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“But—I thought this mission was about setting up networks for refugees and intelligence. No one said anything about taking the fight to the enemy.”

“Hey, Jacen,” Han said, “it’s not as if we’re going out of our way to harass collaborationist shipping, though why the thought of doing so should upset you I can’t imagine. But there they are, and here we are—”

“Can we just disable them?” Jacen asked.

“Jacen,” Han said, turning to face him, his eyebrows lifting. “Jacen, in case you didn’t notice, there’s a war on. Now, I know you’ve gotten all mystical on me lately, and I’m trying to be understanding, but if you expect the rest of us to go along with your philosophy of the day, think again. You stick with the Force and let me deal with this. Anyway, for all you know that freighter could be full of slaves and sacrifices. You really want to leave them to the mercy of the Vong?”

“I don’t feel anything like that in the Force,” Jacen said firmly.

“Jacen,” Leia chimed in. “You know I respect what you’re trying to do, but you have to understand something—”

“I understand,” Jacen interrupted. “I understand that you told me this mission was about something I could get on board with, and now in the middle of the flight you’re changing the coordinates. I’m not trying to tell you what to believe. But when you brought me along on this trip—”

“When I brought you along on this trip,” Han roared, “I never said you could be captain, and I didn’t tell you this is a democracy. Jacen, I love you. But sit down, shut up, and do as you’re told.”

Jacen was so stunned by his father’s anger that it did not, at that moment, even occur to him to continue the argument.

“Great,” Han said. “So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to take out that Yuuzhan Vong escort, and then we’re going to make the freighter an offer.”

“Offer?” Leia said.

“Yep. We’ll offer not to blow her open if she surrenders quietly.” He checked his panel. “Power in five minutes. Jacen, get down to the turbolaser.”

Jacen hesitated, a painful, sickening knot growing in his gut. “Okay.”

“And I want you to use it if needed.”

“I will. Sir.” And with that he stalked out of the cockpit.

FIFTEEN

The villip squirmed, stretching itself to its limits in an attempt to portray the fine mass of tendrils that composed the living headdress of Master Tjulan Kwaad. It did not entirely succeed, but did so sufficiently well that Nen Yim was able to tell that the senior master of her domain was agitated.

“Why disturb me over such a question?” Tjulan Kwaad asked. “You have access to the Qang qahsa, do you not?”

“I do indeed, Master Kwaad,” Nen Yim replied. “However, the qahsa does not grant a mere adept entry to protocols beyond the fifth cortex.”

“Nor should it. Adepts are not ready for such secrets. Especially adepts such as yourself. You and your deceased master disgraced our domain.”

“That is true,” Nen Yim said carefully. “However, Warmaster Tsavong Lah chose to pardon me and … reward me with a chance to further serve the glorious Yun-Yuuzhan. I should think my domain would do as much.”

“Do not presume what your domain would do,” Tjulan Kwaad replied testily. “Even the Yim crèche would not do as much. The warmaster is a warrior, covered in glory and more than ample as a warrior. But he is not a shaper, and he does not know how dangerous your heresies are.”

“Those were the heresies of my master, not mine,” Nen Yim lied.

“Yet you did not report her.”

Yun-Harla aid me, Nen Yim prayed. The mistress of trickery loved lies as much as Yun-Yammka loved battle. “How could discipline be maintained if every adept felt free to question her master?”

“You could have reported her to me,” Tjulan Kwaad roared. “You owe fealty to me as lord of your domain. Mezhan Kwaad was as much my subordinate as you. That you neglected that relationship will never be forgotten!”

“My judgment failed, Master. That does not change the fact that this ship is dying, and I need your help.”

“Each of us begins to die the instant we are born. Our ships