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haunted by death, by the memories of Chewbacca and Anakin and Anni Capstan and all the many thousands who had died. To his horror Jaina had told him that she didn’t expect to survive the war.
    It wasn’t despair, she insisted; she’d beaten despair when she conquered the dark side. It was just a realistic appraisal of the odds.
    Jacen had wanted to protest that if you expect death, you won’t fight for life. And so he volunteered for duty with the fleet at Kashyyyk, determined that if Jaina wouldn’t fight her utmost to preserve her life, he would fight that battle on her behalf.
    â€œI think Yavin is a good bet for the next strike,” another voice said. “We’ve had squadrons clearing Yuuzhan Vong raiders off the Hydian Way, as if they’re preparing a route for us. We might soon find ourselves moving in that direction.”
    Corran Horn stepped to the viewport. The Rogue Squadron commander wore a battered colonel’s uniform that dated from the wars against the Empire.
    â€œYavin,” he said, “Bimmiel, Dathomir . . . somewhere out there.”
    A polite hissing signaled a disagreement. “We forget the enemy are behind uz,” hissed Saba Sebatyne. “If we take Bimmisaari and Kessel the enemy will be cut in two.”
    â€œThat would bring on a major battle,” Corran said. “We don’t have the strength to fight one.”
    â€œYet . . .”
Jaina said, and through their twin bond Jacen felt the fierce power of her calculation. She had probably reckoned to the day when the New Republic would have the power to shift to the offensive, and could hardly wait.
    The Sword of the Jedi wanted to strike to the enemy’s heart.
    The shuttle swept into
Ralroost
’s docking bay and settled onto its landing gear. The droid pilot, a metal head and torso wired onto the instrument console, opened the shuttle doors. Its head spun clean around on its shoulders to face them.
    â€œI hope you enjoyed your ride, Masters. Please watch your step as you exit.”
    The four Jedi stepped out of the shuttle onto Admiral Kre’fey’s pristine deck. Scores of people bustled about, rode hovercarts, or worked on starfighters. Most were furred Bothans, but among them were a fair number of humans and other species of the galaxy. Jacen was suddenly conscious that he was the only person present without a military uniform.
    They stepped toward the bulkhead, with its open blast doors that led forward to the ship’s command center. Above the open doors was a sign:
    how can i hurt the vong today?
    This was what Admiral Kre’fey called his Question Number One, which everyone in his command was to ask her- or himself every day.
    In a few moments, Jacen thought, he’d hear an answer to that question.
    Jacen craned his head as he passed through the blast doors, and on the other side he saw Kre’fey’s Question Number Two.
    how can i help my own side grow stronger?
    The answer to
that
question was going to be a little harder to find.
    The four Jedi reported to Snayd, Admiral Kre’fey’s aide, who took them to a conference room. Jacen followed the others into the room, and in the dim light he first saw the Bothan admiral Traest Kre’fey, who stood out by virtue of the unusual color of his fur, the same brilliant white as
Ralroost
’s paint. As Jacen’s eyes adjusted to the room’s darkness he saw other military officers, including General Farlander, and another group of Jedi who were quartered on the cruiser. Alema Rar, Zekk, and Tahiri Veila. Jacen felt the welcoming presence of the others greeting him in the Force, and he sent his own warm reply.
    â€œGreetings!” Kre’fey returned the salutes of the three military Jedi, and stepped forward to clasp Jacen’s hand. “Welcome to
Ralroost
, young Jedi.”
    â€œThank you, Admiral.” Unlike other military commanders, Kre’fey had been happy to work with