STAR WARS: NEW JEDI ORDER: RECOVERY

by Troy Denning

  Leia’s clunking grew louder. Han looked up to see her approaching, arms swinging wide to balance the cybernetic exercise braces that kept her legs from collapsing.

  “That’s all.” She stopped in front of her repulsor chair and turned her back toward it, arms extended for Han to take when he lowered her into the seat. “These braces still aren’t adjusted. I can’t even cock my ankle.”

  “Give it some time.” Han did not rise. Leia had only completed six of the twenty-five laps that Cilghal—the Jedi’s most accomplished healer—had prescribed, and today was the first day she had gone beyond four laps. “You just need to get used to them.”

  “Thanks for your opinion, Dr. Solo,” Leia said dryly. She continued to stand with her arms out. “Now, would you please help me into my chair and take these things off?”

  Han slapped the stylus on the table. “Sure.”

  Though thrice-daily bacta treatments had finally chased the infection from Leia’s legs, it seemed to Han another infection had been festering in a place bacta could not reach. There was a sadness in her that had been growing since Corellia. Any effort to encourage her invariably met a sharp-tongued riposte, any bid to urge her on only resulted in a sullen retreat. This was not the Leia he had married all those years ago, before . . . well, before he had gone crazy and shut her out. She had Leia’s face and voice and body and even her wit, but she held herself apart now; it was as though the Yuuzhan Vong had taken Leia away from him without even killing her, and now he wanted her back.

  “Han?” Leia was suspended halfway above the seat of the repulsor chair, her arms still clasped in his grasp. “Are you going to keep me hanging here?”

  “No.” Han hauled her to her feet, then took her arm and pulled her two steps toward the pool. “Let’s do a couple of circuits together. If something’s out of alignment, maybe I’ll see it.”

  “If, Han?” Leia pulled her arm free. “Wouldn’t I be the one who could tell?”

  Han sighed. “Look, maybe they’re uncomfortable, but there are only so many adjustments. I’ve tried them all.”

  Leia narrowed her eyes. “So I don’t know what I’m talking about?”

  “I’m saying give them more time.” Han took her arm again. “Come on, just a couple more circuits.”

  “Are you listening?” Leia refused to move her feet, and Han had to stop pulling or drag her over. “It hurts. I can’t do any more today.”

  C-3PO looked up at the sound of Leia’s sharp voice and started to say something, then wisely decided his assistance was not needed.

  “You mean won’t,” Han said.

  “All right, won’t.” Leia clunked the two steps back to her chair. “What’s the difference? Either way, you’re helping me into that chair and out of these braces. If you can’t do that—”

  “That I can do,” Han said, surrendering to his exasperation. “I can put you in and out of this chair for the rest of your life, if that’s what you want. What I can’t do is make those braces comfortable, so you’ll just have to take the pain and keep going. When that task force of killers finally finds us—and they will find us—it might be nice if you could actually run for cover.”

  “That’s fine advice, coming from you,” Leia said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You can figure it out,” Leia said. “After Chewbacca died, you certainly ran. And you kept running, farther and farther—”

  Leia stopped and looked away, and Han finally understood that they weren’t arguing about cybernetic braces, or how many circuits Leia made of the pool, or even how much she really wanted to walk again.

  Leia shook her head. “This won’t get us anywhere. Let’s just drop it.”

  “No, go ahead,” Han replied. “It’s time you said it.”

  Leia continued to look away. “I didn’t mean anything—”

  “Yes, you did.” Han spoke with a humility hard-earned over the last year. “The truth is, I might have a made a few mistakes in the way I handled things.”

  Now Leia looked at him, her eyes as round as sensor dishes. “I suppose you might have,” she said cautiously. “But you needed to grieve.”

  “Yeah, and maybe I even needed to go help Droma find his clan. What I didn’t need to do was concussion-bomb our family.” Han was quiet for a moment, then—forcing himself not to look away—he said, “Leia, I’m sorry.”

  Leia’s eyes brightened with tears. She held his gaze for a moment, then clunked forward. Han reached for her hands, but she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his chest.

  “Me, too,” she said. “I’m sorry, too. All these years, I’ve devoted myself to the New Republic and asked you and the children to sacrifice so much.”

  “Hey, this is my apology.” Han took her by shoulders. “And what you did for the New Republic is important.”

  “It is—but I had a part in letting this happen,” Leia said. “Without you around, it became very clear that I haven’t exactly been the glue that holds this family together.”

  “Your hands were pretty full trying to hold the galaxy together.” Han did not like where this was going; blaming herself for their family problems was not going to make Leia work harder in her braces. “I couldn’t have picked a worse time to leave you on your own.”

  “Haven’t my hands always been full? That’s the point. All these years, I think I’ve been trying to rebuild what I lost when Alderaan was destroyed.” Leia placed her fingers over his heart. “I couldn’t see that I already had it—here with you and the children.”

  Han was speechless. These days, even his apologies ricocheted.

  “If we hadn’t found each other on Duro when we did,” Leia continued, “I would have died alone—a stranger to my own family.”

  Han wanted to say that wasn’t true, or she couldn’t know what might have happened, or that the Force had brought them back to each other. But all that sounded somehow hollow and not what Leia needed to hear. He needed to give her a jolt, to make her see that they had come through it, if only she would open her heart and eyes and see it.

  “You know who you remind me of?” he asked. “Borsk Fey’lya, claiming all the credit for himself.”

  Leia’s jaw dropped. “Borsk Fey’lya! How dare . . .” She must have seen the mischief in Han’s face, because she let the sentence trail off and scowled. A hint of the old spark returned to her eye, and she gave him a sideways look. “Borsk! Not really?”

  Han half smiled. “Really. You’re taking way too much of this on yourself. You’d have had to chase me across half the galaxy—and drag me out of a thousand tapcafs.”

  Leia pondered this, then said, “You know, I am being too hard on myself.” She seemed to shed two years of worry lines in as many seconds, then added, “As you say, you’re the one who shut me out. What was I supposed to do, slap a set of stun cuffs on you and borrow an interrogator droid from NRI?”

  “Of course not,” Han said, beginning to wonder who was toying with whom. “But like you said, we both played our parts—”

  “No, when you’re right you’re right. I’m not going to argue.” Leia’s smile—not quite a victory smirk—turned as hard as durasteel. “But you’re never doing that again, Han. The next time you need help, you won’t escape.”

  Han felt like the spa’s supplemental gravity inducers had reset themselves. He had flutters in his stomach and bells in his ears, and he even felt a little weak in the knees. This was the Leia he remembered. She took his shirt collar and, unable to rise on her toes, began to pull him down so she could kiss him.

  “Not so fast.” Han disengaged himself and retreated to the edge of the empty pool. “If you want to do that, you come over here.”

  Leia raised her brow. “You’re going to make me work for this?” She looked him up and down, then finally clanked after him. “It had better be good.”

  Han gave her his finest smirk. “Oh, it’ll be good.” He waited until she was alm
ost to him, then began to retreat along the pool’s edge toward C-3PO. “Just the way you remember.”

  “The way I remember?” Leia echoed. “Taking a lot for granted, aren’t you?”

  They were interrupted by an excited cry from C-3PO. “I’ve found something!” He transferred an entry to one of the datapads Han was using, then said, “CorDuro’s vice president of fleets is related to Roxi Barl by marriage, and he has a substantial equity interest in the Kuat Drive Yards corporation.”

  Han rushed toward the table—then heard Leia struggling to keep up and went back to walk with her.

  “How substantial?” Leia asked.

  “Almost a thousandth of a percent,” C-3PO reported. “Current value well over a hundred million credits.”

  Han whistled and picked up the datapad, turning it so both he and Leia could see. They made it almost to the end of the first screen before the problem grew apparent. The vice president of fleets had died several months earlier under mysterious circumstances, shortly after he petitioned to divorce Roxi’s sister.

  “Oh dear,” C-3PO said. “I don’t see how it could be him.”

  “I don’t think it ever could have been,” Leia said. “We have an entire task force hunting us. This guy didn’t have the resources to buy that kind of influence. We need somebody with government pull on a world that uses those Lancer-class customs frigates—a lot of pull. You don’t send an anonymous task force after the Millennium Falcon on a flotilla commander’s say-so.”

  “Or maybe you need somebody in the government,” Han said. He sat down and began an associates search. “Threepio, get everything you can on Viqi Shesh. I think we’ve been coming at this from the wrong end.”

  “Senator Viqi Shesh?” Leia didn’t sound all that surprised, just cautious. “What makes you think of her?”

  “Lancer-class frigates and A-9 Vigilances,” Han said. “They’re manufactured on Kuat, and that first frigate captain had a Kuati accent.”

  “Interesting,” Leia said. “And we know she has ties to CorDuro. But that doesn’t mean she’s the one.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t,” Han said. “But I know what would.”

  He began to compose a message to Luke.

  Leia stood behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “No, don’t ask if Viqi has been making inquiries about my whereabouts. Ask if anyone has.”

  Han finished the message, coded it, and transferred it to C-3PO for transmission. They received a reply three days later, informing them that there was an inquiry, but it didn’t come from Shesh. Her chief of staff had been trying to track down Leia’s whereabouts since the fall of Duro, haranguing New Republic Intelligence and SELCORE both on the pretense of being concerned for her safety. He had even shown up at their apartment—where he had learned absolutely nothing from the two Noghri bodyguards who had arrived to replace the pair killed on Duro. It was not quite a smoking blaster, but close enough that both Solos felt sure they had identified the person behind the assaults.

  Given the evidence they had already recorded showing CorDuro’s treason, Han and C-3PO spent the next few days trying in vain to establish a solid link between Viqi Shesh and the corporation. The most they could prove, at least from the data banks accessible over the HoloNet, was that she had had the bad judgment to assign all SELCORE shipping to a collaborationist corporation.

  Leia contributed what she could—mostly ideas—but spent her time either in bacta tanks or clanging around the empty pool in her cybernetic exercise braces. By the end of the week, she could do fifty circuits, but her legs ached constantly, and she was no closer to making them obey. When she sent a message to Cilghal reporting uncontrollable tremors, a reply came back telling Leia to find a nervesplicer as quickly as possible. The interruption in her bacta therapy had likely caused the nerves to regrow incorrectly, and every day she delayed in having the damage repaired increased the likelihood she would never walk properly again.

  Leia and Han were in their quarters researching worlds with good nervesplicers—so far just Balmorra, Kuat, and Coruscant itself—when the door chime rang. It took C-3PO a full half a standard minute to circle the gurgling fountain in the center of the room and open the door.

  “Mistress Eelysa, what a pleasant surprise!” he said.

  Leia turned her repulsor chair to see Eelysa’s slender figure emerging from the opulent foyer, her dark hair hanging loosely over the shoulders of her jumpsuit. In her hand, she held one of the saber-toothed rodents that seemed to have taken over the spa since its abandonment—at least judging by the number of the creatures the Solos kept finding outside their suite. Though both Leia and Han had seen Eelysa many times since she emerged from the bacta tank, this was the first time she had visited them in their quarters, and her green eyes roamed over the milkstone walls, magnificent archways, and soaring cupola above the fountain.

  “And I thought my room was nice,” Eelysa said.

  “Apparently, Izal felt we would be more at home in the bridal suite,” Leia explained. She gestured at the carcass in Eelysa’s hand. “See-Threepio will dispose of that. We keep finding them in the hall.”

  C-3PO reached for the rodent, but Eelysa pulled it away and tried—unsuccessfully—to keep from smiling as she used the Force to close the door.

  “Actually, that’s one of the reasons I came.” She went into the kitchen and, talking over her shoulder, called, “The Barabels are starting to complain about your ingratitude.”

  Han frowned. “Our ingratitude?”

  Eelysa emerged from the kitchen drying her hands. “The carcasses are honor-gifts from Tesar and the Hara sisters,” she explained. “But don’t thank them, or they’ll think you want more.”

  She pulled a holocube from her pocket. “This message came in over the HoloNet. Saba asked me to give it to you before I go.”

  “You’re part of the advance team?” Leia asked. The mysterious task force had begun to sniff around the adjacent system, so the Wild Knights would be changing bases as soon as she and Han departed. “Are you ready for that?”

  Eelysa thumped her chest. “As good as new, but I’m not going to the new base. I’m on my way back to Corellia.”

  Han looked concerned—he looked that way a lot these days. “Will you be safe?”

  “As safe there as anyplace,” Eelysa answered. “And somebody needs to keep an eye on the Centerpoint Party. If they find some way to get the station going again, there’s no telling what Thrackan will blow up.”

  “Himself, if we’re lucky,” Han said. He stood and reached out to shake her hand. “Watch yourself.”

  Eelysa ignored the hand and embraced him. “Thanks again. I don’t know that Izal and the Barabels would have gotten me out of there without you.”

  “Without me, I don’t know that they would’ve needed to,” Han said, sitting back down. “But it was good seeing you again.”

  Eelysa bent down to hug Leia as well. “I’ll be thinking of you. Get better.”

  “I already am,” Leia said. “Be careful. Don’t take foolish risks.”

  “Me?” Eelysa jerked a thumb at Han. “You’re the one flying with Han Solo.”

  Leia waited until C-3PO had shown Eelysa out, then activated the holocube. It played a brief vidnews item describing a new movement in the Senate pushing for an Appeasement Vote to outlaw the Jedi and accept the truce terms put forward by Warmaster Tsavong Lah. Though the sponsors were identified as a coalition of Senators from uncaptured Core worlds, Luke’s image appeared after the report to say that the leader was Viqi Shesh. She had already struck a deal with Borsk Fey’lya to call a vote the following week, so Luke was asking them to send him any information they could about her dealings with CorDuro. He also warned them that Shesh’s chief of staff had quietly arranged to be notified the instant NRI learned their location.

  Luke was still signing off when Leia threw the cube into the wall. “That woman is poison. Killing me isn’t enough—now she has to go after all the Jedi!”

&nbs
p; Han looked from Leia to the shattered cube. “She’s murder on holocubes, that’s for sure—not that we’ve got anything worth putting on one.”

  “She’s corrupt. We know it,” Leia said. “The only question is how corrupt.”

  “Does it matter?” Han asked. “We can’t prove it. Short of assassination, there’s no way we’re going to stop her from calling the Appeasement Vote.”

  “Assassination?” Leia leaned across the arm of her chair and kissed him. They had been doing a lot of that lately. “Han, you’re a genius.”

  Han looked worried. “Maybe . . . do you really think we could pull it off?”

  “Not physical assassination,” Leia said. “Political assassination. We’re going to attack her character.”

  Now Han merely looked confused. “Leia, she’s from Kuat. Nobody expects her to have any character.”

  “Which is why this will work,” Leia said. “And it’s time we carried the hunt to Viqi Shesh for a change. It’s the only way we’re going to win this thing.”

  “I’m all for winning,” Han agreed. “But with what we’ve got so far, I don’t see it happening anytime soon.”

  “Then, my dear, you need to broaden your definition of winning.” Leia patted his cheek, then turned to C-3PO, who was already approaching the shattered cube with a sweeper, and said, “Bring me a datapad. And get me the transceiver address for Senator Kvarm Jia. I need him to convene a corruption panel.”

  “Without good evidence?” A knavish smile came to Han’s lips. “I didn’t think you played dirty.”