Inferno (14 page)

“Winning
battles
is your concern, Admiral,” Caedus said. “Winning the
war
is mine.”

“And fribbling away the Fourth Fleet will accomplish that?”

“Making the Commenorians
pay
for Balmorra will accomplish that,” Caedus said. “As will trapping the Hutts dirtside.”

“
Assuming
we break through, and
assuming
we have enough strength left to exploit,” Ratobo retorted. “Those are big assumptions right now.”

“I have great faith in you, Admiral.”

“Faith is a poor substitute for tactical advantage.” Ratobo was speaking with the boldness of the condemned. “What if long-range turbolasers aren’t the only technology Confederation spies have stolen? What if they have our missile deactivation transmitters? Comm wave descramblers? Transponder friend codes?”

“Have you seen any evidence of that?” Caedus asked.

“Not yet,” Ratobo admitted. “But if they do have other stolen technology, they won’t use it until it’s too late for us to withdraw.”

“If they
had
any other stolen technology, they wouldn’t have tipped their hand by using the long-range turbolasers in the first place,” Caedus countered. “We’ll reevaluate when and if the situation calls for it. Until then, proceed as planned.”

Ratobo could not have missed the note of authority that Caedus had put into his voice, but the Bith was not ready to yield. “With all due respect, Colonel, perhaps it would be wise to consult with Supreme Commander Niathal. She
is
the one who’s vested with military authority.”

Caedus’s first reaction was anger, but that quickly changed to respect as he recalled that the admiral believed he was sacrificing a lifelong career by speaking so candidly. Ratobo was resisting Caedus’s orders not out of ego, but because he believed it was his
duty
to object to what appeared to him a disastrous course of action.

“I find your candor refreshing—misguided, but refreshing.” As Caedus spoke, he focused his attention on the blue ion tail belonging to the
Peacebringer
and quickly began to develop a clear picture of the Star Destroyer’s combat situation. “So perhaps I’ll
show
you why I’m here instead of Admiral Niathal. Do you see that flight of hostiles preparing to target your bridge?”

There was a moment of silence while Ratobo had the ship’s defense data copied to his display. Caedus took the time to concentrate on the Commenorian pilots, simultaneously following their progress and pushing his Force-awareness forward into the next few seconds.

“Yes.” Ratobo sounded slightly surprised. “I see them.”

It took an instant for the fate of the Commenorians to grow clear, then Caedus said, “No need to close your blast shutters. They’re not going to make it.”

“You’re
sure
?” Ratobo’s voice was openly skeptical. “Their approach lane looks—”

The sentence came to a halt as the Commenorian pilots had their presences abruptly returned to the Force. Caedus could not tell whether they had been the victims of a well-trained cannon crew or one of the
Peacebringer
’s defensive cluster bombs or just a random combat accident—only that their lives had been snuffed out in the time it took to register the thought.

An astonished gasp came over the comm channel. “Amazing!”

“I have good reason for my orders,” Caedus said, driving home his point, “even if it doesn’t always appear that way.”

“Of course.” Ratobo sounded chastened, if not quite convinced. “And that
good reason
—it has its basis in the Force?”

“It does.” Caedus saw no need to mention the vague nature of his feelings—or the possibility that they might be no more than wishful thinking. “I can’t foresee the outcome of continuing to press the attack, Admiral, but I
can
tell you that if we don’t make the Confederation pay dearly for Balmorra, they’re going to make
us
pay dearly at Kuat.”

Ratobo fell silent for a moment, then said, “Very well. I’ll resume our attack immediately.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” As Caedus replied, he suddenly grew aware of something else in the
Peacebringer
’s future—something it would not avoid. “I’m glad you trust me.”

“I wouldn’t say that, Colonel,” Ratobo replied. “But I find I no longer have a legitimate basis for challenging your orders. If you don’t choose to court-martial me after the battle, I’ll be submitting my—”

“A resignation really won’t be necessary, Admiral,” Caedus said. “Just carry on—and quickly.”

Caedus closed the channel and watched impatiently as the Fourth’s ion tails slowly changed back to ovals. The feeling of expectation in the Force had grown stronger, but so had the doubt he sensed among the Fourth’s crew members. Their beloved fleet was being thrown against the enemy with no hope of saving Balmorra, and it was making them resentful and angry.

Caedus strengthened his battle meditation until he started to touch individual beings, then tried to imbue his Force presence with confidence and calm. The fleet reflected back only confusion and fear—perhaps because Caedus himself did not understand exactly what he expected to happen.

An aura of cold loss drew the focus of Caedus’s battle meditation back to the
Peacebringer.
Giving up on his attempt to improve morale, he touched a pad on the armrest of his chair.

“Transfer fleet flag to the
Trucemaker,
” he said. “Inform Admiral Darklighter he is now in command.”

“You’re relieving Admiral Ratobo?” Krova asked, clearly astonished.

“Not exactly.”

As Caedus spoke, a dozen crimson bolts converged in the distance outside his observation bubble, and he felt the familiar Force shudder of thousands of lives ending in a millisecond.

“Oh!” Krova gasped. “Transferring flag now.”

It was hardly the smooth transition Caedus had hoped for, and he had to endure several seconds of shock and despair as the Fourth reacted to the loss of its beloved commander. He monitored the comm channels until Gavin Darklighter—newly transferred from the Fifth after his promotion to rear admiral—issued a string of orders and immediately refocused the fleet on the job of destroying the Commenorian defenders.

Within seconds, the Fourth’s entire starfighter screen began to stream away from the fleet, rushing to swarm the Commenorian capital ships. The maneuver was as bold as it was unconventional, designed to force the enemy Star Destroyers to divert power from their long-range turbolasers to their shields.

But it also left the Fourth vulnerable to the Commenorian starfighters, basically transforming the battle into a game of high-stakes shock-ball, with daredevil pilots keeping score in capital ships killed. It was exactly the kind of innovative, desperate tactic that just might save Balmorra…and cost the Fourth so many vessels that it would lack the strength to fight at Kuat.

Caedus touched a control pad on his armrest. “Open a channel to Admiral Darklighter. Urgent priority.”

Krova acknowledged the order, then reported, “Admiral Darklighter will be available in a moment, Colonel.”

“A
moment
?” Caedus fumed. “Did you tell his aide—”

“Of course,” Krova interrupted. “She said he was aware of the priority.”

Caedus scowled. “Did she?” He focused his attention on the
Trucemaker.
“Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

It took only a few moments to pick out Gavin Darklighter, a still, confident presence amid a swirling mass of worried subordinates. Caedus charged his own presence with the irritation he felt at being put off, then began to press down on the admiral through the Force.

Darklighter seemed more irritated than intimidated, and the comm speaker remained silent.

Caedus was about to press harder when the Commenorian turbolasers suddenly fell dark. The tiny specks of their capital ships began to drift across Balmorra’s pearly face, tails of blue efflux flickering at their sterns. Rather than gamble with Darklighter—and hope their starfighter complement would be as efficient as the well-trained wings of the Alliance—the Commenorians were retreating.

Caedus found the retreat doubly surprising. First, it would allow the Fourth Fleet within turbolaser range of the Hutt landing force. Second, he had not sensed it coming. The maneuver had been one of those rare pivotal moves that even the Force could not anticipate, the kind that made fools of tactical planners and Force diviners alike. It was a humbling reminder that battle meditation was not infallible; Caedus could be surprised just like any commander—and the results would be doubly disastrous if he made the mistake of believing otherwise.

Darklighter’s presence became tinged with smugness, then his voice came over the comm speaker. “Yes, Colonel?”

Caedus released the pressure he had been applying—and swallowed the irritation he still felt at being put off.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on a brilliant tactic,” he said. “It took even me by surprise.”

“Thank you, sir.” Darklighter paused, then asked, “Are you telling me you sent an urgent priority summons to
congratulate
me?”

“Let’s just say I’m happy with your performance.” Caedus kept his tone light; it had occurred to him that this might be the source of the expectation he had been sensing in the Force: Darklighter’s ascension to command might be the change that was going to turn the tide for the Alliance. “How did you know the Commenorians would retreat?”

“Let’s just say I’m happy with their choice.” Darklighter’s tone was not quite as light as Caedus’s had been. “Will that be all, Colonel? I need to keep an eye on those hotshot squadron leaders.”

“Yes, thank you.” Caedus started to close the channel, then decided he couldn’t afford to alienate Darklighter. “And, Gavin?”

“Yes,
Colonel
?”

“I apologize for any, um,
pressure
you may have felt regarding your decision.”

“Don’t worry about it, Colonel,” Darklighter said. “You’re still young. You’ll learn.”

He closed the channel and was gone before Caedus could react to the condescension. Clearly, Darklighter—and probably many of the other senior officers who had fought alongside the legendary Han and Leia Solo against the Empire—disapproved of what Caedus was doing to save the Galactic Alliance. Eventually, the officers’ feelings would become known outside military circles, and then his mother—or some other traitor—would reach out to them in an attempt to arrange a countercoup.

Caedus made a note to add all senior military officers to GAG’s watch-list. It would not do to grow lax now that he was in charge. Even
he
could be surprised—wasn’t that what Admiral Darklighter had just taught him?

And Caedus was even more surprised when, an instant later, the Force blossomed with Jedi presences. He felt dozens of them—perhaps as many as a hundred—all somewhere nearby, all strong and clear and resolute. His battle meditation vanished in an eruption of fear and anger, and he Force-leapt from his chair, doing a reverse flip over the seat back, his head passing so close beneath the upper bulkhead that his hair brushed durasteel.

Caedus came down three meters inside his day cabin, his lightsaber in hand and ignited, his gaze fixed on the still-secure hatch on the wall opposite. There were no Jedi inside the day cabin with him. Nor could he sense any coming through the corridor, creeping through the ventilation ducts overhead, or crawling through the mechanical tunnels beneath the deck.

But that didn’t mean they weren’t coming for him. If Caedus could hide his presence in the Force, so could the Masters—as Mara had demonstrated when she nearly killed him on Kavan.

A raspy voice sounded from Caedus’s left. “Has some furniture offended you?”

“Quiet!” Caedus glanced toward the voice and saw SD-XX, his Tendrando Arms security droid, stepping out of the hidden security station where he kept himself stowed. “They’re
here.
”

“Who?” The droid’s photoreceptors darkened as he switched scanning protocols. With thin armor and blue photoreceptors set in a black, skull-like face, he resembled a scaled-down version of a YVH battle droid. “I detect no living beings within thirty meters.”

“No?”

Caedus frowned. The presences of the Jedi were stronger than ever, distinct enough now that he could recognize many of them—Saba Sebatyne, Kyp Durron, Corran Horn, most of the Masters, along with Tesar, Lowbacca, and more Jedi Knights than he could name. Yet when he tried to get a sense of their location, they seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, as if they were inside his head—just as they might feel during a Jedi battle-meld.

The Jedi weren’t
hunting
him, he realized. They were reaching out to the
Anakin Solo,
inviting him to join their meld. As confused as he was relieved, Caedus deactivated his lightsaber.

“Stand down, Double-Ex,” he said. “They’re not here.”

SD-XX regarded Caedus with a cocked head. “Isn’t that what I just said? Perhaps it’s time you had yourself degaussed, Colonel. Your circuits are ghost-firing.”

“I
said
stand down.” Caedus hung the lightsaber back on his belt. “My circuits are fine.”

SD-XX continued to scrutinize him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Caedus pointed toward the droid’s hidden security station. “Go. That’s an order.”

SD-XX’s voice changed from merely domineering to menacing. “Acknowledged.”

The droid stalked to his compartment in utter silence and vanished back into the wall. Caedus returned to his bubble, but made no attempt to resume his battle meditation. The technique—at least as Lumiya had taught it to him—was Sith, and he did not want to risk using it while what felt like half the Jedi Order was attempting to draw him into a meld.

Instead, Caedus unmasked his presence and opened himself to their meld. It was full of half-familiar feelings, of purpose and commitment and hope, of inclusion and fellowship and warmth—none of it directed at him, of course. He was surprised how lonely the exclusion made him feel, and how much he missed the companionship of family and friends. He had thought himself above such sentimental trivialities. But of course, he was not, and never would be.