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Moving with forced steps, he descended to the dispatching and receiving network in the lower levels of the old Imperial Palace. No one watched him in the echoing, crowded room as diplomatic droids and packages came in and left, streaking off to various embassies and spaceports on Coruscant, bearing important dispatches.

Terpfen coded his secret message, summarizing information he had received from the hidden tracking device he had planted on Ackbar’s ship. He sealed the message inside a coffin-sized hyperspace courier tube and shielded the entire apparatus. He glanced around suspiciously before he keyed in Admiral Ackbar’s personal diplomatic security code, which would allow it to bypass all checks and tariff points. No one would have thought to revoke Ackbar’s access yet.

The routing doors opened up at the far end of the center, and the silvery message canister rose on its launching fields. In a reflex action Terpfen reached out, trying to grasp the slick sides of the canister, scraping with the sharp points of his hands—but the container rocketed out, picking up speed as it soared into the Coruscant sky.

Terpfen had programmed five alternate routes to discourage tracking. The message canister would arrive unhindered and without delay at the Imperial Military Academy on Carida. The coded message would be displayed for the eyes of Ambassador Furgan only—divulging the location of the secret planet where the last Jedi baby was hidden.

12

“You’ll do just fine, kid,” Hen said, trying to maintain his roguish grin.

Standing at the door of Han and Leia’s quarters, Kyp Durron nodded. Han noticed a faint trembling around the young man’s lips. “I’ll do my best, Han. You know that.”

Suddenly unable to say another word, Han embraced Kyp, silently cursing the stinging tears that rose to his eyes. “You’ll be the greatest Jedi ever. You’ll give even Luke a run for his money.”

“I doubt that,” Kyp said. He broke away and averted his face but not before Han caught the shimmer of tears in his eyes too.

“Wait,” Han said, “I’ve got something for you before you go.” He ducked back inside and returned to the door with a soft package. Kyp took it with a tentative smile and unwrapped the top layers of paper.

Han watched the young man’s expression. Kyp reached into the package and withdrew a flowing black cape that glittered with subliminal reflective threads, as if it had been woven out of a clear starry night.

“Lando gave it to me—feeling guilty about winning the Falcon, I guess—but I can’t wear stuff like this. I want you to have it. You deserve something nice, after all those years you spent in the dirty spice mines.”

Kyp laughed. “You mean so I can dress up for all those formal occasions at the Jedi academy?” His expression became serious. “Thanks, Han … for everything. But I’ve got to be going. General Antilles is escorting the Sun Crusher to Yavin, and I’ll be going with him. He’ll drop me off at Luke’s academy.”

“Good luck,” Han said.

Kyp said, “I’m sorry you lost the Falcon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Han said. “She’s a hunk of junk anyway.”

“You got that right,” Kyp said with a smile, but both of them knew he didn’t mean it.

“Want me to walk with you down to the hangar?” Han asked, realizing as he said it that he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Naw,” Kyp said, turning away from the door. “I hate long goodbyes. See you around.”

“Sure, kid,” Han said. He watched Kyp’s back for a long time as the young man walked with a feigned bouncy step down the corridors to the turbolift.

Han thought about going back into his room, then decided he’d rather go for a drink instead. Leia was in yet another late-night Council meeting with Mon Mothma, and the kids were already in bed, so Han left Threepio with instructions to remain powered up so he could baby-sit.

Han eventually returned to the lounge where he and Lando had played sabacc for possession of the Falcon.

The window looked out across the sweeping geometrical skyline of