She meant the Bes’uliik, that was clear, but Jaina thought of the ease with which she slid toward darkness, and how easy it was starting to feel among these people, how natural to be learning to treat her brother like a bounty; she wondered where the line lay between being open to new ideas and too easily betraying the old.
“It’s perfect,” Jaina said.
Mirta wasn’t as hard to read in the Force as her grandfather. The sense of agitation hung in the cockpit. “You think a Jedi healer would really be able help my grandmother?”
Jaina thought of Gotab, and why he’d found Mandalore as irresistible as this fighter was to her. She knew he wouldn’t welcome her poking around in his business. “Can’t do any harm. I’ll find one.”
“Thanks, Jaina.”
She realized she’d ceased to be just Jedi and even Solo, and was now Jaina. For some reason, that heartened her even more than not being shot on sight as a spy.
chapter thirteen
Taun We—No, I’m not dead, and yes, I’ve still got your research material. I don’t plan to sell it off. Don’t make me change those plans.
Koa Ne—No, I didn’t forget. And you know I found what you were looking for. I just don’t need three million credits that badly. Which is still my price, by the way.
—Extract from queued text-comm messages awaiting transmission from Boba Fett, Mandalore, via Arkania and Kamino comm nodes
IMPERIAL STAR DESTROYER BLOODFIN, TASK FORCE ASSEMBLY AREA, OFF FONDOR
Caedus refused to let his recent brush with Luke rattle his composure as he stepped through the hatch of Bloodfin’s hangar, Tahiri at his heels.
He’d been duped with a brilliant Fallanassi illusion and had his StealthX almost ripped from under him. That had left him reeling, but not for long.
He realized that it wasn’t an indication of his own vulnerability. It was a benchmark revealed to him as part of his destiny.
Luke had come after him: that showed how desperately urgent it now was for the Jedi to stop him. Luke was pulling out all the stops.
The illusion, however masterful, was the best that Luke and his entourage could do. Or else they’d have used it to defeat him there and then.
The attack on his StealthX—that was the best Luke and his wingmate could do, too. They couldn’t stop him or grab him, even with chunks of his fighter missing. And they didn’t have what it took to kill him, militarily or emotionally.
Luke was the greatest Jedi Master, and he’d just exposed the absolute limits of his powers, a suicidal gamble in any war. No—no, the Force had laid out the evidence for Caedus, and all he had to do was look at it from the right perspective. Caedus truly knew his enemy now. And he knew that Luke’s best shot wasn’t good enough.
And neither is yours, Admiral.
Here she comes …
“You seem in a positive mood, Colonel,” said Niathal’s voice from some way behind him. “Good to see a spring in your step so soon after being scraped off your own deck.”
Caedus followed an Imperial aide through the maze of passageways into the citadel of the Destroyer, the most heavily protected sections that were the heart of the warship. It was a much smaller Destroyer than the Anakin Solo, an unfamiliar layout, with lower deckheads and narrower spaces. When he stopped outside the compartment designated for the meeting, he studied the ship’s badge on the bulkhead.
“Thank you for your concern, Admiral Niathal,” he said. The shield depicted a four-legged, fanged creature with cloven hooves like daggers, a blood-red frill raised like a mane along the length of its arched neck.
Niathal paused to look as well. “Think of all the extra work that would land on my desk if anything happened to you.”
“I heal fast.” The animal was caparisoned in ancient battle harness, trampling a figure—its own rider, judging by the matching leathers. “How ungrateful. A beast trying to destroy the master who guides it safely through the battlefield.”
“Or unseating him for using the spurs too much …” Niathal inhaled as if she were savoring the chemical smells of recent work onboard. “Lovely thing, a new ship.”
Pellaeon emerged from the compartment, creaseless and composed, and fixed a steady dark gaze on Caedus. It was their first encounter since Caedus had entered military ranks.
“Our eponymous animal, the bloodfin,” Pellaeon said. “Most apt.”
“I thought it was just a simple marine predator that was only a threat in its home waters …”
“A borrowed name, Colonel, because they both share this splendid red appendage.” Pellaeon ran his fingertip over the glowing red pigment. Caedus felt the old admiral’s curious blend of disciplined anger and enjoyment. “We once used these bloodfins as cavalry mounts, because they were ferocious fighters in their own right, with a much greater range than you might imagine. They remain a reminder to us that we should all be careful of the dangerous creatures we ride, because we have to dismount sooner or later. If we’re cruel or careless, the beast may even throw us. And once the rider falls under its hooves, it will devour him.”
The silence hung like a weight for three beats.
“I’m glad we have speeder bikes these days,” Tahiri said.
Caedus went into the meeting unsure whether Tahiri just couldn’t follow the subtext, or if she was much more arch and sly than he realized. He decided on the latter. Once the business of agreeing on plans for the engagement began, personal barbs were temporarily sheathed and everyone concentrated on the task at hand, which was the isolation of Fondor and the containment of any fleet assets it might still have on its surface. Caedus examined the holoimages carefully. It was hard to tell from reconnaissance imaging whether the vast numbers of vessels and assorted craft on Fondor—one giant manufacturing site, in effect—were operational or customers’ orders.
“In the absence of the mine net containing surface-based threats, this is a time-consuming task,” Caedus said. “I suggest placing Third and Fourth fleet fighter wings inside the ring, for recce and rapid response to counterattacks from the surface, and a Destroyer and frigate flotilla to hit whatever dares raise its head. Meanwhile, we devote the rest of the two fleets to taking out the orbital yards’ own defenses, and then land an assault force to secure them. The Imperials will be on the outer ring to counter the inevitable reappearance of the Fondorian fleet.”
Pellaeon stroked the first knuckle of his forefinger down his mustache, nose to lip, as if lost in thought while he studied the holochart.
“The aim is still to take the yards in one piece …”
“Yes,” said Niathal firmly, looking to Caedus even though Pellaeon was asking.
“Which, as I’m sure you’ve made allowance for, means holding the yards long-term, which means … we also need to hold Fondor itself long-term, quite apart from neutralizing its fleet, or else we’ll be under siege ourselves on those orbitals.” Pellaeon held up three fingers. He glanced at Tahiri. “Three distinct battles in one, two of them possibly a semi-permanent commitment, unless we can perform a mass lobotomy on the Fondorian government and people overnight, and get them to love us.”
Caedus felt the trap creak, but saw no pit beneath. Ordinary beings often made those mistakes. He wasn’t prey to uncertainty. If he changed his mind, it was due to dynamic risk assessment.
“If you’re saying we can’t do this, or that the commitment is too much for the Imperial Remnant, then say so. Most expeditionary wars involve entering places where we’re far from welcome. That’s what wars are.”
Pellaon was still stroking his mustache. “I’m just saying that subduing a civilian population is much harder than smashing a fleet.”
“Not if you project sufficient power,” said Caedus. Pellaeon didn’t blink. “Which force are we talking about, the unseen one available to you, or the one that goes bang?”
“Conventional force.”
“Bombing civilian populations can be a desperately slow way of breaking their will, actually. In my very long experience, most don’t giv
e in until they’re standing in rubble and there’s not even a stick left to fight with. In the shorter term, they just dig in. It’s their home. They’ve nowhere to retreat.”
Caedus ignored the lure of an argument. They had different priorities: Caedus wanted Fondor broken as an example to everyone of how serious he was about forging a united galaxy capable of responding to those yet-unknown but very real threats like the Yuuzhan Vong. But Pellaeon was looking at a working asset that the GA—or the Imperials—could claim. Niathal probably favored that, too. It was small-scale and—in galactic planning terms—short-term.
How very typical.
Niathal was very quiet. And she hadn’t said a word about Jedi StealthXs wandering around at will in the fleet assembly area. Any commander would have been in a flap about that, unless they thought it was a problem that didn’t have their name on it.
I’m not stupid, Admiral.
“Thoughts?” said Caedus, looking her way.
“I’ve often fought the urge to reduce a planet to molten slag myself,” Niathal said, unmoved. “Probably for totally different reasons to you, Colonel. But I agree with Gil—holding what we seize is going to be a drain on resources, unless Fondor shows some pragmatism and rolls over. Let’s give them an extra reason for doing that, beyond annihilation.”
“Such as?” said Pellaeon.
“Make it worth their while. They rejoin the GA and play by our rules, and allow a token force to remain for a while to make sure they mean it, and we give them special status—guaranteed GA work for their yards and factories in perpetuity.”
“That’s not unlike their status under the old Empire, as I recall …,” said Pellaeon. “Handy hyperspace lane just for that, too.”
“Well, then,” Niathal said, “we already have a tested plan for making that work, don’t we, Gil? An economic occupation is always better than a military one.”
Caedus kept a careful eye on the unseen, unspoken negotiation going on right now between Niathal and Pellaeon. He could see the deal shaping, and that it wouldn’t include him. Unlike mundane beings, Sith were never shocked by that. They expected and welcomed it.
“Let’s fine-tune our strategy, then,” Caedus said. “We isolate Fondor as planned, begin securing the orbitals, and then see if they’re more open to suggestions after we’ve softened them up for a few hours.”
“Agreed,” said Niathal. “Remember that there’s a surrender deadline in place.”
“I agree,” said Pellaeon.
Caedus felt he needed to keep a closer eye on the two of them, but that was what prospective apprentices were for. He had a battle to win. “Would you object to Lieutenant Veila remaining in the Bloodfin as my liaison for the duration of the engagement, Admiral Pellaeon? Of course, you’re welcome to send a liaison to the Anakin Solo, as well.”
Pellaeon’s mistrust was clear to Force senses, but he smiled convincingly enough for the mundanes.
“You could use a comlink,” he said, “but she’s much more charming.”
No, you don’t think that at all, do you, Pellaeon?
Caedus quite enjoyed the intellectual challenge of these confrontations, polite and banal to the casual listener, but composed of layer upon layer of double meaning and double intent. He felt Tahiri bristle a little. That was good. She worked better when she was annoyed. She escorted him down to the hangar, leaving him with a Force impression of a mask held firmly in place.
“How do I liaise?” she asked pointedly, lips barely moving.
“Observe.”
“And what added value can I bring that a remote holocam can’t?”
“If Pellaeon interferes with my plan in any way, then you stop him.” Caedus’s whisper was just a breath. “The Moffs are far more willing, but he whips them back into line. Do you understand what I’m asking you to do?”
Tahiri still wore that deceptive I’m-earnest-and-really-quite-dim expression, but the glittering black shards of her calculating mind were right there in the Force. She was a testament to the transformational power of incentive. “I think so.”
“Some deaths … some sacrifices are necessary, however callous they may appear.” Caedus just made sure she’d got the full meaning without his having to spell it out. “But only if they prove necessary, remember.”
“I understand. It’s ugly, but … I understand.”
Last piece of bait, place it carefully … “In the end, we’re fighting for a galaxy where the Anakins of this world don’t have to give their lives. That’s why we have to think the unthinkable.”
Tahiri’s edge wavered, but she recovered almost as soon as Caedus felt it. “I think living in the past is a dangerous habit, actually. I’m doing this because I think an orderly galaxy is our best defense against falling to an enemy like the Vong again.”
Caedus left her standing in the passageway, hands clasped behind her back, next to the badge of the bloodfin devouring those who forgot how dangerous an animal it was. He mulled over her parting shot all the way back to the Anakin Solo, and realized that she was warning him that she knew how he was manipulating her fixation with his brother. So did she really believe in Sith government being the best defense against traumatic war in the future, or was she even more ambitious than he had ever realized? It didn’t matter. She had that Sith sharpness now, and it was an instrument he was destined to use.
Two of the bridge chronos—one set to local time, one to Galactic Standard Time—crept forward to 2359 GST. One comm channel on each flagship’s bridge was kept open for Fondor’s President, but the deadline came and went, and all Caedus could hear was faint static. Ocean, Bloodfin, and the Anakin Solo were linked on audio, still waiting. Nevil walked slowly around the bridge, glancing over shoulders at tracking screens and sensor displays.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting a response,” Niathal said, almost as if she was talking to herself. “All ships … we are now at battle stations. I expect this will now be known as the Second Battle of Fondor. I shall be operating from this command information center until further orders.”
Caedus was occasionally aware of the most subliminal of sensations deep inside his skull that hinted at intense activity in hyperspace. Over the last day or so, it had been intermittent. He interpreted it as a fleet moving from place to place, dropping out of hyperspace to pause briefly before jumping again to avoid detection. The Fondorian fleet was taking a walk around the block, he thought, occasionally pausing to take a look to see who was still loitering in the neighborhood, and if they had their back turned.
The Anakin Solo moved on Fondor.
On either flank, vessels from both GA fleets moved into formation, and one battle group with its X-wing squadrons streaking ahead of it broke out of the larger formation to slip past the ring of orbitals.
Caedus felt around him for the Jedi, not picking up what he expected. He knew they were here, because Luke was; but he couldn’t sense how many, or where they might be. He assumed the worst—maybe as many as a hundred, maybe the majority in StealthXs.
But Jedi or not, numbers and big ships still counted against them. These days, no naval architect made construction mistakes like the kind that would let a single fighter take out a war machine the size of a planet. Luke Skywalker’s days of dumb luck were long over. Caedus cast his worries about the Jedi aside, and visualized his ships and their commanders like a grid, a mesh, a network, like the mines he should have had in place now.
These were competent commanders with well-trained crews, and they only needed a little nudge to embolden them into even more decisive action. He found he didn’t need to control them; all he needed was to be hyperaware of where they were at any point in time, their state of mind, and if they needed a push to overcome hesitation caused by having a slower, limited, sensor-dominated perception of the changing situation in theater.
Ocean was where he expected her to be, to port and a little astern of him. I can keep an eye on you however busy I am, Admiral. He could see the sensor screens ahead o
f him and around the bridge, but it was the mental image he was building that was more vivid, and in moments it was almost an overlay on his physical field of vision that he found hard to distinguish from what he could actually see.
Nevil turned to him. “Long-range, sir, Fondor’s ground defenses are scrambling.”
Sensors picked up a hailstorm of fighters scattering out into the planet’s orbit, and Caedus concentrated his touch on the minds of the commanders about to encircle the planet. The first wave of X-wings streaked between the orbitals, targeting the defensive cannon emplacements on the yards as they passed. The wave of frigates and destroyers split horizontally to send one group under the orbit of the yards in a loop toward Fondor’s southern pole, and the other mirroring it to the north pole. With the X-wings keeping the yards’ defenses busy, the warships regrouped inside the orbital ring. Fondorian fighters swung around to engage them like a flock of garbs turning as one bird.
“Steady,” said Caedus. “Push through. Push through.”
Damage reports were now trickling in, most of them minor ones from overloaded shields, and they were diverted to the automated system to collate and estimate the impact on the fleet’s effectiveness at any given point. But Caedus didn’t need detail. He felt X-wings wink out of existence, each one a pang in him, and he felt the ships in the right place, the right moment—
Fondor’s planetary defenses hadn’t opened up yet, although the ships were in range. The yards weren’t there to defend the planet; their armament was for their own protection. There was an odd, aching lull in the battle going on in Caedus’s mental chart, and for a full minute he cast around waiting for StealthXs to fountain out of nowhere and harry his vessels inside the orbital ring. He’d feel them. Whatever tricks the Jedi had, however undetectable their fighters, he would feel their racing pulses and adrenaline as they began their attack. Luke might be able to hide, but not all of them.
The flotillas were through, scanning the surface of Fondor for cannon and turbolaser aimed at them, waiting for enemy targeting to try to get a lock on them and blip their sensors. There should have been the start of a bombardment by now.
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