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When the jump was completed, he added, “Face it, they’re not going to care where we put down. They’ll only be onworld long enough for Mara to buy, beg, or steal a ship to take them wherever Lando took Ben.”

“True enough,” Leia agreed. She closed her eyes against the threat of sudden tears, and tried not to envy her brother and his wife their coming reunion with their son.

There would be no reunion with her baby, her Anakin. She wouldn’t even have the grim comfort of seeing his body, of honoring the man he’d become with the solemn rites of a Jedi funeral.

Han reached over and placed one hand over hers. “I love you, you know. You’re holding up great,” he said quietly. “You’re holding us both up.”

She opened her eyes and turned toward her husband. “That’s not true. You’re the only reason I’m not curled up in a fetal position.”

“That’s not true, either. You’re a fighter, always have been. You took one hell of a punch, but you got your feet back under you.” He unconsciously rubbed his jaw as the metaphor triggered countless memories. “Hurts though, doesn’t it?”

“Only when I breathe.”

He lowered his head, nodded. The grief was always there, a wound open to every touch, every breeze. After a few moments, he suggested that they both try to get some rest.

“I couldn’t possibly sleep,” Leia said, but even as she spoke the words she realized how heavy her eyelids had become. The past day had spanned too many hours, held too many battles, brought too much grief. The weight of it all dragged Leia down into the copilot’s seat and a troubled sleep.

She awoke suddenly as the old ship jolted and shook back into sublight speed. She glanced over at Han, and froze in midstretch.

He was hunkered down over the controls, his face grim as he struggled with the ship. Several large, dark objects loomed ahead.

Leia sat bolt upright. “Asteroid field?”

A burst of laserfire came from the belly guns as Luke and Mara responded to the threat. The bright lines streamed unerringly toward their targets—and then simply disappeared.

Leia caught her breath, let it out on a sigh. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Dovin basal mines,” Han said tersely. The Falcon finally slowed to maneuverable speed, and the scene beyond sharpened into focus. Dozens of large, rocklike objects, each shaped like the heart of some giant creature, floated in space—black holes against the bright backdrop of stars.

Han deftly maneuvered through the field of living asteroids. When they were clear, he glanced at the navigational controls. “Those things pulled us out of hyperspace. Must work like an interdiction field.”

Leia was already at work finding their new coordinates and resetting the hyperspace jump. “How many times can the Falcon get yanked out like that before she falls apart?”

He shrugged. “Five or six.”

“Which is it?” she demanded. “Five or six?”

He glanced at Leia, and his expression instantly turned sober. “You’re serious.”

She grimaced and reached for the controls. “I like to start with the worst-case scenario and work down.”

They were pulled from hyperspace twice more before emerging in the Transitory Mists, an eerie cloud surrounding the Hapes system. “That wasn’t so bad,” Han observed as they left the Mists behind. “Didn’t even slow us down much.”

“It makes you wonder why they bother,” Leia mused. “Unless …”

Han glanced at her sharply. “Unless those things have a way of recording what went by. The Vong could be tracking movement. Chances are, they know we’re here.”

“And them, as well,” she replied, nodding to the scene stretched out before them.

The Falcon limped into a space lane nearly as busy as those surrounding Coruscant. Ships of all shapes and sizes streamed toward the ports of the royal city of Hapes, passing through a lane defined by two Hapan Battle Dragons. Several smaller ships buzzed here and there, cutting off the occasional vessel that tried to bypass the security point.

“Corellian freighter,” Han noted, nodding toward a large cargo ship. “That one over there is a Republic diplomatic vessel.