SIX

A storm raged outside General Soontir Fel’s viewport, the first of the winter monsoon season. Frozen rain swirled through roiling gray clouds and rattled against the transparisteel ports. Ice coated the duracrete landing pads and hung from the eaves of the Chiss barracks in neat rows, like ready weapons lining an armory shelf. Tall, blue-skinned pilots strode confidently over the slick walkways, aided by their spike-soled boots and their native athleticism.

Despite the steady hum of the room’s heating unit, the cold seeped into Fel’s joints. A phantom ache throbbed in his missing eye, despite the dark patch he sometimes wore. For the first time in his life he felt old and tired, especially when he considered the challenges ahead.

A hard winter was on its way, the general mused, one that could last for several Corellian years. The Chiss base, the latest of many that Fel had established over the years, was set in a particularly harsh environment of an inhospitable world. Most of his advisers had perceived no reason why anyone would choose to place a base here.

Fel only hoped that the Yuuzhan Vong would follow the same logic.

He turned away from the viewport to study the officer standing at stiff attention before his desk. The young man wore the formal black uniform of the Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s household phalanx, and the insignia of a colonel. His black hair was cut short, exposing the entire length of the scar that ran up from his right eyebrow well into his hairline. A thin streak of white hair followed the path of that scar, as if to emphasize the maturity that had come too soon, and at great price.

“We have had this discussion before, Colonel,” Fel commented. “This phalanx is committed to the same goals you’ve espoused. We responded at Garqi. We fought at Ithor. The Imperial command recalled Admiral Pellaeon after that debacle, with what they considered to be good reason. Given the outcome of that engagement and the withdrawal of Imperial support, I saw little value in committing phalanx squadrons.”

“I disagree.” The young colonel bowed to emphasize that his words expressed opinion, but not disrespect. “I will concede that no one, not the New Republic nor the Imperial forces nor the Chiss, could counter the biological weapons that destroyed Ithor. The presence of this household’s phalanx had no impact on this outcome. Ithor, however, was the only world utterly destroyed. The invaders have followed more conventional tactics in their subsequent conquests.”

“And therein lies the problem. How successful were you and your Rogue Squadron allies in fending off any of these conquests through ‘conventional tactics’?”

The young man’s lips thinned. “My two squadrons were recalled shortly after Ithor, sir. We had neither the time nor the opportunity to make an appreciable difference. This is not an excuse, sir, but simple fact.”

“Two squadrons,” the general repeated. “Twenty-four clawcraft and a beacon ship. How much difference could this force have made at Ord Mantell? Or Duro? Hundreds, possibly thousands of worlds are under Yuuzhan Vong control.”

“With respect, sir, I was commissioned in this household to serve and uphold the ideals of Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

“Which did not, I might point out, include stupidity,” the general observed coldly. “I expected better of you—a not uncommon dynamic between fathers and their sons.”

Colonel Jagged Fel acknowledged the reprimand with a small bow and a faint, wry smile.

“You were trained by Chiss tacticians,” Baron Fel continued. “Tell me: do we have the ships, weaponry, personnel, or for that matter the knowledge needed to take on these invaders?”

“We do not,” Jag admitted. “Permission to speak freely?”

The baron lifted one hand in a gesture of assent.

“Chiss sages conclude that the Yuuzhan Vong must have spent generations traveling between galaxies. These invaders are not likely to consider the so-called Unknown Regions a daunting prospect.”

“I agree,” Baron Fel said. “The Chiss parliament does not, and neither do the Imperial leaders. The invasion path has swept steadily toward the Core Worlds, leading many to believe that the invaders will bypass both Chiss and Imperial territory entirely.”

As Jag absorbed this, his pale green eyes narrowed and his jaw squared. “This phalanx has never been ruled by the thinking of tradition-bound Chiss senators, or by Imperial politicians whose first concern is personal power. Was a change-of-policy holocube issued during my recent absence?”

The general’s eyebrows lifted. Jag inclined his head in a bow that held acknowledgment of his impropriety, but no apology.

“Chiss society pretends that Snydic Mitth’raw’nuruodo does not exist, but they know quite well that we are out here. They send their sons and daughters to this phalanx’s academies and bases. They were more than willing to accept the protection and technology that Thrawn’s conquests and alliances offered them, and they are willing to accept what we, successors to the grand admiral’s goals, can do for them.”

“But we could do more.” Jag took a step forward, his expression intense, his formality forgotten. “You know what we have faced out here. The Yuuzhan Vong might have caught Borsk Fey’lya and his ilk unaware, but the Chiss have long expected something of this nature. In fact, we have turned aside foes that might have swept across the galaxy and left little for these new invaders to destroy!”

The baron’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pursed as he considered his son’s passionate words. “You speak of yourself as one of the Chiss. Do you see yourself in that light?”

Jag blinked, put off stride by this seeming non sequitur. “It is difficult to do otherwise,” he said carefully. “I was raised among the Chiss, trained with them. Their rules and standards and expectations became my own.”

“You met and exceeded these standards, and as a result you command your former Chiss peers,” his father continued. “With rank comes responsibility. The course you propose shows little sense of responsibility for the pilots under your command.”

Jag’s face betrayed no opinion on this matter, but his bearing subtly reverted to a formal, military stance. “Sir, may I request that you list my failings plainly, so that I might address them.”

“Do you know how to stop the Yuuzhan Vong?”

A hint of a frown touched his forehead. “No, sir.”

“Then go find out. Report back. Once we’ve a better grasp of tactics and strategy, you’ll have your squadrons back, and more besides.”

Jag’s eyes widened and flicked to his father’s face. “Yes, sir!”

The baron grimaced and tapped a small metal cube on his desk. “You might not be quite so eager to hear this report. This holovid just came in from our agents in the Core. It contains, among other things, a recording of Leia Organa Solo’s exhortation to the defenders of Coruscant. She urged them not to give up, as she has not, despite the recent death of one of her children.”

This time Jag’s gaze shifted fully to the general. “Which one?”

Fel lifted one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Which of Ambassador Solo’s children fell in battle?”

“Anakin, I believe. The younger son.”

Jag nodded thoughtfully, and there was something very akin to relief on his face. “Was there any news of the other two?”

A speculative gleam crept into the baron’s gaze. “You have met the Solo twins, I take it?”

“Jacen, no. Jaina Solo is a pilot with Rogue Squadron.”

“Ah. I was wondering why such momentous news as Coruscant’s fall went over your head with a meter to spare.”

A faint color suffused Jag’s face, and a faintly puzzled expression flickered in his eyes. Baron Fel suspected that his son was also somewhat unclear on that point. Well, he would learn soon enough.

Jag quickly veered away from his uncharacteristic tangent and back onto a more familiar vector. “Coruscant was not only attacked, but captured?”

“It would so appear. This leads us to your next assignment. In recent years, the New Republic has been characterized by increasing dissent. The loss of their central seat could polarize them for a very long time.”

The baron fell silent. For a long moment, he studied his son. “You will be flying straight into a maelstrom.”

Jag glanced pointedly toward the viewport, and the ice storm beyond. “This is what I was trained to do, no more.”

“Then it’s settled.” Fel rose and handed a single holocube to his son. “This contains the most recent military updates, as well as the specs on the new ships you’ll be flying. I’ll leave the selection of pilots to you.”

“Shawnkyr Nuruodo, my second in command, will accompany me.” When the general began to protest, Jag’s chin came up sharply. “You admonished me about responsibility, sir, and rightly so. I’m honored to scout for Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo, but I would rather not risk Chiss pilots needlessly. In all likelihood, we will need every one of them here.”

“What about Shawnkyr?”

A fleeting smile curved Jag’s lips. “Shawnkyr is a true member of a renegade phalanx, sir. She would not stay behind if I ordered her to.”

“I see. A wise leader always tries to give orders that are likely to be followed. Why do you think I’m sending you?”

He extended his hand. They clasped hands briefly, then Jag stepped back and offered a crisp, formal bow.

Baron Fel watched his son stride to the door. When he was alone, he sank back into his chair, his shoulders slumped and his expression bleak and bereft.

There was no keeping Jag away from the growing conflict. Soontir Fel understood this, for he knew Jag well. He also knew from long experience what the young man was likely to face. The burden of sending his promising, twenty-year-old son into a seemingly impossible fight weighed heavily upon him.

Davin had been about Jag’s age when he’d been sent to his final battle, and his sister Cherith even younger.

Soontir Fel rose and began to pace the room. He had never turned away from duty, and he would not now. But nothing he’d faced in his long career had been as difficult as this:

Sending his third child to serve, and most likely to die.

   Jaina braced herself against the pilot’s seat as the stolen Yuuzhan Vong ship accelerated toward lightspeed. The frantic, pulsing lights that marked Coruscant’s last battle stretched out into fading lines, and then disappeared.

The calm and darkness of hyperspace welcomed them. Jaina ripped off the pilot’s hood and scrubbed her head briskly with both hands. This did little to erase the images of Coruscant’s death. Her heart still thudded in time to the chaotic pace of its destruction, and the cacophony of battle rang in her ears. She set it all aside as best she could and turned to Lowbacca.

“Good job. Where are we going?”

The Wookiee responded with a hollow moan and something that looked suspiciously like a shrug.

“You don’t know?” Tenel Ka demanded, coming forward with quick strides. “How can you not know?”

Lowbacca huffed defensively, his gaze boring into Tenel Ka’s gray-eyed challenge. Jaina placed a hand on the Wookiee’s shoulder.

“Jumping to open space was the best thing to do under the circumstances. Lowbacca bought us time so we can all decide next steps. Together.”

“I’ll get the others,” Tenel Ka said curtly.

She returned in moments with the other Jedi. Her one arm encircled Tahiri’s waist in a manner that was half support, half sisterly embrace.

Tahiri was nearly clothed in bandages and bacta patches, but none of Tekli’s ministrations had lessened the naked grief in her eyes, or the sorrow that radiated from her. The Chadra-Fan healer followed them like a small brown shadow, her large black eyes fixed upon her charge.

Jaina drew her personal shield closer around her and slid an objective gaze over the young Jedi. “You look better.”

“Better than what?” Tahiri said.

Bitterness twisted the girl’s tone, and wrath rose from her like steam. The scars on her forehead—marks resulting from her captivity on Yavin 4—had been augmented by a livid burn and a small but nasty cut. Apparently she’d refused treatment for these wounds.

Zekk and Ganner exchanged a quick, concerned glance, one that spoke of a familiar subject revisited. This realization sent a surge of irritation through Jaina. Tahiri would survive—had survived. She was not the only one who had lost Anakin. They’d all been diminished. Dwelling on their losses wouldn’t solve the problems this moment presented.

“The ship’s not doing well,” Jaina said without preamble. “Judging from what I’m getting through the pilot’s hood, and what Lowbacca has learned from poking around, I think we can fix it and feed it.”

“Feed it?” Ganner broke in. “Should I be afraid to ask what it eats?”

“Only if you’re a rock,” Jaina shot back. “We have to put the ship down as soon as possible. The question is, where?”

“We’ve been gone only a few days, yet we return to find the Yuuzhan Vong on Coruscant itself,” Alema Rar observed. “How can we know what worlds are occupied, and which are not?”

“This one suggestz we go to Barab One,” Tesar said. The reptilian Jedi bared his fangs in what Jaina took to be a feral smile. “The Barabel homeworld is not in the invasion path. That is good. But if the Yuuzhan Vong come, that is better.”

Jaina was beginning to develop an ear for the dark humor that underlay Barabel speech, and she suspected there was a clincher line to come. “Let’s hear it.”

A sly expression crossed the scaly face. “On Nal Hutta, the Vong are invaderz. What doez one call them on Barab?”

“Prey?” she suggested.

Tesar flashed his fangs again and swatted her companionably on the shoulder.

Ganner rolled his eyes. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our systems, how about a serious suggestion? Lowbacca named Gallinore. Since we’ve gotten this far without hitting any dovin basal mines, I add my vote to that.”

“Makes sense,” Zekk agreed. “As far as I know, the Yuuzhan Vong haven’t targeted that system yet. But here’s something else to think about. Hapes is closer than Gallinore. It’s also more heavily populated, and most likely we could get back into active duty sooner if we didn’t have to trek across a wilderness planet.”

“True enough, but the inhabitants of wilderness planets are less likely to shoot Yuuzhan Vong ships out of the sky,” Alema Rar pointed out.

Zekk acknowledged this with a nod. “I’ve been poking around the ship a bit, and I found something that looks like an escape pod. If we can figure out how to launch it, one of us could go ahead to prepare the way.”

They all looked expectantly at Tenel Ka. “If this is the decision, I will go,” she agreed, “but there are things about Hapes you should know. My father’s homeworld has a history of anti-Jedi sentiment.”

Ganner let out a brief, humorless laugh. “That’s hardly an original notion these days. We should feel right at home.”

“There is more,” Tenel Ka began.

The others glanced at Jaina, then their eyes slipped hurriedly away.

She lifted her chin and met the issue head-on. “Centerpoint,” she said, naming the superweapon that had accidentally destroyed hundreds of Hapan ships. “It was Anakin who enabled the weapon, a Solo relative who fired it. I’m sure more than a few Hapans will blame any and all Solos for this loss. So let’s put the sabacc cards on the table, Tenel Ka. What kind of reception are Solos and Jedi likely to get?”

The warrior woman gave this question several moments’ consideration. “An interesting one,” she decided, speaking without the slightest inflection of humor.

Alema huffed and folded her arms. “Oh, good. I for one could use the excitement.”

The others added their assent—minus the Twi’lek’s sarcasm. Jaina held back to the last, using the time to consider other possibilities.

Her last visit to Hapes had been enlivened by the attempted assassination of the former queen mother, Tenel Ka’s grandmother, an attack that had included Tenel Ka and the Solo twins. This event had not been a unique experience. During her eighteen years, Jaina could probably tally up more threats to her life than her mother had hairstyles. People tried to kill her—that’s just the way it was. That didn’t factor largely into Jaina’s hesitation. Of greater concern was her fear that the Hapes Cluster might prove an unlikely staging ground for any attack against the Yuuzhan Vong.

She had no idea what form that attack might take. All she knew was that losing custody of Jacen Solo was going to be the very last thing a lot of Yuuzhan Vong ever did.

“Jaina?” Ganner prompted.

“I’m taking Tenel Ka’s reservations seriously,” she said, offering an explanation for her delayed response, “but I’m with Zekk. Dozens of worlds are so afraid of Yuuzhan Vong reprisals that they’re not accepting refugees of any kind. Even if we were flying a Republic ship, we could get turned away more than once. We might be able to land on a sparsely populated world, but getting off it could be a problem. With Tenel Ka’s connections, we’ll be able to get the ships and supplies we need to get back in business.”

“Sounds good,” Ganner agreed. “Let’s see what sense Lowbacca can make of this escape pod.”

The Wookiee let out a tentative-sounding grumble.

Jaina whirled to face him. “You heard it? What does that mean?”

Lowbacca pantomimed pulling down the cognition hood. He went into a long explanation about the navibrain, and how it interpreted an object’s gravity and used these data as the basis for its directional calculations. The escape pod, even when docked in the frigate, maintained a complex internal gravity, which the incredibly sensitive navibrain perceived.

A seed took root in Jaina’s mind. “So you’re saying this ship’s navigation is based on its recognition of each planet, each asteroid, and everything else it encounters as a discrete entity, based on that entity’s unique gravity?”

The Wookiee considered this, then woofed an affirmative.

“What about small gravitic fluctuations?” she demanded. “Like the kind a Yuuzhan Vong ship creates for propulsion?”

Lowbacca tipped his head to one side and sent her an inquiring stare.

“Before we launch Tenel Ka, I want to make sure we can track the escape pod,” Jaina explained. “From what you’re saying, it sounds to me like that’s how it would be done.”

Intrigued, he ambled off to test this theory. The other Jedi scattered to tend their duties, or to get much-needed rest. Jaina accepted Zekk’s offer to take over for a while and made her way to one of the small coral alcoves that served as cabins.

As soon as she was alone, she allowed a small, triumphant smile to creep onto her face. If her suspicions proved correct, a Yuuzhan Vong ship could identify another ship by its unique gravitic signature. Jaina was confident that Lowbacca would find a way to isolate a ship’s “signal.” Her friend was stubborn, even for a Wookiee. Once he got an idea in his head, it couldn’t be blasted out with a thermal detonator. And when he succeeded, Jaina would be one small step closer to finding her brother.

“We’re coming for you,” she promised as she stretched out on the hard, narrow bunk. “I’ll find you, Jacen, I promise.”

She paused for a moment, breathing carefully until she was able to control the entangled anger and grief and guilt that thoughts of her brothers evoked.

“And when I do, we’ve got a few things to settle,” she added, imbuing her words with just enough snap and ire to catch Jacen’s attention, wherever he was.

She listened for some response, some tiny sign that her twin heard. That he was.

Silence.

With a sigh, Jaina gave up the attempt. She began the preparation for the Jedi trance, a deep and healing state of reverie.

Her last conscious thought was gratitude that no dreams could follow her into the darkness.