Dark Journey (16 page)

As the pain began to recede, a strong hand grasped his elbow. “Hey, kid—exactly how long have you been cooped up in that flying ’fresher?”

Kyp quickly pulled away from his old friend, shielding his thoughts and manufacturing a wry smile. “Too long, apparently. Give me a minute to get my land legs back, and I’ll be fine.”

Han nodded absently and glanced over at the
Millennium Falcon
. Luke Skywalker emerged from the ship on the heels of his redheaded wife. His arm encircled his twin sister’s waist as they walked slowly down the ramp. Leia Organa Solo was pale but composed. Impatience crackled around Mara Jade Skywalker like sparks from a severed cable, only slightly muted by the sorrow that rose from them all.

Kyp bowed to the Jedi Master, but spoke to the Solos. “My sincere regrets over the loss of your son.”

Leia’s eyes drifted shut, and Han quickly moved to her side. “Thanks,” he said, speaking quickly as if to spare his wife the necessity of words. “I won’t deny it’s tough. Doesn’t seem right, outliving your youngest kid.”

“Your youngest?” Kyp echoed in dismay. Jacen he could shrug off without much trouble, but not Anakin. Anakin Solo’s star had been swiftly rising, making him the war’s most visible and attractive Jedi hero. Anakin could have made a difference.

Too late, Kyp realized what his words revealed. Han’s face turned gray, and he gripped Kyp’s arm with bone-crushing force.

“You were talking about Jacen. What did you hear? What do you know?”

Leia placed a gentling hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“Kyp might have felt what I did—a sudden surge of Jacen’s presence, then a dimming.”

Dimming
wasn’t the word Kyp would have chosen. He’d seen stars go nova with more subtlety. Concerned, he glanced toward Luke Skywalker. The Jedi Master’s lips were compressed in a tight line. Grief and concern mingled in his eyes as he regarded his sister. His gaze shifted to Kyp’s, drawn by the younger man’s unspoken question. His slight, almost imperceptible nod confirmed that he, too, had felt Jacen Solo’s death.

Mara stalked forward, her green eyes burning. Kyp didn’t need the Force to read the warning written there: leave Leia her protective illusions, let her deal with this in her own time.

“Surely you have no problems shading the truth,” Mara purred softly. “After all, you managed to deceive my apprentice.
My
apprentice,” she emphasized.

Obviously Mara hadn’t forgiven him for involving Jaina in his latest vendetta. Kyp had used his considerable Jedi powers to “nudge” Jaina into believing that an unfinished Yuuzhan Vong worldship was actually a superweapon. And yes, he’d asked the young pilot to become his apprentice, mostly as a means of putting her off stride and making her more receptive to his deception. Mostly.

“Warning me off?” he asked mildly.

She glanced toward Luke. “Only because he’s been a good influence.” Her eyes narrowed. “So far.”

Mara spun away from him. “We need to find a ship,” she said abruptly as she strode away. Luke followed, his eyes approving his wife’s hard-won restraint.

Leia caught her brother’s arm. “You’ll send word if you have any news of the twins?”

“You’ll know,” he said softly. “You have a Jedi’s instincts. You don’t need anyone to tell you about your
own children.” His somber gaze sought Kyp’s, and his usually mild eyes echoed Mara’s warning.

Han’s puzzled gaze shifted from face to face. He squared his shoulders and moved on to something he could understand. Draping an arm around Kyp’s shoulders, he led him toward the
Falcon
. “C’mon, kid. Let’s make ourselves useful.”

“Flying?” Kyp said dubiously as he eyed the latest dings and creases on the venerable ship.

“Fixing,” Han retorted. He opened a compartment in the
Falcon
’s hull and removed a laser torch. With a single flick he coaxed a small beam from it, as easily as any Jedi might awaken his lightsaber. “This plating here needs to be replaced.”

The Jedi regarded the tool. “I’m not much of a mechanic,” he hedged. He took it from Han and switched it off, hoping the older man would get the hint.

“Just cut off those rivets. How hard could that be?” Han’s voice faded off as he disappeared into the hold.

Kyp shrugged and pulled out his lightsaber. He switched it on and removed the half-melted fasteners with a few deft flicks.

“I see you’ve found yet another appropriate use for your Jedi abilities,” a caustic female voice observed.

He turned to face Leia. The older woman was still lovely, despite the weight of grief and worry in her eyes. Her brown hair was thick and glossy, and she wore it in a straight, simple style that made her look remarkably like her eighteen-year-old daughter.

Kyp produced his most disarming smile and enhanced it with the subtle nudge that had so disconcerted Jaina. He got the vivid impression of his effort striking an invisible wall and splattering like a mynock colliding with a Star Destroyer.

The Princess sniffed and spun on her heel. For no reason that Kyp could fathom, he fell into step with her.

Leia ignored him as she waded into the crowd of refugees, dispensing comfort. In a remarkably short time, the crowd had been herded through the initial registration and dispersed into small groups. Hapan landspeeders glided off toward the parklands beyond the city. The refugees who’d been injured during the escape from Coruscant lay on narrow white pallets. Medical droids rolled with quiet efficiency between the rows.

The collective suffering rolled over Kyp in waves. He fought back the memories—his home destroyed, his family dispersed, his childhood lost to slavery.

He noticed Leia watching him, her dark eyes narrowed in speculation. “There’s a need here,” she said. “One you understand better than most. Maybe you could make yourself useful for a change.”

Kyp smiled faintly, but shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not here, at least. Not this way.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “For some people, doubt can be dangerous. On you, it’s an improvement. So what
will
you do next?”

He considered the question, and the answer that came to him was not the one he’d expected. Kyp had assumed responsibility for fighting this war—and not just fighting, but fighting in a way that set the direction for his fellow Jedi. He’d even told Jaina that their generation needed to establish a new order, a new relationship with the Force. Perhaps on some level he’d been envisioning himself in this role. With Jedi certainty, Kyp realized that this task would fall to another.

Yet there was a place for him, an important one. “No change comes without conflict,” he said slowly. “Perhaps my destiny is to be the irritant that forces the discussion, the blister that lets you know your boots don’t fit.”

To his surprise, Leia burst into laughter. She sobered quickly and fixed him with a challenging stare. “Not a bad analogy, but keep in mind the difference between a
blister and a cancer. You’re a young man, and already you’ve been given more chances than most people get in a lifetime. A lot of people wonder why you’re still alive. The answer to that can be given in two words.”

“Luke Skywalker,” Kyp supplied without hesitation. “I understand how much I owe your brother.”

“Really? You have a strange way of repaying your debts,” Leia retorted. “You’ve done nothing to support him, and everything you can to spread dissension among the Jedi.”

The whir of repulsor engines made further speech impossible. They watched as two strangely designed vehicles lowered skillfully onto the crowded docks—round cockpits reminiscent of the old TIE fighters, and four movable arms that at present were spread like the limbs of crouching beasts.

“Chiss vessels,” Leia mused. Her face brightened as a familiar, dark-haired young man leapt from the cockpit.

“Jag Fel,” Kyp observed flatly.

“Colonel Jag Fel,” Leia added thoughtfully. Her face took on the inscrutable but pleasant expression that Han often referred to as her “diplomat face.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” she murmured, and then headed toward the young commander.

Kyp chose not to take the hint. He matched his pace to Leia’s. Whatever came next, they would need pilots—and even if Kyp didn’t like to admit it, pilots didn’t come much better than the young man emerging from the Chiss clawcraft.

Colonel Jagged Fel’s face lit with pleasure as he recognized Leia. A faint shadow entered his eyes when he noted Kyp at her side. That Kyp could understand. Their first meeting had been more cordial than a bar brawl, but that was the only positive thing Kyp could think to say about it.

The pilot drew himself up and greeted Leia with a crisp,
formal bow. He introduced his wingmate, a Chiss woman who stood nearly half a head taller than either Jag or Kyp.

“Is your presence here a portent of things to come?” Leia asked, a touch of hope in her voice.

Jag inclined his head in a bow of apology. “I regret to report that it is not. Shawnkyr and I are scouts for the Chiss, no more.”

“Pretty impressive arsenal for a pair of scouts,” Kyp observed, tapping one hand against the proton torpedo launcher.

“We don’t seek trouble, but neither will we run from it,” Jag said calmly.

Several uniformed Hapans strode toward them, flanking two men in bedraggled flight suits. One of them pointed to Jag. “That’s him—him and the woman. They’re the ones.”

“Some of that trouble you didn’t run from?” Kyp asked.

Jag’s only response was a brief, cool stare. “Excuse me,” he murmured to Leia, and then went over to speak with the officials. He returned in moments and sent a glance toward the Chiss. Immediately she swung back into her ship and began to power up the engines.

“We’ve been asked to undertake a short mission,” Jag explained. “A Yuuzhan Vong frigate analog requires an escort to Hapes.”

Kyp let out a burst of derisive laughter. “Who’d you have to kill to get that job?”

“The pilot is believed to be Lieutenant Jaina Solo,” Jag continued, as smoothly as if the interruption had not occurred.

“I know,” Leia said, a shadow of worry in her voice, “and I thank you for undertaking this. It won’t be easy to get an enemy ship in unscathed.”

Jaina
, Kyp mused.
Coming here, and flying a Yuuzhan
Vong ship. This has distinct possibilities
. “Could you use another pilot?”

Jag regarded him for a long moment. “The Hapan officials do not seem entirely convinced that this is not some sort of ambush. They asked Shawnkyr and me to go because we have combat experience against the Yuuzhan Vong. It’s entirely possible, however, that we were chosen for this task primarily because we are not Hapan, and are therefore considered expendable.”

“Oh, if that’s all,” Kyp said dryly. “I’ve been expendable for years. And recently my status has been downgraded from undesirable to anathema.”

Shawnkyr leaned over the edge of the cockpit, her red eyes taking Kyp’s measure. She, too, had heard the tales about the rogue Jedi, but she did not look disapproving.

“You will fly under Colonel Fel’s command?” she demanded.

“It’s his mission,” Kyp agreed. “What about it, Colonel?”

The young pilot accepted with a curt nod, then pulled himself up into his ship. Kyp sprinted toward his X-wing.

“What’s this about, Kyp?” Leia called after him.

He stopped, turning to meet her questioning gaze. The suspicion he expected to see was there, but it was tempered with something softer—curiosity, if nothing more.

“The last time you agreed to take orders from someone, you twisted the situation and turned many of the best people I know into unwitting murderers. Including, I might add, my daughter. What are you after this time?”

Leia’s words were harsh, but Kyp didn’t consider them unfair. Like her brother, she was giving him a chance to make an accounting of himself.

It was better than he expected, and better than he deserved. His answering smile was slow and wistful, and almost entirely genuine.

“Maybe it’s time I started repaying that debt I owe your family.”

Leia watched as Kyp raced to his ship and lifted off, swinging into position on Jag Fel’s port flank. She reminded herself that this engaging man was the same person who had destroyed Carida, who had fallen to the dark side and nearly killed her brother Luke, who had tricked Jaina into using her name and reputation to bring the Rogue Squadron into his latest vendetta.

“Bring her back, Kyp,” she said softly, “and you’ll make a good-sized dent in that debt. But if you hurt her again, or anyone of mine, you’d be safer turning yourself over to the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Zekk lowered himself into the pilot’s seat of the captured Hapan ship and then reached over to help his copilot with her restraints. Like Zekk, Tenel Ka was swathed in an evac suit, a helmet near at hand. She waved off his assistance and buckled herself in deftly, completing the task more quickly with her one hand than Zekk could with two.

The look she sent him was faintly challenging, and the energy she projected through the Force had an edge to it. Zekk understood that this had very little to do with her missing limb. Tenel Ka hadn’t become any more competitive since her injury, but then, Zekk hadn’t noticed that she’d become any
less
competitive, either.

He pretended to scowl. “How is that fair?” he said in mock complaint. “You’ve had more experience with Hapan vessels.”

“Results, not excuses,” she advised, but a ghost of a smile touched her lips as she turned to the console and began to power up the engines.

Jaina thrust her head into the cockpit, and the grin on her face was that of the girl Zekk had known long ago. “Turn up that music and let’s get ready to dance.”

The Jedi pilot smiled faintly, understanding exactly what she meant. The hum and whine of the Hapan ship’s engines was surprisingly welcome after the eerie silence of the dovin basal.

Her smile dimmed as she studied Zekk. “You sure you want to do this?”

Zekk didn’t see much of a choice. The two ships were still connected, firmly melded together by the strange substance the
Trickster
’s coral hull had secreted. They were as open to each other as two enjoining rooms. Zekk could hear Lowbacca’s deceptively fearsome howl as the Wookiee herded captive pirates through the portal to the Yuuzhan Vong ship.