• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“No, you were right about that,” Kyp admitted, absently scratching his left ear. “I intended to ask.”

“So you’ve asked and I can’t. For a lot of reasons. Not the least of which is that I’m still a member of Rogue Squadron, and they’ll be in the same battle.”

“As you say, asked and answered. But I have a more important request.”

“Get to it, then.”

Kyp straightened and clasped his hands loosely together. His features took on an unusual gravity. Behind him, in the middle distance, a flock of avians with quicksilver wings rose toward the sky. A moment later, when the mutter of thunder that had startled the flock reached her ears, Kyp was still hesitating.

“I’d like you to be my apprentice.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. You’ve interrupted your Jedi training. I think you should take it up again. I think you will bring something very special to the order.”

“Yeah? And why wouldn’t I go back to Aunt Mara, then?”

“Because she’s unavailable. Besides, you don’t agree with her. You have much more in common with me.”

“In a Sarlacc’s belly.”

“Whatever. But you know it’s true.” He paused. “You’re trying too hard, and maybe it was too early for me to ask. I like you, Jaina, and I value what you are and what you could be. Keep it in mind. I’ll leave you to the peace you sought.” He turned to go.

He was almost out of sight when she leaned forward and called out to him.

“Wait.”

He turned slowly.

“I … uh, I’ll think about it. Probably not for long, but yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” he replied. “That makes me happy.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too happy,” she said.

She didn’t watch him go. Instead she turned her face out to the vista.

I’m blushing! She berated herself. How ridiculous.

But she didn’t feel merely ridiculous. She felt … No. Forget it.

So she turned her thoughts outward, to space above, to her brothers and her parents, wondering how they were, what they were doing, hoping they were well.

And to the coming battle.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Chalk up another one for the Princess of Blood,” Han said, lifting a mug of something the bartender had called Corellian ale—and which was certainly anything but. “That’s what? Our fifth cargo?”

“Losing count already, Dad?” Jacen asked, sipping his own dubious concoction.

Around them, the cantina was color and sound, motion and emotion. Even without consciously using the Force, Jacen felt mired in swirling drunkenness, avarice, secret sorrows, and public appetites.

Harsh Tatooine light lanced into the cantina through two windows facing out into the street. Above, various species mingled on a second-story balcony that circumscribed the round central room. In the center of the dusty floor of yellowish tiles, a Dressellian slung drinks from within a circular, red-topped counter.

Near Han and Jacen, ten bovine Gran clad in matching umber jumpsuits clustered together around a table too small for them. They whispered in their sonorous tongue, casting occasional three-eyed glances at two rodentlike Chadra-Fan squinting across another table at a Dug and arguing in loud tones over a hand of sabacc.

“You aren’t going all meditative Jedi on me again, are you?” his father asked, with that little quirk in his mouth.

“No,” Jacen answered solemnly. “I’m all pirate. I pillage; therefore I am.”

“That’s the spirit.” Han cocked an eyebrow quizzically. “Really? No lectures for the old man?”

“None at all. It’s not like we’re keeping what we take. It’s being put to good use.”

Han sighed. Jacen thought it sounded a little mournful. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s true. Look, son, I’ve been thinking—after this war is over, we’re going to have bills to pay. The senate has had most of my assets seized, and who knows if we’ll ever see them again.” He put his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “So—”

“Dad! No!” Jacen said. “If we’re aiding the resistance, that’s one thing. But if we keep more than operating expenses, we really are pirates.”

“Right, sure, but just a little off the top wouldn’t make much of a difference, would it? In the long run?”