chapter twenty

Outside the Falcon’s canopy hung a streaming veil of blue and white brilliance, so intense that it made Han’s eyes hurt like a Fogblaster hangover. He hesitated at the back of the flight deck, trying to make some sense of what he was seeing, half convinced that it was the efflux tail of some Death Star-type megaship.

And if it was some big new superweapon, Han knew he and Leia would end up trying to destroy the thing before it blew up Tenel Ka’s throneworld or something—and he had no doubts about how that would turn out. Han was already older than Obi-Wan Kenobi had been when he’d died aboard the original Death Star, and on crazy missions like that, wasn’t it always the wise old man who got killed first? If it happened, Han only hoped his kids would figure out he and Leia had been no part of the assassination attempt on Tenel Ka. Dying, he could take—he just didn’t want to go out with people thinking he was some kind of terrorist.

But the longer Han studied the blazing sheet ahead, the more he realized he could not be looking at any kind of efflux tail. There were actually two bright streams, one broad and curving and fan-shaped, the other thin and straight and braided.

He finally realized what he was seeing.

Scowling toward the pilot’s seat, which had become Leia’s until his shoulder was healed enough to fly, Han stepped onto the flight deck. “Are you flying my ship into a comet?”

“Yes, dear.” Leia met his gaze in the canopy reflection, then shot him a brief frown—one he knew was meant to remind him that they still had a lot to learn about Morwan and the usurpers. “We agreed to return Lady Morwan to her Ducha, remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Han glanced at Morwan, who was in the copilot’s chair, then dropped into the navigator’s seat behind Leia. “But no one lives on a comet.”

“Actually, a surprising number of beings inhabit comets,” C-3PO offered from the communications station. “Hermits, pirates, fugitives, political exiles—”

“AlGray’s no hermit,” Han grumbled. “And even if she was, she must own a dozen empty moons already.”

“Actually, all of the Relephon Moons are inhabited,” Morwan said. “But we’re not meeting Ducha AlGray at her residence.”

Han glanced down at the navigation display and saw that they weren’t anywhere near Relephon—far from it, in fact. “The Hapan system?” he asked. “What are we doing here?”

“The answer to that is obvious,” Morwan replied. “And you shouldn’t be out of medbay. You need that hydration drip to keep your electrolytes in balance. Blaster burns remove a lot of fluids from your system.”

“My fluids are just fine.” Han had the sinking feeling that he knew exactly why they were in the Hapan system, and he was fairly sure that Tenel Ka could not be ready. With so much of her Royal Navy assigned to the Galactic Alliance, she would need support from the nobles still loyal to her—support that would take time to arrive. “And stop changing the subject.”

“Fine,” Morwan replied. “Your health is no concern of mine. If you’re truly having trouble figuring out the situation, just look through the viewport.”

Han squinted out at the comet. Once his eyes had grown accustomed to the glow, he saw a dark crescent of empty space at the starboard edge of the canopy, just in front of the boiling brilliance of the comet’s head. Clustered close behind the head were about seventy tiny black ovals, arranged in a three-dimensional diamond commonly used to attack planetary defenses.

“Oh, that,” Han said, trying to conceal the alarm he felt at how fast the usurpers were moving. “I meant what are we doing here? You can’t intend to be a part of this fight.”

Morwan scowled over her shoulder at him. “You doubt my devotion?”

“That’s not what I said.” Han raised his hands defensively. “But the Falcon ain’t much of a warship.”

“I won’t be aboard the Falcon after we rendezvous,” Morwan replied. “And I suspect you won’t be, either.”

“Is that a threat?” Han demanded, starting to worry that she’d discovered he and Leia were spies. “Because if it isn’t, you’d better clear things up real fast.”

“Even if it were a threat, you’re hardly in any condition to do anything about it,” Morwan replied. “But all I mean is I’ll be aboard the Kendall, and you’ll most likely be with your friends from Corellia.”

“Corellia?” Han glanced back toward the battle formation and realized that the three silhouettes in front were several times the size of the others. “I was wondering if those were our Dreadnaughts.”

As Han said this, he tried to catch Leia’s gaze in the canopy reflection. But her eyes had that distant, unfocused look they got when she was caught up with something in the Force. With any luck, she was reaching out to Tenel Ka, trying to warn the Queen Mother about the trouble coming her way.

“Dreadnaughts?” Morwan repeated. “I really don’t know what they are, only that Corellia promised to send a fleet that could defeat Hapes’s defenses.”

“They did,” Han assured her. “Those Dreadnaughts will punch through in no time. By this time tomorrow, AlGray will be the new Queen Mother.”

“That’s not the reason she organized the overthrow,” Morwan said. “Her only concern is for the Consortium’s independence.”

“Whatever you say,” Han said. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

He switched the navigator’s display to tactical. None of the vessels in the usurpers’ fleet was broadcasting a transponder code, but the Falcon’s threat computer had used a combination of mass and energy bleed-off patterns to classify the contacts as Battle Dragons. The three eggshaped vessels at the head of the fleet—the Corellian Dreadnaughts—it had designated UNKNOWN, assigning them an estimated threat level approximately twice that of Imperial-class Star Destroyers.

The Dreadnaughts were surrounded by a screen of light frigates configured for fighter defense, and the Battle Dragons had a number of Nova battle cruisers interspersed among them. After a moment of study, Han noticed that the Battle Dragons were grouped in clusters with nearly identical masses and energy bleed-off signatures. It only made sense; the noble houses would be operating as subunits within the larger formation, and their vessels would tend to have standard configurations.

Han stored a screen shot of the tactical display—then noticed that one of the Nova cruisers had dropped out of formation and was turning to intercept them.

“Anyone in that fleet know we’re coming?” he asked. “They’re sending out a welcoming party.”

“Ducha AlGray won’t be expecting me to arrive in—” Morwan paused to glance around the flight deck. “—a common freighter,” she finished.

“Then maybe we’d better turn this freighter around,” Han said, bristling at the disdain in her voice. “Because they’re not going to look in the windows before they open fire.”

“That won’t be necessary, Captain Solo,” Morwan replied. “Open a ship-to-ship channel. I’m sure the Ducha will understand if I break comm silence to avoid being fired upon.”

“Yeah—I suppose so,” Han said, reasoning that a comm wave was a lot less noticeable than a turbolaser volley. “Go ahead, Threepio.”

C-3PO opened the channel. “Just activate your microphone, Lady Morwan.”

Morwan checked the comm status panel—no doubt to make sure the channel was on a tight beam—then activated her microphone. “Heritage Fleet Nova. This is Lalu Morwan, a true guardian of Hapan independence, arriving aboard alternate transport …” She glanced down to see what transponder code the Falcon was using. “Longshot. Request clearance to join formation and rendezvous with the Kendall.”

“Longshot acknowledged as our fellow guardian,” came the cruiser’s reply. “Continue approach, stand by for instructions.”

Han studied Morwan with a raised brow.

“Don’t say it,” Morwan warned. “I’ve heard all the ‘lulu’ jokes I care to.”

“Han dated a lot of lulus before he met me,” Leia said, finally returning from wherever her attention had been. “I think he’s just surprised you gave us your real name earlier.”

Morwan shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice—Aurra Sing found me, remember?”

“Pardon me,” C-3PO said. “But we’re being hailed by the Kendall. Shall I put it on?”

“Of course!” Morwan replied.

C-3PO tapped a key, and a crisp, middle-aged voice came over the cockpit speakers. “You’re late!”

“I apologize,” Morwan replied. “It’s Lalu, your fellow guardian.”

“Yes, yes, we’re both true guardians of Hapan independence,” AlGray said, clearly irritated at having to use the recognition phrase. “Now tell me why you’re late—and why you’re arriving in that wreck.”

Han scowled and would have objected, except that he was busy with his tactical display, attaching the designator KENDALL to the Battle Dragon from which the comm signal was coming.

“Actually, this is the Millennium Falcon,” Morwan explained. “I was forced to turn my yacht over to … our agent, and Princess Leia was kind enough to offer me a ride.”

AlGray paused before answering. Han stored another screen shot of his tactical display, this one detailing the Kendall’s location and designating her the flagship. He could almost hear AlGray wondering whether her plot had been exposed—but the sad truth was that so far, he and Leia had managed to warn Tenel Ka of precious little.

AlGray finally seemed to reach the same conclusion. “How did that come about?”

“It’s a long story, given our comm restrictions,” Morwan replied carefully. “Perhaps I could fill you in once I’m aboard?”

“You won’t be aboard,” AlGray replied. “The Heritage Fleet is preparing to make the attack-jump. Fall in at the back of the formation. You can explain after the battle.”

“After?” Morwan asked, clearly not happy about the prospect of riding out a major space battle aboard the Falcon. “Ducha?”

“I’m afraid the Kendall has closed the channel,” C-3PO said. “Shall I attempt to reestablish contact?”

“Absolutely not.” Morwan turned to Leia. “Princess Leia, I truly hate to ask this, but the Ducha’s orders were clear.”

“Of course, we’ll obey.” Leia was already pushing the throttles forward. “We’re old hands at staying out of trouble in big battles like this.”

As Leia spoke, the nav computer beeped to announce that it had received jump coordinates. A moment later the usurper fleet—Han refused to think of it as the Heritage Fleet—began to accelerate under the head of the comet.

While Leia chased after the fleet, Han performed the jump calculations—taking the time to look up Hapes’s rotation cycle so he could plot exactly where the fleet would revert to realspace relative to the planet. After double-checking his answers, he copied the information to a datafile, then attached the two screen shots he had captured identifying the fleet’s flagship and composition. As field-intelligence dossiers went, it was neither very thorough nor very timely, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

The Falcon passed under the comet and pulled ahead. A moment later the canopy blast-tinting paled, revealing the blue circles of hundreds of ion engines spread across the darkness in front of them. The circles were accelerating toward the tiny white ball of the Hapan sun, but still growing rapidly larger as the Falcon overtook the fleet.

“Blast!” Han said. He needed an excuse to make Leia delay a few seconds when the usurper fleet jumped into hyperspace—and he had to keep Morwan distracted at the same time. “The sensor dish is sticking again. Lady Morwan, can you shut down the sensor suite just before we jump?”

“Won’t that be dangerous when we revert?” she asked. “We won’t be able to tell where the rest of the fleet is.”

“Not if Leia waits a bit after everyone else jumps,” Han replied. “And if you bring the sensors up again right after we jump, we won’t be blind for more than fifteen or twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds?” C-3PO squawked. “Eighty-seven percent of all fleet-maneuver accidents occur within the first ten seconds of exiting hyperspace!”

“Better that than being blind for the rest of the battle,” Leia said, following Han’s lead. “I can handle it, Threepio. I have the Force, remember?”

“Of course—pardon me for doubting you,” C-3PO said. “It’s impossible to assign a safety coefficient to the Force, but I’m quite sure we’re as safe with you flying blind as we are even when Captain Solo has all his instruments.”

Han would have reminded the droid that he had not gotten them killed yet, except that the blue circles ahead had begun to swell more slowly as Leia matched the fleet’s velocity. He quickly formatted his intelligence dossier for transmission, then watched in silence as the Falcon slid into position at the rear of the formation.

Finally, the voice of a female maneuvering chief came over the cockpit speakers. “Jump in three.”

Leia put her hand on the hyperdrive actuator, and Lady Morwan reached for the sensor controls.

“Two.”

Han turned to C-3PO and held his finger to his lips, then cranked their S-thread unit to maximum transmission power and switched to a general hailing channel.

“Mark.”

Space ahead flared blue as the usurper fleet accelerated to jump speed.

“Deactivate sensors,” Leia ordered.

Morwan used both hands to pull the sensor suite glide-switches to their off positions, and space went dark again as the usurper fleet entered hyperspace.

Han hit the TRANSMIT key.

Leia waited another second, then shoved the throttles to maximum and activated the hyperdrive. The stars stretched into a pearlescent blur.

Han returned the comm unit to its previous settings, then caught C-3PO looking at him with a cocked head.

“It was hardly necessary to do that yourself,” the droid said. “I’m perfectly capable of—”

“Your timing’s no good,” Han interrupted, worried the droid was about to mention the S-thread message. “And that’s the last I want to hear about it.”

“But my timing is excellent!” C-3PO protested. “My reaction speed is less than two one-thousandths of a second, which is two magnitudes better than yours.”

“Han means that it’s a matter of judgment,” Leia said. “There were too many variables to define in the time available.”

“Oh, I see,” C-3PO replied, sounding calmer. “Captain Solo is having trouble expressing himself again.”

“I’m going to trip your primary circuit breaker,” Han said. “Is that clear enough?”

“That’s hardly necessary.” C-3PO retreated toward the far side of the flight deck. “If you want me to keep quiet, all you have to do is say so.”

Morwan turned around in her seat. “Keep you quiet about what, Threepio?”

C-3PO glanced briefly in Han’s direction. “I’m really not at liberty to say, Lady Morwan.”

“Threepio isn’t allowed to divulge anything concerning the Falcon’s operation,” Leia lied. She kept her gaze fixed on the control panel chrono, counting down the seconds until they reverted to realspace. “It’s a standard security protocol.”

“But there’s no big secret,” Han added quickly. “The comm antenna retracts when the sensor dish reverses for the jump. And since the dish was stuck—”

“—you had to lower it manually,” Morwan finished. She glanced at C-3PO, as though she could read the truth in the droid’s expressionless face, then nodded. “Of course.”

Morwan turned back to the sensor glides, leaving Han to wonder how high her suspicions had been raised. Even had she not believed before that he and Leia were spies, C-3PO’s gaffe had clearly planted the seed.

The reversion alarm chimed, and an instant later the gray veil of hyperspace erupted into a wall of crimson energy. The cockpit speakers began to crackle with alarmed voices and shipboard explosions, then the invisible fist of a turbolaser strike glanced off the Falcon’s top shields, pounding her so hard that C-3PO clanged to the deck on his back.

“We’ve been hit!” the droid cried. “Shall I activate the abandon-ship siren?”

“No!” Han said. “That was just a graze. We’re fine.”

He peered over Leia’s shoulder at the damage-control board and saw that he was only partially right. The forward cargo hold had sealed itself off because of a pressure leak, and a coolant line had burst somewhere in the aft engineering tunnel, but Han thought they would probably last out the battle—as long as they didn’t take another big hit.

“Let’s not do that again,” he said, speaking into Leia’s ear. “We don’t want to scare the droid.”

A turbolaser strike blossomed a hundred meters beneath the Falcon’s belly, bucking Han against his crash webbing and setting off a new round of alarms.

C-3PO emitted a surprised squeal and wrapped his arms around the comm officer’s chair, then Leia flipped them into a tight spiral and even Han gasped in alarm. He ached to take the pilot’s yoke—but with only one hand to hold it, that would have been foolish even for him. The crimson fury of a rolling barrage erupted ahead and began to advance toward the Falcon.

“Dive!” Han was straining against his crash webbing, yelling over Leia’s shoulder. “Go belooooooowww!”

Leia had pushed the yoke as far forward as it would go. “Trying!”

The barrage passed over their stern, bucking the ship hard enough to bang C-3PO against the floor—and to send a bolt of pain shooting through Han’s wounded shoulder.

A glowing red disk appeared ahead, then quickly expanded into a sheet of half-molten metal that had once been the upper saucer of a Hapan Battle Dragon. Escape pods were spraying from the vessel like shooting stars, and momentary fists of flame kept punching out through breaches in the hull.

“Pull up!” Han cried.

Leia was already bringing their nose up, and the Battle Dragon began to swing out from beneath the Falcon. “Trying!”

They leveled off just above the Battle Dragon, so close to the half-melted hull that the temperature inside the Falcon began to climb.

“Give her some throttle!” Han ordered. “Get us out of this!”

Leia already had the throttles pushed past the overload stops. The Falcon leapt away from the Battle Dragon—only to find a slender Nova cruiser dead ahead, breaking apart midway down her long spine, pouring dark clouds of vapor and flotsam into space.

“Go left!” Han yelled half a second before the Nova’s bridge exploded into a spray of superheated shrapnel. “Wait, go down!”

The Nova’s stern weapons arrays began to fire at random, lacing space below with stabbing shafts of color and flame.

“No, go—”

“Captain Solo!” Morwan cried. She was clenching the arms of her chair with both hands. “Will you please shut up and let her fly? You’re going to get us killed!”

Han bristled at Morwan’s tone—then realized how right she was and began to feel a little ashamed. “With Leia holding the yoke?” he said. “No way! I’m a better teacher than that.”

“Don’t … brag!” Leia spoke through clenched teeth. “You’ll jinx us.”

She flipped the Falcon on her side and continued in the only direction she could, straight between the two halves of the Nova’s broken spine. The gap vanished behind a cloud of frozen atmosphere. Dark blurs began to flash past too quickly to identify, and the impact alarm sounded continuously as they plowed their way through the flotsam.

“I certainly hope the particle shields don’t fail us now,” C-3PO said, clanking to his knees. “One of those frozen bodies could cause a catastrophic hull breach!”

They emerged from the vapor cloud into a pocket of relative calm behind two wrecked Battle Dragons. The main part of the fleet was barely visible ahead, a field of blue efflux circles exchanging dashes of color with an enemy fleet too distant to spot visually.

Han let out a sigh of relief. “You see? Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Morwan released her chair arms and turned to Han with a half-accusatory glare. “We were ambushed! The Royal Navy was waiting for us.”

Han met her gaze with his best sabacc face. “Yeah, it’s almost like they knew the reversion coordinates. Wonder how that happened?”

Morwan’s eyes narrowed. “So do I, Captain Solo.”

They passed the wrecked Battle Dragons, and the Falcon’s canopy darkened against fresh blossoms of nearby turbolaser strikes.

“I hate to interrupt,” Leia said with her usual perfect timing. “But I need that tactical display back up. Even Jedi can’t see through this much battle fire.”

The suspicion in Morwan’s eyes changed to fear, and her attention returned to the sensor panel. “I’ve been trying. All I get is one long burst of screen snow.”

“It’s all this turbolaser fire,” C-3PO said from behind her. “You need to bring up the filters.”

“Filters?” Morwan sounded confused. “How do I do that?”

“You call yourself a pilot?” Han grumbled. “How did you ever find Telkur Station?”

“I was flying a Batag Skiff,” Morwan answered, as though the name explained everything. “The sensors have automatic filters.”

“Automatic filters?” Han shook his head. “What will they put in spacecraft next? Heated seats and cockpit caf dispensers?”

He unbuckled and stepped into the gap between the pilot’s and copilot’s seats, then leaned in front of Morwan to activate the electromagnetic discharge filters. “They’re on glide-switches, starting with radio waves and going all the way up to gamma rays.”

As Han explained this, he pushed the glides up, reducing the amount of static. Gradually, a clear image appeared on the tactical display. The usurper fleet was in even worse shape than he had imagined, with large gaps in the assault formation and a quarter of the Hapan Royal Navy pouring fire into the Kendall.

“Looks like you lucked out staying with us,” Han said, removing his hand from the filter glides. “AlGray’s flagship is taking quite a pounding.”

“Yes.” Morwan caught Han’s arm and held him in front of her. “I think we both know why that is.”

Something small jabbed Han in the side, and he looked down to find a small hold-out blaster pressed to his ribs.

“You think I had something to do with it?” The anger in Han’s voice was genuine—and mostly with himself for letting Morwan get the drop on him. “Of all the ungrateful she-Hutts—”

“Save it, Solo!” Morwan ordered. “You really don’t want to heat my jets more than you have. I’m already furious with myself for not seeing through you two from the start.”

“Seeing through us how?” Leia asked. The Falcon decelerated and banked as she turned away from the battle. “And I’d be very careful with that blaster. I’ve been known to lose my temper with people who shoot my husband.”

“And you really don’t want to see Leia lose her temper,” Han said, doing his best to keep his body in front of Morwan’s face. As soon as Leia had said shoot, C-3PO had started to creep toward the back of the flight deck, probably intending to sneak down the access corridor to fetch Cakhmaim and Meewalh. “Ever since she became a Jedi, when she gets mad, things just start flying at you from all directions.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Captain Solo. Your fate rests entirely in the Princess’s hands.” Morwan was speaking from under Han’s arm, since she continued to hold him in front of her. “I won’t blast you if she turns back toward the battle.”

Leia continued to bank away. “What for?”

“Because she doesn’t want it to look suspicious when we send Tenel Ka another message,” Han said, glancing down at the tactical display. Protected by their powerful shields and multilayered hulls, two Corellian Dreadnaughts were continuing to press the attack, with what remained of the usurper fleet close behind. “She wants to tell Tenel Ka to tighten up and hold her position.”

Leia was quiet for a moment, probably studying her own display, and the anger that Han had felt over being taken hostage began to give way to other emotions. Knowing that Leia would be sensing the change through the Force, he only hoped she realized that the fear he was feeling was only for Tenel Ka. The last thing he wanted was for Leia to think a little thing like having a blaster stuck in his ribs was starting to bother him.

After a moment, Leia asked Han, “You think the Dreadnaughts can actually break through?”

Han nodded. “That’s what they were designed for—to penetrate an enemy fleet and tear it apart from the inside. And if that strategy works—”

“—they’ll go after Tenel Ka,” Leia finished. “And it won’t matter whether they win the ship-to-ship melee that follows. If they kill Tenel Ka, the monarchy will be shattered.”

“And the Heritage Council will still be in position to put the Consortium back together again,” Morwan said. “Very astute, Princess.”

C-3PO reached the back of the flight deck and began to clank down the access corridor.

Morwan didn’t even turn to look. “It sounds as though we’re running out of time, Princess. Will you turn back now … or do I blast your man?”

“Hmmm,” Leia said. “That’s a tough decision. On one hand, I would inherit this old transport—”

“That’s classic transport,” Han corrected. “The YT-Thirteen-hundred is one of the most valuable—”

“Stop stalling,” Morwan ordered. “Turn back now, or I pull the trigger.”

Leia sighed, and the Falcon’s nose started to drift back toward the battle.

“Leia!” Han’s fear had turned to embarrassment; could she really believe he would want her to risk Tenel Ka’s life to save him? “The traitors have a spy!”

“It’s okay, Han,” Leia said. “I have a feeling it won’t matter.”

“Of course it’ll matter!” Han objected. “They’ll know what ship Tenel Ka is—”

“That’s enough, Captain Solo.” Morwan jammed the blaster harder into his ribs. “With a Jedi and two Noghri aboard, I don’t expect to survive this anyway. On my way out, I won’t hesitate to rid the galaxy of one more Alliance braintick.”

“Alliance braintick?” Han pushed his wounded arm forward in the sling. “There’s no call for insults!”

He clamped his hand over Morwan’s hold-out blaster. As he pushed the tiny weapon away from his body, she squeezed the trigger, sending a flurry of bolts burning across his palm and ricocheting off the control board.

“Han, no!” Leia screamed.

But Han was already slamming the elbow of his good arm into Morwan’s nose. He felt cartilage crumble and heard her scream, but the blaster bolts continued to come. He brought his elbow back again.

Morwan released the hold-out blaster and reached up to protect her nose. Han stepped away, moving the weapon to his good hand—and letting out a roar of pain as he finally realized just how much his scorched palm hurt.

“Han!” Leia reached out and gently pushed Han back so the lightsaber in her hand would have a clear path to Morwan’s head. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my ship back.” Han pointed the weapon at Morwan, who was now holding her face in both hands, bleeding between her fingers and groaning in pain. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re getting yourself shot up again for no reason.” Leia laid her lightsaber in her lap, then ordered, “Sit down and keep her covered until the Noghri get here.”

Han dropped into the navigator’s seat. “What do you mean, no reason?” A cloud of gray smoke was hanging over the control board, rising from half a dozen holes that Morwan had shot through the durasteel. “She was going to kill me!”

“I don’t think so,” Leia said. “She wouldn’t have had any reason.”

Han noticed they were still headed toward the battle. “Don’t tell me you were going to send that message!”

“Actually, I still am,” Leia said.

Even Morwan was surprised. “You are?” Her voice was muffled and nasal. “Why?”

“Never mind,” Leia said. She cocked her head, looking into the canopy reflection, then raised her voice so it projected down the access corridor. “It’s okay, Cakhmaim. We have things under control.”

She had barely spoken before Cakhmaim and Meewalh rushed onto the flight deck, Cakhmaim holding a deadly fighting sickle and Meewalh a capture net. When they saw Han sitting in the navigator’s seat with the blaster and Morwan hunched over with her head in her hands, their saurian faces looked almost disappointed.

“It’s okay, guys—you get to lock her up.” Han motioned for them to take her away. “And use the stun cuffs.”

“After you see to her nose,” Leia added. “We don’t want her choking to death on her own blood.”

Han looked down at the furrows charred across his wounded palm. “Speak for yourself.”

“Han!”

Han shrugged. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to be honest about my feelings.” He waited until the Noghri had taken Morwan away, then asked, “You’re not serious about that message, are you?”

“I am—and we need to do it now.” Leia nodded at the tactical display, which showed Tenel Ka’s formations starting to fall back in preparation for a ship-to-ship free-for-all. “Open a channel.”

Han studied his display, trying to see what Leia was talking about. Unfortunately, he was distracted by an irregular pattern of flickering and blinking.

“Blasted woman!” he said. “She hit something in the control panel.”

“Which is all the more reason to send the message now, Han,” Leia said. “Tenel Ka can’t let this battle degenerate into a ship melee, or the Alliance won’t be able to spring its trap.”

“Trap?”

Something popped in the control panel, and smoke began to pour out of a hole in front of the copilot’s station. Han cursed and, ignoring all the blood Morwan’s broken nose had sprayed everywhere, slipped into the copilot’s seat. The tactical display there was no better than the one at the navigator’s station, but he could see clearly enough to tell it did not show any Alliance fleets.

“I don’t see a trap.”

Leia fell silent for a time, then said, “Listen, Han, if you can’t do this, just say so.”

Now Han was growing really confused. “Do what?”

“It’s okay,” Leia said. “I’ll understand.”

“Good,” Han answered. “That makes one of us.”

Leia dropped her chin and glanced over, giving him one of her patented I-know-you’re-lying looks.

“Leia, what are you talking about?”

“Once you send the message, we both know our names will be Hutt slime in Corellia,” Leia said. “Gejjen will know we were working against them here, and you’ll be branded a traitor.”

Leia’s words hit Han hard, up near the heart, and he realized she was right. If they helped Tenel Ka now, it could only be in the open, and the Corellian High Command—Wedge, Gejjen, all of them—would know he had chosen Hapes over his homeworld.

But how could Han not choose Tenel Ka? Corellia was in the wrong here, trying to assassinate a sovereign leader and expand the war just to win a more favorable negotiating position—trying to plunge sixty-three worlds into a civil war that would make the Corellian conflict with the Alliance look like a spitball fight.

“Leia, my reputation doesn’t matter,” he said. “My conscience does.”

Leia smiled in relief. “I’m so glad,” she said. “That’s what I thought, but I didn’t want to make the decision for you.”

“Great, I appreciate that,” Han said. “But I still don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“I told you I had a feeling,” Leia said. “And then you made a grab for Morwan’s blaster.”

Han frowned, remembering that Leia had said something about a feeling. “Oh, that kind of feeling. Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you meant?”

Leia rolled her eyes. “What could I say? Trust me?”

“I guess not,” Han admitted. He felt a little foolish for missing the hint, but he couldn’t be expected to read Leia’s mind all the time—after all, he wasn’t the Jedi. “But look, I can’t just open a channel to Tenel Ka and say, Hang tight, kid—the Solos are on their way. What kind of trap did you sense?”

Leia shook her head. “I don’t know exactly. Back at the comet, I sensed someone watching us.”

Han remembered Leia’s distant expression, when he thought she was trying to warn Tenel Ka. “A Jedi?”

Leia nodded. “I think it was Tesar, but he wasn’t sure about me and closed down pretty fast.”

Han frowned in concentration. “And since you felt Jaina watching us back at the Kirises—”

“Exactly,” Leia said. “Chances are that whoever was watching the Kiris fleet there—”

“—followed it here.”

Han switched the comm unit to the hailing channel, which they would need to use since they didn’t have the codes or frequencies for Tenel Ka’s fleet. Another streamer of smoke began to rise from the shield array panel, and when he tried to adjust the glides, the readout did not change.

“Uh, before I send this message, maybe you’d better put yourself into a Jedi flying trance or something.”

“Han, I’ll be open to the Force,” Leia said. “But there really is no such thing as a Jedi flying trance.”

“Too bad—because I think our shields are stuck.” Han looked over at Leia and blew her a kiss, then activated his microphone and began to broadcast on the general hailing channel. “This is a message for Queen Mother Tenel Ka from Han Solo. Listen up, kid—I’ve got something important to tell you …”