The Final Prophecy (5 page)

“A brilliant fight,” Jag said. “We have the best flight commander in the galaxy.”

Jaina actually felt a blush coming on—not from the words, but from the depths of Jag’s blue-eyed gaze.

“No argument there,” Raf said. “But I’d say one more toast is in order.”

“Just one?” Mynor Dac said. “I can’t imagine you shutting up for the rest of the night.”

“No doubt,” Alema Rar drily seconded.

Raf sent the Twi’lek a mock-glare, then raised his glass. “To General Wedge Antilles, and the plan that gave us back Fondor.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jaina said.

But before the glass reached her lips, something fell onto the table. A Rogue Squadron patch. She looked up into the round-eyed gaze of a young Duros. A very unhappy-looking Duros.

“Lensi?”

“Colonel,” he acknowledged, his voice flat and clipped.

“Join the celebration, Lensi,” Raf said. “Not that we normally mingle with disreputable Rogues, but—”

“I have nothing to celebrate,” Lensi said, his gaze still focused on Jaina. “And I will no longer fly with Rogue Squadron. My people were betrayed today. Betrayed by General Antilles. Betrayed by Jaina Solo.”

Jag came to his feet at that, followed closely by a growling, towering Lowbacca. Jag stared at Lensi with deadly calm. If Lensi was troubled by either Jag or the Wookiee, he didn’t show it.

“Lowbacca, sit down,” Jaina said. “Jag—please. Let him talk.”

The Wookiee reluctantly followed orders, but Jag stood squared off with the Duros for several long seconds.

“Be careful what you say, Duros,” he finally said. “Where I come from, there are penalties for slander.”

“What’s on your mind, Lensi?” Jaina asked.

“Many of my people died in the attack on Duro.”

“They didn’t have to,” Jaina said. “The attack on Duro was a feint, designed to draw reinforcements from here. The Duros commander of the mission broke with the plan. He jeopardized both missions.”

“He was not told the attack was a feint,” Lensi said.

“No one was!” Raf exploded. “We were all in the dark.”

“That’s why it worked, Lensi,” Jaina said. “Yuuzhan Vong intelligence is good. Wedge had to make the buildup look like it was aimed at Duro, and he had to make the attack there look convincing.”

“Duro was the more lightly occupied,” Lensi said. “We
could
have taken Duro. We were promised this.” His face tightened into an even flatter mask. “We were used.”

“Such is war,” Jag said. “Fondor was considered the more strategic target. The liberation of Duro may come next, it may not.” He nodded his head around the crowded room. “Many of the pilots here have lost a homeworld to the Vong. You think you’re alone? You think every one of them wouldn’t prioritize the liberation of their homeworld over every other, if they were given the choice? War isn’t fought on the basis of sentiment and desire. Battles must accomplish tactical goals.”

“Your ‘tactical goals’ see many of my people dead today.”

“Because they disobeyed orders,” Jag snapped. “They signed on under General Antilles. If they had paid attention to him, most if not all of them would still be alive. If you want to know who betrayed your people to death, look to the commander who broke ranks.”

“We aren’t children,” Lensi persisted. “We should have been told.”

Jag started to speak again, but Jaina cut in.

“Maybe,” she said. “In hindsight, maybe. Or maybe we would all be dead now.” She softened her voice. “You were a good wingmate at Sernpidal. I know you’ve done well
with Rogue Squadron since I left. We’re going to win this war. We’re going to win back Duro. But only if enough of us keep fighting.” She picked up the patch and tossed it to him. Reflexively, he caught it. “You have to do what your conscience dictates.”

Lensi hesitated, looking at the patch. “Colonel Solo,” he said, “I was there, after Sernpidal, when you slapped Kyp Durron for lying to us. You know what it feels like to be betrayed, to fight without knowing what you’re really fighting for.”

She raised her eyes and regarded him steadily. “I know what lots of things feel like,” she said. “And you know what? I’m still fighting. I’m going to keep fighting until there isn’t a single threat left in this galaxy. You think you’re the only person who has lost something in this war? Grow up, Lensi.”

The Duros regarded her for another long moment.

“Did
you
know?” he asked.

“No. But if I had, I wouldn’t have told anyone. General Antilles did the right thing.”

Lensi nodded curtly, turned, and left. He still had the insignia with him.

“General Antilles?”

Wedge stopped tapping his fingers on the Kashyyyk-wood conference table and acknowledged the heavy-jowled Sullustan.

“Yes, Admiral Sovv?” he said.

“What is your opinion on the matter?”

“We should have told Col,” Wedge said, bluntly. “I should have broken orders and told him myself. He had a right to know exactly what he was getting his people into.”

“Under perfect circumstances, yes,” Admiral Kre’fey said. “But the circumstances were far from perfect. Bothan intelligence had—has—information that the Yuuzhan Vong
have a spy placed high in the command structure of the Duros government-in-exile. Indeed, it was through that leak that the Yuuzhan Vong ‘discovered’ our plans to invade the Duro system—as we planned.”

“Col might have been brought in,” Wedge replied. “He was a hothead, but he could be trusted with a secret.”

“Perhaps,” the white-furred Bothan replied, “perhaps not. As it is, our plan was fulfilled.”

“With more losses than necessary.”

“Still fewer than projected,” General Garm Bel Iblis said, from across the table. “The battle at Fondor was a total rout. We did them great damage, and now we have a secure position from which to strike at Coruscant.”

“Gentlemen,” Sien Sovv said, “I’m declaring the matter closed from a military point of view. Certainly General Antilles is not to blame. He followed the orders this council gave him. I refuse to allocate any resources for an internal investigation, not at this point in our war against the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“That tables the matter of the Duros protest,” Kre’fey said. “It’s time we move on to what we do next.”

Admiral Sovv nodded. “General Bel Iblis, how long before the shipyards at Fondor become productive again?”

“That will take some time,” the aging general admitted. “Two, three months before any facility can go on-line. Ships—six months perhaps. Probably not sooner. But once construction actually begins, they will be quite productive. They should position us well for a push toward the Core.”

“Good,” Sien Sovv said. “In the meantime we should continue the process of isolating Coruscant from the rest of Yuuzhan Vong territory. Which brings me to this.” He tapped the table, and a hologram of the galaxy appeared.

“Yag’Dhul and Thyferra are secure, finally, and Fondor is ours.” Three stars near the dense, glowing center of the
galaxy winked green, indicating the positions of the systems named.

“Coruscant, however, is still well supplied.” Coruscant—or whatever it was the Yuuzhan Vong had renamed it—lit up, on the other side of the Core from the other three.

“It’s time to threaten that.”

A final star lit.

“Bilbringi,” Wedge said.

“Yes. There is some evidence that the shipyards there are partially intact. More, it gives us a base from which to harry both the Hydian Way and the Perlemian Trade Route.”

“It’s too close to Coruscant,” Bel Iblis said. “And too far from our own secure zone. We can never hold it.” He shook his head. “We don’t want another Borleias. No offense, General Antilles.”

“None taken. Our actions at Borleias served their intended purpose. We never imagined we would keep it.”

He turned to Sien Sovv. “But he’s right, the Yuuzhan Vong can hardly ignore a threat that close to Coruscant. I don’t think we have the ships to take it if they have advance warning. If they don’t, I doubt we could hold it very long. Not and keep our own systems secure.”

“They have the same problem,” the Sullustan admiral pointed out. “As we’ve proven to them, they’ve taken more systems than they can hold. There’s not much in the Bilbringi system, but there are no habitable planets. In any event, I have a tactical reason for choosing Bilbringi as a target.”

Wedge raised an eyebrow and waited, as another sector of the galaxy lit up, this one Rimward.

“The Imperial Remnant,” he murmured.

“Indeed,” Sovv said. “Admiral Pellaeon has agreed to lend us his support in this enterprise, and Bilbringi lies within good striking distance of the Empire. Between us, we
can carve a corridor through the Rim, eventually cutting Coruscant off completely.”

Wedge bit back a protest. He’d spent most of his life fighting the Empire, and his opinion of Pellaeon was a mixed one, the recent alliance notwithstanding. But he decided to hear Sovv out.

“It’s true Pellaeon can reach Bilbringi without passing through Yuuzhan Vong territory,” Kre’fey said. “The same is not true for us.”

“No. We will have to fight our way through several hyperspace jumps. Here is what I propose.”

Lines began drawing themselves across the galaxy. “Our main fleet will launch from Mon Calamari, under Admiral Kre’fey,” he said. “Part of the fleet at Fondor will move to meet them, under General Antilles. When they converge, they will be joined by a detachment from the Imperial fleet.”

“The Vong will suspect a trick,” Bel Iblis said, “after what we did to them at Fondor.”

“Exactly,” Sovv said. “But the only trick in this case is overwhelming force. I expect them to hold back reinforcements, fearing it is another feint, perhaps to draw defenses from Coruscant itself.”

“Interesting,” Wedge allowed. “Though there will be a trick in the coordination. The hyperspace routes are uncertain these days. If one of our fleets arrives too early, or too late—”

“The HoloNet is functioning at high efficiency in those areas. We should be able to coordinate down to the second.”

“What’s the Empire getting out of this?” Bel Iblis asked.

“Exactly what I was wondering,” Wedge replied.

Sovv shrugged. “We long made efforts to convince Pellaeon that we must work together to free the galaxy from the Yuuzhan Vong threat. Our efforts have paid off, so far to our great benefit.”

“I’m aware of our diplomatic efforts,” Bel Iblis said. “As well as the Empire’s recent aid to us—in return for help we gave them, I might add. I’m also aware that they want some of our planets in return.”

Sovv’s brows lowered. “They aren’t ‘our’ planets anymore, General Bel Iblis. The planets in question belong to the Yuuzhan Vong now. Most are not even recognizable as the worlds they were a few years ago. I’m convinced we need the Empire’s help to win this war. If that means showing them a little goodwill afterward, I don’t see the harm. In any case, they aren’t making any specific demands at this time—this is an effort to establish their good intentions, nothing more.”

Good intentions that will place at least some of them as an occupation force spitting distance from Coruscant, Wedge thought
.

Unfortunately, despite that, he agreed with Sovv.

“We can strike now,” Wedge said, “press our advantage while we have one, or we can wait—wait for the Vong to grow more ships, breed more warriors, invent new bioweapons. Right now, they’ve bit off a little more of this galaxy than they can easily chew, as we’ve shown them in the last few months. We have to keep it that way.”

He looked around. Everyone but Sovv was nodding.

“There
is
another solution,” the commander said.

“You mean Alpha Red, the biological agent developed by the Chiss?” Wedge said. “Not as far as I’m concerned. Genocide is what the Emperor did. It’s what the Yuuzhan Vong do. It’s not what we do. If it is, I’m fighting for the wrong cause.”

“Even if it’s our only choice for survival?” Sovv asked.

“It’s not,” Wedge replied, flatly.

“The Yuuzhan Vong will not stop after one defeat, ten, a hundred. They will fight until every last warrior is dead.
Even if they win, the cost that will exact from our people will be tremendous—”

“That question is moot at present,” Kre’fey broke in, “and would seem a waste of our valuable time to discuss it.”

“Very well. I trust there are no other objections to pursuing the offensive against the Yuuzhan Vong at present?” the commander said.

There were not.

“Then let us discuss details.”

Kneeling in the presence of Supreme Overlord Shimrra, Nen Yim believed in the gods. It was impossible not to.

At other times, she had her doubts. Her late master, Mezhan Kwaad, had flatly denied their existence. In the clear light of logic, Nen Yim herself saw no particular reason to give them credence. Indeed, the fact that she herself created, with her own mind and shaping hands, things that all but a few of her people believed to be gifts from the gods suggested that all such evidence of their existence was similarly tainted.

But in the presence of Shimrra, her mind could not tolerate doubt. It was crushed from her by a presence so powerful it could not have mortal origin. It pressed away the years of her learning, of studied cynicism, of anything resembling logic, and left her an insignificant insect, a crècheling terrified by the shadows of her elders and the terrible mystery that was the world.

Afterward, she always wondered how he did it. Was it some modification of yammosk technology? Something erased from the protocols entirely? Or was it an invention of some heretical predecessor of herself?

He was shadow and dread, awesome and unreachable. She crouched at his feet and was nothing.

Onimi leered almost gently at her as she rose, shaking, to speak to her master.

“You have studied the thing?”

“I have, Dread One,” Nen Yim replied. “Not exhaustively, as there hasn’t been time, but—”

“There will be more time. Tell me what you have discovered thus far.”

“It is a ship,” Nen Yim replied. “Like our own ships, it is a living organism.”

“Not at all,” Shimrra interrupted. “It has no dovin basals. Its engines are like the infidel engines, dead metal.”