Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [5]
She smiled back at him, an expression he felt more than saw.
They had each other, and for now, that was enough.
MELIFLAR STATION, MENDENBATT SYSTEM,
NEAR ALMANIA
AT MAXIMUM GAIN, JADE SHADOW’S SENSORS SHOWED THE DISTANT space station as a small, irregular cluster of pods and modules, an ad hoc arrangement familiar anyplace in the galaxy where hardworking spacers made do with less than the newest, shiniest vehicles and habitat components.
Ben Skywalker, in the pilot’s seat, straightened from scrutinizing the main data monitor. Still faintly visible on his neck and cheek was the wide crisscross pattern so recently cut into his skin by Lord Taalon’s Force net. He looked over at his father, seated at the navigation console. “It’s, uh, uninformative. Nothing in Jade Shadow’s database, either.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing pirates or smugglers.”
Luke nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. He could feel the space station ahead, both as a small pulse of ordinary Force energy indicating that there were living beings aboard it, and as a separate sensation, a faint but distinct flavor, unsettling and elusive, of dark-side Force energy.
Which meant, quite possibly, that their quarry was there, as well. The Dathomiri blood trail he’d established between himself and Abeloth had led him here—but it was faint, complicated. The pulse of dark-side energy was reassuring.
“She’s there.” Vestara Khai currently occupied the copilot’s seat. As always, Ben couldn’t tell if she was smiling slightly, or if it was merely the effect of the small curved scar at the corner of her mouth. This time, he decided, it was probably just the scar. All her concentration was forward.
Luke looked at her. “You have some special reason to believe she is actually there?”
Vestara shook her head. “Just shapes and shadows in the Force. I can almost see her and Ship arriving there.”
“Almost.” With that single word, Luke offered a mild rebuke, cautioning the younger Force-user not to assume too much. Still, she was more closely attuned to the dark side than either Luke or Ben. Perhaps she could detect patterns in it that the light-siders could not.
He slid into the rear seat and felt a wash of relief. An injury to his knee, sustained on Almania, plagued him. Too intent on pursuing Abeloth to wait for bacta treatment, he was forced to move around on a leg that was damaged, bandaged, and benumbed by medicine.
He returned his attention to his son. “Set up a transponder signal, one of your mother’s alternate identity packets, way down on the list. A smuggler. Then move in and request docking instructions.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once again, he was reassured that he had made the right decision to alter so little of the Jade Shadow after Mara’s death. He felt close to her on this ship, despite the sadness the reminders sometimes evoked, and there was no doubt that some of her own tools and supplies could come in quite handy at times. She’d been nothing if not resourceful.
Ben activated the sublight thrusters and made a smooth, slow approach toward the station. With a touch of a button, he began transmitting, and filled Luke and Vestara in on the necessary information. “We’re the Black Diadem, a courier yacht belonging to a Hapan nobleman under suspicion of piracy and smuggling.” Which was not unusual, as many Hapan males found the freedom their culture withheld from them at home in the more illicit spacefaring trades.
Ben’s comm board dinged and text scrolled across it. He gave it a look. “We’re cleared to dock on spar three, module eleven. They’re requesting our trade manifest.”
Luke offered a little smile. “Transmit ‘three occupants, combat and insurgency skills.’ ”
Ben looked disappointed. “That’s not even a lie.