Lasers erupted behind him, missing by meters. He veered to starboard. The laser burst tracked his movement, clipping his port solar array wing before the burst ended.
Caedus growled. They were doing a fine job of tracking him. Either the Blur was not all it was cracked up to be, or they had some other means of determining his location.
Then Allana started crying again, and Caedus knew he had his answer.
They were homing in on Allana’s Force presence, they had to be. They were using her to target him. Hypocritical opportunists-for all their talk of protecting the innocent, they were now going to use a blameless little girl, shredding her life to get to him.
His anger grew, consuming him, casting everything he saw within the cockpit, every star outside the viewpoint, in a haze of redness. So great it was that he could no longer contain his presence in the Force-his anger flowed through him, through Allana, through his pursuers, through everything in tune with him or the Force.
The Love Commander waited, clamped by magnetic landing gear to the stern of the Anakin Solo, Han and Jaina staying alert for an opportunity to launch when the ship’s gunners were likely to be distracted. The opportunity had not yet come. The Star Destroyer’s complement of starfighters had launched, joining the engagement between the capital ship fleets, leaving none behind to harass the yacht, but the instant the yacht moved away from the vessel it would come within sight of its turbolasers and ion cannons.
Leia, seated in the captain’s chair, grew more restless … and then was hit by a wave of hatred. Redness and heat swamped her-hatred for the Jedi, hatred for Luke, for the Confederation, for lasers and explosives and chaos. She gasped, her back spasming from the overload of emotion. In the starboard seat ahead of her, she saw Jaina jerk, but her daughter was less affected than she had been.
“Sweetheart? Leia! What’s wrong?” In an instant Han was by her side, gripping her flailing hand, helpless concern on his face.
“It’s Jacen. He’s out there.” She gestured to starboard, well away from the Anakin Solo. “He’s … I don’t know. I’ve never felt him like this.” She shook her head to clear it. “Luke’s there, too.”
Han’s expression shifted from concern to grim determination. “All right. We’re going now, turbolasers or no turbolasers. Time to prove that I can fly a sand bucket through an ion storm.” He returned to his seat, strapped himself in.
Jaina’s voice was a rebuke. “That we can.”
“Right. We’ll argue over who’s second best when we’re out of here.”
Chapter 19
Luke felt the wave of hatred flow through him. It was so strong it felt like a kick in the gut, and he wondered for an instant if Jacen had perfected some new Force attack.
But no, the undercurrent was of frustration, helplessness, even fear. It was no attack. It was like a man in his last seconds of life, recognizing that fact.
And Luke. … did not hate. He fired again, his laser cannons chipping away at the top of Jacen’s fuselage as his target, through brilliant evasive flying, kept his attacks from striking a more vital portion of the starfighter.
Luke remained calm, reactive, ready to defend, ready to kill. He felt the other two StealthX wing pairs approach his position. Soon, they would be in firing range. Soon, this would be over.
Shields, then.
Caedus disengaged the electronic countermeasures and activated his shields. Since he could not evade detection by his enemies, he would have to elude them for a while.
Nor was there any need to maintain comm silence. “Solo to Anakin Solo. Am under starfighter attack. Get me some starfighter support here now. Bring the Anakin Solo, as well.”
Tebut’s smooth, controlled voice answered him. “At once, sir.”
Caedus heeled over to commence a sprint back to the capital ship formation. But he could feel Kyp and Corran vector to place themselves in his path, while Luke remained close behind.
Caedus stifled a curse. Blast, but they were good, herding him away from his safe haven. If anything, his rage grew.
And with each increase in his anger, Allana’s sobbing grew louder, her body shaking against his.
He could not comfort her. To comfort her now would be to die.
Juking and jinking, his own skills and Force insights making him an unpredictable target, he moved away from the Alliance formation, driven by his pursuers, his maneuvers eating up so much of his speed that he had no chance of outdistancing them. Luke’s lasers, sometimes joined by Kyp’s or Corran’s, came perilously close to him, occasionally brightening his shields and rattling his Blur.
He became lost in time, lost in his rage, existing in the moment. He could not have remembered his name, only that he had to fly, that he had to protect his daughter. Sweat poured from him. His flight suit had ceased absorbing his sweat long ago. Now it pooled in his boots and drenched his pilot’s couch.