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CORUSCANT

Han and Leia crowded in close, side by side, so that the holocam on the terminal before them could capture both their images. “Luke,” Han said.

The lights on the terminal flickered, and after a few seconds the face of Luke Skywalker swam into view on the terminal screen. He was wearing a cold-weather wrap in black, with jagged decorative lines on it in subdued gray, and behind him was an anonymous white wall. He looked surprised to see the caller. “Hello.”

“We were wondering,” Leia said, “if you were planning on seeing any X-wing action in the near future.” Her tone was light and conversational.

For the merest instant, Luke looked startled, but his features settled into an amused grin. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, we’re planning on a vacation,” Han said. “In the Falcon. Dashing around, seeing old friends. Me, Leia, Goldilocks, the Noghri—do you see what I’m getting at, conversationally?”

Luke’s grin broadened. “I think so.”

“Leia and I can talk. The Noghri can keep each other occupied. But if See-Threepio doesn’t have Artoo-Detoo to talk to, he’ll talk to us.” Han mimed putting a blaster barrel to his own temple and pulling the trigger. “Save me, Luke Skywalker, you’re my only hope.”

Still cheerful, Luke shook his head. “I wish I could. But Mara and I are about to do a quick training tour with a bunch of Jedi Knights anxious to learn about adapting their Force-based abilities to X-wing piloting tasks. In other words, I’m about to head out with Artoo.”

“Oh.” Han gave his brother-in-law an unhappy stare. “All right, then. Doom me to day after day of listening to dithering obsequiousness.”

“Nice word choice,” Luke said. “By the way, where will you be heading on your vacation?”

Leia shrugged. “We’re not sure yet. We may visit Lando and Tendra and get a tour of their new manufacturing complex, but don’t tell them, since we want it to be a surprise if it happens. We’re thinking hard about a trip through the Alderaan system, and then planet-hopping along the Perlemian Trade Route.”

“Lots of shopping,” Han offered, his tone suggesting that such a fate was only one step above death as a matter of preference.

“Ah, good. Have fun. And sorry I couldn’t help with Artoo.”

“That’s the way it is sometimes,” Han said.

The polite smile remained fixed on his face after Luke reached forward to break the comm connection. But Han’s posture failed him; he sagged into his chair as if beaten. “He’s part of it,” Han said.

“We can’t be sure—”

“Don’t try to kid me, Leia. He was wearing a weather wrap indoors. Either he just got out of the ’fresher—and his hair was dry, you’ll note—or he threw it on to cover over something else he was wearing, like a pilot’s uniform. You saw the wall behind him? White, curved. A bulkhead on a vessel. He’s already shipped out.”

Finally Leia nodded, reluctant. “Probably.”

“He’s on their side.”

“As the Master of the Jedi order, he has taken oaths to support the Galactic Alliance.” Leia let a little sternness creep into her voice. “And don’t pretend this is a simple situation, where everyone on one side is smart and sensible and everyone on the other side isn’t. It’s more complicated than that. It’s more complicated than that for me.”

Han reached over to hold her for a moment. “Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s just like he hit me when I wasn’t looking.” He buried his face in her hair, took a deep breath. “All right. It’s time for us to go.”

In the foremost passenger seat, Wedge sat up, startled, as his shuttle came in for its landing and a familiar-looking Corellian YT-1300 leapt up past his viewport, headed for the skies. “That,” he announced, “was the Millennium Falcon.”

“If you say so, sir.” Across the aisle between seats, Captain Barthis looked dubious. “There are thousands of those old Corellian transports still flying, though.”

“Oh, that was definitely the Falcon. I’m intimately familiar with her lines…and her rust spots. I had to replicate them once on a decoy vehicle,