Ruin: Dark Tide II

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “He’s your master, kid, not mine.” Chalco rested his thick-fingered hand on the landing ramp control switch. “You stay here, like he told you to.”

  Anakin folded his arms across his chest. “You aren’t supposed to go out there.”

  “You think you can stop me?”

  “You think I can’t?”

  Chalco’s dark eyes narrowed, thick flesh bunching up around them. “You sure you want to try?”

  “Master Yoda told my Master that there was no try, ‘only do or do not.’ ” Anakin suppressed the immediate desire to use the Force to pin the man against a bulkhead. Mara had gotten after him about using the Force for tasks that didn’t require it. Since he’d been able to keep Chalco in his seat during the atmospheric entry, Anakin knew he could easily stop the man from moving.

  And because I know I can do that, I don’t need to do it. There has to be another solution. Anakin shrugged easily and let his hands hang loose at his sides. “You know, if you’re not on the ship when we go to leave, you’ll be stuck here. This isn’t exactly Coruscant when it comes to ships and traveling and making a living. The Vors are a bit uneasy about foreigners, so you’ll be put on a manual labor detail. But you can do what you want to do.”

  Chalco’s expression eased into a mask of puzzlement. “You really think you could stop me?”

  “Does it matter? If you want to go out there and spend your time pulping grasses, pulling fibers, weaving them into cloth, why would I want to stop you?” He recalled a conversation he’d had with Mara on Dantooine. “Lots of folks think of the Jedi as people who will come in and save them from their own stupidity. If we were, we’d never have a free moment.”

  “You think I’m stupid?”

  Anakin ignored the twin piping from the two droids. “If you were stupid, Master Luke wouldn’t have you along with us. I guess I think you just are like a lot of folks. You live for today and don’t think about tomorrow. That doesn’t let you get ahead.”

  “Think that’s so, kid?” The question came loaded with pique, but Chalco relaxed and leaned against the bulkhead, so Anakin assumed the tone was more for show than reflective of any true upset.

  The young Jedi shrugged. “I haven’t known you for very long, but I think you have the same problem as some of the Jedi. You are concerned with image and what others think of you. You trade a lot on your reputation. Does it wear on you the way it can on Jedi?”

  The stocky man ran a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Maybe there are times, you know. Sure, it gets tiring. People always pushing, testing. You get a reputation and people want a piece of it.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Anakin spun the copilot chair around and sat on the edge. “My father’s had to put up with that forever, and the Jedi, well, everyone pushes us to see what we have. Some folks are just afraid and stay away. Others are afraid and push just to prove they aren’t afraid. Lots of wasted effort there.”

  Chalco nodded. “Your father’s Han Solo, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw him a couple of times recently. Kinda torn up about his partner’s death.”

  Anakin nodded slowly, fighting against the automatic—and now familiar—pangs of guilt over Chewbacca’s death. “It hit him very hard.”

  “They must have been good friends.” Chalco let a half laugh shake him. “Never had much truck with Wookiees myself. Don’t know that I’ve ever been that close to anyone.”

  “They’d been through a lot together. Chewie was a constant in my dad’s life, and in mine. He was always there and, now he’s not.” A jolt of pain ripped through Anakin, choking him. The vast gulf Chewie’s death had left in his life opened up before him.

  He tried to speak, but couldn’t. He held a hand up for a second, then swiped at a tear. “Sorry,” he croaked.

  Chalco shifted his shoulders stiffly. “Look, kid, I, ah, may not have had a close friend like that, you know, but I can understand the hurting. You get used to people being around. Seeing them at a spaceport, having them in the next cell, that kind of thing. And, you know, one day you wake up and they’ve been paroled or something. You never know if you’re going to see them or the credits they lost to you playing sabacc. I mean, look, I’m not good expressing myself here, but …”

  Anakin nodded and felt relief roll off the man. “Thanks, I understand. When you get to know someone, you can be hurt if they go away suddenly. The hurt is really big and really strong. Chewie, well, he was always there, smiling, joking, never complaining when I climbed all over him or messed up something he was doing. He was just a rock, and when that goes away …”

  “But he wasn’t the only rock in your life, kid.” Chalco nodded off toward the Cathedral of Winds. “You have your uncle and your mother and your father.”

  “Well, you saw my father. He’s been, um, distant.” Anakin sighed. “My mom has had things to do. She’s been supportive, but we’ve been apart. Uncle Luke, he’s been great, but he has a lot to do. It’s okay, though, because this is an adult thing and that’s what I need to be learning to handle.”

  “Don’t grow up too fast, kid.” The short man shrugged ruefully. “But you gotta grow up. You don’t, you become like me. Maybe growing up fast isn’t all that bad.”

  “Well, the key is just growing up, I guess, fast or slow, no difference.” Anakin glanced at the landing ramp’s controls. “You still want to head out there?”

  Chalco thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not that I’m afraid of a little hard work.”

  “Never thought that.”

  “Didn’t figure you did.” The man smiled slowly. “Then again, helping Jedi track a Jedi, that’s plenty hard work, I’m figuring. Harder than anything I’ve ever had to do before, and it’s about time I start pushing myself. After all, it’s the grownup thing to do.”

  Admiral Gilad Pellaeon hated being seated in a big chair on a dais at the Moff Council. Only four of the moffs had attended in person; the rest were present in holo only, with their appearances costing more than the admiral thought their input was worth. Everything he had to tell them he could have sent out in a communiqué, but the moffs clung jealously to the idea that their counsel had value.

  Moff Crowal, from the world of Valc VII, lifted her chin defiantly, but did not rise to her holographic feet. Valc VII was the Imperial world that pushed the border into the Unknown Regions, making her the farthest from the Yuuzhan Vong threat. This distance from danger in no way made her feel safe, and as always, she agitated for her backwater world needing more in the way of resources than could ever be justified.

  “If this is a serious threat, Admiral, then we implore you to defend our worlds. If it is a trap, then we would likewise wish for you to keep our ships in Imperial space.”

  The admiral pressed his fingers together. “As I have told you all before, this is no trap. The threat to the New Republic is real. Their request for aid is real.”

  Moff Flennic’s jowls shook with anger. “They should be allowed to crumble. Had they not destroyed the Empire, this threat would be as nothing. The Emperor would have dealt with it in an eye blink.”

  Bastion’s own Moff Sarreti, young though he was, leaned forward with the sagacity of a much older man. “I fail to understand how, Flennic, you can make that statement. The New Republic defeated the Empire, and now the Yuuzhan Vong prey on them. It stands to reason that they would have beaten the Empire, as well.”

  Flennic’s face contorted into a snarl. “Sarreti, I would have to ask this: Given your analysis, why would we commit our forces to defend the New Republic when, by your estimation, our forces are clearly inferior?”

  Sarreti nodded slowly, acknowledging the logic of the question. “We should do it because it is the right thing to do.”

  Crowal snarled. “The right thing to do? Provide aid and succor to those who bleed us dry, destroying our economies, flooding our worlds with items that erode our culture? Oh, this is a trap, and you’ve fallen well and good into it.”

 
Sarreti stood slowly, and Pellaeon knew that every move, every motion, no matter how seemingly casual, was deliberate. The young moff pressed his hands together and rested his fingers against his lips. His eyes focused distantly, as if he were lost in some wormhole of thought, then his hands fell to his sides. He began speaking in a low voice, softly, almost seductively.

  “The wisdom of my elders is something that weighs heavily when I am given to consider serious matters such as this. Your experiences, from before the death of the Emperor, through the period of the warlords to now, holding together this fragile new Empire, these are all of value. My experiences are few in comparison, since I was young when the Emperor perished. My coming of age was in the midst of the Rebellion. My family fled Imperial Center when it fell, and eventually arrived here, where I entered the Empire’s service.

  “Perhaps, since my eyes were opened to the conflict only after the Empire’s decline, I see things differently. I do not see through lenses of fury, of pain at losses, and of melancholy over the past. I view what the New Republic has done, and while, like you, I do not think they have done everything as well as they might, I am not blind to what they have done. Let us not forget that six years ago, had they wanted to, they could have crushed us. It was this Empire that had almost ripped them apart through treachery, and yet they did not punish all of us for the actions of a very few. They sued for and permitted us an honorable peace, as is evidenced by the fact that we have forces they can solicit for their aid.”

  Standing tall, he waved a long-fingered hand toward Pellaeon. “This request they have made of Admiral Pellaeon is no trap, no threat. It is an honest request, one that they have made not because of how we see them, but how they see us. They have asked, not demanded. They see us as their equals, and if we do not see the value in responding to that sort of overture, we are very blind and very foolish, and deserve to be swallowed whole by them or these Yuuzhan Vong or anyone else.”

  The young moff’s comments had his colleagues nodding their heads, by and large. Pellaeon smiled at him and gave him a nod, then stood himself. He balled his fists and planted them on his hips, then nodded gravely.

  “As always I find your commentary and advice useful, my moffs, but I must remind you that I command Imperial space. I summoned you to this meeting not to seek your advice, but to advise you and warn you. When we allow the people to know what is happening in the New Republic, and what our response to it will be, there will be plenty who react as some of you have. They will see no reason to support those they see as enemies. I expect you will find it in yourselves to be persuasive to the contrary. I thank Moff Sarreti for his eloquence and commend him to you as an example.”

  Flennic’s hologram arched an eyebrow. “You will commit our forces no matter what our opinion is?”

  “You act as if you are surprised, Moff Flennic.” Pellaeon smiled slowly, his bristling white mustache broadening. “This was your opportunity to voice your opposition, but you know that your fellow moffs, by and large, will be in support of this move. I wanted to inform all of you that I will be issuing a mobilization order that will activate all reservists and call some of those units into active duty. I will also issue a call to all of our covert forces, both within the Empire and without, to come to our aid. While some of you might have seen our hidden forces as ones that would someday enable us to take back the galaxy, the Yuuzhan Vong threat is one we must defeat. We will need everything we can summon, and then some.”

  Pellaeon glanced at an aide in the rear of the chamber. “I am having sent to all of you the acceptable codes being used by returning forces. You will not impede their travel in any manner. In return for this cooperation I will not be summoning your personal bodyguard units and you will be given latitude in using reserve units to maintain order.”

  Crowal shook her head. “You think you can distract us by giving us soldiers to play with?”

  “If you think that’s what I’m doing, then, yes, I think you shallow enough to be distracted.” The admiral’s eyes darkened. “Understand this: If the Yuuzhan Vong can defeat the New Republic, we cannot stand against them. I suggest you use the time I will win us in fighting against them to make our worlds as secure as you can. If I fail, if you are made to play with your soldiers, I hope I do not live to see the results. Pellaeon out.”

  The holographic images of the moffs vanished. Sarreti came walking over to Pellaeon as the other three moffs drew together in a group and filed from the room. The admiral noticed that the young moff remained standing on the floor, not mounting the dais, allowing the two men to remain on an even eye level.

  Sarreti smiled kindly. “You did not chasten them too badly for their poor manners.”

  “If I were to do that, they would gain the impression that their antics concern me.”

  “Good point.” The younger man gathered his hands at the small of his back. “Bastion’s forces will be glad to join you. I am still a reservist. If you require my service, I am certain my administration can function in my absence.”

  “I’d love to have you with me, Ephin, but I think I could use your efforts in organizing the other moffs.”

  “As long as I don’t rebel against you?”

  Pellaeon nodded. “I’d rather have the people with us than against us. Then again, if I mismanage things so badly that you need to rebel, better you running things than Crowal or Flennic.”

  “I trust that situation will not come to pass.”

  “That’s my hope.” Pellaeon sighed. “Now, if the Yuuzhan Vong will just oblige us and lie down and die, perhaps warriors like me can fade, and the future can be put in the hands of builders like you. At least, then, there will be a future.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Lieutenant Solo reporting as ordered, Colonel.” Jaina Solo stood stiffly just outside the open hatchway to Colonel Darklighter’s cabin aboard Ralroost. She had no idea why he had sent Emtrey, the unit’s M-3PO military protocol droid, to fetch her, but she was glad to get a chance to speak with him. The whole incident with her brother the week previous had left her stomach churning. When I thought he was dead …

  “Come in, Jaina, please, be seated.” Gavin Darklighter nodded her toward the bunk against the wall. He sat at a small table bolted to the cabin’s opposite wall. On it he had a datapad, several data cards, and a small holocube displaying alternating images of his family. With just that holocube he’d managed to drain the small cabin of its sterility, despite the white walls and gray decking.

  As she sat, he turned in his chair to face her. Though he was still a young man, gray had crept into his hair at the temples, and little lines traced back from the corners of his eyes. He’d assumed command of Rogue Squadron right after the peace with the Remnant, but the dozen and a half years he’d put in with it before then had been what marked him. To Jaina he was one of a handful of legends who had survived and even thrived within Rogue Squadron.

  “Jaina, I should have spoken to you about this before now. What happened at Garqi was unfortunate. It was also necessary. Operational security demanded we let no one in-system at the time know that the Lost Hope was meant to go down in flames.”

  Jaina nodded. “I’ve been told that only Admiral Kre’fey and the techs who had prepared the ship—as well as the task force—knew what was going to happen. I know you didn’t know, so you couldn’t warn me.”

  “Yes, I have been informed of how kind you’ve been in supposing what I would have done had I known what was going to happen. The fact is, however, I would not have told you.” His looked straight at her, and she shivered. “The decision to keep that information secret came from above me, and I would have respected the security demands that would have kept me silent. And while I know you would have not let out any hint of what was happening, the judgment about whether or not to take that chance, again, was not one I would have made.”

  Jaina gripped the edge of the bunk to keep herself upright. She felt betrayed by his words, in great part because she had credit
ed him with far more kindness than he was saying he possessed. She had trusted in him, and here he was saying he was not worthy of that trust. And while his voice rang with sincerity, he was plainly suggesting he would have remained silent no matter who or what was involved.

  Her anger over that latter point surprised her. Jaina would not have thought she was deserving of special treatment, but her anger clearly indicated that some part of her did. After all, she was a Jedi, as was her brother, and that should have counted for something. The affairs of Jedi were being meddled with, and that wasn’t right. Moreover, after all her family had done for the New Republic, shouldn’t it have at least taken steps to stop her from being hurt? Didn’t the New Republic owe her at least that much?

  She quickly caught her outrage and broke it down. The umbrage at having Jedi affairs compromised, she realized, bordered very closely on the arrogant attitude that Kyp and his followers embraced. Jedi have abilities others do not, but this does not make us any better than anyone else; and for the purposes of my time with Rogue Squadron, I am a pilot first, not a Jedi.

  That thought led her to explore the idea that the New Republic owed her anything. My parents might have a debt that needs to be paid off, but it’s not mine. The only way the New Republic will owe me anything is if I earn something from it. So far, in comparison to what my parents have done, I have done nothing.

  Colonel Darklighter leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. “I didn’t speak to you earlier by design, and while I might have saved you some pain, I thought a little now would be better than a lot later. When I came into the squadron I was your age, and I had a burden: Biggs Darklighter was my cousin, so the Darklighter reputation landed firmly on me. Like you, I was young enough to believe I could do anything. I was lucky enough that those in the squadron accepted me, helped me along, and enabled me to uphold my family’s honor.

  “You have a much greater burden, and one that has shifted slightly. You’ve been born to privilege, whereas I was a moisture farmer’s brat. My parents were no one; yours saved a galaxy, and continue to serve it. In that service they made enemies, and you’re smart enough to know that once your mother left power, her enemies set about weakening her image, and that of the Jedi.”