Dark Tide: Onslaught

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Colonel.”

  Gavin looked up through the image of his family and shook his head. “No, Admiral, not at all.” He shut off the holoprojector, relieved that the Bothan admiral’s arrival had stopped the cycle of pictures right there, at the happy times.

  Admiral Traest Kre’fey bore a striking resemblance to the other members of the Kre’fey family Gavin had seen: the late General Laryn—the admiral’s grandfather—and the admiral’s brother, Karka. Despite having spent a certain amount of time in the company of Bothans, Gavin couldn’t remember any outside the Kre’fey family whose fur was pure white. Traest didn’t have the golden eyes the other two had; instead his were mostly violet with flecks of gold. Gavin assumed the violet came from Borsk Fey’lya’s line, since he knew the two of them were related through some complicated tangle of marriages between the two families.

  Traest wore a black flight suit that he’d unzipped down to midchest. He closed the door to Gavin’s office, then unceremoniously plopped himself down on the couch to the left of the door. Gavin moved from behind his desk to one of the two chairs making up the conversation nook in his office.

  He sat and rested his elbows on his knees. “It killed me in twenty-five seconds. What was it?”

  The Bothan smiled. “Congratulations. I died in fifteen in my first engagement. Pulling the biological targeting data on-line is what gave you some warning.”

  “If I weren’t dead, I’m sure that would make me feel better.” Gavin frowned. “Do we know what it was?”

  The Bothan admiral raked claws back through his pale mane. “Two days ago Leia Organa Solo spoke to the senate and tried to warn them about an unknown alien force that had attacked several worlds on the Rim, out beyond Dantooine. She didn’t get a very warm reception. She left data behind, from which the simulation was created.”

  Gavin sat back in his chair. “You’re telling me that seed, that ‘thing,’ is a starfighter being used by folks who attacked the Outer Rim?”

  “Yes. Technically it’s called a coralskipper by the species that created it. They grow them out of something called yorick coral. I know the name is not terribly inspiring of fear, but I assume it loses something in the translation from their tongue. I’ve designated them ‘skips’ for our purposes.”

  “And the princess brought this to the senate’s attention, and they didn’t listen?”

  Traest shook his head. “Opposing forces have been gathering power to fight over the whole Jedi question. It’s heated up because of the charge that a Jedi’s rash action sparked the Rhommamool conflict. A number of powerful senators saw the princess’s story as an attempt to divert attention from the Jedi question. It didn’t help that Jedi were key to defeating the invaders.”

  Gavin nodded. He’d never had a problem with Jedi and, in fact, counted one of them, Corran Horn, as a very good friend. There were some high-handed Jedi, but Gavin had seen those sorts of ego cases among fighter pilots, so their existence didn’t surprise him at all. The fact was that there were some tasks only Jedi could perform, and he’d been too long in the military to discard a force just because some of the elements were disruptive.

  “Is there any evidence that the invaders are still coming in?”

  “Actual, no, but logic suggests that the expenditure of resources needed to travel from galaxy to galaxy necessitates gaining a foothold through which those resources can be replenished.” The Bothan smiled. “If you spend enough credits to get somewhere, you usually plan to stay for a while.”

  “Right, and the Rim worlds really aren’t the sorts of places you’d drop in for a vacation.” Gavin rubbed a hand over his mouth. “These skips—they’re fairly formidable. How do they move? How did they take my shields down?”

  “We need more research to be certain, but it appears that they have creatures called dovin basals that are part of the fighter itself. They manipulate gravity, which is how they were able to soak off your shots and rip down your shields. We think that boosting the sphere of the inertial compensator can actually prevent shields being taken down. I also think that cycling more, lower-power shots through the lasers will force the skip to expend a lot of energy creating those black-hole shields. As long as it’s worried about catching shots, its maneuvering ability is degraded. These strategies are hypothetical, however, and can really only be tested in combat.”

  “I see.” Gavin pressed his hands together. “I can have the squadron simming against these things, then you can point us at them in the Rim and we’ll try it.”

  “I knew you’d be game for that, which I appreciate. We have another problem before that, though.”

  “And that is?”

  The Bothan sighed. “Because of the way Princess Leia was dismissed, any action that even hints that she might have been right is frowned upon. Though my command is out in the Rim right now, I can’t order up sweeps of any of the battle sites, I’m not allowed to help others look, nothing. It’s political suicide to act as if her report has any credence to it.”

  “Yeah, but isn’t it real suicide to assume it doesn’t?” The man glanced down at the floor and then back up into Traest’s violet eyes. “Given that Borsk Fey’lya now leads the New Republic, this can’t be easy for you, but to ignore—”

  Traest held a hand up to forestall Gavin’s comment. “Colonel, because of my grandfather’s failure at Borleias, my family’s power waned around the time I entered the Bothan Martial Academy system. I went to one of the smaller satellite schools, and I had an instructor there who pointed out certain flaws in the way Bothan society functions. I would hope you’ve seen enough of me through the years to know that being of a newer, younger generation, I’m not one to follow exactly what my superiors think I should be doing. For example, if they knew I’d run you through that sim, I’d be busted down to flight officer and have to work myself back up to flag rank again.”

  “You did it quickly enough the first time, Admiral.”

  “Having key personnel in the upper echelons of the Bothan military resign as a result of the Caamasi problem sped me on my way. I don’t mind using politics when it moves me in a direction I want to go, but I resent it when it prevents me from doing what is right.” Traest opened his hands. “I was thinking, Colonel, that I’d like to use Rogue Squadron in the Rim, having you simulate a pirate group in attacks on outlying systems. My forces out there will pursue you, but you’ll be free to run and hide and explore anywhere you want to go.”

  “And if we happen to run across a force of skips while we’re out there?”

  “I hope, for all of our sakes, you don’t.” The Bothan smiled grimly. “But if you do, we’ll take them apart and give the senate evidence it will never be able to dismiss.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Luke Skywalker stood at the edge of the grove, allowing Yavin 4’s light breeze to tease and snap the corner of the dark cloak that shrouded him. In the circular opening of the grove stood a number of gray plinths, one each serving as memorial for fallen Jedi and students. Gantoris had been the first, then Nichos Marr, Cray Mingla, and Dorsk 81. Others had followed them, and now the latest was Miko Reglia.

  Luke felt conflicting emotions tear at him as he studied the memorials. He felt great pride in the sacrifices these Jedi had made. Even half-trained, they had accepted the responsibilities of Jedi and had acquitted themselves admirably. They were welcome examples to the new students about how difficult it could be to be a Jedi.

  Regret also gnawed at him. I would not be human if I did not wonder if I could have done something to prevent their deaths. The early days of the Jedi academy had been difficult because he was still finding his way as a Jedi and a teacher. His experience of going over to the dark side when the Emperor returned had also blinded him to some of the things his students needed. While he acknowledged that he may have taken on students a bit prematurely, to have failed to do so would have meant there would be even fewer of them to face the Yuuzhan Vong invasion.
/>   “We’re not going to be putting one of those memorials there for Mara, you know.”

  Luke raised his head and felt the hint of a smile touch his lips. He glanced back at the dark-haired Jedi Knight in green robes behind him. “That isn’t what I was thinking, Corran.”

  Corran Horn shrugged. “Maybe not at the moment, but it had to be lurking there somewhere. Pops for me every time I look at the place, since I heard . . . But there won’t be a marker for her there.”

  Luke arched an eyebrow at him. “That could be taken two ways, you know. One suggests this disease won’t kill her. The other suggests there won’t be any Jedi around to plant the marker.”

  The green-eyed Jedi nodded, then scratched at his beard—which had been brown once, but now was shot through with white. “I’m betting on the former, though I know there are lots of folks in the New Republic that wouldn’t shed a tear about the second case.”

  “Unfortunately true.” Luke sighed and glanced at the markers again. “They were all so young.”

  “Ah, Luke, compared to us, everyone is young.” Corran smiled easily. “Measured by life events, you should be, what, about a thousand years old?”

  “Being married to Mara has slowed that process, I think.”

  “Yeah, but the years she put on you before you two finally got together still count.” Corran jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. “Before we get any older, I thought you’d want to know they’re all here. The last shuttle came in ten minutes ago or so. Kyp Durron was on it. He made a grand entrance, as always.”

  Luke shook his head slowly. “I don’t doubt he made an entrance, but your ‘as always’ comment was unwarranted.”

  Corran raised his hands. “Perhaps it was, but his arrival excited a lot of the younger Jedi Knights and apprentices.”

  “Including your son?”

  The Corellian hesitated, then bowed his head. “Valin was certainly among those who were impressed, but I’m more worried about the cadre of young Jedi Knights who are looking at Miko as a martyr. Too many seem to want to take his place. Ganner Rhysode and Wurth Skidder were right there with Kyp, as were a number of the other bright young Jedi. If not for Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin holding themselves back, I’d have thought everyone would have swarmed Kyp with greetings.”

  The Jedi Master exhaled his anxiety in a long, slow, calming breath. “I know your concerns, and you’re not alone in expressing them. Kam and Tionne have worries about the academy. Teaching the children here as a group has been good. Opening the older apprentices up to mentoring experiences with other Jedi Knights has sharpened their skills immeasurably. Of course, that does mean that some of the Jedi Knights who are taken with Kyp’s proactive view of the order do end up instructing our senior apprentices.”

  “I’m not arguing the methods, Master Skywalker, and I see the risks inherent in them.” Corran sighed. “What worries me is that Kyp is clearly aware of the political storms his actions are creating, but he just ignores them. We’ve discussed this before, all of us, but the problem has really become acute because of Skidder’s actions at Rhommamool.”

  “I know. This is the primary reason I recalled everyone here.” Luke noticed a smirk tug at the corner of Corran’s mouth. “And, yes, I know that issuing a recall lets everyone know who is in charge. I may not have been raised on Corellia where that sort of stuff comes naturally, but I am aware of it.”

  “Good. And you know Kyp’s choosing to be the last to arrive means he fought you to the last.”

  “Yes, caught that.” Luke turned from the grove and waved a hand toward the Great Temple. “Shall we?”

  Corran nodded and started off, with Luke catching up easily enough. He watched Corran for a moment, then smiled. When Corran had first come to the academy, to train as a Jedi to save his wife, Mirax Terrik, he’d been willful and arrogant—all the things Luke expected out of a fighter pilot and law enforcement officer. And a Corellian. Through the process of learning what it was to become a Jedi, however, Corran had matured and changed. While it wasn’t until the peace with the Empire some six years earlier that Corran resigned from Rogue Squadron to become a full-time Jedi, the Jedi philosophy and demands had become fully integrated into his life.

  Oddly enough, while Corran had let go of his arrogance, Kyp and others were being dangerously misguided by their pride in being Jedi. Luke easily recognized how it could happen. When one was attuned to the Force, life and reality became rendered much more sharply. Options others could not see or fathom became painfully clear. While when solving a problem Luke and other Jedi took care to explain what they were doing and why, Kyp and his followers tended just to act, confident that they knew the best solution for whatever problem it was they were facing.

  Luke didn’t doubt that the Jedi probably did find the best solution available in most situations, but the consequences of that solution might be hard for others to take. Ultimately it would be others who had to live with those results, not the Jedi who caused them, and resentment at high-handed Jedi actions was really inevitable.

  The Jedi Master reached out and rested his left hand on Corran’s shoulder. “Before we get into the meeting, I do want to thank you for stepping in and helping here since Mara became ill.”

  “My pleasure. I get to see Valin and Jysella. She’s spent more of her life here, at the academy, than with her mother and me. I do want to maintain ties.”

  Luke gave Corran’s shoulder a squeeze. “In the old days, all potential Jedi were taken from their families as children to be trained. I can’t imagine it was easy even then, though. There’s so much we don’t know . . .”

  “True, but we can’t allow ourselves to think what you’ve created here is wrong or bad or that the old Council wouldn’t approve. After all, Obi-Wan and Yoda still did take you on. Training an older Jedi isn’t impossible, just more difficult.” Corran shot his Master a sidelong glance. “And despite my early differences with you over training, I do think you’ve done a superb job. We have a hundred Jedi traveling the galaxy, and more ready to serve each year. It’s quite an accomplishment.”

  “It will be if we are allowed to go forward.” Luke followed Corran into the turbolift. “Leia’s report on the climate on Coruscant was not good. I was there only a short time ago, and the senate has soured decidedly because of Rhommamool. This may not be the best time to propose a new Jedi council.”

  “The hand’s been dealt. We have to play it and hope the flux won’t get us.” The turbolift door opened, and Corran hung back so Luke could emerge first. “Your students await, Master.”

  Luke strode from the turbolift and felt his heart swell in his chest. The Jedi had been arrayed in ranks in the Great Temple’s Grand Audience Chamber. They were neither as numerous nor as colorful as the Rebel soldiers who had similarly been gathered after the Death Star had been destroyed, but Luke still felt the return of the same giddy emotions he’d known then. Just seeing the Jedi there—good mix of humans and nonhumans, male and female—peeled back the years and reminded him of the heroic efforts that had been necessary to stave off the Empire.

  He paced down the red carpet that split the hall lengthwise and slowly mounted the steps to the dais at the far end. He nodded to Kam Solusar and Tionne, the academy’s husband and wife administrators, then turned and caught sight of Corran slipping into place in the rank behind his son. The younger students had been positioned closest to the dais, with Jedi Knights and their apprentices arraying themselves back through the hall, grouped by their own choice.

  If those on the left side have aligned themselves with Kyp, then the division is more marked than I thought. The left side of the room held nearly two-thirds of the adult Jedi and half of the nonhumans. On the right side, along with Corran, Luke recognized Streen and several others who had staunchly opposed Kyp’s stance. The Jedi Master sensed no hatred flowing between the groups, but the level of tension in the chamber was slowly increasing.

  He noticed that Jacen stood alone, aloof, in the backmost
rank. Though the boy stood on Kyp’s side of the room, Luke felt no connection between his nephew and Kyp’s faction. Anakin, on the other hand, stood three places away from Streen and, while subdued, had a fierce loyalty to Luke burning deep inside him.

  Luke made himself smile at the younger students. “I am glad to see you all here. Your bright, shining faces are lit with the Force. You all work hard, and someday, you young Jedi will stand here with us as Jedi Knights. I look forward to that day, and I know you do, too.”

  “We can be out fighting the bad guys,” a young Twi’lek piped.

  The innocently enthusiastic comment brought smiles to many faces, Luke’s included. “Yes, that will be it. However, for now, I would ask Tionne to take you away to continue your studies. There are things I need to discuss with the others that you need not know about at the moment. Thank you for greeting all of us, and may the Force be with you.”

  The children marched out in even rows, with the eldest helping conduct the youngest out and down the stairs. The adult ranks broke as people closed in on the dais, though the left and right division remained. Kyp worked his way toward the front of the pack, placing him opposite Corran and Streen. Expectations of a confrontation filled the air.

  Luke held a hand out, palm down. “We face two very grave problems. Either one of them could destroy the Jedi. Together, they most certainly will unless we put aside any differences and work together. Kyp, perhaps you would share what you know of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

  The request clearly surprised the dark-haired Jedi. Kyp had come to the Jedi academy as a gangling youth of sixteen. At thirty-two he had grown into a strong, slender man with sharp features and angry eyes. He had been the first among the Jedi to encounter the Yuuzhan Vong, and his escape from their clutches spoke volumes about his skill as a pilot and with the Force.