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The only real bright spot in the whole disaster of the retreat from Dubrillion had been Jaina Solo’s joining the squadron. Gavin had asked Leia if her daughter might stay on with the unit, and permission had been granted cautiously. When he saw the joy on Jaina’s face at the decision, Gavin suspected Leia had agreed just because she didn’t want to have to deal with Jaina if she’d said no. Jaina immediately moved into the squadron barracks, taking up a room with Anni Capstan, her wingman, and settling in as if she’d belonged there all along.

And flying the way she does, there’s little doubt she will remain with us for a long time.

It surprised Gavin to find a trooper with a blaster rifle standing in front of his office door. The trooper was little more than a kid—barely older than I was when I joined the squadron. “Is there a problem here, Private?”

The youth swallowed hard. “Sir, I tried to stop them, sir, but they said it would be okay to enter your office. They said you wouldn’t mind.”

Gavin blinked with astonishment. “Did they? And did they say who they were?”

The trooper shook his head. “Just some old guys, sir.”

“And you let them in there? Why didn’t you stop them?”

The soldier winced. “I tried, but they took my blaster away from me.” He turned the weapon enough to let Gavin see that it had no power pack.

The colonel nodded. “And your comlink?”

“They took that, too. They told me to wait here for you, otherwise I’d be guilty of abandoning a post, sir.”

“Yes, do that, wait right there.” Gavin steered the youth to the side and opened the door to his office. He knew walking in there was foolish, but he dismissed the possibility that his visitors were assassins. The Yuuzhan Vong didn’t seem to operate that way. Besides, dying now might just be easier than fighting a war.

The two visitors looked up from where they had seated themselves in the easy chairs. On the table before them sat three tumblers, two of which had been filled from the decanter of Corellian whiskey Gavin kept hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk. The two men smiled at him, and he began to laugh.

The trooper glanced into the room. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Yes, Private, you’re dismissed.”

“Here,” one of the visitors said, and lofted the soldier the clip and comlink that had been appropriated from him.

Gavin closed the door behind the trooper, then shook his head. “He described you as ‘two old guys.’ ”

“No respect among the young anymore, is there, Tycho?”

“None, Wedge, none at all. Probably the fault of the command staff.”

Gavin poured himself a glass of whiskey. “What are you two doing here?”

“We heard from various sources that you’re going to be going to war.” Wedge Antilles raised his glass. “We’re too old to fly, but not to help out. You need us, you’ve got us.”

“You may want to reconsider that offer. This isn’t going to be pretty at all.”

Tycho Celchu shook his head. “War never is, Gavin. Let’s just hope, together, we can make it very short.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Jacen Solo turned from where he had been leaning on the balcony railing and faced his little brother. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Anakin shook his head as he emerged on the Solos’ balcony. “Nightmares.”

“Of?”

“Dantooine.” Anakin rubbed sleep sand from his eyes. “I keep having this dream where I’m cutting down reptoids right and left, but it’s never enough. They still overrun the refugee camp. When we get there—’cuz you’re in the dream, too—we find a lot of dead people. Chewie and Dad and Mom are among them.”

Jacen sighed. “That’s a nasty one.”

“What do you think it means?”

The older brother shook his head and turned to lean on the balcony railing. “After my experience on Belkadan, I’ve given up trying to figure out what dreams mean. Yours could mean anything. You’re still dealing with Chewie’s death. By the same token, since Mara wasn’t among the dead, could be you’re congratulating yourself over having saved her. I don’t know.”

Anakin joined his brother at the railing