FIFTEEN

Jaina’s pace quickened as she left the docks at a dead run, as if she could outpace the memory of her father’s face when he’d realized that both his sons were gone. Before she knew it, she was churning along, weaving mindlessly through the turmoil of ships, overworked officials, and confused refugees. She paused only long enough to duck into one of the public refreshers most docking areas provided as a convenience to pilots—and then only long enough to sonic off the worst of the grime.

Feeling somewhat calmer, she set a direct course for the palace. Its labyrinthine marble halls were the best place she could think of to lose herself for a while.

Ta’a Chume’s efficiency confronted her at every turn. Palace guards ushered her through; servants offered refreshment and then quietly withdrew when she waved them away.

Moving on autopilot, she found her way into a courtyard garden and down shaded paths that seemed designed with solitude and secrecy in mind. She slumped down on the moss-covered rocks artfully piled beside a carved bench and finally allowed herself to feel.

What she felt, mostly, was numb.

Since leaving Myrkr, her path had seemed clear. The first order of business was to survive, to finish the task Anakin had passed to Jacen, to bring the other young Jedi to a place of safety. And after that, to rescue Jacen.

Jaina hadn’t allowed herself to think of anything else, to feel anything that might distract her from these goals. Her headlong progress had been stopped short, and she felt as dazed as if she’d flown a landspeeder into a tree.

She felt the approach of a powerful presence, and glanced up as a tall, graceful woman emerged from the shadows of a fruit arbor and glided purposefully down the path toward her. The woman wore a softly draping gown, and her russet hair gleamed above the scarlet veil covering the lower half of her face. Feeling resigned but not at all surprised, Jaina rose and dipped into a bow.

Ta’a Chume waved away the formalities. The former queen mother settled down on the bench and motioned for Jaina to join her. She removed her veil, revealing a still-elegant face distinguished by fine, sharp bones. “It is good to see you alive and well, Jaina. I heard about your brothers.”

Jaina took the offered place beside Ta’a Chume and braced herself for yet another round of meaningless condolences.

This response seemed to amuse the former queen. “I take it you’ve had your fill of platitudes and exhortations?”

“You might say that.”

“Then let’s get to the heart of the matter. Your brothers are dead, and those responsible still live. The only reasonable question is, what are you going to do about it?”

There was something refreshing about plain speech, and even an odd sort of comfort. “That’s the question, all right.”

The older woman patted her shoulder. “You will find your way to an answer soon, of that I am certain. And tonight will be an excellent time to start. There will be a diplomatic dinner at the palace, and you would do well to attend. Now, then,” she said briskly, “I suggest that we find you a suitable gown and gems.” Her eyes slid quickly over Jaina’s stringy brown hair. “And perhaps a hair stylist.”

Jaina shrugged this off. “I’m a pilot. Appearances aren’t important to what I do.”

“That’s quite apparent,” Ta’a Chume murmured. But her eyes slid over the young woman, taking stock, measuring potential. A speculative gleam entered her eyes. “Tell me, do you wish to avenge your brothers?”

Jaina attempted to plot a direct path between these two topics but quickly gave up the effort. “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but yes, I suppose I do.”

As she said the words, Jaina realized the truth of them. All her life she’d heard that anger and revenge were paths to the dark side. At this moment, that hardly seemed to matter—in fact, such concerns struck her as petty and self-indulgent. The galaxy was fighting for survival, and the Jedi weren’t doing much better on that score than anyone else.

She realized that Ta’a Chume had been speaking for several moments and focused her attention back to the former queen.

“In order to achieve this, you will need to win support from the Hapan military,” Ta’a Chume concluded. “Beauty is a tool to be used, just like intelligence or talent or power or even this Force of yours. Don’t disdain it.”

“It’s more important on Hapes than in most places. More common, too.” Jaina shrugged. “No matter what I do, I’d fall short of your world’s standards.”

“Nonsense, on all counts. I suspect that you possess many resources you have not yet considered.”

Jaina regarded the older woman. The former queen was a powerful presence in the Force, yet she possessed formidable shields. Jaina could get no sense of what she was thinking, but she took what she knew of Ta’a Chume and made some assumptions.

“You want something from me,” she said bluntly. “Forgive me, but I’m running short on time and illusions.”

Ta’a Chume smiled, not at all offended. “All I ask is that you keep your mind open to all possibilities. These are strange times, and you may find yourself in a position to accomplish things you never dreamed possible. Now, about that gown.”

She rose and headed for the palace. After a moment, Jaina followed. Ta’a Chume had access to ships, fuel, and ammunition—all the things Jaina would need to take the fight to the Yuuzhan Vong—and apparently the former queen was willing to trade.

Jaina had no idea what currency Ta’a Chume had in mind, but that didn’t particularly worry her. She almost looked forward to matching wits with someone who’d made an art form of deception and intrigue. Like lightsaber practice, it might serve to sharpen her wits and skills in preparation for a real battle.

And unlike Ta’a Chume, Jaina had the Force with her. Light or dark—it didn’t matter. Those distinctions seemed artificial to her, half-understood concepts whose time was done. As Kyp Durron had said, this was their time, their war. The younger Jedi needed to decide what to do and how to do it, and then live with the results.

For the first time a tinge of unease darkened Jaina’s thoughts. “Hurling black lightning is one thing,” she muttered, “but quoting Kyp Durron puts me lower than I ever expected to get.”

   The comm unit in Kyp Durron’s X-wing crackled. “Vanguard Three, acknowledge.”

The calm, emotionless tone of Jag Fel’s voice set the Jedi’s teeth on edge, but he clicked the channel open. “Sir,” he said in ironic imitation of the Chiss woman’s stern military manner.

If Jag picked up on Kyp’s tone, he didn’t let on. “The squadron is preparing to make the jump to Gallinore. By all reports, this world is rich in unusual plant and animal life, just the sort of planet likely to draw the Yuuzhan Vong’s interest.”

As far as Kyp could tell, the invaders were not particularly discriminating. Ithor had been a forested paradise, and they’d burned it to ash and rock. Duro, on the other hand, was a foul slag heap. That planet they chose to rebuild.

It occurred to him to wonder how the Yuuzhan Vong might transform Coruscant. He decided he didn’t want to know.

“Setting coordinates,” he said, reaching for the controls that would relay this request to Zero-One.

“Belay that,” Jag told him. “The others will go ahead with Shawnkyr. We two will stay behind to practice maneuvers.”

An amused beep came from the astromech droid, but Kyp was too astounded to respond. Practice maneuvers? Exactly who and what did this kid think he was, and more important, to whom should Kyp send his body?

“Vanguard Three?” the commander prompted.

“Acknowledged,” Kyp said through gritted teeth.

He watched the other four ships disappear into the blackness of hyperspace. Six ships total, half the number he himself had commanded, and all of them reduced to skulking around the Hapes Cluster watching for signs of an invasion that, in Kyp’s opinion, was a foregone conclusion.

“You think our efforts here are wasted,” Jag observed.

“Let’s just say that I’m accustomed to a more proactive approach. Hello,” he said abruptly, glancing down at flashing sensors. “What have we got, Zero-One?”

SEVEN SMALL CRAFT. ALL ARE ARMING WEAPONS.

“Looks like today was worth waking up for after all. Let’s strike up an acquaintance.” Without bothering to defer to his “commander,” Kyp accelerated and swept toward the small fleet.

As he neared, he made out the distinctive wasp shape of the ships, the single dark viewport that from the side resembled an insect’s eye. The triangular wings were folded down close to the crescent hull for sublight flight, lowered from the upright V they assumed in atmosphere. In either flying condition, these ships could be deadly foes.

“Hornet Interceptors,” Jag observed. “Quite likely the same fighters that scattered when we approached Lieutenant Solo’s captured pirate ship.”

A sardonic smile tugged at one corner of Kyp’s mouth, and his irritation changed to interest. Of course they were the same ships—the Hornets weren’t equipped with hyperdrives, and their base ship was sitting on the Hapan docks with a two-meter hole burned into its hull.

It would appear that the starched and polished Chiss commander had brought him out on a hunting expedition. This had possibilities.

A bolt of greenish light streaked toward Kyp. He dodged the missile and returned fire.

The agile Hornet rolled aside and came back with a second attack. Two more ships circled around behind Kyp as he and his first opponent dipped and spun in a deadly dance. He grimaced as a laser bolt exploded against his shields.

Even with the Force guiding him, Kyp was hard-pressed to match several faster, more agile ships. “Zero-One, get a lock on the forward ship’s maneuvering jet.”

Icons flashed onto the targeting screen and zoomed into tight focus. When the droid beeped a confirmation, Kyp fired.

A blue laser bolt leapt toward the Hornet, skimming past the hull and slipping just under the deflector-shield projector. A brief spark announced the hit, and the Hornet listed heavily to one side.

Kyp spun away and came back at the damaged ship from above. He fired several laser streams at the ship’s insectoid head. The first few shots took out the Hornet’s shields. With half its maneuvering capability gone, the ship presented an easy target, and the pilot knew it.

The cockpit broke away as the pilot evacuated. The Hornet tumbled slowly away, as dead as the decapitated insect it resembled. Kyp pulled his X-wing into a sharp, rising circle, coming completely around and firing as he swooped down toward the remaining Hornets.

His attack sheared through one of the folded wings, and another ship went into a spiral. Kyp juked sharply to avoid return fire from one of the two surviving Interceptors.

With one hand he kept a steady barrage of laserfire pummeling the nearest ship, focusing on the Hornet’s starboard power generator. He sighted down the riveted joints where two curved segments met in the center of the ship. Still working the laser cannon, he launched a proton torpedo and then reached out with the Force.

The Hornet rolled sharply to port to evade—just as Kyp nudged the torpedo’s flight slightly aside. The missile struck the ship dead center and shattered the segment’s joinery. Centrifugal force and the evasive turn did the rest, and the rear half of the ship ripped away. From above, it appeared that a pair of gigantic, invisible hands had seized the ship and twisted it into two parts.

Kyp turned his attention to his fourth and final opponent. To his surprise, Jag Fel was already on it. The younger man’s clawcraft led the ship in a dizzying chase, openly taunting it to employ its turbocharged cannons. Several times the Hornet spat green fire. Each time Jag deftly evaded.

The Chiss ship spun away from the Hornet and began to climb, positioning for a diving attack. Kyp realized the strategy and came in from the opposite side. The two ships dived toward the Hornet, showering the midsection with laserfire.

Red heat began to pulse through the rear fuselage. The two scouts veered aside as the ship exploded from within.

Smart move, Kyp congratulated silently. Turbocharged laser cannons were as much a liability to the Hornets as they were an advantage—even a few shots could render the big guns unstable. Still, Jag Fel’s approach to the problem was as crazy as any airborne stunt Kyp had ever pulled.

But the young commander seemed unimpressed with his own daring. He was already on the comm, scanning for any ship close enough to pick up the evacuated pilots.

Once Jag had ensured retrieval of the surviving pirates, the two scouts fell into the side-by-side formation the Chiss-taught commander seemed to favor.

“So,” Kyp said conversationally, “is that your idea of practicing maneuvers?”

For several moments the only response to his rhetorical question was the faint crackle of an open comm. “You approached the Hornets without waiting for my command. Is this common practice?”

“For me? Absolutely.”

“I was referring to the New Republic in general. Gathering information is a vital function, but to whom should I report? I’m accustomed to clear chain of command, and the efficiency that results. While I understand that the fall of Coruscant dealt an enormous blow to the New Republic, the survivors seem fractured and contentious.”

“No argument here,” Kyp said, “but for the record, I haven’t been using the term New Republic for years. A government is like a fighter ship: after the first couple of decades it picks up a few dings and loses its shiny new look.”

“Point noted. Given my upbringing, I frequently have to remind myself not to refer to you as the Rebel Alliance,” Jag said with a touch of wry amusement. “I don’t wish to offend, but it’s a mystery to me that you managed to defeat the Empire.”

“We have our moments,” he said in a dry tone. “The Republic’s utter lack of direction is actually a clever ploy to confuse our enemies.”

“And that works?”

“Not that I’ve noticed, no.”

Jag lapsed into thoughtful silence. “I appreciate your candor, and your willingness to hear me out. Would you be offended by a personal question?”

“That seems unlikely. Go ahead.”

“Why is Jaina Solo so angry at you?”

An irrational flicker of irritation shimmered through the Jedi Master. “Oh, that. It’s a long story with a number of sordid chapters. Why not ask her yourself?”

“Two reasons. First, I don’t wish to intrude upon personal matters. Second, I suspect that you did resent that question,” observed Jag, “and I suspect that sending me to Jaina is your way of ensuring that I’m suitably punished for my presumption.”

This canny observation annoyed Kyp, and then amused him. “Depends what you consider personal. She helped me bring the Republic into a strike on a Yuuzhan Vong shipyard. The Vong were building new worldships there. I wanted her to believe they were superweapons. Once convinced, she was very convincing.”

“Ah.”

“Ah?” he repeated. “That’s it? You’re not going to lecture me on the evils of aggression?”

Jag considered this for a moment. “I was raised and trained among the Chiss. To them, first-strike tactics are unthinkable, dishonorable. We are defenders, not aggressors. But in this conflict, can we really argue that carefully considered aggression is different from holding back until the enemy strikes first? We know from the onset that battle is inevitable.”

Another convincing voice, Kyp mused. It was difficult to miss the spark of interest between Jag Fel and Jaina. The two of them, with a little guidance and a nudge or two in the right direction, could become a very potent force. He briefly pondered the possibilities of this, and the logistics.

“Your father’s a baron, right?”

“He is. Why do you ask?”

“Diplomatic vessels have been coming in from all over the cluster. Word has it there’s a state dinner at the palace this evening. If you want to talk to Jaina, that title might get you invited.”

“The palace?” Jag echoed incredulously. “She is not with her parents?”

“Not from what I hear.”

A long, astonished sigh hissed through the comm. “That, I do not understand. I also lost two siblings in battle. At such times, family provides much-needed support.”

“She has friends in the palace. Jedi,” Kyp specified. He let that remark lie where it fell.

“I see.”

Jag’s cool tone suggested that enough had been said on this subject. Kyp considered and discarded several nextstep remarks, searching for the words most likely to move the young pilot in the desired direction. “Do you believe in destiny?”

“If you mean the faithful development of inborn abilities and adherence to the duty at hand, then yes, I do.”

“Close enough. Have you considered the possibility that the people in this galaxy simply don’t know what to do about the Yuuzhan Vong, and never will? That perhaps the answer will come from an outsider’s perspective?”

“I hadn’t thought in quite those terms, no.”

Kyp considered the wreckage of the Hornet Interceptors and the skill and conviction of the young commander from the Unknown Regions. “Well, maybe you should.”