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“Ah. I was wondering why such momentous news as Coruscant’s fall went over your head with a meter to spare.”

A faint color suffused Jag’s face, and a faintly puzzled expression flickered in his eyes. Baron Fel suspected that his son was also somewhat unclear on that point. Well, he would learn soon enough.

Jag quickly veered away from his uncharacteristic tangent and back onto a more familiar vector. “Coruscant was not only attacked, but captured?”

“It would so appear. This leads us to your next assignment. In recent years, the New Republic has been characterized by increasing dissent. The loss of their central seat could polarize them for a very long time.”

The baron fell silent. For a long moment, he studied his son. “You will be flying straight into a maelstrom.”

Jag glanced pointedly toward the viewport, and the ice storm beyond. “This is what I was trained to do, no more.”

“Then it’s settled.” Fel rose and handed a single holocube to his son. “This contains the most recent military updates, as well as the specs on the new ships you’ll be flying. I’ll leave the selection of pilots to you.”

“Shawnkyr Nuruodo, my second in command, will accompany me.” When the general began to protest, Jag’s chin came up sharply. “You admonished me about responsibility, sir, and rightly so. I’m honored to scout for Syndic Mitth’raw’nuruodo, but I would rather not risk Chiss pilots needlessly. In all likelihood, we will need every one of them here.”

“What about Shawnkyr?”

A fleeting smile curved Jag’s lips. “Shawnkyr is a true member of a renegade phalanx, sir. She would not stay behind if I ordered her to.”

“I see. A wise leader always tries to give orders that are likely to be followed. Why do you think I’m sending you?”

He extended his hand. They clasped hands briefly, then Jag stepped back and offered a crisp, formal bow.

Baron Fel watched his son stride to the door. When he was alone, he sank back into his chair, his shoulders slumped and his expression bleak and bereft.

There was no keeping Jag away from the growing conflict. Soontir Fel understood this, for he knew Jag well. He also knew from long experience what the young man was likely to face. The burden of sending his promising, twenty-year-old son into a seemingly impossible fight weighed heavily upon him.

Davin had been about Jag’s age when he’d been sent to his final battle, and his sister Cherith even younger.

Soontir Fel rose and began to pace the room. He had never turned away from duty, and he would not now. But nothing he’d faced in his long career had been as difficult as this:

Sending his third child to serve, and most likely to die.

Jaina braced herself against the pilot’s seat as the stolen Yuuzhan Vong ship accelerated toward lightspeed. The frantic, pulsing lights that marked Coruscant’s last battle stretched out into fading lines, and then disappeared.

The calm and darkness of hyperspace welcomed them. Jaina ripped off the pilot’s hood and scrubbed her head briskly with both hands. This did little to erase the images of Coruscant’s death. Her heart still thudded in time to the chaotic pace of its destruction, and the cacophony of battle rang in her ears. She set it all aside as best she could and turned to Lowbacca.

“Good job. Where are we going?”

The Wookiee responded with a hollow moan and something that looked suspiciously like a shrug.

“You don’t know?” Tenel Ka demanded, coming forward with quick strides. “How can you not know?”

Lowbacca huffed defensively, his gaze boring into Tenel Ka’s gray-eyed challenge. Jaina placed a hand on the Wookiee’s shoulder.

“Jumping to open space was the best thing to do under the circumstances. Lowbacca bought us time so we can all decide next steps. Together.”

“I’ll get the others,” Tenel Ka said curtly.

She returned in moments with the other Jedi. Her one arm encircled Tahiri’s waist in a manner that was half support, half sisterly embrace.

Tahiri was nearly clothed in bandages and bacta patches, but none of Tekli’s ministrations had lessened the naked grief in