“I guess you would.” Luke looked at him. “I didn’t get a chance to say this earlier … but thanks for coming after me.”
Han waved it away. “No charge. And I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier-” he glanced at Luke again “-but you look like something the proom dragged in.”
“My wonderful disguise,” Luke told him, touching his face gingerly. “Mara assures me it’ll wear off in a few more hours.”
“Yeah-Mara,” Han said. “You and she seemed to be hitting it off pretty well there.”
Luke grimaced. “Don’t count on it,” he said. “A matter of having a common enemy, that’s all. First the forest, then the Imperials.”
He could sense Han casting around for a way to ask the next question, decided to save him the trouble. “She wants to kill me,” he told the other.
“Any idea why?”
Luke opened his mouth … and, to his own surprise, closed it again. There wasn’t any particular reason not to tell Han what he knew about Mara’s past-certainly no reason he could think of. And yet, somehow, he felt a strangely compelling reluctance to do so. “It’s something personal,” he said at last.
Han threw him an odd look. “Something personal? How personal can a death mark get?”
“It’s not a death mark,” Luke insisted. “It’s something-well, personal.”
Han gazed at him a moment longer, then turned back to his piloting. “Oh,” he said.
The Falcon had cleared the atmosphere now and was gunning for deep space. From this high up, Luke decided, the forest looked rather pleasant. “You know, I never did find out what planet this was,” he commented.
“It’s called Myrkr,” Han told him. “And I just found out this morning. I think Karrde must have already decided to abandon the place, even before the battle-he had real tight security around it when Lando and I first got here.”
A few minutes later a light flashed on the control board: the Falcon was far enough out of Myrkr’s gravity well for the hyperdrive to function. “Good,” Han nodded at it. “Course’s already programmed in; let’s get out of here.” He wrapped his hand around the central levers and pulled; and with a burst of starlines, they were off.
“Where are we going?” Luke asked as the starlines faded into the familiar mottled sky. “Coruscant?”
“A little side trip first,” Han said. “I want to swing by the Sluis Van shipyards, see if we can get Lando and your X-wing fixed up.”
Luke threw him a sideways glance. “And maybe find a Star Cruiser to borrow for Karrde?”
“Maybe,” Han said, a little defensively. “I mean, Ackbar’s got a bunch of stripped-down warships ferrying stuff to the Sluis sector already. No reason why we can’t borrow one of them for a couple of days, is there?”
“Probably not,” Luke conceded with a sigh. Suddenly, it felt really good to just sit back and do nothing. “I suppose Coruscant can do without us for a few more days.”
“I hope so,” Han said, his voice abruptly grim. “But something’s about to happen back there. If it hasn’t happened already.”
And his sense was as grim as his words. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother with Sluis Van, then,” Luke suggested, feeling a sympathetic shiver. “Lando’s hurting, but he’s not in any danger.”
Han shook his head. “No. I want to get him taken care of-and you, buddy, need some downtime, too,” he added, glancing at Luke. “I just wanted you to know that when we hit Coruscant, we’re going to hit it running. So enjoy Sluis Van while you can. It’ll probably be the last peace and quiet you’ll get for a while.”
In the blackness of deep space, three-thousandths of a light-year out from the Sluis Van shipyards, the task force assembled for battle.
“The Judicator has just reported in, Captain,” the communications officer told Pellaeon. “They confirm battle ready, and request order update.”
“Inform Captain Brandei that there have been no changes,” Pellaeon told him, standing at the starboard viewport and gazing out at the shadowy shapes gathered around the Chimaera, all but the closest identifiable only by the distinctive patterns of their running lights. It was an impressive task force, one worthy of the old days: five Imperial Star Destroyers, twelve Strike-class cruisers, twenty-two of the old Carrack-class light cruisers, and thirty full squadrons of TIE fighters standing ready in their hangar bays.
And riding there in the middle of all that awesome firepower, like someone’s twisted idea of a joke, sat the battered old A-class bulk freighter.