Vortex (Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi)

Vortex (Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi)

NATIONAL BESTSELLER Jedi and Sith fight side by side against an even greater foe. But how long can enemies remain allies? And how high is the price of betrayal?   In a stunning turn of events, Luke Skywalker and his son, Ben, joined forces with the Sith armada sent to kill them—and used their combined might against the monstrous being Abeloth. But when the wounded creature escapes, the fragile armistice crumbles, and hostilities resume with the attempted assassination of Luke. On the hunt for Abeloth and on the run from the Sith, Luke and Ben find themselves trapped by a mob of angry Force adepts who care little for the difference between light side and dark side. With the Jedi’s most famous father-and-son team outnumbered and outgunned, the countdown to galactic disaster has begun—and time is running out. Troy Denning is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Fate of the Jedi: Abyss; Star Wars: Tatooine Ghost; Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Star by Star; the Star Wars: Dark Nest trilogy: The Joiner King, The Unseen Queen, and The Swarm War; and Star Wars: Legacy of the Force: Tempest, Inferno, and Invincible —as well as Pages of Pain, Beyond the High Road, The Summoning, and many other novels. A former game designer and editor, he lives in western Wisconsin with his wife, Andria. Chapter One Beyond the forward viewport hung the gossamer veil of Ashteri's Cloud, a vast drift of ionized tuderium gas floating along one edge of the Kessel sector. Speckled with the blue haloes of a thousand distant stars, its milky filaments were a sure sign that the Rockhound had finally escaped the sunless gloom of the Deep Maw. And after the jaw-clenching horror of jumping blind through a labyrinth of uncharted hyperspace lanes and hungry black holes, even that pale light was a welcome relief to Jaina Solo. Or rather, it would have been, had the cloud been in the right place. The Rockhound was bound for Coruscant, not Kessel, and that meant Ashteri's Cloud should have been forty degrees to port as they exited the Maw. It should have been a barely discernible smudge of light, shifted so far into the red that it looked like no more than a tiny flicker of flame, and Jaina could not quite grasp how they had gone astray. She glanced over at the pilot's station--a mobile levchair surrounded by brass control panels and drop-down display screens--but found no answers in Lando Calrissian's furrowed brow. Dressed immaculately in a white shimmersilk tunic, lavender trousers, and a hip cape, he was perched on the edge of his huge nerf-leather seat, with his chin propped on his knuckles and his gaze fixed on the alabaster radiance outside. In the three decades Jaina had known Lando, it was one of the rare moments when his life of long-odds gambles and all-or-nothing stakes actually seemed to have taken a toll on his con-artist good looks. It was also a testament to the strain and fear of the past few days--and, perhaps, to the hectic pace. Lando was as impeccably groomed as always, but even he had not found time to touch up the dye that kept his mustache and curly hair their usual deep, rich black. After a few moments, he finally sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Go ahead, say it." "Say what?" Jaina asked, wondering exactly what Lando expected her to say. After all, he was the one who had made the bad jump. "It's not my fault?" A glimmer of irritation shot through Lando's weary eyes, but then he seemed to realize Jaina was only trying to lighten the mood. He chuckled and flashed her one of his nova-bright grins. "You're as bad as your old man. Can't you see this is no time to joke?" Jaina cocked a brow. "So you didn't decide to swing past Kessel to say hello to the wife and son?" "Good idea," Lando said, shaking his head. "But . . . no." "Well, then . . ." Jaina activated the auxiliary pilot's station and waited as the long-range sensors spooled up. An old asteroid tug designed to be controlled by a single operator and a huge robotic crew, the Rockhound had no true co-pilot's station, and that meant the wait was going to be longer than Jaina would have liked. "What are we doing here?" Lando's expression grew serious. "Good question." He turned toward the back of the Rockhound's spacious flight deck, where the vessel's ancient bridge droid stood in front of an equally ancient nav computer. A Cybot Galactica model RN8, the droid had a transparent head-globe, currently filled with the floating twinkles of a central processing unit running at high speed. Also inside the globe were three sapphire-blue photoreceptors, spaced at even intervals to give her full-perimeter vision. Her bronze body casing was etched with constellations, comets, and other celestial artwork. "I know I told Ornate to set a course for Coruscant." RN8's head-globe spun just enough to fix one of her photoreceptors on Lando's face. "Yes, you did." Her voice was silky, deep, and chiding. "And then you countermanded that