XVII

Rising from their base, a host of TIE fighters moved to engage the X-wing squadrons. What had been a precisely plotted sequence of attack runs dissolved into chaotic dogfights as one X-wing pilot after another was forced to break from formation to engage his or her own assailants. Where formerly the sky above Starkiller Base had been filled only with the scream of the invaders’ engines, the blueness in which they had been operating now gave way to a cyclone of streaking energy blasts and explosions.

Nearly colliding with an oncoming TIE fighter, Poe let fly at another with the full force of his ship’s weapons systems.

“Cover for each other! There’s a lot of ’em, but that just means more targets. Don’t let these thugs scare you!”

“Blue Three,” Snap called out, “got one on your tail! Pull up and give us a view!”

“Copy that!” Blue Three’s pilot replied. Yanking back on her controls, Jess Pava took her ship up sharply—­exposing the area in her wake to Poe’s fire, which immediately reduced her attacker to flaming fragments.

“I owe you one!” she called out as she sent her vessel diving back into the fray.

“Yeah, you owe me another attack run! Try to stick close, all teams! Follow me in!”

Despite being harassed by the swerving, diving TIE fighters that now seemed to be all around them, a clutch of X-wings managed to get low enough to carry out another strike on the containment structure. A series of hits sent flame and smoke billowing in all directions, but as they pulled up and away, Poe saw that the building was still intact. Worse than intact, he noted: It scarcely appeared to have suffered any damage at all.

“We’re not making a dent!” he yelled, confident his cockpit pickup would relay his observations to the rest of the squadrons. “What’s that thing made of, anyway?”

A telltale on his console began demanding attention. Flicking his attention to the attendant monitor, his eyes widened.

Seekers. Hundreds of seekers, rising from launch batteries concealed beneath the soil and snow. Rising toward him and his fellow pilots, giving them little room to maneuver—­or escape.

“We got a lot of company!” It was all he had time to shout before being forced to take evasive action himself. Between blasting out of the sky everything in front of him and avoiding those seekers coming up behind him, he stayed in one piece—­barely.

Other members of the attacking squadrons were not so fortunate.

One after another they found themselves hemmed in by multiple seekers. One after another the X-wings went down, along with any TIE fighter unlucky enough to find itself in the immediate spatial vicinity.

Able to follow the battle via hyperspace relay thanks to the two reconnaissance droids still operating above the surface of the planet, those in the Resistance base command center on D’Qar could only exchange looks of dismay.

“We weren’t prepared for anything like this,” Admiral Statura muttered. “Our pilots will be annihilated.”

An exterior access door opened and four figures came racing out into the snow. Their attention immediately drawn skyward, they slowed to a halt. None of them was an expert in aerial warfare. They didn’t have to be. The presence of multiple TIE fighters backed by a seemingly endless barrage of seekers allowed anyone to predict the outcome of the battle. Even the most die-hard optimist would have conceded the inevitable.

Han turned to Finn, his expression solemn. But his tone was the same as always: ready for anything. He gestured toward Chewbacca.

“My friend here has a bag full of explosives that we didn’t use inside. Be a shame to make him haul them all the way back to the Falcon.” The Wookiee added a curt grunt of agreement. “What’s the best place we could put ’em to use?”

“The oscillator is the only sensible target,” Finn told him. “But there’s no way to get inside.”

“There is a way.”

Everyone turned toward Rey. It was Chewie who ventured the question that had to be asked.

“I’ve seen inside these kinds of walls,” she told them as the sky overhead continued to rain destruction. “The mechanics and instrumentation are the same as the Star Destroyers I’ve spent years inside salvaging. Get me to a conventional junction station, I can get us in.”

Han nodded and smiled at her. “Get us in. If you can do that, we’ll be ready.”

A hasty search took them to a parking area filled with a smattering of vehicles. From the varied assortment, they settled on an isolated snow speeder. Between Finn’s training and Rey’s knowledge of machines, they managed to get it fired up. As Han and Chewie headed for the nearest structure, Finn and Rey took off on the snow speeder. Just in time, it developed, as a trooper monitoring the area saw them take off. When his single shot missed the accelerating vehicle by a wide margin, he followed up with a quick report.

“Speeder stolen from Precinct Twenty-eight.”

The reply contained more than a hint of disbelief. “Stolen?”

“Yes, sir. Unauthorized departure.”

A pause, then, “We’re tracking it. Sending a backup unit immediately.”

Careening over a snowdrift as Rey struggled to maintain control of the unfamiliar machine, they scattered small local creatures in front of them as they sped toward the containment center. From the ground, the hexagon loomed ahead of them. Occasional bursts of fiery energy flowered against its roof and sides as the X-wings continued their attack. Finn could see that the number of strikes had decreased markedly.

And the sky continued to darken as the curtain of increasingly opaque dark energy was drawn into the collectors that dominated the other side of the planet, blocking more and more sunlight as the containment unit situated at the planetary core continued to fill.

“Snow is cold!” Rey squeezed the speeder between a phalanx of willowy alien trees. “It’s the complete opposite of Jakku!”

“Try living here,” Finn told her. “There are only two seasons: winter, and dead of winter!”

A sudden boom and the speeder’s course wobbled. They’d been hit! Switching systems around like a card sharp dealing on a busy night, Rey succeeded in maintaining speed. A second shot barely missed them.

A glance back showed a second snow speeder in pursuit and closing. Finn realized that the way its driver was shooting, if he got any closer, he could take them out with his next burst. They had to do something, and fast. Rey was skilled at driving, and he was skilled at . . .

“Switch!” he yelled.

They made the difficult change only because they had to, with Rey still in control of their vehicle but Finn now in position to accurately return fire. Multiple blasts hit nothing, as Rey slalomed around and between trees while Finn fought to take out their pursuer. Damn driver knew what he was doing, Finn thought with grudging admiration. The man might even have been a former squadron mate. He tried not to think of that as he aimed and got off another burst.

This time his shot struck home, sending the trooper flying. Whether he’d killed him or not Finn didn’t know, but the pursuer’s speeder slammed into the trees and burst into flame.

“Got him!” As he turned forward once more, Finn’s gaze was again drawn skyward. Not, this time, to the space above the hexagon, but distant, toward the horizon. Shafts of an intense deep purple light were flowing there, a curtain of energy being drawn down by the weapon’s collectors. He leaned toward Rey.

“They’re charging the weapon! We’re running out of time!”

“We’ll get there!” she yelled back at him, but she realized that they had only the slimmest of chances to prevent the destruction of the Resistance base and the entire D’Qar system.

Watching from cover, Han and Chewie waited until a trio of stormtroopers could be seen approaching a wide, heavy-duty service hatch. It was smaller than any of the major portals they had seen thus far. Which meant, Han hoped, that it was likely to be lightly guarded. As the doorway opened, Chewbacca immediately took out the middle trooper with his bowcaster. Startled, the surviving troopers returned fire, only to be cut down by Han’s unerring aim. Alarms began to blare, rising even above the cacophony of the nearby aerial contest. Within the open passageway, another stormtrooper darted back out of sight and hurriedly activated his comlink.

“Enemy sighted and engaged at Oscillator Bay Six! Three men down; send reinforcements!”

. . .

Rey brought the snow speeder to a stop beside a small black structure. To Finn it looked unimpressive. But then, he reminded himself, remove a trigger from a gun and while the trigger itself would look decidedly unimportant, its absence would render the gun useless.

After opening a maintenance panel, Rey scrutinized the interior briefly before setting to work. One part after another was disconnected by her deft fingers.

“Been doing this all my life. Never thought about it much until now. It was just something I did every day, to survive. A routine, like breathing.” As if to demonstrate to herself that she was more than a little familiar with the components in question, she closed her eyes while continuing to disassemble the interior of the box. When she opened them again, she was gratified to see that she hadn’t missed a single connection.

“Nice piece of instrumentation,” she commented absently. “I would have got at least three portions for this.”

“What?” Absorbed in the spectacle of the ongoing battle overhead, the enormous streams of dark energy pouring down upon distant, unseen collectors, and a sky that continued to darken around them, Finn hadn’t been following her reminiscence.

“Never mind.” She continued with the work. “I was just pointing out how one small piece can be important. Like this, for example.” With her left hand she pulled hard, and a small length of brightly colored flow fiber came away in her fingers.

Now inside the complex, an increasingly anxious Han allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as the service hatch they had been monitoring finally parted to reveal a deserted corridor beyond. There was no sign of the single remaining trooper who had reported their presence. Outnumbered, that individual had sensibly retired to wait for the requested reinforcements. As the two intruders rushed forward and stepped inside, Chewbacca let out an agitated moan.

“Yeah,” Han agreed. “No kidding.”

A quick check of the vicinity indicated that no one, organic or droid, was waiting in ambush. While grateful, Han knew that their surroundings were unlikely to remain peaceful for long. Hurriedly, he and Chewie divided the duffel’s explosive contents.

“Let’s plant ’em at every other support column we can find,” Han suggested. When Chewie responded with a series of emphatic moans, Han reconsidered.

“You’re right. Better idea.” He indicated the nearest of the building’s massive support structures. “We don’t have the kind of munitions necessary to bring down more than one. I only hope we brought enough to do that much.” He gestured. “We’ll put everything we’ve got on that one column. You take the top. I’ll go below. We’ll meet back here.”

Unintentionally, their eyes met—­and the stare held. Man and Wookiee realized it might be for the last time. Nothing more was said. Nothing more needed to be. There never had been, over the years, an excess of superficial chatter between the two whenever there was work to be done. Each knew his job and did it.

That did not keep Han from pausing a moment to look back. When he did, he discovered Chewbacca gazing in his direction. Same ethic, different species, same thought, Han mused.

He pointed stiffly. “Go! Before things get messy.”

Chewie complied, this time without looking back. Han watched him for a long moment. Then he, too, turned and raced off.

There was a lot on his mind, but when one is emplacing explosives it’s usually a good idea to concentrate on the task at hand. Everything else would have to wait until they were done. He checked an install, then moved down to another level.

In contrast to Han’s single-minded efforts to place the explosive charges, Kylo Ren’s thoughts were focused wholly on locating the as-yet-unknown intruders. Approaching the main entrance to the hexagon, he ignored the squad of backup troopers waiting there even as they snapped to attention in response to his arrival. Without waiting for an order, one enterprising trooper hit the controls that activated the main portal. At a gesture from Ren, he and his companions followed their leader inside.

The squad’s presence was greatly diminished by the daunting interior of the complex. Around them, instrumentation and components hummed smoothly, ensuring that the expanding mass of dark energy that was accumulating at the center of the planet continued to be held safely in stasis until it was time for it to be released.

Halting, Ren slowly scanned his surroundings. Even though they knew what he was doing, the troopers still marveled at the display. After a long moment of deliberation, he motioned them toward the upper levels.

“They’re here. Find them. Up there.”

The squad immediately went into action, moving off rapidly in the direction he had indicated. Once they were out of sight, Ren turned slowly—­and headed downward.

Weapons at the ready, the squad ascended, following prescribed search procedure and covering for one another as they advanced. Blind corners received special attention and added caution.

From the shadows Chewbacca watched them pass, admiring the precision with which they progressed even as he kept still. Once they were out of sight, he emerged to plant another charge.

Below, Han had finished setting a charge and was preparing to climb a bit higher to place one more when a sound made him hesitate. The working structure was full of unidentifiable sounds, but this was different. Taking no chances, he slipped behind a wide vertical support. Either the sound would not be repeated, or . . .

A glance around the edge of his cover revealed its source, and his countenance underwent a grave shift.

The figure that had paused to look over a railing and down into the farther depths of the structure was known to him.

Here, Ren told himself with increasing certainty. He is here. Raising his gaze, he focused on one support column out of many. Slowly he advanced toward it, prepared for whatever might ensue.

Nothing did. There was no one behind the column.

From concealment in a narrow chamber set into a wall, Han watched the caped figure stride past. His lips moved as he watched and he mouthed a single word. Or perhaps it was a name. As he looked on, Ren moved out onto a walkway that spanned a vast open space. Pausing there, he looked around, hesitant, uncertain, before continuing onward. The sound of his boots—­the sound that had alerted Han moments earlier—­receded into the distance.

Rising from his hiding place, Han looked back the way he had come. If he left now and managed to control his thoughts and emotions while retracing his steps, there was a good chance he could make it out of the building. If he was really lucky, he would be able to slip outside without drawing the attention of any searching stormtroopers—­or anyone else. Outside, if all had gone according to the hastily drawn-up plan, Finn and Rey would be waiting with transportation. A chance, then, to make it back to the Falcon before everything on this planet went to hell. A chance later for another reunion, on another world. A face swam before his, its features aged but still soft, the voice that emerged from between so-familiar lips biting yet always affectionate. Forming words that lingered in his thoughts. Forming, at last hearing, a request.

A request that wouldn’t go away, he knew. It would never go away. He made up his mind. Instead of retreating, he advanced. Instead of running for safety, he took up the challenge. There was no real choice, he told himself as he advanced to the edge of the walkway. And called out.

“Ben!”

It echoed across the gap, reverberated through the vast open space below.

On the far side, a tall figure turned and retraced his last few steps.

“Han Solo.” Kylo Ren stared across at the older man. “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

“Take off that mask.” Han’s tone was a mix of command and empathy. “You don’t need it. Not here. Not with me.”

“What do you think you’ll see if I do take it off?”

Han moved forward slightly. “The face of my son.”

“Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish, like his father.” Ren’s reply was replete with pity. And anger. “So I destroyed him. But such a small, insignificant request is easily granted.”

Reaching up, he slowly removed the mask. For the first time Han saw the face of his son as a grown man—­and it jolted him.

Both men were so intent on each other, so preoccupied with their encounter, that neither noticed the newly arrived presence on a railing overhead. Having slipped inside to search for Han and Chewbacca, Finn and Rey found themselves peering down from up high at the pair confronting each other below.

“That’s what Snoke wants you to believe,” Han was saying. He wasn’t pleading—­just stating a fact. “But it’s not true. My son is still alive. I’m looking at him right now.”

The exchange drew another onlooker, as on a level above, Chewie moved to watch and listen.

Ren’s eyes blazed. “No! The Supreme Leader is wise. He knows me for who I am, and who I can become. He knows you for what you really are, Han Solo. Not a general, not a hero. Just a small-time thief and smuggler.”

A trace of a grin flashed across Han’s face. “Well, he’s got that part right.”

Similarly drawn by the sounds of conversation and disagreement, a third group of spectators had arrived. Held rapt by the confrontation, the squad of stormtroopers looked on as intently as did Finn, Rey, and Chewbacca. Fearful of taking an initiative that might be frowned upon, they awaited a command from Ren.

Stepping out onto the walkway, Han moved toward his son. There was no hesitation in his stride or in his voice. “Snoke’s using you for your power, manipulating your abilities. When he’s gotten everything he wants out of you, he’ll crush you. Toss you aside. You know it’s true. If you have half the ability, half the perception that I know you do, you know that I’m telling you the truth. Because unlike him, I have nothing to gain from it.”

Ren hesitated.

“It’s too late,” he said.

“No, it’s not.” Halfway across the walkway now, Han continued to move forward, smiling. “Never too late for the truth. Leave here with me. Come home.” Without the slightest trace of malice or deception, he cast a dagger. “Your mother misses you.”

A strange sensation touched the younger man’s cheeks. Something long forgotten. Dampness. Tears.

“I’m being torn apart. I want—­I want to be free of this pain.”

Han took another step, then stopped, waiting. A decision had to be made, and for once it was not his to make.

“I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” Ren moved out onto the walkway toward Han. “Will you help me?”

“Yes,” Han told him. “Anything.”

Halting an arm’s length from his father, Ren unclipped his lightsaber, looked down at it for a moment, and then extended it toward Han. For an instant that seemed to extend into forever, nothing happened. Smiling, Han reached for the weapon. Then, as the light from outside was fully blocked by the flow of descending, accumulating dark energy, Ren ignited the lightsaber—­and the fiery red beam lanced outward to pierce Han’s chest from front to back.

“Thank you,” Ren murmured, and truly, the darkness above was mimicked by the darkness in his voice.

From their perch high above, Finn and Rey gasped simultaneously.

“Solo. Solo.” Finn put an arm around the girl beside him. “Rey.”

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no . . .”

Accepting without quite believing, Han stared back into the face of the creature that had been his son. There was nothing to see there. Only darkness in the shape of a face: alien, unthinking, unfeeling. His knees buckled, the beam tilting down with him as he crumpled. Ren extinguished it. For another moment Han held on to the edge of the walkway. A rush of memories flashed through his mind: worlds and time, friends and enemies, triumphs and failures. Words he wished he had spoken and others he regretted. All gone now, lost in an instant, like the one he would never again be able to hold in his arms. Then he fell, to vanish into the depths.

On another world far, far away, a woman felt a shudder in the Force that lanced through her like a knife. She slumped into a seat, her head lowering, and started to cry.

Stunned by his own action, Kylo Ren fell to his knees. Following through on the act ought to have made him stronger, a part of him believed. Instead, he found himself weakened. He did not hear the roar of the enraged Wookiee above, but he did feel the sting of the shot from the bowcaster as it slammed into his side, knocking him back on the walkway.

Hostile fire being something the group of stormtroopers could react to without having to wait for an order, they immediately blasted back at Chewie. Returning fire, the Wookiee retreated down a corridor, hitting the switch on the remote detonator as he ran.

First one charge ignited, then two, then four, and finally the rest. Enormous, concerted explosions rocked the interior of the hexagon. Walkways collapsed, plunging to the bottom of the interior cylinder. There was shuddering as the walls trembled, held—­and then began to fail as their main support and then subsidiary columns snapped. Amid the rising bedlam and confusion, Kylo Ren struggled to stand. As he did so, his gaze turned upward.

To meet the stares of Finn and Rey, peering down at him.

The shock of recognition helped him to regain his footing. Rising to his full height, he started back along the still-standing walkway, moving with determination. Heading upward.

Taking their cue from their leader, those troopers who were not pursuing Chewbacca began to fire at the two figures on the lower level. A crazed, heartbroken Rey returned their fire. She would have stayed there, blasting away wildly, had not Finn half dragged, half carried her away.

. . .

High above and swathed in the shadow of the curtain of descending dark energy, Poe Dameron saw something. An explosion on the roof of the containment center. By its intensity and configuration he could tell that it was not the result of a hit from one of his X-wings, but instead a blast from within. Swinging around, he found that for the first time he could see the interior of the seemingly impregnable structure.

It was an opening. A small one. One opportunity, maybe. Given the way the fight was going, probably a last one.

“All units, this is Black Leader. Target structural integrity has been breached! I repeat: Target integrity has been breached! There’s an opening. Now’s our chance! Hit it hard, give it everything you’ve got!”

Led by the black fighter and ignoring both pursuing TIE fighters and arcing seekers, the remaining X-wings broke off from defensive combat and dove as one toward the hexagon. A few strikes missed, detonating harmlessly against the still-intact sides of the building. But the others, most, hit their mark. As Poe and his comrades pulled up and away, one detonation after another shook the great edifice. Gradually, almost in slow motion, it began to collapse, the walls falling in upon themselves. More significantly, gouts of flame began to erupt from below, rising from unseen chambers far underground.

Letting out a yell of triumph, Poe accelerated skyward, heading for the outer atmosphere. Secure in his position behind the cockpit, BB-8 emitted a steady stream of excited beeps.

“All teams, nice job!” Poe said to his fellow pilots. “General, the target’s been destroyed!”

Leia’s warm voice filled his ears, but the message she delivered was an unexpected one. “Good—­now retreat immediately! The planet could be unstable. Get out of there now.”

Even with the relay in place, it took a moment for the message to be received. Poe didn’t hesitate to reply. “If we retreat, we leave our friends behind!”

Having anticipated Poe’s response, Leia was ready with her own. “Poe, outside of those of us here, your group is all that remains of the Resistance that’s capable of putting up a fight. If you stay to find them, we lose you all.”

“General, with all due respect,” he said evenly, “we’re not leaving our friends behind. Teams, who’s with me?”

He expected a delayed response. He was wrong: It came immediately, from Snap. “We’re all with you, Poe. You know that.” A concurring yelp came from the ship piloted by the Sullustan, Nien Nunb, followed by the others.

“Then let’s go do some good and find them!’