Apocalypse (50 page)

When Jaina was clear of the cylinder, the hoist swung her over to the side and lowered her to the floor, where a weary-looking Duros female in blood-smeared scrubs stood with one finger pressed to the control panel. In her other hand, the Duros held Jaina’s lightsaber and equipment belt, and there was a set of clean clothing folded over her arm.

“You look busy,” Jaina said, reaching for the clothes. “I can handle dressing by myself.”

The Duros pulled her arm away. “You were supposed to be in the tank for another twelve hours.” She offered Jaina some underclothes. “So I need to stay to make sure you’re not going to faint.”

“Jedi don’t faint,” Jaina said, slipping into the underclothes. “And you have a lot of other patients who really need you.”

“And the sooner you stop arguing with me and finish dressing, the
sooner I can tend to them,” the Duros said. “Besides, I have a message, Master Solo. You’re to join the rest of the Jedi Council as soon as possible. They’re meeting in Senator Wuul’s office in the Senate Building.”

Under other circumstances, Jaina might have experienced a thrill at being addressed as a Master and asked to sit on the Jedi Council. Instead she felt the weight of her new responsibilities. The future of Coruscant itself was at stake, and an entity that no one quite understood had holed up inside the Jedi Temple. Jaina knew she would soon be asked to do the impossible again—and this time, she wondered if she would be up to the job. She glanced down the long row of opaque bacta tanks, checking for Luke and Corran. When she sensed through the Force that none of the occupants were Jedi—or even Force-sensitive—she nodded to the Duros.

“I understand—and I’m
not
going to faint. How long ago did the Masters Skywalker and Horn leave?”

“After his knee surgery was finished, Master Horn only needed the tank for a few hours,” the Duros replied. “But Master Skywalker extracted himself early, less than an hour ago.”

“Early?”
Jaina grabbed her chrono and saw that she and the others had been recuperating almost four days. “That must have been some concussion he had.”

“The concussion was not the problem,” the Duros replied. “The burn on his chest has been slow to heal.
Very
slow. He’s still not a hundred percent.”

“Could it be the Force lightning?” Jaina asked, frowning in concern.

The Duros shrugged. “You would know better than I.”

A sudden shudder shook the entire room—hard enough that Jaina heard the bacta slosh in the tanks.

“What was that?” she asked, closing her robe.

“I was hoping you could tell
me
,” the Duros said. “The shaking seems to be growing stronger and more frequent. It must be something to do with the battle, yes?”

“That would make sense,” Jaina agreed. “But I’m not sure what it is. Maybe they’re using baradium bombs down in the sub-basements or something.”

The Duros’ complexion faded to pale blue. “It had better be ‘or something.’ There aren’t enough medcenters on Coruscant to handle that much baradium poisoning.” She studied Jaina for a moment, then handed over her lightsaber and equipment belt. “You might want to check your comlink. Someone has been trying to raise you all morning.”

With that, the Duros turned and left. Jaina quickly clipped on her equipment belt and lightsaber, then checked her comlink and saw that there were several unanswered HoloNet relays from Tahiri Veila.

Jaina’s heart climbed into her throat. Immediately worried that Tahiri was trying to reach her to tell her something had happened to Jag, she left the infirmary and headed for the nearest turbolift. Only after she was safely inside, dropping toward the Galactic Justice Center’s local-transit level, did she dare retrieve the most recent message. It was Jag’s voice, filled with concern—and perhaps just a little irritation.

“Where are you? I’m starting to worry.” There was a short pause, then he said, “Listen, we’re about to jump. We should be coming in system at eleven seventeen Galactic Standard. If you get this message before then, leave one on Tahiri’s comlink letting me know how you are. We’ve heard that the Temple was breached and that you were taken to a medcenter, but not much else … See you soon—and you had better be well.”

Jaina checked her chrono again and saw that she had only three minutes before Jag was due to enter the system. By the time she stepped out of the turbolift into the transit level, she had listened to half a dozen earlier messages from Jag, announcing that he and Tahiri were on their way to Coruscant without explaining the reason. Jaina assumed by his tone of voice that he was bringing good news, but that was really all she could determine from the cryptic dispatches.

Luckily, with the battle for the Temple raging across Fellowship Plaza and the Galactic Justice Center shuddering and shaking, the transit platform was deserted. Jaina barely had time to delete the messages from her comlink before she was seated alone in a four-person capsule, shooting through the transit tubes.

“How long will it take to reach the Senate Building?” Jaina asked the empty capsule.

“Approximately three
minutes
and ten seconds.” The reply came
from the tiny speaker in the ceiling, the voice stilted and awkward because capsule droids were not given a lot of extra processing power. “You
have
been
pre
-cleared through security, so there
will
be no
de
lay.”

Jaina’s chrono showed eleven sixteen, a minute before Jag and Tahiri were due to emerge from hyperspace—and become accessible via HoloNet relay. She opened the channel anyway. It seemed like forever since she had heard Jag’s voice, and with so little time available before she would have to sign off again, she wanted to listen to it every second she could.

After a short delay, a connection chime surprised her by sounding in her earpiece, and Jag’s voice asked, “Jaina?”

“Yes, Jag. It’s me.”

There followed a moment of silent relief as they paused to savor the sound of each other’s voices.

Then Jag seemed to gather his wits and asked, “How are you? I’ve been worried.”

“I know. Sorry about that,” Jaina said. “I’ve been in a bacta tank, and the medics have too much going on right now to take messages.”

“But you’re all right?” Jag pressed.

“I got a little beat up during the assault, but I’m fine now.” Jaina checked her chrono. “Listen Jag, we don’t have much time. I’m on my way to a Council meeting.”

“In that case, I need to pass you over to Tahiri,” Jag replied. “I have big news, but she has intelligence the Masters will need to hear when you see them.”

“Jag,
what
news?”

“It can wait … I love you, Jaina.” His voice grew faint as he passed the comlink over, but not so faint that she could not hear him say, “I have the ship.”

“You have the ship,” Tahiri confirmed, obviously passing control of whatever vessel they were in over to Jag. Her voice grew louder and more distinct in Jaina’s earpiece. “Good to hear your voice, Jaina.”

“Thanks, Tahiri—yours, too.” With all that was going on in the galaxy right now, Jaina was glad to have a friend and former Jedi at Jag’s side—especially since it sounded like he didn’t have much other protection. “You and Jag are flying your own ship?”

“Afraid so,” Tahiri replied. “The
Pellaeon
went with the Head of State’s job.”

“Jag
lost
the election?” Jaina gasped.

“Not exactly,” Tahiri replied. “He—”

“We only have two minutes,” Jag’s voice interrupted in the background. “Tell her what happened on Hagamoor Three.”

“Okay … what happened on Hagamoor Three?” Jaina asked, reluctantly accepting that she would have to wait for Jag’s news. “And exactly where
is
Hagamoor Three?”

“It orbits Antemeridias,” Tahiri said. “And it’s where Boba Fett and I killed Abeloth.”

“Really?” Jaina asked. Between Jag’s eagerness to get off the channel and Tahiri’s claim to have been aided by the same bounty hunter who had broken Daala out of detention, she was starting to wonder whether the people on the channel were impostors. “You’ve been working with Boba Fett?”

“Long story,” Tahiri replied. “You
did
hear the part where I said we killed Abeloth—right?”

“I heard,” Jaina said cautiously. “But I’m having a little trouble with that part. Abeloth almost killed
us
inside the Jedi Temple.”

There was a short silence, then Tahiri asked, “Didn’t Master Skywalker have to kill her twice on Pydyr?”

“Right. In two different bodies.” Jaina began to have the sinking feeling that she was talking to the real Tahiri after all. “I
had
been assuming that Abeloth just moved from one dying body into a living one.”

“But if we were both fighting Abeloth, and we were thousands of light-years apart at the time …” Tahiri let the sentence drift off incomplete, then sighed deeply. “So now we know. Force entities
can
be in two places at once.”

“Let’s hope it’s
only
two.” Jaina checked her chrono again, then said, “Why don’t you give me the highlights?”

“I’ll try,” Tahiri said. “But two minutes isn’t much time …”

Tahiri recounted the basic facts of her encounter with Abeloth, starting with the powerful Force presence she had felt slipping through the blockade at Exodo II and quickly proceeding to her suspicions about Abeloth’s role in the election. She believed it had been
Abeloth behind Daala’s proposal to avoid a bloody civil war by holding a vote instead. When it became obvious that Abeloth was using the Force to assure a victory for Daala, Tahiri had tracked the entity to Hagamoor 3 and—finding Boba Fett on the moon pursuing an objective of his own—she had struck a deal to work together.

Without explaining how Abeloth had come to select this facility as her lair, Tahiri gave a quick account of how she and Fett had tracked her into a secret laboratory owned by Tol Getelles. They had found their quarry inhabiting the rapidly decaying body of Lydea Pagorski—the same Imperial lieutenant who had perjured herself at Tahiri’s trial on Coruscant. A vicious battle with Abeloth had followed, and Tahiri and Fett had barely survived.

“The only reason you’re talking to me now,” Tahiri explained, “is that Abeloth didn’t kill me outright. She needed
my
body next, because Pagorski’s was burning out. Apparently, the bodies of Force-users last longer.”

The transit capsule began to slow as it approached the Senate Building boarding station.

“You’re
sure
you killed her?” Jaina asked.

“That depends on how you define
kill
, I guess,” Tahiri said. “Pagorski’s body was destroyed by a thermal detonator; then an Imperial frigate blasted the entire lab until the only thing left was a glass crater. So, I’m pretty sure
that
Abeloth was destroyed. Until I heard about the one in the Jedi Temple, I thought we might have gotten her. Now I’m just scared.”

“Yeah, I’m not too happy about having more than one Abeloth-thing running around the galaxy, either.” Jaina paused, recalling how the Abeloth in the Temple had suddenly grown weak and fled. “You wouldn’t happen to know what time you killed the Pagorski avatar, would you?”

“As a matter of fact, I remember exactly,” Tahiri said. “It was two minutes before midday—”

“Four days ago,” Jaina finished. The capsule came to a stop, and the top half slid back to allow Jaina to exit. “Right?”

Tahiri was silent for a moment, then said, “How did you know?”

“I’ll tell you when I see you,” Jaina replied, finally feeling like she was beginning to make a little progress in understanding how to destroy
Abeloth. “The Masters will want to debrief you in person. We’re using the Senate Building as a temporary headquarters.”

“We’re still a few hours out,” Tahiri replied. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we land.”

“Good.” The capsule began to ping, telling Jaina that it was time to debark. She stepped onto the platform and started toward the turbolift bank at the back of the station. “Now let me talk to Jag.”

There was a brief pause as Tahiri passed the comlink back to Jag and took the controls. Then Jag asked, “Did I hear that right? You were hurt fighting Abeloth?”

“Later,” Jaina said. “It’s my turn to ask the questions. What happened with the election?”

“It’s a long story,” Jag said. “But basically, I had to withdraw.”

“So Daala won?”

“Jaina, you should know me better than that,” Jag said, genuinely shocked. “I withdrew so she would lose.”

Jaina stepped into a turbolift but did not yet select a floor. Anti-gravity technology did not mix well with comlink transmissions, and she was likely to lose her connection as soon as she engaged the repulsor drive.

“Then who’s the Imperial Head of State?” she asked.

“An actual Imperial,” Jag replied. “Vitor Reige.”

“Pellaeon’s former adjutant?”

“Vitor was one of my best admirals,” Jag said, sounding a bit defensive. “He’ll make an excellent Head of State.”

“I know that,” Jaina said. “It’s just that—well, I wasn’t expecting this. I’m very sorry, Jag.”

Jag’s voice grew puzzled. “What for?”

“That you had to withdraw, of course.”

Jag actually laughed. “Well,
I’m
not.”

The turbolift began to chime, pestering Jaina to select a destination or step off. She ignored it.

“Really?” she asked. “You’re not going to miss running your own interstellar Empire?”

“Dodging assassination attempts and analyzing tax-stream reports? Not as much fun as you might think.” For the first time in ages, Jag’s voice actually sounded happy. “Right now, my greatest fear is that
once Reige realizes how simultaneously mind numbing and nerve-racking it is to be Head of State, he’ll find a way to drag me back.”

Jaina laughed, too. “In that case … congratulations.” The turbolift’s chiming became a constant, irritating ring. “Listen—”

“You’ve got to go,” Jag finished. “I love you, Jaina Solo. We’ll be together soon—and we’re going to stay that way.”

“Count on it,” Jaina said. “And I love you, too, Jagged—even if you can’t hold a job.”