Star Wars: Legacy of the Force: Fury

by Aaron Allston

  Then there was a jolt of stronger emotion from Ben: fear. Luke looked up to see Ben suddenly on his feet, staring with an expression of naked alarm on his face.

  Luke offered a quizzical look. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know how to say it. What are the right words?” Ben turned away from his father, looked around as if seeking confirmation from faces that weren’t there, and turned back again. He was suddenly as frantic as someone at the crossroads of a maze with stormtroopers coming up behind him—which way of several was best? Which ways led to capture or death?

  And then he was pacing, running his fingers through his hair, ruffling it as though the sudden untidiness would help the thoughts escape. “You want to be with Mom.”

  “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, but for me it’s different. I want her to be here, with us.” Ben stopped in midstride and whirled to face his father, a graceful move that Luke could appreciate with the Jedi Master portion of his mind. “You want to be with her where she is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want to be dead. At peace. With her. Dead.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it isn’t. When Uncle Han and Aunt Leia told us Alema Rar was dead, you should have said, Now I can get back to work. Instead, you’re saying Now I can turn over the Jedi Order to someone who’s worthy. You’re getting ready to die. Problem is, you don’t have an incurable disease or a blaster pressed against your head. So how’s it going to happen?” Ben’s voice cracked on the final word.

  “Ben, that is so, so…You’re just leaping to the wrong conclusion.” Luke struggled for the right argument to make his son see that this was a ridiculous notion.

  But the argument just wasn’t there.

  “That’s what attachment is, isn’t it?” Ben began pacing again, and words finally poured from him like water running through a shattered dam. “It’s not loving somebody. It’s not marrying somebody. It’s not having kids. It’s being where, if something goes wrong, there’s nothing left of you. It’s where if she goes away, you start functioning like a droid with a restraining bolt installed. Mom wouldn’t want you to be this way. So why are you?”

  “I can’t help it.” Luke was on his feet and the words wrenched out of him before he realized it. He rocked, unbalanced by the sudden violence of his emotions.

  Ben spun to stare at him. “You’ve got to!”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the Jedi Master, you figure it out.”

  Luke felt real anger stir within him, a fire fanned by the insolence of Ben’s tone.

  No, that was another lie, Luke lying to himself. The fire was being fanned by the fact that Ben was right.

  Luke closed his eyes, feeling his way through the insulation of peacefulness he’d constructed for himself across these past months. Beyond it, he tried to find himself. But at first he could feel nothing but the weight of his grief, and the one thing that kept him functioning while carrying that burden—his desire to be reunited with Mara. Reunited when the time came. Reunited in the Force.

  Then there was the other weight, the one he had largely slipped from his shoulders, the weight of his responsibility—to the Order, to his family, to the galaxy.

  To the living.

  Of course he had shrugged it off. No man could carry two such weights for any length of time. He would be crushed beneath them.

  But he had to carry the one he had set aside, didn’t he?

  I’m sorry, Mara. Knowing it to be a betrayal, Luke slowly, carefully stepped out from under his grief.

  It didn’t leave him entirely—just as Mara was still part of him, the pain of losing her would always be with him, too. But suddenly it was easier to breathe, to think. He wondered how long it had been since he had truly thought clearly.

  And curiously, it didn’t feel like a betrayal at all.

  Then there was that other weight, the weight of duty. He had carried it throughout his adult life, and at times it had ground him down. But at other times it had sustained him, helped keep him alive.

  Perhaps that was why he had been so willing to abandon it: it had been keeping him alive at a time when he did not want to live.

  With meticulous care, he picked up and shouldered that other weight.

  He opened his eyes. His son stood before him, anxious, but now Ben sighed, a brief exhalation of relief. “Hey, Dad, look in a mirror.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “You know what? Your feelings betray you.”

  Luke suppressed a snort. “Ben, if you ever, ever say I told you so—”

  “I won’t.”

  “—I’ll put you through a training session that would make Kyp Durron cry.”

  “I won’t, I won’t.”

  “How did you get so smart, anyway? When I wasn’t looking?”

  Ben shrugged, once again an adolescent at a loss for words.

  Luke put an arm around his son’s shoulders and led him toward the lift. “You know, these are unsettled times. Things are too busy for many of our usual formalities. For ceremonies, for rites.”

  Ben frowned, suspicious. “What are you getting at?”

  “I think you should begin building your lightsaber.”

  Ben skidded to a stop and looked at Luke. “But…but I haven’t faced my trials.”

  “What do you call pulling yourself back from the brink that Jacen pushed you to…and then pulling the Grand Master back from his own brink?”

  “Being obstinate.”

  “Show me a Jedi Knight who isn’t obstinate.” Luke stepped onto the lift plate and held his toe over the button inset in the permacrete. “Get to work on your weapon, son.” He pressed the button and let the turbolift carry him down, back to his work, back to his responsibility.

  chapter twenty-nine

  SANCTUARY MOON OF ENDOR, SHUTTLE REVEILLE, ON APPROACH

  The forest stretched for countless kilometers in every direction, but below was a clearing broad enough to house several sports complexes…and at its center was a huge sheet of durasteel, curved like the roof of a prefabricated building, burned through in places by the violence of uncontrolled atmospheric entry, elsewhere rusted in spots the size of whole freighters. Nearly forty years earlier, it had been cast off the second Death Star when that vessel exploded. It had come to ground here, crushing and igniting all life beneath it, creating a clearing where before there had been tall trees. Now, decades later, grasses, flowers, and vines grew around the relic, but trees were slow in returning to the once-burned spot.

  Syal Antilles, at the pilot’s controls, banked the shuttle over the site, taking note of objects and living things on the ground—the Millennium Falcon, half protruding from the shadow of the giant metal plate, X-wings, shuttles, Jedi, droids, Ewoks. The Ewoks clambered on the vehicles, climbed the curved slopes of the Death Star remnant. Some had constructed sleds of wood planks and leather, and now they rode the sleds down the smoother, unrusted slopes of the metal plate.

  Syal whistled. “What a relic. If my sister Myri were here, she’d be cutting three-centimeter squares off that thing and selling them as souvenirs. Get your own piece of history. Own a part of the second Death Star.”

  General Celchu, relaxing in the copilot’s seat, offered a noncommittal “Ah.”

  Syal glanced at him, remembering, too late as usual, that her words might dredge up bad memories. Tycho’s world of Alderaan had been destroyed by the first Death Star—at the precise moment he was in live holocomm contact with his family on that planet. He had been part of the mission to destroy the second Death Star, flying a first-generation A-wing into the gigantic vehicle’s superstructure. Had his skills and reflexes been just a touch less brilliant in those days, his A-wing and his bones might now be lying beneath that wreckage.

  She winced. “I’m sorry. Was that stupid of me?”

  Absently, he shook his head. “No. But your comment about your sister made me think…”
>
  “Yes?”

  “Maybe we could get a cutting torch and pick up a few square meters of it before the shuttle heads back to Coruscant.”

  She grinned.

  Moments later, following the landing beacon being transmitted to her, she brought the Reveille down to a smooth, wings-up landing near the Millennium Falcon. A quick postflight checklist later, she, Tycho, and their passenger stood at the top of the boarding ramp.

  As the ramp lowered, it revealed the face of the uniformed man standing below.

  Tycho leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Antilles, you’re off duty.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The ramp touched down and she ran down its length, throwing herself into the arms of the man waiting there. “Daddy.”

  Luke grinned at, but otherwise ignored, the Antilles reunion and waited for General Celchu to descend.

  Tycho came down the ramp accompanied by a man who was decidedly unmilitary—a bit paunchy, black-bearded, dressed in plain black trousers and a shirt printed with the vista of a volcanic world. In fact, it was more than printed; as Luke watched, one of the volcanoes seemed to erupt, silently spewing smoke and lava up from belly level to nearly the height of the man’s collar.

  Tycho shook Luke’s hand. “Grand Master Skywalker, allow me to introduce—”

  “Doctor Seyah!” Ben trotted up, a hand extended to the black-haired man. “I’m surprised you’re not dead or something.”

  Seyah smiled. “Good to see you, Ben. You’ve gotten taller.”

  “Good!” Ben turned to his father. “Doctor Seyah is the man who briefed me on Centerpoint Station. He’s a gravitic physicist and spy.”

  Seyah shook Luke’s hand in turn. “More successful as a physicist than a spy, I suppose. Which is why I’m here.”

  Tycho nodded. “Doctor Seyah is on Colonel Solo’s arrest-interrogate-and-execute list. For presumed treason, which I know to be incorrect. I, uh, picked him up just before the GAG goons came for him. He’s been in safe houses since, but it’s hard to keep him out of sight of Solo’s investigators.”

  Ben wrinkled his nose. “I can totally see that, considering how he dresses.”

  Tycho smiled. “Grand Master, I was hoping we could leave him with you.”

  Luke snorted, amused. “At least you have the courtesy to identify your spies when you try to place them with us.”

  Deadpan, Tycho nodded. “Galactic Alliance Intelligence. We’re the courteous alternative.”

  Luke stepped aside and gestured for the newcomers to precede him. “Let’s get you some food and caf. Then we can talk.”

  Wedge decided that the group Luke led through the Death Star wreckage was a mob, and it was perhaps the most dangerous mob within five hundred light-years. Following him and Luke were Han and Leia, Jaina and Zekk, Syal, Tycho, Saba Sebatyne and Corran Horn, Ben, and Kyle Katarn, who trailed the pack but otherwise seemed to be moving well.

  Luke chose a shady spot beneath an overhang of Death Star hull. He spread out his cloak on the bare dirt there and sat, gesturing for Han and Leia to join him. The others sat on Jedi cloaks or the bare ground.

  Without preamble, Luke began. “I’ve had a brief talk with General Celchu here, and I’m going to go over some points he made and some other details that have come up recently. Together we’re going to make some decisions about a course of action.” Wedge saw Saba Sebatyne nod approvingly.

  Luke gestured at Tycho. “The general came here to make an official request by the GA government that the Jedi Order return to the Galactic Alliance fold, as is our sworn duty.”

  Wedge grinned. “Five credits says the invitation came only from Admiral Niathal, and that Colonel Solo had no part in it.”

  There were no takers.

  Wedge continued, “I think I need to put Tycho’s presence here in perspective. All this is speculation on my part, but I speculate pretty well. Tycho wouldn’t have asked for this meeting on his own initiative, because he doesn’t represent the GA in these matters. But he hasn’t once suggested that he’s here on behalf of his boss, Admiral Niathal. Which means he’s here with either her overt or her tacit approval, representing her interests as joint Chief of State of the GA. If anything goes wrong with this mission, he and his career go up in a flash of smoke, but it’s something that has to be done. And now he’s not going to say anything, because he can offer neither confirmation nor denial of what I’ve just said.” He grinned at his old friend.

  Tycho’s jaw worked for a moment, then set. He contented himself merely with glaring at Wedge.

  Luke grinned. “I said no to General Celchu’s request, for the simple reason that any action that puts the Order under the command of, or potentially at the mercy of, Jacen Solo is an unacceptable one, particularly after what happened at Ossus. My position remains that we serve the GA best by determining the course of action that is best for everyone, and then implementing it, at least until such time as the GA Chief of State’s office can be considered trustworthy again.”

  There were nods from all around the assembly.

  “Let me make this clear, though.” Luke fixed Tycho with his gaze. “We serve the Galactic Alliance. When Jacen Solo is no longer a factor, we will return our seat of authority to Coruscant. We retain trust in Admiral Niathal.”

  Tycho nodded. “I understand and appreciate that. But once I file my report with her…there’s always the chance that Colonel Solo will gain access to it, and learn that you’re now stationed on Endor.”

  “By the time you get back to Coruscant, we won’t be on Endor any longer.” Luke looked among the others. “Now in the spirit of serving the Alliance—at least what we want the Alliance to be—and of serving the greater good, we’re going to sketch out our next operation. Which, in part, will be to rescue Allana, Chume’da of the Hapes Consortium, and daughter of Tenel Ka, from captivity at the hands of Jacen Solo.”

  Tycho raised a hand.

  “Yes, General.”

  “Let me see if I understand this. You’re going to help the Alliance this way.” Tycho began counting items off on his fingers. “First, you return the Chume’da to the Queen Mother. Second, the Queen Mother again, who by now must hate Jacen Solo absolutely, turns her fleets against him and the GA. Third, the Confederation, at that point stronger than the Alliance, conquers the Alliance. Fourth…” He paused as if confused. “There is no fourth.”

  Luke smiled. “I left out a detail.”

  “Ah, good. I was worried there.”

  “The Corellians just used Centerpoint Station to destroy elements of the Second Fleet. They also tried to kill Jacen. Now, thinking the way Jacen does, the way he must, it’s inconceivable that he would not make an all-out effort to capture the station and have in his possession the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. We’re not going to let the Corellians have it, and we’re not going to let Jacen have it. We’re going to destroy it…probably at the same time Jacen mounts his operation to capture it.”

  Tycho shook his head. “So you continue to deprive us of the Hapan fleets, and you deprive us of Centerpoint Station.”

  “No, we give the Queen Mother the right—her right—to negotiate the terms under which her fleets will be used by the Alliance, and we deprive the Confederation of Centerpoint Station. This will result in a morale blow to the Confederation, and will cost them allies. If the Hapans stay out of it, the two sides remain roughly equal for now. If Admiral Niathal can stuff Jacen into a box, the Hapans return to the Alliance fold, and the Alliance is suddenly the stronger side.”

  The general continued to look unhappy. “There are a lot of ifs in that plan, Grand Master.”

  “True.”

  “How do you intend to do it?”

  Luke glanced toward Kyle Katarn for a moment. “It’s inevitable that Jacen will command the mission to Centerpoint Station himself. We’ve managed to plant a tracer beacon on him, and he still apparently hasn’t detected it. Sadly, it’s very short-range, but if we can keep StealthXs in rotation near the
Anakin Solo, we can detect when the mission starts. It would be better if we had a longer-range tracer, but we’ll use what we have. Then—”

  Leia, looking curiously guilty, interrupted. “Actually…there’s a full-power holocomm beacon on Jacen’s ship. Zekk planted it. He also disabled their tractor beam, partly to allow us to escape and partly to give the ship mechanics some sabotage to detect and repair…so that they would miss the more subtle addition to their holocomm system.”

  Luke looked between Leia and Zekk. “When was this?”

  Zekk shrugged. “When we raided to get the information on Brisha Syo’s asteroid from his shuttle memory.”

  “It would have been useful to have known this earlier.”

  Han shifted, uncomfortable. “We’ve been busy putting out fires.”

  Luke sighed, then continued. “With our new, fancy holocomm beacon on the Anakin Solo, we detect when Jacen begins his operation, and jump to Corellia. General Celchu brought us an expert who can help us figure out how to destroy it.”

  “That’s not what I brought him for.”

  “Regardless, he was willing to help blow it up once, he’ll be willing to help blow it up a second time.” Luke shrugged apologetically and moved on. “Meanwhile, we send a unit of Jedi aboard the Anakin Solo to distract Jacen…and to retrieve the Chume’da.”

  “How do you plan to get them aboard?” Han sounded dubious. “I kind of doubt the old Love Commander trick will work a second time.”

  Luke looked at Tycho. “General, when you arrived, your shuttle transceiver broadcast what I assume was a false registration and identity. I also assume that it’s capable of broadcasting a registration and identity consistent with General Celchu of Starfighter Command.”

  Tycho nodded. “Of course.”

  Luke spread his palms. “There you have it. We go in on General Celchu’s shuttle.”

  Slowly, Tycho shook his head. “Much as I personally might want you to succeed in this, I sort of have to say no. Duty and officer’s oaths and all that. You understand.”