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At the head of a dozen blue-skinned Chiss came a human walking along with a crisp formality to his step. Taller than she was, but not as tall as Ganner, he had a wiry muscularity about him that his black uniform could not hide. His black hair had been cut short, which showed off a white lock that traced the line of a scar that started at his right eyebrow and ran back into his hair. His pale green eyes seemed tinged with a chill that matched his manner. Only the red stripes along his pants legs and cuffing his sleeves seemed at odds with his solemnity.

He mounted the dais at a step, leaving the Chiss in their white uniforms to file along the front of the platform and stand at attention. He bowed sharply to Relal Tawron and shook his hand. The Ithorian high priest turned to introduce him to Borsk Fey’lya, but the Chiss leader bypassed the chief of state and the rest of his cabinet. He marched along until he met Admiral Kre’fey, again executed a stiffly formal bow, and shook hands. He repeated this process with Colonel Darklighter and Luke Skywalker.

As he moved down the line, gasps and hubbub began to rise in the crowd. It increased as he bowed before Wedge, then smiled and allowed the older man to enfold him in a hug. Before Jaina could figure out what was happening there, the Chiss leader greeted Admiral Pellaeon. Ignoring the Remnant moffs, the young man then stepped off the front of the dais.

He’s coming straight at me!

He drew himself up before her, straight of limb and muscularly taut, then snapped his head and upper body forward in a bow that was not as deep as that given the others, but was nonetheless respectful. “I am Jagged Fel.” He straightened, and she started to blush as his green-eyed gaze raked her over. “A Jedi, too. Fascinating.”

Jaina blinked. “Too?”

“In addition to being a superior pilot. You are a difficult kill.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she smiled at him. “You meant that as a compliment.”

Jag Fel nodded. “Among the Chiss it is high praise indeed. I was only a bit better than you at your age.”

“Which was what, about two years ago?” Ganner asked mockingly.

Neither Fel’s expression nor his sense in the Force betrayed any embarrassment at Ganner’s question. “Yes, just before I took command of my squadron.”

Wedge Antilles stepped down from the dais and approached them. “Colonel Fel.”

“Yes, Uncle?”

“You should return to the dais and greet those people you bypassed.” Wedge nodded toward Borsk Fey’lya and his confederates. “They’re fairly important.”

Fel shook his head. “They’re politicians.”

Wedge lowered his voice. “The impression is that you skipped them because they are not human.”

Fel turned to face the dais and raised his voice. “If they believe I did not greet them because they are not human, they are stupid. I did not greet them because they are politicians.”

A Sullustan senator stepped forward. “A convenient label behind which you hide your xenophobia.”

Surprise stiffened Fel’s spine, and disbelief flooded his words. “You are accusing me of having an antialien bias?”

Pwoe, A Quarren senator, opened his hands. “It floods from you, Colonel Fel. Your uniform is cut on Imperial lines, harkening back to the uniform of your father’s 181st Imperial fighter group, one of the most effective Imperial units at suppressing the Rebellion. Your formality. Greetings like that were last seen at the Imperial court. The disdain with which you bypassed us makes it more than obvious.”

Fel shook his head. “Where I come from—”

Borsk Fey’lya cut him off. “Where you come from is an archaeo-Imperial community. Grand Admiral Thrawn gathered his most staunch and reactionary followers and set them up like a pocket of infection. You’ve festered out there, hating every moment we have been in control of what was once your empire. You’ve inherited the attitudes that oppressed us for ages, and now, here you are, ready to resume control, all under the guise of helping us.”

“Stop, please.” The Chiss leader held up a hand. “Don’t make even more of a fool of yourself.”

Borsk Fey’lya’s violet