Legacy Of The Force_ Revelation Part 20

"Scared you, did I? Scared me, too. Always does."

"You went nuts for a few minutes. And then you went sane again. And you can choose when?"

"It's a technique. We start young."

Well, that's a new one in meditative technique. "First guy to die loses, huh?"

"Pretty much. I don't see anything except the end of the fight. I don't even see a living being. I don't have any con-fection to the opponent at all. I just see something I have to remove, stop, get past, any way I can, to get what I want-or die."

"Wow."

"Some fancy doctor said we can switch on psychopa-thy. " Beviin banked the speeder bike so steeply that Jaina had to hang on with both hands and her knees. "We all seem to have that trait, whether we inherit it or learn it. Maybe we even adopt kids who show it. I don't know. But we've been a fighting culture for so many centuries that we'll never really be sure."

He started whistling to himself, a pretty tune whose rhythm Jaina couldn't work out because he kept breaking and picking up again. Jaina had heard of many cultures where the warriors stoked up their aggression with strange herbs and infusions before going into battle, but this berserker tactic was new. They seemed to visualize their way into psychopathy.

Do I have to do that?

This was the dark side. It truly was. Beviin could switch it on when he really needed it, and then switch it off and become a man that anyone would welcome as a neighbor or uncle. Jaina wondered if this was how Jacen started, with just a quick desperate need to win, to survive, and then he fell to it a step at a time.

It all sounded so reasonable. She couldn't hate her brother; she'd just seen how it could happen.

But Beviin stopped. Jacen hasn't. And if I can learn to do that - I'll have to learn to stop, too.

And Beviin was just an ordinary human, with no Force powers to exploit, just his hands and whatever mundane weapons he could use.

"You still held back, anyway, "he said suddenly. "If I'd had Force powers, I'd have used them, too."

Tell me they're not telepaths. Please. "You have no idea, "she said, "how much you're teaching me."

Medrit was standing at the table with his arms folded when they got back. Dinua, Jintar, and the two kids were chattering in Mandalorian-Mand'oa-and seemed excited. The kids were instantly riveted when they saw Jaina.

"Ahhhh, she's got a cut on her nose!" Shalk gasped, fascinated.

"Wow!"

"Loose helmet, "Beviin said, washing his hands in the duraplast bowl on the counter. "And I'm going to be cov-ered in bruises tomorrow.

Fett can have her back before she does me some permanent damage.'

Medrit sliced the nerf joint with pretty impressive vio-lence himself. "You showed her your no-prisoners."

"Nasaad murci't!" Shalk said. "No prisoners!"

"Jedi use reasonable force, "said Beviin. "With a small f. It's not good for them."

Dinua laughed. This was the one who had fought Yuuzhan Vong at fourteen. She could afford to. "The trouble with getting attached to Jedi, Buir, is that it's like making pets of the nerfs and nuna-really upsetting when you have to slaughter them."

Everyone laughed. Jaina managed to as well, a little stung, but that was just their humor. Nothing personal; no worse than all the head-rolling jokes her father had made about Jango Fett's demise. They ate heartily, totally at ease with her.

"If you ever get a Force-using Mandalorian, "she asked carefully, "how would they be treated?"

"They'd be in demand for getting stuck lids off cans, "Medrit said.

"Or improving crop yields."

None of them reacted as if they knew what she was getting at. She was being eaten by her desperate curiosity faster than she was devouring the chunks of nerf and veg-etables. "Who are Venku and Gotab? Why that armor?"

"Oh, Venku..." Beviin put down his fork. "Kad'ika. Dearest we have to a political agitator. He's the one who's been pushing the Mandalore-First agenda for years. You know, let the galaxy find some other dumb mercenaries to die for it. We'll stay home, look after our own, strengthen the Mandalore sector, and laugh."

"And the armor?"

"Tradition. Extreme version. We often wear a plate of a loved one's armor after they die, sometimes during their lifetime, too. He wears his whole family.'"

"He's nuts, "Jintar muttered.

"He's right, "said Beviin.

"Yeah, he's right as long as the new beskar ore lasts."

"Fett listens to him, Jin'ika."

All families were alike at meals. Jaina's mind was now a blur of new and disorienting combat tactics, political argu-ment, wondering if it was polite to grab an extra slice of nerf, and wanting to weep because she remembered Aunt Mara.

"And Gotab?" she said casually.

"One of the Kyrimorut wild men, like Venku, "Beviin said, rolling his eyes. "Don't even ask what they do up there. They keep apart. They come and go, but they're there when we need them to fight, so no questions asked. Fair bit of Fett clone blood up there, because the place was a haven for deserters during the wars. Like Venku's dad, I a.s.sume.

Now Fett says Gotab's a Kiffar. He read the heart-of-fire stone. Kiffar-Sintas is Kiffar, too." If only he knew.

"Can all Jedi do healing?" Dinua asked. Jaina shrugged. "We can heal ourselves, but some Jedi are better than others at healing other people."

"You'd be so useful..."

Jaina had to put on the mental brakes to see what was happening.

Mandalorians were compulsive adopters, and not just of kids. They seemed to want to collect skills, qual-ities, technology, any advantage that wasn't nailed down. And it was all too easy to let them. Maybe that was how Gotab had found himself stranded here in a metal suit.

"So..." She was piecing it together now. "What happened to the Jedi you fought with in the Vong War?"

"Kubariet, "Medrit said, looking sad for a moment. "He's dead. I wonder how many folks know even now that we fought secretly for the New Republic."

"I know, "Jaina said. "And I'm very sorry that you never got any help from Coruscant after the war."

"I'm not. It means we don't owe you naas."

So Gotab wasn't Kubariet. There was something in his Force presence that stuck in her mind. It wasn't the resent-ment and suspicion, which was odd enough in a Jedi, but the... the...

It was like identifying a few bars of a tune; familiar enough to re-create the whole song, but just out of reach of memory...

Healing.

Gotab could heal.

She saw it now. He had that same Force impression of quiet weariness, of being a buffer against adversity, that she'd encountered in other healers.

That just intrigued her more, but she wasn't here to be fascinated.

She was here to improve her chances of arrest-ing her brother and stopping his self-destructive, galaxy-destroying descent into total darkness.

She stuck her fork in the last slice of nerf on the serving plate, something she would never do at home.

Be a different Jaina.

She could.

IMPERIAL DESTROYER BLOODFIN, IMPERIAL DOCKYARD, RAVELIN.

So, Admiral, "said the executive officer, "you approve?" Pellaeon surveyed the new Destroyer's bridge, a tableau of definitive standards frozen in a moment of paint-scented perfection.

"She's splendid, "he said. "I still have misgivings about using the best tableware when we have such rough company for dinner, so to speak, but she can't remain a decoration."

He wandered into the holochart. The projection was big enough to stand within. He had his doubts about that re-finement, too, because he didn't feel it gave him the best theater overview to fight the ship, but he could always use one of the bridge repeaters. That was more his scale.

"Let's try the comm system, shall we? Get me Admiral Niathal."

"Very good, sir."

Cha Niathal should have had contacted him by now if only to vent her spleen. His sources-old friends and com-rades simply staying in touch, never spies-said that there was now a bigger war going on between Niathal and Solo than there was on the front line. She'd be looking for an ally.

Well, there was only room for one backside on that big chair. What did they expect from power sharing?

If Niathal had any sense.... she'd be looking for a tri-umvirate.

Pellaeon had sense, and he wasn't sure he'd want to make up the numbers.

"Gil, "said Niathal's voice.

He turned and smiled at the holoscreen. She looked tired. Mon Gals'

eyes were indicators of their fatigue; hers were dull and had lost their shine. "How are you, Cha? Has the boy left you in charge?"

"We all miss your humor greatly. So this is Bloodfin."

"Indeed. Turbulent-cla.s.s. Smaller and more agile. I thought I'd give you the holographic tour."

"Actually, I'm glad you made contact. Much as I'd love to scrutinize Bloodfin, could we discuss a confidential per-sonnel matter?"

Pellaeon gestured to the XO to indicate he was moving to his day cabin to continue the conversation. Hatch closed behind him, he diverted the link.

"Go ahead, Cha."

"By all means say I told you so."

"Ah, Jacen. Very well, I did mention it, but let's move on. In a few days, we'll be committing ships and troops to Fon-dor. If there's anything you want to tell me, now would be a good time."

"He's prepping to mine Fondor's approaches and cut off the orbitals in a few hours, and he's talking about a first-a.s.sault phase within a week. Has he discussed his detailed plan with you?"

"He tells me he's getting under way at twenty-three fifty-nine Coruscant time, which is... let's see... three stan-dard hours' time.

Isolate the planet, secure the shipyards, then move on to the planet itself."

"Define move on."

"He expects a surrender, he says."

"Do you?"

"No, I think he'll have to occupy it, and first he has to take the capital."

"I estimate he has enough troops to take the orbitals, and that's all. So level with me, Gil, because I don't trust Jacen to value my crews' lives now-has he offered the Imperials Fondor? Are you planning to occupy it?"

Pellaeon didn't have a yes or no answer to that. An I-thought-about-it-and-we-might-have-to wouldn't help.

"He has made no such offer, "he said, "nor hinted. He may want us to interpret his silence on the matter as a hint that it might be on the table, to ensure our attendance, but unless he has some elaborate plan for troop deployment that he hasn't shared with me, then once his troops are committed to the shipyards, the only forces left to land on Fondor are mine. In which case... he's left the doors open for us to rob him."

"You're very honest."

"I'm too old to want glory. At my age, you worry more about what might be said about you after you're dead. I'd like to be recalled as an admiral who left the galaxy a little tidier and quieter than he found it."

"Meaning?"

"Is he going to foul up?"

Niathal looked down at the floor for a moment. "You know he's a Sith?"

"Force-users do complicate things for us ordinary mortals."

"I think he might overplay his hand this time. But I might also not be aware of some second plan he's going to put into operation and leave us all standing."

"You want me to do something."

"I'm just sharing my fears that this may well be very costly in terms of lives, and that Jacen can be extravagant. I have elements of the Third Fleet standing by for Fondor. I'm thinking more of enabling withdrawal than pouring personnel into a battle."

"Ah." Pellaeon sat back and felt a little cheated. "You want me to stay at home."

"No, I was genuinely expressing concern and seeking information.