A hint of a frown touched his forehead. “No, sir.”
“Then go find out. Report back. Once we’ve a better grasp of tactics and strategy, you’ll have your squadrons back, and more besides.”
Jag’s eyes widened and flicked to his father’s face. “Yes, sir!”
The baron grimaced and tapped a small metal cube on his desk. “You might not be quite so eager to hear this report. This holovid just came in from our agents in the Core. It contains, among other things, a recording of Leia Organa Solo’s exhortation to the defenders of Coruscant. She urged them not to give up, as she has not, despite the recent death of one of her children.”
This time Jag’s gaze shifted fully to the general. “Which one?”
Fel lifted one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Which of Ambassador Solo’s children fell in battle?”
“Anakin, I believe. The younger son.”
Jag nodded thoughtfully, and there was something very akin to relief on his face. “Was there any news of the other two?”
A speculative gleam crept into the baron’s gaze. “You have met the Solo twins, I take it?”
“Jacen, no. Jaina Solo is a pilot with Rogue Squadron.”
“Ah. I was wondering why such momentous news as Coruscant’s fall went over your head with a meter to spare.”
A faint color suffused Jag’s face, and a faintly puzzled expression flickered in his eyes. Baron Fel suspected that his son was also somewhat unclear on that point. Well, he would learn soon enough.
Jag quickly veered away from his uncharacteristic tangent and back onto a more familiar vector. “Coruscant was not only attacked, but captured?”
“It would so appear. This leads us to your next assignment. In recent years, the New Republic has been characterized by increasing dissent. The loss of their central seat could polarize them for a very long time.”
The baron fell silent. For a long moment, he studied his son. “You will be flying straight into a maelstrom.”
Jag glanced pointedly toward the viewport, and the ice storm beyond. “This is what I was trained to do, no more.”
“Then it’s settled.” Fel rose and handed a single holocube to his son. “This contains the most recent military updates, as well as the specs on the new ships you’ll be flying. I’ll leave the selection of pilots to you.”
“Shawnkyr Nuruodo, my second in command, will accompany me.” When the general began to protest, Jag’s chin came up sharply. “You admonished me about responsibility, sir, and rightly so. I’m honored to scout for Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo, but I would rather not risk Chiss pilots needlessly. In all likelihood, we will need every one of them here.”
“What about Shawnkyr?”
A fleeting smile curved Jag’s lips. “Shawnkyr is a true member of a renegade phalanx, sir. She would not stay behind if I ordered her to.”
“I see. A wise leader always tries to give orders that are likely to be followed. Why do you think I’m sending you?”
He extended his hand. They clasped hands briefly, then Jag stepped back and offered a crisp, formal bow.
Baron Fel watched his son stride to the door. When he was alone, he sank back into his chair, his shoulders slumped and his expression bleak and bereft.
There was no keeping Jag away from the growing conflict. Soontir Fel understood this, for he knew Jag well. He also knew from long experience what the young man was likely to face. The burden of sending his promising, twenty-year-old son into a seemingly impossible fight weighed heavily upon him.
Davin had been about Jag’s age when he’d been sent to his final battle, and his sister Cherith even younger.
Soontir Fel rose and began to pace the room. He had never turned away from duty, and he would not now. But nothing he’d faced in his long career had been as difficult as this:
Sending his third child to serve, and most likely to die.
Jaina braced herself against the pilot’s seat as the stolen Yuuzhan Vong ship accelerated toward lightspeed. The frantic, pulsing lights that marked Coruscant’s last battle stretched out into fading lines, and then disappeared.
The calm and darkness of hyperspace welcomed them. Jaina ripped off the pilot’s hood and scrubbed her head briskly with both hands. This did little to erase the images of Coruscant’s death. Her heart still thudded in time to the chaotic pace of its destruction, and the cacophony of battle rang in her ears. She set it all aside as best she could and turned to Lowbacca.
“Good job. Where are we going?”
The Wookiee responded with a hollow moan and something that looked suspiciously like a shrug.
“You don’t know?” Tenel Ka demanded, coming forward with quick strides. “How can you not know?”
Lowbacca huffed defensively, his gaze boring into Tenel Ka’s gray-eyed challenge. Jaina placed a hand on the Wookiee’s shoulder.
“Jumping to open space was the best thing to do under the circumstances. Lowbacca bought us time so we can all decide next steps. Together.”
“I’ll get the others,” Tenel Ka said curtly.
She returned in moments with the other Jedi. Her one arm encircled Tahiri’s waist in a manner that was half support, half sisterly embrace.
Tahiri was nearly clothed in bandages and bacta patches, but none of Tekli’s ministrations had lessened the naked grief in her eyes, or the sorrow that radiated from her. The Chadra-Fan healer followed them like a small brown shadow, her large black eyes fixed upon her charge.
Jaina drew her personal shield closer around her and slid an objective gaze over the young Jedi. “You look better.”
“Better than what?” Tahiri said.
Bitterness twisted the girl’s tone, and wrath rose from her like steam. The scars on her forehead—marks resulting from her captivity on Yavin 4—had been augmented by a livid burn and a small but nasty cut. Apparently she’d refused treatment for these wounds.
Zekk and Ganner exchanged a quick, concerned glance, one that spoke of a familiar subject revisited. This realization sent a surge of irritation through Jaina. Tahiri would survive—had survived. She was not the only one who had lost Anakin. They’d all been diminished. Dwelling on their losses wouldn’t solve the problems this moment presented.
“The ship’s not doing well,” Jaina said without preamble. “Judging from what I’m getting through the pilot’s hood, and what Lowbacca has learned from poking around, I think we can fix it and feed it.”
“Feed it?” Ganner broke in. “Should I be afraid to ask what it eats?”
“Only if you’re a rock,” Jaina shot back. “We have to put the ship down as soon as possible. The question is, where?”
“We’ve been gone only a few days, yet we return to find the Yuuzhan Vong on Coruscant itself,” Alema Rar observed. “How can we know what worlds are occupied, and which are not?”
“This one suggestz we go to Barab One,” Tesar said. The reptilian Jedi bared his fangs in what Jaina took to be a feral smile. “The Barabel homeworld is not in the invasion path. That is good. But if the Yuuzhan Vong come, that is better.”
Jaina was beginning to develop an ear for the dark humor that underlay Barabel speech, and she suspected there was a clincher line to come. “Let’s hear it.”
A sly expression crossed the scaly face. “On Nal Hutta, the Vong are invaderz. What doez one call them on Barab?”
“Prey?” she suggested.
Tesar flashed his fangs again and swatted her companionably on the shoulder.
Ganner rolled his eyes. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our systems, how about a serious suggestion? Lowbacca named Gallinore. Since we’ve gotten this far without hitting any dovin basal mines, I add my vote to that.”
“Makes sense,” Zekk agreed. “As far as I know, the Yuuzhan Vong haven’t targeted that system yet. But here’s something else to think about. Hapes is closer than Gallinore. It’s also more heavily populated, and most likely we could get back into active duty sooner if we didn’t
have to trek across a wilderness planet.”
“True enough, but the inhabitants of wilderness planets are less likely to shoot Yuuzhan Vong ships out of the sky,” Alema Rar pointed out.
Zekk acknowledged this with a nod. “I’ve been poking around the ship a bit, and I found something that looks like an escape pod. If we can figure out how to launch it, one of us could go ahead to prepare the way.”
They all looked expectantly at Tenel Ka. “If this is the decision, I will go,” she agreed, “but there are things about Hapes you should know. My father’s homeworld has a history of anti-Jedi sentiment.”
Ganner let out a brief, humorless laugh. “That’s hardly an original notion these days. We should feel right at home.”
“There is more,” Tenel Ka began.
The others glanced at Jaina, then their eyes slipped hurriedly away.
She lifted her chin and met the issue head-on. “Centerpoint,” she said, naming the superweapon that had accidentally destroyed hundreds of Hapan ships. “It was Anakin who enabled the weapon, a Solo relative who fired it. I’m sure more than a few Hapans will blame any and all Solos for this loss. So let’s put the sabacc cards on the table, Tenel Ka. What kind of reception are Solos and Jedi likely to get?”
The warrior woman gave this question several moments’ consideration. “An interesting one,” she decided, speaking without the slightest inflection of humor.
Alema huffed and folded her arms. “Oh, good. I for one could use the excitement.”
The others added their assent—minus the Twi’lek’s sarcasm. Jaina held back to the last, using the time to consider other possibilities.
Her last visit to Hapes had been enlivened by the attempted assassination of the former queen mother, Tenel Ka’s grandmother, an attack that had included Tenel Ka and the Solo twins. This event had not been a unique experience. During her eighteen years, Jaina could probably tally up more threats to her life than her mother had hairstyles. People tried to kill her—that’s just the way it was. That didn’t factor largely into Jaina’s hesitation. Of greater concern was her fear that the Hapes Cluster might prove an unlikely staging ground for any attack against the Yuuzhan Vong.
She had no idea what form that attack might take. All she knew was that losing custody of Jacen Solo was going to be the very last thing a lot of Yuuzhan Vong ever did.
“Jaina?” Ganner prompted.
“I’m taking Tenel Ka’s reservations seriously,” she said, offering an explanation for her delayed response, “but I’m with Zekk. Dozens of worlds are so afraid of Yuuzhan Vong reprisals that they’re not accepting refugees of any kind. Even if we were flying a Republic ship, we could get turned away more than once. We might be able to land on a sparsely populated world, but getting off it could be a problem. With Tenel Ka’s connections, we’ll be able to get the ships and supplies we need to get back in business.”
“Sounds good,” Ganner agreed. “Let’s see what sense Lowbacca can make of this escape pod.”
The Wookiee let out a tentative-sounding grumble.
Jaina whirled to face him. “You heard it? What does that mean?”
Lowbacca pantomimed pulling down the cognition hood. He went into a long explanation about the navibrain, and how it interpreted an object’s gravity and used these data as the basis for its directional calculations. The escape pod, even when docked in the frigate, maintained a complex internal gravity, which the incredibly sensitive navibrain perceived.
A seed took root in Jaina’s mind. “So you’re saying this ship’s navigation is based on its recognition of each planet, each asteroid, and everything else it encounters as a discrete entity, based on that entity’s unique gravity?”
The Wookiee considered this, then woofed an affirmative.
“What about small gravitic fluctuations?” she demanded. “Like the kind a Yuuzhan Vong ship creates for propulsion?”
Lowbacca tipped his head to one side and sent her an inquiring stare.
“Before we launch Tenel Ka, I want to make sure we can track the escape pod,” Jaina explained. “From what you’re saying, it sounds to me like that’s how it would be done.”
Intrigued, he ambled off to test this theory. The other Jedi scattered to tend their duties, or to get much-needed rest. Jaina accepted Zekk’s offer to take over for a while and made her way to one of the small coral alcoves that served as cabins.
As soon as she was alone, she allowed a small, triumphant smile to creep onto her face. If her suspicions proved correct, a Yuuzhan Vong ship could identify another ship by its unique gravitic signature. Jaina was confident that Lowbacca would find a way to isolate a ship’s “signal.” Her friend was stubborn, even for a Wookiee. Once he got an idea in his head, it couldn’t be blasted out with a thermal detonator. And when he succeeded, Jaina would be one small step closer to finding her brother.
“We’re coming for you,” she promised as she stretched out on the hard, narrow bunk. “I’ll find you, Jacen, I promise.”
She paused for a moment, breathing carefully until she was able to control the entangled anger and grief and guilt that thoughts of her brothers evoked.
“And when I do, we’ve got a few things to settle,” she added, imbuing her words with just enough snap and ire to catch Jacen’s attention, wherever he was.
She listened for some response, some tiny sign that her twin heard. That he was.
Silence.
With a sigh, Jaina gave up the attempt. She began the preparation for the Jedi trance, a deep and healing state of reverie.
Her last conscious thought was gratitude that no dreams could follow her into the darkness.
SEVEN
Harrar stood at the viewport of his personal chamber, gazing into the richly starred blackness beyond. So many worlds lay beyond, offering not only conquest, but a much-needed haven as well.
He did not desire peace. Not really. Yet even as this thought formed, the priest lifted a three-fingered hand to trace a crack in the once smooth wall. His ship had once resembled a perfect, highly polished black gem. It was becoming shabby with age, as were most Yuuzhan Vong ships. Harrar suspected the priestship was nearing the end of its long life span.
The ship’s condition, however, was nothing compared to the warmaster’s dilemma. Tsavong Lah had sacrificed most of one arm to win the gods’ blessing upon the conquest of Coruscant. The battle had been won, but the warmaster’s implant still refused to heal. If the corruption progressed, Harrar’s old friend—who was also his most powerful and reliable supporter—would be forced from his high place. The priest suspected that his destiny, no less than the warmaster’s, depended upon the successful capture and sacrifice of the Jedi twins.
“Your Eminence.”
The priest turned toward the sound, carefully hiding his surprise and his chagrin that he could be surprised. Despite his impressive bulk and the vonduun crab armor he wore even aboard ship, Khalee Lah walked as quietly as a shadow. Had he been any other warrior, Harrar would have suspected that he was deliberately trying to discomfit his clerical charge.
“I trust this intrusion is justified?” he said sharply.
Khalee Lah inclined his head. “We have located the stolen ship, Eminence. The Ksstarr was sighted near Coruscant, but it managed to escape during the confusion of battle. It emerged from darkspace again approximately midpoint between the worlds known as Kuat and Kashyyyk.”
“And now?”
“We believe the Jeedai will head toward the Hapes Cluster. We have set course accordingly.”
Harrar’s lingering irritation deepened. “If the frigate is capable of darkspace travel, the Jeedai could choose from many destinations.”
“That is true, Eminence, but Nom Anor’s ship was damaged during its escape from the worldship. The Ksstarr is famished and wounded, and without proper care it will soon die. Surely even these infidels will sense it is nearing its limits.”
“Your logic is thin,” the priest noted.
K
halee Lah inclined his head in apology. “One of the Jeedai, a female, is a scion of Hapan royalty,” he added. “This was learned during the breaking. Not from this Jeedai, but from another.”
Harrar heard a note of grudging admiration in the warrior’s voice. “This female did not succumb to breaking, I take it. Good. The additional gift of a worthy Jeedai may placate the gods for this delay in the twin sacrifice. What is this infidel called?”
“Tenel Ka. It is said that she fought well, though she has but one arm. Other infidels have replaced limbs with mechanical abominations. Not this one.” His scarred lips shaped a predatory smile. “If fitted with a proper enhancement, she might prove a worthy opponent, or at least an interesting diversion.”
“In that case, you may offer her yourself in a warrior’s sacrifice,” Harrar said. His sloped forehead furrowed as he considered this. “Many ships from Hapes died along with ours at the Battle of Fondor, destroyed by a killing light from some mechanical abomination. Given what is known of the infidels, it is widely believed that they tossed away what they deemed unimportant. Based upon this reasoning, the Hapes Cluster was considered unworthy of our notice. Yet if this Jeedai is typical of Hapan nobles, perhaps this merits new consideration.”
The warrior sniffed. “The Hapes Cluster is not controlled by the Yuuzhan Vong, but it is vanquished nonetheless. Since Fondor, the infidels of the Hapes Cluster have huddled on their worlds and done nothing.”
“And the Jeedai presence there?”
“None to speak of; in fact, there is much animosity against them. The Peace Brigade has found eager recruits among the Hapans. We have sent word ahead to several known agents.”
Harrar studied the warrior carefully. Something was amiss. Khalee Lah had answered every question forth-rightly, but he offered no more information than Harrar requested. “There is more,” he observed. “You are not telling me all. A priest of Yun-Harla has ways of knowing such things.”
This time the warrior’s bow was deep and profound, and he touched two fingers to his horned forehead in a gesture of reverence. “I am a military commander, Eminence. Certain tactics depend upon secrecy for success. I can discuss these tactics only with my superiors.”
Dark Journey Page 6
