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“I don’t understand.”

“I remember the Yuuzhan Vong War. I was only a kid, but it’s all still so vivid. Everyone I knew was fighting for the same thing. Survival. It was simple. If we lost, we died, and we died out. If we won, we didn’t. This war, though…Those of us who were in uniform when it started trusted that they’d tell us what it meant, and that it would make sense. But they told us, and it didn’t.”

She took a long, shuddery breath. “It’s getting crazier and crazier out there. It’s like both sides are starting to see each other as nothing but droids. I keep hearing stories about infantry units who report that they found enemy towns and compounds blown up, part of some Confederation scorch-and-thwart policy. But scuttlebutt has it that their ground forces are reporting the same thing about our towns and compounds, and I know we don’t have a policy like that. And someone at Centerpoint Station pressed a button to wipe out our entire task force the other day. Pressed a button. I’m scared to death that they’ll do it again…but I’m even more scared that next time, I’d be willing to push that button.” Finally the tears came and she put her head down into her hand. “Since this started, I’ve shot at one of my heroes, Luke Skywalker, and at my own father. The Alliance and the Confederation both say awful things about both of them. Neither one of them deserves it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Tycho’s tone was kind, but his words pressed her on implacably. “And Colonel Solo?”

“Everyone’s afraid of him. Everyone. Nobody talks about him. Have you ever heard of that? Someone whose own people never talk about him?”

“Once or twice. A long time ago.” Tycho sighed. “Syal, do you want out?”

Jolted and angered by his words, she sat upright and glared at him. “I don’t want to run. I just want it to make sense.”

“I’m not asking you to run, or to dishonor your uniform. I’m asking, all else being equal, do you want out?”

“No. I want to be doing something I think will help bring the war to an end. My captain’s insignia…it’s not worth the metal it’s stamped from without that. I’m not going to dishonor my uniform…but the way things are going, I can’t seem to bring honor to it. Do you know what I mean?”

“You’re talking to a man who used to fly for Emperor Palpatine. Palpatine, whose subordinates never talked about him.”

She wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry, Tycho. I forgot.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” He studied her. “You’ll get new orders in a day or two. They’ll look awful. They’ll look like something no commander with any sense would do to an ace like you. Don’t protest, don’t make waves. Just go where they tell you. I’ll be there.”

“Yes, General.”

“Can you get in touch with your father?”

She nodded. “I haven’t. Technically, it would be treason. But I can.”

“It’s not treason if a commanding officer orders you to do so.”

“True.”

“I so order.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t know how much time it will take.”

“My means of reaching him are bound to be just as slow and uncertain. That’s why I’m doubling my chances by asking for your help.” He gave her his gentle smile again, his Uncle Tycho smile. “So. Official talk is over. Is there anywhere around here to get a good cup of caf? Not the paint remover they serve around the hangar?”

“My gunner, Zueb Zan, brews up a good one.”

“Lead the way.”

CORELLIA, CORONET, COMMAND BUNKER

The hologram at the center of the darkened chamber showed a lean man in a dark officer’s uniform, that of a Confederation general. His face was scarred, his body rigid.

And he was only a double hand span over a meter tall, as Prime Minister Koyan had instructed his technical team to keep the hologram to a “manageable size.”

The reduction in stature did not affect the general’s voice, however. Rich with anger, it resonated, vibrating Koyan’s sternum, echoing off the chamber walls. “Centerpoint Station is a Confederation resource. Utilizing it without coordinating with my office constitutes dereliction of duty—and more important, gross incompetence.”

“It’s a Corellian