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The human nodded and smoothed his white mustache with his left hand. “As per Imperial directive 59826, if I am replaced as commander of the Ithorian defense, all Imperial ships and personnel are to be withdrawn to Bastion immediately.”

“Thank you, Admiral. Sorry for wasting your time. Kre’fey out.”

The Bothan admiral turned to face his cousin. “Will that be all?”

He could see by the crest of fur rising at Borsk Fey’lya’s neck that it would not be. “This is an outrage! The Remnant has no place defending this world. It is our world. We must be in command of the defense. There can be no other way!”

Traest extended his right hand toward Fey’lya, palm up, fingers clawed, and unsheathed his talons. “On Coruscant you agreed to leave the defense of the New Republic to the military. I warned you that if you tried to interfere, I would withdraw my forces to the Unknown Regions. I can and will yet do that. If I do, Admiral Pellaeon will pull his forces out. Ithor will be defenseless.”

Fey’lya’s violet eyes widened. “But you can’t. The troops you have on the ground would be abandoned. And the Jedi . . . you would not leave them—”

“No? Try me. You don’t care about the Jedi. If you had your way, they would all perish here. You’d praise their sacrifice, build memorials to them, then happily dance on their graves.” Traest’s amethyst eyes hardened, letting light glint from the gold flecks in them. “As for leaving Ithor behind, you have no idea where I’ve sent the refugees. There will be Ithorian colonies throughout the New Republic and Unknown Regions. Yes, it will take years before the bafforr trees can produce their pollen again, but I can spend that time building up armies to come and crush the Yuuzhan Vong. I warned you before that is what I would do, and I will. One word from me and the dependents for every warrior in my command will be moved to worlds of my choosing.”

“You are insubordinate! I will remove you from command.” Fey’lya turned and pointed at two Bothan security officers standing beside the access hatch to the bridge. “Arrest Admiral Kre’fey and conduct him from the bridge.”

Neither of the Bothans stirred or gave any sign they’d even heard the command.

Traest peered down his nose at his cousin. “We are in a war zone, cousin. Your power ended when you entered this system. You have a choice—” He was cut off by Pellaeon’s sudden holographic appearance.

“Forgive me, Admiral, but the Vong have reached attack range. They have launched; we have incoming. It has begun. Case Seven, it appears.”

“Thank you, Admiral. Case Seven it is.” Traest looked through the Imperial’s vanishing hologram. “Case Seven, slave our targeting computers to telemetry from the Chimaera. Scramble all fighters. This is not a drill, people. Fight well and we’ll live to see the Yuuzhan Vong repulsed.”

Traest stepped in close to Fey’lya and dropped his voice to a whisper. “The choice I was going to offer you was to return to your quarters, or to get on a ship and flee before the enemy deployed its forces. That latter choice is gone now, but I offer you another. You can remain here, on the bridge, and silently show your support for those who will fight to save your life, or you can slink away in terror and hope the Yuuzhan Vong attacks never breach your cabin’s bulkheads.”

Fey’lya lifted his chin. “You may have contempt for me now, cousin, but in my day, when Imperials were our enemies, I spilled blood. I’ve known combat, and I’ve not run from it.”

“Good, because the Yuuzhan Vong are worse than anything you ever faced.” Traest raised his voice so everyone on the bridge could hear him. “Yes, cousin, your help here would be wonderful. If there is a need, I will let you know what to do. Until then, just having you here, honoring my staff with your presence, is more valuable to our effort than you could know.”

Jaina Solo’s X-wing sailed out high above the Ralroost and rolled left to come into position within Rogue Squadron’s formation.