by Troy Denning
Han dropped, barely reaching the floor before a flurry of stun bolts flashed toward the fight—then reversed directions as the two Jedi batted the attacks back toward their sources. The marines collapsed in moans and spasms, the redheaded captain cracking skulls with Han as she landed atop him.
He rolled out from beneath her, cursing and rubbing his head. The hangar was ringing with security alarms, and royal guards were pouring from hidden crannies and secret passages, but the two Jedi remained oblivious. Leia connected with a vicious thrust kick that bent Tahiri backward over a landing strut crossbar.
Tahiri grunted and pointed at a loose blaster rifle, bringing it tumbling into Leia from behind, catching her between the shoulder blades and knocking her to the floor. Leia flipped onto her back and brought her legs up over her head, landing on one foot and pirouetting straight into the attack, her blade level with Tahiri’s neck.
“Wait!” Han cried. “Not my strut!”
Leia accelerated her pirouette, trying to land the attack before Tahiri had time to block, and that was when Han began to realize his wife was really serious about this—she wasn’t in it just to teach the younger woman a lesson.
“Leia, no!”
The plea made Leia hesitate just long enough for Tahiri to block, then Leia was on her feet again, keeping Tahiri pinned against the strut, beating down her guard, slipping in knee and elbow strikes with a speed and ferocity that only a Barabel-trained fighter could achieve.
“Leia, stop!” Han yelled. “You want to kill her?”
Leia continued to press the attack, and Han realized that was exactly what she wanted to do. She had found a handy target for all her rage, just as he had when he’d blamed Anakin for Chewbacca’s death, and she was determined to make Tahiri pay for what had happened to Luke … and for what Jacen had become.
Han snatched the blaster pistol from the captain’s hand and, hoping to startle his wife back to her senses, sent a bolt zinging past her. It glanced off the Falcon and left a black, smoking furrow in the hull—apparently, the captain had not set her blaster to stun. Leia glanced away just long enough for Tahiri to land a spinning back-kick that sent her staggering away.
Han sprang up to grab her. He was taking his life in his hands, but he knew Leia would never forgive herself if she killed Tahiri over a stupid comment and a couple of bad choices. He wrapped his arms around Leia’s shoulders and pulled her back—then felt the air leave his chest and his feet leave the floor as she instinctively slammed an elbow into his ribs and started to throw him.
“Whoa … Leia!” he groaned. “It’s me.”
He felt the tension leave her body and his feet return to the floor, then Tahiri started to advance, her haggard eyes filled with malice and anger.
“Don’t do it!” Han ordered. He pulled Leia aside and, when she deactivated her lightsaber, stepped between her and Tahiri. “Don’t you dare.”
Tahiri stopped two paces away, her lightsaber still ignited, glancing from Leia to Han and looking like a sabacc player trying to decide whether to fold or raise.
“You think this is what Anakin would want?” Han prompted. “His mother and his girlfriend trying to kill each other?”
“I certainly don’t,” a female voice said, coming up behind Han—and speaking over the drone of her own lightsaber. “And I won’t have it in my hangar.”
The anger in Tahiri’s face quickly changed to embarrassment. She deactivated her blade and bowed, holding herself parallel to the floor. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I didn’t believe they would resist.”
“Resist what?” Tenel Ka demanded.
“Tahiri was trying to arrest us,” Han explained. He turned to find Tenel Ka behind him, dressed in a casual-but-elegant tunic and cloak that managed to make her look both regal and approachable—a stark contrast with the company of scowling guards behind her. “And her timing was really bad.”
Tenel Ka deactivated her own lightsaber, then motioned Han up as though he had actually remembered to bow. She glanced at Leia’s puffy eyes and frowned, then looked back to Han.
“You may explain, Captain Solo.”
“Sure,” Han said, realizing Tenel Ka must not have felt Luke’s death. He wasn’t sure how that stuff worked, but since she hadn’t been related to Luke, it didn’t seem that surprising. Unless she had been close to them, Leia didn’t usually feel it when other Jedi died, either. “We think Luke just died. Leia felt it in the Force.”
Tenel Ka’s face fell, her expression morphing from shock to disbelief to sympathy in about a second and a half. She turned to Leia.
“We are terribly sorry, Princess.” Tenel Ka didn’t ask how it had happened, probably because she realized her question would only bring more grief—and Leia wouldn’t know anyway. “The palace and its staff are entirely at your disposal. Please feel free to ask for anything you need.”
Leia nodded, but failed to get out her words of thanks and reached for Han’s arm.
“Thanks, Your Majesty,” he said. “We appreciate that.”
“Of course, you mean while they’re under arrest here,” Tahiri said, boldly coming up behind Han and Leia. “There is still an Alliance detention warrant out for them.”
“And I have already informed Colonel Solo that in recognition of their heroic service during our recent troubles, his parents have sanctuary everywhere within the Consortium—especially within the Royal Hangar.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty,” Tahiri said. Still determined to prevent them from pleading their case to Tenel Ka—at least that’s why Han assumed Tahiri had followed them—she continued to stand behind the Solos. “I can’t permit—”
“You cannot permit?” Tenel Ka stepped past Han to confront Tahiri directly, followed by enough royal guards to overpower ten Jedi. “This is the Hapan Consortium, Jedi Veila. I govern here—not Jacen, not the Alliance, and certainly not you.”
“Of course,” Tahiri said. “I only meant the Alliance would disapprove—”
“At the moment, Hapes provides nearly a fifth of the Alliance’s combat capacity,” Tenel Ka said. “The Alliance is in no position to disapprove of anything I do. Is that clear?”
“Of … of course,” Tahiri said. “But—”
“There are no buts,” Tenel Ka interrupted. “Now tell me, were you injured when you attacked Princess Leia?”
Tahiri’s jaw dropped. “I’m the one who was attacked!”
“I’ll take that as a no.” Tenel Ka turned to a black-haired officer at her back. “In that case, Jedi Veila is ready to travel. Return her to her StealthX and have her escorted out of Hapan space, Major Espara.”
Espara inclined her head. “As you wish, Majesty. And if I may make a suggestion?”
“Suggestions are always welcome, Major,” Tenel Ka said. “You know that.”
“Thank you, Majesty,” Espara said. “It might be wise to keep the StealthX cloaking unit here on Hapes—just to be certain Jedi Veila doesn’t slip away from our escort.”
“You can’t!” Tahiri objected. “That technology is Jedi property. Colonel Solo would look very unfavorably on that.”
Espara was ready with a smooth response. “And yet, the Jedi deserted the Alliance at Kuat, while Colonel Solo is attacking them at Kashyyyk. And you are here, attempting to arrest the Solos on behalf of the Alliance.” She turned to Tenel Ka. “The war has grown so very confusing. It’s difficult to tell whose side we’re on at the moment.”
Tenel Ka’s brow rose, then, after thinking for a moment, she nodded. “An excellent point, Major Espara—but I want Jedi Veila gone now. Keep the entire StealthX and supply her with a messenger skiff instead.”
“Jacen won’t put up with this,” Tahiri warned. “You’re stealing an Alliance starfighter.”
Tenel Ka shook her head. “No, Jedi Veila—we are capturing an enemy starfighter. And since you were flying it, that must mean you are now an Alliance prisoner of war.” She turned to Major Espara. “Have her presented to Colonel Solo with ou
r apologies for any misunderstanding. As you say, the war has grown so very confusing.”
Espara smiled. “As you wish, Majesty.”
The major waved her company forward and cautiously disarmed Tahiri.
Han pulled Leia to his side. “How are you doing?”
Leia nodded. “Better. Thanks for …” She looked away, watching Espara’s guards lead Tahiri off, then finished. “… for stopping me.”
“Yes,” Tenel Ka said, joining them. “It was very courageous to step between two angry Jedi as you did.”
“Thanks,” Han said, feeling a little embarrassed. “It was nothing.”
“Nonetheless, please don’t ever do it again. We are quite fond of you with all your limbs.” Tenel Ka smiled and waved them toward the antique lift. “Now perhaps you would tell me why Tahiri is so eager to keep you from speaking to me.”
“Because she’s been spying on the Jedi for Jacen, I think,” Leia said. “And she doesn’t want you to hear what he’s doing now.”
To Han’s surprise, Tenel Ka merely nodded. “This is what I was afraid of.” She stepped into the lift compartment and waved the Solos in after her, but held out her hand to stop Espara and the rest of her bodyguards. “You may join us in the anteroom, Major. The Solos pose no danger to me.”
Espara nodded and closed the doors. As the lift began to rise, Tenel Ka’s eyes grew wet, and her lip began to quiver.
“So the intelligence reports I have been getting from Kashyyyk are true?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Leia said. “I wish there was a better way to put this, but there isn’t. Jacen is burning the planet to the dirt.”
A single tear ran down Tenel Ka’s cheek. “Why?”
“Who knows?” Han couldn’t figure out why Tenel Ka was taking this so hard; she was acting like Jacen was her kid or something. “Because he’s Jacen, and he doesn’t like it when people say no to him.”
This was too much for Tenel Ka. The tears started to flow more freely, and she touched a button on the wall. The lift stopped immediately, trapping them all inside the small compartment.
“Forgive me,” Tenel Ka said, shaking her head in despair. “I don’t know what to make of so much sad news.”
Leia scowled at Han behind Tenel Ka’s back, silently scolding him for being so callous—even if he couldn’t figure out what he’d said wrong—then nodded at Tenel Ka, signaling him to fix the mess he’d made.
Han laid a tentative hand on Tenel Ka’s shoulder, and suddenly she had her head buried in his chest, sobbing as the tough little girl he remembered from the Jedi academy probably never had. Forgetting for the moment that she was the sovereign of the largest independent realm in the galaxy, he wrapped his arms tight around her and stroked her red hair.
“It’s okay, kid.” Han looked over her shoulder at Leia, searching for some hint about what to do next. But Leia was only staring at Tenel Ka’s back, struggling to hold back her own tears. “We should have found a better way to break it to you. I didn’t think losing Luke would hit you so hard.”
Tenel Ka muttered something unintelligible into Han’s tunic, then pushed herself away shaking her head.
“It’s not Luke.” She cast a quick glance at Leia, then added quickly, “I’m very sad to lose him, but it’s more than that—it’s Jacen, too. The galaxy is coming apart around us, and he used to be the one person who seemed strong enough to hold it together.”
“His methods are a little too brutal,” Leia said gently.
Tenel Ka nodded. “He promised to make peace with the Jedi. Instead, he tries to arrest you at Mara’s funeral and takes over the academy on Ossus. Then he sends Ben to assassinate Cal Omas, and now he burns Kashyyyk.” She shook her head with what seemed equal parts sorrow and disgust. “He took my last fleet, Han. He left Allana and me vulnerable—us.”
Given the other promises Jacen had broken, Han saw no reason Tenel Ka should have been surprised to be left hanging with no planetary defenses. But this hardly seemed like the time to rub her nose in past mistakes. Instead, he merely nodded sagely.
“You can’t trust him, Tenel Ka,” he said. “It took us a long time to figure that out, too.”
“Yes, he has been fooling us all for far too long.” Tenel Ka pulled a small hand mirror from her pocket and began to examine her tear-streaked face. “I think the time has come for someone to do the same to him, don’t you?”
Han lifted his brow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“That is why you came here, is it not?” Tenel Ka continued to study herself in her mirror, using the Force to reduce the puffiness around her eyes and balance her skin tone. “To convince me to change sides?”
“At least to withdraw your support,” Leia clarified. “Given Corellia’s recent interference in Hapan internal affairs, I’m not certain it’s fair to ask you to support the Confederation actively.”
“Come now, Princess.” Tenel Ka lowered the mirror, her face now perfectly composed, with no hint of the tears she had been shedding just a minute earlier. She pressed a button on the wall, and the antique lift began to rise again. “We both know that if you aren’t for Jacen, you’re against him.”
nineteen
In a bubble of white agony sat a being fighting to hold on to itself, to remember that it was human, the child of two Jedi, a young man who had hoped to become a Jedi Knight himself. The pain was trying to rob him of this, tearing at his resolve with a thousand forms of anguish—acid that licked nerves raw, poison that raised boiling blisters, needles that turned joints into kilns of throbbing inflammation. The only way to end the pain was to surrender to it, to let it melt him down and forge him into something stronger and sturdier and more enduring.
Ben understood this. Each moment would bring a new and exquisite agony, as fierce and startling as the last, and the pain would never let him die, or grow numb, or escape into catatonic oblivion. He understood all this, and still he clung to the knowledge that he was Ben Skywalker, son of Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker, cousin and onetime apprentice to Colonel Jacen Solo, who is the murderer of my mother.
That last part, Ben repeated twice. It was the only way to keep his hate—and he was going to need his hate. Hate would help him escape, and when he escaped, hate would give him the power to kill Jacen Solo.
The chair—if a pulsing mass of white tendrils tipped with black barbs could be called a chair—tightened its grasp, and a cocoon of yellow energy danced up around Ben. The breath left his lungs in a long staccato scream, and he felt his muscles spasm and heard his teeth grinding, then everything went white, and he sank into the timeless anguish of convulsion.
Later, when Ben’s nerves had become desensitized and required a new torment, the darkness returned to the dark again, and he grew aware of someone standing in front of his chair. How exactly he did this in the unlit cell, he did not know. He could see nothing, and the Force had been lost to him since the pain began. Perhaps he had smelled something foul, or heard a boot click in a familiar way.
But Ben knew. He lifted his chin, as much as his thorny restraints would allow, and said, “Hello, Jacen.”
“I asked you to call me Colonel.”
Ben gathered a mouthful of coppery blood and spat it in the direction of the voice. He did not hear it hit anything.
“Good.” Jacen’s voice had shifted, and now it came from somewhere near Ben’s ear. “Hang on to your hate. It will help you endure.” The voice drew closer. “I couldn’t hate, and it nearly destroyed me.”
“My hate will destroy you,” Ben said.
“Perhaps, given time,” Jacen allowed. “But it will take decades to develop the power to confront me openly. And I hope you understand the futility of trying to take me by surprise. Surely, your circumstances have made that painfully clear.”
A soft chittering sounded near where Jacen’s hand was, and the tendrils holding Ben captive sprouted tiny bristles and injected droplets of venom under his skin. His flesh immediately began t
o swell and nettle and—as the tendrils constricted—to split and weep ichor.
The darkness dissolved into a fiery curtain of pain, and Jacen asked, “Do you want to die yet, Ben? All you have to do is ask.”
“More … lies,” Ben gasped. “You enjoy … this.”
“Enjoy it?” Jacen sounded genuinely hurt. “You know that’s not true. I don’t enjoy any of this.”
An illumination panel flickered to life in the ceiling. Ben’s eyes ached as they struggled to adjust, and he began to make out the shapes of a thorn-coated bed on the adjacent wall, and a tendril-draped rack in the far corner. The chamber was larger than he had imagined, at least ten meters across. To one side, a large door opened into a cavernous darkness that could only be one of the clandestine hangars hidden in the substructure of the Anakin Solo’s forward weapons turrets.
Jacen moved into Ben’s line of sight, dressed in his usual GAG uniform with high boots and black cloak. His eyes were sunken and sad, with purple crescents beneath them and a glassy sheen that made him look as though he were on the brink of weeping—or a demented rage. He reached out and took the tendril binding one of Ben’s wrists to the chair.
“How can you believe I want to do this?” Jacen pulled the tendril away, not even wincing as it wrapped itself around his forearm and sank its anguish-dripping barbs into his flesh. “I’m part of it, Ben. Everything the Embrace of Pain does to you, I feel. We’re in this together.”
“Fine,” Ben said. “How about you take your turn and let me blow things up for a while?”
“Very impressive. I lost my sense of humor after the first …” Jacen caught himself and smiled, probably because he had nearly violated one of the cardinal rules of torture and given the subject a way to guess how much time had passed. “But that’s not important, is it? The point is, I’m doing this to save you.”
“Save me?” Ben laughed, and aching waves of pain rolled through his chest. “Right. The same way you saved Mom.”
Jacen’s lips tightened. “I don’t know why you insist on believing something so hurtful,” he said. “But very well, let’s pretend for the moment you’re right. Why would I have done such a thing?”
