bit later," Ossilege said, a slight smile on his lips. "What about
Centerpoint itself?" Han asked. "Is there any weak spot that we know about?
Someplace where we might pile in a lot of firepower and get lucky? Blow the
place up?" "No, sorry," said Sonsen. "It doesn't work that way. Don't forget
that the Glowpoint is a containment vessel for an extremely powerful
reaction. It's very strong, and it's very good at absorbing and dispersing
energy, and well insulated. The figures we worked up show that the energy
levels in there at the moment are the equivalent of setting off a proton
torpedo at least once a second, and Centerpoint has been putting up with
that for days on end. And the rest of the structure is very strong, and very
old, and so well sealed and shielded that we've never been able to map most
of the interior. I'm told the Sentinel has landed search parties that are
doing their best to find the control system and shut the system down, but
that control system has kept itself pretty well hidden for at least a
thousand generations. I doubt they'll find it in just a day or two of
looking." "So the repulsors are our only hope," said Luke. "But then why
worry about the Triad fleet at all? Why confront it? Why not just withdraw,
get our ships out of harm's way, and concentrate all our effort into
activating the repulsors?" "Because the repulsors are not the only game in
town," said Ossilege. "That is an eighty-ship fleet out there, after all.
They could dominate this star system indefinitely, if they chose to do so,
and we left them alone. Or suppose, for example, they got to the repul-sors
on Drall and Selonia and grabbed them from us before we were ready to use
them?" "Let's talk about the repulsors for a minute," said Luke. "Where are
we with them? How about the Selonian repulsor? Dracmus?" The Selonian shook
her head mournfully. "There is no changing. I have been checking with our
people just before this fine meeting. The Sacorrian Selonians, the Triad
Selonians of the nameless Den, are weakening. They see the force of our
arguments. But they are not with us yet." "Is there any realistic chance of
their being persuaded before the next starbuster shot?" Ossilege asked.
Dracmus looked miserable. "A small one," she admitted at last. "Only a small
one. Our best people are working on the Triad Selonians. But we now think
perhaps they have received indoctrination in just such a circumstance. We
have tried everything, I assure you." "Have you tried cash?" Mara asked. "I
am begging your pardon?" "Cash. Money. A travel case full of credit notes.
You know. A bribe. Or make it sound nice. Call it a consulting fee. Tell
them you want to hire them, and will pay well." Dracmus looked absolutely
amazed. "This had never been occurring to us. We will try it at once."
"Good," said Mara. "And don't be cheap about it. Whatever you offer has got
to be cheaper than letting the Triad win." "What about our repulsor?" asked
the Drall, Ebrihim. "Have you made any progress with it?" "Our tech staff
has only had a few hours to work on it," said Ossilege. "It's early to
expect results. But rest assured, we have every person with pertinent
experience down there working right now." "That is not the case," said a new
voice, a stern female voice that was used to being heard and obeyed. It was
the other Drall. Marcha, the Duchess of Masti-gophorous. "It is not the
case, Admiral, and you know it not to be the case." "Duchess, might I ask
what you are talking about?" asked Ossilege. "The children," she said.
"Anakin in particular, but he works best when the other two are there to
help him, guide him." "Don't be absurd," said Ossilege. "What possible use
could they be? How could they possibly have any expertise? I would urge you
not to mistake a series of lucky accidents for ability. We do not have time
to waste on such nonsense. Move on, Lieutenant." Kalenda hesitated a moment.
It was not her place to contradict her superior officer. But on the other
hand, it was not his place to be a damned pigheaded fool. And Gaeriel
Captison had reminded her, not so long ago, that there was more to life than
adhering to military etiquette. "Sir, my apologies for discussing this in
front of others, but there may not be another chance, and the stakes are too
high. I believe you are making a mistake." "What!?" "Sir, it is my job to
analyze events and come to conclusions. I have analyzed the events
surrounding the children, and I have come to the conclusion that their
abilities are-are remarkable. They have been constantly underestimated,
their achievements constantly dismissed as exaggerated, or lucky accidents,
or remarkable coincidences. That is simply not true. It is not credible."
She pointed at Drall, plainly visible through the main bridge viewports.
"The plain fact of the matter is that you have a repulsor down there because
a seven-and-a-half-year-old boy found it for you, and turned it on. It is no
longer in the hands of our enemy-and our enemy is in the brig-because that
boy and his siblings managed to walk through a working force field, repair a
disabled starship, fly that ship into space, and shoot down a pursuing
spacecraft flown by a professional military pilot. I could go on for half an
hour, describing all the things that they could not possibly have done, but
the point will remain the same." Ossilege looked up at Kalenda, his
expression utterly unreadable. Was there anger seething under there? Was he
simply considering her words? Was he infuriated at the assault on his
authority, or simply wondering if she might be right? It was impossible to
tell. The man was completely inscrutable. "You argue most effectively,
Lieutenant Kalenda. You marshal your facts well. You will either go far as
an intelligence officer or end your career in the brig for insubordination.
I had intended to disembark all noncombatants on Drall in any event, and it
occurs to me that the shielded side chambers of the repulsor are probably
the safest place to be right now. Madame Chief of State, Captain Solo-if, as
Lieutenant Kalenda claims, your children might be of help, would you consent
to their being put to work?" "Absolutely," said Han. "Not that it matters
what we think. Get them within a hundred kilometers of trouble, and they'll
find it all on their own." "Madame Chief of State?" "We need all the help we
can get," said Leia. "Let them do their part." Ossilege raised his eyebrows
and looked hard at both of them, "Very well," he said. "Then let us move on.
Lieutenant?" "Well, sir, to sum up, we have two objectives, neither of them
very easy. First is to defeat the Triad fleet and prevent it from dominating
this star system. Second is to do whatever we can to prevent Centerpoint
from firing again. I believe that covers everything we were going to
discuss, except for Source A-and I believe you wanted to cover that
yourself." Ossilege smiled broadly-and it was unusual to see any smile at
all on his face. He stood up and looked about at all the faces around the
table. "Source A," he said. "Source A, if I am not mistaken, is known to
several of you already. But let me tell the rest
of you about him." If the
day had started with joyous reunions, it ended with tearful good-byes. "Do
you really have to go, Mommy?" asked Anakin, his voice a little snuffly, his
chin quivering just a bit. They were in the Intruder's hangar deck again,
the last load of noncombatants boarding the shuttle that would take them
down to the safety of the repulsor's shielded side caverns. "Yes I do,
dearest," Leia said, kneeling down in front of him, forcing a reassuring
smile onto her face. "And so do you. Everyone has a job today. I have to
help Daddy and Chewbacca fly the Falcon. You and your brother and sister
have to go down to the repulsor again, and see if you can make it work the
way we need it to." "I bet we can," said Anakin. "I'll bet you can too,
sport," said Han, tousling his son's hair. He was smiling too, but even
Anakin must have been able to see the pain in his eyes. And even Anakin knew
that everyone had to pretend that everything was fine. Leia looked up at
Jaina and Jacen. "You two take care of each other, and of Anakin, all right?
And do what Threepio and Ebrihim and the Duchess tell you to do. And be sure
to-be sure to-" Suddenly Leia stopped, her voice choked up. It was all too
ridiculous. She was going into battle, she was sending her children to
operate a machine that could move a planet around, sending them off to face
more responsibility than most intelligent beings ever dreamed of, she might
be killed and never see them again, and yet she was left with nothing to
tell them but the age-old motherly admonitions to behave themselves and
brush their teeth. "We will, Mom," said Jaina, her voice gentle and low.
"Don't worry, we'll do all the things we're supposed to do." "Fear not,
Madame Chief of State," said Threepio. "I shall take good care of them
all-assuming the Drall permit me." Leia threw her arms about her children,
shut her eyes, and squeezed them as tight as she could. "I love you all,"
she managed to say, before her voice choked up altogether. She held them for
as long as she could, and a little bit longer besides, until Han knelt down
beside her and gently pulled her arms back. "It's time to go," he said. "The
ship has to leave." Leia nodded, unable to speak. She kissed each of them
one last time, and Han did the same. The three children and Threepio walked
aboard the shuttle transport, and the shuttle transport lifted off. And they
were gone. There were plenty of other good-byes, of course, and none of them
were easy. Luke, Lando, Mara, Kalenda, Gaeriel, all of the others. They all
knew the odds were very much against everyone making it back. They all knew
some of these good-byes might be for more than a day or two. They might be
forever. And yet, they all understood that sort of good-bye. They all had
been there before, said good-bye to a comrade for an hour or a day, and then
never seen the comrade again. There was a code, a ritual, a sort of a
ceremony to it all, that made such good-byes, if not easier, at least far
more manageable, more understandable. But there was one other leave-taking
that had a different set of emotions behind it. There was one more person
Han had to see before he went into battle. And that person was in the brig.
Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the last frayed thread of the family
ties. Or maybe those family threads were stronger than he thought. Maybe
blood was stronger even than betrayal. Or maybe--though Han doubted it-he
just wanted to gloat. It didn't fee! that way, but you never knew. You never
knew. Whatever the reasons, he had come. The guard activated the door
control, and Han stepped into the detention cell. Thrackan was sitting on a
low bench set against the far wall of the room. "Hello, Thrackan," he said.
"Hello, Han. Come to see the rare specimen in his cage?" "I'm not sure why I
came," said Han. "For some reason I wanted to see you. So here I am." "And
here / am," Thrackan said, a cruel smile on his face. He lifted his head up,
threw his arms out wide, and stuck his chest out. "Here I am," he said
again. "Get a good look." "You shouldn't have done it, Thrackan," said Han.
"Oh, there are lots of things I shouldn't have done," Thrackan said. "I
certainly shouldn't have gone off in pursuit of those miserable, freakish
children. That was a fatal mistake. Fatal. But what specific act did you
have in mind?" "The children," Han said. "My children. You should not have
kidnapped the children. Never involve the innocent. Always protect your
family. Two of the oldest traditions of Corellia. I remember your sneering
at those ideas, saying it was no great sin in breaking them. But that was
just words. You didn't just talk about breaking those laws. You did it. You
did it. Thrackan, how could you?" "Easily," Thrackan said. "Far too easily.
They just fell into my hand. How could I not keep them? Why shouldn't I have
kept them?" "Because it was wrong, Thrackan." Thrackan sighed wearily and
leaned back against the wall. "Han. Please. I'm locked away in a cell. By
all rights, the longest part of my trial will be the reading of the charges
against me. The jury shouldn't even leave the box. There isn't even any
point to a jury or a trial at all. The sensible thing would be just to have
me taken out and shot. But I'm sure they will give me all the relentlessly
fair justice they can find to throw at me-and then lock me away forever.
I'll probably never have any freedom of action ever again. So there's not
much point in teaching me right from wrong. Not at this late date." "You're
beaten, Thrackan," said Han. "You've lost, and lost everything." Thrackan
chuckled. "True enough, Han. True enough. But I do have one consolation."
"What's that, Thrackan?" Thrackan Sal-Solo, would-be Diktat of Corellia,
gestured vaguely toward the outside of the cell, toward the universe beyond.
"The Triad fleet out there," he said. "Maybe I've lost, Han, but it does me
a world of good to know that you haven't won yet." He smiled in a chillingly
close imitation of Han's own lopsided grin, an imitation turned cold and
hard and cruel. "And I don't think you're going to, either." Han stared at
his cousin. Then, without saying another word, he turned and knocked on the
cell door. It slid open, and Han walked away. He still didn't know why he
had come.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Showdown at Centerpoint At last, at long last, it was time to board ship,
launch, and head out into space. But getting to that point was not easy. The
Bakurans needed all the firepower of the newly repaired Millennium Falcon,
and no one could argue that the Falcon needed a crew of at least three-a
pilot, a copilot, and a gunner-in order to provide the maximum firepower.
There was, of course, never even the slightest debate over who the pilot and
copilot should be. Han and Chewbacca belonged in those seats, and there was
no doubt about it. But more than a few people tried to talk Leia out of
sitting in the quad laser turret. It was not proper for a Chief of State to
go flying around taking potshots at enemy ships. But Leia was adamant. She
had had enough of being pushed around in recent weeks. It was high time she
paid a little of that back. The harder people tried to talk her out of going
on the mission, the more determined she became. Even Ossilege tried to talk
her out of it. But even Ossilege realized, eventually, that he had to back
down. But now she was aboard, Chewbacca was aboard, and the Millennium
Falcon was ready. Now was the moment. Han checked his status boards one last
time, confirmed his departure instructions, brought the repulsors on, and
flew out into the sky. Once well clear of the Intruder, he eased back on the
sublight engines and waited for the others to form up on him. They were
going into battle together-Han, Chewie, and Leia aboard the Millennium
Falcon, Mara Jade alone aboard the Jade's Fire, Lando aboard the Lady Luck,
and Luke in his X-wing. It made a certain amount of sense to put all the
non-Bakuran ships in one formation. It saved forcing the Bakuran fighter
pilots to learn how to deal with nonstandard ships in their formations. Han
had been aboard all of the other ships, and their pilots had been aboard
his. Perhaps more importantly, all four of the pilots knew each other,
trusted each other's skill. Han watched as the Lady Luck flew out of the
hangar doors and toward him. Suddenly Han felt good. They were flying into
danger, into battle, but what of that? He had done it before. He was behind
the controls of his own ship, in space, surrounded by friends. What was to
feel bad about? He saw the Lady Luck do a double barrel roll just as Luke's
X-wing launched. Han laughed out loud. He wasn't the only one feeling good.
He keyed on the com system. "Falcon to Lady Luck. Lando, you old pirate, the
idea is to fly in a straight line just at the moment. I think you just
wobbled off course a bit." "Aw, can't a guy have a little fun now and then?"
"Relax, both of you," said Luke as he pulled into position off Lando's
starboard wing. "We're going to get a chance to do all the fancy flying we
want today." The Jade's Fire launched, and Mara came on the line. "I don't
know about the rest of you," she said, "but I'd be just as happy if this
stayed nice and simple." Chewbacca cut off the ship-to-ship link, hooted
loudly, and bared his fangs. Han laughed. "All right," he said, "so she's a
spoil- sport. Any spoilsport who can fly the way she does can be my wingman
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