How did the Empire capture Gamorr without firing a cannon bolt? They landed backward, and the Gamorreans thought they were retreating!
—Jacen Solo, age 15
THE CRIMSON STAINS LEFT BY HER BROTHER’S BLOOD HAD FINALLY faded from Jaina’s face and throat, but perhaps not from her heart. Why hadn’t she believed him when he said he was trying to save Tenel Ka and Allana? She should have sensed that he was telling the truth, or at least realized that he would know better than to ask for quarter to save himself. They had, after all, been twins, and had she only been willing to look for the little goodness that remained in him—the little bit of Jacen that had not died—she would have found it.
Jaina wasn’t foolish enough to believe it would have been enough to bring her brother back into the light. He had gone too far into darkness for that. But if she had just believed him, had not been so sure it was just a Sith trick, she might have given him the two seconds he needed to explain.
And Allana might still be alive.
A soft hiss sounded from the entrance to Jaina’s private convalescence suite. She glanced away from the ceiling mirror and saw her parents coming through the door, their eyes bright with joy and relief.
“Hey, kid,” her father said. “Good to see you up.”
“This isn’t really ‘up,’ Dad.” Jaina was floating in a sterile hoverest cabinet, suspended in midair with a nurturing bacta mist swirling over her burned flesh and an opaque modesty curtain draped over—but not touching—her bare skin. “Unless you’re comparing it with what’ll happen if there’s a power failure.”
“At least you’re out of the tank,” her mother said, entering the cabin behind him. “Now we can actually talk instead of just smiling and waving.”
“Smiling and waving wasn’t so bad. It was good to know you were out there.” Jaina grew quiet, then said, “But I do have a lot of questions.”
Her father’s face turned somber. “Zekk?”
Jaina nodded. “For starters. Any word?”
“Nothing,” he said. “They’ve found a few StealthX pieces floating around, but there were several lost, so it’s impossible to know whether any of it came off his.”
“What about his rescue beacon?”
“There’s no sign that it was triggered,” her mother said. Unlike the rescue beacons of most starfighters, the StealthX beacon wasn’t automatic; it had to be activated by the pilot or his astromech when he went EV. “But the Mists are pretty thick around there.”
“And no sign of him in the Force, of course,” Jaina surmised. That was actually the most likely way someone would find him—but only if he was conscious enough to reach out. “I sure haven’t felt anything.”
“Luke said they’re going to keep looking.” Her mother stepped over next to the hoverest and looked as though she wanted to touch Jaina, but that was strictly forbidden, of course. “But Mirta Gev sends her thanks.”
“She made it back to Mandalore okay, then?” Jaina asked.
“Not exactly,” her father said. “She’s safe—”
“And healing nicely,” her mother added. “So is her husband…Ghes Orade, I believe.”
“Just not on Mandalore,” her father added. “Turns out Fett can’t go back there—ever. Neither can his granddaughter.”
“What?” Jaina couldn’t imagine the force that would prevent either of the two from returning to their home. “Why not?”
“The Moffs,” her father explained. “They were pretty mad about that commando raid on Nickel One, so they made a special strain of nanokiller just for Fett and dropped a few tons of it into Mandalore’s atmosphere. If he or Mirta ever go back there, it’s just a matter of time before it gets them.”
“That’s terrible.” Jaina thought of Mirta and her plans with Ghes, and she felt terrible. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” her mother said. “Tahiri reported it during her first questioning, and the Moffs confirmed it.”
“They claim there’s no way to fix it,” Han said. “A Mand’alor who can never set foot on Mandalore—kind of poetic justice, isn’t it?”
“It might be justice, but I wouldn’t call it poetic,” Jaina said. “It’s just sad…especially for Mirta.”
A silence fell over the room just long enough for her mother to shoot her father a “be careful” look, then Leia said, “Well, we do have some good news.”
“Jag is coming to see me?”
“As soon as he can,” her father promised. “He’s pretty busy with the peace conference right now. The Moffs seem to keep getting the idea that they’re the ones who won this war.”
“Won?” Jaina raised her brow. “The war is over? Completely?”
Her mother nodded. “They’re having the ceremony now.” She retrieved the remote from its storage pocket in Jaina’s hoverest cabinet and pointed it at a vidscreen suspended near the ceiling. “We might be able to catch the last part.”
As the screen activated, it showed the image of a large dais that had been erected in the vast main hangar of a Star Destroyer. At the front of the dais stood a podium and high table bearing a single sheet of flimsiplast covered in scrawls that appeared to be the signatures of the long row of dignitaries seated at the rear of the platform.
A tall, regal-looking woman in a white admiral’s uniform, with green eyes and long copper hair going to gray, was taking the podium to tremendous applause, and a caption at the bottom of the screen read NEW ALLIANCE CHIEF OF STATE DAALA.
“Daala?” Jaina gasped. She stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment, then finally snorted and looked back to her parents. “Very funny, guys, but I’m not really in the mood for practical jokes.”
Her parents glanced nervously at each other, then her father said, “No joke, kid. That’s the only hitch with the peace deal. Bwua’tu wouldn’t take the job—he said he’s an admiral, not a liar—”
“What he actually said was that he didn’t think he was cunning enough to last in the job,” her mother interrupted. “And then he recommended Admiral Daala instead.”
“I think the old goat’s got a thing for her,” her father said.
Her mother shot him a scowl of exasperation. “The admiral’s feelings are speculation, of course,” she said. “But Daala turned out to be the only universally acceptable choice.”
“Universally?” Jaina asked. “Really?”
“Well, some of the Moffs squirmed a bit,” her father admitted. “But then Jag worked out a deal where Daala promised to let bygones be bygones—as long as half of the new Moffs are female.”
Jaina’s head was spinning. Female Moffs. Daala in charge of the Alliance. That wasn’t going to be good for the Jedi. But maybe it didn’t need to be, if it meant an end to the war.
“Daala might not be that bad,” her father said. “Give her a chance.”
“Okay.” Jaina turned her gaze back to the vidscreen, where the admiral was at the podium, waiting for the applause to fade. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
Jaina’s mother turned up the volume. After a moment, Daala began to speak in a deep, cultured voice.
“What can I add that has not already been said here today?” she began. “If this war has taught us anything, it is that we all lose when we fight. My friends, the time has come to try a new way—”
Here, she had to stop and wait for the applause to die down again—and it took nearly a minute.
When she was finally able to continue, she said, “The way of cooperation, so that we can all win together.”
More thunderous applause.
Daala motioned for quiet, then continued, “My friends, it is my promise to you here today that sometime in the not-too-distant future, we will live in a galaxy where our space navies exist to better our societies, not defend them—where we won’t need Jedi to sort out our differences and mete out justice, because we will be living under a government that is just.”
The crowd rose to its feet, roaring and cheering, and Jaina realized with a cold shudder that Jacen had not failed. He had sacrificed everything—his name, his family, his reputation, his life—to unite the galaxy. And now here Jaina was, watching the birth of a galaxywide league of worlds dedicated to working together in peace.
Had Jacen won after all?
“Hey, take it easy, kid.” Her father stepped in front of the vidscreen. “Daala’s not that scary.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Jaina said, glad to be looking at his face instead of Daala’s. “It’s not Daala. I was just thinking of…of what Caedus sacrificed. At the end, there was a second when he just stopped fighting so he could warn Tenel Ka.”
Jaina could not bring herself to look at her parents when she told them this next part, but she had to tell. They deserved to know.
“I think he became Jacen again for a second before I…before I killed him.”
“Jaina, it’s okay.” Her mother started to reach for her arm again, then barely caught herself. “If you had hesitated, you would be the dead one.”
Jaina shook her head. “I could have given him a second,” she said. “If I had, maybe he could have made Tenel Ka understand in time to save Allana.”
Jaina forced herself to look back to her parents and was amazed to see that they didn’t appear all that upset. In fact, they looked a little bit guilty.
“Yeah, about that,” her father said. “There’s something we haven’t been able to tell you yet.”
Jaina frowned. “What?”
Her mother went the door and opened it, then said, “Amelia, would you come in here for a minute?”
Jaina looked to her father. “Amelia?”
“A war orphan,” he said. “Turns out the kid’s Force-sensitive. Your mother and I are going to be acting as guardians while she’s at the Jedi academy.”
Jaina began to grow very suspicious. “An orphan?”
“That’s how it was explained to us,” her mother said. “But it’s possible the mother just felt the Jedi academy would be a safer environment than she was able to provide.”
She ushered a nervous-looking child of about four or five into the room. The girl had a swarthy complexion and short-cropped black hair, and for a minute, it actually fooled Jaina. But the button nose was a bit of a giveaway—as was the familiar hint of her brother and Tenel Ka in the girl’s Force presence.
“Hello, Jaina,” Allana’s small voice said. “They tell me we’re going to be sisters now.”
Jaina smiled, her heart suddenly filling with a joy she had not thought imaginable just ten seconds earlier. “I guess we are, Amelia. Welcome to the family.”