[Legacy Of The Force] - 03(8)
Jaina pulled out immediately and, astonished by her mother’s Force sensitivity, tried to make her presence very small. Her eavesdropping array lit up as it began to capture and record electronic pulses from inside the Falcon. An instant later she sensed Leia searching for her and tried to draw in on herself even further, but there was no hiding from one’s own mother-not when that mother was Leia Solo, anyway. Jaina felt a brief moment of warmth, followed by an overwhelming sense of relief and-oddly- reassurance.
Then the battered old transport shot away, her ion tail thinning into nothingness as she vanished into hyperspace.
The meld filled with a sense of puzzlement as Zekk reached out for an explanation, but Jaina understood no better than he did. Her mother had obviously sensed their presence, which meant she now knew the Jedi were keeping a watch on the Kirises-and that they had probably captured the Falcon’s destination.
Zekk wondered if Leia had been relieved because she
thought he and Jaina would not report the contact. The Solos were, after all, high-value targets, and what kind of daughter would sic a hunter-killer squadron on her own parents?
Sneaker beeped for Jaina’s attention, then scrolled a message across the display announcing that he had analyzed the intercepted data and used his superior computing power to develop a list of the Falcon’s most likely destinations.
“So stop bragging and show me,” Jaina ordered.
DROIDS DON’T BRAG, Sneaker replied. THEY INFORM.
A list of planet names began to scroll down the display: ARABANTH, CHARUBAH, DREENA, GALLINORE-
“Those are all in the Hapes Consortium!” Jaina cried.
Sneaker confirmed that they were, then apologized for not pinpointing the destination more exactly. The Transitory Mists that enveloped the Consortium made hyperspace lanes such a tangle that once a vessel entered Hapan territory, evaluating what course it would follow was statistically impossible.
“That’s okay,” Jaina replied. “You’re close enough.”
Zekk’s surprise flooded the meld, and Jaina knew that his R9 had just reported the same thing to him. His surprise changed to urgency. Whatever the Falcon’s reasons for traveling to the Hapes Consortium, it could not mean anything good for the Alliance. Someone had to leave the observation post to report the intercept-and the possibility that the Corellians might soon know that the Galactic Alliance was watching their secret shipyards.
And Jaina knew who that had to be. Expecting Zekk to omit the Falcon’s name from his report was out of the question. Sometimes he was just too much of a steady blade for his own good-or, in this case, for her parents’ good.
Chapter Three
It was the moment Mara had been dreaming of-and dreading-for years, the first time father and son entered the Jedi Temple Sparring Arena with live blades. But she had never imagined it would be like this, with Luke so de termined to teach rather than train, with Ben so resentful and frightened. It made her fear for them both, made her wish that she could be down on the arena floor instead ot up here in a hot control booth packed with glide-levers, toggle switches, and actuating buttons.
The far door of the arena opened and Luke entered, Walking to the center of the floor, he glanced up at the control booth and flashed Mara a reassuring smile, then stood waiting for Ben. The Sparring Arena was basically a bowl-shaped chamber filled with balance beams, various kinds of swings, and repulsor-floated wobble balls. Interior conditions such as temperature and lighting could be changed from the control booth, and an automatic safety field caught anybody who started to fall out of control.
The near door opened, and Ben entered, his blue eyes sweeping the vault, examining everything in the chamber but his opponent. In contrast to the simple gray robe in which Luke was dressed, Ben wore a sparring suit made of a lighter, more flexible version of the vonduun-crab-shell armor that had proven so difficult to penetrate in the Jedi’s first encounters with the Yuuzhan Vong.
Despite his obvious apprehension, Ben marched straight to the center of the vault, and Mara was struck by how mature her thirteen-year-old son had become. He was wearing his red hair in a helmet-friendly crew cut with a single braid of longer hair, and his face was losing its roundness. But the biggest change was in his raised chin and square shoulders, in his resolute stride and proud expression.
He bowed formally, then said, “Apprentice Skywalker reporting for sparring instruction as ordered, Master.”
Luke raised his eyebrows at Ben’s use of the title apprentice, but did not correct him. “Very good.” He studied Ben’s sparring armor for a moment, then motioned at the breastplate. “Take it off.”