And all the while Leia’s mouth was working as though she were still speaking. For one improbable moment he wondered if she would talk forever, rebuking her son as they twirled, dead, throughout eternity.
Then, as in those last seconds he knew he must, he awoke, once again seated in his comfortable chair, once again staring at the stars.
A dream. Or a sending? He spoke aloud: “Was that you?” And he waited, half expecting Lumiya to answer, hut no response came.
He turned his chair around and found his office to be reassuringly empty. With a desktop control, he closed the blast shutters over his viewport.
Finally, he consulted his chrono.
Fifteen standard minutes had passed since the last time he’d checked it. He’d had at most ten minutes of sleep.
He put his booted feet up on the desktop, leaned back, and tried to slow his racing heart.
And to sleep.
CORUSCANT
GALACTIC ALLIANCE TRANSPORTATION DEPOT, NEAR THE JEDI TEMPLE
The Beetle Nebula settled down to a landing on an elevated docking platform adjacent to the blue, mushroom-shaped transportation depot. The maneuver was smooth and gentle for a craft so large-at two hundred meters, the Freebooterclass transport was an awkward-looking vessel anywhere but in space. From above, she looked like a crescent moon bisected by a knife blade, the blade point oriented in the same direction as the crescent tips, and her wide, curved stern put observers in mind more of fat-bottomed banthas than of sleek, stylish vessels of war.
But that wide stern could carry large volumes of personnel and materiel, and in the moments after the ship settled onto her landing pylons, a dozen loading ramps came down and began disgorging streams of uniformed soldiers - many on leave, others, riding repulsorlift-based medical gurneys, being guided to hospitals.
From a much smaller platform fifty meters from the Beetle Nebula’s starboard bow, Jedi Master Kyp Durron watched the event unfold. At this distance, he could barely see facial features of the new arrivals, but could distinguish enough to see faces light up with happiness as they recognized loved ones in the crowd below.
And through the Force he could feel the emotion of the day. It swelled from the Beetle Nebula and her surroundings. Pain radiated from shattered bones and seared stumps that had once been connected to organic limbs. Pain flowed from remembrances of how those injuries were sustained and of how friends had been lost forever to battle.
But more than that, there were sentiments of relief and happiness. People were returning home from battle, here to rest and recover. They were veterans of the extraordinary space battle that had so recently been waged in the Hapan system. Some of the veterans knew pride in their role in that battle, some knew shame or regret, but all were glad it was over. All were glad to be here.
And for a few quiet moments, Kyp relaxed, letting the emotions from the other platform wash over him like a cool, refreshing stream in summertime. The muted nature of the sounds of welcome from that platform, of Coruscant air traffic not too far away, of transport and commerce from the adjacent depot, allowed him to stay comfortable, detached.
Then he felt new presences in the Force, specific presences for whom he had been waiting. He glanced away from the depot and up, toward the origin of that sensation, and saw the Jade Shadow on an approach angle straight toward him.
The craft approached the depot at a speed slightly faster than safe, then rapidly decelerated and dropped to a smooth repulsorlift landing atop the platform, mere meters from Kyp. He grinned. Whoever was piloting-probably Mara-had either playfully or maliciously made the approach as intimidating as possible, the better to spook him into sudden retreat. Of course, he hadn’t budged. He waved a hand at the shapes within the cockpit, indistinct behind its viewscreens, and waited.
Soon enough the boarding ramp descended and down trotted Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade Skywalker. They were dressed simply, Luke in black, Mara, for once, in the standard two-shades-of-brown Jedi robes.
Kyp offered a smile and extended a hand to Luke. “Grand Master Skywalker.”
Luke took it. “Master Durron.”
“And Master Skywalker.”
Mara gave him a nod of greeting, but Kyp detected a trace of irritation or impatience. “Master Durron.”
“That’s a new hand, I take it.” Kyp released his grip. “I heard about your injuries. How does it compare with the old one?”
Luke held up his right hand and looked at his palm. “The neural matrix is more sophisticated, so it feels even more like flesh and blood. But-you know how a droid whose memory is never wiped tends to become more individual, more idiosyncratic.”
Kyp nodded. “You’re not suggesting that a prosthetic hand does the same thing. It doesn’t have enough memory.”