Invincible Read online

  “Thank you,” he said, and Jaina knew she had accomplished the second step of her plan. Now all she had to do was convince them she should be the one to send. “I’ve been wondering when someone else was going to come to the same conclusion.”

  “Then you approve?” While Kenth’s voice was condemning, there was something in it that did not sound quite sincere to Jaina—as though he secretly agreed with Luke’s decision, but felt the argument had to be made for form’s sake. “Assassinating a Head of State?”

  “I doubt we’ll be fortunate enough to get away with simple assassination,” Luke replied. “But yes. For some time now, it’s been clear to me that our survival—and civilization’s well-being—depends on ridding the galaxy of Darth Caedus.”

  Corran shook his head. “There are a lot of legitimate ways to be rid of Ja—” He caught himself and stopped, casting an apologetic look toward the Solos. Again, there was something missing from his tone, and Jaina had the sense that while he was sincere in what he was saying, he already knew that this was an argument he had no chance of winning. “To remove Caedus from power. Assassination isn’t one of them. It would make us no different from him.”

  “We have tried arrest, and we have tried politicz,” Saba replied. “And we have failed because we refuse to see the truth: Caedus remainz in power because he never balkz at the kill. If we wish to remove him, neither can we.”

  Kyp nodded in agreement. “That’s right. Caedus won’t be taken alive … and if we try, we’ll be the ones who end up dead.” He turned to Luke. “But if you’ve already decided we have to do this, why wait until Jaina brings it up?”

  “To tell the truth, I was worried that my judgment might be clouded by a desire for vengeance.” Luke glanced in Jaina’s direction, and a look of genuine relief came to his eyes. “So I wanted to hear someone else say it first.”

  Jaina’s heart sank. It was beginning to sound like Luke intended to go after Caedus himself, and she could not decide whether to feel betrayed or confused. She had no hope of convincing anyone—maybe not even herself—that she was more capable of slaying her brother than Luke. But what of the vision he had experienced on Mon Calamari, when he had promoted her to Jedi Knight? Hadn’t he foreseen that she would be the Sword of the Jedi, always leading the fight against enemies of the Order?

  Then Jaina had a terrible thought: perhaps the vision had not referred to what was, but to what was to be—perhaps she would become the Sword after the current one fell.

  “I’m going with you,” Jaina said. When she saw a look of disappointment flash across his face, she realized that she had reverted to the old Jaina—the Jaina who pronounced instead of offered—and amended her approach. “I mean, I’d like to help.”

  Luke surprised her with a sad smile. “There’s nothing I’d like better, Jaina,” he said, “but I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

  “Do you mind if I ask why not?” Jaina knew by Luke’s tone that she would not get him to change his mind, but she intended to keep fighting until after the battle was over … something else she had learned from the Mandalorians. “You’re going to need support, and I have been preparing.”

  “I know you have,” Luke said. “But I’m not going to need support because I can’t kill Caedus.”

  There was a short silence while everyone contemplated this startling statement. Then Saba Sebatyne began to siss.

  “Master Skywalker,” she said, “you are alwayz making jokes at such strange timez.”

  “I don’t think he’s joking,” Han said. He turned toward Luke. “Look, buddy, if this is about our feelings—”

  “Han, it’s not.” Luke met the gazes of both of Jaina’s parents, then said, “To tell the truth, I’ve been looking forward to running him down.”

  Jaina winced inside, and not just for herself. Her parents had told her that Luke claimed to hold only himself and Caedus responsible for Mara’s death—that he had not let slip one bitter remark or asked a single pointed question. But all the Solos realized how difficult it must be for him not to blame the parents for the crimes of the child. It would only be natural to blame them for raising a monster, to wonder how they could have gotten it so wrong. So if Luke had finally let slip a vengeful remark, Jaina knew her parents would be willing to overlook this one moment of human imperfection—as would Jaina, had she not understood what he was really saying.

  “You’ve been looking forward to it a little too much?” she asked. “Is that what you mean?”

  “Exactly.” Luke’s gaze slid away from the table. “Every future that begins with me going after Caedus ends in darkness. I know I’m the only one who can be sure of stopping him, but no matter how I envision it, it always leads to darkness.”

  “Because you want it too much,” Kyp said. “You said yourself that your judgment was clouded by vengefulness. If you could purify yourself, maybe go to Dagobah and meditate—”

  “It is not Master Skywalker’z judgment that is clouded,” Saba said. “It is him.”

  “What?” Han demanded. “He’s not allowed to get mad when someone kills his wife?”

  “This one does not think it is anger that cloudz him,” Saba replied. “This one thinkz it is what he did to Lumiya.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is taints, Master Sebatyne,” said Leia. “You’re saying that killing Lumiya in vengeance tainted him with the dark side.”

  “Yes.” Saba glanced in Luke’s direction, then lowered her chin in apology. “This one fearz that if you go after Caedus, no matter how the hunt beginz, it must end in vengeance. That is why you can see nothing but darknesz down that path.”

  “And this one believes you’re right,” Luke replied. “Thank you for your honesty, Master Sebatyne. It’s only one of the reasons I value your friendship.”

  Saba lifted her chin again. “It is only this one’s duty.”

  She paused and began to glance around the table at the other Masters, and Jaina knew that the Barabel was trying to decide whether any of the other Masters were better prepared than she was to hunt down a Sith Lord.

  Before Saba could act, Jaina stepped to her uncle’s side. “Let me go.”

  “You?” This came from the other end of the table, where Corran sat looking surprised and worried. “You’re only a Jedi Knight.”

  “So is Jacen,” Jaina replied, relying on a technicality—but knowing that it would work in her favor if anybody tried to argue that a Jedi Knight wasn’t powerful enough to confront Caedus. “I know that you Masters—and several Jedi Knights—are more skilled in both Force and lightsaber than I am. But I’m his twin sister. I’ll have advantages no one else will.”

  “What kind of advantages?” Kenth asked.

  Relieved to discover that she was actually being taken seriously, Jaina turned to address the table—and tried not to look toward her parents, whom she could feel beaming fear and dismay into the Force like a nova ejecting its gas shell.

  “First, I’ve been preparing with the Mandalorians,” she said. “He’ll expect me to fight like a Jedi, and I won’t.”

  “It’ll take more than Fett tricks,” Corran said doubtfully. “Caedus has plenty of his own—and he won’t fight like a Jedi, either.”

  “I know,” Jaina said. “But it will trouble him that it’s me coming after him. We know from debriefing Allana how misunderstood he feels, how betrayed he feels because we’ve all chosen to stand against him. It won’t protect me in a fight, but I can use it against him in other ways.”

  “And he won’t use your feelings against you?” Kyp asked. “He’s your brother, and you still love him. I can feel that.”

  “I still love him,” Jaina admitted. “But that won’t make me hesitate—not even for a nanosecond.”

  Then support arrived from an unexpected quarter.

  “And there’s the whole Sword of the Jedi vision Luke had when he made Jaina a Jedi Knight.” His voice was cracking, but Han Solo didn’t falter as he spoke—and he didn’t
balk. “That’s got to mean something.”

  Jaina’s heart beat an extra time in surprise, and she looked over to see her parents shining approval at her through tear-filled eyes.

  “You understand Force visions better than I do,” Jag said from the other end of the table. “But I suspect that doesn’t guarantee her survival.”

  “Jagged, the Force never guarantees,” Leia replied. “That doesn’t mean you can ignore it.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Jaina said, sufficiently recovered from her shock to react. “You, too, Dad. Your support means a lot.”

  “It better,” Han said. “Because you’re not doing this without us. Got it?”

  Jaina was too surprised to react instantly, though she knew she shouldn’t have been. Of course her parents would want to be her support team; their feelings about Jacen had to be as strong as her own, and they would want him stopped just as much as she did. And Jaina knew better than to think she would have any chance of keeping them away when she was placing herself in this kind of danger—her mother might have had the strength to let her go after her brother alone, but not her father. He was going to be watching her tail whether she wanted him there or not.

  Besides, if it was going to trouble Jacen to know that it was his sister hunting him, then it would trouble him even more to have all three Solos after him. It would hurt anyone to discover that his entire family was determined to kill him.

  Finally, Jaina nodded. “Okay, got—” She choked on the lump in her throat and paused, hit hard by the realization that she would be placing the entire Solo family in harm’s way—and that it was possible, maybe even likely, that none of them would survive the chain of events she was setting in motion. She looked at both her parents and nodded again. “Got it—and thanks.”

  “Do not assume too much, Jedi Solo,” Saba warned sternly. “Your parentz’ support does not mean you have ourz. You said you wanted to do this right. Why?”

  Jaina gulped away the lump that was still in her throat and thought for a minute, then turned to Saba. “Because I need Jedi resources?”

  Her honesty drew an appreciative laugh. She waited for it to fade, then continued, “And because I want to eliminate Darth Caedus—not replace him. If I go after him without sanction, I’ll be just another murderer—like him.”

  “But if we send you,” Kenth concluded, “you’re a soldier.”

  “Close enough,” Jaina said. She would have said executioner, but soldier did feel better. “This isn’t about me, or even Mara or Allana. It’s not about anything that Caedus has done—it’s about what he’s going to do, and that makes this a lot bigger than I am. If I don’t have the Council’s blessing, then I won’t even try it.”

  Saba blinked twice in what was either approval or surprise—even after dozens of missions with Tesar, Jaina still couldn’t read Barabels well enough to tell which—then steepled her taloned fingers, propped her elbows on the table, and turned to Luke.

  “Perhapz we should send more unruly young Jedi Knightz to Boba Fett for training,” she said. “If the one before us is any example, he has a gift for teaching them their place in the pack.”

  Luke smiled, but did not laugh. “Then you agree that she’s ready?”

  Saba took a moment to gather nods from the other Masters present, then turned back to Luke and inclined her own head. “It seemz you were right, yes.” She turned back to Jaina. “You have the sanction of the Masterz. What else do you need from us?”

  Jaina’s relief did not blind her to the implications of what Saba had just said. “Were right?” she asked. “The Masters have already been discussing this option?”

  “Of course,” said Kyp. “We’re Jedi Masters. Anticipate is what we do.”

  “Every day, it growz more clear to us that this fight will be won or lost in the mystic realm, not the physical,” Saba added. “And the Force has named you Sword of the Jedi. We would have been foolz not to discusz your request.”

  “Even before I made it—that’s the creepy part.” Jaina turned to Luke. “You knew I was going to ask for the Council’s sanction, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve seen some things that have led me to expect it, yes.” A note of distress in Luke’s voice suggested that not all those futures turned out well. “I apologize for not being more direct, but we had to be sure you were ready.”

  “So this was a test,” Jaina said, turning toward Kenth and Corran. “Your reservations about killing Caedus—”

  “Have already been discussed at length in your absence,” Kenth assured her. “We just wanted to be sure everyone present appreciated our reluctance in granting this sanction.”

  Jaina frowned, trying to read through the multiple layers of the Master’s meaning. “Are you saying that if I can bring Caedus in alive, I should try?”

  “And get yourself and the rest of your family killed?” Kenth responded. “Absolutely not.”

  “A couple of us had been holding out hope that Master Skywalker would be able to pursue a less drastic course,” Corran explained. He glanced in Luke’s direction. “We didn’t realize that wasn’t an option.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Luke said. “But I didn’t want that to influence your decision.”

  “And you didn’t want us to know what you were seeing in your own future,” Kenth surmised, “in case Jaina wasn’t ready.”

  “I never doubted she would be, Master Hamner.” Luke turned to Jaina. “Ben will accompany you to Coruscant.”

  “Ben?” It was Han who asked the question, but only because Jaina had been slowed by the cold lump of fear that had formed in her stomach. “Luke, that’s got to be your worst idea since apprenticing yourself to Palpatine’s clone. You do know we may not be coming back from this?”

  “I know that Ben is a Jedi Knight,” Luke said. “And that Jaina will need his connections inside the Galactic Alliance Guard to get to Caedus. Anything else I know is irrelevant to my decision.”

  Luke folded his hands behind his back and turned toward the darkness outside, then caught Jaina’s gaze in the viewport reflection.

  “I’m afraid your brother is already expecting someone to come after him,” Luke said. “I’ll be doing everything I can to keep him from seeing that it’s you.”

  What’s the difference between a lightsaber and a glowrod? A lightsaber impresses girls!

  —Jacen Solo, age 14 (shortly before he cut off Tenel Ka’s

  arm in sparring practice)

  He had made a few mistakes. Caedus could see that now. He had fallen to the same temptation all Sith did, had cut himself off from everything he loved—his family, his lover, even his daughter—to avoid being distracted by their betrayals. He could see now how blinding himself to his pain had also blinded him to his duty, how he had begun to think only of himself, of his plans, of his destiny … of his galaxy.

  Self-absorption.

  That was the downfall of the Sith, always. He had studied the lives of the ancients—such greats as Naga Sadow, Freedon Nadd, Exar Kun—and he knew that they always made the same mistake, that sooner or later they always forgot that they existed to serve the galaxy, and came to believe that the galaxy existed to serve them.

  And Caedus had stepped into the same trap. He had forgotten why he was doing all this, the reason that he had picked up a lightsaber in the first place and the reason that he had given himself over to the Sith, the reason that he had taken sole control of the Galactic Alliance.

  To serve.

  Caedus had forgotten because he was weak. After Allana had betrayed him by sneaking off the Anakin Solo with his parents, his pain had become a distraction. He had been unable to think, to plan, to command, to read the future … to lead. So he had shut away his feelings for Allana, had convinced himself that he was not really doing this for her and the trillions of younglings like her, that he was doing this for destiny—for his destiny.

  It had all been a lie. Even after what Allana had done, Caedus still loved her. He was her father, and h
e would always love her, no matter how much she hurt him. He had been wrong to try to escape that. Caedus needed to hold on to that love whatever it cost him, to cling to that love even as it tore his heart apart.

  Because that was how Sith stayed strong. They needed pain to keep the Balance, to remind them they were still human. And they needed it so they would not forget the pain they were inflicting on others. To make the galaxy safer, everyone had to suffer—even Sith Lords.

  And so there would be no angry outbursts when he confronted the Moffs over their unauthorized adventures, no demonstration killings, no Force chokings or threats to have his fleets attack theirs, no intimidation of any sort. There would be no consequences at all, for how were they to know of the worrisome things he had been seeing in his Force visions lately—the Mandalorian maniacs and the burning asteroids, his uncle’s inescapable gaze—if he failed to tell them? Whether blunder or master stroke, the taking of the Roche system was as much his doing as the Moffs’, Caedus saw now, and he was beyond punishing others for his mistakes. Starting today, Darth Caedus was going to rule not through anger or fear or even bribery, but as every true Sith Lord should, through patience and love and … pain.

  Caedus finally crested the winding pedramp he had been ascending and found himself looking down a long tubular tunnel coated in the gray-yellow foamcrete the Verpine reserved for their royal warrens. At the far end—guarding one of the shiny new beskar-alloy blast hatches that had done absolutely nothing to stop the Remnant’s aerosol attack—stood a squad of white-armored stormtroopers. Their gray-striped shoulder plates identified them as members of the Imperial Elite Guard, and the two tripod-mounted E-Webs set along the walls suggested they were serious about preventing unauthorized access to the chamber beyond.

  The stormtroopers were still turning in his direction, no doubt trying to decide whether the single black-clad figure striding toward them was anything to be alarmed about, when Caedus raised a gloved hand and made a grasping motion. The squad leader raised his own hand as though returning the greeting—then was knocked off his feet as both E-Web supply cables tore free of the power generators and came flying down the corridor with weapon and tripod bouncing along behind them.