Apocalypse (8 page)

“No, not usually,” her mother allowed. “But … that’s why we’re here. With a Hapan battle flotilla waiting to pounce, the Sith might decide not to attack at all.”

Allana rolled her eyes. “Even I understand the Sith better than that, and I’m only nine.”

Her mother chuckled. “Well, perhaps it was more of a hope than a belief,” she allowed. “But we both know what a mistake it is to underestimate your grandparents.”

Allana started to agree, but stopped when her pet nexu, Anji, growled a warning. Allana glanced toward the interior of the stateroom and saw her mother’s cousin and confidante, Trista Zel, approaching. Knowing that Trista would not be interrupting unless it was important, Allana silenced Anji with a hand signal, then stepped aside to make room in the little observation bubble.

Trista flashed an apologetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt, cousin,” she said. Had anyone else addressed the Queen Mother so casually, they would have been banished to the Transitory Mists. “But you wanted to be informed when the Sith make their move.”

Tenel Ka raised her brow. “Already?”

Trista nodded. “The scouts have spotted a wing of Skipray twelve-jays entering the atmosphere on the far side of the planet.”

“
Twelve-jays
?” Tenel Ka echoed. “Where’d they come up with something that old?”

Trista shrugged. “We’re still working on that, Majesty,” she said. “What’s important is that TacCon thinks they’ll use the cloud cover to hit the convoy as it leaves the academy. Commander Skela recommends launching two wings of Miy’tils to support Vhork Squadron and protect the convoy.”

Tenel Ka thought for a moment, then nodded. “Inform the Solos—but send four wings instead.”

Trista’s eyes widened. “
Four
wings?”

None of the Queen Mother’s other advisers would have dared to question her judgment, but Trista and Taryn Zel—and Jedi Knight Zekk, too, now that he and Taryn were a couple—were members of something called the Lorellian Court. Allana suspected that the Lorellian Court was an ultrasecret unit of Hapan Security. But she knew only three things about the organization for sure: First, she was forbidden to mention its existence, even to her grandparents. Second, she could trust anyone who flashed the secret face-code. And third, she would be introduced to that court on her eighteenth birthday.

When the Queen Mother did not immediately reply, Trista said, “Majesty, four wings is half the task force’s fighter complement—and those twelve-jays are older than we are.”

“Those twelve-jays are being flown by Sith pilots,” Tenel Ka said. “Until we understand their capabilities, I want to err on the side of caution.”

The tone of command in the Queen Mother’s voice was unmistakable.

“Four wings it is.” Trista inclined her head, but made no move to leave. “I also have a message from Lady Maluri.”

Tenel Ka gave a weary sigh. “Must I?”

“I’m afraid so,” Trista said. “She asked me to relay her concern that risking Hapan lives to protect Jedi younglings is a flagrant misuse of royal authority.”

Tenel Ka rolled her eyes. “Please remind Lady Maluri that the Sith attempted to assassinate her queen,” she said. “Inform her that if
she
is
not willing to punish such an affront to Hapan sovereignty, then I will replace her with someone who is.”

“With pleasure, cousin.”

Trista bowed and started to withdraw, but Tenel Ka raised a finger to stop her.

“And see that this is the
last
time Lady Maluri needs to be warned about the astonishing lack of affection she displays for her queen,” Tenel Ka added. “Tell her I threw something.”

Trista smiled. “I’ll make the situation clear, Majesty.”

Tenel Ka nodded, and Trista departed.

After she was out of earshot, Allana caught her mother’s eye. “You’re risking a lot to help Grandma and Grandpa evacuate the Jedi academy,” she said. “Lady Maluri can’t be the only noble who doesn’t like helping the Jedi.”

Her mother thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. I
am
risking a lot—my life, and probably even yours.” She looked out the observation bubble again. “And what reason would I have for taking a risk like that? What is the
only
reason I would risk your life?”

Allana did not need to ponder the answer—it had been drilled into her since she was old enough to remember the phrase. “To protect the realm.”

“That’s right,” her mother said. “Had the Sith succeeded in their assassination attempt on me, there would have been a war of succession—a war that you’re not ready to fight.”

“I know,” Allana said. Sometimes it seemed like her life was just one long lesson. But she always did her best to pay attention, because she knew that someday trillions of lives would depend on her decisions. “And while our people were fighting one another, the realm would have been an easy target for outsiders.”

“For the
Sith
,” her mother corrected. “Whether Lady Maluri and her friends care to admit it or not, the Lost Tribe is
already
making war on us. All I’m doing now is lining up allies.”

“And
nobody
is a better ally than the Jedi,” Allana agreed. She turned back toward the cloud-swaddled planet hanging beyond the transparisteel. “Which is really good, because the Jedi are our friends.
And Grandpa always says that you have to stick by your friends—no matter what.”

“Your grandfather is very wise,” her mother agreed. “And he’s right. Even if the Sith
hadn’t
attacked me, we would have found …”

But Allana was no longer listening, for a small hole had just opened in the Ossan clouds. It started to expand rapidly, growing from the size of her fist to larger than Anji’s head in the space of two breaths, and suddenly Allana felt her stomach rising. The hole swelled to an enormous black pit, and she realized she was falling, plummeting into a darkness deeper than space. A damp, fetid smell filled her nostrils, and the rush of passing air whispered in her ears.

Except it wasn’t a whisper. It was more of a hiss, like the sound of an angry Barabel, and Allana realized she wasn’t falling at all. But she wasn’t standing on the
Dragon Queen II
, either. She was in a dark corridor beneath the Jedi Temple, peeking through an open hatchway into a murky room filled with a huge nest of rodent bones.

Peering out among the bones were dozens of tiny heads. They had stubby snouts and long, flickering tongues, and their slit-pupiled eyes were shining with fear and anger. They began to pour from the nest, leaping and screeching and clawing. Allana backed away—and found herself trapped against a wall.

The young reptiles never reached her. A storm of blaster bolts erupted behind her, pouring through a durasteel wall to send the little creatures flying back into their nest, charred and smoking and dead.

Allana screamed, calling for Tesar and Wilyem to return to their hatchlings. But the Barabels never came. The nest vanished in the murk, and Allana realized she was back aboard the
Dragon Queen II
, locked tight in her mother’s arms. Pressed flat to the observation bubble was Anji, growling and clawing at the transparisteel.

“Allana?” her mother gasped. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Allana glanced around, her confusion only growing as she recognized the familiar opulence of the Royal Stateroom. “Mom, I have to talk to Master Sebatyne—now!”

Her mother cocked a brow. “Master Sebatyne?” she asked. “But she’s on Coruscant—in the middle of a battle, most likely.”

“That doesn’t matter. They’re killing the—” Allana stopped herself,
realizing she couldn’t say more without breaking the promise she had made to Tesar Sebatyne, that she would never,
ever
reveal the existence of the Barabel nest beneath the Jedi Temple. “Someone is blasting my friends’ young ones!”

“What friends?”

“My friends on Coruscant,” Allana said. “They need our help!”

“And we’ll get it to them,” her mother assured her. “But we can’t help anyone until you calm down. Now, start from the beginning and tell me everything.”

Allana took a deep breath and held it briefly, using a Jedi relaxation technique to clear her mind and drive away the panic. Because panic was the enemy—her aunt Jaina was always telling her that. Panic had killed more people than all the blasters in the galaxy, and it would go on killing, even after there were no more wars.

After a couple of breaths, Allana felt calm enough to explain what she had seen—how she had been looking out at Ossus when a hole opened in the clouds, and how she’d fallen into it and found herself standing in a darkened corridor deep in the basement of the Jedi Temple.

“But that’s all I can tell you,” Allana said. “I promised to keep the rest secret.”

“Promised whom?”

Allana scowled. “Mom! We don’t have time for the Grees Gambit,” she said. “Hatchlings are being killed.”

Her mother’s expression grew more patient than concerned. “Allana, you know you weren’t actually in that corridor, don’t you?”

“I … I know,” Allana said. “It was another Force vision, like the one I had on Klatooine.”

Tenel Ka considered this, then said, “You’re clearly very strong in the Force. That’s two visions in less than six months.”

Allana didn’t know whether to be overjoyed—or scared to death. Her father was Jacen Solo. She had not known him well, but she had read enough about his life to know that Force visions had led to his downfall, and she certainly didn’t want to follow him to the dark side. But she also knew that Grand Master Skywalker had Force visions, too, and that he seemed to accept them as guidance from the Force.

Neither of which told Allana what she should do. “If it’s a Force vision,
then I’m supposed to make sure it doesn’t happen, right?” she asked. “Like I did when I saw the burning man with you?”

Her mother’s eyes flashed in alarm, but she didn’t tell Allana she was wrong. Instead, she merely turned her palms up in a gesture of helplessness.

“I wish I knew,” she said. “Every vision means something different. All I can say for certain is that this one means you’re strong in the Force.”

Allana considered this, recalling something she had overheard Luke Skywalker tell her grandmother, that Jacen had turned to the dark side because he thought it was his destiny to change what he saw. The last thing she wanted to do was make the same mistake—but she couldn’t ignore what she had seen happening to the hatchlings, either. Letting them die seemed even worse than trying to change the future.

After a moment, Allana frowned up at her mother. “Mother, that’s not much help,” she said. “How am I supposed to know what the Force is telling me to do?”

“Maybe it wasn’t telling you to
do
anything,” her mother said. “Force visions aren’t commands, Allana. They’re just glimpses of a future that’s always in motion. The most important thing about them is what you do after you’ve had one. That’s what determines who you’re going to become inside—and who you become is far more important to the future than any one choice you’ll ever make.”

“Grandpa calls that Lando’s Dodge,” Allana said, none too happy with her mother’s advice. “He says people use it when they don’t know what to tell you.”

Her mother smiled. “Well, the truth is that I
don’t
know what to tell you. You have to decide for yourself. That’s the way the Force works.”

“But what if I choose wrong?”

“Listen to your heart, and you won’t,” her mother promised. “No one can see the future, Allana—not even Grand Master Skywalker. But we shape it every day with the choices we make. All you need to do is listen to your heart. Your heart tells you what is right and just. If you do that, the future will take care of itself.”

Allana did not need to listen long. “That’s pretty easy,” she said. “I
can’t turn my back on my friends. I’ve got to warn them about the danger to their young ones.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” her mother said. “Do you think you can warn Master Sebatyne through the Force?”

Allana thought for a moment. She could usually find her mother in the Force, even across all of the light-years that separated Coruscant and the Consortium. And sometimes she could find her grandmother. But she had never been able to locate Barv, or even Jaina, and she knew them a lot better than she did Master Sebatyne.

Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”

“In that case, we would have to use the HoloNet,” her mother said. “And if we do that, the Sith might intercept the message. Would that matter?”

“That would be very bad,” Allana said instantly. So far, she had heard nothing to indicate that the Barabel nest had been discovered. But if the Sith intercepted a message warning Master Sebatyne of the danger to the hatchlings, they would be certain to mount a thorough search. “It would ruin everything.”

“Then maybe we should wait until after the evacuation is finished,” her mother said. “As soon as your grandparents return, we’ll ask Princess Leia to warn Master Sebatyne through the Force. Will that be okay?”

Allana thought for a moment, then nodded. “I think it has to be.”

T
HE GRAY MIASMA THAT FILLED
A
CADEMY
S
QUARE WAS MORE STEAM
than fog. It condensed on the climate-controlled coolness of the
Falcon
’s flight deck canopy and ran down the transparisteel in long shimmering runnels, and it was impossible to see anything outside clearly. Woodoo Hall, just twenty meters away, was a crooked gray box, and the long line of beings emerging from it were shapeless swirls in the fog. The rest of the convoy—eleven Olanjii
Sharmok-
class troop transports arrayed at various points around the parade ground—were not visible at all.