Chapter 24

The starfield was unfamiliar. Jaina wouldn't have recognized her location had she not already known, and somehow that was disconcerting. She and the crew of the Roughshod hung in the deep of space, far from any intelligent life or star system. It was a place she had never been, were very possibly no one had ever been. So much of the galaxy was nothing but the vacuum between planets, almost all of it had never been explored. Only safe passages called space lanes were traveled, and the void outside of them was hardly ever crossed.

Jaina sat in one of these pockets of emptiness, and it reminded her much of her life. She was isolated, far away from everyone she loved and cared about. She could see them—just like the stars—in the distance, but they were too far off to touch or speak with. It seemed like she had been there an eternity.

"Shall I set coordinates for the next location, General?" Captain Onan asked from a discreet distance behind her. He had stood there for perhaps five minutes waiting for her to notice him before speaking. When it became apparent she was going to make no attempt to find out why he was there, he braved her ire and interrupted her reverie.

Jaina let out a long, low breath through her nose. This was the fifth set of coordinates they had followed the Vong ship to. And, just like the others, it had turned up empty.

Finally, Jaina replied. "You've managed to pick up their trail?"

"Um, well, an approximate location, General. We cannot be sure it's accurate."

Jaina spun on him. "Is there a planet in it, Captain?"

Onan slowly shook his head. "No, General."

"Then what is the point? We lost them two jumps ago, Captain. We're wasting time and fuel."

Onan stiffened a little, unhappy with her chastisement. "Then what do you propose we do?"

Jaina let the breach of protocol slide. She may wear the uniform, but she was no Imperial. "Send out scout ships to all the possible destination points. For now, the Roughshod will remain here."

Onan saluted, then spun crisply to go carry out her orders. Jaina went over to her command chair and eased herself into the cushions. If only she could be on one of those recons. She would give anything to be back in a fighter again. Sitting on the bridge of a Star Destroyer was just not her strength.

So far she had managed to make so progress though. She had tracked many of the Vong active routes, setting up Interdictors and space mines all along the New Republic border. She had also sent out probe ships to thousands of systems, and many of them had sent in live feeds of Yuuzhan Vong traffic. Most of the routes crisscrossed, but she had not yet discovered the central base of operations.

It was only a matter of time.

Jaina's eye was drawn to a technician in one of the side alleys of the bridge. She was hunkered over her screen and conversing animatedly with the officer beside her. "Find something, Lieutenant?"

The woman's head snapped up, and her mouth worked nervously. "Uh, possibly, General Fel."

Jaina slid from her seat and back onto the deck. The only sound was the rhythm of her booted steps as she crossed the distance between them. She stopped over the station, her arms clasped behind her back. It was a posture she had learned from Pellaeon, and at times she gained immense amusement from playing the stern Imperial role. "Well? What is it?"

The woman swallowed. "The scout ship we deployed to Mabscon IV last week; it's showing greater and greater numbers of Vong ships passing through the system."

"How much greater?" Jaina questioned suspiciously.

"From ten ships per day to almost a hundred, General."

Jaina's eyebrows shot up at the figure. "And what does this suggest to you, Lieutenant?"

She fidgeted nervously. "I think it means they're preparing for an offensive, General. A big one."

Jaina nodded. "And what would your professional opinion be as to where this attack would be directed to?"

She breathed deeply, sweat glistening on her forehead. "There has been no change in the size of the attacks on Imperial worlds General, even though the number of enemy craft pouring into Imperial space has increased. Since this suggests there hasn't been any major offensive, or any need for one, I would tentatively guess this strike will be directed at the New Republic."

Jaina's lips formed into a thin line. She had known all this of course, but her purpose had been instead to test the tactician. She inclined her head in acknowledgment of the woman's assessment. "Very astute, Lieutenant. Captain Onan?"

Onan stepped forward. "Yes, General?"

"Send this woman to the tactical display room. They need insight like hers."

"Yes, General."

Jaina turned then to the officer beside the one she had just promoted. "What is the closest system to Mabscon IV that's not under surveillance?"

The soldier took a moment to scan over the computer screen, then turned back to Jaina. "Zedekiah, General."

"Captain, you heard the man. Deploy a probe reconnaissance team to Zedekiah."

"All our stealth fighters have been sent out already, General," Onan replied.

"All of them?" Jaina hissed.

"I'm afraid so."

Jaina stood and fumed. This was the lead she had been waiting for. And now she was going to miss it, all because all their equipped fighters were already searching. Jaina narrowed her eyes. "What about my fighter?"

"It's still here, General," Onan said carefully.

Jaina fingered the hair she had pulled into a tail at the back nape of her neck. "Have it prepped. I'm taking this one."

The wiry young man looked skeptical, and didn't reply with his customary 'yes, general'. Jaina gave him an appraising look. He was perhaps a year older than Jag, about the same height with the same color hair. He bore no striking resemblance, but the sight of him made her miss Jag even more nonetheless. "Are you questioning me, Captain?"

Onan stiffened. "No, General. What am I to do in your absence?"

"Carry on as normal. If I'm not back in forty-eight hours, take the Roughshod to Bastion."

Onan saluted as Jaina spun on her heel and left to prepare for her flight. Finally, she could get back in a cockpit. Finally, she could feel free again.

The bluish vortex of hyperspace was somehow more welcoming in the cockpit of her TIE. It was equipped with shields and proton torpedoes, unlike the standard TIE models. She would have still proffered an X-wing, but none were to be had in the Remnant. This would suit until she could acquire one.

Jaina fully expected to be met with an entire flotilla in Zedekiah. The point was not to find see how many there were, but where they were going. Jaina was a part of the Remnant, but her heart would always be with the Republic. That was just the way it was. She had grown up there, and that's where her entire family was. If they were in danger, she had to warn them.

The time slowly counted down the minutes, and Jaina missed the presence of an R2 unit. It was lonely in a TIE. It was lonely period.

She missed Jag. Her busy schedule kept her conscious mind occupied most of the time, but underneath he was always there. The ache never went away, the constricting in her chest that made it difficult to breathe. It had been three months.

A whole three months.

So much had past since she had last seen him. A birthday and come and gone, but the celebration was meaningless. How was seventeen any different that sixteen? She felt the same. Empty without him.

In fact, Jaina wasn't even sure where he was. He was busy wrangling up the slave traders, most of whom were from their own galaxy, pirates who would make a profit any way they could. Jaina was so proud of the success he was making, but even in that she wasn't able to share with him. Because of the incessant traveling of his flight group, any message she sent was usually rerouted back to their 'permanent' home on Bastion and never reached him. On a brief respite from her travels Jaina had found every message she had sent him waiting there, as well as several from him. It was a hopeless cause.

The timer hit zero, and Jaina pulled back the lever. She reverted smoothly to realspace, on the edge of the Zedekiah system. She had expected to see ships, but the battle group in front of her exceeded her wildest dreams. Huge Vong frigates, battle ships, coralskippers, ships of all sizes and colors completely cluttered the system with their immenseness. They were everywhere, and the sheer vastness astounded her.

She banked hard to port, hoping fervently the moon whose gravity well she had entered was protecting her from detection. She skimmed over the surface of the moon, her eyes on the flotilla hanging above her. Kriff, it was huge. She was sure she had never seen such a gathering of ships before.

Slowly she lowered on repulsorlifts down onto the rough, barren surface of the moon and turned off her engines, powering down. Where could a fleet this size be going? What target could be so important? And more importantly, was there any chance in hell of stopping it?

There was only one way to find out. She brought her systems back on line, but only high enough that she could get the comm unit to function. "Alpha One, this is Stealth One. Come in, Alpha One." A few moments later the comm crackled with the voice of a communications tech on the Roughshod.

"This is Alpha One. Are you in need of assistance, Stealth One?"

"Negative. I just need you to get some information for me."

"Roger, Stealth One."

"Go through all Holonet News programs from the last week or so. Is anything big happening within the next few days?"

"Hold." Jaina waited for an unmeasured time, anxiously tapping her fingers on the craft's control panel. Finally the tech finished his sifting and came back on line. "Only one thing really big, Stealth One. The Chief of State is making a big address on Ithor tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" Jaina frowned.

"The anniversary of the destruction of the second Death Star, I believe."

Jaina snorted. That sounded like Leia, making a big deal out of biggest jewel in her crown of glory. It would also mean all of the most prominent figures in New Republic history would be present in one place. It was the perfect time for an ambush.

"Thank you, Alpha One. I'll be—"

She choked on her words as every Vong ship in the system suddenly jumped to hyperspace. They were gone in an instant, the huge mass vanishing as if it had never been. Jaina breathed deeply as her heart constricted, this time not due to Jag's absence.

It had begun.

"Alpha One, prepare the flight group for hyperspace. Set course for the Ithorian system."

"And you, Stealth One?"

Jaina was already powering up, climbing from the moon's surface and out of its gravity well. Somehow she had to get to Ithor first. "I'll meet you there, Alpha One. Oh, and before you go send a message to the Grand Admiral from me."

"What should it say?"

Jaina considered as she plotted the course through hyperspace. "Tell him I was dealt a thirty and had to discard Moderation to keep the Idiot. Even if it's worthless, it balances out the Evil One and I needed it for an idiot's array. If he's smart, he'll call an out before he loses his whole hand."

There was a puzzled pause. "Stealth One?"

"Just tell him, Alpha One, word for word. He'll understand." He is a Corellian, after all.

"Roger, Stealth One. We'll rendezvous with you at Ithor."

Jaina didn't reply, but pulled back her hyperspace lever, leaving the Zedekiah system in her ion trails.

Grand Admiral Pellaeon was not happy. "What do you mean, 'meaningless'?"

The ensign shifted from foot to foot uneasily. "It just doesn't make sense, Admiral. Would you like to hear it for yourself?"

"Of course! You should have brought it to me in the first place."

"I didn't want to trouble you, Admiral—"

"Why are you still here? Bring me that message!" The ensign scurried off to find a flimsiplast version of the message. Pellaeon had no idea what to make of the whole mess. Instead of reporting in as usual, Jaina had sent him some sort of senseless message, according to his subordinates. It said nothing of her position or where she was going, nor any sign of progress. Just nonsense.

The ensign returned, this time waving a sheet of flimsiplast. Pellaeon snatched it from him, eager to read the report.

I was dealt a thirty and had to discard Moderation to keep the Idiot. Even if it's worthless, it balances out the Evil One and I needed it for an idiot's array. If you're smart, you'll call an out before you lose your whole hand.

Pellaeon scowled. Obviously, it was encoded, and she was using sabaac as a cover. What did it mean? Obviously, discarding Moderation meant she was throwing caution to the wind. But who was the Idiot? Pellaeon cracked a grin. The Republic. Who else?I was dealt a thirty and had to discard Moderation to keep the Idiot. So, the Vong had played their hand, and were attacking the New Republic. Jaina was throwing away caution to save them.

That wasn't good. Even if it's worthless, it balances out the Evil One and I needed it for an idiot's array. She knows they're worthless, but to stop the Yuuzhan Vong she needed them? What? Pellaeon read it again. Idiot's array. The perfect sabaac, the perfect hand. The perfect hand...the perfect set of cards! A coalition. They couldn't let the New Republic fall, or the Empire and Ascendancy would eventually fall too.

If you're smart, you'll call an out before you lose your whole hand. Well that was clear enough. If he was smart, he would follow her lead and 'call an out' from the mutual dislike between the two nations. He would help her.

Pellaeon sighed and handed the flimsiplast back to the ensign, who looked confused. "Thank you," he said simply, his mind already elsewhere. She was right, of course. If she had stumbled across something so important she didn't even take the time to consult him over it, well then it had to be really important.

The debate was whether or not he had the means or inclination to help defend the New Republic. He certainly would not, except for the fact that if they fell so would his beloved Empire. And they surely would fall without his help. So far they hadn't been attacked by the invaders, and had no experience against them. Experience was all the Empire had. Without them to lead the way, the Republic forces would be massacred.

Pellaeon was a reasonable man. He had long ago given up the dream of ever recovering the former glory of the Empire, but he didn't want to merge with the New Republic. He wanted as little to do with them as possible. But in this situation, did he really have another choice?

"Captain Dayton?"

"Sir?"

"If you were the Vong, and you wanted to make a quick, decisive, killing strike against the heart of the galaxy, when would you do it?"

The young man was quiet for several tense moments. "Am I to suppose you are speaking of the New Republic, Admiral?"

"You are."

Another strained pause. "Well... Coruscant would be the most obvious choice, Admiral."

"Did I ask for the most obvious choice?"

"No, Sir."

"Then answer what I did ask."

"I chose Coruscant because the head of the government rests there. Everyone important to them would be gathered in one place where they could squash them all at once. So... the only other time I can think of where that would be true would be the commemoration speech Chief of State Organa Solo will be making tomorrow on Ithor."

"Very good deductive reasoning, Captain. Now send an alert to all Imperial systems. I want two thirds of every battle group to immediately report to Ithor, and be battle ready."

"Two thirds?" the Captain squeaked. "What will happen if the Vong attack us?"

Pellaeon's lip twitched. "We will cross that spacelane when we come to it. Now set the course for Ithor. I want to be there within the day."

Jag stared at the comm unit in disbelief. "Two thirds? What is the Admiral thinking? Is there no explanation?"

"Negative," the controller from his cruiser replied. "Only a high-level command and a statement that there is no room for debate."

Jag gripped his chin in his fingers in frustration, letting his clawcraft drift unattended for a moment. This was madness. They were leaving the whole sector defenseless. Who would be here is the Vong showed up?

But perhaps that was what Pellaeon was driving at. Maybe the Vong were attacking the New Republic. How would he know that? They had no spies or scouts, only Jag hunting the slave trades and Jaina—

Jaina. That was the answer. Jaina had found something. And if it was a threat to her family, he knew her well enough to know she would desert to protect them. She had even betrayed him once to keep them safe.

How had she convinced Pellaeon to join her though? Unless her fears were founded, Jag knew the Admiral was too sensible to risk the Empire. The threat must be overwhelming. Jag rubbed his eyes fiercely. He had been so looking forward to his field nap after this run, too. He was a general and leader of this task force, but he partook in the hardships just as they did. He almost preferred it that way. But on this occasion, he could have really used the rest.

Jaina would be there, though. The thought made him hopeful. Perhaps after the battle he would be able to see her, to hold her, to...

"General?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Are we to comply?"

"Those are our orders, aren't they? Razor Squadron and Ebon Squadron will go to Ithor. The Valorous will stay here."

"Understood, General," came the reply.

Jag relayed their new instructions to his squadron. He wasn't sure what to expect when he got there, but he had no doubt that it would be interesting. Anything to do with Jaina always was.