Authors: Troy Denning
According to Sovv’s original plan, Wedge would be the hammer falling on Garm and Traest’s anvil, sweeping in from behind the Yuuzhan Vong to drive them into the ambush.
“Wedge can still surprise them—if the yammosk is dead,” Luke said. He could sense that Mara felt betrayed by Sovv’s decision not to fire on the refugees, but Luke was not so sure. Would a New Republic willing to attack through a fleet of its own people be worth saving? “This isn’t over yet.”
“Five seconds, Farmboy.”
Luke stuck his X-wing’s nose into a breach just below the dormant weapons bank and burned through two more decks, puncturing a sealed bulkhead and sucking a long stream of startled Yuuzhan Vong out into the vacuum.
“You found it!” Danni exclaimed.
He was joined by Mara and Tam. Combined, their fire was enough to blast through the other side of the vessel, and Luke glimpsed a many-tentacled creature flying out the breach amid a cloud of frozen vapor.
“That’s—”
Danni’s confirmation dissolved into static as a skip’s plasma ball dissipated against the blastboat’s shields. The attack was answered instantly by a storm of laser cannon fire, but staying to fight was the last thing on Luke’s mind. He pulled his X-wing out of the breach and dropped the nose.
“Break off!”
Luke led the way under the cruiser and up on the other side, forcing the oncoming skips to decelerate or risk having the X-wings pop up on their tails. Without the yammosk to coordinate them, the coralskippers reacted in disarray. Some streaked over the cruiser at full speed and some under, while others stopped cautiously on the other side.
Luke sighed in silent relief, then commed, “Let’s go find Wedge. We’ve got to refuel, rearm—”
“And return,” Saba said. She sounded more eager than determined. “There are still plenty of Yuuzhan Vong for everyone.”
They had eaten worse things—the sour fungus growing on the walls of Nolaa Tarkona’s ryll mines came to mind—so Jacen knew it was not his sister’s delicate sensibilities that kept her from choking down the tasteless pulp Alema had commandeered from their terrified Yuuzhan Vong host. Nor was it the urgency of their situation. The strike team was hiding in a one-room lodging cell on the outskirts of a domicile warren deep inside the worldship, trying to stay out of sight until Tesar reported back with news of the queen’s location. They had seen no sign of Nom Anor or his troops since the battle in the grashal, when they had escaped by bringing the passage ceiling down behind them and fleeing into the heart of the worldship.
Jacen scooped a bowlful of pulp from a shell-like serving basin and pressed it into Jaina’s hands. “I don’t feel like eating either, but you need to keep up your strength.”
Jaina hurled the gruel against the bioluminescent wall. Their Yuuzhan Vong captive, a lowly worker who was almost attractive in her utter lack of mutilations or tattoos, cringed in the corner as though the bowl had been thrown at her. The lichen began to glow more brightly as it absorbed nutrients, and no one spoke.
Jacen could feel the guilt and anger tearing his sister apart, though her emotions were so intermingled with his own that he could barely distinguish them. They shared a void that would never again be whole, an emptiness that he sensed pulling at Jaina like a vacuum breach. He laid a hand on her knee, hoping his touch might serve as her anchor.
“We can’t give up. We still need to destroy the queen.”
Jaina looked up, a faint spark of presence finally showing in her vacant eyes. “You left him to the Yuuzhan Vong.”
“We had to,” Jacen said, accepting the rebuke. As much as he himself was hurting, he would rather Jaina lay the blame boiling up inside her on his shoulders than her own. “They were all over him. You saw that.”
Jaina pushed his hand from her leg. “He put you in charge, and you left him behind.”
Jacen said nothing. Though he knew his sister’s own feelings of guilt were driving her to accuse him, he did not trust himself to keep an even voice.
“Jacen does not deserve your blame.” Tenel Ka was sitting on the other side of the small room, her legs crossed beneath her and her posture as erect as ever. “Everyone heard the command, and we all know why he gave it. To disregard such an order would have been to dishonor Anakin’s memory and dismiss his sacrifice.”
“Stay out of this, Tenel Ka,” Jaina said. “You can’t possibly know anything about it. You have the emotional depth of a ronto.”
The speed with which Tenel Ka unfolded her legs and stepped around the low table proved how mistaken Jaina was. Jacen thought for a moment the Dathomiri would slap his sister, but Tenel Ka only continued to glare until Jaina finally grew uncomfortable and looked away.
When she did, Tenel Ka said, “We are all hurting, Jaina. Your brother, too.”
It was difficult to tell from Tenel Ka’s tone whether she meant the words to be conciliatory or cutting, but they caused Jaina to stand. Jacen reached for Jaina’s hand, but he needn’t have worried. Zekk was already stepping between the pair, positioning himself to intercept any blow that might be thrown.
“What’s this going to help?” Zekk addressed himself more to Tenel Ka than to Jaina. “Calm down.”
Both women opened their hands, but continued to stand and stare, each waiting for the other to apologize. The room remained uncomfortable and silent. The other Jedi stared into their gruel.
They were spared the necessity of a long wait by a low growl over their comlinks. Jacen snatched up his own comlink.
“Tesar?” he asked. As the strike team’s stealthiest member and only natural night hunter, the Barabel had been the obvious choice to send slinking through the murky lanes of the domicile warren. “Did you find her?”
He was answered not by the Barabel’s voice, but by another low growl. It took him a moment to recognize the sound as a Shyriiwook word, as Wookiee voices did not carry well over comlinks.
“Lowie?” Jaina gasped, grabbing her own comlink. “Is that you?”
Lowbacca confirmed his identity with a groan, then began a long apology for allowing the
Tachyon Flier
to be stolen.
“Lowie, forget it—they fooled us, too,” Jacen said. “Where are you now?”
The answer Lowbacca rumbled was considerably more than a location.
“Why would they do that?” Jacen asked.
Lowbacca grunted a guess.
“Keep watching,” Jaina said. “And whatever you do, stay with him. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She snapped her comlink off, and Jacen barely caught her arm before she reached the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Going after Anakin’s body—what do you think?” It was Tahiri who said this, speaking for the first time since they had fled the grashal. “They’re not taking him anywhere.”
She rose and went to Jaina’s side, as did Alema and, a moment later, Zekk. Jacen ignored them all and continued to hold his sister’s arm.
“What about Anakin’s last words?” he asked. “He told us to destroy the queen.”
“Then destroy her.” Jaina tore her arm free of his hand and slapped the tickle pad. “But I’m going back.”
Not even checking to see if she would be seen, Jaina jerked her lightsaber off her belt and led the others out into the dark.
Save that Leia was smelling Ben’s sweet breath instead of her own nervous sweat and the couch was not sluing around beneath her, war looked much the same on a wall-sized holovid as it did from the cockpit of the
Millennium Falcon
. Plasma balls still rolled over their targets in blossoms of white fire, turbolasers still laced the air with dazzling lances of color, wounded vessels still bled dark clouds of flash-frozen crew. The inset image of a grim-voiced Duros war correspondent described how the massive Yuuzhan Vong fleet was steadily pressing forward behind the screen of refugee ships despite a fierce running assault on its rear by Wedge Antilles’s Fleet Group Three. The invaders had already crossed the orbit of Nabatu, the tenth planet of the Coruscant system, and were expected to reach the Ulabos ice bands by the end of the standard day.
The newsvid changed scenes, now showing the starliner
Swift Dreams
as it strayed into a barrage of turbolaser fire. Leia knew she should have felt something, should have been angered or frightened or something by the huge Yuuzhan Vong fleet sweeping down on Coruscant, but she was not. All she cared about was holding Ben in her arms, keeping his warmth pressed to her body. As the
Swift Dreams
began to vent a cloud of tumbling refugees, a Bith correspondent appeared in the inset and reported that Garm Bel Iblis’s Fleet Group Two continued to attack through the refugee screen, ignoring friendly-fire accidents such as the one shown and repeated orders from Admiral Sovv to stop. Several reliable sources claimed that Sovv had actually relieved Bel Iblis of command, an order that the general and his entire force also ignored. There were unsubstantiated reports of
whole attack groups leaving Traest Kre’fey’s Fleet Group One to join Bel Iblis in his effort to stop the Yuuzhan Vong at any price.
A pair of military analysts came on the newsvid and began to argue about whether Garm Bel Iblis’s actions were the only way to delay the enemy until reinforcements arrived, or the first sign of the disintegration of the New Republic military.
“What a mess,” Han said.
Leia did not reply. It was the first either of them had spoken since turning on the vidscreen, and she had actually forgotten he was sitting beside her. He had been following her around since it happened, as though he were afraid it might be necessary to snatch Ben out of her arms again. His constant presence was starting to annoy her, though she could not bear even the small emotional turmoil that she would cause by telling him so.
The analysts were replaced by an image of Luke and Mara climbing out of their starfighters. As they joined a long line of exhausted Jedi stumbling across a Star Destroyer’s docking bay, a behorned Devaronian reporter appeared in the foreground and described how the Jedi-led attack wing continued their daring penetration missions, destroying more than fifteen capital ships in the heart of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet. While Eclipse’s losses were classified for intelligence reasons, casualties in both personnel and equipment were rumored to be high. No one had seen the famous Kyp Durron or any of his Dozen since the battle began.
Han used a voice command to change to the senate feed. Good old Han, worried about Leia being upset by news of the danger her brother was facing. She would have
liked
to be upset. She would have liked to feel something—anything—other than the hollow ache that consumed her now. Why had Han needed to change the feed? She just wanted him to go away and leave her alone.
The holovid split into two images, one showing the packed chamber, the other a hologram of Admiral Sovv standing before the high councilor’s console. The Sullustan was demanding that NRMOC confirm his dismissal of General Bel Iblis and a long list of officers who had deserted to serve under his command. Borsk Fey’lya appeared in an inset, his fur tangled and his eyes sunken with stress.
“You have another way to hold the enemy at bay, Admiral Sovv?” Fey’lya asked.
The Sullustan’s hologram continued to stare directly ahead. “Bel Iblis’s mutiny is undermining the command integrity of the whole military.”
“So the answer would be no,” Fey’lya said. “In that case, I suggest that instead of interfering with General Bel Iblis’s efforts, you follow his lead. You will not stop the Yuuzhan Vong by nipping at their heels.”
This caused enough of a tumult in the senate chamber that Ben opened his eyes and began to cry. The TDL nanny droid was instantly at Leia’s side, reaching for the infant with her four synthskin arms. Leia shielded Ben with her body and shooed the droid away. Nobody was taking this child from her.
Apparently speaking to Fey’lya via direct feed and unaware of the uproar in the chamber, Admiral Sovv did not wait for the audio to equalize, and his response was lost in the general tumult.
“I am also aware of how many lives we stand to lose here if you let the enemy drive that refugee fleet into our planetary shields,” Fey’lya said. “Admiral Sovv, as the chairman of NRMOC, I am not only instructing you to fire through the hostage screen, I am
ordering
you to. If necessary, you are to fire on those ships directly.”
Again, Admiral Sovv did not wait for the audio to equalize, and his reply was lost to the general uproar.
Fey’lya’s response was not. “Then you are relieved of command, Admiral Sovv. I am sure General Bel Iblis understands the necessity of my order.”
This time, the audio could not be adjusted to filter out the din in the chamber. Hundreds of senators stood and began to shout their disdain of the Bothan; a smaller number rose to applaud his courage and decisiveness. Then, one by one, holograms of Sovv’s Sullustan protégés began to appear on the speaking floor beside the admiral. There were the Generals Muun and Yeel, Admiral Rabb, Commander Godt, and a dozen others, all powerful figures in the New Republic military who owed their rise to Admiral Sovv. Fey’lya did not seem all that surprised to see them appearing before him, but his beard fur bristled when General
Rieekan, Commodore Brand, and even his fellow Bothan Traest Kre’fey added their holograms to those standing with Admiral Sovv.
“We don’t need to watch this,” Han declared, still trying to shield her from anything upsetting. “How about one of Garik Loran’s old holodramas? Those always used to make you laugh.”
Leia shook her head. “This is fine.”
The disintegration of the New Republic military ought to keep her mind off the empty hurt inside. She signaled the droid for a collapsipack of formula and settled back to feed Ben. Now, if she could get Han to go away and leave her alone, she just might make it through the day.
Fey’lya rose and tried for a while to quiet the chamber. When this resulted only in a louder outburst of shouts, he gave up and returned to his seat, then disappeared behind his instrument console and began to work the controls. Apparently, he noticed that his face was still on the vidfeed, because he scowled and flipped something, and the inset disappeared.