by Greg Keyes
"General Antilles-" she began, but then the full weight of his anger
did fall on her, stopping her cold.
"You should have told us he would be here, Lieutenant Solo," Wedge
said, his voice as soft and tense as the wire on Tionne's lute. "It was less
than honest, and far less than I expect of you."
Beyond the rustic stone walls of the hilltop garden and its topiary
canopy, the sun jeweled the Silver Sea with noontime light, and the fields
that rolled up to the shore breathed of bristing blooms and balmgrass. A
herd of stumpy, gracile-necked fecklen whirred and boomed their displeasure
at a family of hopping squalls. The sky was blue, with no hint of vapor.
After the cramped quarters of an X-wing, a ranch on Chandrila was the best
meeting place Jaina could have imagined. More practically, it was also a
place where it was easy to see one's enemy coming and speak freely, with
only minimal fear that unwanted ears might hear. That was especially true
because the estate was owned by a trusted relative of Gavin Darklighter's
wife, Sera.
But that lovely world all but vanished for Jaina, replaced by Wedge's
eyes, those verdant polished spheres that had seen so much combat and
tragedy, that had looked kindly on .her as a child. Wedge, who had fought
alongside her
father and mother and her uncle Luke from the very beginning. To have
him glare at her like this was . . . very difficult.
She felt a sudden, comforting presence, and for a minute accepted it,
grasped for it even. She needed every reassurance she could get. Then she
recognized it as Kyp's touch. That was the last thing in the universe she
needed right now, comforting or not.
Get back, Kyp.
She swallowed and addressed Wedge again. "General, I apologize, but I
didn't think you would meet with me if you knew Kyp was involved. Neither
did Colonel Darklighter."
Antilles now turned his ire toward Gavin. "You were in on this too,
Gavin?"
"She could have hidden Durron's connection from both of us, Wedge,
simply by not bringing him along when she met with me. She didn't. She was
up front with me. I advised her to do things this way because I know you
and- more to the point-I thought there was every possibility that my call to
you was monitored. There are plenty of people who would love to make a
present of Kyp Durron to the Yuuzhan Vong. You want to blame someone, blame
me."
General Antilles chewed at that, didn't seem to like it, and swallowed
it anyway. He glanced back up at Kyp. "Durron, I don't like you," he said.
"The very best thing you are is a murderer. The very worst-"
"Wait a moment, General," Kyp interrupted. "You know what I was going
through back then. Han Solo and Master Skywalker forgave me and brought me
back into the fold. I had hoped that you could, too."
"You don't deserve their forgiveness," Wedge shot back. "Look how
you've repaid them. Luke you denounce and deride, and as for Han, you've
roped his daughter into a politically precarious position, if not something
far worse."
"General," Kyp said quietly, "I'm sorry about Qwi Xux. I've told you
that before. At the time I thought what I did was for the best. She had
information in her head that could have brought the New Republic to its
knees."
"You leave her out of this," Antilles warned. "You don't
even so much as speak her name, or I'll blast you where you stand."
"General," Jaina said desperately, "please. Whatever you may think of
Kyp, he's discovered something important. Something that threatens us all."
"Fine," Antilles said, sitting back and brusquely waving his hand. "You
have evidence of this danger? Let me see it. The sooner this is over with,
the sooner I can find some clean air to breathe."
The four of them watched in silence as Kyp replayed the holo Jaina had
seen last beneath the frozen surface of art unnamed world. When it was over,
the silence continued for some time. It was Wedge who broke it.
"Emperor's black bones," he muttered,
"That was my reaction," Gavin replied. "Now you understand why I
thought you should see this."
"Yes. I suppose I do." Wedge straightened and knitted his hands
together. He looked at Jaina. "You've seen this for yourself?"
"No," Jaina admitted. "I've seen this same holo. But it's pretty clear
what it is."
Wedge rubbed his forehead. "No," he said, "it's not unambiguous. It
could be a fueling device, for instance."
Kyp cleared his throat. "General Antilles, may I speak?"
"Go ahead," Wedge said, grimacing.
"It may be a fueling device, of course. That doesn't mean it isn't a
weapon. If that ship can manipulate gravity at that scale, only fools
wouldn't understand its military implications. Whatever you might say about
the Yuuzhan Vong, they aren't fools."
"No," Wedge said. "No, they aren't. But until we see it used
militarily-"
"It would be too late then, General," Kyp burst out, leaping to his
feet.
"Shut up and sit down," Wedge snapped. "Let me finish what I was
saying."
Kyp's lips remained pressed tight, and for an instant Jaina caught a
glimpse of something she didn't understand. It passed quickly.
Kyp sat down.
"You're done, Durron? Good. What I was saying was, until we have real
evidence that this is a military weapon, we can't go to the senate with
this. Maybe not even then."
"Why?"Jaina asked.
"Because they won't do anything," Wedge replied. "At least not right
away. And senate security is leakier than a gas siever. The Yuuzhan Vong
would know within hours that we're aware of their superweapon. Hours after
that, their officials would assure Borsk Fey'lya that it's either harmless,
or something meant only to be used in their own defense. They'll reiterate
that they have no designs on the rest of our systems so long as we comply
with their demands."
"You mean like turning anyone with Jedi training over to them," Jaina
interjected.
"Right. Which brings up my final point in this round." He looked
straight at Kyp. "When they consider the source, a lot of senators would
rather trust the Yuuzhan Vong than Kyp Durron."
Kyp bore that silently. Jaina couldn't.
"Your pardon, General, but that's absolutely insane. Kyp's been out
there fighting while the senate has dithered, caved to Yuuzhan Vong demands,
and ordered the arrest of Master Skywalker. If anyone isn't to be trusted,
it's Fey'lya and the senate."
She braced for another salvo from Wedge, but he smiled gently instead.
"Solo, that's what I just said."
"It is?"
"More or less. Understand this, though-I know you don't care for Chief
Fey'lya. I don't either. But he isn't a traitor and he's not stupid. He
doesn't think the Yuuzhan Vong will keep their word any more than you or I
do. But he is a politician, and he thinks he can play that game better than
they can. Everything he's doing is aimed at buying time, and he's right.
Time is what we need, to unde
rstand Yuuzhan Vong technology, to digest their
tactics, to strengthen our own forces. Fey'lya will never order a strike
while the
Yuuzhan Vong are quiescent. He'll maintain the illusion of truce as
long as he can."
"So you're saying there will be no military mission to take this thing
out?" Gavin said, outraged.
"No official mission, no," Wedge replied.
"Then what are we going to do?" Jaina asked.
"Whatever we do," Wedge said, "there will be repercussions. Anyone
involved in this could easily end up in the same escape pod as Luke."
"Wouldn't that be a shame," Gavin drawled. "Rogue Squadron has resigned
from the New Republic before. We can do it again."
"Rogue Squadron can't handle that," Wedge said, waving at the frozen
holo of the ship and its frail of starfire. "Can it, Durron?"
Kyp nodded reluctantly. "The Yuuzhan Vong have the Sernpidal system
locked up tight. It will take real muscle to get in there. But if we take
out that thing, we also take out their major shipyard. You want to buy time,
General? That could buy you quite a lot."
"I see that, Durron. But I'm just a retired adviser to Rogue Squadron.
I don't have the power to send a fleet."
"General, with all respect," Jaina said, "you may not have the official
power, but you have the influence."
Wedge folded his arms and regarded her for a long moment. "Solo, do you
believe this? Do you believe what Durron has shown us?"
Jaina felt the weight of that question pressing her toward the planet's
core. This is why Kyp wanted me here, she reflected. They trust me.
"Yes," she said. "I believe him."
The general hesitated another few seconds, then held up his hands in
surrender. "Gavin, I don't have to ask where you stand on this."
"No, sir, General. I saw that thing when they were growing it, when
there was plenty of time to destroy it. I had to sit around while my
information was all but ignored, and now we have something to deal with that
we may not be
able to stop at all. But Rogue Squadron will give it its best shot."
"Volunteers only," Wedge warned.
"Of course. As if that will make a difference."
Wedge grinned wryly. "I understand, but the point has to be made. As I
said, I want everyone to understand the political as well as the mortal
danger inherent in this."
"Understood."
"Very well. I'm going to contact Admiral Kre'fey. I think he will be
extremely interested in this situation. If that falls through, well, we'll
go from there." He turned to Kyp. "I want you to understand something,
Durron. You will not be in control of this mission, nor will you be at
liberty to command your gang of pilots unsupervised. We'll need every ship
we can get, but not if that means the chance of an unpleasant surprise from
a bunch of undisciplined hotshots."
"If my pilots were undisciplined, General, they would not be alive,"
Kyp replied. "But if you're making my participation dependent on following
orders, that's fine with me-so long as I'm involved in the decision-making
process. They are my pilots-I owe them a voice."
"A voice you'll get," Wedge replied, his own speech strained. "But for
the duration of this mission, you will submit to authority."
Kyp nodded fractionally. "As you say, General."
Antilles rose, nodding at Gavin and Jaina. "Colonel, Lieutenant. I'll
speak to you later."
That's the problem with trying to hide from a jedi, Jaina thought.
Through the spirate leaves of the tintolive trees grappling with the
hillside, she could see Kyp, dressed in Jedi robes, walking up the flagstone
steps to the small pavilion she had found in her search for solitude. The
afternoon had brought puffs of cloud with it to wander shadows across the
plain below. A lone, distant peak was crowned with darkness and lightning, a
reminder that not all water vapor was so peaceful. Behind her, the
centuries-old villa rambled across the ridgetop, a maze of gardens,
orchards, and cool stone halls. Her mother had once described a
family estate on Alderaan. Jaina imagined it had been much like this.
"Hello, Kyp." She sighed as he came around an immaculately groomed
stand of some sort of feather-lea fed tree with bark scored into diamond
patterns.
"You're avoiding me," he said.
"You noticed."
"Mind telling me why?"
"Because I know you're going to ask me to fly with you, and I can't."
And because you're hiding something from me. But she didn't want to give
that last up to him just yet,
Kyp leaned his shoulder against the nearest tree. "Why not?" he
wondered. "Not that I was going to ask." His voice was gentle, jovial, and
he grinned suddenly at something he must have seen on her face.
"What's got you so amused?" Jaina asked. /' "You looked . . .
surprised. It's fetching."
"I fetch nothing," she snapped. "It's just you. You're all over the
grid. One minute you're as touchy and surly as a feral bantha, the next
you're the meditative Jedi Master, the dear friend, the sensitive fellow.
Who are you, Kyp?"
"Who are you, Jaina?"
"Oh, no. Don't start that with me."
"The questions you ask condition the answers you get," he said with a
small shrug.
"Okay, okay. So you didn't come to ask me to fly with you."
"No, you were right about that," Kyp admitted, absently scratching his
left ear. "I intended to ask."
"So you've asked and I can't. For a lot of reasons. Not the least of
which is that I'm still a member of Rogue Squadron, and they'll be in the
same battle."
"As you say, asked and answered. But I have a more important request."
"Get to it, then."
Kyp straightened and clasped his hands loosely together. His features
took on an unusual gravity. Behind him, in the middle distance, a flock of
avians with quicksilver wings rose toward the sky. A moment later, when the
mutter of
thunder that had startled the flock reached her ears, Kyp was still
hesitating.
"I'd like you to be my apprentice."
"You're kidding."
"Not in the slightest. You've interrupted your Jedi training. I think
you should take it up again. I think you wili bring something very special
to the order."
"Yeah? And why wouldn't I go back to Aunt Mara, then?"
"Because she's unavailable. Besides, you don't agree with her. You have
much more in common with me."
"In a Sarlacc's belly."
"Whatever. But you know it's true." He paused. "You're trying too hard,
and maybe it was too early for me to ask. I like you, Jaina, and I value
what you are and what you could be. Keep it in mind. I'll leave you to the
peace you sought." He turned to go.
He was almost out of sight when she leaned forward and called out to
him.
"Wait."
He turned slowly.
"I ... uh, I'll think about it. Probably not for long, but yeah, I'll
think about it."
"Good," he replied. "That makes me happy."
"Yeah, well, d
on't get too happy," she said.
She didn't watch him go. Instead she turned her face out to the vista.
I'm blushing! She berated herself. How ridiculous.
But she didn't feel merely ridiculous. She felt. ..
No. Forget it.
So she turned her thoughts outward, to space above, to her brothers and
her parents, wondering how they were, what they were doing, hoping they were
well.
And to the coming battle.
TWENTY-SEVEN
"Chalk up another one for the Princess of Blood," Han said, lifting a
mug of something the bartender had called Corellian ale-and which was
certainly anything but. "That's what? Our fifth cargo?"
"Losing count already, Dad?" Jacen asked, sipping his own dubious
concoction.
Around them, the cantina was color and sound, motion and embtion. Even
without consciously using the Force, Jacen felt mired in swirling
drunkenness, avarice, secret sorrows, and public appetites.
Harsh Tatooine light lanced into the cantina through two windows facing
out into the street. Above, various species mingled on a second-story
balcony that circumscribed the round central room. In the center of the
dusty floor of yellowish tiles, a Dressellian slung drinks from within a
circular, red-topped counter.
Near Han and Jacen, ten bovine Gran clad in matching umber jumpsuits
clustered together around a table too small for them. They whispered in
their sonorous tongue, casting occasional three-eyed glances at two
rodentlike Chadra-Fan squinting across another table at a Dug and arguing in
loud tones over a hand of sabacc.
"You aren't going all meditative Jedi on me again, are you?" his father
asked, with that little quirk in his mouth.
"No," Jacen answered solemnly. "I'm all pirate. I pillage; therefore I
am."
"That's the spirit." Han cocked an eyebrow quizzically. "Really? No
lectures for the old man?"
"None at all. It's not like we're keeping what we take. It's being put
to good use."
Han sighed. Jacen thought it sounded a little mournful, "Yeah," he
said. "That's true. Look, son, I've been thinking-after this war is over,
we're going to have bills to pay. The senate has had most of my assets
seized, and who knows if we'll ever see them again." He put his elbows on
the table and steepled his fingers. "So-"
"Dad! No!" Jacen said. "If we're aiding the resistance, that's one