Dark Journey Read Free Page A

Tenel Ka. Yuuzhan Vong ships were not designed with one-armed pilots in mind. Forget Alema. The Twi’lek female was emotionally fragile—Jaina could feel her teetering on the edge of mindless, vengeful frenzy. Put Alema in the pilot’s seat, and she’d likely plot a suicidal plunge directly at the worldship’s dovin basal. Ganner was a powerful Jedi, an impressive-looking man whose role in this mission had been to serve as decoy for the real leader—Anakin. Ganner had his points, but he wasn’t enough of a pilot to get them out of this.
    Tenel Ka was right, Jaina concluded. Anakin had died saving the Jedi from the deadly voxyn. He’d left his last mission in Jacen’s hands, not hers, but she was the one left to see it through. The Jedi—at least the Jedi on this ship—were now her responsibility.
    A small voice nudged into Jaina’s consciousness, barely audible over the screaming dive and the thrum and groan of the abused ship. In some dim corner of her mind huddled a small figure, weeping in anguish and indecision. Jaina slammed the door and silenced her broken heart.
    “I need Ganner to take over for me,” she said as soon as she could speak.
    A look of concern crossed Tenel Ka’s face, but she shrugged off her restraints and rose. In moments she returned with the older Jedi.
    “Someone has to take my place as gunner,” Jaina explained. She stood up without removing either the gloves or hood. “No time for a learning curve—better work with me until you get the feel of it. The seat’s big enough for both of us.”
    After a brief hesitation, Ganner slipped into the chair. Jaina quickly settled into his lap.
    He chuckled and linked his hands around her waist. “This could get to be a habit.”
    “Hold that thought,” Jaina told him as she sighted down an incoming skip. “It’ll keep your hands busy.”
    A surge of annoyance came from Zekk, but Jaina understood Ganner’s flirtation for what it was. Ganner was tall, dark, and so absurdly handsome that he reminded Jaina of the old holovids of Prince Isolder. The scar across one cheek only served to heighten the overall effect. When Ganner turned on the charm, his pheromone count probably rivaled a Falleen’s, but Jaina knew a shield when she saw one. Not long ago, Jacen had disguised his thoughtful nature with labored jokes. Perhaps it was best to leave Ganner’s defenses safely intact.
    “Put your hands in the gloves and rest your fingers on mine,” she directed.
    As Ganner wriggled his hands into the flexible gloves, Jaina reached out for him through the Force. She lackedJacen’s empathy, but could convey images to Ganner using her own Force talent.
    As she aimed and fired, she formed mental pictures of what she saw—the battle as viewed through the greatly expanded vision granted by the cognition hood, the blurry concentric circles that made up the targeting device. Through the Force she felt the grim intensity of Ganner’s concentration, sensed a mind and will as focused as a laser. Soon his fingers began moving with hers in a precise duet. When she thought him ready, she slid her hands free, then tugged off the hood as she eased out of his lap. She pulled the hood down over Ganner’s head.
    The Jedi jolted as he made direct connection with the ship. He quickly collected himself and sent plasma hurtling to meet an incoming ball. The two missiles collided, sending plasma splashing into space like festival fireworks.
    Ganner’s crow of triumph was swallowed by the ship’s groan and shudder. Several bits of plasma had splashed the frigate despite its shielding singularity and Zekk’s attempts at evasion.
    “Tenel Ka is right,” Jaina said. “Let me have her, Zekk.”
    The pilot shook his hooded head and put the ship into a rising turn. “Forget it. You’re in no condition for this.”
    She planted her fists on her hips. “Yeah? Everyone here could use a few days in a bacta tank, you included.”
    “That’s not what I meant. No one