“Places where the new fleet elements are coming into being. Mon Calamari. Kuat. Corellia.” Ackbar sighed again. “That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Cal said.
“Anything else”—Ackbar waved a hand—“give away when the enemy attacks. It will stretch Yuuzhan Vong resources and make them weaker everywhere else.”
“And the refugees?” Luke asked. “Those huge convoys that we’ve tried to protect? Those millions of people we’ve had to resettle?”
Ackbar turned to Luke. His eyes were cold. “We must not defend these huge targets. Tying our forces to them only makes us weak.”
Luke felt a chill settle into his spine. “I’ve sworn to defend the weak,” he said.
“Who is weak?” Ackbar asked. “We are weak. The government. The military. While we are weak, the enemy thrives and the refugees are doomed no matter what we do. Once we are strong, the enemy will have more important things to do than to attack convoys.”
Luke turned away. “I understand,” he said, but all his instincts warred against Ackbar’s bitter logic.
Dif Scaur put his thin, knobby-jointed hands on the table. His skin was so pale that the hands seemed to fade into the white marble.
“I ask again for your timetable,” he said. “You propose to put our untried forces into a kind of live-fire exercise against a real enemy in order to season them. How long before you think the fleet will be ready for a major action, or for this decisive battle your plan calls for?”
Ackbar’s response was swift. “Three months,” he said. “Three months of continuous low-level engagement with the enemy should give us a battle-tested force able to hold their own against the Yuuzhan Vong.”
“Three months …” A cold smile played about Scaur’s cadaverous face. “The timing is expedient.”
The timing for what? Luke wondered. There was something highly significant about that three months, but Luke and Ackbar were two, at least, who weren’t meant to know what it was.
Ackbar slumped into his chair. Presenting the plan had exhausted him, and now that he was finished he permitted himself to show that exhaustion. Winter stroked more brine onto his head. “I only regret that my health doesn’t permit me to serve the New Republic in a more active way,” Ackbar said.
“Your contribution has always been fundamental,” Cal said. “I can only wish myself and these others as useful a retirement as yours has been.” He turned to Sien Sovv. “Admiral, do you have any comments on Admiral Ackbar’s plan?”
“Other than to admire it, no,” Sovv said. “I’m ready to put the plan into action immediately, or I can resign in favor of Admiral Ackbar and he can carry out his proposals without any interference from me.”
Ackbar waved a weary hand. “No, my friend. I’m not in condition to command the Defense Force, and everyone here knows it.”
Cal gave Ackbar a thoughtful look. “Can you take a consultative role?” he asked. “We can invent a title for you—‘Fleet Director of Strategy’ or some such.”
The glabrous head nodded. “I’m willing to perform this task to the best of my powers.”
“His powers are very limited at present,” Winter said. These were the first words she’d spoken since the meeting had begun, and they were in tones of quiet admonishment, like a governess bringing her charge under control. She looked at Cal Omas. “It won’t be possible for the admiral to be kept on a schedule, running to meetings and inspecting fleet units.”
Ackbar waved a hand in protest, but Winter was firm. “No. None of that. And no parades of visitors asking for advice or campaigning for promotion, either.” She looked at Admiral Sovv. “Some reliable staff officers would be useful, to do the paperwork and take care of communications. But we can’t have meetings like this all the time.”
“We won’t.” Cal’s voice was firm. “If I need to speak to the admiral again, I’ll call for an appointment, and I’ll visit him myself.” He looked at Sovv. “You’ll make the other arrangements?”
The Sullustan nodded. “I will.”
Cal turned to Luke. “Is there any way the Jedi can aid this plan?”
Luke hesitated. “I’d like to suggest that we place the matter on the agenda of the first Jedi Council meeting.”
“Very well.” Cal looked at the two intelligence directors, Scaur in his civilian suit and Nylykerka in his military uniform. “Any other comments?”
“I work for Admiral Sovv,” Nylykerka said. “At his direction, we can assist in formulating assessments of enemy strength and suggest possible targets.”
Dif Scaur nodded his long head at Cal. “We can do much the same, of course, at the direction of the Chief of State.”
Luke detected the very slightest degree of condescension in Scaur’s tone, as if he were humoring the others in the room with a show of cooperation, and again he wondered what it was that Scaur knew that he didn’t. It was almost as though Scaur thought that Ackbar’s plan was irrelevant somehow, but he was willing to pretend it mattered. He had been very careful to question Ackbar concerning exactly when his plan for trapping and destroying the Yuuzhan Vong would become operational, and had been satisfied when he’d learned it would take three months.
What was going to happen within three months that would change Ackbar’s plans? Did Scaur have some other plan that would win the war? Or—a chill wafted up Luke’s neck—did Scaur know that the enemy would render Ackbar’s plan ineffective, perhaps by staging a unstoppable offensive within the three-month period?
Luke would have to watch Dif Scaur very carefully, he thought. Perhaps, very quietly, Mara should watch him, too.
Two hours after the end of the meeting, the signal ackbar is back was broadcast to all New Republic military units.
In some of the larger ships, the cheering went on for an hour.
TWENTY
“I would like to welcome everyone,” Luke said, “to this first meeting of the—” He hesitated, then looked to Cal Omas. “What is it, anyway? We’re not the Jedi Council, with half of us not being Jedi.”
Cal hesitated, too. “Let’s just call it the High Council, for now,” he said.
It wasn’t the most auspicious of beginnings. The hotel room that had been given to the council was oddly shaped and, like many of the rooms requisitioned by the hastily formed government, smelled of fresh paint. The oval table, shiny mother-of-pearl from a huge seashell, was too large for the room, and there was crowding at either end of the table.
At the table’s thick waist, Luke faced Cal Omas. It would have seemed too suggestive of division to have all the Jedi at one side of the table facing the non-Jedi, almost as if he were asking the council to split into two parties right from the beginning, so he’d alternated Jedi with others along the table’s circumference.
To Luke’s right was the Wookiee Senator Triebakk, large and hairy and snarling with vigor. To the right of Triebakk sat the Jedi healer Cilghal, her protuberant Mon Calamari eyes able to scan the entire room. At the end of the table was Intelligence Director Dif Scaur, whose thin human frame withstood the crowding at the table better than most.
To Scaur’s right sat Kenth Hamner, a human Jedi retired from the military, who sat rigidly upright and wore his well-tailored civilian suit as if it were a uniform. To Hamner’s right was the soft-spoken Ta’laam Ranth, the Gotal Senator whose support had given Cal his majority in the Senate, and who had demanded a seat on the council as a reward for his loyalty.
To Ta’laam’s right was Cal, and to Cal’s right was Kyp Durron. At the moment Kyp looked uncomfortable: he and his squadron had been ordered to Mon Calamari on very short notice, and no sooner had he arrived than he’d been told he’d become a council member and taken to the first meeting. He had been on the planet for less than three hours, and his disorientation showed.
To Kyp’s right was the golden-furred Minister of State, Releqy A’Kla, daughter of the late Elegos A’Kla, the Caamasi Senator who had been ritually sacrificed by the Yuuzhan Vong on Dubrillion. Re
leqy had absorbed many of her father’s memories through the Caamasi memnii and possessed the knowledge, demeanor, and political skill of someone years older than her chronological age.
To Releqy’s right, at the cramped far end of the table, sat the erect figure of Saba Sebatyne, who regarded the others with bright, intent reptilian eyes. She was used to hunting Yuuzhan Vong with packs of other Barabels, and Luke hoped she would come to regard the Jedi Council as a pack of a different order.
To Saba’s right was Sien Sovv, the Supreme Commander, and between Sovv and Luke bulked the wrinkled gray frame of the Chev Jedi Knight Tresina Lobi, whose long snout was partly unrolled on the surface of the table.
To these was added C-3PO, whom Luke had borrowed from Leia in order to act as secretary, transcriber of the minutes, and (if necessary) translator. The droid stood out of the way in the corner and regarded the meeting with his glowing gold eyes.
Luke looked at the datapad and the notes he’d made to himself about the meeting. “I’d like to start the meeting by finding out if any committee members have anything to bring before the council.”
Cal Omas cleared his throat. “This is a momentous occasion, Master Skywalker. And you’re not going to make a speech?”
“I hadn’t been planning one,” Luke said. “But if I know Jedi, I think I can promise you speeches in plenty as the meeting goes on.” And then he looked at Cal and said, “Would you like to make a speech?”
“My throat’s a bit tired from the speeches I have been making,” Cal said. “But I can give you some of the applause lines from my acceptance speech—some of them were real corkers.”
“I think we all heard that speech the first time.” Luke smiled.
“I’d like to think so,” Cal said. He waved a hand. “Never mind, then—sorry for the interruption.”
Luke looked at the others. “Does anyone wish to offer a report?”
“Master Skywalker.” Kyp raised a hand.
“Master Durron?”
Kyp’s discomfort showed plainly on his face. “Can you explain to me why I’m here?”
Saba Sebatyne gave a brief hiss of amusement.
“What do you mean?” Luke replied.
Kyp twisted in his seat. “I’m not sure that I belong on the council. Not really. I’ve been a lot of trouble to you, and I hardly think I’ve earned a place here.”
“While that may be true,” Luke said, “that doesn’t mean you haven’t earned a seat. You’re one of our most experienced Jedi, particularly in fighting the Yuuzhan Vong. No one questions your dedication or your talent or your mastery of the Force. You’ve always supported the formation of a Jedi Council.”
“I surrendered pride on Ithor,” Kyp said. “And while I haven’t always lived up to that vow, I’ve tried my best. I disbanded the Dozen and placed myself under Jaina Solo’s command, and though I ended up re-forming the Dozen at Admiral Kre’fey’s request, I’ve been trying to keep my head down and do my job and keep out of the kind of trouble I seem to get into. And now—” He struggled for words. “—now you’ve put me on the governing body of the Jedi. That’s a temptation to the pride I’ve renounced. I think I might be happier flying at the head of my squadron.”
“The happiness of one iz not the issue,” Saba hissed. “The issue iz where one may best zerve.”
“I think your voice on the council is necessary, and welcome,” Luke told Kyp. “Though I won’t keep you here if you insist on resigning.”
Kyp was exasperated. “I don’t want to go against your wishes yet again, Master Skywalker.”
“In that case, stay.”
“Besides,” Cal Omas said, “if you’re worried about your overweening pride, I think everyone here can work out ways to keep you humble.”
Even Kyp laughed at this. He waved a hand. “As you wish, Master Skywalker. But I hope I won’t make you regret this.”
So do we all, Luke thought.
“Since you asked for news,” Kyp went on, “I have information from Kashyyyk, from Lowbacca and the team of Wookiees who are investigating Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology.”
“Go ahead,” Luke said, and was aware of Triebakk, on his right, leaning forward with great interest.
“They’ve been working with the dovin basals from the captured frigate Trickster,” Kyp said. “They’re now able to use our own interdiction technology to duplicate the effects of dovin basal space mines. Since the war began, the Vong have used their mines to yank our ships out of hyperspace and ambush them with fighter craft, and now it looks as if we’ll be able to do the same to them.”
“Wonderful!” C-3PO said, translating for Triebakk. “Well done!”
Sien Sovv was pleased. “Splendid. That will fit in well with Admiral Ackbar’s plan.”
“Perhaps Admiral Sovv should explain Ackbar’s plan for those of us who haven’t heard it,” Cal said.
“Perhaps only the first part,” Dif Scaur cautioned. “The plan’s … ultimate objective … is perhaps beyond the scope of this meeting.”
In other words, Luke thought, let’s not tell too many people that Ackbar hopes to lure the Yuuzhan Vong into a trap. If only a few people knew, maybe the Vong could actually be surprised.
Luke had been watching Dif Scaur with care, through the Force as well as visually. He still wasn’t certain how much he trusted Scaur. In this case, however, he sensed only a genuine concern for keeping Ackbar’s ultimate goals secret.
Sovv obliged Scaur by explaining Ackbar’s plan to season the Republic’s raw recruits through a series of skirmishes and small engagements rather than risking a large battle. “Admiral Kre’fey,” he finished, “has requested as many Jedi pilots as possible. He hopes to merge many elements of his fleet into what he calls the ‘Jedi meld,’ so that all may maneuver together as one. He reports that he’s had limited success with this tactic at Obroa-skai, but needs more Jedi to make it more effective.”
“I’ve also received a message from Kre’fey requesting Jedi,” Luke said. “I have no objection to sending any who wish to go.”
“I hope the council can see its way to helping Kre’fey,” Cal said. “The military’s reeling and needs all the help we can give. They’re on their heels with one defeat after another, they rightly blame the political leadership, and some are on the verge of mutiny. I’d really hate to have to give an order to Garm Bel Iblis right now—who knows what kind of answer I’d get? If the Defense Forces don’t think we’re going to stand behind them, I’d hate to think what might happen.”
Kyp cleared his throat and half-heartedly raised a hand. “Yes?” Luke said.
“I’m sorry to have to say this after everything the president has just said, but we may have a potential problem with Admiral Kre’fey. He’s a good commander, I guess. But the Bothan clans have—well, they’ve declared genocide against the Vong, and Kre’fey’s taken it to heart. It’s called ar’krai. I don’t think I want the council to declare its support for mass murder, even the mass murder of Yuuzhan Vong.”
Luke turned to Cal Omas. “Cal, have you heard of this?”
Cal shook his head. “If the Bothan government has made any such declaration, they certainly haven’t informed me.”
“Speak to Admiral Kre’fey,” Kyp said. “He’s a happy warrior these days—I’m sure he’d be glad to explain it to you.”
Dif Scaur’s pale, skeletal fingers fingered his jaw. Cold intelligence worked behind his deep-set eyes, and Luke sensed that he found this development highly intriguing. “Bothans are rather secretive,” he said. “It’s possible that they consider this a private decision.”
“A private decision with galactic consequences,” Cal said. He seemed unsettled and angry. “It’s not the Bothans’ decision, anyway, blast it.”
“What do we do with Admiral Kre’fey’s request?” Kenth Hamner asked.
“He already has Jedi serving under him,” Tresina Lobi said. “Including Master Durron. What is his opinion?”
Kyp hesitated, then shru
gged. “He’s an effective commander—not a genius like Ackbar or a master of tactics like Wedge Antilles, but a problem solver and dedicated to victory. Ar’krai is a new policy. I don’t know what he plans to do, but I know that I’m worried.”
From the Gotal Senator Ta’laam Ranth, Luke sensed a wave of wry amusement. Gotals were thought unemotional and hyperlogical by those who could not detect the emotions radiating from the twin cones on their heads. Though Luke wasn’t as good at reading Ta’laam as another Gotal would be, he nevertheless received an indication of the Senator’s disposition through the Force.
“Kre’fey may wish to eliminate the Vong,” Ta’laam said. “I may wish to eliminate the Vong. Most of the people in this galaxy doubtless wish to eliminate the Vong. But may I remind the council that neither Kre’fey nor anyone else can do it. We are losing the war. The issue isn’t whether we destroy the Yuuzhan Vong, the issue is whether they destroy us.” His scarlet eyes glimmered in their deep sockets. “Moral conundrums make an entertaining mental exercise, but I suggest we keep this discussion within the realm of the possible.”
“I agree,” Scaur said. He had been watching Ta’laam narrowly, and Luke sensed that he was agreeing, not because he cared about the Senator’s position, but for secret reasons of his own.
Luke wished he knew what these reasons were.
Releqy nodded her golden head in agreement with Scaur and Ta’laam. “Perhaps that is best,” she said.
“Very well,” Luke said. “The issue is whether we should send Jedi to Admiral Kre’fey.”
Saba Sebatyne put an elegant, scaled hand onto the table. “I and my kindred are highly experienced in the kind of Force-melding that Admiral Kre’fey desirez for hiz Jedi. Perhapz I should point out something that otherz may not have realized. If Kre’fey succeedz in building this meld in his forcez, it will not be Kre’fey who commandz his fleet, it will be ussss.”
The last sibilant hiss floated down the table to Saba’s startled audience. Triebakk, vastly amused, gave an untranslatable roar.
“The fleet will be conditioned to obey the orderz of the Jedi,” Saba went on. “They will fight at our direction and under our leadership. Should Kre’fey attempt any sort of—shall we call them illegal actionz?—he will need both our permission and cooperation. It would be within our power to withhold them.”
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