STAR WARS: NEW JEDI ORDER: RECOVERY Page 2

  Leia ignored the question and demanded, “What things, Han?”

  Han seemed baffled. He glanced at Dr. Nimbi, then said, “Nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry.”

  “When you tell me not to worry, that’s when I worry,” Leia said. Han had always been one of those men who navigated life more by instinct than by chart—it was one of the things she most loved about him—but his instincts since Chewbacca’s death had been carrying him into some very dangerous areas. Or perhaps the territory only seemed dangerous, lying as it did always farther from Leia. “What’s wrong?”

  Han still seemed worried, but at least he had the sense to ignore Dr. Nimbi’s admonishing shake of the head. “Well,” he began, “you do remember where we are?”

  Leia glanced at the emblems on the CorSec officer’s jumpsuit. “How could I forget?”

  And then it hit her. The Corellians were calling them by their correct names. There were two CorSec agents standing in her hospital room, and Dr. Nimbi—a Jedi sympathizer with enough experience in such matters not to slip—was calling Leia by her real name. Their cover had been blown.

  Something started to beep on the equipment behind the bed.

  Dr. Nimbi held a scanner over Leia’s heart. “Leia, you need to calm yourself. Stress only reduces the chance of your body overcoming the infection.”

  The beeping continued, and the nurse took a spray hypo off her tray. “Shall I prepare a—”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Leia reached out with the Force and nudged the hypo—clumsily, but enough to make her point. “Clear?”

  The astonished nurse dropped the hypo on the tray and huffed something about pushy Jedi witches, then raised her nose and started for the door—where she was met by a rising din of excited voices. The MD droid was threatening to notify security and protesting that the media were not permitted in the isolation ward, but the intruders were paying no attention. A sudden glow poured through the door as a holocrew’s lights illuminated the corridor outside, and the flustered nurse came stumbling back into the room.

  “Great,” Han muttered. “Thrackan.”

  A bearded man who—except for his gray hair—looked more like Han than Han did came bursting into the room, leaving a small swarm of assistants and holojournalists in the corridor outside. The man, Han’s cousin Thrackan Sal-Solo, glanced around briefly, saw that he was standing between Leia and the door, then moved forward so the holocams would have a view of her face. She slid down and tried to hide behind Dr. Nimbi, who recognized what she was doing and quietly positioned himself in front of her.

  Sal-Solo scowled at the doctor, then looked Han and Leia over and nodded to the CorSec officer. “That’s them. Well done, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Governor-General.”

  “Governor-General?” Han repeated, trying not to scoff and, to Leia’s ear at least, failing. “You’ve come up in the galaxy, cousin.”

  “The Five Brothers reward those who protect them,” Sal-Solo said.

  “Yes—it seems reekcats always land on their feet,” Leia said.

  Less than a decade earlier, Sal-Solo had held her family hostage in a failed attempt to establish an independent Corellian sector. More recently, he had inadvertently destroyed an entire Hapan battle fleet by using an ancient alien artifact called Centerpoint Station to attack a hostile force of Yuuzhan Vong. Given that Leia had been responsible for bringing the Hapans into the war, she was probably the only person in the galaxy who despised Han’s cousin more than Han did. And it did not help matters that Sal-Solo had been hailed as a hero for his foolish actions and, eventually, elected governor-general of the entire Corellian sector.

  “What’s next?” Leia continued to glare at Sal-Solo. Han winced and drew his finger across his throat, but she ignored him. “Lose the war and become the New Republic Chief of State?”

  Sal-Solo half turned toward the holocam outside the door. “My allegiance is to the Corellian system alone.” His voice was stiff and self-conscious. “And you’d be smart to curb that lightsaber tongue of yours, Princess Leia. An insult to the man is an insult to the office.”

  “Really?” Leia propped herself up on her free elbow until the holocam lights warmed her face. “In this case, I should think it is the man himself who is the insult.”

  Sal-Solo glared at her in disbelief, then stormed over to the door and stuck his head into the corridor. “Clear the hall! Can’t you see this is an isolation ward?”

  The holocam illuminated his face briefly before he palmed the activation panel and the door closed. He stood facing the wall until the corridor was finally empty, then turned to Leia with eyes as dark as black holes.

  “You must have a death wish,” he said.

  “You’re the one who wanted to play this out in the media,” Leia said. “Don’t blame me if you can’t handle it. Wouldn’t it have been easier to keep things quiet and ignore us?”

  “Nothing would have suited me more—except maybe sending you off with a squad of Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators,” Sal-Solo said. “Unfortunately, the choice wasn’t mine. I didn’t know either of you was here until I saw on a newsvid that Han Solo had just killed three Corellian citizens.”

  “Sorry about that,” Han said, not appearing sorry at all.

  Sal-Solo gave him a dark look, then looked back to Leia. “There won’t be any charges, provided you—”

  “Charges?” Han exclaimed. Even Leia could not tell whether he was angry or surprised; they been apart so long—and gone through so much alone—that she felt like she did not know him now. “For killing a bunch of Peace Brigaders?”

  “They weren’t in the Peace Brigade,” Sal-Solo said. “CorSec Intelligence says they were local.”

  “That doesn’t mean they weren’t Peace Brigade,” Han said.

  “But they weren’t,” Sal-Solo said. “Roxi Barl is an independent contractor. She didn’t like orders, which rules out the Peace Brigade or anyone associated with the Yuuzhan Vong. Or so Intelligence tells me.”

  “Then who was she working for?” Han demanded.

  Thrackan shrugged. “That’s a good question. Fortunately, it’s also one that, as of an hour from now, will no longer concern me.”

  Han scowled. “No?”

  “Because you’ll be gone by then,” Thrackan said.

  “Gone?” Han shook his head. “We’re not going anywhere until Leia can walk.”

  Leia frowned. Their faces had been on newsvids all over the system, and he was talking about staying until she could walk. What kind of rocket juice had he been drinking while they were apart?

  “Han,” Leia said gently. “We talked this over. You know I may never—”

  Han whirled on her. “Until you walk, Leia.”

  Leia recoiled, and Han hovered over the bed, staring into her eyes, not blinking, not breathing, not wavering, as though he could change what had happened on Duro—maybe even what had happened before that—through sheer force of will.

  “Han, we can’t,” she said at last. “By now, bounty hunters and Peace Brigaders from all over the system will be converging on the medcenter. And even if Thrackan wanted to protect us, he couldn’t. It would give the Yuuzhan Vong too much reason to come see if Centerpoint is still operational.”

  “And he’s just sending us on our way?” Han scoffed. “Straight into a Yuuzhan Vong patrol, that’s where he’s sending us.”

  “He can’t, Han,” Leia said. “He can’t take the chance we’d break under torture and tell them Centerpoint isn’t working.”

  Han considered this, then glanced at his cousin.

  “If it makes you feel better, I could always have you killed,” Sal-Solo offered amicably. “That works for me.”

  “And how do you think Anakin would like that?” Leia retorted. Their son Anakin was the only one who had ever been able to fully activate Centerpoint Station, and his absence was one reason the ancient superweapon wasn’t working now. “He doesn’t care for you much as it is, Thrackan. I doubt he�
�d be very helpful if you arranged the death of his parents.”

  Sal-Solo’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “As long as we’re agreed, then. You’ll leave within the hour.”

  “Han,” Dr. Nimbi said helpfully, “she can handle the journey if you stop at bacta parlors along the way.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Leia will be fine. It’s your, uh, friend I’m worried about.”

  Han seemed confused. “Friend?”

  “In tank three,” Dr. Nimbi said. “I don’t think you should leave her behind, not with all those bounty hunters and Peace Brigaders on the way.”

  “Oh—right. Our friend.” Han glanced at Leia, and something roguish came to his eye, something sly and fun and conspiratorial that had not been there since before Chewbacca’s death. He looked back to Sal-Solo and sighed. “Look, I don’t mean to be difficult, but we can’t go without Jaina.”

  “Jaina? Jaina’s here?”

  Leia thought she had been the one to blurt the question, but realized that was not so when all eyes turned to Sal-Solo. At least she understood why Han had been acting so strangely. She had a vague memory of a deep-space rendezvous with the Jade Shadow, of kissing her brother and each of her children good-bye and telling them she would see them again on Coruscant. Something must have happened. Perhaps Han had needed Jaina to help him fly the Falcon, or perhaps Mara and Luke had run into trouble and been forced to divert. Maybe all of her children were on Corellia. She hoped not. She hoped Jacen and Anakin were safe on Coruscant . . . but it would be good to see them, too. So good.

  “. . . Anakin?” Sal-Solo was asking. “Is he here, too?”

  “Just Jaina,” Han said firmly. “Anakin and Jacen are on Coruscant.”

  “Of course, you would say that.” Sal-Solo was thinking aloud. If he could force Anakin to reactivate Centerpoint, he would have no worries from the Yuuzhan Vong or the New Republic. He could use it to isolate the whole Corellian system and run the place as his personal empire. “But I can find out. I have my ways.”

  “Yeah—you could comm them on Coruscant,” Han said. “Feel free to reverse the HoloNet charges—I know how strapped things are here in Corellia.”

  “Wait—what was that about tank three?” Leia demanded, not paying much attention to the exchange between Han and Sal-Solo. “Jaina’s in a bacta tank? What happened?”

  “You remember.” Again, Han gave her a strange glare. “That hit on Duro turned out to be worse than we thought.”

  The stress alarm behind the bed started to beep again.

  “Will you please disconnect that thing?” Leia demanded. Whatever had happened—whatever Han was trying to tell her—she did not want a machine giving them away. “And get me a repulsor chair. I want to see my daughter.”

  “Yes.” Sal-Solo was scowling and studying Han, obviously wondering why Leia seemed so surprised. “Why don’t we all go?”

  Dr. Nimbi arranged for a repulsor chair, then unstrapped Leia’s arm from the safety rail, hung the necessary IV lines on the bag hook attached to the chair, and helped her out of bed.

  Leia’s legs were no sooner lowered than they began to ache with a pain a hundred times worse than childbirth. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a bursting, throbbing, burning kind of anguish that made her wish the Yuuzhan Vong had finished the job and cut them all the way off. She caught Sal-Solo staring and looked down to see two huge Hutt-like things sticking out where her legs should have been.

  “If you’re going to gape,” Leia said, “I wish you wouldn’t smile.”

  Sal-Solo covered his mouth, which was not actually smiling, and turned away. Accompanied by the CorSec agents, Sal-Solo, and even the nurse, Dr. Nimbi led them past the droid’s monitoring post down the opposite corridor. Leia’s heart began to pound immediately. The door of the bacta parlor was ringed by black blossoms of soot. Opposite, the ruins of the waiting room were set off by the jagged remains of a small half wall. They had been determined, these bounty hunters, and it made Leia shudder to think how close they must have come to capturing her only daughter.

  As they reached the bacta parlor, Leia noticed an anvil-headed Arcona sitting in one of the few undamaged chairs. He met her gaze long enough to nod, then went back to staring at his feet. She steered her chair into the bacta parlor behind Han, the nurse, and the others.

  They stopped in front of tank three, where a badly wounded woman of at least thirty years of age was floating inside. She was several centimeters taller than Leia and well muscled, and though there was something vaguely familiar about her face, she bore no resemblance at all to either Han or Leia. Most telling of all, her head was surrounded by a cloud of silky hair; like Leia, Jaina had left hers in a decontamination lock on Duro.

  Leia craned her neck, checking the other tanks for an occupant that could be her daughter. There was none; only a Selonian with an amputated tail.

  “This is Jaina?” Sal-Solo asked, clearly as doubtful as Leia herself. “She’s a little old to be your daughter, Han.”

  “She’s been flying for Rogue Squadron,” Han said. “You’d be surprised how space combat ages a girl.”

  And Leia finally understood. For some reason she did not yet know, Han and Dr. Nimbi were trying to get this woman off Corellia. Jaina was not there at all; none of her children were. Leia should have been relieved, but instead she felt let down and desperately alone.

  “. . . that right, Leia?” Han was asking.

  “Yes, of course,” Leia answered, with no idea whatsoever what she was agreeing to. “That’s true.”

  Han nodded assertively. “You see?”

  “Does space combat also change eye color?” the nurse asked, studying the data display attached to the mystery woman’s tank. “I seem to recall that Jaina’s eyes are brown, like her mother’s. This patient’s are listed as green.”

  “Cosmetic tinting,” Leia explained. Even if her heart was not in it, she knew what Han needed from her. “To make her harder to identify.”

  Sal-Solo looked doubtful. “What are you trying to pull, cousin? This woman can’t be your daughter.”

  “I could confirm her identity with a simple genetic test,” Dr. Nimbi suggested. “We could have the results in, oh, two days.”

  Sal-Solo glowered at the doctor, then turned to the nurse. “Check the admission data. Who’s the responsible party?”

  Han had not changed so much in his time away that Leia could no longer see through his sabacc face. He awaited the nurse’s response with a feigned air of disinterest, but his eyes were fixed behind her, where a reflection on the surface of tank two showed the data scrolling up the display. When the screen finally stopped rolling, its reflection showed several blank data fields. Han’s gaze shifted quickly back to the nurse.

  “She was admitted anonymously.” He stated it as though he knew it for a fact. “No name, no contact information.”

  The nurse’s jaw fell, but she nodded. “Not even notes about the receiving circumstances.”

  Han turned to Sal-Solo with a smirk. “That’s all the proof you need, Governor-General.” He pressed a finger to the bacta tank, and the green eyes of the woman inside fluttered open. “She leaves with us—or I inform every media station in the system that you’re holding our daughter against our will.”

  Sal-Solo glared at him. “I could prove that you’re lying.”

  “True,” Han said. “But could you prove it to the Yuuzhan Vong?”

  Sal-Solo’s face grew even stormier, and he turned to the doctor. “Can she be moved—now?”

  “We can lend them a temporary bacta tank,” Dr. Nimbi said. “As long as they change the fluid each time they stop for Leia, this patient should be fine as well.”

  Sal-Solo studied the tank, no doubt trying as feverishly as Leia to puzzle out what the woman inside had to do with the Solos—and of what interest she might be to whoever had sent Roxi Barl. Finally, a full minute after Leia had given up on the riddle, he made a sour face and turned to Dr. Nimbi.

&n
bsp; “I think I do see a certain family resemblance,” Sal-Solo said. “But you’ll sell the tank to them, not lend. I don’t want anyone coming to return it.”

  Chapter 3

  The security hatch finally irised open, revealing the cavernous interior of the public berthing facility where the Solos had hidden the Millennium Falcon in plain sight. On any other planet, they would have rented a private bay in some very discreet luxury dock. But on security-obsessed Corellia, such measures inevitably drew more attention than they avoided. Leia and Han spent a moment studying the activity on the docking bay’s floor, then exited the cramped access lock.

  The hatch whispered shut behind them, and finally they were someplace where they could talk. Putting her growing fatigue out of mind, Leia caught Han’s arm and pulled him around to face her.

  “Han, what’s going on?” A muffled clamor sounded inside the access lock as their CorSec escorts entered with their “daughter” and her portable bacta tank. “Who is that woman, and why did Nimbi want us to remove her from a medcenter she seems very much in need of?”

  “Because she may be in as much danger as you are.” Han squatted on his haunches in front of Leia, placing himself at eye level—and turning his back to any spymikes that might be aimed at them from the facility’s depths. “She did some things to help me during the firefight. I think she’s a Jedi.”

  “A Jedi?” Leia did not ask for details or reasons. The CorSec agents would be in the access lock only a few moments, just long enough for the security computers to scan their faces and confirm their identities. “We may not be doing her any favors. Whoever sent Barl is still on our trail.”

  Han glanced over his shoulder. “Where?”

  “Behind us, in the access lock,” Leia said. “You remember when I said that CorSec agent was stealing?”

  Han’s brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

  “I wasn’t hallucinating. My datapad is gone.”

  Now he looked angry. “That Ranat!”

  “Han, don’t say anything about it. The money was well spent.” The device had only been a cheap replacement for the one she’d lost on Duro, and there was nothing on it but a few half-finished—probably incoherent—letters to family and friends. “He also took two datachits and the recording rod.”