The Unifying Force (70 page)

Four days had passed since the Jedi gathering, and the two droids were standing on the simple terrace that fronted Luke and Mara’s cliff dwelling in the Middle Distance. The Skywalkers were completing repair work on
Jade Shadow
, and Han, Leia, and the Noghri had gone to Coruscant on unstated business.

R2-D2 chittered a short reply.

“Of course I realize that we’ll be seeing everyone again, Artoo. But under very different circumstances.”

The astromech fluted in a long-suffering way, and C-3PO tilted his head to one side.

“You can be the most infuriating little droid! I am fully aware of my need to adapt to change. But that needn’t interfere
with my ability to express sadness over the closing of an era.”

R2-D2 issued a flurry of buzzes, zithers, and hoots.

“I know it was a war, you … you
mechanic!
And I also realize that it was a war that threatened our existence far more than any other war has. But that’s precisely the point, because for a moment
we
became as valuable as they were. As often as they fought with us, they fought
for
us.”

R2-D2 made a more decorous reply.

“You’re correct, Artoo. They do need us. But they need us in a good way.” C-3PO listened for a moment, then said, “A far more dangerous enemy? Who or what could possibly be more dangerous than the Yuuzhan Vong?”

R2-D2 warbled.

“Obsolescence?” After mulling it over, the protocol droid loosed what amounted to a sigh. “Perhaps I am deluding myself. With all the advances that have been made in droid technology, I suppose we are in danger of being considered obsolete. But what are we to do, Artoo? Retirement isn’t an option for us. We will continue as relics, of a sort, passed along to new masters until our parts can no longer be replaced, or until we suffer some irreparable system failure. Oh, it’s all very … bittersweet, I think is the proper word.”

R2-D2’s response was a surprisingly cheery burst of squeaks and peeps.

“Do you really believe that life will remain as unpredictable as ever and that our adventures will continue? I hope so, my little friend, even if they don’t quite measure up to adventures we’ve had, and even if they are lacking a dash of the old enchantment.”

R2-D2 made a razzing sound.

“What do you mean, I used to say that all the time? Just what are you going on about?” C-3PO paused, then said. “I don’t mind at all that it’s a long story. After all, Artoo, we have nothing but time …”

Jagged Fel had been assigned to the starfighter team that escorted the Yuuzhan Vong transports from Coruscant to Zonama Sekot. Inside two Star Destroyers were the weaponless yorik-trema that would shuttle the tens of thousands to their new home in the planet’s southern hemisphere. The trackless forests were severely scarred as a result of the blight the Yuuzhan Vong warriors had delivered to the surface fifty years earlier, but the first groups to arrive were already settled in the warmest valleys, and their minshals, damuteks, grashals, and crèches appeared to have taken well to their new circumstances—from what could be seen at an altitude of twenty kilometers, at any rate. Though Alliance personnel were prohibited from landing, Jag had received special permission from General Farlander to pay a brief visit to the Middle Distance, ostensibly to speak with the Solos, but in fact to one Solo in particular.

He hadn’t spoken to Jaina since parting company with the
Millennium Falcon
following the pursuit of the Supreme Overlord’s escape vessel. Circumstances had made for a rushed and confused conversation. Jag had returned to Coruscant to regroup with Twin Suns Squadron, and the
Falcon
—with the Solos and Skywalkers safely aboard—had jumped for Zonama Sekot. In the long weeks that followed, he had been unsuccessful at contacting Zonama Sekot through either the
Millennium Falcon
or
Jade Shadow
. When at last he had gotten through to
Errant Venture
, he’d learned that Jaina was still on the living world.

Talon Karrde had promised to carry Jag’s message to her.

She was waiting for Jag on the canyon-rim landing field when he set his clawcraft down among a throng of peculiar
vessels and climbed out into the cold air. Fat flakes of snow were falling, but those only made him feel more at home, for he was no stranger to frigid climates.

Jaina was wearing some sort of natural-fiber poncho and a cap of similar weave, with flaps that covered her ears. After an awkward moment of staring at each other, she grinned and hurried into his arms, hugging him tightly, then kissing him on both cheeks and once on the lips. If she hadn’t let go, he might have gone on holding her right through Zonama Sekot’s return jump to the Unknown Regions.

“Twin Suns Leader,” she said, stepping back to appraise him.

He straightened his shoulders. “Jealous?”

“Maybe a little.”

Jag gazed at the strange, triple-lobed ships that surrounded the solitary X-wing. “Are these the Sekotan fighters?”

Jaina followed his gaze. “Yep.”

“I don’t suppose—”

“Don’t even ask,” she cut him off. “They’re not for sale.”

She grabbed his hand and led him to a shelter that stood at the border of the field. On the way they waved to Luke and Mara, who were loading supplies into
Jade Shadow
’s cargo hold, young Ben toddling beside them.

Jaina was still holding his hand when she said, “Thank you for everything you did at Coruscant—flying support for the
Falcon
and all. Mara told me she had to stop you from searching the Citadel for me.”

“I might have disobeyed if the escape vessel hadn’t launched. People are saying that you and Jacen killed the Supreme Overlord.”

“I don’t remember a lot of what happened. But Jacen and Luke were the ones who fought Shimrra and Onimi.”

Snow frosted her cap and the tops of her shoulders. Her cheeks and nose were red with cold, and she looked radiant.

“Jaina, time is scarce, so I’ll come straight to the point. I’m returning to Csilla, and I want you to come with me. I know that my parents and my sister, Wynssa, would love to meet you.”

Even though a light smile formed on her lips, the answer was in her eyes, and Jag felt as if he had been deflated.

“I’d love to see Csilla—really. But this isn’t the right time.”

“For Csilla, or for us?”

Her face wrinkled, and she took her lower lip between her teeth. “Don’t make this too hard on me, okay?”

“It’s your parents, isn’t it? They hate the thought of you consorting with the son of a former Imperial. It goes against the Skywalker-Solo grain.”

She frowned. “You’re way off. After what you did for my father at Hapes, and all you’ve done since, they practically consider you family. And even if that was true, do you think that would stop me from going with you?”

“It’s Kyp, then.”

“Wrong again.”

Jag beetled his brows. “I don’t understand. What’s made you change your mind about us?”

She shook her head. “I think it’s good that you’re going to Csilla. I need some time to work through everything that’s happened, Jag.”

“I love you, Jaina,” he blurted.

Jaina made her lips a thin line, then sighed and said, “I love you, too. Someday I want a partner, and I want what my mom and dad have, and what Luke and Mara have. I intend to raise a family. I just want to be sure that I can offer my children more than what Mom and Mara have been able to offer theirs.” She reached for both his hands. “I’m glad that we found each other, Jag. You made the worst time of my life a lot easier to bear. But now I’m still on the move, I’m still a Jedi and a fighter pilot. Do you understand—even a little?”

Jag blew out his breath. “As much as I don’t wish to, I do understand.”

“I’d love to be some kind of diplomatic envoy.” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ll tell you a secret: One day I want to have a seat on the Advisory Council, alongside Luke, Kyp, Cilghal, and the others. Maybe then we can think about something more permanent.”

Jag smiled broadly. “Then our paths may just cross again sooner than you imagine.”

She looked at him askance. “I don’t think I’ll be getting to Chiss space anytime soon, Jag.”

“You won’t have to. I’ve been appointed by the CEDF as liaison to the Alliance.”

“You—a diplomat?”

“I can be very diplomatic when I need to be.”

“Oh, I know that, all right. But—”

“Just think about it: the two of us rendezvousing on fabulous worlds, from one side of the galaxy to the other.”

Jaina’s eyes narrowed in delight. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad.”

Gently, he pulled her back into his arms and lowered his voice. “I’ll work hard at making our encounters nothing short of wonderful.”

Jaina laughed. “Maybe there is a touch of scoundrel in you, after all.”

They kissed passionately, while the snow continued to fall.

“Five years ago, at the signing of the accord between the Imperial Sector and the New Republic, we met aboard your ship, Captain Solo and Princess Leia,” Gilad Pellaeon said. “Now I have the honor of your being aboard my vessel at the start of a new era.”

“We’re the ones who are honored, Admiral,” Leia said.

White-haired and mustachioed Pellaeon was attired in a pure white uniform, and Leia and Han were wearing the best of the few outfits they had left to their names. The three of them were in the Grand Admiral’s spacious and elegantly appointed quarters, on the starboard side of
Right to Rule
’s command tower. Beneath the viewport an exquisitely carved table was spread with bowls of food and flasks of fine liquor. In stationary orbit above Coruscant, the flagship of the Imperial fleet was central to a group of other Star Destroyers, which themselves comprised only a part of the Alliance flotilla that remained in deep-space anchor. The
Falcon
—with Cakhmaim and Meewalh inside—sat conspicuously in the docking bay of the huge vessel, amid TIE defenders and bombers.

“When do you plan to return to Bastion space?” Han asked, sipping from his drink.

“Within a standard day, Captain. Which is why I was pleased to learn that you were available to visit with me on such short notice.”

“Eager to get back to your garden?” Leia asked.

“If time permits. I will have much to do, convincing some of the Moffs of the wisdom of participating openly in the Alliance. I never took the time to marry and raise a family. But I have my garden, and I tend to that as I might have my children. I may even allow a bit of randomness, a bit of ‘nature’ to enter, and stay my hand from culling the weak and unfit from the rows.”

Han laughed shortly. “A little disorder never hurt.”

“It certainly never seemed to hurt you, Captain Solo.”

“That’s only ’cause turmoil and me reached an accord a long time ago.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll attempt to do the same.” Pellaeon moved to the viewport that looked out on Coruscant. “In any event, I never realized how much I missed the Core—and Coruscant in particular. Returning here after so long a time, even under such circumstances, has made me reflect on my career, and on all the events that have ensued since the Battle of Endor.” He turned from the view to look at Han and Leia. “I feel that you have been instrumental in giving me back something I had lost, and I want to do the same for you.”

Leia smiled graciously. “That’s really not necessary, Admiral.”

Pellaeon waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s just a little something.”

Lifting a remote control from the table, he aimed the device at a screen, which folded against the cabin’s inner bulkhead to reveal the object he had been saving as a surprise. It was a moss-painting by the late Alderaanian artist Ob Khaddor, depicting a tempestuous sky sweeping over a city of pinnacles and, in the foreground a line of insectoid figures, representing the vanished species that had inhabited Alderaan prior to human colonization.

Leia stared, speechless.

“And we thought you just wanted to give us another hyperspace comm antenna,” Han said in astonishment.

Killik Twilight
had once hung outside Leia’s bedroom in House Organa on Alderaan. At the time of the planet’s destruction by the Death Star, the moss-painting had been presumed destroyed, but in fact it had been returning to Alderaan as part of a traveling museum exhibit. Hidden within the painting’s moisture-control apparatus was the key to a vital Rebel Alliance spy code, which had continued to be used in the post–Galactic Civil War years to communicate with agents deep inside Imperial-held territory. Four years after the Battle of Endor, when the painting had suddenly surfaced and been put up for auction on Tatooine, Han and Leia—recently married—had attempted to retrieve it. After changing hands several times, however, Ob Khaddor’s apocryphal work had ended up aboard the
Chimaera
, in the possession of none other than Grand Admiral Thrawn, whose collection of priceless artworks was already extensive.

Aside from being an emotional link to Leia’s childhood with her adoptive parents, the painting had added significance for both her and Han. Khaddor’s execution of the Killiks left their reaction to the approaching darkness open to interpretation. Where Leia had seen the Killiks as running from the darkness, Han saw the insectoid race as turning
toward
the storm. He had interpreted the painting as an admonition that darkness could be defeated by meeting it squarely and shattering it with light, and when Leia had ultimately accepted Han’s view, it had allowed her to reconcile her ongoing confliction over the fact that Anakin Skywalker, her actual father, and Darth Vader had been one and the same person. In turn, the reconciliation had allowed her to emerge from the shadow of the Sith Lord, and decide to have children.

“Gilad,” Leia said at last, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

Pellaeon smiled. “It is one of the few pieces of Thrawn’s collection that survived, and I thought that you of all people should have it.”

Han put one arm around Leia’s shoulders, and extended the other to Pellaeon. “I know just where to hang it,” he told Leia as he was pumping the admiral’s hand.