CHAPTER ONE
Padmé Naberrie Skywalker paused in the small anteroom to the formally appointed refresher in her office suite. She leaned in toward the full-wall mirror above the blue-marble counter and white porcelain washbasin with golden faucet fixtures. Upon that closer inspection, she saw once again that the signs of her age on her face finally were beginning to reveal themselves with a vengeance. The wrinkles on her forehead. The lines around her eyes, to say nothing of the dark circles below them from countless late hours of toil. And, after forty-eight years, hints of gray in her long brown hair.
She was six months into her term as an appointed Senator-at-Large, her first foray into active Galactic politics since the twins were born almost twenty-three years ago. Although she had spent those years as a university professor and a highly sought-after consultant to Supreme Chancellors, Senators, and Queens of Naboo, she never had been far from the always-frenetic epicenter of politics on Coruscant. All the political contacts and connections she possibly could have wanted or needed she already possessed. So in theory her transition to her new post should have been easy.
In theory.
Her loyal and devoted personal assistant, Jenny Antilles, was a highly effective Chief of Staff. Hardly ever did Padmé have to deal personally with an administrative or scheduling matter. As a Senator-at-Large without a star system to serve or constituents' troubles to address, they had thought that hiring only a half-dozen assistants would be sufficient. The massive amount of business that flowed through the Senate was astounding, however, and the eight of them had been struggling mightily of late to keep up.
With a deep sigh Padmé decided she probably needed to hire more staff for her office after all. She supposed there probably was money available in her official budget to cover the greater expense. It was simply a matter of admitting she needed the help – something she never had been good at doing.
And even if Senate funds were inadequate, she certainly could afford to pay for additional aides from a personal account. Aside from the income, consulting fees, and honoraria she had earned over her career, the Skywalker family had substantial wealth. Shortly after Anakin had defeated Darth Tyranus at Geonosis, Artoo and Threepio had identified a secret Sith bank account containing millions and millions of Republic credits. The vast majority of the funds had been donated to charitable trusts for various causes Anakin and Padmé had chosen, but even the very small percentage they had kept for themselves generated more than enough interest to sustain their elegant lifestyle on Naboo and Coruscant. Considering the multitude of beneficial uses to which Sidious' erstwhile assets had been put and all the good that had come of them, no one begrudged them a comfortable and happy life on their insignificant share. Even Obi-Wan, who initially had been skeptical of the idea, long since had discarded his doubts.
Padmé took a deep breath and stepped back from the mirror. She smoothed the creases from her formal blue gown and shook her head lightly to loosen the unbound tresses flowing over her shoulders and back. To keep her wits about her she already had called upon three old friends as temporary informal advisors, and they were waiting in the office conference room.
Padmé looked hard into her own brown eyes in the mirror. "You're ready," she said. "Go. Quit hiding. Get out of here."
---
Danaé Skywalker waited patiently in Training Room 8 in the Jedi Temple for her daily lightsaber regimen. The green walls and white tumbling matting on the floor were oddly disconcerting, so she closed her eyes and clasped her hands at the small of her back. Master Windu had advised her to expect particularly rigorous exercises today; in place of her usual tan Jedi robes Danaé had worn a sleeveless top and matching knee-length britches made of gray form-fitting elastic fabric, and her long brown hair had been woven into a single tight braid down her back.
Unconsciously Danaé reached up her hand and tucked her thin Padawan braid behind her right ear. It had been three weeks since she formally had become Master Windu's apprentice. Her former Master, Oga Trill, had been missing without a trace for over a year, and Danaé had abided by her pledge to the Jedi Council to accept his now-presumed death by becoming Padawan learner to a new Master. It had been a difficult threshold to cross – but her resolve to keep her vow never had wavered.
Meditating on the patterns and currents of the Force flowing within her own body, Danaé reacted in surprise when the door slid upward and she saw the tall Jedi Master dressed in a similar skin-tight gray training outfit striding inside. It wasn't Master Windu.
"Good morning to you too, Danaé," her father teased with a broad grin when she remained silent.
"I'm sorry," she shook her head apologetically. "Good morning, Daddy."
"Mace said you weren't expecting me, but I didn't think you'd be that surprised to see me."
"I was meditating in the living Force," she smiled. "I wasn't attuned to the hallway." She barely was shorter than he, and her intense blue eyes were level when they locked firmly to his. "And it has been a while since you deigned to honor me with your presence for sparring."
Anakin accepted the half-jest, half-truth with a wink. "Well played." He unclipped his lightsaber handle from his belt and held it in his right hand. "So, shall we begin?"
"With pleasure," Danaé laughed sneakily. Her hand flashed out from behind her back and she surged forward with her emerald blade ignited, the shimmering weapon slicing through the air toward his chest.
He spun away effortlessly and took several long strides backward, triggering his blade with his thumb. The distinctive snap-hiss sounded in the room – but there was no laser sword to be seen.
Danaé stopped in her tracks and lowered her lightsaber to her side. "What is… I mean…" In the Force she could sense an energy blade extending from his apparently empty handle. A lightsaber was there. Her eyes just couldn't perceive it. "Daddy? What is that?"
Anakin smiled mischievously. "It's a new blade I completed recently. Do you like it?"
"I'd like it more if I could see it."
"But that's the point, my dear. I discovered a way to harmonize the blade in the ultraviolet spectrum. It's an ordinary lightsaber, except that it's invisible to the human eye."
Sensing him waving the laser sword through a series of standard thrusts and parries, Danaé understood his intention. "To compel your opponent to rely solely on the Force," she said quietly.
"Exactly. Your eyes may deceive you, Danaé. Or your opponent may fool them. But with the Force as your ally you do not need to see my blade to duel with me."
"Very well," she laughed again. "Let's see how I do."
---
With her back to the broad window overlooking the Senate Building, Padmé took her seat at the head of the modest blue-marble conference table and began the meeting. "Thank you for coming," she smiled, trying admirably to keep the sound of defeat from her voice. "I am delighted to have your advice and counsel. It means a great deal to me."
"You're welcome, Padmé," nodded Bail Organa. The retired Senator from Alderaan had been her close friend since their service together on the Loyalist Committee during the Separatist crisis a quarter century ago; from her post in academia Padmé had been one of his most trusted advisors during his nine years as Supreme Chancellor after Palpatine's death. He calmly stroked his gray goatee and chuckled. "You know, I really don't miss this place very much. But I can't say no to you. I never could."
"You're just lucky I never made good on any of those threats to throw Leia out of the house when she was a teenager," Padmé laughed too. "You were her only hope."
Bail shook his head knowingly. "No kidding. You have no idea how thankful I am that I didn't have to raise that girl!"
"Hey there, Bail, oldo pallo," interjected Jar Jar Binks. "But mesa think yousa lucky Senator Leia is not here. Shesa not being happy, hearing yousa saying that!" After Padmé had resigned her Senate seat, the pure-hearted Gungan had returned to their homeworld, where he still served on the Council of Advisors to the jovial-as-ever Boss Nass and as a highly respected liaison between the Gungans and the Naboo. While through the passage of time he had added considerable heft to his previously thin body and had developed a mature wisdom about politics and life, he certainly remained prone to clumsy accidents and wild gesticulations. Most of all, though, Jar Jar's loyalty and love for Padmé and her family had not faded in the slightest.
"Very true," Bail agreed.
"You'd better watch yourself, then. She's due here any minute," pointed out Sabé Bellion. Since her days as Queen Amidala's decoy and principal handmaiden, she had been Padmé's closest friend and most trusted confidante. When Padmé had resigned, it had been Sabé who had won election to Naboo's Senate seat, which she subsequently had held for fifteen years. Even Jenny, who had been nanny to the Skywalker children and had seen Padmé nearly every day for two decades, did not share in Padmé's deepest and most intimate thoughts the way Sabé did.
Padmé glanced around the small room and noticed the brown-haired girl in a simple blue dress sitting in a chair in a corner near the door, listening intently to the conversation. Padmé smiled. "You're more than welcome to join us at the table, Nalé," she said gently. "We won't bite. I promise."
"Thanks," the girl smiled, rising from her chair and tentatively taking a seat next to her mother. Sabé's younger daughter, who a few weeks earlier had celebrated her sixteenth birthday, long had insisted that she was not interested in politics the way her mother and her older sister Sarré were. More recently, however, she had asked to accompany her mother to many political events and meetings. Knowing better than to comment on the adolescent's change of heart, Sabé and Padmé happily accepted her newfound enthusiasm.
Before the meeting could proceed any further, Jenny stuck her head through the open doorway to the office's receiving room. "Leia and Sarré will be here momentarily," she announced.
As predicted a minute later the two young women burst into the conference room. Leia already had taken down her elaborate hairstyle and let her long brown hair hang loose over her formal royal purple gown. Sarré wore an unadorned azure dress and matching handmaiden's cloak.
"We're running badly late," Leia proclaimed dramatically. "But we promised we'd come to say goodbye, so here we are. Make it quick, okay?"
Padmé shared a brief glance with Sabé. Neither of their eldest daughters was very good at farewells, so for the well being of everyone involved the mothers knew better than to extend the process. They and Nalé rose from the table; Bail and Jar Jar had spoken to Leia and Sarré earlier that morning and politely stayed where they were. The five ladies exchanged warm hugs.
As they separated Sabé put a hand on Leia's arm. "I'll head to the Sergeant-at-Arms' office after this meeting," she said quietly. "The arrangements already are made. Don't trouble yourself about it."
"Thank you," Leia smiled. "I appreciate it."
After quick kisses and final embraces for their respective mothers the two young women went on their way. Padmé raised her eyebrows at Sabé. Both of them had noticed that Sarré had seemed unusually taciturn with them since she had returned four weeks ago from her Naboo vacation alone with Bryon. Something was troubling her, something seemingly more serious than simply the fact that he had been away on missions since then – but as yet they had no idea what it might be. Even in bidding her mother and sister farewell she had displayed far less emotion than she typically did. Sabé could only shrug and indicate with her eyes that they should discuss it further later.
Once they were seated again Padmé laughed lightly. "Well, now that we have that out of the way, let's get down to business."
---
After nearly an hour of vigorous sparring, Anakin called a halt. As usual he felt virtually no effects from the exertion, except for a mild elevation in his heart rate and slightly quicker breathing. Extending his awareness around Danaé, he was pleased to observe how much her talents had developed in such a short span of time working with his old friend. Her breathing was a bit ragged and her heartbeat faster than his, and a modest amount of perspiration had soaked through her garb. But there was no demonstrable evidence of the relentless and brutal physical feats she had been performing. "You have improved dramatically, Danaé."
She raised her eyebrows. "Surprised, Daddy?"
"Yes, I'll admit it," he laughed, caught in a verbal trap of his own creation. "I would not have expected you to make such great progress so quickly."
"Well, I'm learning from the master," she baited him.
Happy to use the gambit as a pretense for the day's final lesson, he went along with it. "Danaé, Danaé, Danaé," he teased. "Mace taught me everything he knows. But not everything I know." Quickly he ignited his invisible blade again and held it above his head in both hands. "And it is one of those techniques that I would like to teach you today. In complete confidence, of course."
"Yes, Master Skywalker," she winked, igniting her green lightsaber and holding it in front of her torso in a defensive position.
"Defend!" he ordered with a sharp yell as he charged forward without warning. The invisible laser sword rained down a series of impossibly fast blows.
After only a few seconds Danaé lunged abruptly to the floor and rolled away, calling out in panic. "I yield!" She sprang to her feet again, her mouth agape in shock. "You almost killed me! What was that?"
"The Anakin Skywalker Special," he whispered secretively. "You think I won the Lightsaber Competition that many times on sheer skill and determination?"
"Actually, yes," she admitted. "But why didn't the best fencers, like Master Windu or Master Kenobi, figure out how to defend it?"
"Could you defend it now?"
Danaé thought about it for a moment. "No. Not having seen it only once."
Anakin grinned. "There's your answer. No one in the Temple has seen it enough times to recognize it as a technique, much less to develop a defense."
"Not even Mara?"
"Not even Mara," he winked. He left unspoken the obvious fact that if no Jedi was familiar enough with his personally developed technique to be able to defend it, then no Sith would be able to defend it either.
"But you're going to teach me?" She stared fiercely into his eyes again. "Why?"
"As a reward for your diligence and dedication in your training with Master Windu. And for your admirable progress in managing your grief for Master Trill," he added after a brief pause. "You deserve it."
"Thank you," she nodded humbly.
He brought the ultraviolet blade over his head again. "Do you want some water? Or a break?"
"I'm fine," she insisted.
"If you say so. Because this could take a while."
---
Obi-Wan Kenobi braced his elbows on the ledge of the small balcony high on the main spire of the Jedi Temple. He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out very slowly. He was not looking forward to the upcoming conversation. When he sensed the two presences approaching, he turned around and leaned his lower back against the low wall. Then the door to the balcony slid upward and a pair of Padawans stepped through to join him.
Neither wore the standard-issue tan Jedi attire.
The robes of his apprentice, Luke Skywalker, were of the regular style, but instead of tan they were a deep blue; in conditions less bright than this gleaming midday sun, the indigo hue often was indistinguishable from black. Spurning the close cut favored by most Padawans, Luke had grown out his sandy-brown hair to hang down loosely to the base of his neck and over his ears and forehead, which often required him to brush it away from his eyes. Tucked behind his right ear as it was now, his thin Padawan braid disappeared in the strands. Obi-Wan knew Luke was cultivating a look of discontent and confrontation to announce his frustration that he had not been allowed to stand for the Trials and become a Jedi Knight. Luke's intense blue eyes glared at his Master's as he approached.
While he disapproved of Luke's choice of dress and message, Obi-Wan almost failed to suppress a flinch when he saw for the first time the new robes worn by Anakin's Padawan, Mara Jade. The foundation garments were a grim crimson, the color of blood. The outer layer, covering her shoulders and forming two broad bands down her chest, was pitch black. Against these dark colors her red-gold hair and green eyes sparkled like stars in the nighttime sky, and like Luke's her Padawan braid was concealed among her tresses. Mara also was irate that she had not yet been allowed to take the Trials – but even more than Luke's her appearance hit Obi-Wan with an emotional blow. Given the dearth of relevant images in the Temple's Archives, he doubted she realized that she was dressed almost exactly the same way Anakin had done twenty-four years ago when he nearly had fallen to the dark side.
"Thank you for coming," Obi-Wan greeted them calmly.
"Yes, Master," Luke groaned, his tone expressing clearly his lack of a choice in the matter.
"Yes, Master Kenobi," Mara frowned with equal annoyance.
"You have been dissatisfied with your recent assignments," Obi-Wan stated flatly. "I would like to know why."
"We should be doing more," Luke said immediately. "The defensive effort is stalled. So many are suffering and dying while we stand by and do nothing. We should be using our powers to end this destructive conflict and bring peace to the Galaxy."
"Not to mention the Sith," Mara interjected. "We know they are allied with Argis, and there is little doubt they are based somewhere within his territory. We should be aggressively seeking them out and confronting them. Waiting for them to strike only gives them the advantage."
"I see," Obi-Wan sighed after a moment, stroking his short white beard with his left hand. First he met Luke's eyes. "The Jedi Order always has served the Republic by respecting the wishes of its elected representatives, the Senate. The Supreme Chancellor, with the Senate's oversight, has responsibility for determining the course of the conflict and making peace." His gaze turned to Mara. "The Council shares your desire to take action against the Sith. But until they reveal themselves it will be far too difficult for us to find them. And we would be overstepping our authority to launch a massive offensive inside Vyhrragian territory without Senate approval."
"And if the Senate sits by and lets death and devastation come to the Galaxy? What then?" Luke's eyes flickered with indignation. "We sit on our hands and mourn their poor decisions?"
"The Senate refuses to accept the evidence of Sith involvement you presented," Mara scoffed. "They easily could make peace with Argis without addressing the Sith at all. And we would be compelled to honor that?"
"I appreciate your views," Obi-Wan persisted in a soothing tone. "While I agree this war has not been waged as effectively as it might have been, nonetheless the situation is not nearly so dire that we even could consider disregarding the will of the Senate." He looked closely into their eyes again. "We must take care that we do not consider our own judgment to be superior to that of the Senate. The Order always has guarded against such conceit and condescension, and the Council will continue to do so." He paused to ensure their complete attention. "You must trust our judgment on this matter."
The two apprentices nodded silently in acceptance.
"Very well," Obi-Wan said. He was not at all convinced of their sincerity but decided that until he could speak further to Anakin it was best to end the discussion. "May the Force be with you."
Watching the pair stalk out through the doorway, Obi-Wan knew that he and Anakin would have to keep a close eye on their Padawans. Arrogance was a constant struggle in the Order; these were not the first apprentices to confront that emotion, nor would they be the last. Nonetheless, he could not shake the ominous feeling in his heart.
---
On a broad landing platform connected by a narrow bridge to the side of the towering skyscraper that high above housed the Skywalker residence, two Navy officers waited at the base of the Millennium Falcon's boarding ramp. A chilly wind whipped at their blue flight suits. From inside the ship a Wookiee's growling question came down to them.
"No, they're not here yet, Chewie," Han Solo called back in a raised voice to ensure he would be heard over the quiet rumblings of noise that accompanied the drives of the heavily customized Corellian freighter warming up.
His old friend Lando Calrissian flashed him a wicked grin. "You're sweating. Relax. Take a deep breath."
Han glared back at him while vigorously scratching his scalp beneath his short brown hair. "I haven't seen her in three months, buddy."
Lando laughed. "I don't think you've been this nervous since you were almost kidnapped by those hired goons."
Han was not amused. "You were the one the Hutt's men trapped, and I rescued you, remember?"
Lando thought about it for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Right."
"I'm sure she's been really busy too, so she'll understand that I didn't have time to…"
"You're rambling," Lando kidded as he slapped Han on the back. "Is it possible this gal's actually having an effect on you?"
"Shut up." Then Han saw the door slide up at the far end of the platform's bridge and was pleased to be able to change the subject. "Here they come," he hollered up the ramp again to Chewie.
Approaching them were two short young women in red-and-white military jumpsuits, a taller male Jedi in dark robes, and a golden protocol droid hobbling frantically to keep pace with them. Han thought the ladies seemed to be carrying an inordinate amount of luggage.
Leia stopped in right in front of Han and dropped the two suitcases and two shoulder bags she was carrying to the ground. "Hello, Han," she smiled. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
"Yeah, it's good to see you too," he said nonchalantly. Although he suspected she had used her influence to arrange this, and didn't really care to know all the gory administrative details in any case, he was not about to admit to her how delighted he had been to receive this very unexpected – and most welcome – assignment.
"Hi, Lando," Leia added. She tipped her head to indicate those behind her. "You remember my handmaiden Sarré? And my brother Luke?"
"Of course," Lando nodded; the three of them exchange pleasant smiles in greeting. Quickly he reached down for Leia's luggage. "Let me get that for you," he insisted, snapping them up and charging up the boarding ramp.
With a wink to Leia, Sarré bounded up the ramp after him, hunching down under the weight of her own two suitcases and three shoulder bags.
The protocol droid refused to be excluded from the conversation any longer. "I do not believe we have been introduced," he said to Han. "I am See Threepio, human-cyborg relations. It will be my pleasure to…"
"Threepio," Leia cut him off brusquely. "There will be time for this later. Right now you should get on board and have Sarré introduce you to Commander Chewbacca and Lieutenant Commander Calrissian."
"Of course, Mistress Leia," the droid conceded reluctantly. "I only thought that perhaps I should…"
"Now."
After Threepio ambled out of view, Han shook his head and chuckled. "What a joy that you were able to bring your droid along."
"Oh, he's not so bad, once you spend some time with him," Luke said with very credible but entirely feigned sincerity.
Han raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Goodness no," Leia laughed. Unconsciously she reached up her hands and checked on the five looping combat braids that were keeping her long brown hair out of the way. "He only gets worse. Much worse. But we need a translator."
"Wonderful."
Leia smiled mischievously at Han and turned to give her brother a warm goodbye hug.
---
The pair of colossal Special Forces officers in dress-whites uniforms strode confidently down the hallway of the Republic Army Central Command headquarters building on Coruscant. While most soldiers in the Army and Navy who had served in the Vyhrragian crisis had been deployed only for brief tours of duty, they had been assigned to combat missions and covert operations at the front or behind enemy lines continuously for the last half-year. Newly promoted Major Bryon Skywalker stood nearly half a foot taller than his father, and his broad frame rippled with bulging, finely toned muscles. Walking at his side, his close friend and long-time principal aide, Captain Will Graff, was only a few inches shorter and boasted an equally imposing physique. Several couriers and staff members scurried frantically from their path.
The two men entered the briefing room and saluted the two superiors waiting for them. With a gentle wave of his hand, Commander General Dodonna indicated that they should take their seats across the table. "We have received the latest report from the Intelligence Service," the calm, gray-bearded man explained. "They predict an imminent attack at Corellia."
"While we do not known for certain the Vyhrragians' target, we believe we have identified the most likely possibility," General Madine continued. "We anticipate a strike at an orbital shipyard and the accompanying manufacturing facility on the surface. We intend to deploy the following forces in defense: one company of Special Forces soldiers, four companies of regulars, and a starfighter squadron from the Navy. We also have requested a small number of Jedi be assigned to the operation, although we do not yet know how many."
"You will be in command of the mission, Major," Dodonna said bluntly. "The Navy wings will defer to your orders."
"Thank you, sir," Bryon smiled. "We will begin the preparations immediately." While his external composure remained fully intact, inside he cried out in frustration. Now he and Sarré weren't going to be able to meet in person – he had arrived back on Coruscant only hours ago from the month-long deployment that had begun immediately after his return from Naboo, and by the time he would be able to leave the office tonight she already would have departed on her mission with Leia. At least they had been able to speak briefly, and see each other's faces on the viewscreen, earlier in the day. But that just wasn't the same.
"Any necessary requests for requisitions may be forwarded directly to my office," Madine noted. "We must act promptly."
"Yes, sir," Bryon agreed. At his shoulder, Will nodded firmly.
"The report will be available for you momentarily," Dodonna clarified. The generals rose from their chairs, and the two inferiors officers followed suit. "May the Force be with you."
"Thank you, sir," the two young men saluted simultaneously as they exited the briefing room.
---
As Leia wrapped her arms around her twin brother's neck she saw him preparing to say something to her. She preemptively whispered sharply in his ear. "You've already made your point. Not another word."
Luke squeezed her tighter and sighed. "Be careful," he said anxiously, almost inaudibly.
"I will. I promise," she replied equally quietly.
Luke strode three paces to Han and slapped an arm around his shoulders. "Sorry I can't stay to chat, Captain Solo, but I have a mission that requires my immediate attention." He paused and looked hard into Han's eyes. "Take good care of my sister."
"Sure thing, kid." From the look on Han's face, it was obvious the message of the menacing admonition had come through loud and clear: If you hurt her in any way, I'll kill you myself. Han stood silently until Luke had walked all the way back across the bridge. "So, your office at the Senate will make do without you around?"
Leia crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the brisk gusts. "For a couple of weeks, definitely. The Senate won't be in session for most of it, and I trust completely the pair I've appointed to serve while I'm away." As she had six months ago, Sabé unhesitatingly had agreed to serve as the Naboo delegate during Leia's absence. Representative Tickis, the young Gungan, had insisted that he still was too inexperienced to hold the post alone and happily had welcomed Sabé to the office. Really, though, it seemed quite unlikely that the Senate would have any substantial business to conduct before Leia returned.
"And the Security Service was willing to let you travel this way? There's only five of us. And the Falcon isn't exactly a typical senatorial travel arrangement."
"They weren't happy about it," Leia chuckled. "But I overruled them. I make my own decisions."
"Tell me about it," he muttered under his breath.
"What's that?"
"Nothing."
"I thought so." Leia's brown eyes were fiery when she looked up and gazed into his. She had enjoyed working with him during the three months he had been assigned to the Navy Oversight subcommittee, and she had been trying for the three months after that to find a way to work with him again.
Now the Senate Ad Hoc Committee on the Refugee Emergency, of which she also was a member, was investigating the burgeoning crisis on a number of Republic planets near to Vyhrragian territory in the Mid Rim. Millions had fled the zone of hostilities before and after Vyhrragian conquests of new star systems, creating problems ranging from poverty and disease to economic collapse and unrest on the worlds that willingly – at least so far – had accepted the displaced victims of Argis' aggression. If the Senate did not act quickly, however, the situation was threatening to explode into violence or mass expulsions on some of the host planets.
In addition to formal Boards of Inquiry with public hearings and open testimony, the committee was dispatching six Senators to perform incognito reconnaissance of the actual conditions on a half dozen planets. Seeing her chance, Leia had snatched up the assignment to evaluate the situation on the distressed world of Pharenniol, only a few parsecs from Gimna 3 and other systems close to the border of Vyhrragian territory. She then had pulled the necessary strings and cut through the mountains of bureaucratic red tape to arrange for the Falcon and its crew to serve as her transportation and security detail for the clandestine operation. But she had no intention of divulging to him how much effort it had required.
The freighter's drives revved at full capacity. "Time to go, Princess," Han said.
She waved him ahead. "After you, Solo."
---
The two men sat on opposite sides of the desk in Bryon's office, poring over the datapads and holographic schematics of the threatened factories at Corellia. They already had concluded that Will would lead the two hundred Special Forces troops at the surface facility. Given that the most likely attack on the orbital shipyard would be by starfighter, its defense primarily would be the Navy squadron; a single company of regulars would defend the interior. Bryon would command the entire operation from the ground, where the remaining six hundred regulars would supplement the Special Forces.
"This is a sound plan," Will declared. "Certainly to build our strategy from until we have a chance to consult with Biggs about his squadron." Captain Darklighter's leadership of Green Squadron at the Battle of the Trade Spine had impressed Bryon and Will immensely, and on several subsequent missions they had requested his wings to provide the naval support they had required. They were very pleased he would be part of this mission too.
"I agree," Bryon nodded. "We also need to consider…" A polite tapping on the open doorframe cut him off. He looked up to see his staff secretary peeking her head around the corner. "Yes, Kessa?"
Despite having been assigned to him for over three months, the shy, petite brunette corporal still seemed intimidated by her gigantic superior. "A transmission from the Jedi Temple for you, sir."
"Thank you, Kessa," Bryon smiled. "I'll take it immediately."
Without hesitation Will Graff rose from his chair and took a datapad with him. "I'll run the initial plans by Krannar, Pryzill, and Allitisi."
Bryon nodded his assent as Will left the room. When he saw the familiar head and shoulders forming a blue holographic image over the transmitter, his face brightened into a broad grin. "Master Kenobi, what a pleasant surprise."
"Major Skywalker," Obi-Wan tipped his head politely. "I have word regarding the assistance the Jedi Council is able to send to Corellia. It is only three apprentices, I'm afraid."
"Three is better than none," Bryon grinned, the same mischievous smirk Obi-Wan had seen so many times from Anakin.
"Don't be so certain until you hear who they are," Obi-Wan winked.
"Wait, wait," Bryon laughed. "Let me guess." He paused a moment for effect. "Luke and Mara?"
Obi-Wan chuckled appreciatively. "I really am getting too predictable in my old age. Yes, those two. And your sister as well."
Bryon smiled broadly again. "Those three apprentices will be fine, Master Kenobi. I'm confident I can work effectively with them."