Inferno

by Troy Denning

  Krova’s voice came over the comm. “The Jedi are ready to launch, Colonel.”

  “All of them?” Caedus asked. “Master Skywalker, too?”

  There was a brief silence while Krova consulted the hangar chief, then she said, “Master Skywalker is the one making the report.”

  “That was quick,” Caedus said, raising his brow. “Are the Hapans in position?”

  “Opening fire now,” Krova reported. “But Admiral Bwua’tu’s plan doesn’t call for the StealthXs to attack until the Bothans turn to meet the Hapans. He feels the added element of confusion will—”

  “I’m aware of the battle plan, Lieutenant.” Caedus focused his Force-awareness deep inside the Anakin Solo’s belly, where he felt a snarl of angry Jedi presences. Deciding it would be better to have them dodging missiles and turbolaser volleys than sitting idle and stewing about his authority, he said, “And Master Skywalker is aware of the plan, as well. Let him launch.”

  Krova acknowledged the order, and a moment later Caedus felt the Jedi moving away from the Anakin Solo. Realizing it would soon be time for him to coordinate their attack with Admiral Bwua’tu, Caedus grabbed his meditation chair in the Force and discovered that he could not turn it back toward the battle. No matter how hard he exerted himself, it would not budge.

  Krova reported that the Hapans had sealed the Confederation’s escape route and were now fully engaged.

  Caedus gave up on the chair—he couldn’t see anything useful through the bubble anyway—and dropped into the seat facing away from the battle. Instead of leaving his legs stretched out in front of him as they had been before, he drew his knees up to his chest and felt no less foolish.

  Krova reported that the Bothans were turning to engage the Hapan Home Fleet. The First and Seventh fleets began to press the flanks, trying to squeeze them into a crossfire, and the Confederation fought desperately to hold position, dealing as much death as they suffered. Caedus closed his eyes and did his best to grasp the battle in all its complexity, nudging a task force commander forward here, warning off a Star Destroyer captain there, always keeping track of the Jedi StealthXs creeping along the edges of the fight toward the Bothan fleet.

  Finally, Krova patched Bwua’tu’s gravelly voice through directly to Caedus. “Congratulations, Colonel. The time has come to end this war. Send in the StealthXs, please.”

  “My pleasure,” Caedus replied. “And, Admiral?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for your loyalty.”

  “That’s nothing to thank me for, sir,” Bwua’tu replied. “A krevi can’t be broken, no matter who takes command.”

  “All the same, I’m glad to have you on our side.”

  As Caedus spoke, he reached out to the Jedi, urging them to attack. They responded with a wave of anger even greater than what he had sensed in the hangar, and their presences began to grow noticeably weaker as their StealthXs accelerated away at full power.

  To Caedus’s alarm, the Jedi presences continued to grow weaker, entirely bypassing the Bothans and shooting out through the Hapan Home Fleet toward the fringes of the Kuat system. Finally, they vanished altogether.

  A moment later, Bwua’tu’s voice came over the comm. “Where are those StealthXs, Colonel? If the Bothan core doesn’t start collapsing soon, this is going to turn into the longest, bloodiest battle since the Yuuzhan Vong took Coruscant.”

  Caedus was too shocked, too angry, to answer immediately. The Jedi had deserted him—worse, they had betrayed him, deliberately misled him without regard for what it would do to the Alliance.

  “Colonel?” Bwua’tu demanded. “I can’t press the attack until the Jedi strike.”

  “What happens if you do?” Caedus asked. “Press the attack without the Jedi, I mean?”

  Bwua’tu was silent for only a moment. “We lost our StealthXs?”

  “My questions first, Admiral,” Caedus said sharply. “Can we do this without them?”

  This time, it didn’t take even a moment for Bwua’tu to answer. “It’s possible,” he said. “But I wouldn’t want to try it. We’ve lost our big advantage—and if we lose here, we lose everything.”

  “I see.”

  If Caedus ordered Bwua’tu to press the attack anyway, he would be gambling with the lives of Tenel Ka and Allana—and growing up in the Solo household, he had learned enough about high-stakes gambling to know that only a fool risks everything without a big edge.

  “Then I’m afraid we can no longer press the attack, Admiral.” Caedus went cold inside. “The Jedi have betrayed us.”

  twelve

  Despite a brisk wind, and the lush tang of wroshyr pollen it carried, the musky smell of so many Wookiees gathered for so long in such a small place was … overpowering. Not sickening, but certainly dizzying. As Leia followed Han through the jungle of roaring fur that was the Rock Council, it took an act of will just to continue breathing. She did not bother trying to remain steady on her feet. The way she and Han were being bounced around by shifting hips and flying elbows, that was a lost cause.

  A particularly large elbow, descending from a ferocious cheer, crashed down on Leia’s shoulder and drove her to her knees. She didn’t cry out—Saba had broken her of that particular urge by rapping her on the head until she learned to accept pain silently—but it didn’t prevent the elbow’s owner from scowling down to see what kind of critter he had just smashed.

  “No harm.” Leia rose and rotated her arm. “See? It still works.”

  The Wookiee, a lanky male with graying fur, narrowed a pair of silvery eyes and growled something in a dialect Leia might have understood, had she been able to hear it over the howls of approval rolling across Council Rock. She chided herself silently, thinking she had allowed her concentration to slip. The Solos’ furlough from their weeklong stay in jail was not exactly authorized; without a Force mask suggesting they actually belonged here, Leia worried that it would only be a matter of moments before they were seized and returned to their cell.

  “There’s no need for concern,” she said, waving her hand between them. Wookiees were rarely weak-minded, but she had nothing to lose by trying. “We’ve come to hear the—”

  “No problem,” Han interrupted, addressing himself to the Wookiee. “It was an accident.”

  He grabbed Leia by the hand and softly hissed, “He’s just apologizing.” He pulled her between a pair of furry torsos, then added, “And cut out the Force stuff already. That isn’t allowed here.”

  “We’re not allowed here,” Leia said, squeezing to his side. “We’re supposed to be in jail, remember?”

  Han shook his head. “We’re supposed to be in jail when Waroo gets back from lunch,” he said. “Didn’t you hear him?”

  Leia frowned. “I thought I had,” she said. “Didn’t he say, You’d better be here when I get back?”

  “That’s exactly what he said—not You’d better still be here or You’d better not go anywhere or Don’t use the Force to open that lock while I’m gone.” Han shook his head, then added, “Sometimes I wonder how you ever made it as a diplomat.”

  “He let us escape?” Leia asked. “I thought Wookiees had an honor code.”

  “They do,” Han said. “And only Wookiees understand it.”

  They finally reached the center of Council Rock, emerging from the crowd at the foot of a natural basalt dais standing half again as tall as a man. Atop the pedestal, a dome-muzzled male paced back and forth, roaring at the crowd and waving a meter-long mandible lined with hooked fangs. Leia could make out enough of what the Wookiee was saying to realize he was evoking memories of the galaxy’s fractured response to the Yuuzhan Vong, assuring his fellow delegates that they were making the best decision for Kashyyyk and the Alliance.

  “Han, I think the debate’s over,” Leia said, using a Force whisper to project her voice into his ear. “That’s not an argument he’s making, it’s a pep talk.”

  “Then we’ll just have to start a new debate.”


  “What about Waroo?” Leoa was reading Han’s lips as much as she was hearing him. “Wookiee debates take forever, and he’ll be in more trouble than we are if we’re not there when his relief comes.”

  “So he won’t ask for relief. Why do you think they picked Waroo to guard us in the first place?” Han turned toward Leia and stepped in close. “Besides, we’ll be back in jail before you know it. This won’t take long.”

  Leia scowled. “What won’t take long?”

  Han jerked a thumb at the Wookiee on the Council Rock. “You see that tyrossum jaw he’s holding?”

  “How could anyone miss it?”

  “If I want the floor, I’ve got to take it from him.” Han reached into Leia’s pocket and pulled her hold-out blaster—among the weapons Lumpawaroo had left conveniently unguarded when he went to lunch—then hid it between them as he changed the setting to stun. “Without using any weapons.”

  Leia put her hand over the blaster. “Then what’s this for?”

  “If I cheat, they have to stop this debate to decide whether I’ve violated the Rock Council rules,” Han said. “And then they’ll have to settle on a fitting punishment. The whole thing should take about a month if I can get ’em good and stirred up.”

  “Han, I’m not sure that’s really a solution,” Leia said. The more she heard about the idea, the less she liked it. “From what Waroo said, the battle at kuat is going to last a lot longer than a month.”

  Han shrugged. “You got a better idea?”

  “In all likelihood.” Leia slipped off her outer robe and unclipped her lightsaber, then pushed them both into Han’s arms. “Hold these.”

  Han’s eyes widened. “Leia, you can’t do—”

  His warning was lost to the general din as Leia Force-sprang onto the top of the rock. She landed beside the dome-muzzled Wookiee a couple of meters away—and still almost caught a face full of fangs as he swung the tyrossum jaw in a sweeping, cheer-rousing arc. Leia saved herself—or at least her good looks—by cartwheeling to the forward edge of the platform.

  By the time she returned to her feet, the tumult was quieting to a confused murmur, and the speaker was cocking his head with an expression that seemed equal parts confusion and apology. His face fur was dappled with gray flecks and his fangs were rounded with age, yet he still looked like he could lift a landspeeder as easily as he could a human woman who stood barely as high as his waist.

  Leia pointed at the huge jawbone he held. “If you can’t be careful with that thing,” she said, “maybe it would better if I held on to it.”

  The Wookiee grew even more bewildered, pushing his head forward as though he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. The rest of the Rock Council caught Leia’s meaning instantly and erupted into peals of booming laughter. At the foot of the rock, Han shielded his eyes as though he couldn’t bear to watch what was about to happen—but he was peeking between his fingers, and the tip of Leia’s holdout blaster was poking out of the robe folded over his arm.

  Leia shrugged off Han’s lack of confidence as simple overprotectiveness and stepped toward the Wookiee. “You heard me. Hand it over.”

  Finally seeming to realize that he was being challenged, the Wookiee raised the jawbone over his head—about a meter out of Leia’s reach—then shook his head and taunted her with a fang-filled grin. Another peal of laughter rumbled across Council Rock, and a handful of voices began to yowl warnings not to let Han’s bedmate do to him what Han’s shipmate had done to his son.

  Leia glanced down at Han. “This is old Tojjelnoot?”

  Han pulled his hand away from his eyes and nodded. “Who’d you think would be closing the council?”

  “Great.” Leia looked back to old Tojjelnoot, who was now eyeing her like something he intended to eat at his next meal. “All I have to do is take that jawbone from him, and then I get to talk?”

  “For as long as you hold on to it,” Han answered. “Just don’t kill him. The last thing we need right now is a bunch of Tojjes following us all over the galaxy.”

  “No promises.” Leia winked. “He’s big.”

  A hint of uncertainty flashed through Tojjelnoot’s eyes. Leia raced straight at him, and he finally seemed to realize she really did intend to bowl him over. He snorted in contempt and raised his free hand to slap her aside.

  Leia dived under the blow, then planted her hands a meter in front of him and launched herself into a handspring. Both heels hit square in his stomach.

  Tojjelnoot would probably have fallen even without the Force, but Saba had drilled into Leia the folly of taking unnecessary chances in any combat. She waited until her legs had extended fully, then added just enough power to be certain the Wookiee would go down.

  Tojjelnoot dropped to his seat gasping, groaning, and clutching at his stomach. Leia pushed into a forward roll, then pirouetted around and retrieved the jawbone from where it had clattered to the floor.

  Wookiee voice immediately began to boom both approval and accusations of Force-cheating. Leia allowed the tumult to continue for a moment, then used the Force to project her voice over the uproar.

  “I wasn’t supposed to use the Force?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “Is it against the rules?”

  The roaring grew more unified as the entire council assured her that using the Force was completely against the rules. The Talking Bone had to be taken without the use of claw, weapon, or fang, and the Force was clearly a weapon. Tojjelnoot stopped groaning long enough to add that Force use was totally forbidden on Council Rock—Han should have told her that.

  Leia put on an expression of contrition and faced Tojjelnoot, who was still struggling to sit upright. She offered the jawbone to him.

  “I wouldn’t want to cheat,” she said. “Shall we go again?”

  Tojjelnoot’s eyes flashed with alarm and anger—then began to twinkle with appreciation as Leia used the Force to gently pull him to his feet so he wouldn’t appear quite so defeated. He turned to Han and grunted that Han should have explained the rules before bringing his mate here, then motioned for Leia to keep the jawbone and slipped off the rock.

  “Thank you—that’s very generous.” She turned her attention back to the rest of the council. “And when someone else wants to take the floor, I promise not to use the Force on them, either.”

  This drew a chorus of approving guffaws. Leia waited for quiet, then continued in a deliberately soft voice.

  “You all know me,” she began. “You all know who my son is, and I daresay you all know of the trouble between him and my husband and me.”

  A murmur of sympathetic agreement rumbled through the crowd.

  “It is a sad sign of our times that many families are divided like mine, separated not by selfish interests or conflicting loyalties or even necessity, but by deeply held principles. I know Jacen holds his principles even more deeply than Han and I hold ours, even more deeply than his own life, because that’s what it would take to make him fire on the falcon.”

  The incident could hardly be news to the council, since it had been reported throughout the Alliance as proof of the colonel’s uncompromising dedication to duty. But among the family-oriented Wookiees, it remained enough of a controversy to draw a chorus of snorts and snarls.

  “But holding principles deeply doesn’t make a being right—and it doesn’t make what he’s doing right.” The snorts began to grow indignant, but Leia pressed on, knowing she had to make her point quick and hard before someone grew angry enough to challenge her. “And that’s what I’m here to talk to you about.

  “Jacen Solo, my son, has seized power in an immoral coup—”

  The floor erupted into a deafening storm of objections. Unable to make herself heard without using the Force, she banged the heavy jawbone down on the dais—and only felt more ignored.

  After the uproar had continued for more than a minute, Tojjelnoot hopped up and politely held out his hand for the jawbone. Seeing that the thing was doing her no good anyway, Leia passed
it over. He went to the edge of the rock and slammed the flat side into the shoulder of the nearest Wookiee, roaring for him to respect the bone, then repeated the process twice more.

  Finally, the tumult began to subside. Tojjelnoot boomed something in Xaczik that instantly silenced the crowd … and made Han wince.

  Leia knelt at the edge of the rock. “What did he say?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure, exactly,” Han said sheepishly. “Do I look like a Wookiee?”

  “Only in the morning,” Leia said. “And don’t dodge my question.”

  “Okay, okay,” Han said. “He threatened to let you use the Force on the rock—said nobody would shut you up then, judging by the speeches you used to make as Chief of State.”

  Leia was still trying to decide whether to be offended or grateful when Tojjelnoot appeared at her side, holding out the jawbone. She accepted with an ingratiating smile and returned to the center of the rock.

  Leia had barely started to speak again before a nasal Sullustan voice rose from somewhere deep in the crowd.

  “Stop! Don’t listen … that woman. It’s illegal!”

  Leia glanced down at Han, but saw that sending him to silence Juun would be hopeless. Even if he could find the Sullustan in the middle of that jungle of fur out there, it would take several minutes to reach him. She decided to try the Wookiee approach and simply shout down her heckler.

  “As I was saying, Colonel Jacen Solo and Admiral Cha Niathal have seized power in an immoral and illegal coup—”

  “It was perfectly legal!” Juun yelled from about twenty meters back. “Under an amendment to the Emergency Measures Act, GAG has the authority to detain heads of state, politicians, and any other individuals believed to present a risk to the security of the Galactic Alliance.”