CHAPTER FOUR
Han and Chewie sprang to their feet when they heard the blaster shots destroy the cell's lock. They stayed against the back wall and waited, and a second later an enormous thump swung the door inward on its creaking hinges.
"Calrissian Rescue Corp., at your service," Lando grinned as he strode into the cell.
"Calris-who? Never heard of him," Han said. "Any idea who that is, Chewie?"
The Wookiee shrugged and wroofed in agreement.
"Very funny," Lando chuckled. "Come on – no time to waste."
"When did you get so serious?" Han grumbled. "How are we doing?"
"The same as always."
"That bad, huh? Where's Leia?"
"I'm here," she said, bounding through the open doorway to join them.
Han's heart skipped a beat. Leia was even more radiant than he'd remembered. Her luscious brown locks framed her sparkling brown eyes and broad grin. Her skinned glowed. Even though she still wore an unflattering yellow armored outfit of a bounty hunter disguise, she looked like an angel. And she was really here.
Before Han could say anything Leia let her blaster rifle clatter to the floor and rushed into his arms. "How are you?" she demanded in a hushed voice, her cheek pressed to his. "Did they hurt you?"
"I'm fine, Princess," he whispered in her ear. "I promise."
She leaned back her face and looked deeply into his eyes. "I missed you so much."
Han smiled. There was something he'd been waiting a year to say. "I love you, Leia."
She kissed him. Hard.
Han wondered if she was planning to let him breathe at some point.
"I hate to interrupt this touching reunion," Lando said, "but there'll be time for this later."
Leia pressed harder, then pulled her lips away. "He's right," she said. "Luke and Mara are by themselves up there."
"I doubt those two need my help any," Han chuckled, bending down to pick up her discarded blaster rifle.
"Probably not," Leia winked, snatching her blaster pistol from its holster and motioning for him to keep the larger weapon.
"Still, no reason to get on their bad side right away."
"Good idea."
Lando and Chewie already were outside in the corridor waiting for them. Han brushed his fingers along Leia's cheek and smiled. "All right, Your Highness. Let's get outta here."
Leia looked up at him and smiled back. "After you, Captain."
---
The light of the two laser swords was nearly the only illumination in the darkened throne room as the two young Jedi defended against the barrage of blaster fire flying at them. With Mara's back pressed to his, Luke whipped his turquoise blade in shimmering arcs to slap away the incoming shots.
They were holding their own well enough for now, but when the others returned from the prison level the situation was going to be ugly if this many gangsters were still here. And their opponents sure seemed confident.
"They must have reinforcements on the way," Luke said quickly.
"Probably," Mara hissed.
"We need to change the odds, then."
"I agree."
Luke sent her a quick mental image of an effective strategy. "On three?"
Mara nodded. "Sure."
"Okay," Luke said. "One."
"Three," Mara smirked, surging away from him toward the hooligans firing on them from behind him.
Luke laughed, and charged across the room in the opposite direction. With Force-powered speed he reached the first group of enemies in an instant. His blue lightsaber sliced off the barrels of two blaster rifles, and on the reverse arc repelled a shot straight back into the weapon that had fired it. He lunged to the floor and tumbled away from the gangsters he'd just disarmed, springing up again three meters away in the midst of a different group of shooters.
In his awareness he sensed that across the room Mara had decimated her first group of ruffians too. She leaped through the air and landed at another bunch, kicking one criminal squarely in the chest as she chopped up the rifles of two others. Through the battle meld he sensed her burst of satisfaction at their success so far.
Two of the goons fired shots at point blank range, but a flick of Luke's wrists brought his blade across his body and deflected the laser blasts harmlessly away into the ceiling. He swung back and sheared the weapons in half, then spun his body into a roundhouse kick that connected full in the face of another goon.
A spike of his danger sense warned Luke that one of the thugs he'd fought seconds earlier had drawn a blaster pistol from a holster. Instinctively Luke reacted, flicking his left hand outward. The severed barrel of a heavy blaster rifle launched from the floor and flew the short distance to the criminal in a flash, smacking him right between the eyes and knocking him silly.
The Force told Luke that the display of skill by the two Jedi Knights had crushed what little was left of the gangsters' morale. The ones he and Mara already had disarmed had no intentions of fighting with their bare hands, and they were making hasty retreats through the room's exits. Two groups of shooters remained, though, and those thugs hadn't stopped firing.
Not much time, said Mara in his mind, because now they both could perceive two groups of reinforcements getting closer every second. Let's take them.
Luke was already halfway to their attackers. Three, he sent back.
---
A subtle emanation of the dark side of the Force unwittingly discouraged anyone from paying any attention to the tall, dark-haired, dour-looking spacer in a booth in a dark corner of the Outlander nightclub in the depths of Coruscant. Darth Barbarus sat with his back against the wall and his eyes scanning the crowd. One hand held his drink; the other rested on the blaster on his hip and within an instant's reach of the holstered lightsaber on his thigh. A more definitive use of his powers confirmed there were no Jedi in the club – not that they would be able to sense his presence anyway.
Barbarus finished off his eyeblaster and tapped the table panel to order another. Then his perceptions told him his contact had just entered through the front door. Barbarus put his hands atop the table and waited.
A few minutes later, after an ambling path that belied any intent to seek out this particular seat, the Devaronian slid into booth across the table. "Good to see you, Vik," he said.
"And you," Barbarus nodded. "Any news?"
"Your mark will be back onworld tomorrow. The activity in her office was clear enough, but I confirmed it through my sources too. I should have a selection of target locations for you by the morning."
"Excellent work, my friend," Barbarus grinned wickedly. He reached up a sleeve, slid his hand across the table with a short stack of aurodium coins palmed beneath it, and slipped the coins beside a plate of small avian bones from his eagerly devoured spicy swamphen wings. "Always a pleasure doing business with you."
"With me you get what you pay for, Vik." The Devaronian palmed the coins immediately and smiled back. "See you tomorrow, regular spot."
"Agreed," Barbarus said with a tip of his head. The Devaronian nodded, rose from his seat, and left by an equally circuitous route through the club. Barbarus waited for the eyeblaster to arrive, chugged it down, and paid his tab. Walking through the crowd toward the door, he smiled. Everything was going according to plan.
---
Anakin stepped up onto the small circular balcony above their bedroom in the residence and reached Padmé in two long strides. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pulled the full length of her body against him. She leaned back into him and nestled her head against his chest. He gently rested his chin on the top of her head as she slid her cold hands into the sleeves of his thick plush bathrobe. The chilly sensation combined with the brisk night wind ripping through his damp gray hair to send a shiver down his spine.
"There was another attack tonight," she said softly. "At Talus."
"I heard just as I was leaving the Temple," he said, kissing her soft curls. "How bad was it?"
"On the low end, comparatively," she sighed. "A team of saboteurs struck a shopping district with a series of bombs, then opened fire with snipers once the crowd began to panic. They killed a few hundred before they were stopped by a CorSec squad."
"It could have been a lot worse," Anakin said. "But the fact that we can even think that several hundred deaths is positive news shows just how bad the situation has become."
"Exactly," Padmé nodded beneath his chin. "And the number of deaths isn't even the most significant. It's the fact that it was another civilian target in the Core. No world is safe. No citizen can feel secure. Fear. It's the enemy's greatest weapon now. Fear."
"I know," he nodded too. "I can sense it in the Force. The disturbances are growing stronger by the day, and the undercurrents are becoming more and more unsettled."
"We have to find some way to regain control of the situation, Ani," she whispered. "I need a way to calm the public's fears. And I need it soon. The next attack could be worse. Much worse. We're only one calamity away from a real crisis. It could lead to anarchy. Or pure vengeance."
"I know, angel. I'm sorry."
"I can feel it in the Senate, Ani. Like you teach the Jedi, that fear leads to anger and hate. The fear there is overwhelming. All it will take is one terrible incident to set them off, and anger and hate will take over. I can feel it. We're on the verge of disaster, Ani. We really are."
"I believe you," he said. "This fear, it's everywhere. It's pervasive in the Force. The dark side feeds on it, and gains strength from it. The Sith are on the move again. I don't know where. I don't know how. But I'm certain of it."
She spun around in his arms and buried her face in his chest, nuzzling past his robe to rest her icy cheek on his warm bare skin and gripping his shoulders as if her life depended on it. "What can we do, Ani? Is there anything we can do?"
He tightened his embrace as lovingly as he could. "I think we have to do our duty, and trust in the Force."
"And is it my duty to order Victory Strike?"
"You should do what you think is right."
Padmé swallowed hard, and he felt the trickle of a few hot tears running down the skin of his chest. "What do you think, Ani? What would you do, if it were your decision?"
For a moment Anakin closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force. As he expected it told him nothing new about the future, which was as unpredictably in motion as ever. But he could sense clearly Padmé's painful yearning for his advice – his guidance – his support – his love. So he told her the truth. "I have faith in Bryon," he said quietly. "I would order the attack."
"I think I'll have to," she admitted. "I'm just so worried."
"I'm worried too," he said. "But all the alternatives are worse."
She wiped her damp cheeks on his chest. "I know. I agree."
He brushed his fingers through her hair, then cupped her chin in a palm and looked deeply into her sorrowful brown eyes. "I take it the meeting with the caucus chairs didn't go well?"
"That's an understatement," she hissed. "They're forcing my hand. I think they're doing it on purpose."
He compressed his lips to a thin line in contemplation. "They could be."
She slipped her hands inside his robe and began to caress his back. "I feel like everything's out of control, Ani. The Senate. The war. Like it's all hopeless. I feel like I'm drowning."
"Then hold on to me, angel," he said, kissing her forehead. "Hold on to me, and I'll be your anchor."
She laughed. "Anchors sink, Ani."
"Oh, right," he laughed too. "So it wasn't the best metaphor for saving a drowning person. It's late and I'm tired. I grew up in the desert. Give me a break."
"Okay," Padmé smiled. "I'll let it slide this time."
Anakin grinned mischievously. "You know, there is one thing over which you still have complete power."
She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really? And what's that?"
He tipped his head toward the stairs. "Follow me, and I'll show you."
---
It didn't take more than a few seconds for the two Jedi Knights to defeat the last groups of gangsters in the throne room. The hooligans and their blaster rifles were no match for the shimmering laser swords. Rapid slices and arcs sundered the metal weapons and gave the Jedi total control of the room. A few of the ruffians drew vibroblades or backup blasters, and those opponents lost their lives in the hectic melee. Nonetheless in the two minutes of intense combat the pair of Jedi had defeated nearly thirty enemies – and had killed only five.
Mara spun on her heel and swung her violet blade to the ready. "What now?"
Two long strides brought Luke to her side. "Leia's almost back," he said, waving the tip of his blade toward the escape corridor. "With them to help I can handle the group that way."
Mara stretched her feelings out into the Force. The group of gangsters approaching from that direction was larger, but he'd have four blasters with him too. The smaller group about to enter the other side of the throne room she could handle herself. "Agreed," she said. "I'll clear this bunch off our backs and catch up with you."
"Right," Luke nodded, turning to go.
"Wait."
"What is it?"
"Give me your cloak," Mara said.
He didn't even question her. Luke simply unlatched the clasp and with his free hand swung the billowing indigo garment into the air to wrap it around her shoulders.
"Thanks," Mara said, latching the clasp at the base of her throat.
"Be safe," he said.
"I will," she promised. Impulsively Mara leaned in and kissed him firmly on the lips before they ran off in opposite directions.
---
Han ran after Lando and Chewie into the guard station of the prison level. A squad of four armored Gamorrean guards were waiting for them with vibroaxes ready. Han opened fire without hesitation, gunning down a pair of the rotund green aliens as Lando took out the others.
"That's all of them," Leia said from behind him. "We're clear."
Han had glanced rapidly around the room too. "Hold on a sec," he said.
Leia rushed to his side. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I just want to get us fully armed."
Han tossed the blaster rifle to Chewie, who hefted it in his hands and wroofed his approval. Then Han bent down to the pair of Rodian corpses against the wall and grabbed the two blaster pistols lying on the floor. Stuffing them under an arm, he snatched up the six power packs from the bodies' utility belts. He didn't have a belt or pockets with his drab gray prison garb, so he passed the power packs to Lando. Taking the pistols in his hands again, Han finally felt ready. "Okay, let's go."
Once again Lando and Chewie led the way as the quartet charged up the stairs. They emerged into a narrow corridor and surged down it at top speed. Han glanced over at Leia to see her long brown hair whipping wildly behind her as they ran along. She really was beautiful – even drenched in sweat and dressed for combat.
Suddenly a group of the Hutt's gangsters rounded the corner ahead of them. Exclamations of surprise and outrage preceded an onslaught of blaster fire.
Han ducked to the ground and opened fire with both pistols at once. Leia dropped to a knee at his side and was shooting at the new arrivals too. Chewie roared an ominous Wookiee war cry and charged directly at their opponents with Lando on his heels.
In a matter of seconds it was all over.
Han sprang to his feet, tucked a pistol under his arm, and offered his hand to Leia. "You okay, Princess?"
"I'm great," she grinned, gripping his hand tightly and pulling herself upright.
He reached out and brushed stray lock of hair off her face, then took his pistol in his hand again. "How much farther to go?"
"Too much," she grumbled as they began to run along the corridor. "We're almost to the throne room, but it's a maze to get out from there."
"To be fair, the building was designed as a fortress," Lando said from just ahead of them. "This won't be easy."
"Let's speed it up, then," Han said. "I'm sick of this place."
Leia put a hand on his arm. "We'll be out soon. I promise."
Before he could respond they burst out into the throne room to see Luke waiting for them.
"Hey, Han," smiled Leia's twin, his turquoise laser sword casting a dim glow on his face and dark Jedi robes. "It's great to see you."
"It's great to see you too, kid," Han nodded. "Now use those Jedi powers of yours and get me out of here."
Luke laughed. "You can still shoot, right?"
"Of course," Han said with a lopsided grin. "And fly too."
"Then we're all set," Luke said. "Follow me."
---
Luke led the four others out of the throne room and into another dark, narrow hallway. Heading away from the main entrance to the palace, they ran toward the escape point that had been selected long ago.
Extending his perceptions in the Force, Luke scanned the passage ahead for the group of gangsters he knew was there. Sure enough, the enemies were still rushing toward them, too late to intervene in the battle in the throne room but an obstacle to their escape all the same.
"Everybody stay sharp," he said. "We've got a fight ahead of us."
"How many?" Leia asked from behind him.
Twenty, give or take. "Enough to make it interesting," he replied.
"Gotta love a Jedi," Han chuckled. "Never give a straight answer when you can give a philosophical one."
"It could be worse," Lando pointed out. "He could've said too many for us to get out alive."
Luke laughed. "Not that many, I don't think."
"You don't think?" Apparently Han was not amused.
Luke glanced back over his shoulder. "Never give a straight answer when you can give a vague one."
Han whistled approvingly. "The Jedi teach you that too?"
"Nope," Luke smirked. "That's a politician's credo."
"Hey!" Leia exclaimed.
"Sorry, sis, no time to discuss it," Luke said quickly as he rounded the corner. "We're here! Open fire!"
---
Mara wrapped the indigo cloak around her body and pulled up the hood over her head. Ducking flush against the wall next to the stone archway leading to the corridor, she waited for the group of gangsters to charge all the way into the empty throne room.
Then she ignited her violet blade and rushed them.
The whirling specter of cloak and light scattered their military formation, cut their weapons to pieces, and landed powerful kicks of bare feet or smacked them on their helmeted heads with the metal end of the laser sword's handle. In a matter of seconds the eight ruffians lay sprawled unconscious on the floor.
Mara stood in place, deactivated her lightsaber, and closed her eyes. She took a series of deep breaths to clear her thoughts and slow her racing heartbeat. Tugging the cloak around her body again, she was about to head down the escape corridor after Luke and the others when she noticed a dim glow along the back wall of the chamber.
She paced over to see that a secret passageway had been opened behind the Hutt's stone dais. And on the floor, heading off down the gloomy corridor, was a telltale trail of slime. Only then did Mara finally make the connection that Jabba had disappeared during the furious melee in the throne room.
For a brief moment Mara hesitated.
She could do her duty and go to the others. Or she could take a slight detour and catch up with them soon enough. It would be really quick. They wouldn't even notice. She'd never have this opportunity again. And even Leia had said that sometimes a special case warranted an exception.
What'll it hurt, just this once? she thought to herself. For Oola… And me…
Mara narrowed her eyes in determination and took off down the secret passage after Jabba the Hutt.
---
Bryon stripped off his gloves and ran his fingers a few times through his damp, short brown hair. "Have all units checked in?"
From his position at the center of the command console Will Graff saluted an affirmation. "Aurora Two through Ten all clear."
Bryon interlinked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. "The city is ours."
From a communications station along the wall of the command center Cerule Starblaze turned to face him. "Renegade Flight standing by."
"Very good," Bryon nodded. "And the transmission feed to the capitol building?"
"Ready when you are, sir," said Kessa from his side.
"Excellent," Bryon smiled, taking a deep breath and calming his nerves. "Major Graff, Major Starblaze," he said in a formal tone, "I request the honor of your presence as I negotiate the formal surrender of the Xixus system to the Army of the Republic."
"Yes, sir," they saluted simultaneously, striding over quickly to stand at his shoulders.
Bryon turned to face the viewscreen communicator station Kessa was indicating, squared his shoulders, and stood tall to his full imposing height. After a few seconds the screen resolved into an image of a conference table with well-dressed dignitaries and uniformed generals along its sides and a pompously attired sycophant at its head.
"This is Colonel Bryon Skywalker of the Army of the Republic," he said in his best deep, booming, authoritative voice. "I am prepared to accept your unconditional surrender."
"We will not surrender to you," the leader hissed.
"Your fleet has abandoned the system, your starfighters and gunships are beaten, your troops have been vanquished in the streets, and I have control of your military command center. How exactly do you plan to oppose me?"
"We will not surrender," the Vyhrragian repeated.
"One more chance," Bryon warned. "I demand an unconditional surrender to the Republic."
"Not a chance," the leader spat.
Bryon crossed his armored arms over the front of his black chestplate. "Surrender," he said in his darkest, most chilling voice, "or be destroyed."
"You're bluffing," the Vyhrragian in charge scoffed. "You wouldn't dare."
"My reputation precedes me," Bryon said grimly, "and I doubt your colleagues are as oblivious as you." He glanced quickly over his shoulder. "Renegade Flight, a demonstration for our friends, please."
Bryon looked back at the viewscreen and waited. A few heartbeats later the image on the screen shook and a tremendous roar blared over the audio channel. "If you look out your window," Bryon said when the explosion quieted and the image stilled, "you will see that the east wing of your building is now gone. I am more than happy to have my starfighter comrades finish the job."
The Vyhrragian leader was trembling where he stood at the table's head. "That will not be necessary, Colonel."
Bryon did not say a word, but only stood impassively with his arms crossed.
"We hereby surrender the Xixus system unconditionally to the Army of the Republic," the leader said. "Our remaining troops onplanet and insystem will be given the order at once."
"Very well," Bryon replied coolly. "Your unconditional surrender is accepted. My men will be there momentarily to take you into custody."
"Understood, Colonel," the quivering man scowled.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Bryon said, chopping his hand to signal to Kessa that the conversation was at an end. The viewscreen cut away to static and he turned to face his friends. "So?"
Cerule Starblaze raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't exactly call that negotiating."
Bryon smirked. "Just think of it as aggressive negotiations."
She only shook her head. "And who instructed you on these… 'unconventional' techniques?"
"His parents," Will interjected before Bryon could respond. "If you ever meet them you'll understand."
---
Plugged into the console and working diligently, Artoo was whistling contentedly to himself when Threepio stormed into the Falcon's cockpit.
"Artoo Detoo, what is the meaning of this?" the golden protocol droid demanded.
Artoo spun his dome around a trilled a reply. "I know you're preparing the ship for takeoff, you dithering bucket of bolts! I simply want to know what you think you're doing."
The astromech blooped and beeped. "Getting ready to finish the rescue mission?" Threepio's voice was becoming more distressed by the second. "What are you talking about?"
Artoo honked in frustration. "Master Luke told you no such thing!" yelped Threepio. "He'll have you deactivated for sure – if Captain Chewbacca doesn't tear you to pieces first."
Artoo razzed. "Tear me to pieces? Oh my! Why would he do that?"
The astromech whistled in amusement. "For not stopping you?" Threepio banged his metal fingers on Artoo's dome. "Why you little… I'm quite sure Chewbacca knows perfectly well by now that when you get these crazy ideas into your circuits you can't be stopped. He won't take this out on me, I assure you."
Artoo beeped and trilled. "Sit down? Oh dear!" Threepio hauled himself into the chair behind the enormous Wookiee co-pilot's seat. "And I suppose you're going to tell me next that I should strap in?"
Artoo blooped an affirmative. "You know, when this is over I'm going to have a chat with Master Luke about your behavior," Threepio muttered. "I think it's entirely inappropriate for him to give you this kind of authority."
Artoo razzed an indignant query. "Why? Because you're entirely untrustworthy, that's why. If not simply mad!"
Artoo honked. "Coward? I'm not a coward," the protocol droid insisted. "I've been through just as many…"
The rest of Threepio's complaint was lost in his frantic wail of impending doom as the Falcon lifted from the ground, soared out of the dark cave, and launched away at high speed into the blindingly bright desert sky.
---
Leia followed Luke around the corner of the corridor and saw a large group of gangsters rushing toward them with blasters firing. Her twin's shimmering turquoise laser sword spun a dazzling circle of light in the air to deflect away the incoming shots.
Instantly Leia dropped into a firing crouch and took aim at their opponents. Her first squeeze of the trigger took down a Nikto, and the second dropped a Devaronian. She paused to target the next goon and fired again.
From around her a barrage of laser fire flew at their enemies. Han, Lando, and Chewie had plenty of weapons training from the Navy, so when they combined those skills with their natural teamwork they formed quite a deadly combination.
Luke maintained his glowing blue shield in front of them as they kept shooting. By now half the gangsters already had fallen, and the shocked cries of the others echoed in the stone corridor even over the din of the raging skirmish. Leia saw an opening between two Rodians and plugged a trio of bolts into the armored chest of another Nikto.
A few seconds later the surviving hooligans turned around and fled back the way they had come, screaming at the tops of their lungs. Leia assumed they were begging for mercy, but she couldn't be sure.
She rose to her feet and looked up at Luke. "Is that all of them?"
Her brother closed his eyes briefly. "Yes," he said when he opened them again. "For now. But there are more ahead. We'll have to fight again."
"We'll be ready," Leia nodded, turning to face the others. "Let's go."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Han said.
Leia flashed him a smile and chased after Luke as he led them down the hallway at a dead run.
---
Mara ran down the secret passageway as fast as she could. She barely could see her way in the nearly total darkness of the narrow hallway, but her perceptions in the Force guided her unerringly along the stone floor. It didn't take her long at all to sense the distinctive presence she was seeking, and with a few more long strides she emerged from the passageway into a small, dimly lit docking bay.
The blast doors to the outside weren't opened yet, but the small star yacht had its engines running and the boarding ramp lowered to the ground. So Jabba was fleeing like a coward. Not that she'd expected any differently.
Mara was about to burst up the ramp and into the ship when her danger sense flared.
Her violet blade already was ignited when she spun on her heel to see the hulking mass that was Jabba firing a blaster at her from across the hangar bay. She deflected the three shots with ease, sending the laser bolts sailing away into the ceiling.
"Nice try, Jabba," she hissed. "But that won't be good enough."
The crime lord roared something in Huttese and opened fire again, squeezing off shot after shot at her. Mara's lightsaber parried away the blaster bolts with hardly any exertion.
"You don't listen, Jabba," she said coldly. She extended her left hand in the air and flicked her wrist, wrenching the blaster from the Hutt's grip and yanking it toward her – and she sliced the weapon cleanly in two in midair when it arrived.
Jabba rumbled in Huttese.
"I can't understand you, you know," Mara said. "And I'm not sure I care."
Jabba reached his hands down to the floor and struggled to raise an enormous bag in front of him. He couldn't have gotten here this fast from the throne room if he'd been dragging that along with him, so he must have gone to retrieve it after warming up his escape vessel.
The Hutt said something else to her. Fear like that was obvious in any language.
"Yeah, it turns out I really don't care what you're saying," Mara replied as she scanned the docking bay in the Force to be sure no one else was present. And her awareness told her that she and Jabba were alone. Utterly selfish to the end, just like you'd expect of a Hutt.
Jabba reached into the bag and pulled out a thick ingot of glimmering aurodium. Holding the massive, half-meter long bar of metal in his hand, Jabba extended it out to her.
Mara snorted in disbelief. "You're offering me a bribe?"
Jabba said something frantic in Huttese, dropping the ingot to the floor with a deafening clang and retrieving another one from the sack.
"You're trying to bribe me," Mara spat. She couldn't believe it. He couldn't really be trying this. After everything horrible he'd done, after killing Oola for sport, after all the terrible things Mara had seen Jabba do in the two months she'd been here – after all that Jabba thought he could buy his way out of justice.
Mara wasn't about to let that happen.
She shifted her blazing lightsaber to her left hand and strode quickly toward Jabba. That only caused the Hutt to offer her more and more precious metals, as though that would placate her. And each time another ingot clattered to the floor Mara's simmering hatred for Jabba grew hotter.
"Stop," she barked when she halted a meter in front of the blubbering slug. "You're only making it worse."
Jabba held up his hands and exclaimed something forlorn.
Mara got the meaning clearly enough. "There's nothing you can do," she whispered darkly. "It's too late for you, Jabba. Too late by far. You made an enemy of the wrong dancing girl."
Jabba started to cry out in fear – only to have his voice strangled off.
"Shut up, you worthless monster," Mara growled. Her right hand was held out in front of her body with her fist clenched in midair as the Force crushed the hated Hutt's windpipe.
She
held her fist there, trembling in the air from the effects of her
concentration, and watched the Hutt's arms flail, his eyes bug out, his tongue
flap desperately from his mouth, and his body heave with convulsions. A few more seconds and it was all suddenly
over. Jabba's body went limp and his
presence in the Force whistled away into nothingness.
Mara smiled victoriously.
And just as suddenly a wave of pure terror washed over her. What have I done? she cried out in her mind as the reality of her action dawned on her. What have I done?
Her knees wobbled beneath her. Her stomach turned over. Her heart began to pound. She gasped for air. This couldn't have happened. She couldn't have just used the dark side to kill. She hadn't meant to. She knew better. She was stronger than this. I'm so sorry, she sobbed, I'm so sorry. What have I done?
But she knew. She'd used the dark side to kill. And worst of all, she'd enjoyed it.
Her shock and dismay were interrupted by a gentle push in her mind. It was Luke. He was too preoccupied to send a thought in words, but the sensation was clear enough. He was worried about her. He'd sensed something was wrong and needed to know she was safe.
Oh, no, she sobbed again. The battle meld! Does he know? Could he tell? Oh, no! Luke! No! I'm so sorry! Mara spun on her heel and headed toward the others at top speed. Somehow she managed to focus her mind enough to send back reassurance to Luke.
Then she fled – from the docking bay, from Jabba's corpse, and from herself.
---
Luke was in the lead as the group of five hurried down the stone corridor of Jabba's palace toward their escape point when a sudden spike of emotions lanced into his mind through the battle meld with Mara. It felt like sorrow. Desperation. Panic. Fear. Anguish. Terror.
The unexpected sensation made him stumble. In a flash Leia was at his side, gripping his arm. "Luke? What's wrong? Are you all right?"
"Mara," he said, trying to collect his thoughts as he started running again. "Something's wrong."
Leia hadn't let go. "Is she injured?"
"I can't tell," he admitted. He had to keep his awareness focused on the corridor ahead to make sure their group wasn't ambushed. The best he could manage was a quick, anxious pulse to Mara. Fortunately, she responded a second later with a clear – if shaken and distraught – reassurance. "No, she isn't injured."
Leia squeezed his arm comfortingly. "What, then?"
"I don't know," he said, unable to shake the awful feeling of distress from his mind. "I don't know."
---
Danaé stood in the shadows of the corridor and checked over her latest disguise one last time. The simple blue-and-white uniform of a starship maintenance technician was mundane enough. Her boots were sufficiently scuffed and her hands adequately dirtied. Her lightsaber was hidden away in one of the many long pockets of her trousers, within easy reach but fully concealed from even the most discerning eyes. She would be as inconspicuous as humanly possible.
After a slow, deep breath Danaé reached up and tucked her tight braid of long brown hair beneath the small cap. Tugging its brim down to shield her eyes as she walked with her head bowed, she strode out of the gloomy corridor and into the wide hangar bay.
The bustle of the crowded spaceport filled her ears as she made her way across the wide floor toward the harbormaster's offices on the far side. The planet seemed to be recovering well from its recent recapture by the Republic – all manner of travel, trade, and negotiations were taking place around her. It was a far cry from some worlds she had visited in the last several weeks, where the aftereffects of occupation and pillaging had devastated the local economy and populace. Here at Gimna 3, by contrast, the citizens appeared eager to return to normalcy as quickly they could.
Danaé ducked around the long wing of a large space transport vessel and headed inside the office door. Reaching out with the Force, she scanned the crewers and pilots waiting at the service desks, the clerks and inspectors bickering with their patrons, and the trio of armed guards posted on the far wall. No one noticed her as she slid through the crowd and slipped into one of the rear hallways of the office complex.
Soon she reached the bank of computer terminals she was seeking. Hunching over one nonchalantly, she plugged her small datapad into the socket and searched the harbormaster's records for her targeted ship. The datapad whirred softly as it interfaced with the computer station.
Then she sensed an inspector in a particularly foul mood approaching. Danaé took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and waited for him to make the first move.
"Hey," the man said as he arrived few paces away, "you're not allowed back here. Let me see your access badge."
Danaé turned to face him, displaying the small badge on her chest. "I'm cleared to be here."
"Yeah, that's what the code says," the man grumbled. "But I'd better check on it just to be sure." With one hand the man reached for his comlink – and the other settled on the handle of his blaster.
Danaé's danger sense rocketed to full alert and for a moment her hand moved toward the pocket holding her lightsaber. But just as quickly she pulled it back. Violence must be a last resort, she told herself calmly. And this man hadn't come close to attacking her. At least not yet.
But she couldn't afford for him to trigger any suspicion either. "My badge is valid," she said as her hand skipped gently through the air. "You have better things to do than worry about me."
"Your badge is valid," the man nodded. "I have better things to do than worry about you."
The man hardly had turned around to depart before Danaé was hunched over her datapad and computer terminal again. And sure enough, the search already was completed. Just as she had feared, the ship had departed the port six hours earlier. Her investigation had taken too long, and her chance to intercept the Vyhrragian agents before they could get away had been lost.
As she reached down to her datapad to call up the ship's destination, a shiver ran down her spine. Danaé closed her eyes, hoping against hope the screen would not read what she knew it would.
But it did.
"Oh, no," she gasped. "No."