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Mikel tried to imagine his mind was blank - that nothing existed in the universe except his need to find his sister. He pictured an invisible yet impenetrable shield that prevented the Emperor from eavesdropping or even sensing what he was attempting to do. Denilee? he called into the vastness of the Force. Denilee, can you hear me?
Nothing. She was out of reach or blocking him.
Or the Emperor's men found her, he added bleakly. If that was the case, he knew that he was never going to see Denilee again.
For a moment he wondered if what he was about to do was the right thing. He decided that it did not matter. He was six years older than his sister and he had known for a long time that things were wrong - with his family, with the Empire, with the galaxy itself. Ever since he had discovered how to access some of his mother's accounts two years ago, he had been diverting credits away from her own luxuries to nonprofit, non-Imperial medical and disaster relief funds. Never a lot, of course. Never so much that she would really notice or stop to count carefully.
Never enough for her to realize that her own son - the heir to the Imperial throne - was sending money to worlds the Empire had ravaged.
You told me to follow my own course, Father. I don't know if you will like the direction I chose, but I know that it's the one that is right for me.
He glanced across the private room at Princess Asaria. She just watched him, her expression unreadable under her heavy veils.
She had asked if he wanted to be a Jedi Knight. And he had answered without hesitation.
Yes. I do.
The door to the small room swung open and his mother swept in, flanked as always by two of the red-robed Royal Guard. Mikel did not hate her, not in the way that Denilee did. She was his mother, his flesh and blood, and he would always care for her in some way. But she was not a good woman. He had long ago accepted what his heart had always known.
"Mikel." Her voice was sharp with anger. "We are returning to our apartments immediately."
"Where's Denilee?" he demanded. He did not care if he was not showing proper decorum. "I want to see her."
"Your sister is unavailable," Roganda Ismaren snapped. "We are returning to our apartments. I will not repeat myself again."
Princess Asaria took a step forward and bowed her head fractionally. Mostly at the request of his tutors, Mikel had learned the body language of the Hapan court. A slight bow like that was not from one equal to another, as was the case on Imperial Center, but rather a dismissal of an inferior female by a superior female. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the idea of an eleven-year-old essentially ordering the Lady Rage to leave.
At least she kept her voice level. "With all due respect, my lady, I will be spending a lot of my life with your son. If it pleases you, I would like to get to know him a little better." Her gaze locked on his mother's face. "Unless there is a problem I am unaware of?"
Roganda's eyes narrowed. She probably suspected that the princess was not only being rude to her, but also had a fair idea that there was a bit of tension between the Imperial Family and the Emperor. But there was little that she could do. To admit something was wrong was to lose face before one of the Hapans - not only for herself, but also for the Empire as a whole.
"Irek," she said curtly. "Stay with them." When Mikel's half-brother bowed at the waist and stepped into the room, Roganda turned and glided out, taking the guards with her and closing the door behind her.
Princess Asaria made a gesture that, had they been on Hapes, would have implied a number of things about the Lady Rage's ancestry, including an improbable relationship with a gundark. "I hate her," she said sharply. "I don't care if she is your mother. I hate her and I hate your Emperor and I hate everything they stand for."
Mikel glanced at Irek. He did not know whom his half-brother's father was - their mutual mother did not feel inclined to say and no one had bothered to ask - but he had probably been a very decent man if the young man was anything to judge by. He would not harm the princess for voicing her opinion. "I think she's just angry."
"I don't blame her." Irek stood with his hands clasped behind his back, just like most of the Imperial officers Mikel had seen. "The Emperor feels it might be necessary to...make an example of Denilee." His face twisted into an expression of distaste. "Do you know where she is?"
"I felt her a little while ago, but she's blocked herself off." He did not add what else might have happened. I'd know if something happened to her. I'm sure I would. He just had to keep telling himself that until he believed it.
Princess Asaria cleared her throat. "Prince Mikel? Do you trust Commander Ismaren?"
"Of course I trust him," Mikel started. Then he realized what she really meant. "I'll tell him."
"You're quite sure?"
He nodded and tried his best to look like he knew what he was doing. "I'm sure."
Irek looked from one to the other. Mikel knew that even though his half-brother was more than two decades older than him, he did not patronize children. If he looked to be taking something seriously, that meant he really was listening. "Tell me what?"
Mikel took a deep breath and prayed to the Maker that he had judged Irek correctly. "I want to be a Jedi." He looked over at the princess, who nodded anxiously. "And she knows someone who can teach me."
"Stars." Irek sank into one of the chairs. "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"
"Are you going to tell Mother?"
His half-brother was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," he said finally. "You know I don't support some of the things your father's done, but..." He shook his head. "No. I won't tell her you want to be a Jedi."
Mikel felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. "You could be trained too, I think. I know you can use the Force sometimes."
"I'm not as strong as you or Denilee. I don't think I'd be worth training." Irek looked him straight in the eyes, the same way their mother did when she wanted to know if one of them was telling the truth. "Mikel, what's going on? Why in the universe do you want to be a Jedi?"
"I wouldn't be a very good Sith," Mikel pointed out. "I don't like pretending I don't care about people."
"Your father's a Sith and he cares about you and Denilee."
More than Mother. Mikel could almost hear the end of that sentence, unspoken but still hanging in the air. "I know he does. But we're not the only people in the galaxy, are we? We're not the only ones with feelings and dreams and choices. Not even Father has the right to take those away just because he thinks it's better."
"No." Irek sighed. "No, he doesn't." He frowned at Princess Asaria. "Who's this Jedi you know?"
"She's not a Jedi, exactly. She's a Dathomirian witch, but she uses the Light Side and I think she's quite strong." Her eyes found Mikel's. Even hidden as she was by her veils, he could see how excited she was. "And she has told me that there are real Jedi left in the galaxy. She has felt them sometimes, reaching out for others like them. There's not a lot of them, but they're out there."
"Where is she now?" Irek asked.
"Here on Imperial Center. She's my father's bodyguard. All we have to do is find a way to talk to her without the Emperor figuring it all out."
***
"What did you find, kid?" Solo asked wearily. He did not sound angry, just resigned and tired.
Hal held up the holoproj in shaking hands. "Family," he said. "I found family. Mine, yours, and maybe that Darklighter boy's." He could feel a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "If you'd asked me yesterday, I would have said you never had any."
"I don't." Solo stared past him, off into the vastness of space. "Used to."
"What happened?"
"Rage." There was something there that went beyond pain. Betrayal, maybe.
Hal swallowed hard. No wonder Solo had never objected to sending all their profits to the Rebellion. "Rage killed your..." He stopped and looked down at the holoproj, sudden understanding flooding through him. "Your wife was a Jedi." He wondered how he could have been so blind. "Leia Organa Solo."
His captain just nodded. Without moving, he looked as if he was trying to conceal himself in the shadows created by the flickering, poorly maintained glowpanels. Logic told Hal that there was nowhere to hide in this tiny corridor, but Solo seemed to be trying it anyway. He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask - about the most famous Jedi in the galaxy, about Rage - but he knew that he would not want someone else opening an old wound like that.
But there were some things he could not just forget. "How did your wife know my father?" he whispered.
"Corran met Leia during the Corellian Crisis about three years before you were born. She figured out that he could become a Jedi." The smile on Solo's face had only the faintest traces of warmth. "He threatened to blast her if she kept harassing him."
My father could have been a Jedi. Hal pushed the thought away. "What happened?"
"The Imps decided the best way to stop the revolts was to bomb Coronet City. Corran's partner Iella - your mother - caught wind about the plan and convinced some other CorSec officers to help evacuate the city."
Hal managed not to gape, but it was a near thing. Everyone on Corellia knew that the casualties of the Coronet bombing were a lot less than they should have been, but no one had ever been able to figure out why. The idea that it was his mother and father who had organized an evacuation without official support or even backup seemed almost impossible. "Just a couple CorSec officers?"
"They couldn't do much more than warn about the bombers on public address systems. It was chaos."
"You were there?"
Solo nodded again. "Me and Leia had our reasons to be there." Hal wondered what those might have been, but he decided not to push it. Not when Solo was being so forthcoming. "Your parents tried to create a diversion long enough to get some of the kids out. Loor - the local Imp stooge - realized what they were doing and sent out troops to kill them. If Leia hadn't gotten there in time, you wouldn't be talking to me right now."
It seemed to Hal that he could see something of a much brasher, much younger man in Solo's eyes, buried beneath years of mental pain and physical exhaustion. And it was in that younger self that he glimpsed what had not been said. "That's when my father..." He could feel the pieces falling into place. It made a sort of terrible sense. "That's when he agreed to become a Jedi."
"Now you know." Solo seemed to visibly jerk himself free of the past. "Your mother and father separated not long after you were born to protect you. When she died during the Second Uprising, I said I'd look after you. Corran'll never be strong enough to threaten the Imps much, but you two are still one of the only Jedi families left in the galaxy."
Hal wanted to be sick then and there. "I can be a Jedi." He felt as if he was signing his own death warrant.
"Leia took a look at you when you were born. You're not strong. You don't have a lot to worry about." Solo's eyes unfocused for a moment, then he frowned darkly and muttered something. Hal shivered. It was like he was hearing one side of a conversation - or the ranting of a spice junkie. He wished he could say that was where all this came from, but he knew that would just be deluding himself. These stories were not ramblings. They were memories too vivid to be erased or forgotten.
"Who's Ani?" he asked softly.
"My kid." Solo laughed bitterly. "My kid's your father's apprentice."
Why not? Hal thought weakly. The galaxy's thrown everything else at me. He tried to wet a suddenly dry throat. "There's a woman on the holo. She has red hair and she looks like Darklighter." He left the question unspoken.
Solo shook his head. "She's his mother. Other than that, I can't tell you." He pushed off of the wall and started back the way he had come.
Hal glared after him. "Can't or won't?" he demanded.
"Both." Solo sighed. "Get up to the cockpit. We're almost to Bakura."
***
Someone had to ask about it eventually. Ben just wished that someone had not been Melody.
"You're a Jedi, kid?"
He looked up from the broken remote just enough to glare at her. "No more than you are."
"I couldn't do that little saber dance with my eyes covered." The young woman draped herself over a chair in a way that made Ben clear his throat and find somewhere else to look very quickly. Melody did not seem to notice.
Jessa, however, did. "Leave him alone," she snapped as she stepped neatly between Ben and Melody. "What cheap part of the galaxy did Horn pick you up in?"
Melody raised in eyebrow. "How 'bout I introduce you to an airlock?"
"Oh, my." The battered protocol droid - wisely silent up until now - made his way over to the two glowering women. "Perhaps we could find a better way to solve difficulties than decompression?" he suggested hopefully.
Jessa rolled her dark eyes. "Just what we need. Who're you?"
"I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg - "
"He's Goldenrod," Melody supplied. "My friend's droid."
"Doesn't look very golden," Jessa muttered.
"Lumpy put those nice patches on him. Didn't you?" Melody leaned her head back until she was looking upside-down at the Wookie, who roared his agreement.
Ben frowned at her. Maybe there were redeeming qualities in there somewhere, but he was having trouble spotting them. He would much rather have spent time with Shay - or with Jessa, for that matter.
As if sensing the direction his thoughts were taking, Jessa turned to him and made a face that suggested exactly what she thought of Melody. She really did remind him of Shay.
Well, not really. He just liked to be around her. That was all.
"How'd you know about the Force?" he asked her quietly. "I've never heard of it."
She grinned. "Told you my father used to be a Rebel, didn't I? Some of Organa Solo's trainees would come by sometimes looking for supplies or something. He didn't give it." She glowered past Ben at one of the bulkheads. "Most of them are dead now. Sometimes I wonder how many wouldn't be if my father hadn't been a coward."
"Maybe he was worried about you and your mother," Ben suggested.
Jessa shook her head. "I don't think my father even knows I'm gone."
"Least you had one," Melody said as she spun her chair around and propped her arms up on the backrest. For once the young woman did not look quite so sure of herself. "Take what you can get, Calrissian. Sometimes you don't notice it 'til it's gone." She displayed a pretty, one-sided smile. "And sometimes you don't miss it, 'cause you can't miss what you don't know exists."
"Your parents died too?" Ben asked quietly.
Melody shrugged. "Who knows? Haven't been able to find out who they were, much less ask them. Not sure I want to," she added, more to herself than anyone else.
There was an awkward silence broken only by a few outraged bellows as Blue soundly trounced Lumpy in the game. Ben was not sure what to say. He did not want to be a Jedi, hunted and killed by Darth Rage just because of what he could do. I suppose it's too much to ask to just be a mechanic again? he asked the universe.
The universe - or the Force, or whatever was in charge out there - did not respond.
Jessa cleared her throat. "Well," she said, looking from Melody to Ben. "Let's go see if we're near Bakura yet, huh? I'm ready to get off this bucket of bolts." Her smile seemed brittle, as if she was trying too hard to make it appear.
"Sounds good to me." Melody swung herself free of the chair, somehow not catching either blaster pistol on the arms. "Coming, kid?"
Ben decided against pointing out that he had a name. It was just not worth it.
The three made their way up to the cockpit, where, sure enough, Solo and Horn were flipping switches and adjusting levers on the control panels. Ben stopped just inside the door, content to stay in the background. He could almost feel the tension radiating from the captain and copilot - and that was something he definitely did not want to be a part of. He had never been much good with conflicts of any kind, especially the complicated ones that involved two very stubborn people. Machines were more to his liking. They never held grudges and could usually be set right when they broke.
"Hold tight," Solo said curtly. "We're coming out of hyperspace." He pulled a lever and the stars stopped streaming. Space resumed its normal appearance. There was even a planet out there, lights gleaming on its surface. Everything was all right. They had made it.
Then why did he feel so cold?
"Uh oh," Melody muttered. She was leaning all the way over Horn's shoulder to get a better look out of the viewport. "I don't think those are signal flares."
"There's a huge heat reading coming from the surface," Horn reported as he scanned a few dials. "I don't understand how..." He stopped suddenly and turned to the others, his eyes wide in his pale face. "It's coming from the capital city."
"Sithspit!" Jessa pushed past Melody and stared at the readings. "Maker preserve me," she whispered hoarsely. "Someone flash-fried the entire city."
Ben's stomach turned upside-down. He clenched his hands and tried to tell himself not to be sick. He saw Horn covering his mouth with his hand and knew that at least he was not the only one affected by this. Maybe it was his imagination - maybe it was because he was thinking about the Force - but he could almost imagine all those people down there, screaming and crying as turbolasers turned everything to ash.
Melody swallowed hard and gripped the headrest of Horn's chair. She did not look well, either. Solo's hands were shaking and his face was drawn. Only Jessa, pale though she was, did not seem completely shaken. "Scan for survivors," she ordered.
Horn ran his hands over the controls. "There's people in some of the more isolated settlements and I'm getting scattered lifesigns from some of the outer parts of the city, but - " He shook his head. "There's about five thousand down there. Bakura's population is ten times that."
"Are there any ships around?" Jessa demanded.
Horn shook his head. "Not that I can see. Whoever did this packed up and left."
"Imps," Melody said softly. "It had to be Imps."
"What about the industrial plants?" Horn asked suddenly. "I looked up Bakura in the databanks. There's a couple orbital industrial plants. Or there should be, anyway."
"I'm not detecting any wreckage," Solo said after a moment. "They're probably hiding behind the far side of the planet if they know what's good for them."
Jessa glared out at the stars as if hoping to extract some sort of answer from them. "Can you get anything on comm?"
"I'm already trying it," Horn said. "There's a lot of static, but I'm not - " He frowned at one blinking light. "Wait a minute. There's something coming down from the polar region. Looks like it was hiding in the magnetic field. It's big, whatever it is."
"Try raising them on the comm. I want to know if they saw anything."
"They're not in range yet." Solo smacked a console - apparently more out of habit than anything else - and another little light flickered on. "Too much interference from heat radiation. We'll know what happened in a minute."
Ben shivered and tried to look anywhere but the planet. Forty-five thousand people dead, maybe for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The cold feeling would not go away. What had it been like in those last few moments, knowing what was coming and helpless to prevent it?
He decided he did not want to know.
"It's coming into range," Horn said. "It must be the biggest plant. The readings are off the scale."
"Hal," Melody said suddenly, her hand gripping her boyfriend's shoulder. "That's no industrial plant."
Jessa stared at her. "What?"
"She's right," Horn said. "It's descending way too fast now."
"Told you." For once Melody did not sound like she was gloating. "We need to get out of here. Turn the Falcon around."
"Um."
Ben gaped at him. "What do you mean, 'um'?"
"He means they've got a tractor beam on us," Solo said grimly.
"What's got us in a tractor beam?" Ben asked frantically.
Jessa's hand was on her blaster. "That's the Executor. Nothing else has that kind of mass."
"Don't worry," Melody muttered. She flicked the safeties off of her weapons as she spoke. "They're not getting us without a fight."
Ben stared at her. "Are you crazy? You can't outshoot all the Imps on the Executor!"
"Watch me."
Horn grabbed one of her hands. "Cool it, Mel. Nothing's going to happen."
"What planet have you been living on, Hal?" Melody snapped back.
Ben looked around frantically. His only weapon was a lightsaber he barely knew how to use. Even with Melody's near-perfect aim and Jessa's bluffing, they were still as good as dead. There had to be some other way.
"Can't we hide?" he said desperately. "This is a smuggling ship, right? Don't these things have secret compartments?"
Hal Horn's face lit up. "The floor panels!"
"Won't do any good," Solo said softly. He was looking at the rapidly approaching Executor, not even bothering to glance at them. "This ship's been captured before. They know about the floor compartments."
"Do they know about the wall ones?" Horn - Hal - demanded. "The ones where we keep the weapons?"
Melody's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What weapons?"
Hal looked like a man caught between a krayt dragon and a Sarlaac. Whatever it was he was feeling guilty about, Ben knew they did not have time for it. "Do the Imps know about the wall panels?"
Solo shook his head. He did not look happy, exactly, but there was something a little less bleak in his expression. "I put them in a couple of years ago."
"Can they fit all of us?" Jessa demanded.
"They should." Solo stood up and shoved his way to the cockpit door. "Follow me."
***
One of these days Alai was going to have to track down and kill whoever had invented the comm alert. Preferably when she had a number of small sharp objects on her person and a few free days. For now, she contented herself with glowering at it irritably and smashing the button. "What?"
"We've just tractored a ship entering the Bakura system," Captain Ardiff said. "It matches the description of a YT-1600 freighter that escaped from Tatooine a short while ago."
"Thank you, Captain. I'll be there in a moment." She hit the close-channel button on the blasted comm unit and shut off the reports she had been examining. The Imperial Princess had caused a scene in front of the Emperor's sniveling courtesans. Officially, Alai agreed with Palpatine and thought that the young girl had to be taught a severe and possibly lethal lesson.
Unofficially, she hoped the brat had bitten him on the knee.
She did not bother to contact Rage. Ardiff was a good Imperial captain and would see to it. Instead she readjusted the high collar of her thrice-cursed uniform, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and made her way to the hangar bay.
The ship proved to indeed be a YT-1600, although it was so battered and patched that Alai found herself wondering how much of the original freighter was actually left. Squads of stormtroopers surrounded it, as did a few bustling officers trying to look important and busy. All of them stopped long enough to bow their heads as the Emperor's Hand stalked past them. Good. At least the idiots knew their places.
"Lord Rage," she said as she spotted the Sith standing almost under the ship and glowering up at it. "Has anything been found?"
"Nothing," Rage hissed. He did not look pleased. Murderous might have been a better word.
Alai sighed. The last thing she needed was the Sith casually choking someone. He was not quite as bad about it as Vader had been, by all accounts, but it did not do anything to improve morale. Her eyes fell on the pale-faced lieutenant trying to edge his way over without being noticed. She could hardly blame him. "What have you found?" she asked.
The lieutenant practically wilted with relief. "My lady, we've completed a search of the ship - including the compartments found hidden in the floor. There is nothing. Several of the escape pods have been jettisoned and the logs report the crew abandoned ship in the Brikari system."
"Have a scanner crew brought aboard," Alai said curtly. "I want every part of this ship checked."
"As you wish, my lady." The lieutenant saluted and beat a hasty retreat.
Alai barely noticed him. There was something in the Force that should not have been there - very slight compared to herself and Rage, but still present. Jedi? she wondered. Or just an echo?
"You sense it as well," Rage hissed. His artificial eyes never left the ship. "And you cannot identify it."
"I do not recognize it, my lord."
"Nor do I." The frown that crossed Rage's face seemed almost troubled, if such an emotion was even possible from the Sith. Before she could question him on it, he turned and swept out of the hangar.
Good riddance. Alai narrowed her eyes and strove to sense exactly what it was that was bothering her. But she could not. Whatever it was, it was weak or shielded, scarcely enough for her to even notice. I don't like this.She shivered as she turned her back on the ghost ship. No, I don't like this at all.
***
Hal strained his ears, but there was nothing to be heard through the wall. It sounded like the search of the ship had been called off for now. He took a deep breath and shouldered the concealing panel open, allowing him to stagger into the corridor and throw a wary glance around. "I think it's all clear," he whispered.
"Better be." Melody climbed out after him, a blaster in each hand. "Now what?"
"Now we get out of here," Solo said. The former Rebel extricated himself from the other panel and eyed the corridor cautiously. "Everyone okay?"
Jessa grinned tightly. "I'll be fine once I get off this blasted Imp fortress, but I'll live." She glanced at Ben Darklighter. "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "Just cold."
"You're always cold." Shaking her head, she made her way to the end of the hallway and peered around the corner. "Looks safe enough. If we're getting off the Falcon, we'd better do it now."
"Best idea I ever heard." Melody squeezed past Lumpy - no easy feat in the cramped confines of the Falcon - and started in the direction that Hal knew would eventually lead her to the main hatch. "I say we just blast whoever's guarding the ramp and make a dash for it.
It was an insane idea, which just about characterized every combat plan Hal had ever heard her come up with. And he knew that if she tried it she was going to get herself killed. They needed distractions, not brute strength. Only where were they going to get a distraction here?
Same place as at the cantina, he realized. From me. He glanced at the others, most of who were attempting to convince Melody not to go out there shooting. Maybe they would not notice him for a little bit.
Ben's laser-green eyes locked on him and a startled expression crossed his face. The younger man knew he was planning something, even if he probably did not know what. Means I've got to hurry. Hal closed his own eyes and tried to imagine that there was something incredible going on just outside the hangar. A fight. That sounded like the thing to get the Imps' attention.
Please work, he thought desperately. Please, please work.
***
Alai stopped in the middle of a corridor, her hand automatically flying to her lightsaber. She spun around until she was facing back to the hangar bay and the captured freighter, every sense alert. Someone was trying to use the Force, albeit weakly and falteringly - and they were not the strange, half-shielded presence she had felt earlier. This person was flesh and blood.
Not a Jedi. But not one of the Emperor's servants, either.
She started back at a dead run.
***
Ben hugged himself and did his best to stay out of the way. Two days ago he had said that the Empire was all there was - and he had been telling the truth as he saw it. He could not imagine a viable revolution against the technological and military might of the Imps. It seemed not only a waste of time, but also absurd.
And yet here he was, a mechanic lost amid the vastness of the universe, following admitted Rebel Jessa Calrissian on a ship that had blasted its way off of the only home he had ever know. He had clubbed an admiral upside the head.
Blue twittered anxiously. He found himself patting the droid's domed head, grasping onto this last piece of familiarity. "Don't worry," he said absently. "We'll be fine."
It was fairly convincing, especially since he was privately wondering when he was going to die. Jessa and Melody were not saying as much, but they looked scared. Solo was anxious, Lumpy was rumbling to himself, and Hal was...
Hal felt weird, if that was even possible.
Ben shivered. Just because I can touch the Force a little bit doesn't mean I should. The images of his parents - stern, red-haired Kali and the green-eyed pilot Dev - came and went with the same question he had been asking himself ever since he had managed to block the remote's shots. Were they Jedi? And if they were, was that crash really an accident?
It was not a pleasant thing to realize the Empire might have murdered his family - both the man and woman who had given him life and the uncle, aunt, and cousin who had sheltered him and been the only real kin he had ever known. So what does that make me? he wondered. Would they kill me too, just because of who my family is?
"What are you doing?!" Solo's sharp whisper cut through the small corridor. The older smuggler had grabbed Hal's arm and was physically shaking him. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I'm trying to help us," Hal protested.
"I don't care if you're trying to perform in the Corellian Circus. What you did is bring a Sith down on our heads."
Hal opened his mouth, then closed it as all the color drained from his face. "I didn't know."
"No. You didn't." Solo sighed and fingered the blaster holstered at his side. Ben saw his eyes focus on something beyond the Falcon's bulkheads and he found himself wondering how the ship's gruff captain had known what Hal was doing. Instinct told him that Solo had no connection to the Force, yet he seemed to know a lot about it and he could tell when other people were using it.
What was going on?
"Can't we hide again?" Goldenrod asked. Blue beeped with what sounded like complete agreement.
Solo shook his head. "No point. They already know we're here." His gaze swept across Lumpy, Jessa, and Melody, then paused on Ben for a brief moment before finally settling on Hal. "We're gonna surrender."
Melody stared at him. "You just want us to march out there without a fight? They'll shoot us!"
"No, they won't." A bitter, hopeless smile appeared on Solo's face. "They'll want to know which one of you caught their attention. They won't be able to tell - not unless you pull that stupid stunt again."
Hal shook his head. "What about you?"
Solo just looked at him for a long moment. "Who told you?"
Told him what? Ben saw Hal's eyes flick over to Melody. Solo nodded as if that was what he had been expecting. From the way Jessa's lips tightened, she understood whatever was going on. Despite the fact that terror made him want to weep, he felt like screaming in frustration. Why won't anybody tell me anything?
"Listen," Solo said suddenly. "They won't pay any attention to you if they've got me. I've been too much trouble for them to ignore." He gripped Hal's shoulder in a way that Ben might have imagined Uncle Gavin doing for him. "Different paths, right?"
"They'll kill you," Melody said.
It might have been Ben's imagination, but he could almost have said that relief flashed in Solo's eyes. His heart ached as he wondered what could happen to anyone that would make them want to give up on life itself.
Jessa looked over at him, her dark eyes glittering with what might have been unshed tears. "Sorry, space waste. I shouldn't have dragged you into this."
Ben shook his head, but he could find no words. There was nothing to say. He did not want her to feel responsible for what happened to him, not if it would hurt her. He wished he was better with saying things - and that he wasn't so scared.
"Hey, Ben." Solo held out his hand. "You don't want that lightsaber on you."
"I think I'll keep it." Ben tried to ignore Jessa's desperate headshake. "It was a gift."
"All right. If you say so." Solo drew a deep breath. "Keep your hands on your heads. Don't touch your blasters and do exactly what they say. Hard labor's better than being shot." Melody seemed ready to protest the point, but something in Solo's words kept her from speaking. They sounded commanding. Ben could almost imagine that the grizzled smuggler had been good at leading troops a long time ago.
There was nothing else to be done. His heart weighed by both the lightsaber he had chosen to accept blame for and horrific ideas of what his death would be like, Ben put his hands on his head and started toward what he pictured as a short and painful future.
Not yet, Ben. Hold on.
The voice from the hut might have been a fanciful imagining, but he took some measure of comfort from it. He had never been one to dream on Tatooine, believing such an exercise useless.
Now he knew he had been wrong.
***
It was all Alai could do not to scream out of sheer frustration. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She did not have to look at Rage to feel his own aggravation - and, more importantly, his displeasure. Although she knew without false pride that she was one of the most skilled sabermasters in many generations, she did not flatter herself enough to believe that she would survive if the Sith decided he wanted her head on a platter.
Her eyes returned to the row of manacled and restrained prisoners, all huddled together in the small group interrogation room. The four young humans had paired off in a way that seemed to lack any conscious decision, but had happened nonetheless. The brown-haired boy and girl stood shoulder to shoulder as if each was trying to guard the other, while the dark-skinned girl had placed herself protectively in front of the frightened boy with green eyes. The Wookie hovered near the first pair, snarling under his breath. And the older man had moved off to one side and seemed content to distance himself from the rest of the group. Neither droid had said or done anything, although to be fair, the restraining bolts rather effectively prevented any action on their parts.
With a resigned sigh, Alai turned her attention to the items found on the captives. Most were generic - weapons, rations, and the like - but there were a few things that gave her pause. There was the datadot on the dark-skinned girl, for instance, genetically coded to an unidentified human. And the ancient lightsaber carried by the green-eyed boy, who seemed the least to ever use it and who, like the others, showed no sign of any Force ability. Then there was the small medallion the brown-haired boy had worn under his shirt, apparently depicting a figure on a crude coin, but so weathered that identifying said figure was unlikely.
It was murderously frustrating.
My lord? There was no verbal communication between her and the Sith during the session - the better to both unnerve the prisoners and flush out whoever it was they had both detected. Shall I try?
Rage nodded once.
Suppressing a mental sigh, she turned back to the prisoners and pinned the brown-haired boy with what she knew to be a piercing stare. It would have been much easier to simply hand them all over to the torture droids and be done with it, but there was always the chance of provoking the Force-user beyond all reason.
And in any case, Alai detested those machines. She did not object to causing pain, but she would not shift the blame onto either mechanical constructions or other people. One thing she had learned over the years was the necessity of taking responsibility for her actions, good or bad.
So she was stuck with this mind-numbing method. "You," she barked. "Name, rank, position, homeworld."
"Jobrik Fantastic of Coruscant," the boy said flatly. "Captain, Thunder TIES."
"You're lying," Alai answered in the same deadpan voice. She moved to the girl with the hair so brown it was nearly black. "Name, rank, position, homeworld."
The girl managed a salute despite her manacles. "Rajini Turth of Hutt Slime III, sir! President of Mynock-Fraggers Inc, sir! Respectfully requesting that you choke on your own waste products, sir!"
Original, if not particularly helpful. "You're lying." Ignoring the elbow 'Jobrik' jabbed into 'Rajini', she moved on to the dark-skinned girl. "Name, rank, position, homeworld."
"Jessamene Aramirra Risant Calrissian of Sacorria." She displayed a one-sided smile that was all brilliant white teeth and cold fury. "You might know my father. He supplies your goons with all those pretty blaster gas canisters."
Alai fought the urge to put her fist through the girl's smug face. This was going to pose a problem. She knew how dependent certain distribution centers were on the products of the Calrissian mining empire. Aggravating the heiress might cause considerable problems for the infantry in the future.
Which meant she could not maim Miss Calrissian. Blast it.
"At least you're telling the truth." She passed the Wookie without bothering to question him, since she had no desire to talk to an inferior species. The day she found a Force-sensitive among one of the slave races would be the day she took 'Rajini' up on her suggestion.
Now for the last boy. "Name, rank, position, homeworld."
"I don't have a rank. I was a mechanic on Tatooine." He set his jaw and something in those laser-like eyes flashed. "My name's Ben Kenobi."
The older man jerked up and stared at the boy, shaking his head wordlessly and then dropping it into his shackled hands.
Part of that was a lie. Alai knew it. Yet much of it was the truth and she could not distinguish one from the other. With a desperate effort she kept her face blank and turned her attention to Rage, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Did Obi-Wan Kenobi have any kin? she asked Rage.
The Sith was silent for a long moment, although she could sense the storm of emotions roiling just beneath the surface. When he did answer, it was with the sort of curtness that she knew meant he had been taken by surprise. The Empire knows of none.
That was what they said about your predecessor. Right up until Leia Organa Solo showed up with a lightsaber and caused all sorts of problems. Remember?
I know what happened, Emperor's Hand. Continue with the questioning.
Hit a nerve, did I? Alai smiled inwardly. She knew that Organa Solo had wounded Rage during their last encounter. It was said that there were only five beings in the universe whom had been able to damage the Sith in some way. Two of them - Organa Solo and Alai's treacherous predecessor Mara Jade - had been responsible for the loss of Rage's real eyes.
She did not want to be added to that list. Most of those on it tended to be long dead.
With an effort she returned her attention to the older man. "Name, rank - "
"I know, I know." The smuggler looked over her shoulder at Rage. "Han Solo, retired, independent shipper, Corellia." For a moment his eyes flickered back to Alai and she almost staggered back as she felt the emotions washing off of him. There was fear and hatred, but not in a way that had to do with his own self-preservation. He was terrified for the younger captives, while his loathing of the Empire extended beyond a generic anger at the entire New Order to the very specific abhorrence of a single person.
And under that was such an undercurrent of betrayal and impossible sadness that she could not maintain contact any longer. For the first time in her life, Alai was the one who looked away from a Rebel's gaze.
Rage's voice hissed behind her, issuing orders to the stormtroopers standing inconspicuously on all sides of the room. "Leave Solo with me. Take the others to the detention block and have the droids examined."
Ben - or whatever his name was - stared at the Sith in wide-eyed alarm. The Wookie's outraged bellow was cut off by a sharp jab with a blaster rifle, but 'Rajini' was not so easily subdued. Alai had never heard so many lurid curses and furious oaths coming from a single person. A rifle butt did nothing to stop her, although it did not her to her knees.
"Mel." 'Jobrik' helped her to her feet with an angry glare at the stormtroopers. She opened her mouth as if about to continue, but a glance at his face stopped her. Alai nodded slightly. The two were deeply connected - in love or engaged, possibly even married despite their youth. And now she knew something of the girl's real name, assuming the boy had not simply used another alias.
In any event, it hardly mattered. She would sort out where the surge in the Force had come from eventually. There was the matter of Solo to be dealt with first.
She turned away as the captives and the droids were herded out of the room.
***
"Enjoying your stay, Admiral?"
There was no answer to the mocking question. In fact, there was no movement from Rowan Archimedes at all. She lay in the center of the tiny cell, one leg twisted awkwardly on her cot as if she had tried to stand up, but had collapsed before she had been able to manage it.
The guard took a step into the cell, his blaster ready. After a moment, he nudged her with his foot.
No response.
He tilted his head to one side and nudged her again, harder, then flat out kicked her.
Still nothing. Not even a grunt.
A more sustained nudge managed to roll her over. Her eyes were wide and staring, while her jaw hung open, revealing a trickle of blood down the side of her face.
The guard's confusion turned into disgust. "Faugh," he muttered, leaning down with one gloved hand to examine her pulse. "Stupid nerf."
The last thing he ever saw was her fist flying at his face.
Rowan stood in one fluid motion, catching both weapon and body before they could strike the floor. She knew the cameras in her room would have alerted the other shift guards, so she did not bother to disguise what she was doing. Instead she shoved her hapless victim's body out into the corridor.
As the blaster fire she knew would come automatically followed it, she rolled out of her cell and squeezed off three shots. The other guards went down without a fight - perhaps not even knowing what had hit them.
Nodding to herself and fighting the stabbing pain in her head, she yanked the helmet off of her makeshift decoy and stuck it on her own head, pulling the blast shield down over her face. It made for a strange disguise, but she was a small woman and in her bulky unisex uniform, she could probably pass as any of a half-dozen prisoners.
She stepped into the open front area long enough to shoot the cameras. Only then did she stop long enough to wonder what she thought she was doing.
Counting the number of successful escapes from Imperial detention blocks required only two hands and left her with four extra fingers. And all of those rare achievements had been accomplished with outside help, an E-Web blaster, or use of Jedi witchcraft. She wiped the blood from her face and grimaced, more at hard reality than the lip she had bitten through to produce the "wound".
She had nothing.
On the other hand, she was more than just a disgraced admiral. She had served as an Imperial Royal Guard - something that her idiot wardens had apparently forgotten. She knew the Executor inside-out and could walk through most of it blindfolded without a misstep. If anyone had a chance of doing this, she did.
Think of your career, a voice whispered. A moment later another replied, I don't have a career. The Emperor has decided that. If I go to an Imperial world, I'll be executed.
Her hand tightened on her blaster.
And she made her decision.
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