TWENTY-THREE
Luke found Gilad Pellaeon alone in the Megador’s observation deck, his liver-spotted hands clasped behind his back and his gray-haired head tipped back slightly as he gazed out the center of the dome. His attention seemed to be fixed on the cloud-pearled planet ahead, where the red-flashing shadow of the Killik ambush swarm was spreading steadily outward. The insects were striving to keep the Chiss fleet trapped between them and Tenupe’s surface, and by the looks of things, they were succeeding. If the Grand Admiral noticed his own huge armada sparkling out of hyperspace all around the edges of the observation dome, he showed no sign.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, Luke.” Pellaeon spoke without taking his eyes off the planet. “The Colony must have a million dartships attacking down there. I can’t imagine the logistics.”
“You don’t have a collective mind,” Luke said, stepping to the admiral’s side. “The Killiks are an extraordinary species. At times, I’m tempted to believe that they were the ones who built Centerpoint Station and the Maw.”
Pellaeon studied him out of the corner of one eye. “And you don’t think that now?”
Luke shook his head. “The nests have a habit of confusing their Joiners’ memories with their own.” He was surprised that Pellaeon seemed to take the Killiks’ claim seriously. “And the technology does seem well beyond them.”
“You think so?” Pellaeon returned his gaze to the dome, then pointed a wrinkled finger at the Killik fleet. “I wonder how long it would have taken the Galactic Alliance to build that navy.”
“Good point.” Luke studied Pellaeon carefully, trying to figure out what the cunning admiral was driving at. “But the Killiks don’t even have a true science. How could they have the knowledge to build something like the Maw or Centerpoint?”
Pellaeon turned to face Luke. “A lot can happen in twenty-five thousand years, Master Skywalker. Sciences can be lost, knowledge can be forgotten, cultural imperatives can change. That doesn’t mean we should underestimate our opponent.”
“Of course not,” Luke said, taken aback by the sharpness of Pellaeon’s rebuke. “Forgive me, Admiral—I wasn’t thinking on the same level you were.”
Pellaeon’s face softened. “No apology necessary, Master Skywalker. You had no way to know we were discussing our current attack strategies.” He returned his attention to the Killik fleet, then added in a wry tone, “Since the Rebellion, I’ve become a bit fanatic about keeping an open mind toward my enemy’s capabilities.”
Luke laughed, then said, “I should have been more alert, especially since I did track you down to talk about our strategy.”
Pellaeon nodded without looking away from the dome. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Luke said. A burst of iridescent light flashed across the dome as the Mon Mothma and the Elegos A’Kla emerged from hyperspace and moved to either side of the Megador. “Our vessels appear to be deploying for an enveloping attack on the Colony fleet.”
“We are.” A hint of a smile appeared beneath Pellaeon’s bushy mustache. “It’s going to be a thing of beauty, Luke. The Killiks have absolutely no room to maneuver. We’re going to smash them against the Chiss like, well…like bugs.”
“Forgive me for spoiling your fun,” Luke said. “But that’s exactly what we shouldn’t be doing.”
“What?” Pellaeon tore his gaze away from the dome. “The Killiks might as well be dead already. They can’t possibly escape us.”
“Probably not,” Luke agreed. “But we’re not here to destroy an enemy fleet. We’re here to stop this war.”
“In my experience, they’re one and the same,” Pellaeon snapped.
“Yes, but your experience doesn’t include Killiks.” Luke’s reply was blunt; he had to persuade the admiral to switch tactics now. Once the fleet started to deploy its fighter wings, changing battle objectives would become impossible. Not even Pellaeon was a good enough commander to recall several thousand starfighters, change formations, and continue the attack with any expectation of success. “Admiral, we have to concentrate our resources on retaking the Admiral Ackbar and neutralizing Raynar Thul.”
Pellaeon arched his gray brows. “You know for a fact that Raynar is aboard the Ackbar?”
Luke nodded. “I’m certain. I feel it in the Force.”
“Then you don’t need an entire fleet to trap him,” Pellaeon countered. “Admiral Bwua’tu’s task force should be more than sufficient to support you.”
“You’re missing the point, Admiral,” Luke said. “Destroying the Colony’s fleet will delay the war, but it won’t end it. The Killiks will only rebuild and be back with an even larger force next year.”
“Then at least we will have bought ourselves sometime.” Pellaeon shook his head. “I’m not going to commit everything to neutralizing one man, Luke. If you fail—or if you’re wrong, and removing Raynar doesn’t cripple the Colony—we will have squandered the opportunity for a great victory.”
“That’s sound military doctrine, of course,” Luke said. The Mothma and the A’Kla were now moving into shielding positions just ahead of the Megador. “But if you follow your plan, Raynar and Lomi Plo will defeat us—because we’ll have lost sight of our true goals.”
Pellaeon’s eyes remained hard—perhaps even angry—but he did not interrupt.
“Let’s assume I do neutralize Raynar and Lomi Plo without the fleet’s full support,” Luke continued, “and that you destroy the entire Killik fleet. Your strategy will only prolong the war.”
“You’re making no sense, Luke,” Pellaeon retorted. “Without Raynar and Lomi Plo, the Killiks won’t be able to rebuild their fleet. You’ve said yourself that neutralizing those two will destroy the Colony’s ability to coordinate its nests. Are you telling me it won’t?”
“I said removing Raynar would eventually destroy the Colony,” Luke corrected. “And you’re forgetting the Chiss. If you wipe out the Killik fleet here on Tenupe, what do you think the Chiss are going to do next?”
“Thank us,” Pellaeon said. “Perhaps they’ll finally believe that we’re not siding with the Killiks.”
“They’ll know that if we focus on recapturing the Ackbar and neutralize Raynar and Lomi Plo,” Luke said. “What they won’t do is use that fleet down there to continue pressing the war against the Colony.”
Pellaeon’s eyes flashed in alarm; then he scowled and studied Luke as though they were meeting for the first time. Outside, the edges of the observation deck were laced with ion trails; the rest of the fleet was moving into attack formation.
Finally, Pellaeon spoke in a disbelieving voice. “Master Skywalker, I do believe you’re suggesting that we leave the Chiss fleet to its own resources.”
Luke nodded. “It would be for the best,” he said. “They were obviously willing to sacrifice much of it anyway.”
“Before their parasite weapon was compromised,” Pellaeon pointed out. The Megador had barely emerged from hyperspace before the Falcon had commed an update of the situation on Tenupe. “I suspect they’re no longer eager to lull the Killiks into a false sense of security. This battle is going to be bloody.”
“No doubt. But it might be wise to let the Chiss have a good taste of what the Killiks can do. Otherwise, the Ascendancy will continue pressing the war—they’ll find another way to deploy their parasite weapon.” Luke paused, then continued, “As excited as you are about this battle, I know you don’t want speciecide on your conscience.”
Pellaeon’s eyes flashed, and Luke thought maybe he had gone too far.
Then the admiral sighed. “It isn’t the killing, you know,” he said. “It’s the beauty of battles that I love—the choreography and the challenge of executing everything just right—and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent.”
Pellaeon’s expression began to change from indignant to reluctant. “I guess I carry a little more Thrawn with me than I’d like to believe.” He sighed again, then looked out toward Tenupe, now just as heavily blanketed with dartships as it was with green clouds. “The Chiss will lose a lot of ships, you know—and this is a dangerous part of the galaxy, even without the Colony.”
“I know.” Luke did not like the idea of abandoning so many Chiss to their fates, but the alternative would have meant killing even more Killiks. “The Ascendancy may have to rely more heavily on its friends for a while—and that will be good for the Alliance.”
“Yes, I suppose it will be—provided they still consider us friends.” Pellaeon stood staring out the dome for another moment, then sighed regretfully and turned toward the lift. “Come along, Master Skywalker. Before you join the boarding parties, I’ll need a few minutes of your time in TacCon.”