Chapter 10

Jaina had seen many worlds in her short life. As the daughter of the Chief of State she had been privileged in her upbringing, exposed to many different cultures and political circles. But her education had not been limited to that. Her Uncle Luke had seen to it that she and her brothers accompany him on many of his numerous travels. He said that countless wars could have been prevented if people just took the time to understand each other. As Jedi in training, he wanted them to have the opportunity of becoming acquainted with as many species and lifestyles as possible. In all her travels, she had visited too many worlds to count.

But none of them had looked like Gortheba. It had been devastated hundreds of years before by a mass erupting of its volcanoes. The result gave it a grayish-black backdrop. But life had returned in certain areas, and the planet's surface was dotted with tiny green spots, as if it had caught an infirmity. Then there was the poles, which were covered it a slightly lighter shade of gray swirled with white. It was an odd sight, one that Jaina had a hard time tearing her eyes from.

"And this is the planet your Command chose for its base of operations?" she asked Jag, skeptical.

"I don't think 'chose' is the right term. We're here because this is a planet our enemy wants. We're here to prevent it, no matter how unstrategic a planet it may be," he said, keeping his face fixed on the view outside the bridge of the Sanguine, or at least that was its name in Basic.

"Why?" she asked. "Why not let them have it and save your resources for a planet that counts?"

"Because we are Chiss; we make no concessions. Nothing less than complete victory will suffice." He paused for a moment and Jaina got the distinct impression that he was debating as whether to tell her the rest or not. "And because the enemy we are fighting is a strange one. They have the uncanny ability to take something completely worthless and turn it into a formidable weapon."

Jaina frowned. What was that supposed to mean? "How?"

Jag let out a long breath through his nose. "They have been known to take captured Chiss and implant them with devices that will make them fight against us. They have biotechnology the likes of which none of us have ever even dreamed. They can take an almost dead planet such as this and turn I into a green house."

Jaina looked back at Gortheba, skeptical. She couldn't even imagine the resource and financing it would take to convert a planet such as that. "Are they formidable combatants?"

He nodded. "Their ships as well as all their weapons are entirely organic in nature. The entire culture as a whole is…well, odd. Tattooing is a religious ritual, as is pain and self-mutilation."

Jaina was revolted. "They enjoy torturing themselves?"

Jag shrugged. "I only know what I have been told. That and what I have experienced first hand. As for their flying capabilities, our main disadvantage is not knowing how to fight them. The ships don't have shields, but produce gravatic anomalies that swallow our lasers. The only way we have found to get past their defenses is to overload them with firepower."

"They have to have weaknesses. Everything does," Jaina mused aloud. "Do you think there's any chance—"

"No," he stated firmly before she even finished. "You are not flying against these things. It's too dangerous and you are too inexperienced. Besides, you're here as a civilian. Civilians don't participate in combat."

Jaina knew better than to argue with him in front of his peers, but resolved silently that this would not be the last he would hear on the matter. The best thing to do for the moment would be to change the subject. "What do they call themselves?"

"The Yuuzhan Vong," he said.

"Hmm," Jaina said. "They are humanoid, I suppose?"

"Yes. If not for the tattoos and mutilations, I suspect there would be little difference in their appearance and ours. They are taller on the average, have sloped foreheads and bluish bags under their eyes, but other than that there are not any more apparent distinctions."

"Has the New Republic been informed of this yet?"

This time it was Jag's turn to frown. "Not yet. If they continue to match us, though, we are likely to call on them for aid. Together I have no doubt that we could drive them back to where they came."

"Where did they come from?"

"We're not sure. But some disturbing reports have hinted that they may not even be native to this galaxy."

That was a disturbing notion. They were facing and intergalactic species with technology the likes of which they had never seen, and who seemed bent on destruction of everything, including themselves. It was not a happy thought.

Jaina lay on the small military bunk, curled against Jag's side. The steady rise and fall of his chest was comforting, soothing her worry. She had been troubled ever since he had explained to her the nature of the enemy they were facing. She couldn't bare the thought that he would soon be facing them, and she would have no way of protecting him.

She buried her face against his shoulder, trying to drive the uneasiness from her mind. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, the answer muffled against his chest. "I'm just a little edgy."

"Why?"

She hugged him a little closer, as if the very thought could tear him away. "I'm afraid for you to fight them."

He chuckled softly. "You forget, I spent over a month fighting them before."

"But I didn't realize how dangerous it was before."

"Well, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Jaina nodded vigorously and looked up into his face. "Let me come with you."

"You are with me."

"You know what I mean. Let me fight with you."

"I can't do that, Jaina," he said sternly. "It's too dangerous."

"Oh, so it's too dangerous for me but not for you?" she came back hotly.

"That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant," she stated flatly.

"Is it so wrong for me to be concerned about you?" he asked.

"Don't turn this around on me, Jagged Fel. Why should your concern for me override mine for you?"

"It doesn't. It's just that…"

"That what?" she prodded.

"That reasoning doesn't influence how I feel. I can't—won't—let you do this."

Jaina's frustration increased tenfold. "What about what I want out of life? It's not just about you, Jag. You know I've always dreamed of being a fighter pilot. Will I never get that chance because you're too scared for me?"

"You will," he said carefully. "Just not in this war."

"Why?! I am just as capable as any of the other pilots flying under you."

"But I'm not married to those pilots, am I?" he snapped.

Jaina pursed her lips angrily. "I thought we already had this discussion. And I thought you had more sense that to try to control me and my life."

Jag sighed deeply, conflicted. "What would you do in my place?"

Jaina was silent, pondering her answer. There was no doubt that she would be tempted to do just as he was. "Jag, if you love me, why can't you just—"

A blaring alarm sounded throughout the warship, startling the young couple. "What's that?" Jaina asked.

Jag was already out of bed and hurrying into his flightsuit. "The warning siren. We're under attack."

Jaina hurried along behind Jag as he rushed to the docking bay. "Go to the bridge," he told her as he jogged to his clawcraft. "You can watch the battle from there."

Jaina could find no words to express her frustration at not being able to fight like everyone else. She felt useless, like an unwanted appendage. "Be careful," she instructed as she stopped at his ladder.

"I will," he promised. He kissed her quickly and then put on his helmet and climbed up the ladder. Jaina stepped back, but didn't leave the docking bay until it had been emptied of craft. She spun angrily and hurried to the bridge.

The captain, a male named Haran'aid'irokini—Naidi—had been very polite about Jaina's presence on this voyage. Jaina had no doubt that he had been instructed to treat her with courtesy for diplomatic reasons, but as long as she got her way she didn't care. This time, though, he had no qualms about ignoring her presence on the bridge so he could focus on the battle. They all bustled around in orderly chaos, Naidi barking orders the whole time.

There were three main assault vessels in their force, the Sanguine, Perilous, and the Crimson Thorn. They formed up on the two oblong, faintly luminescent Yuuzhan Vong battle ships. Jaina watched with great interest. The enemy weapons were like miniature volcanoes, spitting plasma balls ranging in size from a human head to an X-wing. Most splattered off the Sanguine's shields, but a few ate their way through to the hull, where they quickly dissolved the durasteel, opening parts of the vessel to atmosphere.

The Chiss ships pelted the Vong with laserfire, most of which were swallowed by gravatic anomalies that seemed to appear out of thin air. Curious, Jaina stretched out with the Force for the source of the gravity wells. For some reason, she couldn't sense the hull of the ships. In fact, she couldn't sense anyone inside the ship either! It wasn't like a bubble where the Force has been pushed away, like with an ysalamiri. No, a rock had more life in it than that ship. She shivered, suddenly cold. She didn't know what this meant.

Looking out the viewport, she picked out a Yuuzhan Vong snubfighter—coralskippers, Jag had called them, as it flew past. She could see the pilot inside, so she knew it was alive. Stretching out, she found the same empty void as with the battle cruiser. Something was very wrong about this.

She felt suddenly even more protective over Jag. He was fighting and enemy far more dangerous than he knew. She wished her Uncle Luke was there to help her understand how an entire species could be impervious to the Force.

Uncle Luke.

He needed to know about this, and soon. This wasn't an adversary that could be beat with shear military might. These—these abhorrent creatures were a threat to the very heart of the Jedi Order, and deep down Jaina knew only the Jedi could defeat them.

"Have Blue Squadron maneuver to assist Spike Squadron," Captain Naidi was saying.

"What?" Jaina said, shaken back to reality. "Is Jag okay?"

Naidi threw her a look over his shoulder from the command chair. "They're alive but getting hammered by the command ship," he answered emotionlessly.

Jaina moved closer to the viewport, trying to see. She could barely make out the flashing lasers and spewing plasma, but that was all. She closed her eyes and stretched out, reaching as far as her senses would go. She found him there, felt him struggling. She delved deeper, saw through his eyes. She saw the coralskippers flashing past his clawcraft, the streaming plasma and comrades exploding before his eyes. She felt the sweat running down his forehead, the tenseness of his muscles as he pulled maneuver after maneuver after maneuver, wheedling away at his mental store. His desperation became her own.

She couldn't be there with him, but she could lend him her strength. She gathered the Force around him, refreshing his senses, body and mind. She cleansed away the fatigue, restoring his focus. She felt the difference in him immediately. Satisfied that she had done all she could do, she withdrew from the connection. There was nothing she could do now but watch.

It wasn't until the Perilous exploded that Naidi called the fighters back. Even though it had ended in a stalemate, Jaina was so relieved she could have cried. He hadn't died. Not this time.

"What we need," Naidi was saying, "is information. We don't know anything about these invaders. We don't know anything about their culture, their weapons, their ships; we especially don't know anything about their weaknesses."

Jaina shifted in her chair, feeling out of place. She had insisted on coming to the meeting, simply because she was afraid to let Jag out of her sight, but now that she was here she felt uncomfortable among all the Chiss senior officers. "Are you suggesting a reconnaissance mission?" a stout female lieutenant asked.

"I am," Naidi said. "We need an infiltrator. No, better yet, a sabotager."

"How do you propose we do that? It's not like we have any disguises," Jag said.

Jaina wasn't listening. A plan was slowly forming in her head. The Chiss wouldn't stand a chance inside the Vong command ship. But a Jedi…Not only would she help the Chiss and Jag, but she could learn about their new foes and have something to report to her Uncle Luke. She could do this. The trick would be getting Jag to agree.

"I can do it," she interrupted suddenly. The all looked at her blankly, then a few snickered. Jaina glared at them venomously. "I am a Jedi. I've been trained for just this kind of situation. I can get in there and kill that ship."

"By yourself?" Naidi asked dubiously. "You're not even a soldier."

"I will be," Jaina countered. "I'm on the list, aren't I Jag?" she turned to him for confirmation. He continued to stare at the table. "Jag?" she hissed.

He sighed defeatedly. "You are."

Jaina looked back to Naidi triumphantly. "If you don't believe me, test me. I'll be dealing with hand to hand combat, and there's no one more suited to that than a Jedi."

"There's no need for that," Naidi said. "I would let you do this, Jedi Solo, except for the fact that your death would mean the end of peace between the New Republic and Chiss Ascendancy. That is something I cannot allow."

Jaina thought furiously, searching for any means of persuasion. Finding none, she resorted to desperate measures. She gathered all her Force strength about her, and then shoved it outward. "You will let me do this," she said, shoving the thought into his mind with all her might. Naidi looked confused, puzzled. He rubbed his head curiously.

"But…"

"I am the only one who can complete this task."

"You are the only one who can complete this task."

"You assign its success to me."

"I assign its success to you."

Jaina stood triumphantly before anyone could think to dispute Captain Naidi's orders. She scurried out the door, but hadn't taken three steps down the corridor before she heard footsteps following her. "Jaina, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Jag asked.

"Going to prepare for my mission," she said logically.

His countenance was angry. "Don't think I don't know what you did in there. I can't let you do this."

"Why?" she screeched. "Why are you trying to confine me to such a muted life? Am I supposed to live my life watching everyone else battle my battles for me? Why don't I have the right to stand up for those I love? It's not fair, Jag!"

He took a step back, shocked by the venom in her voice. "That's not what—"

"Yes!" she yelled. "It is!" By then the passerby were beginning to stare, but Jaina didn't care. "Don't do this to me, Jag," she pleaded, feeling tears forming. "Let me live, not just exist."

She could tell he was torn, that she was getting to him. Determined, she drove in the killing blow. "Everything I thought I was was taken away, why can't you just let me find my place here?"

Jag heaved a great sigh. "What if you die?"

"Then I die an honorable death," she said softly. She came closer, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace. "I'll be okay, Jag. Believe in me for once."

Still distraught, he quietly nodded his assent. She kissed him softly before pulling away and rushing off to ready herself. Jag watched her go, fearing he was sending her to her death.

Jaina piloted the small stealth vessel in and out of the wrecked ships. So far she had gone undetected, but that wouldn't last long, she knew. If she was going to do this, she had to hurry.

Her objective was to find a coralskipper that wasn't dead yet. It could have simply been knock out of the fight or the pilot killed in a collision. It happened all the time, and Jaina needed to find just one.

Circling through the wreckage was unpleasant for Jaina. She often encountered the remains of Chiss, and when that happened she could do nothing but look away and plod on. She weaved back and forth through the debris, avoiding coral pieces and durasteel chunks alike.

And there it was. It was in its death throes, coloring black slowly, but very apparently alive nonetheless. Excited, Jaina pulled her small ship so close that she could look through the canopy. The pilot lay dead inside, some sort of appendage attached to his head. Jaina unsnapped her restraints, made sure her life support was intact, and popped her hood.

The cold vacuum of space surrounded her instantly, sucking her out into the void. She space-walked over to the enemy craft, propelling herself with the Force. She settled down onto the canopy, studying it intently. On its nose was an oblong creature that appeared to be dead. She kicked it just to make sure. She walked along the length of the ship until she found what must pass for a hatch. She opened it and climbed inside.

The pilot was definitely dead. He was slumped in the pilot's couch, arms limp at his side. Jaina came around to study him. It was a grotesque sight, and not just because it was a corpse. The dead Vong was horribly disfigured, with no nose and a scarred visage. Patterned tattoos ran over his whole body, giving him a wicked appearance. On his head was a shriveling hood that attached to the ship. Assuming it was important, Jaina pulled it off his bald skull and let it hang. Using the Force to augment her strength—and with the lack of gravity—she lifted the pilot out of the chair and shoved him out the hatch, then closed it.

Very carefully, she sat down in the pilot's chair. Two glove-like projections extended in front of her, and the hood hung to the side. She looked at the different controls carefully, then decided to push them all until the cockpit began to fill with oxygen. When it was breathable she took off her helmet and gloves. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled the hood onto her own head.

Immediately her brain was flooded with information as well as sensations, pain not the least of them. It was afraid and angry, and didn't want Jaina to be anywhere near it. Had it been in a better condition she got the impression that it would not have been exactly cooperative. She put her hands in the gloves, trying to get it to move, but was sullenly informed that the dovin basal—the dead thing she had kicked—propelled the craft as well as shielded it.

So she was dead in space.

Jaina sighed, and asked the craft if there was any way to alert the command ship that she was alive. It responded that it might—might—be able to shoot one last plasma blast. Jaina smiled tightly to herself. The Vong patrols would be coming around any time, and when they did, all she had to do was fire off a shot and they would bring her in.

While she waited she went over her check list one more time. She had her lightsaber, as well as two charrics and extra power packs for each. She also carried an arsenal of five medium-sized grenades and two large ones, as well as a thermal detonator. She was well-prepared, but that didn't stop a small case of the jitters. Contrary to what she had told everyone, this was the first time she had ever done anything like this.

Suddenly the ship told her there were others approaching. She stayed alert, keeping track of the other ships until one crossed right in front of her path. Crossing her fingers, she made a fist inside of the glove, and with a dying heave the skip loosed a final volley of plasma. The scout ships swerved, coming closer to Jaina's now-dead ship. They circled several times, then one peeled off and headed back to the main flotilla. Letting out a nervous sigh, Jaina sat back to wait.