Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Ascension

by Christie Golden

  “Ashik’s confirmation of the Squibs’ involvement on behalf of the Imperial Remnant goes a long way toward convincing me,” Jag said. “Dorvan doesn’t have anything comparable to go on. I agree with you—it should be his decision whether or not to act, not ours.”

  “So,” said Jaina, “like I asked earlier … what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to talk with your parents’ little blue friends first,” Jag said. “Depending on what I learn, I’m going after Daala. I have an escaped prisoner hiding in Imperial territory, protected by a Moff who is supposed to be loyal to me. It’s my right to seek her out.”

  He didn’t miss that Tahiri was very studiously not looking at him after the words escaped prisoner had been used twice in in as many minutes.

  “I had a feeling I wouldn’t be sticking around Coruscant after I got your message,” Jag said to Leia and Han. He turned his head to regard Tahiri, gazing at her until she felt it and lifted her head. “You do know I have a very fine security detail, headed by Ashik.”

  “Ashik,” said Tahiri, “isn’t a Jedi.”

  “And you are?”

  She hesitated.

  “Well, that’s the million-credit question, isn’t it?” Jag said. “Are you a Jedi, Tahiri Veila?”

  “I—would like to be again, yes. And I will serve you in that capacity, if you will take me with you.”

  “I tried my best to bring the Imperial Remnant formally into the GA. But it never happened. And because that never came to fruition, the Empire is a completely separate entity, not bound by the laws of the Galactic Alliance. And therefore, as Head of State, until such time as a lawful court trial can be held—and I must say, it’s looking like that won’t be anytime soon, considering Daala is attempting to wrest control of the Empire—I hereby agree to take custody of you, Tahiri Veila. You will obey my orders to the letter, and not go haring off as if your last name were Solo.”

  “Hey,” said two voices. Leia just chuckled.

  “Basically, you’re on parole,” Jag continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “Don’t violate it.”

  Tahiri’s eyes were suspiciously shiny. “I won’t, sir.”

  “And don’t call me sir. I’m Jag. And I’m also hungry. I’ve ignored this delicious meal for too long. Tomorrow, I want to meet your friends. But for tonight”—he squeezed Jaina’s hands—“let’s enjoy the rest of the evening as a family.”

  IT WAS, LUKE MUSED, NO DOUBT A SECURITY NIGHTMARE. ALL THREE members of the soon-to-be-dissolved triumvirate, the Jedi Grand Master, and a former Chief of State all gathered together in one place. Someone in a position of arranging this would be sweating profusely today. Luke thought that that unknown being should count him- or herself fortunate that Dorvan, like himself and Saba Sebatyne, was someone who did not particularly relish the spotlight. The ceremony would go relatively quickly.

  “This one is relieved that this is the final duty she will be asked to perform as part of the triumvirate,” Saba Sebatyne said. “This one is eager to be about more useful pursuitz.”

  Saba, Luke, and Leia stood together near the main entrance, awaiting their cue to process forward. Saba and Luke were clad in traditional Master’s robes. Leia, knowing what the public expected of her after more than forty years of participating in politics, wore a formal, full-length overdress with slashed sleeves to show the dark brown under-dress. Her hair, though much grayer than that of the youthful Princess she had once been, was meticulously styled and threaded through with gold. She wore little makeup—she did not need much, and she was proud of the wrinkles she had accumulated over the years. Each had been bought at the cost of pain, or given as the gift of laughter.

  “I wish I could go with you,” she said to them. Normally Jaina and Han would be standing with them, but Jaina was in the hangar preparing her ship for departure, and her father, fiancé, and niece were keeping her company.

  “I would enjoy running around the galaxy chasing down Abeloth with you,” Luke said, smiling at her. “But we both know you will help more here. This fledgling government is going to need you.”

  Mindful of the listening ears of their Jedi escorts, they said nothing more. Luke knew Leia’s comments were merely wistful longings, and that she more than agreed with his decision to ask her to stay behind. She, too, had a job to do.

  Luke, Leia, and Saba would walk from the Temple to the platform specially erected in Fellowship Plaza for the occasion. Dorvan and Treen would approach from the Justice Center. Jedi Seha Dorvald had a small device in her ear and was monitoring the activity. She turned and gestured to them.

  “It’s time,” Luke said. He offered Leia his arm, and she took it, gliding forward as smoothly as if she were not wearing heels to give her a few extra centimeters of height. Saba followed.

  Together the three Jedi made their way across a plaza crowded with well-wishers. Luke had expected some hecklers, but he was pleasantly startled to see mostly happy faces in the throng. Either the populace of Coruscant was largely content with the direction their government was going, or else the GAS had managed to corral all those who approved of the situation and steer them up front.

  Dorvan was clad as he was every day, in a muted business tunic, though perhaps this one was just a shade more formal. Behind him, waving and smiling at the crowd, was Senator Haydnat Treen. She managed to wear what Luke would ordinarily consider garish colors and make them look stylish. As the three Jedi and the two politicians greeted one another, Luke couldn’t think how much nicer Leia looked, in the more subdued tones and classic style. Fortunately, he was not here to render a verdict on the latest fashion.

  There was a brief flurry of handshaking and smiles were exchanged, and then Dorvan, Saba, and Treen stepped forward. Since Treen was the most comfortable with public speaking, it had been decided that she would deliver the speech.

  “Beings of the Galactic Alliance,” she began. “Today is an extremely significant day for all of us. Today, we say a fond farewell to the Jedi. Grand Master Luke Skywalker”—she turned to nod at him—“Master Saba Sebatyne, Wynn Dorvan, and I all believe that this step is for the best—for both organizations. They have served the Galactic Alliance well, their final duty as an official branch of the GA being to relieve us of a difficult and frankly inappropriate leader, and to work with former Chief of Staff Wynn Dorvan and me to steer us through a most challenging time. With their departure, the unusual but effective triumvirate must perforce be dissolved.”

  She smiled brightly. “Impressive a body as the GA is, even it cannot have a triumvirate with only two members!” There was some mild chuckling from the crowd, and Treen continued. “Within the next few days, as the law requires, the Senate will be holding an emergency session to elect an interim Chief of State until such time as we can arrange to have a proper and legally binding election.

  “And now, I turn the podium over to our dear friend, Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker.”

  Luke smiled at her and stepped up to the podium, looking out over the crowd for a moment before beginning to speak.

  “For millennia, Coruscant has been the home to the Jedi,” Luke said. “The decision to leave it, and our beloved Temple, was not an easy one. Jedi exist to help, to serve, but that help and service cannot be confined to any single species, creed, or political association. By formally allying with the Galactic Alliance, with the best of intentions, we found ourselves overly bound to it. So—we are now separate entities, but we remain the best of friends. I am completely confident in the GA’s ability to handle any crisis that comes its way. I am sure the Senate will give you a fine interim Chief of State.”

  And now, the moment had come. He looked out at the thronged Fellowship Plaza, back at the Temple, and smiled softly.

  “I will miss you, and Coruscant, but my heart is easy with this choice. Farewell—and may the Force be with you.”

  * * *

  The good-byes, Jag thought, were getting easier. Not because he and Jaina missed each other any les
s when they were apart, but the new bond that had been forged between them connected them even when they were separated by distance. They did not live in hope that all would be well between them; they lived in certainty of it.

  But neither had to actually like saying good-bye.

  They had had a more intimate farewell in Jag’s quarters an hour earlier. Now Jag stood with Jaina and her parents in the Temple hangar. The place was alive with calm, controlled activity, but even Jag—utterly non-Force-sensitive—could feel the excitement in the air, the mingled joy and regret that the Jedi felt upon their imminent departure.

  Jaina hugged her mother tightly. “You’ll come join us soon?”

  “As soon as we can, I promise,” Leia reassured her. “Dorvan has asked me to stay, and I can’t deny him what help and advice I can.”

  “I know. But I think you’ll be the last Jedi on the planet.”

  Leia chuckled. “There’s still the Barabels. But I probably will be the last to leave.”

  Han held out his arms and his daughter went into them, snuggling up to him. Han squeezed her so hard Jag feared Jaina would have difficulty breathing. “Save a little bit of Abeloth for your mother,” Han said. “You know how grumpy she gets when she misses the action.”

  “That’s you, Dad.”

  “So it is.” He grinned and planted a kiss on her forehead.

  Allana clung tightly to her aunt. “I want to go, too,” she said.

  “From what I understand, you’ve had plenty of adventure already, young lady,” Jaina said, tweaking her nose.

  “Dealing with Squibs isn’t an adventure,” Allana protested.

  “Oh, yes it is,” said Han.

  “An adventure I will shortly undertake,” Jag said. “Amelia has offered to introduce me.”

  “Lucky you,” said Jaina, slipping into his arms for a final, sweet kiss. For his ears only, she whispered, “Don’t you dare let Daala get the jump on you.”

  “I won’t,” he whispered back. “I have you to come home to, don’t I?”

  “Darn right you do,” she said, pulling back. “Well, time to go. I’ll be in touch.”

  With a final wave and a grin, Jaina strode off to her StealthX. She didn’t look back.

  They watched the hatch close on the StealthX. Jag felt a small hand steal into his. He looked down to see Amelia looking up at him earnestly and tugging on him.

  “They’re waiting in the Falcon,” she said.

  “Is that safe?” asked Jag.

  “As safe as I could make it,” Han said. “Don’t have anywhere else to put them. Threepio and Artoo stayed aboard to see that they don’t get into too much trouble. Personally I’d have drop-kicked them into the next solar system, but you said you wanted to see them.”

  “Your patience is commendable,” Jag said. “By all means, lead on, Amelia.”

  Smiling happily, she did. They strode up the ramp, and a golden form hastened into view as fast as its servos could carry it.

  “Mistress Leia, Master Han—thank goodness you’ve come to liberate us!” exclaimed 3PO. R2 rolled into view, and even his normally cheerful toodles and tweets had an anxious edge to them.

  “See?” said Han.

  Three blue heads poked out from the side, and six long, tufted ears swiveled forward. Their eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “So this is our boss?” said one.

  “About time,” said another.

  “How exciting to meet the Head of State!” said the third.

  Jag strode up the ramp, putting on his best diplomatic demeanor. “So these are the Squibs who have been so helpful to me and the Empire. You must be Emala,” he said to the smallest one, bending over and extending his hand. Emala closed long fingers about it and rubbed it on her cheek. Jag took no offense; he was familiar with the habits of this species.

  “I’m Grees,” said one of the males, emulating Emala.

  “And I’m Sligh,” said the third.

  “I understand you’ve known the Solo family for quite some time,” Jag continued.

  “We’re old friends,” said Sligh. Behind him, Jag heard what might have been a muffled snort from Han.

  “Old friends who put bounties on their heads?” Jag continued in the same mild tone of voice.

  “Well,” said Grees, “there were reasons behind it. Very good reasons, actually.”

  “And now there aren’t,” said Emala. “So now we’re partners again. And in a way, partners with you, too.”

  “So it would seem,” Jag said. “It looks as if the life of adventure suits you all, considering how long you’ve known the Solos.”

  Grees’s whiskers bristled, but Emala said, “Well, some beings just age better than others.”

  “That’s it!” said Leia. “You’re too young!”

  “Flatterer,” said Emala.

  But Leia shook her head. “It’s not about flattery, Emala. It’s about the simple fact that all three of you are younger than you were when we first met you.”

  Beside Leia, Han was nodding. “You’re right. There was something—wrong. I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

  “Clean living,” said Sligh.

  “Yep!” said Emala. “Helping out partners and doing the right thing.”

  “That’s poodoo,” Han said, growling. “Your ears!”

  “What about them?” said Emala, looking impossibly innocent.

  “They’re way too big. And Sligh—take off that coat. Now.”

  Sligh looked offended and clutched the coat tighter around his frame. “Why should I do that?”

  “Sligh, please. Humor Captain Solo. I’d be very appreciative if you would.” Jag smiled.

  The three exchanged glances, and the overly large ears drooped. “Okay,” muttered Sligh.

  He removed the coat and stood before them with his blue-furred torso exposed. “See? Nothing wrong with—”

  “Turn around, please,” said Jag.

  Muttering in Squibbal, Sligh turned around. His fur—thick, silky, and shiny with good health—sported small spots of lighter blue all along his back.

  Allana said in a delighted tone of voice, “You’re like a nexu! One color when you’re a baby, another when you’re grown up!”

  “We’re not fuzzlings, Fuzzling,” Grees said. “We just … got younger.”

  “You don’t just get younger.” Jag wondered if he heard a trace of resentment in Han’s voice.

  “Getelles,” said Leia. “Oh no … You didn’t …” She looked at Han, her eyes wide.

  “The drochs,” Han said. “Did that sleemo manage to smuggle drochs out?”

  Jag felt a punch of cold apprehension in his gut. Of course he knew about the Death Seed plague, carried by the insects of Nam Chorios known as the drochs. He imagined that nearly everyone in the galaxy knew about the horrific creatures. They drained the life energy of their victims, causing necrosis and finally death. Ever since this discovery there had been a strictly enforced policy that under no circumstances were drochs permitted to leave Nam Chorios.

  Several years ago, Getelles had been working with a company on Antemeridias to take over the Meridian sector. Part of the plan involved releasing the drochs on anyone who wasn’t on his side. He’d been sitting quietly for many years, rebuked, fined, and penalized, but still keeping his seat.

  But Jag didn’t understand how Leia had made the jump from the Death Seed plague to eternal youth.

  “From my understanding,” said Jag, “the drochs siphoned life energy. They didn’t give it back.”

  “They did if you ate them,” Han said.

  The Squibs were doing their best to put on sabacc faces throughout this conversation, but apparently they weren’t fooling the Jedi Knight present. Leia glowered at the rodents, who unconsciously pressed in closer to one another.

  Han closed the distance between himself and Grees in two strides, grabbed the Squib by his coat lapels, and lifted him up. “Does Getelles have drochs?”

  “Dad! Put him dow
n, please!”

  The voice was young and earnest. Han paused, glanced down at his adopted daughter, then put Grees down. He didn’t let go of the collar, though, and he repeated his question in a deceptively calm and measured voice.

  “Does Getelles have drochs?”

  “Well, not in the way that you’re thinking,” said Emala, casting a quick glance at Allana. “He isn’t breeding them.”

  “So he’s got dead ones?” Allana asked.

  Sligh sighed and scratched one of his overly large ears, which, presumably, he would grow into, as Anji was starting to do with her enormous paws. “Sort of.”

  “Genetic material?” Jag pressed.

  Grees eyed him. “I’m not saying any more until I get paid for the information. You want it, it’s worth something to you, so we make a deal.”

  “Not on your—”

  Jag held up a hand, and Han fell silent. “I believe you were working for the Imperial Remnant. Which means me. Is that correct?”

  They looked at one another and nodded.

  “And did you officially terminate your employment? Or were you otherwise formally released from that contract?”

  He knew he had them when they looked up, down, at something in some distant part of the ship, anywhere but at him.

  “I see. So then you’re still working for me, and as part of that already-arranged deal, you need to tell me what you know. Because if you don’t, then I might have to do something very unpleasant to you. All simply as part of honoring the deal, of course.”

  Sligh let out a pained sigh. Emala patted him. “All right,” Grees said. “Getelles has a few scientists working for him who also worked on that nanovirus that killed the little Hapan Chume’da—Allana, I think her name was.”

  Jag heard the Solos gasp softly. Allana had gone very still.

  “Go on,” Han said in a cold voice.