Star Wars

New Jedi Order

The Final Prophecy

by Greg Keyes

As the bestselling New Jedi Order series
approaches its epic climax, the secrets
of the Yuuzhan Vong - who they are,
where they came from, what terrible
forces drive them - are at last exposed.
But will this knowledge aid the Jedi...
or doom them?

PROLOGUE

Three kilometers beneath the surface of Yuuzhan'tar-the world once known
as Coruscant-the sound of chanting drifted up a shaft nearly as wide as it was
deep, the melan-choly strains yearning toward the few distant stars that could
be seen from the bottom. In the pale blue light of lumen reeds, the faces of
the chanters appeared ravaged, their bodies misshapen.
These were the Shamed Ones of the Yuuzhan Vong, and they chanted to their
Prophet.
Nom Anor felt his bile rise at the sight. Even after all this time as the
"Prophet," it was difficult to shake the long years of contempt he had held
for them.
But they were his hope, now. They were his army. Once, not long ago, he
had dared to dream that with them behind him he could pull Shimrra-Supreme
Overlord of the Yuu-zhan Vong-from his polyp throne, cast him into the pits,
and assume his place.
But there had been setbacks. His eyes and ears within Shimrra's palace
had been uncovered and killed. More of his followers were discovered every
day, and fewer answered the call.
Their faith was wavering, and it was time to give it back to them.
"Hear me!" he called, his voice soaring above the Prayer of Redemption.
"Hear the voice of prophecy!"

1
The chanting subsided, and an eager silence descended.
"I have fasted," he said. "I have meditated. Last night I sat here,
beneath the stars, waiting for I knew not what. And in the darkest hours, a
great light fell about me, a cleansing light, the light of redemption. I
looked up and there, where the stars gaze down upon us, was an orb-a world, a
planet in the skies above us. Its beauty made me tremble, and its power
pressed down on me. I felt love and terror at once. And then those emotions
subsided, and I felt-belonging. I knew that the planet itself was alive, wel-
coming me. It is the planet of the source, the planet of the Jeedai,their
secret temple and fount of their knowledge and wisdom-and I saw us, the
Shamed, walking with the Jeedai upon its surface, one with them, one with the
planet."
He dropped his tone from singsong to a near growl.
"And in the distance, I heard Shimrra's wail of despair, for he knows
this planet-this living planet-is our salvation and his doom. And he knows it
will come for him, one day, because it will come for us."
He lowered his hands, and for a moment the silence pre-vailed. Then a
great roar went up, keen and joyful, and Nom Anor heard what he most wanted to
hear-the sound of hope, the cry of the zealot-his name on the lips of a
multitude. What matter that he had put the story together from a few
conversations and rumors he had collected from Shimrra's palace before his
informant died? There was a planet, rumored to be alive in some unusual way.
Shimrra was terrified of it, and had had the commander who brought the news of
it slaughtered out of hand, along with all his crew.
His story would give his people hope. It would encourage them to fight.
And when they were captured, and told the prophecy to their punishers, it
would get back to Shimrra, and bring his fear back home.
Better, Nom Anor had heard from old sources in the Galactic Alliance that
the Jedi had mounted a search for just such a planet. What they wanted with it
he did not know, but it seemed the planet had repelled at least one Yuu-zhan
Vong battle group, so perhaps its people had potent weapons.
In any event, rumor would build on rumor, reinforcing the veracity of his
vision, strengthening the resolve of his followers, knitting their single
strands into ropes and the ropes into cables until they were strong enough to
knot around Shimrra's neck and strangle him.
Strength swept through him as the sound of his adopted name built toward
the heavens. He looked out over them, and this time was much less offended by
their faces.

PART ONE

VISION

ONE

She was being followed.
She paused and wiped a damp wisp of yellow hair from her forehead,
touching in passing the scars that marked her as a member of Domain Kwaad. Her
green eyes scanned through the many-legged gnarltrees, but her stalkers
weren't yet showing themselves to the usual senses. They were waiting for
something-reinforcements, probably.
She hissed a mild shaper's curse under her breath and started off again,
picking her way over moldering logs, through sluggish mists and dense brakes
of hissing cane.
The air was a wet fever, and the chirps and trills and bub-bling gulps
from canopy and marsh were oddly comforting.
She kept her pace the same-there was no reason to let them know she was
on to them, not yet. She did alter her path subtly-no point in going to the
cave until this was dealt with.
Or I could lead them there,she mused,attack them while they deal with
their inner demons...
No.
That seemed somehow like sacrilege. Yoda had come here. Luke Skywalker
had, too, and so had Anakin. Now it was her turn. Tahiri's turn.
Anakin's parents hadn't very much liked the idea of her coming to Dagobah
alone, but she'd managed to convince them of the necessity. She believed that
the human and Yuu-zhan Vong personalities that had once shared her body had
become one seamless entity. It felt that way, felt right. But Anakin had seen
a vision of her, a melding of Jedi and Yuu-zhan Vong, and it hadn't been a
pretty vision. She'd thought at first, after the joining that had nearly
driven her mad, that she had avoided that outcome. But before she moved on,
before she put those she loved at risk, she had to con-sider the possibility
that the fusion of Tahiri Veila with Riina of Domain Kwaad was a step in the
fulfillment of that vision.
Anakin, after all, had known her better than anyone. And Anakin had been
very strong.
If the creature he had seen was lurking in her, the time to face it was
now, not later.
So she'd come here, to Dagobah, where the Force was so strong it almost
seemed to sing aloud. The cycle of life and death and new birth was all around
here, none of it twisted by Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology, none of it poisoned by
the machines, greed, and exploitation all too native to this galaxy. She'd
come to visit the cave to explore her inner self and see what she was really
made of.
But she had also come to Dagobah to meditate on the alternatives. What
Anakin had seen was all of the worst of Yuuzhan Vong and Jedi traits bundled
into one being. Avoiding becoming that was paramount, but she had a goal
beyond-to find the balance, to embody the best of her mixed heritage. Not just
for herself, but because the reconciliation of her dual identity had left her
with one firm belief-that the Yuuzhan Vong and the peoples of the galaxy they
had invaded could learn a lot from each other, and they could live in peace.
She was sure of it. The only question was how to make it happen.
The Yuuzhan Vong would never create industrial waste-lands like Duro,
Bonadan, or Eriadu. On the other hand, what they did to life-breaking it and
twisting it until it suited their needs, wiping it out entirely when it didn't
please-was really no better. It wasn't that they loved life, but that they
hated machines.
There had to be some sort of common ground, some pivot point that could
open the eyes of both sides and end the ongoing terror and destruction of the
war. The Force was key to that understanding. The Yuuzhan Vong were somehow
blind to it. If they could actually feel the Force around them, if they could
feel the wrongness of their creations, they might find a better path, one less
bent on destruction. If the Jedi could feel the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force,
they might find-not better ways to fight them - but paths to conciliation.
She needed more than that, though. It wasn't enough to know what was
wrong-she also had to know how to make things right.
Tahiri had no delusions of grandeur. She was no savior, no prophet, no
super-Jedi. She was the result of a Yuuzhan Vong experiment gone wrong. But
she did understand both sides of the problem, and if there was any chance she
could help Master Skywalker find the solution her galaxy so des-perately
needed-well, she had to take it. It was a role she accepted with humility and
great caution. Those trying to do good often committed the most atrocious
crimes. They were gaining on her, getting clumsier. Soon she would have to do
something.
They must have followed her to Dagobah. How?
Or maybe they had known where she was going before she left. Maybe she
had been betrayed. But that meant Han and Leia-
No. There was another answer. Paranoid reflexes were a survival trait
growing up in a creche, but even deeper in-stincts told her that her friends-
a dopted parents, almost-could never do such a thing. Someone had been watching
her, someone she hadn't noticed. Peace Brigade maybe. Probably. They would
imagine they could curry a lot of favor by turn-ing her over to Shimrra.
She twisted her way through a maze of gnarltrees and then clambered
quickly and silently up their cablelike roots. They had once been legs, those
roots, as she'd learned when she came here less than a decade and more than a
lifetime ago. The immature form of the tree was a sort of spider that lost its
mobility in adulthood. She'd been with Anakin, here to face his trial, to
discover if having the name of his grandfather would bring him the same fate.
I miss you Anakin, she thought.
More now than ever.
About four meters off the ground, she secreted herself in a hollow and
waited. If she could simply avoid them, she would. At one level her instincts
cried out for battle, but at a deeper level she knew that her Yuuzhan Vong
fighting re-flexes had inevitable connections with fury, and she was here to
avoid becoming Anakin's vision, not embrace it.
There was a part of her plan that she hadn't told Han and Leia about-the
part where, if the cave confirmed her worst fears, she would cripple her X-
wing beyond repair and spend the rest of her life on the jungle planet.
Perhaps, like the spiders, she would sink her limbs into the swamp and
become a tree.
She reached out with the Force, to better assess her pursuit.
They weren't there. And she suddenly realized that she hadn't felt them
in the Force, but with her Vongsense. It had come so naturally she hadn't even
questioned it. That could only mean her pursuers were Yuuzhan Vong, maybe six
of them, give or take one or two. Vongsense wasn't as precise as the Force.
She reached for her lightsaber, but didn't unhook it, and continued to
wait.
Soon she actually heard them. Whoever they were, they weren't hunters-
they moved through the jungle clumsily, and though they pitched their voices
low enough that she couldn't actually understand what they were saying, they
seemed to be gabbling almost constantly. They must be very confident of their
success.
A dark shadow glided soundlessly through the under-growth, and she
snapped her gaze up in time to see some-thing very large blot the fragments of
sky not occluded by the distant canopy.
Native life, or a Yuuzhan Vong flier?
Pursing her lips, she waited. Soon the distant muttering became coherent.
As she'd thought, the language was that of her creche.
"Are you certain she came this way?" a raspy voice asked.
"She did. See? The impression in the moss?"
"She isjeedai. Perhaps she left these signs to confuse us."
"Perhaps."
"But you think she is near?"
"Yes."
"And knows we are following her?"
"Yes."
"Then why not simply call out to her?"
And hope I answer the battle challenge? Tahiri thought, grimly. So they
did have a tracker with them. Could she slip around them, back to her X-wing?
Or must she fight them?
Moving very slowly, Tahiri shifted in the direction of the voices. She
could make out several figures through the under-story, but not distinctly.
"At some point we must, I suppose," the tracker said.
"Else she will think we wish her harm."
What? Tahiri frowned, trying to fit that into her presuppositions. She
couldn't.
"Jeedai!" the tracker called. "I think you can hear us. We humbly request
an audience."
No warrior would do that, Tahiri thought. No warrior would use such
honorless trickery. But a shaper... Yes, a shaper or a priest might, a member
of the deception sect. Still...
She leaned out for a better view, and found herself staring straight into
the yellow eyes of a Yuuzhan Vong.
He was perhaps six meters away. She gasped at the sight of him, and
revulsion jolted through her. His face was like an open wound.
A Shamed One, despised by the gods. He dared-her hand went to her
lightsaber.
Then the shadow was back, and suddenly something sleeted through the
branches, shredding the leaves and vines around her. She snarled a war cry and
ignited her weapon, swirling it up to send two thud bugs burning off through
the jungle.
Above her, through the now open canopy, she saw a Yuu-zhan Vong tsik vai,
an atmospheric flier, huge and ray-shaped, and from it snaked long cables. To
each cable clung a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. One passed less than two meters from
her, and she braced for the fight, but he went on past, oblivious to her
presence, striking the jungle floor and uncoiling his amphistaff in the same
motion.
A terrible wail went up from her pursuers. She could see them now, all
horribly disfigured, all Shamed Ones. They raised their short clubs and faced
the warriors.
They didn't have a chance-she saw that immediately.
For an instant, the tracker held her eye, and she thought he would give
her away, but instead his expression went grim.
"Run!" he shouted. "We cannot win here!"
Tahiri hesitated only an instant longer, then made a series of steplike
leaps to the ground. The first of the Shamed Ones had already fallen when her
feet touched the spongy soil.
A warrior caught her motion from the corner of his eye and turned to meet
her, snarling a war cry. His face transfig-ured in surprise when she answered
it in his own language.
He whirled his amphistaff toward her, a lateral strike aimed at her
scapula. She caught the blade and cut toward his knuckles, but he parried with
distance, pulled his weapon free of the bind, and lunged deep with the
venomous tip. She caught it in a high sweep and stepped in, cut to his
shoulder where the vonduun crab armor shed its fury in a shower of sparks,
then dodged past, reversing the weapon and plung-ing its fiery point into the
vulnerable spot in the armpit. The warrior gasped and sank to his knees, and
she whipped the weapon around to decapitate him even as she launched herself
at the next foe.
Combat was a blur, after that. Eight warriors had dropped from the flier.
Seven were left, and fully half the Shamed Ones were bleeding on the ground.
She had an image of the tracker, his arms knotted in a neck-breaking hold. She
saw another Shamed One strike a warrior on the temple with his club only to be
run through from behind.
Mostly she saw the lightning-quick amphistaff strikes of the two warriors
trying to flank her. She cut at a knee, smelled the scorch of flesh as the
blade severed through armor. An amphistaff whipped toward her back and she had
to roll be-neath the blow.
Parry, thrust, and cut became her entire existence.
Spattered with Yuuzhan Vong blood and bleeding from several cuts of her
own, she suddenly found herself back to back with the tracker. He was all that
remained of the six who had initially been following her, but there remained
only three warriors.
For a moment, they stood like that. The warriors backed away a bit. The
leader was massive. His ears were cut into fractal patterns; great trenchlike
scars stood on his cheeks.
"I've heard of you, abomination," he snarled. "The one-who-was-shaped. Is
it true what they say? These pathetic maw luur excretions worship you?"
"I don't know anything about that," Tahiri said. "But I know when I see a
dishonorable fight. They were not only outnumbered, but poorly armed. How can
you call yourselves warriors, to attack in such a way?"
"They are Shamed Ones," the warrior sneered back.
"They are outside honor. They are worse than infidels; they are heretic
traitors, not to be fought but to be extermi-nated."
"You fear us," the tracker rasped. "You fear us because we know the
truth. You lap at Shimrra's feet, yet Shimrra is the true heretic. See how
this Jeedai has laid you low. The gods favor her, not you."
"If the gods favor her, they do not favor you," the war-rior snapped.
"They are delaying us," the tracker told Tahiri. She no-ticed he had
blood on his lips. "They delay us while another tsikvai arrives."
"Quiet, heretic," the war leader bellowed, "and you may yet live to
snivel a little longer. There are questions we would ask of you." His
expression softened. "Renounce your heresy. This Jeedai is a great prize. Help
us win her, and perhaps the gods will forgive you and grant you an honorable
death."
"No death is more honorable than dying by the side of a Jeedai" the
tracker answered. "Vua Rapuung proved that."
"Vua Rapuung," the warrior all but spat. "That story is a heretic's lie.
Vua Rapuung died in disgrace."
For answer the Shamed One suddenly bolted forward, so quickly he took the
leader by surprise, bowling into him be-fore he could raise his weapon. The
other two turned to help, but Tahiri danced forward, feinting at the knee and
then cutting high through the warrior's throat when he dropped his guard to
parry. She exchanged a flurry of blows with the second, though it ended the
same, with the warrior flopping lifeless to the ground.
She turned to find the tracker impaling the leader with his own
amphistaff. For a moment they stared at each other, the Shamed One and she.
Then the Yuuzhan Vong suddenly dropped to his knees.
"I prayed it was you!" he said.
Tahiri opened her mouth, but heard the stir of treetops that could only
be another flier arriving.
"Come on," she said. "We can't stay here."
The warrior nodded and bounded to his feet. Together they ran from the
clearing.
An hour or so later, Tahiri finally halted. The fliers see med to have
lost them for the time being, and the tracker had been gradually dropping
behind. Now he staggered against a tree and slid to the ground.
"A little farther," she said. "Just over here."
"My legs will no longer bear me," the tracker said. "You must leave me
for the time being."
"Just under this shelf of stone," she said. "Please. It may hide us from
the fliers if they sweep here." He nodded wearily. She saw he was clutching
his side, and that blood covered his flank.
They scooted up beneath the overhang.
"Let me see that," she said.
He shook his head. "I must speak to you first," he said.
"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"
His eyes widened. "No!" he said, so vehemently that blood sputtered from
between his lips. Then, more quietly,
"No. We thieved a ship from an intendant and came here to find the world
of prophecy. We saw you land-is this the place, one-who-was-shaped? Is this
the world the Prophet saw?"
"I'm sorry," Tahiri said. "I don't know what you mean. This is Dagobah. I
came here for... personal reasons."
"But it cannot be coincidence," the tracker said. "It cannot."
"Please," Tahiri said. "Let me see your wound. I know a little about
healing. Maybe I can..."
"I am dead already," the tracker gruffed. "I know this. But I must know
if I have failed."
Tahiri shook her head helplessly.
The tracker straightened a bit, and his voice strength-ened. "I am Hul
Qat, once a hunter. Or I was, until the gods seemed to reject me. I was
stripped of my title, my clan. I was Shamed. My implants festered and my scars
opened like wounds. I gave up hope and waited for dishonorable death. But then
I heard the word of the Prophet, and of the Jeedai Anakin..."
"Anakin," Tahiri whispered. The name twisted a blade in her.
"Yes, and you, whom Mezhan Kwaad shaped. And Vua Rapuung who fought-you
were there, were you not?"
A deep chill ran through Tahiri. She had been Riina, then, and Tahiri,
and she had nearly killed Anakin.
"I was there."
"Then you know. You know our redemption belongs with you. And now the
Prophet has seen a world, a world where there are no Shamed Ones because it
will redeem us, where the true way can be-" He coughed violently and slumped
again, and for an instant Tahiri thought he was al-ready dead. But then his
eyes turned toward her.
"My companions and I wanted to find the planet for our Prophet. One of
us, Kuhqo, had been a shaper. He used a genetic slicer to get access to an
executor's qahsa and steal its secrets. He found intelligence gathered about
the Jeedai, and evidence that there was some connection between you and this
world. Some of your greatest came here, yes? And now you. And so please, tell
me. Have I found it?"
He shuddered, and his eyes rolled. "Have I?" he begged again, so weakly
this time it might have been no more than a breath.
Tahiri reached out and took his hand. "Yes," she lied, not even knowing
exactly what lie she was telling. "Yes, you're right. You found it. Don't
worry about anything now." His eyes filled with tears. "You must help me," he
said. "I cannot take the news myself. The Prophet must know where this world
is."
"I will do it," Tahiri said.
This time she was not lying.
Hul Qat closed his eyes, and even without using the Force, Tahiri felt
him leave.
Tahiri glanced at the opening of the cave, so near, and she knew that was
not what she had come for at all. This was why she had come. The Force had
brought her here, to meet this man, to make this promise.
She rose. The fliers would find her if she remained still for too long.
She hoped they hadn't discovered her ship yet, but figured the odds were
against it, since they hadn't been looking for her and she had concealed it
pretty well. Even so, she might have a little trouble getting out of the
system, depending on how many and what sort of ships were or-biting overhead.
It didn't matter, though. She had a promise to keep. Even if she could
figure out exactly what she had promised.

TWO

The port shields of Mon Mothma collapsed and plasma punched through the
hull like a fist through flimsiplast. At the point of impact, matter became
ions, and supersonic droplets of molten hull metal sleeted through the next
four decks, arriving before the sound or vibration of impact, shredding the
frail life-forms within before their nervous systems had time to register
anything amiss. Behind that came a shock wave of superheated air expanding
with such fury that blast shields bent and warped, and the wave-front swept
the decks end to end, searing everything in its path. Two hundred sentient
beings winked out in an instant, and a hundred more in marginal areas fell-
perforated, burned, or both.
Then, like a giant taking back its breath, space sucked everything out
through the gaping hole, leaving vacuum be-hind, and quiet.
At the helm of the Star Destroyer, it was far from quiet. Claxons blared
and panicked young officers stuttered through emergency procedures. Simulated
gravity vanished, and someone shrieked.
Wedge Antilles closed his eyes as the illusion of weight faded and
reasserted itself.
I'm so tired of this,he thought.
He opened his eyes to a barrage of smaller plasma blasts aimed directly,
it seemed, at his face as a squadron of Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers made a run
straight at the bridge. Turbo-lasers flared three of them into debris. The
rest peeled away at the last instant to avoid impacting the still-functioning
bridge shields.
Wedge didn't even blink. The skips weren't their problem right now. That
would be the Yuuzhan Vong Dreadnaught analog that had just popped into
existence and blasted a hole in their side.
"Twenty degrees starboard and twelve above horizon," Wedge commanded.
"Now. Commence firing."
He swung on the lieutenant at tactical. "What else has joined our little
party?" he demanded.
"Four frigate analogs, sir," the lieutenant told him.
"Coralskippers-we're not sure how many flights, yet. And of course, the
Dreadnaught. Sir, I'd say the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements have arrived."
"Yes. We'll wait a bit to see if there are any more. Tell Memory of Ithor
to watch our wounded flank. We'll have to slug this out."
His whole body itched at the prospect. In his heart and in the caves of
his reflexes, Wedge was a starfighter pilot. Sure, capital ships had
firepower, but they were so slow maneuvering. He'd feel a lot better in an X-
wing. He'd feel better without the weight of dead crew on his shoulders.
Losing a wingmate was hard enough. Losing two hundred...
But he wasn't in an X-wing, and when he'd come out of retirement as a
general, he'd known what he was getting himself into. So he watched, lips
pursed, as the monstrous ovoid of a ship swung into view, as the Mothma's
turbolasers razoring toward yorik coral returned blossoms of plasma. Most of
the lasers arrowed straight, then abruptly curved into sharp hooks and
vanished as the tiny singularities the Yuuzhan Vong vessel projected pulled
the light into them. About every third beam went through, however, scribbling
glowing red lines in the coral hull.
"Sir, the Memory is unable to come to our aid. She's engaged with one of
the frigates, and she's taking quite a beating."
"Well, get somebody there. We can't let them hit us in that flank again."
The controller looked up from his station. "Sir, Duro Squadron is
requesting the honor of protecting our flank." Wedge hesitated
infinitesimally. Duro Squadron was a bit; of a wild card, a collection of
pilots-some with military experience, some without-dedicated to the liberation
of their home system.
The fact that it was precisely that system they were fighting in right
now could be a problem, for various reasons.
But it didn't look like he had any other choice.
"Tell them yes, without our thanks," Wedge said.
"Three more ships just reverted, sir," Lieutenant Cel in-formed him, a
catch in her voice that might be the start of panic.
"That's it," Wedge said. "Or it had better be. Get me General Bel Iblis."
A moment later, a hologram of the aging general appeared.
"The reinforcements are here," Wedge told him. "Listening posts have them
coming through the Corellian Trade, Spine, so they're most likely our buddies.
"
"Is it too many to handle, General Antilles?" Bel Iblis asked.
"I hope not, sir. Is your force ready?"
"We're on our way. Good luck, General."
"And to you."
The image vanished. Wedge set his mouth grimly, watch-ing the battle
reports.
They had already spent a standard day in heavy fighting, driving through
the outer defenses of the Duro system in a matter of hours. The inner system
had put up more of a fight, but they'd been close to mopping up when Yuuzhan
Vong reinforcements arrived.
Wedge had been expecting the reinforcements-counting on them, really-but
they'd hit hard and fast. A reassess-ment of the situation put the odds
marginally in favor of the Yuuzhan Vong, which again was no surprise.
It was also okay-they hadn't come here to win, but they couldn't leave
yet, either.
"Prepare interdiction," Wedge said.
Four more Yuuzhan Vong frigates jumped into the Duro system, changing the
odds yet again.
"Sir?"
"Interdict," he said.
The great ship's gravity-well generators came on-line, as did those of
Memory oflth or and Olovin.
Positioned as they were around the Yuuzhan Vong force, they would prevent
the Vong from leaving the system, at least until the interdiction perimeter
was reduced to dust.
Of course, none of the Galactic Alliance ships could leave, either.
"Break off the attack and form up in containment posi-tions," Wedge said
calmly. "I don't want any of those ships reaching hyperspace."
"What about Duro, sir?" Cel asked.
"Duro is no longer our concern, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," Cel said, clearly baffled.
Good. If his own people were confused, hopefully the Vong were more so.
The Alliance ships broke off their push toward the planet and retreated
into a broad hemisphere, putting the Yuu-zhan Vong fleet with the planet at
its back, handing them back the defensive advantage that Wedge's earlier push
had taken from them, but also trapping them more securely in the system.
"Hold the line," Wedge commanded. "We stick here." Spreading the battle
group so thinly gave the Yuuzhan Vong an obvious advantage, but the Vong ships
seemed to hesitate, perhaps suspecting another of the traps they had been so
often led into lately.
Still, caution was not natural to the Yuuzhan Vong, and they now clearly
had the advantage in numbers. Several de-stroyers began forming up for an
assault on the wall the Galactic Alliance had built.
"Do they have any interdictors of their own?" Wedge asked.
"No, sir."
"Good."
"Yes, sir. Sir, Commander Yurf Col is requesting com-munication."
Wedge repressed a sigh. "Put him on."
A moment later a holo of the Duros commander ap-peared. His flat face was
unreadable in terms of human expression, but Wedge had enough experience with
Duros to know he was radiating a cold fury.
"Commander," Wedge said, nodding.
The Duros came bluntly to the point.
"What in the space lanes are you up to, General Antilles?
I've lost good pilots today, and now it appears you've given up our
target."
"I'm sure you are as aware of the situation as I am, Com-mander," Wedge
said. "The reinforcements make further assaults untenable."
"Then why are you interdicting? That makes no sense. I happen to know
that we have twice as many ships in re-serve. Summon them, and let's finish
this."
Patience, Wedge thought.
"Perhaps you aren't aware that the Yuuzhan Vong have means of tapping our
communications," he said mildly.
"Perhaps it hasn't occurred to you that you might have just passed on
important intelligence to the enemy."
"If we obliterate that enemy, what they learn will be of little
consequence. I don't know why you want to hold them here. They still don't
have a decisive advantage-we can win this, if we attack instead of-whatever
you're doing. And with a few reinforcements, we could certainly prevail."
"Commander, I understand this is your home system. I understand that for
you, this fight is personal. That is, in fact, one of the many reasons I am in
charge of this opera-tion and you are not. You agreed to fight under my com-
mand, and you will do so. Do you understand? "
"I understand you have bungled this from the start. We could have won in
the first few hours if you had followed my advice."
"That is your opinion," Wedge replied. "It is not mine, and mine is the
one that counts right now." The Duros's eyes narrowed. "When this is over,
Antilles-"
"I suggest you worry about the present, Commander. The Vong are trying to
punch through and open two fronts. If they succeed, this reduces our future
options considerably."
"You are the one limiting our options. Two more frigates..."
Wedge cut him off. "Get used to this idea, Commander," he said, "and get
used to it quickly-there are no reinforcements. Nor am I yet prepared to
abandon this system. Do your part, Commander, and everything will go well."
Col remained unconvinced. "I warn you, General Antilles," he snapped, "if you
don't explain this to me, I will force your hand."
"You will follow your orders, period," Wedge replied.
"General..." the Duros began, but Wedge waved the contact off and studied
the reports. The attack looked like a feint to draw his net tight in one place
while they hit it in another. But where?
The battle computers searched for the answer. By Wedge's reckoning,
unless the Yuuzhan Vong pulled off something amazing, he would be able to hold
them off for five or six hours without significant losses. That should be
enough. He studied the on-spec chart their sensors were building of the
system-after all, the Yuuzhan Vong had occupied it for more than two standard
years now, which meant his in-telligence of it was probably a bit behind, to
say the least. At this point, an unfortunate surprise was the last thing that
interested him.
When the surprise came, it came not from some hidden Yuuzhan Vong trap,
but from within his own ranks.
"Sir," control reported, "Dpso, Redheart, and Coriolis have broken
formation, as has all of Duro Squadron."
"Have they." Wedge took a deep breath. "Get me Yurf Col again,
immediately."
A few moments later, the Duros's hologram reappeared.
"Commander," Wedge said, trying to keep his tone even, "there must be a
glitch in our communications. You seem to be forming an assault wedge when you
were ordered to hold position."
"I have removed myself from your command, General Antilles," Col replied.
"I will not have my people sit idle in their own system, not without a good
explanation. You have refused to give me one. If you will not sustain the re-
conquest of Duro, I am forced to do it myself."
"You're committing suicide and placing this entire mission in jeopardy."
"Not if you join me."
"I won't."
"Then our deaths will be on your head."
"I'm not bluffing, Commander Col."
"You laid this course, Antilles."
" Commander..."
"You cut me off earlier. I return the favor. Join us or not."
The connection ended, and Wedge watched helplessly as the Duros ships
dropped out of the perimeter, formed up, and drove straight for the largest
concentration of enemy ships.
"Sir," Cel said, "the Duros ships are taking heavy fire."
"I can see that," Wedge told her.
"Sir, what are they doing?"
"They're trying to make me attack," Wedge said.
"Then it's a bluff, sir?"
A lightning storm was raging between the Duros ships and the Yuuzhan Vong
vanguard. "No," he said, "it's not a bluff."
He turned to control. "No one else breaks formation," he said. "No one."
"Sir, they'll be slaughtered."
"Yes," Wedge said, gruffly, "they will."
One by one, over the course of the next few hours, the Duros ships
vanished in bursts of plasma. Three hours after the last was gone, another
message came over the comm board. Wedge gave the order to cease interdiction,
and the Galactic Alliance ships jumped, leaving Duro once again to the Yuuzhan
Vong.

THREE

A distorted grin sliced Onimi's crooked head in a sign of mock regard.
"Sweet Nen Yim," he croaked. "How de-lightful your presence."
How disgusting yours, Nen Yim thought. She did not say it, and she did
not need to. The tendrils of her headdress writhed and curled in revulsion,
and her multifingered master's hand spasmed into a knot.
If the Supreme Overlord's jester noticed any of this, he made no sign,
but stood there grinning at her as if they were close creche-mates sharing a
joke. They weren't; she was the most important of all shapers, and he was an
appalling example of a Shamed One, a being upon whom the gods had placed a
permanent stamp of unreserved disapproval. Why Shimrra, the chosen of the
gods-the Supreme Over-lord of her entire species-should choose him as emissary
was utterly beyond her comprehension. It was more than an affront, it was a
misery to even be in his presence, especially when she remembered-and she
could hardly forget-that those fingers had once touched her, when he had
disguised himself as a master shaper.
For that alone, he deserved the most ignominious death imaginable. She
had plotted his murder even when she be-lieved him to be her superior, and
blessed by the gods. Now, when she had the means at her disposal and knew what
he really was, she did not dare.
But she could still dream.
Onimi simpered and smiled. "Your thoughts croon toward me," he said.
"Your tendrils ache for my touch. So much I can see of you, Nen Yim."
Well, he had noticed something, she reflected. He merely mistook her
passion.
"Have you come on some errand, Onimi, or merely to waste my time in
foolish conversation?"
"Conversation is not foolish that begs the fool," Onimi said, winking, as
if that actually meant something.
"Yes, as you wish," she said, sighing. "Do you bring word from the
Supreme Overlord?"
"I bring a dainty," Onimi said. "A glistering pustule from the gods, a
gift for my sweet little..."
"Address me as master," Nen Yim said, stiffly. "I am no 'little' anything
of yours. And come to the point. Whatever else the Supreme Overlord wants of
me, I doubt he wants much of my time taken up, not with so much that needs
doing."
From the corner of her eye she caught one of her assis-tants suppressing
a smile, and reminded herself to repri-mand her later.
Onimi's eyes went wide, and then he set a finger to his lips, leaned
near, and whispered, " Fleeting time laps hours, devours days, months and
years, passes them like gas." She said nothing. What other response was there?
But Onimi gestured, and with a great deal of reluctance she fol-lowed him down
the mycoluminescent corridor of her central damutek, through the laboratories
where she worked her heretical science to produce the miracles the Yuuzhan
Vong needed to take their rightful place in a galaxy of infidels. When they
passed into a corridor secured even from her, she began to grow intrigued, and
more easily ignored the off-key singing of the jester, who was blasphemously
describing in ancient octameter certain activities of the goddess Yun-Harla of
which Nen Yim-thankfully-had never heard.
Of course that was spoiled now.
At last they arrived in a dim space. Something irregular and large bulked
ahead. Light was in it, a faint shifting radi-ance so delicate it could almost
be the colors of the dark be-hind her eyes.
She walked nearer, her shaping fingers outstretched to feel and taste the
surface. It was smooth, almost slick. It tasted of long carbon chains, and
water, and silicates. It tasted quick and familiar.
"This is alive," she whispered. "What is this?" She ges-tured
impatiently. "I need more light."
"Eyes are the senses' gluttons," Onimi chortled. "They always want more,
but they often tell us less."
But brighter lights came up, revealing the thing. Sleek, that was the
first impression. The glasslike surface curved into four long lozenges that
sharpened almost to needles on one end and ended rounded on the other. The
lobes were joined around a central axis, though she could not see how. She was
reminded of the taaphur, a sea crea-ture that existed now only as a genetic
blueprint in the memory qahsa of the shapers and in its biotechnological
derivatives.
Damaged, that was the second impression. The life that hummed beneath her
fingers flickered in some places and was absent in others, where the hull-yes,
hull-had gone dark.
"This is a ship," Nen Yim murmured, more to herself than to the useless
Onimi. "A living ship, but not Yuuzhan Vong. This came from one of the infidel
peoples?"
"Folds the mystery, and folds again to crumple, our chart is all torn."
" You mean you don't know?" Nen Yim asked, impatiently. For answer, Onimi
reached for her. Her tendrils prickled, bumps rose on her flesh, and her
nostrils flared. But he did not touch her. He handed her something instead-a
small, portable qahsa.
"Secrets are like knives," he said softly. "Of your tongue a secret make,
and your mouth is cut."
He left, then, and she watched him go with disdain. Idiotic, to warn her
of secrets. She was a heretic, a heretic secretly kept by the Supreme
Overlord. Everything she did was done in obscurity.
"Master Nen Yim?"
Nen Yim looked up from the qahsa. Her junior assistant Qelah Kwaad stood
a few feet away, a look of great concern on her face.
"Adept," Nen Yim acknowledged softly.
"I hope it is not too impertinent, but my project..."
"I will examine your progress in due time," Nen Yim said. "My time."
Qelah Kwaad's tendrils retracted a bit. "Yes, Master Yim," she replied.
"And, Adept?"
"Yes, Master Yim?"
"I understand you are not used to the presence of Onimi and the effect he
can have. But I will not have my subordinates laughing behind my back. Is that
understood?"
The adept's eyes grew round with consternation.
"Master Yim, you cannot believe..."
"Do not use the word can in reference to me, Adept, in either the
affirmative or negative form. What I can and cannot do is entirely beyond your
control."
"Yes, Master."
Nen Yim sighed. "It is bad enough, Adept, that we have to bear the
presence of such an abomination. It is worse to let him know he has caused
amusement."
"I understand, Master Yim. But-why? Why must we bear his presence at all?
He is a Shamed One, cursed by the gods."
"He is Supreme Overlord Shimrra's jester, and, when it pleases him, his
emissary."
"I don't understand. How can such a thing be? A jester, yes, but to
entrust him with secret information..."
"What secret information might that be, Adept?" Nen Yim asked sharply.
"Your pardon, Master Yim, but the jester came, took you to the restricted
area, and you returned with a portable qahsa. It seems obvious that he
revealed something to you." Nen Yim studied the adept appraisingly.
"Just so," she said. "You are correct. But perhaps you ought to
concentrate more on your work and less on my activities."
Again, the adept looked abashed.
"You have great promise, Qelah Kwaad," Nen Yim said.
"But in this place, we must all take care. We live outside the world of
our people, and this place has rules of its own."
The adept straightened. "I am proud of my service here, Master. The
Supreme Overlord has vindicated what the other shapers see as heresy."
"He has not," Nen Yim said. "Not publicly. Nor will he. Have you not
noticed the guards?"
"Of course we are guarded. Our work is of great impor-tance. If the
infidels learn of us, they will surely try to de-stroy us."
"That is true," Nen Yim told her. "But a wall that keeps something out
can also keep something in. No warrior, no priest, no outside shaper will ever
learn what we do here.
Shimrra values our heresy, yes-we produce new weapons and technology
badly needed for the war effort. But he will never allow anyone beyond these
to know how that technology comes into being."
"But why?"
"You are intelligent, Adept. Figure it out for yourself-and then never,
never speak it aloud. Do you understand me?"
"I... I think so."
"Good. Now leave me."
Qelah Kwaad made the sign of obeisance and did as she was told. Nen Yim
spared her a single glance.
Because, Adept, Shimrra must maintain the fiction that our inventions are
gifts from the gods, and that he is the intermediary through whom these things
flow. If the truth is discovered, and the Supreme Overlord shown to be a
fraud...
Well, suffice to say, Adept, none of us will leave this ser-vice alive.
Which was fine with Nen Yim. It was her pride and her duty to serve the
Yuuzhan Vong, and to die honorably for her people when the time came.
Putting the whole matter from her mind, she settled the qahsa before her
and interfaced with it.
As she began to understand, her excitement grew-and her trepidation.
No wonder Shimrra had sent her his thing. It could change everything.
It could be their doom.

FOUR

"Can't say much for the atmosphere," Raf Othrem said, taking a sip of his
Rylothan yurp and running his green-eyed gaze around the mostly bare metal
walls of the place that called itself a tapcaf.
"What were you expecting, a casino from the Galsol strip?" Jaina Solo
asked. "Yesterday this was just a piece of space junk the Yuuzhan Vong hadn't
got around to pulverizing."
"And now they won't, thanks to us!" Raf said, raising his glass. "To Twin
Suns Squadron, and our illustrious leader, Jaina Solo."
Jaina nodded wearily as they raised their drinks. Raf had all of the
enthusiasm that came from having flown only one mission, and that a successful
one. Not only had the battle been won, but her squadron hadn't lost a single
pilot.
In time, Raf would lose that youthful exuberance. She double-checked that
thought and almost smiled when she remembered that Raf was actually a year her
senior. Let's not take our vast age and experience too seriously, Jaina
thought.
She raised her own glass. "To the good fight," she toasted, and this time
she did smile as her wingmates cheered.
Putting on a cheerful appearance was good for the team.
"A brilliant fight," Jag said. "We have the best flight commander in the
galaxy."
Jaina actually felt a blush coming on-not from the words, but from the
depths of Jag's blue-eyed gaze.
"No argument there," Raf said. "But I'd say one more toast is in order."
"Just one?" Mynor Dae said. "I can't imagine you shut-ting up for the
rest of the night."
"No doubt," Alema Rar drily seconded. Raf sent the Twi'lek a mock-glare,
then raised his glass.
"To General Wedge Antilles, and the plan that gave us back Fondor."
"I'll drink to that," Jaina said.
But before the glass reached her lips, something fell onto the table. A
Rogue Squadron patch. She looked up into the round-eyed gaze of a young Duros.
A very unhappy-looking Duros.
"Lensi?"
"Colonel," he acknowledged, his voice flat and clipped.
"Join the celebration, Lensi," Raf said. "Not that we normally mingle
with disreputable Rogues, but-"
"I have nothing to celebrate," Lensi said, his gaze still focused on
Jaina. "And I will no longer fly with Rogue Squadron. My people were betrayed
today. Betrayed by General Antilles. Betrayed by Jaina Solo."
Jag came to his feet at that, followed closely by a growl-ing, towering
Lowbacca. Jag stared at Lensi with deadly calm. If Lensi was troubled by
either Jag or the Wookiee, he didn't show it.
"Lowbacca, sit down," Jaina said. "Jag-please. Let him talk."
The Wookiee reluctantly followed orders, but Jag stood squared off with
the Duros for several long seconds.
"Be careful what you say, Duros," he finally said. "Where I come from,
there are penalties for slander."
"What's on your mind, Lensi?" Jaina asked.
"Many of my people died in the attack on Duro."
"They didn't have to," Jaina said. "The attack on Duro was a feint,
designed to draw reinforcements from here. The Duros commander of the mission
broke with the plan. He jeopardized both missions."
"He was not told the attack was a feint," Lensi said.
"No one was!" Raf exploded. "We were all in the dark."
"That's why it worked, Lensi," Jaina said. "Yuuzhan Vong intelligence is
good. Wedge had to make the buildup look like it was aimed at Duro, and he had
to make the at-tack there look convincing."
"Duro was the more lightly occupied," Lensi said. "We could have taken
Duro. We were promised this." His face tightened into an even flatter mask.
"We were used."
"Such is war," Jag said. "Fondor was considered the more strategic
target. The liberation of Duro may come next, it may not." He nodded his head
around the crowded room. "Many of the pilots here have lost a homeworld to the
Vong. You think you're alone? You think every one of them wouldn't prioritize
the liberation of their homeworld over every other, if they were given the
choice? War isn't fought on the basis of sentiment and desire. Battles must
ac-complish tactical goals."
"Your 'tactical goals' see many of my people dead today."
"Because they disobeyed orders," Jag snapped. "They signed on under
General Antilles. If they had paid attention to him, most if not all of them
would still be alive. If you want to know who betrayed your people to death,
look to the commander who broke ranks."
"We aren't children," Lensi persisted. "We should have been told."
Jag started to speak again, but Jaina cut in.
"Maybe," she said. "In hindsight, maybe. Or maybe we would all be dead
now." She softened her voice. "You were a good wingmate at Sernpidal. I know
you've done well with Rogue Squadron since I left. We're going to win this
war. We're going to win back Duro. But only if enough of us keep fighting."
She picked up the patch and tossed it to him. Reflexively, he caught it. "You
have to do what your con-science dictates."
Lensi hesitated, looking at the patch. "Colonel Solo," he said, "I was
there, after Sernpidal, when you slapped Kyp Durron for lying to us. You know
what it feels like to be betrayed, to fight without knowing what you're really
fighting for."
She raised her eyes and regarded him steadily. "I know what lots of
things feel like," she said. "And you know what? I'm still fighting. I'm going
to keep fighting until there isn't a single threat left in this galaxy. You
think you're the only person who has lost something in this war? Grow up,
Lensi."
The Duros regarded her for another long moment.
"Did you know?" he asked.
"No. But if I had, I wouldn't have told anyone. General Antilles did the
right thing."
Lensi nodded curtly, turned, and left. He still had the in-signia with
him.
"General Antilles?"
Wedge stopped tapping his fingers on the Kashyyyk-wood conference table
and acknowledged the heavy-jowled Sullustan.
"Yes, Admiral Sow?" he said.
"What is your opinion on the matter?"
"We should have told Col," Wedge said, bluntly. "I should have broken
orders and told him myself. He had a right to know exactly what he was getting
his people into."
"Under perfect circumstances, yes," Admiral Kre'fey said. "But the
circumstances were far from perfect. Bothan intelligence had-has-information
that the Yuuzhan Vong have a spy placed high in the command structure of the
Duros government-in-exile. Indeed, it was through that leak that the Yuuzhan
Vong 'discovered' our plans to in-vade the Duro system-as we planned."
"Col might have been brought in," Wedge replied. "He was a hothead, but
he could be trusted with a secret."
"Perhaps," the white-furred Bothan replied, "perhaps not. As it is, our
plan was fulfilled."
"With more losses than necessary."
"Still fewer than projected," General Garni Bel Iblis said, from across
the table. "The battle at Fondor was a total rout. We did them great damage,
and now we have a secure i position from which to strike at Coruscant."
"Gentlemen," Sien Sow said, "I'm declaring the matter closed from a
military point of view. Certainly General An - j tilles is not to blame. He
followed the orders this council gave him. I refuse to allocate any resources
for an internal investigation, not at this point in our war against the Yuu-
zhan Vong."
"That tables the matter of the Duros protest," Kre'fey said. "It's time
we move on to what we do next."
Admiral Sow nodded. "General Bel Iblis, how long be-fore the shipyards at
Fondor become productive again?"
"That will take some time," the aging general admitted.
"Two, three months before any facility can go on-line. Ships-six months
perhaps. Probably not sooner. But once construction actually begins, they will
be quite productive. They should position us well for a push toward the Core."
"Good," Sien Sow said. "In the meantime we should continue the process of
isolating Coruscant from the rest of Yuuzhan Vong territory. Which brings me
to this." He tapped the table, and a hologram of the galaxy appeared.
"Yag'Dhul and Thyferra are secure, finally, and Fondor is ours." Three
stars near the dense, glowing center of the galaxy winked green, indicating
the positions of the systems named.
"Coruscant, however, is still well supplied." Coruscant-or whatever it
was the Yuuzhan Vong had renamed it-lit up, on the other side of the Core from
the other three.
"It's time to threaten that."
A final star lit.
"Bilbringi," Wedge said.
"Yes. There is some evidence that the shipyards there are partially
intact. More, it gives us a base from which to harry both the Hydian Way and
the Perlemian Trade Route."
"It's too close to Coruscant," Bel Iblis said. "And too far from our own
secure zone. We can never hold it." He shook his head. "We don't want another
Borleias. No offense, General Antilles."
"None taken. Our actions at Borleias served their in-tended purpose. We
never imagined we would keep it." He turned to Sien Sow. "But he's right, the
Yuuzhan Vong can hardly ignore a threat that close to Coruscant. I don't think
we have the ships to take it if they have advance warning. If they don't, I
doubt we could hold it very long. Not and keep our own systems secure."
"They have the same problem," the Sullustan admiral pointed out. "As
we've proven to them, they've taken more systems than they can hold. There's
not much in the Bil-bringi system, but there are no habitable planets. In any
event, I have a tactical reason for choosing Bilbringi as a target."
Wedge raised an eyebrow and waited, as another sector of the galaxy lit
up, this one Rimward.
"The Imperial Remnant," he murmured.
"Indeed," Sow said. "Admiral Pellaeon has agreed to lend us his support
in this enterprise, and Bilbringi lies within good striking distance of the
Empire. Between us, we can carve a corridor through the Rim, eventually
cutting Coruscant off completely."
Wedge bit back a protest. He'd spent most of his life fighting the
Empire, and his opinion of Pellaeon was a mixed one, the recent alliance
notwithstanding. But he de-cided to hear Sow out.
"It's true Pellaeon can reach Bilbringi without passing through Yuuzhan
Vong territory," Kre'fey said. "The same is not true for us."
"No. We will have to fight our way through several hy-perspace jumps.
Here is what I propose."
Lines began drawing themselves across the galaxy. "Our main fleet will
launch from Mon Calamari, under Admiral Kre'fey," he said. "Part of the fleet
at Fondor will move to meet them, under General Antilles. When they converge,
they will be joined by a detachment from the Imperial fleet."
"The Vong will suspect a trick," Bel Iblis said, "after what we did to
them at Fondor."
"Exactly," Sow said. "But the only trick in this case is overwhelming
force. I expect them to hold back reinforce-ments, fearing it is another
feint, perhaps to draw defenses from Coruscant itself."
"Interesting," Wedge allowed. "Though there will be a trick in the
coordination. The hyperspace routes are uncer-tain these days. If one of our
fleets arrives too early, or too late..."
"The HoloNet is functioning at high efficiency in those areas. We should
be able to coordinate down to the second."
"What's the Empire getting out of this?" Bel Iblis asked.
"Exactly what I was wondering," Wedge replied. Sow shrugged. "We long
made efforts to convince Pellaeon that we must work together to free the
galaxy from the Yuuzhan Vong threat. Our efforts have paid off, so far to our
great benefit."
"I'm aware of our diplomatic efforts," Bel Iblis said. "As well as the
Empire's recent aid to us-in return for help we gave them, I might add. I'm
also aware that they want some of our planets in return."
Sow's brows lowered. "They aren't 'our' planets any-more, General Bel
Iblis. The planets in question belong to the Yuuzhan Vong now. Most are not
even recognizable as the worlds they were a few years ago. I'm convinced we
need the Empire's help to win this war. If that means showing them a little
goodwill afterward, I don't see the harm. In any case, they aren't making any
specific demands at this time-this is an effort to establish their good inten-
tions, nothing more."
Good intentions that will place at least some of them as an occupation
force spitting distance from Coruscant, Wedge thought.
Unfortunately, despite that, he agreed with Sow.
"We can strike now," Wedge said, "press our advantage while we have one,
or we can wait-wait for the Vong to grow more ships, breed more warriors,
invent new bio-weapons. Right now, the y've bit off a little more of this
galaxy than they can easily chew, as we've shown them in the last few months.
We have to keep it that way." He looked around. Everyone but Sow was nodding.
"There is another solution," the commander said.
"You mean Alpha Red, the biological agent developed by the Chiss?" Wedge
said. "Not as far as I'm concerned. Genocide is what the Emperor did. It's
what the Yuuzhan Vong do. It's not what we do. If it is, I'm fighting for the
wrong cause."
"Even if it's our only choice for survival?" Sow asked.
"It's not," Wedge replied, flatly.
"The Yuuzhan Vong will not stop after one defeat, ten, a hundred. They
will fight until every last warrior is dead. Even if they win, the cost that
will exact from our people will be tremendous..."
"That question is moot at present," Kre'fey broke in, "and would seem a
waste of our valuable time to discuss it."
"Very well. I trust there are no other objections to pursuing the
offensive against the Yuuzhan Vong at present?" the commander said.
There were not.
"Then let us discuss details."

Kneeling in the presence of Supreme Overlord Shimrra, Nen Yim believed in
the gods. It was impossible not to. At other times, she had her doubts. Her
late master, Mezhan Kwaad, had flatly denied their existence. In the clear
light of logic, Nen Yim herself saw no particular reason to give them
credence. Indeed, the fact that she herself created, with her own mind and
shaping hands, things that all but a few of her people believed to be gifts
from the gods suggested that all such evidence of their existence was
similarly tainted. But in the presence of Shimrra, her mind could not tolerate
doubt. It was crushed from her by a presence so powerful it could not have
mortal origin. It pressed away the years of her learning, of studied cynicism,
of anything resembling logic, and left her an insignificant insect, a
crecheling terrified by the shadows of her elders and the terrible mystery
that was the world.
Afterward, she always wondered how he did it. Was it some modification of
yammosk technology? Something erased from the protocols entirely? Or was it an
invention of some heretical predecessor of herself?
He was shadow and dread, awesome and unreachable.
She crouched at his feet and was nothing.
Onimi leered almost gently at her as she rose, shaking, to speak to her
master.
"You have studied the thing?"
"I have, Dread One," Nen Yim replied. " Not exhaustively, I as there
hasn't been time, but-"
"There will be more time. Tell me what you have discov-ered thus far."
"It is a ship," Nen Yim replied. " Like our own ships, it is - a living
organism."
"Not at all," Shimrra interrupted. "It has no dovin I basals. Its engines
are like the infidel engines, dead metal."
"True," Nen Yim agreed. "And parts of its structure are I not alive. But.
.."
"Then it is an infidel thing!" Shimrra thundered. "It is 1 nothing like
our ships."
Nen Yim actually reeled at the force of the statement, and for a moment
she stood paralyzed, unable to think. To contradict Shimrra...
She drew her strength back to her core. "That is so, Dread I One," she
admitted. "As it is, it is an abomination. And yet, at its heart the
biotechnology is similar to our own. The in - I fidel engines, for instance,
could be withdrawn and replaced I with dovin basals. The living structure of
one of our own I vessels could have such a ship grown around it. This bio-
technology is compatible with our own."
"Compatible?" Shimrra growled. "Are you saying that this is one of our
ships, somehow transfigured by the infidels?"
"No," Nen Yim replied. "In outward form, this thing is very different
from our vessels. The hull is not yorik coral. I The architectures of our
ships were derived from various I creatures of the homeworld, and those
structures can still I be recognized in their design. The alien technology is
different. It begins with relatively undifferentiated organisms that
specialize as the ship grows. I suspect that some sort of manipulation is
involved in the ontological process to guide the final outcome. That is why
they used a rigid frame to grow the ship around-developmentally, it had no
internal code to produce such a structure on its own."
"And yet you still maintain it is similar to our gods-given ships?"
"At the most basic level, yes. Cellularly. Molecularly. And that is the
most unlikely level at which we should expect to find resemblance."
"Again. Could the infidels have stolen our technology and distorted it?"
"It's possible. But according to the qahsa, the planet of its origin is
itself a living organism-"
"That is a lie," Shimrra said. "It is a lie because it is impos-sible.
Ekh'm Val was deluded. He was duped by the infidels." Nen Yim hesitated at
that, but could not directly dispute it even if she wanted to.
Instead, she took another approach.
"I'm relieved to hear this," she said. "I thought the tale unlikely
myself." She drew herself straighter. "Still, there is nothing in the
protocols that could account for a ship like this, nor do I think this
technology is a result of the manipulation of our technology. It is both alien
and similar to our own."
Shimrra was silent for a moment. Then his voice came again, leashed
terror.
"It is not superior."
"No, Dread Lord. Just different."
"Of course. And you can develop weapons against it?"
"I can. Indeed, Lord, there are already weapons in the protocols that
would be most effective against technology of this sort. Oddly, they are
weapons we have never built or had use for."
"As if the gods anticipated this necessity."
Nen Yim tried to keep her thoughts quiet.
"Yes," she replied.
"Excellent. You will assign a team to develop these weapons immediately.
And you will continue to study the ship."
"It would be helpful, Great Lord, if I had other examples of the
technology."
"No such exists. The planet was destroyed. You have all that remains."
Then why do you want weapons against.., Nen Yim started to think, but
savagely cut herself off.
"Yes, Supreme Overlord."
With a wave of his massive hand, Shimrra dismissed her.

A cycle later, Nen Yim settled onto a sitting hummock in her private
hortium and regarded Ahsi Yim. The younger shaper was narrower in every
dimension than Nen Yim, and her blue-gray flesh had an opalescent sheen about
it. Her attentive eyes were a rare shade of bronze.
Her master's hand was very new, but they were peers.
"What brought you to the heresy, Ahsi Yim?" she asked softly.
The other master considered this quietly for a moment. The fine silver
tendrils of lim trees groped feebly about the room in search of sustenance.
Plants from the homeworld with no obvious use, Nen Yim had resurrected them
from genetic patterns in the Qang qahsa. They pleased her.
"I worked on the changing of Duro," she said at last.
"On the surface of things, on the record, we worked strictly, by the
protocols. And yet, often the protocols were not suit-able. They were not
sufficiently flexible for what needed to * be done. Some of us-did what was
necessary. Later I was assigned here, to Yuuzhan'tar, where so much went
wrong.
The strange itching plague-well. The masters there were very orthodox. I
saw the shortcomings of that. At the same time, I saw evidence of the
infidels' ability to adapt, to change their abominable technology not just in
small ways, but in large ones. I determined that in time, because of this,
they must ultimately triumph unless we did the same. So I practiced heresy."
"And were discovered. You would have been sacrificed to the gods if I had
not had you brought here."
"I serve my people," Ahsi Yim said. "The protocols do not. I would die
for that."
"So would I," Nen Yim said. "And so I risk both of our lives once more.
Do you understand?"
Ahsi Yim did not blink. "Yes."
"You may have heard that the Supreme Overlord brought me something to
examine."
"Yes." Eagerness showed in Ahsi Yim's eyes.
"It is a ship," Nen Yim said, "a ship based on a biotech-nology much like
ours. The phenotype is radically different, but the genotype is similar. More
similar than anything in this galaxy thus far. And the protocols have in them
certain weapons that seem designed peculiarly well to deal with it.
Shimrra claims the gods must have anticipated our need. What do you
think?"
Again, that long moment of consideration, but this time accompanied by an
excited writhing of tendrils on her headdress.
"I think that is not true," Ahsi said softly. "The protocols have not
changed in hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. They have not 'anticipated'
anything else in this galaxy. Why should they anticipate this?"
"Perhaps nothing else here required the intervention of the gods."
Ahsi made a dismissive motion. "There is much here we could have used the
help of the gods with. The Jeedai, for instance. And yet there is nothing in
the protocols that even hints of them."
Nen Yim nodded. "I grant I believe as you do. Then what explanation do
you offer?"
"Our ancestors met this technology in the past. We bat-tled against it,
and the weapons from that battle remain in the Qang qahsa."
"And yet no record of any such event exists." Ahsi Yim smiled faintly.
"Even the Qang qahsa can be made to forget. More recent events have been
elided. Have you ever tried to learn of Shimrra's ascension to Supreme
Overlord?"
"Yes," Nen Yim replied.
"The record of that seems implausibly thin."
Nen Yim shrugged. "I agree that records can be erased. But why erase
knowledge of a threat?"
"You think this ship a threat?"
"Oh, yes. Shall I tell you a tale?"
"I would be honored."
"I have in my possession the personal qahsa of Ekh'm Val, the commander
who brought this ship to Lord Shimrra. He was sent years ago to explore the
galaxy. He came across a planet named Zonama Sekot."
Ahsi Yim's eyes narrowed.
"What? This means something to you?"
"No," she said. "But the name disturbs me."
Nen Yim nodded agreement. "Ekh'm Val said the planet itself was alive,
its life-forms symbiotic, as if shaped to live together."
"They shape life as we do?"
"They shape life, yes. Not as we do. And the sentient race there is
nothing like Yuuzhan Vong-indeed, from the records, I think they must be a
race native to this galaxy-Ferroans."
"Then I retract my earlier statement. Our ancestors can hardly have met
this world before."
"It seems unlikely. And yet, at the same time, it seems the only possible
answer to the puzzle."
"What happened to Commander Val?"
"He was attacked and repelled, but he managed to capture the ship before
leaving the system."
"And the planet?"
"Shimrra claims it has been destroyed."
"You do not believe him?"
"No. I've been asked to create weapons that might affect it. Why should I
do that if the danger has passed?"
"Perhaps he fears there are more such worlds."
"Perhaps. Perhaps he merely fears."
"What?"
"If we have met this race before, and fought them - perhaps they remember
it better than we. If we have the key to attacking their biotechnology,
perhaps they have the key to ours as well. Ekh'm Val was defeated, after all."
"A few ships against a world."
Nen Yim smiled thinly. "Tell me-what sort of memory do you think our
glorious ancestors are more likely to have purged from the Qang qahsa? A
glorious victory or an igno-minious defeat?"
Ahsi Yim pursed her lips. "Ah," she said. "And you think Shimrra knows
something we do not."
"I think he knows many things we do not."
Ahsi Yim's tendrils curled in agreement. Then she leveled her liquid gaze
directly at Nen Yim. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because," Nen Yim replied, "I think you know things / do not. Have
connections that I do not."
"What sort of things?" she asked, stiffly.
"For one, I think you have heard of Ekh'm Val before."
A long silence, this time. "Are you asking something of me?" she said at
last.
"If this planet exists, I must see it for myself. The ship alone is not
enough. I must know more."
"Why?"
"Because I think if I do not, our species is doomed."
Ahsi pursed her lips. Her tendrils knotted and waved. "I can promise
nothing," she said, "but I will see what can be done."

SIX

From the bridge of Yammka, Nas Choka surveyed the ruins I of the
occupation forces from Fondor. They weren't much j to look at.
He turned slowly to face Zhat Lah.
"How did this happen?" he asked. His voice was low, pitched only for the
commander.
"Duro was attacked, Warmaster, as our intelligence sug - I gested it
would be. The executor there requested reinforce - I ments. My men were hungry
for battle, and I complied."
His eyes narrowed. "Then they came. I recalled the ships j when I
understood the ploy, but they were prevented from leaving the Duro system by
their interdictors. The infidels I kept our forces pinned in the planet's
gravity well and then I fled. They are cowards!"
"Are you telling me cowards took the system you were entrusted with from
you? You were beaten by cowards?"
"Warmaster, we were outnumbered. We fought until there was no hope."
"No hope?" Nas Choka asked, in scathing tones. "You were yet alive, and
had ships, and say there was no hope? Are you Yuuzhan Vong?"
"I am Yuuzhan Vong," Zhat Lah growled.
"Then why did you not fight to the last? Might you not I have taken a few
more of their ships with you to the gods?"
"A few, Warmaster."
"Then why did you flee? Where is the honor in that?" Zhat Lah's split
lips twitched. "If the warmaster wishes my life, it is his to give to the
gods."
"Of course. But I asked you for an explanation."
"I thought our remaining ships might serve better than to be cut to
pieces in a battle we could not win."
"Did you?" Nas Choka asked. "You had no thought for your own life?"
"My life belongs to the gods. They may take it as they will. I do not
flinch from death. If the warmaster wishes me to take my personal coralskipper
back to Fondor, I will die in battle. But given the numbers, the rest of my
ships would have been destroyed with relatively little damage done to the
enemy. If this was wrong, the responsibility is mine. My men own none of it."
Nas Choka looked back out at the wreckage.
"Two frigates, all but undamaged. A battle cruiser with only minimal
damage." He turned to Lah. "You did well," he said.
The commander's eyes widened fractionally with surprise.
"We have spread ourselves too much, over too many star systems," Nas
Choka said. "We have lost too many ships because too many commanders have no
more sense of strategy than to fight to the death."
He clasped his hand behind him and regarded Lah.
"We have the late leader of your domain to thank for this situation."
"Warmaster Lah conquered most of this galaxy," Zhat Lah protested. "He
gave us their capital, now our Yuuzhan'tar."
"Yes, and he spent warriors like so much vlekin doing so, and gave little
thought as to how we would hold such vast territories." He waved his hand.
"Things are changing, Zhat Lah. Things must change. The infidels have adapted.
They have undermined many of our strengths, but we have undermined ourselves
even more. The pride of our warriors weakens us."
"But the pride of our warriors is what we are," Zhat Lah protested.
"Without our pride, without our honor, we are as the infidels."
"And yet you retreated because you thought it best."
"Yes, Warlord," he replied, his tone finally subdued. "But it was not...
easy. I take the stain on myself, yet there is a stain."
"Listen to me," Nas Choka said. "We are the Yuuzhan Vong. We have been
entrusted with the true way, the true knowledge of the gods. Our duty is to
bring every infidel in this galaxy to heel and either send them screaming to
the gods or bring them to the true path. There is no middle ground, there is
no faltering. And there can be no failure. Our mission is more important than
you or me, Com-mander, and it is more important than your honor or mine. Lord
Shimrra himself has said it. And so, feel no stain. To win this war, we must
set aside much we cherish. The gods ordain the sacrifice. We are blameless. We
are those who do what must be done. And so I tell you again-you did the right
thing."
Lah nodded, understanding lighting behind his eyes.
"Now," Choka went on, "these tactics-these feints and sudden withdrawals,
these strike-here-and-hide-there maneuvers-what enables this? The infidels
have no yammosk to coordinate their movements."
"They have communications, Warlord. Their HoloNet allows them to
communicate instantaneously over the breadth of the galaxy."
"Precisely. But without their HoloNet, such precise coor-dination becomes
much more difficult, yes?"
Lah shrugged. "Of course," he said. "But destroying the communications
system is difficult," he said. "There are many relay stations, not always
placed so as to be easily found. When one is destroyed, another may function,
and the infidels have managed to repair or replace many we have destroyed."
"The destruction of the HoloNet has never been a pri-ority before," Nas
Choka said. "Now it is. And the gods have given the shapers a new weapon, one
that should per-fectly suit our needs."
"That is well, Warlord."
"It is." He paced a moment.
"I'm giving you a new battle group. You will remain here, at Yuuzhan'tar,
on alert to strike quickly. The infidels are growing confident; they will
attack again, soon. I can feel it. And when they do, we will have something
new to show them. Something quite new."

SEVEN

Beneath the black sky of Yuuzhan'tar, Nen Yim moved invisibly. The guards
at their posts did not blink as she passed; the singing ulubs stayed silent as
she moved lightly across the grounds of the Supreme Overlord's compound.
Damuteks glowed with faint luminescence, and ships coming and going were pale
viridian or blood-colored mists of light in the sky. Yuuzhan'tar had not
always been dark at night. For millennia, it had been the brightest world in
the galaxy, never knowing true darkness. Unliving metal had pulsed with unholy
energies, hemorrhaging light and heat and noxious fumes to burn the womb of
night.
Now that unnatural work had been undone, and any brightness came from the
stars alone. Tonight, not even they troubled the closed eyelids of the gods,
for a tarp of cloud had been drawn overhead, blotting even the fierce beauty
of the Core. So long controlled by machines, the climate of Yuuzhan'tar was
also finding its natural state. To Nen Yim, it seemed paradoxically unnatural.
She had been born and raised on a worldship, nurtured by an or-ganism so larg e
that she had been like a microbe in its belly, kept warm and secure. The
vagaries of weather were only recently known to her, and though her mind
rationally recognized that on some long-ago day the Yuuzhan Vong had lived on
a world where seasons came and went, where rain fell when it wished or not at
all-that this was, indeed, the natural course of things - her instincts
rebelled at the capricious variability of it all. She was a shaper. She
preferred shaping to being shaped.
And she despised being cold. She was cloaked in a creature of her own
modification, a variant of the special ooglith cloakers that hunters wore. Its
billion tiny sensory nodes gazed at the night, heard it, tasted it-and made
her a part of it. For the first time in many, many months she was free of her
guards, of her damutek. She did not fool herself that the freedom was real. If
she did not emerge from her sanctum in a few hours, questions would be asked,
and then a search would commence. Being invisible would not be enough, then.
But the illusion was heady.
Though she had created the cloak for herself long before, there had never
been any reason great enough to risk using it. Now there was. A cryptic
message, a meeting place, a possibility.
She passed from Shimrra's fortress compound easily enough. Even a hunter
could not have managed that, but the cloak of Nuun she wore was better than
the usual sort. It hid her very thoughts, it disguised her mass as a movement
of air.
She moved on rougher ground now, down a slope and then up to the platform
where a shrine to Yun-Harla, the Trickster goddess, overlooked a vast pit that
had once been sky-reaching buildings. Dark waters filled it now, and the
burring cries of p'hiili rose in shrill chorus with the bass cooing of large-
wattled ngom. Like the lim tree in her hortium, they were re-created creatures
from the homeworld. A single figure awaited her in the shrine, beneath a
statue of Yun-Yuuzhan that had been made from the skulls and long bones of the
conquered. It, too, carried a message from Yuuzhan Vong history-like the
creatures of the pool, it proclaimed,
This world is ours now.
The one waiting was male, lean, his hair knotted in a pat-terned scarf.
All but three fingers had been cut from each hand. Nen Yim stood watching him
for long moments. His eyes held a contained and fierce intelligence. Priest,
she thought.
What could you want with me?
She stood on the vua'sa's spine. Death seemed near. She wasn't sure what
she had expected, but it wasn't a priest, alone, in the dark.
She moved out of his sight and removed the cloak, then walked back to the
shrine.
This time his gaze found her instantly. His body remained still.
"You've come at a strange time to perform your ablu-tions," the priest
said.
"I come when I am called," Nen Yim answered.
"So must we all," the priest answered. "I am Harrar." Nen Yim's spine
prickled. She knew that name. So not just any priest. A very important one.
"I am called Nen Yim, Honored One," she replied.
"You are a master. Our ranks are equivalent, so we may dispense with
honorifics. My time is short, and I suspect yours is shorter still."
Nen Yim nodded.
"There are rumors of you, shaper," he said. "You labor alone, under heavy
guard in the Supreme Overlord's compound. It is said you are most favored by
the gods, and yet so few know you exist at all. Even a whisper is too loud a
tone to speak of you in. It is said that some have died who could not keep
that whisper in."
"And yet you know of me."
"I know when and whom to whisper to." He smiled thinly. "You, apparently,
do not."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean your attempts to contact the Quorealist under-ground have been
clumsy."
"I do not even know who or what the Quorealists are," Nen Yim asserted.
"Quoreal was the Supreme Overlord before Shimrra. Many do not think the
gods chose Shimrra to take his place, they believe that Shimrra dishonorably
murdered him. Quoreal's old followers are understandably a reticent group, but
they still exist."
"These are new facts to me, if facts they are."
The priest shrugged one shoulder. "It does not matter who you thought you
were trying to contact. The point is that if you persist, Shimrra will
discover you, and I doubt that anyone is so favored by the gods as to survive
that." He clasped his hands behind his back. "What I wish to know is this Why
is Lord Shimrra's most favored shaper trying to contact the pitiful remnants
of his political enemies?"
"I know nothing of these politics," Nen Yim replied.
"Shimrra is the Supreme Overlord. I owe allegiance to none other. I
desire allegiance to none other."
Harrar cocked his head. "Come now. Why else contact us?"
"Us?"
Harrar's fierce grin expanded a bit. "Of course. Clumsy you may have
been, but you have succeeded. Shimrra has enemies. You have found them. What
do you want from us?"
"I've just told you, I seek no enemy of my Supreme Overlord."
"But you move in secret, without his knowledge. What do you want?"
Again, Nen Yim hesitated. "There is something I must see," she said.
"Something I believe to be of vital impor-tance to the Yuuzhan Vong."
"How intriguing. Shimrra will not let you see it?"
"I cannot ask him."
"More intriguing still. What is this thing?"
"It is very far from here," Nen Yim said. "I need help get-ting there. I
need help finding it."
"You obfuscate."
"I am cautious. You tell me you are the enemy of my Lord Shimrra. In that
case you are my enemy, ultimately, and I will not betray information into your
hands." She paused.
"Suppose I merely lied to you, to test your loyalty?"
"Then I cannot trust anything you say," she said.
"In that case, our meeting would seem to be over." He paused again. "But
I warn you, you are not likely to get an-other chance. You say this thing is
of vital importance to our future. How important?"
"It could be our doom."
"And yet you fear Shimrra will not address it?"
"Yes."
"You think you know better what is best for the Yuuzhan Vong than our
Supreme Overlord?"
Nen Yim drew her shoulders back. "In this case, I do."
"Very well. My pretense of disloyalty was meant to draw a confession of
your own. I now believe you are loyal to the order of things. I swear by the
very gods, I am also loyal to Lord Shimrra. May they devour me if I lie." He
paused, and lowered his voice. "But like you, I do not think his judgment is
infallible. Tell me of this thing you must see. Clearly you are willing to
risk disgrace and death. This is not the time to balk."
Nen Yim clicked the nails of her master's hand together. Like her own
master, Mezhan Kwaad, she had deadly weapons concealed in it. If she decided
the priest could not be trusted, the p'hiili would feed well this night.
"It begins with a commander named Ekh'm Val," she said, softly.
His eyes widened at the name. "Ah," he said.
"You have heard of him?"
"Indeed. I begin to understand your caution. Please continue."
She told him, in brief, what she knew, but she left much out. She made no
mention of her heresy, but couched her studies of the ship in orthodox terms.
As she spoke, Harrar folded down into a cross-legged position and listened
like a child does to the true-speaker in a creche. When she was done, a moment
of silence dragged a long tail.
"Astonishing," he said, at last.
"You understand the implications, then?"
"Some of them. Others will come clear. And perhaps I understand some you
do not."
"I do not doubt that. The priesthood has its own knowl-edge, I'm sure."
Harrar drew his lips back from his teeth. "How kind of you to think so,"
he said.
"I meant no offense."
"Naturally not." He gestured. "Sit with me."
She complied, resting on a small polyp.
"You swear to me that all you have told me is true?"
"I swear it, by the gods," Nen Yim replied.
He nodded, then looked at her seriously. "Your master, Mezhan Kwaad, is
said to have claimed there were no gods."
"She was, for all her virtues, perhaps insane," Nen Yim pointed out.
"Yes, my concern exactly."
"You fear for my sanity? "
"I might, save for one thing. Are you aware of the heresy?"
Her blood went cold and heavy. "Heresy?"
"Among the Shamed Ones. The obscene belief that the Jeedai are somehow
the saviors of the Shamed."
"Yes," Nen Yim replied, hoping her composure hadn't slipped. "I was,
after all, on Yavin Four when that heresy began."
"You were, weren't you? You're a part of the story, in fact, at least in
some versions. In a few, you died gloriously. In all, you vanished."
"I am not current on the folklore of the Shamed Ones, I fear," Nen Yim
said, stiffly.
"No, I doubt that you are. This heresy now has a leader-a Prophet. Little
is known of him, but he is gaining in power. Not long ago, he made a prophecy-
of a new world, a home for the Shamed Ones, a promise of redemp-tion. A living
world." He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Does this not
sound like your Zonama Sekot?"
"I know nothing of this Prophet or his babblings," Nen Yim said.
"Again, I do not doubt you." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know where this
supposed world is?"
"No."
"So you would have me smuggle you from beneath Shimrra's nose, equip you
with a ship-"
"I can supply my own ship," Nen Yim interrupted.
His eyes turned appraising, but he resumed. "Very well. So I need only
smuggle you out, outfit you, and help you find this planet-which Shimrra
claims is destroyed."
"That is what I desire, yes."
"I cannot do that," he said. "I am too highly placed. I will be noticed."
"Then I have come in vain," Nen Yim said, preparing the weapon in her
finger.
"Perhaps not," the priest said. "Perhaps the Prophet of whom I spoke
could aid you?"
Nen Yim relaxed, marginally. "You counsel me to col-laborate with a
heretic?"
"If you are correct about the threat this planet poses, then a temporary
alliance with a heretic could certainly be forgiven. You were right, by the
way, not to ask Shimrra to help you. Neither Ekh'm Val nor any of his crew
remains alive. The Supreme Overlord fears this secret. That in itself tells me
it is vitally important."
"On that we agree," Nen Yim allowed. "Still-what good could come of
contacting this 'Prophet'? Even if he was so disposed, how could he help me?"
"How many Shamed Ones work within the Supreme Overlord's compound?"
"I do not know."
"How many of them can you name?"
She snorted. "One."
Harrar showed his teeth again at the thinly veiled reference.
"This heresy is widespread and well organized. It, as much as your Zonama
Sekot, is a threat to the well-being of our people. I feel certain that if
this 'Prophet' can be con-vinced you are with his cause, he will find a way to
help you. Especially if, as you say, you have a ship."
"Yes," she said. "It's getting the ship off the surface of Yuuzhan'tar
and out of this system that is the problem." A new suspicion struck her. "You
want to use me as bait."
"Indeed. But I will not pounce on the Prophet when he comes to free you.
I will wait, until such time as you deem your mission complete. If done in
exactly the right way, it might even be possible to convince Lord Shimrra that
you were a hostage of the Shamed Ones, rather than the insti-gator of the
expedition."
"You propose a trade in deceits."
"Consider. Two great threats to the Yuuzhan Vong-your mysterious planet,
my Prophet. We can be rid of them both. If all goes well, you and I continue
to serve our people. If not, we go to the gods, who know our motives were
pure. Can you see a better path?"
"No," Nen Yim said. "I cannot. But I know little of this Prophet. I have
no way of contacting him."
"I cannot contact him directly, of course," Harrar said.
"But there are ways of bringing things to his ears. I can arrange this.
Are we agreed?"
"We are," Nen Yim said.
And though she felt she had sealed her doom, she made the trip back
through the darkness with lighter feet, and the air felt almost warm.
Harrar watched the shaper move out of sight, wondering again how she had
managed to meet him without an entou-rage of guards. Did she have some sort of
concealing cloaker, like the cloak of Nuun the hunters wore? Probably. She was
a master shaper, after all. That didn't matter.
What mattered was that he had committed himself to the proposition that
she did not represent a trap laid for him by Shimrra or someone in the Supreme
Overlord's hierarchy who disliked him. Every natural instinct warned him away,
but something very deep-perhaps something from the gods themselves-told him he
should trust the strange shaper. Rumors of the planet Zonama Sekot had
circulated very quietly among the Quorealists and some priestly sects for many
cycles, and he knew for a fact that Ekh'm Val was not the first Yuuzhan Vong
to encounter the planet. Nor, in-deed, had Ekh'm Val been sent by Shimrra,
though the com-mander himself hadn't known that.
If Zonama Sekot existed-and especially if the shaper was right about
there being some hidden history between it and the Yuuzhan Vong-then it could
be very important. In any event, the priesthood was being kept in the dark
about something that it clearly should know about. He had lately begun to have
his suspicions about Shimrra. Not voiced ones, certainly, but suspicions
nonethe-less. And today-which had already brought so many inter-esting new
thoughts-brought another.
Nen Yim did not know, perhaps, how much Harrar knew about shapers and
their protocols. He was the first to admit that he did not know everything.
But one thing was clear-Nen Yim operated outside the realm of normal shaping,
and the heresy of the Shamed Ones was not the only heresy around. Mezhan
Kwaad, Nen Yim's late master, had been a heretic, and had died for it.
And here was Nen Yim, alive, favored by the Supreme Overlord, and perhaps
practicing her own heresy in guarded secrecy.
If true, it could mean only one thing Shimrra himself was a heretic. And
that-like everything else in this situation-had the potential to change
everything.
If things went as planned, he might manage to kill three targets with a
single thud bug.
He rose, and smelled the air, and felt destiny in his veins.

EIGHT

Nom Anor turned the message this way and that in his mind, and saw it
sharp in every angle. It was hard to wrap his thoughts around it without
feeling the cut, so pregnant with the possibility of betrayal it seemed.
"Who sent you, Loiin Sool?" he asked the messenger, softly. The messenger
was a Shamed One, his shoulders and face a mass of poorly healed scar tissue.
His eyes were con-cealed by a constricted uruun cloth, placed there before
he'd begun his descent into the dark, dank places of Nom Anor's domain. The
domain of the Prophet.
A wave of his hand, and Loiin Sool would never see any-thing again.
"I come on behalf of the shaper Nen Yim," Sool an-swered. "I know little
more than that. I was taken from my work detail, given the message, and sent
to find you." Nom Anor nodded. Sool had been checked for implants, of course,
though no test short of thorough dissection was certain. Was someone looking
at him now, from some hid-den pore in the messenger's skin?
If so, they saw not Nom Anor but the Prophet Yu'shaa, his face hidden
behind a grotesque ooglith masquer that showed only one spectacularly Shamed,
eyes festering with inflammation and lesions rendering the visage almost un-
recognizable as Yuuzhan Vong in origin.
His surroundings would tell them little more. Yuu-zhan'tar was a warren
of rusting holes like this one.
"Why does the shaper not come to me herself?"
"She may not leave Lord Shimrra's compound, I am told. She takes great
risk even in sending this message."
That was undoubtedly true. What little Nom Anor knew of Nen Yim suggested
that her role was one that Shimrra was not eager to have widely known. He had
lent her for a time to Tsavong Lah, but since her return from that liaison,
she had been little seen or heard from. Indeed, Nom Anor had wondered if she
had been quietly disposed of.
And perhaps she had. There was no knowing whether this message actually
came from her. Since he'd lost Ngaaluh, his spy in Shimrra's court, much was
uncertain.
"Why does she seek me out?" Nom Anor asked.
"She heard of your prophecy of the new world. Her studies lead her to
believe it is a true one. She desires to see this world for herself."
"So you have already said. Why does she seek my aid?"
"Who else could give it? Shimrra and his minions are cor-rupt. They have
done everything they can to deny the exis-tence of our redeemer. He and the
elite will do much more, because they know that if the truth is known, they
will be seen as the false leaders they are. And you, my lord, will be seen as
the true Prophet."
"What does a shaper care for that?" Nom Anor won-dered aloud.
"Nen Yim seeks only truth," Sool said.
"You've already told me you do not know her," Nom Anor pointed out. "How
can you speak for her or pretend to understand her motivations?"
"This is the message, Prophet," Sool answered. "I only repeat it."
A vague chanting had gone up among Nom Anor's acolytes. He began to wish
he had received Sool in private rather than in front of thirty or so
followers.
A firm voice cut above the rest "Praised be the Prophet. He has indeed
prophesied truly. The planet of our salvation, our deliverance, is now in our
very grasp. And Lord Shimrra's own shaper knows it is true! Our destiny has
become a force stronger than gravity."
"Do not be hasty, Kunra," another voice said. "This may be nothing more
than a trap, a deception to lure the Prophet into their grasp."
"If so, they must fail," Kunra said. He turned to Nom Anor. "You are the
Prophet, are you not? Did you not see this, as well? Did you not see yourself
walking through the forests of the new world, preparing it for us?"
"I saw it," Nom Anor agreed. He had little choice. He had added that
little embellishment a few days before. But what was Kunra up to? Kunra had
been with him since the beginning of this whole farce. He knew who Nom Anor
really was-that the "prophet" and his planet were equally fabulous.
"Then the time has come to rise against Shimrra."
"No," Nom Anor slipped out. "Do not presume to inter-pret my prophecy
when I still sit here among you. The time is not yet come."
"But we have found the planet," Kunra said. "Let me go, Great One. I will
liberate the shaper from Shimrra. I will quest with her for the new world. If
there is betrayal, our cause will suffer little. If this is truth-"
"Truth must be practical," Nom Anor said. "We would have to flow rivers
of Shamed blood to liberate this shaper, and still she does not know the
location of the planet."
"I don't und erstand," Kunra said. "Do you fear your own prophecy?"
"Quiet," Nom Anor said, his mind whirling furiously. Zonama Sekot was,
indeed, important-if only because Shimrra feared it so much. He knew, too,
that the shaper had been given what remained of the Sekotan ship to study, and
it would seem she had discovered something quite im-portant. This message
suggested one of two possibilities. Ei-ther she was telling the truth, and she
needed help from outside the system to escape Shimrra and find the planet, or-
more likely-they thought Nom Anor knew where the planet was. They couldn't
know that he had learned of the planet by eavesdropping on Shimrra and Ekh'm
Val, that what he had learned there was all he knew.
Well, not quite all. He had heard rumors that the Jedi had found the
world.
Which struck him suddenly as a very fortuitous piece of information.
"The prophecy is indeed nearing fulfillment," Nom Anor told his
followers. "But something remains. A piece is missing. When I set foot upon
the new world, I shall not be alone. Jeedai will be with me."
A collective gasp went up at that. Even Kunra seemed disconcerted.
"Great One..."
"The time has come," Nom Anor said, solemnly. "As Vua Rapuung fought with
Anakin Solo, so shall I and the Jeedai free this shaper and find our world."
Cheers, of course.
Let the Jedi do the work and take the risk of freeing Nen Yim. If they
failed, they would be blamed, rather than him. If they succeeded-then perhaps
he would indeed bring his own prophecy to fruition. At the moment, he had
little to lose.

NINE

Han Solo scowled and shook a crooked finger at Tahiri.
"Kid," he drawled, "I hope you aren't counting on another lucky break
your whole life, because you've just used up whatever you may have had coming.
"
"Easy, Han," Leia interposed. "Anyway, look who's talking. They don't
call it Solo luck for nothing."
"'They' don't know what they're talking about," Han replied. "I've never
needed luck-I've always depended on skill."
"Of course you have, dear," Leia said, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah, well, I-anyway, that's not the issue," Han grum-bled. "The issue
is you, young lady, flying off against good advice to a planet that's always
been trouble for this family, alone, running past a Yuuzhan Vong frigate in an
X-wing-"
"I didn't have a choice," Tahiri pointed out. "The frigate was sort of
between me and escape."
"Sure you had a choice. From what you say, they probably didn't even know
you were there-they were after their own runaways. You had a whole planet to
hide on. You could have picked a better opportunity to leave-like after they
did. It's a real miracle that you got out of the system, jumping on a half-
fried engine-it's amazing you didn't end up on Tatooine. And Ylesia. And
Bonadan. What was your blazing hurry? "
"I made a promise," Tahiri said.
"A promise? To what, a marsh spider?"
"No. To a Shamed One."
"A Yuuzhan Vong?" His tone was incredulous, but then his face registered
his mistake. Everyone was still getting used to exactly who she was now.
That didn't mean she was going to let him off the hook.
"I made a promise to a person" she said. "Because it was the right thing
to do."
Han closed his eyes and looked momentarily very, very tired. "If I could
name the times I've heard that right thing to do line... Tahiri, you're too
young for this. You've been through a lot. Can't you just-just-take a rest?"
"Good advice," Leia interposed, taking Tahiri by the shoulders. "Can't
you see how tired she is? Why don't we talk about this after she's been to the
'fresher and caught a nap? It can wait that long, can't it, Tahiri?"
"Yes, "Tahiri said.
"But..." Han began, but Leia cut him off.
"My husband is just trying to tell you he was worried about you and he's
glad you're home."
"I know," Tahiri said. "And I appreciate it."
Han's face softened, and then set into lines of reluctant acceptance.
"Well, yeah. But I still think-"
"Why don't you get cleaned up, Tahiri, and we'll have a bit of dinner. We
can talk more then."
"It is good to have you back, Mistress Tahiri," the golden droid assured
her as she made her way toward the refresher.
"Thanks, Threepio," she said. "It's good to be back." She meant it. She'd
grown up on Tatooine and in a Yuu-zhan Vong creeche, she'd studied the ways of
the Jedi on Yavin 4, but more and more the Millennium Falcon felt like home.
It was a feeling both comfortable and unsettling, but from what she'd
gathered, that was a large part of what home was all about.
"I hope you weren't injured in your travels," C-3PO went on.
"No, I'm just a little banged up. And tired."
"Well, now you can rest. And, I must say, Onih k'leth mof'qey."
That sent a little shock through her.
"Don't..." she began, but cut herself off. This was not an abomination-it
was 3PO.
C-3PO caught the sudden anger in her tone, however.
"I'm dreadfully sorry, Mistress Tahiri. I only wanted to-
"Make me feel welcome," she guessed, "both as a human and a Yuuzhan Vong.
"
"Yes, mistress."
"It's okay, Threepio. I'm still working the bugs out of this. It's just,
hearing a droid speak that language-
"Oh, yes. I understand how the Yuuzhan Vong feel about droids. In the
future I shan't-"
"No. Like I said, it's okay. These are exactly the things I have to face.
"
And hope I can.
"Very well," C-3PO said, with extravagant relief. "But, if I may ask, is
the integration of your former personalities... complete?"
Tahiri smiled. "It's complete. But it's like-like being raised by parents
who taught you one set of values, and then learning a different set of values
in school. Which is right? There are conflicts in what most people feel and
be-lieve. I'm no different in that respect, maybe just a little more extreme.
Do you understand?"
"I believe so."
"Part of me was raised to believe that machines-especially thinking
machines-are abominations. But that's just something I learned. It's not part
of who I am. It's not part of the Yuuzhan Vong on any intrinsic level, either-
it's just what the leaders and priests teach us as crechelings. It's something
that can be unlearned, that must be unlearned, because it's wrong. You're my
friend, Threepio, or at least I hope you are. And if, now and then, I have an
unthinking reaction to you, I truly hope you can understand and for-give me."
"Oh, very easily," C-3PO said. "Thank you for explaining it to me." His
voice shifted back to consternation.
"Oh, heavens, I'm holding you up when you should be resting. I'll go now.
"
"Wait, Threepio."
"Is there something else?"
"Just this." And she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.
"Oh, my," C-3PO said. But he sounded pleased.
She woke, not knowing exactly where she was. She lay still in the
darkness, letting the world return to her, solidify about her, fearing
something but not knowing what.
The Millennium Falcon, she thought. Right. That's where I am.
She glanced at the table chrono and realized she'd been asleep for almost
a standard day. Shaking off the dream-shroud, she pulled on her Jedi robes,
visited the 'fresher, and then went looking for Han and Leia.
She found them in the lounge, discussing something in low and somewhat
heated tones. She coughed softly, not wanting to eavesdrop.
The two turned toward her.
"Finally up, I see," Leia said. Her voice sounded a bit odd.
"Yeah," Tahiri replied. "I guess I was more exhausted than I thought."
"You ought to be," Han grunted.
"I'm ready to talk now, if that's okay."
"Why not?" Han muttered. "Have a seat."
She slid in next to Leia and clasped her hands together in front of her,
trying to think how to start.
"You said something about a promise," Leia prompted.
"Right." Briefly, Tahiri laid out the events on Dagobah.
"The Shamed Ones were looking for a planet," she said, when she was done
with the narrative. "A planet their Prophet thinks may bring them redemption."
"Dagobah? Why Dagobah?"
"These Shamed Ones sort of worship the Jedi. They found out somehow that
Anakin and Luke had been there-that it had something to do with their
training." Han raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting. How exactly would they
know that?"
"That's not hard," Leia said. "The Yuuzhan Vong have been obsessed with
the Jedi from the very beginning. We know they have good intelligence. Anyway,
the story about Luke meeting Yoda there isn't exactly a well-kept secret."
"But they were mistaken," Tahiri said. "Dagobah isn't the world the
Shamed Ones are looking for."
Han had the same expression on his face he usually wore playing sabacc.
"Oh? And what world do you think they are looking for?"
"The same one Master Skywalker was looking for. And found. Zonama Sekot."
Han's eyes widened slightly. Then he puffed and raised his hands in a
gesture of frustration.
"Leia," he said. "You tell her."
"Tell me what?"
Leia pursed her lips. "Kenth Hamner contacted us while you were asleep,
on a heavily coded channel. He wants to talk to you."
Kenth Hamner.
"The liaison between the Jedi and military? " She couldn't quite picture
his face. She seemed to remember it was long.
"Right."
"Did he say what it was about?"
"Not exactly," Leia said cautiously. "But it involves Zonama Sekot-and a
dissident movement within the Yuu-zhan Vong."
Han looked at her earnestly. "T ahiri, whatever it is, you don't have to
do it."
"Of course I do," Tahiri said. "I promised the Shamed One..."
"You promised him you would tell his Prophet about Dagobah," Han
interrupted. "You made no promises con-cerning Zonama Sekot."
Tahiri smiled slightly. "My promise was one of izai, not one of strict
legality."
"What?"
"Izai is the essence of a promise. The Shamed One thought he had found
the planet foretold. I promised him that I would take this news back to his
Prophet. But Dagobah isn't the planet foretold. Therefore, the izai - the
essence of my promise-requires me to carry the news that the planet of
prophecy has been found."
Han pushed his palms into his face. "This is making my head hurt," he
said.
"I think I need to speak to Kenth Hamner," Tahiri said firmly.
"We're already on the way there," Han grunted. "But I hope you know what
you're doing."
"I do."
"No," Han said, a little angrily, "you think you know what you're doing.
It's a conceit born out of being young. Jaina thinks she knows what she's
doing. Anakin thought he knew what he was doing."
"Anakin did know what he was doing," Tahiri said, softly. " If he hadn't
done it, there might not be a single Jedi alive today. I know I wouldn't be
here. Didn't you know what you were doing when you came back to save Master
Skywalker at the Death Star all those years ago?"
"I was older than you," Han said, rising from the table. He got up and
went toward the cockpit. But he stopped and turned, with one hand on the
hatch.
"And, to answer your question," he said, "no, I didn't have the faintest
idea what I was doing." He chuckled briefly, shook his head, and vanished into
the corridor. Kenth Hamner did indeed have a long face. He also had a firm
handshake, and an office so spare it might have been a storeroom. The view was
interesting, though. His window looked down upon a landscape of bloodred and
black swirled together, laced over with silver coils and me-anders of tide
creeks and pools. Beyond that, jagged black mountains sawed at a sky the same
metallic color as the water.
Land was scarce on Mon Calamari, but often dramatic.
"Salts," Hamner said, noticing her interest. "When this island was
forming, there was a lot of volcanic activity-and geysers the size of
volcanoes. Those deposits are mil-lions of years old."
Tahiri nodded, preoccupied. What would the old Tahiri have thought of
this view? Or Riina? She found it beautiful, but where did beauty come from?
Not from the Force, be-cause the Yuuzhan Vong didn't know the Force, and yet
had concepts of beautiful and ugly.
It occurred to Tahiri that she had seen many things she thought of as
beautiful since her integration, but nothing she considered truly ugly. Was
that strange? Probably. But maybe ugly was a smaller concept than beautiful,
and the overlapping tastes of her dual origin had virtually canceled it out.
Kenth had turned his attention to Han and Leia, so she continued her
regard of the landscape.
"It's going to be a big push," Kenth was saying. "Exactly how big I'm not
at liberty to say."
"So soon after Fondor?" Han asked.
"The Yuuzhan Vong are off balance. It's a good time."
"Yeah," Han said doubtfully, "they're trying to defend too many worlds
with too few forces. I hope the Alliance isn't about to make the same mistake.
"
"Don't worry. This goal is doable."
"It's not an attack on Coruscant itself?" Leia asked.
"Nothing so ambitious," Kenth said.
Tahiri felt Leia's relief in the Force, and Han's, too. An at-tack on
Yuuzhan'tar would exact a horrific cost in ships and personnel, and whatever
was going on at the moment, Twin Suns-and Jaina-were sure to be in the thick
of it. After her "vacation" from the military, Jaina had insisted on re-
joining the fight. Tahiri had heard from her only once since she left, right
after the Battle of Fondor.
She missed Jaina. Han and Leia's relief was her own.
"Well, looks like the rest of the gang is here," a new voice interposed.
Tahiri spun from the window. A shortish, neatly goateed man stood there.
"Corran!"
"In the aging flesh," he said. "It's nice to meet you, Tahiri."
The surge of joy she'd felt at seeing the former CorSec officer faded a
little at the odd turn of phrase. So he knew she had changed, of course-and he
had that guarded look in his eyes. That was Corran-suspicion was as natural a
part of him as it was her. Still, it felt bad. He's wondering if I'm friend or
foe, she realized. That felt worse.
"I do remember you, Corran," she said, trying not to let the hurt and
anger show in her voice. "I'm just happy you're still talking to me after the
mess I got you into at Eriadu." She hoped the shared reference would set him
more at ease.
"There was plenty of blame to go around," Corran said.
"Anyway, I turned out okay. The Givin have written a po-etic theorem
about you, did you know that?"
"I shudder to think what that even means," Tahiri said. Hamner cleared
his throat. "I hate to break up the re-union, but-"
"Yeah," Han said. "What's this about, exactly?" Hamner set something on
the desk.
Tahiri recognized it immediately. "A Yuuzhan Vong qahsa," she said.
Hamner nodded, and stroked the cilia-covered knobs in the back. A face
suddenly extruded from the front, a Yuu-zhan Vong visage in miniature. Though
the detail wasn't that of a holograph, it was still clear that the face was
hor-ribly disfigured-and not in the way the Yuuzhan Vong preferred.
"A Shamed One," she murmured.
"We got this from a Yuuzhan Vong courier two days ago," he said.
"Intercepted?" Corranasked.
"No," Hamner replied. "It was sent to us."
"Sent?" Han echoed. "What's the story? Another ultimatum?"
"No. It's not from the official command structure. For some time now
we've known that there is an underground movement within the Yuuzhan Vong."
"It's from the Prophet," Tahiri said.
Kenth raised an eyebrow. "Yes. We've heard of him, of course, but it's
been unclear exactly what his goals are. While any division within the Yuuzhan
Vong weakens them, we've never known what the rebel attitude toward the
Galactic Alliance is. We know the Jedi figure into their creed, but little
more than that."
"Anakin started it," Tahiri said. "Or, in a way he did. He and Vua
Rapuung, when they rescued me on Yavin." Hamner nodded. "There were inchoate
movements after that, yes, but it's more recently-with the rise of this
prophet, 'Yu'shaa'-that the resistance has really taken on substance. He seems
to have unified the malcontents. There are even reports of sabotage and
assassination, especially on Coruscant." He folded his hands. "It's not the
origin of the cult that concerns us right now, but rather the motives of the
Prophet himself. Until this"-he nodded at the qahsa-"we haven't had much to go
on."
"And now you do?" Leia asked.
"I'll let you decide for yourself." He touched the qahsa again, and the
face animated, speaking in accented Basic.
"I greet you," the face said. "I am known as Yu'shaa, the Prophet. It may
be that you have heard of me, that I am the leader of the Shamed Ones, those
accursed by the gods. That is true, so far as it goes. We are treated as
Shamed by our brethren-or by many of them. But we are not ac-cursed. Many of
us were once honored and commended by our people. Many of us made great
sacrifices for Supreme Overlord Shimrra. Yet we are treated with contempt be-
cause our bodies reject the modifications and implants the Yuuzhan Vong have
chosen as symbols of rank and pride.
"Before coming to this galaxy, we had little to hope for except
dishonorable death. We believed the lies our leaders told us. But now the
membranes have been torn from our eyes. We see that we may be redeemed by
redeeming our people.
"The Jedi taught us that. The Jedi show us the way. They fight not to
show their strength, but to help the weak. You may know that Anakin Solo
fought beside one of our own, Vua Rapuung, and restored his honor. Thanks to
the Jedi, we are not Shamed. Rather, it is Shimrra and the others who lead who
are accursed, who have set our people-and the people of this galaxy-on a
course that can bring only Shame to us all.
"The Jedi have helped us in the past. They have shown us a glimpse of the
true path. I have seen in dreams and visions where that path leads. It leads
to a planet, a planet that can I heal and redeem us, that can bring the mighty
down and raise up the humble and end the terror we all find ourselves enmeshed
in. It is the planet of prophecy. It is Zonama Sekot.
"I have seen this planet, but the gods have not granted me the ability to
find it. I do not despair, because I believe the j Jedi know where it is.
"Here is what I beg of you that you take me, and me alone, to the planet
of prophecy, so that I may see it for my-self, so I can know that my vision
was true. I wish also to I speak with the Jedi, and seek their counsel and
wisdom.
"Unfortunately, I do not have the means to come and go as I please. I
live within the clenched fist of Shimrra's hand, and shall need help escaping.
On the planet you once called Coruscant, I await your judgment. This qahsa
contains a schedule of times I might meet you in a secluded place. It also
contains what I have been able to gather about the planetary defenses of
Yuuzhan'tar. I give this as a gesture of good faith, but be war y-I am unsure
how complete the information is.
"I look to the stars, Jedi. I look to you. All our worlds can be better,
I am certain. I have information that can be of benefit-which might end the
war-but I cannot use it unless I reach Zonama Sekot. I may not speak of it
here-if this falls into the wrong hands, the danger will be great, and I will
not betray others. Heed my humble call, I beg you." With that the figure
seemed to lean forward, as if bowing, and then the image froze.
"It's a trick," Han blurted into the following silence.
"You all see that, right?"
"It could be," Hamner said. "But the Prophet is real. His opposition to
Shimrra is real. This could be a genuine * offer."
"He's not offering anything," Han replied. "He's just asking. He's asking
us to fly right to the heart of the Yuu-zhan Vong empire and try to attempt
some kind of crazy rescue. It's a setup. Couldn't be clearer."
"It's not a setup," Tahiri said.
All eyes turned toward her.
"Tahiri..." Leia began.
Tahiri pushed ahead. "His followers are already looking for Zonama Sekot.
I met some of them on Dagobah."
"Means nothing," Han replied. "How do we even know this guy on that thing
is actually this 'Prophet'? Shimrra has a pretty good spy network with us. How
much better do you think it must be among his own people? He figures this
Prophet guy would intrigue us, and now he's baited the trap with him."
"I don't think so," Tahiri said. "I think that was the real thing."
"Based on what?"
"A feeling."
"A feeling." Han rolled his eyes. "A feeling."
"Kenth," Leia said, "what about the information on the qahsa? The data
about planetary defenses. Can we check it out?"
"I have, to a certain extent. It looks good. We were able to get a drone
in and out through some of the weak spots he described. And we have a secret
weapon of our own-a captured Yuuzhan Vong ship."
"You're really thinking about biting at this?" Han asked, incredulously.
"We think the right team would have a shot."
"Whatteam?" Leia asked.
"He means Corran and me," Tahiri said.
"Correct."
"Wait one vaping minute," Corran said, before even Han could object. "I
thought we'd agreed she would only advise beforehand."
Leia turned to the Corellian. "You were already briefed on this, Corran?"
"Yes," the pilot admitted. "Admiral Sorr reassigned me to the mission,
but we didn't discuss this."
"I'm laying it on the table now so we can talk about it," Kenth said.
"Tahiri speaks their language and knows their ways. She's flown ships like
this before. I doubt very much this mission could succeed without her."
"Well, it's blinking well going to," Corran replied. "Or I'm out."
"I'll do it," Tahiri said.
"No, you won't,"
Han exploded.
Tahiri sighed. "You mean a lot to me, Captain Solo. Both of you do. I've
never really had parents-not human ones, anyway-and I respect you. But this is
something I have to do. Jaina and Jacen do their part. Anakin did his part."
"And look how that turned out." Han was trying to sound flip, but she
felt the stab of Han's pain at the mention of his youngest son.
"That's the chance we take," she said softly. "It's the chance you've
been taking all your life. I know you don't want to lose anyone else. I know
you worry about Jaina and Jacen, and you don't want to add worry for me to
that. But this war has gone on far too long. If things keep going like they're
going, it will only end when one side is extermi-nated. We have to find
another way. That's why Luke and Jacen went to find Zonama Sekot."
"Yes, about that," Leia said. "Hasn't it occurred to anyone that this
might be more than a trap for a Jedi or two? That it might be a prelude to
another attack on Zonama Sekot?"
"That's why I'm here," Corran said. "If I figure this
'Prophet' isn't operating in good faith, I'll do what's neces-sary to fix
things."
"Luke should have something to say about this."
"I tried to contact him," Kenth said. "But there is some problem with the
HoloNet in that sector."
"We just finished saving that relay," Han said. "It should be working."
"But it isn't," Kenth said. "We've sent a team to check it out. In any
case, we can't talk to Luke."
"We'll have to use our own common sense, then," Han said. "You're walking
into this playing by Yuuzhan Vong rules, Corran."
"Maybe. That's why I want to do it alone."
"Maybe you don't trust me," Tahiri said.
Corran smiled. "I didn't trust you even when I knew who you were. Your
impulsive actions nearly cost me my life on a couple of occasions, remember? I
know you mean well..."
So much for there being plenty of blame to go around, Tahiri thought.
"I've helped betray the Yuuzhan Vong once already," she pointed out.
"You helped betray a military commander to save your-self and your
friends. Tell me-if we discovered the only way to win this war was to kill
every Yuuzhan Vong, would you do it?"
"No. Neither would Luke or Jacen."
Corran nodded and stroked his beard. "Don't dodge.
What if it really came down to them or us?"
"There is no them or us, Corran. Do you really think the Shamed Ones want
this war? Do you really think that malice is built into the Yuuzhan Vong at
the hereditary level?"
"It's built into their culture."
"Exactly. And culture can change."
"Sometimes," he said." If people want it to, and work at it."
"And that's what this mission is all about, right? If we let this door
close, we may never see another one open."
"Now wait," Han said. "We've gotten a little off track here. We never
settled that Tahiri can do this."
"Yes, we did," Leia said. Her voice was equal parts pride and sadness,
and it sent a chill up Tahiri's spine. For an in-stant, looking at Han in his
frustration and Leia in her ac-ceptance, she felt a love for them so powerful
it nearly made her cry.
"Thank you," she said.
Han crossed his arms and puffed out a breath of air.
"Well, fine-then we're going, too."
"We'd rather have you here, in reserve, when we start the new action,"
Kenth said.
Han's brow wrinkled in consternation and Tahiri felt a j sudden new
ambivalence. Whatever was coming up, Jaina would probably be involved. Would
Han want to be away, in unfamiliar territory, protecting her, when his own
daughter might need him?
But he was Han, and he'd already started. "Hey," he said to Kenth. "Don't
start thinking I'm regular military. If Corran won't go..."
"Oh, space it," Corran said. "I'll go. Now, let's see this i ship we're
going to use."

PART TWO

"I've got blips on the horizon," Corran muttered.
"I see them," Tahiri said, her heart sinking slightly. Everything had
gone fine, up until now. The holes in Yuuzhan'tar's planetary defenses had
been where they were supposed to be. They had come through the upper
atmosphere fine. Corran hadn't even complained about her flying. But now, just
when they were almost there, trouble came hunting like a qhal.
"They haven't seen us yet," she told him. "They're atmospheric fliers-
they don't have the legs we do."
"Doesn't matter," Corran said. "The minute they figure out something is
bogus, this mission is over. And you're coming in way too steep."
"I know," Tahiri said. She could feel the yorik coral hull of the ship
beginning to blister. She straightened out infini-tesimally, but that sent
them bouncing violently across a thermal boundary.
"I thought you knew how to fly these things," Corran grunted.
"Ido,"shesaid, feeling her irritation grow. "You want to avoid our blip
friends, don't you? That means coming to ground fast, before they come in
range to scent us out."
"They're going to see us," Corran said. "Because we're going to burn like
a meteor if you don't slow up."
"All the better," Tahiri said. "You saw the system chart. There must have
been half a billion satellites in orbit around Coruscant. Without anyone to
maintain them, they must fall by the dozens every day."
"Good point," Corran conceded. "They won't notice us as we disintegrate."
"Right."
"We're only ten klicks from the ground now."
Tahiri nodded. "Hang on, and hope the dovin basals in this thing are
healthy."
She nosed up ever so slightly, and now her goal came in sight-Coruscant's
single sea. It didn't look like the holos she'd seen. There, it had been a
sapphire in a silver setting, an artificial bathing pool on a planetary scale.
Now it was a vast jade bezeled in a landscape of rust and verdigris. The
fliers were almost in range.
"This is going to be really, really close," she told Corran.
"Great," Corran said, teeth gritted.
"From what I've heard, you've done crazier things than this," Tahiri
said.
"Yes. Me. I'm a highly trained pilot. You've flown, what, three times?"
"The controls are yours if you want them."
The controls, of course, consisted of a cognition hood that fit on
Tahiri's head. She guided the ship by becoming a part of it. A non-Yuuzhan
Vong could fly one-Jaina had proven that-but it helped to have the language
and the instincts.
And her instincts told her she couldn't wait any longer or Corran really
was going to have cause for complaint. She cut in the dovin basals, pushing
them away from the planet, killing their velocity. She nudged the applied
force up quickly, so quickly that the living gravitic drives couldn't also
fully compensate for the g's they were pulling. She felt her weight double,
then triple, and the blood in her brain started looking for a way out of her
toes.
Hang on, she thought.
Hang on.
Blotches of darkness filled her vision, and her chest felt like a bantha
was sitting on it. She saw the blips coming into range, entering...
Then the lozenge-shaped craft hit the water and skipped like a stone.
Everything went crazy for a moment. She didn't quite black out, but the ship's
pain jammed through her own thoroughly confused senses. She growled, then
howled.
When it all made sense again she saw green.
They were sinking.
"Well," Corran said. "That was-interesting. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Now let's see if it was worth it."
The blips-or, rather, the projected symbols that repre-sented the
approaching craft-continued to get closer. Something in the ship creaked as
they continued to sink.
"I wonder how deep it is here," Corran mused.
"Not too deep, I hope," Tahiri said. "If I use the drive with them this
close, they'll notice. The hull should be able to take a good bit of pressure.
"
The blips were right overhead, now, and they suddenly broke their
pattern.
"Not good," Corran said.
"Khapet,"
Tahiri snarled. She'd screwed up. Now they would have to fight, run, and
hope to make it to a safe place to jump to hyperspace before they were
overwhelmed. Nice going, Tahiri. Prove to Corran you really are the stupid
little girl he remembers.
"They're going," Corran breathed. "They must have just been investigating
the splash. Or the burn trail." He nodded. "Good call. I don't want to do it
again anytime soon, but..."
"That's two of us," Tahiri said, sighing and watching the fliers continue
on their patrol.
Somewhere, something cracked. It sounded like ceramic breaking.
"Okay," she said. "Let's just ease us up a little."
"Do that," Corran said, "but don't surface-wait, how well can this thing
work underwater?"
"Well enough. Unless I have to use voids."
"Yes, let's not do that," Corran said. "Can you disable the function?"
"Sure. But why?"
Corran tapped his datapad and pulled up a chart.
"The Western Sea is like any sea-it's fed by rivers. But because
Coruscant is Coruscant, the rivers are artificial. Big pipes, to be exact. If
we take this one"-he indicated a spot on the chart-"it will get us pretty
close to where we're going."
"Assuming the tubes are still there," Tahiri said. "Yuu-zhan' tar isn't
Coruscant."
"It's worth a look," Corran said. "Anything that will keep us below the
level of detection-and between what Jacen and our best intelligence tells us,
they don't have very secure control of a lot of the old underground. That's
why our Prophet is there, presumably."
"It's not the way he told us to come."
"No, it isn't," Corran said. "Which gives it another mark, as far as I'm
concerned."
Tahiri nodded and changed her heading. "I hope we don't bump into
anything," she said. "I can only see ten meters or so."
"Just go slowly. We're not in a hurry anymore-the ren-dezvous is hours
away."
They found the river, a mammoth tube whose diameter the ship's radar
analog suggested was a hundred meters or so. Tahiri kept them centered in it,
and worked her way slowly up its length.
"That's funny," she said, after a few minutes.
"Funny ha-ha or funny we're about to diet."
"Odd. What were these tubes made of?"
"Duracrete, mostly. Why?"
"That's what the sensor signature was like when we started in. But it's
changed, now."
"Changed how?"
"It's irregular."
"Maybe it's decomposing," Corran suggested.
"And not metal," she added.
"Let me guess. It's alive."
"Probably."
Corran scratched his beard. "The Yuuzhan Vong must be replacing the
abiotic drainage systems with biotic ones. That would be typical."
"Yes."
"How far back was the boundary? How long have we been in this new part?"
"We just passed it. We're only a few tens of meters in."
"Right," Corran said. "Back up. I want to think about this for a moment."
Tahiri shrugged. "You're in charge."
"Yes, I am. I was wondering if you knew that." It didn't quite sound like
he was kidding.
Tahiri reversed direction until they were back in the old tunnel.
"What would they be using in place of the old pipe?" Corran asked. "Were
we about to swim up the gut of a giant worm?"
Tahiri considered. "I'm not really sure," she said. "The shaper darnuteks
have succession pools in their centers. Waste goes into them to be purified,
and they have roots that go down into the planet to draw up water and
minerals." Corran nodded. " I remember hearing that Anakin crawled down
through one of those 'roots' so he could hide in sub-terranean caves long
enough to build a new lightsaber."
"Yes, he did."
"And you think the Yuuzhan Vong are converting the Western Sea into a
huge succession pool?"
"Maybe. Or it might be more like a ship's maw luur. It's the same idea-a
combination nutrient bank and sewage treatment plant-but the technology is a
little different be-cause a ship's maw luur is a closed system. Here, I'm not
sure which they would use-but in a lot of ways, Coruscant was more like a
worldship than a normal planet, right? No natural ecosystem?"
"Yes. In fact, the Western Sea served something of the purpose you
describe anyway."
"Sure. So while they're still deconstructing the place, maybe their
interim design is based more on worldship than planet."
"Makes sense. So if this is a big maw luur, we're-" His eyes widened.
"Get us out, now."
Tahiri gave the command, and the dovin basals quivered to life. They
began moving back toward the entrance.
"New plan," Corran said. "I've no intention of going up a world-sized
digestive tract."
"I hate to say this," Tahiri said, "but that revelation-" Something
slammed into the ship, hard.
"-may have come a little late."
"What is it? "Corran said.
"Something big," Tahiri said. "We're inside it."
"Well get us outside it!"
"I'm trying, but it must have ten times our mass." Her skin suddenly
began burning. "Uh-oh," she mut-tered. "It can digest yorik coral, whatever it
is."
"Part of the maw luur?"
"There are symbiotic organisms in a maw luur that help break down larger
things. Nothing this big, though."
"But this is a really big maw luur," Corran said. "Digesting really big
things."
"True," Tahiri replied. "Anyway, if you've got any sug-gestions on what
to do here-"
"Fire the plasma cannon."
"In an enclosed space?" Was Corran crazy? "That could be bad."
"So could being digested."
"Right."
She bit back a shriek as plasma ejected into the water and brought it
instantly to boiling, scalding and compressing her hull. The pressure and heat
mounted, peaked-and then they were tumbling free. When they finally
stabilized, the water in the eyelamps had gone dark blackish red, and nasty
chunks of pulverized meat floated all around them.
"Well, that was disgusting," Corran said.
"Yes," Tahiri informed him. "And this tube is sucking."
"I agree. So let's get out of it."
"No," she said, trying to remain calm. "I mean it's sucking us up it-
capillary action, probably, like the roots of a succession pool."
"Surely not too hard to counteract with the dovin basals?"
"Not at all," Tahiri replied. "If, that is, the dovin basals were
working."

ELEVEN

"The dovin basal is dead?" Corran asked.
"Not dead," Tahiri said. "But it's badly damaged. I'm trying to coax
something out of it, but it's sort of in shock right now."
Of course, it could also be dying, but she kept that thought to herself.
"We're going faster," she said, instead. " Whatever's pulling at the
other end of this tube is increasing its draw."
"How fast?" Corran asked. His voice was maddeningly calm now. Did he
think this was her fault?
"Only about sixty klicks a minute," she said.
"That's fast, when you don't have anything to damp inertia, which I'm
guessing we don't right now. If we hit something at this speed..."
"Like another predator?"
"I'm thinking more along the lines of a full stop," Corran said, punching
at the datapad. "This tunnel is going to split eventually, and again, and
again-little rivers flowing into the big one, streams into the rivers, sewers
into the streams-eventually we're going to hit tubes too small to go through."
"That was going to happen anyway," she pointed out.
"You must have had some plan for us to exit this thing in the first
place."
"That sort of assumed we were going to be under power," Corran said
wryly.
"We may have some power. I'm starting to feel some-thing in the dovin
basal."
"It's coming back on-line?"
"It's a living thing. It can't go on - and off-line."
"Fine. It's coming around?"
"Somewhat. I might be able to nudge it into responding, but it won't be
able to keep it up for long, so I'll need to pick my moment. Or moments-I
think short bursts of power would be okay."
Corran frowned down at his chart. "Originally, there was a nexus up here
where six smaller tubes branch off. It's probably coming up fast. If you can
take the third from your left, do it."
Almost as he said it, they burst into a flattened sphere full of water.
Something black with a lot of tentacles went whip-ping by them, fu riously
fighting the current. Tahiri bit her lip, trying to interpret the ship's
failing senses through the murk.
"One, two, three-it might be four," she muttered.
"There's not time for a better count."
She sent a gentle command to the dovin basal, which quivered and then
reached out. It didn't take much-just enough to divert them into the right
stream.
"I think I did it," she said.
"Good," Corran said, "now-"
"No!" Tahiri yelped. The rim of the tube loomed.
A sudden shock nearly tore them from their crash couches, and an unholy
shriek of impact filled the cabin. A series of lesser shocks followed as the
ship rattled down the smaller tube, turning end over end.
Tahiri's stomach churned, and her last meal made a good try at escaping
its intended fate.
"Sorry about that," she managed.
"Can you get this tumble under control?" Corran asked.
"I could," she said, "but I really like tumbling." Didn't he think she
was trying? "What's our next turn?" she asked. "The next node, we take the
second from the right."
The dovin basal was starting to come out of its funk, though Tahiri could
tell it was very weak. They couldn't fight the current, but her control of
their forward motion improved. They made the next turn without clipping any-
thing, and the next. The tube had narrowed so much that they had only a few
meters' clearance.
"This is almost it," Corran said. "The next intersection used to be a
cooling tower. We should be able to go up into the water jacket. We can park
the ship there and go the rest of the way on foot."
"Let's just hope they haven't replaced the cooling tower with, I don't
know, a lorqh membrane," Tahiri said.
"Don't tell me what that is, okay?" Corran said. A few moments later, the
ship bobbed to the surface in a large, open area. Tahiri made out a flat,
sturdy-looking sur-face a tier above, and gently coaxed the ship up to it.
"Well done," Corran said.
"Thank you. Are we where you thought we were?" Corran studied the chart.
"Yep. From here, we can find access tunnels to the place we were supposed to
meet this Prophet. All we have to do now is find him, bring him back here, and
do all that in reverse."
Tahiri sighed. "And find another ship. I don't think we can even make
orbit in this one, much less a hyperspace jump."
Corran's jaw clamped, then he shrugged. "Well, we've stolen ships before.
We can do it again." But she could tell he was worried. The quipping was to
set her at ease, because he still thought she was a kid.
"Fight what's in front of you," she said. "Let's go find out more about
this Prophet."
"Can't say the Vong have improved much on this," Corran remarked, as they
wound their way through the dark cav-erns that had once been Coruscant's
underworld. Now it was a mass of corroding metal, strange, pale growths, and
luminescent lichen. It looked as if it had been abandoned for centuries rather
than months. Despite the setbacks Jacen had engineered with the dhuryam-the
World Brain-the Yuuzhan Vong shapers seemed to be making headway.
"Of course, it was never exactly homey down here," he added.
"Yuuzhan Vong," Tahiri corrected. "Did people live here back in the old
days?"
"Lots," Corran said. "The vast majority of people who lived on Coruscant
weren't what you would exactly call comfortable."
Tahiri shivered. "I can't imagine living like this, below-ground,
surrounded by metal, no sky, no stars."
"Is that Tahiri or Riina talking?"
There was something subtly testing in his voice. "Neither one of them
would have liked this," she said. "Tahiri grew up in the desert and in the
jungles of Yavin Four. Riina grew up in a worldship. Both were surrounded by
life."
"Riina didn't grow up anywhere," Corran said. "Riina was created in a
laboratory."
"You think that makes a difference?" she asked, stung.
"How do you know all your memories are real? If you found out your
memories of Mirax were implanted, that there was no such person, would she be
any less real to you?"
"Unh-unh," Corran said. "Not buying the sophomoric philosophy. Part of
you was once a real person. Part of you was created, like a computer program."
"You think Threepio isn't real?"
"You know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," Tahiri said. She'd pretty much had enough of
this, because she didn't know whether to cry or hit him. "And I'll bet I've
thought about it a lot more than you have. What I don't know is why you're
pushing this, here, now. I thought we covered this before leaving Mon
Calamari."
Corran stopped, regarded her in the light of their lamps.
"No, we didn't. Or, rather, none of my worries were really resolved. You
asked if I trusted you. It's not that I don't trust you, Tahiri-I don't know
who you are. I don't know what might be sleeping in you, waiting to wake up
when the right stimulus comes along. And I can't believe that you can be sure
about that either."
That was a tu'q, a solid hit. "No, of course I can't," she finally
managed. "But I'm not part Tahiri and part Riina. There aren't two voices in
my head. Those two fought, and joined, and I was born. They were sort of like
my parents. Nothing about either one of them is perfect in me. Even if I
inherited something nasty from Riina, it will be flawed. I'll be able to fight
it."
"Unless you don't want to. Unless it's something that would have appealed
to both Tahiri and Riina."
She conceded that with a nod. "You've already taken the risk, Corran. Why
didn't we have this conversation days ago?"
"Because I wanted to see something of who you've become."
"And who have I become?"
"You're bright and talented and far too confident. I'm not sure you're
afraid of anything, and that's bad."
"I'm afraid," she said.
"Of what?"
"Fear. Anger."
"The dark side."
"Anakin saw me as a Dark Jedi with Yuuzhan Vong markings. He was strong
in the Force." She shook her head.
"It's not some hidden Yuuzhan Vong part of me that should worry you,
Corran. It's the Jedi part. Tahiri was trained as a Jedi from childhood. I-the
person I've become-was not."
His eyebrows beetled up. "That's an interesting thing to say. I hadn't
thought of it that way."
"Most people haven't."
"Okay," Corran said. "We'll take this up later, when we aren't skulking."
"Are we skulking now?"
"Yes, because we're almost at our destination. If there's anyone waiting
for us, I'd rather they didn't interrupt an in-teresting conversation."
A few moments later they passed an immense shaft of some sort. Faint
daylight illuminated it, so she could guess that it was perhaps two kilometers
in diameter. Looking up, she could see a faint circle of rose-colored light.
"How deep is this shaft?" she wondered aloud.
"About three klicks."
"What in the galaxy was this?"
"A garbage pit," he said. "They used to shoot dangerous garbage into
orbit from here, with magnetic accelerators."
"That's a lot of garbage," Tahiri said. "This is where we're meeting him?
"
"Yes. In about fifteen minutes, if he's on time." While they waited,
Tahiri looked around a bit. A lot of Yuuzhan Vong life had crept into the pit.
"What are those called?" Corran asked her. He was pointing at a plant
with thick, reedlike stalks that glowed a vivid blue color.
"I've no idea," she admitted. "I've never seen one before. There are a
lot of things like that down here-things from the homeworld that weren't
needed or wanted on the world-ships. Or maybe they're new, engineered to live
on metal." She touched the glowing cylinders. They were cool, and the fine
hairs on the back of her hand stood up.
Ten minutes later, they heard the faint echoes of footsteps. Tahiri put
her hand on the grip of her lightsaber. It might be the Prophet, but it might
be anything. A faint green luminescence appeared, carried by a tall, well-
formed warrior.
"It's a trick!" Tahiri whispered. She ignited her light-saber. Corran's
blazed on an instant later.
The warrior stopped, now fully illuminated.
"Jeedai!"
"Look at him," Tahiri said. "He's not malformed. He's not Shamed!"
But the warrior had dropped to his knees.
"Jeedai," he said in Basic. "Welcome. But you are not correct. I am
indeed Shamed."
After the initial shock, Tahiri had begun to notice other details-like
the fact that the warrior wore no armor, and that some of his scars and
tattoos were incomplete.
"You speak Basic," Corran noticed.
"For your convenience I am equipped with a tizowyrm."
"Are you the Prophet?" Corran asked.
"I am not. I arrive before him, to make certain all is safe. My name is
Kunra."
"And is it?" Corran asked. "Safe?"
"You are Jeedai. I have no choice but to trust you. My fear was that our
communications had somehow been in-tercepted, and that I would find warriors
here."
Tahiri switched to Yuuzhan Vong. "Why were you Shamed?" she asked.
The warrior's eyes widened. "One-who-was-shaped!" Then his eyes switched
back to Corran, and he returned to Basic. "The slayer of Shedao Shai! We
expected Jeedai, but not the most august of them."
"Ah, there are still a few higher on the ladder than us," Corran said.
"Luke Skywalker, for instance."
"But he does not figure in our sacred tales!"
Tahiri was in no mood to let the warrior become dis-tracted. "I asked you
a question," she snapped. The warrior bowed his head. "I was a coward," he
said.
A cowardly warrior? Tahiri thought. No wonder.
"You seem to have some courage," Corran said. "You came down here, not
knowing if you would find us or an ambush."
"I serve the Truth now. It gives me courage, though I am still unworthy."
"And yet the most worthy of my disciples," a new voice said.
Tahiri glanced up. A tall figure had just come into the chamber. His face
was a mass of unhealed scars and fes-tering sores, his right ear missing. The
sacks below his eyes were distended, yellow, and...
No, something was wrong. She looked more closely. It's not real, she
realized.
He's wearing a masquer.
"You're Yu'shaa?" Corran asked.
"I am. It is my honor to meet the great Tahiri Veila and Corran Horn."
Tahiri acknowledged that greeting with a curt nod.
The Prophet bowed. "This is truly a blessed day," he said.
"Right," Corran said. "Though for a blessed day, we've had some fairly
unblessed setbacks. Including the fact that our ship was destroyed in coming
here."
"You were discovered?" the Prophet asked, a bit sharply.
"No. At least I don't think so." Tahiri watched him care-fully while
Corran described what had happened.
The Prophet nodded when he finished. "You are correct, Blessed One-it is
unlikely that you were discovered. I sus-pect your firing of the plasma weapon
caused some sort of malfunction in the maw luur's reflexes. There are
hundreds, if not thousands of such malfunctions every day, and I doubt this
one will be closely scrutinized. As to the other, once more we see that the
universe favors our cause. The final member of our party claims to have a ship
at her disposal."
"Final member of the party?" Corran made it sound like, Yow want me to
kiss a gundark?
"Yes. A shaper who holds the secret to our redemption."
"I thought you..."
"I am the Prophet. I speak the truth and foretell what is to come. I am
not myself the key to redemption-I merely see it."
Corran glanced at Tahiri. "That's interesting," he said, "but our
mission, as I understood it, was to come here and get you and take you to
Zonama Sekot. Now you want us to change the mission to include someone else.
In my experi-ence, changes in the mission can lead to unpleasant results."
"I am sorry," the Prophet said. "But as you said, your mission has
changed already-now we must have a ship. As to the shaper-I could not speak of
her on the qahsa. She is placed very close to Shimrra-it is how she discovered
Zonama Sekot in the first place."
Corran sighed. "Explain."
"A commander named Ekh'm Val went to Zonama Sekot," Yu'shaa said. "He
fought there and was defeated. But he re-turned with something of the planet,
which this shaper has studied. She discovered a certain inexplicable kinship
be-tween the biology of Sekot and our own biotechnology."
"Again, interesting, but..."
"We are from another galaxy, Jedi Horn. We crossed the starless night for
age upon age. Our legends go deep, and yet nowhere is such a thing hinted at,
at least not in any-thing I ever heard. And yet here, in this time of
darkness, two things are given us. To me, a vision of Zonama Sekot as a sign
of our redemption. To the shaper, the revelation that we have some prior
relationship to this planet-a relationship that Shimrra fears. I do not know
what these things mean, but they can hardly be coincidence. But like me, this
shaper must see the world of salvation with her own eyes, to know the truth-to
know exactly what it all means."
"And how do you know she isn't betraying you?" Corran asked. "You say
she's part of Shimrra's inner circle? I'm sure he would like to get his hands
on you at least as much as on the two of us."
"No doubt. But I believe her. Ekh'm Val was murdered upon his return from
Zonama Sekot, along with all his sur-viving warriors. Shimrra fears even the
rumor of this planet. The shaper is already as good as dead, merely for
knowing what she knows. Shimrra would never allow her to leave his compound,
much less travel freely to the very planet he fears."
"So you're saying we have to break her out of Shimrra's compound?" Tahiri
blurted, incredulous.
"Yes. I'm afraid it's the only way."
"Yu'shaa," Tahiri said, "why are you wearing a masquer?"
She felt Corran's reaction in the Force-a sudden height-ening of
suspicion. But he didn't say anything, and she was watching the Prophet for
his reaction.
But the Prophet showed no surprise, nor should he have-any Yuuzhan Vong
would see the masquer for what it was an organism that presented a false face
to the world.
"You know our ways," he said. "I wear this masquer for my people. I have
sworn not to remove it until our redemption has come. For you, I might take it
off, but I have adhered it with dhur qirit. The removal process is very
lengthy."
So it was basically sutured to his face. That made sense, sort of-several
Yuuzhan Vong sects in the past had habitu-ally worn masquers as a matter of
daily ritual. They had, in fact, originally been developed for that rather
than as a means of disguise.
But here, in this context, Tahiri didn't like it. Corran obviously
didn't, either. "No offense, Yu'shaa," he said, "but Tahiri and I need a
moment to discuss this alone."
"Of course."
They walked a comfortable distance.
"How does this smell to you?" Corran asked.
"I don't really like it," Tahiri said. "But part of that might be a
reflexive dislike of Shamed Ones."
"You think that affects your read of the situation?"
"I hope not. I'm trying to fight it. But there's something about him I
don't like, that's for sure."
"Well, that makes two of us. But the question isn't whether we like him,
or even whether we trust him. The question is, Is he telling us the truth at
this moment, as he knows it?"
"I can't say for sure," Tahiri said. "But this all seems pretty elaborate
for a trap."
"My thought exactly. It doesn't make any sense-if they were going to do
something, why not here? No, this has the feel of a real plan, albeit a pretty
shoddy one. In fact, it's sort of reassuring." He smiled. "Are you still game?
"
"Of course. I thought you would be the one to object."
"We're in pretty deep already. You've shown me you can handle yourself.
And Kenth was right to send you along-I couldn't have made the call about the
masquer. Let's at least see what the plan is."
"There are hidden ways into Shimrra's palace," Yu'shaa told them. "Some
have been discovered, but there is one 1 am still certain of. I have been
reluctant to use it, for once I do so I cannot do so again. Once within, we
must make our way to the shaper compound."
"If she has a ship, why can't she just fly it out?" Tahiri asked.
"I don't know," the Prophet replied. "I know only that she requires
defense of a substantial sort, or the escape will be impossible."
"That's not all there is to it," Corran grunted. "She wants it to look
like a kidnapping, doesn't she? So she can have deniability later."
"That seems possible," Yu'shaa agreed.
"Hmm. Do you have a diagram of this compound?"
"Yes."
"How many warriors will we have to face?"
"My followers will help, of course," Yu'shaa said. "They will create a
nearby disturbance, which should draw war-riors to another part of the palace
compound. And you have friends inside the damutek, of course."
"That's all well and good," Corran said, "but how many warriors will we
have to face?"
"My guess is all I can give you, but I suspect no less than ten.""And as
many as?"
"If things go wrong? A few hundred."
"Ah," Corran said. "Then your people, the ones creating the distraction..
."
"Will likely be killed, yes. But they are willing to die."
"But I'm not willing to let them die," Corran said. "Not forme."
"They die for their own redemption, Jedi Horn, not for you. It is only if
our mission fails that they will have died in vain."
"Still, I-hang on."
Tahiri felt something in the Force, then, a flash of insight from Corran.
He was staring at the glowing plants they'd been discussing a moment ago.
"I think I have an idea," he said. Tahiri thought he sounded reluctant.
"It might buy us the edge we need, and get fewer of your people hurt in the
process."
"The Jedi shall lead the way," the Prophet said. "Tell me your plan."
"I wish you wouldn't keep saying things like that," Corran said, "but
here's what I'm thinking..."

TWELVE

When they emerged from the darkened tunnels and into the light of Supreme
Overlord Shimrra's palace, Tahiri's knees went momentarily weak at the sight.
His command ship, an enormous winged sphere, was nested at the top of it, as
if the whole palace were a scepter, a symbol of might.
"Pretty impressive," even Corran admitted. "Nowwhat?" Yu'shaa pointed a
finger toward a much more modest, star-shaped complex. "That is the shaper
damutek," he said. "Wait here for a few moments. When our ruse begins, it will
be there." He pointed to a large, hexagonal building rather low to the ground,
with a roof of gabled mica. "It is an amphistaff breeding gla. The guards will
think my people are raiding for weapons."
Corran counted at least fifty warriors patrolling the vast plaza.
"Your people will be slaughtered."
"They will not fight for long. They will flee, and your brilliant plan
will make certain that most of them are not followed."
Corran sighed. "I'm not so sure it's brilliant."
"They may escape," Yu'shaa said. "You have given them a better chance
than they had. If they do not, they will die with honor, something more than
Shimrra would ever allow them. They will die knowing they have blazed the
trail to redemption."
Corran looked back at the damutek. "And we just go in the front door?"
Tahiri was staring at the damutek as well. The momen-tary reflex to
worship she'd had at the sight of Shimrra's palace was gone, replaced by a
cold feeling that lay on the borderlands of anger and fear. Bad things had
happened to her in such a place.
"Yes," she said. "We just go in through the front door."
"And where will we meet you?" Corran asked the Prophet.
"There is a shrine to Yun-Harla nearby. The shaper will know where it is.
If I survive, I will see you there."
"You haven't seen whether you survive or not?" Corran asked.
The Prophet smiled. "I am confident that I will."
"Well, good luck anyway," Corran said.
"Yes. May the Force be with you."
As the sounds of the Prophet's footsteps faded, Corran opened his mouth
to say something, and then stopped. He looked at Tahiri.
"Yes," Tahiri assured him. "That was weird for me, too."

Nom Anor continued grinning as he left the two Jedi. While nothing was
certain, he did expect to survive the coming battle, because he did not intend
to be in it. His fol-lowers would fight, and they would die, and he would
leave by the way he had come in and make his way to the shrine. If the Jedi
and the shaper died as well, then he would vanish back underground and try to
think of something new.
He wasn't particularly happy that Corran Horn had been chosen to come.
While it looked good to his followers, for him it would be a continual danger.
Horn was not the sort to be lulled easily out of suspicion. If he discovered
the
"Prophet's" true identity, Nom Anor suspected that the appearance of
present good intentions would not overshadow his actions against the Jedi in
the past.
Of course, Tahiri was a problem, too. Her knowledge of Yuuzhan Vong ways
made her another potential threat. She'd seemed less than entirely convinced
by his explana-tion for the masquer.
He paused in the darkened tunnel, considering. Perhaps he shouldn't go
through with this, after all.
But, no, he had to. Since Ngaaluh's death, Nom Anor's influence had begun
to wane. Shimrra was now extremely vigilant against spies at his court, even
at the highest levels. Sweeps of the lower levels had increased, and Shamed
Ones removed farther from where they might do harm. Worse, while his following
hadn't dropped off, it hadn't grown, either, partly because too many of them
were getting killed without any apparent movement toward the ultimate goal of
"redemption." The potential for an uprising that might catapult Nom Anor to
power was farther away than it had ever been. He needed a new catalyst, a new
source of strength. He needed, in short, new allies.
Still... He patted the pouch-creature fastened to the flesh beneath his
arm. It contained the one piece of his past as a respected executor. He wasn't
even sure why he'd risked bringing it, but... if he were to deliver two Jedi,
a rogue shaper, and the planet Zonama Sekot into Shimrra's hands, it might be
enough to...
No it wouldn't. Not if even a suspicion of his role as Yu'shaa were to
enter Shimrra's mind.
No, he would have to work with what he had. It was far too late to
flinch. Nor could he panic at the prospect of the trip he faced.
He did not, like his superstitious followers, believe in an ordained
destiny-destiny was something created by sheer force of will, and that was
something he had in abundance. So he would play the role of compassionate holy
man for the Jedi. He would win them or they would die.
For Nom Anor, there could only be forward and upward, never back or down.
One moment nothing was happening; the next a yellow-green explosion
blossomed from the side of the building across the square and the outer wall
collapsed in sticky shards, as if it had melted. Warriors all across the
square raced for the source of the explosion, but before they could reach it,
a mob of Shamed Ones sprang from a pit near the buildings and fell upon the
warriors with coufees, am-phistaffs, batons, even pipes and rocks.
The fighting was confused by distance, but Tahiri could tell they weren't
faring very well, though they fought with absolute conviction, some impaling
themselves on the am-phistaffs of the warriors, immobilizing the weapons long
enough for their companions to drag their foes down by sheer weight of
numbers. This distraction wouldn't last long. She tensed to run.
"Hang on," Corran said. "Wait until..."
Even as he spoke, new actors appeared, four figures in brown cloaks
bearing long glowing tubes of light. And everywhere went up the cry of
"Jeedai," from warriors and Shamed Ones at once. But their tones were
quite different. The Shamed Ones were exulting, while the warriors were crying
out in challenge and fury-and perhaps a little fear. There were few things
that could bring a warrior greater honor than bringing down a Jedi in combat-
the warriors didn't worship them as the Shamed Ones did, but they had learned
respect.
The "Jeedai" suddenly turned and ran, and guards went after them,
howling. Indeed, guards who had not already left their posts now did so.
Corran had called that one pretty well. If there was anything that could make
a warrior forget every duty he had, this was it.
Of course, when it came to their superiors' attention that they had
abandoned their posts to chase Shamed Ones bearing the light-plants that grew
below their feet, things would not go well for any of them.
"Now," Corran said.
Tahiri was already springing forward, now utterly focused on the single
guard who still remained at the front closure of the damutek.
To the guard's credit, he wasn't too distracted by the fighting to see
them coming. Unfortunately, his attention did not do him much good against two
Jedi.
At the door, Tahiri put her hand against the membrane.
"Veka, Kwaad."
The opening dilated.
"That was easy," Corran said.
"It should be," Tahiri answered. "This damutek belongs to my domain."
"Master Yim," someone asked from the doorway.
She looked up from the series of kul embryos she'd been vivisecting. It
was Qelah Kwaad. "What is it?"
"There's some sort of disturbance in the outer com-pound. They say it is
Shamed Ones."
"Disturbance? What are they doing?"
"They've attacked the amphistaff nursery."
"Trying to arm themselves, I suppose," Nen Yim replied.
"Go, secure the laboratories."
"Yes, Master Yim." The adept hurried off.
Well, she considered.
This must be it.
She straightened from her task and moved to the wall. From a pouch
adhered to her belly, she withdrew a thorn-shaped creature with a thin, hard
shell, located a nerve cluster in the wall, and thrust it in. It hissed softly
as it began injecting toxin into the damutek. It would paralyze the living
structure's de-fenses, allowing whoever was coming after her to do so without
having to deal with corridor-sealing membranes and debilitating gas. Of
course, those defenses had not stopped the Jedi on Yavin, but this needed to
move quickly. The thorn tapiq would soon dissolve and leave no trace of itself
or its effect.
She grabbed an enveloping cloth surrounding a set of se-lected shaper
bioware and a qahsa and hurried up the cor-ridor toward the Sekotan ship. She
was amazed at how calm she felt. Of course, she still hadn't taken any
irrevocable steps. She could counteract the effects of the tapiq, and she
probably had the means at her disposal to stop the Jedi. But no. Zonama Sekot
was a mystery she could not let lie. The planet called to her. She would go,
if she survived the next few moments.
The ship was as she had seen it the day before, shimmering gently,
waiting for her. Excitement grew in her. She was step-ping forward, touching
it with her master's hand, when sev-eral figures burst through the doorway
into the room.
Two humans, and, by their whipping, burning unlife brands, certainly
Jedi. They were engaged with eight war-riors. Both of the humans already bore
several bloody gashes, but as she watched, two more Yuuzhan Vong warriors fell
from sizzling, cauterized wounds.
One of the remaining guards turned to face her.
"Master Yim, flee. There is danger here."
She knew him-Bhasu Ruuq, quiet for a warrior. She thought she'd caught
him giving her admiring glances before.
"My apologies," she said. She extended her master's hand, and a long,
whiplike sting no thicker than a straw snaked out and impaled him through the
eye. He died without a sound. She curled her hand, and the sting wrapped
around the neck of another warrior and bit through the arteries of his neck.
She released it, recalled it, and shot it back out to kill a third.
The Jedi cut down the last of their stunned opponents and stood panting
over corpses, staring at her.
The gaze of the yellow-haired one struck Nen Yim like a I thud bug, and a
jolt of recognition ran through her. Every - j thing changed, suddenly, and
she realized her only triumph was death.
"You," she said. "You've come to kill me."
Tahiri gave Nen Yim a cold grin.
"You think so?" she said. "Why would I do that? Merely because you
tortured me, turned my brain inside out, tried to turn me against everything I
h ad ever known?"
"You two know each other, then," Corran speculated. Tahiri nodded grimly.
"She's one of the shapers who experimented on me. Her name is Nen Yim." She
looked at the fallen warriors. "I see you've got a new hand. Like Mezhan
Kwaad's."
"Mezhan Kwaad was a master. Now I am."
"I should have known it was you," Tahiri said. Rage was j suddenly a
whirlwind in her. "Watch her hand, Corran. She has..."
"I saw what she did to the warriors," Corran said. "If she thinks it will
work on me, she's welcome to try."
"She's mine, Corran," Tahiri growled. She stepped for-ward, raising her
weapon to guard between them. Turning*' to the shaper, she continued, "You
have no idea what you've put me through, Nen Yim. I nearly died. I nearly went
mad."!
"But you did not."
"I did not. Nor did I become what you were trying to! make of me."
"That was fairly clear when you decapitated Mezhan Kwaad," the shaper
replied.
"Yes," Tahiri said. "That was a quick end for her. My torture lasted a
lot longer."
The rage was blackening in her, a vua'sa nearing a rival's j den. She
watched for the slightest twitch of the shaper's hand, the smallest excuse to.
.. To what? Kill her? She took a deep, slow breath, and lowered her weapon.
Her hand was trembling and her belly was tight. She willed the muscles to
relax.
"We've come a long way through a lot of trouble for you," she said. "I
don't intend to kill you, not now. You're the reason we're here, aren't you?"
"I wish to see Zonama Sekot," the shaper said. "If you have come to take
me there, then yes."
"We should talk about this later," Corran said.
"We will," Tahiri said. "We certainly will. After we've gotten out of
here but long before we reach Zonama Sekot. Do you understand me?"
"I understand you," Nen Yim replied. "But for now, if we're to escape,
you must do as I say."
"Time's wasting," Corran said. "What do we do?"
"The warriors I killed. Use your weapons on them." Corran grinned wryly.
"I thought so." He did as in-structed, cutting through the wounds that were
already there, erasing any sign that they had been killed by a shaper's hand.
Tahiri watched in disgust. A Yuuzhan Vong ought to own the violence she did.
"Next?"
"I need an opening in that wall, large enough for this ship to pass
through. I'm certain your infi-your weapons can accomplish it."
Tahiri nodded at Corran, and together they moved to the coral wall
indicated and began carving chunks from it. While they were still less than
half done, shouts went up be-hind them.
Before Corran could react, Tahiri spun and charged the new attackers.
There were three of them.
"Finish!" she cried. "I'll take these."
All three bore amphistaffs. She hurled herself at them as if committed to
a full-on charge, but at the last instant stopped short. As a result, the
counterattack from the lead warrior was also short. She picked up the rigid
end of his staff in a high bind and cut down through the juncture of neck and
shoulder, sweeping her blade around to catch a second attacker in a high
parry. Then she dropped, instinc-tively ducking the slash from the third. Even
so, the second warrior recovered quickly and wrapped his suddenly flexible
staff around her ankle. Tahiri used the Force to leap away, and the warrior
yanked her back, which was what she'd been planning. She went with the pull,
and both of her feet hit him in the face. He grunted and fell back, but didn't
re-lease the staff. As she fell, she reversed her weapon and let the third
warrior impale himself through the armpit. Black I vapor exploded from the
wound and the scent of burning blood sang in her nostrils.
She rolled to get back to her feet, but the remaining war-rior kicked her
in the side of the head. The blow rang in her skull, and white lights
threatened to blot out her vision. She swung wildly, but failed to connect
with anything. Then everything went strange as something hard and sharp went
through her shoulder.
"Oh," she said. "Oh." Her arms were suddenly rubber.
The warrior grinned in triumph.
"No," she told him. "No, absolutely not."
She grabbed the amphistaff that had impaled her, but she barely felt it.
She tried to focus beyond the pain, use the Force to throw herself back, but
all she saw was the snarling face of the warrior who was about to kill her,
and all she felt was her body husking out, going light, fading...
She saw the warrior look away, and then suddenly he was headless. His
body dropped away almost gently.
Corran stood above her. "Come on," he said.
"Poison," Tahiri mumbled. She tried to stand, but her legs were already
beyond answering her demands.
She was vaguely aware that Corran got her up on his shoulder and was
taking her toward the strange ship. After that, time condensed. She remembered
yelling, and concus-sions, and the ship shivering. New voices, then nothing.
Nen Yim settled in the pilot's couch and placed the cogni-tion hood on her
head. The ship hadn't come with one, but it had been an easy matter to implant
a Yuuzhan Vong matrix ganglia to the alien but relatively straightforward
neural web. It ought to respond like any Yuuzhan Vong ship.
She hadn't been able to regenerate all the ship's systems, and had
replaced them with specially bioengineered equiva-lents. She had installed
dovin basals in place of the abomi-nable machine drive; she wouldn't have
known how to repair that even if she had wanted to. The frame she could do
nothing about, and she'd left many of the other bits of infidel technology in
place because she either wasn't sure what they did or because it was unclear
whether the ship would function properly without them.
A flutter of tension moved through her as she melded with the ship's
senses. The ship felt confused, uncertain, as if it was wondering-as she was-
whether the repairs and modifications would work. Her experiments suggested
they would, but of course she had never flown it.
We'll try this together, yes? she thought to the ship, and received a
tentative affirmation. Where were the Jedi?
She could not see them from the transparent cockpit, so she activated the
ship's exterior optical sensors and quickly located them. They seemed to have
gotten into another fight, and the yellow-haired one was down, wounded. That
wasn't entirely bad, Nen Yim considered. Things might go more smoothly if the
girl died.
A few moments later, the two were on board and Nen Yim dilated the inner
and outer locks.
"Tahiri's hurt," the male Jedi called. "It's an amphistaff wound."
"Do what you can for her," she told him. "I can't help at the moment. We
have to leave."
Hoping once again that the inelegant mixture of Sekotan and Yuuzhan Vong
technology wouldn't fail her, she willed the ship to fly.
In a blur they were through the opening, though she felt it scrape along
her skin on one side. No damage, though-the hull could shed starstuff for a
time, so yorik coral was no real problem. She might even have been able to
break through the wall with the nose of the ship, but the Jedi h a d, been
there with their swords, so why not use them?
"We're meeting the Prophet at the shrine of Yun-Harla," the Jedi told
her. She didn't like his tone of voice. It sounded as if he imagined she was
under his orders.
"I'm aware of that," she said, trying to remain cab J when all her
instincts told her that she was far too high; above the ground, that she was
going to fall.
There was the shrine, the same one she'd met Harrar at I what seemed like
a very long time ago. The skies were still! eerily quiet, as if Yuuzhan'tar
were asleep, as if they hadn't j just fled from the compound of the Dread
Overlord himself.; Oddly, the quiet brought a sense of doom that she hadn't
felt up until now.
She settled the ship down next to the shrine and opened the hatch.
Outside, a breeze was blowing, thick with the as-tringent scent of blister
flowers. She was glad they'd bloomed before she left-she'd wondered what they
would smell like. She noticed a movement from behind the shrine, and saw the
grotesque figure of a Shamed One coming toward her.
"This, then, must be the Prophet," she murmured. He was tall, and his
body looked well formed enough, save for, a lump beneath his left arm that was
probably a limpin im-plant gone bad. He wore a masquer that bore every markot
the Shamed she could imagine, as if he had cataloged every possible
disfigurement before having it made, as if he was determined to carry the
burden of all the Shamed on his own neck.
It was both revolting and oddly intriguing. What sort of Yuuzhan Vong
would do such a thing? And why?
"I am Yu'shaa," he said as he boarded. His gaze fastened on her, intense,
nearly animal. This was no simpering Shamed One, no. This was an altogether
different breed of the creature. He carried his marks with impossible dignity.
"lamNenYim."
"I am honored, Master," the Prophet replied. "You undertake a great task.
All went well?"
"Could have gone a bit more smoothly," Corran muttered.
"According to plan," Nen Yim said.
"Tahiri being stabbed was not in the plan," Corran said.
"The one-who-was-shaped is injured!" the Prophet exclaimed.
"A risk we all take," Nen Yim pointed out.
"She's dying!" Corran said. "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"I will heal her," Nen Yim said, "when I have the chance."
"You'll heal her..."
He stoppe d when someone else stepped into the ship. He yanked out his
infidel weapon and ignited it.
"No!" Nen Yim shouted. "This is Harrar, a priest. He's going with us."
The male Jedi crouched into a fighting stance. "No, I..."
A blast of plasma slammed into the ship-the skies were no longer quiet.
Cursing, Nen Yim realized she had disen-gaged from the long-range sensors. As
she reengaged now, she saw a flier above them and ten more within range. She
closed the hatch and jolted the dovin basals to life. The ship jumped straight
up, slamming into the atmospheric flier.
The flier flipped over and smashed into the shrine, then slid into the
water below, food for the p'hiili.
The other fliers quickly dwindled, but faster ships were coming, from
everywhere. She turned toward what she perceived to be the most open space.
Far above, the rainbow bridge was a faint band in the sky, another legacy of
their con-quest of Yuuzhan'tar. They had shattered a moon to make it. She saw
with some relief that she was faster than the pursuing ships, if only
marginally so. Most Yuuzhan Vong space-craft had been designed primarily for
space, and were clumsy in atmospheres. The Sekotan ship was sleeker,
streamlined. Once they were in vacuum, it might be a different matter.
"Prepare for a darkspace jump," she called back.
"Bloody..." the male Jedi sputtered. "No... Not this close to the planet.
We're still in the atmosphere!"
"That's bad?" Nen Yim asked.
"Yes, that's bad. Have you even laid in a jump?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"You've never flown?"
"No."
"Watch her," Corran told the Prophet, casting a glance at the priest as
he did so. This thing was going sourer every second. He moved quickly to stand
next to the shaper.
"Okay," he said, "let's-look, we'll make a short jump first-Borleias. Do
you have a star chart in there, anything like that?"
She shook her head. "No," she said. "Or maybe. I'm not attuned enough to
see it if there is one. But there are ships approaching."
"Any way to show me the ships?"
"Yes."
A nearby wall panel coruscated, revealing a surface that raised icons to
represent ships and their movements.
"I can't tell how close they are, because I don't know the scale here,"
Corran said. "But I think you ought to bear aught-six-two-aught-aught-one."
"I don't know what that means."
"That way!" Corran pointed, feeling an entirely appro-priate deja vu.
"Do not order me."
"Look, I'm a pilot. You certainly aren't. Anyone knows a hyperspace jump
this near a singularity is suicide."
She ignored the comment. "There are ships that way, too," she reported.
"Yeah, I see them. Does this thing have any guns?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"Well-fly fast. And figure out how to plot a jump."
A coralskipper came up on their tail and started to fire. The first few
shots missed, but the next connected, and the ship shuddered slightly. It
almost seemed to cry faintly, as if remembering its earlier trauma from such
weapons. That shook Corran a bit-was the ship sentient? And if so, why did he
hear it when Nen Yim was the one under the cognition hood?
But then he understood. The ship existed in the Force.
He'd assumed from its obvious organic nature that this was a new model of
Yuuzhan Vong ship. Now he didn't know what it was.
The coralskipper unloaded again.
"Jink!" Corran said. "Jink!"
"I've no idea what you mean by that," Nen Yim said.
Corran felt like strangling something-possibly himself, for letting such
a relatively simple mission get so far out of control. "Why can't any of these
stinking ships have normal controls?" he muttered.
"You mean controls of metal and plasteel?" the shaper asked.
"Yes. Yes!"
"It does," she replied. "This ship is a grafting of machine and
biotechnology. The original controls were-I could not understand them."
A grafting of machine and bio - later. "You took them out?"
"No, they're beneath that screen, covered by a lamina. The sight of them
offended me."
"Oh, I see," Corran said, as he staggered toward the place she had
indicated. "You're completely insane. You've appointed yourself pilot, you've
no idea what you're doing, and you don't mention to the only qualified pilot
that there are controls..." He ripped off the lamina, revealing an entirely
familiar set of instruments.
"I can fly this," Corran grunted. "I can fly this! Get back there and
help Tahiri!"
"I don't..."
"...know what you're doing," he repeated. "We'll all be killed, here,
now, and you'll never see your mystery planet."
"Very well," Nen Yim said. She removed the cognition hood and started
back toward Tahiri.
"If she doesn't live," Corran called back to her, "the whole deal is off.
"
"Then she will live," Nen Yim shot back.
Corran threw the ship into a scissor-roll, dodging a fresh barrage of
plasma bursts. One scorched along the hull, and he felt the ship's cry of
pain.
Then he felt the wound close, itch, and heal. Interesting.
The controls were on the old-fashioned side, but the ship itself handled
like nothing he'd ever flown. And despite what Nen Yim had said, he found
controls for lasers and-something else.
Well, let's see if they work.
He veered hard port and up, making the turn in half the time a ship this
size ought to, and came in above one of the pursuing skips. Hopefully, he
squeezed off a few shots.
The console said he had four forward lasers. Only one fired. The beam
scorched out-and was swallowed by the skip's void.
Corran wisped by the skip, feeling rather than seeing the other two on
his tail, and then pulled up, hard, and grinned when the fire from the two
pursuing skips struck the one he'd just shot at.
"I guess they don't have their war coordinator on-line yet," he said.
"It's being jammed," Nen Yim's voice floated up from the back. "I've seen
to it."
Useful, this shaper. Annoying and incredibly dangerous, but useful.
"How is Tahiri?"
"I told you. She will live."
A wave of relief swept through him, and he turned his full attention back
to the problem at hand.
Ships were everywhere now, and not just in the direction he was leaving,
and not all just skips. He began working out a jump, but not knowing the
engine capabilities made that tricky-he'd have to get it right, not almost
right. There wasn't going to be time...
"Hello," Corran murmured to himself. "What's that?"
The silhouette looked familiar, but he couldn't be sure. It might not
even still be functioning, but at the moment it was his only hope. He changed
course toward the object. A skip whirled in from below starboard, and from
sheer curiosity, he tried the other weapon the ship seemed to have, but
nothing happened. The skip, on a wrong vector to keep up with him, missed its
own shot and went on, banking to come after him but losing kilometers in the
process.
"Fine," he muttered. Obviously, whatever the weapon was, it didn't work.
Six or seven skips were going to have a shot at him in about a minute,
but the satellite he'd seen at long range was pretty close now. Basically a
five-meter-diameter sphere bristling with knoblike protrusions, it hung
quietly in its orbit.
As Tahiri had said earlier, there must have been millions or billions of
satellites around Coruscant when the Yuu-zhan Vong took it. The new tenants
had been working to clear them out, but that was a huge job. Some had fallen
of their own accord, but some...
He fired his single laser at the sphere, and whooped when the blue sheen
of a shield went up.
Laser light was suddenly everywhere as the sphere began i to whirl in
complex maneuvers, firing at every ship it saw. I Corran ignored those shots
directed at him and just punched i the drive as hard as it would go, which was
hard.
The skips I went wild, spinning around the satellite, firing at it. Only
one or two recovered from the surprise quickly enough to follow his new
vector, and by the time they were even thinking about catching him he'd laid
in his calculations and was watching the stars sleet away.
"Whew," he said, finally able to relax.
"What was that, some sort of war machine?"
With a start, Corran realized the Prophet was standing just next to him.
"No," he said. "It's a training device for star pilots. Once fired on, it
goes into offensive mode. Of course, the lasers are so weak they can't do any
damage, so most of the power goes to its shields. But with their voids
gobbling the first few shots, the Yuuzhan Vong pilots would take a while to
figure that out."
"Clever," the Prophet said.
"Thank you," Corran said. "Now I want to see Tahiri."
Tahiri came to with Nen Yim bending over her.
"She will be weak," she was telling someone. "Perhaps for some time. The
arm might be useless. It is too soon to say."
"Corran?" Tahiri mumbled. She turned to see him. But Nen Yim wasn't
talking to Corran. She was talking to a Yuuzhan Vong, a thin man with a
headwrap. A priest! Tahiri reached for her lightsaber, but didn't find it
there.
"Corran!" she shouted.
"I'm here," the familiar voice said. "Calm down. We seem to be among
friends." He didn't sound convinced.
"Who are you?" Tahiri asked the priest.
"lamHarrar."
"Another of our merry band of pilgrims," Corran grunted.
"The shapers and the Shamed are not the only ones with curiosity about
this new world," the priest expla ined. "I arranged to meet Nen Yim at the same
place as the Prophet."
"Then you embrace our heresy?" the Prophet asked.
"I embrace nothing," Harrar replied. "I reject nothing. But Shimrra has
gone to great lengths to keep this planet from our knowledge. I want to know
why."
"Where are we?" Tahiri asked.
"Hyperspace," Corran replied. "You missed our exciting exit. This really
is some ship."
Tahiri was taking in the rest of their surroundings, now. Like a Yuuzhan
Vong vessel, Nen Yim's vessel looked grown, organic. In no other way did it
resemble a yorik coral craft.
"What sort of ship is this? " she asked.
"The ship is from Zonama Sekot," the Prophet re-plied. "It was badly
damaged. The shaper healed it. It is good-we arrive at Zonama Sekot returning
one of its own."
Tahiri was about to ask more, but Corran spoke up.
"Oh, yes, that," he said. "We're not going to Zonama Sekot."

THIRTEEN

All eyes turned to Corran.
Yu'shaa was the first to speak. "Blessed One, what can you mean? After
all we've done? My followers died so that we might make this voyage. They put
their faith in you." "And I put my faith in your words, Yu'shaa-your promise
that this voyage would include you and you alone. Now we have a shaper and a
priest, and I don't know anything about either of them."
"I explained about the shaper," the prophet said. "I knew nothing about
the priest."
"Consider," Harrar interposed. "Nen Yim and I risk far more than this-
Prophet. He is already hunted, already condemned. He has little to risk on
this journey and every-thing to gain. I, on the other hand, am a powerful and
hon-ored priest. Not only have I consorted with Jeedai, but I also seek Zonama
Sekot, a planet absolutely taboo to us. If Shimrra learns of this, I will be
dispatched without honor."
Corran nodded. "Probably. Unless Shimrra himself planned this whole
fiasco."
"I assure you, he would never do such a thing," Harrar replied.
"But I've only your word for that, and we are, you know, on opposite
sides of a war."
Not too diplomatic, Corran.
He started again. "Look, you three aren't the only ones who think Zonama
Sekot is important. There are already tea Jedi there, negotiating with it.
Your people have attacked the planet at least once. Bringing one of you there-
especially one seeking peace-that was one thing. Bringing three of you is
another matter."
"Contact these other Jeedai," the Prophet urged. "Discuss it with them.
Surely they will agree that if peace is to be achieved, the initiative must
come from both the Jeedai and the Yuuzhan Vong."
"He's right," Tahiri said.
Corran shot her a hard look. "I'd like to speak to Tahiri alone," he told
the others.
"Of course," Harrar said. The others didn't say anything, but they stayed
where they were as Corran escorted Tahiri to what was appeared to be some sort
of common area.
"Corran..." she began, but he cut her off.
"No," he snapped. "Listen. We're outnumbered here. I can't have you
disagreeing with me in front of them."
"Then maybe you should stop making decisions without consulting me. We're
a team, remember? "
"And I'm by far the senior member of the team. If you want to disagree
with me, fine. But do it in private. We can't have them thinking you and I are
divided. And in the end, I certainly hold the power of veto, because I'm the
only one who knows where Zonama Sekot is."
"Contact Kenth. See what he thinks. Or better yet, talk to Master
Skywalker."
"Well, it seems Sekotan ships don't come equipped with HoloNet
transceivers," Corran replied. "If they did, I would do just that."
"We could go to Mon Calamari, get a decision from the council."
Corran lowered his voice. "That's where I'm going to tell them we're
going."
"But we aren't? Where are we actually going?"
"Zonama Sekot."
"What? But you said..."
"I lied. I wanted to see what their reaction would be."
"And?"
"I can't tell yet. Let's give it a few days, see what shakes out."
"That's dangerous," she said. "I'm pretty weak. If it comes to a fight...
"
"If it comes to that, I'll deal with it," Corran said, grimly.
"What does that mean?"
"Sorry. The old man has to have some secrets. But if this goes sour, none
of us will make it to Zonama Sekot. Orders from headquarters. Do you
understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes," Tahiri replied. "I understand you perfectly."
"Good. Now, did you notice anything a minute ago? Any reaction I might
have missed?"
"I doubt it. But I don't like the priest."
"Why?"
"Nen Yim and the Prophet are both heretics. I can't imagine a high-
ranking priest cooperating with either of them."
"If a high-ranking shaper can be a heretic, why not a priest?"
"I suppose it's possible," she said. She sounded dubious.
"If you suspect him, why did you think we ought to continue the mission?"
"Because it's important. I think Nen Yim and the Prophet are on the
level. We have the priest outnumbered, and I don't think he'll try anything
until we reach the planet-whatever else he has planned, he wants to reach
Zonama Sekot as much as the rest of us."
"Could he have some sort of tracer on him?"
"Maybe. That would be bad."
Corran considered that for a moment.
"Rest," he said. "Keep your eyes and ears open. We've got time to think
about this. It's a long trip."
Tahiri found Nen Yim at the helm of the ship gazing out at the stars. She
stood there for a moment, trying to control her feelings.
But she needed to talk to the shaper.
"Jeedai," the shaper said, without turning.
"Master Yim." She said it in Yuuzhan Vong.
"So some of our implants did take."
Anger flared again, but Tahiri fought it down. "Yes," she said. "I am no
longer human and I am not Yuuzhan Vong. Congratulations."
"Congratulate my late master, not me."
"So you take no blame for me?" "Blame? What blame is there? Mezhan Kwaad
was a shaper. She shaped you. Had I been in charge of the project, I would
feel no remorse for what you've become."
"Right," Tahiri said. "No remorse. No pain. No passion. There's nothing
in you, is there, Nen Yim? Except maybe curiosity and duty."
"Duty?" Nen Yim murmured, still staring out at space.
"Do you know when the last time I gazed on stars like this was?"
"Should I care?"
"It was on the worldship Baanu Miir, one of the older ones. Its brain was
failing, and an involuntary muscle spasm ripped one of the arms open. I stood
in the vacuum staring at the naked stars, and I swore that no matter what, I
would save that worldship and the people on it. I practiced heresy to do so,
and still I failed. Even yet, the people might have lived, if your infidel
friends hadn't obliterated the new worldship we were meant to move to."
Now she did turn to Tahiri, and despite her calm tones, her eyes blazed.
"I have risked my life, and I have taken life and shaped terrible things for
my people so that we never have to live in the abyss between galaxies again. I
have risked even more to see the secrets encoded in this universe around us
and solve their riddles. Perhaps you do not call this passion. But hatred, I
think, might fairly be called that. You, Jeedai, slew my mentor. Jeedai
destroyed the new worldship and doomed thousands to miserable, honorless
deaths. I have hated Jeedai."
"And you hate them still?"
"I have stepped back from my hate. My heresy requires that I see things
as they are, not as I wish them to be, not as I fear them to be. The riddle of
Zonama Sekot may well be the central question of Yuuzhan Vong existence, and
the Jeedai seem to be involved. Since I must place the good of my people
before my own whimsy, I must remain open to all possibilities, even the
possibility that the creed of this ridiculous Prophet has salience."
"And what about me personally?"
"You?" She shrugged. "Mezhan Kwaad sealed her own doom. She practiced her
heresy too openly, almost flaunted it. Worse, she ruined a noble warrior
merely because she feared he would disclose their illicit affair. That brought
about her downfall. You were the instrument of her death, and that again was
rooted in her failure-had her shaping of you been competent, you could never
have turned on her. I hated you for a time. I find now I do not. You hardly
knew what you were doing."
"Oh, yes I did," Tahiri said, recalling the crystallized fury of that
moment. "I remember it very well. I could have dis-abled her instead of
killing her. But after the pain she put me through, that you helped put me
through-"
"And so you hate me?"
That's a good question,
Tahiri mused. "In the Jedi view," she told the shaper, "hate is to be
avoided. If there is hatred in me for you-and there may be yet-I do not want
it. The Yuuzhan Vong have taken much from me-my childhood, my identity,
someone I loved. But I am as much a part of you now as I am native to this
galaxy. I have reconciled my different natures. Now I want to help see that
reconciliation between my parent peoples."
"You seek an end to the war?"
"Of course."
Nen Yim nodded. "I do not see the same honor in pointless slaughter the
warriors do, I must admit. Pursuit of it has bred stupidity. We have taken far
more worlds than we need, and probably more than we can defend. Shimrra, I
sometimes think, is mad." She cocked her head, and the tendrils of her
headdress did an odd, squirming da nce and settled in a new arrangement. "How
are your wounds?"
"Better, thanks to you," Tahiri admitted.
"It was simple enough. You responded well to the antitoxin." Nen Yim
shifted her gaze back to the stars. "You must convince the other Jeedai to go
to Zonama Sekot. If what you said about your goals is true, you must help me."
"I can't," Tahiri said. "I agree with him. Even if I could trust you, and
the Prophet, there is also the priest to con-sider. Why did he come?"
"I think his reasons are compound. He is a highly placed member of his
caste. Heresy is a great danger to that caste, and here he has the opportunity
to study not merely two heretics of two varieties, but also the leaders of
their respec-tive movements. He would understand his enemy. Yet he is also
jealous of the secret of Zonama Sekot, and perhaps truly angry at Shimrra for
concealing the knowledge of it. When we know Zonama Sekot's secrets, however,
I cannot say what he will do. Turn on us as well as Shimrra, probably, and
reinforce the power of his priesthood. If Zonama Sekot is truly of consequence
to our future, castes will battle for control of it, both ideologically and in
fact."
"All that to say you don't trust him."
"I think that no matter the outcome of this expedition, he plans our
deaths."
"Then why did you bring him along?" Tahiri exploded.
"To learn what I can from him. There are other factions among our people,
you know. Shimrra has detractors in other quarters-the Quorealists, for
instance, who sup-ported the predecessor he slew to attain power. It may be
Harrar is one. Certainly he knows about them. Also, I want to keep him where I
can see him. He is less dangerous to me that way."
"Weil, we agree on that," Tahiri said. "I don't trust him, either."
"We'll keep an eye on him together, then."
It was a transparent ploy, but Tahiri felt a sudden, invol-untary
affinity for the shaper.
That's stupid. It's what she wants me to feel.
But they were of the same domain, and domain loyalties ran deep, far
deeper than simple like or dislike. Was this why Corran didn't trust her? Move
on to something else.
"Is there any way of knowing if Harrar has a tracer or villip implanted
in him?"
"It would have to be a very unusual one to be a danger to us," Nen Yim
replied.
"Why?"
"Because I have released a virus that attacks and swiftly kills all known
variants of such organisms. If anyone on this vessel has such an implant, we
can expect them to be briefly ill as the waste products flush through their
system."
"I'll watch for that, then," Tahiri said, and left the helm, confused.
Anger brought certainty, and with it gone, she didn't know what she felt.
Nen Yim turned her eyes back toward the stars.
Perhaps that will persuade her, she thought. Perhaps now she can convince
the older Jeedai to resume the voyage to Zonama Sekot. After all, it was true.
She did not want Shimrra's minions following her to Zonama Sekot, and she had
taken measures to prevent it.
But the older Jedi was suspicious of her, of all of them. Well he should
be. The Prophet's simple belief that Zonama Sekot was the salvation of the
Shamed Ones and thus the Yuuzhan Vong was not her own. Zonama Sekot was the
greatest single threat her people had ever faced, she was sure of it. If her
investigations bore that out, she would take matters into her own hands.
Despite its organic origins, the Sekotan ship was laid out along lines
more similar to the metal-and-plasteel ships Tahiri had known than to Yuuzhan
Vong vessels. Behind the cockpit was a crew cabin comfortably large enough for
six or seven people, and six somewhat more cramped sleep-ing cells. Behind
that was a spacious storage area that looked more Yuuzhan Vong in design-Nen
Yim had had room to spare when she took out the old hyperdrive. It was filled
with things that Tahiri remembered from the shaper laboratory on Yavin 4. She
looked in only once.
Whatever the original crew of the ship had eaten had been replaced by
muur, a Yuuzhan Vong yeast-based staple. She and Corran settled down to a meal
of it around a table that extruded from the floor, sprouting like a mushroom
when a discolored place on the wall was stroked.
None of the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to be in earshot-the Prophet was nowhere
to be seen, and Nen Yim was back in her makeshift laboratory, as was Harrar.
"Four days, and no one has shown any symptoms," Corran said. "Of course,
that could mean several things. Ei-ther no one had implants, or the implants
weren't affected by the virus, or there never was any virus."
"Well, that's what everything boils down to when you don't trust anyone,"
Tahiri pointed out. "We just don't know."
"You like this stuff?" Corran grunted, reluctantly taking another
mouthful.
"No one likes it," Tahiri said. "Yuuzhan Vong don't eat for enjoyment.
Unless it's to make a statement, you know, eating the flesh of the vua'sa you
killed in ritual combat or whatever."
"Still not exactly pleasure. Relish maybe."
"Right," she said, taking another bite. She knew he was trying to make a
joke, but she didn't feel like laughing. Corran was hard to read these days,
as if he was making an effort not to let her see too much of him in the Force.
They both turned at a soft sound in the doorway. Harrar stood there.
"I hope I'm not intruding," the priest said.
"Not at all," Corran said. "Can I help you?" The priest nodded. "It's
been four days. May I ask when we reach Mon Calamari?"
Tahiri shot Corran a glance.
Four days, she sent in the Force. No sign of betrayal. He didn't answer
in the same way, but pursed his lips and nodded. "Where's the Prophet?" he
asked.
"Locked in his cabin-praying, presumably," the priest replied.
"Okay," Corran said. "Let's get everyone together. I-And then the ship
screamed.

FOURTEEN

Qelah Kwaad abased herself before the polyp throne as the rumble of
Shimrra's voice washed over her. She cringed and was ashamed.
"Rise, Adept Kwaad," Shimrra said.
Knees shaking, she did so. "Dread Lord," she said. "How can I please you?
"
"You already have. The mabugat kan were of your shaping, were they not?"
"They were, Lord Shimrra," she said.
"Master Yim brought them to my attention. She said you were the brightest
of her pupils."
"She did?" Qelah was surprised. She had always thought Master Yim was
jealous of her.
"We have used them with great success. The infidels are now largely
without long-range communications. It has been an invaluable aid to our war
effort."
"Thank you, Lord. I am pleased to have been of service."
"Of course you are," Shimrra growled reproachfully, and his Shamed jester
capered gleefully.
She felt like cowering back into a crouch, but the Dread Lord had bid her
stand, so she stood her ground.
"The loss of Master Yim was a great blow," Shimrra went on. "But her work
must continue. You will be elevated to master."
Qelah hoped her fierce exultation did not show.
"I am not worthy of the honor, Great Lord, but I will do my best to
excel." She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop. "I have developed a
new sort of ship, one that should counter many of the new strategies of the
infi-dels. And as for the Jeedai..."
"What of the Jeedai?"
The words came out with such force that her tendrils felt as if they were
being swept back, but this time she was not dismayed.
"I believe I have an answer to them," she said.
"Besides the mabugat kan, I have for some time been de-veloping a
powerful new suite of bioforms designed specifi-cally to counter the threat of
the Jeedai. I am not far from completion."
"That has been promised before," Shimrra said. "But the promise has never
been fulfilled. Those who fail me do not find favor."
She understood that lack of favor also meant lack of breath, but she
plunged on. "I am certain you will be pleased, Dread Lord," she told him.
"Very well. You will ascend to master tomorrow. You will work directly
beneath Ahsi Yim."
Qelah took a deep breath. She had a chance at more. Could she flinch from
taking it?
No.
"Yes, Lord," she said. "A member of Nen Yim's domain."
Shimrra's mqaaq'it eyes flared a brighter red. "What could you mean by
that, Qelah Kwaad? Do you imply something?"
"Nothing, Lord," she said. "I spoke out of turn."
"I hear something in your words, Qelah Kwaad," Shimrra said, dangerously.
"Shall I rip open your mind and see what I find there?"
"It is only that things have been strange," she said, in a rush. "Master
Yim stayed apart from us, working alone.
She was totally absorbed in some new project none of the rest of us knew
about. And then the Jeedai came, and took her away, and whatever it was, I
know not what, but Ahsi Yim..." She broke off.
"Go on," Shimrra breathed.
"Ahsi Yim-did not seem surprised. And I heard her tell someone, They took
the ship."
In fact, Ahsi Yim had seemed as surprised as anyone, and she had said no
such thing. It was actually a warrior who had told her he'd seen a strange
ship fly out from the damutek. By now, everyone knew it.
"You think Ahsi Yim had some part in Nen Yim's kidnapping." She lifted
her head and spoke more boldly. "If it was a kidnapping, Lord Shimrra. The
damutek's defenses failed. I do not see how infidels could accomplish this."
"The Shamed heretics were also involved," the Supreme Overlord pointed
out.
"With respect, Lord-would they know how to disable a damutek's defenses
and leave no trace of how it was done? I could not do so. Was some shaper
greater than Nen Yim Shamed, that this knowledge would reside with the rabble?
"
Shimrra somehow seemed to tower even higher, filling the room, the world,
the universe.
"What do you know?" he thundered, and she suddenly realized she had
somehow misstepped. "What do you know of the stop?"
A great invisible claw seemed to clamp about her head, its grip growing
swiftly tighter. She felt the joints of her body twitching strangely. Her
nerves turned to fire, and she sought something, anything to say, and anything
that would turn his gaze away from her. If he had asked her at that moment if
she was lying, she would have admitted it, admitted that her words were
nothing more than thud bugs cast toward Ahsi Yim, so that Qelah Kwaad might be
master shaper.
But he hadn't asked that. He'd asked about the ship.
"Nothing more than that it exists!" she moaned.
"Nen Yim told you nothing of its origins or nature?"
"Nothing, Dread Lord," she gasped, swaying. "She stayed to herself! She
did not speak of it!"
The pressure suddenly dropped away. The pain recoiled itself back into
her brain.
"Your ambition is clear," Shimrra murmured. "But you raise interesting
points. They bear investigation." He glanced at Onimi. Then he looked off at
some unseen thing above her.
"Go," he commanded. "Return tomorrow and learn your fate."
She left. When she returned the next day, she was again directed to take
up her master's hand, and she never saw Ahsi Yim again.

FIFTEEN

The ship's scream was a distant thing somewhere in the back of Corran's
mind. The thudding jolt of sudden hyper-drive decantation was more immediately
tactile.
"What the..." He leapt up and stumbled toward the helm.
"Are we under attack?" Harrar asked.
By that time, Corran could see stars through the trans-parent canopy. "I
don't know," he said. "But given my luck so far on this trip, I wouldn't doubt
it."
"This region isn't charted," Tahiri said. "Maybe we hit a gravitic
anomaly."
Corran bit back a reprimand for telling that much, but decided to take
his own advice and not dress the young woman down in front of the Yuuzhan
Vong. "We're in charted space," he said, instead. Which was true, barely.
"Then what could it be? "
"Dovin basal interdictor mine, maybe. The Yuuzhan Vong have them set up
all along the major routes to pull ships out of hyperspace."
"Right. Millennium Falcon got pulled out by one on the Corellian Trade
Spine."
"Yep. Let's hope we have an easier time of-oh, Sith spawn." He'd been
rolling the ship to try to discover the cause of their sudden reversion. Now
he saw it.
It wasn't what he was expecting.
He was staring down the pointy end of a white wedge larger than many
planetbound cities, and he suddenly felt much younger, not in a good way.
"That's an interdictor, all right," he said. "An Imperial interdictor."
"I suppose there's something to be said for not jumping to hasty
conclusions," Harrar put in, a bit sarcastically.
"No apologies," Corran said. "It was still a good bet. This, on the other
hand..."
"But aren't they our friends now?" Tahiri asked.
Corran snorted. "Friends? No. Allies, yes." He pushed the engines and
went into a series of extemporaneous maneuvers as salvos of coherent green
light flashed around them.
"Either way, should they be firing at us?"
"No, and maybe they wouldn't be if we weren't in something much more like
a Yuuzhan Vong ship than anything else they've seen. Or if we could hail them
and tell them who we are, but I don't see a comm in this thing, unless our
shaper friend has hidden it like she did the rest of the con-trols. As it is,
we'd better put a little distance between us and that thing."
"What's it doing way out here?"
"I'm not even sure where 'here' is," Corran grumbled, "but I've got a
good idea why they're here."
"Why?"
"Can't say. Top secret."
Kenth might have told me a bit more about the war plans. I should have
figured the push would be in this sector. Bil-bringi, maybe? That Interdictor
must be part of the Imperial force. But why is it alone? Watching the back
door? Didn't matter. They couldn't talk to it and they sure couldn't fight it,
so their only choice was to run like crazy.
"What is wrong?" Nen Yim appeared from aft.
"We've just been yanked out of hyperspace by the Impe-rials." Such a
familiar thing to say, he reflected. Almost comfortable. What a ridiculous
thought. Was he actually nostalgic for the war against the Empire?
"The Imperials?" Nen Yim said. "I'm no tactician, but aren't they.... ah.
They think this is a Yuuzhan Vong ship."
"The lady takes the hand," Corran said. A laser seared along the vessel's
side, and he fought for control.
"Jump to hyperspace," Nen Yim said. "I see no nearby planets."
"I can't. It's an interdictor-it'll pull us right out again and probably
fry the engines as well."
"Not necessarily," Nen Yim said.
"No, interdictors work just fine on Yuuzhan Vong hyper-drives. It's
simple physics."
"Yes, but-" She suddenly stopped.
"What?" Corran shouted back over his shoulder. "I seem to remember you
were going to jump from the bottom of a gravity well. But if you've got
something, let me know."
"You must give me your promise of secrecy," the shaper said, her spooky
hair doing particularly spooky things.
"I can't do that." Corran sighed. "Not if you've got something that can
be used against us."
"I certainly cannot divulge war secrets to you without your vow of
secrecy," Nen Yim said.
"Why not? Aren't we trying to end this war? Isn't that what this mission
is about?"
The ship shuddered and bucked as laser fire hammered its hull.
"The war isn't over yet," the shaper reminded him.
"Master Yim," Harrar interjected. "If we die, and our mission fails..."
"What mission?" Nen Yim snapped. "He won't take us to Zonama Sekot. He's
taking us to Mon Calamari, probably to be imprisoned. I would rather die here,
especially if it prevents placing yet another weapon against us in their
hands."
"We are going to Zonama Sekot," Corran shouted. "We're on our way there
right now. But it's going to be a mighty short trip if something doesn't
change soon."
Nen Yim's brows lowered dangerously. "Is this true?"
Harrar gripped the shaper's arm. "I do not fear death any more than you
do, Nen Yim. But if you would see this planet..."
"It is untested," she said. "A variant of a shaping one of my apprentices
developed. I created it to use against any Yuuzhan Vong ships that might
follow us, but now I see it might be used against one of your interdictors."
"Well, let's find out!" Corran said. "Because in about ten seconds..."
Nen Yim nodded and slipped on her cognition hood.
A moment later Corran felt something pass through the ship and then-
release.
"What did we just do?"
Nen Yim actually smiled. "If this works, the artificial gravitic anomaly
should vanish in a moment. I suggest when the moment arrives, you take us into
hyperspace."
"Tahiri, lay in a microjump," Corran said.
The young woman nodded and bent to the task.
A laser tore through the cabin behind them, a direct hit that pierced
both hulls. Air screamed away into vacuum, and Corran felt as if he had a hot
wire through his gut. He could only imagine what a pilot truly attuned to the
ship would feel.
Then the wound healed, and the air stopped getting thinner. Neat trick,
that. But he wondered what the ship's healing limits were.
And got an answer, of sorts, from the ship itself. Another hit like that
would be too much.
"We're no longer being held," Tahiri said.
"Life is good," Corran replied, and punched them to where the stars
didn't shine.
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what that thing was?" Corran
asked, as his pulse began to slow to some-thing approaching normal.
"I don't suppose so, no," Nen Yim replied. "But its field test seems to
have gone quite well."
"Yes, congratulations," Corran said. How long before you use it against
us? Well, at least he knew it existed, whatever it was, and unless she was
lying it was a prototype, not likely being used at this very moment against
the Galactic Alliance.
"This is making my head spin," he muttered.
"What?" Nen Yim inquired.
"Nothing."
"Not to interrupt," Harrar said, "but I'm wondering if what you said
about our destination is true?"
Corran turned and noticed that the Prophet had joined them.
"Yes," he said. "It's been our destination from the very first."
"You deceived us," Nen Yim accused. "Why?"
The Prophet drew himself to his full height and crossed his arms. "To see
how we would react," he said. "If we had tried to force the location of the
planet from him, then he would have known we were not to be trusted, and we
would never have finished the trip." He looked pointedly at Corran. "Isn't
that correct, Jeedai Horn?"
"That about sums it up," Corran replied. "That's a pretty savvy analysis
for a holy man."
"Understanding is the essence of enlightenment."
And also the basis of espionage, Corran added to himself. wonder what
your job used to be before you were a Prophet.
Maybe Tahiri could tell from-something. He made a mental note to ask her
later.
"How far, then, are we from our destinatio n?" Harrar asked.
"I'm not certain, because we have to proceed in small jumps for a time.
Probably a few days."
The next jump brought them to the fringes of an un-named star system. The
primary appeared as a tiny blue I sphere, but around it sparkled a vast ring
that shone as if it were made of a few hundred trillion corusca gems. Tahiri
watched in fascination. Sometimes it seemed cloudlike, some-times almost
liquid.
"You must have seen many such wonders," Nen Yim said. Tahiri had heard
the shaper's approach, but hadn't turned. "Doesn't matter," she said. "Every
star system is unique. Every star system has its own beauty."
"This one certainly has. Is that ice?"
"I would imagine," Tahiri said. "I wasn't trying to figure it out-I was
just enjoying the sight of it."
"Perhaps the system is poor in heavy elements. The original torus of
matter condensed into ice balls, which were then torn apart by tidal forces."
"Maybe a wandering giant made it as a wedding gift fora nebula," Tahiri
said.
"Why should you assert such a ridiculous explanation?" The shaper seemed
truly puzzled.
"Why must you pick everything apart?" Tahiri asked.
"Besides, if you believe Yun-Yuuzhan made the universe from his severed
body parts, you ought to be able to believe anything."
Nen Yim was silent for a moment and Tahiri thought the conversation was
probably over.
"Belief is a strange thing," the shaper said at last. "It has immense
inertia. My master did not believe in the gods at all."
"And you?"
The shaper's headdress tendrils knotted thoughtfully.
"Religion, I think, is metaphor, a way of relating to the uni-verse that
does not require reason. It's not very different from your appreciation of
this star system for its mere ap-pearance. My joy comes in understanding.
You're right-if I could take the universe apart and put it back together, I
would."
"And thus rob yourself of half the wonder," Tahiri said. Nen Yim snorted
disdainfully. "Wonder is you making up stories about giants and wedding gifts,
" she said. "Wonder is my people attributing the creation of the universe to
an act of dismemberment. It is avoiding true mystery through fantasy. And if
the universe refuses to conform to your fan-tasy, does it cease to be
wonderful? That is a conceit of the highest order."
"Your own explanation was no better than a guess."
"True. But it is a guess that can be investigated and tested. It is a
guess I will gladly relinquish if proven wrong. It is a guess that will serve
as a tool to help me find the truth. For me, that is a far greater wonder than
anything taken on faith."
"So you don't believe in the gods?" Tahiri asked.
"I think there must be something behind them that is real. I do not think
they are real in the orthodox sense."
"That's interesting. What do you think they are?"
"I've no idea. I don't have even a guess to use as a starting point."
"How about this?" Tahiri mused. "Here's a guess for you. Your gods are
actually a misunderstanding of the Force."
"The energy field you Jeedai claim informs your powers?" She sounded
dubious.
"You don't believe in the Force?"
"In the sense that it's clear you draw on some sort of energy to perform
your tricks, as your machines draw on a power source, yes. That does not mean
it is some all-pervasive mys-tical energy with a will of its own, as you
Jeedai seem to believe. Indeed, if it is, how can you explain the fact that
the Yuuzhan Vong do not exist in the Force?"
"Well, that's a mystery," Tahiri said. "But the Force isn't like a
battery. It's a lot bigger than that."
"So you believe. If so, perhaps your Force and our gods are both
misunderstandings of something that somehow encompasses us all."
Tahiri felt a little chill. That was what Anakin had be-lieved, or very
near.
"You believe that?" she asked.
"Certainly not," the shaper replied. "But... thank you."
"For what?"
"At least I have a guess to proceed from, for now." She glanced about.
"Where is Corran Horn?"
"He's taking a break before the next jump to hyperspace. What did you
need to see him about?"
"I don't want to raise any undue alarm, but I think some-thing is wrong
with the ship."
"Wrong?"
"Yes. The space-folding function of the dovin basals seemed erratic in
the last jump. I checked them, and there may be a problem."
"What sort of problem?"
"I think they are dying."

SIXTEEN

"Bilbringi system in ten minutes," Commander Raech of Mon Mothma
announced. "Prepare for iminent combat."
Wedge clasped his hands behind his back, didn't like the feel of it, and
crossed his arms in front of him instead, staring into the nothing of
hyperspace, wondering what would greet them when they decanted.
"You fought at Bilbringi before, didn't you sir?" Lieu-tenant Cel asked.
"Against Thrawn?"
Wedge gave her a tight grin with little real humor behind it. "Are you a
student of ancient history, Lieutenant?"
"No, sir-I was ten during the blockade of Coruscant. I remember it very
well."
"Well, yes, Lieutenant, I did fight here at Bilbringi-as an X-wing pilot.
I don't think I ever got anywhere near Thrawn."
"No, sir. You divided Thrawn's fleet by attacking the shipyards, didn't
you?"
Wedge looked at her, puzzled. "Now you're just sucking up," he said. "Who
would remember that?" he asked.
"They made a big deal of it on the vids," she said, a little abashed. "It
was a great victory."
"It was nearly a terrible defeat," Wedge said. "We got decanted early by
Imperial interdictors, too far from the shipyards. Thrawn wasn't even supposed
to be there at all-we'd set it up ten different ways to make it look like we
were going to hit Tangrene. But Thrawn was spooky that way. Absolutely
brilliant. If he hadn't been assassinated by his own body-guard during the
battle, there's no way we would have won."
"You sound as if you admired him, sir."
"Admired him? Sure I did. He was a different sort of enemy."
"Different from the Yuuzhan Vong, you mean, sir?"
"Different from the Vong, the Emperor, any other Grand Admiral-from
anyone," Wedge replied.
Cel nodded as if she knew what he meant. "What do you suppose Thrawn
would make of the Yuuzhan Vong, sir?"
"Ground Vong, probably-if he had a few examples of; their art."
"Yes, sir," Cel said. She paused. "I've heard good things i about Admiral
Pellaeon."
Wedge nodded briefly. "He was here, too. Of course, he; was with Thrawn,
fighting for the Empire. I'll have to ask him how he remembers that whole
thing, once this is over." It's like some weird reunion, he thought. Pash was
here then, as well, a starfighter pilot like me. Now he was the general in
charge of the flight group, Pash Cracken was the commander of Memory of Ithor,
and!
Pellaeon was on their side.
"The best thing about Pellaeon was that he knew his limitations," Wedge
said. "Don't get me wrong, he's a very good tactician and excellent at command
- but when Thrawn died, he didn't kid himself that he could salvage the
battle. That alone set him apart from most Imperial commanders, who more
usually had inflated opinions of themselves. It's why! we were able to beat
them early on. The Vong are a little like that."
He said that last more to reassure the obviously nervous lieutenant than
because it was the absolute truth. True, a lot of Yuuzhan Vong commanders
fought on when they ought to retreat, but it was from a very different
sensibility than what had motivated, say, Grand Moff Tarkin. A more dangerous
sensibility.
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said. "Let's just hope we don't get surprised
at Bilbringi."
"Lieutenant," he said, as the reversion alarm began belling, "I can
promise you that if we are, I'm absolutely never coming to this system again."
But realspace brought no surprises. They decanted ex-actly as planned,
and in a few moments tactical displays began explaining, in their mechanical
way, the situation. Which was also pretty much what they had expected.
Below them, toward Bilbringi's primary, were what had once been the
Bilbringi shipyards. Some of the shipyard structures were still there, though
the Golan II Battle Sta-tions that had guarded them were conspicuously absent.
And in the asteroid belt near the shipyards, the Yuuzhan Vong had set up their
own shipyards. Of course, the Yuu-zhan Vong grew their ships, feeding them the
raw materials of the asteroids.
Finally, there was a sizable flotilla assembled. He counted two
interdictor cruisers-made obvious by their spicular configuration-and twelve
additional capital ships ranging in size from about half to nearly twice the
size of Mon Mothma. His battle group was less than a third as large, but then
again, he was less than a third of what was really in store for the Yuuzhan
Vong at Bilbringi.
"Orders, General?" Commander Raech asked.
"Start bringing us in," Wedge said. "Pellaeon and Kre'fey are under
orders not to rendezvous here until we've assessed the situation and given the
clear, and pinpointed their most strategic positions. Let's do our job and
make sure we don't lead them into a trap."
"Very good, sir."
The battle group began to move in.
"Sir," the officer at control informed him, "message coming in from
Memory ofIthor. For you, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, I'll take it."
A moment later, Pash Cracken's voice came over the comm. "Well, General,"
Pash said, "seems like old times."
"Yes, I was just thinking that, too," Wedge replied. "At least things are
starting smoother this time."
"You can say that again. Boy, they've really redecorated, haven't they?"
"Yep. Maybe I'll hire them to do my place on Chan-drila," Wedge quipped.
"Right. Early Vong deco. Whoops-looks like they're moving," Pash said.
"I'll let you get back to the general thing. Don't forget I'm back here, okay?
"
"That's not likely. Good to have you on my wing, Pash."
"Thanks, Wedge."
Wedge turned his attention back to the coming battle. The Yuuzhan Vong
ships were in motion, all right, forming quickly into two groups. One was
about the size of his own, and included one of the interdictors. The other,
more mas-sive group began moving away from the shipyards.
"Steady," he said. "They're still a long way away. Let's see if they do
what I'm hoping-hah."
The smaller battle group vanished from sight and screen.
"Microjump, sir," Cel reported excitedly. "They're be-hind us now."
"Sure. They're putting us between the two interdictors so we can't leave.
They've got all they need to crush us, and they know it." He studied the
chart. "So we'll have Pellaeon drop in here in sector six, and Kre'fey in
twelve." He looked it over one more time. Was he missing anything?
"Control," he ordered, "send those coordinates to the re-spective fleets.
" He turned to the commander. "Battle sta-tions, but no hurry. We'll engage
the smaller fleet, try to make it look like we've bitten off more than we can
chew and are trying to take out the interdictor so we can run along home. Our
reinforcements will be here long before the second group catches us-they won't
be microjumping with those interdictors going."
The voice of control came back. "General, we seem to have a problem."
"Yes?"
"We can't seem to contact either Beta or Gamma."
"Can't seem to or can't?" Wedge asked.
"Can't, sir."
"Contact central control and have them relay the coordi-nates, then."
"Sir, we can't reach Mon Cal, either. Or anyplace else. It's like the
entire comm network has gone down."
Wedge looked back at the shaping battle. If he didn't call the other
commanders, they wouldn't show up. The battle plan was absolutely clear on
that point-better to lose one battle group to some unexpected Vong tactic or
invention than three. Without the other two flotillas, this could get pretty
nasty, and not for the Yuuzhan Vong.
"Yes, Lieutenant," he murmured. "I think I've just about had it with
Bilbringi."

SEVENTEEN

Han Solo gazed unhappily at one of the most beautiful sunsets he had ever
seen. And he had seen a lot of sunsets on a lot of different worlds, but as
Mon Calamari's primary hit the ocean horizon and threw its shadow across the
waves, the sky went as subtle and iridescent as mother-of-pearl.
Gaudy sunsets were easy to come by, especially on worlds with dense or
dusty atmospheres-understated beauty was more difficult, not only because it
was rare, but also be-cause it sometimes took a lifetime to learn to
appreciate it, Which was why it was too bad he couldn't really enjoy it.
The problem wasn't with the sunset-it was that he was on Mon Calamari to
see it.
"We can't fight every battle in this war," Leia pointed out.
"What?" Han grumped. "/ didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. You've been brooding ever since Twin Suns pulled
out. In fact, since Tahiri left."
"We should've gone with her," he opined.
"Which one? Jaina or Tahiri?"
"Take your pick."
Leia shook her head. "Jaina's a starfighter pilot. It's what she wants to
be. It's where she sees her duty. She's been flying with the Galactic Alliance
forces for months now. If we tried to horn our way into the Bilbringi push
somehow, she'd-well, she wouldn't like it, to say the least. And Tahiri-Corran
can take care of her. I know he can." She crossed her arms. " But that's not
it, is it?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"You're bored. Two weeks without someone trying to kill us, and you're
bored out of your mind."
"I'm not bored," Han replied. "I just-there must be something we can be
doing besides sitting around looking at sunsets."
Leia sighed and settled into one of the divans. She gave him one of those
looks. "Nothing's happened in, oh, days that needs you, Han. Sure, things are
happening, but they're things almost any competent pilot could deal with. But
when something comes along only Han Solo can handle..."
"All right, that's enough sarcasm for one night," Han said. It was a
mistake. A glimmer of hurt appeared in her eyes.
"I'm only being slightly sarcastic, Han," Leia said. "Maybe not at all.
In war, sometimes the most important thing-and the hardest-is to just sit
still."
He made a face. "You really know how to..."
She reached out and took his hand. "Stop right there," she said, "and I
may show you something else I know how to..." She trailed off suggestively.
"I dunno," Han said. "It's an awfully nice sunset."
Leia gestured to the place next to her on the divan and raised her
eyebrows.
Han shrugged. "You've seen one sunset, you've seen 'em all."
Something pinging interrupted his sleep. Han sat up and muzzily looked
around for the source, finally identifying it as the comm unit in their room.
Easing out of bed, he stum-bled toward it and opened the channel.
"Yeah?" he mumbled. "This has to be good."
"I'm not sure good is the right word, Solo," a distorted voice said.
Han snorted. He wasn't falling for that again.
"Cut it out, Droma, and tell me what's up. What's the Ryn network into
now?"
"I've no idea what you mean, Solo," the voice replied.
"But something is definitely up."
"Look, it's late-no, it's early," Han said, rubbing his eyes with palm of
his hand. "What is it?"
"The Vong have deployed something new, maybe..." - Droma said. "They
launched them a few days ago. Some kind of unpiloted drones, we think, unless
they've developed some really small pilots."
Han was wide awake now. "What kind of drones?"
"We don't know what they do, if that's what you mean. But it can't be
good. Figured I'd give you a heads-up. You might mention it to the military,
too."
"Yeah, I might," Han said. "Is that all you can tell me?"
"At this time, yes. We're trying to track one of them, but they're
slippery."
"Some kind of weapon?"
"If I knew that I would tell you. But the Vong are excited about them."
"Thanks," Han said. Then more heavily "And Droma, if this is you-I don't
appreciate the subterfuge. I mean, security is security, but I thought the two
of us-"
But he was talking to a dead comm.
"Who was that?" Leia asked, from behind him. He hadn't heard her
approach, but he wasn't surprised, either.
"One of our pals in the Ryn network, I think. Maybe Droma. You heard?"
"Yes."
He reached for the comm. "I'd better pass this on." But when he tried to
call control, he got put on hold. ALL CIRCUITS RESERVED FOR MILITARY PURPOSES.
He frowned at the device, and then started for where he'd left his
trousers.
"I'm going down there," he said.
"I'm right with you."
They arrived to a tense but relatively quiet situation room. They were
greeted briefly by Sien Sow.
"The first wave is about to go in," the Sullustan said. "Under Antilles.
He should be coming out of hyperspace in five minutes."
"Mind if we stay?" Han asked. "When you've got a spare minute I have
something to brief you on."
"Of course you may stay. Your daughter is with Antilles, isn't she?"
"Last I heard. But that's not why I came down."
"Can it wait, then?"
"I think so, "Han said.
He watched Sow return to control, feeling itchy. He hadn't spent much
time in situation rooms-he'd always been on the other end of things, mostly
ignoring everything he heard from control. Sure, battle computers were great,
but they didn't feel anything. They didn't have instinct to help them out.
"General Sow!" someone shouted.
"What is it?"
"Admiral Pellaeon hasn't reported in, sir. He was sup-posed to alert us
when he had reached position for the Bil-bringi jump."
"What's the problem?"
"The HoloNet relay in that area seems to be down."
"Can you boost the signal from the next nearest?"
"I can try." The comm technician frowned and fiddled with something.
"Sir, transmission coming through from HoloNet relay Delta-aught-six!"
"Put it on."
An excited voice crackled over the comm. "... some kind of ships, very
small. They look Vong, but don't fit any of our profiles. We can't get them
all. Six of them have..." Loud static replaced the voice.
Small ships?
The drones his unknown caller had warned him about?
"We've just lost touch with Gamma," another communications officer
reported. He punched wildly at his controls and then looked up, his face very
pale. "Sir, the HoloNet's down. I can't find a live relay anywhere."
"General," Han said, "I think my news just became a lot more important."
"The HoloNet is down," General Sow confirmed twenty standard minutes
later, in a hastily convened meeting of the war council. "The cause is
undetermined, though there is some evidence that it's due to a new Yuuzhan
Vong weapon-some sort of drone."
"Some evidence?" Han interrupted. "You heard the report from Tantiss
Station."
Sow conceded that with a nod. "We assume the other stations were
destroyed in the same way," he said. "What-ever the details, it seems clear
that this was an extremely well-coordinated strike at the heart of our
communications network. The timing is... suspicious."
"But not conclusive," Bel Iblis said. "They may have known we were
planning to strike-they probably did - but not where. By taking down the
entire HoloNet, they jeopardize our success whatever our target."
"I tend to agree," Sow said. "An examination of when the relays went off-
line indicates that the first to go were not those nearest Bilbringi. In fact,
the process seems to have started some time ago, albeit in sectors we aren't
for the most part in communication with anyway. Still, your whole point
remains valid. Without the HoloNet to coordinate the other two fleets, General
Antilles is very much on his own.
Jaina, Leia thought. But her daughter was still alive. She could feel
that much.
"Then all that fighting we did at Esfandia was for nothing?" she said.
"We don't know if Esfandia is still up or not-all the re-lays linking it
Coreward are gone, though. We're as cut off as the fleets."
"General Antilles is no fool," Bel Iblis said. "The other fleets have
orders not to make the jump to Bilbringi without his go-ahead. When he
realizes he's lost his lines of commu-nication, he'll retreat, as per his
orders."
"If he can," Han said. "But if they were expecting the attack-or even if
they weren't, and they have interdictors-he'll have to fight his way out."
"Can he do that?" Leia asked.
"No," Sow replied. "Our intelligence tells us that the Vong fleet at
Bilbringi is too strong for Antilles to defeat without backup."
"And the Vong haven't lost their communications," Bel Iblis pointed out.
"They can call for backup anytime."
"What will Pellaeon and Kre'fey do when they don't hear from Wedge?" Leia
asked.
"They will hold their positions for a time, but when they're sure no
communication is forthcoming-"
"Oh, it's forthcoming," Han said. "Which force is larger?" "Beta-the
Imperials."
"Where is it?" Han demanded.
"That's classified, Captain Solo," Sow said.
"Classified?" Han sputtered. "This whole thing has al-ready gone south,
General. I say we need to salvage what we can."
"What do you propose, Solo?" Bel Iblis asked.
"We don't have the HoloNet. Hyperwave's not good enough for those
distances. The only thing we have faster than light is ships, and the
Millennium Falcon is the fastest ship there is."
"He's right," Leia said. "We need to set up a courier service, and fast.
It's not just this battle, either-the Yuuzhan Vong will certainly take
advantage of this blackout to strike. We could lose whole star systems without
knowing about it."
"Yeah, but they are already too thin to keep the systems I they have,"
Han said. "But our main concern right now-"
"....is the fleet," Sow replied. "Quite right. General Solo, if you're
willing, I'm putting you in charge of a courier ser-vice to the fleet. Find
four other ships, military or otherwise, but people you trust. Reestablish the
lines of communication between Antilles, Pellaeon, and Kre'fey. I'll also take
suggestions on someone to head up a more widespread emergency information
service. As it stands now, we are in a vacuum, and everything we have won is
in jeopardy."

EIGHTEEN

"Well?" Corran asked Nen Yim. "What can you tell me?"
They had made four more jumps since Nen Yim had given them the assessment
of the ship's living engines, and each had been rougher than the last. The
vessel's pain had gone from a pinprick to an aching throb, and Corran was
happy that most of the ships he flew hadn't had feelings.
Sure, it handled well-when it wasn't sick.
"The deterioration is marked," Nen Yim said. "The dovin hasals were
damaged by the Imperial ship, and the gravitic strains of repeated jumps have
worsened their condition."
"Why didn't you tell me this before the repeated jumps?" Corran asked.
"It took a few passes through darkspace before I could be certain. Also..
." She paused, and her tendrils writhed like snakes. "Also, I think my
coupling of a Yuuzhan Vong drive with a ship designed for an unliving drive
may have been im-perfect and contributed to the deterioration. The wound only
hastened this. Each time we jump, micro gravitic anomalies appear inside or
very near the dovin basals."
"Eating them from within," Corran said. "Wonderful. Can this be repaired?
"
For the first time since Corran had met her, Nen Yim actually seemed
apologetic. "No," she said. "Not with the resources available here. Also, it
is clear that my understanding of Sekotan biology is flawed, or this would not
be hap-pening. I need more samples."
"I don't think it's biology," Tahiri said. "I think it's the Force."
They both turned to her. "Explain," Corran said.
"This ship exists in the Force," Tahiri explained. "You can [feel it,
can't you, Corran? And the nearer we get to Sekot-"
"The stronger the connection becomes," he agreed. "Yeah, I've felt that."
It was as if the ship was eagerly returning to a long-lost family.
"So maybe this ship is rejecting the engines, because they j don't exist
in the Force, and the closer we get to Zonama Sekot, the stronger that
rejection becomes."
"That seems unlikely," Nen Yim said. "The Force, what-1 ever it may be,
should not govern simple biological reac-tions. The links between the Sekotan
ship and our engines should work."
"Yet they don't, and you don't know why," Tahiri said, a I little too
smugly for Corran's tastes. Still, he was impressed with her reasoning.
"Granted," Nen Yim reluctantly acquiesced.
Tahiri leaned against the bulkhead and crossed her arms,
"Look, you said it yourself-you need a guess to start from, You've been
asking why Yuuzhan Vong and Sekotan tech-nology are so similar. Turn that
around-how are interferent! Because if Sekotan life-forms exist in the For.
Yuuzhan Vong life-forms don't, somewhere, somehow, there must be a big
difference."
Nen Yim's tentacles contracted, writhed briefly, and set-tled against her
head.
"It's a place to start," she admitted.
"That still doesn't help us now," Corran pointed out. "If we're stranded
in space without any means of communication, that's going to remain
speculation." He folded his j arms across his chest. "Oh, and plus, we'll die.
"
"The engines can stand another jump, maybe two or three, if we do it
soon," Nen Yim offered.
Corran sighed, looking at his charts, which were easily as speculative as
the topic they were discussing. He suddenly, powerfully, missed Mirax, Valin,
and Jysella, and even that nasty father-in-law of his. In fact, it was
actually kind of handy, having a father-in-law who might drop in with his big
red Star Destroyer to save the day.
Wasn't likely to happen this time, though.
"It's risky," he said, coming back to the moment, "but I believe I could
get us to the system in one more jump, as-suming there's not an uncharted
black hole in our path. But if Tahiri is right, as soon as we arrive, the
engines will fail, if they don't fail during the jump."
"But we'll be there," Tahiri said. "And even if we can't land, Master
Skywalker, Jacen, and Mara can help us."
"The alternative is to stay here and wait for the do-vin basals to die-or
to attempt another destination," Nen Yim said.
"Well, maybe if we're going away from Zonama Sekot..." Corran began.
Nen Yim shook her head, a very human gesture. Corran wondered if she had
learned the negative from being around Tahiri and him. "Even," she said, "if
we accept the young Jeedai's idea as a working hypothesis, it would only
predict the rate of deterioration to slow if we go elsewhere. The damage
already done will not heal."
"Three jumps, then, best-case scenario?"
"I don't understand that phrase, but I would expect no more than three
jumps. Fewer would be better."
"Fine," Corran said. "We go ahead, then. Everybody to crash couches. This
could get rough."
It got rough.
Even before reversion, something felt wrong, and the instant they hit
normal space the stars went out again as the ship somehow made an extra
microjump of its own. In the jolting, Corran was reminded of a stone skipping
on water, and hoped it was a poor analogy and they didn't keep on jumping.
Existence rushed back, but there were no stars-instead, enormous bands of
roiling red and yellow filled their tum-bling view.
Tumbling... and falling down a gravity well, Corran realized. They were
caught in the pull of a titanic planet, at least the size of Yavin 4, probably
larger. The controls and the ship's feelings told him that one of the dovin
basals was completely off-line-or in shock, or dead, or whatever-which meant
they weren't going to be doing any starhopping anytime soon. The other two
were working, though one was fading fast.
"Come on, baby," Corran grunted, trying to get the wild spin under
control and establish a stable orbit. But something was throwing everything
off, and the pull was so strong There was another pull, too. The ship felt it,
felt Zonama Sekot, and it wanted to go home.
He managed to kill the tumble and roll, which made it at I least possible
to get their bearings. His sensors were showing I another planet, this one
roughly the size of Corellia, about a hundred thousand klicks away. And there
was something els e, too, something in orbit around it. A moon? They were too
far away to tell.
"We've got a chance," he said. "If we can get close enough to Zonama
Sekot, its gravity well will have a stronger pull on us than the big planet.
If the engines quit now-well, we're all going to gain some weight."
He pulled the drive levers back, and the ship throbbed in protest. The
air suddenly smelled foul, like burning hair and fish oil.
"Not much more," he whispered to the ship. "But more." The second dovin
basal suddenly hummed awake-he could feel it like a heart near breaking,
sending pulses of agony through everything else, but the ship suddenly surged
forward. Then the heart did break, and the indicators went dark. Only one
engine remained now.
"What now?" Tahiri whispered. "Did we make it?"
"I don't know yet. We're right at the break point."
"Maybe we should all go stand on the side of the ship nearest Zonama
Sekot," Tahiri said.
"Funny," Corran said, and without even thinking he reached over and
mussed her hair.
She jerked away as if he had attacked her.
"Sorry," he said.
"No, it's my fault," Tahiri said, going red. "It's just-"
She broke off helplessly.
"The head," Nen Yim explained. "In Domain Kwaad, we do not touch the
head."
Corran regarded the snakelike coils on hers. "Yes, I guess not," he said.
I have to let go, he thought.
Whatever she is, Tahiri isn't Anakin's little friend anymore. Of course,
that happened even without Yuuzhan Vong interference. He wasn't even sure what
sort of music Valin liked these days, but it probably wasn't what he
remembered. Yes, when he got back from this he was going home, for a long
time. Or, rather if he got back...
He looked at the instruments. "Oh, yes," he said. "We made it." He
pointed at Zonama Sekot. "We're falling that way now."
"You did it," Tahiri said.
"The ship did it," Corran replied. "Of course..."
"What?"
He flashed her a smile. "Of course, we are still falling, and while the
jolt at the end won't be quite as hard, it's still going to smart."
"It's always going to be something with you, isn't it? Tahiri said.
"You've got a dovin basal left."
"For how long? If we can't find Luke-"
"I'm trying," Tahiri informed him. "I've been trying since we got here.
But all I can sense is that planet. It's so strong in the Force it drowns
everything else out."
"I'll try, too," Corran said. "It may be our only hope. Shaper, if
there's anything you can do for that last dovin basal..."
"I will attend to it," Nen Yim replied. They watched the moon grow. Both
Jedi continued to j reach out through the Force, but if Jacen and the rest
were * there, Tahiri certainly couldn't sense them. It was like lis - j tening
for a voice in a sandstorm.
"Perhaps it isn't the right planet," Harrar suggested.
"It is the planet," the Prophet averred. "The planet of [prophecy. Can't
you feel it?"
Harrar frowned. "I feel-" He snapped his head side to side. "No, nothing.
"
"This ought to be the place," Corran replied. "The ship certainly thinks
it is."
He checked his long-range sensors again. Whatever was orbiting the planet
had moved behind the horizon now. He wasn't sure, but the last read on it had
looked suspiciously like an Imperial frigate.
Luke had been escorted by an Imperial frigate, or so Kenth had told him.
If he could somehow make orbit a link lower and faster than the ship, they
could eventually catch it. j And maybe get blasted out of space. Unless he
could hang some sort of sign out declaring his peaceful intentions. The Imps
still might shoot him down just for the fun of it. Looking at his trajectory,
he suddenly realized that he didn't even have a choice.
"Ah, Sithspit," he grumbled.
"What is it? "Tahiri asked.
"Remind me to never fly a ship that has a mind of its own, especially a
homesick one," Corran said. "It's got us on a landing vector."
"That is what we want, is it not?" the Prophet asked.
"Yes, but it would be nice to land near our friends,"
Corran replied, "especially since I've a feeling we won't be taking off
again-not in this ship."
"I suggest survival is our first priority," Yu'shaa answered.
"Point. Okay, folks, we're about to say a close hello to Zonama Sekot. I
suggest you all strap back in. The slow part of this trip is over."
He hit the atmosphere too steeply, and had to apply a hard push from the
dovin basal to correct. The ship winced, but did its job, and they whistled
down through the upper atmosphere. He felt the skin temperature climb, and
again cut the engine in, trying to stay above terminal velocity. Burning up
would be no better than crashing.
Water and jungle whipped by beneath, and Corran had to agree with Harrar-
it looked like any of a hundred worlds. But it felt different. Tahiri was
right-the Force was strong here, but strange, and put up a sort of white noise
he couldn't filter through. Now and then he thought he might feel Luke, but it
was never more than a glimpse or a glimmer.
He had more important things to worry about. The tree-tops were coming up
fast. It was time to brake for real. He engaged the dovin basal and felt it
falter almost im-mediately, and then kick back in. Their airspeed dropped, but
not nearly quickly enough. He couldn't push the engine any harder even if he
wanted to, though. He'd diverted all its ability to cancel inertia in the
cabin so he could use it to fly, and the g's were already mounting to his own
tolerance level, which was pretty high. He cut the angle harder, trav-eling
closer and closer to horizontal to the ground, wishing the Sekotan craft had
wings, so if the dovin basal failed en-tirely he would at least have a chance.
A hundred meters from the ground, he still wasn't level,
Fifty, almost there...
They mowed a swath through treetops and the dovin basal went suddenly
off-line. Unpowered, the ship was a hollow rock thrown by a giant, and without
an inertial compensator they were going to be pasted all over the inside of
it. There's the unity we're looking for, he thought grimly. Yuu-zhan Vong and
human, all mixed together in one nasty...
They hit something very hard, and then, desperately, he reached out
through the Force, felt Tahiri reaching out too, and then...
Then he felt Sekot, immense, powerful, and indifferent,
But something happened, a connection, and they were sud-denly falling
like a feather...
For just a second. Then free fall returned, and instants later they came
to ground, hard.
"Interesting landing, Jeedai Horn," Harrar remarked.
"How is everyone?" Corran turned painfully in his seat to survey his
companions.
The return chorus assured him that everyone had made it through.
Everyone but the ship, that is. The glow was going out of it, and the
little voice in his head was a whisper, fading. Sorry, he sent through the
Force.
But you got us here. Thank you. Then he felt it go.
He looked out through the viewport at a forested landscape,
"Well," he told the others, "we seem to be here. I suggest we see if the
hatch will open, and find out just what we came all this way for."

PART THREE

TRANSFIGURATION

NINETEEN

"No, not again," Han snapped as the Falcon dropped suddenly from
hyperspace. "This is really starting to get old." How many times was he going
to get pulled out by Yuuzhan Vong interdictor analogs? There weren't even
supposed to be any Vong here.
He threw the ship into a series of evasive maneuvers.
"Okay, where are you scar-faced clowns?" he growled.
"It's not Yuuzhan Vong," Leia said. "Look."
He did look, and had to resist the temptation to rub his eyes. For there,
silhouetted against the bright stars of the Core, was an Imperial interdictor.
He noticed the comm was buzzing for attention. "Put 'em on," Han managed.
A moment later, a terse voice filtered into the cockpit. "Unidentified
vessel, this is Captain Mynar Devis of the Imperial cruiser Wrack. Identify
yourself immediately."
"Some things don't change," Leia murmured.
"Easy, honey. I think it's kind of romantic. Takes me back. Anyway, it
has to be part of Pellaeon's bunch." He keyed to answer. "Wrack, this is
Millennium Falcon. Looks like you're a little lost. The Imperial Remnant is
about twenty parsecs from here. Do you mind telling me whose or-ders you're
under?" There was a gravid pause. Then the voice returned.
"Captain Solo, I presume. You're every bit as insolent as I'd heard."
"Now, listen..." Han began, but the captain cut him off.
"And it's a great pleasure to meet you." Devis suddenly sounded very
young. "I thought I recognized Millennium Falcon from the holos, but I
couldn't be positive. How can I be of service?"
"Ah..." For a rare moment, Han was speechless. "Well, nice to meet you,
too," he said. Not exactly what he'd been expecting, even with the recent
alliance. He had a fan in the Empire? "But I suppose I still need an answer to
my question before we continue this little love fest."
"Of course, sir. I'm here under orders from Grand Ad-miral Pellaeon."
"In connection with Operation Trinity?"
"Yes. I-ah-wasn't informed you were involved, sir."
"I just got drafted. In fact, I'm on the way to meet with the Grand
Admiral. What are you guys doing, watching the back door?"
"Excuse me? I-o h, I see. Yes, sir. The Grand Admiral placed interdictors
on all the major routes leading to the fleet's location."
"Smart," Han said. "Someone comes along and you yank them out of
hyperspace and send a warning to the fleet. Dan-gerous position. What happens
if a whole Yuuzhan Vong flotilla jumps in here?"
"We're to delay any forces that arrive here as long as we can, then jump.
Unfortunately, our mission has been impacted by some sort of trouble with the
local HoloNet relay. We can't get a message through to Grand Admiral Pellaeon.
"
"It's not just the local relay," Han informed him. "The whole thing's
going down. Some sort of new Vong weapon, we think. Communication has been
lost between the fleets-that's why we're here. Have you sent any couriers?"
"Yes, Captain Solo. We had an incident not long after we lost
communication. We sent a courier to report it and re-ceive orders."
"Incident? What sort of incident?"
"We pulled a ship out of hyperspace. We gave pursuit, but it launched
some sort of weapon that disabled our for-ward gravity-well generator."
"Vong?"
"I don't know. What sensor readings we got made it as organic, but it
didn't match any known profiles of Yuuzhan Vong ships."
"That's no surprise," Han said. "Every time you turn around, they've
grown something new."
"Their escape vector didn't put it going anywhere near the fleets, but it
must have reported us. The courier returned and told us to hold our position."
"That's good," Han told Leia. "That means Pellaeon hasn't pulled out of
the whole thing. He's still waiting on word from Wedge."
"Which we don't have," Leia said.
"Right. To get that, we'd have to go to Bilbringi."
"Which is not what our orders were," Leia reminded him.
"True," Han said. "And I'm such a stickler for orders..."
He opened the channel again. "Captain Devis, could you do me a favor and
send another courier? "
"Yes, of course."
"Thanks. Tell the Grand Admiral we're going to see what's going on with
Alpha. As soon as we know something, we'll report back directly to him."
"Yes, sir. Captain Solo?"
"Yes?"
"If Alpha is fighting without backup, things may be pretty hot there. May
I send an escort with you? I could spare a few TIE defenders."
"I don't..."
"Han," Leia said. "He's right. And if we get stuck, one of the TIEs might
be able to slip out with a report."
Han nodded reluctantly. "As long as they don't get in my way," he said.
He opened the channel. "Thanks-the help is appreciated."
"It's easily given. I've been following your career since I was five
years old, sir."
"Well, let's hope there's plenty more for you to follow," Han replied.
"I'll see to it," Devis said.
A few moments later, three TIE defenders came streaking their way.
"Hi, fellows," Han told them. "I'm sending jump coordinates. Try to keep
up with us."
"We'll do our best, sir," the flight leader replied. Han wrinkled his
brow. "Devis?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Since when does the captain of an interdictor trade down for a
starfighter?"
"Since interdiction duty is boring, sir. I'll sort it out with the Grand
Admiral later. Easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, as they say."
"Okay," Han said. "Looks like the interdiction field is down. Let's go do
this."

TWENTY

A shock ran through Nen Yim as she stepped onto the leaf-littered soil of
Zonama Sekot. It went from her toes to the tips of her tendril headdress and
left her gaping. She remembered the first time she had set foot on a real
planet of stone and soil and biosphere-it had been the moon of Yavin 4, just
before her elevation to adept. She had been filled with wonder, fasci-nation,
and trepidation. To appearances, Zonama Sekot was not much different from
Yavin-vegetation towered in a high canopy above her, and strange sounds of
insects and animals created a steady drone. And yet-yet it was dif-ferent.
Yavin 4 had been utterly alien to everything she had ever known, and even
Yuuzhan'tar, now bioformed with plants and animals from the lost homeworld,
felt wrong,
But this place felt right, as even the worldship she had grown up on
never had. It was as if a piece of her had been cut off and, until it was
replaced, she hadn't even known to miss it.
She realized her mouth was open and closed it. She glanced at her
companions, all of whom had come out of the ruined Sekotan ship by now. Harrar
and the Prophet looked stunned, as she must. The two Jeedai looked curious,
but the planet clearly hadn't had the impact on them that it had on her. Of
course, she found human faces difficult to read, despite their similarity in
structure.
She tried to shake the feeling off so she could observe ob-jectively.
Could there be some sort of pollen in the air, some microbe that affected
Yuuzhan Vong but not humans? Possibly. Something that lulled the thinking mind
and created feelings of belonging. Such drugs had been used on the worldships
in the deeps of space to keep the population from going mad in the long dark.
"I must begin immediately," she said.
"This is the place," the Prophet asserted. Oddly enough, he sounded
surprised. Harrar said nothing, but the look he shot the Prophet could only
have been described as respect. Suddenly annoyed, Nen Yim went back into the
ship to get some of her tools. After a moment, she realized Yu'shaa was
following her.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I would like to assist you."
"I need no assistance from-" She didn't finish.
The Prophet pulled himself up before her. "A Shamed One?" he said. "Come,
Nen Yim. You are a thinker, and, I think, a heretic of a sort. Can't you see
past my disfigure-ments and understand that you and I are here for the same
purpose?"
A hot, unfamiliar feeling passed through her, and her ten-drils twitched
in consternation.
"Very well," she said. "This ship is no longer suitable to function as a
laboratory. I wish to move my apparati out-side and contrive some sort of
shelter. You may help with that, if you wish."
"You will not regret this, Master Yim."
She nodded, and continued toward the back of the ship. It bothered her,
speaking with a Shamed One, but she knew it should not.
Corran wiped the sweat from his brow. "After this," he said, "our next
priority is to find Luke." He sliced his lightsaber through the base of
another sapling and added it to the pile. Nearby, Tahiri did the same.
"There. That ought to be enough for the frame."
"I don't know about you, but the planet is still interfering with my
senses. How do we find Master Skywalker without the Force?" Tahiri asked.
"It's a big planet. We can't just start walking and hope to run into him."
"No, but this place is supposed to be inhabited-by Fer-roans, if I
understand correctly, and they ought to be able to help us get in contact with
the others."
"I haven't seen any signs of civilization," Tahiri said.
"Neither have I," Corran admitted. "But tomorrow I'll start looking. Just
short searches, and maybe I can talk Harrar and the Prophet into going with
me."
"What about me?" Tahiri asked. "What do I do?"
"I want you to keep an eye on the shaper. You know her better than I do.
What I don't want is any of them left to their own devices for too long."
"Okay," Tahiri replied.
Corran slung the poles over his shoulder and started back toward the
clearing near the ship where Nen Yim was de-positing a variety of weird biots.
"What have you done?" Harrar asked when he saw them. His tone was dense
with reproach.
"Nen Yim said she needed a shelter," Corran explained.
"The ship is pretty twisted up and probably won't be very pleasant when
its organic components start to deteriorate, so that means building a hut.
These will furnish the frame."
"You killed living things to build a shelter? We're to stay indeadlife?"
"Unless you brougjit the means to grow your own, yes. I don't know abojit
yd*u, but I don't want to sleep in the rain. Unless you have a better idea."
"I...consider," the priest pleaded. "We came to this place following the
legends of a living planet, a planet like no other. If these legends are true,
is it best we begin by killing things? What if the planet is angered?"
"I never thought I would hear a Yuuzhan Vong say any-thing remotely like
that," Corran said. "You guys started this war by wiping out not just a few
saplings but entire ecosystems. Remember Belkadan? Remember Ithor?"
"Yes," Harrar said, stonily. He seemed to want to say more, but he
didn't.
Corran glanced at the saplings. "Unfortunately," he con-fessed, "you're
right, I wasn't thinking. Which means, I suppose, we need to find some sort of
natural shelter. A cave, maybe, or a rock shelter. There might be some in the
high ground to the east of here. Would you care to accom-pany me, Harrar?"
"I would," the priest said. "And-thank you for consid-ering my words."
"What about you, Yu'shaa?" Corran asked, hopefully.
"I'm about to go on a collecting expedition," Nen Yim said. "He will
accompany me."
"That sounds neat," Tahiri said. "Can I go?" Aces, kid, Corran thought.
The shaper shrugged noncommittally.
Tahiri shared a quick mental smile with Corran. He was amazed at how
quickly she had turned a misstep into an op-portunity, solving their immediate
problems rather neatly. He wished she could deal with social situations as
conveniently. Nom Anor watched Nen Yim move among canelike plants, stroking
them with her shaper's hand and occasionally recording cryptic entries in a
portable qahsa. The Jedi brat sat on a log some distance away, pretending not
to be interested, but she was watching them, nonetheless.

The shaper had been "collecting" for hours, but so far as Nom Anor could
see, she hadn't collected anything. She had examined trees, shrubs, moss,
fungi, and arthropods with singular intensity. She hadn't shared anything of
what she was thinking, though the expressions that flitted across her usually
impassive face indicated that she found much to think about.
One thing had come clear, though-Shimrra was right to fear this planet.
He had seen the faces of his Yuuzhan Vong companions, knew they felt the same
affinity for this world that he did. When he'd made his prophecy, he'd been
min-ing a few scraps of intelligence and some very old-and strongly forbidden-
legends. He hadn't believed it himself, of course. He'd been trying to give
his followers a ray of hope in otherwise dark times. Give them something
specific to fight for-a homeworld, and redemption.
Now he had to revise all of that. Zonama Sekot was real, and it seemed
not at all impossible that it could be the planet of legend.
Of course, in the legends it was taboo. The legends for-bade even
entering the galaxy where such a planet was found. What did that mean? Had the
Yuuzhan Vong battled with Zonama Sekot in the past, and lost? Had Shimrra
known about the planet's presence here even before the in-vasion began? There
had been rumors that Quoreal had balked at invading. Then Quoreal was dead,
and Shimrra ascended to the throne. Had the Supreme Overlord gone against
prophecy, against the gods themselves?
Or was the legend somehow wrong? Zonama Sekot certainly did not feel
taboo. It didn't matter. This was his moment. With his prophecy proven true,
more and more Shamed Ones would flock to him. His army would grow,
unstoppable, until Shimrra fell, and Nom Anor rose...
Yes. Rose to govern not the glorious Yuuzhan Vong, but a state of Shamed
Ones.
Ah, well. Better than death, and better than nothing.
A gasp from Nen Yim cut short his reverie. He looked and saw her bent
over yet another plant, one that consisted of long filamentlike fronds. Or
perhaps it wasn't a plant, for the fronds seemed to be moving of their own
accord.
"What is it? "he asked.
"A lim tree," she murmured. She looked stunned. "Or a very close
relative."
Nom Anor had never heard of a lim tree. Before he could ask what one was,
and why she seemed so surprised, she turned to him, her eyes nearly ferocious.
"Do you truly believe this is the planet of your prophecy?"
"Of course," Nom Anor replied. "Why else would I risk the perils involved
in finding it?"
"From whence came this prophecy?" she demanded.
"From a vision I had-of this world, shining like a beacon, like a new
star in the skies of Yuuzhan'tar."
"In the skies of Yuuzhan'tar?"
"That was my vision," he said. "But prophecy is not al-ways literal. We
are in the sky of Yuuzhan'tar, though at such a vast distance that even the
star this planet orbits is probably unseen. I believe it meant that Zonama
Sekot was here, in the stars, waiting only for us to find it and be worthy of
it. And so we have."
"And you believe it will redeem the Shamed Ones?"
"Yes. But not just the Shamed Ones. Once they are re-deemed, all of us
are."
"But this vision," she persisted. "Where did it come from?"
"I do not know the true source of my visions," Nom Anor said carefully.
"Only that they are always true. Per-haps the gods send them. Perhaps this
planet itself sent them. What does it matter?"
"Because that is a lim tree," she said.
"I do not understand you."
"The lim tree was a plant of the homeworld. It has long been extinct
except as a code in the Qang qahsa. I grew one for myself, to adorn my
apartment at Shimrra's court."
"And now you find one here. Curious."
"No, not curious, impossible."
He waited for her to explain further.
"These other things," she said, "these plants and crea-tures around us,
they share much with our own biota at the cellular and molecular level. That
is one thing I came here to confirm-the Sekotan ship might have been a fluke,
a false similarity that arose from similar engineering. But this life you see
all around us evolved naturally, or at least most of it did. It does not bear
the mark of shaping. And though, as I said, there is reason to believe we are
biologically related to all of this-no other species I have seen here
corresponds on any one-to-one basis with the extinct life-forms of the
homeworld."
"And yet this lim tree is one of our species."
"Yes. The differences between this tree and a lim are small enough that
they must have shared a common an-cestor only a few millennia ago."
"I still don't understand the significance."
She gave him an exasperated stare. "Relationship at the molecular level
could be explained by a common ancestor millions or even billions of years
ago. In all that time, it is not so far-fetched to believe that somehow life
from our home galaxy was brought here-by a long-extinct space-faring race, or
merely as spores, riding the faint push of light and currents of gravity. But
something as complex and specific as a lim tree cannot be explained in that
way. It indi-cates more recent contact between this world and our own.
"Perhaps Commander Val left one behind."
"When I accessed the Qang qahsa for my lim tree's ge-netic code, it had
not been accessed in a thousand years. The plant is of no use to a spacefaring
race."
"How do you explain it, then?"
"I can't. Perhaps there was an earlier ship-a worldship that left our
galaxy long before the main fleet. Perhaps they came here-" She stopped. "No,
that can only be conjec-ture. I need more data before I begin to talk like
this." Nom Anor smiled. "But I must say it is enjoyable to hear you talk like
this. Your passion is obvious. You are a credit to our people, Nen Yim. You
will find the right path for us." That got a smile from her. "I thought that
was your job."
"I had the vision, but you are the one realizing it. I am little more
than a passenger on this trip."
"Your insight has been interesting, however."
"I wish I understood enough about your work to be of real aid."
"You can be, if you're willing to learn."
"I'm eager to," he said.
"Good. You carry the qahsa and record what I tell you. I'm going to
collect a few live specimens of the arthropods living in that rotten log over
there." And with that, she placed a world of information into Nom Anor's hand.
He stared at it, feeling he had won a vic-tory, not quite sure what to do with
it.

TWENTY-ONE

"Ah," Harrar said. "Success at last."
"Looks like it," Corran said. "So long as somebody doesn't already call
it home."
They were facing up a long, rocky ridge that showed a number of
pronounced overhangs. Corran tried to hide his disappointment-their search had
carried them less than a kilometer from the downed ship, during which time
he'd seen no signs whatsoever of civilization. Of course, it was hard to
search thoroughly when you refused to take your eyes off your search partner.
He was a very long way from trusting Harrar. Or any of the Yuuzhan Vong, for
that matter, but es-pecially a priest. A priestess of the deception sect had
very nearly succeeded in wiping out a good portion of the Jedi. He started up
the slope, keenly aware of the man be-side him, fighting reflexes that told
him to draw his light-saber now.
"Is your home like this?" Harrar asked.
"My home?"
"Your planet of origin."
"Oh. Not really. I mean, it's got forests and fields, but for the most
part it's pretty civilized." He frowned.
"It is covered in cities?" Harrar asked.
"If you're thinking about Coruscant when you say that, no."
Harrar made a peculiar face. "For us," he said, "the world you called
Coruscant represented the ultimate abomination. A world entirely covered in
machines. It is because it repre-sented everything we despise that we chose it
for our capital, to remake it in the image of our lost homeworld."
"Yes, I'm aware of that," Corran said curtly. " If you have * a point to
make, make it."
Harrar's eyes seemed to harden a bit. "I am searching for a point, I
think," he said. "I have had little opportunity to speak with infidels when
they weren't being sacrificed or tortured."
"You're not scoring big with me right now, Harra^" Corran pointed out. He
let his hand drift toward his lightsaber.
Harrar cocked his head, and a grim smile played across his scarred
features. "Do not think I fear you, Jeedai. I do not doubt that you-the slayer
of Shedao Shai-could best me in combat. But you would remember the fight."
"Is that what you want?" Corran asked. "To fight me?"
"Of course not."
"Fine. Then we won't."
They had reached the rock shelter now. It looked good-dry, protected, no
caves leading off to the lair of who-knew-what.
"But I would like to ask you something," the priest said, settling cross-
legged upon a stone.
"Ask, then," Corran said.
"I mentioned Shedao Shai. When you dueled him, you risked your life for
the planet Ithor, correct? Those were the only stakes?"
"Yes," Corran said. "The Yuuzhan Vong were going to poison the planet.
Sheda o Shai agreed that if I won the duel, it wouldn't happen. If he won, he
got the bones of his an-cestor back."
"And yet, from what I have been able to determine, Ithor had no real
strategic value, no valuable minerals for your machines. So why did you do it?
"
Corran frowned, wondering where Harrar could pos-sibly be going with
this. "Three reasons," he said. "The first was that I couldn't stand aside and
let Ithor be de-stroyed if there was something I could do about it. And there
was-Shai had a vendetta against me. I was the only one around who could tempt
him with such a duel with such stakes. The second reason was that I had
something of a vendetta against him, as well-he murdered my friend Elegos when
he tried to make peace with your people."
"That last I can understand," Harrar said. "Revenge is desirable."
"Not for a Jedi," Corran said. "It was foolish and dan-gerous of me to
fight Shai with those feelings in my heart. If I had been fighting primarily
for revenge, rather than for Ithor, it would have been wrong."
"I have heard it said that Jeedai avoid the strong emotions. I have never
understood it. Perhaps another time you can explain it to me."
"I can try."
"Good. But for present, I don't want to lose the scent of this hunt. I
still don't understand your motives. And not just yours-many of your people
died defending Ithor. You fought for it from the start. Were you protecting
the secret of the pollen that destroyed our troops? Surely you could have
replicated it elsewhere."
"We were never actually able to replicate it," Corran said. "But no, we
fought for Ithor because it was one of the most beautiful planets in the
galaxy, and because the Itho-rians are a peaceful people who never harmed
anyone." He crossed his arms. "And because it was one of our planets."
"And yet you personally suffered disgrace for defending it."
Corran stiffened. "You know a lot about me," he said.
"It is a famous story," Harrar said. "Shimrra was delighted at your
treatment. It was then that he began to under-stand that the best way to
destroy the Jeedai was merely to turn your own people against you, something
that was re-markably easy to do."
"Yes, wasn't it," Corran said. "All Tsavong Lah had to. do was promise
not to wipe out any more entire planets if we were handed to him for
sacrifice. Some people were frightened enough to do it."
"There must be more to it than that," Harrar said. "Perhaps some are
jealous of you and resent your powers. Perhaps because some Jeedai may abuse
that power?"
Tricky, Corran thought. He's trying to pump me for information on our
weaknesses.
"Think what you want. The reason for my disgrace after Ithor was because
a lot of people hadn't quite figured you guys out. They didn't realize that
you weren't planning to stop until every last one of us was dead or enslaved.
They couldn't imagine why anyone would poison an entire planet-a planet that,
as you say, had no military or commercial value-just because they could. They
thought it must have been because the Jedi put up a fight and angered you. A
lot of people figured that Ithor was destroyed because I killed Shai rather
than in spite of it." He realized, suddenly, that his voice had been rising,
and that he had just delivered a genuine diatribe. He hadn't realized how much
bitterness lingered in him. But this was the first time he had really
discussed the matter with one of them.
"Here is my dilemma," Harrar said. "I do not understand how a people who
placed such value on Ithor could also hold dear the abomination that was
Coruscant." Corran snorted. "And I don't understand how a people who claim to
worship life would destroy a pristine planet," he replied.
"So you've said once already. But since you said it, I've been thinking
about it. You may be right. There may be a contradiction there."
"May?"
Corran studied the Yuuzhan Vong's face for signs of mockery. The near-
human visage suddenly seemed more alien than ever.
"Understand," Harrar said, "all life ends. Killing is in itself no
wrongdoing. Even here, in this forest, plants are eaten by animals, animals
devour one another, the dead form the food for the plants. My earlier concern
for the saplings you cut was that the planet might take it as an at-tack,
since we are from outside, not because I felt it was wrong on some intrinsic
level for you to cut them. In the end, every living thing dies. Planets die.
But life itself should go on. Your technology threatens that-ours does not.
A world like Coruscant proves that a world could exist without forests or
true seas. And if the living sentients in its belly were replaced by the
machines-that-mock-life you call droids, there could be completion. Machines
could spread without benefit of life. They could replace it. That, my people
cannot-would never-allow. We would fight until all of us were dead to prevent
it, even the Shamed who now rise against us."
"But..."
Harrar raised a hand. "Please. Allow me to finish an-swering your
question. When we destroy life-even an en-tire planet, as with Ithor-we
replace it with new life."
"Yuuzhan Vong bioformed life."
"Yes, of course."
"So you think that makes it okay?" Corran asked.
"Yes," the priest answered.
Corran shrugged. "So if that's your view, where is the contradiction?"
"Because in my heart," Harrar said, pronouncing each word carefully and
distinctly, "I feel the destruction of Ithor was wrong."
Corran regarded the priest for a long moment, wishing the Force could
help him decide if he was lying or not. Of course, before he'd learned to know
the Force, natural sus-picion and CorSec training had served pretty well. To
those ears, Harrar sounded sincere.
"What do you want from me?" Corran asked, finally. Harrar steepled his
fingers together. "I've spoken of the contradiction in my people. I want to
understand the con-tradiction in yours."
"Oh. That's simple-we're not really one people. There are thousands of
'peoples' in this galaxy, and often we don't have a whole lot in common. If
there's one thing you can say about 'us,' it's that we're a diverse lot. There
are some cultures that probably would have made Ithor like Coruscant or a
wasteland like Bonadan. There are beings in this galaxy who don't value life
at all, and others who worship it to the exclusion of all else. Most of us
fall somewhere in between. Believe it or not, technology and 'life' really can
coexist."
"That is what I'm struggling with. You believe that. My people do not.
Whatever Zonama Sekot represents, what-ever promise it holds for my people, I
do not know that it can ever bring peace between you and me. I do not think
the Yuuzhan Vong could ever make peace with machines, espe-cially thinking
ones-or the people who use them."
"That's an interesting thing to tell me," Corran said.
" You mean that you and I may have to fight after all?"
"Not you and I-not unless it is by your choice. But our peoples..."
Harrar shook his head. "I see no end to the war here."
"Well, we've only just arrived," Corran said. "Maybe there's something
neither of us is seeing."
"Perhaps."
They sat in silence for a moment, Corran slipping into reverie of the
battle for Ithor and the terrible thing that the Yuuzhan Vong had done to the
garden of the galaxy.
What if Harrar was right? What if there was no way to make peace with the
Yuuzhan Vong?
He sighed, rose, and looked around the edge of the cave until he saw what
he was looking for-a slope that kept going up.
"Where are you going?" Harrar asked.
"I want to check out what's up above our happy-home-to-be," Corran said.
"Don't want any nasty monsters or giant bugs coming down to eat us in the
night."
"You've more experience with wild planets than I."
"Doesn't seem too wild to me, this planet," Corran said, not entirely
certain what he meant.
"Well. Natural planets then. Nonbioformed worlds."
"I think this world is bioformed," Corran replied. "I think it bioformed
itself."
"Then you believe the planet itself is alive, sentient, as Yu'shaa
claims?"
"That's the rumor. That's what your shaper is here to find out, right?"
"Among other things. I'm not entirely certain I under-stand Nen Yim's
interests."
Three different castes, three different agendas, Corran thought.
They reached the top of the ridge in a few moments, which gave them an
excellent view of the valley below. In fact, Corran could see the wrecked
Sekotan ship, which was good. If anyone came looking from the air, that's what
they would spot, and they would be near should such a search come.
But not too near if the searchers were unfriendly.
"What is that?" Harrar asked.
Corran turned and looked the other way.
The priest wasn't pointing. He didn't have to. Rising from the forest
were three gigantic identical metal vanes. They looked to be at least three
hundred meters tall. They were utterly familiar, but it still took him a long
moment to recognize them. When he did, he felt suddenly light-headed.
"I'm not sure," he lied.
"Perhaps we should investigate." Did Harrar sound suspicious?
"Not today," Corran said. "It'll be dark in a few hours, and we'll want
to have the important stuff moved up here by then."
"Very well."
He was just delaying the inevitable, he knew. But given Harrar's little
speech just now, when the Yuuzhan Vong did figure out what those vanes were,
they weren't going to be very happy. Not happy at all.
He wanted a little time to prepare for that.
Wedge had a hurried conference via hyperwave transceiver with his
commanders, and then began transmitting battle plans. Their only hope now was
to do the very thing they had begun as a feint-knock out one of the
interdictors. If they tried to run, the ships would just follow them.
"We'll line up for the outsystem interdictor," he said.
"Spoke formation. We'll cut a fire lane and hope some of the starfighters
can get there in time. Pick your squadrons, commanders."
"Wedge, do you see that?" Pash Cracken asked excitedly. He had, and he
didn't believe it. More than half the ap-proaching insystem force was dropping
away from the fight. The interdictor was still there, and a healthy force to
guard it, but now the fight was suddenly more or less even. What were the
Yuuzhan Vong up to?
"Five minutes until maximum firing range, sir," Cel reported.
"Very good," he said, still staring at the monitor.
The retreating ships increased their speed and suddenly vanished into
hyperspace.
"What in the space lanes-?" he wondered.
Suddenly he felt a little smile carve itself on his face, and he vented a
brief laugh.
"Sir? "Cel asked.
"This worked better than we ever dreamed it would," he explained.
"They're so convinced this is a feint they've sent half their ships someplace
else."
"I wonder where?"
"Who cares? The odds are almost even, now. Attack groups, lining up for
an insystem run. Ithor, you take the outside."
The massive ships began turning their backs to the out-system forces,
which were now greater than those toward the shipyards.
"Accelerate half speed," he said.
"New estimation for maximum firing range, two min-utes," Cel said.
"Thank you." The Yuuzhan Vong in the outer system seemed to be holding
their ground, perhaps suspecting he wanted them to abandon the interdictor.
That was fine; he didn't want a two-front battle.
He continued to study the tactical readouts, and saw something else
strange. Some of the coralskippers were breaking formation, streaming toward
the insystem interdictor, probably anticipating his push for it.
Then he saw that wasn't what they were doing at all. They were dropping
into its artificial gravity well at steep angles.
"They're doing the Solo Slingshot!" Lieutenant Cel I exclaimed.
Even as she said it, the first of the skips slingshoted around the
massive spicule, whirling with terrific speed toward the Alliance battle
group.
"Minimum range."
"Fire when ready. Clear a lane to the lead capital ships." Laserfire
stretched out between the two fleets, and plumes of plasma rushed to greet
them. The coralskippers, mean-while, were arcing in with unnatural speed on
parabolic vectors that did not cross the fire lanes being opened. That meant
the enemy starfighters were going to be in the heart of the fleet in just a
few moments.
"Tell the starfighters to drop formation as needed. I don't know what
they're doing, but it can't be good."
"I'm never going to let Dad forget this," Jaina grumbled.
"He taught them a new trick!"
And not a bad one. The skips were screaming down into the middle fleet,
and at twice their usual speed, speeds the starfighters couldn't match, with
the possible exception of the A-wings. In the squadrons under her command,
that meant the Scimitar Squadron.
"Is that some new sort of skip?" Alema Rar asked. "Some-thing looks
strange about them."
"Look like plain old skips to me," Jaina replied. She watched as a clump
of skips tore past Wraith Squad-ron, hammering them hard and zooming past them
before the Wraiths could get off more than a couple of shots. And now their
trajectory was bringing them into Twin Suns territory, where they were
escorting Mon Mothma.
She did a quick calculation.
"Twin Suns, on my mark, turn to point oh-oh-seven-one and go full
throttle. Scimitar Leader, we're only going to get a few shots at them as they
go past. Then they're yours, if you can catch them."
"Turn our tails to the enemy?" Ijix Harona asked incredulously.
"They'll overshoot you before you reach full accelera-tion," Jaina
explained. "Then you'll be behind them at al-most matching speed."
"Copy, Twin Leader," Harona replied. "I understand. Shouldn't have asked.
"
"What about our tails?" Twin Two asked.
"On my mark, tendi maneuver. Three, you're the fan."
"Copy."
"Copy," Jag said. "We've got it."
Now they were building toward full acceleration, flying along the
projected flight path of the fast skips. She could almost feel them coming up
behind. Three, two-
"Go! "she said.
Three cut his jets and flipped around, firing. Since she and Two were
still under acceleration, he was quickly positioned as a shield between them
and the approaching skips.
After the skips got past him, they had time for a single quick shot at
Jaina and her wingmate. She, on the other hand, had built up speed approaching
two-thirds that of the skips, so she had the leisure for quite a few shots at
them once they were past her and before they were out of range.
She got one in her sights and used a proton torpedo while it still made
sense, then needled it with laserfire until the torp got there and blew it
into molten slag.
Jaina narrowed her eyes. There was something strange. The vessel she had
just destroyed looked like every other she had ever put her sights on-except
that something was trailing behind it.
"Twin One," Rar asked, "did you see what that was attached to it?" Her
tone very much said, "I told you so."
"Don't know," Jaina replied. "I didn't really see it until the
detonation. Looked like a tail."
"Skips don't usually have tails," Rar responded.
"It might have been a cofferdam."
"Mine's got one, too," Jag said. "I thought I saw some-thing bleeding out
of it."
Stifling an uneasy feeling, Jaina used lasers as the skips pulled ahead,
and nailed one right through the dovin basal. In the flare she saw that this
one had a tail as well. Or a big sack of some sort, now empty.
Several more skips flared as they approached the A-wings. Now the skips
had a choice. They could either retain their speed, but end up with A-wings on
their tails, or they could...
"They're slowing down," Jag said.
"Yep. Scimitars, break off. You don't want them behind you now. Come back
to the party."
"Copy, Sticks," Harona confirmed.
The A-wings peeled out of formation and scattered. Jaina dropped in
behind a skip and started firing, lasers only. The skip juked and jinked, its
dovin-basal-generated voids absorbing her shots. So intent was she on getting
the skip firmly in her sights that she almost didn't see the thing in time.
Her reflexes did, though, yanking at the stick as what she thought was a half-
meter-wide chunk of rock was about to smash through her cockpit. She rolled,
and it scraped centimeters from her screen.
It kicked as it went by.
Cursing silently, she chinned her microphone. " Be advised, Mon Mothtna
control. The skips are dropping grutchins."
Grutchins were insectlike creatures the Yuuzhan Vong had developed that
could survive for a time in vacuum. Their mandibles secreted a solvent that
could cut through hull metal.
"That explains the suicide runs," Jag said. "There must be grutchins
everywhere, and the fleets haven't even en-gaged. They're probably going for
the Star Destroyers."
"Advised," the voice of control said.
Jaina, meanwhile, had flown straight into one of the release trails. She
kept up a steady stream of laserfire, blazing any of the bugs that got in
front of her. The remaining skips suddenly broke formation, curving up from
her operational horizon.
Something thumped against her hull, and Cappie, her astromech, reported a
grutchin on the hull. Snarling, Jaina pulled the stick, hard, and pushed the
drive to maximum, then rolled like crazy, trying to detach it before it could
start making a meal of her starfighter.
Why couldn't the Yuuzhan Vong use normal weapons?
Concussion missiles, lasers. Why did it always have to be miniature
volcanoes and giant bugs?
To her satisfaction, her particular bug-nemesis of the moment lost its
grip and fried on the way through her ion trail. In the meantime, of course,
one of the skips had taken the opportunity to latch onto her tail, so now it
was volcano time...
"We've got close to two hundred grutchins on the hull, sir," Cel informed
him.
"Electrify it," Wedge said.
"They've already tried, sir. It's not working."
"Not working-great." Yes, the Yuuzhan Vong were adapting. Not good.
"Seal off the outer sections and get people in vac suits with blasters in
there."
Of course, that wouldn't stop them in the engine areas. The Yuuzhan Vong
capital ships had drawn up in a defensive formation and were no longer pushing
forward. Wedge had his ships nearly stationary as well, and both sides were
keeping their starfighters close, the grutchin carriers aside. For the moment,
it was a long-range game. That would probably change soon-the Yuuzhan Vong
were waiting to see how well their grutchin stunt had worked.
When they knew, they would renew their attack.
That meant his starfighters would be free for a short time.
"Have some starfighters make close runs on our capital ships," he told
control.
"Si r, with all due respect, the grutchins are attached to us. Some of the
pilots are bound to miss, and they could easily do as much damage as the bugs.
"
"I don't want them firing. I want them to singe the things off with their
exhaust."
The officer's eyes widened. "That will take some pretty precise flying."
"Then pick the squadrons well. And fast, because soon we'll need them
against skips."
"I have him, Twin Leader," Jag said. Even as he did so, glowing chunks of
yorik coral bloomed out into the void. Jaina breathed a sigh of relief. That
pretty much did it for the fast-skip wave.
"Thanks, Four." She glanced down at the new battle orders scrolling.
"Uh, guys," she said. "You aren't going to believe this, but..."

TWENTY-THREE

Nen Yim glanced at Yu'shaa. He'd been working quietly on the task she had
given him, entering the genetic sequences of various flora and fauna into her
qahsa. Now he seemed to be having trouble.
"What is it? "she asked.
"It ceased granting me admittance," he said. Somewhere in the distance,
something mewled, and another something chattered a response. The sky was
clear and the air still.
"Did you try to access data forbidden to you?" Nen Yim asked.
"Not too my knowledge, Master Yim. I was merely attempting to enter the
freman signatures you asked me to."
"Pheromone," Nen Yim corrected. "It may be my security prohibitions were
too broad. Let me see it."
He handed her the bulbous living memory in compliance.
"No," she said. "Because it is not keyed to you, after a time it rejects
your entry." She examined a bit further. She could reset his temporary access,
but would only be forced to perform the same task again in a few hours.
She could key him to the qahsa, but she hesitated to do so. She had
stored the protocol data on Sekotan biology in it. In the wrong hands...
But the Prophet had proved himself useful, and only someone well versed
in the shaper's arts could understand what they found there, much less use it.
By the pattern of his rejected implants, she gathered that before being
Shamed, Yu'shaa had been an intendant.
Time was of the essence. With Yu'shaa performing the simple tasks, she
was making great progress with the more complex analyses. "Come here," she
said. "I will make you familiar to it."
That done, she was able to work for a time in peace.
Until Harrar came, standing rather imperiously waiting for her attention.
She reluctantly gave it to him. If he knew anything about shaping-and he
certainly did-then he al-ready knew she was a heretic. If she was to do her
work, there was no hiding it any longer.
"Yes? "she said.
He gave her an uncomfortable little bow of recognition.
"I was wondering where your researches were leading you," he asked.
"Whether you've come to any new conclusions."
Always that question. What did he think conclusions were, fruit to be
pulled from a tree? "It's premature to say anything definitive," she said.
"I understand that," he replied softly. "But I'm hoping you will keep me
apprised of new developments."
She could tell this approach pained him a bit. Harrar was used to giving
orders, not cajoling. After all, short of Shimrra, the priests were the voice
of the gods.
"There have been a few developments," she allowed, "though they are at
the level of data rather than conclusion."
"Go on, please. Anything new must be worth hearing."
"But the telling costs me time, when I might be reaching those
conclusions you desire."
Harrar's expression flattened.
"Jeedai Horn tells me it may be a long while before anyone finds us. I
shouldn't think the hurry is so great you can't spare a few words concerning
your progress. After all, I did arrange this trip."
"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you something about that," Nen Yim said.
"Perhaps if I answer your questions, you can answer mine," the priest
said.
Nen Yim leaned away from her work, forcing her tendrils to relax into a
neutral posture.
"When we first met, you said that you could not arrange my escape
yourself, for fear of being noticed."
"That is true. An escape engineered by me would have failed."
"Yet here you are; you came along. Won't that be noticed?" Harrar seemed
suddenly to relax, as if he had expected another question, a more difficult
one.
"I am believed to be on the Outer Rim, meditating over our conquest where
it began. A subordinate of mine took my ship there. I should not be missed.
You arranged to make your abduction appear as a kidnapping as well, yes? We
have both covered our trails."
"I give my deception only a small chance for success," Nen Yim replied.
"When I return to Yuuzhan Vong space,! fully expect I will be executed."
"And yet you plan to return."
"Of course. Our people must know what has been dis-covered here."
"What Ekh'm Val discovered has been quite effectively repressed," Harrar
pointed out. "What makes you think your discoveries will fare any better?"
"I will find a way," Nen Yim assured him.
Harrar crossed his arms and looked at her with approval, j
"You mean what you say. You see no personal gain in this at all. I
believe you may be one of the most admirable people I have ever known."
"Please do not mock me."
"I do not mock you," he said, his voice suddenly a bit angry. " I am
trying to express respect. If you reject it, the re-spect remains all the
same. Each caste seeks to elevate itself over another, each domain competes
with the others, indi-viduals betray and murder one another in a blind,
groping desire for elevation. In the galactic deeps, it nearly tore us apart.
I hoped when we had a real enemy to face, we could turn that aggression
outward, and so we did, but now it comes to haunt us again. It has become more
than a habit; it has become how we live."
"Are we not taught that competition breeds for strength?" Nen Yim asked.
"Of course," Harrar answered. "But only to a point, if there is not also
cooperation."
Nen Yim twisted her tendrils into an ironic mode. "And there is the
lesson of Zonama Sekot," she said. "The lesson you and I both seem to agree
our people must learn." Harrar relaxed again.
"Take a seat," Nen Yim said. "I will explain what I see here as best I
can."
Harrar settled into his usual cross-legged position and waited.
"The diversity of species here is quite low," she began.
"Much lower than one would expect in a natural ecosystem."
"What could cause such a thing?" Harrar asked.
"Mass extinction, for one. Some catastrophe or series of catastrophes
that served to wipe out many of the species."
"That's an interesting fact, but-"
"No, it's more than an interesting fact," she averred.
"The ecosystem functions as if it were fully diverse. Species have filled
roles they were not designed for."
"I'm not sure I entirely understand."
"After any mass extinction, many ecological niches are opened, and
species take advantage of these empty niches, adapting through natural
selection to fill them and benefit from them. Eventually, after millennia, a
ravaged ecosystem becomes healthy again, and as diverse as the one that was
impacted."
"Isn't that what you said is occurring here?" Harar asked.
"No. Not at all. For one thing, the extinctions here are very recent.
There hasn't been enough time for the sort of adaptation I speak of to take
place. For another, species here are not adapting to fill ecological niches-
they remain adapted to their own niches, the ones they evolved to fill, and
yet they also perform the environmental tasks of ex-tinct species-for no
benefit to themselves." She waited a moment to let him absorb that, enjoying
the sudden breeze and the smell it brought, a sort of dusty golden scent.
"Perhaps an example will help," she began again, "There is, for instance,
a plant with a kind of tubular blossom. The only possible way for it to
reproduce is for an arthropod or other small creature to enter the tube of one
plant, and then enter that of another, carrying with it the sticky secretions
of the first. The plant entices this insect with an edible fluid, nourishing
to the insect-and, I suspect from certain clues, important to that insect's
life cycle."
"That makes sense," Harrar said.
"Yes, except that I can find no insect that feeds on the fluid. Yet I
have seen them pollinated, by another insect whose primary role in the
ecosystem is feeding on carrion. Its life cycle, from egg to nymph to adult
revolves entirely around carrion. Yet they make time to enter these flower
tubes with enough frequency to pollinate them, at no benefit to themselves."
"Perhaps you have not yet discovered the benefit."
"If this were the only example of such behavior, I might agree with you.
However, I find more than half the animals I have examined play roles in this
life-web that are plainly unrelated to their life cycles and physical design.
More in-teresting yet, I have discovered that each species practices some form
of reproduction control. When a particular sort of moss becomes scarce due to
its consumption by a kind of beetle, the beetles begin disposing of their eggs
without fer-tilizing them. In other words, the ecosystem of this planet is
homeostatic-it seeks to remain in absolute balance. It manages to do so even
after enormous extinction events."
"That sounds reasonable."
"For a worldship, yes, because each life-form is engi-neere d to play a
certain role and the system is guided by intelligence-by a rikyam at one
level, and by shapers at the next. Mutations are eliminated, as is undesirable
behavior. But in the natural ecosystems I've studied from data collected in
this galaxy, that's not how things normally work. Each in-dividual organism
fights to maximize the number and surviv-ability of its own offspring.
Mutations come along that have advantages and are perpetuated. Such systems
are in a constant state of flux; they are not-cooperative. The evidence is
that this world was once like that-like a wild planet-but it is no longer."
Harrar pursed his lips. "You're saying that this planet has something
like a dhuryam, some intelligence that links all these organisms together and
prompts them to perform harmoniously."
"I can think of no other explanation."
Yu'shaa, who had remained absolutely silent, suddenly spoke up. "As I
prophesied," he said, "and as the Jeedai said. This is a living planet, one
large organism, more than the sum of its parts. Like a worldship that made
itself. Don't you see what this planet can teach us? Harrar, you were just
decrying the competition that destroys us. It is that blind fight to ascend
that leads us to treat so many of our people as Shamed."
"Can this be?" Harrar asked Nen Yim. He seemed to be ignoring the
Prophet.
"We are seeing it," Nen Yim replied. "However, I can find no clues as to
the mechanism that binds the individual life-forms to one another. There are
no chemical exchanges that might explain it. The flora and fauna here are not
equipped with communications organs like our villip, or anything even remotely
similar."
"It's the Force," Tahiri interrupted. "I can feel the ties, feel a sort
of constant chatter among-well, everything." Nen Yim focused on the young
Jedi. "I have heard that you Jeedai possess telepathy like our villips," she
said. "But the ones I've taken ap-examined showed no signs of specialized
organs, either."
"No, of course not," Tahiri said, her voice suddenly dark. "The Force
binds everything together. Some creatures communicate through it. I can feel
what Corran is think-ing, sometimes. With Anakin it was even stronger, like...
" She trailed off. "Never mind. You'll have to take my word for it."
"And-using this Force-you can impress your will upon others, yes?"
Yu'shaa said.
"Yes, on the weak-minded," Tahiri replied. "But I get no sense that
anything here on Zonama Sekot is being coerced into anything. It's like every
living thing just agrees to do things this way."
"I cannot see this Force, measure it, or test it," Nen Yim said. "I
cannot credit it with the effect you assert."
A stone suddenly rose from the ground, floated toward Nen Yim, and fell
near her feet.
"You may not know what it is," Tahiri said, "you might not be able to see
it or feel it, but you can see the results." Nen Yim conceded that with a
small nod. Then a thought struck her with the force of a baton. "Assuming you
are correct," she said, "yow are connected to this Force-as no Yuuzhan Vong
is. And yet, in part, you are Yuuzhan Vong. What does your Force tell you this
place is? To us?"
"I've been thinking about that a lot," the young woman replied. "I've
never been able to quite put it into words until just now."
"And? "Harrar asked.
Tahiri took a deep breath. "This is where we are from," she replied.
That got even Nom Anor's attention. While the three were absorbed in the
conversation, he'd been exploring Nen Yim's qahsa, and had run across some
very interesting things. He'd made his little speech so as not to break char-
acter, not because he was interested. But now he stared at the young Jedi just
as Harrar and Nen Yim did.
"That's not possible," Nen Yim said.
"You asked me what I felt," the girl said. "That's it. But didn't you say
that only a few thousand years at most separate the life of this planet from
Yuuzhan Vong life?"
"In the case of one plant only," Nen Yim replied. "And several thousand
years ago we were very far from here. Moreover, the Qang qahsa contains
abundant data regarding the homeworld, and this is not it."
"Was the homeworld like this one? Living, like an organism?"
"There are some legends-" Harrar began.
"Whatever the legends may say," Nen Yim pronounced, "the facts are that
the homeworld was an ecosystem of unchecked competition and predation. Would a
creature like the vua'sa have evolved on a world were all of nature was in
cooperation? No. The vua'sa was a vicious predator that at times multiplied so
quickly, it left deserts behind it. This competition among ourselves you speak
of is the legacy of the homeworld."
"But perhaps that was after we lost the grace of the gods," Harrar said.
Nen Yim blinked at him, and Nom Anor saw what he was certain was barely
concealed disgust in the shaper's expression.
"In any event," the shaper said, apparently dismissing Harrar's
suggestion, "this conversation will not bear the fruit that further work will.
We speak of things we do not have the data to support."
"You asked the question," Tahiri said.
"Yes, and now I'm sorry that I did. If you will all please allow me to go
back to my work..."
Nom Anor expected Harrar to snap back, but instead the priest nodded and
looked thoughtful.
What in the world was going on here? Were they actually starting to
believe his prophecy? Was he?
No, because he knew the source, and the source was a lie. Yes, the planet
was a curiosity, but many planets in this galaxy were curiosities. And
everything the others saw here was informed by his creche-tale of a planet of
redemption. That filter was causing them to see things in a very strange
light.
Would they turn against Shimrra? They might. If Harrar did, he might be
able to muster a great deal of support from the priesthood, and with this
shaper...
But no. If Harrar turned against Shimrra, it would be to put not the
Prophet of the Shamed Ones on the polyp throne, but himself. And he was in a
better position to do it than Yu'shaa.
Especially if Yu'shaa never left Zonama Sekot.
And there was also the chance that Harrar already knew Nom Anor's true
identity. He had caught more than one suspicious look from the priest.
"Yu'shaa?" Nen Yim said. "What are you doing?"
"I am sorry, Master," he said. "It is just that today's revelations-I
must ponder them."
"You've been of enough help today," Nen Yim told him.
"In fact, I would rather be alone for a time."
"In that case, I will meditate in the splendor of this world."
He left the clearing and began wandering vaguely uphill. There were other
things to consider. From what he had seen in her qahsa, Nen Yim had come here
in fear of Zonama Sekot, prepared to destroy it if necessary. She had
protocols that might be useful in that, though they were ob-viously untried.
They were in the shorthand and symbolism of the shapers, so she probably
thought he couldn't under-stand them.
What she didn't know was that he had done quite a bit of shaping himself.
As she was no ordinary shaper, he was no ordinary executor. He was certain he
could understand and use the information if he had to. Though why he would
want to destroy the planet, he couldn't say, except that it would please
Shimrra.
That stopped him in his tracks.
It would please Shimrra a lot.
If into that bargain was included the deaths of Corran Horn, who had so
embarrassed the Yuuzhan Vong at Ithor, and Tahiri Veila, who had used her dual
nature to betray them more than once, and a rogue priest and master shaper
even now plotting against not only Shimrra but the very nature of everything
Yuuzhan Vong...
Shimrra might be so pleased he wouldn't have the one who delivered him
these things executed, no matter what he was wanted for. So pleased that such
a one might actually be elevated to a higher station than he had held before
his disgrace.
Musing on that, he continued up the hill. Harrar had mentioned something
strange on the horizon.
He stopped when he reached the summit, staring at the enormous made-
objects climbing into the sky, and was sud-denly shaken to his very core.
Harrar had not spent enough time with the infidels, un-like Nom Anor, who
had flown on their lifeless ships and lived in their lifeless stations. Harrar
would naturally not understand what he was seeing.
But Nom Anor knew hyperdrive field guides when he saw them, even if they
were a thousand times larger than they should be.
But then, they would have to be, to move a planet. Something clicked into
place for Nom Anor. He sat on a stone, listening to the sounds of the strange
world for a moment. He was alone, for the first time since they had crashed.
With a sigh, he released his face from the grotesque masquer that hid it. His
contention that it was difficult to remove had been, of course, a lie.
He reached into the living pouch beneath his arm and re-moved the thing
he had brought with him. He must have known, somehow, in the back of his mind,
that it must al-ways come to this.
He stared at it, turning it over in his hands. It was a dedi-cated
villip, linked to one other, far away. He had not used it in a very long time,
since before the disaster that had led to his exile.
He stroked it to life.
After a moment, the face of an intendant appeared on its surface, one of
his former subordinates.
Even through the medium of the villip, Nom Anor could see the surprise.
"You were assumed dead," the man said.
"I greet you as well, Phaa Anor," he told his creche cousin.
"You might as well be dead," Phaa Anor told him.
"Shimrra has called for your skin. I will have to report this
conversation, of course."
"Of course. I want you to. In fact, I want you to see that your villip
comes before Shimrra himself."
"Before Shimrra?" Phaa sounded incredulous.
"Yes. Send him the message that you have heard from me. Tell him I am on
Zonama Sekot, and that I have found his missing shaper. He will listen to you
then. When you gain an audience, present him with your villip."
"Why should I do this for you?" Phaa asked.
"Consider. I have information so important that I believe I can redeem
myself in the Supreme Overlord's eyes. Not only that, I believe I will be
elevated for my efforts. Do you not think you will benefit as well, he who
brings these tidings?" Phaa Anor seemed to consider that for a moment.
"I will do it," he said at last.
"Do it quickly, and tell no one anything I have said save those whom you
must convince to grant you an audience with Shimrra."
"Yes, yes," Phaa replied. Then the villip returned to its natural state.
He had probably just doomed Phaa Anor, he knew.
Shimrra would have him killed simply for knowing the planet existed and
was in this galaxy.
Sacrifices had to be made, however, for the good of all. And for the good
of Nom Anor.
He sealed the villip back into dormancy and its airtight container,
returned it to its resting place beneath his arm, and went back down the hill.

TWENTY-FOUR

Jaina throttled down and made another run on Man Mothma, dropping to
within a meter of the Star Destroyer's skin. Suddenly she seemed to be
skimming above a vast, white, slightly curving plane. An irregular dark lump
appeared ahead, and she angled toward it. At the last instant she hit her
repulsors and nosed up, washing her exhaust over the grutchin, which released
its hold. Its charred body drifted off to join the other twenty or so she had
flashed.
"This is actually kind of fun," she said. She would have to ask Uncle
Luke if going after womp rats was anything like this.
"Speak for yourself," Twin Two said. "I just banged a stabilizer."
"Just watch yourself. If you plow into the hull, you'll do more damage
than any grutchin."
"Don't make me weepy with your concern for my wel-fare," Two replied.
"Hey, I've got a big heart... Okay, I think we're almost through here."
"Just in time for the real fun," Rar said.
"I see that."
The big ships were closing again, and space was alive with light as they
pummeled each other. And now the rest of the skips were arriving, not coming
in as fast as the advance guard, but twice as hot. Jaina checked the new
orders.
"All right," she said. "Let's vape some skips."
"They really don't want us to get away," Wedge mut-tered. He'd thought
about making a hard push for one of the interdictors so they could clear out,
but the Yuuzhan Vong were keeping them far away and under heavy watch.
That was good, in a way-it gave him near parity in the actual combat.
Even though they had ships behind him, they weren't using them for anything
but to prevent him running that way. Nor did they have enough ships to try an
encirclement. Still, slugging things out nose to nose was an iffy proposi-tion
when numbers were this even. He hadn't come here for a fair fight-the Alliance
couldn't grow new ships like the Yuuzhan Vong could.
But a run for one of the interdictors would be suicide at this point.
"Sir," Lieutenant Cel said. "I think I've found one of the Golans."
Wedge raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd asked her to hunt for any of
the battle stations the Empire had once sta-tioned here-or anything else that
was operational-but he hadn't really expected her to find anything. The
shipyards were virtually gone, food for a growing Yuuzhan Vong fleet, and the
stations had all been around the shipyards.
"Where is it?"
"Way off its orbit, if it's one of the ones we had on the charts. And its
present orbit is eccentric."
Wedge glanced at the display. "That is out there," he said.
"It may have been drifting all this time, or maybe the ship-yards put it
there for some reason. Still, it's odd the Vong missed something that size."
"I don't know, but we missed it on the first pass, too. As you said, sir,
it's way out there."
"Is the power core still active?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then it might still have guns. We'd better check it out-we might need
it."
"Are we taking the fight out there, sir? "
"Not unless I know it's working. Are the Twin Suns done with their clean-
up duty? " he asked.
"Yes, sir. They're on their way to cruiser-designate
"Get me Colonel Solo."
"Yes, sir."
Jaina's comm chirped. Much to her surprise, it was Gen-eral Antilles, on
a closed and heavily coded channel.
"Sir?"
"I've got a task you might find a little more exciting than bug burning,"
Wedge said.
"I'm about to have my hands full, General. What do you need?"
"I need you to find Admiral Kre'fey for me."
"Admiral Kre'fey, General?" What was Wedge talking about?
"Something's wrong with the HoloNet," he explained.
"We were the advance for two more fleets. We can't contact them, so they
haven't shown. I need you to find him, fast, and bring him here. Have him send
someone to find Pellaeon."
"Sir, won't they come when they realize it's the HoloNet and not
something gone wrong here? " Jaina asked.
"They're not supposed to. For all they know - for all I know - the
downing of the HoloNet is cover for an attack on Mon Cal or the Imps, and this
battle group is already starfood. I need you to let him know we're still
kicking."
"General, you want me to leave the battle?" What was her squadron turning
into, an odd-job unit? There was real fighting to do.
"A few starfighters can get out of the interdiction cones. Our capital
ships can't. Still, I doubt they're going to make it easy for you, so I
wouldn't worry about lack of action. Anyway, there's another part to this
deal, if you really don't fancy leaving the Bilbringi system. Our long-range
sensors indicate that one of the Golan Two Battle Stations may still be
operational. If things go badly here, we might be able to use it as a rally
point, but I need it working. If it's not, and can't be made to, I need to
know that as well. Send one of your flights to find Kre'fey and secure the
station with the other two."
"Yes, sir."
"We're all counting on you, Colonel."
Are you sure you aren't just trying to get me out of the ac-tion? she
wondered. The numbers looked pretty even to her, since the mass jump a few
minutes before. What was Wedge so worried about?
That wasn't her concern, she decided. She had her orders. It wasn't the
first time she hadn't liked them; it wouldn't be the last.
She changed frequencies. "Twins, we just got new orders. Scimitars,
you're on your own. Good luck."
"Copy, Twin One."
"Twins, follow my lead." She led the squadron straight up from the plane
of the ecliptic and then made a hard break for open space.
"We're running, Colonel?" Jag asked, the surprise more than evident in
his usually reserved voice.
"Not exactly," she said, though it felt that way.
"We've got a head start," Eight reported. "We've got pursuers, but
they're pretty far behind."
He should have sent Scimitar, she thought. A-wings are faster.
"They'll catch up, Eight," she said. " Before they do, I want some
distance from the fleets. We're splitting up. Jag, as soon as we're out of
range of that interdictor, you're taking Five and Six to the coordinates I'm
sending you. We'll cover you until you've made the jump."
"Jump, Colonel?"
"Yes. I don't know how secure this channel is, and I'm sure somebody's
paying a lot of attention to us just now. Make the jump and contact your
superior there. Tell him it's all go. Do you understand?"
"Copy. What about you?"
"We've got another job to do."
"Understood," Jag said.
They were nearly clear to jump when the first of the skips closed to
firing distance.
"Okay," she said. "Let's give them the distance to jump. Good luck, Four.
"
"Copy." Jag didn't sound happy. She sighed and switched to a private
channel.
"Jag, I need someone I can rely on, someone with command experience. Can
you do this, or not?"
"I don't like it. I don't like leaving you behind."
"Then go do your job and hurry back, okay?"
"Yes, Colonel."
Plasma bursts started whipping past her. "No more time to talk," she
said. "Go."
She rolled to port and came around. Two skips were fol-lowing close on
Three. She dropped in behind one and started firing, meanwhile jinking to
confuse her own pursuer. She hit one of her targets with a torp and flew
straight into the ex-panding mass of plasma and coral. When she couldn't see
anything, she pulled on the stick, arcing up and back...
And dropped in behind her tail. Grimly she got him in her sights. She
slipped a few shots through his void defenses, but apparently none hit
anything important, because he continued on after Jag and his wingmates,
firing constantly. She had picked up two more on her tail, and her wing-mates
were busy elsewhere. The X-wing rocked as its shields took a heavy hit, and
fo r a moment she lost the skip in her sights. Cappie squealed.
The skip was going to catch Jag before he jumped.
She fired her last torpedo and escorted it in with stutter-fire. A void
appeared and the torp exploded before being sucked in, as it was programmed to
do. Her laserfire riddled the skip, which erupted into an expanding ring of
ions. Two more were coming up from the side. She wasn't going to be able to
hold them all back.
Then Jag and his wing were gone.
Take care, Jag, she thought.
She cut hard starboard and under horizon, now more concerned about the
skips behind her than any in front. She nearly ran into one she hadn't seen.
He was right in her sights, and she let him have it. The skip didn't explode,
but it rolled off, obviously injured.
"I've got you, Twin Leader," Eight said.
Two explosions behind her, and she was suddenly clear again. The odds
were starting to even.
"Form up," she said. "We have to stay together, or they'll pick us off."
Nine, in particular, was a long way from the fight. "Nine, that means you,
too."
"Sorry, Colonel. Can't do anything about it. I've lost an engine and my
stabilizers are shot."
"Hang on, then, we're coming for you."
But it was only a few seconds later when his X-wing flashed out, struck
by fire from three coralskippers. She watched, feeling hollow and numb. Then
she shook it off-they were even more outnumbered now than before, and she
realized Wedge had been right. She saw on the long-range scanners that even
more skips were coming her way, these slingshoting around the interdictor.
We'll be lucky if any of us survives.
She no longer felt so bad about leaving the main battle. She could see
the Golan now. It was still a long way away, near the edge of Bilbringi's wide
asteroid belt.
"Let's take 'em through the rocks, people."
Moments later, they were dodging asteroids from the size of pebbles to
genuine monsters. They forged in deep, and slingshotted skips changed course
to follow. Most had the common sense to slow down when they saw where they
were going. A few didn't, and Jaina had the satisfaction of seeing them
pulverized against oversized rocks. Strangely, Jaina began to relax-this was
what Twin Suns did best, fighter-to-fighter combat in dodgy circumstances. The
yammosks handling the big fight had clearly cut these fellows loose to battle
on their own. Bad for them.
Another advantage was that X-wing shields repelled the small asteroids.
Yuuzhan Vong voids actually attracted them. It wasn't a huge problem for the
Yuuzhan Vong, be-cause any space rock small enough to be attracted by the
pinpoint singularities could also be eaten, but if they hit a big one, the
singularities sometimes stuck them to it. So the Twins flew tight, dodging in
and out, letting the skips elimi-nate themselves.
Jaina's optimism grew stronger, but she knew the victory was more
illusion than anything else. They still had to reach the Golan station and
bring it on-line-if they could outrun the twenty skips still after them, which
didn't seem likely, even with them slowing down to get through the asteroids.
If they really pushed it, they might get there with a few sec-onds to spare,
which wouldn't give them time to do much of anything with the station,
assuming the antique still worked. It was nowhere near the shipyard, so it
probably hadn't been used since the days of the Empire. The guns and every-
thing else useful had likely been scavenged while she was still in diapers.
She clicked her comm. "Okay, Twins, here's what we're going to do. Our
primary objectives were to see if the station is operational and to bring it
on-line if it was. I don't think General Antilles figured on half the fleet
following us out here, though. We're going to get there a few seconds ahead of
them. The rest of you will cover me while I enter the docking bay, then you're
going to punch to the outer system."
"Are you saying we're supposed to leave you, Sticks?"
"With any luck, they won't see me drop in. They'll think I jumped with
the rest of you."
"With all due respect, Colonel, that's crazy," Two said. "General
Antilles needs to know the status of this station, and he needs to know soon.
If any of you can think of a better plan, tell me now."
"Same plan, but one of us stays behind," Three said. "It doesn't make
sense it being you, Colonel."
It makes plenty of sense, Jaina thought. I won't send any of you on
what's probably a suicide mission. She didn't say that, though.
"It's the way it's happening," Jaina said. "The last thing I need right
now is an argument."
"Yes, Colonel. Understood."
She had it about right-the skips were just catching up when they reached
the station. The others fell into com-bat formations. She pretended to, and
even squeezed off a couple of shots before making her run for the docking bay.
She'd picked up a couple of friends by then, however. Three was right behind
them, but there were four skips on her. Jaina's heart sank. It wasn't going to
work. Even if she made the docking bay, they were going to notice. She was
grimly reaching to turn when her cockpit strobed in a flash of green light,
and another.
In her headpiece, Twins Eight and Nine were cheering. Jaina made her turn
and saw why. Gigantic beams of coherent light were pumping from the station's
turrets, slag-ging skips as if they were practice targets.
Better yet, she saw the sudden blue sheen of shields. "Colonel," Three
said, "it's just a hunch, but I'd say you can tell General Antilles the
station is operational."

TWENTY-FIVE

In the night, Nom Anor felt the villip move against his chest, signaling
an incoming communication. He lay qui-etly, wondering if he could leave the
rock shelter unob-served. The Jedi slept lightly, and so did Harrar-besides,
despite the fact that they hadn't seen any animals more dan-gerous than a
dhillith, the older Jedi insisted on keeping watches, and Tahiri was on watch
at the moment. His own shift would begin in a few hours-why couldn't the
signal have come then?
Cursing silently, he lay there until the villip ceased quiv-ering, but
did not sleep again. Shimrra did not like to be ig-nored or delayed, and
excuses rarely got one far with the Supreme Overlord. He felt his last, best
chance at recon-ciliation slipping from him.
If he could kill Tahiri without waking the others... Yes, and if a wish
was a dha'eh, the maw luur would all be choked. So he stayed there, trying to
keep his muscles from twitching.
When at last his watch arrived and he took Tahiri's place on the outjut
above the cave, he still dared not reply to the other end of the connection
until enough time had passed that he could be relatively certain she was
asleep. Finally, more than an hour after he took the post, he climbed a little
higher up the hill to be sure he was out of earshot of anyone who might be
awake, and once again un-sealed the bag and stroked the creature to life.
For long moments, nothing happened, but then a face ap-peared, a hideous,
distorted face.
With a faint shock he realized it was Shimrra's jester, Onimi.
"Nom Anor," the jester burbled. "Nom Anor, Nom Anor, your reputation we
deplore, the bumbling failed executor..."
"I must speak with Shimrra," Nom Anor whispered fiercely. "Quickly,
before our enemies discover us."
"Our enemies?" Onimi burbled. "What fortress will we ever stand in
together, ever, whether, sever again?"
"Tell him it concerns Zonama Sekot. Tell him-" The face suddenly melted,
and a new, infinitely more terrifying one took its place. Nom Anor shivered,
and for an instant he wanted to crush the villip, throw it in a deep pool, and
return to his role as Prophet.
He thought about his disciples, his diseased, pathetic, gullible...
"Nom Anor," the villip growled, unable to actually convey the profound,
bone-shivering bass of Shimrra's voice but suggesting it well enough. "Most
unworthy and perverse of my servants. What could you possibly want?"
"Only to serve you, Lord."
"You would have served me best to have given yourself over to sacrifice
after the disaster you caused on Ebaq Nine."
"I could not, Great Lord," he said. "I was captured, cap-tured by the
Jeedai. I have been their captive since that time."
"Indeed. It was very considerate of them to allow you the use of a
villip."
"I secreted it upon my person. It went undiscovered."
"Then why did you not use it earlier?" the Supreme Overlord rumbled.
"I was observed, always observed. But I have won their confidence now."
"Enough," Shimrra snapped. "You mention Zonama Sekot. That world has been
destroyed."
"It has not, Dread Lord. I am upon it, along with the shaper Nen Yim and
the priest Harrar. They have allied with the Jeedai, Lord Shimrra. Against
you. Against us."
"Harrar? You would have me take your word that Harrar is a traitor?"
"Summon him, my lord. You will find him absent from Yuuzhan'tar, and
indeed from Yuuzhan Vong space. As is Nen Yim."
For an interminable period, Shimrra said nothing.
"Go on," he finally said.
"With me are also two Jeedai - Corran Horn, who slew Shedao Shai, and
Tahiri, the one-who-was-shaped." He took a deep breath. "Lord, Luke Skywalker
is also here, the chief of them all, and Mara Jade Skywalker."
"On Zonama Sekot." The Supreme Overlord's tone car-ried an almost
unimaginable tinge of fear.
It almost stopped Nom Anor from g oing on. But he tight-ened his resolve
and plunged ahead. "Yes, Dread Lord. They have come to persuade the planet to
join them against us."
"So. So." Shimrra's voice rumbled away. It returned a moment later. " You
know how to reach this planet?"
"My villip can be made to serve as a tracer. You may use Phaa Anor's
villip to find me. A shaper can make the neces-sary modifications."
"Lead me to Zonama Sekot, Nom Anor, and you will find the gods smile on
you again. 7 will smile on you again."
"That is my only wish, Dread Lord. To serve you as I once did."
"I should hope you will serve me better." Shimrra paused.
"Based on our past experiences, it will require overwhelming force to
destroy this cursed planet. Much of our fleet is pres-ently engaged. Indeed, I
consider it possible, Nom Anoi;; that you may yet be a traitor trying to lure
my fleet there so * the infidels can take Yuuzhan'tar."
"No fleet is necessary, Dread Lord. There is an Imperial frigate above
this planet, and doubtless Skywalker has a' ship. Send one ship to deal with
them, and a landing craftto find me. That is all that is required."
"Fool," Shimrra grunted. "The problem is not with in-fidel ships, but
with the planet itself."
"The planet will not present a problem, Lord Shimrra. 1 have the means to
sabotage it. By the time your ships arrive here, it shall be occupied with its
own death."

TWENTY-SIX

Jaina's comm registered a hail, not on the battle frequen-cies. She
switched over.
"There you are," a voice on the other end said.
"Yes," Jaina replied. "Thanks for the assist just now. But if you don't
mind my asking, who in the galaxy is this?"
"My name is Erli Prann," he replied. "I'm in charge of this battle
station."
"You realize you're in Yuuzhan Vong-held space, and have been for a long
time."
"Yes. It's a long story. What's going on out there?"
"Just what it looks like. We're retaking Bilbringi. But things haven't
gone exactly according to plan, and the gen-eral sent me out to see if this
station is still operational. Looks like it is."
"It's in pretty good shape," Prann said proudly. "We'd be glad to be of
any assistance we can. If you want to come aboard, I'll show you what we've
got."
"That's great," Jaina said. "Just assign me a berth."
"What about the rest of your pilots?"
"There are still Vong out there. I expect they'll be headed this way
after that display you just put on. I think I'll keep them out there to help
with the defense."
"Copy," Prann said. "Come on in. Berth Seven-you'll see the beacon."

Jaina slipped her X-wing into the docking bay without a mishap. She
waited as the doors closed and the area outside was pressurized, then unsealed
her cockpit and stepped out onto the deck. The bay was massive, but her ship
was the only one she saw. It looked a little lonely in all that space. On the
far end she noticed a lot of carbon scoring on the walls, as if there had been
an explosion of fire.
"Welcome aboard!"
Jaina looked over to see her reception committee-two humans and a Rodian,
all wearing the uniform of the old Bilbringi defense force-dark blue slacks
and military-style blue jackets over gold-colored shirts.
The male human, a fellow she guessed to be about as old as her father,
with hair that might have once been red but had faded to auburn and silver,
came forward with his hand out.
"I'm Lieutenant Prann," he said as he shook her hand.
"We spoke a moment ago. These are my associates, Zam Ghanol and Hiksri
Jith."
Ghanol was the other human, an older wiry woman with gray hair and a
crooked nose. Jith was the Rodian. Both shook her hand.
Prann flashed her a big smile. "I really can't say how glad we are to see
you..." He glanced at her insignia.
"...Colonel?..."
"Solo," she replied.
"Solo? Not the one from the holos? Jaina Solo?"
"'Fraid so," she replied. "And I hate to be rude, but could we cut
straight to the situation? I need to assess this station and report to General
Antilles as soon as possible."
"Of course," Prann said. "It's just such a surprise and such an honor. If
you'll follow me, please?"
"If you don't mind me asking, Lieutenant Prann, what in blazes are you
people doing here?"
He uttered a short chuckle. " I suppose that does require a little
explanation, doesn't it? We were part of a crew sent out here to overhaul the
station." He paused as the turbolift came and they stepped into it. "You might
have noticed it's way out here."
"Yes," Jaina said. "I was wondering about that."
"In fact, we didn't know it was here for years. It was cloaked, you see."
"Cloaked?"
"Yep. The theory is that Grand Admiral Thrawn cloaked it for some reason,
back when he cloaked all of those aster-oids to blockade Coruscant. It showed
up missing in the later inventory, but nobody could find it. When a Yuuzhan
Vong invasion looked imminent, however, we wanted every advantage we could
get, of course. One of the brass guessed it might be cloaked and sent us out
here with an old crystal grav-trap to find it. As you can see, we did, but-our
bad luck-the invasion started while we were out here. We had taken the cloak
down, but didn't have the shields working. A flight of skips came out here and
pretty much fried our transport-you may have noticed the damage to the docking
bay."
Jaina nodded. The lift opened, and Prann gestured for her to step out
into the fire control area, where several other sentients waited-two more
humans, a Twi'lek, a Barabel, and a Toydarian. Over banks of controls, through
a broad viewport, she could see the distant battle as a series of tiny winking
lights. The seeming smallness of it didn't fool her-a lot of people were dying
back there. It made her itchy to be so far away.
"Anyway," Prann went on, "we managed to get one of the turbolasers on-
line and the shields up. We gunned down the skips and put the cloak back on-it
was the only thing we could think of to do. There was a whole fleet out there.
The Vong apparently thought we'd gone to hyperspace-seems they don't know
Golans don't usually come equipped for that."
"But that was more than a year ago," Jaina said.
"You're telling me. We've just been waiting, tinkering with the station.
Everything works fine, by now, at least those things we had the parts to fix.
This thing has a terrific power core-had to, to run the shield for so long. We
floated a small probe out on an insulated cable so we could see what was going
on, which as you've probably guessed wasn't much that was helpful to our
situation-just the Vong setting up shop."
His grin broadened. "This morning, though, we swept and saw your fleet.
We dropped the field, hoping you would spot us. We've got limited sublight
communications, but no hyper-wave or HoloNet." He grinned again. "And here you
are." It was about then that Jaina understood something was wrong. The feeling
in the Force that she took as relief at the end of a long, dangerous isolation
was there, but seething beneath it was something hungry.
She was reaching for her lightsaber when something hit her, hard. Her
hand, midway to her weapon, suddenly re-fused to obey her commands, and the
room spun dizzily. She tried to focus and use the Force, but the dizziness got
worse, and she was vaguely aware that her legs weren't holding her up anymore.
She didn't feel the deck when she hit it, but she had a strange view of boots
and legs moving her way. She heard faraway sounds that resembled thunder, but
which she understood to be speech. Then-Then she woke, strapped down to a
table with some sort of webbing, her head pounding, and everything still
doing a slow spin.
"Sorry about that," she heard Prann say. "Sonics leave I you with a
terrible hangover without the benefit of ever having the fun."
He was standing a meter away. The Toydarian stood across the room with a
blaster trained on her.
"I hear Toydarians are more resistant than most species to Jedi mind
tricks," Prann said. "I hope we don't have to test that. I'd like to see all
of us walk out of this healthy."
"Prann, what's going on?" she managed. "Who are you really?"
"Oh, that name's as good as any."
"What are you, Peace Brigade?"
His eyebrows squinted together. "Colonel Solo," he said, "now you're
hurting my feelings. That pathetic bunch of collaborationists? Hardly. I'm a
liberator."
"Of what?"
"Technology, actually."
"Ah," Jaina said. "You're a thief and a smuggler." Prann shrugged his
shoulders. "What I do is more like emergency salvage. I haven't taken anything
the Vong wouldn't have destroyed anyway. Remember Duro? We got some good stuff
there, in hit-and-run raids after New Re-public forces pulled out. If we
hadn't it would have been wasted. The Vong sure weren't going to use it."
Her head was starting to clear. "So you came here after the Vong took
Bilbringi?"
"Nope, this job was a little different. Most of my story was true-except
that it was Vel, here, who discovered the missing station in the shipyard
databanks. I'd heard a story that one of the Golans disappeared right before
the New Re-public forces invaded. A few of us got jobs in the shipyards, and
Vel managed to slice into the old Imperial records." He beamed. "One of the
best slicers in the business."
"Ah, just average," the Toydarian replied. He didn't take his gaze off
Jaina.
"He's very modest," Prann added. "Anyhow, he found an old encryption that
suggeste d the station had been cloaked-apparently Thrawn was keeping it in
reserve as a little surprise, but when Thrawn died the station was lost,
because he obviously didn't share the information with his command structure.
We were able to reckon a general sector and calculate for drift and then we
sort of-urn-borrowed a crystal grav-trap detector from the Bilbringi dry docks
to find it. After that, the story is more or less the one I already told you."
"So what do you want with me?" Jaina asked. "Why did you stun me?"
"Well, frankly, Colonel Solo, I don't want anything from you, especially
trouble. But I need to borrow some parts from your X-wing."
"You can't all escape in a single X-wing."
"No, we can't. We're going to escape in the station itself."
"Come again?" Jaina said. "I thought you said it isn't equipped with
hyperdrive."
"No, I said Golans aren't usually equipped with hyperdrive. This one
wasn't, either. But how do you think we were planning on salvaging a space
station without the Bilbringi authorities noticing?"
"You brought your own drive," Jaina realized.
"Yes. We almost had it installed when the Vong showed up and torched our
transport. Unfortunately, the motivator was still on the transport. No
motivator, no hyperdrive." He held his palms out. "So-we've been waiting."
"You can't use an X-wing motivator to jump a station this size," Jaina
pointed out.
"No, but we can cobble one together from seven."
Jaina jerked at the webbing. "Leave my squadron alone!"
"Hey, calm down," Prann said. "They're all okay. We hit them with ion
beams, hauled them in with tractor beams, and stunned them with sonics. And
that wasn't easy-not with the Wookiee and that crazy Twi'lek. Look, I'm not
trying to make any enemies, here."
Jaina could only stare at him in the face of such an absurd statement.
"We were hoping you would all dock," he continued, "and make the whole
thing easier, but we've been working out contingencies for a while now. Not a
lot else to do here, you know."
"Look, Prann," Jaina said, "General Antilles needs this battle station."
Prann laughed. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but we've all invested a little too
much in this baby to just hand it over to be destroyed. Do you know how much I
can get for the cloaker alone? No, forget it. In a few hours we'll be ready to
jump. Meanwhile, we've put the cloak back on."
"And what about me?"
"You're a bit of a problem. I know enough about you to know that the
longer I keep you around, the better the chance you'll be able to use those
Jedi powers of yours to-well, I don't know, do I, and that's the problem. On
the other hand, I don't want to kill Han Solo's daughter. I mean, I respect
the guy, and I know he's already been through a lot."
"You're just afraid he would hunt you down and kill you," Jaina said.
"Yeah, that, too. Look, I'm a businessman-this is business. Once we've
got the hyperdrive working and jump out of here, we'll put you all off
someplace safe - with your starfighters. Okay?"
"No," Jaina said, "not okay. Who are you going to sell your cloaker to,
Prann? The Vong? Because they're going to be the only ones around to buy it if
you don't help us here."
"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Prann said.
"I mean, there's still plenty of market for this sort of thing in the
Corporate Sector-heck, in lots of places. A small planetary government is what
I'm looking for, one afraid they'll soon need negotiating power. If this
battle here goes sour, it'll only make the market that much better."
"Until there is no market," Jaina snapped. "Until the Vong have
everything, because Huttoads like you are still trying to make a profit rather
than doing what they can to help us win."
Prann's smile vanished. "We sat out here for a year surrounded by Vong,"
he said angrily, "in constant fear that they would find us. Sure, they can't
see us when we have the cloak on, but we can't see them either. Every single
time we pushed out the probe we all got the shakes. And who knew what the Vong
have that might detect us at any second? Do you know what it's like to be
surrounded by that kind of pressure every day for a year and not be able to do
a single thing about it?" His face was getting redder, and his voice was
rising. "After what we've been through-sister, you can keep your platitudes.
I'm taking this station, I'm selling it, and I'm going to take my share and
retire to some little backwater so far away the Vong won't reach it in my
life-time and sip cool drinks on a hot beach."
"There's no place that far away," Jaina said.
"I'm willing to look," Prann replied.
Jaina focused the Force on the Toydarian. "He's crazy," she told the
Toydarian. "Stun him and help me out of this."
The Toydarian blinked, looked briefly confused, and then laughed.
Prann smiled, too, his tirade apparently over. "So it's true, then. Good.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to help get those motivators coupled
together. Vel, I've changed my mind. Take her to fire control and watch her
there. I can't spare you just to be a guard during this. Just-keep an eye on
things, and don't let her talk to anyone."
"I want to see my pilots," Jaina said.
"After we've made the jump," Prann told her. "Not before."
With that he left the room.

TWENTY-SEVEN

"Nothing," Corran grumbled, folding down to rest on a log. "I must have
looked for ten kilometers in every direction, and there's no sign of natives."
"Maybe there aren't that many," Tahiri said, reaching up to pick an
oblong fruit with a serrated corona of leaf at the top. They had dubbed it a
pingpear, and it was one of the eight fruits that Nen Yim had identified as
edible and nutritious. Since their food stores were limited, Corran had
insisted that they eat native food when possible. The gathering expeditions
also gave them an opportunity to talk away from the Yuuzhan Vong without
leaving them too long unobserved.
"Or maybe we had the misfortune to crash in the one uninhabited region
they have left," Corran said. "It doesn't matter-we can't stay here forever.
I've been trying to think of a way to attract the attention of that Imperial
frigate, if nothing else."
"Any thoughts on how to go about that?"
He nodded. "Yes. I'll have to go to the one place I've been avoiding."
"Oh. The giant hyperdrive."
"Right."
"Which you don't want the Yuuzhan Vong to know is a giant hyperdrive
because you're afraid it will disillusion them somehow."
"You get two marks," Corran said. " But it's the only sign of
civilization around. There might be someone tending it. Failing that, there
might be other things-a hyperwave, for instance, or even a subspace
transceiver. And Harrar's been after me to check it out, anyway."
"How do you think he'll react when he finds out what it is?"
"You tell me."
She thought about that for a moment, trying to recall how she had felt
when she'd gone to the top of the ridge a few days before.
She held up the pingpear. "It's like discovering a perfect piece of fruit
has a nasty worm in it-after you've already taken a few bites."
Corran nodded. "That's what I figured. Still, we have to do something,
and I can't imagine he'd let me go without him, not as curious as he's been
about it."
"How far away do you think it is? "
"I eyeball it at about twenty klicks."
"Yeah, that's what I figured, too," Tahiri said. "So when do we start?"
"We don't," Corran replied. "Harrar will go with me. I need you to stay
and look after the other two."
"Again? I'm sick of baby-sitting. Don't you trust them yet? They're
completely moon-eyed over this place, both of them. Harrar is the one we ought
to worry about."
"I do worry about Harrar. That's why I'm keeping an eye on him. But the
other two-they're still the enemy, Tahiri. No matter how well we seem to be
getting along with them as individuals, we can't lose sight of the fact that
our goals might be quite different."
"I understand that. It's just that Nen Yim and the Prophet are boring.
All they do is poke at bugs and twigs all day. Why don't you let me go and you
stay here, if you think someone has to?"
"Because this is how I want it, that's why. Brush up on your meditation
technique and practice your lightsaber footwork."
"That's all I've been doing for the past week."
"Well, life is hard," Corran said, more sarcastically than he needed to.
"Sometimes you actually have to spend a week without going into battle. I'm
sure you can handle it."
"Yes, sir," Tahiri replied, unenthusiastically. She felt a knot of hurt
and resentment in her belly. Why was Corran treating her this way? Couldn't he
see it hurt?
"So Harrar and I will start in the morning," he went on.
"It shouldn't take us more than a day or a day and a half of walking, but
I can't say how long it will be before I figure out if there's anything useful
there-maybe an hour, maybe days. I need you to stay alert here."
"For what? Vicious fruit?"
Corran looked up, his eyes sharp. "I don't know," he said. "But the
longer we're here, the itchier I feel."
"Maybe you're bored, too."
"It's more than that. I've got a bad feeling about this whole deal. But
there's nothing I can do about it until I have some way to contact Luke."
"If he's still here."
"I think he is. I get occasional glimpses."
"So do I," Tahiri said, "especially of Jacen. But the F orce doesn't care
how far away they are. They could be back on MonCalamari."
"That's not how it feels," Corran said. "You're going to have to trust
I've learned a thing or two over the years." The angry tone startled her.
"Corran, I know you're a more experienced Jedi than I am."
"Not the impression you give."
"I'm sorry if I-" The knot, growing since she had first seen him again,
exploded. She felt warmth on her face and realized to her utter shame that she
was crying.
"Sometimes I don't express myself very well, I think," she said. "I mean,
I've just integrated two personalities. I don't have this all worked out yet."
"Hey, easy," Corran murmured. "I misunderstood you, that's all."
"No, no-Corran, you're my hero. Ever since that time when you and Anakin
and I-I thought we were friends, and then-" She stopped. She was just sounding
stupid.
"Look, Tahiri..."
"I need more training," she blurted out. "Special training. Can't you see
that? Why haven't you ever offered - I mean you know so much more than I do...
" She trailed off, both horrified and relieved that she had finally said it.
He just stared at her for a second. "I never imagined you wanted anything
like that from me."
"Well..." How could someone so smart be so stupid?
"Why wouldn't I? I need some sort of guidance, Corran. I might seem like
I know what I'm doing, but I don't."
"I'm not a Master, Tahiri," Corran said gently. "There are Masters who
would be happy to train you."
"You have half a chance of understanding me," Tahiri said. "They don't."
"I think you're selling them short."
"Maybe." She thrust her chin out defiantly. "Does that mean you don't
want me?"
"No," Corran said. "But it's not that simple. We'd have to ask Master
Skywalker. And at the least it means you'll stop talking back and do what I
say. Do you understand that?"
"You mean you'll take me on?"
"Provisionally, since there are no Masters around, and until I get Luke's
yes or no on the matter-if you agree to those conditions."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I agree, then."
"Good. Then you stay here with Nen Yim and the Prophet. The end."
"Okay."
Nen Yim examined the thing she had grown. It was, to all appearances, a
qahsa. The differences between it and the usual item were invisible to the
naked eye. She reached for it, but the faint sound of approaching footsteps
gave her pause.
It was the shaped Jedi, of course. She was never far from Nen Yim, always
watching. It had been a source of irrita-tion, at first, but now it seemed
somehow less of a bother. The young human's insights had proven valuable, and
had even prompted this experiment.
"Hello," the shaper said.
"You seem in a good mood," Tahiri replied. The corners of Nen Yim's mouth
turned up. "That may change in a moment. I'm about to try something new. It
will probably fail."
"Is it dangerous?"
"I don't see how it could be, but anything is possible."
"Maybe you should wait until Corran and Harrar get back," Tahiri
suggested.
"They only left a few hours ago," Nen Yim said. "They could be gone
indefinitely. I think this should be safe." Tahiri turned a curious eye toward
the experiment. "What is it, exactly? It looks like a qahsa."
"It is, so far as it goes. But I grew it with modifications." The Jedi
sat cross-legged near her. "What sort of modifications?"
"Your talk of the Force binding the life of this world and serving as its
means of intercommunication interested me. And yet, since Yuuzhan Vong life
does not appear in the Force, I could think of no way to test that
possibility. How-ever, it occurred to me that if the ecosystem of this world
is truly self-regulating, it must have some sort of memory-it needs to know
what happened yesterday and last cycle to plan for tomorrow. Furthermore, that
memory must be shared somehow by all of its constituents."
"I'm with you so far."
Nen Yim indicated a ten-legged arthropod she had en-closed in a nurturing
membrane. "Even if the memory were stored at a molecular level, a creature
this size could not possibly carry enough to be useful, so I reason the
planet's central memory core lies elsewhere, but that any living thing-even a
cell-must be able to contact it, perhaps through this Force of yours."
"Interesting. And you've found a way to test that?"
"I think so." She glanced up at the young Jedi. "To ex-plain, I may have
to speak of things that will upset you." Tahiri's eyes narrowed. "This
concerns my own shaping, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"Goon."
"There is a protocol-the protocol of Qah-which is used to integrate
manufactured or borrowed memories into the brain tissue of Yuuzhan Vong life.
We use it often, mostly for rather mundane purposes-teaching ships to fly, for
in-stance. But we also use it at times to enhance our own memo-ries, to gain
skills or knowledge without having to learn them. In the past, on rare
occasions, we've used the protocol to re-place entire personalities."
"Which is what you tried to do to me."
"Exactly. But the protocol of Qah did not work on your human tissues,
naturally-Yuuzhan Vong and human tissue are not sufficiently compatible for
that. So instead we used your own brain cells to create a sort of human Qah
cell, but filled with Yuuzhan Vong information. It was a hybrid cell."
"And that worked," Tahiri said.
"Correct," Nen Yim said. "In terms of your brain tissue, you are quite
literally half Yuuzhan Vong. We did not im-plant merely memories, but also the
cells that carried them." Tahiri's eyes narrowed. Nen Yim had learned that was
a sign of danger.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.
"No. I mean, yes, but it's like picking a scab. In fact, there's
something I've been meaning to ask you."
"I attend," Nen Yim said, cautiously.
"I need to know-was there a real Riina?"
Nen Yim blinked. What an interesting question-but of course she would be
curious about that. "I'm sure there must have been," she said. "The name was
probably changed-names are easy to change-but the details of your child-hood
undoubtedly came from a real person. Such memories might be generated, I
suppose, but there would be no reason to when they could be donated by any
living Yuu-zhan Vong."
"Is she-dead?"
"I've no idea. Mezhan Kwaad supplied the memory data. Only she could know
who the donor was-and of course, she's in no position to tell you." Her
tendrils curled with cu-riosity. "Did it truly work? You remember being in a
creche, and so on?"
Tahiri nodded. "Some things like crystal, others muddier. I remember
once, my creche-mates-P'loh and Zhul-we took one of the scrubbing korsks and
put it in the com-munal food area. It..."
"Ate all the i'fii," Nen Yim finished, feeling a strange twisting in her.
"Yes," Tahiri said. She frowned. "How did you know?"
"Do you remember an incident involving a damaged fighting n'amiq?"
"I... wait. You mean those lizard-bird things the warriors used to fight
against each other? I... I found one once. One of the warriors had abandoned
it in the grand vivarium because it wouldn't fight. It was injured and I
nursed it back to health. Then one of my creche-mates took it and fought it...
I got there in time to see it die. It was torn to shreds. I thought it kept
looking at me, pleading for help."
The chill deepened.
"What's wrong?" Tahiri asked.
Nen Yim sighed. "Those are my memories."
Tahiri stared at her for a long moment without speaking, as if trying to
see through her skin. Nen Yim was glad for that, because she had to collect
her own thoughts. Median Kwoad, she thought, may the gods devour you twice a
day.
Tahiri finally dropped her lids over her green eyes. She seemed to be
trying to compose herself.
Or perhaps she was about to kill Nen Yim. The thought of her onetime
tormentor sharing the same childhood memories might well be too much for her.
But when Tahiri looked back up, her gaze held only curi-osity. "Whatever
happened to P'loh?" she asked.
Relief spread down Nen Yim's backbone. "She was as-signed to Belkadan,
and killed there," she replied.
"And Zhul?" "Zhul is an adept on the worldship Baanu Ghezk, and so far as
I know is well."
"And the young warrior who watched our dormitories in primary shaping?"
We, Nen Yim noted. She said we, as if...
"Killed taking Yuuzhan'tar. They say he died bravely, crashing into an
infidel ship even as his own disintegrated."
Tahiri rubbed her forehead. "He was nice," she said.
"Yes, if such can be said of a warrior."
"As if I wasn't confused enough," Tahiri murmured.

Now I find out I have friends on both sides of the war who died. Maybe I
even killed one of them."
Nen Yim didn't have a response to that.
"I have a lot of questions to ask you," Tahiri said. "But now isn't the
time. I need-I need to absorb this."
"As do I'll knew no more than you."
Tahiri looked up. "I forgave you, you know. Even before I knew this."
"I didn't ask for that."
"I know."
"But I'm glad."
For another stretched moment, they sat together. Tahiri was the first to
speak.
"Uh... you were telling me about the qahsa."
Nen Yim nodded, happy to return to a subject she could get a grip on. "I
extracted nerve cells from Sekotan life and modified them as your cells were
modified. It was an easier task, because Sekotan life is genetically similar
to our own. I hope, through them, to gain access to the memories of this
world, as I might access a qahsa."
"But if those memories are transmitted through the Force, and Yuuzhan
Vong life is outside the Force-"
"Consider, Tahiri. Your brain contains Yuuzhan Vong implants. Yet you
still sense and use the Force."
"Yes!" Tahiri said. "And when my personalities were in-tegrating, Riina
used a lightsaber, like a Jedi." She peered at the qahsa. "So this could work.
"
"It could. If one of the many assumptions I've made doesn't turn out to
be false. But I suppose now I shall see."
"May I watch?"
"I would be honored."
Nen Yim hesitated no longer, but reached for the qahsa and joined with
it.
For an instant, there was nothing, and then the world seemed to shatter.
Images and data roared through her mind, stars and vacuum, the feel of life on
her skin, the tear of wind across her polar regions. Feelings-fear, pain,
despair, joy, all on a scale that dwarfed the tiny Yuuzhan Vong brain trying
to interpret it. The images came faster, running together burning in her,
casting light into every corner of her brain. Please, slow down, this will
kill me, and I will mm understand.
It was something like trying to access the eighth cortex, but both less
painful and, she understood, more dangerous. Her thoughts were disintegrating
under the onslaught. Nen Yim was vanishing. Something else was hollowing her
out. A god was eating her from the inside.
Nen Yim clasped the qahsa and a look of vast surprise twisted her
features. Then her body jerked strangely and she fell over, convulsing, the
qahsa still gripped between her fingers.
"Nen Yim!" Tahiri cried, starting forward. She reached to help her, to
pull the thing from her hands, but stopped. She didn't know what was
happening. Anything she did might make it worse.
Of course if she did nothing, Nen Yim might die, she thought, as the
shaper's convulsions grew more and more violent.
Carefully, she reached out in the Force. Nen Yim herself was a blank
slate, as usual, but in the qahsa, something was happening. It was buzzing and
humming with power...
Tahiri could feel the flow of it from all around her, a million voices
speaking at once.
Black blood began to dribble from Nen Yim's nostrils.
Okay, Tahiri thought. I have to do something. Breaking Nen Yim's bond
with the qahsa couldn't make things worse-it was already killing her.
She reached for the qahsa, hoping the Force would guide her.
When she touched it, a world struck her down.
Suddenly, the stream of sight and smell and tactile data slowed and
distilled. The noise dropped away, and Nen Yim found herself in the middle of
a quiet moment, a totality rather than a sequence.
She found herself understanding.
And she knew the secret of Zonama Sekot.
She felt like laughing and crying at once.
When Tahiri came to, Nen Yim was daubing her forehead with some sort of
damp tissue. It smelled minty.
"What happened?" she mumbled through a tongue that felt like a bloated
grysh-worm. Her head hurt. Her whole body hurt.
"I'm not certain," the shaper admitted. "When I ceased contact with...
when it was over, I found you unconscious."
"I was trying to help you. I touched the qahsa, and there was this light-
that's all I remember." Her eyes held concern. "Are you okay?"
Nen Yim nodded. "As I have never been."
"So you made contact with Zonama Sekot?"
Tahiri's words seemed slow, after what Nen Yim had just been through. The
whole world seemed slow, and wonderful. "Not with the living consciousness,
no," she said. "I think you are correct-one must have some connection to the
Force for that. But the memories-the memories alone nearly overwhelmed me."
She stood. "I must beg your indulgence. I must meditate now. But I think-I
believe I have the solution."
"To what?"
Nen Yim felt her mouth pull in an unaccustomed smile.
She still felt as if in a dream. "Everything that concerns us," she said.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Nom Anor drew himself quietly deeper into the forest above the cave.
Neither of the females had noticed him. From his angle he couldn't see them,
but he'd heard most of their conversation. If only he'd understood more of it.
What did Nen Yim mean when she said that she had learned the secret of
Zonama Sekot?
As he watched, the shaper walked into view, carrying her qahsa, and then
out of view again, into the deep boles of the bottomland.
Tahiri did not appear, apparently respecting Nen Yim's desire for
solitude.
After a moment, Nom Anor slipped up the ridge, traveled fifty meters or
so in the direction he believed Nen Yim had gone, and then descended the hill
after her. Nen Yim gazed at the trees around her, immersed herself in the
lisping of wind through their leaves and the insistent purr of insects and
chatter of animals. She felt something tight in her relax, release her
inhibitions and prejudices, and saw the living world, at last, as alive.
Finally she felt herself as alive.
For so many years, she had been the quintessential ob-server. Even her
actions-even the extreme actions that had brought her to this place-had merely
been in the service of observation. And yet she had never thought of herself
as part of what she observed, as a piece of the great mystery that was the
world. She was always outside-outside her people, her caste, her companions.
But now she felt in the center, as everything was its own center, and she
was... happy.
"It's what we always should have been," she murmured to herself. "Zonama
Sekot is..."
"Am I interrupting you?"
She shook herself from her reverie, and then smiled. It was the Prophet.
"You knew all along," she said. "Somehow, you knew all along."
"You have discovered something," the Prophet said.
"Something wonderful," Nen Yim replied. "I'm eager to share it with all
of you."
"Is it about our redemption?" he asked. To her surprise, she thought he
sounded mildly sarcastic.
"It is," she assured him. "And not merely for the Shamed Ones, but for
all of us. But it will not be easy. Shimrra will resist the truth."
"You're beginning to sound like me," the Prophet said.
"I suppose I am," she replied. "But when you know the truth..."
"Truth is an entirely relative thing," the Prophet said, stepping a
little closer. "And sometimes not even that." He reached toward his face.
"Why are you removing your masquer?"
"If this is the day of revelation, let us all stand before Zonama Sekot
as we truly are. But you've interrupted me. I was speaking of truth. My
truths, for instance, were all carefully crafted lies."
His voice had harshened as the masquer unpeeled from his face. "What?"
she asked. But then the masquer dropped away to reveal, not the face of a
Shamed One, but the perfectly normal face of an executor, except that one of
his eyes-She gasped, and flung up her shaper's hand. In an instant, the whip-
sting hissed from her finger toward the face, but he was faster, much faster,
bringing his arm up so that the sting drilled through it. He gasped, snarled,
and quickly ro-tated his arm, wrapping the whip-sting around it so she could
not withdraw for another strike.
Then he set his feet and yanked her toward him. She saw the pupil of his
eye dilate impossibly wide, and then it spit at her.
Plaeryin bol,she had time to think, before the poison struck her.
Her muscles contracted instantly, and she felt her heart-beat roaring in
her ears as she thudded to the ground in what seemed like slow motion. The
sounds of the forest seemed, conversely, to rise in pitch, and she saw
everything as through a distorted sheet of mica. Her body flopped until she
was on her back, and she found the executor stand-ing over her. She could no
longer make out the features of his face.
"Know you..." she managed.
"I'm flattered," he replied. "We met only once, I think."
"Why?" Her lips were numb, the words torture to form, but she knew if she
could keep him talking, the reagent im-plants in her body would manufacture an
antidote to the toxin. She noticed he had released the sting from his arm.
"Why?" he repeated, moving away, apparently searching for something on the
ground. "You don't have long enough for me to explain it, my dear."
"But Zonama Sekot. I... the answer."
"I really couldn't care less," the false Prophet said.
"You've gone mad, you and Harrar. Whatever future you would launch from
here, I don't think it would be one I care for. There is only so much a people
can change before they lose themselves."
"Already... lost." She needed to make him understand. The Yuuzhan Vong
had lost their way long before coming to this galaxy.
"I really don't think that's your judgment to make," the Prophet said
diffidently. She remembered his real name, suddenly. Nom Anor. "After I'm done
with you," he con-tinued, "Zonama Sekot won't be far behind. You see, you gave
me access to your qahsa, and contrary to what you probably think, I am well
able to understand its contents."
"No. You're mad." She was feeling a little stronger. Sen-sation was
returning to her extremities. She felt her whip-sting, trailing on the ground,
unretracted.
He reached down for something and picked it up. A rock.
"You'll have to excuse me if I'm humble enough to doubt that a poison of
my manufacture will kill you, Nen Yim. You truly are a genius. You are a
terrible loss to our people." He came towa rd her, hefting the rock in one
hand. Her heartbeat blurred into a steady vibration as with every bit of
strength she had left she thrust her sting at him. He swung the rock down, and
something thundered, and one side of her head felt huge.
The second blow seemed softer. She saw again the rush of images that
Zonama Sekot had shown her, the beauty of a world in harmony, a harmony so
sublime that the Yuuzhan Vong had no word for it-though once they must have.
She saw the back of her own hand, the normal one, the one she had been born
with. She was suddenly very young, back in the creche, noticing it for the
first time, fascinated that she could make the little things on it move.
Does Tahiri remember this, too? she wondered. She wiggled the fingers,
trying to guess how they worked. She could not seem to move them very much.
Nom Anor gasped as the sting ran him through, but used the pain to drive
the rock into Nen Yim's head a second time. The forest floor was already black
with blood, and he was spattered with it. He could taste it, somehow, though j
he hadn't remembered opening his mouth.
He hit her a third time and fell back, pulling at the thing in him,
wondering if she had managed to kill him, too. He'd been stupid-he should have
killed her more quickly. He was lucky the plaeryin bol venom worked at all,
upon re-flection. He was never more grateful that he had chosen to replace his
lost implant.
He was relieved to discover the sting had gone through the meat of his
side. She had missed any organs, and he didn't think the sting was poisoned.
Still, it hurt, as did the hole she had made in his arm. He'd been lucky-if he
hadn't surprised her, things might well have gone very differently. Ignoring
his oozing wounds, he reached down and picked up the qahsa, examining it with
a critical eye. Was this her original qahsa, or the thing she had used to
contact the memories of Zonama Sekot? He fervently hoped it was the former,
and that she had brought it along to record her new discovery. If it was the
other one, he would have to go back to the cave and face Tahiri. That was a
very risky proposition-he would have to take her from behind. He had only a
partly depleted plaeryin bol and a rock, no match for her Jedi powers and a
lightsaber. She could take his rock from him and club him to death with it
from ten meters away.
To his relief, it was the qahsa he sought-the one Nen Yim had keyed him
to. He took it and left the clearing, quickly climbing back up the ridge. Over
the last few days, he had stolen the other components he needed to carry out
his plan-the only thing lacking was the protocol itself, which was too
complicated to memorize. Now he had it. He faced out toward the gigantic
hyperdrive guides. He still had challenges ahead. There were still Corran and
Harrar to deal with, and Tahiri would surely come after him. And he had little
time. In less than a day-cycle, the ships sent by Shimrra would be here. By
that time, Zonama Sekot had to be dead, or at the very least crippled. He
intended to see it done.
When sundown drew near and Nen Yim hadn't returned, Tahiri went looking
for her. She hadn't seen the Prophet in a while, either, and suddenly worried
that Nen Yim's perfor-mance had been just that-a ruse to create an opportunity
for their departure.
She went in the general direction the shaper had taken. Above her, clouds
were gathering, and the tall boras creaked in a quickening wind. Leaves
whirled and danced, and a scent like electricity and resin crackled in the
humid air. She found Nen Yim in a small clearing. A trail of blood showed that
she'd crawled a few meters before collapsing. As Tahiri knelt beside her, she
saw the shaper's head was a messy ruin. Her one remaining eye was still open,
however, if unfocused. Her breath came in faint wheezes.
"Nen Yim," Tahiri said gently. "Who did this?"
"Prophet. He's not-" She quivered at the effort of saying the words. "...
Nom Anor."
"Nom Anor?" Tahiri looked quickly around, her hand grasping for her
lightsaber. Nom Anor, the one who had tried to kill them at Yag'Dhul, had been
right under her nose? A sick chill ran through her.
Nen Yim shivered and gasped.
"I... I have a medpac back at the camp," Tahiri said.
"Just hang on, and I'll be back."
"No... I've stayed too long already. I can't-He thought I was dead. He's
going to kill Sekot. You have to stop him."
"Kill Sekot?"
"Has my qahsa. I brought protocols, in case Sekot was a danger to us."
"Where's he gone?"
"He will seek-drive mechanism. The center that controls it can be
sabotaged to make the drive fail cataclysmically. Probably made-thing drive,
if the ship is an example. Stop him."
"Of course I will. But you have to help me."
"No." Nen Yim's hand came up. "Leave me here. Let me become a part of
this."
Tears were blurring Tahiri's vision. She wiped them away with the back of
her hand.
"You are a part of this," she said.,
"So are you. And part of me. Don't forget." Nen Yim gasped and her body
seized. "Wanted to tell you about Sekot. It's what..." But that was the last
thing she said. Her mouth kept working for a time, but no words came out. A
few moments later, her pulse was gone.
Tahiri stood grimly, anger and grief coursing through her. Jacen had said
you could draw power from anger without turning to the dark side. That evil
was praxis, not the emo-tions that drove it.
But there had to be a trick in that. Because what she wanted most to do
at that moment was cut the Prophet's heart out-and not too quickly.
He would be headed to where Corran and Harrar had gone. Was Harrar in on
this?
Then there would be two hearts to carve.
TWEIVTY-IXIIIVIE
Corran stood gazing up at the immense metal vanes, trying to imagine the
engineering job that had produced them. Now that they were near, he could see
more of the engines-three vast pits that must be the exhaust vents of ion or
even fusion drives.
It smacked of the Empire, when everything came in deluxe sizes. Was this
whole planet some sort of super-weapon? It had destroyed the better part of a
Yuuzhan Vong fleet, after all, not the easiest thing to do.
"You know what these are, don't you?" Harrar said in an accusatory tone.
"They look like made-things." Might as well get it over with, Corran thought.
"Yes.
These are part of a hyperdrive engine."
"A hyper-the planet can be moved?"
"It has been moved. It took the Jedi quite some time to find it because
it had left the system where it was last recorded."
"I see now why you avoided bringing me here," Harrar said. "No, don't
deny it-it was clear that you wished to keep this from me for as long as
possible."
"I don't deny that," Corran said. "I thought it might-cloud the issue of
Zonama Sekot."
"You underestimate my ability to reason," Harrar said.
"Do you think all Yuuzhan Vong react without considera-tion? You insult
me."
"I'm sorry," Corran said. "No insult was intended." Harrar shrugged. "You
should have told me sooner, but you did not. Now I know. The issue is moot-
unless you are still holding information back." He looked out over the nearest
pit. "We move planets," he said. "But we use dovin basals. There is no-how
would you say it? Push-back?"
"Counterreaction," Corran said.
"Yes. How can a planet stand the stress of the sort of engines you use?"
"Not without cost, I would thiqk." A sudden thought oc-curred to him.
"Nen Yim mentioned recent mass extinc-tions. Using this engine may have been
the cause of them."
"The danger they were fleeing must have been great," Harrar said.
Corran laughed. Harrar gave him a puzzled look.
"We think they were fleeing you," Corran explained.
"The Yuuzhan Vong."
The priest seemed to absorb that. "Shimrra fears Zonama Sekot," he said.
"Zonama Sekot fears the Yuuzhan Vong. What can be the explanation?"
"I've no idea."
"Nor do I understand how this planet's consciousness, if it indeed has
one, can countenance this... thing.... driven into its very surface." "Perhaps
Sekot believes that life and technology can co-exist peacefully," Corran
suggested.
"Perhaps," Harrar said dubiously. "Or perhaps the infi-the sentients who
dwell here have enslaved the planet and imposed this technology upon it."
"That's also a possibility," Corran admitted. "But as Nen Yim might say,
we're not going to find the truth by merely speculating."
"What was your reason for coming to this place, if you already knew what
this was?"
"I'm looking for a communications device, so I can con-tact the Ferroans
or the ship in orbit. Otherwise, we could be stuck here for a very long time."
"You could have told me that, too," Harrar said. "Did you think I would
object?"
"To falling into the hands of the enemy? Maybe."
"I placed myself in your hands," Harrar reminded him.
"I trust you have enough honor to make certain we are not made prisoners,
but will be paroled to return to our people."
"I promise to do the best I can," Corran said, "but the matter might be
taken out of my hands. Anyway, are you sure you want to go back? I doubt that
Shimrra will be very pleased with you."
"That risk is mine," Harrar said, "and that of the others if they choose
to take it. I feel that you would do the same in my place, Corran Horn."
"Probably."
Harrar searched about with his gaze. "Where do we look for this
communications device of yours?"
"I don't know. I figure ther e must be some sort of mainte-nance access to
the hyperdrive core. I'm hoping we'll find something-or someone-there. If not,
I'm fresh out of ideas."
"Where should we look? Down one of those pits?" Corran chuckled wryly.
"Climb down the exhaust vent of an engine big enough to move a planet? No,
thanks. It should be someplace obvious, say at the base of one of these vanes.
They found that access with relatively little trouble-a large metallic
dome was half buried in rock about twenty meters from the northernmost tower.
Corran could see that the top was built to open so that large parts and
equipment could be shuttled in and out. A more modest ground-level entrance
wouldn't open for them, but Corran was able to solve that little problem after
a few minutes with his light-saber. He hoped the Ferroans would go easy on
vandals, if they had good cause.
Within, they found an enormous shaft plunging straight down toward the
planet's core. Faint track lights illumi-nated the floor as they entered.
"The maintenance area will be down there," Corran said, gesturing down
the shaft. "This could take a while, if it's as big as it looks."
"I suggest we begin, in that case," Harrar said. Nom Anor watched the
entrance to the huge hyperdrive for a long while before starting down. It was
clear that the Jedi and Harrar had gained entrance using the Jedi's weapon.
What wasn't clear was where they were exactly, and what they were doing.
Still, it was convenient for him that they had opened the way.
He entered and listened carefully, but heard only the wretched hum of
machinery. Perhaps they were not within, after all, but had moved on, or were
returning to camp by a different route. Darkness was falling, and a storm
coming. He could not wait forever.
He'd replaced the masquer on his face. If he met them, he would simply
say he had followed out of curiosity. So determined, he entered the building
and began search-ing for a way down, where logic dictated he might find what
he sought.
He found a series of lifts not very different from those he had
encountered on a dozen infidel worlds. He stepped in, found the control that
would send it down, and reached for it.
At that moment, he heard another lift arrive, coming up from below. He
froze, wishing he had a cloak of Nuun to make him invisible.
The door to his lift closed just as the other opened, and he heard the
voices of Harrar and Corran. He quickly stabbed his finger at the control to
pause his descent.
"I might be able to piece something together with this stuff," Corran was
saying. "But it will take a while."
"Perhaps we should fire the engines," Harrar said. "That should get their
attention."
A chill went up Nom Anor's spine. From his tone, Harrar was clearly
joking, but that was insane for two reasons. The first was that Harrar never
joked. The second was that no Yuuzhan Vong would casually jest about using
machine technology. There was no possible humor in that. Which meant that what
he'd told Nen Yim was true - the planet was driving Harrar mad. No wonder
Shimrra feared it.
When the voices had faded beyond hearing, he touched the descent control
and the lift began to whir down its shaft. It took what seemed a long time, so
long that the air actu-ally seemed to get thicker. He was beginning to wonder
if he would simply continue on to the other side of the planet when the car
finally arrived in an immense room. Banks of machines and control panels
gleamed in the faint light from the floor.
He called all the lifts down, wedged them open with some crates he found
stacked nearby, and began his search. He had very little technical knowledge
concerning hyperdrive cores, but he didn't really need any. What he was
looking for was an interface, something where the biosphere of Sekot met the
cold metal of the infidel machines.
He sat cross-legged on a console and took out Nen Yim's qahsa, searching
through it for the data on the Sekotan ship. There was a long entry on the
engine moorings, the analog of which was certainly what he was looking for.
The ship had been grown around a sort of neural net. The hyperdrive was
probably connected to something similat So where would that be?
He suspected he had a long search ahead of him. Halfway back to the camp,
Corran heard a rustling in the underbrush and saw Tahiri, moving at a fast
trot. She had her lightsaber in her hand, and he could sense her anger like a
torch in the high wind.
"Tahiri," he called.
She whirled at the sound 'of her name. Her eyes looked wild.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"Nen Yim is dead," she said, her voice as heavy and flat as a sheet of
duracrete. "The Prophet killed her."
"The Prophet?" Harrar asked. "Are you certain?"
She turned on Harrar almost as if she meant to attack him. "She told me
so herself, before she died," she snapped.
"She'd just made some sort of discovery about Sekot, some-thing
important. She told me she wanted to be alone and think. She was gone for a
long time, so I went looking for her. I found her. He'd done a pretty good job
on her head with a rock. But she managed to tell me that he's planning on
killing Sekot."
"Killing?..." Corran began, then put his hands on her shoulders. "Okay.
Slow down. Tell me everything she told you. And start with this discovery of
hers."
He listened carefully as Tahiri went through the story. Telling it again
did not seem to calm her down.
"But the Prophet believes this planet is the salvation of his followers,"
Corran said. "Why would he want to de-stroy it?"
"Because he isn't the Prophet," Tahiri replied. "He's Nom Anor."
"Nom Anor?" Corran and Harrar repeated in unison. Harrar closed his eyes
and ground his knuckles into his forehead. "Nom Anor," he muttered. "Of
course."
Corran certainly knew who Nom Anor was, and not just by reputation. The
executor had very nearly killed him-and Tahiri and Anakin-in the Yag'Dhul
system.
"What do you mean, of course!" he asked.
"Don't you see?" Harrar said. "Nom Anor is the Prophet."
"I don't see at all," Corran replied. "Nom Anor was the agent behind half
the Yuuzhan Vong invasions in this galaxy. Why would he be a Prophet of the
Shamed Ones?"
"Because he failed too often," Harrar replied. "After the disaster at
Ebaq Nine, Shimrra called for his sacrifice-after which he vanished."
"And became the Prophet of the Shamed Ones, maybe in a bid to take the
throne by revolution," Tahiri guessed.
"What does it matter? We have to find him."
"No, wait," Corran said. "Harrar, you acted as if you should have guessed
his identity."
"I didn't know, if that's what you mean," Harrar replied.
"But-he did not act like a Shamed One. I could tell he had once been an
intendant, and suspected he wore the masquer for fear Nen Yim and I would
recognize him from his former life. And he seemed, at times, familiar. I can't
believe he made such a fool of me."
"He fooled us all," Corran said. "The question is-why would he want to
destroy Sekot?"
"To win back Shimrra's good graces," Harrar snarled.
"But he'll be stuck here, with the rest of us," Corran said, then
immediately felt stupid. "No," he said. "They're coming after him, aren't
they?"
"The lump under his arm," Harrar said. "If that was Nom Anor, it was no
disfigurement. It must have been a villip."
"But Nen Yim released a virus to destroy anything like that," Tahiri
pointed out.
"She did?" Harrar said. "I shouldn't be surprised. She was resourceful,
that one. But if it was sealed in a q'et-a sort of living bag for preserving
other organisms-it may have survived."
"Which means we have to find him fast" Tahiri said. "So what are we
waiting for?"
"For you to calm down, for one thing," Corran said.
"I'm not having an apprentice of mine run into battle in your state."
"I'm okay," Tahiri said, defensively.
"No, you're angry. Remember our deal. Especially the part where you have
to do what I say."
She nodded, then took a deep breath. "I'll try. It's hard."
"The Yuuzhan Vong belief in revenge is very strong," Harrar said.
"I'm aware of that," Tahiri said. "Sometimes it doesn't feel right to
fight it."
"Anger always makes you feel good at the time," Corran said. "Makes you
feel bigger than yourself, makes you feel that everything you do is justified.
But it's a trap."
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she looked calmer. "Thank
you," she said.
"Good." He scratched his beard. It was no longer neatly trimmed, but
sprawling all over his face. "We didn't seethe Prophet or anyone else at the
hyperdrive assembly."
"He might have easily slipped past us," Harrar said.
"While we were searching for a communications device."
"You're right. We'd better go back."
It was beginning to rain as they swept the area around the vanes, and
then entered the repair complex, lightsabers ready. They didn't find anyone at
the entry level. But they did find the turbolifts jammed.
"He's down there," Corran said.
"Well, we can't wait for him to come back up," Tahiri said. "By then,
it'll be too late."
"Do you have any idea what he intends to do?" Corran asked.
"None," Tahiri said.
"Nen Yim once spoke of protocols already in the posses-sion of shapers
that seemed intended for use against the bi-ology of this planet," Harrar
said. "I've no doubt she developed weapons of her own, as well."
"Are you saying Nen Yim planned to destroy Sekot?" Corran asked.
"I think she initially believed, like Shimrra, that Zonama Sekot was a
threat to our people," the priest said. "As did I. But I believe that both of
us came to a different conclusion." He sighed. "I wish I could have spoken to
her about her new discovery."
"She said she had the solution to all our problems," Tahiri said.
Corran noticed her eyes were damp. "Maybe she thought that solution was
killing Sekot," he ventured. Tahiri shook her head. "I don't think so, Master.
"
"Right, well, there's only one way to really find out, isn't there?"
Corran peered down the shaft. "There ought to be a manual way down, in case
the power cuts out, but I don't see anything."
"They probably use some sort of flitter or hoverlift," Tahiri pointed
out. "That's too far down to go by ladder."
"Yes, it is," Corran said, eyes still searching. "But I think I do see a
way. It's just not one I like."
To Nom Anor's delight, the search was not nearly as long as he feared it
would be. In fact, the object of his search was so large and obvious that he
overlooked it at first. In the center of the chamber was a knob about twice as
tall as he was, and about the same in diameter. At first glance, it seemed to
be wrapped in some sort of rough fabric, but a closer inspection showed that
it was heavily i wound in very fine threads. At the base of the thing, the
threads spread out like fine roots and dug into the damp, exposed stone of the
floor.
He'd found it, as easily as that. The threads were pre-cisely like the
filaments of the neural net on the ship. There were just more of them-many
more.
He quickly unpacked the incubator, a wet, fleshy device I about the size
of his hand. He linked it to the qahsa and ac-cessed a protocol that was both
a genetic and develop-1 mental blueprint. A stream of chemical and telepathic
data moved from the qahsa to the incubator. The latter quivered j and began to
vibrate ever so slightly. Nom Anor allowed himself a smile. The incubator was
already transforming genetic blueprints into living organisms. The result
would be a soldier virus that would invade the neural integuments and corrupt
their ability to carry data. The result should bt a feedback explosion in the
core. That would not only render the planet unable to travel, but sear a third
of the biosphere away, as well. If that did not kill Sekot, it should at least
distract it long enough for him to get away. Shimrra could send a small number
of ships to finish the job. He had only to hide the incubator and leave.
He pushed experimentally at the filaments. They wete too tough to break,
but they pushed readily aside, so that he was able to bury the organism deep
within. When he was finished, the filaments slowly returned to their places,
leav-ing no sign of what he had done. Even if the Jedi were fol-lowing him,
they would have to not only know what he had done-and he couldn't imagine how
they could-but also find the incubator, a task that might take hours. By then
it would be too late-the microbes would be leaking out and invading the
strands. Ten hours after that, things would start going very wrong for Zonama
Sekot. But by then, Nom Anor would no longer be on the planet. He removed his
disguise, produced his villip, and stroked it. A moment later, the fierce
visage of a warrior appeared.
"I am Ushk Choka," the villip informed him. "You are the one I have come
for?"
"Yes," Nom Anor replied. "What is your present position?"
"In high orbit around the planet your signal emanates from. We seem to be
undetected."
"Send a lander for me," Nom Anor said. "You may follow the villip's
signal."
"Yes, I have your position," Choka confirmed. "All you have promised
Shimrra is done?" He sounded skeptical.
"Yes, Commander."
"Nothing seems to have changed. The planet is there, and very much
covered in life."
"Things will change soon," Nom Anor said, "but I as-sure you we do not
want to be here when they do."
"I risk much, to send a lander now," Choka grunted. "I have been informed
of the planet's defensive potential. You promised it would be negated."
"And it will be," Nom Anor insisted. "It will not be able to prevent our
escape."
"But it might prevent the landing."
"By the time the lander arrives," Nom Anor said, "the planet will be
thoroughly preoccupied." Or so he hoped.
But he had been unable to concoct another scheme that would both destroy
Zonama Sekot and allow him to escape with his life. The window would be
narrow, but it should be there.
"In any event," he continued, "what is risk to the mighty Ushk Choka?
Only a chance to show your bravery."
The warrior grunted angrily, and Nom Anor knew he had hit the right
nerve.
"Of course," Choka said. "The lander will be there in seven hours."
"You're looking at that superconducting cable, aren't you?" Tahiri asked.
"Yes." The cable was smooth and just small enough that his hands could
fit around it. It looked like it went all the way down, and hung ten
centimeters away from the wall.
"I'm game," Tahiri said.
Corran shook his head. "No. If Anor hears me coming down, he'll just come
back up on a turbolift. You have to be here in case he does that. Harrar
doesn't have any weapons." And maybe Harrar wouldn't stop him if he could. The
two of them might still be in on this together.
Which meant he could be leaving Tahiri in a bad position. There was
nothing he could do about that, though. This was too important.
He took his jacket off. Outside, a steady pounding began as the rain
came. Thunder crashed nearby. He reached out and touched the cable
experimentally, then wrapped the jacket around it, getting a firm grip. He
swung himself over the guardrail and reaffirmed the grip.
"This should be fun," he said.
"It looks like fun," Tahiri said. "Be careful. I'd hate to have to
explain to Mirax what happened to you."
"Just watch those lifts," Corran reminded her.
Then he let his body slide out into the air.
For the first few seconds, he was in true free fall, acceler-ating toward
the bottom of the shaft at the exponential speed of gravity. Then he began to
tighten his grip, creating friction against the cable. His rate of fall
slowed, but his arms complained, and the jacket warmed quickly. He re-laxed
again, clamped down again, alternating.
Above him, the top of the shaft had already diminished to a circle so
small that Tahiri's face was barely visible. Below him, the light strips on
the walls still met together in a point. He had a long way to go, and
proceeding like this he wasn't going to make it. His arms would wear out long
be-fore he reached the bottom, or more likely the jacket would burn through.
He'd known that from the start, but had needed to experiment with the cable
for what he was about to do.
He closed his eyes, feeling the air rush past, feeling the living Force
around him, the great pulsing life of Sekot, the unseen floor, his own body,
all one in the Force...
And relaxed. He kept his hands loosely around the cable, but put no
pressure on it. He was really falling now, his body tending horizontal as the
atmosphere pushed against it. Fear tried to rise up and take him, but he
batted it away. There was nothing to be afraid of-he knew he could do this. Of
course, he'd always had a little trouble with levitation...
He had to get the moment exactly right, and he had to trust the Force to
let him know when it was.
It came. He clamped down on the jacket, and his arms felt like they were
coming out of their sockets. The smell of scorched synthleather filled his
nostrils, and he felt the floor coming up, still too fast. He pushed, pushed
in the Force-and slammed into the ground. He let his knees buckle, released
the jacket, and rolled.
"Ouch," he murmured.
Nom Anor heard something strike the floor, not too far away, and without
even having to look, he knew the Jedi had somehow found a way to come down the
shaft after him. He cursed under his breath and ran for the lift. They
couldn't catch him now-he would either have to help them reverse his sabotage
or die along with them, neither of which figured very prominently in his
plans. He was still unarmed, except for the plaeryin bol.
The lift came in sight, but he heard running footfalls be-hind him. He
lurched to a stop in front of the car, pushed out the crate that was blocking
it, and punched at the ascent control.
Only then did he look up to see how close his pursuer was. Corran Horn
was just rounding a bank of equipment, his lightsaber blazing. He was coming
fast, but not fast enough.
"Nom Anor!" he shouted. "Fight me!"
Nom Anor actually laughed at that. "I wouldn't fight the Solo brat at
Yag'Dhul," he shouted, as the door closed. "Why in the galaxy would I fight
you?"
The lift started up.
Now he had a few seconds to think. Horn would unjama lift and follow him,
but he hadn't seen Tahiri. She was probably still at the top, waiting for the
lift door to open. Maybe Harrar was with her. Could he take them both?
He had to, obviously, or all of this would be for naught. They already
knew his identity. The shaper must not have been as dead as he thought she
was.
He spent the next few seconds marshaling his strength, knowing this would
either be his moment of triumph, or another failure.
The door opened.

THIRTY
Thunder seemed to rumble through Mon Mothma as the ship turned
ponderously broadside to bring her guns to bear on the lead Yuuzhan Vong
destroyer analog. The de-stroyer, already in a position to fire, held its
ground and un-loaded, pounding the deflectors mercilessly. Wedge could almost
hear the Yuuzhan Vong commander's triumphant gloat-by the time the Mothma's
main batteries were in position to strike at him, its shields would have
failed. Which was why it was good that that was not really what Wedge had in
mind, after all.
"Now," he said quietly. "Engage the tractor beam." The entire ship jolted
and hummed as its structure tried to compensate for suddenly being attached to
another mass of even greater size. Both ships suddenly began to pivot in
ponderous slow motion.
"They've broken the lock, sir," Cel informed him.
"That was plenty," Wedge replied, repressing a grin. They had managed to
roll the destroyer right into the path of a Yuuzhan Vong Dreadnaught,
effectively blocking fire from it to either the Mothma or the heavy Mon Cal
cruiser Vortex Wind that was coming up behind. The Yuuzhan Vong ship not only
was serving as a shield for them, but was now exposed to fire from both
Alliance ships, as well. Wedge watched in satisfaction as huge chunks of the
vessel went white, fading through blue to red, then black. A seam of internal
explosions ran down the spiny length of the destroyer, ripping it apart.
Cheers went up from the bridge crew.
That put them ahead of the game, in terms of numbers. "Continue as
planned," Wedge said.
The Vortex Wind nosed over the dying hulk of the destroyer, swinging
broadside as she did so, and caught the next ship hard with its batteries as
it came from behind the eclipse. Wedge took Mon Mothma to starboard and down,
relative to the Vortex Wind, joining Memory of Ithor in a bombardment of a
smaller frigate-sized ship. He'd been working his way through the Yuuzhan Vong
formation with a series of these bait-and-switches, using one ship to draw the
attackers into the line of another. It was almost too easy, but they had
clearly expected him to make a hard, straight push for the interdictor.
Instead, he was plowing around the flank farthest from the huge dovin basal
vessel, shredding it pretty effectively. They'd finally analyzed his plan and
were bringing around the largest ship in the cento; but they were slow, and
he'd already managed to take out three of their capital ships without losing
any of his own, though the Ranger was in pretty bad shape.
The starboard flank was theirs, now. He had the ships form a line and
began laying down a corridor of fire that opened a lane to the approaching
Dreadnaught, a monstrous kilometer-long cone of bone-white yorik coral. Maybe
a hundred coralskippers flared out in the first few furious seconds, and
Alliance starfighters rushed in to fill the gap, pouring toward the hulking
Yuuzhan Vong vessels.
"Come and get us," Wedge said. "Come on, be the Vong I know and love."
Because now what remained of the Yuuzhan Vong flotilla I was at a
pronounced disadvantage. To continue the fight, they would have to fly
straight into the combined firepower of six Alliance capital vessels.
Which, predictably, they began to do.
This was where the heavy slugging would begin.
"Sir, we report some activity from the Golan Two. It opened fire on the
skips pursuing Twin Suns."
"Really?" That was good news. He hadn't really expected the battle
platform to be functional after all this time. How had Jaina commandeered it
so quickly?
"Yes, sir."
"See if you can raise Colonel Solo."
The Dreadnaughts were closing, and beginning to fire at extreme range.
Wedge could already see them taking hits from the starfighters.
"Target dovin basals until they're in deep range," he said.
"Lasers only, at your pleasure."
The Mothma and its sisters commenced firing.
"Sir?" Cel sounded distressed.
"Yes?" he asked mildly.
"We can't raise Colonel Solo. And there's something else."
"Well?"
"The Golan Two has disappeared."
"Disappeared? Destroyed?"
"It's hard to say at this range, sir, with this much interfer-ence, but
there's no obvious sign of explosion or debris. It's more like it just dropped
out of existence." Gone, then here, then gone...
"Thrawn," he murmured. "Did you leave us a present?"
"Sir?"
"It's cloaked, Lieutenant. Keep an eye on that sector, and let me know
the instant anyone hears anything from Colonel Solo."
He turned his attention back to the immediate battle. The Golan was still
very much a wild card-he would have to work with what he had.
The lead Dreadnaught was taking terrific damage, but it must have been
mostly hull in the forward sections, because it was still coming. Wedge paced
up to the viewport.
"Die, you ugly brute," he muttered. But on it came, aimed at Spritespray,
a medium cruiser.
At this point, even if they managed to kill the dovin basal drive the
ship would keep coming with enough momentum to wreck the cruiser and open a
hole in his line. If the Dreadnaught retained any firepower, it would then be
behind his line, forcing him to a two-front battle.
"Spritespray, let her through. Vortex Wind, Justice-at-cute rumble."
The three ships acknowledged. Wedge watched the Dread-naught roar past,
with far too much momentum to stop as Spritespray scooted aside and the Vortex
Wind and Justice rolled above and below the gap. As the Dreadnaught went
through the hole, they let the ship have it from both sides. The Dreadnaught
passed through the line with no drive and massive damage in all areas. Without
power it con-tinued on its last vector, out toward the system's rim. Other
ships were making for the gap, though. Wedge shifted his line to break and
form on either side of the already damaged vessels.
"Sir!"
From Gel's frantic tone, he knew it would be bad. Ships were decanting
near the interdictor-Yuuzhan Vong ships. A thin chill lifted the hair of his
neck.
"They've figured out we weren't a feint," Wedge said.
"They're back."
That meant he had a whole new battle on his hands.

THIRTY-DIXIE
The door opened, and Nom Anor stepped out, smiling, his hands extended
with open palms.
"Stop right there," Tahiri commanded.
"If I don't, will you cut me down?" Nom Anor asked. "I have no weapons."
"You wouldn't use them if you had them," Tahiri snapped.
"Coward. You wouldn't fight Anakin at Yag'Dhul."
Nom Anor shrugged. "True enough. How is the young Solo brat? No-didn't I
hear he died? Yes, that's right, he did. And you two were close, were you not?
What a pity."
"Shut up," Tahiri said. The hatred was welling up in her, urging her to
do exactly as he had suggested, cut him down and slash that murderous smug
leer from his face.
"You're angry," Nom Anor said. "I thought you Jedi weren't supposed to
get angry."
"I make an exception for you," Tahiri said.
"How flattering," the executor purred. "You would turn to the dark side
just for me?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Tahiri said.
"Wrong," Nom Anor replied, taking a step out of the turbolift. " I have
studied your ways, Jedi. I know that if you strike me down in anger you will
have committed the most terrible sin your kind can commit."
"You won't care about that," Tahiri said. "You'll be dead."
"Will I?" He took another step.
"Stop,"
Tahiri commanded.
"Very well. I will do as you ask." He stopped, less than a meter away,
staring at her. She felt her hands shaking-not with fear, but with the effort
to control her passions.
"Kill him," Harrar said.
"He's not armed," Tahiri said. "I won't murder him."
"No!" Harrar said, leaping forward.
It distracted Tahiri for an instant and she looked away, noticing even as
she did that one of Anor's pupils was growing...
Memory clicked-something Leia had said about that eye. She leapt aside as
the glob of venom spurted toward her, but she hadn't taken the guardrail into
account. She hit it with her hip and agonizing pain jolted up her side. She
tried to turn and managed to just in time to see Nom Anor side-step the priest
and kick viciously at her. The kick connected, flipping her back. She dropped
her lightsaber, grabbing wildly for the railing.
She missed and then she was falling.
Part of Nom Anor was amazed it had been so easy to deal with Tahiri. He
turned on Harrar, and found the priest coming for him again, a snarl on his
face.
Nom Anor hit him with a q'urh kick, then spun and snapped his fist
against the back of the priest's head. Harrar faded with the blow, however,
dropping and sweeping. He caught one of Nom Anor's feet, putting him off
balance long enough to launch a powerful thrusting punch.
More by luck than from any design on Nom Anor's part, the punch missed.
Nom Anor brought his fist up under Harrar's jaw with such force that the
priest left the ground. Bits of shattered teeth sprinkled the floor as Harrar
thudded to it, slid up to the wall, and lay still.
Nom Anor took quick stock of his situation and saw that his day was
getting even better. The Jedi had dropped her weapon. Quickly he picked it up.
He had experimented with them before, and so found it easy to ignite. Then,
re-membering Horn, he severed the power conduits to the lifts, starting with
the one in motion. He heard it drag to a stop someplace not far below.
Knowing that this might not be good enough-for all he knew Horn might cut
hole in the wall and fly up-he left the building and struck off through the
driving sheets of rain toward a high, flat spot he'd picked out some time be-
fore, shoving the now quiescent weapon under his sash. Tahiri nailed in space,
reaching desperately to grab something, anything, but nothing was in reach.
From the corner of her vision she caught sight of the cable Corran had slid
down, less than a meter away-which was still half a meter too far.
The Force, idiot, she thought. She reached out, tugging at the cable with
the Force, changing her vector so she angled toward it.
She wrapped her bare palms around it, gasping as her hands burned. Her
fingers tried to open reflexively, but she couldn't let them, or she would
fall. Nom Anor would escape, Sekot would die-and she would let Corran down. If
the older Jedi was still alive.
She embraced the pain and focused beyond it, using the Force to further
slow her descent. Finally, every muscle in her body shrieking in chorus with
her palms, she came to a stop.
She looked up, and discovered she had fallen almost a hundred meters.
The anger was back, but now she needed it-not to fight, but to wrap her
legs around the cable and pull herself up, though every centimeter gained
brought a world of agony. She felt blisters rupturing on her hands.
At least it makes them stickier, she reflected. Her hands conformed to
the cable now, as if they were made of tal gum. Nom Anor went carefully up the
narrow path, choosing his steps in the freeze-frame moments that the lightning
created as it limned the world white and blue, then left it again in darkness.
The rain was a steady drum, and the wind gusted like the laughter of an insane
god. His route was a broken spine of stone with yawning pits of darkness on
either side. He came to particularly narrow footing and stopped for a moment,
realizing that he was actually afraid. It was as if the planet itself was
trying to do what the Jedi had been unable to.
As perhaps it was. If Nen Yim was correct, and the planet was sentient,
perhaps it had witnessed his act of sabotage. Perhaps it sought revenge.
"Do your worst," he snarled into the wind. "I am Nom Anor. Know my name,
for I have killed you."
As he said it, he finally knew with absolute conviction that he had done
the right thing. Zonama Sekot was like a tonqu flower-attracting insects with
its sweet scent, tempt-ing them to alight upon it-where they found themselves
cloyed, watching the long petal roll up. Part living, part ma-chine, and
somehow part Jedi, it was an abomination - more so than Coruscant, more so
than anything in the galaxy of abominations.
Quoreal had been right. They should never have come here. But Nom Anor
had set that to rights.
He crossed the narrow area, stepped over a gap in the next lightning
flash, and saw that the way widened a bit ahead.
But from the corner of his eye...
Someone crashed into him, chopping viciously at the side of his neck. The
force of the blow knocked him sprawling, and his chin grated against stone.
With a roar he kicked back and rolled. A foot caught him under his savaged
chin, but he managed to catch it and twist. His attacker fell heavily. Nom
Anor scrambled back, trying to regain his footing, but found himself teetering
on the edge of a cliff. Lighting ripped the sky, and he saw a silhouette
rising against it. Another flash came, this one behind him, and he made out
Harrar's face, terrifying, as if the very gods had put their light of
vengeance in him.
"Nom Anor," the priest shouted through the rain. "Pre-pare to die,
perfidious one."
"This planet has driven you mad, Harrar," Nom Anor snapped. " You side
with Jedi against me?"
"I side with Zonama Sekot," Harrar said. "And you-you are accursed by
Shimrra, you honorless qorih. I would have killed you anyway."
"Zonama Sekot is a lie, you fool-a tale I told my fol-lowers so that they
would obey me."
"You know nothing," Harrar said. "You know less than nothing. Do you
think you know the secrets of the priest-hood? Do you think we share all we
know? It is Shimrra who has lied to us. Zonama Sekot is the truth. If you
would be of service to your people, you will tell me what you have done."
Nom Anor felt the lightsaber in his hand. Harrar was ad-vancing, and a
single kick would be enough to send Nom Anor plunging to his death. He dared
not use the plaeryin bol-even if it still contained poison, the rain would at
best deflect it, at worst wash in onto him. The Jedi weapon was his only
chance.
"Telling you will do no good," he sneered at Harrar.
"Nothing can reverse the damage now."
"I believe you," Harrar said, his face twisting as he took a quick step
toward Nom Anor.
Nom Anor pressed the stud on the lightsaber and the cut-ting beam blazed
out, hissing and trailing steam in the downpour. It felt strange, a weapon
with no weight other than its grip. He cut at the priest's knee, but his
position and the unfamiliar blade made the cut awkward. At the appear-ance of
the blade, however, Harrar tried to stop his forward motion and jerked his leg
away from the attack; he slipped on the wet rocks and stumbled, falling past
Nom Anor and over the cliff.
His howl of rage and frustration was quickly cut short. Panting, Nom Anor
rose, extinguished the lightsaber, and continued on his way. The gods were
with him again, it seemed. Certainly they were no longer with Harrar.
When the turbolift jarred to a halt, Corran ignited his light-saber and
cut through the roof of the car, stepping aside as the circle of metal clanged
to the floor. After waiting a few seconds for the plating to cool, he leapt up
and caught the edge of the hole, then drew himself up into the shaft. In the
dim emergency lighting, he could see the door some ten meters above. The lift
was magnetic, so the walls were glassy smooth, and the power cables were
buried in them. There were no rungs and nothing to give purchase. He could cut
handholds for himself and climb, but that would take a long time.
He dropped back down into the car and examined the control panel. He
didn't know the language. The up and down icons were obvious, but the others
would take a little figuring out.
Nom Anor must have cut the power from above somehow, but the car hadn't
fallen-presumably there was an emergency battery system to prevent that
happening. But would the emergency system be able to finish the ascent, or was
it doing its best just to keep him from falling?
He pushed a red button with two vertical lines and a triangle, with no
result. He tried a few of the others, again with no result. Frustrated, he
tapped the up key.
The car started moving, though much more slowly than before. He felt like
pounding his head against the wall the emergency system was separate from the
normal one-he needed only to tell the car where he wanted to go.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the lift, ready to fight-but there
was no one to fight. The room was empty. There were light spatters of black
blood on the floor, but other than that, no clues as to exactly what had
happened. He was about to go outside when he heard a faint noise behind him,
in the maintenance shaft. Peering over, he saw Tahiri pulling herself up the
superconductor cable, about twenty meters below.
"Are you okay?" he shouted.
"I'm fine," she called back up, her voice shaking. She seemed to be
having trouble climbing. "Nom Anor got away," she added. "You have to stop
him-I'll join you when I can."
"And leave you dangling? No. I don't think so. You just hang on there."
He went back to the lifts. Someone had indeed cut through the power
couplings-with a lightsaber, it appeared. He reached cautiously inside and
grabbed a rope-sized fiber-optic conduit and began to pull it out. When he
thought he had enough, he cut it with his weapon and then tied a loop in the
end.
Tahiri hadn't made much progress in the intervening time. He threw the
loop end down to her.,
"Put your foot in that," he said, "and hang on with your hands. I'll pull
you up."
She nodded wearily and did as instructed. Bracing his end of the rope
over the safety rail, Corran hauled her up. When she had pulled herself over
the rail, he saw her hands.
"Let me see those," he said.
"They're all right," she protested.
"Let me see them."
They were badly friction-burned, but it looked as if her tendons were
undamaged, which was good. The scar on her old amphistaff wound had torn a bit
and was leaking blood, but not too much.
"Well, at least you got to slide down the cable," he said.
"Was it as fun as you imagined it would be?"
"That and loads more," Tahiri said.
"What happened here?"
"I let my guard down," she said. "Nom Anor has some-thing in one of his
eyes that shoots poison."
"Did he hit you with it?"
"No. But when I dodged, I hit the rail, and then he knocked me over it."
"And Harrar?"
"I don't know. He attacked Nom Anor, I think. Maybe he's gone after him.
Which is what we ought to do." Corran peered outside at the dark and the rain.
"I agree. But how to track them in this, without the Force?"
"I have my Vongsense," Tahiri said. "If he hasn't gone far, I might be
able to sense him."
Corran produced a small glow rod, and in its light they found muddy,
water-filled footprints leading back toward the heights. They followed the
prints until they c ame to a narrow ridge of stone.
"At least there's only one way to go," Corran said. As they ascended, the
lightning reached a crescendo, strik-ing in the valley where they had been
staying every few sec-onds or so. The roar was so steady they couldn't hear
each other speak. Then-rather abruptly-it was over. The rain slacked off, and
then ended, and the wind subsided to a clean, wet breeze.
The ridge continued until it joined a larger one, ascending the whole
time.
"He's going for high ground," Corran said. "Can you sense your
lightsaber?"
"No," she said. "There's something interfering-more than usual."
"I feel it, too," Corran said. "It's Zonama Sekot. Some-thing's wrong."
"We failed," Tahiri said. "Whatever Nom Anor was going to do, he's
already done it, I'm sure of it."
"There may still be time to stop him," Corran replied. "Concentrate. Use
your Vongsense."
She closed her eyes, and he felt her relax, reaching out to someplace he
couldn't go.
"I feel him," she said at last. "Up ahead."
By the time the east was gray with dawn, they had reached a broad, upland
plateau that showed signs of recent convul-sion. The stone beneath the soil
had split in places, rearing up to reveal its strata. The soil was black and
ashy, and the vegetation was low when there was any at all, though the charred
trunks of larger boras still stood here and there, like the columns of ruined
temples.
"I've lost him," Tahiri said, a tinge of despair in her voice.
"He could be anywhere up here."C orran agreed. Where there was soil, it
was spongy with a dark green web of grass that resisted tracks.
"We'll keep going in the same general direction," Corran said, "unless...
"
Far above, they heard a faint report, like very distant and brief
lightning.
"Sonic boom," he murmured, searching the skies with his gaze. The clouds
had cleared away, leaving only a few thin ones very far up.
"There," Tahiri said. She pointed to a swiftly moving spot, high above.
"Good eyes," Corran told her. "I'll give you one guess where that's
going."
"Wherever Nom Anor is."
The dot was descending rapidly toward the plateau. Corran peered along
its projected path and caught a hint of motion near a copse of low trees.
"Come on," Corran said. "If we run, we might get there in time."
"We will," Tahiri swore.

Nom Anor was watching the ship approach when the ground beneath his feet
suddenly shuddered. It lasted for only an instant, but he knew it was only the
beginning. He looked off toward the still-visible field guides and saw a white
plume curling up toward the sky. He curled his lip-if he had timed this wrong,
if he died in the explosion he had caused, how the gods would laugh.
The grass off to his left rustled, and from the corner of his eye, Nom
Anor glimpsed unnatural color. Turning as if in a dream, he beheld Corran Horn
stepping into the clearing, his eyes full of death.
Nom Anor glanced up at the approaching ship. It was only moments away,
but that was longer than it would take for the Jedi to kill him. He touched
his hand to the stolen lightsaber...
And ran, into the low-sprawling copse of trees behind him. He need only
buy enough time for Choka's ship to land and dispatch warriors.
Corran Horn shouted and ran after him. Nom Anor dodged through the trees,
leaping an old fis-sure, then bore to his left, hoping to circle back to the
clearing. The ground trembled again, not enough to upset his footing, but
almost. He glanced back over his shoulder, saw Horn gaining on him, turned to
redouble his pace. Just in time to see the blade of a foot, level with his
eyes. Behind the foot was an airborne Tahiri, her body horizontal to the
ground.
The kick caught him above the nostrils, snapping his head back and
knocking him completely off his feet. He crashed into the trunk of a tree, and
half of the wind blew out of him. He clawed for the Jedi weapon he'd thrust in
his sash, but it was missing.
In fact, it was in Tahiri's hands, the energy blade already on.
"This is mine," she said.
Corran had come up behind her. "Don't kill him," the older Jedi said.
"I won't," Tahiri replied, but Nom Anor heard the tone in her voice. It
was not a human tone at all-although she was speaking Basic, every nuance of
her speech was Yuuzhan Vong. There was no mercy in it, but promises aplenty.
"I'm going to cut off his feet, though," she continued, stepping nearer.
"And then his hands. Unless he tells us how to stop what he's done to Sekot."
"Do what you will," Nom Anor said, forcing as much contempt into his
voice as he could. "It has already begun. You cannot stop it."
"Where's Harrar?" Corran asked.
"He's dead," Nom Anor replied. "I killed him." He watched the tip of
Tahiri's blade dip toward his foot, and then winced as she traced a shallow
burn across the ankle.
"Tahiri, no," Corran commanded.
Her eyes narrowed further, then she withdrew the blade.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Get up, Anor."
Nom Anor began coming slowly to his feet.
"The ship's landing, Corran," Tahiri said.
"But he's not going on it," Corran said. "You have a villip, don't you,
Nom Anor? You'll call them off, now, or I'll cut your head off myself. And
that, my friend, is absolutely not a bluff."
"They will not obey me," Nom Anor said.
"Maybe they won't," Corran told him, "but you'd sure better try to make
them."
Nom Anor stared into the man's eyes and knew he was not lying.
He reached for the villip beneath his arm, thinking furiously.
Then Zonama Sekot tried to throw them all into space. The ground bucked
beneath them and an anguished cry exploded in the Force, filling Tahiri's head
with such agony that she hardly noticed when she thudded back to the ground.
Desperately she tried to shut out the world's pain and regain her feet, but
the will behind it was too strong. She felt as if a trillion needles were
growing from her heart, pushing through her heart and lungs and bone. She
clutched at her head, screaming with Zonama Sekot's voice. Through her blurred
vision, she saw Nom Anor running off through the crazily tilted trees.
No. Sekot, he's the one doing this to you!
She was never sure if Sekot somehow heard her, or if that gave her the
extra strength she needed to push away the sick pain, but she levered herself
to her feet. Corran was up, leaning heavily against a tree.
"Corran..."
"Just a second," he said. "I-okay. I think I've got it under control now.
"
The two Jedi stumbled through the newly broken terrain. The ship was on
the ground, and Nom Anor was running toward it. Tahiri ran as she never had
before, drawing on the turbulent Force around them. Corran was just ahead of
her. They were gaining on the executor. If they could reach him before the
warriors on the ship could debark, they might yet be able to save Sekot. She
clung to that hope, as the breath ripped at her lungs and her heart stuttered
unevenly.
Without warning, Corran lashed out at her, sending her sprawling. Even
before a sense of betrayal could register, she saw he was going down, too.
Less than a heartbeat later, a swarm of thud bugs whirred through the space
where they'd just been.
She suddenly understood that she and Corran must have been occupied with
Sekot's pain for longer than she'd thought. The warriors had already come out
of the ship and hidden themselves around the clearing. Corran and she were
completely surrounded.

THIRTY-TWO
"Okay, folks," Han said as the reversion warning began sounding. "Hang
on. If Wedge is still here, it's probably be-cause the Vong have interdictors
to keep him from leaving, which means we'll probably get pulled out early.
Again."
"I hope he isn't here," C-3PO said. "I so dislike un-planned reversions.
They cause an unpleasant resonance in my circuits."
"That's great," Han said. "All I need now is a hypochon-driac droid."
"Sir, it is quite impossible for a droid to be a hypochondriac."
"If you say so, Goldenrod. Okay, here goes." Han pulled back on the
levers, and the Falcon decanted as effortlessly as she ever had-in fact, more
smoothly than usual. "Well, whaddya know," he said. "We came out normally.
Guess that means..."
"...that we're too far from the interdictor," Leia finished, "Just
barely."
Leia was right. His instruments showed the gravitic profile of not one
dovin basal interdictor, but two. The falcon
had flashed into existence marginally outside the field of effect of the
nearest. If he'd been set to revert just a little farther in, he would have
made good on his prediction. "Oh, dear," C-3PO said. "It looks as if General
Antilles is here. And not doing very well!"
"Yeah," Han agreed. "You can say that again." He looked sharply at the
droid. "But don't."
The system was swarming with Yuuzhan Vong ships. The nearest was one of
the interdictors, hanging in space like a sword with two blades and no grip.
Beyond it was a stationary mass of skips and a few cruisers, apparently
guarding the interdictor against attack. Farther insystem was the main battle,
where ten Yuuzhan Vong capital ships-two of which were behemoths-were engaged
with what was left of Wedge's battle group.
Which wasn't much-Han counted four Alliance ships of frigate size or
larger. They were clustered together, trying to avoid being encircled, but-as
C-3PO had pointed out-it didn't seem to be going so well.
Beyond all of that was a nother interdictor. It, like the one near the
Falcon, was keeping its distance, moving only to keep the Alliance ships from
going to hyperspace.
"Ouch," Han said. "He needs reinforcements, and he needs them now."
"It's a disaster," Leia murmured. Then she straightened and got that Jedi
look in her eye.
"What?"
"It's Jaina."
He waited for her to continue, his heart frozen in his chest.
"She's alive," Leia said, "and I don't think she's injured. But
something's wrong."
"If she's down there, I guess so," Han said, swallowing.
"There must be something we can do!" C-3PO wailed.
"There is," Leia told him.
"Yeah," Han said, looking at the interdictor. "There is."
"Whatever-sir, you're not going to attack the interdictor? We barely
survived the last time!"
"They haven't noticed we're here yet," Han said. "They don't even have
any ships on this side. We've got a good clean shot at them. With a little
surprise on our side, a little know-how-sure, why not?"
"But our weapons aren't sufficient to incapacitate a ship of that size,"
the droid pointed out.
Leia leaned over and kissed Han on the cheek. "That's never stopped him
before."
Han felt the lump in his throat swell, but he forced a smile. "This is
just more of the usual, Threepio. Don't worry yourself."
He opened a channel to the TIEs.
"Captain Devis, can I trust you to advise Grand Admiral Pellaeon of this
situation immediately?"
"I thought you were going to do that, sir," Devis replied.
"Pellaeon might not arrive in time. He might even decide not to come at
all, given the situation. Heck, he might have troubles of his own. We're going
to stay and take out that interdictor."
"That could be quite a task," Devis said.
"All in a day's work," Han replied. "Just hurry up and bring us a little
relief, will you?"
"I'll send a wingmate," Devis said, "but I'm staying to help."
"I..." Han looked back at the battle, remembering that Jaina was down
there, somewhere. "I would appreciate the help, Captain Devis. Thank you."
He laced his fingers together and cracked them. "All right," he said,
"let's get this show on the road." He turned to Leia. "Sweetheart, could you
get to one of the turbolasers? Our Noghri friends are picking it up pretty
fast, but in this situation, I'd rather have you-" He stopped, almost unable
to continue, and most of the swagger went out of his voice. "I'd rather have
you here, next to me," he finished. "But I need you in the upper turret."
She gave his hand a squeeze. "I know. I'll put Meewalhin the other."
She stood to go, but before she could leave the cockpit, he pulled her
down for a kiss. "Be careful up there, huh?" he said.
"I always am."
He watched her go, wishing suddenly that they could just leave, go find
Pellaeon, go watch a sunset... But Jaina was here, and despite the fact that
the odds were...
"Oh, great," he murmured. "I'm turning into Threepio."
"What was that, sir?" C-3PO asked.
"I said, I'm glad you're up here, Threepio."
"Why-thank you, sir. I'm really quite touched."
"Right," Han said. He opened the channel again.
"Okay, TIEs, we're going in-just hang back until they start throwing
skips at us."
The interdictor was two spicular cones with their bases touching, and it
was nearly the size of a Star Destroyer. Usu-ally they were covered with
skips, but this time the skips were elsewhere-either in battle or between the
interdictor and the battle, guarding against a push in its direction. Han
dived the Falcon toward the thickest part of the vessel, knowing he would get
only one good run before they were aware of his presence and "set about a
thousand skips on him. The TIEs dropped into formation on his port and
starboard.
"Watch the gravity well, fellows," he warned them. "We want to mess up
their paint job, but not by splatting all over 'em."
"I hear you," Devis replied. "Correcting."
Han tilted the ship to put the seam where the two cones met in the Money
Lane and started in with the quad lasers. An instant later, the turret guns
joined him. Voids appeared in spidery clusters, sucking the blasts into
nothingness. Han launched a concussion missile to either side of the fire
lane, and had the satisfaction of seeing both plow into the craggy yorik coral
surface, rupturing it and sending shock waves crawling out toward the thin
ends of the ship.
Then he was curving around the interdictor, his course bent by gravity.
But instead of using the force to sling him away, he settled into a tight
orbit, firing constantly, trying lo dig a trench into the thing deep enough to
do real damage. The interdictor's plasma cannons began to fire, but one reason
Han had picked the centerline as his target was that the ship angled away from
it in every direction, making it tough to fire at him at all and impossible to
put him in a cross fire. Nevertheless, a near miss roared by the cockpit, an
eight-meter-wide explosion of superheated matter that grazed his shields and
sent an ion jolt through the ship's protective circuitry.
Meanwhile, less than one in ten of his laser shots were getting through,
and he had only a few concussion missiles left. His trench wasn't getting deep
very fast.
"Skips coming in," Devis reported. "Six in the first wave.
"Can you keep them off us for another pass or so?" Han asked.
"Copy that, Captain Solo."
Han fired another pair of concussion missiles-one got through, the other
exploded when it was about to be sucked in by a void. That happened near
enough to the Falcon that the shock wave bounced him from his orbit and sent
him away from the centerline. Suddenly he was no longer outside the
interdictor's line of direct fire, but squarely in it. He stood the Falcon on
her thin side relative to the interdictot to minimize his target surface,
weaving through withering fire, dropping lower to keep the blasts from
converging on him. When he was practically skating on the ship's surface, he
turned abruptly up and out. "Wow," he heard Devis say. Han's jaw nearly
dropped - the two TIEs had stayed with him the whole way. Behind them were
only three skips of the original six. Han didn't have to wonder what had
happened to the other three-not with pilots like that.
Even as he watched, the TIEs broke and came around, putting the skips
between them and the big guns of the cruiser, and proceeded to take them
apart.
"That's some pretty fancy flying," Han commented.
"Good thing there weren't more like you when we were fighting the Empire.
"
"Thank you, sir," Devis said. "But we've got more company. A lot more."
Han glanced at the monitor. "We can make one more pass," he said. "After
that it's going to be way too hot here."
In fact, he knew, this pass was going to be more than a little warm
itself-probably fatally so.

"Wow," Prann said, gazing out through the Golan IPs viewport. "Look at
that. And you wanted us to help them."
"What? "Jaina said.
"Come here," Prann said.
She got up and made her slow way to the viewport. They kd traded out the
webbing they had bound her with for stun cuffs on her hands and feet and a
slave collar around her neck. Moreover, the Toydarian was still sticking close
to her. Prann didn't seem too worried that she would try anything.
She reached the viewport, and to her dismay saw what Prann was talking
about.
"The rest of the Vong fleet came back," she said dully.
"Yep. In a few hours your fleet's going to be scrap metal, and even if we
were inclined to lend a hand, I don't think we could do much good against that
many."
"Don't try to justify your cowardice to me," Jaina said.
"They're all going to die, and you're just going to watch."
"Watch?" Prann said. "No, I'm going to run. The hyper-drive is ready to
go, thanks to your spare parts. Why do you think I dropped the cloak? But it
looks like they've for-gotten us out here, so we're going to finish running
com-puter simulations. Our cobbled-together drive is a little quirky, and we
don't want to end up in a star."
"Please," Jaina said. "If you'll just listen to me-
"Solo, I said no. Hey, look at it this way you're going to live to tell
the uppity-ups what happened here, which no one else is likely to be able to
do. You're going to live, Colonel-and it's not even your fault."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jaina asked.
"It means," Prann said, leaning over her, "I've done a little fighting
myself, in my time, and I know your type. Getting dead is your goal in life,
and you'll keep throwing yourself into the fray until it happens. In the
meantime, you live in constant disappointment."
" You don't know me," Jaina said. "Don't pretend you do."
"Whatever, kid. I'm not going to make an argument out of it. It's not
worth it."
"Take this station into battle, now!" Jaina said, as dra-matically as
possible. Prann blinked at her. She felt the Toydarian tense.
"Well," Prann said. "Nice try."
Jaina let her face sag in defeat, but inwardly, she conjured a wicked
little smile. She'd only lightly nudged Prann with the Force, just enough to
let him know she was there. Because, in the middle of their little discussion,
she had found a plan. She wasn't sure it would work, but it had a better
chance of succeeding now than it had a moment ago.

"Pash? "Wedge said.
"Get me General Cracken!" He'd just seen Memory of Ithor take a series o f
hard hits, and sensors said its core was going critical.
"Here, Wedge," the general's tired voice said a moment later. "Sorry,
we're not going to much help to you from here on out."
"Just get out of there," Wedge said.
"We're evacuating now," Pash said. "We'll have to take our chances in
escape pods-we've got none here. I tried to aim her at one of the
interdictors, but she's not going to make it, I'm afraid."
"Just take care of yourself, Pash. This isn't over yet."
"Good luck, Wedge. Cracken out."
A few moments later, the Memory flashed out of existence. Wedge hoped
Pash made it out, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. The Mothma was
limping itself, and it wouldn't be long before he was sharing his old friend's
fate. Unless something changed, and quickly, they were all going down.
Millennium Falcon and her escort had picked up twenty skips by the time they
came into firing range again. The TIEs were staying behind them, drawing fire
in an effort to keep them from hitting the Falcon, but plenty of shots were
getting through, making it an awfully rough ride.
"Captain Solo," C-3PO moaned from the copilot's seat, "I'm afraid our
rear deflector is beginning to fail."
"See if you can reroute the power," Han said, wishing Leia were in that
seat, despite what he'd said earlier.
"Can't keep them off," Devis said. "I've lost my shields."
"Thanks for the help," Han told him. "I can handle it from here. You just
get clear." He fired off the last of his concussion missiles, blowing another
gouge in the inter-dictor, and focused his quad lasers on the hole. Yorik
coral churned and evaporated. He dropped even lower, hoping a void didn't get
him, and continued to strafe. An enormous explosion rocked the ship.
"What was that?" he asked of everyone and no one in particular.
"My wingmate," Devis replied. His voice had a rattling quality to it. "He
took a direct hit."
"You're still back there?" Han snapped. "Get out! Make sure Pellaeon is
coming!"
"A little late for that, I'm afraid," Devis said. "But maybe I can still
be of service. It was a great honor flying with you, Captain Solo. Tell...
tell Admiral Pellaeon I did what 1 thought was best."
"Devis, what are you..."
But then the TIE came screaming by on his starboard. It was spinning as
if it had lost a stabilizer, but somehow the kid had still managed to aim it.
It smacked into the interdictor like a meteor, blasting off a chunk of yorik
coral almost the size of the Falcon and leaving an incandescent hole.
Atmosphere blew out into the void, along with a few figures that could only be
Yuuzhan Vong.
Han pulled up, pulling a few skips through the explosion as he did so.
"Threepio?" he demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir," the droid said. "The interdictor is still functioning."
Which means it was all for nothing, kid, Han thought. He realized he
didn't even know what Devis had looked like.
"Han, what's happening?" Leia's voice drifted up.
"Nothing," he said. "We've lost the TIEs and the interdictor is still on-
line. If we make another pass, they'll bring us down for sure."
"If we don't..."
"Yeah, I know," Han said. "Even if Pellaeon comes, it'll be too little,
too late. So we make another pass, right?"
"Right."
"Right." He spun the ship in a vicious roll that brought the interdictor
back into view. "I love you, sweetheart," he said.
"I love you too, you old pirate."

"Okay," Prann said, "looks like we're ready, guys. I'm laying in the
final calculations."
This is it,
Jaina thought. She reached out through the Force, subtly, not taking
control, but instead substituting her own coordinates for the ones Prann
thought he was entering. She didn't have much skill controlling minds through
the Force, and like Jacen she didn't think much of the practice.
But this time there was no choice.
One-one-two, not aught-aught-two, she thought at Prann. Aught-nine-one,
not one-one-nine. Everything else is right, it's perfect, the best jump ever
calculated, and then you'll be borne, rich, safe from the Vong forever.
She couldn't change the jump much, or he would notice. But she didn't
need to.
"Hey," the Toydarian said. He must have noticed her look of
concentration. "What are you doing? Stop it, or I shoot your hand off."
"I'm not doing anything," Jaina said, desperately trying to keep up her
monologue through the Force. "What could I be doing?"
"Doesn't matter anyway," Prann said. "Here we go." He pulled back on the
jump lever, and they went.

"What in the..." Han yanked back on the stick, pulling the falcon out of
her dive and just whispering by the huge object that had appeared in his path.
"Just when you think things can't get worse..."
"Sir! Sir!" C-3PO shouted. "It's a Golan Two Battle Station. Where in the
galaxy could that have come from?"
"A Golan?..."
"We're saved!"

"What-what happened?" Prann shrieked.
"You tried to jump through an interdictor," Jaina replied.
"It didn't work."
"I did not! I set the jump in exactly the opposite direction."
"Yes, well, obviously you didn't."
Prann leapt up, pulling his blaster.
"You did this. Somehow you got in my head..."
"Listen to me, Prann," Jaina snapped. "You're interdicted. They have a
solid read on you by now, so if you put the cloak up you'll not only be a
sitting target, you'll be a blind sitting target. You've got just one choice
now-take out that interdictor, or die. What's it going to be?"
Prann kept the blaster on her, his face contorted with fury.
"She's right, Erli," Ghanol said. "We have to fight our way out now."
Prann's finger twitched on the blaster contact-then he slammed it back
into his holster.
"To the guns, then. But so help me, Jedi, you're going to pay for this."

Han cut hard in next to the station as the shields went on. The next
instant, heavy laserfire began pounding the interdictor. Now his only worry
was the dozen or so skips still on his tail, his own failing shields, and
twenty other things that were going wrong in his ship.
"Hang on, everybody," he said. "This is going to be tight."
"Han," Leia called up.
"Little busy right now, honey," he said.
"Jaina's in that station."
"Really? There ought to be a good story behind this one-but hey, that's
our girl."
"I don't think-Han, she's still in trouble."
"Oh, yeah?" He yawed and straightened, leading a skip through cannon
fire. "Well, we'll see about that."

"Sir!" Cel shouted. "The Golan Two just appeared right next to the
Interdictor. It's really giving it a pounding!"
Wedge looked at the display, not believing what he was seeing.
"How did they move it?" he wondered.
It didn't matter. "Change heading. When that field goes down, I want to
be out of range of the other one. We'll take up the rear."
Ponderously and under heavy fire, what remained of his tattered fleet
turned to obey. All except Mon Mothma. The ships between them and the
interdictor had realigned to deal with the battle station. His battle group
had a clear run at it, but someone had to prevent that other interdictor from
keeping pace with them. And since this was his fiasco, it looked like he was
elected.

THIRTY-THREE

"Remember, you're supposed to be training me," Tahiri commented as she
and Corran moved to stand back to back. "What does the wise Jedi do in a
situation like this?" The warriors were advancing toward them in a tightening
circle. In the distance, near where the tops of the field guides could be
seen, the sky was a mass of white vapor.
"The wise Jedi avoids situations like this," Corran said.
"Oh," Tahiri said. "I don't guess I know any wise Jedi, then. Very
disillusioning."
She counted thirty warriors.
"Right," Corran said. "And that's your lesson for the day-don't hang on
to your illusions."
"I was hoping more for a crash course in 'how to kick butt when you're
outnumbered thirty to two.'"
"Well, if you're going to be picky about what I teach..."
"Quickly!" Nom Anor shouted, from near the ship.
"There is little time."
The circle contracted more rapidly. The ground trembled again, and pain
pulsed through the Force. Pain and some-thing else-something familiar.
She hadn't had time to sort it out when a track of green laserfire ran
through the warriors on their right flank, then their left, and suddenly a
gleaming spacecraft come into view. It dropped to hover a few meters off the
ground.
"Jade Shadow!"
Corran whooped. "It's Mara and Luke!"
Even as he said it, the landing ramp dropped down, and Luke Skywalker and
Jacen Solo leapt out, followed by the hulking reptilian figure of Saba
Sebatyne. Three new lightsabers flared to life. Then the Shadow leapt back up,
turned, and began raining fire on the Yuuzhan Vong craft. The remaining
warriors shook off their stupor and charged, but Tahiri ignored them, tearing
through one of the gaps cut by the Shadow.
Nom Anor wasn't watching her-instead he was dodging laserfire, trying to
reach the landing ramp of the Yuuzhan Vong ship. He made it there only a few
meters ahead of her, but as soon as he was on it, it began to retract.
With a war cry, she hurled herself through the air, land-ing on the ramp,
sweeping her lightsaber toward the executor's head.
Nom Anor ducked at the last instant and her lightsaber cut into the c oral
hull. He scrambled away from her, and she started to follow, but the ship
suddenly bounded up from the ground, twisting as it went. Tahiri lost her
footing and fell. She grasped at the edge of the retracting ramp and missed,
but caught the edge of a plasma cannon with her left hand. Furiously, she cut
at the hull with her lightsaber. It resisted the blow, and her weight suddenly
tripled as the ship went into drive. She lost her grip and went whirling back
to the ground, landing so hard all of the wind went out of her. She lay there,
trying to recover, watching helplessly as the yorik coral vessel bored up
through the atmosphere with Jade Shadow in hot pursuit.
Another wrenching wave of pain from the planet lashed at her, and again
the ground shifted. Wheezing, she forced herself to her feet.
Corran, Luke, and Jacen were trotting toward her. Saba was standing at
the edge of the clearing, staring out at the towers. The Yuuzhan Vong warriors
all appeared to be dead.
"Tahiri," Jacen asked. "Are you okay?"
"Nothing broken, I think," she said.
He wrapped her up in an embrace that hurt almost as much as it felt good.
Tears threatened again.
"I let him get away," she murmured. "After all that, I let him get away.
And now Sekot will die."
"Die?" Master Skywalker said. "Do you two understand what's going on
here? What's wrong with Sekot?"
Over Jacen's shoulder, Tahiri saw a shaft of blue light suddenly leap
from ground to sky, appearing from somewhere near the hyperdrive. It lasted
only a second.
"Down!" Corran shouted. "Cover your ears."
A heartbeat later, the shock wave came, followed by a wind so hot it
scorched her back.
"What was that?" Jacen asked.
"The ship's drive," Corran explained. "Nom Anor must have sabotaged it
somehow."
"Nom Anor?" Master Skywalker said. "What...?"
"That's a long story," Corran said, "one that I would like to tell. But I
don't think I'm going to get the chance if we don't get out of this area, and
quickly."
"Mara's already on her way back," Master Skywalker said.
By the time the Shadow dropped back low enough to pick them up, the
surface of Zonama Sekot was vibrating like a plucked string, and in the Force,
Tahiri could feel something building, something out of control. She followed
the others aboard.
"I came back when I saw the plasma burst," Mara said.
"Is it a weapon?"
"No," Luke said. "Get us out of here, Mara-fast."
"Sounds good to me."
"What about Nom Anor?" Tahiri asked.
"I alerted Widowmaker,"
Mara said. "They should have enough firepower to deal with the Vong ship.
"
The ground was dwindling, and the gigantic vanes of the hyperdrive were
coming into view. The entire valley they stood in was black, and as she
watched, three brilliant blue beams like the one they had seen a moment ago
tore up through the atmosphere.
The shock wave hit, and the Shadow went into a crazy yaw, which Mara
fought, cursing, into control.
"I appreciate the save," Corran told Master Skywalker as the ship leveled
out. "But how is it you just happened by?"
"We didn't know it was you," Luke said. "Sekot was in pain-we came here
to find out what was wrong, and saw the Yuuzhan Vong ship." He raised an
eyebrow. "We were pretty surprised to find you here."
"Right," Corran said. "That explanation I promised you..."
Through the upward-angled cockpit view, Tahiri saw stars appearing as
they left the atmosphere behind. Then, abruptly, they streaked away.

Nom Anor was standing on the bridge of the transport vessel Red Qurang,
watching the planet recede with a grim smile of satisfaction. Jade Shadow had
broken off her pursuit.
"A large infidel ship is approaching," one of the subal-terns growled.
"It's the Imperial frigate I mentioned to Shimrra," Nom Anor said. "You
were supposed to occupy it with your other ships."
"There are no other ships," Ushk Choka growled. "Lord Shimrra had need of
them elsewhere." He grimaced at the sight of the approaching ship. "It's too
large to engage," he said. "Can we outrun it?"
"We will have to bear its first assault," the subaltern said. "After that
we can outrun. Its mass will prevent it changing its vector quickly enough to
catch us before we burrow into darkspace."
"Can we withstand?" Ushk Choka asked.
"Possibly," the subaltern said dubiously.
"Maneuver evasively, then."
Nom Anor was still watching the planet, feeling oddly calm, despite the
danger he was in. He could still see where the hyperwave guides were by jthe
boiling cloud, and as he watched, a brilliant blue cone suddenly appeared,
then just as quickly vanished.
Something was wrong. The core was supposed to ex-plode, not fire the
engines. Had he failed? Was there some-thing about Nen Yim's protocol he
hadn't understood, or had he underestimated Sekot? Perhaps Skywalker and the
other Jedi had managed to somehow reverse the damage he had caused.
The view swung away from the planet and was replaced by the night of
space and a white wedge of abomination. It seemed Choka meant to run right
into the warship's for-ward batteries.
"Keep our present course," Choka said. "Secure for bombardment."
"Entering range," the subaltern muttered.
The ship began rocking from the frigate's guns, but Nom Anor ignored them
and stumbled his way back to the mica-like rear viewport analog, where Zonama
Sekot was still visible.
Behind him, Choka and the pilot snarled at each other. Something
exploded, and a haze of acrid smoke filled the air. Nom Anor dug his fingers
into the spongy edge of the bulkhead, still unable to look away from the
planet below. The planet of his prophecy.
Not one, but three blue cones stabbed up through the at-mosphere. It was
a beautiful sight.
An earsplitting detonation snapped his face against the mica. He tumbled
to the deck, black spots swimming before his eyes, but with grim persistence
he dragged himself back up, noticing as he did that everything had gone eerily
silent, though the ship still shivered beneath the Imperial frigate's attack.
For a foolish instant he thought perhaps the ship had lost its atmosphere and
he was in vacuum, but then he would be dead, wouldn't he?
He wiped blood from his eyes, realizing his forehead was cut, and gazed
back out the viewport, just in time to see that they had made their run past
the Imperial ship. Its drive sec-tion was just coming into view. It eclipsed
his view of the planet as it began a ponderous turn, trying to come after
them. It was still firing at them from its rear tower. Nom Anor noticed that
Red Qurang was trailing a cloud of vaporized coral.
"We can stand no more of this," the subaltern said. "An-other strike,
and..."
Suddenly all the stars fell toward Zonama Sekot. The frigate quivered and
twisted, stretched into a streak of light, and vanished with the stars. Nom
Anor snarled, braced himself...
And the stars were back. In the distance, the orange gas giant rotated as
always. Where Zonama Sekot had been was only empty space.
Not what I expected, Nom Anor thought as his body went light from relief.
Not what I expected, but it will serve.
Still, for long moments he gazed at where the planet had been, blinking
away the blood even though there was nothing to see.
He willed his muscles to relax. The truly dangerous part of his journey
was yet to come. Ushk Choka and his men were surely doomed. Shimrra would
probably execute them the instant they landed. Nom Anor would live longer, at
least until he had told the Supreme Overlord everything he knew. Then the true
test of his gamble would come. Would he join Choka and his crew in feeding the
gods, or would he be forgiven and perhaps even elevated?
Only time would tell. But the risk was worth it. One way or another, he
was at last going back where he belonged.
THIRTY-FOUR
The hull-breach claxon blared as Mon Mothma closed with the pursuing
Yuuzhan Vong fleet.
"Deck Twenty-four, sir," Cel reported. "Contained. The damage is minimal.
"
"Get those deflectors back up," Wedge ordered. "Divert power from
starboard, if necessary."
Mon Mothma ran port broadside to the approaching vessels, lasers and ion
cannons thrumming in a steady rhythm, missiles and mines ejecting as rapidly
as the ship's weapons systems allowed. Wedge knew he couldn't keep that up for
long, but he wasn't worried about depleting the power core or running out of
ammunition-they would be overwhelmed by the enemy long before that happened.
In the meantime, however, his desperate maneuver was causing the lead capital
ships to either slow or veer onto lengthier vectors-not so much from fear of
the Mothma's firepower as to avoid collision. That wasn't true of the entire
advancing line, of course-the ships on the wings had simply gone around him.
Those weren't the ones he was worried about; his central preoccupation was
with tying up the cluster of the four ships flying point, because if they were
slowed sig-nificantly, the second Interdictor would have to set a parabolic
and hence longer, slower course to reach the rest of the Alliance ships. That
would give the battle station that much more time to incapacitate the
outsystem gravity-well generator and his fleet that much more of an
opportunity to jump out of this thoroughly botched affair. And, to his
surprise, it was working.
The Yuuzhan Vong had been strange throughout this whole battle-tentative.
The sudden appearance of t he Golan II seemed to have made them more so. Even
approaching his lone Star Destroyer, the Vong seemed almost cautious. It was
almost laughable-Ebaq Nine must have really shaken them up if they thought the
string of mishaps that constituted the Bilbringi offensive might actually be
the setup for some ingenious trap.
Come to think of it, that might be why they were try-ing to stay
relatively clear of Mon Mothma. Maybe they expected...
He blinked. It might work.
"Commander Raech," he said.
"General," Mon Mothma's commander said.
"Evacuate the sectors adjacent to the power core and reduce the core
shielding efficiency by two percent every thirty seconds."
"Reduce the efficiency, General?"
"That's correct," Wedge replied.
"Very well," Raech said.
"Give me reports on that as it develops, Lieutenant Cel."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said, clearly as puzzled as the commander.
Wedge turned his attention back to the battle. The largest of the ships
had rolled up above his horizon and was pound-ing their upper shields from
medium range, while a smaller frigate analog was coming in from below.
Wedge ordered a change in heading. Groaning, the ship turned its nose
toward the Dreadnaught and the three cruisers behind it.
Mon Mothma was now under fire from an entire hemisphere.
"Forward deflectors failing, sir."
"Steady," Wedge said. "Hold this course."
The pockmarked surface of the Dreadnaught grew nearer, resembling a badly
scarred moon. The lights on the bridge went out, suddenly, and stayed out.
"Power core shielding down fifteen percent, sir," Cel said. "Sir, the
surrounding decks are reporting contamination."
"Continue as ordered," Wedge said.
And hope the Yuuzhan Vong don't revert suddenly to form.

The interdictor cracked at its central seam and bled plasma in a white-
hot fountain of lead. Spinning from the reaction, it rolled like some bizarre
child's firework and then split, light flashing inside it like lightning in a
dark thunderhead.
Jaina, still bound in stun cuffs, felt like cheering. So did some of
Prann's people, apparently, because they actually did.
Prann wasn't one of them. "Status?" he snapped.
The Barabel at system ops looked over. "We've sustained major damage to
the southwestern deflector grid. Other than that, we're in pretty good shape."
"Good."
He looked over his shoulder at Jaina, his eyes smoldering, then finished
the turn and took a few steps toward her.
"Well, Jedi," he said. "You got your wish. Now I get mine." He pulled the
blaster out and pointed it at her head.
"Hey, wait, Prann," one of the humans said. "None of us signed on for
murder, especially the murder of a Jedi. The station is still in good shape,
we're no longer interdicted-let's just blast jets out of here, stick to the
original plan."
"Unh-unh," Prann snarled. "Nobody gets inside my mind like that. It ain't
right. And if we try to jump, she'll just do it again, drop us by the other
interdictor. Once she's dead, then we jump."
"Just let me stun her," Vel said. "She can't do anything then."
"No, not until she wakes up. Then who knows what kind of mind tricks
she'll pull? Better this way."
Jaina watched the muzzle of the weapon calmly. "Right now you guys look
like heroes," she said. "Nobody knows you weren't planning to help. Nobody has
to. Kill me, and all that changes."
"Hey, she's right," the Rodian-Jith-said.
"No, don't be a fool," Prann said. "We've got all those other pilots on
board. Somebody will talk."
"Good point," Jaina said. "Are you going to kill them, too?"
"Prann, come on," Vel pleaded.
"I'd take his advice," an infinitely more familiar voice said, from
behind her.
Prann jerked the gun up and fired as Jaina whipped her head around. She
was in time to see a large, furry mass intersect the bolt with a blazing
bronze lightsaber and send it whining into the bulkhead, missing its intended
target-her father.
Lowbacca-the furry mass-growled and leapt toward
Prann, followed closely by Alema Rar, whose lightsaber was also blazing.
Then the air was suddenly full of blaster fire. Lowbacca slashed through
Prann's weapon and then knocked him to the ground with an elbow strike; Rar
leapt straight at the bridge crew. Her mother and father were suddenly in
front of her, Leia blocking any shots coming their way and Han taking careful
aim so as not to damage the consoles.
It didn't take long for Prann's people to give up in the face of the
furious and unexpected attack. Within a few moments they were all disarmed.
Jaina let her breath out in a long sigh. "Hi, Dad, hi Mom. I was
wondering how long you were going to take."
Prann was picking himself up off the floor, rubbing his jaw.
"We stopped to pick up reinforcements," Han told her, indicating Alema
Rar and the rest of Twin Suns.
Leia moved to stand next to her. "Are you okay?" she asked, putting her
hand on Jaina's shoulder.
"Never better," Jaina said.
Her dad was staring Prann down.
"Look, Solo," Prann said, most of his bluster suddenly gone. "I don't
want any trouble from you."
"You were holding a blaster on my daughter. What do you expect from me, a
kiss and flowers?"
"Oh-yeah." Prann muttered, almost as if to himself. "I was just-angry,
you know. I wouldn't have really done anything."
"The rest of you," Han shouted. "I want you back at your posts, because
this crate isn't going anywhere until every last Alliance ship has made it
out, understand?"
The crew complied immediately, and the Twins went around collecting the
discarded weapons.
"This is our station," Prann said. "We earned it."
"Hey," Han said, "what's your name?"
"Erli Prann."
"Erli Prann. Can't say as I've ever heard of you. But Prann?"
"Yeah?"
Her father's fist suddenly lashed out, cracking the butt of his blaster
against the side of Prann's head. Prann dropped as if Han had used the
business end of the weapon.
"If you ever touch my daughter again, I'll kill you," he said.
When he looked up, Prann's crew was staring at him.
"Well?" he thundered. "Don't you all have something to do?"
They jumped back to their tasks as if they'd been working for Han Solo
all their lives. The lasers and ion cannons started firing once more, covering
the Alliance fleet as it gathered speed for hyperspace.
"And somebody get me the code to these stun cuffs!" he demanded.

The Dreadnaught was suddenly receding instead of getting closer. So were
the other capital ships.
"Well, look at that," Wedge said. "It worked."
"They think we're overloading our core, don't they, sir?" Cel asked.
"Yes, Lieutenant, exactly," Wedge replied. "But they won't buy it for
long."
He turned to the pilots. "Hard about. Point us toward that space
platform. And get the shielding efficiency back up in the power core."
"Sir, the interdictor is down," Cel noted.
"Brilliant. Control, order all ships to lightspeed." The Yuuzhan Vong
shook off their uncertainty pretty quickly when they saw the Mothma's drive
turn their way. They gave chase like a pack of voxyn.
Up ahead of him, he had the satisfaction of seeing the rest of his ships
vanish into starlight.
"We can ramp up to lightspeed ourselves, General," the Mothma's commander
said. "Shall I give the order?"
Wedge's lips pinched in. Jaina and everyone else on the battle station
were doomed if they left now. Not a good re-ward for what they had done, but
if he attempted an evacuation, the crew of Mon Mothma might join them.
He sighed. "Prepare..."
"Sir, I've got an incoming message-priority one, from Millennium Falcon."
"Put it on."
A few seconds later, Leia Organa Solo spoke over the channel.
"Wedge," she said, "can the Mothma make the jump?"
"Yes. Where are you?"
"In the docking bay of the Golan Two. Wedge, I'll ex-plain later, but
we're okay here. We'll cover you on your way out."
"That's good enough for me," he said. "Commander, take us out of here."
So long, Bilbringi, he thought. If I never see you again, that'll still
be two times too many.
"It was easy enough slipping into a berth, after we lost the skips," Han
explained. "What with all the shooting going on, I guess nobody was watching
the dock."

Jaina, her mother and father, and Wedge Antilles were sitting around a
table in the refectory of the Alliance-commandeered Golan II Battle Station,
currently occupying an orbit in an uninhabited system with what remained of
Wedge's ships and Admiral Gilad Pellaeon's fleet. A few Yuuzhan Vong ships had
followed their vector on the jump, and had paid dearly for it.
Now they were awaiting orders on how and where to disperse to. Prann's
people were in custody, waiting to be charged, and the near-system lookouts
hadn't spotted any-thing that looked like an imminent Yuuzhan Vong attack. The
combined fleet remained on high alert, but there was time for a little
relaxation.
Wedge poured another round of Corellian brandy.
"If this station had lips," Wedge said, "I'd kiss it. Since it doesn't-
Colonel Solo, I'll drink your health instead."
"Hear, hear," Leia said, and they all raised glasses.
"We really have Prann and his people to thank, in a way," Jaina said,
after the toast was over. "I mean, it's not like they intended to help, but if
it weren't for them..."
"Yes, if it weren't for them we would have all died," Wedge said. "Even
as it is, we lost way too much here. Pash Cracken, Judder Page..." He shook
his head. "Old friends, young people I never knew."
He looked up at them, and to Jaina he seemed suddenly old. "You'd think I
would be used to it by now."
"You don't get used to it," Han said.
From the corner of her eye, Jaina saw a flash of uniform, then an aging
human face with an iron-gray mustache. She came quickly to attention.
"Grand Admiral Pellaeon, sir," she said, saluting. The others at the
table came to their feet more slowly, Han slowest of all.
"Please," Pellaeon said. "At ease, Colonel Solo. After what you've been
through, you deserve a rest."
He turned to Wedge and saluted stiffly. "General Antilles, I've come to
offer my apologies. Captain Devis's man found us, but we hadn't had time to
prepare the fleet for lightspeed before you arrived here. I should have joined
you regard-less, but when our communications failed..."
"You did exactly as I would have done, Grand Admiral," Wedge said. "The
battle plan was explicit. It simply didn't take into account that all our
communications might fail."
"That's very generous of you, General Antilles. I hope if I were in your
situation I could be as forgiving."
"Has anyone heard from Admiral Kre'fey?" Wedge asked.
Pellaeon nodded. "The couriers Captain Solo dispatched established
communications between us, a bit belatedly. It seems, General, that the ships
that initially jumped from Bilbringi when you arrived there encountered
Kre'fey's fleet. They engaged briefly."
Jag? Jaina thought. Had she sent him into a firefight?
"Admiral," she asked, "do you know if Colonel Fel reached Admiral
Kre'fey?"
"I do not, Colonel Solo, but I shall make inquiries."
"I'm sure he's fine," Leia said. "We'll find him." Wedge cleared his
throat.
"Grand Admiral," he began, "I wonder if you would care to join us for a
drink. I believe the brandy is from your home province."
Pellaeon hesitated. "I would very much enjoy that, Gen-eral Antilles, but
at the moment, duty calls. I-I was won-dering if I could make an inquiry of my
own. Captain Devis hasn't returned to his command. Do you know his where-
abouts?"
Han shuffled a bit. "I'm sorry, Admiral, he, ah-didn't make it. He died
helping to take down the interdictor." A strange expression passed over
Pellaeon's face like a cloud, and like a cloud it was quickly gone. But Jaina
caught something in the Force, something unmistakable.
"I see," Pellaeon said.
"He said to tell you he did what he thought was right." Pellaeon clasped
his hands behind his back and looked at the floor. "Well, yes, that sounds
like him," he said. He glanced at Han. "He was a great admirer of yours, I
believe, Captain Solo, despite the fact that in Imperial holos you are most
often portrayed as something of a villain. Or perhaps that's why he admired
you."
He clicked his heels together. "Ladies, gentlemen-until I have time for
that drink."
He saluted and left-almost in a hurry, it seemed.
"Villain?" Han muttered. "Maybe I need to see some of these holos."
"That was a little odd, don't you think?" Leia asked.
"Yeah," Han drawled. "Devis was a good guy, sure, but..."
"Is the Grand Admiral married?" Jaina inquired.
"No," Leia replied. "They say he's never made time for it. Why do you
ask?"
"Because," Jaina said, remembering what she'd just felt in the Force, "I
think Devis was his son."
They were all silent for a moment, until Han raised his glass.
"To all of our sons and all of our daughters," he said, "be they with us
or beyond."
EPILOGUE
Han was sitting on a shingle of a beach on Mon Calamari, silently
enjoying the sunset with Leia, when Lando Cal-rissian came calling.
"They said I'd find you down here," Lando said. "I didn't believe it."
"Well, you know," Han said. "The wife likes this sort of thing."
"Is that Jaina?" Lando asked.
Han glanced off in the distance, where Jaina and Jag were exploring the
tide pools below an ancient reef uplift in rolled-up trousers and
windbreakers. Jag had shown up with Kre'fey a few days before, and Jaina and
he had been annoyingly inseparable since then.
"Yep. I convinced her to take a little leave," he said.
"What's going on? Still charging military prices for your courier
service?"
"Hey, I'm just doing my part," Lando said. "I only charge enough to keep
me from looking foolish. Anyway, my businesses won't run without
communications, either. And there's plenty of competition-the Smugglers'
Alliance loves this sort of work. Appeals to the romantic in them."
"Did you just come down here to fill me in on your good deeds, or is
something up?"
"No, I'm just stopping in to say hello and good-bye be-fore I head back
out. But I thought you'd like to know some of my people caught one of the
things that made such a wreck of the HoloNet."
"Really," Leia said. "What was it, exactly?"
"A dovin basal, basically, grafted onto some sort of liv-ing guidance
system. They follow HoloNet signals to their source and then collapse the
relays into singularities. The Vong must have released a million of them-
they're every-where. Some of my people think they're even multiplying."
"Wonderful," Leia said. "So even if we rebuild the relays, as soon as we
use them one of these things will catch the scent, and good-bye relay."
"That's about the size of it. I've been building some com-pact new
relays, though, and mounting them on retrofitted corvettes. If they're mobile,
it'll be harder to find them."
"Sounds expensive," Han said.
"Yeah, but think how useful one of those would have been at Bilbringi."
"Good point. I guess the military will give you a good price for those,
too."
Calrissian smiled. "Eventually. I'm going to give them the first few as
samples. I have to think about the future, after all. Well, I'll leave you two
alone, now. Places to be, and all that."
"Thanks for stopping by." Leia said. "It's always good to see you."
"I'm sure it won't be long before we see each other again," Lando
replied.
They had finished watching the sunset and were walking back to the
apartment when Leia suddenly stumbled. Han caught her.
"Hey," he said, "you know you don't have to act all clumsy to get my
attention." But then he felt how tense she was. "What's wrong?"
"It's Jacen, and Luke-and Tahiri, they..."
"Are they all right?"
"I don't know," she said. "It's not like my contact with them has been
all that strong, but I felt them, especially Luke and Jacen. Now it's like-
they're gone."
Han suddenly felt very cold.
"You mean dead?"
"No, not like that. I would know it if they died-I know I would."
"Then I'm sure they're fine," Han said, uncertain whether he believed
that or not.
"Yes," Leia echoed. "I'm sure they are."

Tahiri looked up at the heavens and shivered straight to her bones.
No world should have hyperspace for a sky. After the jump, Jade Shadow's
instruments had gone strange, and Mara had settled the ship in a protected
ravine until they could sort things out. No telling what would happen to the
atmosphere when they reverted.
If they reverted.
She drew her attention back to the conversation.
"Jacen and I had both sensed you for some time," Master Skywalker was
saying. "But fitfully, and we couldn't get a sense of where. Sekot sensed
something, too, but couldn't find your ship-it was hidden somehow."
"We came in a Sekotan ship," Tahiri said.
"With a few Yuuzhan Vong spare parts," Corran put in.
"That might explain it," Luke said.
"It certainly explains it," a new voice said.
They all turned, and Tahiri gasped. Nen Yim was standing there, whole,
alive.
"Nen Yim! "she said.
Nen Yim shook her head sadly. "No. This one has passed on. I found her
attached to my memory-her, and much in-formation concerning her technology-and
the ship that brought you here. The modifications she made to the ship are-
interesting. I may experiment with the design, should we survive this."
"Tahiri," Jacen said, "this is Sekot, the living intelligence of the
planet."
"I..." What did one say to a world? "I'm pleased to meet you."
"And I you, Tahiri," Sekot said gravely.
"Should we survive?" Luke asked. "What happened, exactly?"
"I was infected with a virus designed to corrupt the information-transfer
system that links my consciousness to the hyperdrive. I believe the intended
result was a core explosion. I managed to prevent that, but was unable to stop
our jump to hyperspace. I have excised the virus and am regaining control as
we speak, but it is difficult."
"Do you have any idea of our destination?"
"None," Sekot said. "The jump was blind. Eventually we will pass close
enough to a gravity well to be pulled out."
"Our friends in orbit," Luke asked. "Do you know what happened to them?"
"They did not make the jump with us," she replied.
"Whether they were destroyed, left behind, or pulled off onto another
vector, I cannot say."
"I'm sorry," Tahiri sighed.
"Sorry?" Luke asked.
"Yes. I brought him here. I argued for it, and now every-thing's ruined."
"Tahiri, you weren't the only one who thought it was a good idea," Corran
said. "Everything always looks clearer in hindsight." He put his hand on her
shoulder. " You came here for all the right reasons-to end the war, to somehow
find common ground between us and the Yuuzhan Vong. I thought we could handle
the situation. I was wrong."
The figure that resembled Nen Yim smiled ruefully. "I will not say I am
happy to find myself sabotaged and in danger of destruction, and yet what you
brought with you-the shaper and her knowledge-are of great impor-tance. I do
not entirely understand, and will not speak of it now, but I suspect the
questions raised are the most impor-tant questions I shall ever have to ask
myself. Now-if you will excuse me, I must return my full attentions to pre-
serving us all through what is to come. I suggest you find sturdy shelter in
the caves."
"Thank you," Luke told her, "and may the Force be with you."
"More than ever," Sekot said, "I believe that it is."
And on that enigmatic note, the image of Nen Yim vanished.
Soon after, the stars returned, spangled on a night sky.
The wind began.