The Unifying Force (22 page)

She began to understand how her parents must have felt when their children had embarked on the mission to Myrkr.
Anakin killed, Jacen missing, Jaina fleeing for the Hapes Consortium in a pirated Yuuzhan Vong vessel … It was difficult enough being a teenager and worrying about your parents’ safety. But being a parent and worrying about your kids had to be even worse. As Han had said on Anakin’s death:
A father isn’t supposed to outlive his children
.

Jaina’s thoughts turned briefly to her uncle Luke and aunt Mara. They had left their infant son, Ben, in the care of Kam and Tionne, at the hidden Maw Installation. But they had to be wondering, worrying … Sometimes even the Force couldn’t protect a person from imagined fears. Jaina pondered if she would ever be able to raise a family; to cope day to day with the concern that her child would fall victim to illness or accident, make a wrong choice, or be in the wrong place at the wrong time …

Dizzy at the thought, she leaned against the cold bulkhead. She heard someone call her by name, and turned to see Jag hastening to her.

Tall and wiry, with a shock of white in his black hair, he was the son of Soontir Fel and Syal Antilles, both of whom had elected to remain in Chiss space. Like his Chiss confederates in Vanguard Squadron, Jag wore a black uniform with red piping.

“Are you all right?” he asked with uncommon alarm. “Did something happen?”

They held each other for a moment before Jaina straightened. “I’m fine. No, actually, I’m not fine. I’m scared to death.”

Jag’s green eyes searched her face. “Of what?”

She shook her head in uncertainty. “Possibilities.”

He took her right hand in his. “No message from your parents.”

“Nothing. And no word of Jacen.”

Jag firmed his lips. “I’m certain that all of them are fine.”

She frowned slightly. “How are you certain? Or is that just something people say when they don’t know what else to say?”

Jag blinked. “I … well, perhaps it’s something of both. Do I know for a fact that Jacen and your parents are all right? No. Does my heart tell me that they’re all right? It seems to.”

Jaina smiled without mirth. “No medicine like logic, is there?”

Jag’s fine eyebrows beetled. A scar ran from his right brow almost to his hairline. “I—”

“No, you’re right. I’m driving myself mad. Thanks.”

He studied her. “What does the Force tell you?”

“Let’s just say that the Force isn’t painting as cheerful a picture as the one you just did.”

Jag’s expression grew skeptical. “You could be mistaken.”

“You mean, the Force might be throwing me a curve?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work?” he asked stiffly. “Is it so different from intuition? Is there a stronger link between you and your parents than between me and my parents, simply because of the Force?”

Jaina shut her eyes. “Jag, please. This isn’t a good time to be arguing.”

He started to say something, then stopped and began again. “Perhaps we can talk heart to heart when the war ends.”

“Jag, I’m sorry. I’m just preoccupied.”

“No, really. Besides, I’m slated to report to General Bel Iblis. I’ll look for you later.”

As he started away, she almost went after him, but thought better of it.

What was happening? Was Jag drifting away from her, as well? Was she drifting away from him?

Or was her relationship with him going to turn out to be another of the war’s odd pairings; another reversal born of desperation? In either case, it certainly had been an unexpected development. Since events in the Hapes Consortium they had been growing more … familiar, with each brief encounter. They had seemed to be falling in love.

Danni Quee had told her that one shouldn’t be too analytical about love—that rational thinking was the quickest way to rout affection. But Danni—a scientist who did little else
but
analyze—was no one to talk. And how could someone not wonder about wartime romance? Because they so often emerged out of a desire to live to the fullest, wartime affairs were notorious for being as short-lived as explosions in deep
space. People tended to skip all the usual stuff and fly straight to the heat. But how could you trust your emotions at a time when any day might be the last—for yourself, your family and friends, your comrades? What might have happened had she and Jag gotten to know each other in peaceful times? What would have accounted for their shared experiences: holopresentations, picnics, getaways on tourist worlds?

She shook her head. Maybe she was being too hard on them.

Take her parents, for instance. They had met, fallen in love, and married during the worst of times, and everything had worked out great for them. So it could work. But was she trying to emulate them in some way—

“Hey, soldier.”

Kyp Durron passed her on the outside and put his arm around her shoulders. Fit, sharp-featured, and dark-haired, he had surrendered the scowl that for years had been his signature expression.

Reflexively, Jaina curled her arm around his waist and leaned against his chest—the chest of a man she had once slapped across the face, but who had later become a kind of mentor to her, especially in helping her navigate the emotional storm that had attended Jacen’s unexpected return from Yuuzhan Vong-held Coruscant a year earlier.

Kyp brought them to an abrupt halt and turned slightly to gaze at her. “If it’s any consolation, kid, I’m worried, too.”

Jaina smiled and laughed shortly. “I don’t have to say a thing, do I?”

Kyp shook his head and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Everything tells me that Jacen is okay. But your parents are in trouble. They’ve been getting into too many tight situations lately, and now they’re really in the thick of it.”

Jaina felt stronger for Kyp’s having articulated her fears. For a short time she had thought she could fall in love with Kyp, but those feelings had passed, and ever since then they had settled into a close and comforting friendship.

“I was just talking with a courier who arrived from a station in the Tion Hegemony,” she said in a rush. “I don’t know why, but I think they’re there.”

Kyp considered it. “If they are, then I guess I’m wrong about them squaring off against the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Jaina shook her head. “That’s just it, Kyp. Caluula Orbital is under heavy siege. From what the courier said, I think the station might already have been overrun. If I knew for sure, I’d leave right now.”

Kyp took her hand. “Let me know if you need a wing-mate.”

Han’s blasterbolt caught the Yuuzhan Vong in his unprotected armpit, twirling him fully around and sending him plummeting from the shoulders of two warriors who had been providing unintentional support. With the immediate threat eliminated, the faceless rocket man raised his left arm and fired a small grappling hook from his forearm gauntlet. The hook found purchase on an expansion girder, instantly towing him to the ceiling of the hold, out over the extended arms of swarming warriors and through flights of blunt amphistaffs. Clambering into a crouch on the girder, he gazed down on his would-be captors, then armed his backpack missile launcher.

“He’s … he’s going to fire!”

One step ahead of C-3PO, Han and Leia each grabbed one of the droid’s arms and yanked him down to the deck. The projectile exploded in the center of the hold, flattening everyone within a radius of ten meters. Fifty or more stunned or dying Yuuzhan Vong warriors formed the circumference of the detonation zone.

But reinforcements were already on the way.

Han heard them surging down the corridor, crying for blood. He got to his feet, then helped Leia and C-3PO to theirs. Simultaneous with the
snap-hiss
of Leia’s lightsaber came the drone of launched thud bugs.

Leia fielded those she could. Taken by surprise, a dozen Caluula soldiers were dropped in their tracks. The volley of deflected bugs flew back down the corridor at the approaching Yuuzhan Vong, only to be returned by several warriors at the head of the pack. Han caught a glimpse of five comparatively short warriors, smeared head to toe in black blood rather than sheathed in the usual arthropod armor. Odder
still, was the way they were holding their amphistaffs to parry thud bugs and blasterbolts.

“They’re using them like lightsabers,” he said.

“That seems to be the idea,” Leia replied breathlessly.

Han shook his head in incredulity. “More new models?”

“I don’t think we should wait around to ask!”

The Mandalorian-armored cadre apparently felt the same. Taking aim on a portion of bulkhead close to the deck, two of the troopers used missiles to blow a gaping hole into the adjoining hold. The Caluula defenders began to scramble through, with C-3PO, Leia, and Han bringing up the rear. They raced through the adjacent hold and into a wide corridor, lowering blast shields wherever they encountered them.

Greeted with an intersection, Han knew enough to ask.

“That way!” C-3PO said.

Han gave a last glance at the armored fighters, then turned to follow Leia and C-3PO.

The side corridor led directly to the connector that ran between Caluula’s number three and four modules. Outside the tube’s curved transparisteel walls, laserbolts and plasma projectiles cleaved the darkness. Coralskippers and starfighters chased one another in chaotic circles. The volcanolike launchers of enemy capital ships fired again and again.

Han, Leia, and C-3PO hadn’t set foot inside the number four module when something shook the entire station.

“The ychna,” Han said.

Leia agreed. “You know how hard it is to satisfy those things.”

Farther along, Garray’s meaty adjutant motioned them from the pack of withdrawing soldiers.

“Captain, Princess Leia, the
Falcon
is ready for departure.”

Han stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding.” He gestured broadly. “It’s worse out there than in here!”

“I concur, sir. Nevertheless, she’s patched up and ready to go. Nowhere near good as new, but you should be able to limp her to Mon Calamari in a couple of microjumps.”

Han and Leia traded doubtful looks.

“Each officer we rescued from Selvaris could rally ten thousand additional troops to our cause,” Leia said.

Ultimately, Han nodded. “A bunch of people a lot smarter
than me figured this out, so I guess we have to trust that they’re right.”

Leia smiled. “Spoken like a true enlisted man.”

Garray’s adjutant directed them back to where the
Falcon
was berthed. With nearly every spaceworthy craft launched, the place was practically deserted. Cracken, Page, and the rest of the Selvaris roster were clustered at the foot of the landing ramp.

The station’s klaxons began to blare triplets.

Garray’s adjutant cursed, then adopted a resigned expression. “The commander has issued the evacuation order.”

Han nodded cheerlessly. “You have to know when to fold.”

“I’ll be leaving you here.”

Han saluted him. “We’ll win this thing yet, Chief.” He turned to give the
Falcon
a quick glance.

Leia noted Han’s discouraged look. “Well, he did say
limp
her to Mon Calamari.”

“Crawl’s more like it.”

The mechanic responsible for the several add-ons emerged from beneath the starboard mandible. “We spared as much blaster gas as we could for your quad lasers, but I’d go light on them if I were you.” He gazed up at the
Falcon
and smiled. “Great ship. Good journey.”

Han pumped the man’s hand in thanks.

A powerful explosion rattled the bay. Paint chips and other objects showered from the vaulted ceiling.

“Everybody get on board,” Han said, “before we end up EV without a ship.” When Pash Cracken and a few of the other officers didn’t move, he stormed over to them. “You waiting for a formal invitation?”

Cracken almost smiled. “With all due respect, Han, we’ve decided to remain here and do what we can.”

Han made his lips a thin line. “Pash, this is bigger than Caluula, and you know it. Alliance command is counting on you people to rally support in your home systems. Besides, you can’t make a difference here. Those are evacuation klaxons you’re hearing.”

“Han’s right, Major,” Leia said.

Cracken still didn’t move. “We’ll take our chances, Princess.”

She blew out her breath. “Your father’s never going to forgive us, Pash.”

“He’ll understand.”

Han nodded. “Then may the Force be with all of you. In other circumstances, I might make the same choice.”

He turned and, without a backward look, hurried Leia and C-3PO up the landing ramp. At the top, he waved Page and the rest of the officers into the forward cargo compartment. He told Leia to begin the start-up sequence, and he sent Cakhmaim and Meewalh to the gun turrets. He ran to the stern to check the status of the escape pods, then raced forward to the cockpit. By the time he arrived, Leia was strapped in and the repulsorlift was cold-started.

Han leapt into the pilot’s chair while Leia lifted the
Falcon
, turned her about, and sent her streaking through the magcon field.

Local space was crosscut with magma projectiles and turbolaser bolts. Dead ahead, the bloated yncha floated motionless in space, amid a debris cloud created by coralskippers that had thrown themselves against Caluula’s shields. X-wings and other starfighters drifted lazily. Three of the station’s modules were wide open to vacuum and expressing what little atmosphere they still contained. Below, explosions were blossoming on the beige and green surface of Caluula itself, with wounded coralskippers plunging into the atmosphere like fiery meteors.

Han watched a dozen escape vehicles launch from an undamaged module.

Caluula was finished.

“Three skips converging on us.” Leia glanced at him. “It’s our old friends.”

Han’s eyes darted to the authenticator screen. “The ones that tracked us from Selvaris! What is this, a personal vendetta?”

“Maybe they don’t like our paint job.”

“Then I’m on their side.” He clamped his hands on the yoke. “Hang on.”

Han leaned toward the intercom. “Watch the fuel levels, you two. Last thing we need is to be left high and dry.” He
glanced over his left shoulder. “Jump coordinates for Mon Calamari coming in.”