Abyss (40 page)

“Of course I can hit something,” Wilyem rasped back. “I’m a
Jedi
.”

A chorus of sissing broke over the intercom speaker.

Before Han could snap at the Barabels to get serious, the voice of a very irritated task force commander came over the flight deck speaker.

“
Quick End
command to the
Star Princess
—or whatever you’re calling yourself at the moment. Have you lost your
kriffing
mind, Solo?”

Scowling at the foul language, Han looked over and motioned Allana to cover her ears.

“This isn’t funny anymore, Captain,” the commander continued. “My sensor officers tell me you’re powering up your laser cannons. And we keep getting lock alarms. If I hear that your missile bays …”

The commander’s threat was drowned out by the startled cries of a dozen ChaseX pilots—a mixture of cursing and status declarations. “Lock, lock!” “Someone’s on my six!”

“What the blazes?” cried a starfighter pilot. “We’ve got … break, break, break! Stealths!”

In the instant of silence that followed, Han activated his intercom again. “When you’re ready, Wilyem,” he said calmly. “And
don’t—”

“—hit anything. This one—”

The Barabel’s reassurance was cut off as the task force commander’s furious voice came over the flight deck speakers again.

“Captain Solo, please tell me that those Jedi StealthXs did
not
just target Bolt Squadron.”

Han checked the tactical display and saw that the StealthX gambit had done its job. The
Fast Death
was finally moving off station, accelerating past the PharmCom wheel station to provide cover for its starfighter squadron. At last, the time had come to stop pushing. Han opened his own comm channel.

“StealthXs
?” He looked over at Allana and winked. Then he signaled her to reach for Leia in the Force by pinching his eyes shut and miming the ignition of a lightsaber.
“What
StealthXs, Commander? The only starfighters around here are your—”

The flight deck lock alarms suddenly began to wail again. Then the
Falcon
bucked sharply as a much-weakened proton torpedo—the one Wilyem had just dumped out the aft loading bay—detonated a couple of kilometers off their stern. Holding the yoke with one hand and scratching his comm microphone with the other, Han immediately
put the
Falcon
on a corkscrewing course for the
Quick End
. Trailing out of the modified escape pod bay in the
Falcon’
s aft, he knew, would be long tails of flame and atmosphere. To sensors and naked eyes alike, the trail would look like the
Falcon
had suffered a catastrophic hull breach.

“Solo!” the commander bellowed. “What the blazes just happened?”

“You tell
me!”
Han shot back. He opened the emergency channel, then continued, “One of your clowns just put a proton torpedo into our stern! This is the
Millennium Falcon
declaring out-of-control emergency!”

Declaring a false emergency was, of course, just the sort of thing no good spacecraft pilot ever did. At every rescue station on this side of the planet, crews would be scrambling and tractor ships cold-firing their ion engines. But as far as Han was concerned, getting Bazel and the other barvy Jedi Knights safely off Coruscant
was
an emergency—and Daala had left them no other choice.

Even so, the task force commander clearly remained suspicious—even as the
Falcon
continued to corkscrew toward him. The double-nosed needle of the
Quick End
’s sleek blue hull was already the size of a finger in the forward canopy, and still the vessel showed no sign of moving.

Han looked over and found Allana’s gray eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. Her mouth was hanging open and, though she was trying not to show her fear, he could tell by her pale cheeks that she thought they were probably going to crash.

And what if they did? Han would never be able to forgive himself. But his job now was to stay on course … and help her learn. He closed the comm channel for a moment, then spoke to her in his best no-big-deal voice.

“That’s a pretty tough guy, huh?”

Allana nodded. “Is he going to let us ram him?”

“I don’t know,” Han said. “What do you think?”

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Who can tell?”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to find out who he is, aren’t we?”

Allana studied the spinning shape outside the viewport for a moment longer, watching in silence as at it grew to the length of a Wookiee’s arm, then finally tore her gaze away and looked over.

“We
are
?” she asked.

“You bet,” Han said, giving her a dip of the head that was more confident than he felt. “A guy like that, you don’t want to bluff twice.”

Han opened the emergency channel again, then began to scream into the microphone.
“Quick End
, clear us a lane! We’re out of control! I say again, clear, clear, clear!”

By now the frigate was as long as a Wookiee was tall, its ends vanishing from sight each time they spun below the
Falcon’
s control console. But the commander sounded as cool as a wampa when he replied.

“Solo, this smacks of a trick,” he said. “If you think—”

“Trick
?”
Han
yelled. “You think I’d pull something
this
crazy with Amelia on board?”

“Your
daughter’s
on board?” The commander paused for a moment. Like most of the galaxy, he had no idea of Allana’s true identity, believing Allana to be
Amelia
, the Solos’ adopted daughter. “Surely, you don’t expect me to—”

Allana opened her mouth and, taking a cue as well as her grandmother, let out a bloodcurdling scream. “
Daddy!
We’re doomed!”

“I’m glad
you
said it, Mistress Amelia!” C-3PO added. “Captain Solo always trips my—”

“Oh, blast!” the commander cursed, speaking over C-3PO. “Hold on, we’re moving.”

The frigate was, indeed, drifting out of their path—and not a moment too soon. The
Falcon
passed less than a hundred meters behind the vessel, so close that the wash from its big Slayn & Korpil ion drives sent the transport flipping away from the planet in a true out-of-control spin.

Allana let out another scream, this one even more convincing than the last, and C-3PO began to preach their doom again. Han merely clenched his teeth. Determined not to let Allana’s lessons start becoming
too
memorable, he bit back a string of curses as he fought to bring the vessel back under control.

“It’s going to take a few minutes to catch you on your present trajectory,” the commander announced. “But you’re going to be fine, I promise. We’re already preparing to deploy our rescue skiffs.”

“Uh, thanks …”

Han brought the yoke to center and began to ease the vector plates into a neutral position, then glanced over to find Allana settled back into her seat, looking over at him with a big grin on her face. He mouthed the word,
Grandma?
She gave him two big thumbs-up, and Han began to bring the
Falcon
out of her corkscrewing spin.

“We appreciate the help,” Han commed. “But it looks like our damage-control team is bringing things under control.”

“Your
damage-control …
?”

The commander trailed off, leaving his question to hang.

Han waited a moment for him to continue, then shrugged at his comm unit and began to adjust his jump calculations for the rendezvous with Leia.

A few seconds later, the nav computer beeped its readiness, and the commander said, “Before you go, Captain Solo, I’d like to ask you a question.”

“Sure,” Han said. He swung the
Falcon
around to the proper bearing and began to accelerate toward jump speed. “Ask away.”

“You don’t have any of the Jedi patients aboard, do you?”

“With
Amelia
aboard?” Han retorted. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“In all honesty, Captain Solo,” the commander said, “the thought
has
crossed my mind.”

“I’ll bet.” Han grinned. “But in all honesty, they’re not aboard. I’m just taking my daughter for a little joyride.”

“She must be quite the thrill seeker,” the commander replied. “I trust she’s had her fill of excitement for the day?”

Han glanced over at Allana, who gave an emphatic nod. “I think so,” he reported. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but do you mind if I ask
you
a question first?”

“Feel free to
ask
.”

Han glanced over at Allana and winked. “Who
are
you?”

The commander considered the question so long that Han was beginning
to think he was stalling, still searching for some way to turn the situation around.

Then, finally, he asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“No big deal,” Han said. “I just want to know where to send the thank-you note.”

The commander was not amused. “Why don’t you wait and give it to me in person?” he replied coldly. “We’ll be meeting again soon, Captain Solo. Of
that
, I’m quite certain.”

The comm speaker fell silent, leaving Han with the impression that he had just added another entry to his long list of enemies. It was kind of a good feeling, knowing that he was still young enough to make them. He shrugged, then looked over at Allana.

“How’s your grandmother doing?” he asked.

“She’s on her way,” Allana reported. “Time to head for Shedu Maad.”

Han smiled, then glanced back at R2-D2. “Are those jump coordinates ready?”

The droid answered with an affirmative whistle.

“Good,” Han said. He turned back to Allana, then nodded at the controls. “You do the honors, kid.”

Allana’s eyes grew big, and she leaned forward to push the lever forward. This time, the hyperdrive worked perfectly, and stars stretched into lines.

Ahri Raas would have to die, and it was going to break Vestara’s heart to kill him.

He had been lying next to her all morning, in their usual place on the river beach, and not once had he looked in her direction. Considering what she
wasn’t
wearing—and how hard he had been trying since yesterday to behave naturally—his attitude told her everything she needed to know. Yuvar Xal was going to make a move against Lady Rhea—and it would be soon.

The battle was going to be a terrible waste, of course. Only fifteen members of the
Eternal Crusader
’s crew remained alive, and even a short power struggle would reduce that number by half. There wouldn’t even be enough survivors to
need
a leader. But the planet’s jungle of being-eating plants had devoured Lady Rhea’s stature as surely as it had the expedition itself. Xal was finally within reach of deposing her, and when Sith saw a weakness, they pounced. They were like fangflowers that way, always thirsting for a kill.

“Ves, did you ever figure it out?” Ahri asked. His voice sounded a bit muffled and distant, as though he were looking in the opposite direction. “Why Ship picked you, I mean?”

“I don’t know.” Vestara’s connection with Ship was the one factor working against Xal, because there were a handful of survivors who still hoped to escape Abeloth’s planet—and to do that, they needed to complete their mission and recover Ship. “Because of my girlish beauty, I suppose.”

Ahri chuckled. It sounded forced.

Vestara slid her hand toward the weapons belt lying atop her folded clothes. She would use the parang, she decided, because it was relatively silent. Moreover, unlike the shikkar, its use did not signify any disrespect or loathing.

“Seriously, Ves,” Ahri said. “Do you think there’s any way you can get Ship back under control?”

“Sure,” Vestara lied. “If you can find Ship, I can command him.”

Vestara knew why Ahri was pressing. If he could get her to admit that she could not command Ship any better than anyone else, then Lady Rhea’s last leg of support would be broken. Over the last few weeks, the
Eternal Crusader’s
entire crew had slowly been drawn down to the surface through a handful of Ship sightings that required effort to pursue. Two of those searches had resulted in the destruction of shuttles, and the second disaster had left the
Crusader
in orbit with only one pilot—and only one shuttle.

That same night, Abeloth had despaired of ever capturing Ship and declared the time had come to flee the planet. Lady Rhea had immediately ordered the last pilot to come and retrieve the search party. Unfortunately, the shuttle had put down on the stony crust of an old lava pit. The boarding ramp had barely descended before the ground collapsed. The pilot managed to leap free, but the vessel itself dropped a thousand meters into a well of magma. And now there were no more shuttles.

After a time, Ahri spoke again. “Okay, show me.”

“
Show
you?”

Vestara knew at once that she had seriously underestimated her friend’s treachery—and overestimated her own ability to read Force
auras. She pulled her parang from its sheath and rolled toward Ahri … and found him propped casually on an elbow, looking in the other direction. Slowly, he lifted a beautifully shaped arm, so deeply tanned by blue sunlight that it had turned nearly sapphire, and pointed up the river valley.