by Troy Denning
Sashal’s eyes shone in sudden comprehension, and she deactivated her own lightsaber. “The heir to the Hapan throne lives?” she asked. “And the Solos are raising her?”
“That is what I am saying,” Vestara confirmed. “And more. It’s common knowledge among the Jedi that Queen Mother Tenel Ka and Jacen Solo were close when they were young. There are those who believe they stayed close even after she assumed the Hapan throne.”
“Then Allana is the daughter of the Hapan queen and Jacen Solo?” Sashal started down the tunnel toward the hatch, her company following close behind. “You are certain?”
“What I am certain of is that the girl living with the Solos is the Jedi queen,” Vestara said. She was more than a little alarmed to see Sashal coming down the tunnel, but she was gambling for everything now—for her life and more, for complete redemption in the eyes of the Lost Tribe and a return to her people as a hero. “And the Jedi are determined to keep her identity secret. It explains everything that happened on Klatooine.”
“It’s plausible,” Sashal agreed, still thinking. “It would explain why your father failed when he tried to kill the Queen Mother. And it makes sense for the Jedi queen to be the child of a Queen Mother and a powerful Jedi Knight.”
“A powerful Jedi Knight who became the Sith Lord Caedus,” Vestara reminded Sashal. “If the Force has not been at work in this, then I have no idea what the Force is.”
“Indeed.” As Sashal spoke, the metallic hiss of a retracting iris hatch sounded behind Vestara. The High Lord stopped five paces away—far enough from her to defend or attack. Then she looked through the open hatch into whatever lay beyond … and flashed a spiteful grin. “You have done well, Saber Khai. Very well.”
Sashal extended her arm. Fearing the worst, Vestara snapped the lightsaber off her belt hook. But the High Lord barely seemed to notice. She was still staring over Vestara’s shoulder, sneering in open delight.
“Detonator, now!” Sashal commanded. She extended an arm behind her. “Five-second fuse!”
The Sith behind Sashal immediatly pressed an armed detonator into her hand—making certain to place the safety pin beneath the High Lord’s thumb.
Sashal’s gaze shifted to Vestara. She used the Force to turn Vestara’s hand palm-upward, then slapped the detonator into her grasp—without the safety pin secured.
“It’s your mission, Saber Khai,” the High Lord said. “You finish it.”
“Of course,” Vestara said.
She tried to secure the safety pin again—and failed. Spinning around to locate her target, she found herself looking through the open hatchway into a cramped loading bay. Nearly filling the tiny space was the distinctive teardrop hull of a famous YT-1300 light transport, the Millennium Falcon, with the giant green bulk of the Ramoan Jedi, Bazel Warv, just stepping off the boarding ramp onto the loading bay floor. And running down the ramp behind him was a little gray-eyed girl followed by a pet nexu.
“Lady Sashal, you are too generous,” Vestara said. Trying to conceal her astonishment, she drew her arm back to throw. “It will be a great honor to be the one who kills the Jedi queen.”
THE VOICE COMING OVER THE FLIGHT DECK SPEAKER WAS CLIPPED AND condescending, with a crisp Hapan accent that made Han’s scalp crawl.
“… is no place for the Chume’da right now,” the voice was saying. “She should be on her way home.”
“Coruscant is her home, in case you’ve forgotten,” Han retorted. Of course, he knew that Taryn Zel would never forget anything about Allana. But when she fired up the voice and started in with the Hapan-aristocrat act, he got stubborn. He just couldn’t help himself—probably because he had a secret fear that Allana might act the same way someday, after she grew up and returned to live on Hapes. “She’s been living here for the last seven years—with us.”
“I know where she has been living, Captain Solo,” Taryn said. “That doesn’t mean it’s safe for her to be with you on Coruscant now.”
As Taryn spoke, Han was looking through the corner of the viewport, watching the loading bay’s coral-encrusted door slowly crawl closed. He thought it had probably been a mistake not to install a faster door when he built the Jedi Temple’s secret access tunnel.
He knew it had been a mistake not to expand the entire bay. At the time, he had thought that a lot of visible construction would draw too much attention from the denizens of the undercity. But it had been a real trick to squeeze the Falcon into such a cramped space. With only four meters of clearance, he had been forced to ease the stern in backward, then spin the nose around and slip in sideways—a complicated maneuver that had drawn attention of its own. Once the Jedi got their Temple back, they were going to need a new secret tunnel—if they got their Temple back.
“Captain Solo?” Taryn’s voice was full of annoyance. “I’m waiting. Are you going to explain yourself?”
“I never explain myself,” Han said. “It’s a bad habit.”
Han heard someone with a deep voice chuckling in the background—probably Zekk, who seemed to take dealing with the arrogance of Hapan women as some kind of sport.
Taryn was silent for a moment, then said, “Then would you please be kind enough to inform me what you’re doing down there?”
“I already explained all that,” Han said. “Bwua’tu was fresh out of assault cars big enough to carry Jedi Warv. We were the only ones who could deliver him to the tunnel entrance.”
“Yes, I understand that part,” Taryn said. “What I don’t understand is why you had to bring the Chume’da with you. Couldn’t you have left her at the Jedi headquarters?”
“Not really. But stop worrying. This place is a lot more secure than HQ. There’s way less traffic down here, and only a few dozen Jedi even know about it.”
“How very reassuring,” Taryn said, not sounding reassured at all. “Now please stop dodging the question. Why couldn’t you leave her with Master Sebatyne back at headquarters?”
Han paused to consider his words. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince the woman in charge of the Chume’da’s secret bodyguards that Allana was safe—not when he wasn’t absolutely sure of that himself.
Finally, he said, “Well, think about it. Leaving her behind didn’t exactly work out last time.”
Taryn’s voice grew incredulous. “You’re saying she sneaked aboard the Falcon … again?”
“It was more like stomping aboard than sneaking,” Han said. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“And you let her get away with that?” Taryn demanded. “You and Princess Leia are the adults, Captain Solo. At least, you’re supposed to be.”
“And she’s the Chume’da,” Han retorted. To tell the truth, he was actually kind of proud of Allana’s stubbornness. It showed character. “Besides, after a while Leia said we had to go with it. Some sort of Force thing.”
Taryn’s voice grew cold. “Some sort of Force thing is no reason to risk the Chume’da’s life.”
“Actually, it is.” It was Zekk’s deep voice that interrupted, coming over the same channel as Taryn’s. “Whether we like it or not, the Chume’da has a destiny tied to the Force. When the Force sends her a vision, it’s not our place to question how she responds to it. All we can do is be on hand to protect her.”
Taryn fell silent, and Han could almost see her biting her lip as she allowed herself to see the wisdom in Zekk’s words. Like Han, Taryn was a normal person in love with a Jedi, and like Han, that meant accepting that certain things just had to be taken on faith.
After a moment, a heavy female sigh sounded over the speaker. “Very well, Captain Solo. But you are protecting her, are you not?”
“Of course. Stop worrying. Just stay up there and fly top cover for us.” Han activated the exterior cam to check on Allana. She was standing just outside the ship, on the boarding ramp with Bazel. Her brow was furrowed and her neck craned as she looked up at her huge friend. She was issuing instructions and tapping her index finger into the Ramoan
’s giant green thigh. “She’s just giving Bazel some last-minute orders before he heads off to warn the Barabels. We’ll be on our way in no time.”
As he spoke, the loading bay’s slow-moving door finally crawled its way closed, then settled into its seat with a loud boom. Han glanced over his shoulder to where R2-D2 stood at the droid station.
“Okay, Artoo, tell security to open that door again now,” Han said. After the Falcon had entered the loading bay, the facility’s stubborn security computer had insisted on closing the door—even refusing an override command to leave it open. “We’ll be ready to leave before it clears.”
R2-D2 tweeted an acknowledgment. A second later he added a notification tweedle. Han turned forward again and saw a message scrolling across his primary display.
SECURITY IS UNABLE TO COMPLY IMMEDIATELY. THERE IS AN EMERGENCY ACCESS REQUEST AT THE TUNNEL HATCH.
“An emergency request?” Han turned toward the back of the loading bay, where the access tunnel began its run into the Jedi Temple. The iris hatch was already half dilated, revealing the torso of a young woman in light molytex armor. She seemed to be turned half away, as though looking at something behind her. “What the blazes?”
“Captain Solo?” Taryn’s voice was filled with alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“Stand by,” Han said, still watching as the hatch completed its dilation. “We’ve got company.”
“What kind of company?”
“Jedi, I think. Maybe an emergency evacuation.”
As Han spoke, the figure turned. She was an attractive female of about sixteen, with brown eyes much darker than her hair. She had a small scar at the corner of her mouth that suggested a cruel smile, and in her hand, she held a small silver orb that looked all too familiar.
“Vestara Khai?” Han gasped.
His gaze went back to the silver orb, and his confusion vanished in a flash of understanding and rage. He activated the external speakers.
“Detonator!” he yelled. “Everyone, get back in here—”
Before Han could add the word now, Vestara stepped through the open hatch. For a moment, Han thought she wasn’t going to attack after all, that he was misinterpreting what he was seeing and this was just some strange sequence of events that did not yet make sense.
Then Vestara moved aside, revealing a long line of dark-robed warriors behind her. Han activated the ship’s automatic blaster cannon and designated the hatch as the target area. Vestara used a gentle underhand pitch to toss the detonator toward the Falcon, then continued to hold her hand up, using the Force to guide the silver orb toward the boarding ramp. Han glanced back at his cam display, hoping to see Leia and Bazel leaping to safety with Allana in tow.
Instead he saw Anji, springing toward the tunnel mouth, and Bazel, extending a big green arm in the detonator’s direction. The Ramoan waved his hand toward the loading bay wall, and the silver orb veered … straight toward the Falcon’s flight deck. Han didn’t need an astromech droid to tell him its new trajectory would carry it within a few meters of the pilot’s seat.
“Fierfek!” Han leapt up and sprang toward the access corridor at the rear of the flight deck. “Go, Artoo! Go-go-g—”
A deafening crackle—
—erupted at the far end of the Falcon’s flight deck outrigger. Leia jerked her head around and saw the blinding white flash of a thermal detonator explosion. She raised a hand, half shielding her eyes, then stood staring in shock, heart breaking as the ball contracted on itself and vanished, leaving only the truncated end of an access corridor to mark the last place she had seen Han—on the flight deck of his Millenium Falcon.
“Grandpa?” Allana’s voice grew shrill. “Grandpa!”
Allana turned to rush up the boarding ramp, jolting Leia out of her own shock—reminding her that even if the worst had happened, Allana still needed her. Leia whirled and lunged, catching the girl by a shoulder.
“Stop! Think!” Leia had to squeeze hard to keep Allana from breaking free. “We’re fighting for our lives here. What would your grandfather tell you to do?”
Allana stopped struggling, and her eyes grew strong. “Figure the game.”
“That’s right.” Leia glanced toward the back of the loading bay, where two dark-cloaked Sith were stepping through the open hatch. “Assess, then act. And retreating into a disabled vessel—”
“Is dumb,” Allana finished. She spun around and started back down the boarding ramp. “Barv! We’re in big—”
“Trouble,” Bazel finished. His lightsaber was already crackling to life. “I know.”
The first blasterfire erupted from the tunnel mouth, and Bazel started to bat energy bolts back toward the Sith. Leia hesitated a heartbeat, torn between protecting Allana and retreating to check on Han. Then she ignited her own blade and raced to defend her granddaughter.
Allana was already darting into position behind Bazel, using his pivoting bulk as a shield while she reached for the huge blaster pistol strapped to his thigh. Before Leia could yell at her to stop, the Ramoan froze, and Allana pulled the weapon from its holster.
“Got it?” Bazel asked.
“Got it.”
Allana dropped to a knee behind Bazel’s huge leg and shouldered the weapon. She opened fire, loosing bolts so rapidly they seemed to flow out in a steady stream. The closest Sith swung his lightsaber low to defend his ankle, brought it high to protect his head, then pivoted away and swept it low again to deflect a knee shot. The fourth bolt caught him in the ear, and Leia felt the Force shudder with the shock and confusion of a little girl who had just killed a man.
Leia took a position to Allana’s left and started to send energy bolts flying back toward the Sith. She was not surprised that Allana and Bazel had rehearsed a few maneuvers, or even that someone—no doubt Taryn Zel—had taught her granddaughter to shoot so well. But that didn’t mean Allana was prepared for the guilt and fear and relief that came of killing a person at close range.
Allana didn’t freeze. She just switched to the next Sith and put him down as quickly as the first. Leia felt a pang of sorrow in the Force—but also determination, and even a little anger. Allana understood their situation. She knew what to do.
Leia just wished she knew what to do. The Sith were slipping from the tunnel in two-person teams and working their way along the walls, trying to flank the little girl and her protectors before attacking. Running for cover would only trigger a charge, and trying to hole up aboard the Falcon would be suicide.
An imperious Keshiri female emerged from the tunnel alone. Allana opened fire on her, but the lavender-skinned woman sent the bolts streaking back so accurately that Leia had to step in to help defend her granddaughter from her own fire. Even then, two bolts slipped past in two seconds, and Allana wisely stopped firing and rolled behind Bazel’s massive leg.
Already well trained, she snatched a fresh power cell from the storage pouch on the Ramoan’s thigh holster. She ejected the old power cell, slipped the fresh one into place, then called, “What now, Grandma?”
“We hold on until Taryn and Zekk get here,” Leia said, though she had no idea how they would manage that. A dozen Sith were firing on them already, and more came out of the tunnel every second. “Hit your panic alarm.”
“Grandma!” Allana’s voice was indignant. “I did that a long time ago.”
“Okay, well …” A bolt screamed past, so close that Leia smelled her own scorched hair. “We need cover.”
“Good idea,” Allana agreed. “Where?”
“You pick,” Leia replied. A flurry of bolts erupted from Leia’s left, and she barely pivoted around in time to deflect them into the Falcon’s belly. “Can’t stop to look.”
“Plan C,” Bazel rumbled.
“Yeah,” Allana said. She popped up behind Bazel, then cradled the huge blaster pistol in her elbow and extended one hand above her head. “It’s what Grandpa would do.”
“Plan C?” Leia asked, not sure she really wanted to know. “What’s
Plan—”
“The last thing they’ll ever expect,” Allana explained. As she spoke, Bazel dropped to a knee in front of her. She grabbed a handful of collar and dug her feet into his waist belt, then pulled herself up and rested the barrel of the huge blaster pistol across his shoulder. “We charge!”
Bazel stood and thundered toward the tunnel, his jade bulk twisting and turning behind the whirling brilliance of his lightsaber. Allana poured blaster bolts over his shoulder. Sith danced and dived out of their path, some with fresh holes smoking in their throats or knees. Realizing that her granddaughter was right—that charging was exactly what Han Solo would do—Leia cast a last glance up the boarding ramp, silently willing Han to appear—to come racing down to join the charge.
But Han was nowhere to be seen.
Now that she had half a second, when not busy batting blaster bolts away from Allana, Leia reached for Han in the Force … and felt him alive, inside his beloved ship. He wasn’t in pain, but he wasn’t moving. He was angry and determined and almost smug.
As usual, Han Solo had something up his sleeve.
Leia filled her presence with a love she knew he wouldn’t feel, then sprang after her granddaughter, confident that she was doing exactly what he would have told her to do, had he been able.
But that didn’t make leaving any easier.
A smoking hole erupted in Bazel’s enormous shoulder. He whirled so fast Allana would have been thrown free had she not been using the Force to keep herself stuck to her huge green friend. Another bolt took him in the chest, and Leia realized the Ramoan was spinning to shield Allana. She reached his side and began to bat bolts back toward the Sith.
“Go!” she ordered. “I’ve got your back!”
