By the time Luke landed, the welcoming committee was already there. As soon as Jag stepped out of the ship, he was hugged by his mother. "I was so worried," she said, before turning to Luke. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," he said before turning to Jag's father. "Baron," he extended his hand.

Fel shook it. "No need for formality," he said.

"Soontir, then. It's good to see you again.

As they got into a speeder, Fel frowned. "That's odd, considering the destruction of property the last time—"

"Hey," Luke protested, "that was Mara's doing. I was in a healing trance at the time, and I knew nothing about it."

"Mara?" Fel stroked his chin in thought. "Where is she, by the way?"

Luke turned to him. "She was with me when we met your son."

"Where was that?" Fel asked.

"Ord Mantell."

"Jag!" Syal yelled. "What were you thinking?" She glanced at her son and gasped. "And where did you get that scar?"

"Uhm… mom…" Jag stammered.

"We'll have a talk later," Soontir said, but he gave Luke an inquisitive stare. "You'd better explain."

"Luke thought carefully. He certainly didn't want the Fels to think he was blaming their son for what happened… even if the blame was justified. "There is no bacta tank on the Lady Luck," he said, "and the Force can only do so much—especially on a non-Force-sensitive."

"But how did he get hurt in the first place?"

"It was my own fault," Jag said.

"Huh?" Soontir looked at his son, then at Luke, then back at Jag. "What did you do?"

"He attacked Boba Fett."

Syal's eyes flew wide open. "I thought he was dead," she whispered.

"So did I," said Soontir. "But it makes sense," he thought aloud, "If Mara was with you."

"You know about the bounty?"

"Yes. Did he get her?"

"Unfortunately, yes… I took his jetpack, cut off his right leg, but he still escaped." Luke winced at the memory. A Jedi had to admit his failures but he didn't have to like it. Then he realized something. "Do you know who's behind it?"

"Not for certain," Fel replied. "I have suspicions, and I'm using my contacts to confirm them. We believe it's related to a set of recent suspicious activities."

"What sort?" Luke asked, worried. This could be trouble for more than just him and Mara.

"I don't have all the details," Fel said. "And as I said, I still haven't confirmed my suspicions." Fel thought for a moment. "Admiral Parck will get back here tomorrow," he said. "Hopefully, he'll have the information we need."

"Will he be willing to give it to me?"

"I'll persuade him," Fel spoke with absolute certainty.

"But tonight," Syal interjected, "you're our guest."

"Thank you, Mrs. Fel."

"Please," she said. "If Soontir insists on first-name basis, I don't see any need for formality with me."

Luke smiled. "All right."

"But what were you doing on Ord Mantell?" Fel asked him. "Quite out of the way of Coruscant… or Yavin Four." Luke winced again.

"You know quite a bit about what I do," he said. "The basic idea is that Leia doesn't like the idea of Mara and I getting married."

Fel glanced at Luke. "Cant' really said I'm surprised."

"At what? Us getting together or Leia being angry?"

"The first one. But why did you come here, instead of looking for her?"

"I am looking. I just had no idea who's behind this, and coming here felt right. Since you and Parck might have the information, it doesn't seem like I made a mistake."

Fel nodded. "All right. So we'll meet with Parck tomorrow," he said.

Luke picked up his concern. "Something wrong?"

"I just… do you ever feel like you're trying to fight an enemy of whom you can see only a small part—the part he wants you to see?"

Luke stared at Fel. Few people could summarize things so succinctly. "Yes," he said quietly. "All the time."

XXX

"All right, get up."

Han opened his eyes, and saw two white armored legs. He blinked, then looked up. Two stormtroopers were pointing their rifles at him. Han stood up. The Imperials nudged him ahead. He realized his hands were handcuffed. Damn, he thought. Chewie and Leia must be going crazy with worry.

Wherever in the galaxy they were, there was no mistaking the atmosphere present on a Star Destroyer. The confidence surrounding the Imperials who captured him surprised Han—considering the state the Imperial Remnant was supposed to be in, it seemed misplaced.

A door opened, and Han was marched into a large chamber, with a rise in the back. Oh, great, he thought, a throne room on a Star Destroyer. Someone has a very big ego.

"Solo," a low voice said. Han looked up at the man sitting on the throne. He was tall and thin, with reddish brown hair. He was wearing a uniform of an Imperial admiral, but instead of olive green, it was black.

"What do you want?" Han demanded, figuring if the man wanted him dead, he already would be.

"Come, Solo. You should learn to be more polite."

"If you think you'll get anything out of me, you—"

"Solo," the man sounded disappointed. "You're not much use, really."

Han nearly laughed. "Sure. Why don't you let me be on my way, then."

"You don't understand, Solo. You aren't much use, but you can be trouble. No, I think I'll keep you here until my plan goes in motion."

"You're going to hold me hostage, to get concessions out of my wife."

"Concessions, Solo? Soon, people will be begging to join me. This is your chance to be one of them."

"Join you? You've got to be nuts."

"If you'd rather suffer," the man said, "I can't help you."

Han stood defiantly. "First Thrawn, then a bunch of Palpatine's clones, then Daala, then some dark lord, then a moff and a conman. Each attempt to revive the Empire was more pathetic then the last. You will be no different."

The man's smile vanished. "We'll see. Take him away."

The stormtroopers gripped him by the shoulders and marched him out of the room. Han tried to keep track of location, but that was difficult, especially since he had no idea where on the Star Destroyer the throne room was located. He wondered who the man was. Although he was certain he'd never seen him before, some features were definitely familiar.

He was led into a detention area. The stormtroopers pressed their rifles into his back, urging him onward. At the end of the corridor, one trooper unlocked the cuffs on his hands while the other three held blasters leveled at him. Then he was unceremoniously shoved into the cell. The door shut. Han knew better than to bang on the door and scream. He would save his strength.

I wonder if this was how Leia felt on the Death Star, he thought.