Apocalypse (66 page)

“Agreed,” she said. “It will be hard living somewhere other than
Coruscant—but not as hard as seeing it torn apart in battle after battle.”

Dorvan exhaled in relief, then stepped over to Luke’s chair. “Thank you for not making this difficult,” he said. “It’s not that we’re ungrateful for all the Jedi have done and sacrificed, but with a whole world of Sith out there …”

He let the sentence trail off, no doubt struggling to find the words to say what everyone in the room knew—that Coruscant had suffered enough.

“There’s no need to explain.” Luke rose and took Dorvan’s hand with genuine affection. “You’re going to be one of history’s great Chiefs of State. Go with the Force, my friend.”

I
N THE END
, L
ANDO SUGGESTED A COMPROMISE AND ARRANGED TO REPLACE
the
Falcon
’s missing cockpit with a customized replica. For Han, it still had the same seating arrangement and control configuration that had come to feel like an extension of his own body. For Leia, the yokes were mounted on telescoping shafts, so she wouldn’t need to hold her arms at shoulder height whenever she took the helm. And the slave throttles had been moved closer to the copilot’s station, to accommodate her shorter reach.

But the best features by far were the new seats. While they looked like the same basic models that had come stock on the old YT-1300, they were fitted with the latest in crew-comfort systems—body-molding flow-foam, built-in heaters and massagers, integrated pilot-alertness sensors that shook, buzzed, or even shocked at the first sign of slackening posture. In short, a pilot could spend an entire duty shift behind the yoke without growing sore or inattentive—and Han was beginning to think that was a very good thing.

The
Falcon
was sitting on the flight deck of the Super Star Destroyer
Megador
’s executive hangar, looking out upon an entire brigade of Void Jumpers in full-dress uniform. They had been standing at parade rest for an hour, and, judging by the alternating bursts of tense murmurings and nervous laughter rolling up the access corridor, they were going to be standing there for another hour.

Han shrugged and tried not to feel guilty. The elite honor guard had been Gavin Darklighter’s idea, a farewell salute and thank-you gift for all the Solos had done for the cause of galactic freedom over the last five decades. It was also a subtle reminder that just because the Solo family would be living in another part of the galaxy, they still had friends in the Galactic Alliance—and Coruscant would always be their home.

But Han had reasons of his own for wishing Leia would speed things up back there. First, it had been a long time since he had decked himself out in high boots and full first-class Bloodstripes, and he had forgotten how hot and itchy his formal pants got when he sat around waiting too long. Second, his wife and daughter weren’t the only ones who were nervous, and the longer they took getting ready, the more likely it became that he would need to change his shirt.

And a lot of people were waiting on them. That
always
made Han edgy.

A flight of StealthXs flashed past the hangar mouth, their cruciform profiles silhouetted against Coruscant’s pearly brightness for only an instant before they broke formation. They peeled off in ten different directions, moving so fast that Han would not have been able to count their number had he not already known who they were: the Ten Knights, heading out to find the Mortis monolith and the Force-imbued dagger that had killed the Ones. It was a lonely mission that Han did not envy the young Jedi. What little they knew about the monolith was the stuff of legend, and if Luke was right about Abeloth continuing to linger in the Force, one day the future of the galaxy would hang on their success.

Once the last starfighter had vanished from sight, Han wished them a heavy dose of his Corellian luck, then tried to sneak a peek at the control panel chrono.

Of course, Allana caught him.

“Just be patient, Grandpa.” Dressed in an elegant white gown and
wearing a gem-studded tiara in her golden-red hair, she looked like the beautiful young princess she was. “They can’t start without us, you know.”

“I know.” Han turned to face his granddaughter. “Allana, are you going to be okay with this? I mean, everyone knowing who you really are?”

Allana cocked her head, and Han thought he saw a flash of hope in her eyes—a flash that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Do I have a choice?” she asked.

“Not really,” Han admitted. “Now that the Sith know, it’s only a matter of time until
everyone
knows.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out they won’t keep the secret for long. And when your secret is about to be exposed, Mom says it’s better to reveal everything yourself.”

“That’s right,” Han agreed. “So it looks like it’s your idea.” Allana smiled. “Bluffing rule number one: Always
look
like you’re in control—”

“—and you’ll
be
in control,” Han finished. He paused, sighed, and then spoke in a quiet voice. “I guess it’s official.”

“What?” Allana asked.

“I’ve taught you everything I know.”

Allana frowned.
“Everything?”
she asked. “That’s pretty hard to believe.”

“Well, everything that matters,” Han confirmed. He let his tone grow serious. “Those are the two secrets to life, Allana. Keeping it simple, and looking like you’re in control.”

Allana considered this for a moment. “And it took you
how
long to teach those to me?”

Han shrugged, then smiled. “Keeping it simple is harder than you think.” He reached down to scratch behind the ears of Allana’s pet nexu and was rewarded with a raspy rumble of contentment. “You’re
sure
Anji’s not going to have a problem with this?”

“Anji’s smarter than you think, Grandpa. She understands that this is a big deal.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Han said. “She might take the excitement the wrong way.”

Allana let out a weary sigh. “Is anyone going to be shooting blaster bolts at her?”

“Let’s hope not,” Han said. “What about the lightsabers?”

“Is anyone going to swing one at her?”

“I doubt it,” Han said.

“Then everything’s going to be fine,” Allana said. “Trust me.”

Han felt a sudden pang of joy and pride. “Well, if you’re going to put it that way, I guess I have no choice.”

Allana shot him one of her lopsided smiles, then said, “I was
wondering
if you were ever going to figure that out!”

Before Han could protest, Anji’s head popped up and turned toward the rear of the flight deck, then C-3PO came clumping out of the access corridor.

“Master Solo asked me to tell you that she’s ready.”

“About time!” Han fired up the repulsorlift drives. “I was beginning to think she was changing her mind.”

Out on the flight deck, Gavin Darklighter barked an order, and the Void Jumper brigade came to attention and saluted. Han flashed the
Falcon
’s landing lights in reply, then engaged the repulsorlifts and eased out of the executive hangar. He swung around beneath the
Megador
’s bow and commed for permission to depart the Super Star Destroyer’s vicinity.

To his surprise, it was Admiral Bwua’tu himself who replied. “Permission granted, with our greatest reluctance and gratitude,” he said. “Safe journeys,
Millennium Falcon
.”

As the
Falcon
sped across the handful of kilometers that separated the
Megador
from the
Dragon Queen II
, Jaina was surprised to sense herself growing utterly calm. With the entire Jedi Order relocating to its secret base on Shedu Maad and the Balance itself tipping ever deeper into darkness, she had expected to experience some amount of doubt today—or at least a little tingle of uncertainty.

But she didn’t. The closer the
Falcon
drew to the
Dragon Queen II
, the more confident Jaina grew that she had made the right choice, that she was following the will of the Force in what she was preparing to do.

It was a wonderful feeling.

Her stomach fluttered as the
Falcon
decelerated on final approach. A moment later a series of loud thumps sounded from the lower hull, and the old transport groaned and hissed as it spun around and settled onto its landing struts inside the Queen Mother’s Privy Hangar.

Jaina’s mother reached over and squeezed her hand. “Ready?”

“I’ve never been readier for anything in my life.” Jaina straightened her dress—she had gone with a traditional white gown with a long train—then took the bouquet her mother was holding. “And I’ve kept him waiting long enough, don’t you think?”

Her mother cracked a smile. “It never hurts to be sure.”

Allana and Anji came running out of the access tunnel, Allana holding up her skirts so she didn’t trip, Anji freshly shampooed and looking about as cuddly as a four-eyed feline with a mouthful of fangs
could
look. Allana took one look at the bouquet in Jaina’s hand and smiled. She retrieved the basket of rozal petals she would be carrying, then took her place in front of Jaina.

“Anji, on my left,” Allana ordered.

Anji pounced instantly to her master’s left side and stood motionless, now nearly as tall as Allana herself.

Jaina’s father emerged from the access corridor next, looking roguishly handsome in his high boots and Bloodstripes. He went to her mother and kissed her on the cheek, then stepped back and flicked a tear from beneath his eye.

“I guess you couldn’t talk her out of it?”

Her mother’s eyes grew wide.
“Han!”

He laughed, then turned to Jaina and offered his arm. “You know I’m only sore because he used to be the Emperor, right?”

“He was a Head of State, Dad, not the Emperor,” Jaina said, taking his arm. “And he’s over that.”

“He better be,” he said, smiling wider than ever now. “I won’t have any daughter of mine raising little Imperials.”

“Not that it’s
your
choice,” Jaina replied wryly. “But don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself?”

“Yeah, Grandpa—stop rushing them,” Allana said, turning to look up at her grandfather. “They’re not even married yet.”

His brow shot up. “They
aren’t
?” He turned to R2-D2, who was standing next to the boarding ramp control panel, and pointed a finger at the little astromech droid. “Maybe it’s time to do something about that.”

R2-D2 let out a joyful tweedle, then plugged into the droid socket and lowered the boarding ramp.

“Wait!” C-3PO objected, rushing past the procession toward the ramp. “I’m not in position!”

R2-D2 responded with a chastening whistle, causing C-3PO to stop at the top of the ramp and turn toward him.

“Well, it certainly isn’t
my
fault!” he objected. “You lowered the ramp—”

The rest of the objection was drowned out by the fanfare of a hundred Hapan long-horns. Realizing that he was about to miss his cue, C-3PO turned and plunked to the bottom of the boarding ramp. From her vantage point inside the passenger cabin, Jaina could not see much more than the deck upon which he emerged. But she could sense through the Force that there were hundreds of people gathered just out of sight, all looking expectantly toward the
Falcon
.

C-3PO turned away from the ship, then spoke in a loud, regal voice that echoed across a cavernous space.

“Your Royal Majesty, ladies and gentlemen, may I present the mother of the bride, Jedi Knight, former Chief of State of the New Republic, and Princess of Alderaan, Leia Organa Solo.”

Again there came a loud fanfare, this time accompanied by the applause of hundreds. Jaina’s mother raised her chin and descended the boarding ramp, looking both elegant and beautiful in the plain white Jedi robe she had chosen for the ceremony.

When she reached the landing deck, her brother stepped into view and offered his arm to her, lingering long enough to peek up the ramp. Even three months after awakening from his coma—or healing trance, or whatever it had been—Luke still looked pale and weak, and his pain was a constant dull ache in the Force. But his suffering did not diminish from the warmth of his smile, and Jaina could feel how happy he was for her.

Once Luke and Leia had turned away and started up the aisle,
C-3PO announced, “The first heir to the Hapan Throne, the Chume’da Allana Djo Solo.”

The long-horns sounded again, this time almost deafening in their volume, and the hangar erupted in thunderous applause.

Allana cringed, then let out a heavy sigh. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to that.”

“Looks like it, kid,” her grandfather said. “But there
is
a bright side.”

Allana craned her neck to look back up at him. “Really?”

“Sure,” he said. “You’ll get to spend more time with your mother. And when you’re on Shedu Maad training, nobody’s going to applaud. They’ll just yell.”

Allana smiled. “Thanks, Grandpa,” she said. “That’s going to be a relief.”

With that, she clicked at Anji to follow, then started down the ramp sprinkling rozal petals in Jaina’s path.