Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [93]
Flashes of faces, snippets of dreams, laughter aborted and the sweet scent of a newborn’s flesh undergoing a greasy transformation into roast meat all roared through me. Thousands upon thousands, millions upon millions, these images and impressions came in a whirlwind that screwed itself down into my belly. Hope melted into fear, wonder into terror, innocence into nothingness. Bright futures, all planned, proved the ultimate in morphability when a fundamental truth in these lives proved wrong. For these people there never had been a question of whether or not the sun would rise tomorrow, and yet in an instant they were proved wrong, as their sun reached out and devoured their world.
I heard Streen screaming that there were too many voices for him to handle before he slumped to the floor. I envied him in that moment for the same clarity of recall I cherished seconds before meant I watched a vast parade of dead flicker through my consciousness. A mother, acting on instinct, sheltered a child in the nanosecond before both of them were vaporized. Young lovers, lying together in the afterglow of the moment, hoping what they felt would never end, got their wish as they were torn into their constituent atoms. Criminals, triumphant in some small success, were reduced to fearful puling animals as their world evaporated.
I don’t recall leaving the dining hall, but my mind was not my own as the Force carried to me the annihilation of a world far away. When clarity began to return, I found myself outside, on the top of the Great Temple. My throat burned. Trembling arms held me up above a pool of my own vomit and I would have sagged to the side, but strong hands on my shoulders steadied me.
“I didn’t think the food was that bad.” Han Solo set a cup of water down on the stone beside me. “Wash your mouth out.”
I sloshed half the water from the container as I raised it to my lips, then rinsed my mouth and spat the foul water over the edge of the pyramid. “Thanks,” I said. At least I think I said it.
Han half dragged me away from the remains of my dinner. “Leia said it was something horrible. Sun Crusher killed a system?”
I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my tunic. “Unless you know of another superweapon sitting around that could explode a star.”
A smile started to grow on his face and his dark eyes sparked for a second as a wiseass remark formed itself in his head, but he never let it out. Instead his grin melted into a more serious expression. “It has to be the Sun Crusher—that or there is another superweapon out there.”
The fleeting image of someone who looked like Kyp surfaced in my brain. Through his eyes I saw the slender craft, I felt his joy at seeing his brother again, pain from betrayal that stretched into untold agony as his body melted. “Kyp had a brother?”
Han’s eyes focused distantly. “Imps took him to the Academy at Carida.”
“He’s gone. So’s Carida.”
“I guess they won’t be inviting me back for a class reunion, then.” Han glanced down at me. “New Republic Intelligence will confirm that, but now I know where to start looking.”
I looked hard at him. “You’re going after Kyp?”
“Have to. He’ll listen to me.”
“You hope.”
“Hmmm, your lips move but I hear my wife’s voice.” Han sighed. “I have a history with the kid. He’s angry and he needs someone to trust. I’m it.”
I nodded, then lifted my head. “Take me with you.”
“Look, kid, I work best alone.”
“So I’ve heard.” I projected an image of my old self into his brain. “We’ve met before, Captain Solo. Wedge Antilles introduced us. I’m here incognito at Master Skywalker’s suggestion.”
“Horn, right.” Han blinked his eyes. “You’re a hot hand in an X-wing, but a Death Star couldn’t take out the Sun Crusher. If I needed anyone with me, you’d be the first I’d tap.”
“You’re going after someone with incredible power, and I’m not just talking about that ship. I can’t allow you to go alone.”
Han’s face clouded over. “ ‘Can’t allow?’ My ship, my rules, and don’t try to pull any rank on me. I was a general with the Rebellion before you ever