perhaps they are only going to warn Tenel Ka about the consequences of supporting the Alliance.”

  “You mean, to threaten her?”

  “A threat is a warning,” Bwua’tu replied. “At the moment, that is what we must assume. It’s really Corellia’s only hope.”

  “Which means the Corellians aren’t going to send the Kiris fleet against our blockade,” Jaina said, guessing Bwua’tu already realized this. “They’ll use it to support the Hapan coup.”

  “Exactly,” Bwua’tu replied. “My fleet is badly out of position.”

  “So you’ll reposition?”

  “I’ll certainly suggest it to Admiral Niathal,” Bwua’tu said. “But she’s a very domineering fish. She’s laid a trap for the Corellians, and she won’t abandon it easily.”

  “So?” Jaina asked. “You’re going to move anyway, right?”

  “And disregard my krevi?” Bwua’tu sneered at her as though she had suggested cheating at dejarik. “Who do you think I am—your father?”

  “S-sorry,” Jaina said, taken aback by his harsh tone. “I didn’t mean anything by it—but there’s something else you should know. When the Falcon departed, my mother sensed my presence. She must know the Jedi are watching the Kirises.”

  “I see.” Bwua’tu grew thoughtful. “Do you think she would tell your father?”

  “We have to assume that,” Jaina said.

  “And we must also assume he’ll tell the Corellians that we know about their secret fleet.” Bwua’tu’s expression grew pensive. “And yet, we can’t be certain. This does add an interesting twist to the problem.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Jaina said. “But now you’ll have to move the fleet.”

  Bwua’tu frowned at her. “Haven’t you been listening? Admiral Niathal’s mind is made up.”

  “But when she hears—”

  “She isn’t going to change her plans because of a few feelings between a mother and da
ughter,” Bwua’tu said. “She’ll dismiss it as soft intelligence.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Bwua’tu wrinkled his muzzle and returned his gaze to the galactic vidmap on his wall. His voice assumed an absentminded tone. “How interesting.”

  When he did not elaborate, Jaina went to his side and stared up at the vidmap. It was a standard galactic projection, with the luminous white cloud of the Deep Core near the center of the upper frame and the Unknown Regions not shown at all. Corellia was a small dot on the opposite side of the Deep Core from Coruscant, forming a large triangle of space with Bothawui and Nal Hutta.

  “It looks more frightening to me than interesting,” Jaina said. “If you’re right about Bothawui joining Corellia, it won’t be long before Nal Hutta follows. The rebels will control a quarter of the galaxy.”

  “Not that.” Bwua’tu pointed a finger at Duro, which was located just beyond Corellia on the Corellian Trade Spine. “It appears that Chief Omas’s fears were rather well justified.”

  Jaina scowled, still not understanding. “I’m happy to hear that, but—”

  “The mines.” Bwua’tu tapped a control key below the display, and the map zoomed in until it showed only the Corellian system. He pointed at a tiny yellow blip near the outer edge of the system. “In a few weeks, the Kirises will be in a direct line between Duro and the Corellian star. With all that electromagnetic blast in the background, it would be impossible for the Duros to detect the launch of the Kiris fleet.”

  Jaina’s jaw dropped. “Sal-Solo was going to attack Duro?”

  “The timing is certainly right,” Bwua’tu said. “And Duro still has large deposits of baradium and cortosis.”

  Jaina did not know whether to be sickened or relieved. As the primary component of explosives ranging from thermal detonators to proton bombs, baradium had become the commodity of choice among the galaxy’s evergrowing number of arms smugglers. And woven cortosis fibers could be used to short-circuit lightsaber blades.

  “Well, at least Chief Omas and Uncle Luke can stop double-guessing themselves about the blockade,” Jaina said. “The last thing the galaxy needs is someone dumping a million tons of baradium into the black market.”

  “Or to start selling lightsaber-proof armor,” Bwua’tu added. “But that’s not our concern at that moment. Someone needs to warn the Queen Mother about the situation—and we can’t trust this to a holocomm. Even if the signal isn’t intercepted, we can’t be sure the message will reach Tenel Ka without passing through the wrong hands first. The Consortium is a real flooger-bed of intrigue.”

  “I can reach out to her through the Force,” Jaina said. “That will give her some warning.”

  “A specific warning?”

  Jaina shook her head. “She’ll know there is danger, but not from where.”

  “Then someone needs to see her in person,” Bwua’tu said.

  “So you’re sending me?” Jaina asked.

  “I’m asking you,” Bwua’tu corrected. “You’re a Jedi, remember?”

  “Of course,” Jaina said. “I mean, I’ll be happy to go.”

  “Good.” Bwua’tu checked his chrono, then said, “And I think you should pick up Zekk on the way. This isn’t the sort of thing we should take chances with. I’ll ask Lowbacca bacca and Tesar to go out early and take over the observation post.”

  “Very good.” Jaina would need to carry some extra fuel for Zekk’s StealthX, but it was doable—and it would give her a chance to figure out what the blazes her parents were doing. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” Bwua’tu said. “I’ll send a message up the chain of command, too, but this will be faster—and maybe you can find a way to keep your family name out of this mess. I doubt anyone back on Coruscant would want HoloNet News accusing Han and Leia Solo of running across the galaxy arranging coups.”

  chapter five

  The Queen Mother’s Special Salon was equipped with every modern convenience, from flavor-optimizing beverage dispensers to auto-massaging furniture to participatory holodrama booths. So Han did not understand why the only chronometer in the room was an ancient pendulum clock, the kind with a long, weighted arm that swung side-to-side and emitted a loud tock every second. By his estimate, he had heard that tock more than twenty-five thousand times already, and each one seemed louder than the last.

  “One more tock, and I’m going to smash that thing,” Han growled.

  “I don’t think the Queen Mother would take that very well, Captain Solo,” C-3PO said. Not for the first time, Han wondered why they hadn’t left him behind on the Falcon with Cakhmaim and Meewalh. “It’s pre-Lorellian, probably looted from a Balmorran colony ship by the very pirates who abducted Tenel Ka’s ancestor.”

  “So it’s about time Tenel Ka got another.” Han eyed the salon’s rare byrlewood paneling and gilded ogee molding, searching for the spycam that just had to be there. “By the looks of this place, she oughta be able to afford something a little quieter.”

  “Han!” Leia, who had been sitting on the floor meditating, opened her eyes. “That clock is worth more than the Falcon. A lot more.”

  “Yeah, and it’s noisier, too.”

  Han stood, then grabbed a priceless larmal-topped end table and started across the room.

  Leia jumped up to block his way. “Han, what are you doing?”

  “I can’t take it anymore.” He gave Leia a quick half wink, then started around her. “That tocking is driving me nuts.”

  “So I see.” Leia caught him by the arm. “But the crazy act won’t get us an audience any sooner. We’re not under surveillance.”

  “Of course we are. This is Hapes, remember?”

  “It’s Tenel Ka’s Hapes.” Leia turned him around to face her. “And she respects us too much to spy on us.”

  Han rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “She knows we’d notice the surveillance, so why risk insulting us when she won’t learn anything? This way, she can let us know that no matter what our differences, she still considers us friends.”

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight.” Han continued to hold the table up by his shoulder. “She keeps us cooling our heels seven hours to make sure we know we’re still friends?”

  “Exactly,” Leia said. “It’s the same reason flight control had us land the Falcon in the Royal Hangar. She’s trying to let us know politely that she won’t be able to see us.”

  Han’s stomach sank. “Tell me this isn’t one of those diplomatic code things.”

  Leia gave him an apologetic smile. “Afraid so. You know how Coruscant would react if she gave us an audience. Omas and Niathal would think she was considering the possibility of recalling her fleets—possibly even helping Corellia.”

  “Then how come she told Gejjen to send us?”

  “To placate her nobles, I’m sure,” Leia said. “She needed to buy some time to maneuver, and now we’ve served our purpose.”

  “So she used us,” Han said. “I hate that.”

  “It wasn’t personal, Han.” Leia took the end table from his hands and used the Force to float it back to its place. “We’ll just have to wait. Eventually, she’ll find a way to see us without the spies knowing.”

  “Eventually?” Han went to the intercom panel next to the door. “She can do better than that.”

  “Han, you can’t keep—”

  “Sure I can.”

  Han pressed the call button, and a moment later the peevish face of one of Tenel Ka’s male social secretaries appeared on the vidscreen.

  “Captain Solo,” he said, obviously exasperated. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Yeah,” Han said. “You can tell Tenel Ka I’m tired of waiting.”

  The man’s expression grew weary. “As I’ve already explained, the Queen Mother is unavailable. She asked me to assure you that as soon as she can break free—”

  “Break free?” Han cried. “We were suppos
ed to have half a day with her. We’ve already been here twice that—”

  “Excuse me, Captain,” the secretary said. “Were you under the impression that the Queen Mother was expecting you?”

  “Of course I’m under that impression. We had an appointment!” Han was ready to crawl through the intercom and choke the man. “If you think we came all the way from Corellia just to drop in—”

  “Are you saying we’re not expected?” Leia interrupted, coming to stand next to Han.

  “Indeed I am,” the secretary replied. “The Queen Mother canceled the conference when Prime Minister Gejjen insisted it had to be held on the same day as the Queen’s Pageant.”

  Han scowled. “The Queen’s Pageant?”

  “To pick the most handsome man in the Consortium,” C-3PO explained. “After the Queen Mother’s Birthday and the Marauders’ Masquerade, it’s the largest ball of the year.”

  “Precisely.” The secretary nodded. “Of course the Queen Mother is unavailable today.”

  “You don’t say.” Han was starting to have a bad feeling about their assignment. “And it’s always on the twentieth?”

  “On the last day of the third week,” C-3PO corrected. “The tradition is more than four thousand years old. It seems that the first Queen Mother threw the original pageant as a parody on the slave auctions once held—”

  “Enough, Threepio,” Han said. “We don’t need the history of the whole cluster.”

  “Your droid is correct about the ancient history of the tradition,” the secretary said from the intercom. “I explained all this to Prime Minister Gejjen myself.”

  “To Gejjen personally?” Leia asked. “Not to his assistants?”

  “There’s no use acting surprised,” the secretary sniffed. “He understood me very well.”

  A cloud came over Leia’s face. “I’m sure he did. Please accept our apologies. The mistake is clearly ours.”

  “Obviously,” the secretary replied. “Please be patient. The Queen Mother will see you at her convenience.”

  The vid display went blank.

  “How rude!” C-3PO said. “He didn’t even wish us a good evening.”