by Troy Denning
“And to seal the residence’s inner blast doors,” Tenel Ka said, arriving behind Jaina and Zekk. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Jaina turned and saw Tenel Ka standing two meters away, surrounded by a small company of attendants and royal guards. Her rust-colored hair hung loose down her back, and she was dressed in a frock of green shimmersilk that managed to appear as practical as it did elegant. The effect was so striking and regal that Jaina had to consciously remind herself she was looking at an old Jedi academy classmate and comrade-in-arms.
“Your Majesty.”
Jaina bowed, and Zekk along with her. Tenel Ka’s eyes flashed with embarrassment at being exalted by her friends, but she was careful to hold herself tall and still to hide her discomfort from her subjects.
“Jaina, Zekk. What an unexpected pleasure.” She motioned them upright, then glanced over her shoulder, toward the great hall where most of the devastation had taken place. “I assume your visit has something to do with that.”
“Right—we came to warn you.” Jaina did not mention the Corellian assault fleet that Bwua’tu suspected would soon be on its way to help with the coup; she would share that intelligence later, once they were alone. “We didn’t think it would happen so soon.”
“I know you did everything in your power.” Tenel Ka’s face grew troubled. She continued, “What I don’t understand is why your parents were involved.”
Jaina felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. “Involved?” She glanced around at the devastation, unable to believe her parents would participate in an attack against Tenel Ka. “You’re sure?”
“More than we’d like to be,” Isolder said. He sounded more disappointed than angry. “Your mother and Captain Solo arrived unannounced and asked for an audience with the Queen Mother. Before she could find time for them, they slipped out of the guest salon and disabled the entire palace security system.”
“We’re still trying to learn how,” Tenel Ka said. “As close as we can estimate, they did it in less than two minutes—and they had to travel nearly half a kilometer through unfamiliar corridors.”
“Maybe you’re having trouble because they didn’t do it,” Zekk suggested.
“Of course they did it!” The woman who said this was a stately looking aide of perhaps forty or fifty—it was hard to tell, given how hard Hapans worked to stay young and attractive. “Such a feat is nothing for a—”
“Thank you, Lady Galney.” Tenel Ka silenced the woman with a polite flip of two fingers, then turned to Zekk. “Do you have another theory?”
Zekk furrowed his brow, then said, “Maybe they were here for the same reason we are—to warn you.”
The suggestion was greeted only by doubtful—in many cases scornful—Hapan expressions, and even Jaina had trouble seeing the basis for Zekk’s assertion.
Finally, Tenel Ka asked, “Then why were they seen leaving with the leader of the assassination squad?”
“They were?” Jaina gasped.
“I’m afraid so,” Tenel Ka said. “A pale woman with a shaved head and a topknot. When my guard managed to pin your parents down, she even risked her own life to rescue them.”
Jaina’s heart sank. It certainly sounded like her parents were working with the assassins.
“There must be an explanation.” Zekk gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Jaina, you need to trust your feelings.”
Jaina pulled away, irritated and confused and … shaken. She found it hard to believe that her parents would participate in any kind of assassination attempt … but she just didn’t know. There were all kinds of rumors suggesting her father had helped Boba Fett assassinate Thrackan Sal-Solo, and her mother had experienced firsthand the evil wrought by Darth Vader. Was it too much to think Leia might kill a friend to keep Jacen from following the same path?
“I don’t know what my feelings are,” Jaina said. She turned to Tenel Ka. “Tenel—er, Queen Mother, I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m having a hard time believing it myself,” Tenel Ka replied. “First appearances are against them, but the investigation is far from complete, and there is some conflicting evidence.”
“Such as?” Zekk demanded.
“Some eyewitness accounts suggest the Solos may have attacked a few assassins when the fighting began.” Tenel Ka turned and extended her arm toward the great hall where most of the fighting had taken place. “We can go have a look, if you’d like.”
“I’d like.” Zekk’s voice was hardly hostile, but it did not take a Jedi to sense that he was angry. “Why are you ignoring these accounts?”
“We’re not ignoring them,” Isolder said. He stepped to Zekk’s side, and they all started toward the ruined hall. “But eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable—as I’m sure you were taught in your investigation courses at the Jedi academy.”
“And some eyewitnesses claim that the men the Solos attacked were actually trying to defend the Queen Mother,” Lady Galney said. “Some very credible witnesses.”
“I’ll judge that for myself,” Zekk said. He turned to Isolder. “When can I speak to these witnesses?”
Isolder stopped and turned to Zekk. “You want to interrogate Hapan nobles?”
“That’s right,” Zekk said. “There’s something wrong here, and I—”
“That’s enough.” Jaina grabbed the back of Zekk’s arm and squeezed. His tone was bordering on the rude—especially to the sensitive Hapan ego—and harsh accusations would only make the official investigators more likely to overlook evidence that might exonerate her parents. “I’m sure the Queen Mother and her staff will discover the truth.”
“Fact,” Tenel Ka said. “The investigation will give the Solos every benefit of the doubt—and I do intend to interview every eyewitness personally.”
That was enough to quiet Zekk’s protests, and to assure Jaina that her parents would not become convenient scapegoats. Though family duties on Hapes had forced Tenel Ka to leave the Jedi order, she retained all the talents and Force skills she had learned as a Jedi Knight. If anyone tried to lie about the Solos’ involvement, the Queen Mother would know.
“Thanks, Your Majesty,” Jaina said. “I appreciate it. If there’s anything we can do to help—”
“There is,” Isolder said instantly. “We know the Falcon often travels under false transponder codes. A list would prove very helpful.”
Jaina’s mouth grew dry. She was being asked to choose between her loyalty to her family and her duty to the Jedi order, and she was well enough trained to realize that her decision really did not hinge on whether her parents were guilty of anything. A member state of the Galactic Alliance was asking for information regarding an attack on its government, and as a Jedi Knight she was obliged to provide it.
When Jaina was slow to answer, Lady Galney reminded her, “The Hapes Consortium is an important part of the Galactic Alliance—a very important part—and your parents are terrorists.”
“Alleged terrorists,” Tenel Ka corrected. She fixed her gray eyes on Jaina, then said, “It would be better for everybody. My commanders will be more … careful if they know when they’re actually dealing with the Falcon.”
“And the information will be useful only as long as they remain inside the Consortium,” Isolder pointed out. “If they aren’t a danger to the Queen Mother, I’m sure they’ll be departing Hapan space as soon as possible.”
“In which case, we won’t pursue them beyond our boundaries,” Tenel Ka added. “We’ll leave them to the Alliance authorities—whom I’m sure already have the false codes.”
“I’m not sure I know all the false codes,” Jaina said, forcing herself to answer. Tenel Ka’s deal was more than fair. The Hapan Royal Navy was going to be boarding—or destroying—every YT-1300 it found. This way, at least Tenel Ka could issue orders instructing her commanders to capture the Falcon and her crew in one piece. “But I’ll give you the ones I do.”
“Thank you,” Tenel Ka said. “I know how ha
rd that must be for you.”
“Just tell your commanders to be patient,” Jaina said. She glanced in Galney’s direction and was a little sickened by the smug satisfaction she sensed in the woman, but that changed none of the basic facts of the situation. “Mom and Dad won’t give up easily—but they’re not going to kill anyone they don’t have to, either.”
“I’ve already instructed my commanders that we need your parents alive,” Tenel Ka said.
“Good,” Jaina said. “We should go someplace and finish our briefing. On our approach, Zekk and I saw the Falcon jumping into hyperspace. If we hurry, we may be able to spare your commanders the trouble of capturing them.”
“By going after them yourselves?” Isolder asked. “In Hapan space?”
Jaina frowned. “Assuming they’re still in Hapan space, yes.”
“Oh, that won’t do.” Galney stepped in front of Jaina, then turned her back as she addressed Tenel Ka. “We can’t have Jedi Solo pursuing her own parents. It will look as though you staged the attack as a pretext for property seizures. You’ll end up driving more nobles into the enemy camp.”
Tenel Ka sighed, then looked over Galney’s shoulder at Jaina. “Lady Galney is right, my friend. It would look very strange to Hapan eyes.”
“No one has to know,” Zekk said. “We’re Jedi.”
“Everyone would know,” Isolder said. He waved a hand around the chamber, allowing it to linger a bit on Tenel Ka’s retinue. “Look about.”
A sheepish look came to Zekk’s face, and Jaina realized she had to yield to Tenel Ka’s wishes. The Hapes Consortium was indeed a flooger-bed of conspiracy and intrigue … and sending a daughter to bring her own parents to justice would have raised eyes even on Coruscant.
“Right, but this is a matter of Alliance security, too,” Jaina said. “We could help by identifying that assassin and trying to trace her travels. That shouldn’t offend—”
“Actually,” Tenel Ka interrupted, “I’ve already asked your brother to help us with that investigation.”
Jaina’s jaw dropped. “Jacen?”
“I know you’ve had your differences of late, but this is what Jacen does now.” Tenel Ka’s voice was apologetic but firm. “Can you honestly say you would do better?”
“That depends on what you mean by better,” Jaina retorted. She could not believe Tenel Ka intended to turn her brother loose inside the Consortium. “Do you have any idea what he’s been doing on Coruscant?”
“Protecting the populace from Corellian terrorists, by all accounts I have seen.” Tenel Ka’s tone was defensive and stubborn. “I’m sorry to distract him, but there may be a connection between the terrorists and this assassination attempt—and Jacen is the only one with the knowledge to investigate it.”
Jaina exhaled in frustration. “Okay. I can tell when we’re not wanted.”
“What about Allana?” Zekk addressed himself to Tenel Ka. “Anyone trying to remove you will also want her eliminated. Until things settle down, maybe she should have a couple of Jedi babysitters.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Tenel Ka’s expression remained calm, but her alarm poured into the Force. She had been keeping her daughter out of sight since the day of Allana’s birth, to the point that rumors of a birth defect had begun to circulate through the Jedi Temple. Perhaps there was something to those rumors, after all. “Her security is better than my own.”
“Like I said, I can tell when we’re not wanted.” Jaina could not help feeling a little angry and hurt; she had just agreed to provide one of her parents’ most closely guarded secrets, and still Tenel Ka refused to trust Jaina with the nature of Allana’s vulnerability. “Maybe we should just finish the briefing and be on our way. But we really need to do this in private.” She cast a pointed glance at Tenel Ka’s retinue.
“Of course,” Tenel Ka said. “Come with me.”
The Queen Mother motioned the two Jedi to her side. When they had obeyed, she drew gasps from Galney and several other noble ladies by slipping her arm through Jaina’s, then leaning close.
“And you are wanted, my friend.” Tenel Ka’s whisper was so soft that Jaina heard it inside her head more than in her ears. “There is something else I must ask you to do for me … something I can trust only to my oldest friends.”
“Of course,” Jaina replied. Her heart had sunk clear to her knees. Whether or not her parents had been a part of the attempt on Tenel Ka’s life, the fact remained that Jaina had to consider the possibility … and that struck her as a sadness nearly as great as her brother Anakin’s death. “The Jedi are always at your disposal.”
chapter nine
Though dawn had come bright and golden several minutes earlier, a sense of darkness and danger still hung over Fellowship Plaza, and the closer Luke and Mara drew to the crime scene, the heavier and more sinister that sense became. A squad of dark-visored policebots blocked access to the walkway at both ends, while a team of spiderlike forensics droids swarmed over the tall privacy hedges to either side. Two detectives—the first a huge-headed Bith in a rumpled tabard, the other a green-scaled Rodian in a sharply creased zingsuit—stood inside the security cordon comparing notes.
“This doesn’t look good,” Mara said. “I’m afraid we’re about to find out why we can’t find Tresina in the Force.”
“Me, too,” Luke answered. “I didn’t like the way that security dispatcher sounded this morning.”
Mara glanced over and scowled. “How did she sound?”
“Surprised,” Luke said. “Maybe even disbelieving.”
The security force dispatcher’s first words when Luke answered the comm half an hour before had been to assure him that his son was “not involved” in the incident. Refusing to answer any questions herself, the dispatcher had asked whether Luke knew where Master Lobi was, then instructed him to meet a pair of detectives in Fellowship Plaza. Of course, Mara had immediately commed Ben; to their relief, he was quite safe and on his way to an important rendezvous with Jacen.
They reached the security cordon and were stopped by a policebot, who did a quick retinal scan on Luke and stepped aside.
“Detectives Raatu and Tozr are expecting you.” The policebot pointed first at the Rodian, then the Bith. “Please remember that the law requires you to answer all questions truthfully, or not at all. Refusal to answer may be considered grounds for an interrogation warrant.”
“Since when?” Mara demanded.
A scanning beam shot from the policebot’s visor into Mara’s eye, then it asked, “Mara Jade Skywalker?”
“Just answer the question, chiphead,” she said.
“Take that as an affirmative,” Luke said quickly. “When did silence become a suspicious act?”
The policebot kept its visor trained on Mara. “The Suspicious Silence Provision was added to the Galactic Loyalty Act at oh three twenty this morning.”
“In the middle of the night?” Mara asked. “How’d they ever get a quorum?”
“Under the Law Enforcement Tools Provision of the Galactic Loyalty Act, quorums are no longer required to approve anti-terrorism legislation.”
“And when did that pass?” Mara asked sarcastically.
“Yesterday at eighteen twenty-seven,” the policebot answered. “By five votes, under reduced quorum requirements due to the boycott of the Bothan delegation.”
“Thanks for the information,” Luke said. He took Mara’s arm and started toward the detectives. “It’s always good to know the law.”
“Especially when they keep changing it,” Mara added under her breath.
“The latest legal updates are available from any law enforcement droid,” the policebot said behind them. “All inquiries will be noted in your file.”
“Wonderful,” Mara grumbled.
Luke found her attitude a little surprising. Mara usually supported a stern response to terrorism. But as a former Emperor’s Hand, she also knew how easy it was to abuse the kind of information the government was now g
athering under provisions of the Galactic Loyalty Act. Every year, she gave a special seminar at the academy, teaching young Jedi how to use the galaxy’s vast data banks to track their quarry.
As the Skywalkers drew near, the two detectives stopped talking. The Bith extended a delicate-fingered hand in greeting to Luke, then to Mara.
“Master Skywalker and Master Skywalker, thanks for coming. I’m Chal Tozr.” He waved at his green-scaled companion. “This is my partner, Gwad Raatu.”
Instead of offering a hand, Raatu twitched his scaly snout in suspicion. “Do you know a Tresina Lobi?”
“Of course they know her,” Tozr said. “She’s a Jedi Master.”
“That’s correct,” Luke said. He could sense Raatu’s excitement through the Force; the Rodian’s hunting instinct had been triggered, and he was eager to find his prey. “She sits on the Jedi Council, as a matter of fact.”
“Not anymore.” Continuing to study their faces rather obviously, Raatu waved a hand toward the hedge on the near side of the walkway. “A gardener droid found her.”
“Gwad! Show some respect.” The edges of Tozr’s cheek folds turned blue with embarrassment. “Sorry about that. My partner thinks everyone is a suspect.”
“Everyone is a suspect.” Raatu’s dark eyes remained fixed on Luke and Mara. “Where were you early last night?”
Tozr let out his breath in whistled exasperation. “Gwad!” He turned his huge head toward the Skywalkers. “You don’t have to answer.”
“No, it’s fine.” A knot of anger was forming in Luke’s stomach, but it was not Raatu he was upset with. The Jedi comm center’s night tech had left a message detailing Master Lobi’s interrupted transmission, so he knew what had happened to Lobi—and who was responsible. “I had an important meeting with Chief Omas that lasted until after midnight. Mara was with me.”
“If you’d like to confirm that, you can comm his office.” Mara’s voice was particularly sharp and sarcastic—a sign of the sorrow and anger that Luke could feel in her through the Force. “Ask for the Chief of State.”
