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“No, she can’t,” Sharr said.

“Yes, she can.”

“I’m the psychological warfare expert here, and I say she can’t.”

“I’m three times your mass, and can take off your head with a single bite, and I say she can.”

“Excuse me? ” Jaina let a little shrillness creep into her voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m still here.”

Piggy opened his eyes to glance at her, then he and Sharr exchanged looks.

“She has us on that one,” Sharr said to Jaina.

“She is indeed still here.”

“Listen, Great One,” Sharr said.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I need to. We all do. The thing about telling people—inevitably, the Yuuzhan Vong will have spies here. In our camp, in our base. The more people who know that you’re not really becoming as arrogant as a Kuati merchant-princess, the more likely it is that those spies will notice. Tell whomever you want—but be aware that every extra person means the chances increase that the truth will spread.”

“General Antilles has already broken Twin Suns Squadron out of the normal command structure,” Piggy said. “Which makes sense, as a goddess wouldn’t have a formal rank within New Republic hierarchy.”

“Good point.” Sharr pulled out his datapad and keyed in a few words. “That means we can arrange for your pilots to be called by whatever maximum rank they’ve attained, since it has no bearing on your unit’s command structure. Colonel Jagged Fel. Jedi Master Kyp Durron.” He frowned. “No, not just Jedi Master. Kyp Durron, the Destroyer of Worlds, is subordinate to Jaina. To the Yuuzhan Vong, that will be significant.” Then he returned his attention to Jaina. “What do you think?”

She gave him a smile. She hoped that, to some distant observer watching her through organic optics, it would look as wicked as it felt. “You mentioned a porter. Can I have anyone I want as my manservant?”

Sharr nodded. “That’s what it is to be a goddess.”

“No,” said Jag Fel. He didn’t raise his voice or even look at them. He continued ratcheting the hydrospanner on the lower starboard claw of his TIE clawcraft, improving, with millimeter-by-millimeter precision, the alignment of that claw’s laser.

All around them, mechanics tinkered with damaged starfighters, pilots lifted off in courier shuttles, messengers flashed by on landspeeders; the cacophony kept their words from carrying very far across the docking bay.

“It’s important.” Sharr leaned against the claw. At Jag’s glare, he straightened away from it. “Don’t give us some sort of idiotic excuse that your pride won’t take it. Lives may depend on it.”

Jaina, a couple of steps back, not deigning to speak directly to a mere mortal, merely smiled. She held up her hand as though to admire her nails; Yuuzhan Vong spies were not likely to see that they were unpainted, cut short, and—she finally noticed—dirty.

“I’m happy to participate in any plan so long as it’s the best plan to accomplish its goal,” Jag said. He straightened and slapped shut the hatch that had allowed him access to the claw’s internal systemry. He ignored Sharr and addressed Jaina directly. “This isn’t the best plan. You haven’t thought it out.”

Jaina gave him a cold stare. “Yes, it is. You just don’t want to do it.”

“No, I have a better idea.”

Sharr snorted. “Better than what an expert on psychological warfare and a Jedi Knight have assembled. Of course.”

Jag turned an unfriendly smile on him. “Kyp Durron.” Sharr’s expression changed as he considered the suggestion.

Jag continued, “To your presumed Yuuzhan Vong spies and observers, I’m just an unknown quantity—a pilot from a place the Yuuzhan Vong haven’t encountered yet. But Jedi Master Kyp Durron, if they see him bowing to her, carrying her baggage, digging dirt from beneath her nails—”

Jaina tried very hard to keep her outrage from being reflected in her expression. She didn’t think she succeeded very well.

“—they’ll be impressed. Who else would a Jedi Master bow to but a goddess, right? It’ll create rumors among our people, as well as theirs.” Jag turned half away from them and dogged down the panel he’d shut.

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