TWENTY-EIGHT

The council chamber of the Hapan court filled with frantically shouting figures. They fell silent, out of mingled fear and habit, as a slender, red-robed woman rose to speak.

“Someone must take command until a new queen mother is enthroned,” Ta’a Chume said. Slowly, deliberately, she lifted a delicate jeweled crown and placed it on her own head.

“The Witch of Dathomir is dead!” someone shouted. “No more Jedi queens.”

Murmurs of agreement swirled through the room, for it was widely known that the former queen despised her daughter-in-law. But Ta’a Chume sent a slow, glacial stare toward her would-be supporter. A profound silence fell over the hall. She let it reign for several moments before speaking.

“Yes, Queen Mother Teneniel Djo is dead,” Ta’a Chume agreed, “and the Ni’Korish are responsible. Whatever failings Teneniel Djo might have had, Hapan law demands death to any who raise a hand against the royal family. The Ni’Korish have gone too far. Even now, guards are gathering these traitors. Before nightfall, they will be no more.”

She lifted one hand, and guards stepped forward to take the man who’d shouted. For several moments the only sounds in the hall were his muffled protests, and the sound of his boots scraping across the polished floor as they dragged him away.

“What of the refugees?” someone asked in more subdued tones.

“Expendable,” Ta’a Chume stated flatly. “They may purchase us needed time.” She glanced pointedly toward Isolder. “A new queen will be named very soon.”

Another faint murmur rippled through the hall, rising in volume as two young women strode forward. The crowd fell back to let them pass.

Jaina noticed that Ta’a Chume’s eyes flickered from her to Tenel Ka, lingering on neither. The queen removed the crown she’d just donned and handed it to the prince. Through the Force, Jaina felt the woman’s faint, feline satisfaction.

Suddenly she understood. If Isolder offered Jaina the crown now, at a time of crisis and before a roomful of people, she could hardly refuse it. Ta’a Chume fully expected Jaina to eagerly seize the power. With stunning clarity, Jaina glimpsed herself through Ta’a Chume’s eyes. When the queen looked upon the Jedi pilot, she saw a younger version of herself.

But for all of Ta’a Chume’s machinations, it was not Jaina who ultimately would hold the throne. No doubt Jaina would soon have met the same fate as Teneniel Djo. Sooner or later, Tenel Ka would have had little choice but to assume the throne. She would not stand and see others die in her place.

They stopped at the front of the audience chamber. Tenel Ka turned to face Jaina. “There are times when personal inclinations must be put aside,” she said softly. “I will take up my mother’s crown, and I will defend it if I must. But for now, we have a common foe.”

The Jedi women regarded each other for a long, silent moment.

“Let’s go,” Jaina said.

A faint smile touched Tenel Ka’s lips. She strode over to her father and dropped to one knee. Without hesitation he placed the crown on her head.

Thunderous ovation swept through the room. The newly crowned queen rose and whirled toward the crowd, cutting off their applause with a swift, impatient gesture.

“I am a warrior, a daughter of warrior women. Teneniel Djo foresaw the Yuuzhan Vong threat and prepared. Shipyards hidden in the Transitory Mists have rebuilt much of the fleet lost at Fondor. These ships are on their way. Go, and fight, and know that Hapes is strong.”

She strode back toward Jaina, her pace quickening as she went. Jaina fell into step, and together the two Jedi women ran toward battle. The applause began again, with a fervor that swept them along like a gathering storm.

Jaina noted a familiar group of pilots at the back of the room, a disparate group—Hapans, Chiss, Republic, and rogue—who all chose to fly under Jag Fel’s command. She nodded to Jag and Kyp as she passed. “See you up there.”

Jag gave her a formal bow and then glanced to Shawnkyr. The Chiss pilots set off for the docking bay at a run, and Kyp fell into pace beside them.

Impulse struck, and Kyp acted on it at once. “Jaina never intended to marry the prince.”

Jag looked politely interested. “I see. He is not a Jedi.”

“True, but that’s not the issue,” Kyp said. “I’m guessing that the only man Jaina would ever take seriously is one who can outfly her.”

Jag ran along for several moments before answering. “There are not many who fit that description,” he observed neutrally.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Kyp responded in kind.

They skidded to a stop beside their docked ships. Jag extended his hand to Kyp. They clasped hands briefly.

“Watch her back,” the Chiss commander said softly, and then he swung up into his clawcraft.

   Kyp took his promise very seriously. He stormed over to the Yuuzhan Vong frigate and raced up the deck.

“Whatever you’re planning, forget it,” he said bluntly.

Jaina pulled off the cognition hood and stared at him.

“I get the feeling you’re about to toss your life away, sacrificing it as Anakin did. Not long ago, you told me that Anakin might have had the answers. We can’t let them just disappear into mist along with you.”

“Don’t put that on me,” Jaina said slowly. “You really think that I’m on a journey to discover what the Jedi should be?”

“It makes sense,” Kyp said. “You’ve got the talent, the heritage. Maybe there’s something to all this talk of destiny.”

Jaina picked up the hood again. “Get out.”

“Not until you tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

She rose suddenly, in a fluid blur, one hand thrown toward the older Jedi. Dark lightning crackled from her fingers and surrounded him in a shining nimbus. He flew back and struck the wall hard. His eyes narrowed, and the deadly aura disappeared. Jaina’s eyes widened in surprise.

“If I can summon it, I can dispel it,” he told her. “You’re not the only one who took that path.”

Jaina drew her lightsaber. “Outside,” she snarled.

Kyp gave her a mockingly courtly bow and motioned for her to go first. She shook her head. He shrugged and walked down the ramp, Jaina close behind him. As his feet touched the dock, she leapt into a backward flip and landed in the doorway. She shut off her lightsaber and took a step back. The living portal slammed shut behind her.

“Stang,” Kyp muttered as he watched the alien ship rise swiftly into the air.

   Jaina reached up to touch the cognition hood. Information flowed from every part of the ship, as it had from the first time she donned the hood. Before, she had always listened to the ship with detachment and distaste, as she might endure the necessary but loathsome companionship of a Hutt informer. Before, she’d had other Jedi aboard helping her interact with the ship. Without Tahiri’s hard-won connection to the Yuuzhan Vong, without Lowbacca’s skill with the organic navicomputer, Jaina could not afford the luxury of detachment. For the first time she opened herself fully to the living ship.

A strangely familiar sensation swept through her as the link between ship and pilot deepened. She’d experienced something like this twice before—once when she’d built her lightsaber and learned to use it as an extension of herself and her powers, and once again when she attuned the young villips Lowbacca had found in the ship’s hydroponic vats. Now that Jaina considered it, the two experiences had more in common than she would have thought possible.

She glanced at the two villips resting on the Trickster’s console. She reached for the villip that she had painstakingly attuned and stroked it to life. After a moment, the scarred face of Warmaster Tsavong Lah appeared. He recoiled in astonishment at the face his villip revealed.

“Greetings, Warmaster,” Jaina said in mocking tones. “Remember me? Jacen Solo’s twin sister?”

“You will be sacrificed to the gods,” the warmaster gritted out, “and then I will tear out your heart with my own hands.”

“If you still have your own hands, you’re probably not as far up the ladder as you wanted us to think. Put someone else on—someone with real authority and a few more replacement parts.”

Tsavong Lah growled in fury. “With those words, you have earned yourself much pain.”

“I take it the Vong don’t get promoted for their conversational skills,” she said. “Let’s see if the priest’s commander can do better.”

She awakened the second villip, that which formed a link between this ship and the priest’s villip. When a second scarred face came into view, Jaina brushed back her bangs to reveal the mark she’d drawn there—the symbol of Yun-Harla.

Two voices lifted in outraged howls. “I will bring you in, human,” the younger warrior said, snarling. “This I swear, by all the gods, by my domain and my sacred honor.”

Jaina passed a hand over the villips. Both inverted at once.

A Yuuzhan Vong fighter streamed toward her, and all others moved aside to let it pass.

Jaina reached for the energy that she had found within, that which hurled the dark lightning. She allowed it to flood her and direct her battle.

She sank deeper into the consciousness of the alien ship, losing herself in flight as she had always done. For what seemed like hours she and her challenger darted and spun, trading bolts of plasma, dodging and blocking like swordmasters. Jaina did not think—she acted.

For a while this seemed to be an effective strategy, but her identification with the living ship was too powerful. A plasma bolt slipped back the dovin basal shields and scorched along the side of the ship. Jaina jolted, screaming, as an unexpected searing pain raced down her left arm. She was surprised to see no physical damage there.

Barely conscious, she began to slide completely into the darkness. Again she fell back in time, into the terrifying duel at the Shadow Academy. Again she fought Darth Vader, but this time she could not prevail.

Her opponent stepped back and ripped off the black helmet, revealing Kyp Durron’s face. Light seemed to fill him as they continued to fight, pushing aside the remnants of his dark disguise and then tentatively reaching out to her.

Jaina felt the mingled joy and pain of Kyp’s long, slow redemption, the isolation of his long years of restitution. She felt his regret for selfishly endangering the one person who could become all that he himself would never achieve.

And with absolute certainty, she knew that Kyp was wrong—she was not the one. The path to a different understanding of the Force was not her journey to take.

Another truth came to her, and she could no longer deny the nature of the path she had taken. It seemed strange, ironic, that Kyp Durron would be the one to try to save her.

An answer came to her, along with the image of Kyp’s wry smile. Did you ever think that you might be the one who’s saving me? Come on back. We’ll figure this out together.

Slowly, she began to battle her way back toward the light. Kyp faded away, and her opponent took on Khalee Lah’s face and form. Jaina fought fiercely, but every blow she landed took a toll on her own body.

Gradually she became aware of an array of lights taking focus before her. An insistent voice droned through her comm, dragging her into awareness. The ship’s console blinked frantically as luminous creatures warned of massive system failure.

“Jaina, fall back. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The voice, and the power it held, jolted her back to consciousness. Jaina’s hands were still on the controls, still firing the weapons—her connection with the ship remained. After a startled moment, she realized that Kyp had been talking to her through the comm system Lowbacca had installed.

Or perhaps he had been speaking through her vision.

Jaina glanced at the warrior’s ship, which was circling around for another attack. The Trickster jolted as her opponent’s dovin basal got a lock on her ship.

An X-wing streaked between them, sending a steady barrage at the Yuuzhan Vong fighter—and heading directly into the gravitic pull.

Suddenly freed, Jaina swept around to back up her rescuer. But the X-wing had taken a hit. It spiraled off, a comet followed by a tail of burning fuel. The ship exploded in a sharp white flare.

She reached out and felt the familiar presence—Kyp had gone EV in time. She wheeled around, leaving her vengeance unfinished, her questions unanswered.

She set course for her Jedi Master, and the shared path before them.