Give me a hand, will you?"

They were expecting him to rage at them for some imagined shortcoming, he could tell. He felt their relief as he climbed out of the c.o.c.kpit and slipped on the remains of the foam. When he looked back, the StealthX was a mess. He was quite upset by that.

"Quick coat of paint, sir, and you'll never know she had a prang, "the crash crew chief said. "Med droid's on the way."

"At least I know who generated the phantom fleet, "Cae-dus said.

This counter-rumor could zip around the fleet, too. Sane, humble, even humorous in adversity. "Next time I try to chase Luke Skywalker's pranks, confiscate my pas-- card, will you?"

They laughed; good old Colonel Solo, one of the team, not the one who killed junior officers at all. He controlled himself sufficiently to limp back to his day cabin via the bridge, where he found that the Jedi illusion story had pre-ceded him, and closed the hatch before letting the pent-up rage escape like steam. He looked in the mirror; a few cuts, and the eyes of a stranger, yellow, but eyes he was getting used to.

He could channel anger now. He would save its focus and momentum to take out Fondor.

GA WARSHIP OCEAN, FLEET a.s.sEMBLY AREA, OFF FONDOR.

Niathal listened to the chatter on the bridge, caf in hand.

"He said the Jedi created a Force illusion of a huge fleet, targeted solely at him, "one of the signals officers said.

"Oh, Jedi, of course..." The junior officer of the watch was glued to the sensor screen but still managed to roll his eyes in mock realization. "Don't you just hate it when that happens?"

Niathal believed it, but she was still waiting to hear it from Jacen's own lips. The absence of the Fondorian fleet was troubling her; the first wave of the Imperial Remnant had dropped out of hypers.p.a.ce, and she was waiting for a comm from Pellaeon. She had made up her mind. She would seek a surrender, and if Fondor declined talks, she would disable the defenses on the orbitals to allow the ground troops to land and secure them, one at a time, and then move on to begin precision attacks on the planet's fleet bases. There was no point creating a wasteland.

And if-when-the Fondorian fleet reappeared, they'd have to get past Pellaeon, too.

And then there was Jacen Solo. Luke would have to learn to shoot to kill, he really would. She wondered if she would have fired if she'd had a lock on Jacen; she imagined her fingers curled around the yoke of an X-wing, and her thumb depressing the b.u.t.ton, and wasn't sure that she would.

But what do you do with a Sith? What do you do to re-strain a man who has powers like Luke Skywalker, but no rules, no moral limits? It was hard to see him as simply someone who believed in benign dictatorship but whose law-and-order policy sometimes got out of hand. His oth-erness disturbed her. She could barely remember Palpatine's reign, just his image everywhere, and Vader at parades on the holonews-occasionally. But she hadn't known they were Sith. She didn't even know then that Jedi existed. When she studied history at school, she learned about the Sith-Jedi wars by rote, but now that she could actually put it in a personal context of individuals she worked with, it had taken on a whole new meaning. She was a little alarmed by both sides. The mind influence was the most corrosive realization she'd had; how much of what she'd done was purely of her own volition? Luke could even deceive Jacen into fighting a fleet that wasn't there.

No excuses. You knew what that leak to Luke would do. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't examine every urge you get to see if it's really your own.

"Ma'am, Admiral Pellaeon for you." The signals officer patched through the comm. "Visual, too." "Gil, you missed the warm-up act, "she said. Pellaeon filled the holoscreen, all immaculately trimmed white mustache and charcoal-gray tunic. She saw the posi-tive reaction of the crew; he exuded reliability. "So I hear, Cha. It's all rather quiet down there, isn't it?" "I won't say it..."

"If they have a surprise for us, we might have to find one for them."

"Have you had a chance to peruse my new battle plan?" "I have, "Pellaeon said. "Will it survive contact with Colonel Solo?"

Pellaeon could always lighten the mood if he put his mind to it.

"Shall we see if he's recovered sufficiently to meet us?" Niathal asked.

"Your flagship, or mine? Or even his?" "I'll tell him Bloodfin. He wants to keep you happy." "Half an hour. I'm very conscious of the lack of even a Fondorian patrol."

A great deal was said in front of the more junior ranks, and in most cases it wasn't politic to hint at disagreement with other commanders, but Niathal was putting distance between herself and Jacen, and she needed them to know it. If Luke had warned her that he was going to attempt a s.n.a.t.c.h, she might even have been able to help him, but he seemed reluctant to involve her. She wondered when he might next reappear. If he didn't, she would have to go ahead with a hasty plan that had crystallized on the in-bound jump. She would relieve Jacen of command, and order the Anakin back to base; the exact timing would depend on the progress of the operation, but it would be be-fore the withdrawal to Coruscant. With Pellaeon, she had enough firepower to enforce it if she had to. A third of the ship's commanders in her task force were likely to support her, and few of the others would actively oppose her.

It was still a major risk in the middle of a war, but wait-ing until the war was over wasn't an option.

Tahiri Veila now appeared to be the gatekeeper for comms to Jacen, at least when he was off the bridge. "Lieutenant, is Colonel Solo well enough to transfer to Bloodfin for a senior staff session at twenty-two hundred?"

"He's well, Admiral." Tahiri paused and the link went quiet as if she was consulting him. "We'll be there."

We. She'd fallen into a flag lieutenant role, then. The more scurrilous members of the crew a.s.sumed she was a new romantic interest, but Niathal had watched the dy-namics of how Jacen behaved with Ben Skywalker, and it was much more a relationship of gang boss and junior henchman. Tahiri would be his fixer, messenger, and possi-bly even spy.

Possibly? Definitely. Jacen knew how to lead troops instinctively, but his true calling was political gamesmaster.

"What's the estimate on the StealthX?" Niathal asked. "We're a little short of them until Incom deliver. You might have to slum it with X-wings."

"Operational in forty-eight hours. The workshop's re-mounting cannons now."

"Cannibalizing, no doubt. Are you going to be flying combat?"

"No, I have orders to liaise with the Imperial Remnant."

Ah, spy. I was right. "Later, then, Lieutenant."

Niathal would have consulted Jacen on contact with the Fondorian President-Shas Vadde-but time was short, and that was the excuse she would give him. She kept an eye on the chrono while contact was made with Vadde's office, realizing for the first time that being Supreme Commander as well as joint Chief of State was an awkward mix when making diplomatic contact. Being asked to rejoin the GA could never be called exploratory talks when the re-quest came from the senior commander of a task force on war footing.

"Chief of State, "said Vadde. "This strikes me as a decision already taken in search of a retroactive justification."

He was right; they were going through the motions. "President Vadde, I can only ask again that you agree to re-join the Galactic Alliance and contribute to the common defense of the member worlds."

"Having just reached some kind of economic recovery after the Yuuzhan Vong, and as our economy is substan-tially dependent on shipbuilding and the defense industry, we're under no illusion that we're seen as anything other than another handy fleet resource for the defense of Coruscant."

He was awfully pious for a leader of a world that strip-mined every moon, asteroid, and stray pebble in the Tapani sector. "I'll give you until twenty-three fifty-nine to put the request to your cabinet, and respond formally to me."

"I can give you our answer now."

"Nevertheless, I feel obliged to allow you that time."

It was a warning, and sometimes the cold wind blowing from the brink did sober people up. The fleet would begin the attack any time after midnight. There was no advan-tage of surprise left for either side at this late stage.

"Noted, Chief of State. Remember that we're no use to you broken."

Maybe there was some room for maneuver; she'd keep an eye on that.

Jacen Solo, though, was going to be disap-pointed if he didn't get his chance to show what firm government meant.

"Ma'am, "said the comms officer, "there's some HNE mobile broadcast units straying into the area."

"We haven't declared an exclusion zone."

"Shall I issue a warning?"

"Tell them they might well be in crossfire at any time. They take their chances."

"One has already requested an interview with Colonel Solo.

Apparently he's given them clearance to accompany the troop landings on the first orbital."

"He'd better win, then, "said Niathal. "Or he'll be taking prime airtime to advertise how to repeat our failures at Corellia."

And if he did-he'd be doing it on his own.

CREW COMPARTMENT OF TRA'KAD, ORI'RAMIKADE RV POINT, SOMEWHERE NEAR.

THE TAPANI SECTOR, 2200 HOURS: AWAITING ORDERS FROM ADMIRAL DAALA.

"Will your brother know when you're around?" Mirta Gev asked.

Jaina almost stopped chewing. It was the first time that Mirta had mentioned Jacen, and as she could only want lethal revenge on him for her mother's death, it showed either tact or tactics. Mando women didn't do tact. Jaina took in another slab of uj'alayi and used the silence enforced by chewing to gather her thoughts. The cake was like a solid mortar mix made from nuts, syrup, dried fruit, and spices, cloyingly sweet. It was as much exercise as nourishment. She worried that her teeth would collapse long before the rest of her.

"Yes, he probably will, "she said. And he'd be baffled by the impressions he got back, to say the least. "We're twins. They say that even non-Force-sensitive twins are linked across distance somehow. With Jedi-it's real. Except he disguises his Force presence, so I'd never know he was around."

Mirta had the same eyes as her grandfather: she looked as if she were permanently a.s.sessing the risk of something bad happening, and whether she could shoot it or sell it. "You could always follow the trail of bodies, I suppose..."

It was going to happen sooner or later. What did you say to someone whose mother had died under your brother's interrogation? Sorry didn't quite cut it. Somehow the fact that Ailyn Vel had been a bounty hunter and a.s.sa.s.sin, os-tensibly hired to kill the Solo family, didn't give Jaina quite the fuel of righteous indignation that she imagined when she was face-to-face with the human wreckage scattered by those casual decisions.

It's okay. Ailyn was just going through the motions, using Dad to lure her own father to his death. She wasn't after us, really. And she was hired by Dad's cousin to a.s.sa.s.sinate us anyway-it's not as if he hadn't tried before, families. Aren't they great?

"If there was anything I could do to atone for him, I'd do it, "said Jaina. "I'll do what I can to stop him doing it again. I'm sorry, by the way. But you know that."

"So it's true he killed your aunt Mara."

It was freshly shocking each time. Jaina still couldn't see him going that far, but then he'd tortured Ben, thinking he was doing him good. If he did anything, he might not have planned for it to go that badly wrong.

Was there a real difference between sick and evil? "I don't know, Mirta."

"Think he's capable of it?"

"I don't know him anymore. I don't even know where to start."

Mirta leaned her head back against the bulkhead, arms folded. There were a dozen troops in the Tra'kad a.s.sault vessel: Jaina and eleven Mandalorians in full armor, all waiting for the order from Admiral Daala that might not actually come. The other ten were members of Fett's elite special forces, the Ori'ramikade-supercommandos, the troops who'd saved Caluula Station and her parents from the Yuuzhan Vong. It was a very tangled social web; it was also sobering to tally the net score of incidents and realize that the Solos had done more lasting harm to Fett than Fett had to them.

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din, "Mirta muttered.

"What's that mean?"

"Family is more than bloodline. Meaning that families are about who raises and cares for you, not who your birth parents are. Or, put another way-your real relatives can treat you worse than chakaaryc strangers."

Jaina could work out the meaning. She wasn't picking up much of the language, though; every Mandalorian seemed to be at least trilingual-Basic, Mando'a, and Huttese-and they spent a lot of time with their helmets on, talking among themselves. Whatever language the ten commandos were using on their helmet comlinks, Jaina was only aware of the body language, hand gestures, and head movements; it was an animated discussion conducted in apparent si-lence. The effect was unnerving, as if they had senses that she didn't, and she was missing the bigger picture. She wondered if they were gossiping about her. They radiated amus.e.m.e.nt.

Aha.

It was always edifying to see your own characteristics reflected in others. The next time that some ordinary being treated her with suspicion, she'd think how her Force abil-ities looked from the outside.

Mirta turned her head and said something to the commandos. A stream of unintelligible words emerged from the helmets, followed by laughter.

"It's all they can think about, "Mirta muttered. "I'm glad it's only once every five years."

"What is?"

"Galactic bolo-ball tournament. It's taken over the HoloNet."

Wrong again, then. Jaina's misfortunes weren't as rivet-ing as a sporting event. Life didn't center on her small circle, another reminder that there was a wider world she seldom saw. "Where's Fett?" "Slave I.

Where else?"

The small Mandalorian flotilla included Fett's ship, the tank-like Tra'kad, and a squadron of Gladiators and Aggressors. The holochart set in the bulkhead showed other vessels idling at the RV point: a carrier, judging by the hatches, and a Sentinel landing craft that looked heavily modified. The carrier was tiny: no more than a hundred meters long.

"Beviin?" Jaina felt almost protective toward him. He seemed to pick up Fett's pieces far too often. "Didn't see him embark."

"Ba'buir told him to stay behind. Either to placate Medrit, or to keep an eye on Ba'buir." Mirta did a quick little shake of her head. "I mean Grandmama. It's the same word in Mando'a. I mean Sintas."

At least Beviin wasn't going to get himself killed follow-ing Fett's whim. Jaina always had a stake in her missions, so it was hard to imagine how soldiers would take risks like this for credits or out of some loyalty to a man who simply hired them out. She stopped short of judging them, though. She'd seen the state of Mandalore, and she'd never had to worry about where the next meal was coming from. "How did you manage to hate a man you'd never met, Mirta?" Jaina could sense the emotions between Mirta and her grandfather pretty clearly; Mirta longed to love him, but seemed battered by constant disappointments, and Fett was trying hard to get it right, bemused by failure. "Did your mother even remember him? You didn't even know Sintas."

"I grew up hearing how Fett had abandoned Grand-mama, and Mama, and that she wouldn't have been strug-gling to pay the bills or having to take dangerous bounties if he'd taken some responsibility."

"Yes, but to hunt him down to kill him? For years? Most folks get a lawyer."

"Mama had a bad time as a kid. Moving from place to place. Always getting in fights because she was different." Mirta shrugged but didn't elaborate. "She even married a Mandalorian to improve her chances of finding Ba'buir. My father."

"Wow, "said Jaina. That was dedicated hatred. She didn't ask why Mirta had followed her father's culture, or why she hadn't worked out earlier that Ailyn was a little obses-sive. "I'm sorry."

"And Ba'buir wasn't what I grew up expecting, some womanizing thug blowing his fortune in cantinas. He was just this.... wasted, austere, lonely man.... hard to even like, and yet I found I was proud of him."

Mirta let out a long breath and reached for her helmet. It was a cue that she'd had enough of baring her soul. Jaina counted it as a plus that she'd even bothered to talk, let alone in those frank terms.

"I still love my brother, but there's nothing left to like about him, "Jaina said. "Love's a very separate thing. It has an independent life of its own."

"Well, if you have to earn love on points, it's not love, is it?

It's approval."

Jaina peeled a chunk of uj'alayi stuck to her finger, and decided the syrup would make great gasket sealant. One of the commandos, the tattooed man called Carid, took off his helmet and c.o.c.ked his head on one side in an aw-come-on gesture. "Hey, plan the celebration you'll have after your marriage. What's the point of surviving a mission if you're going to be this depressed?"

That was Mando sympathy. "It's a Fett thing, "Mirta said.

"Ah, I bet Orade will teach you how to laugh. You'll get the hang of it."

Mirta seemed to manage a twitch of a smile at the men-tion of her betrothed. The minutes ticked away. Jaina had the sense of being in the engine room of an ancient seagoing ship, surrounded by pipes and hydraulic systems, rather than drifting imperceptibly in s.p.a.ce. A sc.r.a.ping sound made her look up at the deckhead.

"Buy'cese, "said Carid. Mirta sealed her helmet, and he looked past her at Jaina. "Put your breather on, Jedi. That's someone docking up top.

Just in case the seals don't hold."