Inferno

by Troy Denning

  “This isn’t healthy for me,” Tahiri said, ignoring his warning. “You can’t keep pulling us back before I’m ready.”

  “Then pick our destination more carefully,” Caedus said. “Something that isn’t so emotionally charged for you.”

  “Fine,” Tahiri said. “HNE just reported Omas’s assassination, and Master Skywalker’s as mad as a yanskac on ice. You’d better be ready.”

  Caedus’s insides went cold with dread. Apparently, the HoloNet had decided to ignore the security hold he had placed on the story, and Ben’s involvement alone would be enough to bring Luke to the bridge ready to fight a rancor. But he couldn’t help fearing there was more to the visit—that his uncle had finally, somehow, discovered the identity of Mara’s killer.

  Caedus closed the comlink without signing off, then refocused his Force-awareness on the Anakin Solo’s bridge. Luke’s presence was already close, ascending a nearby turbolift, and the Force was rolling and crashing with his anger.

  Caedus touched the comm pad again. “Inform Bridge Security that Master Skywalker is on his way to my day cabin.”

  “Master Skywalker?” Krova was silent for a moment while she checked the security monitors, then said, “Of course. What are their instructions?”

  Caedus thought for a moment, considering the possibility of trying to delay Luke while he prepared himself, then realized that would only look suspicious.

  “Tell them to stay out of his way.” Caedus did not bother asking for a summary of recent events in the Jedi area of the Anakin Solo. Even had Luke not bothered to disable the monitoring equipment, the only thing the security officers would have seen was what the Jedi wanted them to. “And see that we’re not disturbed. I think we’re going to need some privacy.”

  By the time Caedus had instructed SD-XX to secure the cabin against eavesdropping—physical or otherwise—and hidden the droid safely inside its security closer, Luke was marching into the cabin. In his high boots and black StealthX flight suit, he resembled a GAG trooper—at least until he hammered a slap-pad to close the door and started across the floor.

  Caedus was glad to see Luke’s lightsaber still hanging from its belt clip, but he took the precaution of slipping toward his desk, where he would have access to a dozen weapons and traps he had prepared in anticipation of just such a confrontation.

  Luke jabbed a finger in Caedus’s direction. “Now I understand why you’ve been avoiding me.” His tone was even and soft, but there was no mistaking the wrath in his Force aura. “And this time, you’ve finally crossed the line.”

  “What are you talking about?” Caedus asked, pretending ignorance. If the news of Omas’s death was just breaking on the HoloNet, an innocent Jacen wouldn’t logically have heard about it in the middle of his battle meditation. “I’m sorry I haven’t been available to console you, Uncle Luke, but I’ve been kind of busy trying to save the Alliance.”

  Luke narrowed his eyes and stopped in the center of the cabin. “I’d sooner cry on a Hutt’s shoulder than yours. I think you know that.”

  “I suppose family should be honest with each other.” The sadness in Caedus’s voice was genuine. He had always regretted losing his uncle’s respect and love—just another of the many sacrifices he was making to bring peace to the galaxy. “But Admiral Bwua’tu will be calling for the Hapan fleet soon. We can work this out—whatever it is—after the battle.”

  Luke shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Caedus exhaled in exasperation. “Is this about the academy?” He sneaked a glance toward his observation bubble, where a halo of battle light could be seen flashing around his chair, broken only by the thick triangular pedestal on which it rested. “I told you, I’m not going to leave one of the Alliance’s most valuable assets unprotected—”

  “Don’t play stupid,” Luke snapped. “This isn’t about the academy. It’s about Ben.”

  “Ben?” Caedus stopped at the corner of his desk, feigning shock. “Did something happen to him?”

  “You tell me,” Luke said. “You’re the one who sent him.”

  “Sent him where? I’ve hardly spoken to Ben since the funeral.”

  In the next instant, Caedus found himself flying across the cabin toward his observation bubble. Luke had not gestured, had not flinched, had not even shifted his gaze; he had simply grabbed Caedus in the Force and hurled him five meters into his chair.

  “Don’t lie.” Luke started across the cabin. “I’m getting tired of it.”

  Caedus sprang out of the chair … or attempted to. Instead, he found himself struggling against an invisible weight. He felt as if he were accelerating to lightspeed with a faulty inertial compensator.

  “Luke, you’ve gone mad.” Caedus reached for the controls on the arm of his chair and discovered he couldn’t even do that much. “You can’t do this. I know you’re having trouble dealing with Mara’s death, but—”

  “This has nothing to do with Mara,” Luke said. “And you’re lucky it doesn’t. If she were here—if she had known what you were using Ben for—there’d be pieces of you scattered along the entire length of the Hydian Way.”

  The irony of the statement was far from lost on Caedus, but he was too astonished—and too frightened—to take any pleasure in it. While it was true that Luke had taken him by surprise, it was equally true that he had done so with no visible effort—and that he was continuing to hold him with no apparent exertion.

  Keenly aware that all that stood between him and a quick death was Luke Skywalker’s much-strained sense of decency, Caedus let a little of his very real fear seep into the Force, just enough to seem properly alarmed.

  “Does this have something to do with Cal Omas?” he asked. “Tell me Ben didn’t do anything foolish!”

  Luke’s eyes grew narrow and cold. “Tell me what makes you think he might have.”

  “Of course,” Caedus said. “Ben learned of a conversation that made it look as though Omas had something to do with Mara’s death.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Luke said. “Chief Omas would never have done something like that.”

  “Never have?” Caedus echoed. “You mean Ben … you mean Omas is dead?”

  Luke looked at him without answering.

  Caedus would have shaken his head, save that it was still being held motionless with the Force. Had it been Mara’s death instead of Omas’s that Luke had just heard about, Caedus knew he would already be dead. Another reminder that anyone could be surprised.

  “I tried to tell Ben the same thing, but he’s so full of anger.” He locked gazes with Luke. “I’m afraid he’s going to become its servant, if one of us doesn’t reach him soon.”

  Luke nodded, then sat on the corner of Caedus’s desk. “How did Ben find out about this conversation?”

  Caedus forced himself not to look away. “I wish I knew.”

  “You told him.” When Luke’s expression did not change, Caedus realized that his uncle had been expecting the lie, that he had already worked matters out for himself. “It’s just so convenient for you, isn’t it? You let something slip in an innocent conversation and point Ben like a missile.”

  “That’s not what happened.” The denial was strictly for form; Caedus knew Luke wouldn’t believe it. “But even if it were, now is hardly the time to discuss it. We’re a Squib’s hair from victory. After we crush the Confederation, I’ll be—”

  Krova’s voice came over the comm speaker. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Colonel Solo, but Admiral Bwua’tu is ready for the Hapans.”

  Caedus felt a knot unwind inside. Finally.

  “Tell Admiral Bwua’tu the Hapans will be coming shortly.” Caedus had retained personal control of the Hapan Home Fleet, determined to prevent any risk to Tenel Ka or Allana by not using it until victory was certain. He waited until Krova had acknowledged the order and closed the channel, then turned to his uncle. “I’ve told you all I know about Omas’s death, and I need to transmit that order myself. The Queen Mother insis
ted I take personal responsibility for committing her fleet.”

  Luke raised his brow. “You think you’re dismissing me?”

  “I know I am.” Caedus put an angry edge in his voice; he might be trapped in a humiliating position right now, but he was still the leader of the Galactic Alliance—and Luke was still its servant. “If you like, we’ll open an inquiry into Omas’s death after we’ve saved the Alliance.”

  Luke glared at Caedus for a long moment, then finally slipped off the desk. “Is that a promise?”

  “It is.”

  “Then I’ll take it for what it’s worth,” Luke said. Leaving Caedus Force-pinned in his chair, he started toward the door. “I’ll show myself out.”

  Caedus knew he would be freed as soon as Luke turned his concentration to something other than Force-pinning him—but that might take minutes, and Caedus needed to send in the Home Fleet now. Besides, he was the Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance, and he could not allow anyone, even Luke Skywalker, to humiliate him and simply leave. He had to assert some sort of authority.

  “Luke,” Caedus called. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Luke stopped at the door and looked back, the rage in his face now softening to what looked like remorse. “You’re right. I should warn you that you’ll have to crush the Confederation without StealthXs. The Jedi can support you no longer.”

  “What?” Caedus was so shocked that he tried to rise—and found himself as unable to move as before. “You can’t desert now. We can end this war!”

  “We could destroy the Confederation fleets and kill a lot of rebels,” Luke admitted. “But I don’t think you can end this war, Jacen. I don’t think you even know what it’s about.”

  “That’s absurd.” Caedus did not understand how a man who had been fighting wars for forty years could be so foolish. “After their fleets are destroyed, Corellia and Bothawui will have to accept our terms, and once they’ve surrendered, the rest of the Confederation will have no choice but to come racing to rejoin the Alliance.”

  Luke shook his head and reached for the touch pad beside the door. “There’s always a choice, Jacen.”

  “And if you go through with this one, you’ll regret it.” Caedus could not understand why Luke wanted to desert him just when they were on the brink of saving the Alliace, but he did know how to prevent it. “Have you forgotten the academy?”

  The door opened. Instead of stepping through, Luke faced Caedus and spoke in a very calm voice. “I’m sure you’re not threatening the younglings.”

  He pointed at the base of Jacen’s meditation chair and made a tapping motion with his finger. The pedestal gave a loud whumpf, and the seat dropped a quarter meter.

  “Because you really don’t want to see me angry.” Luke made the tapping motion again. The pedestal emitted a metallic shriek, and the seat dropped another quarter meter. “And I think you’re smart enough to know that.”

  Luke tapped a last time, and the pedestal collapsed with a low loud crump, depositing Caedus on the floor with his feet sticking out in front of him like a child.

  “But if you want to try me, go ahead and make that threat.”

  Luke lowered his hand, and the weight vanished from Caedus’s chest. He could have leapt up to attack—had he been that foolish—but Sith were not slaves to their emotions. Avenging his humiliation could wait until after he had saved the Alliance.

  So, remaining on the floor where Luke had deposited him, Caedus simply touched the comm pad on his armrest. “Lieutenant, do we have an open channel to Prince Isolder yet?”

  “Actually,” replied a deep Hapan voice, “you’re speaking to him now, Colonel Solo.”

  “My apologies.” Caedus looked across the day cabin to lock gazes with Luke. “Are you ready to commence your attack?”

  “I am,” Isolder said.

  Luke lowered his gaze and shook his head.

  “Then please proceed,” Caedus said. “And may the Force be with you.”

  “May it be with all of us,” Isolder replied. “If this plan doesn’t work, we’re going to need it.”

  The channel closed with a pop.

  Moving very slowly so his uncle would not misinterpret his actions as an attack, Caedus stood.

  “I know you too well,” he said to Luke. “You’re not going to abandon the Alliance.”

  “There is no Alliance.” Luke turned to leave. “It died with Cal Omas.”

  “For you, maybe.” Caedus couldn’t understand why his uncle was so focused on Omas’s death; it was one among millions, and even if Caedus had put the idea in Ben’s head, he hadn’t actually ordered the assassination. “But you are going to support this attack; I’m quite certain the Senate would frown on turning the security of the Jedi academy over to an order of deserters.”

  Luke’s hand brushed the hilt of his lightsaber, and Caedus thought for a moment that the fight he had been anticipating since Mara’s death—anticipating, dreading, and wanting—was finally going to come. He stepped away from the observation bubble, giving himself some maneuvering room in case Luke came at him in a tumbling pass.

  But Luke seemed to realize that attacking Caedus aboard his own Star Destroyer—even if he was fortunate enough to kill him—would only put the academy and the rest of his Jedi in an even more precarious position. He moved his hand away from his lightsaber and put it out to stop the door behind him from sliding shut.

  “Okay, Jacen,” he said. “If that’s how you want to play this, we will.”

  “It’s not how I want anything,” Caedus said. “But if that’s what it takes to win this war, I’ll do it.”

  Luke studied Caedus for a moment, then seemed to surrender to circumstances. “I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does.” His voice was weary and sad. “It looks like I should be getting back to my StealthX.”

  “It looks like you should,” Caedus agreed. “And may the Force be with you out there.”

  Luke snorted, half in disgust and half in humor. “Thanks, I guess.” He stepped through the door and started across the anteroom, his disappointment hanging in the Force as heavy as fog on Dagobah. “Good-bye, Jacen.”

  It did not escape Caedus that Luke had departed without returning the traditional kind wishes, but that was probably too much to ask of someone who had just been brought to task. Caedus waited until his uncle had passed out of sight, then closed the door and turned to find SD-XX standing at his back.

  “That went well,” the droid said. “For a time, it appeared you would have to kill him, too.”

  Jacen frowned. “Too?” He hadn’t told the droid about Mara. Hadn’t told anyone. “What do you mean by that?”

  “In addition to his wife, of course,” SD-XX explained. “You’ve been letting secrets slip in your sleep.”

  Caedus thought of Tenel Ka and went empty inside. The only time he slept well anymore was in her company.

  “What do I say?” he asked. “Is it clear?”

  SD-XX leaned forward, pushing his skeletal face close to Caedus’s. “So you did kill her.” Droids weren’t supposed to have smug in their repertoire of voice inflections, but SD-XX managed to sound fairly close. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “What do I say?” Jacen shouted.

  SD-XX remained faceplate-to-nose with Jacen. “You never actually admit anything,” he said. “It’s just a lot of talk about necessary sacrifices and making the galaxy safe for children like your daughter.”

  “My daughter.” Caedus’s heart sank; he was putting Allana at risk in his sleep. “Do I ever call her by name?”

  SD-XX cocked his head sideways, no doubt focusing his photomicrometer on Jacen’s pupil so he could gauge the degree of shock his answer caused.

  “You call her by a lot of names,” SD-XX said. “Jaina, Danni, Anni, Allaya—”

  “Enough!” Caedus ordered. He would have liked to send the droid back to Tendrando to have an owner-exception entered into its probe programming, but that wasn’t really an optio
n. Lando had made clear where his loyalties lay—by abetting Han and Leia Solo in their efforts to avoid capture. “Return to your monitoring duties. Let me know if crew members start gossiping about trouble between Luke and me.”

  SD-XX reluctantly pulled his face away from Caedus’s. “Allana?”

  “I’m about to have you converted to torpedo parts,” Caedus warned.

  “You don’t have to threaten.” SD-XX started toward his security closet. “I’m not the one mumbling secrets during shutdowns.”

  Caedus started back across his day cabin worrying about how preoccupied Tenel Ka had seemed the morning of Mara’s funeral, wondering whether she had been hearing things in his sleep that made her suspect him of the killing. At the time, he had attributed her withdrawal to common sorrow, but now he couldn’t help wondering. Was she even at this moment pondering whether to reveal what she had heard to Luke and the Council Masters?

  Probably not, Caedus decided. Had Tenel Ka heard anything incriminating, she would never have seemed preoccupied or aloof. She would have taken great care to make sure that she appeared perfectly normal, and the first he would have known about her suspicions was when she stuck a lightsaber against his back and started to interrogate him.

  At least that was what he hoped.

  By the time he reached the observation bubble, the battle had erupted into a curtain of light and flame that was stretched all the way across space. The Anakin Solo was pouring fire into the conflagration from all four of its long-range turbolaser batteries, causing the decks to shudder and the illumination to dim and flicker. Every couple of seconds, a tiny dash would emerge from the firestorm and swell into a crimson streak of energy in the blink of an eye, then blossom into a boiling wall of death against the ship’s shields.

  Any attempt to make visual sense of the firestorm was hopeless, but the sight of so much unleashed energy filled Caedus with awe and pride. He had arranged this, marshaled the death-dealing power and lured the enemy into its path, and it made him feel like a … well, not quite like a deity, but like a man standing at the brink of destiny. This victory would place the galaxy in his grasp—and once he had the galaxy, peace would be within his reach.