“Yes.” Luke took a deep breath. “The Corellian government is close to making Centerpoint Station operational again.”
That stopped Jacen where he stood. He stared at Luke, his surprise earning him a nod of affirmation from his uncle.
Centerpoint Station was a relic, an artifact of an ancient civilization that had, in a sense, constructed the Corellian star system-by dragging several inhabitable planets to the system and sending them into beneficial orbits. Several hundred kilometers in diameter, bigger even than the Death Stars that the Empire had wielded against rebellious planets decades ago, it had, over the centuries, been the object of internal and external attempts at control by political and military forces that had never quite learned how to utilize it.
At the heart of Centerpoint Station was an apparatus that could focus gravity and move planets or even affect the orbits of stars. It could move them, it could affect them; used more aggressively, it could destroy them. At times, the Corellians and others had been close to being able to utilize this as a reliable, devastating weapon. But it had for years been restricted by biometric data to operation by only one person-Anakin Solo.
The last it had been used was during the Yuuzhan Vong war. After years of being essentially nonfunctional, it had been brought to operability by the simple realization that it had imprinted on Anakin Solo and could be activated only by him. Jacen had argued that it should not be used against the Yuuzhan Vong or anyone-it was too terrible, too unpredictable a weapon. Anakin Solo had argued for it, his reasoning being that its use would prevent the Yuuzhan Vong from destroying millions of lives.
Anakin had activated it. Thracken Sal-Solo had fired it. Its use hadn’t gone well. It had destroyed much of the mighty war fleet of the Hapes Cluster, one of the New Republic’s allies. Later in the war, of course, Anakin had died, apparently eliminating the likelihood of it ever being used again.
Jacen felt a moment of dissonance. His younger self refused to utilize Centerpoint Station. His current self, in the same circumstances, would use it, his qualms having evaporated across the intervening years. The recognition of the changes in himself surprised him. They had crept up on him while he wasn’t paying attention.
The Jacen of more than a decade ago was gone, as dead as the Anakin of the same era was. He took a deep, slow breath and wondered why he no longer mourned either loss. “How have they made it operational again?” he asked.
Luke shrugged. “The information we have suggests that they’ve figured out how to duplicate crucial elements of Anakin’s biometrics-probably handprint, retinal patterns, and brainwaves, in the absence of surviving tissues-to pull it off.”
Jacen felt anger swell within him. Use of his brother’s identity for such a purpose smacked of disrespect for the dead. There was a ghoulish quality to it he did not appreciate. Still, he recognized his reaction as illogical, irrelevant, so he dismissed it. “And the GA is afraid the Corellians will actually use it as a weapon against them?”
“Not directly … not at first. But if the Corellians use their new fleet to launch an assault against some system, they could then keep the GA at bay with the threat that Centerpoint Station poses. And even if this theoretical sneak attack turns out not to be their plan, Chief Omas is concerned that if the GA continues to enforce its current mandates, the Corellians would be able to use the station to preserve their independence, their autonomy.”
“That-” Jacen stopped before he spoke further. He’d been about to say, That wouldn’t be too bad. But no, the prospect of the Corellians, a notoriously independent planetary culture, possessing the single most potent weapon in the galaxy, and not being obliged to use it for the greater good of galactic civilization-in fact, being able to use it to assert their own agenda-would be bad. Very bad. He let his mind drift for a moment into the future-into one possible future, one most likely to result from the actions Luke was describing-and caught just a vision of vast fleets at war, of planetary surfaces suffering bombardment, of brother and sister firing on each other. The brief glimpse turned his stomach. “So the Galactic Alliance is calling on the Jedi order.”
Luke nodded. “More specifically, Admiral Pellaeon sees outright rebellion across many star systems as a direct consequence of continued inaction by the GA. Several of his computer-modeled outcomes point that way, as apparently his instinct does. Other admirals he’s consulted agree, and so Cal Omas has signed off on this plan.”
Jacen took a deep breath, considering. Admiral Pellaeon, for decades the leader who had kept the Imperial Remnant proud, independent, and ethical, had been chosen as Supreme Commander of the Galactic Alliance a few years earlier, sure sign of the Imperial Remnant’s growing status and importance within the GA. If he saw continued Corellian reticence as a sure path to civil war, Jacen would have a hard time arguing with that conclusion. “So what’s the plan?”