by Troy Denning
Saba grabbed Izal by the arm and pulled him away, saying, “Yes, we are all famous now—so don’t embarrasz us!”
Mara stood her son up on her knees and cooed in a high, chirrupy, and very un-Mara-like voice. “Someone found the salt, didn’t he?”
Ben chortled in response, his delight rippling through the Force just the way Anakin’s used to when Leia visited him in hiding on Anoth—and so powerfully it moved her to tears. She turned away and tried to hide her face by leaning against Han’s shoulder, but Mara was not one to miss such an obvious sign. She reached over and placed a hand on Leia’s forearm.
“Leia, it’s because of you we’re here at all,” she said. “Remember that. I know Anakin and the twins will.”
“Thank you.” Leia wiped her eyes and smiled, taking strength from her sister-in-law’s plain words. “That helps … a lot.”
“Yeah, me too.” Han studied Mara, his expression somewhere between gratitude and envy. “Thanks.”
Lando called out that the session was starting. Someone switched the holovid back to the senate feed, where Luke, dressed simply in a plain Jedi robe, was riding an escalator to the speaking rostrum on the chamber floor.
Luke stepped off the escalator beside the speaker’s rostrum, wishing he felt more certain that today he would heal the rift between the Jedi and the New Republic. The senate chamber was awash in good feelings toward him and the Jedi, but there was also anger for taking matters into their own hands, apprehension about Yuuzhan Vong retaliation, and something more sinister—something dark and dangerous that he sensed would soon reveal itself to him. He lowered the cowl of his robe and, facing the long console on the high councilors’ dais, bowed to the Advisory Council.
“Chief Fey’lya, Councilors, you asked to speak with me?”
Somewhere high in the galleries, a Wookiee roared in ovation, and the chamber erupted in cheers and applause. Luke stood calmly, neither acknowledging the outpouring nor discouraging it as he studied the members of the Advisory Council. Most kept their faces carefully neutral, though Fyor Rodan of Commenor sneered in disapproval—no doubt blaming the Jedi for not saving his own planet—and Borsk Fey’lya bared his fangs in a smile that felt surprisingly sincere.
Allowing the applause to continue, the chief of state left his console and descended to stand before Luke. He raised a furry palm and brought the chamber to order with impressive speed, then surprised Luke by clasping his hand warmly.
“Princess Leia was unable to attend?” Fey’lya asked. “The invitation was to you both.”
“Leia is occupied elsewhere,” Luke said.
Fey’lya nodded sagely. “Anakin and the twins, of course.” He lowered his brow in a well-rehearsed expression of concern, then turned slightly toward the hovering sound droid. “Let me assure you, the New Republic is doing everything possible to determine what has become of them—and to find the person responsible.”
That much was certainly true. The Wraiths had been snooping along the war zone for several days now, coming so close to identifying the true delivery ship that Luke had been forced to ask Wedge to rein them in. Reportedly, Garik “Face” Loran was furious.
“I am sure the families of all the missing Jedi appreciate your desire to help,” Luke said. “But we must not forget that the Yuuzhan Vong threaten more than Jedi.”
“The Jedi certainly have not forgotten.” Fey’lya pumped Luke’s hand enthusiastically. “On behalf of the New Republic, let me congratulate you on the Jedi victory at Talfaglio—and thank you for the lives of our citizens.”
“We were glad to be of service,” Luke said. “The Jedi have consolidated their forces and hope to be of more service to the New Republic in the future, but it is important to note we did not do this alone.”
“We are aware of the support provided to you by the Mon Mothma and Elegos A’Kla,” Viqi Shesh said, speaking from her seat on the dais. Though it was hardly necessary, she leaned closer to the sound pickup in her console and looked down at Luke. “Thanks to the HoloNet coverage, so is the whole galaxy—including, no doubt, the Yuuzhan Vong.”
Luke went cold between the shoulders, and he knew he had found the dangerous presence he had been sensing—or rather, it had found him.
“A New Republic task force happened to be in the area, yes,” he answered. “It’s my understanding they suffered no casualties.”
“The galaxy is a vast place, Master Skywalker,” Shesh said coolly. “Perhaps you can explain how they ‘happened’ to be in the area?”
Fey’lya raised a hand to stop Luke from answering, then whirled on Shesh, his lips drawn up to show the tips of his fangs.
“We have all read the reports, Councilor. The vessels were on a shakedown cruise. I fail to see the point of your request.”
Shesh continued to glare at Luke. “That is precisely the point of my request, Chief Fey’lya. Wedge Antilles and Garm Bel Iblis are two of our best generals—too experienced to take a ‘shakedown cruise’ into Yuuzhan Vong territory.”
“The last I checked, Senator, the Corellian sector was still in the New Republic,” Fey’lya said, drawing a chorus of pointed laughter. “As for the generals’ experience, I am sure we both agree that they know better than you or I how to shake down a Star Destroyer.”
“Undoubtedly—when they are in possession of their wits,” Shesh retorted.
The chamber filled with murmurs of outrage and speculation, and Luke saw where Shesh was taking her line of questioning.
“If you are suggesting that the generals were in any way influenced—”
“That is exactly what I am suggesting, Master Skywalker.” Leaving her own seat, Shesh stepped over to Fey’lya’s console, using his master controls to override the rostrum’s microphone with her own. “The Jedi are famous throughout the galaxy for their mind tricks, but you have gone too far when you subvert the legitimate orders of a New Republic task force!”
“Hear, hear!” Fyor Rodan said, rising. “The New Republic cannot tolerate this Jedi abuse.”
A surprising number of senators, most from Inner Rim worlds that still hoped to placate the Yuuzhan Vong, rose on cue. The Wookiees and Bothans roared in opposition, and Luke turned slowly, calling upon his Jedi control to keep a calm face. Leia had warned him to be surprised by nothing that happened in the New Republic Senate. Still, he failed to see how intelligent beings could be persuaded that the utter destruction of an enemy fleet and the rescue of a planetful of hostages was a bad thing.
But it was not about the fleet or the hostages, of course. It was about alliances and power, about who had it and who was losing it, who might have it tomorrow and who would share it. No wonder Leia had refused to step foot in the chamber again. No wonder the New Republic was losing the war.
Fey’lya left to reclaim control of his console and found himself delayed when Fyor Rodan blocked his way on the flimsy pretext of discussing some important rule of procedure, and Shesh continued to control the public-address system.
“Master Skywalker, perhaps you fail to realize the damage your selfish antics have caused the New Republic,” she said. “In using new weapons aboard the Mon Mothma and Elegos A ’Kla prematurely, you have alerted the Yuuzhan Vong to the existence of two very powerful technologies we are in the process of deploying—two technologies that we had hoped might turn the tide of the war.”
This drew a fresh outburst from Shesh’s supporters, and the counterprotest began to sound halfhearted. Still finding his way blocked by Fyor Rodan, Fey’lya raised a hand to summon a security droid.
Shesh rushed to press her point home. “Master Skywalker, I am afraid this council must demand that the Jedi disarm and cease their irresponsible activities.”
“No.” Luke spoke softly but firmly, using the Force to project the word into every niche in the vast chamber. “The Jedi will not disarm.”
As he had hoped, the shock of hearing his calm voice quieted the chamber, and he continued, “We have in no way influenced any New Re
public officer to disobey orders.”
“You expect us to believe you?” Shesh cast a meaningful eye over the suddenly tranquil gallery. “When you are so obviously using your mind tricks on us now?”
Luke allowed himself a wry smile. “No trick,” he said. “Only one calm voice.”
This drew a chuckle from many in the gallery, and, with the arrival of the security droid, Fyor Rodan feigned surprise and stepped aside.
“All the same, I insist,” Shesh said quickly. “If the Jedi will not disarm, the senate must prohibit the New Republic military from having any contact with them whatsoever.” The chamber broke into an uproar, but Shesh elevated the speaker volume and spoke over the tumult. “There will be no more ‘spare’ X-wings rotated into your hangars, Master Skywalker, nor will there be any more intelligence-sharing sessions. If you continue to abuse us—”
“You are exceeding your authority, Senator Shesh,” Fey’lya interrupted. The Bothan shouldered her aside and reclaimed control of his console. “Return to your seat, or I will have you removed from the chamber.”
Shesh gave him an acid smile and obeyed, but the damage had already been done. She had turned the Jedi’s moment of triumph into yet another senate-dividing issue—and Luke had to wonder why. As the supervising senator of SELCORE, the Kuati had certainly proven herself corrupt, and Leia’s accusations of misconduct had done nothing to endear the Jedi to her, but this seemed to go beyond even that level of depravity. This was more than opportunistic vengeance; this was treachery with a plan. Had Luke not been able to feel the woman’s darkness through the Force, he would have stepped onto the dais and started trying to remove an ooglith masquer; as it was, he vowed to watch this woman until he knew the source of the darkness and danger in her.
Fey’lya repeatedly called for order, then finally gave up and sank into his chair to wait for the tumult to yell itself out. Luke merely crossed his wrists and did likewise, knowing he would only play into Shesh’s hands by using another Jedi technique to calm the gathering. He saw no real hope of accomplishing what he had come to do, but he could not leave without appearing arrogant—and arrogance would only be another weapon for Viqi Shesh to use against the Jedi.
The tumult finally began to subside, but Fey’lya was staring so raptly at his vidconsole that he failed to notice. Fearing the Yuuzhan Vong were hurling some new disaster at the New Republic—and knowing them well enough to realize they would pick just such a moment—Luke reached out to get some sense of what was consuming the Bothan’s attention. Like any seasoned politician, Fey’lya held his emotions tightly, but what Luke sensed there seemed more surprise than dismay or panic.
Always quick to seize the initiative, Viqi Shesh rose. “I am very concerned about the Jedi problem—so concerned, in fact, that I propose a resolution.”
When Fey’lya remained transfixed by his vidconsole, Luke sent out a gentle Force nudge. The Bothan jerked and turned toward Shesh, but did not interrupt.
She continued, “May it be resolved: that the Jedi are henceforth named dangerous persons to the war effort—”
That was as far she made it before the chamber erupted again. She tried to continue over the din, then turned to Fey’lya, eyes flashing as though he had killed her sound feed.
“Chief Fey’lya, I have every right to make my motion.”
Fey’lya smiled. “By all means—but perhaps you would allow me to make a statement first.”
He flipped something on his console, and a row of holograms appeared on the chamber floor near the speaker’s rostrum. Luke had to step away before he could identify the figures as General Wedge Antilles, General Garm Bel Iblis, Admiral Traest Kre’fey, General Carlist Rieekan, and several other senior commanders. The chamber gradually quieted.
“A surprising number of high officers have contacted me in the past few minutes,” Fey’lya said. “After hearing what they have to say, I am directing—not authorizing, but directing—the New Republic military to cooperate and coordinate with the Jedi.”
The chamber grew even quieter—save for Shesh, who began to stammer, “Y-you can’t do that!”
“I can and I have.” Fey’lya locked his console out, then stepped down to Shesh’s. “If you feel I am exceeding my authority, you may, of course, call for a vote of no confidence at any time. Do you wish to do so now, Senator Shesh?”
Shesh looked into the stunned gallery, trying to gauge whether the Bothan’s autocratic mandate might have cost him enough support to lose such a vote. When even her own supporters could not tear their eyes from the holograms of the angry-looking commanders, she saw that she was the one who had overplayed her hand. She lowered her gaze and shook her head.
“No, and I withdraw my resolution.”
“Good. We’ll talk about your new committee assignments after we finish here.” Fey’lya left the high councilors’ dais and returned to Luke. “Now, where were we—”
“First, I’d like to ask something.” Luke put his hand over the rostrum’s microphone, then used the Force to send the sound droid whisking high into the galleries. “What did the generals say to you?”
“Nothing, actually. The communication was from NRMOC; the Yuuzhan Vong are moving on Borleias.” Fey’lya turned toward the commanders, his fangs bared in what Luke felt certain the Bothan intended to resemble a smile. “These are file holos.”
In the Solo apartment, the cheers were still ringing off the sitting room walls, and Gavin Darklighter was already planning joint missions with Saba Sebatyne and Kyp Durron. New Republic pilots were pouring bubblezap all around—and putting C-3PO into a dither by spilling far too much on the sanibuffed floor. Lando and Tendra were on their comlinks lauding the virtues of YVH war droids to suddenly receptive New Republic procurement officers. If anyone noticed that Wedge Antilles, one of the senior command officers supposedly in contact with Borsk Fey’lya, was actually sitting on the couch with Han and Leia, they did not think the matter worth mentioning.
Feeling far less gleeful than her guests, Leia turned to Han. “Am I the only one who noticed?”
Han gave her a crooked smile. “I noticed.” He glanced past her to Wedge, who was continuing to stare at his image on the holovid, his expression somewhere between anger and approval. “Borsk bluffed.”
“In politics, it’s called misconduct,” Leia said. “He had no authority to issue that directive alone.”
“Maybe not, but he did the right thing. I seem to recall your telling him to do that.”
“He didn’t do it because he likes Jedi,” Leia retorted. “Borsk wouldn’t take the risk. He could have lost his post—he still can, if Viqi finds out what he did and stirs up enough outrage.”
“Isn’t going to happen,” Wedge said, finally stirring himself out of his shock. “Borsk is the one who sent us to help you at Talfaglio. None of the commanders you saw on the chamber floor is going to contradict him—at least not to Viqi Shesh.”
A half-dozen comlinks chimed simultaneously, among them Wedge’s. He shut off the audible alarm, then he and several other New Republic officers stood and started for a quiet room.
“You’ll have to excuse us,” he said. “It sounds like General Bedamyr has lost his pet mynocks again.”
Han and Leia laughed dutifully. When he was gone, they looked at each other and shrugged.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Han said.
Leia’s thoughts had already returned to Fey’lya. “First, he wins the commanders over by sending a task force to Talfaglio, then he gives the credit to us.” She looked back to the holovid, where Fey’lya was making a great show of presenting Luke with an encryption card that would allow him to navigate the planetary mine shell. “He’s solidifying his power base, Han. He needs the Jedi supporters on his side.”
“And the Jedi need him,” Han said. “We’re in this together.”
“I know.” Leia was mortified to find her own purposes aligned with those of Borsk Fey’lya. “That may frighten me more than th
e Yuuzhan Vong.”
THIRTY-TWO
Fixing his mind on the driving rhythm of Vaecta’s chanting voice, Tsavong Lah thought of Yun-Yuuzhan’s sacrifices, of the eyes he had surrendered to light the stars and the tentacles he had given to make the galaxies. As the gods had done in their time, now the Yuuzhan Vong must do in theirs. Today’s victory would establish the left pincer of his final attack, so it was his left hand that he laid on the cutting block. He understood the place of faith as his predecessors had not; that was why he would succeed where they had died or floundered.
That was why Tsavong Lah had requested the return of the priest Harrar, his own spiritual guide and the only person he would trust to advise him on the offerings necessary to ensure victory to the Yuuzhan Vong. He would have liked to have Harrar lead the ritual himself, but it would not do to insult Vaecta. Today, Harrar would stand at his side as a witness and a friend, not a priest.
As Vaecta blessed the radank claw the shapers would attach in place of his sacrificed hand, Tsavong Lah gazed out at the steamy blue-green disk of Borleias, now swaddled in a flashing meshwork of energy bolts and plasma streaks. By all accounts a world completely lacking in resources useful to the enemy, it was nevertheless an ideal staging area for a strike against Coruscant itself and therefore fortified both heavily and cleverly. The infidels had arranged their orbital defenses in three layers, with the heavy platforms on the exterior, the smaller fast-targeting platforms on the interior, and a dense shell of space mines between.
A plasma ball the size of a small moon finally overloaded the shields of a heavy platform and reduced the unliving abomination to a melting mass of metal, but the island-ship that had made the attack paid dearly for success. A cone of meters-thick turbolaser bolts converged on the vessel, overwhelming its singularity projectors and blasting four huge breaches into the hull. The ship began to bear away, the life inside gushing into open space, a swarm of infidel missiles streaking out from the heavy platforms to complete the kill.