Aaron Allston - Backlash

I T WAS DARKNESS SURROUNDED BY STARS ONE OF THEM, THE UNLOVELY sun of Kessel, closer than the rest, but barely close enough to be a ball of illumination rather than a dotand then it was occupied, suddenly inhabited by a space yacht of flowing, graceful lines and peeling paint. That was how it would have looked, a vessel dropping out of hyperspace, to those in the arrival zone, had there been any witnesses: nothing there, then something, an instantaneous transition.

In the bridge sat the ancient yachts sole occupant, a teenage girl wearing a battered combat vac suit. She looked from sensor to sensor, uncertain and slow because of her unfamiliarity with this model of spacecraft. Too, there was something like shock in her eyes.

Finally satisfied that no other ship had dropped out of hyperspace nearby, or was likely to creep up on her in this remote location, she sat back in her pilots seat and tried to get her thoughts in order.

Her name was Vestara Khai, and she was a Sith of the Lost Tribe. She was a proud Sith, not one to hide under false identities and concealing robes until some decades-long grandiose plan neared completion, and now she had even more reason than usual to swell with pride. Mere hours before, she and her Sith Master, Lady Rhea, had confronted Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker. Lady Rhea and Vestara had fought the galaxys most experienced, most famous Jedi to a standstill. Vestara had even cut him, a graze to the cheek and chin that had spattered her with bloodblood she had later tasted, blood she wished she could take a sample of and keep forever as a souvenir.

But then Skywalker had shown why he carried that reputation. A moments distraction, and suddenly Lady Rhea was in four pieces, each drifting in a separate direction, and Vestara was hopelessly outmatched. She had saluted and fled.

Now, having taken a space yacht that had doubtless been old when her great-great-great-grandsires were newborn, but which, to her everlasting gratitude, held in its still-functional computer the navigational secrets of the mass of black holes that was the Maw, she was free. And the impossible weights of her reality and her responsibility were settling upon her.

Lady Rhea was dead. Vestara was alone, and her pride at Lady Rheas accomplishment, at her own near success in the duel with the Jedi, was not enough to wash away the sense of loss.

Then there was the question of what to do next, of where to go. She needed to be able to communicate with her people, to report on the incidents in the Maw. But this creaking, slowly deteriorating SoroSuub StarTracker space yacht did not carry a hypercomm unit. Shed have to put in to some civilized planet to make contact. That meant arriving unseen, or arriving and departing so swiftly that the Jedi could not detect her in time to catch her. It also meant acquiring sufficient credits to fund a secret, no-way-to-trace-it hypercomm message. All of these plans would take time to bring to reality.

Vestara knew, deep in her heart, and within the warning currents of the Force, that Luke Skywalker intended to track her to her home-world of Kesh. How he planned to do it, she didnt know, but her sense of paranoia, trained at the hands of Lady Rhea, burned within her as though her blood itself were acid. She had to find some way to outwit a Force-user several times her age, renowned for his skills.

She needed to go someplace where Force-users were relatively commonplace. Otherwise, any Force use on her part would stand out like signal beacons to experienced Jedi in the vicinity. There werent many such places. Coruscant was the logical answer. But if her trail began to lead toward the government seat of the Galactic Alliance, Skywalker could warn the Jedi there, and Vestara would face a nearly impossible-to-bypass network of Force-users between her and her destination.

The current location of the Jedi school was not known. Hapes was ruled by an ex-Jedi and was rumored to harbor more Force-sensitives, but it was such a security-conscious civilization that Vestara doubted she could accomplish her mission there in secrecy.

Then the answer came to her, so obvious and so perfect that she laughed out loud.

She doubted the destination shed thought of would be on a galactic map as old as the one in the antique yacht she commanded. Shed have to go somewhere and get a map update. She nodded, her pride, sense of loss, and paranoia all fading as she focused on her new task.

Jedi Knight Leia Organa Solo sat at the Millennium Falcons communications console. She frowned, her lips pursed, as though she were solving an elaborate mathematical equation, while she read and reread the text message the Falcon had just received via hypercomm.

The silence that had settled around her eventually drew her husband, Han Solo, to her side; his boyish, often insensitive persona was in part a fabrication, and he well knew and could sense his wifes moods. The chill and silence of her complete concentration usually meant trouble. He waved a hand between her eyes and the console monitor. Hey.

She barely reacted to his presence. Hm.

New message?

From Ben.

Another letter filled with teenage talk, I assume. Girls, speeders, allowance woes

Leia ignored his joking. Sith, she said.

And Sith, of course. Han sat in the chair next to hers but did not assume his customary slouch; the news kept his spine rigid. They found a new Sith Lord?

Worse, I think. Finally some animation returned to Leias voice. Theyve found an ancient installation at the Maw and were attacked by a gang of Sith. A whole strike team. With the possibility of more out there.

I thought Sith ran in packs of two. Vape both of em and their menace is ended for all time, at least for a few years, until two more show up. Han tried to keep his voice calm, but the last Sith to bring trouble to the galaxy had been Jacen Solo, his and Leias eldest son. Though Jacen had been dead for close to three years, the ripples of the evil he had done were still causing damage and heartache throughout the settled galaxy. And both his acts and his death had torn a hole in Hans heart that felt like it would last forever.

Yes, well, no. Apparently not anymore. Ben also saysand were not to let Luke know that he didthat Luke is exhausted. Really exhausted, like hes had the life squeezed out of him. Ben would like us to sort of drift near and lend Luke some support.

Of course. But then Han grimaced. Back to the Maw. The only place gloomy enough to make its next door neighbor, Kessel, seem like a garden spot.

Leia shook her head. Theyre tracking a Sith girl whos on the run. So it probably wont be the Maw.

Ah, good. Han rubbed his hands together as if anticipating a fine meal or a fight. Why not? After taking off with all those barvy Jedi that Daala wanted to deep-freeze, we probably have an arrest warrant waiting back on Coruscant anyway.

Finally Leia smiled and looked at Han. One good thing about the Solos and Skywalkers. We never run out of things to do.

Master Cilghal, Mon Calamari and most proficient medical doctor among the current generation of Jedi, paused before hitting the console button that would erase the message she had just spent some time decrypting. It had been a video transmission from Ben Skywalker, a message carefully rerouted through several hypercomm nodes and carefully staged so as not to mention that it was for Cilghals tympanic membranes or, in fact, for anyone on Coruscant.