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Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order_ Dark Tide 02_ Ruin - Michael A. Stackpole [82]

By Root 315 0
I known they were there, but I was not privy to all of Thrawn’s plans. When we issued a recall to all Imperial agents and troops, no matter where they were, this contingent showed up with Baron Fel’s compliments, and led by his son.”

Corran shook his head. “Who would have guessed?”

“I knew.” Luke’s declaration came in a low voice, so low that Corran wasn’t certain he’d heard it. “Back during the Bothan crisis, when I went to find Mara, we found Admiral Parck and Baron Fel. They were overseeing an effort set up by Thrawn, including a facility to clone a replacement of Thrawn. They indicated there was fighting going on in the Unknown Regions, that they were holding back some sort of threat to the Empire out there. They were no threat to us, so passing on the information about their existence out there would have been a distraction for the peace process.”

Kre’fey blinked his gold-flecked violet eyes. “If certain ministers knew you’d withheld this sort of information, they would take it as proof positive that you desire some sort of Jedi hegemony to rise up, and you thought you could use the Chiss to make that happen.”

Corran frowned. “That’s nonsense.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just telling you what will happen if that information gets out. For our purposes, though, we know we have someone holding that flank for us. This is good.” The Bothan glanced at Pellaeon. “How much in the way of military forces will you be able to bring here?”

“My staff is still working up plans. At least one operational group: four Imperial Star Destroyers, eight Victory-class Star Destroyers, and assorted support vessels. We can have them all here, or stage some at Yaga Minor to make a drive at Garqi, since we have to assume they will be staging from there.”

Kre’fey nodded. “I can draw comparable strength, though a number of the ships will have to be staged at Agamar. They will threaten Garqi and also reinforce the escape route for anyone fleeing the Yuuzhan Vong. If we have to, I can pull those resources from Agamar, but then we know that world will fall.”

Corran’s heart sank at the Bothan’s words. As much as he would have liked it to be otherwise, the chances were that Agamar would face a Yuuzhan Vong assault and would be conquered. Its conquest might precede that of Ithor, allowing the Yuuzhan Vong to secure an even closer staging area, but even slight pressure on Agamar could pin down New Republic forces, denying them to the defense of Ithor. The Yuuzhan Vong had to attack Ithor and do it quickly, lest the New Republic be able to reinforce it enough that it couldn’t be taken.

The real problem with the loss of Agamar was that it would, in effect, cut the Remnant off from the New Republic by shutting down a key hyperspace route between them. Aside from Ithor, the nearest New Republic world would be Ord Mantell, but getting from Yaga Minor to Ord Mantell was not easy and involved a lot of minor jumps and a long time. Corran wasn’t certain, in the long run, how much help the Remnant would be in the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong, but since they’d just helped save his life, he was inclined to want them in the fight for the long run.

Pellaeon shrugged stiffly. “This is ever the plight of the military man. We know where we can deploy our forces for best effect. That is a rational decision based on numbers and analysis. We both know that Ithor is the key here. The Yuuzhan Vong have to come in sufficient force to take it. If we strip defenses from elsewhere, we provide a tempting alternative target. Some people suffer so others will not. We can provide the best response as per our brain, but it isn’t the right response according to our hearts.”

He spread his arms wide. “We have approximately two weeks before your leaders get here, and I imagine some of mine will arrive, too. In that time we will have to come up with a plan in which we show them we are splitting responsibility and risk to the gain of all. This means we will make concessions to political considerations that we don’t want to make, in essence slipping binders on our own wrists before we go

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