She was a good pilot. And she was a Jedi. She drew a deep breath, let her body relax into the seat.
The Millennium Falcon became part of Jaina, an extension of her mind, and she could sense the distance to the outer walls. She slipped the light freighter between the opening doors without so much as a wobble or a jitter.
Han looked at her in proud amazement. “That’s very smooth, Jaina.”
“Just tell me where to land,” she said. Her fingers danced across the repulsor engine controls. Her calm voice betrayed none of her uneasiness.
“Over there.” Han gestured, and she saw a broad docking bay where a group of people stood waiting to greet them. Amber lights flashed, and someone holding bright laser torches directed the Falcon to its landing place.
With a final hiss, the landing pads touched down on the deck plates.
Jaina felt a thrill of exhilaration. What had she been so worried about?
Han hugged her.
As they all unbuckled their crash restraints and stood up to head for the landing ramp, Han said, “Wonder who’s in our welcoming committee.”
“They could’ve hired musicians… maybe some kind of a band,” Jacen said. “You are an official representative of the New Republic.”
“Not only that,” Han said, brushing the front of his vest. “I’m Grand Marshal of the Blockade Runners Derby. That’s a pretty big honor around these parts.”
Han Solo, along with Anakin, Jacen, and Jaina, hurried to the landing ramp—only to find a group of armed soldiers blocking their exit.
Looming in front of them was a tall, broad-shouldered man who wore a cape and blasters at his hip. Close-cropped moss-green hair covered the top of his head. A band of metal, inset with lights and sensors, encircled his head like a ring around some pale-green planet. The front half of the silver metal band was a visor that completely covered his eyes. The rest of the metal band appeared to be permanently affixed about his ears and the back of his skull. He seemed to be receiving a continuous flow of information through the apparatus, and his lips curled in a sneer. A constantly moving cyberoptical laser sensor burned through a thin slit in the narrow visor, glaring at all of them.
Han Solo stopped in his tracks. His confident expression quickly faded. “Czethros!” he said, a look of disbelief in his eyes.
The sinister-looking man lifted his chin, his gaze frozen in a metal glare. “Han Solo,” he said in a rough, gravelly voice. “I knew if I waited long enough, you’d return to Ord Mantell.”
4
Though Han fought to keep a calm expression on his face, Jacen sensed the sudden wave of apprehension rippling through his father.
The guards looked tense, ready to fire.
Han had long since stopped carrying a blaster at his hip—a good thing, Jacen supposed; otherwise they’d probably be in the middle of a shoot-out right now. His father had been hoping for a calm family outing while he did a bit of official work for the New Republic as a special guest at the famous race. They hadn’t been prepared for anything like this.
Then Czethros stepped forward and surprised them all by extending his thickly gloved hand. The skin on his face rippled as his lips twisted in a smile. “Welcome back to Ord Mantell, Solo. A lot has changed since you and I were… opponents those many-years ago.”
Eyes narrowing just a fraction, Han Solo reluctantly slid his hand into the former smuggler and bounty hunter’s grip. “Uh, yes… that’s right,” he said, still cautious. Jacen felt the thick uneasiness in the air.
He, Jaina, and Anakin looked at each other in confusion.
“Back then, I was an officially licensed bounty hunter. You were a posted Imperial target,” Czethros said. “Nothing personal, of course. No hard feelings.”
“Of course.” Han flashed the metal-visored man one of his most charming lopsided grins. “I thought after all those years in the spice mines you might, uh, hold a grudge.”
“It’s the nature of the bounty-hunting business,” Czethros said. His laser-red cyber-eye drifted left and then right. “I used every trick to apprehend you, and you used every trick to get away. You just happened to have one more trick in your repertoire than I did—at the time, at least.” He stepped back toward the gathered guards. “But I!m no longer in that line of work. I have a thriving business here on Ord Mantell. In fact, I pulled a few strings to get you selected as Grand Marshal for the Blockade Runners Derby. Since you’d settled down and weren’t likely to be one of our contestants this year, I thought you might want to participate in some small way… if only to see what you’re missing.”
“Thanks, Czethros,” Han said, polite but uncertain. “I appreciate the gesture.” Moving in unison, the formal guards spun about on their heels.
Their machine precision reminded Jacen eerily of trained stormtroopers.
“I’ve assigned this honor guard to escort you to your quarters, Solo. Tomorrow is the big opening rally, and the Millennium Falcon will be the ‘pace craft.’ ” You’ll run through the course before any of the actual contestants. The honor is always given to a pilot who has demonstrated great bravery and skill… in the past.” Shoulders back, head held high, Han walked close to the former bounty hunter.
“Well, it’s all just a bunch of show, if you ask me. Limp gundark noodles.”
“But the spectators love it,” Czethros said, without looking at him.
“Remember your old glory days, when you were one of those hotshot pilots … a long time ago?”
Han stiffened, but said nothing as Czethros continued. “The course changes each year due to orbital mechanics, and we’ve mapped out a particularly convoluted obstacle path. I think it will make this year’s Derby the most exciting ever.”
“I’m familiar with the routine,” Han said in a clipped voice. “I’ve won the race three times, remember.”
Jaina and Han Solo spent the next morning in the docking bay facilities fully reconditioning the Falcon’s hyperdrive and coolant systems, as well as its maneuvering jets.
When Jaina assured her brothers that the repairs were under control, they retired to a corner of the docking bay. Jacen produced a programmable holoprojector puzzle and tried to concoct intricate designs to stump the younger boy, but Anakin managed to solve each 3-D maze before Jacen could come up with a new one.
Han stubbornly resisted most of his daughter’s attempts to recalibrate the systems, but she won out eventually, after demonstrating to him that the ship really would be safer and would fly more precisely.
<...> didn’t quite manage to conceal his proud smile.
Finally, when the time had come for their exhibition run through the space course, Jaina signaled for her brothers to join them in the ship.
In less than a minute, Jacen and Anakin were fastening themselves in with crash restraints as Jaina sealed the boarding ramp and Han powered up the repulsor engines. From the Falcon’s cockpit, Han informed the Derby officials they were ready.
“Hang on, kids,” Han said. He was clearly not comfortable to be the center of so much attention as Grand Marshal of the Blockade Runners Derby, but he was also just cocky enough to want to show off for all the spectators.
“It’s just a little practice trip,” Jacen said. “No big deal.” Both Jaina and Han turned to look at him with mischievous glints in their eyes.
“We might have to execute a few fast turns,” Jaina said.
“Just to make it more realistic,” Han added.
“ ‘Execute,’ ” Jacen said. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
Anakin gave his brother a teasing look. “Nervous?”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got everything under control,” Jaina assured her twin.
Together, she and her father worked the Falcon’s systems, moving like an experienced team. Jaina could sense what her father intended to do, and she realized she might indeed have the makings of a great copilot.