AS HAD BECOME A HABIT DURING MOMENTS OF TEDIUM OR PREOCCUPATION, Han, wearing a fake beard and wig, reached absently into his pant pocket for the archaic transponder and began to turn it about in his hand, sliding his thumb along the T-shaped device's seamless surface, hefting it as though in an attempt to ascertain its weight in lieu of being able to divine its enigmatic purpose.

If they had bothered to time their arrival on Taris, they would have been able to meet with Vistal Purn the previous day. But now the onetime owner of the Millennium Falcon and former manager of the Molpol Circus was engaged in overseeing the judging of creatures vying for titles in Sok Brok's Fiftieth Annual Pet Show.

Any meeting with Purn would have to wait until after the prizes had been handed out.

A dozen rows forward of where he sat with Leia, Allana, and C-3PO, hundreds of pets accompanied by their owners or handlers were parading around the arena floor, strutting their stuff for groups of judges in the hope of being crowned most ferocious in species or ugliest in show. As far as Han could determine, the contests had little to do with talent or skill, other than whatever ability it took to prance with poise, grovel with grace, or stalk with style. In a galaxy where so many species had evolved to sentience, the very notion of keeping a pet struck Han as absurd, and yet in even the most far-flung star systems you'd find beings who doted on their miniature nagaths and toy moings more than they did their own offspring. Sometimes it was merely pathetic, and often it was downright comical. Especially at Sok Brok's, where it wasn't unusual to encounter an arachnoid Critokian walking a leashed bipedal ornuk, or a sanus feline leashed to a canine-faced Dug half its size. Sometimes the owner was more exotic looking than his or her pet; and sometimes the pets made the owners look as if they had yet to reach an evolutionary stage where sentience was a guarantee.

In one of the arena's many competition areas stood a Shistavanen who looked far more ferocious than the fanged-and-clawed anooba he was showing. Closer still was a Sauvax who would have looked better as the main course on a waterworld than the bred-for-food beast with whom she was partnered. The bushy-maned Calibop behind the Sauvax looked better suited for flight than the scantily feathered reptavian perched on his shoulder.

Han had sat patiently through the awards for ugliest in rodent, marsupial, and reptilian, but he knew he had reached his limit the moment Gands and other insectoid owners began appearing on the arena floor with their bandara beetles and scorplans. The sheer repulsiveness of the pets they walked raised every hair on the back of his neck.

Allana, on the other hand, was mostly fascinated. From the start she had evinced a great empathy for animals and other creatures, even the ones Han considered repulsive. She had that in common with her father.

C-3PO used to entertain you with tales from The Little Lost Bantha Cub. He took you and Jaina on outings to zoos and game habitats. You escaped him once, ventured deep into one of Coruscant's murkiest and most dangerous canyons—

Han tried to derail his train of thought, but failed.

You were kidnapped by Hethrir. You rescued your mother from captivity by Warmaster Tsavong Lah. You watched your brother die, and were tortured by Vergere. You killed Onimi. You spent five years learning from Force-users throughout the galaxy and returned a changed person.

How could you have grown into what you became? Once my dear son, later so unrecognizable it hurt to admit that I'd fathered you, let alone raised you. How did I allow you to grow away from me, so far out of reach, so distant, so bound up in your own beliefs of what constituted right and wrong you drove even the Jedi against you? Did your ambition pass to your daughter? Did she inherit your susceptibility along with your curiosity, your weaknesses along with your strengths? Will she, too, be lured by false promises and unattainable goals? How closely do we need to watch her, Jacen? Or is she a benign alternative to the future you once represented?

Han clenched his hands and inhaled a stuttering breath.

I want to be able to forgive you …

Han felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to Allana. “What's up, Short Cake?”

“Can we get a treat?”

Han smiled. “I thought you'd never ask.”

“Captain Solo,” C-3PO said, “I would be only too happy to escort—”

“Uh-uh. You stay here and keep Leia company.” Han gestured broadly to the arena floor. “Pick out the breed you like and I'll think about buying one for you.” He looked past C-3PO to Leia, whose eyes were hidden behind tinted glasses and whose long hair was concealed under a short-haired wig. “We're going to the concession stand.”

“Bring me a Bama Bar.”

“Will do.” Han took Allana by the hand and led her to the aisle. “Shoulder ride?”

“Yes!”

He threw her gently up onto his shoulders, her legs dangling around his neck. She had extraordinary balance. He liked that she was a real kid. He and Leia had promised each other that their next kid wouldn't be a Jedi, and Han had been thrilled to learn that Allana would not be attending the Jedi academy.

The lobby swarmed with customers. He set her down on the tiled floor.

“What do you want?”

“Whipped treat.”

“Single or double?”

“Double?” she said shyly.

Han grinned. “Does Leia want a regular Bama Bar or one with blumfruit?”

Allana closed her eyes. “Um … with blumfruit.”

“Coming right up.”

In line ahead of Han were two interesting-looking beings. A Yinchorri and a … Tintinna, Allana decided, proud of herself.

As Han was ordering at the counter, Allana caught sight of an even more peculiar creature all the way on the other side of the lobby. Just about her height, the animal had long, floppy ears and two big feet and was wearing a vest like Han sometimes wore and carrying a small cane like Uncle Lando used to carry. The curious thing was that the creature seemed to be staring at her, like it wanted her to follow it. When it started to launch itself from the lobby on those two big feet, Allana couldn't help herself: she had to see where it was going, or at least get a closer look at it.

It could almost have been a character on Castle Creep.

Without so much as a backward glance she hurried off in pursuit of the creature, trailing it into a large room filled with suspended ceiling lights and long tables covered with chairs that had been turned upside down. The creature bounded to the far side of the room and disappeared into what Allana first thought was some kind of hole in the wall, but it wasn't. It was a small turbolift like the ones in the palace on Hapes that were used to move plates and food between the royal dining room and the lower-level kitchens. She wondered for a moment if the turbolift was big enough for her to fit into.

It was.

So down she went.

Han's mounting confusion reverberated like a scream in Leia's mind.

Mentally scanning for Allana, she dashed for the lobby, C-3PO hurrying behind her.

“I turned around and she was gone,” Han said, eyes darting about. Melted whipped treat was running down his left hand.

Leia looked inward. “I don't sense her in any danger …”

“Good, but where is she?”

Leia turned to the broad, curving staircase that led to the arena's upper tiers, then looked across the lobby toward the entrance doors. “She wouldn't have gone outdoors.”

“I'll take the stairs,” Han said, already in motion. “We meet back here in five.”

Leia nodded.

C-3PO came to a halt in front of her. “What should I do, Princess Leia?”

“Alert security, Threepio. Tell them that our child has gone missing.”

“Yes, mistress, I will.”

Leia put her emotions on hold and calmed herself. Reaching out, she began to feel a lingering trace of Allana. She walked across the lobby and stood still, her gaze fixed on the wide doorway to an adjacent room—a conference room, by the look of it. Removing the tinted glasses, she continued to move, allowing the Force to guide her. Again she stopped and stood still, waiting for her eyes to alight. She hurried forward and dropped down on one knee in front of a service turbolift.

It would be a tight fit, but, yes, it would accommodate a small, seven-year-old girl.

Without bothering to puzzle out why Allana would have squeezed into it, what she might have been chasing, or what might have been chasing her, Leia rushed to the turbolifts she had noticed in the lobby. In her mind, she called to the child, but received no response.

Was she hurt? No.

Preoccupied. Fascinated. Intrigued … Playing.

Exiting the turbolift, she followed the same path she had taken on the floor above, this time through a maze of corridors into a kitchen filled with appliances and floor-to-ceiling shelf units stocked with pots and pans and a vast assortment of serving trays and bowls. Her path led her into another corridor—closing on Allana, she was certain—and into a huge underground space housing hundreds of pets in cages. But not just ordinary pets, Leia realized. What the pet show industry referred to as novelties—bioengineered creatures of all description. And Allana was somewhere among them.

Leia gave voice to sudden and overwhelming concern.

“All— Amelia!”

Han had just arrived at the top of the sweeping staircase when he realized he was on the right track. The revelation came in the form of an alumabronze ashtray stand that swung down seemingly out of nowhere, narrowly missing his head but striking the floor with such force that it loosed a thick cloud of gray ash that caused him to sneeze, dislodging the wig that was part of his disguise. Head flung forward from the force of the sneeze, he inadvertently dodged the first pass of a nonhumanoid foot that whizzed over the top of his doubled-over torso. As he straightened, the foot caught him as it was coming full circle, but the spindly being the booted foot was attached to had been thrown off-balance, so that when Han's hands absorbed the force of the blow—saving his nose at the same time—assailant and victim both tumbled to the floor.

False beard and mustache askew, Han rolled out from under another attempt by the Rodian wielder of the ashtray stand and tried to scramble to his feet, only to be tripped by the second assailant—a Duros wearing the uniform of a security guard. Landing on his back, Han began to slide down the steep ramp that led to the balcony seats and private viewing platforms, his head thumping the floor as it passed over the ramp's widely spaced shallow steps and the wig sliding down over his eyes. On both sides of the ramp, spectators were rising from their seats, shouting, screaming, and clutching their children to them. Han had enough sense to know that he was sliding headfirst for the low retaining wall at the foot of the ramp. Forcing his feet from the floor, he managed to complete a backward somersault and come to his feet just short of the wall, but with his arms extended straight out to the sides and flailing desperately in an effort to keep him from plunging over the wall to the arena floor. At the same time, the Duros and the Rodian were hurrying down the ramp straight for him.

Han waited until they were two meters away and ready to lunge; then he let himself roll backward over the wall, hands poised to fasten themselves to the top as the rest of his body fell and the wig slipped off. The Duros went sailing out into space over his head and a few heartbeats later slammed down onto the arena floor, prompting a stampede among the pets and handlers amid whom he had landed. Though the Rodian came to a skidding stop, momentum carried him face-first over the wall. At the last instant the green biped secured a grip on the wall and wound up hanging alongside Han, but gazing out over the arena floor where Han's face was pressed to the wall.

Han felt the Rodian's fist slam into the back of his head and responded by slamming his right hand into the Rodian's snout. Above them, spectators angered by the turmoil the brawl had caused were making for the retaining wall with clear intent. Before a blow could land on his white-knuckled fingers, Han seized hold of the Rodian and began to work his way down to the Rodian's skinny legs, which began to swing side-to-side. At the height of one of the swings, Han threw himself into the nearest of the private booths, even as the Rodian was plummeting feetfirst to the arena floor.

Saucer-shaped, the booths were similar in design and function to the hover platforms of the old Senate Rotunda. The Bimm occupants of the private booth Han had chosen as a destination shrieked as he came crashing into their midst, his feet striking the booth's autopilot control panel. With a suddenness that spilled the Bimms into the private seating platform below theirs, the booth undocked from the balcony and went soaring out over the arena floor, inciting greater chaos among the pets, owners, judges, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be nearby. Hands fidgeting with the controls, Han attempted to land the booth, but it refused to obey any commands outside its programming. The programming was already returning it to the balcony docking station, where two stout human security guards were waiting with drawn blasters. Instinctively Han reached for his BlasTech, remembering even as he did that he had surrendered it to security on entering the arena. Diving once more for the controls, he began to fumble beneath the panel for the relays that would disable the repulsorlift.

Instead, his hands found the hover's limiter relays.

The booth shot forward, dumping Han onto his backside before barreling into the docking station with enough force to shatter the magnetic connectors. The pair of armed humans beat a hasty retreat to the balcony, but now Han was facing a new problem. Refusing to take no for an answer, the booth began to slam repeatedly into the retracting arm clamps in an attempt to dock. Time and again it tried, as if growing increasingly frustrated at being rebuffed. Before long, smoke was wisping from both the magnetic field generators and the booth's repulsorlift. Han considered making a running leap for the balcony, but the security guards, satisfied that he was effectively trapped, were returning. He thought about hanging over the side of the booth and dropping to the floor, but knew he would be lucky to escape with two broken legs.

The decision was made for him when the booth suddenly short-circuited and fell sputtering and spinning toward a swarm of scurrying pets.

The floppy-eared creature in the vest was directly in front of her at the end of the aisle. Confined in cages to all sides were dozens of other animals that were strange and sometimes scary combinations of many of the pets that were performing in the show. Some of them had too many limbs or more than one head, and others looked like they couldn't decide whether to be insects or lizards, birds or fish. Just about all of them were barking or coughing or howling. But the fact that some of the cage doors were open eased her wariness somewhat.

Even so, Allana slowed down, not wanting to scare away the creature she had followed from the lobby. Then a big man suddenly stepped into her view and she stopped completely. He was smiling, but not in a way that seemed friendly or comforting. When the creature leapt up into the man's arms without being afraid, she told herself that she might be wrong about the man, but she didn't think so. Especially when a second man appeared from behind one of the larger cages and started walking toward her.

Allana backed away.

“Don't you want to see our prize pet up close?” the man said. “He's a Chandrilan squall, and he likes children a lot. He might even let you pet him.”

Allana didn't like any of what she was hearing or how the words were being said. She continued to back away.

“I don't think you'll be able to find your way back without my help.”

“I don't need your help,” she said, even though she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers.

The man sort of laughed. “Maybe you don't. But we need yours.” His left hand disappeared behind his back and reappeared holding a military-style blaster.

Emptying her mind of thought and emotion, Allana made herself a vessel for the Force, and felt the Force flow in to fill her up. Then she made her intentions as clear as the purest water.

The Chandilan squall bared fangs and sank them into the nose of the man in whose arms it was sitting. And from some of the cages leapt the creatures that frightened her most, attacking the other man before he could take a step in any direction.

Allana spun around and began to run as fast as she could. But she hadn't even reached the other side of the kennel room when a humanoid carrying a blaster raced in to block her way. Raising it without saying a word, he fired straight at her.

Concentric rings of blue energy dazzled her eyes.

Then everything went black.

Leia was weaving her way through the rows of cages when she felt Allana cry out and lose consciousness. Homing in on her granddaughter, she hurried forward with Jedi speed, racing into a center aisle in time to see three beings running toward a doorway on the far side of the room, Allana's legs dangling over the forearm of one of the men. Leia caught a glimpse of Allana's silken red hair.

Leia fairly flew across the room, arriving at the duranium door as it shut in her face. She motioned for it to open, but it didn't budge. She tried again, then resorted to pounding her fists against it. She stepped back, wiping her hair from her face and wishing she had the strength to flatten it or the Force talent to unravel the lock's security code. Disguise or no, she wished that she hadn't left her lightsaber aboard the Falcon.

Never again, she promised herself. Disguise or no.

Stepping away from the door, she listened through and to the Force. Then she turned and raced back the way she had come.

The hover booth was still a few meters from grinding down onto the floor when Han saw the same two guards maneuvering toward him through a crowd of panicked spectators, determined to place themselves as far from the descending booth as possible. Still others, hands and claws pressed to their heads in alarm, were hurrying toward the booth's probable landing spot, calling desperately to frantic pets that were circling directly beneath the out-of-control booth, barking and snapping at it in confusion. Han didn't wait for touchdown. As soon as the guards broke free of the throng he launched himself over the edge, as much to incapacitate them as cushion his fall.

Han's velocity and weight brought the guards straight to the floor, where the three of them tussled for a moment before Han succeeded in wrenching a blaster from one them and jumped to his feet.

“He has a blaster!” a Twi'lek female shouted.

Han swung to her, aiming a finger at the guard. “No, he had the blaster.”

“They have blasters!” someone else yelled.

A panicked pet sank its little teeth into Han's ankle and he yelled. Hopping on one foot, he sent the Kowakian monkey-lizard flying with the other.

“Beast!” someone shouted.

Han turned his head and caught a glancing left hook on the jaw. A starfield burst into being before his eyes, but he managed to hold on to the blaster. Twisting away from a follow-up punch, he leveled the weapon at the guard on the floor.

“We've got your kid, Solo,” the guard said.

Han's finger froze on the trigger.

The guard gestured with his thumb. “Take a gander.”

Han's attention was drawn to a booth twice the size of the one he had ridden almost to the floor, docked to the balcony farther along the curve of the arena wall and accessed by a private entrance. In the doorway, wedged between a human and a Barabel, Allana stood swaying on her feet.

Drugged, Han wondered, or stunned. Instantly he lowered the blaster, which was whipped from his hand.

“I told them you could be reasoned with.” Grunting as he came to his feet, the guard pressed a blaster against the small of Han's back. “Head for the lobby.”

“What's this about?”

“We won't keep you in suspense for long. Do what you're told and no one gets hurt.”

“No one else, you mean.”

“Have it your way.”

“Everything is under control,” the other guard was telling the crowd. “Return to your seats and the show will resume as soon as possible.”

“Madman!” someone yelled at Han.

Someone else pelted him with candy.

The guards escorted him to one of the lobby turbolifts. They descended a couple of levels, emerging in a security area equipped with a holding cell. A human officer was seated at the desk.

Han peeled away the false mustache and beard. “Where's my daughter?” he demanded.

“Your daughter?” The officer appraised Han. “A man of your age. I'm impressed.”

“Cut the flattery. Where is she?”

The man stood. He was nerfy, with big hands and a pale scar over his right eyebrow. “Safe and sound. You get her back in one piece after you've done something for us.” He pushed a comlink across the desk toward Han. “Contact Lando Calrissian.”

Han's brows beetled in genuine surprise.

“Tell him we want twenty YVH droids delivered to Ord Mantell no later than tomorrow noon, local.”

Playing for time and trusting that Leia was on top of the situation, Han said: “You never heard of the black market?”

The officer smiled faintly. “Not a YVH to be had, thanks to our new chief of state. We're forced to go directly to the manufacturer.”

Han shook his head and pushed the comlink forward. “Lando won't do it. He's immune to blackmail.”

“He'll do it for you,” the officer said, shoving the comlink toward Han. “You're his pal.”

Han shoved the comlink back. “Don't believe everything you read. He's held a grudge against me for years.”

The officer's smile vanished. “What is it with you, Solo? You've already lost two kids, so you don't care about losing another one?”

Han propelled himself across the desk with such force that he drove the officer halfway across the room, his hands so tight on the man's throat it took three guards to tear him away.

Stroking his neck, the officer rasped, “That's not going to change things—”

A familiar snap-hiss! issued from a room adjacent to the holding cell, followed by agonized screams. Han was surprised as anyone to learn that Leia had smuggled her lightsaber past arena security. But he had to admire her foresight.

“That'll be my wife,” he said, grinning.

Moving silently and locked in on Allana's Force presence, Leia approached the lower-level detention rooms. A sudden chill raced through her and she came to an abrupt halt. The child of two powerful Jedi, Allana was innately strong in the Force, but her abilities were limited by age and experience. What Leia was sensing made no sense—

An unmistakable thrumming sound infiltrated her thoughts. Intense light radiated from the center of the room, and two beings screamed in pain. Before Leia could react, Allana was racing through the doorway straight to her.

“Jacen!” she said, encircling Leia's legs with her arms.

“What?”

“Jacen!”

Abruptly Allana whirled out from under Leia's comforting hold, glaring at something in the room beyond. Leia felt a small storm of negative energy swirl in the Force and quickly reached for her, spinning her around.

“No, Allana, no! You mustn't do that.”

Fury had turned Allana's face as red as her hair. Her eyes were narrowed in hatred.

“I won't let him hurt me!”

“No one's going to hurt you,” Leia said firmly. “I'll protect you. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Despite the words, the storm began to build once more. Leia took Allana by the shoulders and gently shook her. “Come back to yourself!”

Allana went rigid, tears streaming from her eyes. “Mom gave me a needle to use! Where is it? I want the needle!” Sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, she buried her face in Leia's shoulder.

Leia held her tight, stroking her hair and using the Force to calm her. Picking her up, she stepped back from the doorway in apprehension. The thrumming returned, and with it blaster bolts and yet more screams. Leia saw movement inside the room and caught a glimpse of Jedi Knight Seff Hellin moving stalwartly toward a different doorway, his lightsaber raised in front of him.

The sight of two armless Barabels staggering from the room behind the desk made Han's jaw drop. Even a grandmother's anger wouldn't prompt Leia to be that brutal. Two of the beings who had escorted Han to the detention center were directing blasterfire through the doorway, but the bolts were being deflected back into the front room. Han threw himself to the floor in front of the desk, evading a bolt that nearly decapitated him. One of the guards fell backward, his chest on fire; the other took a deflected bolt to the left thigh and dropped to the opposite knee. The officer made a dash for the turbolifts, but a detonation in the hall sent him flying backward.

Blaster rifles raised at high port, five soldiers of a swift-response team burst into the room from the direction Han had come.

“Everyone down! Down! Down!”

Considering that everyone was already on the floor, the amplified commands didn't mean much. The security officer was unharmed, but the rest of them—those Han could see, at any rate—were either unconscious or dead. The floor was flecked with blood and scraps of burned clothing. Han heard a sound behind him and realized that someone was standing in the doorway. A tall twentysomething Jedi with curly hair …

All but ignoring the soldiers' blaster rifles, Seff Hellin walked calmly into the room, deactivating his lightsaber when two men in suits and C-3PO appeared behind the members of the swift-response team.

“Galactic Alliance Intelligence,” the shorter agent said, flashing a badge at Seff, then hurrying over to Han to help him to his feet. “Are you all right, Captain Solo?”

Eyes on Seff, Han dusted himself off. “Ask me later.”

The agent waved for the soldiers to lower their rifles. The other agent held a comlink to his mouth.

“Get a medical team down here on the double.”

“My daughter—”

“She's fine,” Leia said, emerging from the doorway behind the now blaster-bolt-scarred desk, Allana clinging to her neck, visibly upset and—it seemed to Han—refusing to look at Seff Hellin.

The shorter agent, however, was looking directly at the Jedi. “I take it you're responsible for this mess.”

“They should have known better,” Seff said. “They were attempting to blackmail Captain Solo into procuring weapons for them.”

The agent stared at him. “Who are you?” Getting no answer, he turned to Leia for help. “Who is he?”

“Seff Hellin.”

Seff inclined his head. “Master Organa.”

The second agent made note of it.

“We've been watching this bunch for a couple of standard months,” the short one said for Han's benefit. “They're part of an illegal arms syndicate based on Denon. How did they know you were here?”

Han scratched his head. “Let me know when you find out.” He glanced at Allana. “They took our daughter hoping to force me into contacting Tendrando Arms about delivering twenty YVH droids.”

The agent nodded. “That figures. Of course, we were hoping to round everyone up at the same time, but your Jedi here has ruined that plan.”

“He's not my Jedi,” Han said.

“You have no law enforcement jurisdiction on Taris,” the other agent told Hellin. “I order you to surrender your lightsaber. We're placing you under arrest.”

“Do as he says,” Leia said. “I'll contact Master Skywalker—”

“I'm not surrendering my lightsaber to anyone,” Hellin said. “And you're not taking me into custody.”

“Seff!” Leia said sharply as the soldiers raised their rifles.

“Master Skywalker doesn't understand.”

Hellin took a sudden step backward and waved his free hand at the soldiers. Torn loose, the rifles flew to the far side of the room, hit the wall, and clattered to the floor. When the two intelligence agents moved on him, Hellin waved a second time, and the men froze as if paralyzed.

Then, moving with blinding speed, the Jedi was gone.

Han went to Leia and Allana, whose eyes were squeezed shut.

“He shouldn't have been able to do that,” Leia said in quiet astonishment.