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Ganner gripped the arms of the seat, and his muscles tightened with every brush of the cauterizer. Jacen could feel some pain coming off him, but it was considerably less than the disgust that rolled off the injured Jedi. It seemed to Jacen almost as if with each touch of the cauterizer, Ganner was reliving the cut that had opened the wound.

“Don’t worry, Ganner, you won’t be fooled by one of them again.”

Ganner said nothing until Sirhka dropped to a knee and began working on the wound on Ganner’s thigh. The Jedi accepted a dressing soaked in disinfectant and swabbed it over the side of his face, clearing up the blood. Most of the red went away, save the angry line from forehead to jaw. The flesh on the line was clearly tender, but Ganner washed it thoroughly nonetheless.

“You don’t understand, Jacen, the Yuuzhan Vong didn’t fool me. I fooled myself.” Ganner closed his eyes for a moment and sat back. He opened only his right eye. “Throughout this mission, since I first heard of the Yuuzhan Vong even, I wanted to prove that I was better than they were. I was furious that I did not get to engage a Vong on Bimmiel. The first one I killed this afternoon, I tricked into stepping into that hole. I knew he was a fool, and he died because of his stupidity. And somehow, I started thinking that I was a genius compared to the rest of them.”

Little wisps of white smoke rose like a curtain between Ganner and Jacen as the Noghri closed the other flesh wound. “It wasn’t a stretch for me to think I was brilliant compared to the Yuuzhan Vong. I’ve been thinking that for a long time compared to other Jedi. Your uncle, Corran, Kam—all of them—they aren’t of our generation of Jedi. They knew the Empire—they fought it or served it. They are older. They don’t know the Force the way we do, didn’t have the training we did.”

He nodded his thanks to the Noghri as Sirhka put the cauterizer away. “Krag Val made me pay for my arrogance in a way none of the others had. They could have. Your uncle could have broken me down. Corran could have been nastier, but I took their being nice as a sign of weakness. I mean, I teased Corran’s son. I was being an idiot, and Corran endured it because the mission we were given was more important than his feelings.”

Ganner sighed. “So, yes, I’ll have a scar, and it will be good. The old Ganner, he had a perfect face over a perfectly arrogant attitude. Not so anymore. Every time I look in a mirror I’ll be reminded that he died on Garqi, and I’m here in his place.”

The cold edge to Ganner’s voice sent a chill through Jacen. He wanted to protest that Ganner didn’t need a ruined face to remind him of the sort of person he should be. Jacen couldn’t bring himself to speak. As we grow up, we change physically. Maybe Ganner needs this change, not to remind him of who he should be, but as a mark of who he has become. My uncle lost a hand doing that. What will happen to me?

Ganner sighed. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

Jacen blinked. “What?”

“Sedative. I’ll take it now.”

Jacen frowned. “But you could have had it before to make all that easier.”

“I didn’t want it to be easier, Jacen; wanted it to be memorable.” He smiled, then closed his eyes. “Wake me when we’re safe again.”

Jacen touched the injector to him and pumped a full dose of sedative into Ganner. Jacen smiled as the man relaxed. Let’s just hope, Ganner, that there will be a point when we’re safe again.

Wedge Antilles stood with Admiral Kre’fey on the Ralroost’s bridge. They both stared at the forward viewport and the system’s brilliant spot that was Garqi. It seemed so far away, yet a simple jump through hyperspace could carry the ship there in an instant.

And might carry us into an ambush. Wedge slowly shook his head. “Think they’re waiting for us?”

The Bothan admiral shrugged uneasily. “There is still a great deal we don’t know about them, Wedge. We know that when we send a message from here to Garqi, it will take three and a quarter standard minutes to reach our people on the