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Han turned the
Falcon
abruptly up on her port side. The missile streaked past, taking out a pair of disoriented coralskippers before it cooled into tumbling rock.
    The old ship leveled out and then whirled away, tracing an oddly teetering path as Han deftly evaded incoming fire. Then he abruptly flipped onto the starboard side. Another massive bolt shot by, missing the ship but heating the underside to a glowing red. The
Falcon
levelledout suddenly. Two confused coralskippers collided overhead.
    “Hey, I
told
these people to use the flight restraints,” Han protested, responding to someone whose voice was beyond the reach of the comm. “Maybe if you’d issued a royal edict?”
    The contentious fondness in Han’s voice identified the recipient of his sarcasm. An odd, hollow sensation settled in the pit of Kyp’s stomach at the prospect of confronting Leia Organa Solo.
    He admired Han’s wife greatly, but her presence often left him keenly aware of the disparity between his youthful choices and hers. Leia had become a member of the Imperial Senate at sixteen, a hero of the Rebel Alliance two years later. At sixteen, Kyp had apprenticed himself to a long-dead Sith Lord. He’d rounded out his teen years by putting Master Skywalker in a near-death trance, forcibly erasing the memory of an Omwati scientist, commandeering a superweapon, and destroying a world and all its inhabitants. Thanks to Luke Skywalker’s intervention, Kyp’s crimes had been forgiven. Kyp had no illusions that anyone would forget them, least of all himself. Princess Leia did not remind him of what he’d been, but rather, what he might have become.
    On the other hand, Leia’s presence on the
Falcon
might explain why Jaina had come so forcefully to Kyp’s mind. Leia wasn’t a fully trained Jedi, but Kyp suspected her raw powers rivaled those of her brother. Perhaps she’d heard something about her daughter and had inadvertently projected her response through the Force. Last thing Kyp had heard, the Solo kids were involved in some secret mission.
    “From your last comment, I’d guess that Leia is flying copilot,” Kyp ventured.
    “Looks that way,” Han agreed. Kyp didn’t need the Force to hear the deep affection in the man’s voice. Butthere was also a deep weariness and a certain brittle quality—things that Kyp had never associated with Han.
    “Is everything all right?”
    Han’s laugh sounded a trifle forced. “Leia’s up to the job, if that’s what you’re asking. And we’ve got two Jedi Masters aboard for good measure—Luke’s here, and Mara. What could go wrong?”
    SOME CULTURES BELIEVE THAT RHETORICAL QUESTIONS HAVE A WAY OF TEMPTING FATE, Zero-One observed.
    Kyp abruptly switched off the outside comm. “Who asked you?” he demanded.
    RHETORICAL QUESTIONS ARE NOT DIRECTED AT ANYONE IN PARTICULAR. PERHAPS THAT IS WHY DESTINY CLAIMS THEM.
    “Who did your philosophical programming—a cantina comic?
Destiny claims them!
” the Jedi scoffed. “Words to live by!”
    EXPERIENTIAL DATA, KYP DURRON, SUGGEST THAT YOU DO PRECISELY THAT.
    The sneer fell off Kyp’s face. He switched off the communication screen linking him to the disturbing Q9 unit and blew out a long sigh.
    Then he fell into place beside the
Falcon
, his eyes scanning the roiling skies for his next fight.

FIVE
    Jaina slumped in the pilot’s seat, too exhausted for sleep. She felt an approaching presence and turned to face Tekli, the young Chadra-Fan healer.
    The furry little female looked perturbed—all four of the nostrils on her upturned snout flared, as if she were scenting the air for danger. Her large rounded ears were folded back into subdued half-moons, and her quick, almost furtive movements made her look more rodentlike than usual.
    Jaina hauled herself upright. “How is Tahiri?”
    “Sleeping.” The healer sighed. “The broken bone in her arm is set, her wounds patched as best I can. But I do not envy her her dreams.”
    Dreams
. Jaina grimaced