Thursday, May 7, 2026

🌷🌹⏳Throwback Thursday's Time Machine⏳🌹🌷: Texas Wedding by RJ Scott




Summary:

Texas #7
Sometimes, Riley and Jack find themselves stepping into the fray, fighting for what’s right—not just for themselves, but for others.

As the nation waits for a landmark SCOTUS decision on same-sex marriage, Riley and Jack face life-changing choices of their own. But just as hope shines bright, distressing family news and the looming threat of long-buried secrets surfacing test their resilience like never before.

Through the highs and lows—children, family milestones, laughter, and heartbreak—Riley and Jack's bond remains unshakable. This chapter in the Texas series weaves together every challenge they face, proving once again that their love is the foundation of everything they hold dear.



Original Review 2015:
This book had me in tears, both from laughing and tenderness, had me fanning myself from hotness, simply put Texas Wedding had me in a jumble of emotion. I don't really know what to say about Jack and Reily that I haven't already said throughout the series. When Texas Wedding's release day arrived my heart warred between my need to know and my need to prolong the finale but my need to know won out. This was a great way to end an amazing series and the idea of there being no more Jack and Reily is heartbreaking but I am sure we haven't actually seen the end of our favorite couple, even if their future is in the form of secondary characters in a future spin-off series, Legacy, coming in 2016. Texas will always be my absolute favorite series in the M/M genre, not only because it was the first I read but because it is superbly written with characters that are interesting, intriguing, and real. RJ Scott has given us a true gem when she created the world of Jack and Reily Campbell-Hayes.


1st Re-Read Review 2016:
I don't think I can say anything that I didn't say a year ago when I read it the first time. I still found myself tearing up throughout both from laughter and heartwarming. So good, I just can't imagine it ending any other way.


Original Audiobook Review August 2018:
As I said in my original review(and the re-read), Texas Wedding is jam packed with warmth, laughter, friendship, family, and love as life on the Double D react to SCOTUS' ruling on gay marriage.  We see not only Jack and Riley's reactions but everyone's.  Texas Wedding is a lovely addition to the Texas universe and Sean Crisden brings it to life and frankly I don't think anyone could have done it better.  I don't often listen to audiobooks despite having quite a few in my library(including old tapes, CDs, and now digital) because no matter how much I love the story I found myself tuning out and concentrating on what else I was doing, suddenly the story shuts off and I've missed most of it.  So now when I do set out to listen I want to know that I will be hooked and not distracted, well between RJ's writing and Sean's voice I am mesmerized.


Overall Series Re-Read Review 2018:
I seriously have no idea what more I can say about Texas that I haven't already.  This is the series that brought me into the world of published M/M genre so Jack & Riley Campbell-Hayes and the Double D universe will always hold a special place in my heart.  No matter how many times I read this series, I always smile, cry, laugh, and just completely escape into their world.  I may never experience that first time adrenaline rush but it still gets my blood pumping and heart racing.  Texas is not just Jack and Riley's journey, yes they are the primary leads but we also get to see their children, their family, their friends all navigate life on and off the ranch.  The Double D has a way of bringing people together, giving them hope and purpose, a fresh start, a place to grow and become who they are meant to be, but at the heart of each story is just that: heart.  When RJ Scott wrote The Heart of Texas, I doubt she had any idea what she started, how far it would go or how many people it would touch but I'm just glad she gave life to Jack and Riley and everything that came from their love.  This is one series that isn't getting old any time soon for me.

Audiobook Overall Series Review 2019:
As I've said many times before, RJ Scott's Texas series was the first published M/M genre book that I read so they will always hold a place of pride in my heart.  No matter how many times I read or listen to the journey Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes, their friends and family take I never tire of it.  The characters and the paths they take are so real, so honest, the good and the bad, the heartache and the healing, it never fails to put a smile on face.

As for the audio versions, I can't imagine anyone other than Sean Crisden bringing these stories to life.  Sean's voice make Jack, Riley, and the whole Texas family(which grows with each entry because its not just blood that connects everyone) real.  Honestly I felt as if I looked up I'd see Jack with Solo Cal out in the yard or Riley on the floor with his maps.

If you haven't read/listened to Texas before I highly recommend giving it a go but it is a series needed to be experienced in order.  I warn you though Jack and Riley can be addictive, you'll never want to say goodbye and now thanks to audio you really don't have toπŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰.

RATING:





Chapter One 
Jack slid his arms around Riley from behind and pressed his cheek to the space between broad shoulders. He couldn’t stop himself from moving his hands under the soft T-shirt material and caressing the warm skin. Touching Riley was an addiction.

“You all done?” he asked.

Riley turned in Jack’s hold, the laundry in his hands crushing between them.

“It’s like these tiny T-shirts multiply,” Riley groused. “I turn my back for one minute and suddenly there’s another ten of the damn things.”

Jack smiled up at his husband, at the narrowing of his beautiful hazel eyes and the stubborn set of his mouth. Then he released his hold of his waist and instead cradled his face.

“It was your idea to sort out the twins’ old clothes,” he reminded Riley.

“I wanted to box it away….”

“We can do it together at the weekend.”

“I want to do it today—”

“It’s a Tuesday.” Jack interrupted Riley’s reasons why. “I thought you said you had that report to read from Tom?”

Riley huffed a little. “I can’t concentrate.”

“So, you’re sorting clothes?”

“Is that a bad thing?” Riley sounded so defensive.

Jack sighed. “What are you avoiding?”

Riley raised an eyebrow, and Jack couldn’t help but press a kiss to his lips. After all this time together, he had learned these weird domestic chores Riley undertook were usually a way of avoiding things he didn’t want to do. Whether it was Riley’s way of thinking about things, or pure procrastination, Jack didn’t know.

“I have a shareholder meeting the first week of February.” Riley finally said.

“I know. I got the same letter, but I wasn’t planning on going. Why will this be different from any other meeting?” Jack was confused. Hayes Oil meetings were dry and boring, and he’d survived the only two he’d attended by slouching back in a chair directly opposite Riley. He would eat as many of the complimentary mints as he could manage and gently disrupt the meeting by rustling the wrappers. This never failed to make Riley smile. Mostly Jack conned Josh into going, or gave Riley his proxy. Still, when he did go, he loved nothing better than insolently lazing around and being all cowboy in the room full of suits. Inevitably, this led to hot sex with Riley, who couldn’t keep his eyes off Jack throughout the entire meeting.

“I have something to admit,” Riley said with a sigh. He eased himself away from Jack and leaned back against the cabinet. “Dad has appointed this new manager to the team, and we have a history.”

Jack huffed a laugh. “Riley, you have a history with so many people, I lost count.”

Riley looked affronted for a second, but that emotion didn’t slip into a ready smile, so Jack realized this was serious. Jack stood next to Riley and waited for the man he loved, to admit what the hell was going on. In fact, Riley had been weird for a few days: less quick to smile, less easy to poke at, in a hurry to go find a quiet space away from everyone.

“Not like that,” Riley said. “The woman’s name is Charlotte Harrold, and her dad is Josiah.”

Jack nodded. He and Josiah had their own kind of history, one where Josiah had tried courting Donna and failed, where Josiah looked down at Jack, and where Jack refused to give a rat’s ass. The fucker had blocked Hayes Oil on several occasions and didn’t have a high opinion of Riley, nor of Riley and Jack. Add to that, Tom, Riley’s right-hand man at work, had unfortunately had a run-in with Josiah Jr., Charlotte’s brother. Too much history between the Hayes and Harrold families.

“Why would Jim hire her, then?” Jack paused to think about what he knew concerning Charlotte. “I remember her being a bitch with daddy issues.”

Riley shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I asked him, and he said she’s good at what she does, and that she’s changed, whatever that means. Oh, and I should give her as much of a chance as people gave me.”

“Cryptic. So you think she’s going to cause trouble.”

Riley looked at Jack sharply. “Hell no. I know her work, and she’ll be an asset. It’s only….”

Jack tensed. “You slept with her.”

“Jesus, Jack,” Riley said instantly. “No way. She was Jeff’s. I mean she and Jeff were having an affair. He called her Charlie, and I damn well walked in on them once. The wedding photos were still wet at the printer’s, and there he was, fucking around on Lisa.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. And we’re going to be in the same room as her. All I can remember is that Jeff was balls-deep in Charlie, and he had his hands—” Riley demonstrated with his hands in front of him in a ring. “—around her neck.”

Jack immediately realized what the problem was. The joined families, whether Campbell or Hayes, had quietly consigned Jeff and everything he had done to something never to be talked about. Riley never shared cute childhood stories where he, Eden, and Jeff were friends; no tales of brotherly misadventures. To Jack’s mind, Jeff had been born a sadistic bastard, and likely there were a lot of stories Riley hadn’t told him about the kind of things Jeff had done to both Riley and Eden.

“Seeing her makes you face what he did,” Jack said. He reached over and held Riley’s hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. This was what he did best. He was there for Riley, supporting him, holding him up, knowing as much as he needed to know, and still being there for the man who was his other half.

Riley sighed and bumped shoulders with Jack. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“So your dad doesn’t know that Jeff and Charlie were…?”

“No. I’m sure I’m the only one.”

“Lisa didn’t know?”

Riley squeezed back. “She always knew he was unfaithful, but with Charlie, no, I don’t think so.”

For a second, Jack allowed the words to settle. Lisa was damaged by much more than physical pain. She had a world of hurt where her dead husband was concerned, not least of which was the end result of what he did to her. The secret she carried with her was too awful for Jack to contemplate knowing how she lived with it.

“We don’t see enough of Lisa and the kids,” he said.

That was true. Lisa hadn’t visited in a while. Although to be fair, whenever Jack and Riley organized a family gathering of any sort, they always invited her. She’d moved to San Antonio with her fiancΓ©, Ed, and was building a place for herself and the kids well away from the life she’d had here. Luke was sixteen, Annabelle coming up for nineteen. They weren’t at the ranch as often as Josh’s kids. They had lives of their own, but still, Jack was all about family.

“We’ll get them over, or maybe we’ll go visit them,” Jack said. He wasn’t going to let Riley focus on this one thing to distract himself from the central issue. “Back to the meeting. When you sit there, it will be all business, and if she comes over to talk to you, you smile, nod, and put on the best goddamn Riley act you can.”

“You’re not planning on being there.”

“I hate them,” Jack said, then he felt guilty. Riley was clearly concerned about the meeting, and he should make the effort. “I can try.”

“Don’t say that.” Riley smiled at Jack. “As much as I like it when you do that ‘I don’t care, I’m a hot, dusty cowboy’ thing, I seriously think you should stay away.”

“Yeah?”

Riley looked at him again. This time, the shadows had disappeared from his eyes. “It’s like torture for you.”

“Tell me more about how you like the cowboy thing,” Jack growled.

Riley grinned. “When you push the chair back and you kind of sprawl there, with your thumbs in your belt. You smile and nod when you need to and all I want to do is crawl over the table and ride you right there in the meeting.”

Jack’s cock swelled and pressed against his jeans. Riley’s voice was husky and low and sent every molecule of blood south.

“Jesus, Riley.”

“Sometimes you unwrap those stupid little mints, and you press one to your lips, and then you suck it in.”

“I like the mints.”

“All I can imagine is my cock in your mouth, and I’m so freaking hard I can’t concentrate on the numbers.”

Jack wriggled to get comfortable, and he had to press his free hand to his zip to ease some of the pressure. “Like it’s easy for me,” he muttered. “You in your suit, and those ties you wear, and all I can imagine is ripping it all off, tying you down and fucking you into tomorrow. That’s the only reason I go.”

Riley moved so quickly Jack didn’t have time to draw breath. He straddled Jack and pushed him back on the bed.

“Carol.” Jack mentioned their nanny’s name with the last remaining moments of having the presence of mind. “People…,” he added as a warning, as Riley stole his words with the deepest, dirtiest, messiest kiss he’d had since the last time they’d been in the barn.

Riley pulled back enough so Jack could look into his eyes. “Barn,” Riley said. “Now.”

Riley scrambled up and away, unbuttoning his jeans and adjusting himself. “Now,” he repeated.

With determination, they made it out of the house. Hayley was at school, Max out with Robbie and the horses, the twins were happy with Carol, so they had nothing to stop them. It didn’t matter it was ten in the morning, this was happening.

“Hey, boss,” Robbie called as Jack stepped outside.

Jack stopped so suddenly that Riley had to do some nifty footwork to try not to walk into the back of him. He didn’t quite manage it, and instead they met in a slam of limbs.

“Fuck,” Riley muttered.

“Hi, Robbie,” Jack said. He needed to cover the fact that he was hard and thanked the heavens that Riley had tugged out his shirt.

“Starting on the porch today,” Robbie said. He was carrying a box full of tools. “Lumber got delivered at the ass crack of dawn.” He gestured toward Jack and Riley’s barn, at the wood piled in front of the door.

Fuck. Whose idea was it to get a porch added to the main house?

Yours, you idiot.

Liam was next to him, a saw in one hand and a bucket of nails in the other. Liam didn’t seem to want to stand still, restlessly moving his weight from one foot to the other. Liam still wasn’t entirely comfortable talking to Jack one-on-one, but Jack didn’t have time to think about that now. He’d forgotten that today the lumber was arriving. Jesus. Fuck.

“Good. Riley and I are… inspecting… stuff.” Way to go with the lack of the English language.

“Stuff,” Riley repeated.

Robbie tilted his head a little and damn it if there wasn’t a slight smile on his face. “Okay, boss,” he said, then he and Liam carried on to the old barn and the woodpile.

Jack thought for a moment, then grabbed Riley’s hand, and in the space of a few minutes, they were leaving the ranch house and heading out on horseback. People were around; people were here: visitors to the riding center, people working. Along with kids, nannies, moms, dads, siblings. Hoping to find peace, Jack deliberately turned Solo to the east and into the parts of the ranch he knew Riley hadn’t seen, the rougher parts of the acreage that were fenced off.

Riley followed. Alex was a little skittish this morning until they were in a smooth canter and heading up into the thick, lush grassland to the east of the ranch. Ten minutes of riding, with no talking, and they reached a stand of trees. A small tributary from the main water supply to the Double D house carved through the coppice. It was a typically cool, fresh January day.

Jack dismounted and tied Solo off, grabbing Riley’s hand as soon as Riley had secured Alex. He tugged Riley into the trees, to the one place that Jack knew they would get privacy. In his pocket, his tight pocket, he had lube. He was stripping before they stopped walking, and by the time they reached the smooth grassed area in the shade, he was naked and a trail of clothes lay behind them. Jack hoped to hell there were no armadillos in hiding or snakes waiting to pounce.

Jack attempted to lay out the blanket he’d grabbed as he saddled Solo, but a naked Riley jumped him and tackled him to the ground, and he knew this wasn’t going to be gentle lovemaking. This was going to be raw, and Jack needed the connection like he needed his next breath. He always did.

Riley covered him, pressing him into the grass and the rucked-up blanket, and kissed him. The kisses were more of the same—hot, messy, deep, with no words. This was heat and fire, and Jack rolled so he was on top. He needed something; he wanted Riley in the worst way.

“I want you to fuck me,” Riley demanded.

Jack nearly lost it there and then. Riley asking him to push inside and—

Jack kissed and bit Riley’s nipples, laving them as they pebbled, sucking marks of possession into Riley’s tan skin. In answer, Riley arched up into Jack and, with his nails, dug biting crescents into Jack’s back. They were nothing but sensation, and Jack wanted to claw his way inside Riley.

He swallowed Riley’s cock with no finesse, no gentle licks, nothing soft and slow. Only when Riley slapped at him with a protest that he was close did Jack release the sucking. Without hesitation, he pressed his lubed finger against Riley.

“Tight,” he ordered.

Riley clenched, then released. They’d worked this out—that clenching the muscle was enough for it to loosen. They knew each other that well. Jack pushed in the first finger, letting Riley adjust, waiting until Riley rocked against it, and he never moved it once. More lube, a second finger, a third, and Riley was begging now. Jack swallowed his cock again, as deep as he could, pinning Riley to his fingers and scraping his teeth gently against Riley’s soft skin. Riley pushed him up, forced him away, and curled his spine. Jack went to his knees, using his thighs to position Riley, then pushed inside his lover. The sight of Riley near slamming his head back on the grass and wool, exposing his neck with a groan of pain and need leaving his mouth, was almost too much.

“Riley, fuck,” Jack gasped. He thrust inside, walking a little closer on his knees, stones pressing into his skin. He didn’t care. He was the other part of Riley; they fit like they were meant to be. He didn’t move again but let Riley press, move and writhe and Jack stole kisses all the time. “I love you, I fucking love you. Riley… shit….”

Riley reached up above his head and grasped at tussocks of grass, holding his upper half still, forcing himself down on Jack’s cock his eyes open and intensely focused. “Touch me,” Riley begged when it was obvious he was close.

Jack balanced himself on one arm, reaching for Riley’s cock. The tightening of Riley’s muscles, the ebb and flow of pressure, and Jack was fucking into Riley’s heaving body with a shout of completion. He stilled as Riley groaned, cursed and shot white stripes over his chest.

“I love you, Jack,” Riley forced past his kiss-bitten lips. “Love you.”

They stayed joined, kissing and exchanging heated words of love, until Jack softened enough to pull free. He used his discarded boxers to wipe at the come, knowing that Riley would need more than that after Jack had come inside him. Riley wouldn’t be comfortable, but it didn’t look like he cared for now. He was blissed-out, flat on the ground, half on the twisted blanket and half on the grass.

“I needed that,” Jack murmured. He flopped to lie next to Riley, tugging at the blanket so they were at least both on it. He held Riley’s hand, “You think it will ever stop?”

“What? This?” Riley gestured with his free hand. “Making love under the blue sky in the middle of the morning?”

“No,” Jack said thoughtfully.

Riley turned his head to look at him. “Then what?”

“The burning. To be with you, to want you, to look at you. Think we’ll ever stop?”

Riley smiled, and the smile reached his eyes, which were more green than brown today. “It burns in me as well.”

“Always?”

“Yeah. All the time. It isn’t only making love. It’s sleeping next to you, looking at you, seeing our kids. It’s everything.”

Jack squeezed Riley’s hand. “Hetboy, you’re my everything.”

“Back at ya, cowboy.”



Saturday Series Spotlight
Part 1  /  Part 2  /  Legacy



RJ Scott
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards

USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.

She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.


EMAIL: rj@rjscott.co.uk



Texas Wedding #7
AMAZON US  /  AMAZON UK  /  B&N

Texas Series
B&N  /  iTUNES  /  GOOGLE PLAY
KOBO  /  AUDIBLE  /  iTUNES AUDIO  /  CHIRP

Legacy Trilogy


Tuesday, May 5, 2026

🎭Week at a Glance(Star Wars Week)🎭: 4/27/25 - 5/5/26



















Star Wars Week - Revenge of the Fifth: Revelation by Karen Traviss




Summary:

Legacy of the Force #8
During this savage civil war, all efforts to end Jacen Solo’s tyranny of the Galactic Alliance have failed. Now with Jacen approaching the height of his dark powers, no one–not even the Solos and the Skywalkers–knows if anything can stop the Sith Lord before his plan to save the galaxy ends up destroying it.

Jacen Solo’s shadow of influence has threatened many, especially those closest to him. Jaina Solo is determined to bring her brother in, but in order to track him down, she must first learn unfamiliar skills from a man she finds ruthless, repellent, and dangerous. Meanwhile, Ben Skywalker, still haunted by suspicions that Jacen killed his mother, Mara, decides he must know the truth, even if it costs him his life. And as Luke Skywalker contemplates once unthinkable strategies to dethrone his nephew, the hour of reckoning for those on both sides draws near. The galaxy becomes a battlefield where all must face their true nature and darkest secrets, and live–or die–with the consequences.

Features a bonus section following the novel that includes a primer on the Star Wars expanded universe, and over half a dozen excerpts from some of the most popular Star Wars books of the last thirty years!


Original Audiobook Review May 2026:
Been too long since I last visited this book. I listened to Sacrifice last year but I didn't have the opportunity to listen to more and unfortunately the same goes for this year but I did listen to Revelation.  Funny just how much I recall even though it's been years. Certainly fitting for this year's Sith Day. As with the entire SW universe, it comes down to good vs. evil and yet the lines are not always clear. This may be non-canon but I love the whole SWEU and spent way too much time and money to just scrap it and forget it. However you look at it, canon, non-canon, alternate timeline, multiverse, whatever label you want to use, I highly rec giving this series a read if you're a true fan. So entertaining and it stays with you.

RATING:




Prologue
JEDI OUTPOST, ENDOR: TWELVE WEEKS AFTER THE DEATH OF MARA JADE SKYWALKER
My brother died in the Yuuzhan Vong War.

Not Anakin: Jacen.

It’s taken me years to work that out, but I should have seen it from the start. Jacen, the brother I loved, my twin, never came home. It just looked as if he did.

I think the core of Jacen probably died in the Embrace of Pain, at the hands of Vergere and the Yuuzhan Vong. Whatever came back was another person; a total stranger.

It’s the only explanation for what he’s become.

So that’s why I’ve reached the point of doing something utterly unthinkable, because the unthinkable is the last card we have left to play, the only way I can stop Jacen and his war from swallowing the whole galaxy. It was the Mandalorian crushgaunts that made up my mind. As Jag has proven, they certainly work. They’re nasty weapons. Mandalorian iron—beskar—is pretty well nearly lightsaber-proof.

I almost expected the things to detonate when Dad opened the package. Since when did Boba Fett ever send my father gifts?

Since his daughter was tortured to death by my brother, actually. We’ve been waiting for Fett’s revenge ever since, but so far … nothing. Just the gift of crushgaunts and armor plate, all made from Mandalorian iron.

So I’m packing for a journey I didn’t think I’d ever make. I’ll give Jag this much: he never said I told you so. He’s the one who said I needed to learn from someone who had a track record in bringing down Jedi.

If anyone can stop Jacen, then, it’s me. I’m his equal, and I’m the Sword of the Jedi. But I just don’t have his … training. I’ve no idea what he learned from Lumiya, let alone what he picked up on his travels during those five years. But he’ll make a mistake sooner or later. He’s way too cocky not to overestimate himself.

I just hope it’s sooner. And if being a Sith made Jacen invincible, he’d have taken over the galaxy by now.

I have a chance, and Fett’s going to help me make the most of it.

It can’t be that hard to find him. He’s a bounty hunter, so I’ll hire him like any other client, except I’m not just any other client—I’m Han Solo’s daughter, and I’m a Jedi, and Fett has spent a lifetime hunting us.

And now I’m asking him to train me to hunt and capture my own brother.

For all I know, he’ll laugh in my face—if he ever laughs, that is—and tell me to get lost. But I have to ask him. Swallow pride, eat humble pie, and beg if need be. Dad seems to have thawed a little toward him; I still despise him.

But if he says yes—I swear I’ll be the best pupil he’s ever had. Come on, Fett: show me how it’s done.



Chapter One
When the nation is in its darkest peril, the great warrior-sailor Darakaer shall be summoned from his eternal sleep by a rhythm beaten on his ancient drum. For his final pledge was that he would come to our aid when the drum sounded, and that we should call him when we sailed to meet the foe.

—Irmenu folk legend

JEDI OUTPOST, ENDOR: TWELVE WEEKS AFTER THE DEATH OF MARA JADE SKYWALKER
Ben Skywalker had thought it would be a simple matter of thumbing his lightsaber into life—screaming vengeance or choked into silent grief, he didn’t care which—and slicing Jacen Solo’s head from his body.

He sat flicking the blade on and off, staring down the shaft of blue energy and watching it vanish only to snap back into vivid life over and over again. He saw his mother, who couldn’t be summoned back again at the flick of a switch, although he would have given the rest of his life for one more chance to tell her how much he loved her.

But the image that he wanted to erase yet couldn’t was Jacen Solo’s face. So many people said Jacen was a stranger now, but a stranger was someone you never loved or looked up to, and so their brutality or careless cruelty was just repellent detail, the distant stuff of holonews bulletins. Family, though … family could hurt you like nobody else, and they didn’t even have to torture you like Jacen did to leave scars.

The face of Jacen that Ben would recall until the day he died was the one he saw on Kavan while he sat with his mother’s body, the face that promised Ben they’d get whoever did that to her. And that was why it simply would not go away; there was something wrong about that face, something missing, or something there that shouldn’t have been. Ben picked away at the memory, checking his chrono every few minutes, convinced that he’d been waiting for Aunt Leia for hours.

I had the chance to kill him. Dad stopped me. Maybe … maybe I could have killed Jacen without turning dark. Will I ever get another chance?

Jedi had killed Sith before. They said Kenobi killed a Sith on Naboo, but nobody thought it was an instant passport to the dark side; some dirty jobs had to be done. Ben had thought his absolute, all-consuming need to destroy Jacen had passed; but it hadn’t, and neither had his grief. It had simply shifted position. It ebbed and flowed, some days worse than others. He would not get over it. He would learn to live with the loss—somehow—but the galaxy had changed and would never return to normal; it was an alternate universe, nearly familiar enough for him to navigate, but where the most important landmarks were gone forever.

Now he was ready to pour his heart out to Leia. There were some things he wasn’t ready to tell his father. Luke Skywalker might have looked as if he was dealing with his grief, but Ben knew better, and if he told him what he really thought … Dad would kill Jacen, he was sure of it. He’d snap. Ben had to be the responsible one now.

But if I’m wrong … I’ll only hurt Dad more.

Nothing added up.

I don’t believe Alema killed Mom, Sith sphere or not. I just don’t.

How did Jacen know where to find me on Kavan?

How did he know I was there with my mother’s body?

Ben had thought it was odd at the time, even when the shock of finding her body had nearly paralyzed him. But even in shock, he’d had the presence of mind to record evidence at the scene, every bit of data he could grab, just as Captain Shevu had taught him. Jacen had mind-rubbed him once: he wasn’t going to let him rewrite history again.

And that was my instinctive reaction. Even when I found Mom dead … something inside me said that was important. I’ll trust that.

Jedi would have said it was the certainty of the Force; cops like Captain Shevu would have said that Ben’s investigative training had kicked in. Either way, Ben had more questions than he had answers. But he was more sure each passing day that Jacen, his own cousin, his own flesh and blood, really had killed his mother.

He waited.

Eventually he heard two sets of footsteps coming down the passage, and had a sinking feeling that Luke might have met Leia in passing and decided to tag along. But when the doors opened, it was Leia and Jaina.

“Ben?” Leia always had that calming tone that said everything was under control, even when it wasn’t. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got some difficult things to say,” he said. “You might not thank me, but I can’t sit on it any longer.”

The accusation was meant solely for Leia, and for a moment he was reluctant to blurt it out in front of Jaina as well. But she needed to hear it.

“You know you can tell me anything,” Leia said. “Do you want Jaina to leave us alone?”

“No, no. As long as you don’t rush off and tell Dad, because he thinks I’m over the Jacen thing now, and I don’t want to start him worrying again.”

Jaina sat down next to him, leaning forward, as if she was ready to hug him if he burst into tears. “It’s okay. I won’t say a word, and Mom’s the diplomat. What’s so bad that you can’t tell Uncle Luke?”

Cut to the chase. The longer he built up to it, the worse it would be. Ben concentrated on calm, rational language.

“I don’t think Alema Rar killed my mother,” he said. The words hung in the air as if he could see them. “I still think Jacen did.”

Leia just stood there, arms folded, but she didn’t react. Jaina shifted a fraction on the seat. If anything, they seemed … embarrassed. He waited in the agonizing silence.

“What makes you think that?” Leia asked at last.

“I’m not going to rely on what I feel,” Ben said. “Even though I feel it. I’m going by things that don’t add up. You know what police look for? Captain Shevu taught me. Motive, means, opportunity. And family doesn’t seem to mean much to Jacen. Look at the things he’s done to you and Uncle Han.” Ben recalled Jaina’s sudden exit from the Galactic Alliance military. “And you, Jaina. Look what he tried to do to you.”

“I know Jacen’s doing some terrible things, but let’s go through this a step at a time,” Leia said. “You’ve accused him before, but we’re all pretty messed up lately. Why is this still eating at you?”

“The way he found me on Kavan.”

“He’s good at finding people in the Force, Ben.”

“I was hiding. Doing my shutdown act. He’s not the only Jedi who can do that—he taught me to do it, and I taught Mom. I’ve even shown Dad how to do it, and he’ll tell you—once you switch out, even Master Amazing Super-Smart Jacen shouldn’t have been able to find me. And he still walked straight up to me in a tunnel on a deserted planet that’s the back end of beyond. That’s not luck, and it’s not finding me in the Force. He knew. And then there was the Sith meditation sphere that Lumiya had.”

He’d kept it to himself all this time. The longer you kept a secret, the harder it got. If only he’d disobeyed Jacen and told Dad about the thing. If only … maybe Mom would have still been alive.

Ben would never know.

“What about the sphere?” said Jaina.

“I found it on Ziost. I handed it over to Jacen when I docked it in the Anakin Solo. Next time I see it, Lumiya’s driving.”

Leia sucked in a little breath. “Lumiya was always adept at taking what she wanted.”

“The Anakin Solo might be slack when it comes to stopping infiltrators, Aunt Leia, but I can’t see Lumiya just wandering in and stealing the sphere without someone knowing about it.”

“Okay, file all that under unexplained. How about motive?”

Jaina seemed to be holding her breath. Leia looked away for a moment as if she was weighing the evidence. It didn’t amount to much—yet.

“How about the fact that Mara was in his way, like any good Jedi?” said Jaina sourly.

“No, let’s hear Ben’s view.”

Ben was theorizing now. “I spent a lot of time telling Mom about all the things Jacen was asking me to do in the Guard, and I could see it made her mad. I’m sure she bawled him out.”

“Okay, so that’s motive, maybe. Now let’s look at means.”

“Only a really skilled Jedi could ever take down Mom. Look at all the stuff Jacen can do.”

“But poison? That’s Alema’s trademark.”

“So it’s obvious to use it to draw suspicion elsewhere, isn’t it?”

“Sweetheart, Alema had the sphere. She was in league with Lumiya. We know that. And I’m sure Captain Shevu would confirm that people stick with one method of killing that they feel confident using. Alema spent the last year trying to kill as many of us as she could.”

Ben was off and running down the behavioral path now. “Okay, Alema was crazy, but she didn’t have a motive for killing Mom. It was always about you and Uncle Han.” He shook his head. “I don’t buy it, because she’d have bragged about it to Jag if she’d done it. She’d have wanted us to know she got in one good shot, to hurt us all, to hurt you. And then there’s opportunity. She was in the area, yes, but we also know for sure that Jacen was in the Hapan system around the time it happened.”

Leia really looked as if she was taking it seriously. She hadn’t rolled her eyes or told him he was being stupid, or even rushed to defend Jacen. That wasn’t a surprise given what Jacen had done to her, his own mother.

“Well, it doesn’t clear him,” she said at last. “But it’s not exactly enough to take to a judge, is it? He could have been in the Hapan system planning to kidnap Allana.”

It was a good alibi. Jacen couldn’t have committed a murder because he was too busy planning an abduction, Your Honor. Ben strove for a rational tone. “Aunt Leia, why do you think Mom hung on in corporeal form for so long? Why do you think her body disappeared just as Jacen showed up at her funeral? Don’t you think the Force might be saying something to us? I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve turned it over and over in my head for weeks. I daren’t discuss it with Dad. But it’s driving me crazy.”

Leia took a few steps forward and squatted in front of him to put her hands on his knees. “Ben, you said you recorded everything you could at the scene.”

“Yeah, because nobody can mind-rub that or tell me I imagined it …”

“Have you found anything in the recordings?”

Ben stood his ground. He was sure, more sure every day now. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to find out exactly what happened, Aunt Leia. I have to, and I’m going to do it by the book, because I need to be certain or I won’t be able to live with it.”

“What if you find evidence that it’s not Jacen?” asked Jaina. “Are you going to accept what the provable facts tell you?”

Ben had committed himself to take the rational, legal path rather than that of intuition and Force senses. “I don’t want to get the wrong person. Whatever I feel about Jacen for the other things he did to me, I don’t want to pin it on him if that means Mom’s real killer is still walking around. And if it really was Alema—well, fine. The result’s the same.”

Jaina looked into his face for a few long moments and then smiled sadly. With Leia still squatting in front of him, wearing that same sorrowful expression, Ben felt pinned down by their tolerant doubt. Maybe they were humoring him. Well, it didn’t matter. He’d stated his case, and he was going to prove it, because he couldn’t carry on with his life until he got answers.

And he would carry on with his life. When Jori Lekauf had been killed saving him, and he’d been drowning in guilt, Mara had told him that the best way to honor that sacrifice was to live well, to the maximum, and not waste a gift so dearly bought.

He’d do that for his mother. He’d live for her.

BASTION, IMPERIAL REMNANT: ADMIRAL PELLAEON’S RESIDENCE
Gilad Pellaeon, still healthy in his nineties and with no intention of fading into senility, was playing Theed quoits on the lawn when his aide entered the walled garden at a brisk walk.

The admiral didn’t take his eyes off the target—a short pole shaped like the flower spike of a Cezith water-lily, one of a dozen set in the shallow ornamental pond—but he could see all the signs of urgency in his peripheral vision.

“Yes, Vitor?” Pellaeon held the quoit between thumb and forefinger, resting its weight on his palm. “I hope you’re rushing to tell me that the chef has acquired Jacen Solo’s entrails and is braising them for dinner.”

“Not quite, Admiral.”

“Life is full of disappointments.”

“A military attachΓ© from the Galactic Alliance is here to see you.” Vitor Reige had saved Pellaeon’s life in the Yuuzhan Vong War, and now he defended him from all other equally irksome visitors. Anyone from the GA fitted the description these days. “Shall I send him away?”

“Remind him that he should make an appointment if he wants an audience, not drop by to solicit me like some door-to-door tradesperson.”

“I think he might have been anticipating that. He handed me this note.”

Reige rustled. Pellaeon turned his head to look at a neatly sealed flimsi square, pale blue and bearing handwriting. It would be some sop from the strutting little demagogue Solo or one of his minions, some invitation or other public relations exercise to make his junta look more respectable. Pellaeon focused again on the lily, and tossed the quoit with a practiced hand. It fell neatly over the spike and came to rest on its base.

“Open it for me,” he said, taking another quoit in his hand. “If you think it might raise my blood pressure, throw it in the bin. If not … it can wait until I finish my game.”

Theed quoits was a pursuit that taught patience and concentration, as well as providing gentle exercise. It was always played on water; careless throws meant fishing around in a pond with your hand to recover the quoit. Some said that it had once been played with carnivorous fish in the water, and began life as a hunting technique on Naboo, but Pellaeon had quite enough predators in his life without adding that refinement. He settled for nothing more dangerous than a wet sleeve when he missed the target.

“Well?” Pellaeon lined up a more difficult target, the right-hand spike at the back that required an up-and-over technique to clear the middle row. “Is it going to give me an aneurysm or just provoke spluttering rage?”

“I really think you should read the message, sir,” said Reige. “If only for amazement value.” He held out the unfolded flimsi with a bemused smile, and Pellaeon took it. “You’ll be annoyed, I think.”

It was handwritten, or at least fashioned to look like it. And it was an invitation after all, but not quite the one that he was expecting.

The joint Chiefs of State of the Galactic Alliance respectfully request a meeting to discuss a mutual aid treaty with the Imperial Remnant, and the addition of its assets to the GA Fleet in exchange for substantial benefits.

A translucent green official seal was stamped across Jacen’s signature. No sign that Admiral Niathal had seen this, then; a Mon Cal should have known better than to back a little despot like Solo, so perhaps she wasn’t involved. But then Niathal had her own agenda, and it almost certainly didn’t include Jacen as a valued co-worker for life.

The brat. Pellaeon had resigned rather than be forced to work with him. It hadn’t been personal when it started; Pellaeon simply objected to the creation of an unaccountable, slightly-outside-the-chain-of-command, rather seedy secret police force, which was then put under the command of someone who had never worn a uniform in his life. The dislike—now fermented into a full-blown loathing—had come later, nourished simply by watching the holonews and listening to military intelligence reports.

Retired. No, I was forced out. And I haven’t forgotten that.

“No, Jacen, you cannot play with my ships,” he snorted. “Nor can you buy them.” He crumpled the flimsi in his hand, feeling the fragile seal crack, and tossed it back to Reige. “I can see no merit in aligning the Empire with a regime that has no current bearing on our interests.”

“I’ll return this to the attachΓ© as it is, then, shall I, sir?” said Reige, tilting his head slightly to consider it. “I think it’s quite eloquent.”

“A gesture is worth a thousand words, but two often suffice.”

Reige walked back down the hedge-lined path without a sound to deliver the rejection to the attachΓ©. A good man; loyal as a son. Pellaeon had long suspected he was—it was all too possible—but was reluctant to seek confirmation and be disappointed, because he missed Mynar terribly. It was a dreadful thing to be unable to acknowledge that Mynar had been his son; Pellaeon felt he had denied him even in death. He wanted no more hopes dashed, and had made generous provision for Reige’s future.

But if somebody didn’t put a dent in Master Solo’s ambitions, the future for Reige and everyone else would be bleak. It wasn’t actually true that the GA had no effect on the Empire. Some things couldn’t be avoided or ignored, however far away.

Perhaps I was a fool not to retire earlier, but I’m not dead yet. I still have some fight in me, and I’ll be hanged before I give in to the whims of a civilian playing soldiers. It’s a pity that his aunt was killed—she’d have lost patience with him eventually, and then he’d have had a good thrashing … oh yes.

Pellaeon threw the rest of the quoits, enjoying a private fantasy about playing the game the Naboo way, with a shoal of angry blembies cruising in the water, and making Jacen Solo retrieve the misses.

He was definitely not dead yet.

CHIEF OF STATE’S SUITE, SENATE BUILDING, CORUSCANT: TWO DAYS AFTER THE RETURN OF THE ANAKIN SOLO
Darth Caedus stared at the crumpled note in the tray and wondered what Pellaeon thought of him. It didn’t matter, but he was curious.

“Perhaps I didn’t explain myself clearly enough,” he said. “What do you think, Tahiri?”

She examined the note and shrugged. He wondered if she was trying to sense something from the flimsi, some clue about Pellaeon’s state of mind.

“I think you’re talking to the wrong person,” Tahiri said. “It’s the Moffs’ backing you need, not Pellaeon’s. He’s the last person who’d help you.”

Caedus thought it was more insurance than help, because he had no real sense of being under threat; the Confederation might have looked numerically equal, but numbers often didn’t equate to strength. But he planned to bring the war to a quick end, not to tiptoe along some line of status quo, and for that he needed an injection of numbers. The Imperial Remnant had not only the hulls and hardware, but—more importantly—also the doctrine and high-caliber personnel to make their assets count. They were very much his grandfather’s legacy. The Remnant’s shock troops were said to be as excellent as Vader’s 501st, and that kind of efficiency was what he needed in his order of battle.

The only barrier was Pellaeon, now too old to bend with the winds of change. He had been a great admiral once, but even though he’d retired—voluntarily or otherwise—he was still blocking the skylane. Admirals didn’t retire, of course. They were always subject to recall. Pellaeon might still be biding his time.

“Tahiri, to get the Moffs to back me, I need to be endorsed by Pellaeon,” Caedus said. “It’s more than his position as Bastion’s head of state. I can bypass figureheads when I need to, but the old boy is still very much hands-on, and he has enormous sway over the Moffs. They would commit their forces to the GA for the right reward, but not as long as Pellaeon opposes it.”

“And does he oppose it? I can see why he wouldn’t exactly trust you.”

“No, I’m not his favorite person, and I suspect he regards Niathal as a traitor in that stiff-upper-lip way of his. But this isn’t a refusal, I think … just a gesture. I believe he wants to be wooed.”

Tahiri’s mind was calculating visibly. “So what’s the right incentive for the Moff who has everything?”

“More of it, Tahiri. More. Everybody likes more.”

“But more of what, exactly?”

“Territory.”

“Must be a tough job finding parking for all those Star Destroyers, mustn’t it, Jacen?”

Caedus had to admit she was sometimes more entertaining than Ben even if he didn’t like being called Jacen. “I was thinking of Bilbringi or Borleias, actually. Maybe both if I have to. Shipyards and banking. I think the Moffs will like that … if I can get Pellaeon to see sense.”

Tahiri never asked if the worlds in question had been consulted about becoming bargaining chips, and Caedus wasn’t sure if she didn’t think politically or she took it as read that he would make it happen with or without their consent. “He’s a pragmatist,” she said. “And he wants the best for his little Empire.”

“He likes his honor better.” Caedus smiled and reached for the pile of datapads. There were a couple of items that troubled him still sitting in view. “But I think he needs time to consider this, and perhaps a visit from someone persuasive. Preferably in a smart suit and shoes, Tahiri.”

She gave him a withering glance. “You want me to see him?”

“I hope you’ll do better in this task than the last.”

“I’ve done my best, Jacen.”

“Yet you can’t find the Jedi base.”

“And, obviously, neither can you …”

“Show me you can complete a mission. Talk to Pellaeon.”

“He wouldn’t see the military attachΓ©. What makes you think he’ll agree to see me?”

“Pellaeon is a gentleman, Tahiri. He’ll see you. Not only because you’re pretty and charming, but because someone will let the Moffs know the nature of the deal he’ll be offered, and so they’ll ask him questions that he’ll feel obliged to answer.” Caedus already had his networks set up; floating the idea through informal channels was quick and easy, but Pellaeon had to feel it was his idea. There was no herding the man. That Corellian blood made him very contrary. “Imperials need an empire, you see. It’s what they do. How can he turn that down?”

“Why didn’t you comm him and put it to him straight? Even if he hates you, he’d respect directness.”

“I was just testing the water with the letter. Now that I know how resistant he is, I’ll go to Plan B and get the Moffs excited about two shiny new acquisitions, and by a gentle process of osmosis, speeded up by your charm, he’ll say yes, without being made to feel I co-opted him after ending his long and glorious career sooner than he wished.”

Tahiri sat back on the edge of the desk and looked out over skylanes marked by the winking lights of speeders. “You plan every possible move, don’t you?”

“I don’t guess,” said Caedus. “There are too many wild cards being dealt as it is. Some of which are showing up now.” He picked up the first datapad on the pile. Wild cards indeed: intelligence reports confirmed that Corellia had placed an order for the Mandalorians’ Bes’uliik fighter. It was faster than an X-wing, armored in virtually impregnable Mandalorian iron—beskar—and for sale to anyone who had the credits. It was one of those destabilizing things that changed the course of wars. A subtle man, Fett; Caedus had been waiting to see what form his revenge would take for killing his daughter, thinking in terms of pure terminal violence, personal retribution, but the old mercenary was showing signs of playing a much, much longer and more destructive game. “Off you go, Tahiri. Come back to me with your timetable and strategy for getting an audience with Admiral Pellaeon and signing him up to the cause.”

Caedus would have to do something about the Bes’uliik. The simplest option was to buy a squadron for the GA, even if that rankled. But if Fett could play the longer game, so could he; the fighter was a joint project with the Verpine of Roche, part of a cozy mutual aid treaty between Keldabe and the Verpine hives. Caedus put the Verpine down on his list of beings to educate later. He would also steer clear of Mandalore for the time being. He had more urgent issues in front of him.

Fondor was still a major irritant, churning out warships for the Confederation at its orbital yards. It was a continuing threat, and it lay close to rich mineral resources in an asteroid belt; it built Star Destroyers. Assets like that couldn’t be allowed to remain in enemy hands.

So he would deal with Fondor as his next priority. He picked up his comlink and keyed in the code of his closest and most irritating colleague, Admiral Cha Niathal, joint Chief of State of the GA.

He didn’t see eye-to-eye with admirals lately.

“Admiral,” he said cheerfully. “We really have to do something about Fondor …”





Karen Traviss

Karen Traviss is the author of a dozen New York Times bestsellers, and her critically-acclaimed Wess’har books have been finalists five times for the Campbell and Philip K. Dick awards. She also writes thrillers, comics, and games with military and political themes. A former defence correspondent, TV journalist, and spin doctor (okay, nobody's perfect) she lives in Wiltshire, England. She expects to be remembered for her devotion to brewing sake and fermenting anything that stands still long enough to be stuffed in a jar. 


Karen Traviss
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