Remnant: Force Heretic I (5 page)

“Ah.” Omas pushed himself forward as the missing piece slowly became clear. “The Empire and the Chiss—both lie in or near the Unknown Regions.”

A faint smile appeared at the edges of Luke’s mouth. “That’s true.”

“What is it you’re looking for, Master Skywalker?”

“If I told you, Cal, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“The moral solution to the war?”

“Perhaps. An alternative, anyway.”

Luke raised a hand as Omas began to ask another question.

The Chief of State rested back into his chair again with a wry smile. “I guess I can’t force you to tell me,” he said. He glanced at Sovv. It was obvious that his Supreme Commander knew as little about Skywalker’s plans as he did. “You’ve offered enough for me to give you my private
assurance that I won’t do anything to hinder your plans. Having the Empire and the Chiss aboard won’t guarantee the security of the Galactic Alliance, but it’ll help. If you think you can give me a long-term resolution to the war as well, then I shall do what I can to assist.”

The Jedi Master kept his expression carefully composed, but the way his wife touched his arm suggested that she was happy with the outcome of the meeting. Like her husband, though, her face revealed nothing.

“What about you, Leia?” Omas asked. “Will you still do what I’ve asked of you?”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said. “You can count on both Han and me to do whatever we can to help.”

The Chief of State nodded in return. “I’m grateful,” he said. “Make a time with Sien to discuss the logistics. We’ll see what special operations can lend you. I know you have some connections down there.” He stood with a smile, knowing perfectly well that Jaina Solo’s Twin Suns Squadron was a sure bet for the mission—and if she was involved, Jag Fel wouldn’t be far away. Together they would keep the military side of the mission covered, and possibly more than that: he was sure Sien Sovv wouldn’t mind applying a little force to some of the more unruly sectors of the galaxy.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a line of beings wanting to see me.”

“We thank you for your time,” Luke said, taking his wife’s hand as she rose from the chair. “As well as your cooperation. May the Force guide us all.”

“To peace,” Releqy A’Kla said, standing with the others.

“To peace,” Omas echoed wholeheartedly as they filed out of the room. He knew that only time would blunt the teeth of the Corellian sand panthers in the ranks of the Senate, the Defense Force, and the Jedi. Whatever Luke
Skywalker had up his sleeve, Omas only hoped he could give him enough time to bring it into effect before those sand panthers gathered outside his office door, hungry for
his
blood.

From space, the ocean world Mon Calamari shone a brilliant, peaceful blue. Under a sky that glinted like ice, curving cloud patterns traced words only stars could understand. All but the keenest of eyes would fail to see the coral outcrops, marshy islands, and floating cities that were scattered across the planet’s often turbulent seas. But they were there: the provisional capital of the newly formed Galactic Alliance and birthplace of two intelligent species was called home by more than twenty-seven billion people, including the legendary Admiral Ackbar and Jedi Master Cilghal. From up on high it was impossible to appreciate the hard times Mon Calamari had seen under the resurrected clone of Emperor Palpatine and the renegade Admiral Daala—hard times that the inhabitants of the planet could well see again before this war with the Yuuzhan Vong was over.

That’s the beauty of an ocean world
, Jaina Solo thought as she guided her X-wing down to the port city Hikahi.
It shows no scars.

“XJ-Three-Twenty-three, you’re clear to dock,” came the distinctive Mon Calamari voice. “Proceed to Bay DA-Forty-two.”

She gritted her teeth as blast scoring on the fuselage of her X-wing caught the atmosphere on reentry, provoking a violent shudder that made her R2 unit squawk in alarm.

Moments later, as the X-wing glided in toward the docking bays, the droid tootled a short series of beeps and blips. She glanced at her craft’s translator and smiled at her R2’s message.

“No, I’m sure Mon Cal’s high salinity levels won’t be too good for your electronics,” she said. “But it really shouldn’t be too much of a problem, Cappie. I didn’t bring you here to go swimming.”

Kyp Durron met her when she landed. Her former squadron leader looked tired and drawn, seemingly much older than when she’d last seen him a couple of weeks earlier.

“Nice to see you, Colonel,” he said.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, tugging off her flight helmet and slipping it under an arm. “There were delays making sure Twin Suns was adequately berthed. Did I miss the meeting?”

“Afraid so,” he said as they walked together from the docking bays. “But that’s okay. I get the feeling that everything’s being decided behind the scenes. Gathering us together was just a formality—a way of reminding us that there’s a bigger picture. You know?”

Jaina nodded absently, only half listening.

“Is Tahiri here?” she asked after a few paces.

Kyp looked at her, his brow wrinkling. “No. Why?”

She shrugged as she continued walking, not meeting his eyes. She didn’t want him to see how deep her concern ran. “It’s probably nothing,” she lied. “She left a message for me for when I docked at
Ralroost.
She said she wanted to talk to me as soon as I arrived. She sounded …”

Kyp waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t he asked, “What, Jaina? What did she say?”

Jaina struggled to remember just how the girl had sounded. “I don’t know, Kyp,” she said. “It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it. I just got the impression that something was wrong.”

“Well, if she is here on Mon Cal,” he said, “she didn’t come to the meeting.”

An upwelling of concern for the girl—no, young
woman,
Jaina corrected herself; Tahiri was a Jedi Knight now—rushed through her. Tahiri had been close to Anakin. If dealing with his loss had been half as hard for Tahiri as it had been for Jaina, then she could certainly understand the odd note of grief that had been evident in her voice. But why now? Why did Tahiri want to speak to
her
?

“Jag’s here,” Kyp said, and the feeling those simple words inspired surprised her.

“Really? Where?” She kept her gaze ahead as they continued through the maze of corridors, hopeful that this would be enough to prevent him seeing how her cheeks had flushed at the mention of Jag’s name.

“Right now he’s in a meeting with your parents, actually,” Kyp said. “They’re hatching some sort of scheme.” He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “There’s talk of winning this thing, Jaina,” he said. “A
lot
of talk. It’s almost hysterical. Before Ebaq Nine we were all but beaten; now you’d think we already had the Yuuzhan Vong on the run.”

Jaina nodded. She understood perfectly what he was trying to tell her, and why. The politicians had no real idea what it was like on the battlefield. They were insulated by layers of command from the action, from how things really were. For all the losses they’d suffered, she’d always tried to maintain a sense of optimism, but even though they had recently made considerable headway, she knew they still had a long way to go. There were no certainties. There never was with war.

But she could sympathize with the politicians
wanting
to believe that victory was imminent. This war had been hard on everyone. Years of defeats, inexorable advances
by the enemies, losses in every quarter—it had all taken its toll. She could see it in Kyp’s eyes and in the way he seemed to have aged. She could feel it in herself, the grief for Chewbacca and Anakin still strong, her descent into the dark side painfully recent …

“I’ll be careful,” she said, vanquishing the memory with a firm nod. People would be taking sides everywhere in the makeshift capital. She wasn’t going to commit to anything without first learning something of what was going on “behind the scenes,” as Kyp had put it.

Kyp resumed their walk, moving confidently through the warren of tunnels. He had obviously been on Mon Cal long enough to familiarize himself with the city. The deeper into the city they went, the more crowded the corridors became, and the more hurried the activities of the people became. Jaina saw beings of varied species, sexes, and sizes going about all manner of duties. Technicians rubbed shoulders with bureaucrats while armed soldiers bumped into secretaries, and through it all trundled myriad droids. The air rang with industry and purpose, which was more than a little overwhelming for Jaina after the confines of her X-wing and only her R2 unit for conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Kyp said, recognizing her discomfort. “Perhaps we should have taken a tunnel cab. I just thought you would have had enough of being cooped up in small spaces.”

“No, that’s okay,” she said. “I did need to stretch my legs a little.”

It wasn’t just the exercise she was grateful for, though. It also gave her the opportunity to ground herself. Had she stepped off her X-wing and walked straight into a meeting, she would never have gained a feeling for the place. There was a vitality here that she found invigorating. Out of the chaos, some sense of order was
returning, even if people couldn’t agree on what to do with it. This was what she was fighting for; the future of her civilization was being decided in these halls as much as it was in the vast battlefields of space.

Finally the corridors widened and the crowds thinned slightly. There was space to walk abreast, and the noise level dropped enough for them to talk about the finer points of squadron command without having to shout to be heard. Kyp seemed to find a measure of comfort in relatively mundane talk of promising new tactics and pilots. Their ships, like the staff that flew them and maintained them, were showing signs of fatigue. Little repairs had to be constantly performed to ensure they didn’t escalate into something more catastrophic: fatigue was insidious, be it metal or mental. The principle was the same, she supposed, at all levels of the resistance.

They eventually came to a door guarded by two Mon Calamari security staff. The guards brought their coral pikes up in a brief salute before guiding them through. Inside, leaning over a wide screen displaying dozens of detailed maps and charts, were Jaina’s parents, Han Solo and Leia Organa Solo. Standing between them was a tall, dark-complexioned woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. Jaina recognized her as a former New Republic Intelligence officer. Also there, just as Kyp had said he would be, was Jag Fel. All looked up when they entered, but it was to Jag that Jaina’s attention was drawn.

She was delighted to see his face break out into a smile upon seeing her, even if that smile was just as quickly stifled. She had learned early on in their friendship that he didn’t approve of public displays of affection. When his time came to formally greet her, he would do so with a stiff nod and perhaps a tight handshake—but that was all. It didn’t bother Jaina; just the knowledge that the affection
was there at all was enough for her. She would carry that quick smile with her for the rest of the day, until they could find time to be alone later.

“Jaina.” Her mother stepped over to enfold her in a tight, warm hug. Since Anakin’s death, her mother’s embraces had become more frequent and were delivered with more passion than ever before. It was almost as though every time she saw either Jacen or Jaina these days, she was overcome with relief.

Her father’s large hand ran through her hair, stopping at her shoulder to squeeze gently. “Good to see you, kid,” he said with a wry smile.

“You too, Dad.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. The prickliness of his chin, the scent of his unkempt hair, and the sight of his lopsided smile—the familiarity of these simple aspects of her father brought with it a sense of comfort she had always felt around him. For all her mother’s efforts, Han Solo still had a slightly disreputable air. Jaina had been told by some that she had inherited a portion of that, while her twin brother had gotten their mother’s thoughtful nature.

“Where’s Jacen?” she asked, taking a step back from both of them.

“Your uncle Luke has him working on something else,” her mother explained. “He’ll meet you when we’re finished.”

Jaina caught Jag’s eye and was completely thrown for a second when he winked at her. For the second time that day she felt a blush forming, so she turned away, looking for a distraction in the Intelligence operative standing before the luminous star charts.

“Belindi, isn’t it?” Jaina said, searching her memory. She stepped over to the woman and extended a hand.

The woman gave a single, respectful nod. “Belindi Kalenda, that’s right,” she said. “Chief Omas has asked
me to coordinate an operation involving your parents—and you, if you’re willing.”

“And that’s where I check out,” Kyp said.

“You’re leaving?” Jaina asked, surprised.

He nodded, shrugging, the flickering lights from the map painting his features with an assortment of colors. “My job was only to escort you here, I’m afraid,” he said with exaggerated disappointment.

Jaina smiled at this. “The great Kyp Durron reduced to being a delivery boy, eh?” she teased. “Who’d have thought? And to think, you once offered to take me on as an apprentice, too! Glad I didn’t take that route.”

“You’re a funny girl, you know that?” he said in return. “For a Solo, that is.” He didn’t give her chance to respond. “But listen, if you feel like catching up later, why not stop by at the Ocean’s Floor café for a drink? Bring young Jag here along, too. He can show you the way.” He offered a mock salute before turning to leave. Then, at the door, he faced her again. “And if you like, I’ll make a few inquiries about Tahiri for you,” he said more seriously.

She smiled her appreciation at him. “Thanks, Kyp,” she said softly.

When he was gone, Belindi Kalenda quickly summarized the mission for Jaina’s benefit. The others stood by patiently, interjecting a few words here and there to help clarify certain aspects of the plan. It sounded simple enough: travel the open hyperlanes fixing communications links and reminding the locals that they were still part of a galactic civilization. Jaina was sure it wouldn’t be so easy in practice, though. The Yuuzhan Vong, by mining the major hyperspace routes, had left some areas isolated for as long as two years. No one knew with any certainty just what was happening inside such regions, but there had been rumors of local despots seizing control
while attention was focused elsewhere. It was probably safe to assume that, in some places at least, their welcome wouldn’t really be heartfelt.