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Mara knew little, other than from observation and studies in psychology, about comforting those who were hurt. Most of what she knew she had learned since Ben had been born. Luke so seldom needed comforting—his wisdom and his humor had always provided him with a durable armor against life’s cuts and blows. But sometimes events got past that armor—Ben’s kidnapping, Anakin Solo’s death. Now it was this eerie visitation by someone who’d come within a centimeter of tricking him into taking a fatal plunge. And at such times Mara could do little but stay close, act as an anchor for him to hold onto.

“I don’t think so,” Luke said. “I’m certain being tired made it easier for him to transmit all that despair and the mental compulsion through the Force, yes. But I also have a sense that he’s powerful. And I know I’ve seen his face somewhere. I—” Luke’s next words were cut off as he yawned.

Mara gave him a stern look.

“I know, I know. I need sleep. I’m tired.” He stretched out on the cot. “Tired, and I have to admit it, scared of something that could sneak up on me and plant a Force-based suggestion in my mind. As though I were some spice addict with no resistance, no training.”

“Tired and wounded in pride.”

He grinned. “Well, maybe.”

“Get some sleep, farmboy. You’ll feel better—and think better—once your power cells are recharged.”

“True.”

In minutes, Luke was asleep, his breathing regular. But Mara lay awake long after that, her own Force senses extended in an alert screen, attuned to detect any flicker of hatred or despair that might drift their way from the thing that wanted to take her husband’s life.

Borleias

The sun named Pyria was just a tiny bright dot in the forward viewport, no more a draw to the naked eye than one well-illuminated planet usually is from the surface of another. It certainly was not sufficient to distract Han and Leia from their tasks.

“Got it, thanks.” Leia leaned back from the comm board. “Borleias Control has given us the map of known locations of dovin basal mines. They’re not too confident about the extent of their knowledge.”

Han looked at her and cracked his knuckles. “So, they think there’s a fair chance we’ll be dragged out of hyperspace before we quite reach Borleias’s mass shadow. Well, you tell ’em that it’s not going to happen.”

“And it’s not going to happen because …?”

“Because I’m going to fly around them. What did you think?”

“I think we’d better have weapons on-line and ready.” Leia trotted aft and climbed into the topside laser turret while Han activated the concussion missile launcher. Once she had her comlink activated, she heard her husband’s complaint, “You have no faith in my abilities.”

“Of course I have faith in your abilities.” She took the turret for a practice spin and began the self-test of its computer targeting system. “I also have experience with theirs.”

Space twisted before them and then almost instantly snapped back to normal. But Borleias did not dominate the viewport as it should have. The sun was somewhat larger, a bright globe.

Then they were in a loop, centrifugal force crushing Leia down into her gunner’s chair before she could shout to Han about the coralskippers she saw closing on the Falcon from astern. She watched the universe to either side rotate as they went upside-down to their original arrival orientation, and overhead she could see the two distant gleams of the oncoming skips.

Leia began firing the topside lasers as fast as they could charge, and the skips sent streams of plasma at the Falcon. They gained relative elevation in what was probably originally an attempt to follow the Falcon’s loop, but the maneuver ended up putting them on a collision course with the Falcon.

Han’s words came over the comm, muffled as if uttered through clenched teeth: “Going starboard.”

Leia chose a starboard target and concentrated all her laser fire on that skip. Its voids did well against her barrage, intercepting every bolt, but her concentration of fire on the area of the pilot’s canopy doomed the coralskipper—Han’s concussion missile, fired