dropped it, as if he had tried to fight something--and lost.
Luke leaned against the cool stone wall to catch his balance. His vision
blurred, but he could not tear his gaze from his dead student sprawled in
front of him.
By now the other eleven trainees had gathered. Luke grasped the worn
stone bricks at the edge of the door until even the rounded corners bruised
his fingers. He applied a Jedi calming technique three times before he felt
confident enough to trust his voice. The words tasted like wet ash in his
mouth, as Yoda had told him so long ago.
"Beware the dark side," he said.
After eight seemingly random hyperspace jumps to shake any possible
pursuit, Ackbar took his B-wing fighter along the correct vector to the
hidden
planet Anoth. Terpfen had "borrowed" the fighter for him, claiming to have
purged the records of its existence; Ackbar didn't want to know how his
mechanic had gotten through the security systems so easily.
For years isolated Anoth had been a haven for the Jedi children,
protected by its perfect obscurity and anonymity. The twins had gone home to
Coruscant only a month or two before, but the youngest child--one-year-old
baby Anakin - comremained under the protection of Leia's devoted servant
Winter, far from prying Imperial eyes or dark-side influences that could
corrupt the baby's fragile Force-sensitive mind.
As space snapped into sharp focus, Ackbar saw the clustered multiple
planet of Anoth. The world was composed of three large fragments orbiting a
common center of mass. The two largest pieces hovered nearly in contact,
sharing a poisonous stormy atmosphere. The third and more distant fragment
orbited in a precarious, alm-safe position where Ackbar, Luke, and Winter
had
set up a hidden stronghold.
Skittering electrostatic discharges danced from the two touching pieces
of Anoth, and the ionized fury bathed the habitable chunk in electrical
storms
that served to mask the planet from prying eyes. The entire system was
unstable, and in a blink of cosmic time it would destroy itself, but for the
last century or so it had been possible for humanoid life to establish a
foothold there.
Ackbar brought his B-wing in on close approach through the deep-purple
skies of Anoth. Sparks discharged from the wing of his fighter, but he felt
no
threat. This was not like flying through the storms of Vortex.
Inside the cramped B-wing, Ackbar wore only a flightsuit over his big
frame, not his admiral's uniform. Later he would leave the "borrowed"
fighter
in the Calamarian shipyards, where a New Republic pilot could shuttle it
back
to Coruscant. Ackbar would not be flying a starfighter again, so he had no
need of it.
He sent a brief signal to inform Winter of his arrival, but he did not
respond to her surprise or her questions. Switching off the fighter's comm
unit, he rehearsed how he would tell her all that had happened. Then he
concentrated on guiding the B-wing in for a landing.
Below him the surface of Anoth was a craggy forest of rocky spires, sharp
ledges, and clawlike peaks that were riddled with caves left behind when
volatile inclusions in the rocks had evaporated over the centuries, leaving
only glasslike rock.
Inside the labyrinth of smooth tunnels Winter had made a temporary home
with the Jedi babies. Now she had only one child left to care for; and in
another year, when Anakin reached the age of two, Winter could return to
Coruscant and to active service with the New Republic government.
The small white sun never brought much daylight to Anoth, bathing the
world in Gothic purple twilight lit by stark flashes of interplanetary
lightning discharges. Ackbar and Luke Skywalker had found this planet,
choosing it from among the possibilities as the safest place to hide the
Jedi
children. And now Ackbar had come one last time before returning to his
homeworld of Calamari.
He felt sympathy for baby Anakin, who had not known a more welcoming
place during his first year. Ackbar had always felt a close attachment to
the
forever.
He flew the B-wing in among the spired forests and rock outcroppings. It
reminded him of the tall fluted towers of the Cathedral of Winds on Vortex.
That thought gave him a stab of pain, and he tried not to think of it
further.
He cruised the ship in among the rocks, flying confidently as he arrowed
toward the opening to the network of caves. With landing jets and a careful
manipulation of repulsorlifts, Ackbar managed to land the starfighter
smoothly
on the wide grotto floor.
As he powered down the engines and prepared to disembark, a metal crash
door swung open. A tall rigid-looking woman stood at the doorway. Her robes
and her white hair clearly identified her as Leia's ageless servant Winter.
Even for a human, she looked strikingly distinctive to Ackbar.
He climbed stiffly out of his ship and turned his salmon-colored head
away to keep from meeting her eyes. He saw with a backward glance that the
one-year-old baby toddled at Winter's feet, making happy noises, curious to
see the new visitor. Ackbar felt a shudder go through him as he realized he
would probably never see the dark-haired boy again.
Winter spoke in her flat, no-nonsense voice. He had never heard her upset
before. "Admiral Ackbar, please tell me what has happened."
He turned to face her, showing his flightsuit, his lack of military
insignia. "I am no longer an admiral," he said, "and it is a long story."
Ackbar sat eating a meal of reconstituted rations that Winter had somehow
managed to make palatable. As he told her every detail of the tragedy on
Vortex and how he had resigned from his service, Winter did not appear
judgmental. She simply listened, blinking rarely, nodding even less often.
Baby Anakin crouched on Ackbar's lap, cooing and reaching up in curiosity
to pat Ackbar's clammy skin and touch his huge glassy eyes. Anakin giggled
as
the round eyes swiveled in various directions to avoid being poked by pudgy
fingers.
"Will you stay here for an evening's rest--his" Winter said. Her sentence
cut off sharply, as if she had been about to call him admiral.
"No," Ackbar said, holding the baby against him with flipper-hands. "I
can't. No one must suspect that I have come here, and if I delay too long,
they will realize I have not gone directly to Calamari."
Winter hesitated and then spoke in a voice that seemed less able to
conceal emotion than it normally did. "Ackbar, you know I have the greatest
respect for your abilities. It would honor me if you would stay here with me
instead of going into hiding on your homeworld."
Ackbar looked at the human woman and felt a surge of emotion well up
inside him. Winter's mere suggestion had been powerful enough to strip away
layers of guilt and shame with which he had buried himself.
When he did not answer immediately, she pressed further. "I'm all alone
here, and I could use your help. It gets lonely for the baby... and for me."
Ackbar finally managed to speak, avoiding Winter's gaze but giving his
answer before he could change his mind. "Your offer honors me, Winter, but I
am not worthy. At least not at the moment. I must go to Calamari and search
for peace there. If I--was The words caught in his throat again, and he
realized he was trembling. "If I find my peace, perhaps I shall return to
you-
-and the baby."
"I--we'll be here waiting, if you change your mind," she said, then
escorted him back to the hangar grotto.
Ackbar felt her watching him as he climbed back into the B-wing. He
lifted the ship on its repulsorlift jets and turned to see her standing at
the
doorway. He flicked his running lights to signal her.
Winter raised a hand in sad goodbye. Then, with her other hand, she made
Anakin's pudgy arm wave to him too.
Ackbar's starfighter soared into space, leaving them behind.
Back on Coruscant, Terpfen lay sick and shivering in his private
quarters, trying with all his might to resist. But in the end the org anic
circuitry inside what was left of his brain took over.
Moving with forced steps, he descended to the dispatching and receiving
network in the lower levels of the old Imperial Palace. No one watched him
in
the echoing, crowded room as diplomatic droids and packages came in and
left,
streaking off to various embassies and spaceports on Coruscant, bearing
important dispatches.
Terpfen coded his secret message, summarizing information he had received
from the hidden tracking device he had planted on Ackbar's ship. He sealed
the
message inside a coffin-sized hyperspace courier tube and shielded the
entire
apparatus. He glanced around suspiciously before he keyed in Admiral
Ackbar's
personal diplomatic security code, which would allow it to bypass all checks
and tariff points. No one would have thought to revoke Ackbar's access yet.
The routing doors opened up at the far end of the center, and the silvery
message canister rose on its launching fields. In a reflex action Terpfen
reached out, trying to grasp the slick sides of the canister, scraping with
the sharp points of his hands--but the container rocketed out, picking up
speed as it soared into the Coruscant sky.
Terpfen had programmed five alternate routes to discourage tracking. The
message canister would arrive unhindered and without delay at the Imperial
Military Academy on Carida. The coded message would be displayed for the
eyes
of Ambassador Furgan only--divulging the location of the secret planet where
the last Jedi baby was hidden.
"You'll do just fine, kid," Han said, trying to maintain his roguish
grin.
Standing at the door of Han and Leia's quarters, Kyp Durron nodded. Han
noticed a faint trembling around the young man's lips. "I'll do my best,
Han.
You know that."
Suddenly unable to say another word, Han embraced Kyp, silently cursing
the stinging tears that rose to his eyes. "You'll be the greatest Jedi ever.
You'll give even Luke a run for his money."
"I doubt that," Kyp said. He broke away and averted his face but not
before Han caught the shimmer of tears in his eyes too.
"Wait," Han said, "I've got something for you before you go." He ducked
back inside and returned to the door with a soft package. Kyp took it with a
tentative smile and unwrapped the top layers of paper.
Han watched the young man's expression. Kyp reached into the package and
withdrew a flowing black cape that glittered with subliminal reflective
threads, as if it had been woven out of a clear starry night.
"Lando gave it to me--feeling guilty about winning the Falcon, I guess--
but I can't wear stuff like this. I want you to have it. You deserve
something
nice, after all those years you spent in the dirty spice mines."
Kyp laughed. "You mean so I can dress up for all those formal occasions
at the Jedi academy?" His expression became serious. "Thanks, Han... for
everything. But I've got to be going. General Antilles is escorting the Sun
Crusher to Yavin, and I'll be going with him. He'll drop me off at Luke's
academy."
"Good luck," Han said.
Kyp said, "I'm sorry you lost the Falcon."
"Don't worry about it," Han said. "She's a hunk of junk anyway."
"You got that right," Kyp said with a smile, but both of them knew he
didn't mean it.
"Want me to walk with you down to the hangar?" Han asked, realizing as he
said it that he wasn't sure he wanted to.
"Naw," Kyp said, turning away from the door. "I hate long goodbyes. See
you around."
"Sure, kid," Han said. He watched Kyp's back for a long time as the young
man walked with a feigned bouncy step down the corridors to the turbolift.
Han thought about going back into his room, then decided he'd rather go
for a drink instead. Leia was in yet another late-night Council meeting with
Mon Mothma, and the kids were already in bed, so Han left Threepio with
instructions to remain powered up so he could baby-sit.
Han eventually returned to the lounge where he and Lando had played
sabacc for possession of the Falcon.
The window looked out across the sweeping geometrical skyline of the
rebuilt Imperial City. Towering metal and transparisteel pillars stretched
to
rarefied heights. Warning beacons and transmitting towers blinked in
multicolored patterns as flying craft swooped on the updrafts between the
tall
buildings.
At another table a hammerheaded Ithorian ambassador sat by himself next
to a small musical synthesizer. He hummed along with the atonal noises and
plucked small leaves off a fresh ferny-looking snack. A pug-faced Ugnaught
chittered and played electronic dice with a well-groomed Ranat. The
bartender
droid drifted from one table to another, attempting to be of service.
Han soon lost himself in thought, wondering where he had come to,
thinking about how much his life had changed since his years as a spice
smuggler for Jabba the Hutt and then as a general in the Rebel Alliance.
He continued to do important things with his life, but it just didn't
seem as real anymore. He had enjoyed spending time with young Kyp Durron.
The
young man reminded him so much of himself, and now Kyp had gone off to
become
a Jedi just like Luke.
"You're gonna miss the kid, aren't you?" a deep voice said. Han looked up
to see Lando Calrissian standing over him with a big smile.
"What are you doing here?" Han said grumpily.
"I'm buying you a drink, old buddy," Lando said. He shoved forward one of
the prissy fruity concoctions, complete with bright tropical flower, that
Han
had bought Lando on the night of their sabacc game.
Han scowled and accepted it. "Thanks a lot." He took a sip, grimaced,
then took a gulp. Lando pulled up a chair.
"I didn't invite you to sit down," Han said.
"Look, Han," Lando said, adding a stern edge to his voice, "when you won
the Falcon from me in a sabacc game, did I spend years pouting and not
talking
to you?"
Han shrugged and looked up. "I don't know. I pretty much stayed away all
those years." He paused, then added quickly, "And the next time we saw each
other, you betrayed us to Darth Vader."
"Hey, that wasn't my fault, and I've more than made up for it since,"
Lando said. "Listen, I've got a deal for you. Next time you get a chance,
why
don't the both of us take the Falcon and go back to what's left of Kessel?
Maybe we can find my old ship there. If we do, I'd gladly take the Lady Luck
back, and you can have the Falcon." He held out his broad hand. "Deal?"
Han grudgingly admitted that it was the best he could hope for. "All
right, pal," he said, and shook Lando's hand.
"Solo," a woman's sharp voice said. "They told me I'd find you here."
"Can't a guy get some peace?" he said, and turned to see a trim,
attractive woman standing at the lounge entrance. She had shoulder-length
reddish brown hair the color of some exotic spice. Her features were finely
chiseled a narrow chin and a mouth that looked as if it had spent too many
years frowning and was just now learning the shape of a smile. The shards of
ice that were Mara Jade's eyes had warmed somewhat since the last time Han
had
seen her.
Lando stood up, sweeping his cape behind him and extending his hand.
"Well hel-lo! Please join us, Miss Jade. May I get you anything? We've met
before but I'm not sure you remember me. I'm--was
"Shut up, Calrissian. I need to talk to Solo."
Lando laughed and went to get her a drink anyway.
Dark patches stood out on the shoulders and sleeves of Mara's flight
jacket, as if it had once borne the insignia of military service. Mara Jade
had been the Emperor's Hand, a special servant to Palpatine himself, and she
had seen her life crumble after his death; she had blamed Luke for that and
held a vendetta against him until recently.
Now, after the retirement of the great smuggler Talon Karrde, Mara seemed
to become more open and ready to participate in broader events. She had
managed a tenuous coalition of smugglers to help fight against Grand Admiral