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The lightsaber handle felt cold in his grip, but Kyp switched the power off and clipped the handle to his belt. He stood alone, face-to-face with the shadow that now seemed his own size, merely the black outline of a human wearing a shroud.

“I will not fight you,” Kyp said.

“I am glad,” said the voice, which became clearer now, more maddeningly familiar. Not Exar Kun at all. It never had been.

The shadowy arms reached up to pull back the cowl, exposing a luminous face that clearly belonged to Kyp’s brother, Zeth.

“I am dead,” the image of Zeth said, “but only you can keep my memory strong. Thank you for freeing me, brother.”

The image of Zeth embraced Kyp with a brief, tingling rustle of warmth that melted the ice in Kyp’s spine. Then the spirit vanished, and Kyp found himself alone again in a musty, empty temple that no longer held any power over him.

Kyp stepped into the warm sunlight again, free of the shadows. On the opposite shore he saw Master Skywalker stand up and look at him. Luke’s face wore a broad grin, and he opened his arms in a celebratory gesture.

“Come back and join us, Kyp,” Master Skywalker called. His voice echoed across the flat surface of the still water. “Welcome home, Jedi Knight.”

28

The immense barricade doors of the Imperial Correction Facility did not budge, nor did they open when Han knocked. Naturally.

He stood with Lando and Mara Jade outside on the scoured landscape of Kessel, dressed in an insulated jumpsuit taken from the Lady Luck’s stores. Mara leaned closer to Han, her shout muffled through the breath mask covering her mouth.

“We could bring down a full-scale assault team from the moon,” she said. “We have enough firepower.”

“No!” Lando shouted. His dark eyes shone with excitement and anxiety. “There must be a way to get in without damaging my facility!”

The cold, dry wind stung Han’s eyes, and he turned his head to protect them from the breeze. He remembered gasping for air when Skynxnex, Moruth Doole’s henchman, had dragged him and Chewbacca into the spice mines without giving them breathing apparatus. Right now Han wanted nothing more than to kick the toadlike Doole out of the prison so that his frog eyes could blink and his fat lips pump together as he tried to fill his lungs.

Doole, an administrator of the Correction Facility, had dealt in black-market glitterstim, making deals with Han and other smugglers to deliver the precious cargo to gangsters such as Jabba the Hutt. But Doole had a habit of delivering his partners into Imperial hands whenever it proved convenient. Doole had ratted on Han long ago, forcing him to dump his cargo—which had made Jabba very angry.…

Han did not want to be back on Kessel. He wanted to be back home with his wife and children. He wanted to have his companion Chewbacca back. He wanted to take a nice, relaxing vacation. For once.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Mara said, interrupting Han’s thoughts. She craned her neck to look up at the murky sky. “Up on the garrison moon I brought along Ghent, our slicer. You might remember him. He used to be one of Talon Karrde’s top aides. He can crack into anything.”

Han remembered the brash young slicer: an enthusiastic kid who knew electronics and computer systems intimately, but didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Han shrugged. They didn’t need social skills now; they needed someone who could crack through the defenses.

“Okay, bring him down along with the Falcon,” Han said. “I’ve got a few gadgets inside my ship that might help us out, too. The sooner we can get in, the sooner I can get going.”

Lando agreed. “Yes, any way to enter without doing too much damage …”

Mara pursed her lips. “I’m also going to bring in a team of fighters. I’ve got four Mistryl guards and a handful of other smugglers who are getting fidgety with our new alliance. Some of them have been complaining that it’s been too long since they had a good, satisfying fistfight.”

An hour later, cold and uncomfortable even in the insulated suit, Han sat on the Lady Luck’s thruster pod. He saw the