THREE
“Handles just as well as she always did,” Han announced confidently, as the newly matte-black Millennium Falcon left behind a lush little world of green and purple forest.
“A simple coat of paint and you’re feeling invulnerable,” Droma said, frowning. “Who would have guessed?”
Han made adjustments to the Falcon’s drives. “Next stop, Sriluur. Somebody once described it as the source of every foul wind that blows through the galaxy, but—”
“You figure they were just being kind,” Droma completed.
Han glanced at the Ryn, absurdly small in the oversize chair that had been Chewbacca’s. “Haven’t I warned you about doing that? Anyway, quit your worrying. I’ve been to Sriluur more times than I can count. And let me tell you, dodging Imperial bulk cruisers was a lot harder than dodging Yuuzhan Vong battleships.”
“Han Solo has been to Sriluur,” Droma pointed out, growing more agitated. “Unless you plan on revealing your true identity, you’re just another scruffy spacer with a freshly painted ship and a death wish.”
Han scowled, stroking the mostly gray growth on his chin as he tried to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the closest of the cockpit’s transparisteel panes.
“Quit your worrying,” Droma mimicked him, “the beard looks fine. But it’s not going to keep us from arousing suspicion when we start asking questions about Yuuzhan Vong prisoner ships.”
“Maybe not, but Sriluur’s worth the risk. The Weequays might not be the most attractive folks in the galaxy, but they’re real good at keeping an ear to the ground. And if anyone can tell us where to start looking for Roa or your clanmates, it’ll be them.”
Droma tugged nervously at his mustache. “Let’s just hope your pheromone levels are up to it.”
Han waved a hand in dismissal. “They only communicate like that among their own kind. I always managed to get by with Basic.” He smirked. “I’d like to see you second-guess what a Weequay’s about to say.”
“Scent.”
“Huh?”
“What a Weequay is about to scent.”
Han put his tongue in his cheek, nodded slowly, and threw switches on the navicomputer. “Maybe we’ll get lucky at Sriluur and have to put down in a sandstorm,” he said in a casual way.
“Extra concealment for the ship?”
Han snarled at him. “No, so I can see how much sand it takes to plug that perpetual motion machine you call a mouth.”
Droma grimaced, then sighed with purpose. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of venturing so close to Hutt space—with or without Yuuzhan Vong in the area. There’s no love lost between Hutts and Ryn. Many of us were enslaved by them to provide entertainment in one court or another. Some of my ancestors were required to prognosticate for a Desilijic Hutt. When predicted events didn’t come to pass, the Hutt would have a Ryn killed by his henchmen or fed to a court beast.”
“True to form,” Han said. “But you’ve got my word, no Hutt’ll stop us from locating your clanmates. We’ll have your family back together soon enough.”
“Then we can make a start on yours,” Droma mumbled.
Han threw him an angry glance. “You want to explain that?”
Droma turned to him. “You and Leia to begin with. If it weren’t for me, you’d be with her now. I only hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me.”
Han compressed his lips. “You’ve got nothing to do with what’s come between us. Heck, it’s not even between me and Leia. It’s between me and”—he flicked his hand at the starfield beyond the viewpoint—“this.”
Droma didn’t speak for a moment, then said, “Even friends can’t be protected from fate, Han.”
“Don’t talk to me about fate,” Han snapped. “Nothing’s fixed—not these stars and definitely not what happens to us in life.” He clenched his hands. “These are what determine my fate.”
“And yet even you end up in situations that are not of your making.”
“Like my being with you, for instance.”
Droma frowned. “I’ve lost friends and loved ones to tragedy, and I’ve tried to do exactly what you’re doing.”
Han looked up at him. “What I’m doing?”
“Trying to beat tragedy by outracing it. Filling your life to the brim, even when it puts you in danger. Burying your heartache under as much anger as you can muster, without realizing that you’ve shoveled love and compassion into the same grave. We live for love, Han. Without it we might as well jettison everything.”
Despite himself, Han thought about Leia on Gyndine, Jaina flying with Rogue Squadron, Anakin and Jacen off to who knew where with the Jedi. When he considered, even for a split second, where he might be without them, the angry words and recriminations that had spewed from him since Chewie’s death pierced him like rapid fire. If something should happen to them, he started to think, only to feel a great black maw opening beneath him, undermining everything he believed in. Protectively, he tugged himself from dark imaginings.
“I got along just fine without love for a lot of years, Droma. Love is what starts things rolling downhill. It’s like being sucked into a gravity well or being caught by a tractor beam. You get too close, there’s no escape.”
Droma nodded, as if in understanding. “So your mistake was in befriending Chewbacca to begin with. You would have been better off keeping your distance. Then you wouldn’t be grieving now.”
“Befriending him wasn’t a mistake,” Han said.
“But if you’d kept your guard raised all those years, you would never have grown as close to him as you did.”
“Okay, that was a risk I took. But that was then.”
“Let me suggest an alternative error. You didn’t see his death coming and you’re angry that you let your guard down.”
“You’re right about that. I should’ve been more vigilant.”
“So let’s suppose you did everything you could and still failed. Would you be grieving now, or would doing everything have satisfied you enough so that you wouldn’t miss him?”
“Of course I’d still miss him.”
“Then who are you angry at—yourself for the things you didn’t do, or fate for having snuck up on you?”
Han swallowed hard. “All I know is I won’t make that mistake again. I’ll be ready for anything fate dishes out.”
Han glared at him. “I won’t.”
Deep in one of the fathomless canyons formed by Coruscant’s soaring superstructures, Sullustan Admiral Sien Sovv switched off his private comlink and relayed the tragic news to the twelve officers seated in the recently readied New Republic Defense Force war room.
“Gyndine is lost.”
The uncomfortable silence that greeted the announcement came as no surprise. The planet’s fall had been a foregone conclusion from the moment it had been identified as a target. Filling the silence, machines whirred and hummed as they received and processed intelligence updates from all sectors of New Republic space. In projected light, virtual battle groups of starships moved lazily among virtual worlds.
“For allowing this to happen, we are all diminished,” Brigadier General Etahn A’baht remarked at last, voicing what many in the room were thinking. And yet the silence lingered.
“While I number myself among those who in the end voted against dispatching a force of suitable might to safeguard Gyndine,” the aubergine-skinned Dornean went on, “I wish to reiterate the remarks I made during the arguments preceding that regrettable decision. By all but surrendering worlds like Gyndine, we reinforce widespread conviction that the New Republic is interested only in protecting the Core, and in doing so we play into the enemy’s hand by weakening ourselves from within.”
A scornful muttering rose from across the oblong table, and all heads turned to Commodore Brand. “Perhaps it would have been wiser to send an entire fleet to Gyndine and thus deprive Kuat or Fondor of any defense.”
A’baht stood his ground, meeting the dour human’s gaze. “Will that be your justification for allowing the Yuuzhan Vong to occupy the entire Inner Rim? Is the Inner Rim the price we’re willing to pay to protect the Core?” He paused for effect. “A wise action, Commodore, would be to cease this exercise in selective defense and begin sending forces where needed.”
A’baht glanced around the table. “Doesn’t it disturb any of you that threatened worlds have begun to surrender without a fight? That former allies have refused to allow us to use their systems as staging areas out of fear of reprisals by the Yuuzhan Vong?”
He continued before anyone could respond. “Even a cursory look at the situation reveals that those populations who, at our urging, mounted a resistance have seen their worlds poisoned or devastated, while those like the Hutts, who have struck deals with the Yuuzhan Vong, have escaped bloodshed entirely.”
“You disgrace all of us by bringing the Hutts into this,” Brand said angrily. “Was their capitulation ever in doubt?”
A’baht made a placating gesture. “I offer them only as an example, Commodore. But the fact remains that Nal Hutta has been spared the ruination visited on Dantooine, Ithor, Obroa-skai, and countless other worlds. My point is that populations throughout the Mid Rim and the Expansion Region are fast losing faith in our ability to put an end to this war—and I use the word intentionally, since few of you seem to realize, even at this late stage, the great peril we face. Events are reaching a point where it’s every system for itself.”
A’baht gestured broadly to the holoprojectors and screens. “Even this space reflects our denial to embrace the depths of our peril. Instead of meeting openly for all of Coruscant to see, we wind up down here, as if in hiding from the truth.”
“No one is hiding,” Brand objected. “Thanks to the ineptitude of the Intelligence division, we came close to escorting two saboteurs into our midst—or doesn’t it matter to you that our security has been compromised?”
“The saboteurs were after the Jedi, not us,” Director of Fleet Intelligence Addar Nylykerka interjected.
A’baht swung to him. “And why? Because, until Ithor, the Jedi were the ones who were leading the campaign. Now either we assume that role, or we allow the New Republic to splinter beyond repair. We must demonstrate our commitment to stopping the Yuuzhan Vong, and we must do so before additional worlds fall.”
He adopted a more affable tone. “I’m not saying that security isn’t an issue; only that we set a proper example. By relocating to Dometown we have encouraged everyone to think in terms of concealment.”
A kilometer-wide cavern of homes and buildings, Dometown had originally been financed by a consortium of investors, including former general Lando Calrissian. But the hundreds of thousands expected to abandon the frenetic surface for underground tranquillity had never arrived, and the enterprise had gone bankrupt. Repossessed by banks and various credit unions, the would-be community had ultimately become the property of the New Republic military.
“Already there are new hotels and restaurants being opened on the lowest levels,” A’baht was saying, “in anticipation that those currently fortunate enough to live in Coruscant’s lofty towers will have nowhere to go but down should the Yuuzhan Vong attack. And mark my words, there’ll be no survival, even here. For if what is occurring at Sernpidal and Obroa-skai is any indication, the Yuuzhan Vong will remake Coruscant in their own image, entombing any who have fled to the depths.”
“Has thought been given to just where we will go should Coruscant fall?” Ixidro Legorburu asked while most of the officers were mulling over A’baht’s dire prediction. A native of M’haeli, Legorburu was director of the New Republic’s Battle Assessment Division.
“That will never happen,” Sien Sovv assured, then lowered his voice to add, “Nevertheless, we’re exploring options for relocating key government and military personnel to the Koornacht Cluster or, should worse come to worst, the Empress Teta system in the Deep Core.”
“Key personnel,” someone said leadingly.
The Sullustan admiral frowned. “It’s a moot point, in any case, since most of the proposals have met with opposition by certain members of the senate.”
Knowing glances were traded around the table.
“General A’baht’s point about honoring our commitment to secondary worlds is well taken,” Sovv said, “but I’m certain that even he would be willing to concede that sending a flotilla to Gyndine wouldn’t have slowed the enemy’s advance.”
When everyone looked at A’baht for confirmation, he nodded, though with obvious reluctance.
“The attack on Gyndine indicates a change in the enemy’s battle campaign. Clearly they are probing for weaknesses, perhaps routes into the Core. At the same time, there has been a marked increase in their mining of select hyperspace routes, which has narrowed our access to several outlying sectors.”
“In other words, they’re attempting to contain us,” Brand said.
The diminutive Sovv stood and directed everyone’s attention to a holomap that projected from the table’s center, showing the current disposition of Yuuzhan Vong forces. “This is what we have been able to piece together from direct observation, in addition to stasis probe reconnaissance and hyperspace orbiting scanners.
“As you can see, their fleets are concentrated between Ord Mantell and Obroa-skai, and now between Hutt space and Gyndine. Should they move Coreward from Obroa-skai, Bilbringi, Borleias, Venjagga, and Ord Mirit are imperiled. From Gyndine, Commenor, Kuat, and Corellia are vulnerable. Analysis suggests that the conquest of Gyndine was effected to ready the way for a two-pronged attack. Logic dictates that—”
“You err in believing that they strategize as we do,” A’baht interrupted, “when, in fact, they are waging a psychological war. The destruction of natural beauty and repositories of learning, the pursuit of refugees—such tactics are meant to confound and dishearten us. The Yuuzhan Vong are as much as saying that the civilization we have fashioned means nothing to them. All that we hold sacred is imperiled.”
Impatience coaxed Brand out of his seat. “Spare us the rhetoric, General, and come to the point. With such keen insight into the Yuuzhan Vong, you no doubt have some foreknowledge of where they will strike next.”
A’baht squared his shoulders. “The next targets will be Bothawui and Kothlis.”
Everyone regarded the Dornean for a long moment. “You have evidence to support this?” Sovv asked.
“No more than what you present to support your belief that they will push for the Core. With their forces in Hutt space, they are practically at Bothawui’s door.”
“So this is what he’s been getting at,” Brand muttered. “He’s finally gone over to Borsk Fey’lya’s side. Fey’lya the warrior, the hero of Ithor.”
A’baht refused to speak to the remark. “I propose that elements of the Third and Fourth Fleets be relocated to Bothan space as soon as possible. Bothawui is where we should draw the line and launch our counteroffensive.”
Brand snorted derisively. “And if you’re wrong? If the Yuuzhan Vong should decide to assault Bilbringi, Kuat, or Mon Calamari instead?”
A’baht glowered. “Are you suggesting that those worlds are more important than Bothawui?”
“I’m saying precisely that. If any of our shipyards fall, the New Republic will topple.”
“And if Bothawui falls?”
“We will mourn the loss, but the New Republic will survive.”
A’baht shook his head in dismay. “Times like this make me wish that Ackbar could be persuaded to come out of retirement.”
Sovv held up his hands to silence half a dozen separate conversations. “Contrary to General A’baht’s assertions, no scenarios have been ruled out. Based on current intelligence, Bothawui is just as likely to be targeted as Bilbringi. But more important, we are not simply standing by, waiting for the Yuuzhan Vong to strike. Two plans have already been put into action.” He looked at Brand. “Commodore, if you would be so kind.”
A’baht leaned forward in interest.
“The first plan involves inducing the Hapes Consortium to join the fight,” Brand said. “The Hapans are not only well armed but well positioned to outflank the enemy. Indeed, the Yuuzhan Vong may have skirted the Hapes Cluster in order to avoid having to engage them.”
“Then why should the Consortium worlds elect to get involved now?” A’baht asked. “Why wouldn’t they secure their own space as the Imperial Remnant has, or cut a deal, as the Hutts appear to have done?”
“Because the Consortium has allied with us in the past,” Sovv explained calmly. “Following the Battle of Endor, they captured several Imperial Star Destroyers, but instead of holding on to those ships, they donated them to the New Republic. Additionally, the Hapan queen mother’s homeworld of Dathomir is threatened.”
“More to the point,” Brand interjected, “the Jedi recently did the royal family a favor by foiling a coup directed against the queen mother. It is hoped that Ambassador Organa Solo can persuade the rulers of the noble houses to repay us in kind.”
A’baht feigned a look of confusion. “The Jedi did them a favor, and yet you’ve asked Organa Solo to intercede. To the best of my knowledge, she is not a true member of that order. Or is it perhaps that she was once courted by Prince Isolder?”
Brand fielded the question. “I won’t deny that that didn’t influence our decision to approach her.”
“And she has agreed?”
“For a price. We had to promise to back her in seeking added funds for SELCORE—refugee relief. But, yes, she has agreed. She will leave for Hapes immediately on her return from Gyndine.”
A’baht allowed an uncertain nod. “And this other plan?”
Brand adjusted the fit of his collar. “We’re hoping to lure the Yuuzhan Vong into attacking the Corellian system.”
For a moment, even A’baht was too surprised to speak; then he said, “Corellia isn’t Gyndine, Commodore. If it’s your aim to make that system a battlefield to avoid fouling Coruscant’s space lanes, you will never have my vote. Wasn’t it enough that we stripped the Corellians of the ability to defend themselves after the Centerpoint Station crisis?”
Sovv put his small hands on the table and leaned toward A’baht. “Centerpoint Station is the very reason we hope to lure the Yuuzhan Vong there.”
Larger than the Death Star, the artifact had been discovered to be a hyperspace repulsor, used in the dim past and by an unknown race, to capture and transport planets to the Corellian system. The station was also a weapon of unparalleled power, both starbuster and interdiction field generator, and eight years earlier had been employed as such by a group known as the Sacorrian Triad, in an unsuccessful attempt to achieve independence from the New Republic.
“Are you telling me that Centerpoint is operational?” A’baht asked in disbelief. “The last I heard, it had been shut down.”
“It shut itself down,” Brand snapped. “But as we speak several hundred scientists are attempting to return it to operational status. If the Yuuzhan Vong can be encouraged to attack Corellia, we will use a Centerpoint-generated interdiction field to prevent their ships from going to hyperspace while our fleets attack from the rear.”
“Much to the dismay of the species of the Corellian sector, I would imagine,” A’baht said. “After all, we didn’t win many friends by interceding in the system’s attempts at self-governance. If memory serves, the blowback from that interference is what prompted Organa Solo to resign as chief of state.”
Sovv nodded. “But Governor-General Marcha is a New Republic appointee, and she has given her conditional approval. As a Corellian citizen, her word carries a lot of weight, not only on her native Drall but on Selonia, Corellia, and the Double Worlds. What’s more, we haven’t made the full extent of our plans known.”
A’baht stared at him for a moment, then looked at Brand.
“As far as the Corellians know, we’re readying Centerpoint as a defensive weapon, in lieu of stationing a flotilla there.”
“How very noble of us,” A’baht said in obvious disgust. “Here they’ve been supplying us with Strident-class Star Defenders, and we withhold the fact that we’re planning to use their system as a battleground. Just how do you plan to lure the Yuuzhan Vong into attacking?”
“By making Corellia appear too attractive a target to pass up,” Brand said. “By leaving the system essentially unprotected.”
A’baht stroked his jaw in thought. “It’s bold, I’ll grant that much. But have Fey’lya and the Advisory Council members been apprised of this plan?”
“They know only what Corellia knows,” Brand barked, then softened his tone to add, “Fey’lya would never sanction the rearming of Centerpoint—if only to prevent Corellia from reaping such power.” He laughed shortly. “Even in the remote chance he did support us, how then could we ensure that word of the plan wouldn’t leak? Once that occurred, every world in the Corellian system would rise up in revolt.”
A’baht snorted in displeasure. “Fey’lya’s isn’t the only voice on the council. He can be overridden by a majority vote.”
Brand and Sovv traded looks. “From what we have been able to determine,” the admiral said, “three of the council members would certainly follow Fey’lya’s lead. Four of the others could very well support us.”
A’baht considered it. In response to the clamor from far-flung sectors for increased representation, two additional senators had been appointed to the council since the poisoning of Ithor. “That’s four against, four in favor. Who is the unknown quantity?”
“The council’s newest member,” Brand said, “Senator Viqi Shesh.”
“Has anyone approached her?” A’baht asked. “Unofficially, of course?”
Brand shook his head. “Not yet.”
Sovv pressed his hands together. “Then I suggest we do so, Commodore. Before our window closes.”
Ixidro Legorburu spoke up. “Is there any hope that the Hutts can be persuaded to join us, actively or indirectly?”
“Intelligence agents on Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa have reported that the Hutts’ decision to ally themselves with the Yuuzhan Vong is a ruse,” Sovv said. “They apparently wish to serve as conduits of information for the New Republic.”
“You accept that?” A’baht asked.
“Given their history of alliances, they wouldn’t align themselves with anyone without having a contingency plan in place.” Sovv ran his hand down his prominently jowled face. “Even the Hutts can’t risk being caught on the wrong side when the Yuuzhan Vong are defeated.”
“When, not if,” Commodore Brand said around an arrogant grin. “I find such optimism refreshing.”
A’baht frowned. “I find it wishful thinking.”