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“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Leia said. “But your grandfather and I are going to find out.”

Just then, Threepio entered. “Your pardon, Mistress Leia. I had only just finished with Master Luke when I received a brief, prerecorded message from Master Jagged Fel.”

“Jag? What?” said Han, rising. Allana started to slip off the couch, but paused at the rather stern look her grandfather gave her. “Stay here, honey,” he said, moderating his look with the term of endearment. “Threepio—watch her for us until we get back, will you?”

“Of course, Master Han.”

They rushed into the study and closed the door behind them. Leia’s danger sense was tingling like mad. Quickly, she pressed the button and listened. It was typically Jag—cool, precise, informative.

“Leia, Han. If you haven’t heard already, the Mandos, under Daala’s orders, have begun a siege against the Jedi Temple. Jaina was just in my office. She told me about what’s going on in the Temple, and asked for my aid. I couldn’t give it to her. She ended the engagement, and my concern is that she has decided to take off on her own. Please know that I intend to talk to Daala as soon as possible, though I doubt that will help matters any.” A pause. “Jaina does what she has to. We all know that. I’m sorry it did not turn out that I could be a member of your family.”

“She broke up with him?” Han said, disbelieving.

“Sounds like,” said Leia, her own heart aching at the news. “Jag was deliberately vague, in case his transmission was being monitored, but it sounds like she told him about the strike force to help Luke and asked for his help in launching it.”

Han nodded. “And Jag, being Jag, turned her down, and Jaina, being Jaina, broke the engagement and—” His eyes widened with realization. “And took off on her own. That girl has gone to Klatooine all by herself!”

“Don’t glare at me,” Leia said. “That’s a very Han Solo thing to do.”

“We’ve got to stop her.”

Leia shook her head. “No, we’ve got to stop Daala.”

ABOARD THE JADE SHADOW

LUKE SAT BACK IN THE PILOT’S SEAT, BLOWING OUT A HEAVY BREATH. Little Allana was proving to be a bit too clever for her great-uncle’s own good. Leia, as could be expected, had taken charge of the situation and defused it expertly. Threepio, flustered and alternately apologetic and defensive, had hastily transmitted the data and signed off.

It had been a long day, filled with all kinds of things Luke really would rather not have had to deal with. Dyon Stad had snapped, attacked a guard, stolen a speeder bike, and very nearly caused a political crisis that would have shaken a culture to its core.

Luke had overheard his son, the Jedi Knight, telling jokes to a Sith apprentice who was giggling at them as if she were nothing more than an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl. Luke had to admit, he wasn’t sure which incident bothered him more—and that simple fact really bothered him.

They had returned with Dyon still unconscious, and there was now the question of what to do with him. Luke had realized at once they had to sell the yacht that had once belonged to Vestara and now Dyon. He was fine with that; the credits could go toward supplies. They’d need to keep Dyon very close at hand, and Luke was not about to let one of the Siths have the yacht. Had this still been the vessel of the Emperor’s Hand, no doubt there would be a special area used for the stashing of prisoners, and it wouldn’t be luxury quarters. But the Jade Shadow had been adapted for the use of Mara Jade Skywalker, and while Mara was certainly not one to embark on any kind of journey, short or long, without being prepared for any contingency, there was no prisoner cell per se.

There was, however, a sick bay, which included a bed with pretty decent restraints and a veritable laboratory of medicinal supplies. Dyon was now tranquilized, with a drip pouring a constant, comforting stream of chemicals into his body. He was strapped down at chest, waist, wrists, and thighs, with a set of stun cuffs on his ankles for good measure. He was hooked up to a