“So you’re fighting harder to prove you haven’t lost your edge?” he said. She nodded. “Listen, Jaina, no one has said that.”
“No, but it was implied. That’s why they want me on this mission, I’m sure. They want to rest me up.”
“Now you’re just being paranoid,” he said. “But anyway, so what if going on this mission does allow you to get in some rest? You’ve earned it, haven’t you? I really don’t see what the problem is, Jaina.”
“I’m surprised you’re taking it so well,” she said as they rounded a corner, almost bumping into a couple of Ho’Din walking the other way. “I expected you to be as annoyed as I am about all this; in fact, I would have thought you’d be cursing and swearing!”
He shrugged. “You don’t tend to learn too many swear words at the Chiss academy.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. The worst insult I learned there was moactan teel.”
“And what does that mean?”
“That you’re fair-haired,” he said with some embarrassment. It was an insult that only really worked in Chiss space where everyone had jet-black hair. Here, among so many variations of hair color, it seemed ridiculous. “Sorry,” he added.
She laughed out loud. “Are you apologizing for the insult to my own hair color, or the lameness of the insult itself?”
He felt himself blush, but didn’t respond to her teasing.
“I tell you, if you want some good insults, you should listen to my father. I learned plenty from him over the years,” she said. “And if you don’t want them directed at you, then I suggest you take care.”
They parted at the infirmary with no obvious display of affection. He was far too conscious of the people around them for that. He kept imagining what others would think if they were seen together: “What’s the outsider doing with the Jedi today?” His upbringing with the Chiss had left him short on social mores when it came to public displays. He didn’t want to be seen to do the wrong thing, and he was pretty sure Jaina wasn’t mistaking his caution for disinterest.
He continued along the winding corridors to the meeting with the Skywalkers. Part of him wished that it was this mission he and Jaina were participating in. He would have loved for her to see the Chiss capital again: icebound Csillia, with its blue snowfields and clear skies. Since joining one of the phalanxes—the twenty-eight colonial units that comprised the domestic Chiss military force—at an early age, he had found few opportunities to return to the capital planet, let alone the estate on which his parents, General Baron Soontir Fel and Syal Antilles, had recently settled. The Yuuzhan Vong had been harrying the Unknown Regions as well as the rest of the galaxy. Life, even for a relatively young and untested starfighter pilot, had been hectic.
Untested no longer, he reminded himself as the door to the small, oval conference room slid open and he entered.
Inside the darkened room, Jag found Jedi Master Luke Skywalker and his wife, Mara, studying numerous maps and charts on a clear, vertical display screen. As he stepped in and the door behind him closed, the Jedi Master straightened, staring at him through an incomplete section of one of the maps. Jag instantly recognized this particular great swathe of the galaxy as the area that the New Republic and the Imperials called the Unknown Regions, and what he called home.
Luke acknowledged Jag with little more than a nod.
“We know very little about the Chiss,” he said without preamble, stepping around the display screen toward Jag. “I like to think that this is a situation that can be rectified.”
Jag studied the Jedi Master’s face for any sign of duplicity. As always, he saw none. “Grand Admiral Thrawn’s actions paint us in a dubious light,” he said in response. “I understand the reluctance of many people to deal with us.”
“And the reverse is probably true. No doubt you’ve met your fair share of people purporting to represent the New Republic. The Unknown Regions have always been a haven for criminals and outcasts, as well as renegade Imperials.”
Jag inclined his head in acknowledgment of the point. “What is it you wish to know?”
“First of all, I’d like to know if the Chiss have any knowledge of a certain planet in the Unknown Regions.”
“For that you would need to contact the Expansionary Defense Fleet.”
“Is there anyone in particular there that I should be talking to?”
“I can’t give you names.”
Luke raised an eyebrow but didn’t query his answer. “Okay,” he said, placing his hands behind his back and pacing in front of the display screen. “Then second, I need to talk about closer ties between your people and the Galactic Alliance.”
“The same department would handle those inquiries.”
“But I wouldn’t want them to end there,” he said, stopping his pacing and facing Jag fully. “This isn’t just a matter for the Nuruodo family to consider under the military and foreign affairs portfolio. It’s also a communications and justice issue. The Inrokini and Sabosen families handle those affairs, if my information is correct. It’s also a colonial issue, since the Yuuzhan Vong are affecting everyone, and that’s overseen by the—”
“The Csapla, yes,” Jag said. “Your sources are correct, whoever they are.”
“A contact in any or all of these departments would be helpful, Jag,” Mara said from the other side of the screen, the faint light from the maps flickering across the beautiful woman’s red-gold hair.
“I’m sorry but, again, I cannot give you any names.” He could sense their frustration and made a sincere effort to dispel it. “I do understand the reasons for you asking, and I assure you I am not trying to be obstructive. I simply cannot answer you.”
“Why is that, Jag?” Mara asked.
“Two reasons, really,” he answered. “One is that I’m not in a position to know who holds what rank in any of the appropriate families. I know who represents each, but they are just political positioning. Who actually does the work, I have no idea. It’s these people you would need to speak to; and it is they who will seek you out when your intentions become known.”
Luke nodded thoughtfully. “And the second reason?”
“Even if I did know,” Jag said, maintaining steady eye contact with the Jedi Master, “I wouldn’t tell you. You see, the Chiss are taught from the earliest days of training that it is not the person holding the position that is important, but rather the position itself. Individuals must allow themselves to be subsumed into the role society expects them to play. If you asked for someone by name, they would on principle not talk to you. If you asked for them by rank, however, they would not hesitate.”
“Then what rank should I ask for?” Luke asked.
“In the first instance, the matter of this planet you seek, you should ask for the chief navigator of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet. Regarding closer ties with the Galactic Alliance, you would need the assistant syndic in the same department.”
“Isn’t that the position currently held by your father?” Mara asked.
Jag didn’t dignify the question with a response, even though it was correct. He was becoming increasingly irritated that they knew as much as they did. “If you address your inquiries through those avenues,” he said, “then I am sure you will be heard.”
“And in your opinion, will we get what we want?” Luke asked.
“It depends on too many factors to say for certain. Whether we’ve seen this planet you’re looking for is an obvious one; how badly the Yuuzhan Vong are hurting us is another.”
“I was under the impression they weren’t hurting you at all.”
Jag allowed himself a half smile at that. “I think it’s safe to admit that the Yuuzhan Vong are hurting everyone to some degree or another. It’s good that you are attempting to address this as a galaxywide problem, for that’s precisely what it is.”
Mara came around the display now, as though to look at him properly. “So you’d like our help, but you won’t even tell us who to
talk to in order to offer it to you? I find that—interesting.”
Jag recognized the deliberate provocation, but wasn’t offended by it. “I apologize if you think I’m being unreasonable.”
“You are being unreasonable. But you’re being what your culture expects of you, and to be honest, I admire you for that. It’s just not how we would operate, that’s all.”
“No doubt time will reveal many such differences between our people.”
Mara smiled; there were clearly no hard feelings there, either. “No doubt.”
“There’s one other question I’d like to ask, though,” Luke said. “The Galactic Alliance doesn’t have a vast amount of resources to spare at the moment, as you are surely aware. In fact, in places we’re as thinly spread as the Yuuzhan Vong. What are the chances, do you think, of procuring aid from the CEDF?”
“I imagine that would depend on how your other negotiations went. If you can convince the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet that your mission is of strategic value to the Chiss, then they might give you an escort of some description. But then, they might not, also. If your mission is valuable enough, you might end up in competition with the CEDF.”
Mara raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “They’d steal it out from under us?”
“Depending on what it is,” Jag shot back.
Luke chuckled. “Well put.” He leaned against the transparent display and folded his arms across his stomach. “You’re holding yourself very well here, Jagged. It can’t be easy, caught between two different cultures like this—twice over, if you like: a human raised by the Chiss, then sent back to deal with the Galactic Alliance.”
“No,” he replied, thinking of Jaina. “Sometimes it isn’t easy.”
“But it’s good, I think. For all of us. We need another example of the Chiss to help us judge their nature, and you are as good as one of them. Thrawn was brilliant, but not the best ambassador a culture could wish for.”
Jag stiffened defensively. “The Chiss do not ask to be judged, Master Skywalker. Not by you; not by anyone.”
“But you judge us.” There was no acrimony in the Jedi Master’s tone. “We all do it, Jag. It’s only natural. And we know enough of your foreign policy to know your opinion of ‘lesser’ civilizations. We might be one of them.”
Jag could feel himself being led out onto treacherously thin ice. “Neither Grand Admiral Thrawn nor myself was an ambassador, as I’m sure you both realize. He was simply doing what he thought most appropriate in a particular military situation.”
“As are you. I understand,” said Luke. “Thank you for your help, Jag. I appreciate it.”
Jag was surprised that the meeting had taken so little time. He had expected a more determined interrogation. But as Luke guided him to the door, he realized it wasn’t quite over yet. A small but strong hand gripped him by the shoulder, and Mara said: “Look after my apprentice, won’t you?” Jag looked down into the startlingly green eyes of the woman beside him. “I know she’s a Jedi Knight in her own right, but in some ways she’s still very much a child—albeit a precocious one.” The green eyes smiled. “I hope you can be a beneficial part of her education.”
“I intend to be.”
“Good,” she said, withdrawing her hand and nodding. “I’m glad.”
* * *
There were many other things Jag still had to organize with his second in command, and he went straight to the barracks she had been given to discuss them with her. Eprill was ready and waiting, in full uniform.
“What did you tell them?” she asked, almost reproachfully. She had known about the meeting with the Skywalkers and disapproved of their intentions.
“Nothing they didn’t already know,” he said.
“That alone might be too much.” Red eyes blazed at him from a blue face.
He opened his mouth to snap at her, but discipline took over before the words emerged. He couldn’t be angry at her for simply doing her job. The Chiss Squadron may have originally come on a fact-finding mission, but now it was here—at his instigation—to fight the Yuuzhan Vong. The negotiations and information bartering should be left to the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet.
But at the same time, he couldn’t in good conscience let Jaina’s uncle, aunt, and twin brother go blindly into a potentially tricky situation. They meant well, and their goals were admirable. Part of him wanted to give them every assistance he could, even if it did mean violating the oaths of secrecy he had sworn to the Chiss.
He didn’t know what his father would think. The Baron was human, too, but he had embraced the Chiss culture as completely as it had embraced him. If his father had been in contact with the Skywalkers, then Jag doubted he would have told them anything of substance. They might simply have been bluffing to see what he would say in response. Jag wished he could ask his father what was going on—but that would have been seen as a sign of weakness. It had been his decision to keep the Chiss Squadron in Galactic Alliance space; he alone had to deal with the consequences of that decision. He hoped his father would be proud of the way he had handled himself.
But there was more to it than that. The military situation was too complex for one person alone to handle. He wanted his government involved, and he hoped that Master Skywalker would manage to achieve this.
Shrugging the problem aside, he sat down with Eprill, his second in command, and attempted to decide on a roster for the coming weeks. She would remain behind to take command of the Chiss Squadron. There would be six pilots left, enough to work as an independent unit alongside new pilots from the training program.
Jag knew that Eprill was as tired as he was. He also knew that she would be offended if he didn’t leave her behind to take on the job. This was a big break for her, a chance to demonstrate her ability to command in combat, instead of just following orders. Looking at her now—at her pressed uniform, her perfectly straight posture, her black hair pulled severely back to the nape of her neck as per regulation standards for a Chiss soldier—he knew that she deserved every success. She was the epitome of what a Chiss officer should be.
She reminded him, in fact, of his childhood friend Shawnkyr, who had returned to Chiss space after Ebaq 9. Shawnkyr was almost too perfect—as a pilot, as an officer, and as a Chiss. She was exactly the sort of person he should have ended up with—not someone like Jaina, the headstrong, stubborn daughter of parents who openly spurned military authority. He had known Shawnkyr ever since their victory over looters during their academy training; he had known Jaina only a couple of years. Shawnkyr had a perfect understanding and acceptance of the chain of command; Jaina was known as something of a loose blaster, following orders only when they concurred with her own moral code. The contrast couldn’t have been more extreme.
What his family would think of Jaina, he had no idea. Given their own background, they might accept her perfectly well. But then again, they might not. And if they didn’t, then how would it affect his standing among the Chiss, that he had chosen one from outside? He wasn’t certain which he would choose if forced to decide between Jaina and his own people. He envied Luke more than he could say; his heart ached to see the three moons of Csillia again. But would his heart have ached more to leave Jaina behind? He didn’t know, and a large part of him didn’t particularly want to find out, either.
“Jag?”
“Huh?” He snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry, Eprill. My mind was elsewhere.”
“Obviously.” There was a hint of disapproval in her voice. “I asked if you thought Sumichan should go with you, or if you’d like me to keep her here to work on her maneuvers.”
He sighed. Jaina occupied almost every thought these days. He doubted he could be rid of her, even if he wanted to be.
“She can come with me,” he said. “She just needs time to practice—and where we’re going, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of spare time on our hands.”
Then again, he added to himself, the way the Solos operate, maybe not …
<
br /> In the previous years, much had been learned about the infidels who occupied the galaxy promised by the gods to the Yuuzhan Vong. Nom Anor had played an important part in gathering and interpreting that knowledge. As a result, he felt justified in thinking that he understood the enemy better than anyone else. But even he failed to get his mind around a culture that would allow a planet’s natural surface to be buried under lifeless metal and transparisteel—and not just once, but thousands of times over, so that it was almost impossible for any living thing larger than a rodent or more persistent than moss to survive beneath it.
Yuuzhan’tar was not a world Nom Anor would have chosen to conquer. Had it not been the center of power in this galaxy, he would have happily left it to choke in its dust and smog while the rest of the galaxy came alive with the glorious Yuuzhan Vong invasion. The hardiness of the vile encrustations smothering the planet—the built things and the obscenities called machines so loved by the enemy—was such that the dhuryam responsible for turning it into a more suitable world seemed to be unable to overcome them. Hundreds of thousands of years of habitation had their own momentum, and mere klekkets of Yuuzhan Vong occupation couldn’t turn that back overnight. The roots of these built things went deep into the planet, and it would take time to extract them fully.
Nowhere was this more obvious than underground. Buildings had been built upon older buildings, which in turn had been built upon buildings older still, until a crack in one’s basement might open up on what had once been an attic in another. And since construction in this fashion was rarely seamless, there were millions of narrow paths that had never been mapped. It was through such ways that Vuurok I’pan led Nom Anor, descending carefully along steep traverses that appeared to be tiled underfoot, as though they had once been roofs. He took them through areas immensely wide, though barely high enough for them to crouch—areas compacted between enormous slabs of ferrocrete and time-flattened piles of rubble. None of which sat easily with Nom Anor. He was not a coward, but the idea of scuttling through such spaces was distinctly unnerving.
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