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Han knew fear, of course. He had lived with it every day, silently wondering when he would see his son dragged before the Emperor and executed on live Holonet, the jeering, brainwashed crowds hailing the defeat of the last Jedi apprentice. He had imagined the look on Corran's face as he told him that Hal had been killed, or the hatred in Melody's eyes as she told him on no uncertain terms that it was his fault. But this was different. He had not really faced Darth Rage in more than fifteen years, and then it had not been a true confrontation, just a nightmare emerging from the shadows with a blood-red blade.
He licked dry lips. éSo are you calling in the torture droids soon or are you just trying to bore me to death?"
The young woman he could only guess was Mara's replacement drew back her hand, no doubt intending to punish him for daring to speak. Halfway through the motion, she stopped abruptly and threw a curious look at Rage.
He told her not to damage you, Anakin Skywalker supplied. His 'voice', while bitter, was the faintest echoing whisper, as if from a long distance.
That made sense, Han supposed, and in a way he was grateful his unwelcome passenger had chosen to hide. The less ammunition he gave Rage, the better.
“Was it something I said?" he asked the young woman innocently. She glowered at him, but this time there was no other response. It was fairly obvious who was in charge here. Whatever stature she held, she was obviously outranked.
Rage turned those artificial eyes on him. "Bravado. Why am I not surprised? "
Han said nothing. All he could do in answer to that was glare.
"You seem to have fallen out of favor since I last saw you," the Sith continued almost conversationally. "I believe you were once a leader of the Rebellion. "
"People change," Han snapped.
"Indeed."
The young woman's eyes flew to Rage suddenly, a frown furrowing her brow. You brought something to the surface, Skywalker supplied. His voice was even softer now - and that, Han knew, had nothing to do with hiding.
The young woman was the one who spoke next. "People may change, Solo. Loyalties may shift. But ideals are not so mutable. "
Han wondered how old she was. Twenty-four? Twenty-five? Certainly too young to understand the irony in her words, or perhaps unable to translate the antagonism she was sensing into terms she could understand. He felt almost sorry for her, growing up so rooted in Imperial dogma that she failed to understand a fundamental truth about people.
"Come talk to me in twenty years," he said quietly. "Then you can tell me how long-lasting ideals are. "
Again her stare shifted to Rage, although the Sith had not moved a muscle. This time uncertainty flickered on her face. "My lord?" It was a title without respect, because she believed herself to be better than him. Han had seen that before. On Imps by the hundreds. On smugglers and slavers.
On Rage, in a heartbeat and a lifetime filled with blasters and blazing red light and a small crumbled form with a hole burned through her chest.
"Leave us," the Sith ordered curtly. "I will interrogate this man alone."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not a stormtrooper. Don't order me."
Rage just looked at her. Without moving a muscle, she seemed to retreat in on herself, as if her soul had curled up and waited for the blows to go away. Only her eyes flashed defiantly, full of arrogance and wounded pride.
Her voice was curt. "As you wish, my lord." With a stiff bow, she turned and left.
And he was alone with the Sith.
Sometimes Han had heard whispered stories in Ord Mantell bars - never loudly, always during that time of night when bravado faded and the evil in the galaxy was almost a tangible thing. Rage was death incarnate, men whispered, and you knew you were doomed when you looked in his eyes and saw nothing save darkness reflected in them. That was the gaze Han met now, and yet he could not bring himself to care. There was nothing else this...this creature could take from him, nothing that he could not afford to lose.
Except the children, Anakin's voice whispered in his head.
Rage's face flickered. But he gave no other sign that he had detected the presence attached to Han - if, indeed, that was what the unreadable flash of emotion had been about. Instead he strode to the center of the bare room, directly across from Han, and clasped his hands behind his back. Just like Vader, Han realized. But Vader had, somehow, been less evil.
Thank you. I think.
Another flicker, lasting less than a heartbeat. Then Rage spoke. "How is your son, Solo?"
[Ani.] Han pushed the thought away. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Haven't seen him."
"And your wife?"
Cold fury made him curl his hands into fists. If the Sith came just a step closer...
He didn't care how he did it and he didn't care if he was spaced for it. Before he died he was going to crush Rage's windpipe and he was going to enjoy it.
But not now. Not until he knew what would become of the kids.
"You know what happened to Leia," he said tightly.
Rage raised a brow - the one over his blood-red eye. Not many people knew what Han did: that the color of each eye matched the blade of the woman who had taken it. Red for Leia, ice blue for Mara. "Yes," he rumbled. "I do." His smile was cold and terrible. "And now you plan to be another Kenobi and feed a blind following to the Imperial monster. How touching."
Han said nothing. He was still on dangerous ground here. One misspoken word and the children would be facing a firing squad or simply be dumped into space.
"Which one is it?" Rage asked abruptly. "Even Luwellaen felt it."
"I don't know," Han lied. He focused his thoughts Jessa and Melody, who, as far as he knew, were not Force-sensitive at all. If the Sith somehow wormed his way through Anakin Skywalker's shielding, at least he would pick up the wrong face. It was a horrible thing to do to the two girls, but he had to protect Hal and Ben. He couldn't let Rage sink his claws into them.
"I'll find out," the Sith said quietly, his voice a dangerous hiss. "I can dig it out of you."
Han set his jaw and imagined his fingers squeezing the life out of the twisted monstrosity standing before him.
Rage's voice dropped to a whisper. "I burned out her heart," he hissed. There was no need to say which "her" he was talking about. "I could do the same for those children. The medical droids could keep them alive and conscious for days."
Han felt his own heart clench up inside him. He knew better than to doubt the Sith's word. He would do exactly what he had threatened. Even if Han himself held out against this, the other children would not. If the Sith so much as laid hands on Melody, Hal would reveal himself - and Corran would never know what would become of his son until the Rebellion found itself pursued by another corrupted yet horribly familiar enemy…
There was nothing he could do. He should have stayed on Ord Mantell.
"My lord?"
Rage whirled away from him, rounding on the intruder. The Emperor's Hand stood framed in the doorway, looking very angry. "It appears our good admiral has escaped."
The Sith did not seem particularly impressed. "Catch her and kill her."
"That might not be possible." Suddenly Luwellaen's expression changed. Han thought she might have been amused. "The prisoners seemed to find her inspiring. They have started a riot."
Lucéa Naberrie knew that at some point in the past the rulers of her homeworld had held court in a beautiful throne room full of light and majesty. Yet she had been born in the years when surviving Nubians had turned to guerilla warfare, forsaking thousands of years of peace for the sake of clinging to a world that had been bombed and blasted almost past recognition. Her throne was a cheap chair held together with adhesive and her majestic room was a duracrete bunker nestled under what had once been a music academy.
"You don't look happy," one of her advisors murmured as she settled herself in the chair. Had she been born two generations ago, Lucéa would have had guards, attendants, handmaiden-bodyguards, and sage mentors to give her assistance and lend her aid. But two generations ago she would have had her several times great-aunt Padmé to contend with - and she was sure she would have done a far worse job than that legendary woman.
As it was, she had an aging Gungan general, an old woman, and a smuggler only present for the sake of his father's profits. It was the woman who had spoken, for which Lucéa was secretly glad. Rabé had raised her almost from babyhood after a bombing run had killed her parents. She did not remember them, although she knew that with their death, she was the last Naberrie.
Her eyes fell on Anakin Solo and she felt a frown furrowing her brow.
[The last Naberrie to carry the name,] she corrected. [And unless this plot of my cousin's goes as planned, it might as well vanish completely.] Her brief smile was bitter. [My line will fade with the last light the galaxy possesses.]
The irony of her own thoughts gave her the briefest pause. She had been called the Last Light of Naboo by the hero-worshippers of her people - and, perhaps even more auspiciously, her very name meant 'light'. Lucéa was a Nubian variant on the pre-Basic Luke. She did not know what reasons her parents could possibly have had for choosing it.
Names and ironies did not matter now. She composed her face and gave Rabé a look that was not quite serene, but was still a good deal closer than she could have managed before. The woman did not look convinced, although she said nothing further on the subject. That settled, Lucéa returned her attention to the matter of the two Jedi.
Anakin shifted slightly under her gaze, but Corran Horn never moved.
Lucéa did not feel a great deal of reverence toward the Corellian Jedi. What stories she had heard of him called him a cocky braggart with more surety in his abilities than any one being should have been able to rightfully claim.
And yet those same stories told of the times he had risked his life for the sake of those who would have gladly handed him to the Emperor. He was obviously a brave man, but there were a great many of those in these hard times - and often it was easy to confuse true courage with wrongheaded delusions of grandeur.
"You have recovered from your episode, I assume?" she asked the green-robed Corellian.
If he noted her curtness, he did not respond in kind. "I am well, your majesty."
"Good." She steepled her fingers as she imagined the great queens of the past might have done. "You've risked a great deal to come to Naboo, but there is little I can tell you. I have not made a decision."
Anakin frowned at her, but held his tongue. Corran just nodded slowly. "I see. May I ask why?"
"Because the promised information has not presented itself yet."
The two Jedi looked at each other. "That's not possible," Anakin said after a moment. "Terrik was supposed to have delivered both parts to
Admiral Antilles by now, and he was to send them directly to you."
"Obviously he never received them." Lucéa nodded to the smuggler lounging on one of the room's other chairs. As much as she personally detested Jonos Karrde, he was the only link she had to his father's vast network of galaxy-wide connections - and, by extension, the only places where she could get food and medical supplies for her people. She admired the Rebellion's goals, but she understood that the ill-equipped revolution had enough trouble supplying its own men, let alone an independent ragtag army. "Karrde has assisted me in monitoring all communications to and from this system. Aside from the usual Imp transmissions, there was nothing."
"Nothing?" Anakin stared at her, worry written in the lines that suddenly creased his brow. Lucéa was suddenly reminded of how young he was - how young many of the galaxy's revolutionaries were. With very few exceptions, the previous generations had lost heart or simply given into what they saw as the inevitable. To them the fight against the Empire's evil was worse than hopeless.
In her darkest moments, Lucéa couldn't help but wonder if they were right.
But she had no time to dwell on her own fears. "You heard me correctly, cousin. I won't risk my people without proof." She looked from one Jedi to the other. "I'm sorry. Truly. But you must understand my position." She leaned forward and tried to decide how best to phrase her next words. "To be blunt, we're a dying people. If I called Palpatine's attention to Naboo, I would be signing the death warrants of five thousand people. Maybe your Admiral Antilles has that many men to throw into the Imperial maw, but I don't."
Anakin gaped at her. He was at least four years older than her eighteen, yet now he looked more like a younger brother than anything else. Lucéa had heard Leia's stories once or twice as a little girl, and sometimes she could imagine that this was what another Naberrie scion looked like many years ago, before the dark times...
"I don't think you understand how desperate our situation is," Corran said sharply.
"Let me tell you what I understand," she shot back as she slowly rose from her seat. "I understand that every moment you spend on my planet risks a visit from Rage." Maybe she spat the name with special vehemence, but so what? Anakin and Corran knew what the Sith was to her and her family. "I understand that my people are being punished for my great-aunt's defiance in the last days of the Old Republic. And I understand that any children I bear will inherit a dead world!" Her voice rose sharply, but she did not care. She was far beyond queenly etiquette.
"You're just going to let your people die?!" Anakin retorted.
"I won't let Naboo become another Alderaan!"
"Why don't you just clue his royal moldiness in?"
Jedi, apprentice and queen turned to glare at Jonos, who smiled behind his goatee. The expression did not reach his cold, serious gray eyes. Lucéa was of the personal opinion that he should have been spaced at birth.
Rabé raised a silver eyebrow. "You have a suggestion?"
"You're the queen of this mudball, aren't you?" Jonos waved his hand to encompass both the "throne room" and Naboo in general. "You're sovereign ruler. Palpatine has to let you speak to him or the Inner Council will cry bloody murder."
"And what would that accomplish?" Lucéa asked icily.
Jonos shrugged. "Beg. Apologize. Humiliate yourself if you have to." His cold smile widened. "Palpatine likes a good show, and he's always thought females shouldn't rule."
Lucéa could feel her face flaming. The very idea of apologizing for a crime his supposed Imperial Majesty had committed was beyond infuriating. "I have my pride, Karrde."
"So? You can't eat pride – and you sure as frag can't buy weapons with it." Jonos shrugged fractionally. "Don't look at me like that. I'm just trying to keep your pretty head on your shoulders."
"I'm sure," Anakin growled.
Jonos laughed. It definitely wasn't a pleasant sound. "Call your hound off, Naberrie."
Lucéa ignored him. Another idea had suddenly occurred to her - one that might be considerably more feasible and less humiliating. She turned to the two Jedi. "I must speak to you both. Alone."
Rabé watched her go.
***
Jessa felt numb, as if a part of her did not understand what had happened. The rest of her knew all too well. She had lost the datadot and the information in the astromech droid. Bakura was burning. Akim Hannibar was dead, and with her any hope of unlocking the blasted prophecy they had all risked their necks for. Antilles would never know what had happened to them.
And worst of all, she had managed to get Ben into a dungload of trouble.
She glanced past their armed escort at her new friend. Because that was what Ben was, she realized belatedly: a friend, a companion she trusted, someone whose welfare she cared about and whose opinion she respected, even if he did act like space waste at times. For as long as she could remember, she had been thrust into the company of her fellow elite - the children of beings who wanted to buy into or even take over her parents' fortune. Ben was not like that at all and she had never been gladder for it.
Lots of good it did her now.
The 'lift was crammed with white-armored goons, all aiming their weapons at Jessa, Ben, Hal, Melody, and Lumpy. She had no idea where Goldenrod and Blue had been taken off to, but she had little hope of ever seeing them again. She did not think about Han - not because she did not want to, but because she could not begin to imagine what Rage and Luwellaen might do to him.
It was her fault that he had come here, too. So much of this mess was her fault.
Maybe she could use her father's clout as a bargaining chip. She might have some trouble with Ben - why had he used that stupid name? - but Melody, Hal, and Lumpy could probably get their sentences reduced if she promised an extra few shipments of blaster gas. The trick would be getting her father to help her keep her end of the bargain…
The doors hissed open, giving Jessa her first view of the Executor's detention block.
And a blaster bolt sizzled past her ear.
"Get down!" Melody screamed. Jessa was already twisting free of her astonished guard's grip and stumbling into Ben, using her own weight to push him to the deck. There was an outraged Wookie bellow and a string of curses from Melody; Lumpy had probably landed on top of her. Their guards were firing back, but whoever had taken that first shot knew what he or she was doing. In moments the last of the stormtroopers had crumpled to the ground with a smoking hole in his chest.
"Get those off," a commanding voice barked. Jessa felt herself being hauled roughly to her feet. A Twi'lek in Imperial prison garb delicately sliced her binders off with a small vibroblade. As she worked blood back into her tingling fingers, she took quick stock of her companions. Melody had apparently faired the worst of them; aside from being beaten before they had all been hauled away from Rage's presence, she had been squashed under Lumpy and sported a purpling bruise on her face as evidence. Hal held out his hand to help her to her feet, but she shook him with a grumble and hobbled up on her own. Ben looked undamaged, although his eyes were very wide.
"I'm sorry about hitting you," he stammered.
Jessa followed his gaze to the familiar face of Admiral Rowan Archimedes. For someone who had been clubbed upside the head, she looked remarkably healthy - not to mention more than a little surprised. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you, boy?" Her eyes fell on Jessa and a small, humorless smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "How about I hold a vibroblade to your throat, hm? See how you like it."
"Don't, Admiral." A white-shrouded young woman pushed her way through a small crowd of cautious beings in prison garb. Although she was pale and obviously the worse for wear, Jessa still recognized her as Inner Councilor Malinza Thanas. The Rebel leader hurried past several wary men in prison garb so she could stand face to face with Jessa. "Where is the datadot?" she demanded. "What happened to the rest of the message?"
"The Imps have it," Hal answered from somewhere near the back of the 'lift. He and Melody both held blaster rifles; Melody was trying to foist one of Ben, with little success.
Thanas's face hardened as she turned to face the smuggler. "And I suppose this little adventure was some ill-conceived attempt to rescue me? You've ruined everything!"
Hal's hands balled into fists. "We didn't come here to save your hide, your ladyship. We were going to deliver something to Bakura, that's all. I don't know what you're talking about." Here he threw a look at Jessa that suggested she would have a lot of explaining to do very soon.
"Are you blind or just stupid?" Thanas demanded. "The Rebellion has risked everything to keep those files out of Imperial hands and here you are handing them to Darth Rage on a platter!"
Ben cleared his throat. "Um..."
Hal took a threatening step toward her. "Maybe if you got off your pedestel and got those robes of yours dirty for once - "
"Hello?"
"I'm on a pedestel?" Thanas thundered. "You delusional, half-witted - "
"HEY! SHUT THE FRAG UP!"
Everyone fell silent, mostly because words failed them. Jessa tried to remember the last time she had heard Ben raise his voice and quickly realized that she had never seen him really irritated before. He did not look intimidating, precisely, but there was something in the set of his jaw and the flash of his eyes that commanded attention. In a way she could not quite define, the quiet mechanic reminded her of Admiral Antilles just then.
"We're in the middle of the Executor," Ben said sharply. He did not sound at all like a panicking, lost boy from the Outer Rim. "I don't really care what anyone here thinks about anyone else. If you want to argue later, go ahead. Right now we probably have a lot of Imps heading this way, so maybe we should stop trying to kill each other and try getting out of here."
Then he paused for a moment and gave Archimedes a worried look, suddenly the familiar, bashful space waste that Jessa had befriended. "And, um, sorry about hitting you like that."
Maybe it was Jessa's imagination, but she could have sworn that the Imperial actually smiled. "I'll take it out of your hide later." Ignoring Ben's sudden terror, she pointed toward the back of the detention cell. "We're going down the garbage chutes. I have the override codes. Don't go in the deep water and don't panic. Understand?" When the prisoners nodded mutely, she gestured with her stolen blaster rifle. "Now hurry up."
The mass exodus toward this strange escape route began, first as a trickle and then as a stampede. No one from Jessa's little party moved, nor did Thanas or the admiral. It was as if they were all waiting for something.
Finally Melody broke the silence. "They're not getting out, are they?"
Archimedes gave her an unreadable look as she made her way to the controls. "I'm overriding the seals on the compactors. Most of them know they're way around a Star Destroyer. They'll be able to find the shuttle bays."
"That's not what I meant." Hal's girlfriend took a step toward the admiral, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
And suddenly Jessa understood. "They're a diversion," she said softly. "So you can escape with Thanas."
"My escape has nothing to do with it," Archimedes retorted. "I'll be disabling the tractor beams and external sensors so the governor has half a chance."
Hal gaped at her. "That's crazy."
"It's been done before." Archimedes began retrieving weapons and supply belts from the fallen guards. "I studied the incident on the first Death Star. If an old man can pull it off, so can I."
Jessa shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Hal's right. This is insane. Even if you're telling the truth, you'll never be able to make it back to the shuttle bay alive."
Archimedes smiled tightly. "I know my history, girl. It's one big circle spinning over and over." Here she threw them all a look that could only be described as cocky. "Not this time. I'm not letting any Sith cut me down." Abruptly a frown furrowed her brow. "What is it, boy?"
Jessa's gaze flew to Ben, who shivered and slowly raised his blaster. "I think they're com - "
Then the 'lift exploded.
***
Bellar led the way through narrow service corridors and up hundreds of winding stairs, which told Denilee that the Hapan had either mapped out escape routes or had just been on Imperial Center a lot. After a moment's consideration she settled on the former. Hapans never set foot in the Empire if they could possibly help it, and she was sure she would have remembered a male guard in such a matriarchal society. Aside from King Isoldur, the only male Hapans she had ever seen before now were Prince Dirrek and a few scribes.
She glanced at Khabarakh and Guri, who were acting as rear guards, before turning her attention to Nanny. Although Denilee was not exactly big for her age, her pretend grandma was older than the Empire. A moment's study told her that she should not have worried. Nanny seemed to be more wiry muscle than anything else, and there was no sign of strain on her regal face. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what her guardian had been a long time ago. Maybe she had been a powerful force in the Emperor's court, or a queen's brave and loyal attendant, or even a member of the Inner Council.
"Wait." Bellar's whisper pulled Denilee back to the present. Nanny ducked into what looked like an old terminal alcove. Despite her outward calm, Denilee could feel the thump-thump of her rapid heartbeat. Or maybe it was her own heart hammering against her ribs. She balled her hands into fists and tried to make herself stop shaking. I'm six years old. I'm not a baby. I'm not scared. I'm six years old. I'm not a baby. I'm not scared. That mantra did not stop her from shivering as the sound of marching feet seemed to deafen her.
Only when the sounds faded did she open her eyes and allow herself to look at her companions. No one else had moved from their spots along the wall.
Bellar looked at the others with wide eyes. Suddenly he did not seem old at all. It took Denilee a moment to remember that he was only year or two older than Mikel. "Since when are there stormtroopers down here?"
"They're looking for us," Nanny said quietly. She turned to Guri, who was holding her blaster loosely in one hand and watching the corridor. "How far is your ship?"
The cool woman seemed to read something out of that simple question. "If Palpatine is sending patrols here? Too far. We need to find another way off planet."
"There is a refueling station three levels up," Khabarakh said. "There will be ships there."
Denilee twisted around to stare at the Noghri. "I thought stealing was wrong."
"Doesn't your father take tribute from the Hapes Cluster?" Bellar asked. There was something strange in his voice, like it would cut her if she let herself listen too closely.
She glared at him for all she was worth. "That's different!" she protested in a loud whisper. "Daddy can't pay for ships to protect the galaxy if he doesn't have money!" She looked at Nanny, fully expecting to be supported in this most logical and basic of principles, but the rest of her arguments died unspoken as she looked at her pretend grandma's face. Nanny did not believe anything Denilee was saying.
But that did not make stealing a ship okay.
"Nanny?" she asked suddenly. "Why is everyone doing this for me?" The others all exchanged looks, which told her what she needed to know. "This isn't because the Emperor's mad at me, is it? It's for something else."
"Not now, sweetling." Nanny's grip on her tightened as she turned back to the others. "Three levels up. Hurry."
Denilee found herself being carried along again.
***
Everything happened at once.
Melody raised her blaster rifle and squeezed off a shot, striking a white-clad figure in the chest. Somewhere behind her she heard Hal shouting for someone to get behind him, but she could not say who he was talking to or even if that person was listening. Lumpy bellowed as only an eight-foot Wookie could. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jessa and Ben shoving her governorship Thanas toward the cell bay. Archimedes was nowhere to be seen.
Fragging Imp deserter. She dodged a blaster bolt and started to work her way toward one of the consoles. If she could get behind it, she would have cover for a few moments - enough time for the others to get into the cell bay and climb into the garbage chutes.
Suddenly Archimedes was beside her, firing with lethal accuracy. "What do you think you're doing, girl?" she asked through gritted teeth. "This is no time to be a hero."
"Do I look like a hero to you?" Melody shot back.
Another Imp went down. Archimedes twisted away from a barrage of deadly energy bolts as she spoke. "Of course you're not," she muttered. "You're just playing rear guard for your own health."
Melody glowered at her. "Someone has to."
"Right. Me." Archimedes grabbed her arm. Melody tried to wriggle free, but the admiral had a grip like a durasteel vise. The older woman's eyes were bright, like someone had lit fires behind them. "Thanas told me what happened on Bakura," she said. Although her voice was soft, her words were clear over the sounds of the firefight. "I didn't join the Empire to slaughter innocents. I have to stop that."
"You're a Rebel?!"
Archimedes' face was unreadable. "I don't know what that means anymore."
Melody never had a chance to answer, for the admiral shoved her toward the cell bay with one great heave. By the time she had regained her balance, the woman had vaulted over the console and was charging the stormtroopers. She vanished in a haze of blaster bolts and smoke.
"Archimedes!" Thanas came stumbling out of the haze filling the cell bay. She did not look at all like an Inner Councilor just then. There was grime on her face and a certain set to her jaw as she started toward the melee in the center of the room.
Acting on impulse, Melody grabbed the governor of Bakura and hauled her up the short steps to the cell bay. "Come on!" she barked. "We're getting you out of here!"
"But she freed me!" Thanas protested. There were tears streaming down her face. Tears! Melody wondered what had happened to the universe when a purported Rebel leader cried for a moons-mad Imp.
The two stumbled through the smoke, firing blindly behind them as they fumbled through the maze. Melody could barely see a meter in front of her face. We must've hit a coolant conduit or something, she realized as she dragged Thanas along. At least that explained the stinging in her eyes. Hal! she called silently. Hal Horn, where the frag are you?!
"Melody! Governor Thanas!"
That was not Hal. Hal was not stupid enough to bellow like that in the middle of all this. Melody sighed and waved her blaster rifle, calling as loudly as she dared. "Over here, Darklighter!"
Ben stumbled into view, looking a bit shocked, but otherwise none the worse for wear. His hair stood up in all directions and his eyes were so wide that she could see white all around those laser-green irises. "Have you seen Jessa?" he asked in a hushed voice. "I can't find her or Lumpy anywhere."
"What about Hal?" Melody demanded.
Ben gestured vaguely back the way he had come. "Over there somewhere. I think he's looking for another way out of the cell bay."
"You saw him?"
The boy dropped his eyes to the deck. "I...I felt him."
Malinza's head came up sharply. "You're a Jedi?"
"No! Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Ben actually managed to look exasperated. "Can we go now? Any minute now the Imps are going to get past whoever's holding the 'lift and then - "
He stopped, his face going pale, and flattened himself against the deck. A moment later an enormous blaster bolt sizzled through the air exactly where his head had been.
Thanas raised an eyebrow. "Not a Jedi?" she asked mildly.
Ben glared at her.
The governor squared her shoulders. "We don't have time for this," she said abruptly. And without further ado, she pointed her blaster straight up and shot a hole in the low ceiling. "Into the ducts!" she ordered.
Melody looked at Ben, who just shook his head. Inner Councilors were clearly not supposed to behave like this in his mind. "We can't just leave Jessa!" he protested.
"Your girlfriend can take care of herself," Thanas said curtly.
"She's not my girlfriend!"
"Whatever you say." Thanas jabbed a finger at the end of the cell bay. "That shot came from the other end of the cell bay, which means stormtroopers have managed to get through and they're closing in on both sides. Unless you want to be captured, follow me."
Then she wrapped her long sleeves around her hands, grabbed hold of her new exit, and pulled herself up. In a flash of white, she had vanished.
Melody sighed. "Come on, kid." She grabbed Ben and hauled him toward the hole. "Let's get out of here."
***
It was squishy. It was decayed. It smelled disgusting. And because some deity really had it in for her, Jessa landed on it.
"Ugh!" She managed to push herself upright without touching much of the whatever-it-was. Parts of her putrifying cushion looked suspiciously...organic. "Congratulations, Horn. This was just brilliant. Now any Imp with a nose will be able to track us."
Hal glowered at her. "What was I supposed to do? Lumpy wouldn't have fit in the ventilation ducts."
Jessa did not bother to glance at the enormous Wookie. Of course Hal was right, but that did not make her feel any better. She had no idea where Ben had gotten to, much less Malinza Thanas. And the stench was really starting to get on her nerves. "I don't suppose the hatch is unlocked?" she asked the galaxy in general.
Lumpy banged on the hatch a few times, then proceeded to fiddle with a large lever. He bared his teeth in a gloating grin as the entire apparatus swung on very loud, squeaky hinges.
Finally some good luck. Silently thanking Archimedes a thousand times over, Jessa followed Lumpy and Hal out of the garbage chute and tried to wipe her hands off on the pristine walls. They left greasy smears. Fragging wonderful. Just what I need. She glanced at Hal, who was staring at the ceiling. "What?"
The smuggler pointed straight up. "I found your boyfriend."
"Ben is not my boyfriend." Jessa waved her blaster rifle for added emphasis, which only served to elicit a few chortles from Lumpy. She pinned the Wookie with her best glower and hunted for a really crushing insult, but the only thing she managed to come up with was "Walking carpet."
Lumpy just continued to chortle, obviously enjoying her outrage.
Hal rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I think Mel and Thanas are with him. They're going that way." He gestured vaguely to his left.
Jessa frowned, trying to picture the layout of a Super Star Destroyer. "That's toward the interrogation rooms. They must be trying to get Han."
"Then we should help them."
She shook her head. "We need to get the droids. Blue is more important."
Hal glared at her. "Look, Calrissian. What the frag is that little greaseball carrying? What's all this about?"
"Defeating the Emperor," Jessa said with perfect honesty. "And if you want to hear the rest of it, you'll just have to follow me." That said, she started down the corridor.
Somewhere behind her came Lumpy's rumble. The message was very clear: nothing could possibly be worth this kind of aggravation.
She could not say if Hal agreed. The smuggler was completely silent, lost in his own troubled thoughts.
***
Blue light. A slim girl holding a saber. She stood proud and sure despite her battered face, her very presence illuminating the cloying darkness around her. What stirred her bruised, broken body was more than just the power of the Light Side of the Force. It was determination and desperation. It was the knowledge that she was the last hope, and that if she failed, then the galaxy was lost.
The last light - the last Skywalker - lifted her head, bringing her face into full view. And she smiled.
She had Padmé Naberrie's face.
Palpatine's eyes flew open. Despite the guards all around him, despite the security of his private meditation chambers, despite the fleet of ships guarding Imperial Center, he scanned the shadows as if the phantom might emerge and slay him. He felt a cold prickle of fear - and this time it brought none of the Dark Side's familiar strength. There were some things one as powerful as he knew, beyond a doubt, and one of them was that his visions were telling him the identity of the one who would one day be his murderer.
A female Skywalker. A female descendant of the Chosen One. Denilee Ismaren Rage was the only one who qualified, but she looked nothing like the accursed mother of the Rebellion. Or perhaps there was some facet of this he was missing. A girl with a blue blade - Anakin Skywalker's blade, surely. What could Padmé Naberrie's face possibly signify?
"Your highness?"
He looked down at the page quavering before him. "What?" he demanded.
The youth swallowed. "Your highness, the Nubian Queen has contacted you. She wishes to propose a face-to-face meeting."
Palpatine's hands curled into fists. That irritable child-queen Lucéa had caused almost as much trouble as her long-dead predecessor. "What does she want?"
"To discuss surrender, your highness."
Well. This was unexpected. "She wants to discuss her surrender in person?"
The page swallowed again. "No, your highness. Not her surrender." He held out a flimsy printout. "Ours."
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