Dark Tide: Ruin

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The Jedi Master winced. “This leads us to the second and more difficult problem we face, regardless of whether synthetic pollen would be as effective as the genuine thing. Ithorian society is based on a religion that worships the forest and world and life. If we were asking them to produce something as medicine, something that would further life, they would agree in a heartbeat. We’re asking them to manipulate the stuff of life to create a weapon. They won’t do that.”

  Kre’fey arched a pale eyebrow. “There is no way to appeal such a decision?”

  Luke shifted his shoulders uneasily. “I have spoken with Relal Tawron, the high priest who replaced Momaw Nadon as the Ithorian leader. The fact that the bafforr trees on Garqi contributed pollen to the fight means they would be willing to let us harvest pollen and create new groves. They take the action on Garqi as the trees’ consent to opposing the Yuuzhan Vong. He is, however, reluctant to modify or abandon other tenets of their faith. For example, the Ithorians apparently allow no one to set foot on Ithor.”

  Pellaeon shook his head. “I doubt the Yuuzhan Vong will abide by that rule.”

  “Relal knows that, and is willing to be somewhat practical in that matter, but it will require concessions on our part. Our people on the ground will have to be blessed, will have to observe certain restrictions.”

  The Bothan admiral sat back in his chair. “The high priest must realize that any restrictions are likely to be forgotten in the heat of battle.”

  Luke nodded. “He would not say that, but that is the sense I got from him. He is in a precarious position. The Ithorians are very peaceful. This invasion and even the preparation for it could shatter Ithorian society.”

  Corran leaned forward. “We are all agreed, though, that the destruction of the Pesktda Xenobotanical Garden on Garqi is only buying us time. The Vong will attack Ithor. Given the threat it presents, I could see them just popping into the system and using dovin basals to pepper the planet with asteroids. One solid impact and pretty much everything dies.”

  “We can screen the planet against that, though.” Pellaeon nodded. “Asteroids would take long enough to come in that we could pulverize them.”

  “I would also have to think, Corran, that given how the Yuuzhan Vong view biological things the same way we do machines, they would want to learn more about Ithor.” Luke closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. “The report of what you saw on Garqi could be a blueprint for what they could do with Ithor.”

  “No argument there, and we’ve not had another Sernpidal in this second wave, so the Vong leadership seems to be approaching things in a more logical manner.” The Corellian Jedi shrugged. “Standard defense, then? Engage in space to make landing troops difficult, then fight them as they come down and on the planet?”

  Kre’fey nodded. “I would prefer to stop them in space, but to neglect a planetary defense would be silly. We have some elite troops, both from the New Republic and Imperial Space, that can take up positions on the ground. They’re disciplined enough to work within the Ithorian strictures, at least until hot light starts flying.”

  The New Republic admiral looked to his Remnant counterpart. “That decision, though, will be up to you, Admiral.”

  Pellaeon looked startled. “What are you saying?”

  Kre’fey smiled carefully. “You are the senior officer here, with far more experience than I have. I’ve fought the Yuuzhan Vong several times and never come away with a clean victory, so I am not seeing something. I would like you to be in command of the defense of Ithor.”

  Corran arched an eyebrow. “Well, the politicians won’t like that at all.”

  The Bothan flashed fangs for a second. “We can package the defense nicely, all this joint planning and everything, but when the battle comes, I still want you in charge, Admiral. By that point it will be too late for them to object.”

  The human admiral nodded slowly. “You will be second in the chain of command, of course.”

  “Honored, yes.”

  Pellaeon smiled quickly. “And then who? Master Skywalker?”

  The Bothan glanced at Luke. “Jedi fought on the ground at Dantooine and again at Bimmiel. Will they have a role here?”

  Luke pressed his hands together, and Corran caught a faint impression of emotional pain from his Master. Jedi were not combat troops, but were trained to fight in ways that would be very useful on Ithor. Because Ithor teemed with life, it fairly well pulsed with the Force, so Jedi would be drawn to defend it, as well. Still, things they might be called upon to do would be outside the boundaries of strictly defensive action.

  The Jedi Master glanced at Corran. “Your thoughts?”

  “No question we have to help with the defense.” Corran sighed. “In essence, the whole of the planet will be held hostage. I’m not sure there is anything we could do here, short of slaughtering innocents, that would be of the dark side. And I’m fairly certain there will be no Vong innocents on the planet.”

  “If there are Yuuzhan Vong who surrender?” Pellaeon asked.

  Luke shook his head. “The slaves they use as proxy troops can’t surrender, and the Yuuzhan Vong themselves, well, I have a hard time believing they would surrender to us.”

  “I don’t know as how I’d trust any of them who would surrender.” The Corellian frowned. “On Dantooine, didn’t Mara run into some who had killed civilians, then used ooglith masquers to take on their appearance for the purpose of slaughtering more civilians?”

  The Bothan tapped a talon on the table. “Good point. We will have to review normal rules of engagement and inform our people that surrenders may not be respected. Not knowing about the Yuuzhan Vong, about their culture and traditions, makes the task of figuring out how to fight them so much more difficult. We can guess, we can make inferences, but we just don’t know.”

  Pellaeon smiled. “Grand Admiral Thrawn set great store by studying the art of a culture as a key to understanding it. I don’t know what he would make of the Yuuzhan Vong, but the few Chiss that came in from the Unknown Regions took to fighting them very eagerly.”

  “Yes, the Chiss in their clawcraft.” Kre’fey smoothed fur at the back of his neck. “You can rest assured that Coruscant did not like hearing that there was a whole contingent of Thrawn’s people lurking out there. I’m sure many of them fear you’ll use the Chiss to carve a new Empire from the New Republic.”

  The human admiral shrugged. “I might have, had I known they were there, but I was not privy to all of Thrawn’s plans. When we issued a recall to all Imperial agents and troops, no matter where they were, this contingent showed up with Baron Fel’s compliments, and led by his son.”

  Corran shook his head. “Who would have guessed?”

  “I knew.” Luke’s declaration came in a low voice, so low that Corran wasn’t certain he’d heard it. “Back during the Bothan crisis, when I went to find Mara, we found Admiral Parck and Baron Fel. They were overseeing an effort set up by Thrawn, including a facility to clone a replacement of Thrawn. They indicated there was fighting going on in the Unknown Regions, that they were holding back some sort of threat to the Empire out there. They were no threat to us, so passing on the information about their existence out there would have been a distraction for the peace process.”

  Kre’fey blinked his gold-flecked violet eyes. “If certain ministers knew you’d withheld this sort of information, they would take it as proof positive that you desire some sort of Jedi hegemony to rise up, and you thought you could use the Chiss to make that happen.”

  Corran frowned. “That’s nonsense.”

  “Oh, I know, I’m just telling you what will happen if that information gets out. For our purposes, though, we know we have someone holding that flank for us. This is good.” The Bothan glanced at Pellaeon. “How much in the way of military forces will you be able to bring here?”

  “My staff is still working up plans. At least one operational group: four Imperial Star Destroyers, eight Victory-class Star Destroyers, a
nd assorted support vessels. We can have them all here, or stage some at Yaga Minor to make a drive at Garqi, since we have to assume they will be staging from there.”

  Kre’fey nodded. “I can draw comparable strength, though a number of the ships will have to be staged at Agamar. They will threaten Garqi and also reinforce the escape route for anyone fleeing the Yuuzhan Vong. If we have to, I can pull those resources from Agamar, but then we know that world will fall.”

  Corran’s heart sank at the Bothan’s words. As much as he would have liked it to be otherwise, the chances were that Agamar would face a Yuuzhan Vong assault and would be conquered. Its conquest might precede that of Ithor, allowing the Yuuzhan Vong to secure an even closer staging area, but even slight pressure on Agamar could pin down New Republic forces, denying them to the defense of Ithor. The Yuuzhan Vong had to attack Ithor and do it quickly, lest the New Republic be able to reinforce it enough that it couldn’t be taken.

  The real problem with the loss of Agamar was that it would, in effect, cut the Remnant off from the New Republic by shutting down a key hyperspace route between them. Aside from Ithor, the nearest New Republic world would be Ord Mantell, but getting from Yaga Minor to Ord Mantell was not easy and involved a lot of minor jumps and a long time. Corran wasn’t certain, in the long run, how much help the Remnant would be in the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong, but since they’d just helped save his life, he was inclined to want them in the fight for the long run.

  Pellaeon shrugged stiffly. “This is ever the plight of the military man. We know where we can deploy our forces for best effect. That is a rational decision based on numbers and analysis. We both know that Ithor is the key here. The Yuuzhan Vong have to come in sufficient force to take it. If we strip defenses from elsewhere, we provide a tempting alternative target. Some people suffer so others will not. We can provide the best response as per our brain, but it isn’t the right response according to our hearts.”

  He spread his arms wide. “We have approximately two weeks before your leaders get here, and I imagine some of mine will arrive, too. In that time we will have to come up with a plan in which we show them we are splitting responsibility and risk to the gain of all. This means we will make concessions to political considerations that we don’t want to make, in essence slipping binders on our own wrists before we go into this fight. I don’t like that any more than you do, but the alternative is for our leaders, fighting between and among themselves, to impose their own binders on us.

  “I’d much prefer the binders I choose than theirs.” The man’s eyes sparkled. “After all, if I tie myself up, it’s with the knowledge I can get out of the binders. And in this coming fight, if we can’t do that, everything—Ithor, New Republic, and Imperial Space—is doomed.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  For Jaina Solo, the absurdities of the reception would not end. To begin with, the reception was a formal affair that took place on the Tafanda Bay, one of the Ithorian herd ships, cities that drifted lazily above the jungle. The transparisteel-domed ships, with their own ecosystems and loaded with plant life, were kept warm and very humid. In everyday clothes she didn’t mind it, but dressed up in formal Jedi robes, she found the atmosphere heavy and oppressive.

  Just having such a formal affair on a planet that was going to be the focal point for an enemy assault struck her as wrong. She would have preferred to be up on the Ralroost with the rest of Rogue Squadron. It annoyed her, too, that she had been invited because of her status as a Solo and a Jedi, not as a member of Rogue Squadron. Colonel Darklighter had been chosen to represent the squadron, and Jaina got a distinct impression that the New Republic’s protocol experts were afraid the pilots might actually speak their minds and disrupt things.

  The tension of those gathered in the room seemed almost as oppressive as the humidity. They had been gathered into a large hall that was open, though overarching tree branches made glimpses of the night sky through the dome few and far between. More impressive than the trees, though, was the way the wood covering the floor and paneling the walls had been fitted together. A rich gold in color, with dark streaks of grain, the strips formed a mosaic through which the lines flowed effortlessly. Jaina could have followed the grain with her eyes forever, but knots of diplomats kept eclipsing it.

  From years of watching her mother attend—and attend to—such functions, she knew diplomatic contacts operated in an unreal world. Mortal enemies would be unfailingly polite face-to-face while plotting ruthlessly behind closed doors. Even Admiral Kre’fey and Colonel Darklighter would withhold criticism of political limits placed on their operations so the impression could be created that all was well.

  She sighed. At least that means people will be polite to the Jedi.

  “Such a sigh. Did it relieve the weariness in your spirit?”

  Jaina turned and smiled, recognizing the voice. “Yes, Ganner, a bit.” She kept the smile in place despite the little shock she felt at seeing the livid scar on his face.

  The older Jedi sipped a cup of wine, then gave her a little nod. “I suppose, perhaps, I should try a sigh.”

  “Why? Oh.” She glanced past Ganner in his robes of blue and black, toward a knot of Jedi paying court to Kyp Durron. “I had heard there was some trouble.”

  Ganner gave her a wry grin that made him a different sort of handsome in her eyes. “My experiences on Bimmiel and especially Garqi were . . . sobering. Since many Jedi have been called here to help oppose the Yuuzhan Vong, and are eager to do so, my sharing rather frank views about how dangerous the Yuuzhan Vong are is not welcome. Realism becomes synonymous with defeatism in their eyes.”

  “Probably didn’t help that you saved Corran’s life on Bimmiel.”

  Ganner snorted a quick laugh. “No, it didn’t. I don’t regret it, however. The lessons I’ve learned working with him are lessons I needed to learn. I’m glad I lived long enough to do it.”

  She glanced down for a moment. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”

  “I’m not.” His blue eyes narrowed. “Before I got this scratch, it was easy to believe in my own invincibility. I was arrogant enough to think of myself as perfect. That’s a trap Kyp, Wurth, Octa, and others in his cabal are falling into. They think that because they’ve not been hurt, they can’t be hurt. That’s not an illusion I harbor anymore.”

  “I don’t think I have many illusions anymore, either.” Jaina shifted her shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness in them. “We have been simming a lot to prepare us for the Vong assault. I must end up dead half the time I fly.”

  Ganner winced. “Not good.”

  “Well, not as bad as it might sound. Part of the time we sim flying skips, to help train the others. The Imps we are able to smoke, but the Chiss are just deadly.”

  “I’ve felt their presence, but haven’t seen any of them.”

  “Neither have I, except on my aft scope, drilling my X-wing or skip.” She glanced toward the front of the grand courtyard in which people had been gathered. Up there had been raised a dais, with Relal Tawron and his attendants greeting the various New Republic functionaries. “Looks like home team introductions have started. The Remnant’s people will be next and then, maybe, the Chiss.”

  “It will be interesting to get a look at them.” Ganner waved his hand in the direction of the dais. “After you.”

  “Thanks.” Jaina almost hesitated, both because of Ganner’s courtesy—which she had not expected—and because of her desire to see the Chiss herself. It’s their leader I want to see.

  She started to blush for a moment, but chased that sensation away with a burst of irritation. In all of the simulations she had flown well. Perhaps she hadn’t always been the best pilot in the squadron, but she’d been close to it. Every time she’d simmed against the Chiss and been shot out, their leader had been the one to kill her. She never had the sense that he was picking on her specifically, but to double-check that she pulled the statistical data from the simulator battles.

  Over
and over again the Chiss leader had gone after the hottest of the enemy pilots, picking them off in descending order. None of them made it easy for him, and both Wedge and Tycho had managed to kill him once, but in every statistical category the simulators measured he was skewing the bell curve to the high side. And that would not have been so bad, she decided, if he and the Chiss didn’t keep to themselves. She didn’t mind being shot out, but she hated the idea of being dismissed for dying.

  She and Ganner slipped toward the front of the crowd as Luke and Mara Skywalker were welcomed. Polite but muted applause arose from the assembled dignitaries, with most of it coming from the Ithorians. They clearly welcomed a Jedi presence on their world, though Jaina sensed that Borsk Fey’lya would be perfectly happy if those Jedi died in the defense of Ithor.

  Next came the Imperial Remnant’s contingent. Admiral Pellaeon came first and moved down the long line of dignitaries with an economy of motion that suggested he wanted nothing but to be back planning Ithor’s defense. A wave of emotional warmth rolled off him as he greeted Admiral Kre’fey, Colonel Darklighter, Luke Skywalker, and Wedge Antilles. It lessened slightly as he shook hands with Jaina’s mother, then took his place beside her as the other Imperials were introduced.

  Several moffs had made the trip to Ithor, and all of them looked like tired functionaries save for Ephin Sarreti, the moff from Bastion. What impressed Jaina about him was the genuine sense of enthusiasm pouring off him as he greeted Borsk Fey’lya and the New Republic’s other ministers. He exchanged comments with each of them, apparently impressing them with his knowledge of their lives or homes. Shock exploded from most of them, with tendrils of suspicion snaking out in its wake.

  Ganner half smiled. “Well, now, there’s a plaything to keep Chief of State Fey’lya occupied.”