Showdown at Centerpoint (35 page)

Dracmus looked miserable. “A small one,” she admitted at last. “Only a small one. Our best people are working on the Triad Selonians. But we now think perhaps they have received indoctrination in just such a circumstance. We have tried everything, I assure you.”

“Have you tried cash?” Mara asked.

“I am begging your pardon?”

“Cash. Money. A travel case full of credit notes. You know. A bribe. Or make it sound nice. Call it a consulting fee. Tell them you want to hire them, and will pay well.”

Dracmus looked absolutely amazed. “This had never been occurring to us. We will try it at once.”

“Good,” said Mara. “And don’t be cheap about it. Whatever you offer has got to be cheaper than letting the Triad win.”

“What about our repulsor?” asked the Drall, Ebrihim. “Have you made any progress with it?”

“Our tech staff has only had a few hours to work on it,” said Ossilege. “It’s early to expect results. But rest
assured, we have every person with pertinent experience down there working right now.”

“That is not the case,” said a new voice, a stern female voice that was used to being heard and obeyed. It was the other Drall. Marcha, the Duchess of Mastigophorous. “It is not the case, Admiral, and you know it not to be the case.”

“Duchess, might I ask what you are talking about?” asked Ossilege.

“The children,” she said. “Anakin in particular, but he works best when the other two are there to help him, guide him.”

“Don’t be absurd,” said Ossilege. “What possible use could they be? How could they possibly have any expertise? I would urge you not to mistake a series of lucky accidents for ability. We do not have time to waste on such nonsense. Move on, Lieutenant.”

Kalenda hesitated a moment. It was not her place to contradict her superior officer. But on the other hand, it was not
his
place to be a damned pigheaded fool. And Gaeriel Captison had reminded her, not so long ago, that there was more to life than adhering to military etiquette. “Sir, my apologies for discussing this in front of others, but there may not be another chance, and the stakes are too high. I believe you are making a mistake.”

“What!?”

“Sir, it is my job to analyze events and come to conclusions. I have analyzed the events surrounding the children, and I have come to the conclusion that their abilities are—are remarkable. They have been constantly underestimated, their achievements constantly dismissed as exaggerated, or lucky accidents, or remarkable coincidences. That is simply not true. It is not credible.” She pointed at Drall, plainly visible through the main bridge viewports. “The plain fact of the matter is that you have a repulsor down there because a seven-and-a-half-year-old boy found it for you, and turned it on. It is no longer in the hands of our
enemy—and our enemy is in the brig—because that boy and his siblings managed to walk through a working force field, repair a disabled starship, fly that ship into space, and shoot down a pursuing spacecraft flown by a professional military pilot. I could go on for half an hour, describing all the things that they could not possibly have done, but the point will remain the same.”

Ossilege looked up at Kalenda, his expression utterly unreadable. Was there anger seething under there? Was he simply considering her words? Was he infuriated at the assault on his authority, or simply wondering if she might be right? It was impossible to tell. The man was completely inscrutable. “You argue most effectively, Lieutenant Kalenda. You marshal your facts well. You will either go far as an intelligence officer or end your career in the brig for insubordination. I had intended to disembark all noncombatants on Drall in any event, and it occurs to me that the shielded side chambers of the repulsor are probably the safest place to be right now. Madame Chief of State, Captain Solo—if, as Lieutenant Kalenda claims, your children might be of help, would you consent to their being put to work?”

“Absolutely,” said Han. “Not that it matters what we think. Get them within a hundred kilometers of trouble, and they’ll find it all on their own.”

“Madame Chief of State?”

“We need all the help we can get,” said Leia. “Let them do their part.”

Ossilege raised his eyebrows and looked hard at both of them. “Very well,” he said. “Then let us move on. Lieutenant?”

“Well, sir, to sum up, we have two objectives, neither of them very easy. First is to defeat the Triad fleet and prevent it from dominating this star system. Second is to do whatever we can to prevent Centerpoint from firing again. I believe that covers everything we were
going to discuss, except for Source A—and I believe you wanted to cover that yourself.”

Ossilege smiled broadly—and it was unusual to see any smile at all on his face. He stood up and looked about at all the faces around the table. “Source A,” he said. “Source A, if I am not mistaken, is known to several of you already. But let me tell the rest of you about him.”

*   *   *

If the day had started with joyous reunions, it ended with tearful good-byes. “Do you really have to go, Mommy?” asked Anakin, his voice a little snuffly, his chin quivering just a bit. They were in the
Intruder
’s hangar deck again, the last load of noncombatants boarding the shuttle that would take them down to the safety of the repulsor’s shielded side caverns.

“Yes I do, dearest,” Leia said, kneeling down in front of him, forcing a reassuring smile onto her face. “And so do you. Everyone has a job today. I have to help Daddy and Chewbacca fly the
Falcon
. You and your brother and sister have to go down to the repulsor again, and see if you can make it work the way we need it to.”

“I bet we can,” said Anakin.

“I’ll bet you can too, sport,” said Han, tousling his son’s hair. He was smiling too, but even Anakin must have been able to see the pain in his eyes. And even Anakin knew that everyone had to pretend that everything was fine.

Leia looked up at Jaina and Jacen. “You two take care of each other, and of Anakin, all right? And do what Threepio and Ebrihim and the Duchess tell you to do. And be sure to—be sure to—”

Suddenly Leia stopped, her voice choked up. It was all too ridiculous. She was going into battle, she was sending her children to operate a machine that could move a planet around, sending them off to face more
responsibility than most intelligent beings ever dreamed of, she might be killed and never see them again, and yet she was left with nothing to tell them but the age-old motherly admonitions to behave themselves and brush their teeth.

“We will, Mom,” said Jaina, her voice gentle and low. “Don’t worry, we’ll do all the things we’re supposed to do.”

“Fear not, Madame Chief of State,” said Threepio. “I shall take good care of them all—assuming the Drall permit me.”

Leia threw her arms about her children, shut her eyes, and squeezed them as tight as she could. “I love you all,” she managed to say, before her voice choked up altogether.

She held them for as long as she could, and a little bit longer besides, until Han knelt down beside her and gently pulled her arms back. “It’s time to go,” he said. “The ship has to leave.”

Leia nodded, unable to speak. She kissed each of them one last time, and Han did the same. The three children and Threepio walked aboard the shuttle transport, and the shuttle transport lifted off.

And they were gone.

*   *   *

There were plenty of other good-byes, of course, and none of them were easy. Luke, Lando, Mara, Kalenda, Gaeriel, all of the others. They all knew the odds were very much against everyone making it back. They all knew some of these good-byes might be for more than a day or two. They might be forever. And yet, they all understood that sort of good-bye. They all had been there before, said good-bye to a comrade for an hour or a day, and then never seen the comrade again. There was a code, a ritual, a sort of a ceremony to it all, that made such good-byes, if not easier, at least far more manageable, more understandable.

But there was one other leave-taking that had a different set of emotions behind it. There was one more person Han had to see before he went into battle. And that person was in the brig.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the last frayed thread of the family ties. Or maybe those family threads were stronger than he thought. Maybe blood was stronger even than betrayal.

Or maybe—though Han doubted it—he just wanted to gloat. It didn’t feel that way, but you never knew. You never knew.

Whatever the reasons, he had come. The guard activated the door control, and Han stepped into the detention cell. Thrackan was sitting on a low bench set against the far wall of the room.

“Hello, Thrackan,” he said.

“Hello, Han. Come to see the rare specimen in his cage?”

“I’m not sure why I came,” said Han. “For some reason I wanted to see you. So here I am.”

“And here I am,” Thrackan said, a cruel smile on his face. He lifted his head up, threw his arms out wide, and stuck his chest out. “Here I am,” he said again. “Get a good look.”

“You shouldn’t have done it, Thrackan,” said Han.

“Oh, there are lots of things I shouldn’t have done,” Thrackan said. “I certainly shouldn’t have gone off in pursuit of those miserable, freakish children. That was a fatal mistake. Fatal. But what specific act did you have in mind?”

“The children,” Han said. “My children. You should not have kidnapped the children.
Never involve the innocent. Always protect your family
. Two of the oldest traditions of Corellia. I remember your sneering at those ideas, saying it was no great sin in breaking them. But that was just words. You didn’t just talk about breaking those laws. You did it. You
did
it. Thrackan, how could you?”

“Easily,” Thrackan said. “Far too easily. They just
fell into my hand. How could I
not
keep them? Why shouldn’t I have kept them?”

“Because it was wrong, Thrackan.”

Thrackan sighed wearily and leaned back against the wall. “Han. Please. I’m locked away in a cell. By all rights, the longest part of my trial will be the reading of the charges against me. The jury shouldn’t even leave the box. There isn’t even any point to a jury or a trial at all. The sensible thing would be just to have me taken out and shot. But I’m sure they will give me all the relentlessly fair justice they can find to throw at me—and then lock me away forever. I’ll probably never have any freedom of action ever again. So there’s not much point in teaching me right from wrong. Not at this late date.”

“You’re beaten, Thrackan,” said Han. “You’ve lost, and lost everything.”

Thrackan chuckled. “True enough, Han. True enough. But I do have one consolation.”

“What’s that, Thrackan?”

Thrackan Sal-Solo, would-be Diktat of Corellia, gestured vaguely toward the outside of the cell, toward the universe beyond. “The Triad fleet out there,” he said. “Maybe I’ve lost, Han, but it does me a world of good to know that
you
haven’t won yet.” He smiled in a chillingly close imitation of Han’s own lopsided grin, an imitation turned cold and hard and cruel. “And I don’t think you’re going to, either.”

Han stared at his cousin. Then, without saying another word, he turned and knocked on the cell door. It slid open, and Han walked away.

He still didn’t know why he had come.

A
t last, at long last, it was time to board ship, launch, and head out into space. But getting to that point was not easy.

The Bakurans needed all the firepower of the newly repaired
Millennium Falcon,
and no one could argue that the
Falcon
needed a crew of at least three—a pilot, a copilot, and a gunner—in order to provide the maximum firepower. There was, of course, never even the slightest debate over who the pilot and copilot should be. Han and Chewbacca belonged in those seats, and there was no doubt about it.

But more than a few people tried to talk Leia out of sitting in the quad laser turret. It was not proper for a Chief of State to go flying around taking potshots at enemy ships. But Leia was adamant. She had had enough of being pushed around in recent weeks. It was high time she paid a little of that back. The harder people tried to talk her out of going on the mission, the more determined she became. Even Ossilege tried to talk her out of it. But even Ossilege realized, eventually, that he had to back down.

But now she was aboard, Chewbacca was aboard, and the
Millennium Falcon
was ready. Now was the
moment. Han checked his status boards one last time, confirmed his departure instructions, brought the repulsors on, and flew out into the sky.

Once well clear of the
Intruder,
he eased back on the sublight engines and waited for the others to form up on him. They were going into battle together—Han, Chewie, and Leia aboard the
Millennium Falcon,
Mara Jade alone aboard the
Jade’s Fire,
Lando aboard the
Lady Luck,
and Luke in his X-wing. It made a certain amount of sense to put all the non-Bakuran ships in one formation. It saved forcing the Bakuran fighter pilots to learn how to deal with nonstandard ships in their formations. Han had been aboard all of the other ships, and their pilots had been aboard his. Perhaps more importantly, all four of the pilots knew each other, trusted each other’s skill.