Luke seemed to be optimistic about the prospects of a breakthrough even if his expression was grim. “Why would Gejjen and his cronies want to remove Thrackan if they didn’t want a change of policy?”
“No better time to remove a rival than under the cover of war,” said Jacen. “It probably has nothing to do with disarmament, and everything to do with old, festering resentments.”
“Sometimes I’m glad I’m a simple farmboy,” said Luke.
“And the Alliance isn’t formally at war with anyone, Uncle.”
“Oh, that makes all the difference, then. Because a growing number of planets seem to think they’re at war with the Alliance.”
Omas interrupted Luke. “Gentlemen, if the new Corellian administration refuses to disarm, then we have no choice but to formalize a state of war. That changes the legality of the situation and gives us different laws to deal with matters.”
“More powers.” Luke’s voice was almost a whisper.
“More emergency powers,” said Omas.
G’Sil glanced at Luke with a benign smile that did nothing to conceal from Jacen that the Senator was thinking … weakling.
“I’m not a great student of history,” said Luke. “But I think we’ve been here before somehow. Before I was born, of course.”
“Do you have an alternative?” Omas asked. “I really would welcome the Jedi council’s views if there’s a concrete course I can pursue. But right now I have three broad options: to allow Alliance planets to maintain their own independent defense forces, to continue as we’re going, or to mount a much more aggressive campaign to force disarmament. If you have another option, now is the time to put it forward.”
Luke shook his head. “You know I haven’t. But I can’t sit here and not express my unease, either.”
Jacen turned his head and caught G’Sil’s eye for a fraction of a second, and knew that they were thinking exactly the same thing. Well, your conscience is clear, Uncle. It’s someone else’s responsibility now, isn’t it?
Omas stood up and began collecting flimsi sheets from his desk. It was the diplomatic way he indicated to any meeting that the talking was over and now he was going to do something. Jacen wondered if Omas ever slammed his fist on that beautiful inlaid desk. He doubted it.
“I’m going to make a formal approach now to the new Corellian administration and offer them talks on disarmament,” Omas said. “Maybe we’ll all get a surprise. Maybe the blockade made them see sense.”
Jacen genuinely hoped it had. He wanted to see order restored, and he didn’t enjoy being despised by his uncle. He turned to Luke to at least take his leave of him courteously, but Luke walked past him with a formal nod of the head and left.
Yes, it hurt. But a lot of things would hurt. Jacen accepted it as part of the price he was paying. He opened his comlink and called C-3PO.
“Threepio?” The droid, at least, always greeted him as if he was pleased to hear from him. “Has Artoo finished repairing the Falcon? Tell him to hurry up, then. I’m flying her back to Dad.”
chapter twenty-one
The Galactic Alliance has offered settlement terms to the new government of Corellia. We hope that those terms will be accepted and that we can put an end to the blockade. We do not want war. This is our last chance for unity.
—Chief of State Cal Omas, speaking at a news conference
CORONET CITY. SPACEPORT.
Fett occupied himself with carrying out panel checks on Slave I and tried not to think about the fact that he had lost a daughter and acquired a granddaughter in a matter of a day.
This was why it made sense to live alone. Families, wives, and kids were painful. They got in the way.
Mirta was, as far as he knew or cared, still at the Solos’ apartment. How had she fooled him for so long? He couldn’t believe he hadn’t worked out who she was. But if you hadn’t seen your daughter for more than fifty years, there was no reason to recognize her daughter.
You have a family. Like it or not, you have a family.
She might have had more than one child. What would he do about that, then? What if he had more grandchildren out there, all raised to hate him as thoroughly and efficiently as Mirta had been? No, he should have spotted it right away. When he looked into her dark eyes, he could see his father now. He could see his own eyes.
He could see his own hatred, too. He resented the galaxy, and Jedi in particular, for having to grow up without a father. It wasn’t surprising to see that hate and resentment reproduced faithfully in a granddaughter.
Now he waited for Goran Beviin to shake down his network of contacts and tell him what Leia and Han Solo either didn’t know or didn’t want to tell him.
“Mand’alor,” said the comlink.
Fett pounced on it. “Beviin? What have you got for me?”
“I’m very sorry about Ailyn, Bob’ika.”
I don’t want your sympathy. “I need intel.”
“Ailyn was being held by Jacen Solo.”
“I know that. But who was interrogating her?”
“Like I said—Jacen Solo.”
I’ll kill him. Fett felt his stomach settle into that cold place of detachment that preceded a strike. His thoughts fell immediately to the best weapons and strategies to add another Jedi lightsaber to his collection, the first that he would truly savor and not regard as just another job. No, remember what Dad taught you—stay professional. Stay cool. Understand the enemy.
“This had better be accurate.”
“Mand’alor,” said Beviin, “this comes from the Coruscant Security Force. Some still think well of Mandalorians, thanks to your father’s friends.”
“I’m touched.”
“You should be. The CSF bar is full of gossip about Jacen Solo, because some of his Galactic Alliance Guard are ex-CSF men. Some of them really don’t like his way of doing business.”
Fett had taken little notice of Coruscant’s descent into martial law yet again. He’d seen it all before. But now it was personal.
“I want to know everything.”
“Jacen Solo is a regular little chakaar.”
“I take it that’s bad.”
“He uses Jedi techniques that don’t quite fit their peace-and-justice image. Apparently one of his officers was complaining that he uses the Force to beat answers out of prisoners without laying a finger on them.”
Something went ping in Fett’s memory. “Go on.”
“They say he killed Ailyn with the power of his mind.” Beviin swallowed audibly. “Just say the word, and we’ll find him.”
Jedi. Arrogant, power-hungry barves who don’t care who they trample over. Nothing changes. “Not necessary.”
“You’re going to go after him yourself, then?”
“Ailyn was a bounty hunter. She knew the risks.”
“Bob’ika, you can’t mean that …”
I ought to, but I don’t. It hurts. It doesn’t hurt as bad as losing Dad, but it hurts somehow. “Forget Jacen Solo. Leave him to me.”
“He’s a real piece of work. Word is that he ordered his twin sister to fire on a civilian vessel, and when she refused, he suspended her from duty. What a lovely, happy little family the Solos must be.”
Ah. I think I know where this is going. “What else? Anything, no matter how trivial it seems to you.”
“He doesn’t even wear Jedi robes now. He struts around in a black uniform. Luke Skywalker’s boy is his minion. That really upsets the CSF boys. The kid’s thirteen.”
“He’s a grown man, then.”
“Aruetiise see a thirteen-year-old as a child.”
“He rather enjoys his power even for a Jedi, this Jacen Solo.”
“You know what they say about him? The older ones who remember the Empire say that it’s like having his grandfather back. They say he fancies himself as the new Vader.”
Ah. Fett’s jumble of memories from nearly forty years earlier fell into place. Ah.
“Anything else?”
&
nbsp; “No, Mand’alor. Is there anything else you want me to do?”
“Keep an eye out for a Mandalorian with gray armor and gray leather gloves who claims to be a clone who fought at Geonosis.”
There was an audible pause. “I’ll ask around.”
“And don’t be tempted to go after the Solos’ son. Leave him.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.”
Fett sat staring at the control panel in Slave I’s cockpit for a long time after Beviin had closed the link. So the Solos had a feud running within their own family—and their son was the man behind the new hard-line politics of the Alliance. He thought he was the new Vader.
And he killed prisoners without touching them.
They didn’t teach that at the Jedi academy on Ossus, Fett was pretty sure of that. He’d taken his father’s advice on learning how his enemies thought very seriously. He knew a lot about Jedi.
I know plenty about Sith, too.
Vader had been the master of causing pain and death without so much as a touch of his finger. Fett had rather liked Lord Vader. He paid well and he paid on time. He never asked his people to do what he wouldn’t do himself. In some ways, Fett missed him.
I’ve seen the galaxy ruled by Sith, and I’ve seen the galaxy ruled by Jedi. I still made a profit. In fact, I didn’t really notice the difference, and the galaxy was still a mess at the end of it. It’s not my problem. And it’s not the Mandalorians’ problem.
So Jacen Solo wanted to be just like his grandfather. Maybe he wanted to be a Sith Lord, too.
Maybe I’ll let him.
There was no better way of exacting revenge on the sanctimonious Jedi than to let them rip themselves apart all on their own.
He wouldn’t have to punish the Solos at all.
It would take time, but that was fine. It was one more reason to make sure he beat his illness. He wanted to be around to see it.
CORELLIAN EXCLUSION ZONE: MILLENNIUM FALCON INBOUND.
Jacen would have been happier flying alone, but with Thrackan Sal-Solo dead there was no longer a reason for keeping C-3PO and the Noghri away from his parents. Corellia knew the Solos were back.
“Millennium Falcon, this is Alliance warship Revival. You’re approaching a total exclusion zone. Alter your course ninety degrees. I repeat, your course is taking you into a military exclusion zone and we will open fire if you proceed.”
“Oh dear …,” said C-3PO. “Master Jacen, do be careful.”
“Relax. I can handle this.”
Jacen switched to an open channel. “Revival, this is Colonel Jacen Solo of the Galactic Alliance Guard.”
“Your transponder is showing as the Millennium Falcon, a Corellian-registered vessel.”
“Apologies, Revival.” He sent an encrypted identification code to the warship’s comm officer. “I have a rendezvous to make within Corellian space. They won’t fire on the Falcon now that Sal-Solo is gone.”
“We weren’t advised of this, Colonel.”
“It’s a classified operation. Put me through to your commanding officer and I’ll have him verify it.”
“Won’t be necessary, sir. Just identify yourself clearly on your return.”
“I’ll be back in a different ship. Don’t be too quick to open fire, will you?”
Revival didn’t jump to his command, but that was a good thing. They were taking security seriously. He steered through the line and into the exclusion zone that had trapped an orbiting ring of industrial stations and fleet bases in limbo, cut off both from contact with Corellia itself and from outside supply lines.
It couldn’t have been much fun now on board the shipyard stations. Civilian workers did weeklong shifts and were then shuttled home, but they weren’t going anywhere now, and they weren’t being resupplied. Sooner or later their food would run out. Jacen had heard that they were already on limited water rations: as he’d calculated, recycling water met only some of their normal consumption needs.
When Jacen crossed the planetside limit of the exclusion zone he switched to the civilian transponder, looking to any ground-based traffic control like one more small ship that had beaten the blockade. Lots did. They just didn’t make much of a difference to the overall supply situation, that was all. Once clear, he took up station at the rendezvous point and went aft to the cargo bay for a final check on Ailyn Vel’s body bag, lying in the conservator on a repulsor gurney.
C-3PO trotted along behind him, all anxiety. “Allow me, Master Jacen.”
Jacen held up his hand to the droid in polite refusal of help. “It’s okay, Threepio. I’ll do it.”
What’s happening to me?
Jacen pondered how he had moved from the kind of Jedi that Luke was proud of to one who could kill prisoners and even other Jedi. Somewhere in that five years of seeking Force knowledge, something had changed him. He wondered at what point he would be able to bring Lumiya into the open.
His parents’ shuttle came alongside the Falcon and docked with her cargo hatch. Leia was first into the bay, and although her first move was to hug him it felt formal, distant, as if she was holding back. His father trailed behind, looking broken. There was no other word for it. He made no attempt to embrace him.
“Hi.” Han glanced past him at C-3PO. He didn’t normally take that much notice of the droid. “Hi, Threepio. Are the Noghri with you?”
Jacen ignored the snub. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” What did you say at times like this? He plunged in. “Yes, they’re in the cabin. Have you heard from Jaina?”
“No.”
Leia cut in. “You want to tell us something?”
Jaina hadn’t told them about the court-martial, then. “No. She’s fine. Not flying combat missions.” If she wanted to keep the matter to herself, that was fine by him. “I’m sure Zekk’s keeping an eye on her.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell us, Jacen?” Leia was talking to him as if he were a kid who’d done something terrible. “Anything at all?”
“What, exactly?”
Han sighed with that roll of the head that always told Jacen he was in trouble. “Son, we’re collecting a corpse from you. That should give you a clue.”
“She was hired to kill you. She never got the chance.” Jacen opened the conservator hatch, and cold air rolled out. He indicated the large black bag lying flat on the durasteel gurney. “What more is there to say?”
Han now stood between him and his mother. “I need to know what happened. For my own sanity.”
Leia scratched one brow, clearly embarrassed. “I think we both need to know, Jacen.”
“Okay, Dad, I was interrogating her and she died. Do you really want to know the details?”
“It kind of makes a difference, Jacen.”
“I used a mind-invasion technique to make her talk. She must have had some physical weakness. She died of an aneurysm.”
“Can we take a look?” Leia asked. “We have to hand her over to Fett. We don’t want any surprises.”
She’d look anyway. Jacen had to face this sooner or later. He decided sooner was better. He hauled out the gurney, then opened the bag down its gription seam.
“There,” he said.
Leia and Han looked. His mother simply swallowed hard, but his father turned away with his hands on his hips, head bowed. Jacen waited while Leia composed herself, then fastened the seam again.
“Did you put those bruises on her face?”
This is the price you pay. He could almost hear Lumiya reminding him, but it would take a long time for him to forget the look of utter betrayal on his mother’s face at that moment. This felt like his lowest ebb.
“I believe so.”
“You believe so.”
“Yes.”
Leia nodded a few times, silent, staring off to one side. “Okay. Not much more I can say, then.” She took the repulsor gurney’s handle and moved the body back into the conservator. “We’d better be going.”
Jacen waited for his fa
ther to say something, but Han wouldn’t even turn around. Jacen went to the hatch to board the vessel they’d flown to the RV point and expected Han to relent and say something, but he didn’t.
I can’t just end it like this. I’ll make him speak to me. I have to. Why can’t he understand?
“Did you really kill Thrackan, Dad?”
Han turned and looked him in the eye, but there was no spark of recognition. “Hey, maybe it runs in the family. If I can kill in cold blood, so can my boy. I’m glad we understand each other.”
Jacen went to take his father’s arm. “Dad, don’t do this—”
Han shook it off. “Get away from me.”
“Dad—”
“I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t my son anymore. My Jacen would never do the kind of stuff you do. Get out. I don’t want to know any more.”
Jacen’s last sight of his parents was his father turning his back and his mother standing by the hatch as the doors closed, staring at him as if she was about to burst into tears.
Dad’s right. What am I?
He shook off the misery and shame as one of those weaknesses of the old Jacen Solo and reminded himself that his life wasn’t his own now. His destiny was Sith. He turned the battered vessel toward the blockade and allowed himself the brief luxury of reaching out in the Force to Tenel Ka and Allana while he was still far, far from Lumiya.
GAG HEADQUARTERS, CORUSCANT.
Captain Shevu was swearing under his breath as he stared at a data screen in the administration office. A clerical droid stood to one side of the desk, forlorn and silent, occasionally reaching out an arm and withdrawing it quickly each time Shevu looked up and glared at it.
Ben hovered in the doorway, wondering if Shevu was going to round on him, too. The officer wasn’t happy.
“Do you know when Colonel Solo’s due back, sir?” Don’t say Jacen, not in front of his men. “He’s late.”
“Colonel Solo comes and goes as he pleases,” said Shevu.