CHAPTER TWO
A disturbingly pale-skinned male Twi'lek named Bib Fortuna led the diminutive Ubese bounty hunter called Boushh and his towering Wookiee prisoner down the dark and gloomy corridor of Jabba the Hutt's palace. As the trio headed in the direction of the throne room the majordomo yammered on in Basic about how pleased his master would be that someone finally had been able to capture the elusive Republic Navy officer. The Wookiee remained silent and the bounty hunter muttered occasional affirmations. That didn't stop the Twi'lek's endless ramblings.
Beneath the helmet of her disguise Leia Skywalker's emotions were running wild.
She bit her lower lip to fight off the initial surge of fear, now that her mission was really underway.
She gritted her teeth in determination to succeed quickly.
She clenched her fists in anger that she had to be here at all.
She took a deep breath when her heartbeat raced at the burst of anticipation that finally she would see Han again.
She frowned at her doubts about whether she had made the right decision to come here.
She smiled at her confidence in herself – and in her love for Han.
She sighed in frustration that Fortuna simply would not shut up.
Leia bit back her retorts and followed along, speaking only enough to give the Twi'lek the appearance that she was paying any attention at all to him. Which, of course, she wasn't. In the minutes since entering the Hutt's palace with Chewbacca she had been thinking only about Han.
It had been a year since he had been torn from her life during the frenzied evacuation of Gimna 3 when the invading Vyhrragian legions conquered the planet. As her transport had flown away she had watched in horror as Han was surrounded by enemy soldiers and taken prisoner. Despite her constant efforts it had taken nearly that entire year to determine whether Han was still alive or where he was being held. Initially she had believed the Vyhrragians had retained custody, but after a time her less reputable contacts back home on Naboo had verified that the Hutt's bounty on Captain Solo was no longer posted.
Then it had taken additional months to determine that Jabba had not executed Han after all, and to uncover at which of the criminal syndicates many facilities Han was being detained. Just after Luke and Mara had passed their Trials and become Jedi Knights Leia finally had been able to confirm that Han was here, in this palace on Tatooine. Immediately the rescue plan had been put in motion.
For almost a month Leia had been here on Tatooine too, assisting in the preparations for the final stages of the mission. She had taken a leave of absence from her post as Senator from Naboo and had installed as Acting Senator her trusted handmaiden Sarré – her lifelong friend who was now her sister-in-law and mother of her little nephew Nyklas. By not providing an explanation to her constituents for her departure Leia had taken a considerable political risk – but not one, she had decided, so great as disclosing the truth.
A Galactic Senator did not infiltrate a gangster's compound to liberate prisoners. It simply was not done.
But Leia was not any Senator, and she was not about to let the expectations and protocols of her position keep her from doing whatever it took to win Han's freedom. She loved him. Every day without him had hurt – more than she had ever imagined it could have. If doing this cost her reelection to the Senate, so be it. Some things in life were more important than career or fame or money.
In Leia's mind love was definitely one of those things.
Yet Leia could not shake completely her doubts about her feelings. By now she had been apart from Han nearly twice as long as she had known him before his capture. When he fortuitously had joined the rescue team that had freed her from the Sith's custody on Xixus, something about him had captured her imagination from the first moment she saw him. Then she had arranged an advisory position for him at the Senate, and they had worked side by side for three months for a military affairs subcommittee.
And in that time Han Solo had stolen her heart.
Then they had been separated for three months by their respective responsibilities until Leia had found an excuse for them to work together again. The spark between them had rekindled instantly, and even before the mission was really begun he had finally kissed her. The investigation of conditions in the refugee camp on Pharenniol had gone smoothly until Han had endured a terrible beating at the hands of a gang of goons – the price he had paid for telling a menacing thug to leave Leia alone. That night Leia had spent in his bed, having finally accepted that Han was the man who could fill – and then overflow – the gaping void in her heart left by the loss of her late husband Jarren Organa. It had been even more wonderful than she had imagined.
Barely more than a standard day later Han was gone.
Despite the year that had passed since then, however, not for a moment had Leia felt her love for Han waver. There was something about him – something she could not even attempt to explain – that told her a pure and bright truth of their destiny to be together. Leia was not a Jedi, but she believed unquestioningly in the power of the Force and its will. And she had no doubt – none at all – that her love for Han was the will of the Force.
She had to concede that she had not known him all that long – certainly far less time than she had known Jarren before she had admitted her love for the man she had married. But time was meaningless in the face of a love of this power. Her parents had known each other even less time than this, after all, when they had fallen in love and married. And Leia also had no doubt that Han's love for her had this same urgency.
It was that utter faith in the rightness of her love for Han that gave her the strength to believe that his feelings for her also had endured through this horrible year of separation. In many ways Han was a puzzle – a puzzle that she knew would take decades to solve, if she ever did. He was reckless yet unnervingly poised. Insubordinate yet loyal. Crazed yet focused. Sarcastic yet sincere. But Leia had figured out one part of Han almost immediately – he did not easily give himself in friendship or love, but when he did those bonds were indestructible. She had seen it in his connections to Chewie and Lando – and in his eyes when he looked at her.
The fact that they had expressed their love in words only once was irrelevant. All that mattered was that they were destined to be together. Always and forever.
Leia had never been as profoundly convinced of anything in her entire life as she was of that fact. So as the Hutt's majordomo led Chewie and her into Jabba's throne room, Leia felt a wave of calm and confidence wash over her. Soon this would all be over, and she and Han would be together again. Nothing else mattered.
With the chain of Chewie's manacles gripped in one hand she strode confidently toward a position directly in front of the large stone dais that held the massive blob of Hutt. Just before she took her final step forward she felt a shiver of danger run down her spine – and stopped in her tracks. She didn't have time to wonder why Mara would have warned her. She simply obeyed.
"I have come for the bounty on this Wookiee," Leia said, allowing the voice modulator in the helmet to translate her words into Ubese and project them in a grim male voice.
Jabba rumbled in Huttese, "At last we have the despised Chewbacca."
Leia wasn't about to let on that she understood him perfectly, having learned Huttese at a young age in her diplomatic training. She stood in place and waited.
Jabba shouted angrily.
"Yes, uh… oh… yes, Your Greatness," said the airy male voice of a protocol droid. "Yes, I am here."
Jabba waved his hand and spoke. "His High Exaltedness, Jabba the Hutt, bids you welcome," said the protocol droid, "and will gladly pay you the reward of twenty-five thousand."
Leia shifted her gaze slightly to find the droid. Sure enough, there he was next to the dais. The same model as Threepio, except silver instead of gold. "Fifty thousand," she said. "No less."
Jabba roared in rage and flailed his arms with such force he knocked the translator to the floor. When the silver droid had regained his footing he said, "The illustrious Jabba demands to know why he must pay fifty thousand."
Leia smirked to herself that the droid had omitted nearly half the words – all profane – that Jabba had used. "Because," she said after a long moment, "I hold the advantage here."
In a flash Leia raised her hands in front of her. Her right hand drew her large blaster pistol, which she pointed directly at Jabba. She turned over her left hand to reveal that it held not only the chain to the Wookiee's manacles, but also a small bronze sphere with a line of blinking lights around its circumference. She depressed the button on the sphere's top and a transparent energy shield formed a conical dome over her and Chewie. It had taken Luke several weeks to rebuild and modify an old droideka's blaster shield until it worked the way they needed it to. Suddenly the bounty hunter and the prisoner were impervious to attack – without comprising the deadly aim at Jabba from the barrel of the blaster just barely protruding beyond the shield.
Jabba bellowed again, and laser blasts flew at the energy shield from several points around the room. All of them dissipated against the barrier with hissing thwunks.
Jabba waved his hand and barked an order, and the shooting stopped. "This bounty hunter is my kind of scum," he said in Huttese. "Fearless and inventive."
Beneath her helmet Leia smiled. Jabba was no fool – and he knew he was beaten. By the time a barrage of laser fire could take down her energy shield he would be good and dead. And if there was anything the Hutt valued even more than money, it was his own life.
Jabba began to laugh, and spoke again. "Jabba offers the sum of thirty-five thousand," the protocol droid informed her. "And I do suggest you take it."
Leia had always thought Threepio had the prissiest voice she had ever heard. Not anymore.
"I accept," she said, lowering her weapon and wondering mildly whether the modulator would convey the distinct tone of triumph in her voice. Thirty-five thousand was enough to upgrade the Falcon, take an amazing vacation to celebrate Han's freedom, and still have plenty left over.
Jabba chortled and slapped the droid on the back, nearly sending him to the floor again. "We have a deal," the droid said. "The mighty Jabba says, 'Well played.'"
Leia nodded and deactivated the energy shield. One of Jabba's minions took the chain to Chewie's manacles from her, and Leia stepped away from the center of the room in front of the dais and headed off into the crowd. Scanning the unsavory assemblage of gangsters, mercenaries, and bounty hunters, it took only a few seconds to pick out Lando's disguise along the far wall. He tipped his head to her almost imperceptibly. A few seconds later Leia's eyes found Mara in a dark corner, almost unrecognizable with the black hair and without her Jedi robes. Her friend held up her hands with fingertips touching, then flicked them downward.
A trapdoor. That would explain the warning, all right.
Leia tipped her head in thanks, and Mara nodded. The three of them could not meet now – that would be too conspicuous. But soon they would, and soon after that the final stage of the plan would be implemented.
And then Leia would have Han again. The thought made her so giddy she felt tears tracing down her cheeks beneath her helmet. It was finally happening. It was finally really happening.
---
The purchase of a bag of a dozen ripe juri fruit was all it had taken to earn the confidences of the very observant shopkeeper just down the block from the Vyhrragian safehouse. Sure enough, he remembered seeing a largo cargo speeder at the building all morning, and better yet he remembered the markings on it. Now Danaé was on her way to the shipping firm's headquarters to find out the next crucial piece of information she needed.
Danaé finished off her third juri fruit and wiped the drips of juice from her chin with the back of her hand. Tossing the core into the trash bin on a café's patio as she passed by, she scanned the crowd around her. After a moment she saw a young girl seated glumly on the stoop of an apartment building. Danaé paced over and dropped to one knee beside the girl. "Here," she said, offering the mesh bag to skeptical child. "Take these."
The girl furrowed her brow. "I'm not supposed to take things from strangers."
With her free hand Danaé drew out the side of her vest just enough so the girl could see the glittering silver lightsaber handle in the holster along her side. "It's okay," she smiled. "I'm a Jedi. You can trust me."
The girl beamed. "Wow! I've never met a Jedi before. Thank you!"
"It's my pleasure," Danaé said, rising to her feet again. "May the Force be with you."
"Youg toog," the girl replied through a mouthful of juri fruit.
Danaé strode quickly away, confident the girl's initial consternation and sudden glee had prevented her from forming any solid memory of Danaé's features. And if the girl told anyone a Jedi had given her free fruit, it would no doubt be dismissed as the fanciful imagination of a child.
Tugging at her grimy vest with both hands, Danaé strode into the shipping firm's offices. Dressed in the nondescript attire of a spacer, she doubtless looked like ordinary clientele. The blaster on her hip still felt strange, though. It was so much heavier than her lightsaber.
The young woman behind the desk smiled. "May I help you?"
"Yeah," Danaé scowled, affecting a deeper, grumpier voice than usual. "You moved some guys outta the city this morning. Took their stuff offplanet." That she didn't know for sure, but she had to play the odds if this was going to work. "And these bums owed me. Big time. I need you to tell me where they shipped off to."
The clerk frowned. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're not allowed to give out customer information of that kind."
Danaé reached into her pocket and withdrew a handful of doubloons of glimmering aurodium. "I can make it worth your while, I'm sure."
A few minutes later Danaé jogged swiftly down an alley, heading back toward the hotel room she was using as her base of operations. The bribe – quite a reasonable sum, all things considered – had revealed only the designation number of the shipping container into which the Vyhrragian cargo had been loaded. Now she needed to know to which spaceport the container had been taken, and the ship upon which it was being transported. As she ran along, Danaé already was formulating her plan for infiltrating the Ministry of Commerce to learn that information as quickly as possible. Maybe, if the Force was with her today, she could stop the ship before it could leave.
For a moment she thought back to the clerk at the shipping firm. Although Danaé had left behind the bribe, fair and square, she'd also used the Force to wipe the young woman's memory of their encounter. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do, in case the Vyhrragians should come back to see if they were being followed – or still had agents in the city who might have seen Danaé enter and leave the office. For the woman's own safety, it probably was better she honestly have no memory of anyone asking about this shipment. And even now Danaé felt no discomfort in the Force about her decision, no nagging doubts or pangs of guilt. So she must have done the right thing. Her conscience would have told her by now if she hadn't.
Still, though, it didn't seem fair to invade an innocent person's mind like that. Danaé took a deep breath and kept running. Just because it was the right decision didn't mean she had to like it.
---
Reclining on the cot in his cell with his hands clasped behind his head, Han Solo sighed when he heard the rattling of the jailor's keys and the grating scratch of metal on metal in the ancient lock. It wasn't time for his daily meal, so that could mean one of several unpleasant possibilities was on tap for Han's afternoon.
"Whatever you're sellin', I don't want any," he muttered under his breath.
The Rodian heaved open the massive iron door and rejoined something in his alien tongue. A second later a huge shaggy blur stumbled inside, roaring in indignation. The Rodian slammed the door closed again and locked it.
By then Han already had bolted upright on the bed. "Chewie? Is that really you?"
His oldest and dearest friend was at his side in an instant, cheering happily and scooping him up into a bone-crushing embrace that lifted him clean into the air.
"I'm glad to see you too, pal," Han gasped. "But would you mind letting me breathe?"
Chewie dropped him unceremoniously to his feet again and slapped him on the back. The Wookiee looked him up and down and wroofed a question.
Han shrugged. "I've been better," he admitted. "But all things considered I'm doing all right."
His friend wrawled an unconvinced reply.
"No, really," Han insisted. "I'm okay. I'm good."
Chewie nodded, patted him on the top of his head, and ruffled his hair.
Han ducked away and sat down on his cot. "So, did a bounty hunter catch you or something?"
The Wookiee folded himself cross-legged on the floor against the opposite wall, then murmured an explanation in a hushed voice.
Han's eyebrows shot upward. "You're here on purpose?" Even in his surprise, he knew clearly enough to whisper his reply. "A rescue?"
Chewie nodded.
Han sprang up from the cot and sat down on the floor right next to his friend. He knew immediately it had to be a private operation – the Navy wouldn't come to rescue a single officer. And if they did it'd be with a huge commando team with guns blazing. This was definitely a private job. They leaned their heads in close, and Han whispered so softly he could barely hear himself. "So it's you and Lando?"
Chewie nodded, and then said more.
"Luke? And Mara?" Han couldn't believe it. "They're Jedi Knights?"
Chewie muttered a grumpy retort.
"No, it's not that I don't have faith in them. It's just strange to think about it."
His friend leaned in even closer and told Han something he hadn't expected at all.
"What?" Han almost couldn't keep his voice quiet. "Leia? Leia's here?"
Chewie nodded.
"You can't be serious!"
Chewie shook his head and wrawled a confirmation.
"This isn't funny, buddy," Han grumbled.
The Wookiee slapped Han on the back of his head and grumbled back.
"Okay, okay," Han said, rubbing the site of the smack with his fingers. "You're not lying. I just can't believe she's here."
Chewie only shrugged.
Han shook his head in disbelief. "I'm out of it for a little while and everybody gets delusions of grandeur."
Chewie wrapped an arm around Han's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.
There was no need to say anything more. Han knew his captivity was about to end, and there was nothing Jabba could do to stop it. Nothing at all.
Leaning his head on Chewie's shoulder, Han closed his eyes to stifle his tears. He wasn't going to cry in front of Chewie. Not after a year. No way. He wasn't going to cry. Period.
And then it really sank in. Leia was here. Here. In Jabba's palace. Leia was the Galactic Senator from Naboo. Her father was on the Jedi Council. Her mother was a powerful politician. She was rich. She was famous. She was powerful. Really powerful.
He still found it really hard to accept that she could love a guy like him.
But he couldn't exactly deny that any more. She'd risked her own life to come and rescue him. Not strong-armed the Navy into doing it. Not gotten her father to send a squad of Jedi Masters. Not paid some team of professionals to storm the palace. Not any of those things. Instead she and her brother and her friend and Chewie and Lando were here to get him. Nobody else. Leia had come for him herself.
Han almost didn't believe it. He couldn't explain how he'd fallen so hard for her so fast. He'd had a lot of time to think about it, and that hadn't made a difference. There wasn't any sense to it – and he'd given up trying to find any. All he knew was that he loved her more powerfully than he'd ever believed possible. He'd thought about her every single day since Fett had captured him on Gimna 3.
And every night when he'd gone to sleep he'd felt his greatest fears. That somewhere out there in the galaxy Leia was going to sleep too – with another man at her side. That waiting for him had been too great a burden, and she'd moved on. That her love for him, as strong and true as it had been a year ago, hadn't been deep enough to withstand the pain of being separated for so long. He'd tried to tell himself those fears were foolish, but all alone here in this miserable cell it had been awfully hard to shove those doubts away.
Those doubts sure seemed stupid now.
Leia was here. She was actually here. There were no words she could have spoken, nothing else she could have done, that would have proven to him more clearly than this that her love had endured through all of this just as his love for her had. The thought took his breath away.
And suddenly Han felt scared. Because there was nothing in the galaxy he could say or do that could possibly measure up to this. What was he going to do? Just say, "I love you" and hope she believed him?
That wasn't going to cut it. Not by a long shot.
---
Anakin flew his customized airspeeder through the nighttime skies of Coruscant, zooming in and out of traffic lanes and swerving past towering skyscrapers with a graceful ease that belied the frenetic and harried paths of the vehicles around him. It wasn't quite Podracing – but it brought back fond memories. And it was just plain fun.
At his right in the passenger seat of the open-roofed speeder Padmé sat with her eyes closed. Tonight was one of those nights it was easier if she just didn't watch.
"Frustrating day today, angel?" he asked softly over the thrumming of the repulsordrive and the whistling of the wind. Her unease was palpable in his mind, even when he wasn't actively scanning her presence in the Force. "Is it about the fleet redeployments?"
Her eyes still closed, Padmé nodded. "Yes. It's looking more and more as if the Senate won't approve them."
"But you don't need it, right? Under the Declaration of War you can give the order anyway."
"I could," she said. "But I don't want to proceed that way."
"And you're worried you'll have to."
"I am." Padmé sighed deeply. Then she leaned over, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. "My options are decreasing every day."
Anakin tilted his head and rested his cheek against her soft curls. "Either you let the Senate bog down the war, or you take control yourself. Neither one is good."
"That's right," she whispered. She took a deep breath and cuddled against him more, her blue flight suit clinging to his Jedi robes. "I don't want to be a dictator, Ani. It goes against everything I believe in, everything I've always stood for."
"I suppose it does," Anakin said gently. "But you also pledged to the Senate and the Republic that you would do what it takes to win the war. If it's the only way, you have no choice."
"I know," she whimpered, barely holding back her tears. "But if I seize control from the Senate completely, I've brushed aside democracy, Ani. I can't do that. I'd be no better than Argis."
He focused on the Force to guide his flying as he leaned his face down to kiss her firmly on the lips. "That is not true, angel, and you know it. First of all, you're allied with the Jedi, not the Sith."
"Fair enough," she admitted.
He kissed her again. "Second, you're not evil."
"No," she giggled. "I guess I'm not."
He kissed her again, deeply and passionately. "And third, this is only temporary. When the war is over you'll return power to the Senate. And that will be soon. Really soon."
"You're right," she conceded. "And I could always call for a confidence vote afterwards to ratify my actions."
"See? It's not so bad," Anakin said, lifting his eyes to the airspeeder traffic in front of him again. "You'll give the Senate every chance to be reasonable, angel, I know you will. And if they won't… Well, then you'll do what's necessary. You'll do your duty."
"Yes," Padmé said. She hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Ani. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd be fine," he said.
"Let's not find out," she insisted. Then she chuckled. "By the way, when did Sarré become such a proponent of aggressive tactics? She used to be like Leia, practically a pacifist. All of a sudden she's the one pushing me to order Victory Strike. It's a little disconcerting."
"I think it's actually pretty obvious, angel," Anakin said thoughtfully. "Bryon's more and more involved at the front these last few months. He's personally leading missions to recapture enemy planets. He's risking his life every day to win this war, and the Senate couldn't care less."
She nodded against his shoulder. "She almost lost him once," she whispered. "She doesn't want to be a widow, or Nyklas to lose his father. And she doesn't want any other wife or child to have to suffer that loss either."
"Exactly."
"I suppose you're right."
"And don't forget," he said, "Victory Strike is Bryon's plan. If anyone in the galaxy has total confidence it will succeed, it would be Sarré."
She smiled. "Definitely. I guess it's understandable when you think about it in those terms."
"You're usually a pacifist too, angel," he smiled. "But Argis and the Sith have given us no choice but to fight them, and you've met that challenge the only way you can – with war. For Sarré the stakes are even more personal. That's all. I doubt she's suddenly become a warmonger."
"No, I'm sure she hasn't," Padmé laughed at the absurdity of the idea. She squeezed him close and kissed his neck. "I'm tired. I need to get to bed. Take me home, Ani."
Anakin kissed her forehead tenderly. "As you wish, angel."
---
Darth Vengous strode quickly through the crowded spaceport, cutting around clumps of chatting pilots and ducking past solemn security guards. Among the motley throng of humans and aliens no one noticed the woman in a black flight suit. Although sometimes she missed the thrill of the fight, and wished she could provoke a riot here just to sate her own bloodlust, she left such matters to her apprentices. She had more important tasks to do, and with the final confrontation with the Chosen One at hand she could not afford to lose her focus.
She arrived at the Ebony Fang and tapped in the security code on the small panel on its underside. With a whir the boarding ramp began to lower, and Vengous marched inside even before it hit the ground. She went straight to the cockpit and began to prepare her ship for takeoff.
Everything was in place. Her agents here on Talus were prepared to strike at her signal. The team at the Fondor shipyards was ready too. Her apprentices had checked in to confirm that their missions were proceeding on schedule. So it was time for the next operation she would undertake personally.
Victory would be hers, and soon.
Vengous flew the Ebony Fang into the orderly flow of traffic departing the bustling port, and for a moment she frowned. To this day she couldn't ascertain how the Skywalker boy had survived the devastating wounds inflicted by Lord Barbarus' Sith sniper rifle on Gimna 3. From what her spies had been able to determine, it seemed that an impossibly unlikely combination of factors had pulled him back from the brink of death. The Force had been with the boy that day – even Vengous could not deny that.
But the Force was with her now. She could feel the power of the dark side surging in her veins and could sense the many strands of her design pulling the Chosen One and his kin into her traps. There would be no escape for them this time. Soon they would all be dead, and she would have her triumph.
Soon. Very soon.
---
Bryon leaned against the low wall, his armored elbows to the sides as he focused his open eye through the sight of his sniper rifle. Twelve stories below him stretched the wide boulevard leading to the Xixus Defense Forces headquarters building – still under the control of the Vyhrragian legions occupying the planet. But in a matter of minutes the facility would be his.
"Feed One," he told the voice-activated comlink in his helmet. "Ready, Will?"
"Like a nexu in heat, Bry," his best friend replied.
"Thanks for the wonderful mental image, Graff," Bryon scowled. "Feed Two."
"Any time, Skywalker," the sniper at the other corner of the roof said just as the comlink clicked over.
"Aurora One, proceed," Bryon ordered.
"Copy, Colonel," said the grim, hushed voice of Major Starblaze.
Bryon left the comlink feed open as he scanned the street and the surrounding buildings through the sight. After a matter of seconds he watched over two dozen squads of eight black-armored Special Forces soldiers each begin advancing along the boulevard from beneath his position toward the headquarters building four hundred meters away. The squads surged ahead with perfect execution, leapfrogging forward from building to building, exploiting all available cover, and keeping to formations that would provide easy patterns of cover fire.
It didn't take long for the Vyhrragians to try to stop them.
The first shots came from a window on the far side of the boulevard. Instantly Bryon traced their path back to their origin and squeezed his trigger. Will Graff matched his aim simultaneously and two streams of blaster bolts smashed into the building. Chunks of glass and metal and stone flew into the air as their shots shredded the exterior and pounded inside. After only three heartbeats Bryon released the trigger and waited.
No more shots came from the window.
He and Will took out a few more window shooters as the squads advanced, and the soldiers fended off the small groups of enemy troopers that emerged into the street to oppose them. Bryon was almost starting to wonder if the fall of Xixus really could be this easy when an assault tank swung around the corner of a side street and opened fire on the Special Forces squads with its massive laser cannon.
Bryon sighted the tank and pulled the trigger to automatic fire, sending bolt after bolt at the squat, heavily armored vehicle. As he expected even the shots from his powerful rifle deflected harmlessly away.
"Will," he barked into the comlink. "Front curvature, two clicks below the cannon."
"Copy," Graff said.
But even with two sets of sniper bolts colliding at the same exact point the tank did not slow its advance on their soldiers below. The armor was just too strong.
Bryon felt the heat of anger twisting his gut and a wave of rage building in his chest. With a quick thought of his family – Sarré and his son – he took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and pushed those dangerous emotions aside. He had a promise to keep. A very important promise.
"Concussion grenade, Aurora One," Bryon ordered over the open comlink feed. "It should work. Pierce the hull and we'll do the rest."
"Roger, Colonel," replied Starblaze in an instant. "Blue Team, take the shot."
"Roger, Major," said a young man's voice. A second later a muzzle flashed from the squad across the boulevard with the best angle on the tank.
Bryon sighted the tank again. Sure enough, a small sphere was magnetically adhered to its front. Bryon ran a four-count in his head, then closed his eye. When he opened it again a two-count later the smoke had just begun to clear from the front of the tank.
He could see the hull breach clearly anyway.
The hole in the tank's armor was only the size of a fist – but that was all he and Will needed. An unrelenting barrage of blaster bolts flew from the pair of sniper rifles and disappeared through the breach. It took just a few more seconds before the tank exploded in a massive fireball.
"All clear, Aurora One," Bryon said after quickly scanning the boulevard again through his sight.
"Roger, Colonel," Starblaze said. The squads immediately advanced up the street again. "Nice shooting."
"I aim to please."
"Really, Skywalker," she groaned. "You need some better jokes."
"Here's a good one," he chuckled. "How did the major get busted down to captain?"
Starblaze ignored him. "Last one to the command center buys dinner."
"You're on," Bryon said. "See you on the inside."
---
Late in the middle of the night a slim figure moved effortlessly through the deep shadows of Jabba's throne room, weaving her way around the slumbering forms of gangsters and goons that littered the floor. The occasional snore or cough broke the silence, but the figure did not react to any of them. Instead she proceeded on a deliberate path across the floor until she passed through an open archway. Quickly she reached a hidden alcove along the dark, deserted corridor. She ducked inside and sat down next to the bounty hunter Boushh, who was leaning with his back against the wall, his head slumped forward, and his blaster pistol in his lap.
"Hey," she said as she folded her legs beneath her.
The bounty hunter's head lifted up and faced her.
She nodded. "We're clear for a few minutes. I'll know if anyone's headed this way. It's okay."
With a sigh of relief Leia peeled off her helmet and set it in her lap. "It's good to see you."
Mara smiled. "It's good to see you too."
"Don't be a stranger," Leia teased, leaning in to kiss her friend's cheek in familial greeting.
"Sorry," Mara said, returning the gesture. "This place is getting to me, I guess."
"I can't even imagine. At least it will all be over tomorrow."
"True." Then Mara winked. "That was quite the entrance you made earlier."
"I suppose so," Leia laughed quietly. "Too bad I can't use that one in the Senate."
"You mean the blaster or the energy shield?"
"The blaster."
Mara grinned. "That's what I figured."
Leia shook her head in amazement. "It's a good thing Luke's as good a mechanic as he claims. If that shield hadn't worked, he'd have had a lot of explaining to do."
"I'm sure the citizens of Naboo would have been less than pleased."
"I meant Mom and Daddy, actually," Leia chuckled.
"Oh, right," Mara chuckled too. "Yeah, I don't think they'd take it too well."
"No, they sure wouldn't."
"So… um… how is Luke?"
Leia looked deeply into her friend's troubled green eyes. "He's fine. Ready for this to be over, but fine."
"I'm ready for it to be over too," Mara muttered.
Leia leaned in closer. "He misses you."
"Sure."
Leia raised her eyebrows. "You two didn't talk yet, did you?"
Mara only shook her head.
"Why not? I thought you were going to after you were Knighted."
"That was the plan. But everything just happened so fast, and we didn't have time."
"I'm sorry," Leia said sincerely, pulling Mara into a firm embrace. "This is my fault."
"No, it's not," Mara insisted sharply. "It's Luke's fault. And mine, for letting him get away with it."
Leia smiled weakly. "I still feel responsible."
"Don't," Mara scowled. "This is between me and him."
Leia squeezed her friend even tighter. "He knows how much you love him, Mara. I know he does. And he loves you back just as much. I can see it in his eyes, and hear it in the way he talks about you."
Mara snorted. "Would it kill him to say it? Just once?"
"I doubt it," Leia said with a little grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Sometimes actions speak louder than words."
It didn't work. Mara's scowl deepened into a grim frown. "Yeah, well, sometimes words are important too."
"I know," Leia conceded gently as she relinquished the hug. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to talk to him?"
"No," Mara said instantly. "No. I'll handle this."
"Okay," Leia said reluctantly. "If you insist."
"Thanks."
"Of course." Leia took a deep breath. "Do you know which one is Boba Fett?"
"Yeah, sure," Mara nodded. "Why?"
"He's the one who got Han from the Vyhrragians somehow, and brought him here to collect the bounty from Jabba. Point him out to me tomorrow, okay? Show me through the Force or something."
"Okay. I will."
"Thank you."
Mara looked at her quizzically. "Why is this so important to you?"
"Fett took Han away from me," Leia snarled. "He took away a year of happiness. He's going to pay for that."
"Revenge is a dangerous emotion, Leia," said Mara quietly. "And not just for Jedi."
"Maybe so," Leia said. "But in this case I'm willing to make an exception."
---
Artoo waited at the main cockpit console of the Millennium Falcon with his small interface arm connected to the input jack for the communications array. He ran continuous scans of the primary comlink frequency and the six backup frequencies, expecting the signal at any moment.
Threepio's voice projected down the freighter's narrow passageway. "I think we have finally fixed the problem with the last lateral stabilizer," the protocol droid reported enthusiastically. "Five tests in a row were successful."
Artoo blooped his agreement, then a question. "Yes," Threepio said as he arrived in the open portal to the cockpit. "The ship's computer believes the problem is fixed as well."
Artoo spun his dome around to face his counterpart and whistled. "We seem to have reached a compromise," Threepio replied with a wave of his hand. "I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, and I have never encountered a computer with such an odd mixture of dialects."
Artoo trilled and squawked. "There's no reason to be rude, Artoo," the protocol droid huffed. "I did my very best to understand this ship, but it was exceedingly difficult."
Artoo beeped a shrug. "I most certainly agree," Threepio said. "For a ship so heavily modified by men of the likes of Captain Solo, Captain Chewbacca, and Commander Calrissian, it's a wonder she's comprehensible at all."
Suddenly Artoo spun his interface arm rapidly and whistled excitedly. "What do you mean," Threepio demanded, "it's the signal? What signal? What are you talking about?"
Artoo razzed and trilled the explanation. "The final stage of the plan has been implemented? Oh my!" Threepio took a step forward and put his hand on Artoo's dome. "I do hope they know what they're doing."
Artoo whistled and beeped. "Get ready? Get ready for what?" Threepio was indignant. "Artoo Detoo, you had better stop keeping things from me and explain yourself this instant!"