CHAPTER THIRTY
Jacen Solo watched the freighter captain accept the datapad back from Corran, check the receipt flashing on the screen, then wave forward the binary loadlifter with the brushed aluminum case. “You should know that Dr. Pace said she was going to protest this appropriation of Yuuzhan Vong artifacts to the highest levels.” The captain shook his head.
“Noted.” Corran gave the man a curt nod. “Thanks for the diversion here. I won’t keep you.”
“Not a problem. Your wife’s done me some good turns in the past. Glad to return the favor.” The man gave Corran a quick salute, then directed the loadlifter back to his freighter.
“Want me to get that, Corran?”
The elder Jedi hefted the case by its handle, then extended it toward Jacen. “Has your mind changed about this? You didn’t like the idea at the briefing. Second thoughts?”
Jacen accepted the case and was surprised by how light it really was. “Not really. You’re making part of this war personal, you against Shedao Shai. That’s not right. It’s divisive. It’s of the—”
“Don’t tell me it’s of the dark side, Jacen.” Corran held up a hand and shook his head. “I’m not in a mood—”
“Yes, you are, Corran, you’re in a mood. And you don’t want to hear it because you know it’s true.” Jacen got a step ahead of the other Jedi, glancing back at him over his left shoulder. “You’re the one who told me we all have to be pulling in the same direction, but you’re going off on your own. You want revenge for your friend. I can’t blame you for that, but were the situation reversed, you’d be arguing with me to subordinate my feelings to what others thought was best.”
“That’s probably true.”
“So, why doesn’t the same work for you?”
“Because . . .” Corran frowned, then grabbed a handful of Jacen’s tunic and tugged him down a side corridor. “Come here.”
The two of them walked along in silence and emerged on a walkway that gave them a view across the expanse of the bowl that was the Tafanda Bay. Had Jacen not known they were floating over the Mother Jungle, he could have easily been led to believe that the Ithorian ship was a domed city nestled comfortably on the planet below. The transparisteel dome displayed a bright blue sky through which freighters streaked toward space, and the verdant foliage throughout the city let the white walls and walkways peek through only here and there.
“Look out there, Jacen. This is a city that is now abandoned by the people who love it, who labored to create it. Why? Because it’s a target. We know the Vong are going to hit it, so we’ve moved the people and have rigged up some surprises for the enemy. We’re doing that on the planet itself, too.”
The youth nodded. “I understand that.”
“Well, understand this: Shedao Shai, because of what I did at Bimmiel, because of what we did at Garqi, has decided I’m a target. He’s going to be looking for me—and for the bones in that case—which means he’s going to be distracted. That’s what we want, because a distracted leader is one who will give us some time and, ultimately, is going to fail.”
“I get that, but the rest of it . . .”
Corran sighed and laid a hand on Jacen’s left shoulder. “Look, Jacen, I don’t want revenge for Elegos. His death hurt me, deeply, but I knew him well enough to know that the last thing he’d want is someone slain in his name. You remember on Dantooine, he took to flying that shuttle because he was willing to take responsibility for killing, to shield others from having to bear that burden. If I went out after Shedao Shai in Elegos’s name, Elegos would see that as his having thrust the burden of violence on me. I wouldn’t do that to him.”
“But you do intend to kill Shedao Shai.”
Corran’s face resolved itself into a solemn mask. “If the opportunity arises, yes. Look, Jacen, it’s not about vengeance, which, you’re right, would be of the dark side. It’s about responsibility. Shedao Shai wants to kill me. If I don’t engage him, then you or Ganner or someone else might be required to deal with him. Yes, he’s dangerous, of that I have no doubt. He may well kill me and then he’s your problem. Until then, he’s mine.”
Jacen shivered. “I don’t know about that.”
“Yeah, but you don’t have to.” The older man sighed, not wearily, but as if he were letting tension boil off. “I know what we are doing is right, Jacen. The battle here is for two ends. The first is to preserve Ithor and its fleeing population. The second, which is equally important, is to inflict a defeat on the Vong. We need them to know the easy course of their invasion so far isn’t going to continue. If they pay a price here, they may reconsider further action.
“I don’t expect you to understand it at your age, because I didn’t until well past it, but I just know that what I’m doing is right.” He smiled. “I can feel it in my gut. It’s just what has to be done.”
Jacen heard the conviction in Corran’s voice and took heart in it for a second, then frowned as his mouth soured. “I felt that way about freeing the slaves on Belkadan, and you know how that turned out.”
Corran looped an arm over Jacen’s shoulders. “Um, kid, you’ve got a lot to learn about this morale thing.”
“Just trying to be realistic.”
“Yeah, I know.” Corran smiled grimly and steered Jacen along to their staging area. “I have a feeling we’re going to get realism washed over us in waves. I just hope we don’t drown.”
“Indeed, I am rather surprised to see you still here, cousin.” Admiral Traest Kre’fey stood forward on the Ralroost’s bridge, watching the spacescape over Ithor. Out in the distance a number of dagger-shaped ships orbited the planet—with fewer of them belonging to the New Republic than to the Imperial Remnant. “I would have thought you’d have made your way back toward the Core with High Priest Tawron.”
Borsk Fey’lya avoided shrugging, though fur did ripple at the back of his neck. “There were reasons I stayed.”
Not the least being that Leia Organa Solo has not fled as your cabinet has? Traest left his thoughts unvoiced, though he felt the chief of the New Republic might have read them in his feral smile. “And reasons you wished to speak to me?”
“Speak to you? No.” Fey’lya smiled carefully. “I wanted you here as a witness.” He nodded toward the communications officer. “You may put the connection through now.”
Lieutenant Arr’yka looked to the admiral for permission.
Traest held a hand up for a moment. “And whom do you want to speak with?”
“Admiral Pellaeon.” Fey’lya nodded toward the Chimaera glimmering in the distance. “Since you are not so bold as to champion your own cause, it becomes incumbent upon me to do so. I will demand the leadership of this operation fall to you. It is a New Republic world; you should be leading its defense.”
“I see.” A hint of a growl entered Traest’s voice, then he nodded to the lieutenant. “Open communications with Admiral Pellaeon, please.”
The two Bothans waited in silence for a handful of seconds, then Pellaeon appeared in life-size holo as imposing as he did in life. “Yes, Admiral Kre’fey?”
“My compliments, Admiral. I did not want to disturb you, but Chief Borsk Fey’lya wishes to urge you to give me command of the Ithorian defense. Before he did that, I thought I would let him hear your orders concerning the matter.”
The human nodded and smoothed his white mustache with his left hand. “As per Imperial directive 59826, if I am replaced as commander of the Ithorian defense, all Imperial ships and personnel are to be withdrawn to Bastion immediately.”
“Thank you, Admiral. Sorry for wasting your time. Kre’fey out.”
The Bothan admiral turned to face his cousin. “Will that be all?”
He could see by the crest of fur rising at Borsk Fey’lya’s neck that it would not be. “This is an outrage! The Remnant has no place defending this world. It is our world. We must be in command of the defense. There can be no other way!”
Traest extended his right hand toward Fey’lya, palm up, fingers clawed, and unsheathed his talons. “On Coruscant you agreed to leave the defense of the New Republic to the military. I warned you that if you tried to interfere, I would withdraw my forces to the Unknown Regions. I can and will yet do that. If I do, Admiral Pellaeon will pull his forces out. Ithor will be defenseless.”
Fey’lya’s violet eyes widened. “But you can’t. The troops you have on the ground would be abandoned. And the Jedi . . . you would not leave them—”
“No? Try me. You don’t care about the Jedi. If you had your way, they would all perish here. You’d praise their sacrifice, build memorials to them, then happily dance on their graves.” Traest’s amethyst eyes hardened, letting light glint from the gold flecks in them. “As for leaving Ithor behind, you have no idea where I’ve sent the refugees. There will be Ithorian colonies throughout the New Republic and Unknown Regions. Yes, it will take years before the bafforr trees can produce their pollen again, but I can spend that time building up armies to come and crush the Yuuzhan Vong. I warned you before that is what I would do, and I will. One word from me and the dependents for every warrior in my command will be moved to worlds of my choosing.”
“You are insubordinate! I will remove you from command.” Fey’lya turned and pointed at two Bothan security officers standing beside the access hatch to the bridge. “Arrest Admiral Kre’fey and conduct him from the bridge.”
Neither of the Bothans stirred or gave any sign they’d even heard the command.
Traest peered down his nose at his cousin. “We are in a war zone, cousin. Your power ended when you entered this system. You have a choice—” He was cut off by Pellaeon’s sudden holographic appearance.
“Forgive me, Admiral, but the Vong have reached attack range. They have launched; we have incoming. It has begun. Case Seven, it appears.”
“Thank you, Admiral. Case Seven it is.” Traest looked through the Imperial’s vanishing hologram. “Case Seven, slave our targeting computers to telemetry from the Chimaera. Scramble all fighters. This is not a drill, people. Fight well and we’ll live to see the Yuuzhan Vong repulsed.”
Traest stepped in close to Fey’lya and dropped his voice to a whisper. “The choice I was going to offer you was to return to your quarters, or to get on a ship and flee before the enemy deployed its forces. That latter choice is gone now, but I offer you another. You can remain here, on the bridge, and silently show your support for those who will fight to save your life, or you can slink away in terror and hope the Yuuzhan Vong attacks never breach your cabin’s bulkheads.”
Fey’lya lifted his chin. “You may have contempt for me now, cousin, but in my day, when Imperials were our enemies, I spilled blood. I’ve known combat, and I’ve not run from it.”
“Good, because the Yuuzhan Vong are worse than anything you ever faced.” Traest raised his voice so everyone on the bridge could hear him. “Yes, cousin, your help here would be wonderful. If there is a need, I will let you know what to do. Until then, just having you here, honoring my staff with your presence, is more valuable to our effort than you could know.”
Jaina Solo’s X-wing sailed out high above the Ralroost and rolled left to come into position within Rogue Squadron’s formation. Anni Capstan dropped in on her starboard S-foil and drifted back a couple of meters. A quick glance at the displays showed her screens up at full, her inertial compensator field expanded to protect them from Yuuzhan Vong dovin basals, and her weapons systems fully charged and green.
“Eleven hot and green.”
Sparky hooted and started painting tactical data on her primary monitor. In an eye blink a dozen Yuuzhan Vong targets scrolled past. The monitor displayed a huge Yuuzhan Vong cruiser, bigger than anything she’d seen before. It bristled with long spines of yorick coral, though the core of it seemed to have started life as an asteroid onto which the other pieces had been grafted.
Three smaller cruisers—all the size of the ship they’d fought at Dantooine—surrounded the largest cruiser, then eight more ships were positioned in support of the rest. From all of them boiled skips, forming a cloud of contacts. Through all that Sparky managed to pick up a series of medium-size ships that Jaina took to be troop carriers.
Fleet command immediately downloaded tactical designators for the Yuuzhan Vong ships. The biggest was designated a grand cruiser. The smaller ones became assault cruisers, and the smallest were tagged light cruisers. The quickchat designators of grand, salt, and light were appended to the files, though Jaina assumed the pilots would come up with their own designators just to spite the tactical planners.
The troop carriers earned the name crate. Jaina knew they had to be jam-packed full of Yuuzhan Vong warriors. The soldiers would be helpless until they got into atmosphere and on the ground, and an attack on them didn’t need to destroy the crate, just open the hull enough to let the atmosphere out and cold in.
Gavin’s voice crackled over the comm channel. “Rogues, we have the crates. Lasers if you can, torps if you can’t. Better us killing them up here, than having them on the ground.”