chapter eleven

Jacen stood at the viewport of the Anakin Solo’s Command Salon, staring out at the cloud-mottled face of the planet Hapes. It was a world of splendor and abundance, covered in sparkling oceans and verdant islands, but Jacen was too troubled to enjoy looking at it. Someone had tried to kill Tenel Ka and his daughter, Allana. His hands were shaking and his stomach was knotted, and as he awaited the arrival of their shuttle his thoughts kept careening back and forth between fantasies of mass vengeance and eruptions of self-reproach.

Jacen knew he could not be Allana’s first line of defense. So far, his relationship to her remained secret. If he spent too much time at the Fountain Palace, Tenel Ka’s nobles would begin to suspect that the heir to the Hapan throne had been fathered by a Jedi foreigner, and that would only endanger Allana further. Besides, Tenel Ka was more than capable of protecting their four-year-old daughter, and he could not give up his anti-terrorism work back on Coruscant without letting the whole galaxy suffer.

But Jacen could not help feeling guilty and frightened. Every instinct in him wanted to send Allana away to be raised somewhere safe—perhaps among the Fallanassi or Jensaarai. Only the experiences of his own childhood, which had proven again and again how fallible such strategies could be, prevented him from considering it.

That—and the fact that no place was truly safe. Jacen had spent most of his life trying to bring peace to a brutal and chaotic galaxy, and matters only seemed to be growing worse. There was always some unseen war about to spill over from the next system, some hate-filled demagogue ready to slay billions to assure the “greater good.” Sometimes Jacen wondered if he was having any effect at all, if the galaxy would not have been just as well served had he never returned to the Jedi and remained among the Aing-Tii, meditating on the Force.

As Jacen contemplated this, the Hapan oceans began to sparkle more brightly. Some of the sparkles steadied into lights and began to shine in a hundred lustrous colors. Others turned red or gold and began to blink at regular intervals. They flowed together into narrow bands and began to circle the planet, like the rivers of flowing traffic that had once girdled Coruscant.

Jacen took three deep breaths, exhaling slowly after each, and consciously stilling his mind. While he could not yet summon Force-visions on command, he had learned to welcome them when they came. They were a manifestation of his unity with the Force, a sign of his growing power, and the increasing frequency with which they came reassured him that he would succeed, that he was strong enough to hold the galaxy together.

On the planet below, the island rain forests darkened to a deep, night-colored purple. Two white dots began to glow up from the heart of one of the shadowy islands, and Jacen found himself staring into the spots. They were larger and brighter than any of the lights on the oceans, and the longer he looked, the more they resembled eyes—white, blazing eyes staring up at him from a well of darkness.

A few wisps of cloud drifted across the face of the shadowy island, creating the impression of a lopsided mouth and a spectral face.

The mouth rose at the corners. “Mine.”

The words were breathy and cold and rife with dark side power … and the voice was familiar. It sounded like Jacen’s. He leaned closer to the viewport, studying the wispy features below, trying to decide whether he was seeing his own face.

But the clouds were not cooperating. The wisps drifted into a new arrangement, and a lumpy brow appeared above the eyes. The cheeks grew sunken and smashed, while the mouth became gaping and twisted. Then the entire face began to expand, drawing a veil of shadow over the rest of the planet and dimming its sea of scintillating lights.

The mouth rose at one corner, and the smile became a sneer. “Mine.”

This time, the voice was too low and harsh to be Jacen’s. He felt relieved, since the mangled face could not be a vision of his future if the voice did not belong to him.

The shadowy head continued to expand, swelling beyond the edges of the planet and engulfing the Hapan moons. The face became long and gaunt, its features now defined by patterns of the half-obscured light shining through from the surface of the planet.

“Mine.”

This time the word was crisp and commanding, and the head continued to grow, becoming round and coarse. It swelled beyond what Jacen could see through his viewport, dimming the stars to all sides of Hapes and engulfing—as far as he could tell—the entire known galaxy. Most of the face vanished into unrecognizable patterns of light and shadow, but the eyes remained, expanding into a pair of blazing white suns.

“Mine!”

The white eyes flashed out of existence with all the brilliance of a pair of exploding novas, and Jacen felt as if an incendiary grenade had detonated in his head. He let out an involuntary groan and whirled away, hands clamped to his face.

But his head did not explode. The pain vanished as quickly it had arrived, and when he pulled his hands away, it was to find himself staring down at the reassuring pearliness of the Command Salon’s luxurious resicrete deck covering. There weren’t even any spots swimming before his eyes.

“I hope that expression doesn’t mean you left something back on Coruscant,” Lumiya said. She was sitting across the spacious cabin at Jacen’s equipment-packed intelligence station, poring over the latest data on Tenel Ka’s unpredictable nobles. “We have an opportunity to position you as the savior of the Galactic Alliance—but only if we move fast.”

“Positioning me isn’t what matters here.” Jacen did not want Lumiya to see how shaken he was—at least not until he understood what the Force was trying to tell him. “Catching the terrorists who attacked the Queen Mother—that’s important. Making certain it doesn’t happen again—that matters.”

Lumiya frowned. “What do you see down there?”

She rose and started across the cabin, wearing a black flight suit that matched exactly the color of the scarf that covered the lower half of her face. The pilot disguise was appropriate to the berthing she had demanded down near the hangar decks, and when she was in public areas, it also allowed her to conceal her disfigured face behind a darkened visor. On any other Star Destroyer, a pilot walking around in an identity-concealing helmet would have raised a security flag, but the Anakin Solo was a GAG vessel—and most GAG visitors had valid reasons for concealing their identities.

“What’s wrong?” Lumiya inquired again. She stopped at Jacen’s side and looked out on Hapes, which had returned to its normal placid appearance. “I see nothing disturbing.”

“It’s gone.” Jacen could think of only one reason for the succession of dark faces he had seen, and he retained enough of his childhood indoctrination to shudder at the thought of a Sith dynasty. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about what?” Lumiya pressed.

“Nothing.”

Jacen continued to look out the viewport, watching distant smoke trails rise and fall as interplanetary traffic entered and departed the Hapan atmosphere. Was the Force telling him that he was making a terrible mistake, that the Sith way would lead the galaxy into a long era of darkness and tyranny?

“Come, Jacen. There can be no secrets between us.” Lumiya slipped her hand under Jacen’s arm and gently turned him toward her. “Tell me what you saw. I sense how it worries you.”

“I’m not worried,” Jacen insisted. He started across the cabin toward the intelligence station. “Have you found out who’s behind the attack on the Queen Mother?”

“Silly boy—you won’t fool me by changing the subject.” Lumiya pulled him back around to face her, this time more forcefully. “I know how troubled you are. The veins in your neck are throbbing like drum worms.”

“I doubt that very much,” Jacen said. Like all Jedi Knights, he had been trained from childhood to conceal such obvious signs of his feelings—and he was far better at it than most. “I’m not troubled at all.”

“Oh—I can see that,” Lumiya mocked. “Then your pupils must be dilated because you are so excited.” She looked out the viewport and allowed her gaze to linger on the face of the planet. “Is there some reason visiting Hapes would make you happy?”

“I’m always happy to come to the aid of an old friend,” Jacen said carefully. The last thing he wanted was for Lumiya to keep probing and discover his feelings for Allana and Tenel Ka. “Tenel Ka and I were classmates at the Jedi academy.”

“I see.” Lumiya’s voice assumed a knowing tone. “Now I understand why you are so concerned.”

Jacen’s heart leapt into his throat, and he began to worry that he had given away too much already. He had promised Tenel Ka that he would never reveal the secret of Allana’s paternity to anyone—and when it came to Lumiya, he considered that promise doubly binding. The Sith regarded love as a blessing that must be sacrificed in order to balance the attainment of power, and there were some things Jacen would never be willing to sacrifice.

Jacen met Lumiya’s gaze. “Actually, I don’t think you do.” He had to give her something else to think about, something that she would find even more engaging than whether or not he had a relationship with Tenel Ka. He exhaled slowly, then said, “I saw faces.”

He went on to recount his vision, describing how the cowled heads had covered a little more of the galaxy each time he saw them. When he finished, Lumiya arched her thin eyebrows.

“And this future frightens you?” she demanded.

“I have a hard time thinking of a Sith dynasty as a good thing,” Jacen admitted. “Call it family prejudice.”

“Your family’s opinion has been shaped by Darth Sidious.” Lumiya’s tone was surprisingly patient. “And he cared more about personal power than his responsibility to the galaxy. That is not the Sith way—as I had believed you to know by now.”

“I know what you claim,” Jacen said. Despite his tone, he was relieved to have changed the subject. “That the Sith way is the way of justice and order.”

“The Sith way is the way of peace,” Lumiya corrected. “To bring peace, first we must bring justice and order. To bring justice and order to the galaxy—”

“First we must control it,” Jacen said. “I know.”

Lumiya ran her fingertips down the inside of Jacen’s arm. “Then why do you worry about what you saw?”

“You know why I worry.” Jacen pulled his arm away—not sharply, but firmly enough to let her know he would not be distracted by her games. “You saw what Palpatine and my grandfather became.”

“And that is how I know you won’t fall to the temptations that undid them.” Lumiya paused to think, then added, “Vergere certainly didn’t think so, either … or you wouldn’t have been the one she chose.”

Jacen raised his brow. “There were other candidates?”

“Of course,” Lumiya said. “Do you think we would select someone for such an important role without considering all our options? Kyp Durron is too stubborn and unpredictable, Mara too committed to her attachments, your sister too ruled by emotion—”

“You considered Mara?” Jacen gasped. “And Jaina?”

“We considered everyone. Your mother was too frightened by Darth Vader’s legacy, your uncle was …” Lumiya’s voice turned hard and cold. “Well, he wouldn’t have listened. He was too bound by Jedi dogma.”

“And old grudges,” Jacen added. The long history of malice and betrayal between his uncle and Lumiya was one of the reasons he still had doubts about his decision to become a Sith. He was well aware that all Lumiya’s talk of saving the galaxy might be a ploy; that turning him and Ben into Sith would be a vengeance on Luke that surpassed even murder. “What about you or Vergere? Why bother making me a Sith when you were Sith?”

“Because we wouldn’t have succeeded,” Lumiya said. “I’m as much machine as human, and you know how that limits me.”

“I know the theory,” Jacen said. “The Force can be tapped only by living beings, so people with largely cybernetic bodies can’t use it to its full potential. But, frankly, your Force powers don’t seem all that limited.”

“Neither did your grandfather’s—except to the Emperor, whose power had no limit,” Lumiya replied. “You have the potential to succeed. I don’t.”

“And Vergere?” Jacen asked. He needed to know that Lumiya wasn’t using him to get back at Luke; that he really was the only person who could bring an era of peace and order to the galaxy. “Her potential wasn’t limited.”

“Not in the way you mean. But could she ever win the confidence of any government?” Lumiya shook her head sadly. “She would always be tainted—at best suspected of being a Yuuzhan Vong agent, at worst of being a collaborator who helped them conquer so much.”

Jacen sighed. “I imagine that’s true.” He was still unsure whether Lumiya was telling the truth, but he could find nothing in her explanations to prove she wasn’t. “So that left me.”

“I wouldn’t say left,” Lumiya replied. “You were clearly the best choice. Your reluctance to use Centerpoint against the Yuuzhan Vong demonstrated that you were capable of wielding great power responsibly. Your defeat of Tsavong Lah in personal combat proved you were not afraid to use great power when necessary. All that remained was for Vergere to recruit you.”

“Recruit me?” Jacen scoffed, thinking of his long imprisonment among the Yuuzhan Vong. “You mean capture, don’t you?”

“I mean both,” Lumiya said. “Your uncle would have interfered with your training, so we had to isolate you. Vergere returned to the Yuuzhan Vong and helped them capture you, then maneuvered herself into a position to oversee your imprisonment.”

“You mean my breaking,” Jacen corrected. He was beginning to realize just how intricately the two had planned his fate. What had seemed like accident and coincidence at the time had been part of a much larger strategy-a strategy that he still did not fully comprehend. “Let’s be honest. Vergere had to destroy what I was before she could turn me into what you needed.”

Lumiya inclined her head. “Great strength demands great sacrifice. I have always been honest with you about that.” She looked out the viewport and let her gaze linger on Hapes. “The question is: have you been honest with me? Are you willing to sacrifice all you love for the greater good?”

Jacen’s stomach grew so hollow that he felt as if an air lock had opened inside him. Somehow, Lumiya knew. He started to demand how she had learned of the relationship … then realized that doing so would only reveal the depths of his feelings for Tenel Ka and Allana—and increase the likelihood that Lumiya would eventually demand their sacrifice in balance to his growing power.

He stepped to Lumiya’s side. “I’m growing weary of being asked how much I’ll sacrifice,” he said. “I’ve already proven—”

A soft chime sounded from a small screen in the corner of the ceiling, then Ben’s voice came out of the intercom speaker. “Special Agent Skywalker, sir. The packages have arrived.”

“They’re not packages, Ben,” Jacen said. “They’re our guests. Show them to their cabins and—”

“We would prefer to join you now.” Tenel Ka’s voice was less distinct than Ben’s, but still very recognizable.

“We’ll freshen up later.”

“That would be fine, Your Majesty.” Jacen glanced over to find Lumiya studying him thoughtfully. “Will Ben be a satisfactory escort?”

“Quite,” Tenel Ka replied. “We will see you directly.”

The intercom crackled off, and a knowing twinkle came to Lumiya’s eyes. “No need to worry, Jacen—I know when my presence would be a problem.”

She went to the corner of the salon and touched her palm to a hidden pressure sensor. A meter-wide panel of wall popped forward and slid aside. She stepped through the opening into a narrow white corridor, then looked back over her shoulder. “When you need me, I’ll be in my cabin.”

“Good.” Jacen went to the intelligence station and began to study the data Lumiya had gathered on Tenel Ka’s nobles. “I’ll let you know what else the Queen Mother can tell us about these suspects.”

“I’m sure that will be very useful,” Lumiya said.

As soon as the wall panel closed, Jacen summoned his Tendrando Arms security droid, SD-XX, and asked him to do a security sweep of the entire cabin. He did not really suspect Lumiya of planting an eavesdropping device, but he was not going to take any chances. Lumiya clearly knew too much about his relationship with Tenel Ka already, and he was determined to keep her from learning any more.

By the time Jacen finished reviewing the files Lumiya had pulled, SD-XX had completed his sweep and was standing next to the intelligence station. With thin armor and blue photoreceptors set in a black, skull-like face, he resembled a scaled-down version of his progenitor line—the mighty Tendrando Arms YVH battle droid.

Jacen looked away from his display and nodded. “Report.”

“No eavesdropping devices detected by preliminary and standard sweeps.” The droid’s voice was thin, raspy, and just a bit menacing. “Consent to proceed with a comprehensive sweep?”

“No,” Jacen said. “We don’t have time for that, Double-Ex.”

“A standard security sweep is only ninety-three percent effective,” the droid said. “If there is reason to suspect—”

“There isn’t,” Jacen said, rising. He had only a few moments before Ben arrived with Tenel Ka and Allana. SD-XX was designed to look menacing and ominous, and he did not want the droid giving his daughter nightmares. “Dismissed.”

SD-XX remained next to the intelligence station. “Can you be certain, Colonel? In my experience, there’s always reason to be suspicious.”

“I’m certain.” Jacen pointed toward the hidden exit Lumiya had used. “Leave the back way. I’m about to have visitors, and they don’t have clearance to see you.”

SD-XX leaned forward at the waist, then fixed his blue photoreceptors on Jacen’s face and said nothing.

“Go,” Jacen said. “That’s an order.”

SD-XX’s voice grew cold. “Acknowledged.”

He pivoted and stalked to the corner in utter silence, then touched the pressure sensor and vanished down the corridor. A moment later the feminine voice of Jacen’s reception droid sounded over the intercom speaker.

“Special Agent Skywalker is here with your guests, Colonel Solo.”

“Send them in.”

Jacen rose and stepped out from behind his intelligence station. The door hissed, and Tenel Ka strode into the Command Salon with Allana at her side. Mother and daughter alike were dressed in tailored flight suits of gray eletrotex, a nanoweave material better known for its opalescent luster and outrageous cost than its effectiveness as an all-purpose armor.

Behind them followed Ben in his black GAG utilities, and an older woman with a long aquiline nose whom Jacen recognized as Tenel Ka’s personal aide, Lady Galney. Bringing up the rear was DD-11A, a large Defender Droid with a cherubic face, synthskin torso, and weapons-packed arms. The droid served Allana as both bodyguard and nanny.

Jacen started to bow to Tenel Ka, but as soon as Allana saw him, she pulled her hand free of Tenel Ka’s grasp and raced across the deck with her arms thrown wide.

“Yedi Jacen!”

Jacen laughed and leaned down to scoop her into his arms, and all trouble left his thoughts. She was a beautiful little girl with her mother’s red hair and a button nose, and suddenly he knew that his long struggle was worthwhile, that he could never stop trying to bring peace and order to the galaxy … that Allana and all the children like her deserved to grow up on worlds untroubled by war and injustice.

Allana leaned back, studying Jacen with a pair of big gray eyes. “Jacen, some bad men twied to kill us but Mama’s guards chased them off so now we can’t have no more parties—”

“Any more parties,” Tenel Ka corrected. She had stopped three paces from Jacen. Despite the worry circles beneath her eyes, she was as radiant as ever, with high cheeks and a long braid of red hair hanging over one shoulder. “Let Colonel Solo put you down. You’re such a big girl now that you’ve grown too heavy to hold for long.”

That wasn’t true at all, of course. Jacen could have held Allana in his arms forever, because inside he was terrified of the sacrifice Lumiya kept hinting at. He wanted to hold his daughter forever, to keep her pressed safely against him and stay in constant touch with her through the Force—but doing any of those fatherly things would only place her in even more danger. Even this small display of Allana’s affection had put thoughtful expressions on the faces of both Ben and Lady Galney.

“The Queen Mother is right,” Jacen said, holding Allana out where he could look at her. Though he usually managed to sneak a visit three or four times a year, this was the first time he had noticed the same fiery sparkle in Allana’s eyes that he had so often seen in his own mother’s when he was growing up. “May I return you to the deck now?”

Allana frowned. “Yedi are supposed to be stwong!”

“I am strong,” Jacen laughed. “But I need to save my strength for when I find the bad men.”

Allana’s eyes grew wide. “You’re going to fight the bad men?”

“Of course,” Jacen said. “Hunting bad men is my job.”

Allana considered this a moment, then said, “Very well, Jacen—you can put me down … for now.”

“Thank you.” Jacen lowered Allana to the deck and watched her return to Tenel Ka’s side. Then he turned to Ben, who was still studying him carefully, and said, “I’d like you to escort Lady Galney to the guest suite. Stand by during her inspection.”

“Okay.” Ben’s voice betrayed his disappointment. “I mean, as you’d like, Colonel.”

Jacen would have preferred to let Ben stay for Tenel Ka’s briefing. But Ben had been present when Jacen learned that he was Allana’s father, and Jacen worried that seeing them together would overcome the memory rub he had used to alter Ben’s recollection of the incident.

Next, Jacen turned to Lady Galney. “Ben will see to anything you require to ensure the Queen Mother’s comfort.”

“Actually, I’ll be staying.” Galney flashed him a cold smile. “As I’m sure you can appreciate, times have been rather trying for the Queen Mother.”

“I’ll be fine, Lady Galney.” Tenel Ka kept her gaze fixed on Jacen as she spoke. “Colonel Solo’s suggestion is an excellent one—and I’d like you to take DeDe and Allana along. Ben—I mean, Special Agent Skywalker—can watch the Chume’da while DeDe does a security sweep.”

Galney’s green eyes flashed anger in Jacen’s direction, but she inclined her head to Tenel Ka. “As you wish.” She held her hand out to Allana. “Come along, Chume’da.”

Allana stepped past the offered hand to Ben, then took his hand and pulled him toward the exit. “Are you a Yedi too, Ben?”

“Yes.” Ben cast a guilty glance over his shoulder, then amended, “Sort of. I’m in training.”

“Mama was a Yedi once,” Allana said. “She still has her lightsaber and pwactices with a wemote …”

Allana’s narrative grew inaudible as she led her small entourage deeper into the anteroom. Once the door had slid shut behind DeDe and Galney, Jacen and Tenel Ka stood facing each other in uncertain silence, their eyes meeting, but their bodies still three paces apart.

Finally, Jacen felt sure no one would be returning unexpectedly. “It’s okay,” he said. “I just had a security sweep.”

Tenel Ka did not smile, but a look of relief flashed across her face. She was in Jacen’s arms almost before he could open them. “It is good to have you here, Jacen. Thank you for coming.”

“I’m glad you asked me.” Jacen held her to his chest, then said, “You didn’t need to come up here, though. I would have been happy to come to the palace.”

“No. This is better.” Tenel Ka pulled back far enough to look up into his eyes. “I needed to bring Allana someplace safe.”

Jacen cocked a brow. “And your palace isn’t?”

“Not at the moment.” Tenel Ka took his hand and led him over to the viewport, where the shadowy crescent of the planet’s night side was just rotating into view. “Someone poisoned the witnesses.”

“Witnesses?” Jacen asked.

“To the coup attempt,” Tenel Ka explained. “I had everyone who saw the attack isolated in the Well.”

“The Well is your detention center?” Jacen asked.

Tenel Ka nodded. “My secret detention center,” she explained. “Comfortable, hidden, and very secure. My ancestors have used it for more than twenty centuries to detain troublesome nobles, and no one has ever escaped from it.”

“They still haven’t, if I understand what you said correctly.” Jacen flashed a lopsided Solo grin. “Unless the Hapan definition of escape is broader than it is in most parts of the galaxy.”

Tenel Ka frowned at him. “Your joke is not funny, Jacen. Most of the men who died were innocent bystanders. I was only holding them until I could determine who was and was not involved in the attack.”

“Bystanders? Why would anyone poison …” Jacen let the question trail off, then said, “Tenel Ka, whoever killed the prisoners is trying to do more than silence coconspirators.”

Tenel Ka nodded. “If all they wished was to protect their own identity, they wouldn’t have poisoned all the prisoners.” She turned and stared out at the darkening planet below. “The usurpers want it to appear that I am killing the innocent as well as the guilty. They are trying to turn my nobles against me.”

“We won’t let that happen. We’ll find out who these usurpers are and stop them.” Jacen placed his hands on her shoulders. “You said the Well is secret. Who knows about it?”

“Only one company of my personal guard and a few members of my inner circle.”

“It could be someone in the guard,” Jacen said. “But chances are—”

“Yes—it always seems to be the ones closest to you.” Jacen looked toward the salon exit. “Lady Galney?”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tenel Ka said. “Lady Galney’s family members are among my strongest supporters. Her sister will rally to my cause the moment Jaina delivers my summons.”

Jacen frowned. “Jaina was here?”

“Yes.” Tenel Ka took Jacen’s hand and led him toward the salon’s conversation area. “Your sister arrived shortly after your parents.”

“My parents?” Jacen was growing more perplexed every moment. “What are they doing here?”

“Nothing, any longer. They’ve fled.” Tenel Ka sat on the couch and pulled Jacen down beside her. “I’m afraid they may have been involved in the assassination attempt.”

“Involved?”

“Participated,” Tenel Ka clarified.

For a time, Jacen was too stunned to reply. He knew his parents had taken Corellia’s side in the conflict—that was one of the few things that made him question the Galactic Alliance’s position—but assassination was just not their style. At least, he had thought it wasn’t, until he started to read the intelligence reports describing his father’s role in the murder of Thrackan Sal-Solo.

Finally, Jacen turned to Tenel Ka. “You’re sure?”

“I am sure they were here,” Tenel Ka explained. “They arrived on the day of the Queen’s Pageant and insisted that they had an appointment to see me. At first, I thought there had been a miscommunication, but my security staff is now convinced that their assignment was to cause a break in my security routine.”

“Your security staff is convinced.” Jacen stood and looked into the corner, trying to make sense of what he was hearing, trying to picture the people who had raised him—the good-hearted scoundrel and the principled diplomat—setting up Tenel Ka for an assassination attempt. “What do you think?”

“Jacen, I don’t know what to think,” Tenel Ka said. “Some preliminary reports suggested that they may have been trying to warn me about the assassins, but …”

Jacen continued to face the corner. He was beginning to feel almost relieved. Maybe Allana was not the sacrifice Lumiya kept talking about. Maybe his parents were what he would be required to surrender, and maybe their deaths would not be a coldhearted act of betrayal after all. Maybe he would be serving the Balance, merely delivering a final and terrible justice to one more pair of murdering terrorists.

“But what?” he asked, not looking away from the corner. “Go on.”

“But they were seen leaving with the leader of the assassins,” Tenel Ka finished. “She even went to their aid when my guards pinned them down.”

“I see.” A terrible sense of sadness came over Jacen, and a sense of inevitability. Had his parents really drifted across the thin line that separated heroes from murderers? Had they really slipped into the murky realm of terrorism? He turned to face Tenel Ka. “Is there any reason to think we should place our faith in the reports suggesting they were trying to warn you?”

Tenel Ka lowered her eyes. “Not really.”

“I didn’t think so.” Jacen crossed the cabin to his comm station. “It appears my parents have become part of the problem in this war.”

“Jacen, what are you doing?” Tenel Ka asked, following. “Please remember that as bad as it looks, we don’t know the whole story yet.”

“But we need to.” Jacen slipped into the chair and activated the data display, then began to scroll through a long list of electronic forms. “That’s why we need to find them.”

“Do we?” Tenel Ka came around the desk and stopped behind him. “After the Millennium Falcon left Hapes, she vanished into the Transitory Mists. As long as she stays vanished, I’m willing to give your parents the benefit of the doubt … in fact, I want to.”

“Tenel Ka, we just can’t do that.” Jacen found the form he was looking for—a GAG SEARCH AND DETAIN WARRANT—and began to enter the names of his parents. “But thank you for offering.”

“Jacen, stop.” Tenel Ka used the Force to pull his hands away from the keyboard. “If you’re angry with them because Allana was threatened, that’s not fair. Your parents don’t even know that Allana is their granddaughter, and there would have been an assassination attempt anyway.”

Jacen lowered his guard so that Tenel Ka could sense his emotions, then said, “I’m not angry. I’m sad.”

He pulled his hands free of her Force grasp and resumed entering his parents’ data on the warrant.

“But this is bigger than me—and it may even be bigger than the Hapes Consortium.” He entered a description of the Millennium Falcon, then hit a key and sent the warrant to the dispatch center. “Whatever the terrorists are planning, my parents are a part of it—and GAG needs to know how.”