Chapter 2: The Warning

"I need your help," the miniature image of Jagged Fel said. "Listen, Jaina, I don't know if you know anything about this yet, but something terrible has happened. A few weeks ago there was a surprise attack on a Chiss shipyard by what looked like Galactic Alliance vessels; the leading Aristocra of the Nuruodo family was there on inspection, and he died in the assault. Now, it might just have been coincidence that he was there when the attack came, but my father doesn't think so, and neither do I. We think this was a deliberate assassination.

"In any case, the Alliance has been blamed for the attack and the Aristocra's death, and his successor in particular is on the warpath. I don't know why, but he hates the Alliance and the Jedi and almost seems glad to have this excuse to go to war. Who exactly was involved in the Alpha Red project on the Chiss side was kept highly classified, but I think the new Aristocra may have been one of the leaders and has spent the last few years simmering over the project's failure. Now he has his chance to get even; a punitive fleet has been dispatched to Alliance space and may have already begun to attack.

"I can't speak much longer," Jag said, seeming to look Jaina directly in the eyes. "The Household Phalanxes have been conscripted as part of the next wave that will hit GA space if the Alliance leaders don't turn over the alleged war criminals soon, and that includes my squadron, because of our reputation for skill. Jaina, I just want you to know that I don't believe your government is responsible for this; too many things don't add up. My father has been trying to convince other high-ranking officials, but he's only one voice and the Ruling Families and CEDF high command are dismissing him as being too sympathetic to his own kind. Who really did it? We don't know, but we have theories. I can't say more in case this frequency is being tapped, but if you want to know what we've learned, come to the coordinates that I've sent with this transmission. You might want to bring more Jedi with you, too- you might need them. Someone seems to be manipulating both the Alliance and the Ascendancy, but we can't be sure who or why. You could help us get to the bottom of this.

"Goodbye, Jaina," Jag said quietly. "I love you." The hologram flickered, and he was gone.

Jaina sat back in her seat, staring at her controls. War with the Chiss? It seemed unthinkable. From the sound of things, Jag was on the opposite side, albeit under duress. With a shudder she remembered her nightmare; sometimes being a Force-sensitive as powerful as she was carried some very unpleasant side-effects, like having bad dreams about things you didn't even know you should be worrying about yet.

Still, as shocking as this turn of events was, it wasn't in Jaina's nature to sit back and do nothing. Quickly she punched new coordinates into her navcomputer; the next time her x-wing reverted to realspace, it would do so only long enough to revert to another hyperspace vector.

Cappie trilled a question and Jaina sighed. "I know what I'm doing," she said. "I'm transmitting my report directly to Starfighter Command on Denon, but I'm not just a GA pilot and I have other commitments. General Antilles flew with Uncle Luke and Corran Horn; he'll understand. Right now, I need to go to Ossus. I have to show this message to the Jedi. Hopefully if a few of us make it to Jag's coordinates, we'll be able to get to the bottom of this and end this war."

Cappie fell silent, and Jaina stared out the cockpit at the blue-and-white chaos if hyperspace that surrounded her. Jag, she thought, may the Force be with you…

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Fesyr Brei'lar spun her fighter through the chaos of battle above Coruscant, avoiding the plasma fire of the massive Yuuzhan Vong warships as she concentrated on the squadron of coralskippers that were even now racing towards the Alliance lines. One of them broke off near the edge and looped around, apparently aiming to attack her squadron from the side. You're mine, skip, the Bothan thought, baring her sharp canine teeth in a snarl that recalled her ancient predatory ancestors.

She opened fire on the skip, her suttered laser-fire managing to evade the voids the Vong fighter used for shields and score a single scar on the rock-like hull. The Vong pilot was no fool, she'd give him that; he knew his odds of taking her one-to-one weren't good, so he launched a blast of plasma and then turned to run while she dodged; not out of cowardice, but to lure her towards his own lines, where he could turn and engage with the power of a fleet at his back.

Fesyr shot forward, pushing her engines to full power, keeping the skip directly ahead as it dodged in an attempt to shake her. The Vong pilot was good, but she was better. She was a driven as he was, not by faith in the gods but by dedication to the Bothan idea of ar'krai, total war. The galaxy might dismiss her people as schemers and spies, but they would see to it that this menace was eradicated root and branch, and Borsk Fey'lya, the Bothan Chief of State who gave his life in the fall of Coruscant would be avenged. The Bothans would make sure of it; Fesyr would make sure of it.

The skip was in range; she fired proton torpedoes. Even through her viewports she could see the living fighter's fiery death, and she smiled at her success- and then her x-wing rocked and there was a burst of brilliant white and orange light that surrounded her…

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Fesyr snarled in anger as the simulator opened and she climbed out to find herself face to face with her commanding officer, Gavin Darklighter, colonel of Rogue Squadron. "I died," she muttered, her pride still stinging. "Again." She could feel her fur rippling in agitation and struggled to control it; the young Bothan didn't want her commander to see her in such a state.

Gavin shook his head. "You're a good pilot, Fesyr," he said, "and you're more dedicated than almost anyone else in the squadron- all those extra hours you put in on sims alone- but you let yourself get too caught up in fighting individual enemies, especially when you're simming against the Vong. You need to pay attention to your surroundings better."

"I will remember that, sir," Fesyr said, her gaze slipping down to her boots. She knew he was right, and it shamed her.

"I'm not here to discuss sims, though," Gavin said. "We've got orders. We've been attached to the Fifth Fleet, and we're going to be patrolling some systems on the edge of our territory, near the Unknown Regions, with General Antilles in overall command. You need to get ready to move out."

"Yes, sir!" Fesyr said, saluting. "If I may ask, what's out there that we'll be looking for."

"I'm not sure," Gavin admitted, "but General Antilles is on edge, and that's never a good sign. Whatever we're going to be flying into, be ready."

As the colonel turned to depart, Fesyr watched him leave with a feeling of mixed apprehension and anticipation. This sounded like it would be her first true battle since joining Rogue Squadron- the small-scale actions they'd taken against pirates and smugglers didn't count. She was determined to show herself as a worthy member of such an elite unit, a pilot fit to be a part of Rogue Squadron.

Someday, she vowed, she'd have her own squadron. Then she'd track down the last of the Vong wherever they were hiding in the far reaches of the galaxy, and she would show them that the Bothan people were not an enemy to be trifled with.

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Soontir Fel, once Baron of the Empire and now a Syndic of the Chiss Ascendacy and one of the leaders of the Household Phalanx of Mitth'raw'nuruodo, paced on the bridge of his personal warship as it passed through hyperspace towards a system on the edge of Chiss territory- the same system, in fact, that had recently been the subject of an apparent attack by Galactic Alliance forces. Though a former adversary of those who now held power in the Alliance, Fel had never for a heartbeat believed himself that they had ordered such a strike. Neither the Alliance's political or military leadership were fools, and they certainly wouldn't try to start a war with one of the galaxy's other major powers when they were still recovering from the last invasion. Further digging had turned up even more discrepancies with the official story. No, something else was going on here.

"Sir?" a voice said from behind him, and he turned to see a tall Chiss woman approach. Shawn'kyr'nuruodo, who unusually preferred to be known as Shawnkyr rather than be her core name, was one of Fel's best officers and a close friend of his son's, and she was one of the few even on this ship that he trusted absolutely. "We should be arriving at the site of the attack in a few hours. Everything seems to be running smoothly, and I had intended to get some rest." You should do the same, she added silently but didn't say out loud; Fel hadn't gotten much sleep since the Ascendancy had declared war.

Shawnkyr was silent for a moment longer, then spoke again. "Sir," she said, "if I may- are you certain that we're doing the right thing? If the Ruling Families find out that you intend to meet with those who are, now, our enemies, it could mean exile for you, or worse."

"This war is based on deception, Shawnkyr," Fel told her, turning to face her. "I don't know whose deception yet, but we are being used, and I intend to find out why. If the Ruling Families don't like- well, I'm only following in the footsteps of Thrawn, who defied Chiss tradition to do what he believed necessary for the good of the galaxy." He sighed. "I do think you're right about getting rest, though. Walk with me."

The two officers, one Chiss, one human, departed from the bridge and made their way down towards the warship's living quarters. Leaving Shawnkyr at the door to her cabin, Fel headed towards his own. To his surprise a young Chiss officer in a black CEDF uniform stood there, posture rigid.

"Syndic Fel?" he asked.

"Yes," Fel replied warily. "What do you need?"

"Aristocra Lirnan sends his regards," the Chiss said, drawing his charric swiftly and aiming it directly at Fel's chest. The human officer's eyes widened, but his old combat reflexes returned to him and he dodged aside as the would-be-assassin fired, the charric bolt scoring a long line in the corridor's floor. Pivoting, Fel kicked the weapon from the assassin's hand before he could fire again and then elbowed him in the chest. The Chiss stumbled back, but then ducked under Fel's arm and wrapped his own around the human's throat.

Another charric-bolt sounded, and Fel felt the assassin stiffen behind him, and then his grip loosened as he slipped to the deck. The Syndic turned to see Shawnky lowering her sidearm before she rushed to his side. "Sir, are you injured? I heard charric-fire."

"I'm a bit bruised, but I'm fine otherwise," Fel told her. "This assassin seemed more interested in making sure I knew who hired him than in getting the job done quietly. The next one will no doubt learn from his mistake- put the vessel on high alert, in case there's more of them here already."

"So he did tell you who hired him?" Shawnkyr asked.

"He did. It seems Aristocra Lirnan wants me dead."

Shawnkyr shook her head. "Lirnan wants all non-Chiss in Ascendancy space dead. Isn't that one of his slogans? The Chiss Ascendancy for the Chiss people?" Her expression was cold; though Lirnan and she were both of Nuruodo, she didn't agree with many of his policies and thought little of the man himself.

"No," Fel said thoughtfully, "this is something different. If the Aristocra is sending assassins after me in wartime, then there must be a more concrete reason for it. That means we're onto something he doesn't want us to find, and that makes meeting with the Jedi and telling them what we know all the more important."