Invincible (5 page)

Jaina glimpsed stormtroopers staggering, running, and somersaulting away from the explosion. Then the Mandalorians were on the skirmish line, felling enemies with blaster, boot, and blade. She sensed danger on her left and turned to see, in the flickering gleam of her lightsaber, a trooper stumbling away backward, shaking but still pointing an E-18 in her direction. She gestured him forward with her free hand, using the Force to pull him onto her lightsaber before he could open fire.

The blade burned a three-centimeter hole in his chest plate and sank through. A pained gurgle escaped his helmet comm, and the blaster rifle slipped from his grasp to land on Jaina’s boots. She deactivated her lightsaber then heard footsteps behind her and spun around, reactivating and striking in the same instant.

The attack landed but did not slice, the blade sliding along a
beskar
neck guard to burn a dark furrow into Fett’s green armor. Jaina gasped in surprise, but managed to stifle the apology—
regret is a weakness
—that rose automatically to her lips.

“Take that as a lesson,” she said instead. “Never sneak up on a Jedi.”

“Didn’t know you
could
sneak up on a Jedi,” Fett retorted. “Thanks for the tip.”

Jaina deactivated her lightsaber, more aware than Fett realized that they weren’t really joking. There were a lot of things he didn’t seem to know about Jedi, one of them being that Jedi weren’t just good eavesdroppers, they were the
best.
So when Admiral Daala—no fan of Jedi herself—had boarded the
Bloodfin
at Fondor and asked to meet with Fett, Jaina had made it her business to be on the deck below, where she could use the Force to listen in on what passed between the two Jedi-haters. It had been no surprise to hear them dreaming of the day when the galaxy was rid of Sith and Jedi alike—and that included Jaina. She had no illusions about that.

But Jaina was content to let Fett think she didn’t know just how serious he was, that she actually bought the fatherly-affection act he sometimes put on for her. She expanded her Force awareness to include the entire loading area, noting the diminished blasterfire and retreating battle sounds, and decided it would be safe to activate her glow rod.

“Looks like everything’s under control,” she said, starting toward the fallen sniper team and their plasma gun. “Sometimes the Jedi way
is
better.”

“Faster, anyway.” Fett knelt to check the sniper team and, discovering that the spotter was still breathing, put a blaster bolt through the fellow’s head. “Not necessarily better.”

Jaina recoiled from the cold-blooded killing of the wounded trooper, but recalled the Mandalorian whom she had heard grunting earlier and knew that Fett would be thinking of his own losses, not those of his enemy. She wanted to ask how many men he had lost during the charge but knew better than to betray her interest.

Fett stood and started forward, motioning for Jaina to follow. When they came to a huge archway opening into the depths of Client Hangar Two, he pointed into the darkness.

“There should still be a couple of full-spec Bessies in there, fueled and ready to go,” he said. “Consider one of ’em yours. I’ll put it on your account.”

Jaina stopped at his side. “So this is it, then.”

“I guess so,” Fett said. “I’ve seen you fly. You shouldn’t have any trouble slipping out of here.”

Jaina paused. “What about you? You know you can’t stop the invasion.”

She felt Fett smile inside his helmet. “You worried about me, Jedi?”

“Not really,” Jaina said. “But I do want to keep track of you.”

Fett snorted. “We both know you’re going to be too busy for that,” he said. “I’ll be fine. There’s a
Tra’kad
in there, too. We just have to prepare some things for our return.”

Jaina cocked her brow. “You’re coming back?”

“Of course,” Fett said. “I gave my word.”

“In that case, may the Force be with you,” Jaina said. “You’re going to need it.”

“Not as much as you.” Fett cocked his head, listening to a report, then said, “Time for me to get moving. Good luck, kid.”

For a moment, Jaina was silent. That was exactly the kind of thing her father, Han Solo, would have said.

Finally, she asked, “How much do you think I’ll need? Luck, I mean?”

Fett shrugged and pretended to look over his shoulder; then his wounded hand shot forward—just as Jaina had known it would. She blocked down, then slipped inside his guard, shouldering him backward and sweeping his front foot from beneath him.

Fett landed in a crash of armor and curses, but chuckled from inside his helmet. “Well, I’ve taught you everything you need to know.”

“But not everything you know,” Jaina surmised.

Fett looked up at her for a moment, then said, “You don’t have that long.” He extended a hand for Jaina to help him up. “And there’s no need.”

Jaina ignored the hand and stepped back, then asked, “No need for
you
?”

“Right.” Fett sighed and lowered his hand. “Either way, I get my revenge.”

“Either way?” Jaina narrowed her eyes, then realized what he was saying. She wasn’t surprised, but she was hurt—maybe only a little, but she
was
hurt. “If I don’t kill my brother—”

“Your brother kills you.” Fett hopped to his feet as lightly as any unarmored Jedi apprentice, then added, “Some things are worse than death. I know that better than anyone, except for maybe Sintas—and Han Solo. Send your father my sympathies.”

Jaina studied Fett for a moment, trying to remind herself that she had gone to him, that he had given her exactly what she asked for—and she still found herself getting angry.

Finally, she said, “Dad’s right about you. The Kaminoans did use rancor drool to fill your veins.”

Fett laughed. “Smart barve, your dad.” He spun on his heel and started down the access corridor at a jog. “No wonder he’s so hard to kill.”

Hey, Jaina—do you know why TIE fighters scream in space? Because they miss their mother ship!

—Jacen Solo, age 14, Jedi academy on Yavin 4

T
HIS DEEP IN THE
T
RANSITORY
M
ISTS
,
THERE WERE NO STARS TO
relieve the night’s gloom, no constellations to make the black skies seem less alien. The vista outside the viewport was an inky fog of light-swallowing gases that never thinned and never lifted—and never failed to leave spacegazers feeling a little lost and alone.

The Jedi had retreated to the abandoned mining world of Shedu Maad to hide from Jacen, and ever since joining them here, Jaina had been wondering whether this dark corner of the galaxy would become their tomb. Like most good refuges, it felt safe and secure…and that was an illusion. After the trouble the Jedi had caused at Fondor, Jacen would be searching for their secret base with every resource he could spare—and this time, he would give them no time to evacuate. He would have a strike force waiting to pounce the instant he had any idea where they were.

Their only hope was to get him first.

The Jedi would never leave Shedu Maad alive—not unless they hunted down and killed Jacen before he hunted
them
down. Jaina knew that in her heart.

But could she convince the Masters?

Several of them were gathered around a table behind her, holding an impromptu war council with Luke, Jagged Fel, and her father and mother—the renowned Han and Leia Solo. Not for the first time in her life, Jaina wondered whether she could ever live up to her parents’ legend, how she could possibly impact the galaxy as they had during their long and illustrious lives.

“…and are we sure Jacen
sent
them?” Corran Horn was asking. “The Remnant is still an independent government.”

Not wishing to involve herself in the conversation until she was invited—or at least until the time was right—Jaina kept her back to the table and continued to stare out the viewport.

“This might have been the Moffs’ play,” Corran continued.

“Could be,” said Jaina’s father…
Han Solo.
In this context—in the company of so many other greats, trying to plan a response to her brother’s latest outrages—it felt wrong to even think of her parents as
Mom
and
Dad.
They were bigger than that, along with her uncle Luke, the most legendary of the many legends sitting at that table. “Maybe all Fett did was streamline their decision-making process.”

Nobody laughed. During the wildly confused Battle of Fondor, nearly a quarter of the Remnant’s Moffs had been executed by Boba Fett and his Mandalorians aboard Admiral Pellaeon’s flagship, the
Bloodfin.
Most coalition intelligence agencies had concluded that the survivors would fall into a bitter power struggle and scurry home to protect their turf. But Luke and the Jedi Council had realized that,
somehow,
the only Moffs who had been trapped aboard when Fett arrived were those who had been a problem during Pellaeon’s reign. The rest had managed to escape and rejoin the main body of the Remnant’s fleet—again,
somehow.

The Masters had concluded that those
somehows
were the doing of Pellaeon’s aide, Vitor Reige. They had also realized that a shrewd leader such as Pellaeon would have made provisions to ensure a smooth succession of power after his death. Unfortunately for the Verpine—and the Jedi coalition—it appeared they had been right.

After a long pause in the conversation, Luke said, “I don’t think it matters whose idea it was to enslave the Verpine. If Jacen doesn’t control the Remnant already, he soon will.”

There followed another silence during which no one disagreed. Then Kenth Hamner said, “Which means he’s reaching the tipping point. Once he has full control of the Remnant’s fleets, he’ll be able to project more power than all of his enemies combined.”

“We could always accept Admiral Niathal’s offer to assume supreme command of all coalition forces,” Kyp Durron said, his tone clearly mocking. “That would give us, what, another dozen hulls?”

“At least,” Kenth said, joining the others at the table in a bitter chuckle. “And all she wants in return is to negate our nonaggression pact with the entire Confederation.”

The laughter trailed away into dumbfounded silence, until Jaina’s mom—
Princess Leia
—said, “All the same, I’d suggest the Council phrase its rejection as politely as possible. It’s never good to alienate a potential ally, no matter how inconsequential they may seem at the time.”

“Thank you for the reminder, Leia,” Kenth said. “I
will
be careful with my phrasing.”

“In the meantime, we’ll just have to sign up the Chiss Ascendancy,” Kyp said. Jaina could not tell from his tone whether he was still joking or actually believed there was any chance of such an alliance happening. “Then, if we can get the Corporate Sector—”

“Forget the Ascendancy,” Jag interrupted. “You won’t involve Csilla in this. Even if the Nine Ruling Families
would
take sides against the Imperial Remnant, they won’t get involved with Jedi problems.”

“Still stinging from Tenupe?” Han asked.

“That, and the Jedi habit of telling interstellar governments how to run their sovereign territory,” Jag replied. “No offense meant, of course.”

“Not much taken,” Corran assured him. “At least there’s no question about the coalition’s situation.”

“No question at all,” said Leia. Her voice was dignified and calm, but the Force was smoldering with her frustration. Just days before the Remnant invasion, she and Han had failed to persuade the Verpine to withdraw from their treaty with Mandalore and join the Jedi coalition instead. “I believe the term is
borked.
”

“Sorry, Luke,” Han said. There was a bitter edge to his voice that Jaina suspected only she and her mother would recognize as a personal sense of failure. “We told Siskili what you’ve been seeing when you look into the future. But the Verpine’s mutual-aid deal with Mandalore was exclusive, and he was too afraid of Fett to break it.”

“Nor would Fett let them modify it,” Leia added.

“Buckethead skulo!” Saba spat. “Does Boba Fett think one world of dirt-comberz is the match of thousandz? Mandalore has been hunting too far up the chain, and now the whole jungle will suffer.”

“Fett does what works for Fett,” Han replied. “The rest of us can suck entropy.”

“That’s not true anymore,” Jaina said, turning from the viewport.

The décor of the makeshift conference room could only be described as mining-complex salvage, with age-yellowed sturdiplas furniture and poured plastoid walls the color of dust. The sliding door at the far end of the small chamber—it had probably been a break room when the mine was still in operation—remained open because of a corroded actuator arm that had not been serviced in centuries.

Most of the war council sat on benches beside a long dining table that had probably once been some color other than stained amber. Their cloaks were fastened tight against the chill of a not-quite-repaired environmental control unit. Only Luke wasn’t seated, standing on the near side of the table with his back to the others, gazing out the same viewport through which Jaina had been looking. Judging by the casual acceptance of this position by everyone else at the table, it had not been unusual of late.