Kelta frowned as Halyn re-entered the bridge. The Ul’akhoi didn’t say anything or meet her gaze as he moved back to the command chair. She moved away from the wall and walked over, dropping into a crouch beside his chair. “Something wrong?” she whispered in his ear.

Halyn shook his head without looking. “Nothing important right now. Just two overeager old Rebels convinced I’m going to lose the war.” He raised his voice to be heard. “Situation, please.”

“The Vong are attempting to push through our defenses,” came the tired reply. “They’ve only made serious progress in one place, and Jedi Lusp is there now.”

I should be out there, Kelta thought as she glanced down at the lightsabers belted to her waist. I may be a sensitive, but I’m trained to fight. I could be doing Kativie a lot of good as her backup.

“Rotate fresh units in,” Halyn ordered. “Concentrate on the areas that have taken the least beating in the last two days.”

Kelta frowned and leaned back in. “The least active units?”

Halyn shrugged. “The Vong can only keep up the same old tactics for so long.” He nodded at the tactical holograms surrounding them. “With our aerial defenses still in place, keeping the Vong from resupply, they’re going to be getting desperate. Even the Vong have a limit on how many warriors they can throw away by storming over the bodies of their own dead.”

“Why now?” Kelta asked.

The Zabrak shrugged again. “Call it instinct.”

“Sir, Jedi Lusp is reporting in,” one of the officers called.

“Transfer the signal to my comlink,” Halyn ordered, hooking a headset over his ear and offering a second to Kelta. The Jedi Knight took it wordlessly and slid it on.

“Are you there, big brother?” Kativie’s voice rang in Kelta’s ear.

“I’m here with Kelta,” Halyn replied. “What’s your status?”

“I’ve blunted the Vong’s attack at this point,” Kat answered. “Our forces here are holding. When can they expect reinforcements?”

“Soon,” Halyn lied. “How’s morale on the line?”

“Frustrated, but determined.” Kat’s voice faded for a moment as an explosion echoed over the comm, then strengthened again. “Lot of warriors out here frustrated because they’re being pushed back. Or,” she added wryly, “being pulled back. Every one I’ve talked is determined to fight to the end, though. No one thinks the Vong are unbeatable, and there’s no talk of surrender or retreat.”

“Good.” Halyn closed his eyes. “I need you to stay out there on the front lines. Make sure we hold.”

“We’ll hold,” Kativie said determinedly. “I could use another Jedi out here, though,” she added with a touch of hope.

“Not yet,” Halyn said. “You’ll see her again soon enough, though.”

“Oh? Getting restless on the Cathleen, big brother?”

“Something like that.” Halyn smiled. “Can’t have the Ul’akhoi only standing back giving orders. Iridonians won’t follow me if I don’t lead from in front.”

“You’re the Hero of Iridonia and the Ul’akhoi. The warriors here would follow you into a black hole if you asked them.”

“I hope they’re not that foolish,” Kelta joked.

“If they thought that black hole would swallow the Vong, they certainly are,” Kat said with a touch of grim humor. “See you soon, big brother.”

“That’s the plan, Katie.”

The link went dead and both Halyn and Kelta pulled their headsets off. “You’re planning on going back out to the front line?” Kelta asked with a raised eyebrow. “The last time you did that, you were nearly filleted by an amphistaff.”

“Good thing I have a Jedi to watch my back, then,” he replied with a straight face. “Or at least patch me up when the Vong get done with me.”

Kelta shook his head at his battlefield humor. “Even after all these years, your jokes haven’t gotten any better.”

“But my tactics have,” Halyn said with a small smile. “Take a look at the tactical hologram.”

Kelta looked up at the holo, but she couldn’t see what he was talking about until one of the bridge officers lit the appropriate sector with crimson. “The Vong are making a push there, where you’ve moved your forces away,” she breathed.

“Because they were needed elsewhere,” Halyn agreed. “Except they weren’t moved away. There go the reinforcements.” On the tactical hologram, two Muurian transports dropped straight into the hot zone, deploying the already prepared warriors. The Zabrak nodded in satisfaction. “They’ll hold.” He turned in his command chair. “What’s the status on Ocopaqui’s special forces group? Have they deployed yet?”

“Yes, they have,” the comm officer said. “They’re deploying right now into a hot zone.”

Halyn shrugged. “Guess I’ll go without them, then. Prepare a Muurian for me. See if you can get Kativie on the line again—if you can raise her, have her meet me at the New Horizon Designs building. Kelta, Ceikeh, you two are with me.”

Kelta had been so intent on Halyn that she had missed the presence of the Zabrak Senator standing against the wall. She looked over, returned his nod of greeting, and rose to her feet.

“Sir,” Kryi Rinnet protested, “the New Horizon Designs building is right near where the Vong are probably going to strike next.”

“Yep. That’s the idea.” He headed straight back to the turbolift. “Kryi, mind the shop while I’m gone.”

“Yes, sir.”

The turbolift door hissed open to reveal Anishor. Halyn didn’t even slow as he walked past the giant Wookiee. “C’mon, furball. Could use you—that’ll make our team four.”

<Four?> Anishor asked as the door hissed shut, with Kelta and Ceikeh barely slipping through in time. <Where are we going?>

“To fight the Vong,” Halyn said dryly. “I figure the four of us are worth a scarhead army.”

Anishor’s only reply was a fierce, fang-baring grin.

“The enemy has anticipated you, tactician,” Triak Kraal said with a note of displeasure. “Your attempt to deceive the infidel has failed.”

Ret Kraal bowed his head. “I have failed you, Supreme One. If it is your will, I will take my life in recompense for my failure.”

Triak snorted. “Hardly, tactician. Where would I find a suitable replacement? No, it is not your time. Your death would not benefit the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Ret rose to his feet. “The enemy warmaster is more clever than I have given him credit for.”

“It is easy to think less of an infidel because of his mere existence,” Triak mused. “With the gods at our backs, how could any infidel stand against us? How could they possibly be more clever than the children of the gods? Truth that may be, but it is a trap of our making. We have defeated ourselves.”

“We are not defeated,” Ret objected.

“The war is not lost, but the infidels have blunted this attack,” Triak agreed. “We will need a new plan, a new strategy to defeat these Zabrak.”

“Yet how much longer can we hold?” Ret pressed his Commander. “Our supplies grow short. These Zabrak destroy every food, contaminate every water they leave behind. Their accursed aerial defenses strangle our supply lines in an impossible grip.”

“You are the tactician,” Triak growled. “You present problems—now present solutions!”

Ret bowed deeply. “I have failed you yet again, Supreme One.”

“Not yet. But defeating the enemy must be your highest goal. Upon you rests the redemption or Shame of our entire domain.” Triak stared at his subordinate. “Should you fail to find a solution, we shall forever be cast out of the Yuuzhan Vong!”

A villip tender interrupted, her head bowed in humble subservience and hands filled with a villip. “Supreme One, my life in compensation, but the traitor’s villip has inverted.”

“Nylah,” Triak snarled as he turned and took the villip from the tender.

The Zabrak traitor’s face was calm but clearly tired. Triak knew enough about these infidels now to recognize the signs—drooping eyelids, bloodshot eyes, loose skin under the eyes. “The traitor dares show her face again,” he spat.

“Commander,” she said evenly. Her tone, as near as Triak could decipher it, held no trace of the weariness her face betrayed. “The battle flows in your favor.”

“Did you only contact me to gloat?” Triak growled. “Foolish infidel. If that is your decision, I will very personally hunt you down and remove your head.”

“Hardly, Commander. I have already sold out my people, and I don’t doubt my betrayal will become known if the Zabraks win. My only chance of survival is in your victory.” Her tone was contrite.

“I have little time for your games,” the Yuuzhan Vong commander said. “The battle demands my full attention.”

“I will be brief, then, Commander,” Nylah replied. “I offer you the life of the Zabrak general, our Ul’akhoi, Halyn Sanshir.”

That comment brought both Triak and Ret’s full attention to the villip.

“If you are too preoccupied to speak of it now, I will try to make contact again later,” Nylah continued. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience…”

“Speak, infidel.” Triak’s voice was low and cold. “Your fate hangs on the edge of a coufee. Make good on your offer, and your life and your precious credits will be long and many. Fail, and only death awaits.”

“I offer the fruit on the vine,” Nylah countered. “It is up to you to pluck it and consume it.”

“Give us this fruit, then,” Triak said shortly.

“The Ul’akhoi makes his base of operations in the wreckage of the Star Cruiser Cathleen, which you pulled out of orbit,” Nylah began.

“Our readers surmised as much,” Triak countered.

“He also makes his home there, among the ruins. He has surrounded himself with those unable or unwilling to fight. The young and the elderly, the wounded and infirm, all are hidden within the remains of the Cathleen.”

“How does that make him vulnerable?” Triak asked contemptuously. “Even the weak and infirm can raise an alarm, can trouble an invading force. We would fight our way through a thousand sick and dying to strike down your infidel leader, and it would take far too long to prevent him from slipping the attack.”

Nylah shook her head, with the villip doing its best to match the motion. “No, Commander. I offer you the specifics—where the Ul’akhoi’s personal quarters are.”

Triak and Ret exchanged glances. This leak could end the life of their most hated foe and turn the tide of the battle for Rak’Edalin in a single night.

“I don’t have all the information an assassination team would need,” Nylah hedged. “The hull was fractured and breached in many places in the crash; a team should be able to find an infiltration point.”

“If you know the Ul’akhoi’s location, slit his throat yourself and your rewards will be doubled,” Triak offered. “Bring us his head and live the rest of your life in infidel riches.”

“A tempting offer, but one I cannot take up at this time,” Nylah said with a trace of sadness. “The Ul’akhoi has divided up all of us who give him counsel and dispatched us to different fields of battle. He has kept only a few around him—a Jedi bodyguard and a handful of others. Were I to attempt to slay him, I would be quickly caught and executed for my treason, most likely without succeeding.”

Triak and Ret exchanged looks again. The infidel warmaster had changed his methods of operation. No doubt he suspects there is a traitor within his own domain, Triak told himself. The death of this traitor would be no great loss to Domain Kraal, but she will hardly sacrifice herself for our case. She is, after all, an infidel.

“Tell me, then,” Triak said as he leaned toward the villip. “Where does the Zabrak warmaster sleep?”

“This is the third stupidest thing you’ve done that I’ve known about in the last twenty years,” Kelta hollered over the rush of wind.

“Third, huh?” Halyn shouted back. “Does that count Endor?”

“No! You were under orders there!”

Halyn snorted and shook his head at the red-headed Jedi Knight. In spite of his best efforts, he kept seeing flashes of her with eyes twenty years younger. You’re not a kid anymore, he told himself firmly. And neither is she.

“So what’s the second dumbest?” he asked as the rush of wind was replaced by the whine of repulsorlifts.

“Thinking that bringing the Vong down to the surface of Iridonia was a good idea,” she yelled.

Halyn laughed aloud, though the repulsorlifts drowned it out. Through the open hatch, he could see Rak’Edalin spread out before him, and the thin line of demarcation between the Iridonian defenders and the Yuuzhan Vong invaders.

About half of the city was now in Yuuzhan Vong hands. The sections of it still in the hands of the Zabraks stood tall and bright, untouched by the ravages of war. The broad swaths that had fallen were smoking ruins, quite often literally. The Yuuzhan Vong would destroy every blasphemous creation the Zabraks left behind, but Halyn had given orders to deny them that capability. The defenders had carried with them everything usable they could scavenge and pack, and destroyed everything else.

Halyn’s strategy for victory relied heavily on cutting the Yuuzhan Vong supply lines and starving the invaders of the materiel they needed to conduct a war. The old veteran had understood very well that merely cutting the supply lines wouldn’t do the entirety of the job; while the Vong wouldn’t soil themselves by touching or wielding infidel weapons, they very well could use Zabrak food and water, which would keep them fighting for a very long time.

Still, it was difficult to see so much of Rak’Edalin in ruin. Halyn closed his eyes. It’s necessary. You knew this from the beginning. You knew it wouldn’t be a quick or easy war, and that you’d have to make the hard choices. You knew that, when it’s all over, you may not be welcome on your own world, but you also knew no one else could make these decisions.

That doesn’t mean you have to like them, though. He grasped that thought for a moment. You haven’t become the villain—not yet, anyways. You’re sacrificing a little to save Iridonia, and there’s not another way. Not with the New Republic in shambles and no other friendly forces to save you. No, it had to be that way, and you knew it.

He forced his thoughts away from the grief gnawing at his heart, staring out into the open air. The New Horizon Designs building was squarely ahead now, like a zhaboka jutting up from a beach. It was the tallest building in all of Rak’Edalin, more than double the height of the now-fallen Capitol.

The building had went up several years after the battle of Endor. New Horizon Designs had decided that Iridonia, with its focus on starfighter defenses over traditional star-faring fleets, was the ideal headquarters for a starfighter development and manufacturing company. NHD’s research facilities had led to some of the refits to starfighters across Zabrak space, and their manufacturing capabilities had turned out nearly half of the T-wings built for Iridonia’s defenses.

After the peace treaty with the Empire, however, New Horizon Designs had moved their headquarters to Coruscant. Some of the company’s facilities, employing Zabrak engineers and laborers, were still producing equipment, which included a very large part of the supplies needed to keep Iridonia’s fighter defenses in the air. The headquarters building, however, had been reduced to a maintenance staff.

Staff which had been evacuated when the Vong landed outside Rak’Edalin.

The New Horizon Designs building was now abandoned and, as a pinnacle of engineering, would be a juicy target for the Yuuzhan Vong.

Halyn adjusted his duster to fall more comfortably across his shoulders. He checked his sidearm, a Power5 pistol, confirmed his zhaboka was still slung across his back with a tip of his head, and ensured the long, Wookiee-forged blade was hanging securely inside his duster.

Around him, he saw his three companions doing similar checks: Anishor warming up with a rykk blade, Ceikeh Alari using his zhaboka as a simple pole to help stretch tight muscles, and Kelta now dropping into a meditative posture, a lightsaber in either hand.

Halyn smiled. It’s been twenty years since we all fought together in the Civil War—well, aside from Ceikeh—but they’re still as sharp as ever. Maybe they’re even better than they were back then.

The whine of the repulsors seemed to grow even louder as the Muurian’s forward flight slowed further. The transport was descending now, the ground growing nearer. Halyn peaked out the open ramp and was satisfied to note that no dizziness or vertigo assaulted him. I’m still as good as I ever was, he thought smugly. I could still step into a starfighter without a problem.

Kelta Rose appeared beside him and flashed him a stunning smile. Without hesitating, she walked to the end of the open ramp and jumped into the open air.

“Show-off!” Halyn shouted after her, though he doubted she could hear him.

Anishor and Ceikeh both snickered behind him. The Ul’akhoi turned and glared at his friends. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, boss,” Ceikeh said with a grin. “You should’ve been the Jedi in your family, you know.”

Halyn snorted as the transport slowed its descent, his knees taking the pressure. “No one wants to see the galaxy where I was a Jedi,” he said.

Dust billowed up from the sand in front of the New Horizon Designs building as the repulsors kicked up loose material. Halyn ran to the end of the ramp, dropping the last meter to the ground in an imitation of Kelta’s graceful leap from a hundred meters up. Anishor and Ceikeh followed a moment later, and Halyn turned back to wave the pilot off. The Muurian lifted up on its repulsorlifts, spinning away and rising quickly on a jet of ions.

Halyn turned back and saw now why Kelta had leapt from the transport: an emerald lightsaber blade was flashing through the dust, as bright as the sun itself. Even as he watched, twin purple flames joined it, the three lightsabers the only visible sign of anyone in the choking cloud.

“Well, I didn’t come here for drinks!” Halyn shouted above the now-fading din of the Muurian’s engines. “C’mon!”

Unhooking the zhaboka from his back, he rushed towards the already-engaged battle, a Wookiee berserker and an ex-mercenary at his back.

Kativie parried madly, her teeth clenched tightly as another Yuuzhan Vong bore down on her with maddened strength. “Not today,” she snarled, thrusting his attack aside and spinning around. Her lightsaber blade flicked neatly through his neck, leaving the decapitated warrior to fall bonelessly to the ground.

She barely had time to block the next attack: a Yuuzhan Vong warrior leapt straight over the body of his falling comrade, bringing his amphistaff down in a powerful overhand strike.

The Jedi’s wrists strained with the shock, barely holding the hissing staff at bay. You’re a small woman, her master had once told her during a lightsaber sparring exercise. You will almost always face opponents who are taller and stronger than you. Use your quickness, and don’t allow a fight to devolve into a contest of strength. And, more insidious, the voice of her very first instructor in the ways of the Force: you cannot match me, strength for strength. Turn my attacks aside instead of blocking them.

She slipped out from under the amphistaff, spinning aside. Her lightsaber flipped up in a defensive pattern. Kativie couldn’t see, couldn’t feel any incoming attacks through the Force, but her shining blade pushed away two strikes nonetheless. She smiled as she set herself, ready now to face her opponent.

Except it wasn’t one opponent; it was three.

Before she could strike, dust billowed across all three of them as the whine of a transport’s repulsorlifts assaulted her ears. Barely able to see, she flicked the blade defensively again, fending off another pair of strikes probing for her through the haze. She was grateful again, in that moment, that Master Skywalker had developed the technique after the outbreak of war with the Yuuzhan Vong—a pattern developed from the old Form III of lightsaber combat, Soresu. It had saved Kativie’s life a hundred times over, and she had no doubt it had saved many other Jedi as well.

Purple fire erupted in the dust near her, and her Force senses were filled with the shining presence of another Jedi. Kelta! Nearby, Kativie could sense three other presences as well: the brilliant light of the berserker Anishor, the calm determination and inexhaustible energy of her brother Halyn, and the grim experience of Senator Alari.

Oh, maybe this won’t be so bad. Kativie sprung forward through the dust, lightsaber striking instinctively. A Yuuzhan Vong warrior went down in with a howl, a mass of scorched flesh where his eyes had been. She stabbed her lightsaber down into the amphistaff’s head, killing the serpent before it could strike at her feet.

Two left. One, she amended as she saw another Vong fall in three pieces, victim to Kelta’s twin lightsabers.

The last Vong warrior snarled and turned to engage the closer Kelta. Instead of attempting to rush him, Kativie released the grip on her lightsaber. The Force flooded through her, bending to her will: the green-white blade stabbed forward impossibly fast, impaling the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. As he crumpled to the ground, the hilt returned to her hand with a satisfying smack.

The dust was just starting to clear when Halyn, Anishor, and Ceikeh slid to a stop, weapons in hand.

“You’re a little slow for a rescue,” Kativie remarked wryly.

“Hardly,” was her brother’s dry reply.

Kativie looked back through the clearing dust cloud. A hundred Yuuzhan Vong warriors stood ready fifty meters away, amphistaffs in hand. “Do-ro’ik vong pratte!” they shouted as one.

“Tactical retreat,” Halyn suggested. He turned. “Kelta, you take lead. Get us up to the roof of New Horizon Designs.”

“Right,” she said, as if in a daze. She turned and sprinted towards the skyscraper, lightsabers blazing.

The remains of the Zabrak squad that had been guarding this section of the battlefront abandoned their pitifully sparse cover to join Kativie and the others. The survivors only numbered a half-dozen. “Sir,” said the ranking officer, a boy of no older than seventeen, “Orders?”

The Yuuzhan Vong began to walk towards the Zabrak defenders. “Right,” Kativie said with a nod. “Follow us. This is going to get ugly, so try to keep up.” She looked over at Halyn. “I assume you have a plan besides trapping us on top of the tallest building in Rak’Edalin?” she asked.

“Why does everyone complain about my plans?” Halyn asked theatrically.

The door into New Horizon Designs fell to the ground with a thump. “Are you guys coming?” Kelta shouted.

“Yeah, I think it’s time to leave this party,” Halyn said agreeably, flicking the zhaboka back around to lock into place against his back. “Blasters only,” he advised. “No stopping to duel. Everyone follow Kelta. Anishor, you ride drag on our Iridonian defenders here. Katie, borrow a blaster—we’ve got rearguard. Now let’s go!”

The Yuuzhan Vong were beginning to trot now towards the pitifully small band of defenders. On Halyn’s orders, the band sprinted towards the New Horizon Designs building. The Vong let out a roar of outrage, picking up their own pace to pursue.

Kelta was well in the lead, leaving a smoking pile of doors in her wake. Ceikeh led the half-dozen warriors as closely behind her as he could manage, but even with the disadvantage of breaking trail, Kelta was able to keep lead over them. Her twin lightsabers carved through doors twice as quickly as Kativie’s single blade would have managed.

Kativie and Halyn lagged behind, firing almost continually at their Yuuzhan Vong pursuers. Kativie held her lightsaber in her off-hand, only bringing it up to pick off incoming thud bugs and razor bugs.

The siblings were indiscriminate with their blasters, burning holes through floors, walls, ceilings, and Yuuzhan Vong. The invaders, finding their initial attacks ineffective, resorted to blast bugs instead. Halyn and Kativie both attempted to shoot them out of the air, though their detonations still blew holes through the thin walls and floors of the structure.

Kativie grimaced as their pursuers choked the stairwells below them, all of them determined to get a crack at the Jeedai and the mad Zabrak defenders. As she pulled a thermal detonator from her belt, she wondered briefly if the Yuuzhan Vong had recognized her brother as the hated Ul’akhoi. She thumbed the thermal detonator to life with a three-second timer and pulled her arm back to throw.

Halyn snatched the detonator out of her hand, his own closing to hold the trigger in place. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “You’ll bring the building down on us!”

“You have a better idea?” Kativie shot back.

“Take your lightsaber to the stairs!”

Grimacing, she brought her almost forgotten blade down to slash away at the stairs below her. They groaned in protest as supports gave way. The Vong howled and rushed even faster, barely slowed by Halyn’s rapid-fire blasts in their ranks. Kativie retreated further up the stairs, Halyn moving more slowly as he attempted to slow the Yuuzhan Vong attack. It wasn’t working; in spite of their leaders falling to repeated hits to the face and torso and belly, they continued their intense pursuit.

Kativie reached the next landing and slashed her blade through the stairs. Deprived of support both above and below, the stairs rumbled and started to fall away. Abruptly, her brain caught up with her. Halyn is still on the stairs!

She dropped her lightsaber, the blade hissing into oblivion as the deadman switch in the handgrip killed its power. She swung her free hand out, grabbing Halyn’s outstretched arm as the stairs fell away. His sudden weight nearly pulled them both into the hole, but the Force rooted her into place on the stairs, and gave her the strength to pull him up.

They stood shakily for a moment, both breathing hard. Kativie called her lightsaber back to her hand, and Halyn just stood and trembled. “That,” he said, “was too close.”

“Next time, I’ll give you the lightsaber,” Kativie joked.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He looked back at the collapsed staircase and the crowd of Yuuzhan Vong now freeing hordes of flying bugs from belts and bandoleers. “That’s not going to hold them off for more than a minute or two. We’d better catch up with the rest.”

There were days Sandarie Coron hated Halyn Lance. They had been friends for years—only a handful of people outside his own family had known him longer by any significant amount of time. In those years, when he had been around and active in her life, she had known immense joy, blood-chilling fear, and nova-hot anger. The Zabrak had always been a man of extremes, in her eyes: never stable, never conservative, but always in trouble, always in an adventure, and never, ever boring.

But sometimes, he managed to take her off-guard, like when he gave her the special “assignment” she now found herself undertaking.

Damn you, Halyn Lance. You know I don’t do this sort of thing.

Reluctantly, she could admit—to herself, at least—that he had good reason for giving her this task. She was hardly the warrior that Halyn himself or Anishor or the Jedi were; she was not a tactician like Kryi Rinnet or Nisia Eisweep; she was not an Intelligence spook like Abi Ocopaqui or Li Coden.

But, she thought as a stuffed animal bounced off a lek, being reduced to babysitting is not what I had in mind when I came here to help.

“Duck, Aunt Sandi!” one of the Zabrak children yelled belatedly. The blue-skinned Twi’lek released a long-suffering sigh.

“Durul Sanshir,” she said, low and slow, “you can’t possibly tell me that was an accident.”

The twelve-year-old Zabrak boy looked at her with a very serious expression. “That was an accident, Aunt Sandi.”

The Twi’lek stared down Allanna’s child. “Really, Durul?”

A soft rubber ball bounced off the back of her head. “That wasn’t!” Bluth Lusp’s voice called cheerfully.

Sandi spun on the eldest of Kativie’s daughters. “Hey!”

“Aunt Sandi? Can’t we go do something?” Vyshtal Lusp asked. Kativie’s third child was tapping his foot restlessly, leaning against the bulkhead beside the chamber’s only door. “I hate just sitting here all the time. We should be out fighting, too!”

“We’re too young to fight,” Kadrol Sanshir, Allanna’s youngest child, spoke up. Five years old, she was solemnly clutching a stuffed animal, seated cross-legged next to Nop, the eldest of Kativie’s children. Sandarie was surprised to note the pairing—Nop was eager to get out and fight and earn his jato and adulthood.

“You are, yes,” Nop agreed and patted her head. “Not all of us are too young, though.”

Sandarie rubbed her eyes. Eight Sanshir kids are about seven too many for one Twi’lek to take care of, she thought in dismay. I always expected Kativie’s children to run wild, but I thought Allanna and Argus would have more…disciplined…kids.

“Exactly!” Vyshtal shouted. “And I’m a Jedi—they need me out there!”

“You’re not a Jedi,” Nop retorted. “Mom says you’ll be as old as she is before you’re a Jedi.”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Kids!” Sandarie said sharply, almost snarling the word. That got their attention; eight pairs of eyes looked up at the Twi’lek. “You’re staying here, where it’s safe, until it’s your turn to fight. And it won’t be your turn for a long time,” she added, glaring at Nop and Vyshtal in return.

Sylvyi and Sash, twin girls and Kativie’s youngest, were conspicuously quiet. Sandarie turned to see them, saw the door hiss open as they attempted to make their escape. They bounced off the legs of a much larger Zabrak in their haste, falling back into the room on their butts.

“Don’t you brats know you’re supposed to listen to Aunt Sandi?” Edlin Sanshir asked.

Sandi smiled gratefully at the eldest surviving Sanshir of his generation. “Thank you, Edlin,” she said. “Good to see you.”

“You, too, Aunt Sandi,” he said as he crossed the room to give the Twi’lek a hug.

Sandarie frowned at his expression. He looks tired. No, not tired. Weary, maybe. And…disappointed?

“Can we talk?” Edlin asked her. He glanced around at the Zabrak children. “Away from the brats.”

“We’re not brats!” Vyshtal protested.

“Yes, brats,” Edlin repeated. “All of you, shoo. Into the other room!”

With half-hearted grumbling and protests, the Zabrak children picked up and moved into the adjoining chamber. Sandi was grateful for the move—there was only one hatch into the spacious quarters that’d been given over to the Sanshir and Lusp children, and they’d have to get past Sandi to reach it.

When the children had cleared the room, Sandi looked back at her “nephew”. She had watched him grow up with the rest of Allanna and Kativie’s children and saw him through the eyes of an adult watching a juvenile. It was almost shocking to see his jato; she had not seen him since before his trials, and the very adult markings were a stark contrast to his youth.

He looks so very much like both Argus and Halyn, she decided. The nose, the darkened skin were very much Argus. The intense emerald eyes, the dark jato pattern—those were pure Halyn. For a moment, Sandarie wondered if it would be his destiny to carry on the family tradition of war and service that his father, uncle, and aunt had all been called to—the path of a Zabrak warrior and hero.

She nearly laughed aloud at the thought. I’ve been spending too much time with the Jedi and Anishor, she decided. I’m almost starting to sound like them.

“There’s no secret assignment, is there?” Edlin asked quietly.

“What?” Sandi asked with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Uncle Halyn just maneuvered me out of the way,” Edlin said disgustedly. “I asked him for an important assignment, and he shuffled me off.”

Sandi’s eyes widened in realization. “He sent you to help me?”

“Yes,” the Zabrak said in irritation. “He told me that he had an important, secret assignment that you needed help with. He made it sound like it was critical to the survival of Iridonia.”

The Twi’lek sighed and rubbed her cheeks wearily. “Well, as far as he’s concerned, this is critical to the defense of Iridonia,” she suggested.

Edlin frowned. “How so?”

“Why do you think Halyn is out there, fighting this war?” she asked gently.

“Because he’s the hero,” the young Zabrak said gruffly. “It’s what he and Dad and Aunt Kat have always done. They fight and keep everyone else safe and make themselves famous.”

Sandi shook her head. “Maybe at the beginning, that’s why they did it. But by the time I met your uncle during the Civil War, he was past that point.”

“What do you mean?” Edlin’s voice was curious, and Sandarie found herself wondering how much the Sanshir kids really knew of their family’s exploits during the heyday of the Galactic Civil War.

“I actually met him at a party,” Sandi admitted.

“Uncle Halyn. At a party.” Edlin’s jaw was dropped. “Really?”

“Really.” Sandarie barely restrained a laugh. “Back then, he was a fighter pilot, and he knew as well as anyone that he was one engagement away from death at any given time. Most of the pilots I knew then were the same way—they understood that they could die at any time, so they were going to live while they could.”

Edlin shook his head. “I just can’t imagine…” his voice trailed off.

“I didn’t know who he was then,” Sandi continued her story. “I spent most of the night talking with one of the pilots under his command, and he didn’t identify Halyn to me then either. Probably because of the price on Halyn’s head by then—until they knew who I was and knew I could be trusted, none of his people would risk accidentally putting him at risk.”

“So Uncle Halyn was already a General by then?”

Sandi nodded. “Though he hated wearing the uniform. Anyway, I didn’t get a chance to really meet him until several weeks later. He’d been shot down and captured by the Empire, and the Rebels needed to get someone inside to find out if he was still alive. I was a civilian with no ties to the Rebellion and solid credentials, so they asked me—who they barely knew—to find out what I could.”

“And you got him out of prison?”

“No. I just found out that he was still alive and holding out against the Empire’s interrogators.” An involuntary shiver ran through both lekku as she remembered those dark days: Imperial Inquisitor Paige Avion and his apprentice, Suuzanne Crazton, who would later play a much larger role in the Sanshir famly’s struggles. But of that, she said nothing—some things weren’t her place to explain. “After I confirmed he was still there and still alive, his starfighter wing and a ground squad launched an attack to break him out.”

“And succeeded,” Edlin added.

“And succeeded,” Sandi confirmed. “As he was recovering at Zephyr Base, I got to meet him for the first time. Well, not really the first time, but it was the first time we were both capable of coherent speech.”

Edlin laughed as he bent down to pick up a discarded toy. Without looking, he flicked it into the adjoining room’s doorway, drawing a surprised squeal from one of the kids trying to eavesdrop. “So what does that have to do with this critical assignment?”

“I learned a lot about Halyn in those early days,” the Twi’lek said softly. “At the time, he never thought he’d see his family again, never thought he’d step foot on Iridonia. Back then, we thought fighting the Empire would be a generational battle. So, for him, his pilots at Zephyr Base were his family. And he did everything he could to protect them.” She remembered too-vividly his expressions after disastrous missions, even sometimes after successful runs. “Like any commander, he never could bring them all home alive, and sometimes he was forced to issue orders he knew would kill some of his own people. But…” she shrugged. “There was a reason he never rose past the rank of general and the role of starfighter wing commander.”

“Why?” Edlin asked, his full attention clearly on the story.

“He had lots of reasons for it,” Sandi admitted. “He thought it had to do with his race and homeworld—after all, Iridonia had been a perennial enemy of the Republic whenever war broke out with the Sith. Sometimes he thought it had to do with position—the commander of an Outer Rim fighter wing isn’t a prestigious role. But I always thought it was because of how he commanded.”

“Meaning?” the Zabrak prompted.

“Meaning he sacrificed objectives for people,” Sandi explained. “His concern was for lives, not military objectives. If the objective overlapped with lives, he had no problem fulfilling it, but if an objective was going to cost lives for no gain, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw the objective away if he thought it wasn’t worth it.”

Edlin’s voice was tinged with suspicion. “Was that really the way it was?”

“Yes,” Sandi confirmed.

“Then why is Uncle Halyn fighting so differently now?” he asked. “We’re losing hundreds or thousands of warriors every day fighting the scarheads face-to-face. I’ve seen the deployments—Uncle Halyn is grinding down our own people as much as he is the Vong. He’s sacrificed every opportunity to retreat and save lives.”

The Twi’lek arched an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re very perceptive.”

“I’m a Sanshir,” he said, as thought it explained everything.

And in a way, it does, Sandi thought. A family doesn’t become a major player in a world’s politics for generations if only a few of them can think ahead and anticipate and see the bigger pictures. “Yes, you are.”

“So why, then?”

“We haven’t talked about it directly,” Sandi hedged. “But I think I know why.”

“Why, then?”

“The Yuuzhan Vong are different than the Empire,” she said, not able to stop a shiver from running through her lekku, sending them twitching and swaying. “They’ve never shown any willingness towards mercy, or any capability of anything we’d call good. They target and kill refugees, sacrifice millions to their gods, destroy and remake entire worlds. If they win here, they could wipe out Zabraks entirely as the galaxy knows them.”

“So the sacrifice is necessary for the victory,” Edlin said in a low voice.

Sandi nodded. “That’s my perspective on it.”

“Then why is he holding me back?” he asked. “If what you’re saying is true, he should be letting me out on the front lines to do my part.”

The Twi’lek shrugged. “That, I don’t know. So, will you stay and help me watch the kids?” She gave him a smile. “They’re a bit much for one Twi’lek to manage.”

Edlin nodded slowly. “Yes, I’ll stay, Aunt Sandi. At least until I can convince Uncle Halyn to assign me to the front.”

“Good. Go look after them,” she said with a smile. “I just need a few moments to breathe before I go in there.”

“Alright,” Edlin said with a small smile. “Hey brats!” he yelled into the other room as he walked forward. “Who’s up for a game?”

Sandi’s smile faded as she watched as Edlin was rushed by the Sanshir and Lusp kids, unable to completely banish a terrible thought that haunted her. She tried to push it away, but it clung tenaciously to her mind. Halyn’s been willing to make the hard sacrifice. Is he keeping his own family here, out of the way, so they don’t bear repercussions for the sacrifices he’s making? He could very well destroy himself to keep Iridonia free, if his family wouldn’t bear the responsibility—Is that his plan? That could be why he sent Kativie out to the front lines, too. If she’s there, their enemies can’t claim she had a hand in his decisions, no matter how things proceed. If he’s planning on sacrificing himself, he’s done a very good job of getting his family clear of the aftermath.

Li tried to hide a wince as he and Anishor walked into the Cathleen’s command center. The big Wookiee had assumed a predator’s stalk. He’s probably not even aware of it, Li decided. Even though it clearly marks us. Halyn would have to be blind to miss the fact that we’re up to something. Somehow I doubt New Republic Intelligence will ever recruit him for work.

The starfighter coordinator’s post was on the far side of the bridge, surrounded by multiple tactical displays and holograms, along with complex communications equipment. The role of starfighter commander was critical—in the past forty years of warfare, the value of a handful of pilots in the right place at the right time had turned routs into victory, while mistakes by even a single squadron had cost fleets heavy losses.

Their target was indeed there, surrounded by floating holographic indicators of Rak’Edalin’s fighter wings. The Zabrak female’s hair was woven into a single tight braid on the top of her head; much of her scalp was bare save for a crown of vestigial horns.

Li squinted at her as he and Anishor approached her. That…doesn’t look like the traitor Nylah. Not even a little. I mean, she’s a female Zabrak, but…

“Anishor,” he hissed. “Abort run.”

The Wookiee turned off flawlessly and approached Halyn, who was sitting—for the moment—in the command chair in the center of the Cathleen’s bridge.

“Furball,” Halyn said without looking up from the datapad in his hands.

<Coatrack,> Anishor rumbled. <How does the battle proceed?>

“As it has every day,” the Zabrak griped. “They attack, and we hold the lines. They attack over mounds of their own dead, and erode our positions.”

<They worry away at your defenses as a river cuts into a riverbank,> Anishor observed.

Li wondered briefly how long he could stand beside Anishor before Halyn or, worse yet, Kryi Rinnet would ask him why he wasn’t strapped into a starfighter screaming over Rak’Edalin exchanging fire with coralskippers. He hadn’t had time to work on an answer yet when Halyn abruptly rose from the command chair and started walking towards the turbolift from which Anishor and Li had come.

“Walk with me,” Halyn said in a low voice.

The New Republic Intelligence agent fell into step beside his old friend, Anishor immediately following them like a furry boulder.

The Ul’akhoi was silent until the door to the turbolift hissed close. The lift had barely started to move when Halyn hit the stop button. The lift squealed in protest at the abuse, but the he ignored it.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he asked without preamble.

“I…”

<We…>

“Is there a reason you were making a beeline for my starfighter coordinator?” Halyn asked sharply. “In case you haven’t noticed, Kryi’s role is a bit important in this. You know, keeping the Vong from getting steady resupplies, aerial support for our troops, that sort of thing.”

Anishor sighed. <Coatrack, we…>

“No, Anishor, let me,” Li interrupted, drawing a surprised look from both Halyn and Anishor. “I’ve been investigating the traitor since I arrived,” he explained. “I don’t know what you’ve got Sandi doing, but this is well outside her area of expertise. And dammit, Hal, you should’ve  asked me and Abi to do it as soon as we told you there was a traitor.”

Halyn’s expression was unreadable. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I asked you to or not.”

“If you knew we were going to investigate, then why not just give us the assignment?”

“Because I had other things for you to do. Other important things.” Halyn sighed. “So tell me, what did you find out?”

“We know the traitor is a female Zabrak, and we’re pretty sure she’s in your inner circle given the information she gave to the Vong, and what she said when we escorted her in.” Li recounted the information methodically. “I know your methods pretty well, even after all these years. The people you trust, you trust absolutely, with information you probably shouldn’t.”

“It’s hard for my people to do their jobs when they don’t understand what’s going on,” Halyn answered.

“I’m not trying to argue your methods,” Li countered. “After all, they’ve worked for you pretty well up until this point.”

“Pretty well?” Halyn repeated.

“Now’s not the time to get into your military record,” Li said in exasperation.

<Please, listen, Coatrack,> Anishor said. <You know this is important.>

Halyn waved a dismissive hand, but quieted.

“There’s a small possibility that it could be a spouse or a close friend of someone inside your inner circle,” Li continued, “but your inner circle’s pretty small. There’s no one married to a female Zabrak among those Abi and I figured you trust, so your information isn’t likely leaking that way.”

Halyn waved his hand in a circle impatiently, as though prompting Li to get on with it. The Intelligence agent wouldn’t be rushed, though. If he’s going to understand why we’re reasoning the way we are, he has to hear this all.

“That leaves three likely candidates for your traitor. Allanna Saret, Nisia Eisweep, and Kryi Rinnet.”

“My fleet admiral, my oldest living friend outside of my family, and my starfighter commander,” Halyn said dryly. “It’s amazing we’re not all dead yet, or that I haven’t been killed in my sleep.”

“Not funny,” Li growled before he restrained himself. “Abi and I both had face-to-face contact with the traitor, so I felt confident in my ability to identify her.”

“Felt?” Halyn repeated.

“Abi and I met Allanna Saret aboard the Cyclone. I’m fairly certain she wasn’t the traitor. Abi and I both agreed her demeanor and features were too unlike Nylah to consider her a possibility. Given her history with the Rebel Alliance and Sandarie Coron, as well as,” Li coughed into his hand, “her family, we’re believed the chances of her being a traitor were extremely low.” He shrugged uncomfortably at the pointed stare from Halyn. “Sorry, I had to do my job.”

“You’re not forgiven.”

Li winced at that. He doesn’t like anyone digging at anything involving his family. Of course, back in the war when we flew together, there wasn’t any family around for him to be protective of. “Of the remaining two, there’s Nisia Eisweep, who’s a known criminal and pirate, and the other is a decorated Alliance ace pilot from the Civil War.”

“Given that, why aren’t you chasing Nisia down right now and trying to get a confession out of her at blasterpoint?” Halyn asked irritably. “After all, I clearly can’t pick my own friends and allies.”

Anishor cuffed Halyn with a huge furred paw. <Listen, Coatrack. You know better than to become defensive. Li speaks out of necessity, not spite.>

“Abi and I made visual contact with Nisia,” Li continued, a bit defensively now. “Of Nisia and Kryi, we believed her to more likely be the traitor given her background. Visually, though, she wasn’t Nylah—both Abi and I agreed on that.”

“So, you came onto the Cathleen’s bridge to execute Kryi?” Halyn asked, his voice hard and unyielding as durasteel. Or Iridonia itself, Li thought with a faint bit of humor. They’re sure not yielding to the Yuuzhan Vong.

“Not execute, make a visual identification,” Li corrected. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I only want to root out the traitor.”

“So what did you find?” Halyn asked.

“Kryi doesn’t look like Nylah, either,” Li said with a helpless shrug. “But I wasn’t sure if she could be a Yuuzhan Vong infiltrator in disguise.”

<She’s not a Yuuzhan Vong,> Anishor contradicted. <Her aura is that of a Zabrak. I can smell it on her.>

“But is she Kryi?” Li asked. “I mean, you knew her during the Civil War after I transferred out of Zephyr Base.”

Anishor grimaced. <It is difficult for me to say,> he said slowly. <I did not know her well. She briefly flew a B-wing under my command, but she also spent time flying both A-wings and X-wings for other squadrons in the wing. She didn’t truly come into her own as a pilot until after she transferred to the fleet after Endor and started racking up kills.>

“You just admitted she wasn’t a Vong,” Halyn stated flatly. “And her features haven’t changed that much since Endor.”

<She may not be a Vong, but she could still be in an ooglith masquer,> Anishor pointed out. <Perhaps her identity as Nylah is her true self, and she has taken Kryi’s place.>

“Except she’s a damned good starfighter coordinator,” Halyn protested. “You can’t fake skills like that.”

“Maybe it is the real Kryi, but she wore the masquer when meeting with the Vong,” Li suggested. “That would explain the appearance difference.”

“That would mean any of the three could still be the traitor,” Halyn said in exasperation. “So really, you’re telling me right now you have nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Li said irritably. “There’s possible motivation for all three.”

The Zabrak rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. “What motivations would those be?”

“Money and love,” Li said. “The reasons for any crime.”

Halyn raised an eyebrow.

“We know whoever the traitor is will be paid, and well-paid, by the Vong, as long as she’s smart enough to keep her distance and not let the Vong execute her.” Li shrugged. “I can’t imagine that a traitor in your inner circle would be so dumb as to let the Vong kill her easy.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some tension. “Nisia was a pirate, and they’re not known for much motivation beyond profit. It’ll also do for Kryi.”

“She’d sell out her race for money, when she spent years fighting for them?” Halyn asked skeptically.

<She’s hardly wealthy,> Anishor said. <She may also harbor some resentment towards you and other heroes of Iridonia’s rebellion against the Empire. You’ve become famous, where she is still little-known among even her own people. She also has no family, so her ties to you and to this world are weaker.>

“And Allanna?” Halyn shook his head. “Can’t imagine she sold out for money.”

“For love,” Li said. “What if Argus is still alive?”

That speculation brought a look of shock to Halyn’s face. “What did you say?”

“No, hang with me on this,” Li said. “If Argus was still alive, Allanna would do pretty much anything to save him, wouldn’t she?”

“I thought you said when you and Abi escorted her to meet the Vong that she indicated she was interested in money.”

“Yes, but I think that might have been smokescreen.” Li shook his head. “There’s something weird going on with the Vong.”

“Weird? How so?”

“I’m sure you’ve been watching their movements as much as you can, haven’t you?”

“Of course.”

“So were we, when we were waiting for an opportunity to set down.” Li hesitated. “In that time, we never saw any Vong reinforcement or supply ships arrive from outside the system.”

That seemed to grab Halyn’s full attention for the first time. “Really?”

Li nodded. “I think there’s some kind of internal politics at play with the Vong right now. So if there’s two different factions, and Allanna’s working for one, they could easily insert her into the other as a plant by promising Argus’s life.”

The Ul’akhoi seemed to withdraw as he considered this new information. “Alright,” he said at last. “Li, I still need you running my special operations squadron, but I want you and Abi to work together with Anishor to try to dig out any information on the traitor.” He paused for a moment of reflection before nodding. “Yeah. I might as well have you do it under my instruction, since you’re bound and determined to do it anyways.” There was a hardness in his eyes as he reached over and slapped the turbolift button to return them to the bridge. “If you figure out who the traitor is, come talk to me first before you do anything rash. And if there’s any chance Argus is still alive, I want to know, because you can be damned sure we’ll go get him back.”

Nisia Eisweep’s expression was serious as she barked orders. “E-webs here and here!” she shouted. “Get those power cables run!”

She stalked along the edge of the Council chamber as her team hastened to get the heavy repeating blasters setup. Some members of the team were hacking open crude firing ports in the walls with vibroblades and fusion cutters, while others were stringing power cables across the open chamber to supply the energy necessary for the emplacements.

The other six E-webs were already in place; volunteers were even now running them through test-fire sequences, testing ranges of motion, sighting the weapons in. At Nisia’s orders, they’d already ranged the weapons out to six hundred meters. Against fully-armored Vong warriors, the powerful E-webs would be ineffective at ranges past one hundred and fifty meters, but the reptoid proxy troops could be shot to pieces at much further ranges.

The old pirate repressed her smile. Jess is still as crazy as ever. And, of course, he’s got more than one purpose for me being here, only one of which is to command the defense. If all he needed was someone to order troops to pull the trigger, he’s got plenty of lackeys.

No, I’ve got a pretty good idea why he sent me here.

“Miss Eisweep, you need to put me in contact with the Ul’akhoi,” Achick Lusp said insistently, trailing in her wake. “The Sanshir could not have meant to keep the Council here with the battle moving in our direction. It’s basic warfare—a distraction, a decoy to draw the Vong in. You don’t leave the actual target sitting at the site of the battle to come!”

“Councilor, as I’ve told you before, I have no way of contacting Jess,” Nisia said through gritted teeth. “His orders were for me to fortify the Council building and protect the Council—including you. In spite of your attempt to get him removed,” she added irritably. Not the most diplomatic thing to do, but no one expects me to play nice. Besides, if Jess wanted someone to talk pretty to these scum, he wouldn’t have sent me.

“I’m not sure who you think you are, Miss Eisweep…”

“Captain Eisweep,” Nisia corrected him haughtily. Well, I would be captain if I’d asked Jess for the rank. So close enough.

“Captain Eisweep, then,” Achick snorted. “General Sanshir may indeed be the Ul’akhoi, but he serves at the pleasure of the Council. As such, the Council’s representative—me—needs to speak to him immediately about this battle plan.”

“I’ve read the laws for the Zabrak coalition,” Nisia countered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Including the rules for appointment of an Ul’akhoi. At this point in the game, he doesn’t need to listen to a damned thing anyone has to say. And he certainly has no reason to listen to you, after that stunt you pulled.”

Achick was silent for a long moment as Nisia continued to walk the outside wall of the Council chamber. Finally, he said, “I’m no traitor to the Zabrak—I did what I did in pursuit of the survival of our race, and defeating the attacks by the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“By removing the most capable person from command?” Nisia snorted. “There’s not a soul on Iridonia better capable of commanding the defense.”

“I doubt that,” the elder Zabrak said derisively. “Yes, let’s reward command to the Zabrak who swore off our customs, left Iridonia instead of standing to fight when we were crushed under the Galactic Empire, and yes, he broke the Imperial blockade—but abandoned us again for the Rebel Alliance while we fought to throw the Imperial occupiers off-planet, and never bothered to come back after the battle of Endor.” Achick’s tone was dismissive. “Argus Sanshir may have been a hero of the Zabrak people, but his younger brother fell far from the tree.”

Nisia laughed aloud. “Everyone’s a hero in their own mind, Lusp,” she said. “And in your own mind, I’m sure Jess is the worst scum to walk on Iridonia. But that doesn’t make you right, or even remotely on the right path.”

“Are you blind?” Achick snarled. “How can you not see what he is? Who he is?”

“Why can’t you?” Nisia countered. “He’s fully committed to fighting this to the last.”

“Yes, until the last one of us dies,” Achick growled. “Do you want to die here?”

“No, I don’t,” the pirate admitted. “I don’t plan on dying, either. I’m sure Jess has something in mind.”

“That’s it, then,” Achick said. “You’re loyal to him completely, blindly. That’s why he sent you here. Are you his plaything as well?”

Nisia spun with an outstretched hand to slap the older Zabrak. Achick’s hand was already raised to block, so she kicked his knee instead. She was already withdrawing her foot when the joint locked, preventing a break, but Achick was tossed off-balance and fell to the floor.

The Zabrak pirate glared down at the Councilor. “Listen, and listen well. I’m here, following orders and defending Jess, because he’s the best chance of winning this war. You, you’re just a dilettante who’s never been in a real fight in his life. Now, if you have such a problem with me, keep it to yourself. If you can’t find a way to keep your tongue inside your head, I’m sure the Vong will love to have a Councilor’s head on a pike.”

“Are you threatening me?” Achick gasped from the floor.

“I don’t threaten,” Nisia spat. “I warn. So consider yourself warned.”

She stalked away from the Councilor, letting her anger start to cool. Okay, tossing a Councilor onto the floor probably wasn’t quite what Jess had in mind by sending me here. He wanted me to keep them under control, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean “at blasterpoint.”

Still, if I didn’t stop him now, he’d keep undermining me even when the Vong are trying to beat the walls down.

Time to focus. If I don’t do my job, the Vong will get through and kill off a big chunk of our government. I’m not sure that’s a bad thing, but Jess seems to think it is, so I play it by ear for now. I can definitely see now why Jess hasn’t wanted to talk to them, though. And there has be plenty of support for Achick given what he’s already tried to do.

Jess always gives me interesting assignments. Can’t fault him for boredom.

Anishor growled in dissatisfaction as he gripped both rykk blades. It should be me going, he thought. I should be out fighting, not these few. <You six will accompany Colonel Ocopaqui as part of her strike team. Follow her closely, protect her against the Yuuzhan Vong, and follow her lead.>

<Why is a Twi’lek leading a special operations team of Zabraks, here on Iridonia?> one of the berserkers asked.

<General Lance only trusts a few people,> Anishor said reluctantly. <Those he trusts and have proven themselves loyal he puts in positions of authority. That Twi’lek, as you described her, was an officer with the Rebel Alliance and a warrior while you were still in the nursery rings at Kachiro.>

The berserker nodded contritely at the gentle scolding.

<This team will be conducting special operations outside the normal line of command. Expect to engage in unconventional warfare and tactics. I doubt the colonel’s orders will involve direct engagements against Yuuzhan Vong patrols and lines.>

A roar echoed around the small chamber from the six assigned berserkers. Anishor allowed himself a fanged smile. <You have all been trained well; the Yuuzhan Vong are no match for you. Do not allow yourselves to be overconfident, watch each other’s backs, and you will no doubt prevail.> The big Wookiee looked from face to furred face. <May the Great Tree guide and protect you.>

The berserker team roared again in assent, a wordless cheer that made Anishor’s blood boil in desire to fight, to join the battle, to find himself in the pure release of the Force and battle.

As the team dispersed to join the other members of the elite team Abi Ocopaqui had assembled, Li Coden fell into step beside Anishor’s uneasy pacing. “Problem, big guy?” he asked.

Anishor growled wordlessly, then shook his head. <Even after all these years, I don’t always understand Halyn’s strategies. Keeping me here, along with my berserkers, has meant we have contributed little to the defense of Rak’Edalin. We’d still be sitting here on the Cathleen if Abi had not recruited a small number of us to join her strike team.>

“Hal’s tactics don’t always make sense to anyone, including himself,” Li said wryly. “How many times did different pilots take a swing at him? Arands and Stark that one time after Resurrection Squadron got chewed up, Ryian Coron after his command took bad losses…and I was tempted once or twice.”

<Still…he allows others to fight without restriction. You, Abi, many of his friends and allies, the Jedi. But we Wookiees he holds in reserve.>

“Maybe that’s what he’s got you for,” Li said with a rolling shrug. “A reserve he can count on.”

<Maybe. If he’d put us into battle, though, he could allow some of his frontline units to rest and recover and reprovision.>

“Don’t take it so personally,” Li advised. The two had moved into the Cathleen’s twisting corridors now, away from prying ears. “So,” the Intelligence agent said quietly, “we checked out Nisia Eisweep. She’s not the one we escorted to see the Vong’s commander.”

<You’re certain?>

Li nodded. “Pretty enough, but the tattoos and the face were wrong.” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she’s older, too.”

<Well, that eliminates her as the traitor. Kryi Rinnet, then, or Allanna Saret.> Anishor twisted and ducked around low-hanging debris in the corridor.

“Where can I find Rinnet?” Li asked, barely having to slouch to bypass the obstacle.

There are times my size can be a disadvantage, Anishor noted distantly. <She is usually on the bridge during the day, coordinating starfighter operations during the daily combat. She usually makes morning meetings, too.>

Li nodded, loosening his blaster pistol in its holster. “Well, Abi and I met Saret on the Cyclone briefly before she took the Zabrak fleet and fled,” he commented. “She wasn’t the traitor, either. So, that leaves this Rinnet.”

Anishor nodded briefly. <Once you have confirmed she is the traitor, we’ll take her into custody if possible. I would rather take her alive than execute her.> Perhaps Halyn was wise in putting Abi in charge of the commando team and giving Li the one with more flexibility here. Abi would put a blaster bolt between Rinnet’s eyes without a second thought if she identifies her as the traitor.

Is that why Rinnet missed this morning’s meeting? Did she identify Li and Abi first, and is avoiding them?

Anishor closed his eyes briefly, feeling the flow of the Force around him, through him. He drew upon its power for strength and wisdom for the conflict to come. If she is the traitor, the Yuuzhan Vong must have some hold over her. I thought she didn’t have a family or clan, though—Halyn told me after Endor that she was the sole survivor of a colony the Empire ground to dust. From what he’s told me, she’s never had a family or close friends—she served in the Rebel Alliance’s starfighter corps, then the New Republic fleet, and then the Zabrak Defense Force after she retired from the New Republic military. She just doesn’t seem to be the traitor type.

Could the Vong have killed her and replaced her with a spy in an ooglith masquer? That’s a possibility, I guess, but an infiltrator would have to have intimate knowledge of Rinnet to pull off impersonating an officer Halyn has known for twenty years.

Of course, he hasn’t known her for twenty years—he knew her twenty years ago, and knows her now. If she didn’t have friends or family, she would’ve been an ideal target to eliminate and replace with a loyal spy.

He pondered that for long moments. If she is an imposter, she won’t go down without a fight.

Without further words, Li and Anishor continued to push towards the bridge, each preparing for a fight.

Kativie Lusp sat cross-legged in the cool morning air as the sun tinted the morning sky amber. Shadows fell around her as she breathed in and out, meditating on the flow of the Force.

The Force: the greatest source of power in the galaxy. With it, ten thousand Jedi Knights had kept watch over an entire galaxy. From their watchtower on Coruscant, their abilities had allowed them to see trouble in the furthest regions of the Old Republic. In the field, their powers had allowed them to overcome even the mightiest of foes, striking down the enemies of civilization, of law and order, of the light.

And in the hands of a single Sith Lord, the Force had been used to overthrow the Republic and establish an Empire of a single man—the dictatorial rule of a single Force user. It had plunged the galaxy into darkness, allowing the wicked to thrive and the followers of the light to fall.

Now, the threat of the Force in the hands of less than a hundred Jedi was considered so great that the Yuuzhan Vong had directed massive efforts to eradicate them: fleets of warships, Vong-shaped hunting beasts called voxyn, armies of warriors. Some of their efforts were more insidious: credit payments to traitors, threats and bribes to betray the Jedi Knights, false promises of leniency in return for the heads of Force users.

Even with all that history, all that knowledge, in many ways Kativie still felt like a child. She certainly was not—she had spilled blood for more than twenty years, had been a Jedi for ten, was a wife and mother to five children. Yet in many ways, she felt like she still stood in the shadows of giants. Her brothers Argus and Halyn were both respected and feared military commanders, Zabrak warriors who had proven themselves on the field of battle while she was still a child.

As she pondered the currents of the Force, she also indulged in imagination. What would Argus have done with her gifts? Would he have thrown down the Imperial occupiers more quickly, led Iridonia to freedom while the Rebel Alliance struggled in the greater war? Would he have bided his time more patiently, leading Iridonia to participate more closely with the Rebellion?

What about Halyn? Would he have still left Iridonia at an early age, or would he have stayed to fight the Empire at home? Would he still have joined the Rebel Alliance, fought and sacrificed so much in those years leading up to Endor? Would he still have gone into his self-imposed exile, leaving behind his family and friends?

Would he have fallen into darkness? some part of her whispered. Would he have used the power of the dark side to fight the Empire?

She banished the thought, as she always did. The dark side spoke to her, as it did to all followers of the light. It offered quick and easy power, solutions to a three-year war against an extragalactic invader. She had heard—quietly, in hushed tones—as some Jedi discussed tapping into the dark side to fight the Yuuzhan Vong, to use fire to fight the power and tactics of their enemies.

The sun finally began to pierce the shadows around her. Distantly, Kativie could hear fighting. The Yuuzhan Vong offensive had resumed, she assumed, while the Iridonians fought to hold their capitol against the invaders.

The Jedi Knight slowly stood, unclipping her lightsaber from her belt. The Force thundered through her now, power as pure as the early morning sun. Just as the dawn pushed aside the shadows, the energy flowing into her banished her fears, her doubts, her dreads. When the Force filled her fully, she stretched out with her senses to the damaged cityscape around her.

Even while fully in the grip of the Force, Kativie could not feel the presence of the Yuuzhan Vong. As always, they remained outside her senses, the only indications of their positions vague murkiness in the Force, like clouds of dust and mud in a crystal clear pool.

She wasn’t looking for the Vong, however; instead, she felt the Iridonian forces scattered around the battlefront. She felt for the areas of greatest need, where the Yuuzhan Vong threatened to break the defensive line.

The knowledge she sought materialized in her mind’s eye, crystal clear: the Yuuzhan Vong assault on a side street, the defenders holding on with only a handful of blaster rifles and zhaboka. There, there is where the Vong will break through.

Or would, if I don’t go there.

Lightsaber in hand, she turned to orient herself. Then, with a swiftness that could only be granted by the Force, she began to run towards the already-engaged battle.

Kelta Rose stood in the bridge of the Cathleen, her back resting against a deactivated console. As was quickly becoming usual, the crew was swiftly moving about its tasks. Orders floated across the air as officers half-shouted to make themselves heard.

To the Jedi’s eye, however, they were moving slower than they had on previous days. They’re tired, she observed distantly. The constant warfare, dawn to dusk with only a few precious hours to sleep, day in and day out. It’s wearing them down.

She relaxed and allowed the Force to flow through her. With it carried the emotions and sensations of a million sentient beings, information that she would never decipher. I could spend a lifetime exploring just what I feel at this moment and never understand, never comprehend it all.

Still, the flow of information had flavors, commonalities across broad swaths of the Zabraks she could sense. Her mind flashed back to a lesson with Master Skywalker on Yavin IV as she sampled their emotions.

It is easiest to feel the minds and emotions of your own race—their patterns are most similar to your own. Attempting to manipulate another’s mind becomes even more difficult the further their mind is from your own. When I went to Jabba’s palace as a Jedi Knight, I was able to use the Force on Jabba’s majordomo, a Twi’lek named Bib Fortuna, with some difficulty to get me an audience with Jabba. When I tried to use the Force to manipulate the Hutt, I failed outright—his will was stronger and his mind far more alien.

Kelta wondered for a moment why she was able to sense the Zabraks so clearly. Maybe it’s because of my time on Zephyr Base, or my time with the Sanshir clan when they adopted Adreia as one of their own.

The Force carried to her their feelings, as clearly as though they were etched in transparisteel in meter-high letters. The excitement of the early battles was gone, as was the anticipation. In place was a small amount of dread but far larger doses of commitment, of dedication to the preservation of Iridonia. Fear came to her, too, but it wasn’t the primal, heart-wrenching fear she’d felt in the first few engagements. This was a more distant fear, a fear of dying, yes, but of losing friends and family and comrades-in-arms; it was fear set aside to deal with the task at hand.

All of it, though, was flavored with sourness of exhaustion. The Zabrak troops were fighting endlessly against an implacable foe. As they slowly gave ground to preserve their lives, they were wearing down. Commitment and the knowledge of the price of failure kept every Zabrak warrior from backing down, brought blaster rifles to bear and zhabokas to hand. Sleep was in short supply, but rest was not to be found while the Vong threatened their homes and lives.

Even from the support crews, she felt the weariness. Starfighter support crews, responsible for patching up Iridonia’s all-important aerial defenses, worked around the clock to keep their charges in the air; medical crews ran on caf and stubbornness as they dealt with casualties; transport pilots and crews slept at their stations when not on duty, knowing their responsibility to keep supplies moving was critical.

The bridge crew, coordinating Rak’Edalin’s defense, was arguably the best-rested, but even amongst the officers their strength flagged. Kelta had no doubt that many of the warriors on the front line believed the officers were resting easy after the day’s fighting was done, but the Jedi knew better. When sunset brought an end to the day’s fighting, those officers were analyzing the results of the day’s battle, looking for new tactics and strategies, careful to analyze for any changes to the enemy’s own strategies.

From all the sentients she felt, Kelta now only felt a single being whose energy had not flagged. Only one Zabrak was filled with energy, was alert, was ready for the day’s fighting.

Halyn.

How does he do that? she wondered. There’s no trace of weariness in his presence. I know he’s not sleeping any better than anyone else. Everything I’ve heard says he’s been down working on that wreck of a freighter every night after the fighting’s done.

Stims, maybe? If I couldn’t feel it, I’d think it’s some façade he puts on for his officers, but he can’t fool the Force.

She tried to avoid thinking about what was in her heart. You really do still love him. Why? He left you. He wouldn’t say anything last night. He brushed you off again, wouldn’t admit the emotion I could feel rolling off him.

And what Deuce told me, about Halyn talking about me. About his orders to contact me if something would happen to him, and having a message to play for me. Why does Halyn always have to play things so close to his chest that he can’t even admit his own feelings to himself?

Kelta closed her eyes, submerging herself in the Force again, letting its flow flood away her thoughts and fears about Halyn. In its wake, she found peace: the peace of acceptance, of giving up her attempts at control, of trusting the Force to carry her through today and the days ahead.

The peace was short-lived. Death shuddered through her, cold tendrils as Zabrak lives were snuffed out. The day’s battle was clearly on, as fear and anticipation spiked through her.

The moment after, clearly, she sensed a different type of anticipation. It was not the anticipation of a warrior meeting a warrior in combat, as she felt throughout the Zabrak defenses.

It was the anticipation of a hunter stalking his quarry. The anticipation of a predator prepared to spring on its prey, to rip the throat from its helpless victim.

As she wondered whose feelings she sensed now, and why the change, Anishor and Li Coden entered the Cathleen’s bridge.

The next person to enter was not whom Halyn expected. The Zabrak was nineteen years old, not particularly handsome but not unattractive, though his dark jato and brilliant green eyes were striking. His expression was unhappy, and he wore a blaster pistol at his hip with a zhaboka slung over his shoulder.

Halyn rose to his feet as the young Zabrak saluted. Instead of returning the salute, he nodded at him. “What can I do for you, Edlin?”

Argus and Allanna’s oldest surviving child was slow to respond. “Uncle, I don’t feel like I’m doing anything useful.”

Halyn frowned at him. “How so?”

“I’m a member of the Zabrak Defense Force, not just conscripted into fighting.” His expression was uneasy, but that was masked by a layer of certainty. “Instead of being out on the front lines fighting the Vong, I was assigned guard duty here at the Cathleen. Any Zabrak who earned his jato could be doing that, and there’s people out there dying in my place.”

The Ul’akhoi leaned back in his desk chair. “I don’t generally interfere with specific unit deployments,” he said at last. Wonderful. Just like his father. Needs to be a hero, out fighting on the front lines. Didn’t learn a thing from Argus’s death.

Edlin raised an eyebrow. “Really, Uncle Hal? You’re going to tell me that you had nothing to do with me being stationed here instead of on the front line?”

And just like his father, the kid isn’t stupid. “You can believe whatever you like,” Halyn said. “Because regardless of what I tell you, you’ve already made up your mind.”

The certainty slipped for a moment. “But…” he shook his head, stopping himself. “Can’t you do something to get me out and fighting, rather than sitting around here watching everyone too young or sick to fight?”

Got him. Halyn suppressed a smile as the younger Zabrak fell neatly into the trap. “The fact that you realized I did have something to do with your station assignment is good, because I have a special job for you in mind. It’s not combat, but it’s critically important.”

Edlin raised both eyebrows at that. “Really, Uncle?”

Halyn nodded. “Really. You remember Sandarie, right?”

The young Zabrak snorted. “Of course I remember Aunt Sandi. She’s only Mom’s best friend since, well, ever.”

A smile crept onto Halyn’s face. “You do know she’s not really family, right? Zabraks and Twi’leks can’t…”

Edlin raised both hands. “Spare me the details, Uncle. I know that Aunt Sandi isn’t family by blood.” He quirked a smile. “Dad explained those details to me a long time ago, so I really don’t need you to explain it.”

“Anyways, I have Sandi working on an extremely important assignment,” Halyn continued. “I can’t stress enough how important her success is. Get my drift?”

“Yes…”

“She was in here not fifteen minutes ago,” Halyn continued. “She’s afraid she’s not going to complete her mission—it’s been pushing her to her absolute limits. She asked me to find her backup if possible. Now, pretty much everyone I trust is already performing some critical duty or another for me, but as you said, your guard duty can be taken over by anyone who can hold a zhaboka and sound the alarm. You up for the challenge?”

Edlin leaned forward in excitement. “What’s the mission?”

Halyn shook his head. “I gave Sandarie the full briefing, but I’m sure the specifics are probably out of date by now. You’ll have to talk to her for all the details.”

“Thank you, Uncle!” he said as he rose to his feet.

Halyn smiled. “Thank me by doing a good job. Dismissed,” he added with a wink.

Anishor barely managed to sidestep a fast-moving Zabrak boy when the door hissed open unexpectedly. The young warrior was gone in a flash. Anishor turned and looked after him. Who was that? Something about his scent is familiar.

The big Wookiee turned back to the doorway and had to duck his head to enter Halyn’s cabin. <Hello, coatrack.>

“Furball,” Halyn greeted him. “Didn’t expect you to be unhappy. And didn’t I tell everyone to leave their weapons at the door?”

Anishor glanced over his shoulder at the hilt of one of his rykk blades. <You only mentioned blasters, not rykk blades or zhabokas.>

Halyn snorted in disgust. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time. What can I do for you?”

<Abi and Li…> Anishor hesitated. How to say this without offending? How to tell him without giving him the wrong impression? He trusts my council above most. <I fear they are not with us.>

“You think they really are working for the Peace Brigade?” Halyn asked incredulously.

Anishor shook his head. <I would smell such treachery on them. But not always is the enemy of our enemy our friend.>

Halyn snorted. “What, they’re going to help the Lusps overthrow me and install someone else as Ul’akhoi?”

<No. > The big Wookiee shook his head. <I think they are loose cannons. I’m not sure they will follow orders when the battle clashes. They are too independent-minded, untrusting of your orders and your plans.>

“They’re hardly alone in that.”

<I understand I am not privy to all your plans,> Anishor rumbled contemplatively. <Of those plans I know of, I have concerns about their effectiveness and the potential for failure. I worry that there are oversights, gaps in your war strategy. But,> he continued, his voice rising, <when the Vong attack, I will follow your orders. I placed myself and my berserkers at your command and trust you to use us as you see fit, in conjunction with your plans, and to use us well.>

“But Li and Abi have no such trust.”

<No. I believe they are loyal to you, to your cause, to the New Republic…but loyal as they see fit.>

Halyn leaned back in his chair, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “You think I made a mistake, then, putting them in command of elite teams.”

<That depends on your strategy, and the importance of these units. If you intend to use them as precision instruments, as your lightsaber in striking the Vong where they are weak, then yes, you made a mistake. If you expect them to operate independently, striking as they see fit, then I can think of none better to lead them.>

“The truth was somewhere in between,” Halyn said dryly. “But as unit commanders, I have them somewhat under my thumb. If I let them run free, I have no way to rein them in.”

<What about the traitor?> Anishor asked.

Halyn shook his head. “That situation is well under control.”

<Why haven’t you brought the traitor to light, then?> Anishor dared.

Halyn raised his chin. “Do you doubt me, furball?”

<Coatrack, this isn’t a game, and I’m not some underling who needs to see you as infallible. I’ve seen you fall plenty of times. We need to root the traitor out.>

“Leave it alone,” Halyn said curtly. “I already told you, I have it under control. Besides, if one of my closest friends could betray me to the Vong, any one of you could. So believe me when I say I have it under control. I wouldn’t risk all of Iridonia over my pride.”

Anishor chided himself. You pushed too far, too fast. He’s relying on whatever agent he has in play to keep the traitor in check. Unless, of course, he doesn’t know who the traitor is and he’s buying his agent time to figure out who’s hanging us all out to dry. Aloud, he growled, <I wonder where the Defense Fleet is now.>

“They’re in theoretically friendly space,” Halyn said dryly. “I spoke with Admiral Saret—with Allanna—only a few minutes ago by the HoloNet.”

Or is Halyn unconcerned because the traitor is with the fleet, not here? Is that why he sent the fleet away instead of keeping them here to skirmish with the Vong?  <Have they joined up with New Republic forces yet?>

“Not yet,” Halyn said grimly. “Apparently the three fleets at Coruscant scattered to the corners of the galaxy to pull the covers over their heads. Well, two of the fleets—Antilles’s group is entrenched in fighting at Borleias.”

<Holding the gate open to Coruscant.>

Halyn nodded. “Either to allow the refugees to escape, or to keep the way open for the inevitable counterattack. The New Republic can’t let the Vong keep Coruscant.”

<If the New Republic is preparing for a counterattack, that leaves little for Iridonia’s aid.>

“I never expected aid from the New Republic,” Halyn said mildly.

<No?>

“No.” Halyn left the rest of the conversation unsaid.

It was a debate the two of them had first had two decades previously, when Halyn had crafted plans to crack the Imperial blockade over Iridonia. Halyn had been convinced, and acted on his conviction, that the Rebel Alliance as heir to the Old Republic would never dispatch a fleet to free the world. Historically, Halyn would point out, Iridonia had sided with the Sith when the reoccurring wars between the Sith Empire and the Old Republic would flare up. An Alliance headed by Republic Senators would never lend aid to their ancient enemies.

Anishor had pointed out, each time they had the debate, that the Rebel Alliance had aided other groups that had traditionally been the Republic’s foes. The Alliance leadership had established an uneasy working relationship with various Hutt crime syndicates and smuggler bands, had drafted pirates into privateer fleets, and had accepted members of the old Confederacy of Independent Systems into their ranks. Now, aiding Iridonia, which had willingly joined the New Republic and committed thousands of its troops to the New Republic Defense Force, would hardly be unexpected.

<What’s your endgame, coatrack?> Anishor asked after the silence stretched uncomfortably.

“We wipe out the Vong here on Iridonia.”

<How?>

Halyn shook his head. “Not yet, furball.”

<You do have a plan, though?>

“Of course I do.”

Anishor hated that phrase. Of course, in his experience, usually meant not at all. But he nodded in acceptance. <You don’t have to do this alone, you know.>

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Wookiee opened his mouth to reply, but heard the finality in his old friend’s tone. This conversation is over. Wordlessly, he nodded at the Iridonian Ul’akhoi, turned, and departed the office.

Outside, he glanced around. Where are Li and Abi? I thought for sure they’d want to talk to Hal.

Li Coden hunkered low in the shadow, doing his best not to be seen. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be—the severe damage to the Cathleen meant that long corridors had intermittent lighting at best, with the thin-stretched engineers spending their invaluable time concentrating on critical repairs to keep the old warship going as Halyn’s headquarters, or maintaining the few vessels using it as a base of operations.

The Zabrak woman ahead had not shown any indications she was aware of two New Republic Intelligence agents trailing her as she headed down the corridors, some clear destination in mind. I’ve never been able to navigate the halls of these Mon Cal ships, Li reflected wryly, even before they’ve been  smashed into the ground and twisted all about.

He glanced over his shoulder. Abi Ocopaqui was similarly crouched in shadows six meters behind him, her scatter pistol in hand. Li grimaced. Abi, sometimes I think you want things to get bloody. We don’t know she’s the traitor.

Of course, we don’t know she’s not. The Zabrak woman had left Halyn’s office in a hurry, paying no attention to the two New Republic officers. Her entrance and exit had been too swift for either Li or Abi to confirm or discount her as the traitor, so they’d chosen to make a closer identification.

Before they could catch up to her, however, she had descended into the depths of the wrecked Star Cruiser. Given the lack of useful resources in the shattered hull, Li had decided to trail her rather than confront her. If she’s not the traitor, she’s doing a damned good job of looking suspicious.

The Zabrak turned a corner. Li stayed hunkered down, counting seconds to himself. When he had reached twenty, he rose from his crouch and sprinted down to the intersection. Abi waited until he had reached the corner before rising herself to mirror his movements.

Standard procedure. Follow immediately, and there’s a very good chance of being spotted. Wait long enough for her to move on, and our chances of remaining undetected are far greater.

Li peeked down the new corridor in time to see the Zabrak enter a small chamber—likely crew quarters—as the door hissed shut. Instead of rushing to follow, he again counted silently to twenty before he left the relative security of the intersection. Abi followed immediately on his heels this time, rather than waiting for him to arrive at the door.

A glance at the legend on the door confirmed his earlier guess—the room was indeed crew quarters, likely abandoned shortly after the Cathleen’s abrupt stop in Rak’Edalin.

Abi moved up to the other side of the door, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. What’s our move?

Li considered for a moment. If she’s the traitor, she’ll likely have a villip or some other Yuuzhan Vong creatures stashed in there. We could shoot our way in there, but there could very likely be something very nasty behind that door. If she’s not, we could wind up in a firefight with a friendly. Not a very good solution, either.

He forced himself to think it through. We need to identify her first, whether she’s the traitor or not. If she’s not, we leave her alone; if she is, we take her down. So, identification first. He looked at Abi again. But we want to do it silently, so she never knows we’re here.

The agent fished in his pocket and pulled out a slip of flimsiplast. He showed it to Abi, then mimed sliding it under the door. The blue-skinned Twi’lek nodded in understanding, pulling out a small square and sliding it under the door. She retreated thirty meters into the darkened corridor; Li followed suit.

Abi huddled into another doorway as she thumbed her datapad to life. It took a few moments for a hologram to glimmer to life, and even then it was difficult to see. The perspective was distorted, the images captured by the tiny holocam Abi had slid under the door. Both agents waited patiently as the datapad processed the feed, compiling an ever-more-detailed hologram of the room and their target.

The image of the Zabrak cleared. Li and Abi both studied the image. Her tattoos—or jato—was carved in fine lines, almost delicate-looking. Her hair was pulled into a topknot, her horns rising in a crown around her head. She was beautiful, in spite of her age—Li guessed her to be at least a decade older than himself, and she’d lived a much harder life—but he slowly shook his head. Abi glanced at him and shook her head as well.

Not the traitor we escorted to the Vong commander. Of course, that doesn’t mean there can’t be more than one traitor.

He soaked in the other details of the holo: a single lit candle, a pilot’s helm sitting on top of a neatly-folded pilot’s jumpsuit on the floor, a sparse bunk with wrinkled sheets, an empty caf mug. Just as important were the details he didn’t see: yorik coral, blorash jelly, villips. If she’s the traitor, she’s playing it close to the chest.

It doesn’t look like that, though. It looks more like…a shrine. To a pilot who’s already died defending Iridonia, maybe? Maybe the ex-Imperial who went down behind the Vong’s lines?

Abi shut the datapad down, and the two of them retreated through the dimly-lit hallways. Li knew he’d be hopelessly lost down here without his partner, but Twi’leks had a natural-born sense of direction due to the generations spent in snaking tunnels and warrens under the surface of Ryloth.

She’s not the traitor. At least that’s one suspect off the list. Time to talk to Anishor, then track down the other likely.

Halyn’s door hissed open without warning. The Zabrak looked up from his datapad. “Don’t feel like knocking?”

“Not really, no,” Kelta said with a small smile on her face. “If I knock, there’s a chance you can turn me away.”

The Ul’akhoi snorted. “Hardly.” He tossed the datapad down on the desk. “What can I do for you?”

Kelta hesitated; the uncharacteristic lack of action immediately put Halyn on guard. Why would she come in here if she wasn’t ready to talk about whatever’s on her mind?

“Halyn…” her voice trailed for a moment, but it was under control.  

Barely under control.

“Halyn, what’s your objective?” Kelta asked quietly.

“I’ve made that clear from the beginning of this,” Halyn pointed out. “My objective is to keep the Vong tied up here as long as possible.”

“We’re under siege,” Kelta said dryly. “Who has whom tied up?”

“I disagree,” Halyn said.

“What?”

“We’re not under siege,” the Zabrak said.

The Jedi shook her head. “Hal, have you lost your mind?”

“Possibly.” Halyn stretched in his chair. “Consider our situation carefully. Lay it out for me.”

“The Vong have taken up orbital position,” Kelta said flatly. “They’re blockading Iridonia, cutting us off from any outside aid or assistance. They’ve landed troops here at Rak’Edalin. They have engaged the Zabrak defenses and are slowly pushing their way into the city. We can’t pull back, we can’t escape, and the momentum of the battle is currently in the Vong’s favor.”

Halyn nodded. “Now, consider the situation like a Jedi, not like a soldier or politician. My objectives are to keep the Vong tied up and, yes, save Iridonia from being conquered.”

Kelta frowned. “What do you mean, consider the situation like a Jedi?”

“Detach your emotions and your preconceived notions of warfare.” Halyn couldn’t restrain his smile as he watched Kelta puzzle it out. Slowly, recognition dawned in her eyes. “You know, after twenty years, you’re still using the same tricks. How long will you keep using the same old plans and strategies that you devised during the Civil War?”

“I’ll keep using the same tricks until my enemies quit falling for them.” Halyn smirked.

Kelta shook her head in wonderment. “You know, you remind me of the time my daughter was six years old and tried to wrestle with Kativie. She was completely pinned down, she could barely move, and she kept telling Kat, ‘I have you right where I want you!’ It was absolutely ridiculous, and you’re doing the exact same thing now.”

“The difference being,” Halyn said dryly, “I really do have the Vong where I want them.”

“You’re still absolutely crazy.” Kelta couldn’t seem to stop shaking her head at Halyn’s gall. “So, let me make sure I have this all straight. You knew the Vong would strike at some point, so you prepared a fleet, a massive wing of starfighters, and a small contingent of ground forces. You also knew the Vong won’t be held at bay by your fleet or your starfighters, so you put up enough of a fight to draw them in, allow them to land, and then cut their supply lines with the starfighters.” She frowned. “Then you press all capable Zabraks into service, into defending Iridonia.”

Halyn nodded. “If we would have had a large standing army, the Vong would’ve been prepared for it. We also wouldn’t have been as capable of street-to-street fighting as we are with the natives of the city, the Zabraks who know it inside and out, who are fighting with everything they have to save their city and world.”

Kelta raised her eyebrows. “That’s cold.”

“It’s war.”

“So now, the Vong are fully engaged, taking heavy losses but slowly making ground. Rak’Edalin is slowly being ground down while the Vong send troops over their own dead to continue to fight.” Kelta frowned. “So if the battle turns against the Vong, what’s to keep them from retreating?”

“Their own sense of honor.” Halyn’s smile was grim. “They’ve shown over and over that they’ll fight to the end and never retreat. They’d never leave Iridonia once their toes were in our sand.”

“So now, you exterminate them?”

Halyn’s smile faded. “If I could.”

Kelta nodded. “And this is where the uncertain part of the plan comes in.”

“Yeah.” Halyn closed his eyes. “I didn’t expect the Vong to come in such force, for one. I had also anticipated this siege happening before the fall of Coruscant, when there would be an eager New Republic fleet looking for a pinned enemy to pounce on—we’d be an anvil to the fleet’s hammer.”

“No battle plan survives contact with the enemy,” Kelta said off-handedly.

Halyn tried not to wince, but failed.

The two fell into silence as they pondered the situation. The Vong were caught in a vice of their own making, but Iridonia was stretched thin, unable to take advantage of their enemy’s exposure.

“Halyn,” Kelta said softly. “The war isn’t what I came to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“No.” The Jedi was clearly groping for words as Halyn waited.

After all these years, I should be obligated to make her sweat. Especially after everything that’s happened between Endor and now.

But he couldn’t. Not now. “Kelta, you wanted to talk about us, didn’t you?”

She smiled wryly. “Same old Halyn. You talk just like you plan—you figured out what worked for you twenty years ago and never changed.”

He ignored the jibe. “Yes, or no?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“So talk.”

Kelta shook her head in wonderment. “Halyn, it’s amazing we ever got together. Your ability to talk to women is…”

Halyn shook his head. “Kelta, I’m fighting a war here. I don’t have time to dance around. There’s every chance one or both of us will be dead before this is over.”

“Especially since you don’t want to sit back and let others fight.”

“Have I ever?”

Kelta hesitated, and Halyn could almost see the memories in her eyes. And perhaps he could; perhaps it was some awareness he had due to her Jedi abilities, her natural affinity for bonds and emotions. Or maybe it was his own memories: flying into the line of fire at Tatooine, getting shot out of an A-wing at Lok, his captivity in an Imperial garrison on Talus, a hundred skirmishes across the Outer Rim, being sucked out of a breached gunship here, at Iridonia, and the deadly engagement at Endor that had killed over half of the pilots under his command.

“No, you never let others do your fighting for you,” Kelta admitted.

“So why would that change now?”

“So what about us?” Kelta looked at him. “Do you still remember us? What we were to each other?”

Halyn nodded slightly. “Of course I remember.”

Kelta produced a worn and well-folded flimsiplast sheet, holding it up. “Do you remember this?”

Halyn closed his eyes. Of course she would’ve kept that letter all these years. “Yes, I remember it.”

“It wasn’t until after my husband died fighting Thrawn, that I was raising Adreia, that I realized something: I still loved you. Halyn, I’ve always loved you.” She was shaking now, but the words kept bubbling out no matter what she did. “It nearly destroyed me when you left. I found strength—I had a life after you were gone. I fell in love, married, had a daughter. But I never fell out of love with you.” Her words flowed faster and more frantic, but there was an underlying strength of durasteel. “Now that I found you, Halyn, I don’t want to let you go again. I won’t let you destroy yourself.” Her violet eyes, so striking and unique, stared deep into his emerald ones. “Halyn, I love you as much now as when you walked out of my life twenty years ago.”

Halyn felt a familiar stirring, but ignored it. Now is not the time. “Kelta, I…” He hesitated as her words caught up to him. “Adreia is your daughter?”

The question apparently caught Kelta off-guard as well. “How do you…?”

“Adreia was on the Cathleen during the battle of Coruscant,” Halyn said flatly. “I thought there was something familiar about her…”

“Where is she?” Kelta asked in shock.

“I don’t know.” Halyn shook his head. “When we were preparing to withdraw, she left the bridge to return to her ship. I don’t know what happened to her in the aftermath.”

“Adreia,” she whispered. “Dammit, Halyn, this isn’t fair. How dare you try to throw me off like this?”

Halyn shook his head. “This wasn’t an attempt to throw you off,” he said quietly.

“Promise me something, then.”

“What?” he asked.

“Promise me that, if we survive this, you won’t run off. Promise me we’ll figure this out.” She looked at him with too-knowing violet eyes. “I can sense…”

“Don’t,” he cut her off.

“Then promise me.”

“I promise.”

Sandarie was the first to enter Halyn’s quarters, which was what he had expected. The normally lively, energetic Twi’lek looked exhausted instead—even her lekku hung limply, with no perk and no extra motion.

“Halyn, why did I let you talk me into this?” she said in a low voice.

“Because you know, in your heart, that you really wanted to.” Halyn let a smile touch his lips. “You know you didn’t belong in a fighter cockpit or firing a blaster rifle or swinging a zhaboka. This is something that allows you to make a difference and do something that you know is important.”

“This is worse than anything I did for you during the Galactic Civil War,” she said flatly.

“Doubtful. I mean, it’s not like I’m asking you to infiltrate an Imperial base to check on a captured officer.”

Sandarie snorted. “You didn’t ask me to do that. You were the captured officer I was checking on.”

“I’m sure I asked you to do similarly stupid things.”

The Twi’lek hung her head. “I don’t know how long I can keep this up.”

“It won’t be forever,” Halyn promised. “Just for a while longer. Besides, I don’t have anyone else I trust that I think could do it better.”

Sandi turned a dark eye on him. If looks could kill, he thought, I’d be in a lot of trouble right now.

“Fine,” she said. “But just remember, you owe me for this. You owe me big, Halyn. I’m thinking pleasure yacht big.”

“These Star Cruisers were built as luxury liners,” Halyn pointed out. “Tell you what, after we beat the Vong off, the Cathleen is yours. A little hull work, patch together the engines, and you’ll be cruising the stars in absolute style. I mean, I think the only thing bigger in private ownership would be Booster Terrik’s Errant Venture, and that wreck of a Star Destroyer couldn’t hold a candle in luxury to a Star Cruiser.”

“So, what, then? I just swing by and pick it up at my convenience?” The Twi’lek’s tone had lightened a bit now.

“Well, you’d be responsible for damages done by the previous owner that are still outstanding,” Halyn deadpanned. “So once restitution has been paid, you’re free to tow it into orbit and take it wherever you want. No matter how many trips it takes you to get all the pieces out of Rak’Edalin.”

Sandi snorted. “Yeah, I heard some bad things about the Cathleen’s last commander. He did some stupid things, like belly-flopping a warship into a planet.”

“Anything else?” Halyn asked.

The Twi’lek sighed and shook her head. “No. Just…get me some backup, would you?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Halyn watched as the Twi’lek departed. It’s amazing she sticks around and does things like this for me, the Zabrak thought. Blood is supposed to be thicker than water, but she’s one of the few utterly reliable people I’ve known for a long time. Of course, she’s about as close to family as a non-Zabrak could possibly get without being adopted into the clan. As the door slid shut behind the ex-dancer, another thought occurred to him. Maybe I should fix that. After all, it’s not like we haven’t adopted others into the clan, like Kelta and her daughter.

He leaned back in his chair, wondering which of his old friends would talk to him next.

The holocomm whined for attention. Halyn turned and answered the call. A hologram slowly focused from a blur of blue-tinted static into a mostly-clear hologram of Allanna Saret. “Ul’akhoi,” she greeted him.

“Lora,” he greeted her.

She smiled in return, and greeted him in Ul’Zabrak. “Lori. I take it you’re alone?”

“For now,” he said tightly. “The Yuuzhan Vong are trying to tighten the noose around Rak’Edalin. We are fortifying positions and preparing for the long siege ahead.”

“Do you have a tactical update?”

Halyn glanced at the comm board to ensure the transmission was encrypted, plugged a cable into his datapad, and started transferring data. “Uploading our current tactical situation and general strategy to you now.” He hesitated. “Where’s the fleet?”

Allanna’s voice was grim. “We’re still trying to hook up with one of the major New Republic fleets. We’ve been receiving word that Wedge Antilles at Borleias is putting up a terrific fight against the Vong, but we don’t want to get dragged into someone else’s heroic last stand.”

“Aye. If we wanted to sacrifice the fleet, we could’ve done it here.” He shook his head. “What word on the New Republic government?”

“Chief Fey’lya died in a blaze of glory on Coruscant,” Allanna reported. “Took out a bunch of crack Vong drop troops with a suicide bomb. His Advisory Council has tried to usurp power, but there’s a lot of discord about it. Councilor Pwoe has declared himself to be Chief of State and is trying to setup a government at Kuat, but a lot of the surviving Senators are dragging their feet at joining him there.”

Halyn snorted. “A good number of those surviving Senators escaped Coruscant by commandeering New Republic Defense Force warships and fleeing. They’re afraid their toys are going to be taken away if they follow Pwoe.” He shrugged. “It’s probably for the better if he remains illegitimate; he hates the Jedi, and he’s heir to Fey’lya’s failures.”

“I’m not in position to comment on that, sir.”

“Not trying to make you.” Halyn shook his head. “Best to keep your nose entirely out of politics, particularly as the fleet admiral for what’s left of the Zabrak Defense Force.”

“Do you have orders for me, sir?” Allanna asked.

“Just keep your head down and continue to try to link up with the New Republic. And by the way, I swear, if I find that you’ve had the fleet sitting just outside the system this entire time, I’m going to demote you to deck officer.”

Allanna laughed. “I take it you found out about the gift I left behind?”

“Yeah, Li and Abi’s squadrons ran the blockade while we were engaged. They told me exactly how you disobeyed orders.”

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done, sir.”

Halyn mock-glared at her. “You know, I think I liked it better when you were a quiet, meek little thing that was afraid to say anything for fear she’d offend her hero.”

“You may have liked it better then, but I wouldn’t make much of an admiral if I were still that way.”

The Ul’akhoi snorted. “One promotion, and it goes straight to your head.” The door chimed for attention. “Anything else, Admiral Saret?”

“Nothing officially, Ul’akhoi,” she said solemnly.

“Off the record, then?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Are my children…?”

“Safely here on the Cathleen,” Halyn reassured her. “Along with Kativie’s whelps.”

“Thank you, lori.”

Halyn smiled. “I could do no less for my lora. They’re my kin, too.” His smile faded. “Stay safe out there.”

“You, too.”

The hologram faded into a wash of static as Halyn hit the release for his door and pivoted his chair around to see the next visitor.

Abi Ocopaqui stood outside the door as Sandarie exited. She granted the other Twi’lek a slight smile and nod, then turned back to Li Coden.

“So,” she said slow and low. “What the hell is Hal up to?”

Li shrugged. “I don’t know. He always plays things on several levels—that’s how he’s always planned and fought battles. But he usually lets his commanders in on the game so that they have some confidence in him, particularly when some things go wrong.

Abi nodded in agreement. I remember that time on Zephyr Base after Resurrection Squadron got hammered while following his battle plan. Josh Arands and Lucas Benoit-Stark both took a swing at him, in part because their commander hadn’t been in on the plan. That wasn’t the last time, either.

“On the other hand,” Li continued, “he’s hardly infallible. Remember that disaster at Karthakk?”

“Hard to forget,” Abi said dryly. “Trying to impress some corporate bigwigs into manufacturing the new A-wing design for us with that big demonstration run, only to get the deck kicked out from under him by that Imp specialist group, Omega Squadron, and the rebuilt 121^st Imperial Fighter Wing. Landed his ass in an Imp hotbox on Talus that we had to spring him from before the Imps could ship him out for proper interrogation.”

Li nodded. “He didn’t anticipate it, didn’t expect the possibility of betrayal, and had the rest of our fighters completely out of position for support. We lost most of the prototype A-wings and our best chance of getting them manufactured at that time.”

“I remember now,” Abi said slowly. “After that disaster, and that string of defeats Omega handed him, no company on the Rim wanted to touch the A-wing design. We wound up building them piecemeal in garages and shops all over the galaxy until Incom finally took the design on after Endor.”

“Exactly. That whole period was one defeat piled on top of another.” Li grimaced. “Hate to say it, but Iridonia’s looking a lot more like that than any other point in his career.

Abi turned that possibility over in her mind. Lost the orbital battle and let the Vong put up a blockade, put the Rak’Edalin wings out of position to intercept the Vong’s resupply force, allowed the Vong to take a quarter of the city. And, from the look of it, has let a traitor run loose inside his own Council. She shook her head. He’s got the necessary ruthless streak he’s going to need to win this war, but he’s not handling details well and it’s piling up. Much more of this and the Defense Force is going to lose respect for him. Once that happens, the Vong will walk all over him.

“He needs a big victory, doesn’t he?” Abi said at last. “Something to show everyone that the Vong are beatable. Something to show that the war hasn’t been lost from the moment the Vong setup the blockade.”

Li nodded. “He also needs to root out this traitor.”

“Which you don’t think he’s doing.”

“Not effectively, no. I’ve been talking to a few people, asking questions. Reading between the lines, I’d guess he has Sandarie working to identify whoever his traitor is.” Li shook his head. “I mean, she’s smart enough and pretty enough and definitely loyal, but something like that isn’t her speciality.”

“No,” Abi agreed. “Hal told me a couple of times that she did a bunch of intel gathering for him, but she’s never gotten far into the cloak-and-vibroblade stuff. She’s no Intelligence operative, no matter what she did during the war.”

“And there’s no one else here who can do it,” Li pointed out. “I mean, we have people like Anishor, who’s a tremendous warrior, and the Jedi, and a bunch of regular military officers from either the past or the present. One thing Iridonia is short on is people like us.”

Abi’s mood darkened further. “Yeah, it’s like Hal’s forgotten that defense involves intelligence, not just waiting for the enemy to show up at your doorstep and then shooting at them.”

“Exactly.”

“Which means we’re going to have to root the traitor out,” Abi concluded. “You and me.”

Li nodded. “And it could be anyone. Even the people that Hal says he trusts.”

The Twi’lek curled her hand around the grip of her scatter pistol reflexively. “And he very well may not believe us when we tell him.”

The too-thin man’s expression was grim when he nodded. “He may never forgive us.”

But when we find this traitor, we’re going to have to remove her, Abi thought silently. Li knows it, too. Halyn may just be too close to the traitor to find her, and I don’t think Sandi has the skill to do it.

“So, what do you think?” Li asked. “Do we tell him what we’re doing?”

Abi shook her head. “No. Beg forgiveness afterwards, if we need to. But it doesn’t pay to tell him—we’ll do it, and deal with the consequences afterwards.”

Li tapped the button on Halyn’s door for admittance, but it didn’t immediately open. “Huh. Wonder what he’s doing?”

“How are we going to do this?” Abi asked tightly. “We both agreed to take up some slack positions in Halyn’s elite teams. Those are going to require a lot of time.”

“Did you look over the information he sent us?” Li asked.

The Twi’lek shook her head. “I haven’t had time.”

“He’s still calling in every member of his little war council ever three days,” Li said. “To get rotating status reports and make modifications to his strategy. When we’re here, we maximize our time here to investigate. As far as I’m concerned, finding the traitor is even more important than any the jobs he’s asking us to do.”

Abi turned back to the door to tap the open button again, but before she could react a female Zabrak brushed past her and straight into the suddenly-open door. The Twi’lek opened her mouth, but before she could speak the door hissed shut again.

“Who was that?” Abi asked.

Li shook his head. “No idea.”

“Jess, you wanted to see me?” Nisia Eisweep asked.

Halyn frowned at her. “Where have you been?”

“Sleeping.” She returned his frown with one of her own. “You should try it, Jess. You look like hell.”

He shrugged. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“So what did you want to see me about?” Nisia asked.

He studied her for long moments before answering. She had, long ago, been one of his lieutenants when he was a pirate chieftain, a trusted second who was capable in battle and loyal to his position. Nisia had been no more bloodthirsty than his other lieutenants, though hardly any less. Her skill and dedication had allowed him to place confidence in her, daring to turn his back on her activities while resting assured that she wouldn’t slide a vibroblade into it.

That Nisia seemed, in some ways, to be long gone. Her expression was as tired as every other face he’d seen this morning, save perhaps the two Jedi. Nisia’s eyes, though…

Red-rimmed and bloodshot, but not just from sleep deprivation and weariness. She almost looks like she’s been crying. But why would she…? Lenn? It’s hardly Nisia’s style to become attached. Maybe she’s just been afraid she’s going to die here.

“I have a special task for you,” he said carefully. “One that’s important for Iridonia’s immediate and future survival.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Sure that’s something you want to assign to me and not little Kat or the big Wookiee?”

“No, I think you’re especially suited for it,” Halyn riposted as he leaned back in his seat. “It may not be robbing someone blind, but you’re more comfortable with galactic scum than anyone else I have available here, except maybe Abi. And make no mistake, this mission will have plenty of scum to deal with.”

“What do you want me to do?” Nisia asked, leaning forward in interest now. “You’ve definitely got my attention, Jess.”

Halyn smiled sweetly. “I want you to hand-pick a team from the troops we have guarding the Cathleen—no more than twenty or thirty—and raid one of our armories. I’d advise going heavy on E-Web heavy repeating blasters and don’t waste time with light arms.”

Nisia smiled. “This is sounding fun already. Where do the scum come in?”

“Then you’ll take your equipment and team, and hole up in the Council meeting chamber. I want you to turn that building into a fortress that the Vong can’t penetratrate.”

The pirate’s visage twisted in shock.

“When you hole up, I need you to pin the Council down there, too. I don’t doubt that the damned Lusps are plotting some way to remove me from power right now, and I can’t afford that. So lock it down tight, keep the politicians under guard there, and don’t let them leave. The Vong will be hitting the Council soon, I’m sure, and I don’t want any possibility of them getting killed.”

Nisia shook her head disbelievingly. “You always come up with the weirdest plans, Jess.”

“The Council chamber should be easy to fortify,” Halyn continued. “There’s nice big open spaces around it that should let you set up kill zones. We’ve got plenty of starfighters to keep the Vong from strafing you to death, and they can’t get any of their big artillery that far into the city.” He smiled. “So when the Vong come, just keep cutting them down.”

She snorted. “Sure. Here I was hoping you were sending me off to Hutt space or someplace fun, but instead you’re stick me in a room with a bunch of politicians that’ll make me look like a saint. Next time you call, Jess, and promise me interesting work, I’m going to say no.”

“If I hadn’t called you, you’d be asleep in some freighter bunk somewhere. You have to admit, Nisia, I’ve made your life way more interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?”

“Yeah, of the ‘We’re all going to die’ persuasion.” Halyn leaned forward. “Can you do it?”

Nisia nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Can I shoot the politicians?”

“Only one or two. We’re going to need the rest after we’ve driven the Vong off.”

“I’ll make sure I pick my targets carefully, then.”

Halyn paced restlessly back and forth across the Cathleen’s bridge. Only a handful of people were present: Anishor, in a restless meditation of his own was sharpening a rykk blade; Kelta Rose, standing in a stillness which bespoke her hard-earned Jedi discipline; Sandarie, seated in a bridge crew chair with exhaustion dragging at her features; Li Coden, dressed in a pilot’s jumpsuit with a blaster strapped to his thigh; and Abi Ocopaqui, restlessly drumming her fingers on a darkened console.

Kelta watched Halyn’s pacing without moving anything but her eyes. Fatigue dragged at her, but she drew on the Force to maintain an alert vigil. A Jedi Knight’s need for rest and sustenance changes as she grows in the Force, Kelta remembered vaguely from some almost-forgotten lesson. A Jedi can also draw directly on the Force for strength, but there is a cost for such actions. We are luminous beings, not crude beasts, but our physical selves have limits. Exceeding them now requires payment later.

She finally stopped watching Halyn to instead turn her eyes to the pair of New Republic operatives: Li Coden and Abi Ocopaqui. She had to search deep in her own memories to recall anything about the two.

Li Coden was a squadron leader and a pilot. He flew as part of the air cover during the battle of Restuss. Halyn was his XO for a time, back in…what was it, Sabre Squadron? She frowned. I don’t remember anything that would’ve put him in the profile of a New Republic Intelligence agent. Of course, that was all twenty years ago, and a lot could’ve happened between then and now. I only met him a few times, too, so maybe I’m relying too much on what Halyn told me about him. She probed him gently with the Force, and bits and pieces of his personality floated to her like a delicate scent on a quiet breeze. He has a fighter’s edge, but he’s not naturally the devious type.

She allowed her gaze to slide to Abi Ocopaqui. I don’t remember ever meeting Abi, though Halyn spoke about her at length a few times. What he told me about her, though…she definitely fits the mold of a spook. She’s deadly as a pilot and as a commando. She’s cunning, too—the only bounty hunter who figured out that Jessik was also Lance, the Rebel pilot and officer. Halyn told me she’s more than a bit bloodthirsty, and didn’t hesitate from frying Imp loyalists during the Civil War. She ran a critical eye over the Twi’lek. Even after all this time, she’s still attractive. She and Sandi really do look enough alike to be sisters. Hesitantly, she opened her Force senses to Abi’s presence. If she were a Jedi, I think she’d be on the dark side, Kelta admitted to herself. If not, she’d be walking the line and pushing it all the way. There’s no mercy in her for her enemies.

Her eyes floated to Sandi and Anishor in turn. They’re both tired. Sandi especially, Anishor not as much. The constant fighting is starting to drag on them.

And me, she admitted to herself. This fighting just doesn’t seem to let up. The Vong keep pushing and pushing, and Halyn keeps pushing to keep everyone fighting back, making the Vong pay for every meter of territory with their blood.

She finally returned her attention to the restless Zabrak. I don’t know how or why, but it’s like he’s not feeling the pressure everyone is. He feels as bright and energetic as ever. Tenatively, she reopened a very old bond, one she had consciously chosen to close off years before.

The suddenness of the connection took her breath away. When Halyn had left her oh-so-many years prior, not long after the battle of Endor, she had closed off the connection the Force had tied between them. Even after two decades of intentional suppression, the intensity of the bond was enough to make her gasp.

Energy and willpower seemed almost a tangible thing. Her own privately admitted weaknesses and doubts seemed flushed away by the surge of confidence and strength.

Halyn’s own uncertainty came to her as a subtle aftertaste, one that soured in her mouth. He’s determined to win this war, but he’s not sure he can do it. She almost laughed at her observation. That’s what every military leader everywhere in the galaxy since the beginning of time has probably thought, Kelta Rose.

What surprised her most, though, was the direction of strength. Her ability to form bonds often allowed her to take another’s pain into herself, offering strength and comfort in return. This time, though, was inverted: his determination flowed into her, and her failings into him. Yet, as near as she could tell, he hadn’t felt it.

“Where are they?” Halyn grumbled aloud, still pacing the bridge.

<Patience, coatrack,> Anishor said. <Don’t you feel it?>

“Feel what?”

<The exhaustion. You cannot push everyone to fight continually, with every waking moment. You will burn the strength of your troops in the sprint when they should be preparing for the distance.>

Halyn stopped and sighed. “Of course.”

Kelta pondered at the exchange for a moment, wondering what was left unsaid. How is Halyn holding up? Is he shooting up on spice or stims? She felt for him in the Force again, but could find nothing out of place. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a Jedi and drawing on the Force to keep going. That’s the only way I can continue.

“Who’s missing?” Abi asked. The lithe blue Twi’lek was still drumming fingers on the inert monitor, but her other hand was rested on the butt of her scatter blaster.

“Ceikeh Alari, Kryi Rinnett, and Nisia Eisweep,” Halyn replied.

“The New Republic Zabrak Senator, the Iridonian starfighter coordinator, and a pirate queen,” Kelta translated.

“Nisia’s not a queen,” Halyn snorted.

“Oh? When you were a pirate king, she wasn’t your queen?” Kelta asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hell no. She’s too much of a thief.” Halyn shook his head. “Force knows if I’d have gone to bed with her and nodded off, I would’ve woke up with all sorts of things missing. Who knows what she would’ve stolen?”

Anishor chuckled and cut off any response from either Abi or Kelta. <I think this is the best you’re going to do, coatrack.>

The Ul’akhoi frowned. “It’d better not be. I need my starfighter coordinator on station when the lasers start flying.”

<I have no doubt she will be,> Anishor said politely. <But that’s still two hours away, and she won’t do a capable job of coordinating if she’s sleeping on her feet.>

Halyn grumbled something under his breath. “Fine, then,” he said. He lifted his datapad up and tapped irritably at it. A moment later, a tactical hologram swam into existence in the open bridge. Halyn stepped back from the massive display to allow the others present to examine it.

“This is the best tactical display the night crew has been able to put together, based on reports from our forward lines and what we can glean from the Cathleen’s sensors. The Vong have knocked out all our remaining satellites, so anything additional we need will come down to starfighter recon flights. Given the size of the area we’re working with, it shouldn’t be hard, but it’ll be additional combat missions and a delay in getting some of the data we’ll need. Fortunately, though, our out-system relay for the HoloNet has remained untouched.”

Abi cleared her throat, drawing Li’s attention—along with the other occupants of the room. “That’s not true,” she said apologetically. “The Yuuzhan Vong knocked it out well before we made landfall. Your Admiral Saret left a frigate out in a far orbit to act as a mobile relay to ensure communication lines stayed open.”

“Very thoughtful of her,” Halyn said dryly. “I take it that’s where you’ve been hiding?”

Abi nodded but refrained from speaking further.

Li Coden studied the city tactical hologram and suppressed a whistle. “The Vong push in has taken that much of the city?”

“Near as we can tell, yes. The actual calculations,” Halyn consulted his datapad for a moment, “suggest that twenty-three percent of the city is directly controlled by the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Li gritted his teeth. If the Vong can keep up that pace, they’ll have overrun the city long before any relief force can arrive. The blue-tinted hologram was tinged with red throughout the Yuuzhan Vong-held area. Too bad we can’t just carpet-bomb the Vong and be done with it, but I’m sure the Iridonians would like something left of their capital when we’re done.

Anishor was studying the hologram more closely now as well. <Are these buildings still intact?> he asked, pointing a claw at the clusters of structures now inside the Yuuzhan Vong’s lines.

Halyn shook his head. “The Yuuzhan Vong hate pretty much everything we’ve built. They’re knocking down whatever they take. Of course, some of our front lines have been bringing down our buildings themselves to slow the Vong’s advance.”

<Is that working?>

“As well as could be expected. As long as they keep it up, though, we’ll continue to have the advantage.”

“What advantage?” Kelta Rose asked. Li’s eyes lifted to her for a moment. What’s a Jedi doing out here, anyways? I know she and Hal were an item way back during the war, but everyone said they split up after Endor.

“We’re denying them cover,” Halyn explained. “The Vong won’t use our equipment or weapons, but they can use a standing structure for cover or as a sniper point just as well as we can. The debris also makes it harder for them to move their bigger creatures, like the rakamats, into play against our troops. We want to keep forcing them into street battles, house-to-house fighting, up close and personal.”

“But isn’t that where the Yuuzhan Vong play best?” Sandarie asked.

Abi interrupted before Halyn could explain. “The Zabraks don’t have a battalion of repulsor tanks or artillery weapons, at least not here,” she pointed out. “What they do have is a lot of people willing to swing sticks at armored Vong warriors. By keeping the fighting in close quarters, they deny the Vong the ability to use their heavy stuff and give the average Zabrak a better chance. Of course, the difference is like twenty-to-one instead of thirty-to-one.”

Halyn ignored the Twi’lek’s jibe. “The more heavily we can tie them up in fighting here, the better chance we can keep them from pulling back or moving out somewhere else.”

Li shook his head. “Boss, this whole thing’s crazy.” He considered whether he really wanted to say his next thought, but forced it out anyways. “I don’t think you can win here.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Halyn said gruffly. “We’ve got some advantages that we haven’t started using yet.”

And the Vong aren’t hesitating to use theirs, Li thought grimly. He forced down a bubble of frustration. Neither of the Zabraks that Anishor identified as potentially traitors are here. Are they doing some task on behalf of their masters right now? Dammit, Halyn has to start taking that part of this more seriously.

<What advantages?> Anishor asked.

Halyn hesitated. Or maybe he has something in play, and that’s why he’s keeping quiet about his actual plans? Li questioned.

“Your berserkers, for example,” Halyn said at last. “I’ve been intentionally keeping them out of combat so we have a surprise ready for the Vong when the right moment comes.”

Anishor studied the Zabrak for a moment, and Li knew something unspoken had passed between them. Have those two been conspiring? He shook his head. All this time as an Intelligence spook is making you paranoid. “So what do you want us to do?” Li asked aloud.

“I’m still working on some orders,” Halyn demurred, “but I’m going to be splitting up our little council of war here. I think we’re going to have better success once I’ve moved some of you into play directly against the Vong.”

“Who are you moving where?” Abi asked warily.

“Well, first it’s about who stays here on the Cathleen. Anishor, I want you and your berserkers here just because we’ve got a half-dozen of our Muurians operating out of a makeshift hangar.”

<I thought the Cathleen’s hangar was crushed when you crashed,> Anishor pointed out.

“Makeshift.” Halyn grimaced. “One of the splits in the hull is large enough to land freighters in. A lot of the Cathleen’s survivors are working out of there to provide support for our freighters.” He turned and looked at Kelta Rose. “Kelta will also be staying attached to the Cathleen as an advisor, or until I can figure out a place to put her.”

Kelta sketched a mock bow. “As you command, Ul’akhoi. We Jedi live to serve.” Her expression lost its sarcasm and took on a more serious tone. “Kativie, too?”

Halyn shook his head. “Katie is staying on the front lines for now. It’s good for morale.”

Li frowned and leaned over to Abi. “Who’s this Kativie?” he whispered.

The Twi’lek shook her head, but Anishor had caught on and smiled toothily. <The coatrack’s little sister, and a Jedi to boot.>

Halyn sighed. “It’s good for our troops to have one of their own, a Zabrak Jedi, fighting on the front lines,” he said with a trace of irritation. “Besides, fighting is her natural talent. Now, can I continue?”

“Now that you have my permission, yes,” Abi replied straight-faced. Li barely suppressed his laugh. So funny, and at such a bad time.

“Kryi Rinnet will also be staying here,” Halyn continued, his tone professional again. “She will continue to coordinate our starfighter defenses here at Rak’Edalin.”

“Is she going to send your fighter wings into the Vong fleet and leave a big gaping hole in your defenses?” Li asked, his mouth engaging before his brain. You moron, he berated himself. Could you have been a little less subtle? He rethought his statement. There’s a damned good chance she’s the traitor. She had perfect opportunity to help the Vong land reinforcements.

Halyn ignored the question. “Nisia Eisweep is going to take a team and secure the Council,” he continued. “I’m pretty sure the Vong will make a move on it sooner or later, and I’d rather she’s dug in with a squad and a dozen heavy repeating blasters before they try it.” As he spoke, the squat structure replaced the large tactical hologram as the primary display. “It’s extremely defensible and, with heavy equipment and a good supply of rations, they should be able to hold out a long time. It will also keep the Council safe from any attempts the Vong might make to grab them and use them against us.”

Anishor chuckled. <I’m sure the politicians will love having armed forces underfoot.>

“I think it’s more likely the armed forces will have politicians underfoot,” Kelta said dryly.

“Li, I need a special operations commander for the air,” Halyn continued. “It’s not a cushy job like the rest I’m handing out, but if you’re willing, I’d like you to do it.”

The old pilot straightened unconsciously. “What’s the assignment involve?” he asked cautiously.

“You’ll get a squadron or two to command. You’re my reserve group for when the Vong are trying to decoy us, like they did to get the landing force down. While the fighter wings follow the Vong’s tune, your group will be responsible for thwarting whatever they’re really after.”

Li mulled that over in his head. If I’m flying an A-wing or X-wing somewhere, I won’t be here, uncovering the traitor. On the other hand, maybe I can make a difference in the air. Or maybe I can do both. “Where will we be based?” he asked. “Here on the Cathleen?”

“No,” Halyn said with a shake of his head. “Our makeshift hangar here might be enough to support the Muurians, but they don’t have the equipment or space to operate a squadron. I’ll have to move you out to one of the hangars outside the city.”

The officer gritted his teeth. Are you doing this on purpose, boss? he wondered. You’re doing a good job of taking me out of play against your traitor. “I’ll do it,” he said at last.

“Good.” Halyn nodded at Sandarie. “You’ll continue your current assignment.”

The Twi’lek nodded tiredly without comment.

“And finally, you, Abi,” he said as he turned to the other New Republic operative, the only other person Li knew could identify the traitor.

The ex-bounty hunter raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I keep getting complaints,” Halyn said slowly, “about how a general and commander shouldn’t go gallivanting off across the battlefield when he should be commanding his forces from someplace safe, like the bridge of a wrecked capital ship.” His chuckle was self-deprecating. “So as for you, I’d like you to lead a commando team in the coming weeks. You’ll be doing the same thing Li is doing—while he’s leading a team in the air, you’ll be on the ground.”

Dammit, boss! Li screamed silently. Are you trying to let the traitor go free?!

The Twi’lek mulled it over for a few moments. “I’ll do it, on one condition,” she said at last.

“What’s that?”

“That when this is over, you rebuild my Y-wing,” she said in a low, threatening tone. “From the frame up. I liked that Y-wing, and you had to go park a capital ship on it.”

Halyn snorted. “From the frame up, I promise.”

“Good.” The Twi’lek patted her scatter pistol in its holder. “If you don’t come through, I’ll hunt you down and take it out of your hide.”

“A Zabrak-hide pilot’s couch won’t be comfortable,” Halyn pointed out. “Especially with the horns poking you.”

“I’ll make sure I have a headwrap tied over the horns,” the Twi’lek stated pointedly.

“Does anyone have any questions about assignments?” Halyn asked, switching gears again.

Li shook his head. Boss, I hope you haven’t just made a very large mistake. You’re you, so you have plans in motion that we don’t know about, but this is for Iridonia. If the Vong take the world, they’re not going to be satisfied until every Zabrak is dead or completely broken.

“If anyone has private questions or concerns, I’ll be in my quarters for the next hour,” Halyn said with a faint smile. “Please leave your blasters at the door.”

“Sir, the Yuuzhan Vong have made landfall,” Kryi said tersely. “No transports are left airborne. Our squadrons are strafing targets on the ground now, with limited success.”

Halyn grimaced. With the Vong on the ground, they can concentrate their voids entirely on defense. To take them down is going to take extended time over target, and… “Reports of ground resistance?” he asked sharply.

“Yuuzhan Vong have moved anti-aircraft weap…er…creatures into position,” Kryi replied after a moment. “The wings are taking losses.”

“Order a fallback,” Halyn instructed. “We need any fighters with enough fuel to fly to stay overhead and cover our troops inside Rak’Edalin. They’ve already lost major ground.”

“Issuing the order now, sir.”

“Good. Comm, patch me through to Red Leader.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the comm coordinator replied. “Sir, we no longer show Red Leader on the comm waves.”

Halyn frowned and turned to Kryi. “Rinnet, where’s Kaman?”

Kryi searched her status displays, then shook her head. “His transponder cut off about a minute ago.”

The Ul’akhoi grunted. “He wants to stay and fight.”

“No,” Kryi said with a shake of her head. “Sir, he disappeared before I issued the order.”

Halyn’s blood ran cold. Lenn, what the hell are you up to? “Can we get a visual contact with his fighter?”

Kryi was slowly shaking her head continually now. “I just ran backward through the sensor log, and I had a good tracking feed from one of the other interceptors up there. His trio punched through the Vong defenses over their encampment; all three of the fighters disappeared. Two of them were destroyed in the air, and it appears Lenn went down.”

Halyn closed his eyes. Dammit. No, Lenn, not you. “Start rotating squadrons in for refueling. I want a heavy CAP in place until sundown.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the Cathleen’s bridge. Eyes followed him as he did, some accusing, some sorrowful, but none, to his perspective, forgiving.

Darkness fell across Rak’Edalin. As in previous days, the Yuuzhan Vong and the Zabrak forces withdrew to lick their wounds and count their dead. Squad leaders issued orders, reorganized forces, devised new tactics. Battalion commanders  rotated battered squads of fighting men off the front line, moved fresh units into play. Zabraks dug in for another day’s siege, tearing up duracrete with power tools to create defensive positions, fortifying rooftops with heavy weapons.

In spite of the mortal danger, the silent night found Zabraks eating food scrounged from now-abandoned homes, playing sabacc around glowlamps, and trying to sleep. Some drank a bewildering array of alcohol, from Iridonian home brews to Corellian whiskeys to Kashyyykian brandies powerful enough to put lesser races under the table.

Kativie found her brother where she had the night before: deep in the battered hull of the little Gallofree freighter. Tonight, however, he was not clearing debris; instead, he was up to his shoulders in the freighter’s guts, wiring and rewiring, swearing on occasion as the vessel punished him for his mistakes with cuts, shocks, and burns.

The Jedi Knight shook her head as she watched him from the forward hold’s entryway. “You should be sleeping, big brother,” she advised at last. In spite of her admonishment, Halyn showed no trace of exhaustion—only pain from the day’s events.

“Not now,” he contradicted. He was silent for long moments as he struggled with a bundle of cables that had been cut and fused together, carefully separating individual lines with a vibroblade. “It’s too easy sometimes,” he finally said as he carefully split the fused lines. “Too easy to order attacks and watch the consequences unfold. It’s nothing but numbers and statistics in a hologram, sometimes.”

Kativie had already known what would be troubling her brother. “What happened to Lenn wasn’t your fault.”

“When I was the wing commander of the 118^th back at Zephyr Base, it was completely different,” Halyn continued without acknowledging Kativie’s assertion. “I knew every pilot under my command, to a greater or lesser extent. When I ordered an attack, made a tactical mistake, it was something I felt to the bottom of my soul. Every dead pilot is etched into me for all eternity.” He growled as he cut apart another fused line. “These people, these Iridonian, these Zabraks…their blood is no less on my head than the members of the 118^th, but I don’t know them, don’t feel them.” He sighed and switched the vibroblade off as the last two fused lines came apart. “It’s too easy to order an attack that sacrifices lives for a short advantage.”

“Lenn’s death isn’t your fault,” Kativie said again.

“I shouldn’t have ordered the fighter wing to press in. I knew they’d take heavy losses.”

“We would’ve taken more losses fighting that many more Vong on the ground,” Kativie pointed out. “You made the right call.”

Halyn snorted as he picked up a fuser and a handful of couplers, leaning into the open panels again to reconnect power and data lines. “Maybe I did,” he finally said. “But that doesn’t make Lenn’s death any less my fault.”

“Halyn, you need to sleep,” Kativie said. “You’re not thinking straight. The General Lance I knew during the Civil War would kick your ass right now.”

The Ul’akhoi turned finally to look at her. “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Because he understood something you’ve forgotten. Big brother, Lenn joined you here knowing he could very well die in the fighting. He believed Iridonia was a cause worth fighting for, and he was willing to follow your orders doing so. He placed himself in the game. So now, quit your moping around; you know he wouldn’t be.”

Halyn grimaced as the fuser drifted too near his hand, filling the cargo hold with the sickly scent of burnt skin. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. Honor his sacrifice by moving forward. Don’t let Rak’Edalin fall because you’re mourning one of your friends.” Kativie closed her eyes. “You know very well that Lenn won’t be the only one of us—those of us closest to you—who will die during this. You can’t let yourself get caught up in that, or all of us who don’t make it will have died in vain.”

“Quit the guilt trip,” he said sharply, but his tone softened. “You should get yourself cleaned up, you know. The blood-and-guts look really isn’t your thing.”

Kativie looked down at her blood and mud-spattered armor and shrugged. “You’re probably right. Are you going to sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s the best I’m going to get out of you, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

Li Coden poked his head into Halyn’s quarters on the Cathleen, with Abi Ocopaqui right behind him. The darkened room was still. “Hello?”

<Come in, Li,> a Wookiee growled. <And the Twi’lek with the scatter pistol.>

Li frowned for a moment. “Anishor, is that you?”

<Of course.> The light slowly raised in the room. <I forget sometimes you furless can’t see as well in the dark.>

“Thanks,” Abi said shortly. “Where’s Halyn?”

<When did you get here?> Anishor asked instead. <I haven’t seen you since, well, since the fighting moved from orbit to here.>

Abi started to retort, but Li cut her off smoothly. “We figured today was a good day to break the blockade. We wound up on the wrong side of the blockade when they pulled this ship out of orbit.”

<Then you would’ve been with the Zabrak fleet, wouldn’t you?>

“Admiral Saret decided to leave one of her frigates behind,” Li explained. “Out past the orbit of the furthest planet. She was afraid that the Vong would find and destroy the out-system HoloNet relay and cut off communications. So we’ve been sitting out there, alongside the frigate’s regular fighter complement, waiting for a good chance to make it to the surface.”

“So now that we’re here, we wanted to talk to Halyn and find out what he’s done about the traitor.”

<I don’t know if he’s done anything about it,> Anishor said with a trace of irritation. <If he has, he hasn’t told me anything about it.>

“Wonderful.” Li’s voice was more frustrated.

“It’s Halyn,” Abi said simply. “We warned him once, so he has to be doing something about it.”

Li turned to the blue Twi’lek. “Oh?”

“Sure. He wouldn’t just let something like that go. It’s potentially a huge blind spot that could come back to haunt him at the worst possible moment. So, he would’ve put someone he trusted completely in charge of rooting out the traitor. Until then, he’s probably compartmentalizing information to prevent leakage from sinking any of his strategies.” Abi shrugged. “Intelligence ops were never his strong suit, but he understood the need for it.”

<Maybe that’s what he’s really got Sandi doing,> Anishor suggested. <It’d make sense.>

Abi’s face twisted in professional distaste. “Abi Number Two is here?”

Both Li and Anishor laughed at the almost-forgotten nickname. Back during the Galactic Civil War, on several different occasions Sandarie had been asked to impersonate Abi Ocopaqui to accomplish some goal in regards to Halyn. Abi and Sandarie had developed a friendship of sorts, though Abi still harbored a grudge about her identity—hard-crafted as a bounty hunter and fighter pilot—being stolen by a dancer.

<Yes, she is,> Anishor confirmed. <She was actually here before Ryian Coron and the Dauntless, and was in Rak’Edalin when the Vong broke through the defenses.>

“So where’s Halyn?” Abi asked again.

<I’m not sure,> Anishor confessed. <He left the bridge while I was in a discussion with Kelta Rose and my berserkers, and I have not seen or heard from him since.>

“Fine, we’ll start searching the ship,” Abi grumbled.

<I have a better idea,> Anishor said. When both of the Intelligence operatives turned back to him, he gave them a toothy smile. <These are Halyn’s personal quarters. He’ll be back here tonight, or at the very least, you can catch him when he meets with the inner circle before tomorrow’s fighting starts up.>

“That’ll work,” Abi said, clearly still unhappy.

Li frowned. “Who will be at the meeting?”

<All the usuals,> Anishor said. <Halyn, myself, Sandarie, Kryi…> he trailed off, then smiled. <I understand.>

Li nodded. “What do you think, Abi?”

The Twi’lek flashed a predator’s grin, and her scatter pistol was in her hand as she replied. “If we see the traitor, we shoot first and ask questions later.”

The grey-and-red astromech whistled in low tones. His exterior was battered and dirty, but he seemed otherwise intact—an analysis that was strongly backed up by the droid’s behavior and excited whistles, bouncing back and forth on his wheels.

“You’re lucky to be intact,” Kelta Rose told the astromech. “You’re probably the only thing that came out of that building in one piece.”

The R2 unit whistled, and Kelta had to dig out a datapad to translate his droidspeak into Basic. There are a few people who can translate that without a computer, but I’m not one of them. Halyn always could, though.

THANK YOU FOR DIGGING ME OUT, the astromech’s translated speech flowed across her datapad. GENERAL LANCE WOULD BE UNHAPPY IF I HAD BEEN LOST.

Kelta frowned as she identified the droid. “Deuce?!”

AFFIRMATIVE.

She shook her head. The Force is either guiding me, or has a twisted sense of humor, she thought darkly.

The R2 astromech “Deuce” had been Halyn’s backseater and partner for nearly two years of battle. He had been dispatched on a shadow operation on Halyn’s orders right about the time the Zabrak had recruited her to keep his flight academy in order, and she had only met the droid a few months before the battle of Endor.

IS GENERAL LANCE INTACT? the droid queried her.

“More or less.  Why?” Kelta asked.

PRIMARY AND SECONDARY ORDERS. PRIMARY ORDERS, IN THE EVENT OF THE DESTRUCTION OF MY NORMAL AREA OF OPERATIONS, ARE TO RETURN TO GENERAL LANCE. SECONDARY ORDERS, IN THE EVENT GENERAL LANCE IS INCAPACITATED, ARE TO SEEK OUT KELTA ROSE.

Kelta frowned. “Halyn must not have updated your orders in a long time.”

MY CONTINGENCY ORDERS WERE UPDATED TWENTY-SEVEN HOURS AGO.

The Jedi’s frown deepened. “Why would Halyn send you to me?”

SECONDARY ORDER SET INCLUDES INSTRUCTIONS TO DISPLAY ENCRYPTED HOLOGRAPHIC RECORDING. HOLOGRAM IS LOCKED UNLESS GENERAL LANCE IS CONFIRMED AS INCAPACITATED.

Kelta pondered that for a few moments. Why would he send Deuce to find me and not Kativie or Anishor? she wondered. He would expect Kativie to step up and take his place, with Anishor backing her up. He still doesn’t trust me—as his skifter, he’s got Kat now, not me.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” she murmured aloud. “He doesn’t care about me.”

AVAILABLE DATA INDICATES A CONTRARY CONCLUSION, the astromech whistled as the translation continued to display on her pad. GENERAL LANCE INDICATED CONSIDERABLE INTEREST IN JEDI KNIGHT KELTA ROSE AS RECENTLY AS TWENTY-SEVEN HOURS AGO.

“What? How would you know?” Kelta asked skeptically.

I HAVE BEEN SERVING WITH GENERAL LANCE SINCE HIS CONSCRIPTION INTO THE REBEL ALLIANCE, the droid tootled. MY MEMORY HAS NOT BEEN WIPED SINCE THAT TIME. DURING MY SERVICE, HE HAS EXPRESSED POSITIVE STATEMENTS ABOUT KELTA ROSE APPROXIMATELY TWENTY-TWO THOUSAND, SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN TIMES. COUNT IS NOT EXACT DUE TO OVERLAPPING STATEMENTS AND PROGRAMMING CONFLICTS ABOUT CLASSIFICATION OF STATEMENTS AS SEPERATED OR CONJOINED.

 Kelta shook her head. This is why I don’t like droids. But still, after all this time? “Deuce, can you play me the message Halyn left for me?”

NEGATIVE. MESSAGE IS LOCKED UNTIL GENERAL LANCE IS CONFIRMED AS INCAPACITATED.

“Figures,” Kelta muttered. Another thought occurred to her. “Deuce, what can you tell me about Halyn’s history after the battle of Endor and he and I parted ways?”

The astromech paused silently, the only sign of activity a flashing red/blue light. It went on long enough that Kelta started to worry she’d tripped some fail-safe when the R2 finally answered. MEMORY IS FRAGMENTED.

“Whatever you can would be great,” Kelta assured him.

SPECIFY TIME PERIOD. REPLAY OF TWENTY YEARS OF INFORMATION WILL REQUIRE MORE TIME THAN IS ALLOWED FOR INFORMATION RETRIEVAL WITHOUT OVERRIDE.

Kelta closed her eyes. How much do I really want to know? she asked herself. Halyn’s not even shared that information with Kativie.

“Cancel the information request,” she said quietly. Let Halyn’s past stay in the past. If he wants me to know, he’ll tell me himself.

“Tell me, Tactician,” Triak Kraal said slowly as he studied the impertinent world below him. “Have we lost the favor of the gods?”

Ret Kraal was slow in answering. “Supreme One, I would think that a question posted to the priests, not to a warrior.”

Triak waved a hand at the insignificant speck that was the homeworld of the Zabrak infidels. “We risk the loss of our own people, an entire domain shamed, because of the mistakes of another warrior at Borleias and the loss of his fleet. To test our worthiness, we are sent here, to an isolated pocket of space, to vanquish a single race and their handful of worlds.

“Yet unlike so many of the infidels we have crushed, they refuse to submit. They fight to the death instead of surrendering. They do not seek peace with us. Even with their fleet shattered and driven from orbit, our own forces laying siege to their capitol, they refuse to submit.

“They are infidels still, yet they fight like Yuuzhan Vong. Unlike other races in this galaxy, they engage our warriors in honorable combat, standing toe-to-toe with us, using filthy tools instead of living weapons, but fighting nonetheless. I know the thought on the minds of all our warriors: shall we find our redemption here, or are we doomed to be Shamed?”

Ret mused his Commander’s words for long moments before answering. “If this is truly a test of the gods for us, the truest method would be to withdraw their succor. They let us stand and fight these Zabraks, an almost worthy race if not for their heretical beliefs. When we conquer them, we prove we are still Yuuzhan Vong, the children of the gods, and their support lies with us. Fail, and we die alone.”

“You believe we fight on our own two feet then? Without the aid of the gods?”

The tactician paused before answering. Triak’s statement bordered on heresy, and it could very well be a trap that would devour Ret. Yet it made no sense for his Commander to lay such a trap, when Triak leaned heavily on his advice for strategies and tactics in the war they now waged. “As you say, so I believe, Commander,” he affirmed at last.

Triak smiled slowly. “When we conquer these stubborn Zabraks, we will be mightier than any domain,” he said with swelling pride. “For no other domain dares fight without the approval of the gods. None will stand against us with the gods’ power behind us.”

If we defeat these Zabraks, Ret amended silently.

“Commander,” a villip tender interrupted with bowed head. “A communication for you.”

Triak snatched the villip out of her hands and dismissed her haughtily. As the tender retreated, Ret studied the horned visage. “The traitor at last makes contact.”

“I apologize, Commander, for my silence,” the Zabrak traitor said shortly. “Your recent actions have left me little time nor room to make contact.”

“What information do you have to offer?” Triak asked. “More tricks and treachery?”

“My master,” Nylah said, “I offer only what I know. The Zabrak warmaster is aggrieved. Your action yesterday resulted in the death of one of his inner circle. His attention wanes.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Triak snarled. “While your General may be a heretic and infidel, his attention does not budge from the battle.”

Nylah inclined her head. “Yet now lies the opportunity. Test my words again for truth. Press your attack, move swiftly, and see if the defenses stand or crumble.”

Triak stared at the villip. “You play a dangerous game,” he said at last. “Betraying your own. Even without your aid, we will conquer this world; if you play me for the fool, you will die screaming.”

“Then so be it,” Nylah said with another incline of her head. “My contacts will be even more brief in the future. New allies of the General have arrived, and they may unmask me if I am not careful. They were infiltrators of the Peace Brigade, and may recognize me on site in spite of the efforts I have taken to conceal myself.”

Ret Kraal couldn’t help but lean in with interest. “Who are these allies?”

“Pilots and New Republic agents. They slipped through your blockade while you were landing your reinforcements.”

Triak frowned. “The New Republic prepares an invasion in force, then?”

“No. These two are renegades, operating without orders. The New Republic has shown no interest in defending a planet that will not evacuate in the face of danger. Besides, there are few in the New Republic’s hierarchy that would lift a finger to help a race that is traditionally their enemy.”

Triak and Ret exchanged glances. “Do not attempt to mislead me,” Triak warned again. “Your race is no friend to the Empire that came before.”

“Not them, no,” Nylah said. “To the Sith. Ancient history.”

Triak nodded slightly. “Go, and bring me something of more value than intrigues and the state of your commander’s mind. Bring me the information I need to conquer these infidel world, and you will be elevated greatly; fail me, and your children’s children will bear the pain of your mistakes.” Before the traitor could answer, Triak inverted the villip, breaking the connection.

“I still do not trust this Nylah,” Triak said after a deep breath. “She promises much but brings little.”

“It is the way of all these infidels,” Ret risked commenting. “They turn against each other so often, what little she offers is all she has. This Halyn Sanshir understands the treachery of his own people even more than we do.” He shrugged. “This Nylah may yet be the key to his downfall.”

“Assassination?” Triak suggested.

“Perhaps. If she is truly among his inner circle, as she claims, she could manage the task. If not, perhaps the information necessary for us to eliminate him would be acquirable.”

Triak’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “Eliminating the Zabrak warmaster would do much to win this war.”

“We must wait, then, for her to again make contact. I will ensure the orders are issued, if you do not handle it personally.”

Triak waved off the statement. “I shall provide the instructions. In the meantime, step up the attempts to unmask this traitor’s identity. With that leverage, we will either make her truly our tool, or destroy her for betraying us.”

“General, the Yuuzhan Vong drop vessels are approaching their safe zone.” Kryi’s voice was still tight with concern. “The rogue squadrons have done a fair amount of damage, but the Vong haven’t taken anywhere near the losses we need.”

Halyn switched the grim tactical display of the city fighting for Rak’Edalin over to an even grimmer picture of the aerial battle. “What’s the status of Iridonian squadrons planet-wide?” he asked.

“Reports are scattered so far, but generally they’ve repulsed the Vong incursions,” Kryi said. “Heavy casualties in some areas, though—they came in such a wide net we couldn’t get proper coverage in the air in places. Some of our cities and settlements were defended by freighters and last-generation fighters.”

“Sacrificing themselves to buy time,” Halyn murmured. “Time for the regular squadrons to pounce and destroy the invaders.”

“Yes, sir.”

Halyn watched the Yuuzhan Vong drop fleet fall like meteors towards the perimeter their ground forces had established days earlier. Lenn Kaman’s wings were in hot pursuit and now nipping at their heels, but pursuit wouldn’t be enough to destroy the Vong. The squadrons belonging to Li and Abi were in the thick of the formation, but were too few to make a difference.

The Ul’akhoi considered his options for a moment. Allowing the Vong to land unhindered would cost them Rak’Edalin. Continuing to press the attack would potentially lead to heavy casualties among the fighter wings—casualties that might cost them dearly in the struggle ahead, whether it be short or long. The third option…

Halyn immediately flinched away from that thought. No, I’m not that desperate yet. Save that for the moment we’ve lost.

“Order Lenn’s wings to press the attack,” Halyn instructed. “Every Vong they kill in the air gives us that much better a chance on the ground.”

“Yes, sir,” Kryi responded, already passing the order along.

Kativie Lusp studied the advancing lines of Yuuzhan Vong and reptoid slave troops. She kept her lightsaber concealed for the moment. The moment I draw it and light it, the Vong are going to come after me. I don’t need that yet.

Blasterfire rained down on the advancing troops, only to be answered by flurries of thud and razor bugs. Blast bugs thundered, echoing the boom of fragmentation grenades and thermal detonators. Kat could see that more than a few of the outlying Rak’Edalin buildings were in flames or collapsed, whether by the design of the defenders, by the attacks of the aggressors, or victims of crossfire she couldn’t tell.

The fighting was growing more vicious, not less, as combatants began to meet on the narrower streets of the city proper. The Vong continued to press forward through the mounting blaster fire, often stepping over their own dead to continue to advance.

Kativie continued to watch the troops, though, her hand straying to the hilt of her lightsaber. I’ve fought dark Jedi and I’ve fought Imperials, her master’s words hummed in her ears. And when I was younger, I always took the fight to the enemy. As I became older and more receptive to the Force, I often found I could make a larger difference in a battle with a smaller effort, if I spent the time to study the enemy and could find a weakness.

The Zabrak Jedi continued to study the advancing troops and asked herself, How can I stop their advance?

More words from her master whispered to her from a memory, this one vivid. She remembered holding her shining green lightsaber blade in an overhead block, taking a blow that bent her elbows and knees and nearly sent her tumbling to the ground. Her master had shook his head at her. When you’re overmatched in strength, Kativie, don’t block. To block is to take the full strength of the blow upon your own blade, your strength against his. It is easier, and a more efficient use of your strength, to parry the attack instead. Turn the blow aside.

So how can I turn the blow aside? she asked herself. How do I turn the enemy aside?

Slowly, she smiled a predator’s grin as she removed her hand from the lightsaber’s hilt and instead reached for one of the grenades clipped to her belt.

Lenn Kaman was in his element now. Coralskippers nipped at his nose, at his heels, but they couldn’t match the speed the Iridonian squadrons had built in their dive. It’s good to be in one of these T-wings, he thought with a smile. A TIE would never have pulled this off.

Very early on in the invasion, New Republic starfighter pilots and tacticians had developed a series of tactics to establish parity with the invaders’ coralskippers. Some had been technological, like using inertial compensator fields to deflect dovin basal attempts to rip away starfighter shields, or using stutterfire to confuse a Yuuzhan Vong craft’s defenses into allowing heavier fire through. Others had been in combat strategies, such as developing the shield trio of overlapping defenses and offensive firepower in place of the wingpair paradigm that had dominated the Galactic Civil War.

Such parity was established because, at the core of it, the coralskippers of the Yuuzhan Vong and the starfighters of the New Republic had similar characteristics, even though they accomplished those characteristics in completely different methods. The New Republic’s starfighters used energy weapons and highly sophisticated missiles to provide offensive capability; the Yuuzhan Vong used organic plasma launchers and magma missile spitters. The galaxy’s natives equipped their craft with ion engines for propulsion and maneuvering; the Yuuzhan Vong grew dovin basals to fling their ships across the stars.

Starfighter designers had created energy shields to fend off attacks; the Yuuzhan Vong relied on gravitic voids generated by dovin basals to absorb enemy attacks. Energy shields had a bonus characteristic: they dissipated heat generated from re-entry into atmosphere, whereas the dovin basal had no similar benefit.

The shielded starfighter wings had built up an amazing amount of speed in the descent, and now were among the Yuuzhan Vong drop fleet. Coralskippers turned to try to engage them, to defend the transports, but were—for the moment—outmatched by the far faster starfighters.

It won’t last, though, Lenn reminded himself as he took potshots at Yuuzhan Vong transports. We have to shed speed or we’ll burn right through here and have nothing left to shoot at. Besides, he added to himself with a glance at his altimeter, we don’t have much time before they start landing.

Rak’Edalin loomed large as he rolled his T-wing to look down at the ground. ”All squadrons,” he said gruffly. “Break and engage by shield trios. Concentrate on the Vong transports, but take down skips if you’re threatened.”

He heard the acknowledgements and washed them from his mind. To his left and right, two T-wings shadowed him closely. It occurred to him that he hadn’t even asked their names. “Red Two, Red Three, stay with me,” he ordered as he kept his throttle to the firewall. “We’re going to try to cut off the head.”

Kativie let out a deep breath as she marched into the largest street leading into Rak’Edalin. The Yuuzhan Vong line continued inexorably inward, pressing back against the Zabrak defenders. Iridonians armed with zhabokas were still charging forward to engage them, but they were fewer and further between, lacking time to group up into effective squadrons. Kativie grimaced as she watched several of her own race cut down by the front of the Vong formation.

Blaster fire continued to rain down on the Vong formation from behind her, mostly from overhead positions. It was answered now not just by flying Vong bugs, but plasma blasts from Yuuzhan Vong artillery beasts. If we could get our starfighters in here, they’d cut those things to pieces, she thought distantly. But they’re tied up.

The air itself seemed to vibrate with the shriek of starfighter engines, punctuated by explosions and the rain of debris as starfighters and coralskippers dueled, with Vong landing craft caught in the crossfire and sent crashing down into the city. Kativie could only see a fragment of the combat above, but by her best guess, the Rak’Edalin wings her brother had sent on the offensive were now fighting the battle above. And losing, she thought as she watched an X-wing fall uncontrolled a half-kilometer away until it was eclipsed by the line of buildings, detonating a moment later. I hope he took some Vong with him. Even if that’s not very Jedi-like.

Speaking of Jedi… She was in position now. Kativie closed her eyes, took a deep, clearing breath, and lowered the hood from her horns. She reached under her cloak and unhooked her lightsaber, extending it in front of her. Then she reached out to the Force, felt it respond and flow.

Your actions determine if the abilities you use are light or dark, her master had taught her. Too many sentients, Jedi or scholars, try to classify the abilities we wield as one or the other. To do so is to miss something important—our powers flow from our actions, not the other way around. As a Jedi Knight who acts as a Jedi should, you won’t call on those dark abilities. You can’t. Just as followers of the dark side struggle with mastering even the most basic of healing abilities, so you’ll struggle with Sith arts. That is, as long as you choose to follow the path of the Jedi.

She could feel it now. She could feel everything. The Force was as vast as space itself, as powerful as a hundred thousand million billion stars, and permeated existence itself. Kativie Lusp didn’t consider herself a particularly powerful Jedi—she didn’t consider herself a Luke Skywalker, or a Kyp Durron—but the Force was with her. Warmth, comfort, strength, and courage flowed into her very bones as the Force flowed through her.

She smiled.

The Yuuzhan Vong were, as always, absent from the Force. Not just absent, she corrected herself. They are like the cloud of mud in the crystal clear pond. That doesn’t mean the water can’t wash them away, however.

She ignited her lightsaber now, the brilliant green-white blade flaring to life with the familiar snap-hiss-hum.

Kativie heard the familiar cries; she had heard them herself on a dozen worlds, had heard of them from other Jedi on a hundred more. “Jeedai!” went up the cry from the Yuuzhan Vong line. Warriors, towering over the much smaller reptoid shock troops, broke from formations, broke their own lines to charge forward at the sight of such a foe.

The Zabrak Jedi stood alone in the street with only her lightsaber to meet the coming wave. She flourished her blade—a salute her master had taught her, which ended with her in her ready stance, lightsaber angled forward to catch the first attack.

Kativie slipped deeper into the Force as she watched. She stretched her feelings further and further out, sensing murky fear and anger and hatred from her fellow Iridonians. Blast fire tracked to follow the charging Yuuzhan Vong warriors, and a few of them went down, but most of the attacks were turned aside by magnificent vonduun crab armor.

The Jedi held her ground, counting the meters as they closed. Four hundred seventy-five. Four hundred fifty. Four hundred twenty-five. Four hundred.

Lenn’s forward shields flared as a burst of plasma splashed over it. He adjusted his throttle minutely, allowing Red Two’s shields to take the forward position for the moment it would take his astromech to reinforce his own defenses. Red Three took the point position a second later, and then Lenn was back in front as his shields came back up to full.

Then the T-wings were over the Yuuzhan Vong lines. More plasma streaked up from land-bound creatures, but they couldn’t track the fast-moving interceptors. And now we strike, Lenn thought.

“Arm torpedoes,” he said sharply. “When we start firing, keep firing—no sense going back to the hangars with a full rack.”

“Yes, sir!” Red Three replied crisply.

“As ordered,” the dour Red Two acknowledged.

Smoke filled the skies now. Lenn forced himself not to think about it, sparing only a moment for the thought, Rak’Edalin is burning, before he was back on the task at hand.

Six transports were ahead of him: the vanguard of the Yuuzhan Vong landing force. A dozen skips covered them. “Target the transports and fire!” Lenn shouted, his thumb covering the launch button.

Blue streaks filled the sky ahead as the warheads launched. He held the button down; more warheads launched as the starfighter’s systems dropped more torpedoes from the rack into the tube, allowing them to fire a half-second later.

He squeezed with his index finger now, too, and orange streaks of laserfire joined the missiles. The two T-wings flanking him similarly opened up with their weapons, the attacks lashing out at the Vong transports now slowing to set down.

Voids sprang into existence to intercept the attacks. Lasers were sucked into nothingness by the intense micro-gravitic anomalies. Lenn hoped for a heartbeat that the distraction would allow the proton torpedoes to slip by. Even a pair of the missiles, detonated in atmosphere among the tight formation, could take down all the transports before they could disgorge their deadly cargoes.

Defending skips accelerated towards the T-wings, and it was only when one of them stopped a proton torpedo by ramming it with its nose—and shattering in the ensuing fireball—that he realized the danger. “Break, break, break!” he shouted.

The triple-engine craft peeled apart, though not in time; Red Three took a coralskipper nose-to-nose, with both fighters lost in the explosion. Lenn glanced back, saw coralskippers closing on Red Two’s tail and turned to cover him. As coralskippers closed on his tail and a glance at the too-close ground showed nothing but Yuuzhan Vong warriors, he allowed himself a thought: Maybe we got a little too deep this time.

Kativie continued to count down meters. One hundred seventy-five. One hundred fifty. One hundred twenty-five.

She forced her grip to relax just a bit on her lightsaber. Not too tightly, nor too loosely, she reminded herself. One hundred. Seventy-five.

At sixty meters, she finally acted. Her mind was so deeply entwined in the Force that she was not sure if it was truly her, or the prodding of the Force like an overconcerned parent. C’mon, child, do you really think that’s a good idea?

She touched the four detonators she’d carefully placed a few minutes earlier with a faint brush of Force energy—just enough to free the restraining pin.

Fifty. Forty-five. She hadn’t quite reached forty when the detonators exploded.

Buildings on both sides of the street swayed as their supporting walls facing the street were savaged by detonations. The groan of overstressed durasteel was music in her ears, and the buildings surrendering to gravity was as gorgeous as any flower her husband, Hakk, had ever given her.

The leading Yuuzhan Vong warriors never saw the unexpected attack as the buildings bowed over them. A few of the warriors further back saw the danger, shouted a warning to their fellows; but it was for naught as gravity exerted her dominance and brought the buildings smashing down.

A hundred Yuuzhan Vong warriors were crushed under the falling duracrete. Kativie never moved as debris fell, the Force protecting her in a bubble as dust and smoke billowed around her. Debris was turned aside without conscious thought, never coming closer than a meter to the small Zabrak woman.

The dust threatened to overwhelm the brilliance of her blade, but it shone through. Kativie felt her lips peel back from her teeth, somewhere between a smile and a snarl.

Then she charged.

The handful of Yuuzhan Vong warriors who had survived the unexpected attack were equally unprepared for the Zabrak Jedi; she cut them down without a hint of danger to herself, but they weren’t truly her target. She continued to charge through the billowing dust and smoke and debris, towards her true target: the reptoid shock troops.

The Yuuzhan Vong had, early on, used organic controllers of sorts to force slave troops to fight on their behalf. The reptoid proxy troops that had first appeared on Dubrillion, however, normally required no such prodding to fight, and the Vong had subsequently neglected to deploy such slave controllers in subsequent engagements.

Now, however, the appearance of an insane Zabrak Jedi with lightsaber blazing through the wreckage that had felled a hundred Yuuzhan Vong warriors was too much for the reptoids to take. Shouts and screams of fear began to rise up, and entire squads began to turn and flee.

Lenn snap-rolled, forcing the coralskipper trailing him to overshoot. Firing as much by instinct and reflex as intent, he stitched it with laserfire. It began to fall away, and his thumb pressed down hard to fire a proton torpedo. He was surprised when no blue trail of fire materialized, no projectile streaked through the air to annihilate the coralskipper.

It took a moment for Lenn to remember why: he had already expended all his missiles against the Vong transports. He hammered the skip again with laser fire, then broke hard to port to avoid another salvo of plasma.

“Red Two,” he said, finally locating his surviving wingmate, “come to two-seventy and push your engines to the firewall. I’ve got your back.”

“Roger, Lead,” the pilot grunted in concentration.

The T-wing turned but didn’t accelerate. Lenn frowned, rolled his craft to avoid another salvo of fire, and adjusted his own course to compensate as he pushed his throttle forward. He opened up immediately with long-range fire, trying to spook the trio of pursuing skips from Red Two’s tail.

They deployed voids to counter his attack instead, continuing to fire on Red Two. Lenn finally realized why: the other pilot’s port engine was trailing fire and listing heavily, barely able to juke out of the way of enemy attacks. “Hang on, Two,” he said through gritted teeth.

One of the plasma balls finally connected, and Red Two’s T-wing turned into a fireball. Lenn would have closed his eyes for a moment in mourning for his failure, but he had no time; the trio of skips that had been pursuing Red Two now turned to attack him instead.

He swore, jerked back on the stick, hammered his rudder pedals. The T-wing slewed wildly, sending plasma fire wide. His astromech whistled at him, chattering about targets and enemies and friendlies, but Lenn had no time for translating. Bloody T-wings and astromech droids. Give me a TIE any day!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Vong transports now setting down. They were barely a hundred meters off the ground and descending slowly. Red Two and Three died for nothing, he thought as he jerked his craft around. That is, if I let those transports land intact.

He pushed the fighter’s nose into a dive and sprayed more laserfire at the ground. Smoke and dust billowed up in turn, and he held the throttle to the stops. Behind him, the coralskippers were all falling in on his tail. In kill position.

Kill this, you sons of bitches. The smoke cloud obscured his view of the transports, but that was just fine by him. As he juked and jinked, plasma balls flashed past him and into the smoke cloud ahead. And, if this works, into those transports.

His heart was in his throat as his fighter flashed into the smoke; deprived of his vision, he had no idea where the transports would be on the other side. It took less than a second to clear the obstruction, and then he was flashing by a bare dozen meters below the landing transports.

The coralskippers following him weren’t so lucky.

Yorik coral met yorik coral in bloody crashes, spinning transports around and obliterating transports. Lenn’s smile was grim as he pulled back on the stick and started to climb, watching as enemy contacts winked out on his rear scope. Better luck in the next life, Vong scum.

Then a loud bang threw him forward into his controls. The world spun insanely outside his cockpit viewport, and he couldn’t make sense of it. Sharp, jabbing pain filled his face and chest and hands, and he had only a moment to realize it was the shattered remains of the starfighter’s instrumentation before the T-wing smashed into the ground.

Kativie’s lightsaber was a shining green blur, moving faster than her own eyes could follow as she parried blows and struck in return, hard, fast attacks that left limbs and corpses in her wake as she cut down Yuuzhan Vong attackers. The humming blade sang a symphony matched by her heart, by the flow of the Force through her, as she fought and killed and fought.

The Yuuzhan Vong didn’t break; they never broke. When the last warrior fell in a heap with his own arms and legs, barely bleeding through the cauterized stumps, the reptoids shrieked and broke for cover. Kativie let them go. Without the Vong to drive them onward, they’re no threat. She felt a moment of conflict. As a Jedi, I let them go…but Halyn would tell me not to let up, because they’ll be back and fighting again soon. If I strike them down now, they can’t kill any of us later.

The choice was robbed of her as the survivors of the fire support team opened up with their T-21 blaster rifles, mowing down the retreating slave troops. There were too many for the handful of snipers to get them all, but the problem was resolved by the reappearance of the Muurian transport that had dropped her into the combat zone. Its heavy ship cannons poured fire into the crowd. The streets below overheated and exploded upward, sending flesh and blood into the air in clouds.

Kativie grimaced. War is not for the Jedi. She shook her head at the slaughter as she turned back to ensure the Vong warriors she’d struck down were dead. Halyn was a pilot during the Civil War, but it was nothing like this. Pilots cloak themselves in the nobility of starfighter combat, because it’s clean and quick. This war isn’t clean nor quick, and a lot more people are going to die.

Satisfied that the Vong had all been cleanly dispatched, she shut down her lightsaber. Even if we survive this, what will this do to the Jedi? The Clone Wars wiped out the entire Order, and there were few Jedi left to fight in the Galactic Civil War. Master Skywalker has trained barely a hundred of us; will any of us still truly be Jedi when this is over?

The survivors of the Zabrak squad were clustered together, some leaning heavily on zhabokas while others stood straight with blasters in hand. One of them looked squarely at Kativie, his eyes blazing. “Should’ve known it’d be you,” he spat. “The Ul’akhoi send you to kill me? I know he sent me out here to die, and since I won’t oblige him or the Vong, it…”

“Jram,” Kativie said coldly. “If you didn’t notice, there’s plenty of Vong here to kill. I’ve got bigger things to worry about than you. Besides,” she added as an afterthought, “if I wanted to kill you, I only would’ve had to wait another thirty seconds.”

The Lusp stared daggers at his sister-in-law. Kativie shrugged. “Jram, I’m out here to win the war. Can’t do that if our front squads get massacred.” She deliberately looked away from him. “Sergeant, pull your men back a few blocks and regroup. We’ve got more volunteers coming up to reinforce you.”

“What about you?” the sergeant asked.

Kativie allowed herself a predator’s smile. “I’m going to delay the Vong. Just get your troops to safety, Sergeant.”

Halyn’s voice was raised in mild alarm. “Do we have identification on the new contacts?” he asked again, his voice carrying over the din in the Cathleen’s bridge. The Yuuzhan Vong had begun a major push into the city, and bridge officers were coordinating ground units in the defense, their voices and orders occasionally overlapping.

“Sir,” Kryi said, “Red Leader is identifying the newcomers as Li Coden and Abi Ocopaqui’s squadron.”

“Can you confirm that?” Halyn asked sharply as he watched the tactical hologram.

“Negative; comm chatter’s been too heavy on the open combat channel to confirm by countercalls or voiceprint recognition.” The starfighter coordinator’s voice was taut with stress. “I have multiple confirmations that the newcomers have scored coralskipper kills and are trading fire with the landing vessels.”

“Are Kaman’s wings going to catch up in time to do any good?”

Kryi shook her head. “Negative. They were too far out of intercept position before we realized what we were facing up there. The Vong transports will be over the city before they can catch up.”

“Do we have anything left in reserve?”

“Not much,” Kryi said flatly. “The few squadrons we have left here are running air support for our troops on the ground, and everything else is spread all over Iridonia trying to turn back coralskipper strikes all across the planet.”

Halyn lowered his head. They suckered us, and I fell for it. If we wouldn’t have tried to launch our preemptive strike, we would’ve had enough fighters here to blunt this landing force. One mistake, and I may have lost us Rak’Edalin. He looked up. “Pull our air cover off the troops. Get everything you can up to intercept the landing force—all our reserve fighters, any armed transports, hell, civilian ships with blasters if you can find them. Anything that can put down a Vong transport or buy enough time for something bigger to catch it.”

“Putting out the call now, sir.”

Anishor put a huge paw on Halyn’s shoulder. <If you pull the air cover off the ground troops, they’re going to lose ground,> he warned. <The Vong will take advantage of it to push hard.>

“I don’t doubt it,” Halyn said tightly. “But if all those Vong transports make it to the ground, we might as well write off the city. I’m not ready to do that yet.”

<But you will be soon?> Anishor asked with a trace of wariness.

“No.” Halyn shook his head as he watched the tactical hologram, gripping the edge of the display tightly. His voice was low and even, hard for anyone further than the Wookiee to hear even if the bridge wasn’t a cacophony of voices and orders. “We have an entire population here that have been raised from birth ready to fight. There are only a handful of worlds aside from Iridonia willing and capable of fielding an entire population of warriors. We can stop the Vong here.”

<You’re sure?> Anishor’s rumble was uncertain. <How many Iridonians will die here to stop them?>

“This isn’t the time to argue about this,” the Ul’akhoi said, his voice rising slightly.

<Halyn, you and I have been friends for many years,> Anishor said calmly. <I’ve never seen you willing to throw lives away.>

“The Vong aren’t the Empire,” Halyn said distantly. “There’s more at stake here than ever. If those crates set down in Rak’Edalin intact, we’ll lose Rak’Edalin and quite possibly Iridonia. With Iridonia goes Zabrak space. I won’t let that happen.”

<All those warriors that are fighting now…>

“Anishor, I don’t have time to do this now. There’s a battle to win or lose.” He spared a look for the big Wookiee. “I know the Cathleen’s crew won’t be able to force you off the bridge, so don’t make me ask you to leave.”

The Wookiee sighed. <Halyn, I…>

The Zabrak shook his head and turned away, raising his voice. “Kryi, where are my fighters?”

Abi Ocopaqui was in her element. The Twi’lek had been many things in her lifetime: bounty hunter, Alliance agent, New Republic officer, Intelligence infiltrator. Many of her professions during her long career with the Republic had nothing to do with flying, but she still found pure joy in the release of starfighter combat.

Her career as a pilot had not been long—several years between Yavin and Endor, flying as wingmate to Halyn Lance in Sabre Squadron. After Halyn’s elevation to General and commander of the Vanguard Wing, later reformed as the 118^th Starfighter Wing as part of the fleet’s reorganization under Admiral Ackbar, she had been drawn further and further away from the cockpit to instead work for Alliance special operations. During those months pulling starfighter combat missions, she had felt the most alive she ever recalled—death-defying missions, bravery, skill.

Of course, at the time, she’d also been Halyn’s lover. In hindsight, they had been a supernova—they created a lot of heat and light, but it eventually collapsed under the stress of their separated lives. Halyn had gone on to become a heroic commanding officer up until the battle of Endor had devastated his fighter wing; Abi had become a distinguished special operations agent, specializing in extraction and deception missions. Halyn had racked up an amazing kill count in the fighter cockpit, while Abi had totaled nearly a hundred lives saved from Imperial Intelligence’s operations.

She’d nearly forgotten how much she enjoyed starfighter combat.

The B-wing starfighter she had borrowed from the Cathleen’s hangar before it had been destroyed was more agile and faster than her Y-wing, though it wasn’t near as tough. Still, she had to allow that the amazing array of weapons at her fingertips was useful.

The coralskipper in her sights was concentrating its dovin basals directly aft, soaking up firepower. Abi continued to hammer at it with laser cannons, then thumbed the controls over to ion weapons and squeezed off a burst.

Ion cannons were designed to disable starships without outright destroying them. Light versions, like those mounted by her B-wing or her old Y-wing, were capable of neutralizing circuitry without major damage. Other starfighters were vulnerable to such fire, but larger vessels often had multiple-redundant systems which would prevent a starfighter from knocking out major systems. Heavy ion cannons, like those sported by Star Destroyers, could outright fry and fuse circuitry, knocking out redundancies and causing major—but repairable—damage.

Yuuzhan Vong vessels lacked reactors, ion engines, computers, or even a single circuit. However, ion attacks weren’t much more pleasant to living nervous systems; not unlike a stun bolt from a blaster rifle, they tended to fire multiple nerves simultaneously, overloading sensory systems and potentially knocking a living being unconscious.

Few pilots would turn an ion cannon onto a living being; it was a gross waste of power when a single shot from a blaster rifle would effectively accomplish the same thing.

That is, before the Yuuzhan Vong arrived with a mighty armada of living ships.

The coralskipper was stunned by the blast and its defenses failed. It began to fall into a trajectory that, to Abi’s eye, would end a few kilometers north of Rak’Edalin not-too-far below. The Twi’lek’s index finger tightened on her trigger, sending a trio of high-powered bolts into the coralskipper. There was always a chance it would recover before it hit the ground, she justified as the skip came to pieces, throwing yorik coral chunks in all directions.

She pushed the nose of the fighter down again, picking up more speed. A kilometer below, she could see the Vong transports continuing their drop towards Rak’Edalin unabated. We’re not going to stop them in time, she thought distantly. There’s just not enough of us.

The B-wing’s dive was faster than the Vong transports. She squeezed off long distance attacks with both lasers and ion cannons, but the Vong transports picked off the bolts with ease. She smiled—her hunting smirk, Halyn had called it once—and swapped to proton torpedoes. The B-wing’s targeting computer gave her a solid tone, and she fired.

“One,” Li’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she watched the proton torpedoes close. “Watch your fire. Rak’Edalin is scrambling everything they’ve got into the air.”

“Wonderful,” Abi answered automatically. Far below, the proton torpedoes were caught by a Yuuzhan Vong gravitic void and detonated. She fired torpedoes again, watching and waiting.

“So watch your fire,” Li warned. “No stray fire over the city where we might take out a friendly.”

The Vong transports had been thrown by the shockwave of the detonating proton torpedoes, and a little disoriented. They were apparently still trying to regroup when the second set of torpedoes hit one of the coral vessels. The vessel shattered in a bloody fireball, and shrapnel from the blast hammered three more transports so hard that their descents turned into uncontrolled falls.

“I’ll watch my fire,” Abi repeated.

Far below, laser fire began to spray up through the Vong formation. Then two coralskippers were closing on her, and she had to pull up from the dive.

Kelta was standing quietly near the bridge’s entrance, staying out of the way and carefully maintaining her mental defenses. I can still feel them all, she thought distantly as death crashed against her mind through the Force. There’s just so much of it.

Part of it, she knew, was because she was just sitting still and not fighting. She’d found that actively fighting helped her keep her mental defenses in place—the activity distracted her from many of the sensations the Force brought to her. Now, though, she was merely trying to not feel. She remembered as a child on Nam Chorios an old mental game: to not think of a pink cu-pa. Of course, once that instruction was given, it was impossible to think of anything else.

So intent was she on the distant feelings in the Force that she nearly missed the frustration of a very large Wookiee as he stalked past her and out the bridge door. Of course, Anishor was more capable than most of harnessing or suppressing emotion; it was part of his nature as a berserker and as a Force-user.

She fell into step behind him; it took several heartbeats for her to catch up with his long, rangy strides. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

The frustration slowly bubbled up from the Wookiee. <The General is risking everything,> Anishor said at last. <And I do not understand why.>

“What do you mean?” Kelta asked.

<You fought with him during the Civil War, though not as long as myself. Tell me, how often did he commit everything to a battle without having a reserve or a back-up plan?>

The Jedi thought for several moments before she responded. “He didn’t. The only time he gambled everything was at Endor, and that was under direct orders from High Command. The One Eighteenth took heavy losses there and he blamed himself for it. Other than that, he wouldn’t commit everything to a fight; if it was all-or-nothing, he would refuse to engage it.”

<Avoiding a potentially decisive battle for the enemy,> Anishor agreed. <So tell me, what has changed?>

Kelta frowned. “Changed?”

<He gambles everything here on Iridonia. The Yuuzhan Vong slowly whittle away his forces with superior numbers, in spite of hideous casualties, and he stands and meets them toe-to-toe. He would never have done this before.>

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But it’s different now. He’s fighting to defend Iridonia from the Yuuzhan Vong—back then, we could pick up and move if we were found. We fought a guerilla war, not a traditional one.”

<He could have drawn all of Iridonia’s forces out of the cities, abandoned them to the Yuuzhan Vong,> Anishor pointed out. <The Zabraks could have easily withdrawn into the jungles and fought warfare from there. The Yuuzhan Vong would never defeat them in such an engagement; it would be impossible to root them out with so little civilization on the world, just as they fought the Empire for twenty years. Just as my own people fought the Empire.> He shook his furry head. <Each time I’ve asked him about his battle plans, he deflects me.>

Kelta slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what his overall plan is.”

<You used to be among his most trusted confidants,> Anishor recalled.

“That was a long time ago,” Kelta said bluntly, ignoring the painful stirring the Wookiee had evoked. “A lifetime ago. If someone else knows his plans for the war, I don’t know who it is.”

<Nor I.> Anishor reached the end of a corridor and looked around. <I do not know if I can stay. Perhaps my leaving will persuade him away from this path; he risks all of Iridonia, all of his people by this course.>

“No,” Kelta protested. “You can’t leave, Anishor.”

<No?> The Wookiee looked at her uncertainly

“No.” She shook her head. “Anishor, I know you haven’t seen Halyn much since the end of the Civil War, but he’s going to need you. There’s not a warrior on Iridonia that can match you for strength or wisdom. I might be a Jedi, but even I’m no match for you.”

<He keeps me and my warriors from fighting.> Anishor looked tired. <There are many theaters where our strength could be used.>

“And you’re needed here,” Kelta reminded him. “Halyn has to have something in mind for you and your berserkers. He has needed you several times already to prevent disaster, and he’ll need you again.”

Anishor was silent for long moments. <Then I, too, will stay,> he said at last. <Even if I don’t understand.>

Kelta smiled. “That’s the nature of the Force, isn’t it?” she asked. “To trust what we don’t understand?”

The Wookiee rumbled a wordless assent.

“Let me ask you something, Anishor,” she asked, changing subject. “What is your take on the Yuuzhan Vong and the Force?”

The Wookiee was clearly hesitant to answer. <The Jedi have not drawn a conclusion?> he asked.

It was Kelta’s turn to hesitate. “Master Skywalker concluded that we need to fight the Yuuzhan Vong, regardless of whether they exist in the Force or not,” she said at last. “That’s been answer enough for me. They’ve slaughtered so many people—they may not be part of the dark side, but that doesn’t mean their actions aren’t dark.”

<I’ve known many evil individuals,> Anishor said slowly. <The Sith cult Dusk, the Emperor’s Inquisitors, fallen Jedi, the Imperial agent Suuzanne, even a handful among the berserkers who have followed the dark path. Even among the worst of them, however, there is a spark of light, a chance of redemption. It often does not succeed, for redemption requires forgiveness of self—a forgiveness not possible without acknowledgement of one’s guilt.>

The Wookiee grew even less certain. <Yet even the worst of them was merely a fallen individual—consumed by their own anger, or desire for power, or greed. They manipulate, they lie, they kill, yet all of them still exist in the most fundamental way: the Force. That is why there is always the possibility of redemption.>

Anishor bowed his head. <The Yuuzhan Vong are an abomination, Kelta Rose. The Jedi state that there is no life without the Force. The actions of the Yuuzhan Vong are without a doubt evil. But how can there be redemption without the Force?> He shook his head. <I sometimes wonder if they were created by the Sith to destroy the galaxy, but I know that such things are beyond the power of the dark side. After all, those who follow the dark side destroy; those of us who follow the true Force heal and grow.>

“Then what do we do with them, even if we win this war?” Kelta asked.

The Wookiee reflected before answering. <That answer must come from the Jedi and the New Republic,> he said at last. <I follow the Living Force, but the question you pose must be answered by the Unifying Force.>