He fell quiet, biting down on the words. The memories of the recent battle were obviously still vivid in his mind.
Sensing the man’s embarrassment, Jacen quietly changed the subject by pointing to the arm that Reige was cradling. “You really should get that looked at,” he said. Before the pilot could voice the same objections that he had earlier, Jacen quickly added, “He’s going to be okay. Really. Tekli will take care of him.”
Vitor Reige nodded his appreciation. “You saved my life, as well as the life of the admiral. I shall forever be in your debt for that.”
Jacen wanted to say that he didn’t believe in debt, that people should just do what they thought was right regardless of obligation, but at that moment Tekli stepped back from the table and approached the two of them.
“I have done all that needs to be done,” she said, her thin shoulders shrugging. “The rest is up to him, now, and how he responds to the bacta.”
Jacen watched as the medical droids maneuvered Pellaeon back into the tank. The Grand Admiral twitched as if in a dream as the powerful healing fluids went to work, then settled down into the tank’s warm embrace. Convinced there was nothing more that could be done at the moment, Tekli gathered her equipment to leave. Helping her carry her tools, Jacen led her from the infirmary, leaving the droid to tend to Reige. Immediately outside the medical bay they found Captain Yage pacing back and forth in front of the doors. She came to a halt the moment the door slid open and Jacen and Tekli stepped out.
Her anxious gaze fell upon Jacen, who nodded in response to her unvoiced question.
“He’ll live,” he said.
Like a balloon releasing its air, the tension seemed to evaporate from the captain, dissolving her concerned expression. “I didn’t think it could be done,” she said, dropping her stare to the Chadra-Fan standing silently and respectfully beside Jacen. “I’m sorry for doubting you. I offer the appreciation of all my people for saving the admiral’s life.”
The Chadra-Fan bowed her head. “I did not do it alone,” she said. “Your admiral’s determination to stay alive had a lot to do with it. With the will to live, anything is possible.”
“And Gilad Pellaeon certainly has that,” Yage said.
The fur around Tekli’s mouth parted as she smiled at the captain. “He still has some recuperating to do,” she said, “but he should be out of the bacta tank in about six standard days.”
Yage’s expression turned from relief to concern again. “Six days? That’s too long!”
“Why?” Jacen asked.
“As far as the Moffs know,” she explained, “Gilad died in Bastion. Flennic has had time to put himself in power, assuming control of Stalwart and the rest of the fleet. I wouldn’t put it beyond him to do anything to avoid having to relinquish that power, now he’s got it. While Gilad is weak, he is vulnerable, and we can’t keep the secret of his survival to ourselves forever. Word is already spreading that one more shuttle made it out of Bastion before the battle’s end. It won’t be much longer before people know who was on that shuttle and where it docked.”
“What will happen when they find out?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’ll be up to Moff Flennic and his underlings.” Her comlink bleeped. Listening to the short message, she nodded and answered that she would be there immediately. “I guess we won’t have to wait long to find out. We’ve just received a recall order.”
“Can’t you disobey it?” asked Jacen.
“If we do, then we’re going to have to have a very good reason.”
“Perhaps you should let me talk to them,” he said. “Maybe we can work something out.”
The captain stared at him for a moment in obvious discomfort and embarrassment. Jacen understood exactly what she was thinking. Here was Yage, a captain of many years’ experience from a diametrically opposed military force, and he was expecting her to hand over to him the explanation of why she intended to defy a direct order. But he could see how tempted she was. A Jedi Knight had saved the admiral; perhaps another would take this difficult choice away from her. At the very least, it might absolve her of a wrong decision.
Jacen carefully neglected to mention that his experience with Imperials was virtually nonexistent.
After a few moments’ consideration she raised her voice to address the empty corridor: “I don’t suppose anyone has any better ideas?”
She waited a moment until the silence was as deep as it was ever going to get on an Imperial war vessel.
“Well, I asked,” she said, waving Jacen to follow her as she moved off. “Now let’s see if you can make this situation any worse for us than it already is.”
“Twin Suns Squadron, stand down,” came the voice of Captain Mayn over Jag Fel’s helmet comlink. “We have attained our orbital insertion and are go for satellite deployment. You may revert to internal command.”
“Copy that,” he replied briskly before switching to the squadron’s internal subspace frequency. To the rest of the squadron he said, “You heard the captain: we made it safe and sound. Let’s check out the neighborhood before getting too comfy.”
Twin Suns Squadron peeled apart into quarters, each accelerating to cover different segments of the world below. From orbit, Galantos possessed an uninviting boggy brown-green color, and at first glance showed little signs of advanced civilization. It didn’t take long, however, before the inhabitants of Galantos, the Fia, became aware of the ships in orbit about their planet.
“Unidentified vehicles,” came a voice over subspace, “this is Al’solib’minet’ri City Control. Please identify yourselves and state your intentions.”
“This is Captain Todra Mayn of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances’ navy frigate Pride of Selonia. Our mission is a peaceful and diplomatic one. We’re here to talk to Councilor Jobath.”
“Not so fast, Captain Mayn.” The voice of the Fia was patient and steady. “You’ve only identified one ship. I count fourteen.”
“That’s correct, Control. There’s Pride of Selonia, Millennium Falcon, and Twin Suns Squadron.”
“And you command this mission, Captain?”
“Only when it comes to logistical issues such as these. Otherwise, I am under the orders of Leia Organa Solo.”
“Beneath the Multitude! Leia Organa Solo?”
“That’s correct, Control.”
“Then we extend our warmest welcome to you, Captain,” the Fia said effusively. “And, indeed, to all of her companions! And I am sure that Councilor Jobath would be delighted to speak with her once these formalities are out of the way.”
“What formalities, Control? We’ve identified ourselves and stated our intentions. What more—?”
“Captain, we on Galantos believe in doing things the proper way.” The voice of Al’solib’minet’ri City Control was polite but firm. “We still don’t know how long you intend to stay, how many people intend descending to the surface, what the precise purpose of their visit is, where they intend to travel, and so on.”
There was a slight pause from Selonia. “Very well, Control,” Captain Mayn said wearily. It had been a long journey, literally from one side of the galaxy to the other. “We’ll fill you in. Where do you want us to start?”
“Thank you, Captain.” Jag could almost hear the prim and smug little smile in the Fia’s voice over the comm unit. “First of all, can I have your exact mission designation for our records, please?”
Jag mentally switched off the conversation, leaving those in charge to work out the details. He had enough to think about as it was. As that day’s Twin Suns Leader, he was responsible for the smooth running of the squadron on its arrival at a new system. Although he considered that he and Jaina had done a good job on short notice, small wrinkles in their procedures were still being ironed out. His clawcraft had an X-wing on each side, while two claws tailed Jaina’s fighter; the same pattern was repeated by the remaining half of the squadron to ensure the components were mixed. This, they knew, would
result in some initial awkwardness, but in the long run would ensure that the squadron knit together as a whole.
He banked in a smooth arc, powering for the southern pole over the planet’s gelatinous green pond-seas. There was the occasional town and scientific outpost on some of the more firm, rockier areas, but nothing out of the ordinary that he could see.
“All clear at our end, Twin Leader,” came Jaina’s voice over his comlink.
“Thanks, Two. How about you, Three and Four?”
“Clear skies, Twin Leader.”
“Easy picking,” added Twin Suns Four, originally from Jag’s Chiss Squadron.
“We’re not here to stir up any trouble,” he reminded his pilots. “So no showing off for the locals.”
“From the looks of things, they could use some livening up,” Seven commented dryly.
Al’solib’minet’ri City Control was still requesting information from Captain Mayn.
“Do you really need to know the precise location where the Millennium Falcon intends to land?”
“I’m afraid so, Captain Mayn. It’ll save trouble in the long run, trust me. And you might also like to tell me who exactly will be comprising the landing party.”
The captain sighed; Jag smiled. He was normally something of a stickler for procedures, but the Fia had a tendency to take protocol to ridiculous extremes. If he’d been in Mayn’s position right now, he would have just gone ahead and landed anyway, regardless of what Al’solib’minet’ri City Control said. He doubted the consequences would have been too severe. The Fia had no planetary defenses to speak of, so what were they going to do if Captain Mayn decided to disregard their precious procedures?
But then, diplomacy wasn’t his strong point. He was quite happy to leave that side of politics to people like Jaina’s parents—although he got the distinct feeling that Han Solo would have agreed with him, if pushed.
Captain Mayn’s bored reply filled the airwaves: “… Cybot Galactica protocol droid See-Threepio, Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila …”
Tahiri’s name caught his ear. He switched to another channel so he could talk to Jaina without being overheard.
“Did you know Tahiri was going with your parents?”
“No,” Jaina replied. “But it’s not a problem, is it?”
Jag didn’t answer immediately. He knew that Tahiri was a friend of Jaina’s and had been close to her brother, Anakin, but that wouldn’t have stopped him from expressing a suspicion had he something definite to back him up. But he didn’t. There was just her breakdown at Mon Calamari, and something about her behavior. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he felt that something was just not quite right about her.
“I guess not,” he said eventually.
He hadn’t even been aware that he regarded her any differently than the other members of the mission until the day they left Mon Cal. The departure of the mission had been decidedly more low-key than that of Jade Shadow, even though Leia and Han did have official recognition as envoys of the Galactic Alliance. Chief of State Cal Omas, Supreme Commander Sien Sovv, and Kenth Hamner had all put in an appearance to bid them farewell, thankfully without fanfare or speeches. With the Galactic Alliance in good hands, the Millennium Falcon had ferried the pilots of Twin Suns Squadron who weren’t already in orbit up to Pride of Selonia, and a brief shaking of hands was held there. Jaina embraced her parents; Jag awkwardly accepted a pat on the shoulder from Han; Captain Todra Mayn, a tall, thin woman with a slight limp, had saluted the assembly with due respect. And that was it, except for a glimpse of Tahiri that Jag had stolen as everyone moved off to their ships. She had been standing at the back of the gathering, carefully removed from the activity. She was still thin, and very pale; the scars from her torture at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong stood out vividly on her forehead. And her eyes …
Jag Fel wasn’t one for flights of fancy, but he also wasn’t one for ignoring what his senses told him, either—so when he saw the look of disgust on Tahiri’s face and the intense hatred in her eyes, his hand had reached automatically for the blaster at his side. If she was to make any move whatsoever for Jaina or her family, he wanted to be ready. Had she shown any indication of attacking, he would have shot her down without hesitation.
She didn’t, though, and the moment had passed uneventfully—but he had still been reluctant to remove his hand from the weapon at his side. It almost seemed to Jag that she had sensed him looking at her, and her gaze had swung over to him. When their stares locked, she was suddenly herself again, and he was left feeling slightly foolish. Whatever it was he had seen in her eyes had gone, replaced with a soft and subtle uncertainty.
Shoot Tahiri? What had he been thinking? She was just a sick teenager in desperate need of some rest, tagging along on the mission with lots of other tired warriors. Leia and Jaina thought she was having trouble getting over Anakin’s death, that she had bottled up her grief so long and so hard that it was bursting out of her now in twisted, dark forms. When he had raised his concerns about her being on the mission, Leia had said firmly that it was just what Tahiri needed: a clear sense of direction provided by people she could trust. If something else went wrong, they would be there for her without hesitation. End of story.
Jag had no reason to doubt that it was the story’s end. Nevertheless, that look he had thought he’d seen on Tahiri’s face stuck with him, and he found himself repeatedly thinking about it throughout the long jump to Galantos. He didn’t know exactly what the Yuuzhan Vong had done to her on Yavin 4, but he did know the enemy employed biological technologies far in advance of anything the Galactic Alliance had. Was it possible that the malevolent flash he’d glimpsed in her was in some way connected to this? It was impossible to say for sure. But whatever was going on behind Tahiri’s fragile facade, he was going to need more information before he could take any action. And to do that, he was going to have to keep a very close eye on her at all times …
“I’m thinking of volunteering for ground duty,” he told Jaina over the private line. “I haven’t seen much of the Galactic Alliance, except from orbit.”
“You couldn’t have picked a worse place to start taking an interest, Jag,” she said. “It looks like someone dumped an ore hauler full of sludge from orbit!”
He laughed. “Yeah, well, it makes a change, anyway. Care to join me?”
“Tempting, but no thanks. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather follow procedures from up here. Someone has to mind the baby, just in case the Yevetha come calling.”
He thought he detected a mild rebuke in her voice. “I’m not off to a good start, am I?” he said, unwilling to give the real reason for going down to the surface. “Only a few days into our arrangement and I’m already trying to shuffle the roster around.”
“No, that’s okay, Jag. You should feel free to volunteer for these things, if that’s what you really want to do. I was hoping we could jiggle the roster a little myself, to make sure we got a chance to be off duty and on Selonia at the same time.” A note of teasing replaced the rebuke. “But if wading around in sludge is more your idea of a good time than hanging out with me …”
He smiled to himself. “You know that isn’t the case,” he said. “I was just hoping we could combine the two.”
Her laugh was part shocked, part delighted. “You’ve been too long in that crash couch, spaceboy. I’ll be sure to report you to your superior officer, next time I’m Twin Leader.”
The line clicked off. Satisfied that he would be able to put his name down for the landing party without arousing her suspicion—or her ire—he turned his thoughts to regrouping with the rest of the squadron. Jaina was absolutely right in that respect: whatever his suspicions were regarding Tahiri, his job, first and foremost, was to look after the squadron and ensure the external security of the mission. The well-being of Tahiri was ultimately the responsibility of the person who had invited her aboard—and if he couldn’t trust Leia Organa Solo, then whom could he trust?
Nonethele
ss, he decided to volunteer. Just to be sure.
“You’re what?” The red face of General Berrida glowered at Jacen from the Widowmaker’s hologram.
“A Jedi Knight, sir,” Jacen repeated steadily. “I’ve come to help you.”
“Help us—?” The overweight general spluttered for a second. “And what exactly makes you think we need your help, Jedi Knight? All I see is an overgrown boy in robes.”
“Appearances can be deceptive,” Jacen said, refusing to wilt beneath the general’s blustering and outrage.
Berrida laughed derisively. “So where is this help you offer us, Jedi? Where’s your support vessel?”
“Jade Shadow has retreated to a safe distance.” Jacen had spoken to Uncle Luke and ensured that the rest of the mission stayed well out of sight until his gambit had paid off—or not, as the case might be. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
“Don’t tell me what I do or do not need to worry about, boy,” Berrida growled. His holographic image flickered momentarily. “I don’t like having unknown vessels lurking around my system.”
“A sentiment I understand completely, General. Which is why I’ve come to offer my help.”
“We don’t need your help,” Berrida said obstinately.
“I think you do.” Jacen paced around Widowmaker’s cramped bridge, trying his best to radiate a sense of calm control. Inside, though, he was thinking faster than he had during any lightsaber battle. “Tell me, why do you think the Yuuzhan Vong attacked Bastion?”
“They have issued no explanation.”
“Nor will they, probably,” Jacen said. “Nonetheless, they must have one. No one risks resources in war without a reason. Now, I know you’re not a fool, General, so I’m pretty sure you would have some idea as to their reasons. Why don’t you share it with us?”
Berrida straightened, the corner of his mouth twitching irritably. “The Yuuzhan Vong attacked us in retaliation.”
Remnant: Force Heretic I Page 16
