CHAPTER NINE
In the darkest hour of night on the side of the planet Xixus opposite its sun, the sky was as black as the most intense obsidian stones in the galaxy. The thick layers of industrial pollution that filled the world's upper atmosphere entirely blocked the light from the stars and the three moons, nor did any light project upward from the vast, toxically contaminated ocean below. Only a thin trail of pale yellow particles traced across the sky, no doubt the remnants of a meteor or orbital debris plummeting to a watery landing.
The carefully controlled descent of the Lady Vader would have fooled any observer present. The powerful signal-jamming technology aboard the starship also prevented detection by the sensors and automated monitors in orbit and on the surface. And although the Vyhrragians might be anticipating a rescue, they would have no reason to expect it at this moment rather than any other time.
Aboard the unique starship a few quick adjustments had converted the small cabin lounge to a passenger seating area. Strapped into their jumpseats, they waited for their chance at heroism.
Han Solo was restless. It had been almost seven standard days since the Millennium Falcon had responded to the Navy's emergency bulletin. He had assumed that by now they would have found the frigate holding the Senator, rescued her from it, received their commendations, and returned to their relaxing leave. Instead they had performed a mind-numbingly dull reconnaissance operation and now were descending toward an enemy planet full of soldiers. It should have been so simple, so easy, so quick. There was no reason it should have taken as long as it already had. At this point he was ready to kill someone. Although this rescue plan purportedly would flow smoothly, he had no doubt the brownshirts would give him the opportunity he desired.
Chewbacca was amused. Once again he had caught himself questioning the Wookiee institution of the life-debt. He loved Han like a brother and would give his own life for his friend without regret. When their reconnaissance mission had ended, however, they could have left in the Falcon to finish their vacation. Except here he was, uncomfortably compressed into a seat far too small for him, for no reason he could determine other than Han's unhealthy compulsion for career advancement. Or perhaps it was a need to impress the redheaded Jedi. And clearly the other young Jedi had some deeply personal reason for wanting to rescue this particular Senator, a reason no one had bothered to explain to them and about which they had not been bold enough to ask. So she was going to be rescued whether they went along or not. Yet here he was.
Lando Calrissian was nervous. Until now the Republic's conflict with Argis and his New Justice movement had been easy to view dispassionately. Although he had been born and raised on Vyhrrag, he had left to join the Academy many years before the tyrant seized power. In the Special Operations Division his knowledge of the planet had made him an important analyst of intelligence information and his ability to speak the local language had been quite helpful in cracking several Vyhrragian codes and ciphers. All of this, however, had been from a distance. Now the crisis was personal. Below him on this planet were thousands of brownshirts and other Vyhrragian soldiers whom he might have to confront. Most likely no one he knew would be among them, whether volunteer or conscripted; the odds told him that he would not have to kill an old friend or acquaintance. But it was possible. So he tried not to think about the odds.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was contemplative. As he prepared himself for the possibility of facing down a Sith Lord again, he could not help but think of Qui-Gon Jinn. So many years ago their simple diplomatic mission to Naboo had unraveled into the discovery of the Chosen One and the definitive reemergence of the Sith. Virtually everything in his life since that fateful hour in the generator facility of Theed Palace's main hangar connected in some way or another to his Master's death and dying wish. Back then it all had been so sudden, so unexpected. This time, at least, he and his Padawan knew the Sith were lurking somewhere, waiting to strike. The Chosen One would be with him, in spirit if not in body. And with the full advantage of foresight he had prepared himself for the possibility that this clash between good and evil might cost his life or his Padawan's. He didn't want to die. But he was ready to pay that price if his duty required it.
Mara Jade was determined. She knew the Council would permit her to take the Trials and become a Jedi Knight when she was ready. Her training was quite advanced and her willpower and judgment had improved greatly in recent years. In her heart she believed she would succeed in the Trials were she allowed to take them. On this mission, then, she had a chance to demonstrate to her Master and the Council her preparation and maturity. By succeeding quickly, calmly, and with self-control she would prove her readiness. After that, finally, she might obtain the goal for which she had been striving her entire life: to be a Jedi Knight. Yet the mission also carried risk, for if she failed – in the objectives or in her role as a Jedi – her chance to achieve her ambition would disappear for the foreseeable future. She could not let that happen.
Luke Skywalker was perplexed. For the past four weeks he had been away from the Temple. And just now he had experienced the epiphany that in that time, he had not spent more than a total of a few seconds thinking about Ralli Gialla. The young woman with whom he had spent many nights and most days the previous three months. The short, petite, blonde Jedi Padawan from Corellia. She was a good friend and a fabulous lover – but he did not miss her, not in his heart. Even more interesting, he realized he didn't care that she wasn't the other apprentice a few seats away. With great surprise he found himself thinking that in fact he was quite pleased it was Mara instead. Not because he had any romantic feelings toward Mara, of course; the very idea of that made him shudder. But to save his sister's life and possibly fight a Sith Lord, there was no other Padawan in the Temple he would want at his side. He never would admit it to her, but her skills truly did rival his own. And for that reason and that reason alone he was glad to have Mara here. It was a strange and most unanticipated emotion.
In the cockpit of the Lady Vader the three crew monitored the flight path, the sensors and signal-jammers, and the status of the ship's engines and weapons.
R2-D2 and R2-J2 were preoccupied. As they plunged through the atmosphere, Artoo downloaded the last set of Vyhrragian codes and passwords that the Special Operations Division had provided right before their departure. The data no doubt would be quite useful on the mission. Jaytoo calculated the most efficient departure arc for this trip and the most direct entry trajectory for the second trip to come. Not that his master would know the difference, of course, but every last second he saved them would make it that much more likely they all would return in one piece. And simultaneously with all of this Artoo and Jaytoo worked out elaborate rules for a wager about how long the mission would last. The loser would be required to spend three uninterrupted hours with Threepio.
Anakin Skywalker was wistful. When he was younger this was the kind of mission for which he always had yearned. A covert operation on an enemy planet, infiltration of a prison to rescue a hostage, and escape in triumph to glory and the love of waiting family. But now he was a Jedi Master. This mission required a pilot to insert the team, wait patiently on the dark side of the second moon for the signal in the Force, and then fly in and extract the group. All without being detected. For such a task the Lady Vader was the obvious starship and he was the obvious pilot. There was no way for him to avoid this role in Leia's rescue, and he had not considered even for a moment suggesting otherwise. He would do his duty, as he had done for more than twenty years. And yet deep down inside, in the part of his soul that only Padmé ever saw anymore, he felt the smallest twinge of regret and jealousy. That tiny part of him wanted to trade places with his Padawan or his son. Without remorse he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and banished those thoughts back to the depths of exile where they belonged.
---
Her eyes trained on the stars outside the gigantic aperture of the main docking bay of the Republic Navy destroyer Invictus, Danaé Skywalker adjusted the folds of her Jedi robes for the third time, checked the tightness of her belt for the fifth, and reassuringly reached down for her lightsaber for the tenth. It was time to go. To rescue her sister she would be returning to the planet where her Master, Oga Trill, had disappeared without a trace half a year ago. It was a sobering prospect, but her desperate wish to see her sister safe far outweighed the regret and self-doubt that still plagued her about her Master.
She was ready.
Not that she had a choice. But she was.
She removed the pair of brown leather gloves from her belt and pulled them snugly over her hands. One last time she made sure the single long braid of brown hair down her back was tight and secure, then tucked her thin Padawan braid behind her right ear. With only a moment's thought she launched herself from the floor in a Force-assisted standing leap. A heartbeat later she landed gracefully in the cockpit of Luke's X-Wing starfighter, her hands seizing the restraints and snapping them across her chest the same instant she plopped into the seat. She adjusted the fit of the restraints a bit further, then reacquainted her hands with the feel of the control stick. Luke's Arfour unit toodled a greeting to let her know the ship was prepared fully already, making her smile. Before she reached for the plain white helmet, she looked to her right.
Sarré Bellion, her close friend and no doubt someday soon her younger brother's wife, had climbed the boarding ladder and seated herself in the cockpit of Mara's matching maroon-and-white X-Wing. She tugged the restraints over her dark blue flight suit, then felt Danaé's gaze and glanced over. "I'm ready," she smiled calmly. "Let's go get her."
Danaé nodded and slipped the helmet over her head. She yanked the chinstrap on tightly and flipped the switch to lower the transparisteel canopy. She was struggling not to be distracted by her excitement that finally they would have Leia back.
A few short minutes earlier her father had spoken to her through the Force to signal that the rescue team had been inserted successfully on Xixus. With the Invictus now only a short distance outside Vyhrragian territory, the X-Wings would make a micro-jump in hyperspace to just beyond the Xixus system until Anakin signaled Danaé the same way again. Then the X-Wings would micro-jump to a location right above the planet, providing cover for the Lady Vader's rapid escape with Leia aboard.
Danaé flew out of the docking bay first. She marveled at the glittering array of stars in all directions in deep space; it looked very different than emerging into space within a star system, where the light of the planets and sun blocked out many of the background stars. Not like here. It was a beautiful sight. She spun the nose of the X-Wing in a short arc to point toward Xixus. Arfour reported that the jump was calculated and activated.
"Ready?" asked Danaé simply over the comlink. There was no need for code names and military communications protocols for this simple flight.
Within a few seconds she heard the confirmations she expected. "Good. Stick with me and follow my lead. I've flown in combat more recently than you have." Despite herself, she couldn't help from making a final comment aloud. "And if I hear any complaints from Dad about this, you're in trouble. Really, really big trouble."
When the laughter subsided over the comlink, Danaé gave the order. "May the Force be with us. On my mark." One last deep breath.
"Now."
---
Under cover of night – the profoundly deep absence of light that afflicted the poisoned industrial planet of Xixus – the five-member group moved like apparitions among the shadows. Han and Lando wore all-black military fatigues that blended in perfectly. Chewie wore simply a bandolier of ammunition for his bowcaster and let his thick, dark-brown fur do the rest. Luke and Mara wore tan Jedi robes, yet in the blackness of the hour they were little more than flickering ghosts as they darted between buildings.
Their short jog into the city from the outskirts to arrive at the tall structure that was their destination had taken place without a hitch. Now they stood at a side maintenance door, waiting to begin the truly dangerous element of their mission. In a concealed alcove well out of sight Artoo had plugged himself into the building's computer network. On their signal he would deactivate all the security cameras in the building for the Vyhrragians while keeping them fully functional for himself. That way he would be able to provide whatever guidance he could while they were inside. When the astromech blooped his readiness Lando tapped a quick code into his datapad, which was wired to the door panel.
Immediately alarms began to sound from rooftops and emergency alert lights began to flash on several buildings further down the street. In different parts of the city other false alarms also were being announced. With these diversions to distract them the Vyhrragians would have a more difficult time responding to the rescue operation.
A few moments later they stood inside the turbolift of the building. As the lift slowed to the designated floor, they readied their weapons and calmed their thoughts. A quick left turn in the hallway brought them to the entry to cellblock AA23.
With Lando at his side and Chewie behind him, Han burst through the open doorway, a blaster pistol in each hand. Luke and Mara hung back to avoid revealing the Jedi presence immediately.
The four shocked officers at the console looked up and the six brownshirts in the sparse gray room reached for their weapons. "What are you doing here?" demanded one of the green-clad officers.
Han fired first.
Two of the officers dropped from his shots while Chewie and Lando opened fire on the others. Simultaneously Force-assisted long jumps sprang Luke and Mara into the fray, lightsabers blazing. Although the brownshirts' tan body armor repelled a few bolts from their blasters, it was no match for the whirling, shimmering laser swords. Within only a few seconds the ten enemy soldiers were dead. The other three rescuers rushed to the console while Mara and Chewie moved to stand guard by the entrance. She left her humming violet blade ignited as he peeked his head out to scan the hallway.
Luke briefly closed his eyes and focused, facing down the narrow, dimly lit metal hallway of the cellblock. "She's in the fifth cell on the right," he announced calmly before opening his eyes again. "Go," he indicated to Han with his right hand, his deactivated lightsaber handle still clutched firmly. "Get her."
Lando plugged his datapad into the console to slice open the lock codes for the cell door. After only a few seconds, however, the intercom emitted a piercing, high-pitched beep and then buzzed with static.
"What's going on?" a Vyhrragian officer's voice demanded angrily.
"Uh… nothing… Uh, situation normal," Luke stammered, looking to Lando for guidance. Calrissian simply shrugged, focused too intently on the slicing.
"What happened?" the voice persisted, inflected with irritation and authority.
"We had a slight weapons malfunction, that's all." Luke lied very, very poorly. "We're fine."
"I'm sending a squad down there," the voice declared imperially.
Luke was out of ideas. He waved the fingers of his left hand across the microphone. "You won't send a squad down here."
"Who is this?" The voice now was truly incensed. "What's your serial number? And I most certainly am sending a squad down there!"
In a flash Luke's turquoise lightsaber shattered the communications array on the console. He met Lando's surprised stare with a lopsided smirk of chagrined embarrassment. "I've never tried a mind trick over a comlink before. How was I to know it wouldn't work?"
Lando grinned broadly and laughed before he hollered down the dark cellblock hallway, where Han was standing with pistols ready. "One second, buddy."
Han nodded.
Luke turned to face Han too. "Make it quick, Captain. We're going to have company."
With a satisfied smile Han turned to face the closed door again while he holstered his pistols. A heartbeat later the door panel beeped and the indicator light changed from red to green. He tapped the button and watched the door slide upward.
---
When Han stepped through the doorway he was quite surprised. He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected Senator Leia Organa to look like, but this woman was not at all close to what he had imagined.
She was sitting on the cot in her cell, knees hugged to her chest and her back against the wall, looking at him in confusion. Dressed in a plain white diplomatic outfit that was covered with the dirt and grime of a weeks' imprisonment, she was petite – although unmistakably anything but weak. Her long brown hair was tied into a tight braid that draped around her shoulder and knees, its tip clutched in her hands. On her face he could see exhaustion, anger, fear, desperation, sadness, and perhaps a little bit of hope. There was no question she looked worse for the wear from her captivity.
And yet even in this condition she was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful. Angelic.
With a look of bemused confrontation on her face she broke the awful silence between them. "Aren't you a little underdressed to be a brownshirt?"
"What?" Han Solo was never flustered. Except – apparently – now. "Oh, right. I'm Han Solo. I'm here to rescue you," he declared matter-of-factly, extending his hand to her.
"You're who?" She did not sound the least bit impressed.
"Captain Han Solo, Republic Navy." He realized that she had no reason to trust him. He might very well be faking a rescue as a pretense for the Vyhrragians to kill her during an escape. So he tried to think of something that the Vyhrragians wouldn't know. Then it hit him. "I'm here with Luke Skywalker."
At that revelation she sprang to her feet and moved toward the door, grinning broadly in delight. "You're here with my brother? You're braver than I thought!"
He was dumbfounded and suspected it was written all over his face. First of all, why would being with Skywalker make him braver? And second, "He's your brother?"
Leia smirked. "Yes. He's my brother."
By now she was standing directly in front of him, her path out of the cell blocked by his body. He was tall and handsome, with short brown hair and well-toned muscles. She had never seen him before – although after these long days of extreme strain and weariness she couldn't really be sure. Up close she recognized as legitimate his black covert-operations Navy fatigues, and she found the confidence in his bearing and warmth in his eyes immensely heartening. She focused beyond his superficial, bewildered gawking and discovered poise, brashness, authority, mischief, loyalty, autonomy, and most of all sincerity. For some inexplicable, unknowable reason she trusted him. Already.
Han remained silent in an utterly dazed shock. He's her brother. Then why is her name Organa? Oh, no! I thought they were lovers! I hope I didn't say anything to anyone from their family… Or to Jade… Oh boy. Great job, buddy. Great job.
She was becoming more impatient every second. "If it's all the same to you, Captain, I'll be happy to explain the details of my family tree later."
He had lost his composure entirely. So much so that he had forgotten what her station was.
"Look, Princess," he guessed wildly, knowing full well it was wrong, "I risked my life to come here and rescue you. You could be a little nicer." Then he decided not to push his luck and stepped back out through the open door, leading her into the dim hallway.
---
Obi-Wan Kenobi found the hangar with ease. A few hundred yards from the detention building where the youngsters were retrieving Leia, the massive structure was difficult to miss. His footfalls muffled by the Force, he slowly approached the guard shack at the only gate to the high fencing surrounding the building.
Inches away from the thin wall of the shack and just beneath the soft yellow glow emanating from the window he pulled his dark brown cloak around him. Listening to the conversation inside and probing with the Force he determined there were only two brownshirts on duty.
"What do you think those alarms are all about?" one guard was asking.
"Ah, who knows," the other complained. "Probably someone forgot to key in the access code correctly and set off everything. Or another stupid drill."
"Yeah, you're probably right," the first one decided. "So, what's the deal with you and that girl from section 151?"
Not particularly interested in the answer, Obi-Wan flicked his hand and projected a loud clattering noise a short distance away. From beneath the cowl of his cloak he allowed himself a little smirk between his short white moustache and beard.
"What was that?"
"I don't know. We'd better go check it out."
Blaster rifles ready, the two brownshirts emerged from their shack and started in the direction of the noise. Intent on finding its source, they did not notice the whispering brush of sound as a brown blur glided past behind them.
The inside of the hangar was brightly lit and it took Obi-Wan's eyes a second to adjust. Then he glided forward again, sticking close to the walls and using the Force to stay on alert for any more brownshirts.
It took only a minute to find the docking bay he was seeking. When he determined there was no one present, he stepped into the large room to find the Marigold resting on its landing gear. Once the Republic's spies had confirmed that the Vyhrragians had not destroyed it, the decision had been made immediately that the best option was for the Republic to do so. Otherwise it would be too easy for the Vyhrragians to modify the ship and use it to infiltrate Republic areas by posing as an authorized Naboo vessel.
Obi-Wan moved quickly to the side of the schooner. With a quiet snap-hiss his turquoise lightsaber ignited. He plunged the blade straight into the shiny chrome exterior of the starship, burning a small hole in the hull. Gradually he moved the humming blade up and down, left and right, until the superheated metal dripped away and formed a hole about two fists across.
He deactivated the blade and clipped it back to his belt. After a short wait to allow the metal cool off and lose its bright orange glow, he pulled a small orb from his belt and triggered the timer with his thumb. With a soft toss he sent the thermal detonator through the smooth-edged round breach.
Calmly and deliberately he walked away from the Marigold. He had plenty of time and there was no reason to rush. Keeping his perceptions at their highest levels of readiness he departed along the route he had arrived.
By this time the two brownshirts were back in their guard shack, involved in a rambling discussion about the girl in question. It took no effort at all to slip past them into the night.
From across the dark, deserted street Obi-Wan turned back. Just as the mental countdown in his head expired, brilliant waves of fire and rolling concussions of deafening sound from the exploding thermal detonator erupted from the side of the building. Stones and flames and shards of metal flew in all directions.
Disappearing into the overwhelming shadows, he headed back towards the detention building to wait for his Padawan's signal.
---
The battle in the cellblock's entrance room had begun. Chewie and Lando were crouched behind the console, firing out the doorway at approaching brownshirts. Mara stood upright with them, deflecting incoming blaster bolts back at their attackers with rapid, aggressive swings of her purple lightsaber. Luke was at the portal to the hallway to the cells, preventing blaster fire from coming down the passage.
When he saw Han and Leia emerge from the cell, Luke closed his eyes and concentrated. He willed a message into the Force to his father and his Master. The first objective was completed. Next was the difficult part: actually escaping. Luke snapped away two more blaster bolts as the pair arrived at the opening with him.
More brownshirts turned the corner and tried to advance into the room. Leia only laughed. "This is some rescue!"
Both blaster pistols in his hands again, Han squeezed off a shot at an open target before he tipped his head toward Luke. "He's the brains, sweetheart."
Leia flashed an angry stare at her twin brother. "Did you have a plan for getting out?"
"Yes," Luke insisted. "The diversions were supposed to keep them occupied for longer."
"What's your backup plan?"
"Um, see, that's the problem. There is no backup plan."
"Then at least get me one of those rifles," Leia ordered, not the least bit surprised by the news.
Han was beginning to understand her comment to him back in the cell.
With a flick of Luke's left hand a blaster rifle previously belonging to one of the dead brownshirts launched toward them in a graceful arc. Leia snatched it out of the air and immediately took several very satisfying shots at their encroaching opponents.
Luke yanked the comlink from his belt with his left hand, the blue blade dancing in front of him in his right. "Artoo! Artoo! Is there any other way out?"
After a few seconds a series of beeps and whistles replied.
"Back down the hallway is a chute. It leads to the trash compactor. From there we can…"
"No way," Leia interrupted vehemently. "I am not going down the trash chute. No."
"Hey, Your Worship, I agree with you completely, but the kid's right," Han said between shots at the brownshirts. "What other choice do we have?"
Leia shook her head vigorously. "I've got two Jedi, three… What? Three Navy officers?" While she waited for Han's nod, she let loose another barrage of bolts from her blaster rifle. "Two Jedi, three Navy officers, and me. And you're saying we can't get out except through the trash chute? You've got to be kidding."
Before they could say anything she yelled over the din of the blaster fire the short distance to the console. "Mara, how many are there?"
Mara smirked, quite pleased Leia blatantly had ignored Luke with the query. A quick scan in the Force gave her the answer. "About fifty," she hollered back. "Give or take."
Leia looked at Luke again. "We can handle that, right? With you and Mara in the lead?"
Luke's face had molded into a mask of sheer determination. His voice was calm and controlled when he responded a few seconds later.
"It won't be a problem." It was not bravado. It was pure Jedi confidence.
Luke surged forward while deflecting blaster bolts, bringing Han and Leia on his heels. When they joined Lando and Chewie in ducking behind the console, Luke and Mara simultaneously leaped over it, lightsaber blades flashing above their heads. By the time they landed the brownshirts at the door already were retreating.
---
Obi-Wan walked slowly along the outside of the detention building. Staying hidden in the shadows he continually scanned his surroundings for enemy agents. None were presenting themselves to him.
Finally he reached the broad stone plaza at the rear of the facility. It was here that prisoner transports loaded and unloaded their captives – and where Anakin soon would meet them in the Lady Vader to fly them to safety. Like the rest of the city the lights in the plaza were off and it was nearly impossible to see even a few dozen yards away to its far side.
He stopped at the plaza's edge and dropped his mind into the Force. Its usually placid eddies and currents were roiling and churning with kinetic energy. As he had expected, Luke and Mara had been required by circumstances to fight their way out. With a burst of additional concentration Obi-Wan determined that Leia had been liberated successfully from her cell and that Solo, Calrissian, and Chewbacca were holding their own in the combat.
And there was a great disturbance in the Force.
He could not compel a confrontation, however. His fate would come to him. So he glanced around the plaza until, at the corner of a short storehouse further along the edge, he saw a suitable alcove in which to hide and wait.
Obi-Wan pulled his cloak around him again and started toward his destination. Before he reached it, however, a grim figure stepped in front of him to block his path. He barely could make out the shape until a snap-hiss broke the quiet night air and a shimmering red lightsaber appeared, shattering the darkness with its piercing brilliance.
Memories of Naboo flooded back to him as he watched the dark figure, illuminated only by the light of the blade, unlatch the clasp of its cloak and let it fall to the ground. The same way the Sith Lord had in the Theed Palace hangar all those years ago.
Obi-Wan reached up and brushed off his own cloak. By the time it billowed to the ground, his blue lightsaber was ignited and held in front of him in a defensive position.
She was a human woman with blonde hair past her shoulders. She was young – probably younger than his Padawan. She wore a black tunic and pants with black boots and gloves. Taking her weapon in two hands she finally spoke.
"Master Kenobi," she smiled maliciously, "at last we meet." Her voice was calm and cool, yet oddly pleasant and soothing in its tone. "Many years we have waited for this chance at retribution."
Obi-Wan did not say a word. He simply stood his ground and let the Sith bring the duel to him. Quickly she charged forward, lightsaber flashing toward him in precise yet powerful strikes. She was skilled. Very skilled. But it was nothing he could not defend fairly easily for the time being.
Until she launched a vicious series of two-handed swings unlike any he had ever seen. Obi-Wan parried them away and shifted his technique, adapting on the fly to the unusual style. Perhaps this would be more difficult than he had anticipated.
The Sith increased the pace of her attacks yet again, threatening to overwhelm his expert defenses. "Your powers are weak, old man," she sneered, swinging a blow straight for his neck.