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“I don’t think I have many illusions anymore, either.” Jaina shifted her shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness in them. “We have been simming a lot to prepare us for the Vong assault. I must end up dead half the time I fly.”

Ganner winced. “Not good.”

“Well, not as bad as it might sound. Part of the time we sim flying skips, to help train the others. The Imps we are able to smoke, but the Chiss are just deadly.”

“I’ve felt their presence, but haven’t seen any of them.”

“Neither have I, except on my aft scope, drilling my X-wing or skip.” She glanced toward the front of the grand courtyard in which people had been gathered. Up there had been raised a dais, with Relal Tawron and his attendants greeting the various New Republic functionaries. “Looks like home team introductions have started. The Remnant’s people will be next and then, maybe, the Chiss.”

“It will be interesting to get a look at them.” Ganner waved his hand in the direction of the dais. “After you.”

“Thanks.” Jaina almost hesitated, both because of Ganner’s courtesy—which she had not expected—and because of her desire to see the Chiss herself. It’s their leader I want to see.

She started to blush for a moment, but chased that sensation away with a burst of irritation. In all of the simulations she had flown well. Perhaps she hadn’t always been the best pilot in the squadron, but she’d been close to it. Every time she’d simmed against the Chiss and been shot out, their leader had been the one to kill her. She never had the sense that he was picking on her specifically, but to double-check that she pulled the statistical data from the simulator battles.

Over and over again the Chiss leader had gone after the hottest of the enemy pilots, picking them off in descending order. None of them made it easy for him, and both Wedge and Tycho had managed to kill him once, but in every statistical category the simulators measured he was skewing the bell curve to the high side. And that would not have been so bad, she decided, if he and the Chiss didn’t keep to themselves. She didn’t mind being shot out, but she hated the idea of being dismissed for dying.

She and Ganner slipped toward the front of the crowd as Luke and Mara Skywalker were welcomed. Polite but muted applause arose from the assembled dignitaries, with most of it coming from the Ithorians. They clearly welcomed a Jedi presence on their world, though Jaina sensed that Borsk Fey’lya would be perfectly happy if those Jedi died in the defense of Ithor.

Next came the Imperial Remnant’s contingent. Admiral Pellaeon came first and moved down the long line of dignitaries with an economy of motion that suggested he wanted nothing but to be back planning Ithor’s defense. A wave of emotional warmth rolled off him as he greeted Admiral Kre’fey, Colonel Darklighter, Luke Skywalker, and Wedge Antilles. It lessened slightly as he shook hands with Jaina’s mother, then took his place beside her as the other Imperials were introduced.

Several moffs had made the trip to Ithor, and all of them looked like tired functionaries save for Ephin Sarreti, the moff from Bastion. What impressed Jaina about him was the genuine sense of enthusiasm pouring off him as he greeted Borsk Fey’lya and the New Republic’s other ministers. He exchanged comments with each of them, apparently impressing them with his knowledge of their lives or homes. Shock exploded from most of them, with tendrils of suspicion snaking out in its wake.

Ganner half smiled. “Well, now, there’s a plaything to keep Chief of State Fey’lya occupied.”

“Good, give him less time to advise the military about the defense of Ithor.”

Any comment Ganner might have been about to offer died as a new and strong presence sent ripples out through the Force. Jaina knew from having been around people like her father and Wedge Antilles that these ripples didn’t come from any conscious use of the Force; some people just so brimmed with life and confidence that they shone like a magnesium flare in darkest night. She rose up on tiptoes to see who it was, then felt