• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The conviction in the High Lord’s voice suggested he truly believed what he was saying—and Luke had a sinking feeling he knew why.

“How did you and Saber Khai escape Abeloth’s planet?” Luke asked. “Aboard Ship?”

“Of course,” Taalon replied. “I commanded Ship to come to me.”

“And Ship limped you out of the Maw,” Luke guessed. “Then you brought Ship to Pydyr in a frigate hangar bay … back to Abeloth.”

Taalon’s voice grew less confident. “We brought Ship with us, yes,” he confirmed. “But it remains under my control, not Abeloth’s. And right now, Ship is telling me to return to shore and call for reinforcements. There’s a large force ahead waiting to ambush us.”

“A Fallanassi force?” Luke let out a burst of laughter. “For a Sith, you’re awfully naïve.”

“Ship is not lying to me, Master Skywalker.” Taalon’s voice assumed a note of urgency—perhaps because he was experiencing a tingle of danger sense similar to the one Luke felt. “Turn—”

The second half of Taalon’s command vanished into the screech of proximity alarms. Luke thumbed the firing button on the pilot’s yoke, then felt two soft thumps as a pair of concussion missiles shot from their launching tubes. In the same instant a trio of smoke lines streaked toward them from Ship’s direction. Streaks of color fanned across the sky as the Obuuri sprayed cannon fire at the squadron of illusory meditation spheres. Luke spun the Shadow into a barrel roll, dropping to within a few meters of the rolling waves—then continued toward the island.

The smoke lines bent toward them.

Ben’s voice came over the intercom speaker. “Uh, Dad? You do see all those meditation spheres, right? The ones you’re going to fly straight under?”

“Yeah, Ben … I see ’em.” It was not exactly true, but Luke could see the one craft that mattered—Ship. “Don’t worry.”

“Who’s worried?”

Ben’s reply was followed by a muffled I am! from Vestara, and a chorus of agreement from the other Sith packed into the main cabin.

“We were just wondering if you wanted us to do anything,” Ben continued.

“Thanks,” Luke said. The smoke lines continued to curl toward the Shadow. “But we have it under control up here.”

“Under control?” Gavar Khai cried. “We are outnumbered six to one!”

“But we’ve got you and … Taalon,” Luke said, craning his neck to look through the top of the canopy. At the leading point of each smoke line appeared a tiny ball of orange flame, most likely a friction fire caused by one of the Force-hurled stones Ship sometimes used as missiles. “How about giving those rocks a Force nudge?”

“Which ones?” Taalon gasped. “There must be fifty!”

“Hold on.” Luke turned the Shadow directly toward the three real missiles, and the tiny fireballs instantly swelled to the size of Wookiee heads. “Those.”

“Are you mad?”

Despite Taalon’s surprised outcry, the three fireballs veered sharply to the left and vanished. Luke would have liked to check the tactical readout to see what had become of Ship, but a curtain of white cliff loomed ahead. At the velocity they were traveling, it was impossible to guess the distance. But they were getting close. Obuuri cannon bolts were already starting to blast sprays of powdery stone from the island’s sheer face.

Luke knew he would never have a better opportunity to lead the Sith into a trap, but with Taalon nearby the only plan that stood a chance of success was no plan. He simply had to act and react.

More cannon bolts began to end their flight in a starburst of superheated stone. Luke hazarded a check of the tactical readout and saw no sign of Ship, only the Obuuri jinking about in an effort to avoid illusory missiles.

By the time Luke lifted his gaze, the Obuuri’s cannon bolts were exploding into the cliff face a mere second after flashing past the Shadow. Luke pulled the pilot’s yoke back and felt the star yacht’s nose snap upward.

“Are you mad?” Taalon cried.

The Shadow’s nose dropped again, and they continued toward the cliff. Luke’s heart jumped into his