[Legacy Of The Force] - 08(25)

So… he worked through things carefully, and he always found his answer… he was spared that for the time he needed the clarity to take hard decisions, and yet he still had to suffer the reality later, when it was safe to do so. If he forgot what pain and fear were, then he would also forget his duty to the trillions of beings who would look to him to stop their suffering.

This uneasiness about Tebut was a price, then, not a failing. A reminder from the Force of what it meant to be flesh and blood, and whom he served. It made sense. He felt reassured.

“Dropping out of hyperspace in five standard minutes, sir, “said the officer of the watch.

“Very good.” Caedus tore his gaze from the transparisteel and strode back to his bridge position. “So, Tahiri, we’ll see Fondor shortly.” She was in blue uniform, no badges of rank, and proper black fleet-issue boots, the ones with durasteel-hardened toe caps for safety. Tahiri hated shoes, but a warship was a dangerous place to go barefoot. It also looked sloppy and ill disciplined. “This is the next dissident planet we take back.”

“Not today, though, “she said. “We’re doing reconnaissance.”

A recce wasn’t needed, given the intelligence Caedus had on Fondor. Less than a standard year earlier, it had been a Galactic Alliance member state, and so its defensive capability and industrial output were a matter of record; worlds didn’t change into unknown quantities that fast. But Cae-dus was still baffled by Fondor’s decision to secede from the GA, an act he saw as inexplicably treacherous. The planet’s yards had thrived on the custom of Coruscant-based regimes for decades, and this very hyperspace lane was testimony to the volume of hulls that had been transported from the orbitals here to the galactic capital.

“No, “said Caedus. “We’re showing Fondor how easy it is to get at them. A speeder bus ride, practically.”

“Don’t they know that?”

“We often ignore the obvious. And this is partly education for you.”

Tallin’s eyes flickered a little. “In which discipline?”

“Decision making.”

The task of sweet-talking Pellaeon into listening to Cae-dus’s offer was something any intelligent, personable woman could do. But Caedus needed Tahiri to be more than that, and he needed her to grow so that she wasn’t performing like a circus rancor simply for tidbits of time spent flow-walking back to watch Anakin. The lure of his dead brother had been a legitimate way to get her interest, even if it was a tacky and rather cruel trick; the weight of duty to the dark side meant that very few would embrace it head-on without some self-gratification to hold them in its thrall while they learned the truth. It was a superficial means to a nobler end.

Now he needed Tahiri to understand the gravity of Sith service if she was to fill the gap left by Ben Skywalker as his apprentice. And, as Ben had been blooded by the task of assassinating Dur Gejjen, so Tahiri needed to comprehend the gravity of her role, and move beyond romantic fantasies that could never happen.

Anakin was dead, and he wasn’t coming back. The kind-est thing Caedus could do-would do, one day soon-would be to force Tahiri to face up to that and live for the future.

“Okay, “she said. Her lips moved uncertainly. “I mean, very good, sir.”

Tahiri obviously wanted to do well. Caedus watched the viewport, not the view fed from exterior cams to the monitors, as the slightly misshapen disk of Fondor resolved into a sharp-edged planet ringed by orbital shipyards like a swarm of tiny moons.

“Take us in as close as you can, Helm, “he said.

“Very good, sir.” There was no hesitation, query, or even the hint in the Force of any doubt about his wisdom. The Star Destroyer moved from open space into the invisible but fiercely defended borders of Fondor sovereign territory.

Caedus had neither rehearsed this nor warned the bridge crew. By now the early warning beacons had picked up the Anakin Solo’s approach, and the ship’s long-range sensors showed that Fondorian fighters were scrambling. Soon there would be a concerted attack on the ship, and he was counting on that. He wanted to test Tahiri’s nerve and commitment.

“Weapons officer, “he said, “when you acquire a target, do not fire. I repeat, do not fire. Shields and defensive systems-offline.”

Nobody said a word, except Tahiri.

“Is this some special tactic?” she asked. “A feint?”

“No, I’m leaving the ship wide open to attack.”

“But…”

“The weapons officer will give you firing solutions. You don’t have to do any calculations. You only have to decide whether or not to open fire.”