Rebirth: Edge of Victory II

by Greg Keyes

  “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 understand 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 trail 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-leafed 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 will 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 forw
ard 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, don’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 emotion. 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 thing. But if we keep more than operating expenses, we really are pirates.”

  “Right, sure, but just a little off the top wouldn’t make much of a difference, would it? In the long run?”

  Jacen stared, horrified at his father’s sincere gaze—until the elder Solo winked, and he got it.

  “You were having me on.”

  “Just checking, kid. Making sure you really were still my son Jacen.”

  “I am that—whoever he is, that’s me.”

  Han looked down at the table. “Yeah. And … uh, whoever he is, I’m, uh, very proud of him.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Jacen said. He wanted, suddenly, to give his father a hug, but the newest cantina at Mos Eisley spaceport probably wasn’t the best place to do that.

  “Anyway,” Han said. His gaze shifted about uncomfortably, then needled out someplace past Jacen. “There we go,” he said. “The rest of our dinner party.”

  Jacen didn’t turn. One thing he’d learned around his father—if there were only two of you in a place like this, it was best if you weren’t both looking in the same direction.

  “Well, well,” a profound bass boomed behind them. “Han Solo. And if I make my guess, one of his spawn.”

  “Hello, Shalo. How are things?”

  “I don’t believe it. The great Han Solo actually knows my name. I told you I was sending Terya.”

  “I have a good memory,” Han replied. “And Terya is a Rodian.” He glanced around the cantina. “Looking good. How’s business?”

  Shalo finally moved into Jacen’s field of vision. He was human and surprisingly small to have such a deep voice. Bald, craggy-nosed, about his dad’s age.

  “Not bad,” Shalo said. “The Yuuzhan Vong snubbed their flat noses at Tatooine, so we’re the center of commerce out here on the Rim, these days.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s pretty convenient for you, I guess. I hear you’re giving even Chalmun’s some competition.”

  “Yeah, well, times change. Business changes. My drinks are cheaper.”

  Han jerked a thumb toward the man. “Last time I saw Shalo here he was a petty thug at the bottom of Durga the Hutt’s food chain.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “Sure. And after that you worked for Hirth, out of Abregado-rae. That went sour, too, didn’t it? Then you got involved with the Hutts again, and they sent you here to manage one of their operations. Come to think of it, I guess the occupation of Nal Hutta is the best thing that ever happened to you, huh, Shalo? Now the operation’s all yours.”

  “It ain’t been bad. Solo, you got a point? I’m a busy man. I’ve heard you’re back in business, so to speak. You have something you want moved?”

  “Not exactly, Shalo. I need a little information.”

  “So long as you’re willing to pay for it.”

  “Sure,” Han said. “Like you said, I’m back in business now.” He passed a hundred credits across the table toward Shalo. “Gesture of good faith,” he said.

  “Okay. What do you want to know?”

  “There’s a certain shipping concern. I think you know the one I mean—has certain occupational interests?”

  “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about. There are lots of shipping firms.”

  Han leaned forward a little. “But this one—ah, c’mon, Shalo. Who do you sell all your slaves to?”

  “Slaves? I’m not in that business, Solo.”

  “You disappoint me, Shalo.”

  Shalo smiled and shook his head. “No, you disappoint me, Solo. I guess everyone gets old. Now your son pays the price.”

  Han looked at Jacen in mock surprise. “You’re picking up the tab, son?”

  “My boss doesn’t pay me that well,” Jacen replied.

  Han looked at Shalo. “I guess now we don’t know what you mean, Shalo.”

  “I mean there’s no bounty in the galaxy higher than the one on your boy, here, and I’m collecting it.” He raised his hand and dropped it.

  Nothing happened. Puzzled, he repeated the signal frantically.

  A bright green shaft of light suddenly appeared, jutting out of the tabletop. It terminated a centimeter from Shalo’s throat.

  “Urk,” Shalo said.

  “Please don’t move,” Jacen requested sincerely.

  “You get ’em all, Karrde?” Han called into the silence that now ruled the cantina. He kept his eyes focused on Shalo.

  “Shada has it under control,” a cultured voice came back. “We’ll be right there. I’d like to make sure all of my people are in position.”

  Jacen couldn’t glance around, but he felt a number of newcomers enter the cantina.

  “Take your time,” Han called back. “I was just having a chat with my old buddy Shalo.”

  “You’re crazy, Solo,” Shalo said.

  “Now, is that polite? Listen, Shalo. I can wipe out you and your whole petty operation if I want—or you can cooperate. I …” Han smiled and shook a finger. “You know—I did know about your employees with the blaster rifles. So did my colleagues. One of them—do you know Shada D’ukal? She can be very disarming.”

  “D’ukal is here?”

  “I love the way you say my name,” a woman’s voice said from just behind Jacen. She stepped into view.

  Shada D’ukal was a strikingly h
andsome woman in perhaps her late forties with long black hair streaked liberally with pure white. The man next to her was a good match to her with his silver-streaked hair and impeccable goatee.

  “Captain Karrde,” Han said, standing. “I’m so glad you could make it. Shada, good to see you again. You’ve both met my son Jacen.”

  Karrde stroked his goatee and studied the offered seat with mock suspicion. “Oh, well,” he said at last. “If I can’t trust a scoundrel and a pirate, who can I trust?”

  “Hey, I trusted you.”

  “A good thing, too,” Shada said. “Two of the sharpers were assassin droids.”

  “Shalo, I’m impressed.”

  The two newcomers sat down. “Hello, Jacen,” Shada said. “I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Jacen replied.

  “It’s the Solo blood,” Han opined. “It comes with the looks. So how’s things with you two?”

  “Things are going well enough on our end,” Karrde said. “I think I can meet whatever needs you have. But first, I have a little present for you.”

  “Hey?” Shalo said. “Could you please have your Jedi get that thing away from my throat?”

  Han raised both brows skyward. “Oh, you mean this Jedi? My eldest son? The one you were going to turn in for the biggest bounty in the galaxy?”

  “I wouldn’t have actually done it,” Shalo explained. “I was going to try to extort protection from you, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re slime, Shalo. You give the Hutts a good name. And now you’re going to give me something.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “What I asked for, you vac-head.”

  “Oh. The shipping company.”

  Han nodded. “That’s right, the shipping company.”

  “Berths fifteen through eighteen. It’s all I can tell you.”