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“I get that, but the rest of it . . .”

Corran sighed and laid a hand on Jacen’s left shoulder. “Look, Jacen, I don’t want revenge for Elegos. His death hurt me, deeply, but I knew him well enough to know that the last thing he’d want is someone slain in his name. You remember on Dantooine, he took to flying that shuttle because he was willing to take responsibility for killing, to shield others from having to bear that burden. If I went out after Shedao Shai in Elegos’s name, Elegos would see that as his having thrust the burden of violence on me. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

“But you do intend to kill Shedao Shai.”

Corran’s face resolved itself into a solemn mask. “If the opportunity arises, yes. Look, Jacen, it’s not about vengeance, which, you’re right, would be of the dark side. It’s about responsibility. Shedao Shai wants to kill me. If I don’t engage him, then you or Ganner or someone else might be required to deal with him. Yes, he’s dangerous, of that I have no doubt. He may well kill me and then he’s your problem. Until then, he’s mine.”

Jacen shivered. “I don’t know about that.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to.” The older man sighed, not wearily, but as if he were letting tension boil off. “I know what we are doing is right, Jacen. The battle here is for two ends. The first is to preserve Ithor and its fleeing population. The second, which is equally important, is to inflict a defeat on the Vong. We need them to know the easy course of their invasion so far isn’t going to continue. If they pay a price here, they may reconsider further action.

“I don’t expect you to understand it at your age, because I didn’t until well past it, but I just know that what I’m doing is right.” He smiled. “I can feel it in my gut. It’s just what has to be done.”

Jacen heard the conviction in Corran’s voice and took heart in it for a second, then frowned as his mouth soured. “I felt that way about freeing the slaves on Belkadan, and you know how that turned out.”

Corran looped an arm over Jacen’s shoulders. “Um, kid, you’ve got a lot to learn about this morale thing.”

“Just trying to be realistic.”

“Yeah, I know.” Corran smiled grimly and steered Jacen along to their staging area. “I have a feeling we’re going to get realism washed over us in waves. I just hope we don’t drown.”

“Indeed, I am rather surprised to see you still here, cousin.” Admiral Traest Kre’fey stood forward on the Ralroost’s bridge, watching the spacescape over Ithor. Out in the distance a number of dagger-shaped ships orbited the planet—with fewer of them belonging to the New Republic than to the Imperial Remnant. “I would have thought you’d have made your way back toward the Core with High Priest Tawron.”

Borsk Fey’lya avoided shrugging, though fur did ripple at the back of his neck. “There were reasons I stayed.”

Not the least being that Leia Organa Solo has not fled as your cabinet has? Traest left his thoughts unvoiced, though he felt the chief of the New Republic might have read them in his feral smile. “And reasons you wished to speak to me?”

“Speak to you? No.” Fey’lya smiled carefully. “I wanted you here as a witness.” He nodded toward the communications officer. “You may put the connection through now.”

Lieutenant Arr’yka looked to the admiral for permission.

Traest held a hand up for a moment. “And whom do you want to speak with?”

“Admiral Pellaeon.” Fey’lya nodded toward the Chimaera glimmering in the distance. “Since you are not so bold as to champion your own cause, it becomes incumbent upon me to do so. I will demand the leadership of this operation fall to you. It is a New Republic world; you should be leading its defense.”

“I see.” A hint of a growl entered Traest’s voice, then he nodded to the lieutenant. “Open communications with Admiral Pellaeon, please.”

The two Bothans waited in silence for a handful of seconds, then Pellaeon appeared in life-size holo as imposing as he did in life. “Yes, Admiral Kre’fey?”

“My compliments, Admiral. I did not want to disturb you, but Chief Borsk Fey’lya wishes to urge you to give me