[Legacy Of The Force] - 01(142)

RELLIDIR, TRALUS

Han and Wedge lined up on the boulevard that would carry them straight to the Terkury Housing Complex. Far ahead, Han could see the tiny, indistinct shapes of bombers flying over the dome-shield above the beachhead, dropping their explosives charges. Other ships engaged in dogfights with the better, newer starfighters of the Galactic Alliance.

Han, in the lead by a handful of meters, brought his Shriek down almost to the deck-he left just enough clearance for speeders flying at legal altitudes to be clear beneath him and ignored the fact that many Corellians, like himself, disregarded what was legal when blasting around in their personal vehicles.

Han’s sensor board blipped at him uncertainly a few times, telling him that he was being tagged for fractions of a second at a time by someone’s targeting radar. He paid no attention to it. Only when the signal strengthened and became constant would it constitute

It strengthened, became constant. Up ahead, a pair of starfighters crested a row of skyscrapers and began a plummet toward street level, turning toward the Shrieks. Though they were tiny dots in the distance, Han guessed from the way they were moving that they were E-wings. Tough, fast, fixed-wing spacecraft with a nose similar to the X-wing, the E-wings had only three linked lasers but carried a tremendous load of sixteen proton torpedoes, any one of which could cripple or kill a capital ship under the right circumstances.

Worse yet, a new warble in the sensor alarm indicated the presence of an enemy or enemies coming up from behind. Han glanced at the board again. The new opponent was one of the Alephs, flying, like the Shrieks, at almost street level and roaring up in their wakes.

Han brought his turret lasers to bear on the E-wings. A good laser hit would damage or eliminate them, while a concussion missile could cause wreckage from surrounding buildings to fall into the path of the Shrieks. His targeting brackets chittered around the foremost E-wing, and he fired. The shot missed; kilometers in the distance, the green laser shot hit the face of a building adjacent to the Terkury complex. Incoming laserfire, red streaks, flashed by beneath Han’s bow.

Then the datapad glued to his control board beeped. Han bit back a curse at the timing of this distraction and glanced at the screen.

ALEPH PURSUER IS WEDGE’S DAUGHTER

A cold current seemed to cut through Han’s stomach as he read the words.

They had no way to communicate with the girl, to warn her off. Well, maybe Wedge did-but did he have enough time to dig it out, power it up, and reach her before they were upon their target? Han didn’t think so.

Han didn’t want to kill Wedge’s daughter, even to fire upon her. But it would be worse if Wedge did. Worse still if she killed Wedge, worse for Corellia and their mission.

Almost as soon as he registered Leia’s words, Han kicked in his repulsors, bouncing his Shriek several meters higher, and hit reverse thrusters. Wedge’s Shriek flashed by beneath him and was suddenly in front. “You have more experience with itty-bitty starfighters,” Han said. “You deal with them. I’ll take the tugboat on our tail.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.”

Han’s sensor board howled as the pursuer’s weapons locked on to him. He added a little wobble to his flight path, and the incoming lasers missed, firing off harmlessly into the air above the skyscrapers ahead.

Han brought his turret lasers around and returned fire. As he squeezed the trigger, the ungainly-looking Aleph jerked to port, avoiding his beams, and crept closer, dropped lower, making Han’s next shot even harder.

Blast it. She would have to be a good pilot.





Chapter Thirty-One


CORUSCANT


LUKE FELT A PRESENCE, THE ARRIVAL OF SOMEONE STRONG IN THE Force. He opened his eyes. Hovering over the floor in front of him, meters from him, was his nephew and onetime prize pupil, Jacen, lightsaber lit in his hand. Except it was not truly Jacen; whoever it was reeked of dark side energy, and his stare promised only malevolence. “Not nice,” the false Jacen said.

Luke rose. “Who are you, really?”

The not-Jacen snorted. “You barely exist. You don’t need to know.” He took an odd, gliding step forward-it was only the slightest of exertions, but he floated meters toward Luke.

Luke lit his lightsaber.

The not-Jacen struck, a fast, powerful lateral blow that Luke met with little effort, without conscious thought. Not-Jacen’s blade was immediately in guard position for an anticipated counterstrike, but Luke held back. Oddly, the force of the impact sent his opponent floating backward. Not-Jacen drifted until he hit the corridor wall, which checked his motion, and he floated gently to the floor.

Then Luke heard the humming and chattering of lightsabers in conflict. The muffled noise was coming from his own quarters.