CHAPTER TWO
When he looked down at the two plates of steaming pasta, the two small bowls of fruit, and the two goblets of wine, Anakin crossed his arms over the front of his plain white shirt and shook his head. "This is it, I guess."
Padmé paced over to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Yes. It's only the two of us."
He turned to the side to face her. He chuckled at her attire; she wore a white apron over a simple pale blue dress. Hardly ever did Padmé cultivate a domestic appearance, and when she did it was very noticeable indeed. "You look beautiful tonight," he said sincerely.
She blushed faintly, smiled shyly, and looked away. "You don't have to say that."
"But it's true," he insisted, a little hurt she didn't seem to believe him.
"Stop it, Ani," she said, meeting his gaze again. "I mean, look at me. My hair is a mess," she sighed as she tried to run her fingers through her tangled locks. "My eyes are atrocious right now. And don't get me started on what these late hours are doing to my complexion." Theatrically she motioned her hands up and down her sides. "And in this I look like… I don't even know… Like…"
"Like your mother?" he supplied tenderly. Regardless of anything else he might have said, he was certain she would take that as the high compliment it was.
She did, and her face brightened again. "Fine. I should know by now that if you're going to say I'm beautiful when I don't feel beautiful, I should just accept it happily and quit questioning you."
"Yes, that's right. You should."
"Okay. From now on I will." She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Until I forget next time."
"Well, yes. There is that." He picked up the two plates. "Would you mind if we just ate in here, angel?" he asked quietly, indicating the small breakfast table with a wave of the dish in his right hand. "The dining room seems so… I don't know… It lacks warmth when it's just two."
"Of course, Ani," she laughed lightly. "That's fine with me." She pulled the smock off over her head and folded it into a small pile on the counter, then picked up the two bowls and carried them to the table. By the time she got there he had arrived with the two goblets.
For a little while they ate in silence, until he couldn't stand the eerie quiet in the residence any more. "It's so strange, not having any of them here, don't you think?"
"It is," she agreed with a nod. "It will be very difficult to get used to."
"It certainly will." He decided he needed to change the subject before he became too sentimental about his children. "So, how have the debates been in the Senate this week? I haven't even had time to read the Holonet reports."
"Trellem's hold is weakening every day," she explained. She set down her fork, leaned her elbows on the table, and let her face fall into her hands. "But we haven't been able to transfer all of the discontent with him into votes in favor of the policies that need to be implemented."
"The policies. Increased appropriations for a true war effort, directives to engage Argis on all fronts, increased use of Jedi Knights on troubled planets and in combat units. The same ones you've been pushing for months, right?"
"Yes, those are the ones. It seems like almost every day Mill gives another speech that pokes holes in every single policy or position that Trellem takes." She sighed deeply. "But we're trying very hard to prevent a vote of no confidence. Trellem would lose it, there's no doubt about it. The problem is that until we're sure our candidate will replace him, the current situation is better."
"Because another weak Supreme Chancellor wouldn't last long anyway. And the additional instability would be bad for the Senate."
"Precisely."
Anakin raised his eyes and looked out the window behind her. The zooming points of light of the airspeeder traffic were mesmerizing in their intricacy. Absentmindedly he ran his fingers through his short gray hair. "Millius will be a great Chancellor."
"I think so too," Padmé nodded. She let him continue to gaze distantly into the dark nighttime sky. "He's young, I know. But his leadership skills are superb and his judgment is unimpeachable. I don't think I've seen him make a single poor decision since he came to the Senate." She sighed sadly and tried to rub the exhaustion from her eyes. "I only hope the Republic does not have to suffer too great a tragedy before that day comes."
"You really think it will take a tragedy to shift enough votes?"
"Unfortunately, yes. The two factions are so evenly divided at this point that individual members have begun to extort considerable concessions for their continued support. It's disgusting, but we have no choice."
He chuckled. "Makes you see the attraction in all the bribes Palpatine paid, doesn't it?"
She chuckled too. "It sure does. If only I didn't have all these pesky principles!"
"Yes. And that conscience of yours. Think what you could have become if you hadn't insisted on being so moralistic all the time."
"Who knows? Probably Empress of the Known Galaxy."
"Maybe," he laughed. Then he became serious again. "I hope you're wrong about the votes. I hope they line up before something terrible occurs."
"Me too," she sighed again.
"When you see Millius tomorrow, give him my regards. And tell him I will do whatever I can to assist. Off the record, of course."
"Of course."
After a few more minutes they had eaten their dinners and emptied their goblets. "More wine?" he asked.
"Not tonight," she answered softly.
"Sure." He rose from his seat and cleared the table, leaving her to her thoughts. When he finished he stood behind her and began to massage her tense shoulder muscles. Small bursts of Force energy soothed the tight knots and eased her tired spirit.
"Let's go up to the balcony," she proposed. She tilted her head back until she was looking at him completely upside-down. "I just need you to hold me for a while."
"Okay, angel," he smiled. He leaned straight down and gave her a kiss, which made them both laugh. "Anything for you."
---
Luke flew his X-Wing in broad ellipses around the orbital shipyard above Corellia, closely monitoring his instruments and paying careful attention to the eddies and ripples in the Force. In preparation for the expected attack on the facility, the three Jedi apprentices had been deployed in their maroon-and-white starfighters to supplement the Green Squadron of Navy Y-Wings commanded by Captain Biggs Darklighter. Neither the intelligence reports nor any of the recent Vyhrragian sabotage missions indicated that the Sith were likely to be participating. The Jedi would be most effective as pilots, although the rapid-descent vectors were readied and they could be on the planet's surface within minutes if needed.
So far, however, there had been no sign of any enemy vessels at either location.
Looping around planetside again, Luke detected a slight tremor in the Force. Immediately he surged his awareness toward the indistinct area of the disturbance. After only a few seconds his attention focused on a cargo carrier of enormous proportions. The lumbering super-freighter was descending slowly from orbit on a standard landing pattern.
Luke sensed the magnitude of the disruption in the Force suddenly grow dramatically larger. A second later one of the gigantic bay doors on the side of the ship began slowly to open.
"Mark one-four-four," Luke declared confidently into the comlink microphone of his helmet. "They've concealed their fighters inside that cargo carrier. If we move quickly we can head them off."
Biggs' voice answered right away. "Roger, Skywalker One. Wings, engage enemy fighters at will."
"Do your sensor craft detect any other carriers in the vicinity, Green Leader?" asked Mara's voice quickly.
"One second," Biggs replied. "Negative. There doesn't appear to be any possibility of a second source of enemy fighters."
"Very good, Captain," Mara answered. "Just making sure."
"Understood, Jade. May the Force be with you."
Luke looked again at the cargo carrier. Its door now was completely open, and several attack formations of TIE fighters already had emerged from the hold and were charging toward the shipyard. With the Navy Y-Wings surging to attack them, Luke decided the best course of action would be for the Jedi to hang back and provide a last line of defense for the vulnerable orbiting space stations that comprised the facility.
"Jade, Skywalker Two, let's stay together," he said calmly. "Let the Greens handle the first waves and we'll clean up anything that makes it through."
"Sounds good to me, Luke," Danaé's voice responded. "I'll follow your lead."
"Me too," Mara agreed. Then she snapped a telepathic message to him through the Force. But only because we're flying, and you're better at that, she griped with considerable false antipathy. On the ground, I lead.
Whatever you say, he chuckled back. For the last six months Luke and Mara had related in ways entirely different from all the prior years of their lives. Previously they always had acted like bitter rivals, squabbling and bickering in the Temple over matters serious and trivial. Even once their small nucleus of mutual friends had formed, their enmity had continued unabated. Luke's string of short-lived romantic relationships – with women inside and outside their circle of friends – also hardly had endeared him to Mara. Their friends called him Luke Heartbreaker; her nicknames for him were far less complimentary.
Their cooperation in Leia's rescue from Vyhrragian custody at Xixus and in the terrible space combat that had been the Battle of the Trade Spine, however, had given them each a new perspective on the other. They had come to see that they truly were far more than merely allies and fellow Jedi. They were friends – and had been for some time, although they had been too blind to see it.
He had to admit that when they fought together, combining their strength in the Force and letting it flow between them without barriers, their power was remarkable and their teamwork unparalleled. Certainly the whole was far greater than the sum of its two parts.
But his romantic possibilities had come crashing down around him at the same time. He had realized that his feelings for their friend Ralli Gialla were nothing more than platonic affection, and he had ended their brief amorous affair. During the crisis he had felt powerful feelings for Jenny Antilles, which she had returned – after all, she had been the one who kissed him – before telling him they could not be together. And then he had sensed for the first time that Mara's feelings for him had begun to grow stronger than mere friendship. It was a burden he simply could not bear.
So for the last half year he had remained true to his pledge to himself not to let romantic attachments interfere with his training as a Jedi. He wanted to take the Trials soon and worried that any such emotions might impede that effort indirectly by weakening his ambition or focus. Mara had not pressed him on the issue, and he was fairly confident it was for the same reasons. In that time they had performed a number of assignments together, although all had been mundane Jedi missions. They also had spent increasing amounts of time on meditation to attain maximum preparedness for the Trials and had trained rigorously in the Temple – sometimes together, sometimes not.
This was the first mission since the Battle of the Trade Spine in which they would see action in the Vyhrragian crisis and be able to fight side-by-side again. Luke knew that Mara was pleased by the opportunity too, and not just because she had an adventurous streak and craved the danger and excitement as much as he did. Also for the time it would give them together, away from the Temple and their friends and their routines and their Masters.
He had no idea what to expect.
"Three TIEs are through, mark oh-four-one," Danaé's voice announced in his ears.
With that Luke's focus immediately returned to the battle at hand.
---
The Millennium Falcon dropped from hyperspace along the Corellian Trade Spine in the Expansion Regions and approached a small space station suspended in the depths of deep space between star systems. At least another day's travel away from Pharenniol, the freighter would make a brief stop to replenish the fuel and food stores while top quality supplies remained plentiful. From the large gray ball at the station's center, six long arms extended from the station at each axis point.
After receiving a landing clearance confirmation for a docking bay on the upward-pointing arm, Han slowed the starship's speed even further and adjusted the flight path. Chewie leaned to his right and adjusted several dials in preparation for landing.
Suddenly a series of alarms began to beep and wail sharply. Chewie wroofed angrily.
"Yeah, I know," Han barked.
In the cockpit chair behind Han, Lando spun to the side and checked the instruments on the console. "Eight ships closing in," he said quickly. "Four already have us on target-lock!"
Chewie growled in frustration. "Well, I guess this isn't our day for warm welcomes, then, is it?" Han laughed sarcastically. He pushed down on the controls and took the Falcon into a steep dive and roll, attempting to break the target-locks of their unknown opponents.
A few laser bolts from a pursuing starfighter sailed by overhead outside the round viewport, having narrowly missed the hull. "No messages on any of the universal hailing frequencies," Lando reported.
"Send the Under Attack code to the station," Han ordered immediately. He and Chewie flipped switches frantically and pulled on the controls firmly as they maneuvered the Falcon in additional evasive maneuvers. "Then get…"
"On it," Lando interrupted him, already leaping from his seat and heading into the cabin hallway. As he burst out, he hitched up the trousers of his blue Navy flight suit.
The abrupt movements startled Threepio, who jolted in distress. "Oh, the Maker!" he cried. "What's happening?"
"We're being attacked, genius," Han spat, reaching up to slide a single finger under the collar of his blue flight suit shirt and stretching out it out apprehensively.
---
Lando charged at full speed down the hallway toward the pair of gunner pods. Just before he reached them, the two petite young women dressed in matching azure flight suits ran to meet him from the opposite direction.
"What's going on?" demanded Leia instantly.
"We're under attack," Lando replied with a chagrined frown.
"From whom?"
"I didn't really have the time to ask them."
"The Vyhrragians, you think?" asked Sarré before Leia could snipe her rejoinder.
"Doesn't look like it, no," Lando answered. "I'd love to chat, but I need to get in the pod," he pointed up toward the dorsal gun.
"I've got it," Sarré said quickly to Leia, indicating the ventral pod. When Leia seemed intent on participating in the fighting herself, Sarré pointed toward the cockpit. "Go. Leave this to me."
Leia accepted her handmaiden's insistence with a nod and ran down the hallway.
Lando looked curiously at the handmaiden; Leia's skill had impressed the men greatly in the Battle of the Trade Spine six months ago. "Who's the better gunner, you or Leia?"
Sarré smiled and reached up to adjust the four looping combat braids that held her blonde hair out of the way. "I am. No question."
Lando grinned broadly. "This I have to see!" He quickly climbed toward his pod, and she scampered down to hers.
---
Leia nearly stumbled when the Falcon swerved sharply as she arrived in the cockpit. She grabbed the back of the empty chair behind Han, hauled herself into it, and strapped in tightly. "What's happening, Captain?"
"Eight ships are coming after us."
"Eight?" exclaimed Threepio in dismay. "Captain, the odds of a vessel like this single-handedly defeating eight opponents are three hundred twenty seven thousand to one."
"Never tell me the odds!" snapped Han.
"Perhaps we should capitulate," Threepio suggested excitedly. "Surrender is a perfectly acceptable alternative in extreme circumstances."
"Oh, for the love of…" Before Han could finish, Leia had reached over and flicked the switch on the back of the droid's neck to shut him down. Chewie wroofed approvingly, and Han looked quickly over his shoulder. "Thanks."
"My pleasure." Leia glanced quickly at the side console. "Are they Vyhrragian TIEs?"
"No," he said between flipping switches on the console above his head. "Eight different ships. A strange bunch, that's for sure."
"What does it mean?"
"Bounty hunters."
Leia gasped. "Why? Who are they looking for?"
"Don't worry, Princess," Han chuckled. "It's not you."
"Who then?"
"Me and Chewie."
"You?" she said incredulously. "Why?"
"Let's just say we've made ourselves some enemies the last few months," he chuckled again.
"How?"
"Well, our principal mission was cracking down on spice smuggling by the Hutt Criminal Syndicate. We busted a lot of shipments and took quite a few of their agents into custody." He paused a moment to bring the Falcon through a steep loop. "So the Hutts put a price on our heads. And apparently someone's figured out that the Falcon is our ship."
"Were you planning to tell me about this?"
"Yeah, of course. I just hadn't gotten around to it yet."
"I guess not!" She pondered the news for a moment. "The bounty. Which is larger, dead or alive?"
"Alive," he laughed.
She shook her head. "I guess that counts for something."
"Yeah, I guess it does."
Chewie wrawled an anxious warning. "I see it! I see it!" Han responded with alarm. After another rolling dive failed to evade their pursuers, Han sighed in frustration. "Where are the station's security forces?"
Chewie growled again. "I'm aware they're gaining on us. What do you want me to do about it?" Chewie shrugged and grumbled in resignation. "Hey! Of course!" Han raised his voice and hollered back down the hallway. "Lando, Sarré, get ready. We're going to take this fight to them."
Leia raised her eyebrows and leaned forward in her chair. "You don't have to do this to impress me."
"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," he laughed. "I'm doing it because I'd like to get out of this in one piece." The Falcon swooped around through a loop. Out the front viewport appeared a rough attack formation comprised of obsolete fighters and other unimpressive-looking starships. The motley group of eight charged toward the freighter with laser cannons blazing.
Leia took a deep breath. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Han smirked. "Yeah, me too."
---
Major Bryon Skywalker had yet to give any orders to the eight hundred Republic Army soldiers deployed at various locations around the surface manufacturing facility on Corellia. Although the Navy starfighters had been engaged for several minutes with Vyhrragian attackers, the enemy had not yet begun a ground offensive.
If one even was coming.
The fact that the space assault had occurred, however, actually made Bryon smile. Ever since the nearly disastrous mission to destroy a Vyhrragian pirate's base, when Bryon's Special Forces platoon had been grossly outnumbered but had prevailed nonetheless, he had placed very little confidence in the information provided by the Intelligence Service or the Navy's Special Operations Division. The fact that he had been compelled to lead his troops in the slaughter of a thousand enemy soldiers was something he would never forget.
Suddenly the words he had expected broadcast over his comlink.
"Thunder Command, this is Thunder Three. Enemy units unloading from cargo carrier at our location. Repeat, enemy units present," reported Lieutenant Allitisi's voice. The Special Forces officer had served nearly a year with Bryon now and for this mission had been placed in charge of two platoons of regulars. Their post was the facility's delivery docks.
Bryon lifted his handheld microphone to his chin. "Roger, Thunder Three. Thunder Two, Thunder Four, deploy and reinforce." Given this strategy by the Vyhrragians, it seemed unlikely that further attacks would come at the positions defended by the units commanded by First Sergeants Pryzill and Krannar. "Thunder One," he directed Will Graff, "deploy two platoons to assist Three. Others hold position and stay on guard."
His three trusted subordinates confirmed the orders immediately.
Bryon turned to the side and looked for his staff secretary. After a moment he located the small young woman huddled with the lead communications officer. "Kessa?"
She looked up instantly. "Yes, sir?"
"What have we determined about the plant's security cameras?"
She nodded to the communications officer and walked over to him. "They are inadequate for our purposes, sir. The resolution is too poor and the feed delay is intolerable."
"That is unfortunate," he said flatly.
"Yes, sir," she replied meekly.
Bryon looked down and smiled warmly at her. He could not understand why she was afraid of him. He even had stopped calling her Corporal Brittin after he had realized it only made her anxiety worse; apparently his use of her first name humanized him somehow to her. Then again, in comparison to her standard-issue gray battle armor and fatigues the shining obsidian-black Special Forces battle armor he wore today probably didn't help matters any. That and the fact he was well over a foot taller and nearly two hundred pounds heavier than she. "Inform Thunder Three I am on my way. And I want the all-sources feed in my helmet unless ordered otherwise."
"Yes, sir," she nodded, more confidently this time. She liked orders she knew she could execute perfectly.
"Excellent." With that Bryon snatched his black helmet from the table and pulled it over his short brown hair. He clipped the chinstrap under his jaw, then snapped down the smooth rounded black face shield. Grabbing his heavy blaster rifle from where it leaned against the table, he waved his hand to the dozen Special Forces soldiers who formed his personal detail.
In a brisk jog they moved out from the temporary command center toward the raging skirmish several buildings away.
---
As the Falcon surged toward its eight opponents Han finally was able to get a good look at the bounty hunters' vessels. Two were old-model Y-Wings probably picked up from a Navy discarded-property sale. Two more were even older that that; he thought they might be rebuilt and repainted Jedi starfighters from the era of the Separatist insurrection. The fifth was a thin conical starship, the sixth a modified Kuati stunt-fighter, and the seventh a strange conglomeration of parts that seemed to be an X-Wing's body with wings from a Corellian racing fighter. Only the eighth really looked dangerous: even though Han never had seen anything like the inverted-teardrop-shaped ship before, its sharp appearance and the pair of powerful laser cannons blazing from its sides seemed far more professional and impressive than the others.
"Here we go," he yelled to the gunners. "Open fire!"
Using the Falcon's front cannons Han aimed at one of the Y-Wings and squeeze the triggers. It took only two blasts to penetrate the starfighter's outdated shields, and the vessel incinerated in a ball of flame.
The trio in the cockpit watched out the viewport as the bolts from the dorsal quad cannon destroyed the conical starship and a solid stream of blasts from the ventral gun took out the mangled X-Wing. Then, without any break in the stream, the ventral gun swung around and picked off both of the former Jedi craft.
"Banthas fly and shaaks run!" exclaimed Han in disbelief. "What in the name of Dooku's Ghost was that?"
Leia leaned forward and put her small hand on his shoulder. "I told you she was good."
"Sure," he shook his head as he brought the Falcon around for another pass, "but I didn't think you meant that good!"
Before Leia could respond, Chewie growled a fierce warning. "What? No! Of all the unlucky…"
"What is it?" asked Leia anxiously.
"Torpedoes," Han explained brusquely. "That upside-down-looking thing fired two of them at us!"
"And how do we avoid…"
"By not distracting the pilot!" he cut her off without turning around, raising his right hand and pointing his index finger over his shoulder in her general direction.
Alarms sounded loudly in the cockpit as Han and Chewie worked together to steer the Falcon through a series of very sharp evasive rolls and dives. Even after their best efforts the alarms continued to wail.
"Pull! Pull!" screamed Han sharply. Chewie growled indignantly and the freighter swerved into a severe climb. In his deactivated state Threepio was unable to compensate for the change in the momentum, and he toppled precariously to the side, nearly smashing Leia's leg. With a deep sigh of relief she leaned over from her seat and propped him upright again, tugging the straps around the dead-weight protocol droid as tightly as she could.
At the top of the climb Han and Chewie yanked the Falcon into a stomach-lurching turn. With the torpedo-warning alarms blaring even more insistently they suddenly slammed the Falcon into a fierce plunging dive.
The field of stars outside the front viewport lit up as the two torpedoes detonated. The Falcon rocked and wobbled dangerously as the enemy stunt-fighter exploded just off the freighter's tail.
Han hollered an incoherent string of curses as he and Chewie fought to control the shaking Falcon. Moments later they managed to pull the freighter into relatively smooth flight again.
Han gasped for air. "Where are they? Where are the last two?"
"They're leaving," came Lando's voice over the intercom. "They're heading away from the station. Mark one-six-one."
Leia leaned in to confirm it on the console at her left elbow. "He's right. They're breaking off."
Han slumped in his chair in relief. Chewie simply allowed his body to tip forward and let his forehead smack definitively into the console. "Watch it, big buy," Han kidded. "We'll be needing those brains of yours later." Chewie raised his hands over his lowered head and shook them at the heavens, his rumbling moan indicating his complete exhaustion.
---
In their relief at having escaped certain death, the Falcon's crew did not notice what happened behind them. As the remaining Y-Wing and the unique starship headed toward the hyperspace channels of the Corellian Trade Spine, the pilot of the latter suddenly swerved to port and opened fire on his companion.
The Y-Wing exploded in a massive fireball.
The helmeted man in Mandalorian armor nodded his head in the cockpit of Slave I. "Too bad, my friend," he chuckled grimly. "But I can't afford to have anyone running around knowing my strategy for capturing Captain Solo." He chuckled again and shook his head. "Perhaps this is why people are reluctant to work with me."
Confident his sources would continue to provide accurate information, Boba Fett flipped a switch and made the jump to hyperspace.
---
Han sat up again and Chewie lifted his head when the communications frequency opened to the sound of a baritone male voice with a definite military inflection. "Millennium Falcon, this is Station Security team Delta. What is your emergency?"
Han laughed in disbelief. "Our emergency? Our emergency?" He slammed his palm on the console in frustration. "We've handled it, no thanks to you."
"My apologies, Millennium Falcon," said the voice sincerely. "You still are cleared for landing in docking bay two-three-nine."
"Thanks but no thanks," Han spat. "We've had enough fun here at your station for one day."
"Very well, Millennium Falcon," replied the voice calmly. "We'll hold it open another two hours in case you change your mind."
Han flicked off the feed. "Two hours. How wonderfully generous of them, considering their incompetence almost got us killed."
"Are you sure we shouldn't land?" Leia asked with eyebrows raised. "If the ship is damaged we could make repairs, and it might give us…"
"Of course the ship is damaged, Princess," Han retorted angrily. "We nearly got blown to bits. But if there are bounty hunters up here, they probably are down there on that station too. And really I'd rather not find out, if you don't mind." He took a deep breath. "We'll just fly the rest of the way to Pharreniol and deal with it all on the way. Or when we get there. Anywhere but here."
"She's your ship, Captain," Leia sighed.
"That's right," Han glared. "And don't you ever forget it."