The Joiner King (40 page)

“Killiks aren’t Force-sensitive, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Luke said. “At least not the ones we’ve met.”

“Would they need to be?” Formbi asked. “If each nest had
just one Joiner who could feel the Will, wouldn’t the entire nest be subject to it?”

“Possibly,” Mara allowed. Luke felt her alarm growing as clearly as his own; it was growing all too obvious that Unu—Raynar’s nest—was the source of what the Chiss were calling the Will. “But this central Will would have to be magnitudes stronger than the wills of the individual nests.”

“And it could be,” Luke said, recalling how powerful Raynar had grown in the Force. “A gifted Joiner might be able to draw on the Force potential of his entire nest.”

“I thought you said that the Killiks aren’t Force-sensitive,” Formbi said.

“He did,” Mara answered. “
Force-sensitive
means you have the ability to tap into the Force.
Force potential
is just another way of saying ‘life energy.’ ”

“All living things generate Force energy,” Luke explained. He was beginning to see that Formbi had played them—just as he had during the investigation of the Outbound Flight wreck. “But I suspect you already know that. The information is readily available on any HoloNet terminal in the Galactic Alliance.”

“But it
is
good to have our theory vetted by the experts,” Formbi said, still trying to maintain his charade. “And it seems a reasonable exchange, considering what I gave you.”

“It would have been, if that’s all you had come for.” Luke turned back to the Skorch field, buying himself a moment to contain his rising emotions. The anger he felt was at himself, for failing to see Formbi’s game early on, before they had told him about Raynar. “But you came looking for a name—for the source of the Will.”

Formbi spread his hands and stepped to Luke’s side. “You were the ones who summoned
me
.”

On the Skorch field, the small team once again had control of all six jet-balls and were racing toward the large team’s goal. The Defel referee was limping after them with one furry arm synth-glued to his knee.

“You have what you came for,” Mara said. “But it wouldn’t be wise to act on the information.”

Formbi looked at her in surprise. “Are you threatening me?”

“She’s telling you that killing Raynar won’t return the Colony to what it was,” Luke said. “If you assassinate him, all you’re going to have are a trillion angry insects who don’t care if they die. The Jedi won’t be able to save you.”

“Actually, we weren’t counting on that,” Formbi said. “The Jedi have no business—”

R2-D2 emitted a piercing shriek, then began to bang back and forth on his treads until Luke looked down.

“Artoo, I said—”

R2-D2’s holoprojector activated, and fuzzy image of Leia appeared on the ground in front of him. For a moment, Luke thought that it was the old message she had recorded for Obi-Wan—then he noticed that she was dressed in a white jumpsuit instead of a ceremonial gown, and her hair was falling loose down her back instead of being gathered in those ear-buns she used to wear.

“Luke?” Her voice was scratchy and barely audible. “Are … there?”

“Yes.” Luke answered. “Artoo, where’s this coming from?”

R2-D2 tweedled a sharp reply.

“I
know
it’s being relayed through the Academy HoloNet transceiver,” Luke said. He dropped to his knee. “Leia, where are you?”

“Luke?” Leia’s image said. “Can’t … you. But … important … Killik attacked Saba … stowaways on … think … after you and … maybe Ben.”

“Stowaways?” Mara gasped. An image of their son holding an empty container of gelmeat flashed from her mind to Luke’s, then she was racing toward the exit. “Ben!”

“… careful,” Leia’s image said.

The image grew motionless, obviously waiting for a reply.

“Tell the comm officer to acknowledge and ask for a repeat,” Luke instructed R2.

“… tell if …” Leia said. “… again later.”

The image winked out, leaving R2-D2 buzzing in frustration.

“It’s okay, Artoo. We heard enough.” Luke turned to find Formbi eyeing him with an expression halfway between smugness and concern. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our tour short.”

“Of course,” Formbi replied. “It sounds as though you’ll be quite busy … as will I.”

“Is that so?” Luke used the Force to summon a pair of apprentices out of the Skorch game to escort Formbi and look after R2-D2. “Can the Jedi be of any assistance?”

“Not really” Formbi said. “Chief of State Omas was kind enough to send an escort to accompany me to his office on Coruscant.”

“I see,” Luke said. “I assume you’ll be discussing the situation at Qoribu.”

Formbi smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “
Discussing
would be the wrong word, I’m afraid.”

Leia had heard it said that no captor could imprison a Jedi longer than the Jedi wished to be imprisoned, and she was beginning to understand how true that was. Even with Alema lying unconscious in the number two hold, with all four limbs shackled to cargo tie-downs and two angry Noghri guarding her with T-10 stun blasters, Leia constantly found herself limping back with a new way to confine their prisoner. Her head and ankle were throbbing harder by the minute, and the last thing she wanted was to start fighting the Twi’lek again.

Now Leia was holding a pair of LSS 1000-series Automatic Stun Cuffs from the security locker—highly illegal, of course, but standard equipment aboard the
Falcon.
After checking the vital-signs monitor on Alema’s wrist to make sure the Twi’lek was still unconscious, Leia limped around behind her head.

A sudden shudder ran down Alema’s lekku. Her eyes started to move beneath their lids, and she began to mumble in a frightened, high-pitched voice. At first, Leia thought the Twi’lek was crying out incoherently in a dream, but then she recognized a couple of Twi’leki words—those for “night” and “herald”—and realized Alema was actually talking in her sleep.

Leia turned toward the intercom panel. “Threepio, activate audio recording in hold two.”

“As you wish, Princess,” he said. “But I will need to leave Master Sebatyne unattended for a few moments.”

“As long as she’s still stable,” Leia said.

“Oh, she’s quite stable,” C-3PO said. “Her vital signs have been hovering close to zero for hours.”

A moment later, a red light activated on the intercom panel. Alema continued to mutter in her native language—something about “the Night Herald”—and her limbs began to jerk against their restraints. Leia glanced at the vitals monitor and saw that the Twi’lek had slipped into the REM state. She motioned for the Noghri to cover her, then squatted on her haunches and clamped the stun cuffs on Alema’s lekku.

“You’re a hard woman, Leia Solo,” Han said, stepping into the hold. “I kind of like it.”

“Just being careful,” Leia said. She set the power to maximum, then slowly rose and backed away. “I doubt we could trick her twice.”

“Sure we could,” Han said. “Teamwork and treachery will beat youth and skill every time.”

“Alema isn’t that young—and I’d say she beats us hands-down in the treachery department,” Leia said. She crossed the hold—emptied so Alema would have nothing to fling with the Force—and stopped at Han’s side. “I thought you and Juun were plotting the next jump.”

“We’ve been trying,” Han said.

“Trying?” After repairing Alema’s sabotage, they had emerged from the nebula to find themselves staring into the creamy heart of the Galactic Core, no more than twenty light-years from the Galactic Alliance. “You said we’d be on the Rago Run in one more jump.”

“We will,” Han said. “But every time we engage, the navicomputer detects a mass fluctuation and shuts us down.”

“You’re sure we’re in the right place?” Leia asked. Worried about the possibility of an escape, she had insisted on supervising the security precautions while Juun filled in as copilot. “Jae didn’t plot a bad jump?”

Han shook his head. “It’s definitely the same place we stopped on the way out. Rago is five light-years ahead, and the star charts match what we stored in the navicomputer. The only difference is the fluctuation.”

Leia cast a nervous glance at Alema, who was continuing to mumble and thrash against her restraints, then asked, “Could it be something coming down the Run toward us?”

“Sure,” Han said. “If it had the mass of a battle fleet.”

“I see what you mean.”

Leia studied Alema for another moment, then checked the Twi’lek’s vital signs again. The monitor showed her deep in the REM state, but Leia remained suspicious. She withdrew a hypo of tranqarest from her jumpsuit pocket and pressed it to Alema’s neck.

“Whoa!” Han said. “She has a head wound!”

“She’s young.” Leia hit the injector and held it down until the hypo stopped hissing. “A little coma won’t hurt her.”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Han said.

Alema stopped thrashing and fell silent, and her vital signs dropped into the coma range. Leia thumped the Twi’lek on the eyelid just to be sure, then nodded when there was no reaction.

“Let’s go see if we’re still having that mass fluctuation.”

Han raised his brow. “You think
she
was—”

“I don’t know,” Leia said. Leaving instructions for the Noghri to blast the Twi’lek at the first sign of trouble, she left the hold. “But it never hurts to be careful.”

“You don’t think you’re overdoing it?”

“Han, she sabotaged
the Falcon
and gave me a beating,” Leia said. “And there’s every chance my message didn’t get through to Luke and Mara. If the
Shadow
had a stowaway aboard—or if Tahiri and the others are as far gone as Alema—we might be too late already.”

“Okay, there’s that,” Han said. “But—”

“Han, you
do
understand how good Alema is?” Leia stopped and turned him to face her. “How lucky we were to knock her out?”

“Yeah, I understand.” There was barb to Han’s voice. “But we’ve still got to keep her alive.”

“Even if it means she might escape and blow us all to star-dust?”

“Yeah, even if it means that,” Han said. “Because what happened to her is probably happening to Jaina and Zekk, and maybe Cilghal can learn something from Alema to help us fix it.”

“
That’s
why you’re so worried about her?” Leia was glad to
hear the ruthlessness in his voice, to know that so many decades of strife and danger had only made him shrewder and more stubborn. “I was starting to think you’d gone soft.”

She took Han’s arm and started up the access corridor. They had lost so much during the war that it was impossible to believe they had come out stronger or happier. But they
had
emerged together, with a better understanding of each other and a bond that had survived the deaths of a son, a close companion, and more friends than Leia could name. No matter how alarming this latest crisis, no matter how frightened they were for Jaina, they would face it together—and together they would do whatever was necessary to prevail.

They reached the flight deck and found Juun staring at the navigator’s display, so engrossed in star plotting and continuum calculations that he did not notice the Solos’ presence. Leia could see that he was attempting a broad-spectrum variable analysis with a ten-decimal accuracy parameter. With his eyes bulging and his cheek folds flared in frustration, it looked like he would blow a circuit before the navicomputer did.

Leia brought her mouth close to Han’s ear. “I hope you’ve been backing up our navigation log.”

“You bet,” Han said. “I knew what you were thinking the minute we realized we were coming down on an abandoned planet.”

“Really.” Actually, Leia had been too busy trying to cold-fire the repulsor engines to be thinking much of anything, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Han. She didn’t want him thinking Juun was a better copilot than she was. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” Han flashed a cocky grin. “
And
I charted everything in sensor range on the way out.” The grin grew larger and cockier. “There might be another dozen stars inside the nebula.”

“A dozen?” Leia gasped. Then, not wanting Han to see just how well he really did know her, she assumed a more subdued tone. “So there might be another five or six habitable planets, plus a few moons, if we’re lucky.”

“Five or six? There’ll be a dozen—even two!” The indignation in Han’s voice faded quickly to concern. “But will anyone
want
to colonize there? It’s still outside the Galactic Alliance, and it’s not easy to reach.”

“The Ithorians will go right away,” Leia said. “The world we came down on is perfect for them. And—given how they feel about violence—it’s about the only chance they have of getting around the Reclamation Act.”

“As long as the rehab conglomerates don’t steal it out from under us again.”

“The Reclamation Act doesn’t apply outside the Galactic Alliance,” Leia said. “Besides, who’s going to tell them?”

Han nodded quietly at the navigator’s station, where Juun was mumbling to himself and shaking his head in frustration. Finally, he banged the side of his fist into his temple and whined something in Sullustan that Leia did not quite catch.

“We’ll just have to keep him close,” she whispered. “At least until we’ve relocated the Ithorians.”

Han let his chin drop. “You really know how to spoil the moment.” He stepped on the flight deck and, peering at the display over Juun’s shoulder, asked, “So, what have—”

Juun jumped out of his seat, the top of his head avoiding Han’s chin only by virtue of his short stature, then spun to face them.

“What are you doing, sneaking up like that?”

Han raised his hands. “Easy. I wasn’t trying to give you a power surge.”

“Actually, Jae, we’ve been standing here talking for a couple of minutes.” Leia leaned down to look at the display. “It appears you’ve been hard at work.”

Juun relaxed somewhat. “I’ve been running a full gravitational analysis, per emergency troubleshooting procedure.”

“Come up with anything besides a headache?” Han asked.

“Nothing that makes sense.” Juun returned to his seat and began to call up columns of stellar deflection observations. “Light is definitely being distorted at a steadily increasing rate, which means that either there’s a very large, completely invisible rogue body dead ahead—”