Warmaster Tsavong Lah stared down on the infidel world of Coruscant; even now, the Shapers were remaking it into Yuuzhan’tar, the long-lost homeworld.

Word had long since reached his ears about the disaster at Iridonia. Domain Kraal’s utter annihilation at the hands of the Zabrak defenders and their allies in the remains of the New Republic were ill tidings.

In spite of the best efforts of the priesthood, rumors were spreading throughout the warrior caste. Officially, Domain Kraal had been Shamed by their inability to hold Borleias against the New Republic fleet; their destruction at Iridonia had merely proven that they truly were no longer part of the Yuuzhan Vong. Rumors persisted, though, that it wasn’t merely Domain Kraal that had lost the favor of the gods, but all the Yuuzhan Vong everywhere—that the sacking of Coruscant had been a mistake.

Tsavong Lah officially ignored such rumors, of course; but the loss of his father, the great warmaster Czulkang Lah, had long since shaken his faith.

If these Iridonians have the power to resist us where the rest of the infidels have not, will they not teach their tricks to their allies? Have we been undone?

This galaxy is a dark place indeed. In spite of himself, the warmaster shivered—the only outward sign of the uncertainty he felt.

Halyn sat with his feet up on the console, a rather reckless posture given the number of sensitive controls that could possibly lead to disaster. He watched the blue-white mottled blur of hyperspace shimmer around the Starwind as the light freighter glided towards Mon Calamari.

Another entered the cockpit module; the door hissed shut behind her. “How long until we reach Mon Calamari?”

Halyn glanced past his booted foot to a timer clicking down. “Twelve hours, give or take.”

Kelta Rose seated herself in his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “Good, then we have plenty of time for just the two of us.”

The Zabrak’s smile was a satisfied predator’s. “Tired of spending time with the kids?”

The red-headed Jedi shook her head. “They’re too busy trying to get Deuce to tell them stories of the old days. To them, the Civil War was some great period of romance and heroism—and somehow I don’t think the stories of a droid will shake them from that.”

Halyn closed his eyes contentedly. “Do those two remind you of anyone?”

“I was hoping it was just me,” she said with a shudder. “I hope it doesn’t take them twenty years to figure it out.”

“Me, too.”

They rested in contented silence for several minutes before Kelta asked, “Halyn, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did, but I’ll let you ask another.”

She straightened enough to punch his shoulder, but smiled. “Thanks. No, what I wanted to ask was…” she hesitated, “well, what’s your last name?”

Halyn laughed aloud. “That’s probably the silliest question you’ve ever asked me.”

“No, I’m serious,” Kelta said. “When I first met you, you were Halyn Lance, the Rebel general and hero. You’ve also been Jessik the pirate, and Sanshir the Iridonian loyalist. Which one are you?”

He didn’t answer with an immediate wisecrack; instead, he was silent for a few reflective moments. “I’m just Halyn,” he said at last. “I’m not the Rebel general—I haven’t been for a long time, and in some ways I never was. Jessik was someone I became for a while, but it was never really me—not really. And Halyn Sanshir, to me, is the kid who ran away from home and joined a freighter crew way too young.” He shrugged. “That just leaves Halyn.”

“Well, if we do get married, you’re going to have to figure this out,” Kelta joked. “I’m not changing my first name to match yours.”

Halyn sighed. “Get involved with a woman and the first thing she thinks of is marriage.”

Kelta leaned back and punched him again. “After twenty years, I’m allowed.”

“And she gets all abusive,” he continued on, “thinks she can tell you what to do and everything. It’s even worse when she’s a Jedi, of course, because then she uses Jedi mind tricks to get her way.”

Kelta smirked and waved her hand in front of his face. “You want to take off all your clothes.”

“That’s true,” Halyn said with a smile. “After all, we have twelve hours to Mon Calamari.”

“And twenty years of time to make up for,” Kelta concluded with a nod.

The Starwind continued on its course through the blur of hyperspace, toward distant Mon Calamari. Halyn and Kelta found a long-lost contentment in each other’s arms, though they knew it would be short-lived, lasting only until they were thrust into battle again. The war would not turn on their efforts, and they were comfortable with the role of warriors and soldiers rather than leaders and heroes.

They had spent their time as heroes, and were content to pass off the role to the hope of the next generation—a young Zabrak warrior and Jedi girl laughing and conversing in the forward hold.

Ceikeh Alari wasn’t surprised when the door to his quarters chimed. That would be my wife. The system stopped recognizing her code after the crash, and I never did get it fixed. “Come in!” he called at the portal.

Instead of the Twi’lek, however, he was surprised to see Halyn Sanshir walk into his quarters. Ceikeh caught just a glimpse of the red-maned Kelta out in the corridor before the door hissed shut again. “Senator,” Halyn greeted.

“Ul’akhoi,” Ceikeh returned.

Halyn smiled. “Not anymore. The conditions of my release have been met. The Vong aren’t here anymore.”

“So what do I call you now? Vysht’akhoi?”

“Doubtful,” the other said, shaking his head. “The Council hasn’t convened yet—that will be happening later today—but as far as I’m concerned, Argus is the Vysht’akhoi, not me.”

“Guess I’ll have to settle for General, then,” Ceikeh said.

“You could try calling me Halyn.”

“I never could get my mind quite wrapped around that. You were always the commander, the Zabrak in charge—you never seemed like the sort I could socialize with.”

Halyn chuckled. “I wasn’t much for socializing, pretty much ever. Not my thing.”

“So, this isn’t a social call?” Ceikeh asked.

The other man shook his head. “Not really, no.”

“What can I do for you?”

Halyn hesitated before speaking. “First, I’d like to know what your plans are now that we’ve won the battle here.”

“Well, I’ve already spoken to the surviving Councilors. Assuming I retain my position as Senator of Zabrak space, I’ll be heading out to Mon Calamari to meet with the New Republic government-in-exile. We’ll still need representation, after all, and maybe I can help push the Senate to do what will be necessary to beat the Vong. We proved here it can be done, but we need to stop running and learn to stand our ground and fight.” He smiled faintly. “I’m speaking about the New Republic, of course, not the Zabraks—we already know how to stand and fight.”

“So back to high politics for you, huh?”

Ceikeh nodded. “I figure I can take all kinds of bribes when I get to Mon Calamari and send the money back here to rebuild Rak’Edalin.”

Halyn laughed aloud. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. Somehow I doubt your constituents will find that nearly as funny as I do.”

“So, what can I do for you?” Ceikeh asked. “Looking for some bribe money, or maybe a nice juicy military contract?”

The other sobered quickly. “I wanted to get your promise on something.”

“Which is…?”

“Some things are probably going to erupt in the first Council meeting. I want you to promise me you won’t interfere.”

Ceikeh frowned. What is he afraid of? “I’m the Senator to the New Republic, not a Councilor. I don’t get a vote or a voice in the Council.”

“Don’t try that line on me, Ceikeh,” Halyn chided him. “I’ve been around long enough to know you’re highly respected, and your voice holds a lot of power in the Council, even if you don’t officially have a voice. So promise me you won’t interfere.”

I don’t like this. Is he trying some last-minute power play to eliminate members of the Council he sees as a threat to our future? “I’m not sure I can do that,” Ceikeh said slowly.

“Let’s make it conditional, then, so you know I’m not up to something underhanded. In return for your word, I promise I won’t act in any way to undermine the Council or any member of the Council,” Halyn said. “I have no desire to seek more power—being Ul’akhoi temporarily was bad enough.”

Ceikeh turned it over in his mind. “What about proxies?” he asked. “You’re leaving a big hole for one of your friends to do something underhanded.”

“I’m here in good faith,” Halyn said gently. “I have no conspiracies in place, no one I’ve asked to act on my behalf.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “You’re not the only one who knows Councilors—they’re just a lot more comfortable with you.”

If he breaks his word in some way, I can step up, Ceikeh told himself. “You have a deal.”

“Thank you, Senator.” Halyn turned and started to leave.

“General,” Ceikeh said. The word brought Halyn to a halt and his head back around to meet Ceikeh’s eyes. “Thank you,” the Senator said, “for doing this. For doing everything. If you hadn’t been willing to take the role and make the hard decisions, we would have lost everything.”

“Possibly,” Halyn allowed with a small smile. “And you’re welcome.”

Ceikeh watched his old friend depart, trying to ignore the sick worry gnawing at his heart. We won the war, but why do I feel like something else is still going to happen?

Ryian Coron stood amidst the crowd of Iridonian officers and politicians, intermixed with offworld soldiers and pilots who had helped fight the long siege. He could see a handful of others in the crowd wearing New Republic dress uniforms—a smattering of officers from Garm Bel Iblis’s fleet that had chosen to attend the celebration.

And a celebration it was. The Zabrak race had stood at the doorstep of annihilation, the same portal that had swallowed other species whole, and had come face-to-face with that fate. And, as Zabraks, they had chosen to collectively spit in the eye of that fate and fought an impossible battle—and won.

The Corellian captain wasn’t sure he had seen a sober Iridonian since the battle ended.

“How long until it starts?” Sandarie said from beside him, her arm looped through his.

He glanced down at the beautiful Twi’lek. Aboard the Dauntless, she had been released from her carbonite prison and treated with antivenom, which successfully saved her from the painful death of an amphistaff’s bite. Her long hibernation and the poison had both sapped her strength, and while she was growing in energy each day, she still leaned heavily on her husband for support.

“Soon, I would think,” Ryian answered. “Hal won’t want his audience too drunk before he gives his speech.”

“You’re acting like they ever sobered up,” Sandi replied dryly.

“That is a…very good point, actually.”

Ryian continued looking around the crowd. He saw several of his old friends in attendance—Anishor and most of his Wookiee berserkers were conspicuous by both size and hair among a crowd of Zabraks that, for the most part, lacked any hair whatsoever. Li Coden and Abi Ocopaqui were exchanging drinks and conversation with Kativie and her husband, whom Ryian had only met that morning. Kryi Rinnet and Allanna Saret were laughing about some shared memory. More faces Ryian knew he should recognize were also in the crowd, maddeningly familiar even though names slipped his mind.

Then the captain saw the crowd begin to part. Through the crowd, he saw two Zabraks walking side-by-side, everyone offering them room to advance. It took Ryian a moment to catch a clear glimpse and confirm it was Halyn Lance and his brother, Argus Sanshir.

He frowned as he replayed his memory of the glimpse. Argus is wearing a military uniform, as is proper, but Halyn was dressed in that damned duster Sandi told me about.

A small stage had been setup at the foot of the wreckage of the Star Cruiser—just a meter high, enough to ensure that anyone standing there could be seen by the crowd. A sound amplification system was also setup, with large speakers on poles placed a dozen meters to either side of the stage.

Halyn and Argus reached the stage without incident. The two conversed for a moment before Halyn stepped to the back of the stage and allowed Argus to take the podium.

The sound system squealed for a fraction of a second before the auto-correction system kicked in and suppressed the noise. Argus picked up a comlink from the podium and clipped it to his lapel.

Argus’s voice was a bit deeper than even Halyn’s low voice. “Thank you,” the Zabrak said, “for joining us here as we celebrate the freedom of our world.” He paused as spontaneous cheers, mostly from Zabrak warriors, rose up and threatened to overwhelm his words. “Every sentient in our space, whether Zabrak or not, owes their continued lives and freedom to your efforts, your skills, and your sacrifices.”

More cheers rose up. Ryian smiled a little at the celebration. This really is Coruscant for Zabraks, he thought. To anyone else, Iridonia is a hell and would hardly be considered livable. To them, it’s the crown jewel of their territory.

“You didn’t come here to listen to me speak, however,” Argus said. “I don’t need to sing your praises. So, instead of boring you all, it is my honor to introduce to you the Zabrak you already know—the warrior who led Iridonia through hell and proved the Yuuzhan Vong can be beaten. My brother, Halyn Sanshir.”

There was applause as Argus stepped back and Halyn stepped forward. He looked uncharacteristically awkward as he fumbled for a moment with the comlink Argus handed him. Rather than clip it to his duster, he chose to hold the device and forwent the podium, standing in front of it at the edge of the stage.

“I’m not a speaker,” Halyn said slowly. “I’m not a politician. I’ve found I need to be good at words, because they can and do inspire men of action. With the right words before a battle, I’ve saved lives. But this battle is already won.”

The crowd was utterly silent as they waited for Halyn’s next words. Ryian himself remained silent in respect for his old friend.

“Twenty-three years ago, Iridonia chose to declare its freedom and independence from the tyranny of an Empire. We founded a new government dedicated to the unity and freedom of all Zabraks on here and our colonies, believing we could not be oppressed if we stood together.

“The Yuuzhan Vong have challenged that belief, both here and in the wider galaxy. We have engaged in the great test to see if we can endure, if such bonds can remain firm throughout such terrible warfare. It is fitting, then, that we meet here upon the battleground of this conflict.

“Politicians would try to commit this ground to the memory of the dead heroes who fought to ensure our survival. But no words anyone could speak, including myself, can make this battlefield any more or less important. It has been consecrated by the blood of the warriors who died committed to the cause of our people, far beyond our small ability to affect it. Decades or centuries from now, my words will be forgotten, but the blood of Zabraks will be remembered.

“It falls on us, then, not to just preserve the memory of this battle. Instead, we must be committed to the task that lies before us: we must resolve not to let these warriors to have died in vain, but instead commit to finishing the war they fought, that the worlds they sacrificed for will not vanish from the history of the galaxy.”

Ryian swallowed hard as Halyn stepped off the edge of the stage, vanishing from sight into the crowd.

“That was a good speech,” Sandi murmured from his side.

“Yeah,” Ryian said. He’s right, you know. So many people have fought and died in this war, but if we don’t finish it all their sacrifices will be in vain.

“Are we going to get a chance to talk to him?” Sandi asked.

“I can’t imagine we won’t,” Ryian replied. “He knows the Dauntless is scheduled to leave orbit this afternoon, and there’s no way he’ll not talk to us before we leave.”

A figure materialized out of the crowd, but it wasn’t Halyn; the imposing figure of Garm Bel Iblis, dressed in his general’s uniform, offered a salute and then a handshake to Ryian. “Captain,” the famous New Republic officer greeted him.

“General,” Ryian said, returning the salute before accepting the handshake.

“Your friend knows how to give a speech,” Bel Iblis remarked. “We could’ve used him to help rally the fleet at Coruscant.”

“You did that well enough,” Ryian said. “After all, you took most of Kre’fey’s fleet on the power of words alone.”

“Yes, but it would’ve taken everything to hold the Vong at bay—and maybe more than that.” The General shrugged. “But the battle was likely lost no matter what we had done.”

“Maybe,” Ryian allowed. “But we can’t refight that battle—it’s better to prepare for the coming conflicts instead.”

Bel Iblis nodded agreeably. “You’re right, of course.” He took a drink from a flask before asking, “Are you returning with us to Tallaan?”

Ryian shook his head. “I’d rather put the Dauntless under the command of a Corellian rather than a Bothan or the Sullustan who lost us Coruscant, but since the HoloNet relay came up I’ve been contacted by High Command. Wedge Antilles and his fleet have rallied at Mon Calamari, and latest word is that Admiral Ackbar himself is coming out of retirement to command the Fleet. I’ve already been ordered to rejoin the Defense Force there until they’re prepared to engage in offensive operations.”

“If they’re capable of offensive operations,” Bel Iblis said grimly. “They fought defensively all the way to Coruscant.”

“Yes, but they have to see the folly of that now,” a new voice said. “Their defensive stance cost them the capital. If Ackbar’s coming out of retirement, they’ll be launching offensives soon.”

Ryian turned in time to see Halyn break through the nearby edge of the crowd. “General,” he said with a smile.

Halyn nodded. “Glad to see you returned with the fleet.” He turned and offered Garm Bel Iblis his hand. “And thank you, General. Without your heavy warships, our fleet couldn’t have broken the blockade and we’d all be bearing coral implants about now.”

Bel Iblis shook the smaller man’s hand. “I doubt that—your people fight with a ferocity that rivals the Wookiees.”

“Regardless, thank you,” Halyn said. “Iridionia owes you everything.”

Bel Iblis smiled warmly. “It would have been worth it just to learn what happened here. Your people did something no one else has managed—they went toe-to-toe with the Yuuzhan Vong and defeated them. You’ve proven the Vong can be beaten, here and everywhere.”

Halyn shrugged. “I did one thing no one else has been willing to do. I refused to allow our people to retreat.” He hesitated. “I once had an old friend tell me that humans could never understand the link we Zabraks have with this world. Our blood goes back further than recorded history on this world—it’s a part of who every one of us are. The Iridonians may have needed to be reminded, but ultimately they knew. Without them, we wouldn’t have been able to win this war.”

“So, what’s the plan for the newest Hero of Iridonia?” Bel Iblis asked.

The Zabrak shrugged. “That depends on the Council.”

Ryian spoke up, “By the way, I need to complement you on officer loyalty. I tried to recruit Kryi Rinnet to join my bridge crew, but she turned me down flat and said Iridonia needed her more than I did.”

Halyn smiled. “She’s a colonial Zabrak, but she’s as loyal a daughter of Iridonia as anyone.” His gaze shifted from Ryian to the Twi’lek on his arm. “And how are you feeling, Sandi?”

She smiled up at him, the warmth of her eyes giving no ground to the weakness in her body. “Better, and getting better all the time,” she said slowly. “Thank you for saving me.”

Halyn snorted. “I didn’t save you, I turned you into a Twi’cicle.”

“Yes, you did,” Ryian growled. “I haven’t forgotten that.”

Halyn shrugged. “It wasn’t what I planned, but the alternative wasn’t better.”

Ryian nodded grudgingly. Yes, you put her in danger, but you also did everything you could to save her, and I appreciate that. I won’t ever tell you that, though.

“So, what happens to Iridonia now?” Bel Iblis asked.

“Again, it depends on the Council. Given how little I want to be in command, I’d guess Argus will be appointed back into the role of Vysht’akhoi with instructions to rebuild our defenses. The Council will try to focus everything internal so we’re prepared to repulse another attack, but Argus will push to reinforce the New Republic—especially if they’re willing to undertake attacks on the Vong.” Halyn shrugged. “Zabrak space will stay united, though. If the Vong had managed to take Iridonia, it could’ve shattered the coalition, but we averted that.”

“You averted that,” Sandi pointed out.

“Hardly. It wasn’t like I was standing alone on the front line holding a hundred thousand Vong at bay with a zhaboka.” He snorted. “No, every Zabrak who fought and died here is responsible for beating the Vong.”

“Such humility,” Bel Iblis said dryly. “At any rate, I would love to bring Iridonia under the protection of my fleet, but you’re too far outside my territory to manage it. In fact, I was surprised we made it here without running into any Vong interference. Of course, the course Allanna Saret plotted was rather…unique.” He eyed Halyn. “I wasn’t aware the Zabrak were hyperspace explorers.”

“Trade secret,” the Zabrak said. “You can interrogate me all you want, but there are some things too important to give away.”

Ryian shook his head. Some day I’ll find out where he gets these hyperspace routes. He’s been doing that since the Civil War.

Before he could say anything further, another Zabrak breached the crowd and joined them. “Ul’akhoi,” he said breathlessly.

“I’m not Ul’akhoi anymore,” Halyn said irritably to the newcomer.

It took Ryian to recognize the newcomer as the Zabrak senator, Ceikeh Alari.

“I just came from the Council,” Ceikeh said between gasping breaths. “They were holding a meeting about disposition of the military, and you.”

“They’re not here?” Bel Iblis asked with a raised eyebrow. “That seems kind of…odd.”

“They’re Zabraks,” Ryian grumbled. “They’re always odd.”

“They were paying respect by staying out of the public view while I was speaking,” Halyn said. “And it has the advantage of being able to talk about me while my back is turned.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. Ul’akhoi, they decided to turn the military back over to Argus,” Ceikeh said.

“As expected,” Halyn said.

“Then they decided to banish you from Iridonia.

That stung. Halyn closed his eyes for a moment as he processed Ceikeh’s words. “As expected,” he repeated.

Ryian, Sandarie, Garm Bel Iblis, and Ceikeh all turned to him with varying degrees of shock on their faces. “What?” they chorused.

Halyn nodded. “Yes, I was expecting this.”

“Why?” Sandarie asked, apparently overcoming the shock first.

“Because of what I did.”

“You won the war,” Garm Bel Iblis pointed out.

“By disregarding pretty much everything the Council would’ve had me do. I refused to let anyone retreat. I forced my people to fight and risked everything. I allowed the Yuuzhan Vong to land on Iridonia and invade our capital, and I chose to raze it to kill the invaders. I’m responsible for everything that’s happened here, for better or for worse.” Halyn took a deep breath. “I made myself into a divisive figure when Zabrak space needs someone to rally around. Whether I’m the hero or villain of Iridonia depends on your point of view. If we’re going to unite and be ready for another war with the Vong, they need Argus as their leader, not me.”

Ryian shook his head. “That’s insane. You risked everything—you were out on the front line—you were responsible for winning—you can’t just…”

“Yes, I can.” Halyn nodded. “I knew this was coming, and I already made my peace with it.”

Suspicion dawned on Ryian’s face. “If you knew it, then you planned on this.”

The Zabrak smiled. “Of course I did. I made sure Argus was ready to take up the mantle of leader again. He has Kativie as his second, and a solid staff with Allanna, Kryi, and you, Ceikeh.”

Ceikeh barely managed a smile.

Halyn took a deep breath again before continuing. “I knew, even if we won, that I might become the villain. I knew just how bad the war might get, and I was prepared to make that sacrifice.”

An arm slipped through his, and he looked over to see Kelta Rose smiling radiantly at him.

“Exile won’t be so bad,” he said, looking into her shining violet eyes. “I still have places to go, and I somehow doubt life with a Jedi will be more boring than fighting the war here was.” He looked back up and around at the small group.

“So when do you have to leave?” Ryian asked.

“Two days,” Ceikeh said.

Halyn shook his head. “Now.”

It drew another round of stares.

“I told you, I was expecting this,” Halyn justified. “I already told Kelta this was likely the outcome.”

“So where will you go?” Bel Iblis asked.

“Mon Calamari, at least at first,” Halyn said. “Kelta wants to meet up with the Jedi, and I suspect there’ll be a few officers there who will want to talk to me after what has happened here.”

“You need a ride on the Dauntless?” Ryian asked.

Halyn shook his head and pointed out past the small cluster of ships, mostly shuttles from the fleet, clustered together well beyond the crowd. “I finished rebuilding the Starwind a few weeks back, and she’s fueled and ready to fly.” He turned back to the group. “This isn’t goodbye—I will see all of you again, I promise. But it’s time to part ways for now.”

He smiled at each of his friends, returned Sandarie’s tight hug, and then stepped through the crowd arm-in-arm with Kelta.

The crowd parted around them. Halyn nodded at well-wishers, mostly warriors who would hear about his banishment in minutes or hours or days.

The Starwind rested with its landing ramp extended, prepared to take its passengers aboard and leave its home port. Unexpectedly, two figures were waiting at the foot of the ramp—something Halyn hadn’t planned for.

Adreia Varo, her hair a mirror of her mother’s, smiled at the pair as they approached. She maintained proper Jedi composure until they were an arm-length away before leaping into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around Kelta. She stayed that way for several moments before finally releasing her mother, pulling back. “The last time I let you go off by yourself, Mom, you got yourself mixed up in a war on some Outer Rim rock. I figured I’d better not let you out of my sight again.”

Kelta smiled at her daughter. “You’re welcome to come with us.”

The second figure detached himself from the boarding ramp and walked over to Halyn.

“Uncle,” Edlin Sanshir said. “Or…Father.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve done a lot of thinking since I found out. I was mad at first that you never told me, but after I thought about it I understand why. But,” he said, his voice turning into the same durasteel Halyn exercised when disciplining subordinate officers, “I want to come with you. I think it’s time we get to know each other. So no running off without me.”

Halyn smiled. “Somehow I doubt I’d be able to manage. You’re a Sanshir, after all.”

“And I want to know about my mother,” Edlin finished.

Halyn paused for a moment to compose himself. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair.” He smiled, a little sadly, before looking over at Kelta. “Is that…?”

Kelta smiled reassuringly at him. “It’s okay.”

“Then let’s get aboard and hit the sky,” Halyn said, gesturing at the Starwind.

The two children boarded first—no, not children, Halyn corrected himself, they’re adults. Just young adults. That shouldn’t be fighting a war.

He pushed aside his doubts and started up the Starwind’s boarding ramp, pausing for just a moment to look back on Iridonia. This may be the last time I see my homeworld, he told himself. If Kelta’s with me, it’s worth it.

Five minutes later, the Starwind climbed up through atmosphere—away from Iridonia, from the horror of a war fought to the utter destruction of half its combatants.

And toward a greater galaxy still at war.

The Sanshir clan gathered in Halyn’s quarters aboard the Cathleen a week and a half after the conclusion of the war on Iridonia.

Kativie Lusp smiled as arms wrapped around her. She leaned back into her husband Hakk’s embrace, allowing him to take her weight. It was a small comfort for the Jedi Knight—resting in the strength of another, rather than always being the warrior, the pillar, the rock for everyone around her. Even Jedi Knights can’t be strong all the time, she told herself. I bet even Master Skywalker has moments where he allows Mara Jade to offer him strength. She was grateful Hakk had arrived mere hours after the orbital battle had concluded; he had told her that he had been waiting outside the system in a freighter, watching for a moment he could slip through.

The surviving children were playful but somber. It tugged at her heartstrings to see them so subdued, but she knew they were mourning the losses of their own. The pain opened her wounds afresh, threatening to overwhelm her. Instead of fighting it, she leaned even harder into her husband and allowed the familiar, deep pain to wash over her. Her eyes closed as she reached out to the Force and leaned heavily on it, too, for strength.

Argus and Allanna were sitting hand-in-hand at a small table, conversing deeply with their eldest son. Kativie had been delighted to learn that her second-oldest nephew, stationed on the Maria, had survived alongside his father in the disastrous Reecee battle.

Halyn sat alone in a corner. Kativie stretched out toward him with the Force, trying to gauge his feelings in the Force.  She was not as sensitive as others, like Kelta, and in spite of their familial bond, she could sense only the dark cloud that had seemed to hang over Halyn since the siege on Iridonia had lifted. Why has he been so distant since the Vong were destroyed? she wondered, not for the first time. He should be celebrating the danger passing and the weight being lifted from his shoulders.

“Are your parents going to make it?” Hakk whispered in Kativie’s ear.

She started for a moment, then settled back into his embrace. “No,” she said aloud. “They’re still out on the Zabrak colony on Talus.”

“I’m sorry about what happened with my family while I was gone,” Hakk murmured. “If I would have been here, I could have at least smacked my father around for you and Halyn.”

Kativie shook her head. “It’s not your fault, and your father was just being himself.”

“So, I’ve been thinking about that pretty much since you told me what happened,” Hakk continued. “And I was wondering if you wanted to change your last name back to Sanshir.”

“Back to Sanshir?” Kativie repeated in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Her hearts twisted in her chest. “You’re not talking about leaving me, are you?”

Hakk chuckled. “Never. Not for all the wealth in the galaxy, Kat.”

“Then what?”

Hakk breathed in her ear, a warm feeling that sent shivers down her spine. “I want to disown the Lusp clan. If the Sanshirs will have me, I would like to be a part of your family’s clan, not mine.”

Kativie was so shocked it took her a few moments to gather her thoughts. “How much thought have you put into this?” she asked.

“Some,” Hakk replied quietly. “I can’t stand to stay with my clan after what they did. Their arrogance nearly destroyed Iridonia—there’s no way Jram would have been ready to lead, and my father does not have the experience in warfare that your clan accumulated in the Civil War.”

“And what does joining the Sanshirs accomplish?” Kativie asked quietly.

“It will show the surviving Lusps that their actions weren’t acceptable,” Hakk said. “If I leave them, it will be unprecedented—no son born in the Lusp clan has left for the last thousand years. It would be a huge event that would force them to reconsider.”

Kativie didn’t reply immediately; instead, she reached out to the Force for guidance. Her thoughts settled calmly into place, and when she spoke her words came with the absolute certainty she almost never felt. When the words emerged, they were the Force’s, not her own. “You should not leave the Lusps, Hakk. If it’s what you want, yes, we can formally leave the Lusps and join the Sanshirs, but it will not affect the Lusp’s course.”

“What?” Hakk whispered, a little taken aback. “How can you know?”

“Think about it,” Kat said. “The Lusps and the Sanshirs alike have gone through the most severe warfare in our space since the Civil War. If you leave now, it will be written off as a consequence of the war—in open conflict, even Zabraks respond in odd ways to the stress.”

She could feel Hakk’s disagreeing frown, but she pressed on. “Now, clan Lusp’s leader is gone, dead in a conflict that ravaged Rak’Edalin. If you stay, there’s a chance you can press for some real change. You may not end up as the head of your clan, but you don’t need to if you want to make things better and prevent this from ever happening again. Imagine, you might even be the first Zabrak to finally settle this feud between the Lusps and the Sanshirs in millennia!”

“I hate it when you make sense,” Hakk muttered. “I come up with some grand gesture, and you tell me I’m being stupid. And then you explain why I’m being stupid. And you’re right.”

“After being married to me this long, I thought you’d be used to it,” Kativie teased as she wiggled against him.

He chuckled and squeezed her tighter for a moment. Kativie smiled and closed her eyes, reveling in the feelings. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed it while fighting the Yuuzhan Vong.

In the Force, she felt Halyn’s dark mood lighten a little. At the same time, she felt another presence—one far calmer and more powerful than she had felt before.

Kat opened her eyes and spotted Kelta Rose slipping into the room. The other Jedi Knight unobtrusively walked along the wall, heading over to the corner where Halyn was sitting. He was watching her, his brilliant green eyes nearly glowing with delight.

She reached out again and marveled in Kelta’s presence in the Force. The red-maned Jedi Knight felt completely at peace for the first time she could recall—ever. It wasn’t just her serenity, but Kat could feel a new wellspring of power in her friend. She feels like a master, Kat observed. The power and the peace. Only Jedi Masters have both, and she has them in abundance. She didn’t just heal Halyn; I think she healed herself, too, of whatever was haunting her.

There was a faint tink-tink-tink-tink sound that drew Kat’s attention. She turned her head and saw Argus was on his feet, a glass in one hand and a small vibroblade in the other, tapping the inert blade against the glass to draw the attention of everyone in the room. He continued to tap persistently, waiting until even the children had quieted and turned to look.

“Thank you,” Argus said with a small smile on his lips. “I’m glad we could all be together tonight, for the first time since the siege ended.”

Kativie wondered briefly what her eldest brother was going to say.

“More than thirty years ago, none of us had any idea what we would become. I was a security force member for the Iridonian government, my younger bratty brother ran off to see the galaxy, and my baby sister was just a child. Ten years after that, we three had led the efforts to liberate Iridonia from the Empire—me with the Zabrak resistance, Halyn as a Rebel General, and Kativie as a renegade who forced both of us to work together,” he added with a smile.

“I think we’ve made Iridonia a better place. We’ve done our best to protect it from threats both outside and inside our space. We’ve sacrificed time and again to ensure our world survives. “ He swallowed. “We’ve lost cousins, sons, and daughters as we’ve tried to safeguard everything that means anything to our race. As warriors, we’ve bled and died on the battlefield; as supporters, we’ve sacrificed our time and energy to rebuild what has been lost and destroyed; as leaders, we’ve made the hard calls to ensure the wars are won.”

Kativie felt something through the Force at the last statement. There’s more than he’s letting on, she thought to herself. But now was not the time to speak up, not in front of the children.

“And now we’ve won yet another war, this time against a race desiring to utterly destroy us and every bit of our history and culture. Halyn was the key to that,” he said, nodding at his younger brother, “but each of us has fought and sacrificed and, yes, lost much in this war. And while we won the war here, I don’t doubt we’ll need to sacrifice more to ensure the galaxy at large is safe from the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Argus raised his glass. “So, this is a celebration of Clan Sanshir and what we have accomplished. To all of us, whether you are born as a Sanshir,” he said, locking gazes with Halyn and Kativie in turn, then smiling at the children, “or whether you joined us afterward,” he continued, smiling down at Allanna, then up at Hakk, and finally to the only human in the room, Kelta Rose, “I raise a glass in salute. You are my family, and you are the reasons I continue to fight. With all of you as Sanshirs, our clan has grown greatly, and we may yet continue to guide Iridonia on a path of freedom from tyranny.”

Kativie picked up her glass with her fingertips and raised it into the air. “To Clan Sanshir, and Iridonia!” she called.

Others repeated the toast, and drank. Kativie sipped at her drink, hid her grimace as the alcohol burned all the way down. Drinking is not for the Jedi, she thought wryly.

For the first time in months, her family felt at ease—the tension of months had drained away, taking with it the toxins and pain of loss. They were comfortable, relaxed, reveling in the bonds of family.

With the exception of Halyn. She could still feel something dark eating at his peace. If we beat the Yuuzhan Vong, we can beat whatever is still troubling him, Kativie thought. He won the war for Iridonia—that’s not too much to ask.

Abi Ocopaqui was upright for the first time in two weeks. She still felt as though a part of herself was gone, and in some ways it was—her severed head-tail was home to deep-seated memories, cultural memories passed down to her even though she hadn’t ever lived on Ryloth.

“Are you okay?” Li Coden asked her for the umpteenth time.

“I’m fine,” the Twi’lek snarled reflexively.

Her head seemed to be pulled just a bit to one side, putting perpetual pressure on her neck. She knew it was a result of the now oddly-weighted lekku. Either I’m going to get used to this or I’m going to need a neck brace, she thought to herself. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

In spite of the discomfort and the sense of loss, she knew she had been very, very lucky. The Yuuzhan Vong amphistaff strike had only nicked the very edge of her brain—enough to cause some damage, but not enough to lose her identity. It may take me years to figure out just what exactly I’ve lost, she told herself. And maybe it’s not anything I’ll ever miss.

“I’m going to need to get a prosthetic,” she muttered as she rolled her head back and forth, cracking her neck. “This is going to kill me if I don’t figure something out.”

The door to the medcenter hissed open, and Halyn Lance slipped through, trailed by the red-maned Kelta Rose.

Halyn was silent as he approached. Abi stroked her severed lekku unconsciously. This really is going to bother me, she told herself as she waited for Halyn to speak.

The Zabrak settled onto a medical cot across from Abi before he finally spoke. “How are you feeling, Abi?”

“How do you think?” the Twi’lek growled. “A big part of me was destroyed. Thanks to you.”

Halyn accepted the blame without protest. “I’m sorry I brought you into this,” he said.

The Twi’lek raised an eyebrow. That’s not what I was expecting. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Halyn said. “This war was between the Zabraks and the Yuuzhan Vong. I shouldn’t have asked you to fight, and I put you in the position where you were wounded. Kativie may have sent you after the scarhead commander, but I placed you on the battlefield with the opportunity to do so.”

“So, I heard we won?” Abi half-asked.

The Zabrak nodded. “We did. We wiped out the Vong to the last man and blew up every ship in orbit.”

“With what fleet?” the Twi’lek asked sardonically.

“Garm Bel Iblis sent some warships with our fleet on the way back,” Halyn said shortly. “Few extra big warships made the difference in wiping out their blockade.”

“So, what now?” Abi asked.

Halyn shrugged. “We beat the Vong off, and I don’t think they’ll be sending another invasion force anytime soon. Now that we’ve got our HoloNet relay back up and running, I’m hearing rumors that the New Republic has setup a government-in-exile on Mon Calamari, so we’ll need to get a representative there to ensure Iridonia has a say in what happens next.” He smiled just a bit. “After all, we’ve proved the Vong can be beaten.”

“That’s all well and good,” Abi said, waving her hand, “but I’m still waiting to hear how you’re going to replace my Y-wing.”

Halyn froze, and Abi chuckled silently to herself. You weren’t expecting that, were you? Everyone thinks you’re so damned good, but I can always prove that you don’t anticipate everything.

“Oh, that’s all?” Halyn asked casually. He dug in his pocket and produced a datacard, showing it to the Twi’lek before tossing it across to her.

Abi caught it. “What’s this?”

“Well, I did some checking, and it turns out Bel Iblis had a few recon Y-wings on the Harbinger. He was more than happy to sign one over to the Maria in return for all the tactical data we acquired during the siege.”

“A recon Y-wing?” Abi asked skeptically. “You’re going to toss me some unarmed piece of junk and call it square? I don’t think so.”

“I said it was signed over to the Maria, not you. That was three days ago, which means the mechanics have had time to arm it with the latest laser and ion cannons we had in-stock from New Horizon Designs before their skyscraper was reduced to a pile of ash. In fact, there’s even a full load of proton torpedoes in the racks—or there should be, if they followed my orders.”

“I guess we’ll call that even, then,” Abi agreed grudgingly. Dammit. He did anticipate me this time.

“Anything else?” Halyn asked.

“Guess not,” the Twi’lek said.

“So where are you going, then?” the Zabrak asked.

“Check up on my daughter, then head off to link up with New Republic Intelligence,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “What about you? Just going to rest on your laurels as the Hero of Iridonia?”

Halyn snorted. “Hardly.” He shrugged, then added, “I don’t really know what I’m going to do yet. Not sure if I…just not sure,” he amended. He looked past Abi. “What about you, Li?”

The too-thin man smiled. “Well, I’m going to have a long report to write up for my superiors,” Li said. “They’ll want a full analysis of what happened here, especially in light of the fact that you won. After that, well, I’d forgotten how much I enjoy flying. Maybe I can persuade someone to put me in a cockpit again—after all, all those rookies will need a real squadron leader to show them the ropes if we don’t want to see them all get killed.”

“I’m glad you were both here,” Halyn said with a small smile. “Thank you both for everything. I appreciate it. What you two did, well,” he took a deep breath, “it went well beyond the bonds of friendship. So thank you.” He shook both their hands, then walked out without looking back.

Abi watched him go. I don’t think I’ll ever understand that Zabrak.

Halyn smiled at Kelta as they walked down one of the abandoned corridors of the Cathleen. Since the conclusion of the siege, the upper decks of the destroyed warship, which had primarily been occupied by officers and warriors, were now largely emptied of life. “I just can’t get rid of you, can I?” Halyn asked.

“Not as long as I’ve got this,” Kelta teased him, holding up the silver band.

“See, that’s why I tried to avoid that for two decades,” Halyn smirked. “Soon as I give you any trace of commitment, I just can’t shake you off. You hang on tighter than a piranha beetle on a dead carcass.”

Kelta made a face. “That’s really an image I wanted. You always did know how to flatter a woman, coatrack.”

“Everyone knows how damned charming I am,” Halyn said with a smirk. “It’s all the silver tongue.”

“Where are we going?” Kelta asked, changing the subject.

“My personal armory,” the other explained. “Eventually someone will tear this ship down or clean it out and turn it into a museum or memorial. I’d rather not leave all my personal gear there for someone to poke their nose into.”

“Okay, that sounds like you,” Kelta teased him.

Halyn stopped before the correct door, tapping in his key code. Kelta just stood back and watched. He’s probably got the equivalent of a proton torpedo in there and doesn’t want anyone to know, she told herself while she tried to hide a grin. There’s just no way he can’t play things close to his chest. It’s in his blood or something.

When the door slid open, Kelta was surprised to see the room was occupied.

The big Wookiee growled a greeting. <Hello, coatrack,> he said. <And you, Kelta.>

“Good to see you, too,” Halyn said. “Now what are you doing in my armory?”

<I thought I would ensure nothing important is left behind,> Anishor said. <I saw some of your weaponry in here previously and decided discretion was called for.>

“Yeah, the baradium is a bit illegal for private ownership here and, uh, everywhere,” Halyn said with a straight face.

“Not just baradium,” Kelta said with a smile. “Aren’t those antimatter charges?”

“Shush, you,” Halyn said as he picked up several of the palm-sided explosives and slipped them in his pocket. “Besides, I’d hate for people to find out what’s in my duster.”

<What kind of leather is that?> Anishor asked.

Halyn smiled with secret knowledge. “You’ll never know,” he said as he unhooked the floor-length duster from its place and slipped it on.

<So what are your plans now?> the berserker inquired.

“I don’t know,” Halyn shrugged. “A few people have asked, but I’m playing it by ear for now.”

Anishor nodded.

Kelta felt the grimness radiate from both of them and knew she reflected it as well. It’s not fair, she told herself. Not after all this.

“What about you?” Halyn asked the Wookiee. “Are you going back to Kashyyyk to have another bunch of whelps?”

Anishor chuckled. <I think my skills will be needed elsewhere. My berserkers proved themselves very capable in fighting your war here. While I would rather be fighting, I will likely be training more Wookiees in the art of the rykk blade. We will need far more warriors than my few berserkers if we ever hope to take back Coruscant or any other heavily-occupied world.>

“So, nursemaiding young Wookiees for you,” Halyn teased.

<I thought I would train my berserkers the way you trained your bomber pilots during the Civil War,> Anishor replied. <By throwing them into combat and seeing who comes back alive.>

“I didn’t do that,” Halyn denied. “Much.”

Anishor chuffed with laughter. <Well, if you need somewhere to go, you will always be welcome on Kashyyyk,> the Wookiee said at last. <We could use a commander who has fought the Yuuzhan Vong, as well as a pilot who has trained combat pilots.>

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Halyn said. “It’s better than a lot of alternatives.”

Anishor stepped over in one giant stride and picked up both Halyn and Kelta, squeezing them in a massive Wookiee hug. <I am happy for both of you, you know. It took you two furless far too long to come to this.>

Kelta smiled and wrapped her free arm around the Wookiee’s back. “We don’t all mate by clubbing someone over the head and dragging her off to our tree,” she joked.

<You have clearly spent too much time with the coatrack,> Anishor declared. <You’re starting to adopt his views of Wookiees, as wrong as they are.>

“Yeah, he doesn’t have a club,” Halyn grunted. “He has to use the flat side of a rykk blade.”

Anishor squeezed Halyn a bit tighter, and Kelta felt as much as heard the breath go out of him. “I know he has that effect on people, but you have to let him breathe,” the Jedi said, hiding her smirk.

<I know, but it’s good for him to remember on occasion that he’s not always on the top of the food chain,> the Wookiee said as he set them both down.

Halyn and Anishor both turned back to picking up the more illegal bits of the Zabrak’s personal arsenal. Kelta watched them both in amusement. You would think they’re smugglers, not officers and warriors, let alone heroes.

<Do you have regrets?> Anishor asked after a long but not uncomfortable silence.

“Regrets? Of course I do,” Halyn said with a small, sad smile. “A lot of Zabraks died following my orders. We held Iridonia by sacrificing lives. I ordered Rak’Edalin razed and burned it to the ground. It may have been the only way to win this war, but it still doesn’t feel good. I ordered friends to their deaths, and there wasn’t anything else I could do.”

<I have heard speculation that those are the reasons the Jedi were destroyed by the Clone Wars,> Anishor said.

“I thought the Jedi were destroyed by Palpatine after the Clone Wars,” Halyn commented.

“Yes, and no,” Kelta said. “The Clone Wars rotted away the strength of the Jedi Order and left it vulnerable. Years of warfare left the Jedi unprepared for the actions of the Sith.”

<The Jedi were appointed commanders and generals of the army of the Republic,> Anishor continued. <They were forced into positions where people—both troops and civilians—died regardless of the decisions they made. It undermined their certainty and eroded their connection to the Force. When the Sith acted, they were utterly destroyed.>

“What does that have to do with me?” Halyn asked dryly. “Last I checked, I’m no Jedi.”

<It’s not just Jedi,> Anishor pointed out. <You have sacrificed much of yourself in this war. If you’re going to continue to fight, you will need time to recover.>

Halyn shrugged. “Maybe.” He lifted the last of his weapons from the rack, a small disruptor pistol, and holstered it inside his duster. He turned back to the Wookiee and hugged his old friend. “Thank you, Anishor, for coming to Iridonia and fighting. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

<I know, coatrack,> he joked. <I know.>

This was the conclusion of the siege of Iridonia; it was not the climax, which had arguably been the Cathleen’s razing of Rak’Edalin and the utter devastation of the Yuuzhan Vong army. The damaged, badly undercrewed Yuuzhan Vong fleet was savaged by the combined New Republic-Zabrak fleet, commanded by the legendary Garm Bel Iblis; the remains of their ground army were wiped out mercilessly by Zabrak warriors who had lost everything in the months-long war.

The vengeful Zabraks did not offer their foes an opportunity to surrender; the disgraced Yuuzhan Vong, believing themselves Shamed, fought to the death to the last warrior, unwilling to live with their failure. The final battle was fought with savagery and cold-bloodedness. Zabrak and Yuuzhan Vong fell, but as the dust began to settle, it rapidly became clear that only one side had survived.

With the allied fleet in a defensive orbit, and the remains of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet no more dangerous than any other orbiting asteroids, a single battered old YT-1300 descended from orbit. Its owner would have rejected the vessel’s description as “battered”—it had been his home for years during the Civil War, before he had become captain of a proper warship for the Rebel Alliance and later New Republic.

Ryian Coron looked out of the cockpit of the Spinning Cloud as the vessel dropped toward the Iridonian capital, Rak’Edalin. He had seen holo footage aboard the Dauntless, of course, but it hadn’t really prepared him for the sights he now saw with his own eyes out the freighter’s cockpit.

His passenger grunted from the copilot seat, but said nothing.

Ryian ignored him, as he had since he began the flight down from the fleet.

Clouds of smoke and dust from the downed Yuuzhan Vong warships reduced Ryian’s view to glimpses, but they were ugly scenes that grew nightmarish as he neared. Fires did not burn so much as smolder, smoke billowing skyward. As the Spinning Cloud dropped to below a hundred meters in altitude, he realized why there was a lack of open flame.

There was nothing left to burn.

When the Dauntless had first arrived at Iridonia and volunteered to join the defensive fleet, Rak’Edalin had been a bustling city—quiet by the standards of Coruscant or Corellia, but as busy a starport as could be found on any Zabrak-colonized world. Now there was virtually nothing left. Small buildings had literally been razed to their foundations; larger structures had been toppled and left a more significant footprint, but the subsequent fires had left little behind but twisted durasteel.

At less than fifty meters, he finally dropped below the most persistent haze. With a start, he realized what most of the smoldering fires were fueled by.

Corpses.

Ryian shuddered at the thought. This war is hell. It wasn’t this bad when we were fighting the Empire, was it? I mean, a lot of people died fighting that, but it wasn’t like this. His memory replayed the horrors of Alderaan, of Toprawa, of Restuss. Okay, it was that bad then, too. Ryian swallowed hard. Sandarie had better be alive down there.

He guided the freighter toward a slow descent to the location an exhausted Kelta, aboard the wrecked Cathleen, had relayed to him. This was where Halyn last was, along with Anishor. No one knows if they’re still alive.

The freighter had not yet settled onto its struts when an imposing figure appeared through the haze, his hand raised in greeting. Ryian slapped the boarding lamp’s release as he frowned at the figure. It took him a moment to recognize the newcomer as Anishor. So that’s how he would look with black fur, Ryian observed distantly as he watched the soot-streaked Wookiee approach.

Ryian’s passenger was already walking down the Spinning Cloud’s ramp by the time Ryian rose from the pilot’s chair. He glanced over the controls one last time to ensure the freighter’s engines were in standby but ready to go within a few seconds before he turned and headed aft to descend himself.

His hand trailed along the wall as he walked back to the ramp. Halyn really is crazy. I must be crazy, too, considering I keep coming back whenever he asks me. I should have retired years ago on Corellia with Sandi. I shouldn’t still be out here fighting against whatever new enemies pop up. Let the young pick up this battle; we’ve already done our share.

Ryian descended the Spinning Cloud’s boarding ramp just in time for Anishor to ambush him, lifting him up in a giant Wookiee hug, squeezing him hard enough to restrict his breathing. “Hey,” he managed to grunt out.

<Ryian!> Anishor bellowed, loud enough to deafen him at such close proximity.

“I still need to breathe,” Ryian gasped.

<Silly furless,> Anishor chuckled as he released the Corellian.

“Where’s Sandi?” he asked.

The Wookiee uncharacteristically froze. <I think you’d better ask Halyn about that,> he said reluctantly.

Ryian’s heart stopped in his chest. No. No, this can’t have cost me Sandi. She’s not a fighter. She wouldn’t be on the front lines. “She’s not dead,” Ryian said flatly.

His heart started to beat again when Anishor shook his head and answered, <No, she hasn’t been killed. But you’ll need to talk to Halyn.>

Ryian looked past the Wookiee in time to see three more figures approaching through the haze, Zabraks all: two males and a female.

The passenger Ryian had brought down from orbit marched out to meet them.

Kativie felt utterly drained as she limped through the debris between Halyn and Ceikeh. Even with the power Anishor had lent her, keeping the four of them alive when the coral vessels had come to pieces overhead had taken every bit of strength she could muster. I don’t know if I could use the Force right now if all our lives depended on it, she thought tiredly. I never, ever want to do that again. She allowed herself a tiny smile. Though with what I felt during all that, I’m pretty sure we won. Our fleet returned and eliminated the Vong, I think, and there’s no more tension from our army, so they must have wiped out whatever is left.

She looked from left to right. Senator Ceikeh Alari seemed to have more spring to his step than she felt; he was clearly exhausted from the battle, but buoyed by survival and, as insane as it sounded, victory. We won, Kativie told herself giddily. We won, we won, we won. The costs of the victory weighed heavily on her, though she tried not to consider them—the price paid by Iridonia and by herself, personally, were high—too high. We won, but at what cost?

Halyn looked even more exhausted than she felt. If she would have had the strength to spare, she would have looped his arm over her shoulders, but she knew doing so would topple them both to the ground. Whatever this took out of me, it’s been worse for him. He’s been fighting all this time and has worn himself out. I just hope he can recover with enough time.

Distantly she heard the whine of repulsorlifts and looked up; barely visible through the haze was the shape of an old YT-1300 freighter descending to land not too far away. Ahead of them, staying on point in case of any Yuuzhan Vong ambushes, she could barely see Anishor as he altered course to intercept the descending ship.

Well, at least we won’t have to walk back to the Cathleen, Kativie managed to think. Unless the Vong started using YT-1300s. She giggled at the thought. Yes, we killed so many of their living ships they have to use abominations. The fact that she was finding amusement in the situation meant, to the rational part of her mind, that she needed something to eat and about sixteen hours of sleep.

“So,” Ceikeh said aloud, very slowly, “we finally won.”

“Yeah,” Halyn said hoarsely. “Something like that. If this is victory.”

“We’re still alive,” Ceikeh reminded him. “So is all of Iridonia, aside from those who fell here at Rak’Edalin.”

Halyn spat before he spoke again. “It cost us a lot. Half the people I asked to come here and fight either died or were badly wounded. We lost a large part of our fleet, and thousands of Zabraks died fighting the Vong. We won, but if the Vong would strike again now, nothing would stop them from overrunning Iridonia.”

Kativie spoke up, “You sound like you don’t think the Vong will attack us again.”

The Ul’akhoi shook his head. “We fought a months-long war against the Vong here. From the moment their forces landed on Iridonia, they never received reinforcements from the outside. The Vong never sent more ships, never sent more supplies, never sent anything. I’d guess there’s some politics at work that we’ll never know about, but I’d bet the Vong won’t attack here again anytime soon.”

“If they really wanted to take the planet, they would’ve sent more forces while they had a foothold,” Ceikeh concluded.

“Exactly.” Halyn nodded. “Besides, I’m going to choose to believe that because there’s no way we can win another war against them right now.”

The dust and smoke billowed back toward them, prompting Kativie to raise her arm to cover her eyes. When she lowered her arm again, she could see the outline of the YT-1300 as it dropped onto its landing struts.

“Nice ride,” Ceikeh commented.

“Corellian garbage,” Halyn mumbled. “Survive the war only to step into a deathtrap and get killed flying home. They should’ve sent one of our Muurians to pick us up.”

“Quit complaining or we’ll make you walk,” Kativie giggled.

“I’d definitely be safer,” the Ul’akhoi grumbled.

A Zabrak figure cut through the haze, heading straight toward them. “Our pilot,” Kativie said. “Odd that he left his ship.”

A gust of wind cleared the air between them, and Kativie stumbled as she recognized the figure. She fell to her hands and knees, felt Halyn stop without needing to look.

It can’t be. Not even by the Force. It can’t be.

Impossibly, it was.

Argus Sanshir, the eldest of the three Sanshir siblings, walked toward them through the haze, alive and in the flesh.

Halyn stared in utter shock and disbelief as his elder brother walked toward him. It can’t be. Even the Jedi can’t conjure the dead back to life. Kelta bringing me back is as close as they come.

“You never could stand being second-best, could you?” Argus called as he approached.

“Huh?” Halyn said brilliantly.

“The Council made me Vysht’akhoi, but you had to go make yourself Ul’akhoi.”

Halyn laughed at the joke. “You didn’t push yourself to succeed. You, too, could have been dictator.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, I’m retired.”

“Retired?” Argus asked, close enough now that Halyn could see his dark-skinned brother.

“Yeah. I was Ul’akhoi until the Vong were removed from Iridonia.” He looked around theatrically. “Seen any Vong lately?”

It was Argus’s turn to laugh. “No, I can’t say I have.”

Kativie finally found her voice. “What are you doing here? Where have you been?”

Argus’s mirth faded away to nothingness. “The attack on Reecee reduced the Maria to a shell with a tenth of her crew surviving. After the Errant Venture escaped, we managed to get the hyperdrive online and risked a jump with no backup. We spent weeks in the void, lightyears from any star system, while we got the Maria back in condition to make a sustained hyperspace jump. We limped her to Tallaan and persuaded Garm Bel Iblis—freshly arrived after the fall of Coruscant—to patch us up and get us spaceworthy. He even lended us enough crew to make the Maria battleworthy so we could risk voyaging to Iridonia.”

“Why didn’t you get us word?” Kativie asked. “We thought you were dead.”

“I tried. The HoloNet hasn’t exactly been reliable on the other side of the Core, and by the time Allanna arrived with the fleet I had given up on it,” Argus explained. “With the Zabrak fleet at my back and with a recent report of the situation on Iridonia, I was able to persuade Bel Iblis to lend us some heavy firepower to come back and break the blockade.”

“We thought you were dead,” Kativie repeated.

Argus shrugged. “When Allanna laid out the situation here, I thought you all might be dead by the time we got back. Instead, I find that my little brother threw a party that trashed the entire city—that’s way worse than what happened to the house when we were kids,” he finished jokingly.

Halyn shook his head. “Glad you’re back. Now you can take over and I can go back to irresponsibility.”

The eldest Sanshir frowned and peered closer at Halyn. “I’m a bit surprised to find you’re still alive.”

“Neat Jedi trick,” Halyn said dryly. “Kelta figured out a way to heal me.”

“She’s here?”

Before Halyn could reply, Kativie leapt from the ground up at Argus, half-tackling him. She wrapped her arms tightly around him. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she whispered, loud enough for Halyn to hear. “Welcome home, big brother.”

Argus embraced her tightly for a few moments, finally releasing her only reluctantly. “I’m glad you’re still alive, too,” he said.

Halyn waited until the moment had passed and both were firmly on their feet before answering. “Yes, Kelta is here.”

“So are you going to run off again?” Argus asked, his voice hinting at just a bit of irritation.

“I won’t be running anywhere for a long time,” Halyn said dryly. “C’mon. I don’t want to stand around here all day.”

The other Zabraks fell in around Halyn as he limped toward the YT-1300. Maybe, Halyn concluded to himself, we haven’t lost everything in this war. We’re still a family.

When Halyn walked onto the bridge of the Cathleen, he was not expecting anything.

Instead of a place of war and officers conducting a battle with careful, ugly precision, he found a room of celebration.

Normally reserved military officers were exchanging drinks—many of them Kashyyykian in origin, their alcohol a popular import to the Zabrak homeworld. Uniforms were loosened and lacked precision; chatter was loud and unstructured. Formality was rumor among the buzz, and the air was filled with a sense of celebration.

Kryi Rinnet was the first to spot Halyn, backed by Kativie, Argus, and Ceikeh. “Ul’akhoi on deck!” she hollered at the top of her lungs, fighting to make herself heard over the din.

Officers snapped to attention in spite of their disheveled appearances; drinks were slapped down on nearby flat surfaces. Within three seconds, the bridge was utterly silent, with every Zabrak present standing at attention.

Halyn hid his smile as he limped forward. “Thank you, Coordinator Rinnet,” he said quietly as he limped forward. “And thank you all.” He finally allowed his mask to slip. “As you were.”

Raucous cheers broke out, deafening in the cramped starship’s bridge. Halyn bore it all as he walked forward to the command chair in the center of the bridge, the only place where someone was still sitting.

Kelta Rose, Jedi Knight, rotated in the chair to face him. Her violet eyes burned with life and power and vitality, though her body seemed to droop with exhaustion. “General,” she said cheerfully.

“I’m not a general anymore,” Halyn said dryly.

“Ul’akhoi, then.”

“Vong are gone. I’m not Ul’akhoi any more,” the Zabrak smirked.

“You’re still the General,” Kelta said with a warm smile. “You always will be, to everyone who fought with you during the Civil War.”

Halyn pulled his battered duster back far enough to unhook Kelta’s lightsaber from his belt. He offered it to her pommel-first. “Figured you’d want this back.”

Kelta accepted the blade gracefully. “Did you find it useful?”

“I’ll tell you the whole story some time, but yes, I did.”

Kelta smiled as she leaned back in the command chair and closed her eyes. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Her smile turned to a frown. “Is that…Argus?”

“Yeah. Turns out he wasn’t quite as dead as we thought.”

“You love being mysterious, don’t you?”

“It’s the whole officer thing,” Halyn explained with a straight face. “You learn to keep information from your officers…and enjoy doing it.”

Kelta opened her eyes. “Is that what I am? One of your officers?”

“No, you Jedi types don’t follow orders well enough to be in a military.” Halyn leaned in then and kissed her, just lightly brushing her lips. “Which is good for us, because then we’d be breaking all sorts of conduct rules.”

“Can’t have that,” Kelta grinned and returned the kiss. When she pulled back for air, her eyes seemed to take in his entire face. “You took a nasty hit from some Vong, didn’t you?”

Halyn couldn’t manage to hide his blush. “Um, actually, no.”

Kelta frowned. “No? That looks like a pretty bad hit.”

“No, it wasn’t a Vong.” Halyn turned a bit pink in spite of himself. “Ryian wasn’t very happy when he found out I had Sandi frozen in carbonite. I don’t think explaining that she had been poisoned by an amphistaff and we couldn’t save her ourselves helped me any, either.”

Kelta chuckled and shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine it did. You always did have a way with your officers. You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you.”

“Something like that,” Halyn said dryly.

“So now what?” Kelta asked.

The Zabrak hesitated. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’m no longer Ul’akhoi—the Vong are wiped out. The proper Vysht’akhoi has returned, so he can take over the military side. The Council, or whatever’s left of it, will take up the reins of power now that the siege is over. I’m pretty much free of my responsibilities.” He hesitated even longer before adding, “Well, once we’ve confirmed the Vong are wiped out and I’ve transited all the responsibilities over to Argus, anyway.”

“I’m sure Argus will want you to stay here and help rebuild.”

Halyn smiled a bit. “I doubt it. Besides, I do have something else to do.”

Kelta frowned. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Halyn fumbled in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing his hand. “Kelta Rose, I screwed this up once, and I don’t want to do it again.” He offered her his palm, a ring shining silver in the dim bridge lighting. “Will you marry me?”