THIRTY-TWO

A long, golden arrow curved through the heart of the hologrammic flight control display, tracing the route of the stolen skiff from the repair hangar to its current location on the edge of Ossus’s gravity well. The reckless manner in which the skiff had cut through the approach zone of the planet’s primary spaceport suggested the pilot had been eager to get away from the Jedi academy as quickly as possible. But Luke had already known that. Escapees liked to move fast.

“Thirty seconds before she can jump,” a flight controller reported. A large-headed Bith with an auditory data feed in one ear, he was seated at one of a dozen control stations surrounding the hologrammic display. “She still won’t acknowledge our signal.”

“Keep trying,” Luke said. He could feel the anxiety of the XJ3 pilots trailing the skiff—a pair of young Jedi Knights flying their first security rotation. They were worried they would have to blast it out of space. “Do we know yet whether she has company?”

“Not with certainty,” said the Bith’s supervisor, a blue-skinned Duros woman named Orame. She stepped to an empty terminal and clacked a few keys. An inset of a repair hangar security vid appeared at the base of the flight control display. “But we did find this.”

The inset showed Alema Rar striding through a darkened repair bay, two cases of food goods floating through the air ahead of her.

“We think that shadow—”

“Enhance the cases,” Mara said. Along with Han, Leia, and several others, she had accompanied Luke up from the hangar floor as soon as the stolen skiff had streaked skyward. “Bring up a label, if you can.”

The Duros typed a command, and the carton label filled the image.

“NUTROFIT GELMEAT,” Mara read.

“She’s stealing Gorog!” Ben cried.

The skiff’s trajectory began to flatten as Alema prepared to enter hyperspace. The XJ3 pilots commed for permission to open fire, and Luke reached out to them in the Force, urging them to avoid disabling the vessel.

“Permission granted,” Orame said over the comm channel. “Open fire.”

The pilots hesitated. “But—”

“You heard the order,” Luke said, still reaching out to the pilots through the Force, urging them let the skiff go. “Open fire.”

The skiff’s trajectory began to weave and wobble as it began evasive maneuvers.

“She’s getting away!” Ben cried. “Stop her!”

“They have to be careful, Ben,” Mara said gently. “Or they might hurt Gorog.”

Ben considered this, then sighed and took her hand. “Let them go. I don’t think Gorog wanted to stay anyway.”

The skiff’s trajectory reached the edge of Ossus’s gravity well and vanished. The flight controller reported that the stolen skiff had entered hyperspace.

Han let out a sigh of relief. “Right on sch—”

“Not now,” Luke interrupted, raising his hand to silence Han. He turned to Ben. “How did you know Gorog didn’t want to stay? Do you still feel her in your mind?”

Ben closed his eyes, then nodded. “Sort of. She wants me to be happy.”

Luke felt his own dismay mirrored in Mara. If Ben remained in touch with Gorog after she had entered hyperspace, it could only be through the Colony’s Will. He was part Joiner—Dark Nest Joiner.

Mara had reached the same conclusion. Luke could feel her alarm and anger through the Force, and she was as quick as he was to realize that they could not discuss their plans in front of their son.

“Ben, maybe Nanna can take you to the pilots’ lounge for some Fizzer,” Mara said. “We have some things to discuss, then we’ll find you there before we leave.”

Ben made no move toward the door, where Nanna and C-3PO were waiting.

Luke frowned. “Ben, I’m sure you heard your mother.”

Ben nodded. “I heard. But why do I have to stay behind on Ossus?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Han. “Is there going to be another war?”

Han grimaced, then said, “Not if we can help it, kid.”

“And certainly not in this part of the galaxy,” Mara added. “Why are you worried about that?”

“Because this is what you do when there’s a war,” Ben said. “You just dump me someplace with Masters Tionne and Solusar and then never even come to visit.”

The accusation struck a pang in Luke’s heart, and he felt Mara wince as well. They often wondered how much Ben’s refusal to use the Force had to do with the separation anxiety he had suffered during the war with the Yuuzhan Vong, and Ben knew this particular complaint had an effect on them.

Even so, Mara refused to be manipulated by an eight-year-old. “Don’t exaggerate, Ben. We had to keep you safe, and you know we came to see you every chance we had.”

“Besides, they won’t be gone long this time,” Jacen said, stepping out from behind Han and Leia. “There isn’t going to be a war.”

Ben frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I know.” Jacen flashed a crooked Solo smile. “Trust me.”

Luke felt a sudden qualm in Mara, and though her eyes remained fixed on Ben, he sensed that her thoughts were on Jacen.

“Besides, you’re not going to be alone,” Jacen added. “I’ll be here, too.”

“You’re not going back?” Ben asked.

“Not yet. The Masters are worried that some of us have spent too much time with the Killiks already.”

“Tell me about it,” Ben answered, rolling his eyes.

“So maybe you and I could hang out together?” Jacen glanced at Mara. “If that’s all right with your mother.”

“Of course.” Mara answered with no outward hesitation, but Luke detected just a hint of apprehension, as though she did not quite trust the “new-and-improved” Jacen. “As long as Master Solusar thinks Ben is keeping up with his schoolwork—”

“No problem!” Ben’s smile was as broad as a Hutt’s. “School’s easy.”

“And as long as you obey Masters Tionne and Solusar,” Mara warned Ben. “No secrets with Nanna, either.”

“I can’t do that anymore,” Ben said. “Dad altered her program.”

“Good.” Jacen took Ben’s hand and started for the door. “Why don’t we get that Fizzer now?”

“Can I have kyleme?” Ben asked, not looking back. “A Blue Giant size?”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Han said, “Jacen has a knack with kids. Go figure.”

“It’s his empathy,” Leia said. “I’m glad to see it’s intact.”

Leia left unsaid what Luke knew she was thinking: that after the war—after all Jacen had suffered at the hands of Vergere and the Yuuzhan Vong—she was surprised he had any empathy left.

Luke turned to Han. “Sorry to interrupt you earlier, but we don’t know how much the Dark Nest might be able to glean from Ben’s mind.”

“No problem,” Han said. “I got a little carried away when I saw how well the plan was working.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” Leia said. “Alema is still a Jedi. Once Cilghal let her regain consciousness, there was never any question she could escape. The tricky part is going to be following her.”

“How did you know which vessel she’d steal?” Mara asked.

“We didn’t,” Leia said. “We bugged them all.”

“Speaking of bugs, we’d better get going,” Han said. “That transmitter only has a subspace range of fifty light-years. We can’t be too far behind when Alema hits Colony space, or we’ll be stuck guessing where she went.”

Luke followed Han and the others toward the door. Their intention was to follow Alema to the core of the Dark Nest, then undermine its influence over the Colony by eliminating Welk and—assuming she had survived the Crash—Lomi Plo. Cilghal and Jacen were convinced that at least Welk had survived—and that a Dark Jedi now led the Gorog in much the same way Raynar led the Unu. It was a somewhat ruthless plan, especially in the way it placed Alema’s life at risk without her consent. But it seemed to Luke to be consistent with the nature of modern Jedi themselves. The war with the Yuuzhan Vong had taught the Jedi the folly of valuing sentiment over effectiveness, the wisdom of striking quickly and fiercely at the heart of a problem. Sometimes, Luke wondered whether it was a lesson the Jedi had learned too well; whether in defeating their enemies they had not become a little too much like them.

At the door, Han ran headlong into a short, gawky man with a heavily tattooed face and unruly blue hair. Without apologizing for—or even seeming to notice—the collision, the newcomer pushed past Han and stopped in front of Luke. R2-D2 followed close behind.

“Here you are,” the man said. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I don’t understand why, Ghent,” Mara said. “We told you we were leaving on Jedi business.”

Ghent furrowed his brow. “You did?”

“Several times.” Luke saw Han tapping his wrist impatiently. “And we have to leave soon.”

“Oh.” Ghent’s eyes dropped, then slid back toward R2-D2. “I guess this can wait.”

“What can wait?” Leia asked. Luke had told her about the holo hidden in the sequestered sector in R2-D2’s memory, and she was as eager as he was to learn more about the mysterious woman. “Did you find something?”

Ghent shook his head. “Just a few seconds of holo that I managed to relocate before I tripped a security gate. What I wanted to ask is if I could—”

“Holo of what?” Luke asked. “A brown-eyed woman?”

“That’s right,” Ghent said. “But it’s really not very much. If I can—”

“Can you show it to us?” Leia sounded even more excited than Luke felt. “Before we leave?”

Ghent frowned. “Of course.”

An uneasy silence fell as Luke and the others waited.

“Ghent, we want to see the holo,” Mara said. “Now. As Luke said, we haven’t got much time.”

Ghent’s brow rose. “Oh.”

He squatted and inserted the plug of a homemade diagnostics scanner into one of R2-D2’s input slots, then hastily typed a command.

“Show them.”

R2-D2 piped an objection, and Han groaned and looked at his chrono.

“Don’t make me scramble your sector tables again,” Ghent warned. “This time, I won’t restore them.”

R2-D2 let out a long, descending trill, then activated his holoprojector.

The hand-sized profile of the same brown-eyed woman that Luke had seen before appeared on the control room floor. She seemed to be standing alone, facing someone outside the hologram.

“Has Anakin been to see you?” asked a male voice.

“Wait a minute,” Han said. “That guy sounds familiar.”

“He should,” Luke replied. The voice was much younger than when they had known him, but there was no mistaking its clarity and resonance. “That’s Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Ghent tapped a key on his diagnostics scanner, stopping the holo. “Do you want to see this or not?”

“Of course—we’re sorry,” Leia said. “Please continue.”

Ghent punched the key again, and R2-D2 restarted the holo from the beginning.

“Has Anakin been to see you?” Obi-Wan’s voice asked.

“Several times.” The woman smiled, then said, “I was so happy to hear that he was accepted on the Jedi Council.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan walked into the hologram, wearing a Jedi cloak with the hood down. He was still young, with a light brown beard and an unwrinkled face. “He deserves it. He’s impatient, strong-willed, very opinionated, but truly gifted.”

They laughed, then the woman said, “You’re not just here to say hello. Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan’s face grew serious. “You should be a Jedi, Padmé.”

The name shot an electric bolt of excitement through Luke—and he could sense it had done the same to Leia.

“You’re not very good at hiding your feelings,” Padmé said.

Obi-Wan nodded. “It’s Anakin. He’s becoming moody and detached.” His holoimage turned half away. “He’s been put in a difficult position as the Chancellor’s representative, but I think it’s more than that.” The image turned back to Padmé again. “I was hoping he may have talked to you.”

Padmé’s expression—at least what could be seen of it in the small hologrammic image—remained neutral.

“Why would he talk to me about his work?”

Obi-Wan studied her for a moment. “Neither of you is very good at hiding your feelings, either.”

Padmé frowned. “Don’t give me that look.”

Obi-Wan continued to look at her in the same way. “I know how he feels about you.”

Padmé’s eyes slid away. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan answered. “He didn’t have to.”

Padmé’s face fell, and she turned and walked out of the hologram. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you both too well.” Obi-Wan followed her out of the frame. “I can see you two are in love.”

There was no answer, and the hologram ended.

Luke could see Han biting his tongue, forcing himself to remain patient while the distance grew between them and Alema’s skiff, but this was important—at least to him and Leia.

“That’s all?” Luke asked.

Ghent nodded and tapped R2-D2’s silver dome. “Artoo’s blocking me. When I tripped that security gate, he encrypted the rest of the data.”

R2-D2 whistled an objection.

“It’s not your place to decide what is good for Master Luke,” C-3PO said. “You’re only a droid.”

R2-D2 trilled an angry reply.

“No, I don’t know the secret you’re keeping,” C-3PO answered. “And if I did know, I’d tell Master Luke instantly.”

R2-D2 responded with a low, slurpy buzz.

Luke frowned at the exchange, but turned back to Ghent. “Look. We’ve got about two minutes before we have to launch. Is there any way to see the rest now, without Artoo’s cooperation?”

Ghent sighed. “Sure.” He pulled his scanner plug out of R2-D2’s input socket. “All I have to do is overwrite his personality sectors—”

The rest of Ghent’s explanation was lost to R2-D2’s screech of objection.

“Don’t expect me to translate that,” C-3PO said. “That’s what happens to arrogant droids like you. I suggest you extend your cooperation immediately.”

R2-D2 trilled a sad refusal.

Luke glanced at the droid, then asked, “I mean without a personality wipe.”

“Not in two minutes—and maybe not in this lifetime,” Ghent said. “This droid hasn’t had a memory wipe in decades. His circuits are one huge personality fault.”

“I know that,” Luke said. “What about the spyware?”

Ghent looked confused. “Spyware?”

“The spyware that’s keeping me from accessing those memories.” Luke was losing patience with the programmer. “The memories concerning the woman we just saw?”

“Oh, that spyware,” Ghent said. “There isn’t any.”

“There isn’t?” Luke frowned. “Then how come Artoo won’t give me access?”

Ghent sighed, sounding as exasperated as Luke felt. “That’s what I’m trying to explain—”

“Maybe you can explain on the way to the pilots’ lounge,” Mara interrupted. She motioned them out the door. “We can finish talking on the way. We’ve still got a Twi’lek to catch, remember?”

“Right.”

Luke was so excited by the hologram that he had let it overshadow their mission for a moment. Anakin—his father—had been in love with a beautiful woman named Padmé. And Padmé did not look so different from Leia. Did they finally know their mother’s name? He could sense that Leia thought so—but she was too afraid to say as much out loud. So was he.

Luke fell in beside Ghent. “You were explaining why Artoo won’t let me access those memories?”

“Because he thinks he’s protecting you,” Ghent said. “He’s a very stubborn droid.”

“But you can get around that, right?” Leia asked. “I’ve seen you slice codes on units far more sophisticated than Artoo’s.”

Ghent turned around and looked at Leia as though she had asked for the name of the last girl he had tried to pick up in a cantina—they never told him their name.

“No,” he said. “Artoo units were designed to military standards. That means their security protocols will destroy the data before they let it fall into unauthorized hands. If you try to force access, a doomsday gate will reformat the entire memory chip.”

“And there’s no way to beat that security without wiping Artoo’s personality first?” Luke asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Ghent said. “There’s a way—but you’d have to help me, and you probably can’t do it.”

“Try us,” Han said.

“Okay,” Ghent said. “Bring me the Intellex Four designer’s datapad.”

“What for?”

“Because he had to have a way to access the data when his prototypes developed glitches like these,” Ghent said. “And if he’s like most droid-brain designers, that hatch became part of the Intellex IV’s basic architecture. It’s a very complicated computer unit, so there’ll be a long list of passwords and encryption keys on that datapad.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, assuming it wasn’t destroyed in a war,” Luke said. “Who was this designer?”

Ghent shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. The Artoo was originally an Imperial design, and the Imperial Department of Military Research kept the identities of its top scientists secret.”

“You must be joking,” Leia said. “You want us to find this guy’s datapad without knowing anything about him?”

“It’s not quite that bad,” Ghent said. “Do you remember when Incom’s design staff defected to the Rebellion with the X-wing prototypes?”

“Of course,” Leia said cautiously.

“Well, this guy was consulting with them on the Artoo interface,” Ghent said. “And after the defection, Industrial Automaton never made another design modification to the Intellex Four.”

“They were afraid to,” Han surmised. “Because this guy was the only one who could do it right, and he had defected with the X-wing designers.”

“No, not because he had defected,” Leia said. She was studying Ghent intently. “If he had, we’d know who he was. Right?”

“Right,” Ghent said. “He just disappeared.”

Luke had a sinking feeling. “When you say disappeared, do you mean—”

“Nobody knows.” Ghent turned to Leia. “That’s what disappeared means, right? Nobody knows.”