“For?” Jacen pressed.
“For Garqi, Ithor, Exodo Two—”
“And for supplying information to the New Republic—specifically, information on hyperspace routes to the Galactic Alliance, which enabled it to turn the tide of the battle and, for the first time, hurt the Yuuzhan Vong.” Jacen enjoyed the surprised look on Berrida’s face. On Widowmaker’s bridge, Captain Yage raised her eyebrows. “My mother negotiated that deal with the Empire, General. That’s how I know about it. And I can assure you that not many other people do. There are people on our side as reluctant to deal with you as you are to deal with us.”
“So?” Berrida snapped. The general made no attempt to hide his growing irritation with Jacen. “What are you driving at, boy? Speak plainly before I have you arrested for obstructing the Imperial war effort.”
“It’s really quite simple, General.” Jacen smiled as sweetly as he could. “If the deal between the Empire and the Galactic Alliance was such a secret, then how do you think the Yuuzhan Vong ever learned about it? I mean, only your highest-ranking officers and my mother knew about it at the time. She passed it on to our military leaders, who employed it in our war effort. We know there’s no leak at our end, because the new routes worked. If the Yuuzhan Vong had infiltrated our chain of command, the information you gave us would have done us no good whatsoever. The only way, therefore, that the Yuuzhan Vong could have known that the Empire had given the Galactic Alliance information that hurt them is if the leak was at your end.” Jacen paused before pronouncing his conclusion. “You have a spy, General.”
“Nonsense!” Berrida’s denial was mixed with just enough shock for Jacen to realize that his reasoning had hit home. “That’s impossible!”
“It’s not impossible at all.” Jacen changed his tone to one of sympathy. He’d attacked enough; the general’s defenses had been breached. It was Jacen’s task now to turn Berrida into an ally, not to keep attacking and make him even more of an enemy. “The fact is, we’ve had problems with infiltration ourselves. First with the Yuuzhan Vong, and then with the Peace Brigade. Your staff could be riddled with alien impersonators and sympathizers, and you would never know. They have living disguises called ooglith masquers that allow them to impersonate anyone.”
“We’ll conduct security sweeps, random checks,” Berrida said, but Jacen could tell that the man’s self-assurance was flagging.
“All useless, I’m afraid, unless you know what it is you’re looking for.”
Berrida glared balefully at him. “And you do know what to look for, I suppose?”
Jacen nodded. “My companions and I have had a great deal of experience with the Yuuzhan Vong. We don’t profess to understand them, but I do feel that we are slowly coming to. And that, I believe, is the most important thing at the moment.”
More important than destroying them, he thought to himself. But he doubted that the general was ready for such philosophy. Be patient, he told himself. One step at a time.
“Let’s assume I believe you,” Berrida said, “and that I take you on your word that—”
“You don’t have to take my word, General,” Jacen interrupted. “The evidence speaks for itself.”
“Assuming I accept the argument, then,” Berrida pressed on. “What next? Are you asking me to open my staff to your influence? How will I know then that I’m not trading one form of infiltration for another? I don’t have to trust you, Jedi, just because you appear to be beating my enemy.”
“I’m not asking you to do that, General. All I am doing is offering you and the Empire advice. You can take it or leave it. Just give me the opportunity to present it properly, and then you can decide what to do about it.”
“Precisely what sort of advice are we talking about here?”
Jacen ticked several items off on his fingers: “First, we can advise you on how to detect and eliminate Yuuzhan Vong spies within your ranks. Second, we can teach your pilots new tactics that will help you fight more effectively on the front. And third, I can offer you my opinion of what you should do next.”
The general grumbled disdainfully. “Which is?”
“That we should leave Yaga Minor as soon as possible,” Jacen said. “Any spies you have will already have reported to their superiors that this is where the fleet has regrouped. If your destruction is their aim, then it would be reasonable to assume that they’ll attack here soon, before you have a chance to get your act together.”
The general grunted. “Anything else?”
“Only one other thing: we cordially invite you to join the Galactic Alliance to enable a continuation of this dialogue. We could have used your help many times over the course of the war, and I know that you can use ours now. We’re not supplying anything with strings attached, General, but we do offer the hand of peace. All we ask is that you at least think about taking it in return.”
Jacen brought his own hands behind his back as he waited for the general’s reply.
The holographic image of the general was motionless for a long time—long enough for Jacen to wonder if the image hadn’t frozen. Then Berrida moved, tilting his head to one side with a grimace.
“I’ll get back to you,” he said, before his image abruptly dissolved.
Jacen let out his breath in a trembling rush, for the first time realizing how damp with perspiration his palms were. “I’m not sure if that went better than expected or worse than I could have imagined.”
“Better,” Yage said, stepping up beside him. “It’s not in that fat fool’s nature to negotiate, or to entertain an original thought, so to get him halfway there is something of a major coup. If I know him, he’ll already be on the line to Moff Flennic—who’ll tell him to stop listening to such nonsense and impound us before we waste any more time. But by the time he acts on it, the situation might have changed.” She looked around her bridge, her expression concerned. “It really depends on what’s happened to the chain of command.”
“Who’s filled the power vacuum, you mean?” Jacen asked.
Yage nodded. “Exactly. With Chimaera still missing, the Moffs will assume that Gilad Pellaeon is dead, but until they know for sure either way, they won’t stick their necks out. And Flennic might not make any bold moves until he’s certain of how the council will fall out. If he’s got the support, he may even take the opportunity to make a move for leadership.”
“That wouldn’t be good.”
“Not for you, no,” Yage said. “And probably not for our chances of survival.”
Jacen didn’t say anything; it wasn’t her he needed to convince.
Later, when Tekli and her gear were settled in one of the frigate’s empty berths and the subspace channels were free, Jacen commandeered a line to talk to Jade Shadow.
“Do you want to come back?” Mara asked, her voice conveying the worry she felt for him and the diminutive Chadra-Fan. “We can slip back insystem and—”
“I’d advise against that,” he said. “They’re going to be looking for you, so I think you’d be better off staying where you are. And wherever it is you’re hidden, don’t tell me. It’s probably best I don’t know.”
“That’s not your only concern, is it?” Luke said.
“Well, no,” he admitted with some embarrassment. “The thing is, Uncle Luke, I don’t know much about Imperials, but I do know that they know you. I think they’d feel a lot more relaxed about negotiating with some young upstart than the man who brought down their Emperor.”
“I totally agree with you, Jacen,” Luke said. “And I know that you’ll do the job right. You seem to have a natural strength when it comes to negotiating. Your mother will be proud. Not even she was able to talk the Imperials around, and she’s one of the best diplomats the New Republic has ever seen.”
Jacen smiled at his uncle’s praise. “That’s kind of you,” he said. “Although to be fair to my mother, the last time she was here the Imperials didn’t have the Yuuzhan Vong snapping at their heels. Things like that tend
to make people easier to persuade.”
“That’s nothing but false modesty, Jacen, and you know it,” Mara said. “Be sure to keep us updated on how negotiations proceed, as well as Gilad’s condition. And don’t forget that you can call on us for anything, anytime. We’ll be flight- and fight-ready around the chrono if you need us.”
“I hope it won’t come to that. It could be hours before we hear back from Berrida or Flennic. And you’ll know if they decide not to talk at all and make a move on us instead.”
“Or if the Yuuzhan Vong come.”
There was a small silence after Mara’s words. Jacen had proposed the possibility of another advance by the Yuuzhan Vong fleet simply as a bargaining chip, but the more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He was less worried now about the Imperials than he was about being caught in an old frigate on the front line.
Still, the kind of work he was doing certainly felt a lot more faithful to his path than wielding a lightsaber or flying an X-wing in battle. He’d originally thought the stopover in the Imperial Remnant little more than a distraction on the way to finding Zonama Sekot, but perhaps it would prove to be something much more than that. Perhaps he had found another calling where he had least expected it.
But not even he thought that he could bring the Imperials around without Gilad Pellaeon behind him. Whoever filled the admiral’s place while he was unconscious would be too busy watching their back to listen to Jacen—and the longer they were in that position of power, the less likely they would be to give it up.
Get well soon, old man, Jacen thought as he wrapped up the conversation with Jade Shadow and went off to find somewhere he could wait in peace. Enjoy the quiet while you can. It may just be the calm before a terrible storm.
“It’s changed.”
The voice of Anakin’s mother snapped Tahiri out of her daydream. She’d been staring out at the gelatinous oceans of Galantos as the Millennium Falcon descended rapidly through the planet’s atmosphere. She dragged her eyes from the view through the cockpit viewport to where Leia sat in the Falcon’s copilot seat next to Han’s.
“I’m sorry?”
“Galantos,” she said. “It’s changed since I last saw it.” Tahiri glanced again at the view. “I didn’t know you’d been here.”
“I haven’t. Borsk Fey’lya toured here briefly a while ago. He sent back some reports while I was still on the council. He didn’t like it much, if I recall. Didn’t get on with the locals.”
“I can’t understand why,” Han grumbled sarcastically, flicking switches with exaggerated impatience. “These people could out-talk a Toydarian trader.”
“It’s just their way of going about things,” Leia placated him. “I’m sure they’d find your ways equally as odd.”
“Yeah, well, at least I get things done. I’m amazed anything’s changed around here—ever! They’d discuss any proposals to death before they ever started building.”
“Well, somehow they’re getting things done,” Leia said, pointing at the screens before her. “That city there isn’t on any of the maps we have. Or that one.”
Tahiri had boned up on Galantos’s geography while in transit from Mon Calamari. She knew that the landscape below was inherently unstable, so the Fian cities were built to ride out seismic vibrations. Shaped like flattened spheres with stabilizing spikes beneath, they floated heavily on the many organic seas dotting the surface. Tahiri wondered if people would feel the movement of the cities as they wobbled beneath them. The very idea made her feel motion-sick. Hopefully, she thought, they had dampeners like the cities on Mon Calamari.
“So they’ve been building,” Han said. “Joining the New Republic worked for them, obviously, even if it didn’t teach them how to talk properly.”
The Falcon swooped out of the sky, guided by navigational beacons to a circular landing field at the summit of Al’solib’minet’ri City. There was no evidence of any other starships, but there were a number of aircraft. Ground transport had been made difficult by the instability of the planet’s crust; this had held back the development of the Fia until they had stumbled on balloons almost two centuries earlier. Now enormous vert’bo airships regularly carried livestock and other material goods across the shattered wastelands between the oases floating on the seas, while the Fia themselves took to speeders and suborbital shuttles. The sky was a maze of contrails near a busy town, punctuated by the enormous blimps, lazy dots drifting across a vibrant blue.
A celebration had gathered to greet the Falcon when it touched down. A band struck up when the engine noise died away and the landing ramp was extended. The music was strange to Tahiri’s ears—a mixture of high-pitched whistles and hollow drones—but it gave the scene a festive air as she followed Anakin’s parents down the ramp. Leia’s Noghri bodyguards followed at a discreet distance, carefully eyeing the gathering for any activity that might be considered a danger to the Princess.
Not far away, Jag Fel’s clawcraft had also touched down. Al’solib’minet’ri City Control had accepted his addition to the landing party, but only after confirming the details at length with Captain Mayn, for whom Tahiri couldn’t help but feel sorry. Watched curiously by the crowd, the Chiss-trained pilot strode confidently to join the other humans at the center of the crowd of short, long-featured, web-footed Fia.
“Welcome to Galantos!” one of the Fia cried, moving forward and waving its long arms in apparent agitation. Although not much larger than an Ewok, the alien’s gesticulating startled Tahiri, making her take a cautious step back. Then she realized that the gestures were only meant to convey excitement and delight.
“I am Primate Persha.” The Fia’s voice was high-pitched, but musical rather than irritating. She spoke loudly to be heard over the muted squeaks of the other Fia around them. “On behalf of Councilor Jobath, I’d like to welcome you to Galantos, Leia Organa Solo, Han Solo, Tahiri Veila, Jagged Fel, and protocol droid See-Threepio. It is an unexpected honor and a privilege for us all!”
Leia smiled and bowed courteously. “Councilor Jobath could not attend?”
“Unfortunately, no,” the Fia said, her eyes looking somehow even more melancholy than they already were. “He had a pressing engagement in Gal’fian’deprisi City. But he promises to be here as soon as physically possible, and wishes me to convey his warmest and most respectful greetings and hopes that your stay will be an enjoyable and fruitful one. We have made our finest diplomatic facilities available to you and will strive to fulfill your every request. Please don’t hesitate to ask for anything you require or desire at any point in your stay, day or night. Either myself or my assistant, Thrum, will be only too happy to accommodate you.”
With one of her small, web-fingered hands, the Fia waved them to follow her as she led them from their ships, waddling away on her wide, bell-shaped legs. A path opened up for them through a disconcertingly ecstatic crowd. The Fia were a small, inoffensive people whose wild arm gesticulations belied their otherwise placid nature. As Primate Persha kept up a steady stream of detailed instructions on how she or her assistant could be contacted over the next two days, Tahiri felt herself begin to lose track of the words. All meaning seemed to fade from them as the rising and falling of Persha’s voice became notes of a complicated melody. Tahiri doubted that she was missing much by hearing only one word in three.
Persha led them into an ornate turbolift. C-3PO bumped into Tahiri’s back as the doors slid shut.
“Forgive me, Mistress Tahiri,” the golden droid said. “This sort of fuss is all a bit overwhelming for the likes of a protocol droid like myself.”
“That’s okay, Threepio,” she whispered back so as not to interrupt the steady flow of Primate Persha’s ongoing speech, which had now moved on to express the Fia’s joy at having such visitors on their usually unnoticed world—especially in such times of trouble and hardship that the galaxy was seeing. “I never thought I’d meet someone who talked as much as you, either.”
She knew the componen
ts of C-3PO’s face never changed, but by the way he tilted his head at this comment Tahiri could tell that he hadn’t really understood her little joke.
The diplomatic quarters in Al’solib’minet’ri City were expansive and well appointed. For all their isolation and other drawbacks, the Fia didn’t skimp when it came to fittings and hospitality. Tahiri’s room was decorated with white, bonelike panels ornately carved in the likeness of local life-forms; the images were peculiar looking, as befitted their environment, but stunningly crafted. The furniture was fashioned from a local, broad-grained wood, with some of the items so seamless that they looked as if they’d been grown that way rather than artfully cobbled together from various pieces. All in all, the room was both comfortable and luxurious—even if the bed was a little too short for her legs.
After checking out their quarters, the visitors reconvened in the anteroom at the heart of the diplomatic residence. Primate Persha had left them alone for the time being, graciously accepting their pleas to relax and unwind for a while—although not before reiterating her instructions, again in meticulous detail, on how to ask for anything at all they might require.
“I’ll just be glad when we’re off this rock,” Anakin’s father was saying when Tahiri walked in. He looked more flustered than Tahiri had ever seen him. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the Fia or their proximity to the Koornacht Cluster—or perhaps it was a little of both.
“Don’t tell me,” Leia said with a half smile. “You’re getting a bad feeling about this place, right?”
He shot her a dirty look before turning beseechingly to Jag Fel. “Please tell me there’s a reason we shouldn’t stay, Jag. Please. Anything.”
“Sorry,” said the tall, handsome pilot. “Can’t help you, I’m afraid.” Shrugging off his backpack containing equipment he’d brought with him and placing it on the table in the middle of the room, Jag turned to Leia and said, “I’ve patched us into the planetary comm network and have opened a link to Selonia. I think we’re safe in assuming that our encryption is light-years ahead of what these guys have here.”
Remnant: Force Heretic I Page 17
