With the Falcon’s sensor dish slagged, Han couldn’t even send out a distress call or try to sweet-talk the traitorous commander of the X-wing. He couldn’t even surrender! Talk about being stuck. “Chewie, if you have any suggestions—”
He stopped talking as his mouth dropped open. As they swept around Kessel, Han detected wave after wave of fighter ships launching from the garrison moon, raising a defensive curtain the Millennium Falcon would never be able to cross.
He saw hundreds of ships of every size and make imaginable, salvaged warships and stolen pleasure cruisers. Reaching the safety of numbers, the second TIE fighter did another tight loop to join the rest of the group. And they all came in shooting with a blur of turbolaser bolts that looked like a fireworks display. Despite the motley appearance of the Kessel fleet, Han’s sensors showed that their weapons worked just fine.
The attacking X-wing scored a direct hit. The cabin shook.
The Falcon took a turn upward as Chewbacca tried to flee the oncoming wave of ships. Han sent a barrage of laser fire into the cluster and was gratified to see the engine pod of a small Z-95 Headhunter fighter burst into flames. The snub fighter dropped out of the attacking fleet and wobbled toward Kessel’s atmosphere. Han hoped it would crash.
Seeing that it would serve no purpose to keep firing against overwhelming odds, Han dropped back down the access shaft of the gun turret to the cockpit to see what he could do to assist Chewbacca.
Then the fleet of ships began pummeling them. The X-wing fired again, scoring a second direct hit. A firestorm of laser blasts struck their forward deflector shields. Chewie slewed the Falcon from side to side in a futile evasive maneuver.
Han settled himself into the other pilot’s chair just in time to see the indicator lights for the forward shields wink out. They were now unprotected from the front and from behind.
Another hit rocked them, and Han’s chest smacked against the control panel. “There goes the main drive unit. We’re space-meat in the next barrage. Take us down, Chewie. Get us into the atmosphere. It’s the only thing we can do.”
Chewbacca started to express his disbelief, but Han grabbed the controls and sent them lurching down toward Kessel. “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Hold on to your fur.”
The swarm of attacking ships whirled in space as the Falcon plowed into the white atmosphere of Kessel. Han grabbed his seat as the ship struck the clouds. He suddenly felt the buffeting winds caused by gouts of air escaping into space. From his control panels and the stench leaking from the back compartments, Han knew that his maneuvering capabilities would be minimal. By the groaning sounds from his copilot, he knew the Wookiee had realized the same thing.
“Think of it this way, Chewie. If we land this thing in one piece, our skill as pilots will be legendary from one end of the galaxy to the other!” Han said with a humor he did not feel. I knew I shouldn’t have come back to Kessel.
The Falcon was going down. Both Han and Chewbacca fought to keep a steady downward course that would not burn them up in the insubstantial atmosphere.
Kessel’s main defensive fleet swept into orbit and prepared for an orderly descent. One sleek, insectile ship, which Han recognized as a black-market-built Hornet Interceptor, peeled off, streaking downward in the Falcon’s backdraft.
Chewbacca saw it first. The ship, aerodynamically perfect, slid through the atmosphere like a vibroblade, ignoring the heat generated on its hull. The ship fired surgical strikes of turbolasers at the Falcon’s maneuvering jets, disabling them further.
“We’re already crashing!” Han bellowed. “What more do they want?” But he knew: they wanted the Falcon to be destroyed on impact, all occupants erased. Han suspected he didn’t need any help from the Hornet Interceptor.
As they plunged downward, the Falcon approached one of the giant atmosphere factories, a huge smokestack mounted on the surface of Kessel, where immense engines catalyzed the rock and cooked out gases into a cyclone of breathable air.
The Hornet Interceptor fired again. The Falcon lurched from a near miss. Chewbacca’s face was grim. His fangs showed as he concentrated on keeping them alive.
“Chewie, pull as close to the plume as you can. I’ve got an idea.” Chewbacca yowled, but Han cut him off. “Just do it, buddy!”
When the Hornet tried to outflank them, Han swept the ship aside as the towering plume of atmosphere boiled into the sky. The Hornet Interceptor tried to second-guess his move, but Han lurched sideways again, driving the Hornet into the roaring upward flow of wind.
An aileron strut in the delicate insectile wing snapped off, and the Hornet spun into the cyclone. Other parts of its hull broke apart as the ship tried to escape but lurched deeper into the danger zone. Han gave a cry of triumph as the ship exploded into flames that were pulled to tatters by the atmosphere factory’s vortex.
Then the surface of Kessel rushed up at them like a gigantic hammer.
Han fought with the controls. “At least we’ll have a soft landing with the new repulsorlifts we installed,” he said.
He grabbed at the panel, priming the controls. Chewbacca barked at him to hurry. Han activated the repulsorlifts as he simultaneously heaved a sigh of relief.
Nothing.
“What?” He slammed his fingers on the switch again and again, but the repulsorlifts refused to operate. “I just had those fixed!”
Han yelled above the noise of screaming wind as he fought to bring the Falcon under some semblance of control. “Okay, Chewie, I am definitely open for suggestions!”
But Chewbacca had no time to answer before the ship crashed into the rugged surface of Kessel.
2
The towers of Imperial City rose to the sky, high above the shadowed surface of the planet Coruscant. The cornerstones of the towers had been in place for more than a thousand generations, dating back to the formative days of the Old Republic. Over the millennia higher and higher structures had been built on top of the ruined foundations.
Luke Skywalker stepped onto a shuttle-landing platform that jutted out from the scarred, monolithic face of the former Imperial Palace. Gusts of wind whipped around him, and he pulled back the hood of his Jedi robe.
He looked into the sky, pondering the thin layer of atmosphere that protected Coruscant from space beyond. Wrecked ships still rode in haphazard orbits, debris from the vicious battles when the Alliance had recently recaptured the planet from Imperial control during civil war in the remnants of the Empire.
Higher than the tops of the towers, kitelike hawk-bats rode thermal currents rising from the canyons of the city. As he watched, one hawk-bat swooped down, down, into the dark crevasses between ancient buildings, finally emerging a moment later with something cylindrical and dripping—a granite slug, perhaps—in its claws.
Luke bided his time, using a Jedi meditation technique to quell the anxiety inside him. As a younger man he had been fidgety and impatient, filled with uncertainty. But Yoda had taught him patience, along with so many other things. A true Jedi Knight could wait as long as necessary.
The New Republic Senate had been in session for only an hour, and they would still be working on mundane issues. Luke wanted to startle them after they had been talking for a while.
The immense metropolis of Imperial City bustled around him, little changed now that it was the seat of the New Republic instead of the Empire; prior to that it had been capital of the Old Republic. The capitol building, formerly Emperor Palpatine’s palace, was made of polished gray-green rock and mirrored crystals, sparkling in the hazy sunlight of Coruscant as it towered over all other structures, even the adjoining Senate building.
Much of Imperial City had been laid waste during the months of civil war following the downfall of Grand Admiral Thrawn. The various factions of the old Empire had fought over the Emperor’s home world, turning vast districts into graveyards of crashed ships and exploded buildings.
But the tide of battle had turned, and the New Republic had driven back the vest
iges of the Empire. Many Alliance soldiers now turned their efforts to repairing the damage, his friend Wedge Antilles among them. Top priority had been given to rebuilding the former Imperial Palace and the Senate chambers. The Emperor’s own construction droids ranged through the battle-scarred wastelands, automatically scraping up raw materials from the wreckage for conversion into new buildings.
In the distance Luke could see one of the enormous droids, forty stories tall, wrecking a half-collapsed building shell and plowing a path where its programming had deemed a new elevated transport path should be routed. Its girder arms toppled the stone face of the building, pulling free metal support structures and feeding the debris into a processing mouth where the materials would be separated and new components extruded.
During the previous year of violent strife, Luke had been whisked away to the resurrected Emperor’s stronghold in the galactic core, and there he had allowed himself to learn the dark side. He had become the Emperor’s chief lieutenant, just like his father, Darth Vader. The struggle had been great within him, and only with the help, and the friendship, and the love of Leia and Han had he been able to break free.…
Luke saw a diplomatic shuttle dropping down from orbit with its locator lights rippling in a complex sequence. Its jets turned off with a whining sound as it coasted toward a landing pad on the far side of the palace.
Luke Skywalker had been through the fire now. Inside, his heart seemed a diamond-hard lump. He wasn’t merely another Jedi Knight—he was the only remaining Jedi Master. He had survived tests and rigors more potent than routine Jedi training prepared him for. Luke understood more about the Force now than he had ever dreamed possible. Sometimes it terrified him.
He thought of the days when he had been idealistic and adventuresome, riding the Millennium Falcon and dueling blindly with a practice remote as Ben Kenobi watched. Luke remembered also the skepticism he had felt as he swooped down upon the first Death Star during the Battle of Yavin, trying to locate a tiny thermal-exhaust port; Ben’s voice had spoken to him then, telling him to trust in the Force. Luke understood much more now, especially why the old man’s eyes had held such a haunted look.
Another hawk-bat swooped down into the dark maze of the lower levels of buildings, flapping its wings as it climbed back up, holding a squirming prize in its claws. As Luke watched, a second hawk-bat dove in on an intercept course, grabbing the prey out of the first’s grasp. Far away, he could hear their cawing sounds as they slashed and tore at each other. The squirming prey, no longer heeded, fell through the air, buffeted by rising currents, until it struck ground somewhere in the alley dimness. The two hawk-bats, locked in mortal combat, also fell as they struggled with each other, until they too smashed into an outcropping of the abandoned lower levels.
A troubled expression crossed Luke’s face. An omen? He was about to address the New Republic Senate. The time had come. He turned and walked back inside the cool corridors, pulling his robe tightly around himself.
Luke stood at the entrance to the Senate assembly chamber. The room swept down to a giant amphitheater in which sat the inner circle of appointed senators and outer rows of representatives from different planets, different alien races. Realtime holos of the proceedings would be broadcast around Imperial City and recorded for transmission to other planets.
Sunlight filtered through the fragmented crystal segments in the ceiling high overhead, fanning out the spectrum in a rainbow effect over the most important people at the center of the room, scintillating around them as they moved—designed, Luke knew, by the Emperor himself to strike awe into those observing him.
As she spoke now on the central dais, Mon Mothma, the New Republic’s Chief of State, seemed uncomfortable in the grandeur of the assembly chamber. Luke allowed a smile to cross his face as he remembered the first time he had seen Mon Mothma describing the plans of the second Death Star as the Rebels approached Endor.
With her short reddish hair and soft voice, Mon Mothma did not look like a tough-as-nails military commander. As a former member of the Imperial Senate, Mon Mothma seemed to be more in her element now, trying to forge the pieces of the New Republic into a strong, unified government.
Beside Mon Mothma sat Luke’s sister Leia Organa Solo, straight-backed and listening to every moment of the proceedings. Leia had been performing more and more important diplomatic activities with each passing month.
Around the dais sat the members of the Alliance High Command, important figures in the Rebellion given roles in the new government: General Jan Dodonna, who had led the Battle of Yavin against the first Death Star; General Carlist Rieekan, former commander of Echo Base on the ice planet Hoth; General Crix Madine, an Imperial defector who had been invaluable in planning the destruction of the second Death Star; Admiral Ackbar, who had led the rebel fleet in the Battle of Endor; Senator Garm Bel Iblis, who had brought his Dreadnaught ships against Grand Admiral Thrawn.
Battlefield credentials did not necessarily imply that these brave leaders would be gifted politicians as well, but since the hold of the New Republic was still shaky, as the recent devastating civil war had shown, it made good sense to keep military commanders in positions of power.
Finishing her speech, Mon Mothma raised her hands. For a moment it looked as if she were about to give a benediction. “I call for any new business. Does anyone wish to speak?”
Luke’s timing had been perfect. He stepped into the light at the entrance archway and drew back his hood. He spoke softly, but used his Jedi powers to project with sufficient strength that everyone in the entire amphitheater heard him.
“I would address the assembly, Mon Mothma. If I may?”
He walked down the steps with a gliding stride, quickly enough that the others would not lose patience, but with enough grace to imply his own strength of character. Appearances could deceive, Yoda had said, but sometimes appearances could be very important.
As he descended the long ramp, Luke felt all eyes turn toward him. A hush fell over the assembly. Luke Skywalker, the lone remaining Jedi Master, almost never took part in governmental proceedings.
“I have an important matter to address,” he said. For a moment he was reminded of when he had walked alone into the dank corridors of Jabba the Hutt’s palace—but this time there were no piglike Gamorrean guards that he could manipulate with a twist of his fingers and a touch of the Force.
Mon Mothma gave him a soft, mysterious smile and gestured for him to take a central position. “The words of a Jedi Knight are always welcome to the New Republic,” she said.
Luke tried not to look pleased. She had provided the perfect opening for him. “In the Old Republic,” he said, “Jedi Knights were the protectors and guardians of all. For a thousand generations the Jedi used the powers of the Force to guide, defend, and provide support for the rightful government of worlds—before the dark days of the Empire came, and the Jedi Knights were killed.”
He let his words hang, then took another breath. “Now we have a New Republic. The Empire appears to be defeated. We have founded a new government based upon the old, but let us hope we learn from our mistakes. Before, an entire order of Jedi watched over the Republic, offering strength. Now I am the only Jedi Master who remains.
“Without that order of protectors to provide a backbone of strength for the New Republic, can we survive? Will we be able to weather the storms and the difficulties of forging a new union? Until now we have suffered severe struggles—but in the future they will be seen as nothing more than birth pangs.”
Before the other senators could disagree with that, Luke continued. “Our people had a common foe in the Empire, and we must not let our defenses lapse just because we have internal problems. More to the point, what will happen when we begin squabbling among ourselves over petty matters? The old Jedi helped to mediate many types of disputes. What if there are no Jedi Knights to protect us in the difficult times ahead?”
Luke moved under the diffracting rainbow colors from
the crystal light overhead. He took his time to fix his gaze on all the senators present; he turned his attention to Leia last. Her eyes were wide but supportive. He had not discussed his idea with her beforehand.
“My sister is undergoing Jedi training. She has a great deal of skill in the Force. Her three children are also likely candidates to be trained as young Jedi. In recent years I have come to know a woman named Mara Jade, who is now unifying the smugglers—the former smugglers,” he amended, “into an organization that can support the needs of the New Republic. She also has a talent for the Force. I have encountered others in my travels.”
Another pause. The audience was listening so far. “But are these the only ones? We already know that the ability to use the Force is passed from generation to generation. Most of the Jedi were killed in the Emperor’s purge—but could he possibly have eradicated all of the descendants of those Knights? I myself was unaware of the potential power within me until Obi-Wan Kenobi taught me how to use it. My sister Leia was similarly unaware.”
“How many people are abroad in this galaxy who have a comparable strength in the Force, who are potential members of a new order of Jedi Knights, but are unaware of who they are?”
Luke looked at them again. “In my brief search I have already discovered that there are indeed some descendants of former Jedi. I have come here to ask”—he turned to gesture toward Mon Mothma, swept his hand across the people gathered there in the chamber—“for two things.”
“First, that the New Republic officially sanction my search for those with a hidden talent for the Force, to seek them out and try to bring them to our service. For this I will need some help.”
Admiral Ackbar interrupted, blinking his huge fish eyes and turning his head. “But if you yourself did not know your power when you were young, how will these other people know? How will you find them, Jedi Skywalker?”
Star Wars: The Jedi Academy Trilogy I: Jedi Search Page 2
