Into the Void: Star Wars (Dawn of the Jedi) (59 page)

Jacen’s movement out of the corridor brought him within sight of the orange-and-green
defenders, who were
now arrayed in disciplined rows along the walkway to Jacen’s left. As soon as he reached
the railing they opened fire again. Their tighter formation allowed them to concentrate
their fire, and Jacen found himself deflecting more shots than before.

He felt rather than saw Ben scoot into position behind him, but no blaster bolts came
at him from that direction. “What now?” Ben asked.

“Finish the mission.” Jacen caught a too-close bolt on his blade near the hilt; unable
to aim the deflection, he saw the bolt flash down into the assembly area. It hit a
monitor screen. The men and women near the screen dived for cover. Jacen winced; a
fraction of a degree of arc difference and that bolt could have hit an explosives
package. As inured as he was to causing death, he didn’t want to cause it by accident.

“But you’re in charge—”

“I’m busy.” Jacen took a step forward to give himself more maneuvering and swinging
space and concentrated on his attackers. He needed to protect himself and Ben now,
to defend a broader area. He focused on batting bolt after bolt back into the ranks
of the attackers, saw one, two, three of the soldiers fall.

There was a lull in the barrage of fire. Jacen took a moment to glance over his shoulder.
Ben stood at the railing, staring down into the manufacturing line, and to his eye
he held a small but expensive holocam unit—the sort carried by wealthy vacationers
and holocam hobbyists all over the galaxy.

As Jacen returned his attention to the soldiers, Ben began talking: “Um, this is Ben
Skywalker. Jedi Knight Jacen Solo and I are in a, I don’t know, secret part of the
Dammant Killers plant under the city of Cartann on the planet Adumar. You’re looking
at a missile manufacturing line. It’s making missiles that are not being reported
to the GA. They’re selling to planets that aren’t supposed to be getting them. Dammant
is breaking the rules. Oh, and the noise you’re hearing? Their guys are trying to
kill us.”

Jacen felt Ben’s motion as the boy swung to record the blaster-versus-lightsaber conflict.

“Is that enough?” Ben asked.

Jacen shook his head. “Get the whole chamber. And while you’re doing it, figure out
what we’re supposed to do next.”

“I was kind of thinking we ought to get out of here.”

With the tip of his lightsaber blade, Jacen caught a blast that was crackling in toward
his right shin. He popped the blast back toward its firer. It hit the woman’s blaster
rifle, searing it into an unrecognizable lump, causing her green shoulder armor momentarily
to catch fire. She retreated, one of her fellow soldiers patting out her flames. Now
there were fewer than fifteen soldiers standing against the Jedi, and their temporary
commander was obviously rethinking his
make-a-stand
orders.

“Good. How?”

“Well, the way we came in—no. They’d be waiting for us.”

“Correct.”

“And you never want to fight the enemy on ground he’s chosen if you can avoid it.”

Jacen grinned. Ben’s words, so adult, were a quote from Han Solo, a man whose wisdom
was often questionable—except on matters of personal survival. “Also correct.”

“So … the ends of those assembly lines?”

“Good. So go.”

Jacen heard the scrape of a heel as Ben vaulted over the rail. Not waiting, Jacen
leapt laterally, clearing the rail by half a meter, and spun as he fell. Ahead of
and below him, Ben was just landing in a crouch on the nearest assembly line, which
was loaded with opalescent shell casings. As Jacen landed, bent knees and a little
upward push from the Force easing the impact, Ben raced forward, reflexively swatting
aside the grasping hand of a too-bold line worker, and crouched as he lunged through
the diminutive portal at the end of the line.

Jacen followed. He heard and felt the heat of blaster bolts hitting the assembly line
behind him. He swung his
lightsaber back over his shoulder, intercepting one bolt, taking the full force of
the impact rather than deflecting the bolt into a neighboring line.

No line workers tried to grab him, and in seconds he was squeezing through the portal.

GALACTIC ALLIANCE DIPLOMATIC SHUTTLE, HIGH CORUSCANT ORBIT

O
NE BY ONE, THE STARS OVERHEAD BEGAN TO DISAPPEAR
, swallowed by some enormous darkness interposing itself from above and behind the
shuttle. Sharply pointed at its most forward position, broadening behind, the flood
of blackness advanced, blotting out more and more of the unblinking starfield, until
darkness was all there was to see.

Then, all across the length and breadth of the ominous shape, lights came on—blue
and white running lights, tiny red hatch and security lights, sudden glows from within
transparisteel viewports, one large rectangular whiteness limned by atmosphere shields.
The lights showed the vast triangle to be the underside of an Imperial Star Destroyer,
painted black, forbidding a moment ago, now comparatively cheerful in its proper running
configuration. It was the
Gilad Pellaeon
, newly arrived from the Imperial Remnant, and its officers clearly knew how to put
on a show.

Jaina Solo, sitting with the others in the dimly lit passenger compartment of the
government VIP shuttle, watched the entire display through the overhead transparisteel
canopy and laughed out loud.

The Bothan in the sumptuously padded chair next to
hers gave her a curious look. His mottled red and tan fur twitched, either from suppressed
irritation or embarrassment at Jaina’s outburst. “What do you find so amusing?”

“Oh, both the obviousness of it and the skill with which it was performed. It’s so
very,
You used to think of us as dark and scary, but now we’re just your stylish allies
.” Jaina lowered her voice so that her next comment would not carry to the passengers
in the seats behind. “The press will love it. That image will play on the holonews
broadcasts constantly. Mark my words.”

“Was that little show a Jagged Fel detail?”

Jaina tilted her head, considering. “I don’t know. He could have come up with it,
but he usually doesn’t spend his time planning displays or events. When he does, though,
they’re usually pretty … effective.”

The shuttle rose toward the
Gilad Pellaeon
’s main landing bay. In moments, it was through the square atmosphere barrier shield
and drifting sideways to land on the deck nearby. The landing place was clearly marked—hundreds
of beings, most wearing gray Imperial uniforms or the distinctive white armor of the
Imperial stormtrooper, waited in the bay, and the one circular spot where none stood
was just the right size for the Galactic Alliance shuttle.

The passengers rose as the shuttle settled into place. The Bothan smoothed his tunic,
a cheerful blue decorated with a golden sliver pattern suggesting claws. “Time to
go to work. You won’t let me get killed, will you?”

Jaina let her eyes widen. “Is that what I was supposed to be doing here?” she asked
in droll tones. “I should have brought my lightsaber.”

The Bothan offered a long-suffering sigh and turned toward the exit.

They descended the shuttle’s boarding ramp. With no
duties required of her other than to keep alert and be the Jedi face at this preliminary
meeting, Jaina was able to stand back and observe. She was struck with the unreality
of it all. The niece and daughter of three of the most famous enemies of the Empire
during the First Galactic Civil War of a few decades earlier, she was now witness
to events that might bring the Galactic Empire—or Imperial Remnant, as it was called
everywhere outside its own borders—into the Galactic Alliance on a lasting basis.

And at the center of the plan was the man, flanked by Imperial officers, who now approached
the Bothan. Slightly under average size, though towering well above Jaina’s diminutive
height, he was dark-haired, with a trim beard and mustache that gave him a rakish
look, and was handsome in a way that became more pronounced when he glowered. A scar
on his forehead ran up into his hairline and seemed to continue as a lock of white
hair from that point. He wore expensive but subdued black civilian garments, neck-to-toe,
that would be inconspicuous anywhere on Coruscant but stood out in sharp relief to
the gray and white uniforms, white armor, and colorful Alliance clothes surrounding
him.

He had one moment to glance at Jaina. The look probably appeared neutral to onlookers,
but for her it carried just a twinkle of humor, a touch of exasperation that the two
of them had to put up with all these delays. Then an Alliance functionary, notable
for his blandness, made introductions: “Imperial Head of State the most honorable
Jagged Fel, may I present Senator Tiurrg Drey’lye of Bothawui, head of the Senate
Unification Preparations Committee.”

Jagged Fel took the Senator’s hand. “I’m pleased to be working with you.”

“And delighted to meet
you
. Chief of State Daala
sends her compliments and looks forward to meeting you when you make planetfall.”

Jag nodded. “And now, I believe, protocol insists that we open a bottle or a dozen
of wine and make some preliminary discussion of security, introduction protocols,
and so on.”

“Fortunately about the wine, and regrettably about everything else, you are correct.”

At the end of two full standard hours—Jaina knew from regular, surreptitious consultations
of her chrono—Jag was able to convince the Senator and his retinue to accept a tour
of the
Gilad Pellaeon
. He was also able to request a private consultation with the sole representative
of the Jedi Order present. Moments later, the gray-walled conference room was empty
of everyone but Jag and Jaina.

Jag glanced toward the door. “Security seal, access limited to Jagged Fel and Jedi
Jaina Solo, voice identification, activate.” The door hissed in response as it sealed.
Then Jag returned his attention to Jaina.

She let an expression of anger and accusation cross her face. “You’re not fooling
anyone, Fel. You’re planning for an Imperial invasion of Alliance space.”

Jag nodded. “I’ve been planning it for quite a while. Come here.”

She moved to him, settled into his lap, and was suddenly but not unexpectedly caught
in his embrace. They kissed urgently, hungrily.

Finally Jaina drew back and smiled at him. “This isn’t going to be a routine part
of your consultations with every Jedi.”

“Uh, no. That would cause some trouble here and at home. But I actually
do
have business with the Jedi that does not involve the Galactic Alliance, at least
not initially.”

“What sort of business?”

“Whether or not the Galactic Empire joins with the Galactic Alliance, I think there
ought to be an official Jedi presence in the Empire. A second Temple, a branch, an
offshoot, whatever. Providing advice and insight to the Head of State.”

“And protection?”

He shrugged. “Less of an issue. I’m doing all right. Two years in this position and
not dead yet.”

“Emperor Palpatine went nearly twenty-five years.”

“I guess that makes him my hero.”

Jaina snorted. “Don’t even say that in jest … Jag, if the Remnant doesn’t join the
Alliance, I’m not sure the Jedi
can
have a presence without Alliance approval.”

“The Order still keeps its training facility for youngsters in Hapan space. And the
Hapans haven’t rejoined.”

“You sound annoyed. The Hapans still giving you trouble?”

“Let’s not talk about
that
.”

“Besides, moving the school back to Alliance space is just a matter of time, logistics,
and finances; there’s no question that it will happen. On the other hand, it’s very
likely that the government would withhold approval for a Jedi branch in the Remnant,
just out of spite, if the Remnant doesn’t join.”

“Well, there’s such a thing as an
unofficial
presence. And there’s such a thing as rival schools, schismatic branches, and places
for former Jedi to go when they can’t be at the Temple.”