Star Wars: Dark Nest I: Joiner King

by Denning, Troy

  Kyp was said to have changed in the months since then, and had been appointed to the High Council that advised the Chief of State and oversaw Jedi activities. But Jacen was prepared to examine carefully any plan put forward by Kyp Durron before he could bring himself to approve it.

  Kre’fey surrendered his place at the head of the room and seated himself on a thronelike armchair. Kyp nodded to the admiral, then swept the others with his dark eyes. Jacen sensed Kyp’s firmness of purpose, his conviction.

  He also thought that it was a good idea to be wary of Kyp’s conviction.

  “When the Vong struck at us,” Kyp said, “their way had been prepared for them. They had agents already in place, both disguised Yuuzhan Vong and traitors like Viqi Shesh. And after our first encounters with the Yuuzhan Vong, the enemy found there were tens of thousands of people who were willing to collaborate with them in attacking and enslaving their fellow galactic citizens.”

  He gave a shrug. “I’m not willing to speculate why the Peace Brigade and their ilk chose to work with the invaders. Maybe some are simply cowards, maybe some were bought, maybe some were given no choice. I suppose most of them are opportunists who think they’re on the winning side. But I know this—up until now there’s been no real penalty for being willing to betray the New Republic and work with the invaders.” The amber room lights glowed in Kyp’s eyes. “I propose we inflict a penalty,” he said firmly. “I propose that we strike the Peace Brigade right in the center of their power. I say we raid Ylesia, their capital, destroy the collaborationist government, and show everyone in the galaxy that there is a penalty for collaboration with the Yuuzhan Vong, and that the penalty is a dire one.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Jacen again turned to Jaina. You were right, he thought. Hutt space after all.

  Corran Horn raised a hand. “What kind of opposition might we expect?”

  Kyp pressed the datapad in his hand, and a number of surreptitiously taken holos were projected on the wall behind him. “We have no permanent intelligence presence on Ylesia,” he admitted, “but Ylesia’s most profitable export is glitterstim spice, and a number of New Republic agents have scouted the planet while posing as crew from the merchant ships. They report few Yuuzhan Vong warriors—most of the Vong on the ground seem to be members of the intendant class, who help the Peace Brigade run their government.

  “There haven’t been any Yuuzhan Vong fleets in orbit since the original conquest, though sometimes Vong fleet elements, mostly coralskippers and their transports, transit the Ylesia system on their way to somewhere else. What we have instead is the Peace Brigade military itself—the Yuuzhan Vong are trying to build up the Brigaders as an ‘independent’ government, with their own fleet. They’re also using glitterstim revenues to hire mercenaries. Here are the agents’ estimates of what we might be up against.”

  More figures flashed on the screen. “Mostly starfighters, a mixed bag,” Kyp continued. “There are a dozen or so capital ships—Intelligence thinks they were probably in dry dock in places like Gyndine and Obroa-skai when the Vong captured them. The Vong then completed the repairs with slave labor and handed the ships to their allies.”

  “It looks easy,” Tahiri said softly in Jacen’s ear. “But I don’t believe in easy anymore.”

  Jacen nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to believe in easy, either.

  Kre’fey rose from his chair. “Excellent, Master Durron!” he boomed. “I will commit fleet resources to this, including interdictor ships—enough to assure that this so-called fleet can’t escape! Fifteen squadrons of starfighters! Three squadrons of capital ships—we’ll outnumber the enemy three to one!” He held up a white-furred hand and then drew the fingers together, as if capturing an enemy fleet in his fist. “And then we’ll sit above the enemy and obliterate their capital from orbit.”

  Jacen felt a mental hesitation from every Jedi in the room. Even Kyp Durron’s face reflected uncertainty.

  Tahiri’s voice piped up instantly. “What about civilian casualties?”

  Kre’fey made a deprecatory gesture. “The population of Ylesia is very scattered,” he said. “The civilians were slaves of the Hutts, working in glitterstim packing plants scattered over the countryside, and now they’re slaves of the Vong—or of the Peace Brigade, it’s hard to say which. The town the Peace Brigaders are using as their capital used to be called Colony One, but now it’s Peace City, and there are few slaves there. Most of the city’s inhabitants are collaborators, and they’re guilty by definition.”

  Kyp Durron gave a solemn glance to his datapad. “The latest reports have slave barracks all over Colony One. They’re constructing palaces for the leaders of the Peace Brigade, and a building to house their Senate.” He paused. “And they were excavating one very large shelter, just in case of orbital bombardment.”

  “Destruction would be awfully random,” Tahiri said.

  Kre’fey nodded, then stepped toward her and looked at her with what seemed to be great respect. “I esteem the Jedi traditions of compassion for the innocent, and of precise personal combat with an enemy,” he said. “But my own people don’t have your training. It would be too great a danger to send them to the planet to sort out the innocent from the guilty, and I don’t want to lose good troops in a ground fight when I could accomplish the mission from orbit in safety.” Kre’fey turned to Kyp. “All that shelter would require is increased firepower, and then we get all of them in one go.” His eyes traveled from one Jedi to the next. “Remember who we’re dealing with. They destroyed entire worlds by seeding alien life-forms from orbit. Just think what they did to Ithor. What we’re doing is merciful by comparison.” He shook his head sadly. “And those slaves would be dead anyway, within a year or two, just from overwork.”

  Jacen could see the logic in Kre’fey’s argument—and he had to admire a powerful, important fleet admiral who would bother to engage in a serious debate with a fifteen-year-old—but he could also see the reverse of Kre’fey’s position. Killing civilians was something the enemy did. The fact that the civilians were slaves made their deaths even more unjust—the New Republic forces should be liberating the slaves, so that even if the Hutts returned they would have no workers for their wretched factories…

  “Let’s capture the government instead,” Jacen said, the idea occurring to him even as he spoke it aloud.

  Kre’fey looked at him in surprise. “Jacen?” he said.

  Jacen turned his face up to Kre’fey. “If we captured the Brigaders’ government, and put them on trial and exiled them to some prison planet, wouldn’t that be more of a propaganda coup than simply bombing them?” He forced a smile. “They’ll all be in one shelter, right? As you say, that should make it easy.”

  “Jacen has a point,” Kyp said, from over Kre’fey’s shoulder. “If we destroy Peace City, we make an announcement and then it’s forgotten. But if we put the traitors on trial, that would be on the HoloNet for weeks. Anyone thinking of switching sides would have to think twice, and any collaborators would be shaking in their boots.”

  “Not only that,” Jacen said, “but a team could be landed in Peace City to become our permanent intelligence presence in the enemy capital, and perhaps to organize the underground there.”

  Kre’fey’s long head turned from Jacen to Kyp and back again. He tugged at his white-furred chin in thought. “This requires a more elaborate mission—perhaps you do not realize how much more elaborate. With the original plan there’s very little that can go wrong. We transit to the system, engage, win our victory, and leave. If the enemy are too strong, we run without a fight. But with Jacen’s idea we’d need transports, drop-ships, ground forces. If things go wrong on the ground, we’ll take a lot of casualties just getting our people away. If things go wrong above the planet, the forces on the ground may be stranded there.”

  “Sir,” Jaina said, “I volunteer to lead the ground forces.”

  The Sword of the Jedi, Jacen thought, thrusting straight to the h
eart.

  Kyp turned to Jaina, his voice hesitant. “I, uh—” For once in his life Jacen was privileged to watch Kyp Durron embarrassed. “I really don’t think that would be a good idea, Sticks.”

  Jaina’s eyes flashed, but her voice was very controlled. “You don’t have to be so protective of me, Master Durron,” she said.

  Surprise rose in Jacen. He sensed history here, something between Jaina and Kyp that he hadn’t known existed.

  Now that’s interesting.

  “Ah, that’s not it,” Kyp said hastily. “It’s just that—” He looked at his datapad. “The latest news from Ylesia indicates that you have a personal relationship with, ah, one of our potential captives.” And, as Jaina’s indignation increased, Kyp turned to Jacen as his embarrassment deepened. “And Jacen, too, of course.”

  “Jacen, too?” Jaina demanded, outraged.

  Kyp looked at the datapad again and shrugged. “The Peace Brigade just announced their new President. He’s, ah, your cousin Thrackan.”

  Confusion swept Jaina’s face. “That doesn’t make any sense,” Jacen said immediately.

  “Sorry,” Kyp said, “I know he’s a member of your famly, but—”

  “No,” Jacen said, “that’s not it. I’m not going to defend Thrackan Sal-Solo because he’s a distant cousin—”

  “A cousin who’s vicious as a slashrat and slippery as an Umgullian blob,” Jaina added.

  Jacen took a breath and continued, intent on making his point. “I was only going to point out,” he said, “that it doesn’t make any sense because Thrackan is a human chauvinist. He’s always wanted to run Corellia so he could throw the other species out. He’d never make a deal if that meant he’d have to collaborate with an alien species.”

  Kyp looked dubious. “I suppose the story could be false,” he said, “but it’s all over the HoloNet, complete with pictures of your cousin taking his oath of office in front of the Peace Brigade Senate.”

  Jacen saw Jaina’s face harden. “Right,” she said, “now I’ve got to be with the ground party.”

  “Me, too, I guess,” Jacen said. “It’ll be…enlightening…to see cousin Thrackan again.”

  Traest Kre’fey looked from Jaina to Jacen and back again.

  “I must say,” he said, “that the two of you belong to the most interesting family.”

  Admiral Kre’fey continued his show of reluctance, but eventually he set his staff to “exploring” the possibility of a landing to capture the Peace Brigade leadership. By the time Jaina entered the shuttle that would take her party back to their quarters on the old Dreadnaught Starsider, she was already calculating her deployments for the battle—she’d leave Tesar in command of Twin Suns Squadron and take Lowbacca onto the ground with her. She’d like Tesar with her, too, but a Jedi would have to stay with the squadron and keep it connected to the meld…and keep her new pilots from doing anything foolish, as well.

  Before the operation she’d get her squadron as much practice as she could fit into their schedule. The military had taken half her veteran pilots to use as a cadre around which to build new squadrons, filling their slots with rookies, inexperienced pilots who needed all the drill Jaina could give them.

  The New Republic’s industries were finally on a war footing and pouring out war matériel by the millions of tons. All the personnel losses the military had suffered in the war had been replaced—but with raw recruits. What had been lost was experience. Jaina was terrified of Twin Suns Squadron being committed to a major battle before her new pilots were ready.

  That’s why she was a supporter of Kre’fey’s current strategy of raiding the enemy only where the Yuuzhan Vong were vulnerable. His raids were staged only against weak targets, building morale and experience against an enemy guaranteed to lose.

  She could only hope the Yuuzhan Vong didn’t move against Kashyyyk, or Corellia or Kuat or Mon Calamari—a place where the New Republic would have to fight. That would be a conflagration in which Twin Suns Squadron would be lucky to survive…

  “Odd to think of Tahiri as a squadron commander.”

  Jacen’s comment interrupted Jaina’s thoughts.

  “Tahiri’s doing all right,” Jaina said.

  “She’s not a crack pilot, though.”

  “She’s more experienced than most of her pilots—almost all of them are green—and she fought well at Borleias. Kre’fey’s given her a good executive officer to help her with organization and red tape.” She smiled. “Her pilots are very protective of her. They call themselves Barefoot Squadron.”

  Jacen smiled also. “That’s good of them.”

  Jaina sighed. “The Barefoots’ real problem is the same one most of us have—too high a percentage of rookie pilots.” She looked at Saba and Corran Horn. “Some commanders get all the luck.”

  Horn’s mouth gave a little quirk. “Saba has the true elite force here. What I wouldn’t give for a roster made up of Jedi…”

  Saba’s eyes gave a reptilian glimmer, and her tail twitched. “A pity you humanz lack the advantage of hatchmatez.”

  Horn raised an eyebrow. “Hatching Jedi. Now that’s an interesting idea.”

  Saba hissed amusement. “I can testify that it workz.”

  “I hope you enjoyed your ride, Masters.” The head of the droid pilot spun on its neck. “Please watch your step as you exit.”

  A few minutes later, after they’d separated from their companions and begun walking toward their quarters along one of Starsider’s avenues, Jaina turned to Jacen.

  “Kre’fey will give you a squadron,” she said. “I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you already.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “Why not?” Jaina asked, more snappishly than she intended. Jacen had always been on a quest for the deeper meaning of things, and that meant that occasionally he’d give something up just to find out what it meant. For a while he’d given up being a warrior, and he’d given up use of the Force, and for all intents and purposes given up being a Jedi…now he was giving up being a pilot?

  The one thing he hadn’t given up was being exasperating.

  “I can pilot and fight well enough,” Jacen said, “but I’m rusty on military procedure and comm protocols and tactics. I’d rather fly for a while as an ordinary pilot before I’m given responsibility over eleven other lives.”

  “Oh.” Jaina was abashed. “You could fly with Tahiri, then. Another Jedi in her squadron would be a boon to her.”

  “But not this next mission,” Jacen said. “Not Ylesia. I want to fly with you, since we’re both going on the landing party.”

  Jaina nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “We’ll find a slot for you.”

  Jacen seemed uneasy. “What do you think about Kyp Durron’s plan?” he asked. “Do you see a secret agenda here?”

  “I think Kyp’s past that sort of thing. It’s your plan that worries me.”

  Jacen was taken aback. “To capture the Brigader leadership? Why?”

  “Kre’fey was right when he said there was a lot that could go wrong. We don’t have enough data on Ylesia to make certain the landings will go as planned.”

  “But you agreed to join the ground party.”

  Jaina sighed. “Yes. But now I wonder if we oughtn’t leave Ylesia alone until we have a more seasoned force and better intelligence.”

  Jacen had no answer to this, so they plodded up the corridor without speaking, stepping carefully past a droid polishing the deck. The scent of polish wafted after them. Then Jacen broke the silence.

  “What’s with you and Kyp Durron? I sensed something a little odd there.”

  Jaina felt herself flush. “Kyp’s been feeling a little…sentimental…toward me lately.”

  Jacen looked at her in solemn surprise. It was that solemnity, Jaina decided, that she disliked most about him.

  “He’s a little old for you, don’t you think?” Jacen asked. Solemnly.

  Jaina tried to throttle her annoyance at this line of q
uestioning. “I’m grateful to Kyp for helping me come back from the dark side,” she said. “But with me, it’s gratitude. With Kyp…” She hesitated. “I’d rather not go into it. Anyway, it’s over now.”

  Jacen nodded. Solemnly. Jaina came to her cabin door and put her hand on the latch.

  “Good,” Jacen said. “Because you’ve been conquering a bewildering number of hearts while I was away. First Baron Fel’s son, and now the most unpredictable Jedi in the order…”

  Supremely irritated, Jaina opened the cabin door, stepped inside, and in the darkness of the cabin was seized by a pair of arms. Pressure was applied in an expert way to her elbow joints, and she was whirled around. A familiar scent, a spicy aroma from the Unknown Regions, filled her senses, and a hungry mouth descended on hers.

  A moment later—and the length of that moment was something she would not forgive herself—it occurred to her to resist. Her arms were securely pinned, so she summoned the Force and flung her assailant across the room. There was a crash, and items tumbled off a shelf. Jaina took a step to the door and waved on the lights.

  Jagged Fel lay sprawled across her bed. He touched the back of his head gingerly.

  “Couldn’t you just have slapped me?” he asked.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Conducting an experiment.”

  “A what?” Furious.

  His brilliant blue eyes rose to meet hers. “I detected a degree of ambiguity in your last few messages,” he said. “I could no longer tell what your feelings toward me might be, so I thought an experiment was in order. I decided to place you in a situation that wasn’t the least bit ambiguous, and see how you reacted.” An insufferable smile touched the corners of his mouth. “And the experiment was a success.”

  “Right. You got thrown into the wall.”

  “But before you remembered to be outraged, there was a moment that was worth all the pain.” His eyes turned to the door. “Hello there, galactic hero. Your mother told me you’d escaped.”