Inferno

by Troy Denning

  “Commander, I hope you’re not advocating an unprovoked attack on a current member world of the Galactic Alliance,” Caedus said. “As far as we know, all the Wookiees have done is listen to the Jedi deserters. They haven’t betrayed us yet.”

  “So you’re not going to attack?” Ben sounded more confused than he did relieved. “Then why did we pull the Fifth Fleet out of the Core?”

  “To give the Wookiees an opportunity to do the right thing.” Caedus turned to Twizzl, who was looking increasingly perplexed and unhappy. “You have your orders, Commander. Tell the Owools we’ve come for the prisoners, and we’ll depart as soon as we have them.”

  Twizzl’s eyes hardened in disapproval, but he nodded and stepped over to his communications officer’s station.

  Ben wasn’t so easily persuaded. “This is only going to make things worse, Ja—er, Colonel. They’re not going to turn Uncle Han and Aunt Leia over to you.”

  “Of course not—they’re Wookiees,” Caedus said. “They’re too stubborn. But when they refuse, we’ll have justification to proceed.”

  “After their fleet is deployed.” Ben’s tone was growing more desperate, but he was hiding his presence from the Force—a sign that he was finally gathering himself to strike. “We’ll never capture it then. They’ll fight until the last vessel is slagged.”

  “True.” Caedus knew that if Ben tried to kill him now, the youth would be acting for noble reasons, trying to save thousands of lives by ending one. Reasons didn’t matter, though; actions did. The mere attempt would be the catalyst that moved Ben to the next stage. “But we didn’t come here to capture the Kashyyyk fleet.”

  Ben contemplated this a moment, then asked, “You’re serious about taking the prisoners back?”

  “Of course not,” Caedus said. “We’re here because this is what’s going to keep the Confederation from capturing Kuat and moving on to Coruscant.”

  Ben fell silent again, staring out the bridge viewport, where the Owools had swelled into gleaming dots with sickle-shaped bows. Finally, he gave up and shook his head.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Good.” Caedus stepped over to join Twizzl at the communications station, presenting his back to Ben—and inviting the youth to take his vengeance. “Neither will the Confederation.”

  When no attack came, Caedus began to wonder if he had misjudged his young cousin. Ben still believed him to be Mara’s killer—that was obvious by how carefully he kept his feelings masked—so why wouldn’t he attack? He certainly had the courage, or he would never have come back to Caedus in the first place. Nor could it be moral qualms. Ben might have been able to assassinate Dur Gejjen and convince himself he was still acting ethically, but not so with Cal Omas. He had killed the former chief simply to provide a cover when he returned to the Anakin Solo, and that required the heart of an assasin. Mara would have been proud.

  So why didn’t he act?

  Two steps later, Caedus found himself next to Twizzl behind the communications officer, listening to the voice of the Wookiee squadron commander and feeling betrayed by his cousin’s failure.

  The comm officer—a Bith female with ebony eyes as large as Caedus’s palms—was listening to a translation in a comlink earpiece.

  “Colonel Solo, they’re saying they don’t have any—”

  “It’s not necessary to translate. I’ve understood Shyriiwook since I was five.” Caedus leaned over her shoulder and keyed the mike. “We’re here for Han and Leia Solo and the Jedi deserters. If you’re having trouble with the Jedi deserters, we’re prepared to assist. That’s why we brought a fleet.”

  The squadron leader rumbled a denial, claiming the Solos had escaped, and the Jedi had not even come to Kashyyyk.

  “Wookiees shouldn’t lie. It’s not in your genetic code.”

  Caedus glanced at Ben. Perhaps the youth hadn’t attacked yet because he had been sent to lead the Anakin Solo into a Jedi ambush. But when Ben nodded and confirmed that he had been instructed to rendezvous at Kashyyyk, Caedus thought of his Allana and how much she meant to him. With Mara dead, would Luke ever send Ben on such a dangerous mission?

  Caedus turned back to the microphone. “Our information is solid,” he said. “If you’re saying the Solos are no longer your prisoners, then Kashyyyk has betrayed the Alliance, or the Jedi are holding the planet hostage. Either way, we’ll be forced to attack.”

  The Wookiee replied that he would check with his superiors, and the channel fell silent. As Caedus and the others waited for a reply, the Anakin Solo continued to decelerate. The Fifth Fleet began to form up around her, deploying starfighter pickets and positioning its aging Star Destroyers with overlapping fields of fire. The Owool squadron continued to approach, swelling from sickle-nosed dots into fork-prowed wedges.

  Finally, the Wookiee’s voice came over the speaker again, insisting the colonel had been misinformed. No Solos were being held on Kashyyyk, and they had no problem with any Jedi deserters.

  “That’s what I like about you Wookiees,” Caedus replied. “You never hide where you stand.”

  He had barely deactivated the mike before Twizzl began to issue orders, preparing to resume the advance.

  “That won’t be necessary, Commander,” Caedus said. “The planet is already within range of the Anakin Solo’s long-range turbolasers, is it not?”

  Twizzl’s bushy brows dropped so low that they nearly covered his eyes. “Of course, but the Kashyyyk fleet is—”

  “Unimportant.” Caedus faced Twizzl, presenting his back to Ben again. If the order he was about to give did not prompt his cousin to attack, then nothing would. “Have the long-range batteries open fire.”

  Twizzl’s face went slack with confusion. “On the Owools?”

  “On the planet.” As Caedus spoke, he was careful to keep his hand away from his lightsaber. He wanted to give his cousin every chance to attack; if Ben did not strike soon, he would have to be eliminated as unworthy. “Have them direct their fire to the same target area; the objective is to create a firestorm.”

  Caedus’s command was greeted by utter silence, and he could feel the Force reverberating with the shock of the officers and crew who had overheard the command. Only Ben failed to seem surprised—though perhaps it was because he was still hiding his presence from the Force. Jacen continued to face Twizzl, giving the youth plenty of time to strike.

  After a couple of moments, Twizzl finally seemed able to respond. “You want to burn the wroshyrs?”

  “Precisely,” Caedus said. “The entire world-forest if we can.”

  Twizzl’s expression changed from stunned to condemning. “But that’s … that’s just madness. It won’t accomplish anything!”

  “That’s not your conclusion to reach, Commander,” Caedus replied. Giving the order wasn’t easy—in fact, it made him feel sick. As a child, he had both loved and respected Chewbacca, and the last thing he wanted to do was burn the homeworld of his friend and protector. But the Wookiees had brought this disaster on themselves by betraying the Galactic Alliance. “However, just this once, I will explain myself to you.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Colonel.” Twizzl’s tone suggested that the explanation would need to be a good one, if Caedus expected him to obey. “Thank you.”

  “Very well. You were at the Battle of Kuat, so you know how evenly matched our militaries are.”

  Twizzl nodded. “The Confederation will have to break off soon,” he said. “They can’t match the Alliance in a war of attrition.”

  “And we can’t afford one,” Caedus countered. “We’re already too weak to defend all the worlds under our protection, and the Confederation knows it. So you’re wrong—they’re not going to withdraw. They’re going to keep fighting and hope we’ll withdraw, which we can’t do. It would leave a clear lane all the way to Coruscant.”

  “So we’re in a stalemate,” Ben said, disappointing Caedus by stepping toward him—not to attack, but to join the conversation. “How’s burning
Kashyyyk going to change that?”

  Unable to hide his frustration, Caedus whirled on the boy. “Think, Ben. What do we both need to break the stalemate? What are we losing here and the Confederation gaining?”

  Ben recoiled from the venom in Caedus’s voice, but he answered quickly. “Allies.”

  “Correct.” Caedus placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, but he was so angry he had to stop himself from drawing back and striking the youth. “And if the Confederation hopes to make an ally of the Wookiees, what must they do?”

  Twizzl’s eyes lit with angry comprehension. “Come to Kashyyyk’s defense.”

  “Which means they have to abandon their drive on Coruscant,” Ben finished. “And burning the forests is going to provoke a lot more public outrage than just capturing the Kashyyyk assault fleet. If the Confederation doesn’t help the Wookiees, they’re going to have trouble recruiting more worlds. It’ll look like they don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

  “Right again,” Caedus said.

  “But who’ll want to join us?” Twizzl demanded. “We’re going to look like monsters.”

  Caedus smiled. “Exactly, Commander. Worlds will tremble at the thought of deserting us. If we’re willing to burn the Kashyyyk forest as punishment, who knows what we might do to them?”

  Twizzl’s mouth dropped in horror, and he stared at Caedus without saying anything.

  “I have grown weary of waiting, Commander,” Caedus said. “Will you relay my order now, or do I need to appoint a new commander?”

  The threat was enough to shake Twizzl out of his daze. “That won’t be necessary, Colonel. I see no military reason to disregard your orders—your rationale seems as sound as it does chilling.”

  Caedus dipped his chin in mock gratitude. “I’m glad you approve, Commander.”

  The blood drained from Twizzl’s face, and he turned to relay the order.

  Caedus glanced over and found Ben’s expression as unreadable as his Force presence. The order to burn Kashyyyk had to be eating the boy up inside, but even that wasn’t enough to make him strike. Caedus returned to the tactical holodisplay and didn’t bother giving Ben another chance. If setting the wroshyrs ablaze didn’t make the boy act, nothing would.

  “This will make the Wookiees go nova,” Ben said, sticking as close to Caedus as he had years earlier, when he was just a child starting to overcome his fear of the Force. “Where do you want me?”

  “At my side will be fine.”

  It was a struggle for Caedus to keep the sadness out of his voice; it pained him to think of what he would soon have to do, but there was no avoiding it. Even if Ben didn’t have the courage to strike today, one day he would—and under less controlled circumstances.

  “I’ll need you close when the fighting starts,” Caedus said. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for StealthXs.”

  “Yeah,” Ben said. “The plasma will really splash the shields when the Anakin Solo opens fire.”

  The viewport tinting dimmed as four ribbons of brilliance flashed from the tip of the Anakin Solo’s bow and streaked toward the dark ovoid of the planet’s night side. A wave of shock and fear rippled through the Force from the direction of the Owool squadron, then quickly changed to confusion as the Wookiees realized the attack had not been directed at them. When the turbolaser bolts burned through Kashyyyk’s atmosphere and blossomed into a pinpoint of scarlet flame, the confusion changed to disbelief.

  The batteries flashed again, striking in the same place and enlarging the pinpoint to a flickering red speck. The disbelief changed to rage, then—as the turbolasers flashed a third time—to seething resolve. Caedus saw the Owools dip their prows toward the Anakin Solo’s bow, then lost sight of them when the turbolasers fired again.

  Twizzl stepped to the holodisplay, dutifully placing himself at Caedus’s side—opposite Ben—despite the fear and revulsion he was radiating into the Force.

  “Assessment is estimating a forest fire half a kilometer square and growing,” he reported. “I’ve instructed them to change target areas every time they reach a self-perpetuating threshold.”

  “Well done,” Caedus replied. “We don’t want the Wookiees undoing our hard work.”

  “Maybe it would be smart to target a city or two,” Ben said. “That way we can keep their fire-suppression teams busy trying to save populated areas.”

  Twizzl’s jaw fell, and he looked past Caedus at Ben with a look of loathing and incredulity, as though he could not quite believe the thoughts that sprouted in teenage minds.

  “Excellent idea, Lieutenant.” Caedus turned to Twizzl. “Pass it along to fire control, Commander.”

  “As you wish.” Twizzl started to turn away—then stopped, scowled at the tactical display, and looked to an ensign standing on the opposite side of the holopad. “What happened to the Owools?”

  “I think they got in the way of a turbolaser strike, sir,” sang the ensign, a waist-high Bimm female with floppy ears and blond fur. “They were there before the last strike, then they were just … gone.”

  Caedus’s heart rose into his throat. He could still feel the Wookiees’ rage burning in the Force. “That’s not what happened,” he said. “They’re still there. I sense them coming.”

  Twizzl returned to Caedus’s side and slapped the activation switch of a shipwide comm. “Incoming starfighters! Arm the cluster bombs and activate the auto cannons, all ship-defense systems fire at will!”

  The Bimm aide laid her ears out flat. “I don’t understand. Do Owools have stealth—”

  “No,” Caedus interrupted. “They’re riding the stripe.”

  The Bimm looked more confused than ever. “Riding the—”

  “Using our own turbolaser strikes for cover,” Ben explained. “It’s an old Jedi trick. The flash-static prevents our sensors from locating them, and since our own fighters have to keep clear of the firing lane—”

  “Only Jedi can fly like that,” Twizzl interrupted, having finished with his shipwide alert. “If we’re facing Jedi—”

  “We’re not.” Just to be certain, Caedus concentrated his Force-awareness on the presence of the Owool pilots. “Unless one of those Wookiees is …”

  Caedus let the thought trail off and began to concentrate on individual pilots, searching for one in particular, one he would certainly recognize … and then he found it, a Force-sensitive presence he had known since childhood.

  “Of course!”

  Caedus’s exclamation of recognition was reflected by an explosion of rage and bewilderment in the Force, and he could almost hear Lowbacca roaring in the cockpit of his Owool, demanding to know how his old classmate could betray their friendship so terribly.

  And, for a moment, Caedus became Jacen once again, filled with sorrow for what he had become, yet still knowing how necessary it all was. It was the only way to bring order to a galaxy that fed on strife and war, the only way to create a home where his daughter and the daughters of all his allies and enemies would one day be able to grow up in peace and security.

  Jacen opened himself to the Force and reached out to Lowie, inviting his old friend to join a battle-meld of a different sort—one filled with regret and apology. Lowie responded, again wanting to know why, again trying to impress on Jacen that he did not have to do this, that perhaps they could still find a way to be friends …

  That was when Jacen located his old classmate in the Force and felt him coming up under the Anakin Solo’s bow. He also felt the presences of non-Jedi Wookiee pilots blinking out as the Star Destoyer’s cluster bombs and auto cannons did their work. And for an instant he sensed the weight of a shadow bomb in Lowbacca’s Force grasp.

  Sorry, Jacen thought, and then he was Caedus again, breaking the meld so he could turn to warn Twizzl. “It’s Lowbacca, coming up—”

  Caedus did not feel what came next, not really. He simply realized a bolt of danger sense was sizzling down his spine and whirled away from the holodisplay, then felt the heat of a lightsaber b
rush across his ribs as Ben’s blade snapped to life and buried itself in the torso of Commander Twizzl.

  Suddenly the air was filled with the stench of scorched flesh—both Caedus’s and Twizzl’s—and Ben was gasping in shock and guilt and still attacking despite it all, slicing Twizzl’s torso half off as he swung his blade back toward Caedus, stepping in close to be certain of the kill.

  It might have been Lowbacca’s shadow bomb or Caedus’s own swift reflexes that saved his life. He doubted that either he or anyone else would ever know. The Anakin Solo simply bucked beneath his feet, then he saw Ben’s lightsaber sweep past his face and slammed down hard and found himself lying on the deck with everyone else. His vision narrowed and his ears rang. How terribly he had underestimated his young cousin! How patiently Ben had bided his time, willing to sacrifice Kashyyyk’s forest, Commander Twizzl, even his own life—all to make certain he killed Caedus.

  Maybe there was hope for the boy after all.

  With no time to snatch his own weapon off his belt, Caedus lashed out, loosing a bolt of Force lightning that sent Ben tumbling across the floor in a smoking, convulsing heap. He summoned the boy’s lightsaber to hand, then sprang to his feet amid the wreckage that—until a moment ago—had been the Anakin Solo’s flight deck. Corpses lay strewn everywhere, especially toward the front of the cabin where Lowbacca’s shadow bomb had breached the viewport—or so he assumed from the crushed body parts lying at the base of the lowered blast curtain.

  Caedus stepped over to Ben. The youth was already starting to recover from the Force lightning, straightening his curled limbs and taking short gasps of air. Ignoring the Bimm ensign who reached out for help, Caedus squatted next to his young cousin and nodded in approval.

  “Not bad.” He had to use the Force to make himself heard over the blaring damage alarms and the screams of the wounded. “Artfully done, even.”

  Ben’s eyes rolled toward Caedus, filled with anger and hate. “Just … finish it.”