Inferno

by Troy Denning

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then Atoko’s voice asked, “Battle through Colonel?”

  “Of course,” Caedus said. “You don’t expect them to let us pass without a fight, do you?”

  “Well … yes, that’s exactly what I expect,” Atoko said.

  Caedus scowled at the datapad. On the little display, the cluster of new arrivals was growing denser by the second, rendering the designator codes more unreadable than ever. Now that he studied it more carefully, the Corellian fleet was moving too abruptly—and too far—to simply be making room. They were worried about crossfire.

  Caedus tapped a key, enlarging the image so much that the new arrivals vanished from the display, and he found himself looking at a detailed schematic of the Fifth’s battle deployment.

  Orlopp quietly took the datapad from his hands. “It’s our side,” he said quietly. “Those are Novas and Battle Dragons arriving.”

  “The Hapans?” Caedus gasped.

  “Colonel Solo still seems rather confused,” the MD droid said to Qilqu. “It’s imperative that we declare him unfit for duty.”

  Caedus was so relieved he did not even flip the droid’s circuit breaker. He simply spoke into the wall comm again.

  “My apologies, Admiral. You’re quite right. Let’s make for the Hapans. I’ll be in contact again as soon as I return to the bridge and have access to proper battle intelligence.”

  Caedus picked up his utility belt, then motioned for Orlopp to follow and left the infirmary feeling more cheerful inside than he had in ages. His parents had turned the Wookiees against him, his classmate Lowbacca had hurled a shadow bomb at him, his uncle had nearly killed him, and his cousin had planted a vibrodagger so near his heart that the handle had twitched in time to his pulse.

  But Tenel Ka had come to his rescue. She had proven once again that he could always count on her; that no matter what he asked of her, she was willing to do more. Because she believed. She understood what he was trying to do for the galaxy … for her and Allana … and she knew it could not be done without risk and sacrifice. Perhaps one day, after he had won this war and brought a just peace to the galaxy perhaps then they would no longer need to hide their relationship—perhaps they would even be able to perform their duties from the same world and live together like a normal family.

  Caedus opened himself to the Force long enough to reach out to her in thanks—and was astonished to find her not far away on Hapes, but nearby with her fleet. She had come to his aid personally. He was not certain that he approved of her taking part in battles. Who would protect Allana if something happened to her? But he was touched, and he flooded his gratitude into the Force.

  Tenel Ka’s presence turned sad and lonely underneath. At the same time, she seemed to be urging patience, reaching out in invitation, and he realized she wanted to talk. Afraid that something had happened to their daughter, he reached out and found Allana where she should be—far, far away, happy and presumably safe.

  Caedus replied to Tenel Ka by filling his presence with curiosity, then snapped his comlink off his utility belt and opened a channel to his communications officer, Lieutenant Krova.

  “Queen Mother Tenel Ka needs to talk to me,” he said. “Prepare a secure channel to the Dragon Queen and contact me when you have her.”

  “Right away, Colonel,” Krova said. “But it will take a short time to match our scrambling protocols. The Hapans have not been very forthcoming—”

  “I’m aware of the difficulties,” Caedus said. “I won’t hold you responsible for the delay.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. I’ll ping you when we have Her Majesty on the channel.”

  By then, they were leaving the infirmary. The corridor outside was packed with two very different kinds of casualties: those who were going to die no matter how quickly they reached a bacta tank, and those who would most likely survive until they were transported to one of the Anakin Solo’s other infirmaries. There were few beings with only minor injuries.

  As Caedus squeezed through the crowded corridor, with a battered face and bandaged head, he could feel the admiration of the Anakin Solo’s crew for his courage and dedication. But he also sensed their fear of his brutality, and their resentment of the callous way he was spending their lives. They did not love him as did the Coruscanti public, but they were in awe of him, and as long as Caedus remained confident in himself and his mission, he felt certain they would follow him into the Core itself.

  It took a full minute before they reached a corridor that wasn’t jammed with casualties and medical droids, and another thirty seconds to reach a shooter station. They descended a short ramp, stepped into a crew car, and announced their destination, then allowed the onboard brain to scan their retinas to establish their identity and security clearances. A moment later, the car lurched into motion, dropping down a blue durasteel tunnel into the network of shooter tubes—horizontal repulsors—that whirred and rattled personnel and equipment through the Anakin Solo’s immense length.

  Caedus settled back in his seat, sinking into his pain, and was surprised at how much he just wanted to sleep. The fight with Luke had drained him, of course, but this exhaustion was emotional and spiritual. He was growing ever more isolated as his friends and family deserted him and his followers began to see him as something more than human. There was no one around him with whom he could share his feelings as he had once done with Jaina, or seek advice from as he had once done with Luke, Or turn to for unconditional support as he had once done with his parents.

  Now there was only Tenel Ka, who was all those things to him during their brief trysts, and the hope that one day they could be together always. Caedus closed his eyes and let his mind drift into the future, not seeing it through the Force but imagining it with his heart.

  That was when his comlink pinged for attention. When he checked the display and saw that Krova already had a channel open to Tenel Ka, his weariness vanished, and even the pain of his injuries began to diminish.

  He activated the mike, then said, “Queen Mother, what a pleasant surprise. I knew the Alliance could count on you.”

  “The Alliance, yes, Jacen,” she said, using his name instead of his title to signal that their conversation would be personal. Caedus didn’t like the old name—it reminded him of the timidity and indecision that had been his weakness as a younger man—but she wouldn’t understand being asked to call him by his Sith name … at least not yet. “But I am afraid that is no longer true for you.”

  “What?” Caedus’s heart did not sink, nor did his anger well up inside him, because he simply did not believe what he was hearing. “Our signal must have gotten scrambled. It sounded like you said I can’t count on you.”

  “I’m afraid you heard correctly.” Tenel Ka’s voice sounded as though it were cracking, though it was difficult to be certain over the tinny tones of a comlink—especially with the air hissing past as the little crew car whirred through the shooter tube. “In fact, I am asking for your surrender.”

  “My surrender?” Caedus began to worry that the MD droid had been right, that he truly was unfit to return to duty. “Can you hold on a second? I’ve got to check something out.”

  Without awaiting her reply, Caedus turned to Orlopp. “We are in a crew car on the way to the bridge, correct? I am speaking to Queen Mother Tenel Ka over the comlink, am I not?”

  “We are,” Orlopp said, nodding. “I’m sorry, Colonel, but you’re not hallucinating.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Even now, Caedus’s heart did not sink. This had to be a misunderstanding; once he explained his strategy to Tenel Ka, she would retract her request and resume full support. He reopened the channel. “Look, Tenel Ka, I can’t explain over a comm channel, but I had good reasons for slipping away from the Battle of Kuat.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Tenel Ka replied. “You always have good reasons for breaking your promises.”

  Caedus’s anger began to rise. “I was trying to save th
e Home Fleet—and much, much more. You’ll understand when I can explain.”

  “Perhaps so,” Tenel Ka said. “You might even be able to explain why you took control of the academy on Ossus after you promised to make peace with Master Skywalker. But how can you explain sending Ben to assassinate Chief Omas, Jacen? A fourteen-year-old boy?”

  “I didn’t,” Caedus said. “He misinterpreted a report and assumed—”

  “I am a Hapan queen,” Tenel Ka interrupted. “You won’t deceive me with equivocation, Jacen. It is an insult that you even try, and there can be no excuse for what you are doing to Kashyyyk. Setting the wroshyrs ablaze? What are you thinking?”

  “I am thinking the Wookiees betrayed us,” Caedus replied. “I am thinking that they brought this on themselves. Everything else, I can explain only in person.”

  “Good. I shall be looking forward to that,” Tenel Ka said. “You will instruct Admiral Atoko to follow my father’s orders, and I’ll send a skiff for you. Kindly present yourself unarmed.”

  “You’ll send a skiff?” Caedus fumed. “Tenel Ka, you can’t believe I’m going to surrender—to you or anyone else.”

  “I am hoping you will.” Tenel Ka’s voice was sad but firm. “Because it is going to break my heart to open fire on you.”

  Caedus’s rage exploded inside him, and his thoughts began to whirl in disbelief. He reached out to Tenel Ka in the Force, but found her aura drawn in tight, her presence unavailable to his touch.

  “Even you?” he gasped. “I thought you were made of stronger stuff, Tenel Ka. I thought you understood what I’m trying to accomplish.”

  “She’s plenty strong, kid,” said the familiar voice of Han Solo. “It’s killing her to do this—and I don’t get it. Personally, I’d just as soon blast you back to atoms and pretend you died in that fight with Onimi.”

  “Dad.” The word felt strange in Caedus’s mouth, as though he were using it to address someone else’s father. “I should have known you were behind this. I suppose Mom is there, too?”

  “Right beside him,” Leia confirmed. Her tone was resolute—but also sad. “Listen to Tenel Ka. I don’t want to see another son die.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Caedus said. “I wouldn’t think of dying before I make you pay for this—both of you.”

  “For what, Jacen?” Tenel Ka asked. “What have they done?”

  “They forced you into this.” Now Caedus understood. The only way to make Tenel Ka betray him would be some sort of coercion. “What are they doing? Threatening Allana? If they do anything to hurt her—”

  “Not our style, kid,” Han interrupted. “You did this all on your own. All we had to do was show up.”

  “Your father is telling the truth, Jacen,” Tenel Ka said. “Look into my heart, and you will know that the decision is mine alone.”

  Caedus felt her reaching out, opening her emotions to him. Her presence was filled with sorrow and anger and—most devastating—disappointment. There was love, too, but the kind of lost love that one carries for someone who has died or passed out of one’s life forever.

  Now Caedus’s heart sank, sank so far that it seemed to vanish into the cold emptiness he felt gathering inside him. The unthinkable had happened. Tenel Ka had deserted him, their love just one more offering to his Sith destiny. He knew the sacrifice would strengthen him eventually, as every sacrifice now strengthen him, but this time it did not feel that way. All Caedus felt now was angry, stunned, and abandoned.

  After a moment, Tenel Ka said, “I am asking you one last time, Jacen. Please don’t make me do this.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Caedus replied. “I have no choice.”

  He closed the channel and turned to find his aide already speaking into his own comlink.

  “… reinforce shields forward!” Orlopp was saying. “Expect fire from—”

  The order came to a crackling end as the Hapans’ first salvo hit, overloading the Anakin Solo’s shields and flooding the ship’s systems with dissipation static. The crew car slowed to a crawl as power was diverted to critical systems. The tunnel switched to emergency illumination, plunging Caedus and his aide into cold red twilight.

  Alema Rar had never seen a moon explode, but if she had, she felt sure it would have looked a lot like the Fifth Fleet did at that moment. With the enemy pummeling it from every side, the once-mighty fleet had drawn itself into a tight little bundle of mushrooming fire and flashing sheets of heat. The deaths were still panging through the Force in the dozens rather than the hundreds or the thousands, but that would soon change. The seam toward which the fleet was angling—between the Bothans and the Hapans—was closing fast, and Alema did not need a battle forecast to know it would be a death trap for any vessel that attempted to squeeze through.

  This was all the fault of those Darth Wannabes hiding on Korriban. They had made her wait three days so they could train her in the use of the meditation sphere and prepare their gift to Jacen.

  And what had their “gift” turned out to be? The Holocron of Darth Vectivus, filled with such pearls of wisdom as “Never borrow money from someone powerful enough to make you pay” and “Let your employees know you trust them … then watch them.” Who was this guy? Their bookkeeper?

  Ship reminded her that there were many forms of domination. Darth Vectivus had been a middle manager in a galactic mining conglomerate. He had controlled the lives of tens of thousands of laborers and accrued a vast personal fortune far in excess of his personal needs—or the capacity of his salary to provide.

  “And that will help Jacen conquer the galaxy how?” Alema demanded. “Not that it matters. Look at the mess he’s gotten himself into. If he doesn’t die, he’ll be the laughingstock of Coruscant. He’ll be as useful to us as this.”

  Alema hurled the Vectivus Holocron in the general direction of the battle. Ship formed a small pocket in the transparent wall and caught it, then informed her that the situation was hardly hopeless.

  “Look, we are very impressed with your plasma streams and antimatter pellets, but they aren’t enough to take on four fleets,” Alema said. “Are you mad?”

  Ship thought it probably was, since it was beginning to take a liking to her, but that was beside the point. The Emperor-to-Be was trying to break free; all they needed to do was open a hole for him.

  “Us and what fleet?”

  Choose one, Ship suggested. There are four.

  Alema lifted her brow. “We can take over an enemy fleet?” she gasped. “They didn’t tell us you could do that!”

  Control, not command, Ship clarified. And only because they have no meditation spheres of their own. They have no defense.

  Alema smiled. “It’s always best that way, isn’t it?”

  Caedus did not need battle meditation to know he had already lost the Fifth Fleet—and to know that only minutes remained before the Anakin Solo was lost as well. The turbolaser fire was coming not in blossoms or rolling barrages or even in sheets; it was simply there, filling every square centimeter of his observation bubble with fiery undying brilliance. The color flashed from red to gold to blue, depending on the angle of contact and the condition of the shields. But the intensity never wavered, and he knew that his own gunners had to be firing blind; even the Anakin Solo’s top-grade sensor filters were no match for this kind of blast-static.

  Still, Caedus felt a nagging hope, something pulling at him through the Force, urging him not to give up. He squeezed past his meditation chair—which had been turned to face outward but not yet repaired—then slipped over the arm into the seat. He began to concentrate on his breathing, clearing his mind of all extraneous thoughts so he could expand his battle awareness.

  Orlopp stepped up behind the chair and snuffled for attention.

  “Not now,” Caedus said. “I need to meditate.”

  “Of course you do,” Orlopp replied. “I just wanted to report that your StealthX is ready for launch.”

  “Thank you.”

 
Orlopp did not go away.

  “Is there something else?” Caedus asked.

  “Admiral Atoko is insisting that you give him permission to scuttle the fleet. He claims he has the authority to do it without your approval.”

  “Does he really think the Wookiees are going to board through that?” Caedus waved at the firestorm outside. He was tempted to grant permission, but he still felt that nagging hope, something pulling at him in the Force. “Tell him to hang on for two minutes. If he hasn’t heard from me by then, he’s free to do as he wishes.”

  “Very well,” Orlopp said—then continued to hover.

  “What?”

  “Your StealthX has room for only one person, Colonel,” he said. “How am I to escape?”

  “I’m trying to work on that now,” Caedus said. “But I need to meditate.”

  Orlopp retreated quickly and quietly.

  Caedus resumed his breathing exercise, expanding his Force-awareness to encompass his own fleet, then all fleets in the battle, and finally—when he still hadn’t located the source of his nagging hope—the entire theater of combat.

  The hope grew stronger, summoning him in the direction of the Bothan fleet, urging him to come toward it. Caedus’s first reaction was not one of doubt or suspicion. It was simply amazement. How could the Bothans think him foolish enough to fall for such a primitive ploy? They had obviously located a Force-user somewhere and assigned him to confuse Caedus’s battle meditations, just as Luke had done at Balmorra.

  Caedus ended his meditation and rose, turning his thoughts to the problem of Orlopp’s escape. The Jenet was a fine aide and one of the few subordinates courageous enough to speak frankly when the situation required. Such an aide would be difficult to replace. Unfortunately, the Jenet was too large to fit into the cramped cargo compartment of a StealthX—especially in a bulky pressure suit—but if the missile compartment were emptied …

  The hope continued to pull, so hard now that Caedus almost felt as if he were being physically dragged. If the Bothans had found a Force-user, they had found a good one. Caedus stopped and followed the feeling to its source—to well beyond the Bothan fleet, where he found a broken, twisted presence that had been inserting itself into his struggles far too often of late.