Remnant: Force Heretic I (27 page)

Moff Flennic snorted. “And give you the opportunity to plant your thoughts in my head? I’m not stupid, boy. I’m not
senile.
Who do you take me for? I was hunting Eloms decades before you were even born.”

Finding solace and strength in the memory of Vergere’s wisdom, Jacen found an island of calm within himself and relaxed his clenched hands.

The solidly built man paced the flight deck in full uniform, waiting out Jacen’s silence with tense energy.

“Well?” he snapped after a moment. “Aren’t you going to tell me that hunting intelligent life-forms constitutes some violation of your weak Jedi sensibilities?”

Jacen shrugged philosophically. “My sensibilities are my own, sir, and I have no wish to impose them upon you.”

“And yet you want me to do what you tell me,” the man scoffed. “Isn’t that the same thing, boy?”

“Not at all. I am merely explaining what, to me,
would be your most prudent course of action at this moment. How you choose to respond to my opinion, of course, is entirely up to you.”

“But you won’t like it if I ignore you, will you?”

“If you ignore me, your people will be slaughtered,” Jacen said softly. “And no, I would not like that at all.”

Flennic hesitated, something approximating amusement flickering behind his keen eyes. Then he resumed his pacing, slower, each step more deliberate than the last. “You know, boy, if you were one of my officers, I would have had you shot for speaking to me the way you just did.”

Jacen fought to maintain calm. For all the Moff’s abhorrence at the idea of Jacen implanting ideas in his head, he seemed to have no problem in practicing a few mind games of his own. The constant use of the word
boy
was no doubt intended to make Jacen feel small and inadequate. It was lame at best, and served only to further Jacen’s frustration.

“Moff Flennic,” he started tiredly.

The Moff raised a hand to silence Jacen. “I know what you’re going to say,” he said. “That you’re
not
one of my officers—nor would you want to be, I imagine. But I wouldn’t take you even if you wanted me to. And do you know why?”

“It’s not relevant, sir,” Jacen said, trying to maintain his tone of respect even though all he wanted to do was grab the man by the collar of his uniform and shout at him to just
listen.

The man stopped pacing and turned to face him. “I have no idea why you’re bothering to talk to me, boy. I’m clearly wasting your time. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

“Actually, sir, I don’t believe for a second that I’m
wasting my time,” Jacen said. “If anything, I think you know that what I’m saying makes sense, but you’re just too proud to admit it. You’re desperately trying to convince yourself that I’m wrong.”

“Really?” The word was more of a challenge than a question.

“You’re no fool, sir,” Jacen said smoothly. “Convene the other Moffs, if you want to. Tell them what I’ve told you and see what they have to say. I’d be particularly interested in speaking to Moff Crowal of Valc Seven, since she might have access to something I’m looking for.”

“And what might that be?” asked Flennic.

Jacen smiled slightly at the suspicion that suddenly pinched the man’s face. “Information, of course,” he said. “Understand, sir, that our time in the Empire is limited; our mission lies elsewhere. When we have what we need, we will be leaving.”

Flennic’s eyes narrowed. “And you think Valc Seven would be an ideal fallback position for our fleet when we retreat from Yaga Minor?”

“Actually, that’s the last thing you’d want to do. Valc Seven is on the edge of the Unknown Regions. Fall back that far, and you’ve already lost the Empire. No, my choice of fallback—the place you would do best to lay a trap, if you prefer—would be Borosk.”

The Moff was silent for a long moment. Jacen knew what he was thinking. Borosk was one of several small, fortified worlds guarding the edge of the Empire. The Moff would be wondering if this was part of some convoluted plot on behalf of the Galactic Alliance to gain territory from an old enemy.

But Jacen hoped that even Flennic would see that that was just ridiculous. If the Imperial Remnant lost such a stand, Borosk would fall to the Yuuzhan Vong, not the
Galactic Alliance. And the Galactic Alliance had more important things to worry about than a small system on the edge of its territory.

The continuing silence suggested that Flennic was unable, for the moment at least, to fault the plan. Pressing home his advantage, Jacen went on:

“Moff Flennic, if you move quickly enough, you might save Yaga Minor.”

This got a reaction. Yaga Minor was the Moff’s personal holding. When it fell—as it surely would, if the fleet stayed where it was—Flennic would have nothing, regardless of what happened to the Empire as a whole.

“Explain,” Flennic demanded.

“The Yuuzhan Vong are stretched to the limit right now. Thanks to our hit-and-run campaigns, the forces they’ve assembled to knock out the Empire are badly needed elsewhere. They can’t afford to commit here for too long. Knocking out your fleet quickly is their priority. Wherever it is, they’ll go. Once it’s destroyed, they figure they can wipe out your shipyards at their leisure.”

“So if we send them packing now,” Flennic put in, “you’re saying they won’t come back?”

Jacen shook his head. “I can’t guarantee that,” he said. “But if they did come back, it certainly wouldn’t be in such numbers.”

Flennic was pacing again. “And what makes you so sure staging a counterattack at Borosk will work?” he asked, his attention directed to the floor ahead of him.

“Two reasons,” Jacen replied. “One, the spies infiltrating your staff will make sure their warmasters know about the move. And two, we’ll teach you how to fight the Yuuzhan Vong more effectively.”

That pulled the Moff up to a complete halt, swinging
his full attention around to Jacen. “In exchange for what?”

“Nothing, actually. My only interest is in saving lives and maintaining the stability of this region. We can haggle over information with Moff Crowal when this matter is resolved.”

Moff Flennic grunted. “ ‘This matter’?” he echoed incredulously. “You make it sound like we’re in the middle of a minor squabble over an asteroid!”

“Please don’t take offense, sir, but from the point of view of the galaxy, that’s more or less what this is. The Empire has dominion over a few thousand systems out of hundreds of thousands of millions. Yes, you have tactical significance, and no, I do not like to see lives wasted unnecessarily; but your failure to survive will make little difference in the greater scheme of things.”

Flennic’s face filled with blood. His jowls quivered from the rage building up inside him. Jacen had gotten the reaction he’d hoped for. Through the Force he could feel the pressure rising like stresses in a neutron star. Any moment now, something would give. The question was: would he explode or implode?

The answer never came. The comm on Flennic’s desk buzzed and the Moff vented his anger on it.

“I told you, no interruptions!” he bellowed into the comm unit.

“But, sir, there’s an incoming call from—”

“I don’t care who it’s from, you fool. Get rid of them now, or so help me I’ll have you ejected into space without—”

He stopped short when another voice issued from the comm unit. “That’s hardly the way to speak to a subordinate officer,” the voice said. “Especially when you’re on
my
ship.”

Flennic’s features went from startlingly purple to deathly white in the time it would have taken light to cross the room.

“Grand Admiral?” he said unbelievingly. “You’re—
alive
?”

“Of course I’m alive,” Pellaeon said, his voice oddly muffled but clear. “It will take more than a bunch of overeager Yuuzhan Vong to put me out of the picture.”

“But—”

“What’s the matter, Kurlen? You don’t sound as overjoyed to hear my voice as I’d thought you might.”

“No, that’s not it at all. It’s just—that is, I’m—” The man stammered awkwardly for a moment, then straightened and returned his glare to Jacen. “How do I know this isn’t one of your mind tricks, Jedi?”

It was Pellaeon who answered. “Just take a look at him, Kurlen. He’s as surprised about this as you are.”

That was true. The last thing Jacen had expected was assistance from the man he had last seen unconscious in a bacta tank, looking as though death was but a few short breaths away. It also confirmed something he had been wondering: that Pellaeon had access to more than just audio via his comlink, but was hiding his own visuals.

“It’s nice to hear your voice, Grand Admiral Pellaeon,” Jacen said with absolute honesty.

“Under better circumstances, Jacen Solo, I would say the same.” There was the hint of a smile in the man’s voice. “Thank you for your help at Bastion. I owe the Jedi my life, and I never forget my debts. You can safely assume I shall listen to your thoughts on the Yuuzhan Vong with far more interest than some of my colleagues.”

“It would be my pleasure to discuss them with you, sir,” Jacen said, mindful to keep any conceit from his
tone. Even though he would be dealing with Grand Admiral Pellaeon, he still didn’t want to get on Flennic’s bad side. The future was full of unseen waters; it was important to leave as many means of crossing those waters open to him as possible.

“Another time, perhaps,” the Grand Admiral said. “I’ve been a little out of touch these past couple of days, and right now I have a strategic withdrawal to discuss with Moff Flennic.”

“We were just discussing that very thing,” the Moff said, licking his lips nervously.

“Were you, indeed?” Pellaeon asked. “And have you issued directives to the surviving officers?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Assessed possible locations for a more substantial regroup?”

“Borosk was one location that came to mind,” Flennic said, shooting Jacen a warning look.

“A good choice, Kurlen. I suggest you get onto it straight away. The longer we sit here, the more stupid we’ll look when the next wave arrives. Capital ships should start moving within the hour, leaving a small defense force behind. I trust I can leave the arrangements in your hands? I have business elsewhere that needs attending.”

“Uh, Grand Admiral—”

“Yes, Kurlen?”

“Don’t you think this deserves a little more discussion?”

There was a long silence. Jacen maintained an expression of serene patience while Moff Flennic looked increasingly nervous.

When Pellaeon spoke again, it was in a voice with all the cold clarity of a hydrogen bath.

“Understand this, Kurlen: what I just gave you was an
order, not an invitation. While I command the Imperial Navy, you
will
do as I say, regardless of whether or not you agree with those orders. Otherwise—and believe me when I say this—if I have to secede from the Empire in order to ensure this navy’s survival, then I shall do so without hesitation—and I guarantee that we won’t be back to pick up the pieces of your shipyards afterward.”

“I understand, Grand Admiral,” the Moff stammered.

“Good,” Pellaeon returned crisply. “But I’m not finished. This is just the beginning. You will also issue orders to allow
Jade Shadow
free access to this system, and any system within the Empire. The Moff Council has gravely underestimated the threat of the Yuuzhan Vong against my advice one too many times, and it won’t happen again. I won’t
let
it happen again. The time has come to take what few assets we have left and ensure that nothing like this ever recurs. If we survive Borosk, the Galactic Alliance and the Jedi will be our best hope of long-term survival, and I intend to take advantage of them while the Empire still exists. Is that understood?”

The large but temporarily cowed man just nodded.

“The connection must be poor, Kurlen, because I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“I understand perfectly, Grand Admiral Pellaeon.”

“Excellent. Now, send our young friend back to
Widowmaker.
I want to pick his brain about the Yuuzhan Vong while I still have the opportunity to do so.”

Flennic didn’t look at Jacen as he pushed a button for the door to open. It did so with a faint hiss. Jacen bowed in farewell, but the Moff turned away as though he wasn’t even there.

Hiding his relief to be out of the man’s presence, Jacen walked rapidly down to the docks where the
Lambda
-class shuttle waited to take him back.

*  *  *

Jaina took her time prepping for launch, hoping to catch Jag when he arrived. But a suspicious-looking scuff mark on the
Falcon
held him up on the surface and she couldn’t delay forever. As soon as she and her two wing-mates were kitted up and had clearance authorization from
Pride of Selonia
, she launched her X-wing and powered away from Galantos.

The sight of two clawcraft shadowing her was still a little unnerving. It wasn’t all that long ago that craft with similar cockpits—TIE fighters—had represented fear and hostility for those who had survived the Rebellion and the tumultuous years that had followed. She was too young herself to have any firsthand memories of that time, but Jaina had heard enough stories and seen sufficient footage to have had the same instinct instilled in her. She didn’t know how many times the Empire had tried to kill her parents in all, but she was sure it was in double figures, at least.

At the same time, though, the clawcraft’s four sweeping weapon arms resembled an X-wing’s S-foils. Sometimes she wondered if the Chiss hadn’t deliberately designed their fighters to unsettle and reassure both New Republic and Empire. It was like sitting on the fence, giving the impression that they might have allegiance to either power.

“Locking on to your navicomputer,” Jocell said. A brisk, efficient woman from Csilla, homeworld of the Chiss, she was easy to work with. Miza was the better pilot of the two, but less reliable, as far as Jaina was concerned.

“Last one there’s a flat-lined drebin,” came Miza over the comm unit.

The decidedly non-Chiss phrase immediately caught
Jaina’s attention. “Jump laid in,” she replied, figuring she knew where the pilot had picked it up. The frigate accompanying the mission was staffed by navy personnel from all across the galaxy; when Twin Suns Squadron wasn’t on patrol, there was plenty of time for socializing in the mess and picking up on some of the native lingo.