"He was never named in your version of the story?"

 

Niiriit's brother shook his head. "I'd remember if he had been. That person would be as famous as Vua Rapuung."

 

He'd also be dead, Nom Anor thought to himself. Going around telling stories about heretics was one thing, but admitting who it was who disobeyed War-master Tsavong Lah's direct order was another thing altogether. It could have been anyone, though a warrior might have smuggled out a favorite slave; the shaper Nen Yim might have spoken of her experiences on Yavin 4; or someone belonging to a domain rivaling Kwaad might have even spread such rumors. The possibilities were numerous.

 

"Are there any other differences between the stories, then?" he asked, hoping to sound more like an innocent student of the Jedi rather than someone with an ulterior motive.

 

"There's some discrepancy over when the events occurred," Aarn said.

 

"Yes, I know. One version suggests that all this happened when Yavin Four was still in the hands of the Jedi. Doesn't that bother you?"

 

"Not really," Aarn said. "Stories do change of their own accord. I would be more suspicious if all the versions were exactly the same."

 

"Do you know of any others who tell tales like this, then?" Nom Anor asked.

 

"A few," Shoon-mi said. "Everyone tells a handful of trusted friends, and each of those in turn tells another handful. That is the manner by which rumors spread. Not knowing who told who more than one or two reiterations ago may be frustrating, but it certainly makes things safer for all of us."

 

That much was true, at least, Nom Anor thought. Without that fact working in its favor, the Jedi myth wouldn't have filtered far enough to reach his ears. At the same time, though, not being able to trace it back would hardly work in his favor. Shimrra wouldn't be happy with only half the information, if Nom Anor decided to divulge it. Unless the Supreme Overlord could be assured of wiping it out at its source, he would never believe that it had been completely eradicated. This would undoubtedly frustrate him, and that would make Nom Anor the source of this frustration.

 

The heresy was like disease eating away at the underside of Yuuzhan Vong culture. Ben eath the surface, as he had always thought of it, beneath the warrior, shaper, and intendant castes, lay the foundations built by the workers. The efforts of the workers were sustained by the priests, who shored up any weak areas with babble that would barely hold water if one poked a single claw at it. The priests made everything possible because, without gods demanding sacrifice and servitude, what was there to stop the workers from rising up? Or the warriors from turning on the weak? The intendants from stealing from anyone they felt like? It was the glue of the gods that kept not just the Yuuzhan Vong invasion on course but the Yuuzhan Vong race as a whole together.

 

If something were to supplant the godsnew gods, or no gods at allNom Anor suspected that Yuuzhan Vong society would fly apart like a shattered planet. There would be no center left to hold it together; it would be eaten away, decayed. He knew it was his duty to report the extent of the heresy to Shimrra. To do otherwise would be to actively participate in the destruction of everything he had worked toward for decades. Yet part of him still wondered if there might not be some way he could turn all of this around to work in his favor, without bringing everything down around him. And wouldn't that be the greatest irony of all? To use his enemies, the Jedi, as the means to his own victory?

 

"Amorrn?"

 

He realized that he had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the conversation taking place around him.

 

"I'm sorry," he said, gritting his teeth on the false camaraderie. "I was thinking of how strange it must have been for Vua Rapuung to be so close to a Jedi for so long."

 

"There have been others," Aarn asserted. "I heard of a Jeedai who allowed himself to be captured, and he couldn't be broken."

 

I'pan nodded. "I've heard of him, too," he said. "His name was Wurth Skidder. He seduced a yammosk with his mind and then killed it."

 

Nom Anor said nothing, although he was certain he knew more about the incident than the Shamed Ones relating it to him. The Jedi Wurth Skidder had been a prisoner on Creche, a yanimosk-carrying clustership destroyed at Fondor. Its commander, Chine-kal, had been circumspect in reports prior to his death, but what seemed certain was that Skidder had been close to the breaking point before an attempted rescue by one of the New Republic's most daring irritants, Kyp Durron's so-called Dozen. One member of this group, a Jedi by the name of Ganner, managed to kill the yammosk, but he had been unable to rescue his friend. The galling thing was that, although Wurth Skidder had died, it was true he had never been broken.

 

"Mezhan Kwaad couldn't break the Jeedai-who-was shaped," Aarn said.

 

"And then there are the Twins, also," Shoon-mi said. "Both have been captured, and both have escaped. Yun-Yammka has never been able to break them, either."

 

"So you are saying that they are even more powerful than the gods?" Nom Anor asked.

 

The question seemed to make Shoon-mi nervous. "Not necessarily," he said. "But perhaps the Jeedai know more about the gods than the priests do."

 

And there it was, stated boldly the true heresy that had the potential to bring the Yuuzhan Vong species to its knees. Once the workers stopped listening to the priests, what would fill the vacuum? The warriors? The intendants? The Jedi?

 

The latter truly would be an abomination, Nom Anor knew. He would never allow himself to be dictated to by an infidel. But he would use them to get what he wanted either news of the heresy could regain his favor with Shimrra, or the heresy itself could destabilize the Supreme Overlord's rule. That seemed a simple enough progression. It wasn't the normal way an ambitious Yuuzhan Vong climbed the ranksbut since the ladder one would normally ascend to further one's status in the Yuuzhan Vong hierarchy had effectively been kicked out from under him, he was forced to resort to other methods. It wasn't something he was particularly proud of, but it was necessary.

 

"We must return." Aarn shuffled about on his feet. Nom Anor wondered if Shoon-mi's blatant statement of faith had unsettled him, too.

 

"I understand," Nom Anor said. "But I would very much like to talk to you again. The notion of truth intrigues me, and I'd like to hear as many different versions of Vua Rapuung's story as possible. If you hear it from anyone else"

 

"Then we shall tell you, Amorrn," Shoon-mi said, nodding. "I'pan should take you to see Hrannik, too. I've heard she is also busy spreading the message."

 

"I will," I'pan said. "I know a couple of others, as well. The truth is spreading."

 

"The truth is spreading," Shoon-mi repeated, as though by rote.

 

Bidding a quick farewell, the two from the surface exited via the abominably right-angled door, leaving I'pan and Nom Anor alone again. His deformed companion opened the sack Shoon-mi had given him and looked inside.

 

"What is it?" Nom Anor asked.

 

"Food, some old clothes," I'pan answered. "The usual stuff. Shoon-mi likes to look after his sister."

 

"Why doesn't she talk about him?"

 

"Because she believes he is a traitor to the truth," I'pan said as though the answer should have been obvious. "As far as she is concerned, he should leave his unit and join her rather than paying lip service to the old gods. Until he does this, she will not even acknowledge his existence."

 

"But she will accept his gifts," Nom Anor observed wryly.

 

I'pan laughed at this. "She is not so proud that she will refuse help," he said. "Survival is her priority; changing her brother is secondary."

 

Nom Anor remembered the way Nurut's eyes had glowed in the light during the telling of I'pan's story. She was a true fanatic, more dangerous to the system than any of the other's. There was nothing more lethal than a trained warrior who had turned against her old leaders.

 

He smiled to himself, confident with the beginnings of a plan that was slowly forming in his head. All he needed now was the source of the Vua Rapuung rumor.

 

"Are you coming?" I'pan said, breaking into his thoughts.

 

Nom Anor smiled again, wider this time. "Time to go home, I'pan," he said, nodding.

 

I'pan climbed through the fissure in the wall they had entered through earlier, leading him in the direction of the "home" he thought Nom Anor had been referring to.

 

Jaina watched the holo through a third time. She still couldn't believe what she was seeingalthough the heavy feeling in her gut suggested that part of her was at least beginning to.

 

The holo came from Al'solib'minet'ri City Control, piped up to Pride of Selonia on a secure line. Jaina had returned to the frigate specifically to view it, at the request of her parents who felt she needed to see what had happened to Tahiri. It also gave her the opportunity to get her X-wing serviced and diagnostic checks done on her craft's weapon systems while things were quiet.

 

The holo had been taken two hours before in the diplomatic quarters where her parents were staying with Jag, Tahiri, and C-3PO. It showed Tahiri being guided along a corridor by a small contingent of Fian security guards. According to the report Jaina had received from her mother, Tahiri had gone on a brief exploratory mission through the city, after slipping away, with Leia's assistance, from the Fian escort. It seemed that she had led the guards on a merry chase before they had finally managed to track her down to one particular room where they'd found her lying on the floor in a seemingly dazed state. She had accompanied them without protest, allowing them to return her to the others in her party.

 

From the casual manner that they carried their blasters, and from their unconcerned expressions, it was obvious that the guards were not expecting any kind of trouble whatsoever. Nevertheless, their leader appeared less than impressed by the runaround that Tahiri had given them.

 

Jaina watched as Tahiri looked down at something she had clutched in her hand. The cam angle didn't allow a good shot of what the object was, exactly, but Tahiri's reaction upon seeing it was both startling and disturbing. The girl recoiled as though struck by a blaster bolt to the forehead, her expression one of absolute horror. In an instant, too fast for the cam to follow, her ice-blue lightsaber was out and at the ready, sweeping to cover her from any attack. The security guards fell back, themselves startled, bringing their blasters up to the ready. The leader barked a warning, but Tahiri didn't seem to hear or see him. Her eyes were wide as they darted mani-cally from side to side, exactly as if she was expecting an attack. Her lightsaber whipped around in a bright arc as she pirouetted to cover herself from some nonexistent attack from the rear. The guards jumped back a step or two farther at this, confused by the sudden change in the situation. Jaina could understand their fear, too. There was a look on Tahiri's face that warned of what might happen if she was provoked.

 

The ranking security guard was marginally braver than the others. Despite his own obvious apprehensions regarding Tahiri, he cautiously stepped forward and demanded she deactivate her lightsaber. If she didn't, he said, he would be forced to open fire upon her.

 

Jaina slowed the playback at that point, watching closely as Tahiri listened to the guard's request. The girl half turned; her expression changed to one of alarm, as though seeing the guards around her for the first time. A procession of emotions flashed across her delicate features dismay, regret, fear, and, finally, despair. For a split second, Jaina even thought Tahiri might attack the leader who had approached her. Then, as though struck from behind by a stun baton, her eyes rolled back into her head and her legs folded beneath her. Her lightsaber died the instant she released it, the handgrip clattering across the floor and into a wall.

 

Even then, with Tahiri seemingly unconscious and her weapo n nowhere near her, the guards remained wary, keeping their distance with their blasters trained on Tahiri's prostrate figure. The leader was also reluctant to approach, nervously calling for backup on his comlink. Even when they did find the courage to step up to her and prod her with their feet, Tahiri didn't respond. It was only when the reinforcements arrived that the girl finally stirred, sitting up with obvious bewilderment. But she didn't protest against the weapons being leveled at her, or resist when she was loaded aboard a hovercart and examined by a medic. A short time later, she fell into what appeared to be a deep sleep from which she couldn't be awakened.

 

By then, the others had been notified and were arriving on the scene. Jaina's mother came first, along with a Fia who was later identified as Assistant Primate Thrum, followed closely by Jag.

 

"Is she hurt?" Leia asked the paramedic leaning over Tahiri.

 

"No," she was told. "She simply appears to have fainted."

 

The leader of the security guards explained how Tahiri had drawn her lightsaber. When pushed on the matter of why she should do something like this, the Fian security guard replied, "That's just itI don't think it was us she was attacking." When asked to explain, however, the

 

guard was unable to do so. Nonetheless, Jaina knew what he meant.

 

Even though the holo had been taken at awkward angles that often didn't allow her to see Tahiri's face, Jaina could tell that whoever Tahiri had been fighting, it hadn't been those guards. Her lightsaber was swinging, yes, but her attention had been on something else, something unseen. What that something was, Jaina had no way of telling.

 

Her mother, using every bit of leverage her diplomatic weight afforded her, convinced the medic, guards, and Assistant Primate that Tahiri would be better off in her own quarters, where she could be examined properly. The anxious procession had wound its way through the empty corridors of the diplomatic quarters to where Jaina's father and C-3PO were waiting. There, Leia had insisted they be left alone so that they might tend to the girl in peace and quiet. The Fia had agreed to allow this, but clearly with reservations. Even from her position in orbit, Jaina could see that Assistant Primate Thrum was not overly convinced that this was the right thing to do. His job had been to keep an eye on the visitors; what with Tahiri's unauthorized jaunt and the jamming of the bugs in the diplomatic suites, he wasn't really having much success at it.

 

Jaina's mother had called her as soon as they'd determined that Tahiri wasn't in any immediate danger and was, as the Fia in charge of the medical droid had diagnosed, simply unconscious. Jaina's first thoughts were concern that Tahiri's illnesswhatever it washadn't been relieved by leaving Coruscant. Leia agreed she had hoped that keeping her busy would be enough to clear the angst that seemed to have taken hold of her.

 

"But perhaps I'm hoping for too much," Leia said, frowning. "It's still early."

 

Jaina wasn't convinced it could all be put down to stress. "Whatever's going on, Mom, I don't think it's entirely in her head."

 

"Something in the Force, you think?"

 

"I honestly don't know. If it is, then it's something subtle that you're not picking up." She shrugged, feeling frustrated at being so far away from her sick friend. "She was a long time without a Master, after Ikrit died. Who knows what's been going through her mind?"

 

"Luke wouldn't have made her a Jedi Knight without being certain she was all right," Leia said, but something in her expression told Jaina that her mother didn't really believe it could be dismissed so easily.

 

Midway through the conversation, C-3PO announced that he'd managed to access a security holo showing what had happened to her before her collapse. The droid succeeded just in time; barely had he appropriated the holo when it was snatched out from under him and secured in a domain he had no access to. The Fia were clearly becoming sensitive to the overactive curiosity of their guests.

 

Jaina and the others watched the holo, increasingly mystified.

 

"Tahiri looks terrified," she said over the secure link with her family.

 

"Of what, though?" Han asked. "There's nothing there but the guards. And the most they would've done is bore her with details of procedures she should have followed."

 

"Well, something upset her," Leia said.

 

"Something that none of us can even see," Jaina mused.

 

And there the matter rested. Leia insisted that the best thing for Tahiri right now was to let her sleep. She hadn't

 

been harmed by the Fia; there was nothing out of the ordinary on any of the scans C-3PO took of her. They would have to wait until she woke up to find out exactly what had happened.

 

"Here's another mystery," Jaina's mother said after a few moments' silence. "The Fia aren't afraid of the Yevetha anymore."

 

"What?" Han exclaimed. "That's like standing on the Jundland Wastes in high summer and not being afraid of krayt dragons."

 

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Leia agreed. "But that's what I was told by Thrum. When I asked him what precautions they're taking against the threat of another Yevethan attack, he said they didn't need to take precautions, as N'zoth was no longer a problem." "Just like that?" said Han.

 

Leia nodded. "I asked him about diplomatic ties, thinking that maybe the Yevetha have had a change of heart about alien species. He said that they didn't exist. There's no embassy on Galantos; no negotiated peace settlement. It's like" She paused, as if unable to find the words to express her thoughts. "I don't knowit's like the Yevetha simply gave up and decided to stay at home from now on."

 

"I don't believe that for a second," Han said. "It'd be like them to lie low for years while secretly rebuilding and plotting their revenge." He shook his head. "Mark my words they have to be up to something. I tell you, if my home was on Galantos, I wouldn't be taking my eyes off that cluster for a second."

 

Leia nodded again and, far above in the ship, Jaina had to agree with the suspicion. Vicious xenophobes didn't just roll over after a sound beating; they came back twice as nasty and three times as determined. The

 

Yevetha were liable to come bursting out of the Koor-nacht Cluster at any time.

 

"Do you want me to take a look?" she asked down the subspace link.

 

She caught the momentary hesitation on both her parents' faces as they glanced at each other; but then, equally as fast, their expressions softened.

 

"Don't stick around to make any enemies," Han said. "Just get in and get out again, understood? Don't make me have to come in there after you."

 

Jaina smiled at this.

 

"And get back to us in one piece," Leia added.

 

The only dissenting voice came from Jag. "This is crazy," he said to her parents. "You can't be seriously considering sending Jaina off into unknown territory like this."

 

"We're not sending her," Leia said. "She volunteered."

 

"Besides, if the Fia are telling the truth," Han put in, "then the territory's likely to be safer now than it ever was."

 

"And if they're not telling the truth?" Jag asked.

 

"What's your problem, Jag?" Jaina piped up frostily.

 

"Look, I don't mean to imply that you couldn't handle it," Jag said. He looked uncomfortable confronting the combined Solo family. "I'm just thinking of the squadron, that's all. Who's going to run it with you gone?"

 

"You, of course," she said, surprised that she should even have to point this out. "It'll take me a couple of hours or more to prep for the mission. That'll give you time to get back up here and take over, won't it?"

 

"I guess so," he said. There was a look of uncertainty on his face that she wasn't used to seeing. He was clearly uneasy with this whole idea. "But there's something I want to do here, first, if that's all right."

 

"Of course," Jaina said.

 

He nodded, still without conviction. "And you'll take some backup with you, right, Jaina?"

 

She smiled, suddenly realizing the source of his concern. He wasn't thinking about the squadron at all; he was thinking about her. He was worried about her well-being, and the fact that he cared so much for her filled her with a warm satisfaction.

 

"If it makes you feel any better," she said, "then I'll take Miza and Jocell along with me."

 

She knew that would ease his mind on at least one score. They were two pilots from his Chiss Squadron, so he knew he could trust them.

 

"Okay, so that's settled," Han put in with a look she couldn't quite fathom. "When you're ready, Jag, I'd like to go with you to check on the Falcon, to make sure she hasn't been interfered with. I doubt we've given these guys enough time to plan anything like sabotage, but we can't afford to take any chances."

 

"I'll stay here with Tahiri and Threepio," Leia said with a slight frown. "Good luck, dear. And do as your father says don't ruffle any crests, all right? If the Yevetha have softened, we could really use their help against the YuuzhanVong."

 

"Understood, Mom." The sight of Tahiri in the background, unconscious, pale, and vulnerable, gave Jaina a twinge of guilt for leaving. "I'll be back soon."

 

Jacen reached deep inside himself, searching for the wisdom of his last teacher's words.

 

"The Force is everything, and everything is the Force," Vergere had said, shortly before she died. "There is no dark side. The Force is one, eternal and indivisible. You need worry about no darkness save that in your own heart."

 

Not even the darkness of others? he wanted to ask her as he stood listening to Moff Flennic's ranting. The terrible, anti-life obscenities dripping from the mouth of this self-styled savior of the Imperial Remnant was almost more than Jacen could bear.

 

"Retreat?" the man was growling. "Retreat? I hear that word and I think of cowards; I think of cowards and I find myself reaching for my blaster." He paused to fix Jacen with a baleful glare , presumably to let him know he wasn't exaggerating. "There's not one man under my command who would accept an order to retreat from me without questioning my sanity. They'd sooner relieve me of my command than follow such an orderand they'd have every right to!"

 

"Moff Flennic," Jacen said as placatingly as he could, "if you'll just listen to what I have to say"

 

Moff Flennic snorted. "And give you the opportunity to plant your thoughts in my head? I'm not stupid, boy. I'm not senile. Who do you take me for? I was hunting Eloms decades before you were even born."

 

Finding solace and strength in the memory of Ver-gere's wisdom, Jacen found an island of calm within himself and relaxed his clenched hands.

 

The solidly built man paced the flight deck in full uniform, waiting out Jacen's silence with tense energy.

 

"Well?" he snapped after a moment. "Aren't you going to tell me that hunting intelligent life-forms constitutes some violation of your weak Jedi sensibilities?"

 

Jacen shrugged philosophically. "My sensibilities are my own, sir, and 1 have no wish to impose them upon you."

 

"And yet you want me to do what you tell me," the man scoffed. "Isn't that the same thing, boy?"

 

"Not at all. I am merely explaining what, to me, would be your most prudent course of action at this moment. How you choose to respond to my opinion, of course, is entirely up to you."

 

"But you won't like it if I ignore you, will you?" "If you ignore me, your people will be slaughtered," Jacen said softly. "And no, I would not like that at all."

 

Flennic hesitated, something approximating amusement flickering behind his keen eyes. Then he resumed his pacing, slower, each step more deliberate than the last. "You know, boy, if you were one of my officers, I would have had you shot for speaking to me the way you just did."

 

Jacen fought to maintain calm. For all the Moff's abhorrence at the idea of Jacen implanting ideas in his head, he seemed to have no problem in practicing a few mind games of his own. The constant use of the word boy was no doubt intended to make Jacen feel small and inadequate. It was lame at best, and served only to further Jacen's frustration.

 

"Moff Flennic," he started tiredly. The Moff raised a hand to silence Jacen. "I know what you're going to say," he said. "That you're not one of my officersnor would you want to be, I imagine. But I wouldn't take you even if you wanted me to. And do you know why?"

 

"It's not relevant, sir," Jacen said, trying to maintain his tone of respect even though all he wanted to do was grab the man by the collar of his uniform and shout at him to just listen.

 

The man stopped pacing and turned to face him. "I have no idea why you're bothering to talk to me, boy. I'm clearly wasting your time. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

 

"Actually, sir, I don't believe for a second that I'm wasting my time," Jacen said. "If anything, I think you know that what I'm saying makes sense, but you're just too proud to admit it. You're desperately trying to convince yourself that I'm wrong."

 

"Really?" The word was more of a challenge than a question.

 

"You're no fool, sir," Jacen said smoothly. "Convene the other Moffs, if you want to. Tell them what I've told you and see what they have to say. I'd be particularly interested in speaking to Moff Crowal of Vale Seven, since she might have access to something I'm looking for."

 

"And what might that be?" asked Flennic.

 

Jacen smiled slightly at the suspicion that suddenly pinched the man's face. "Information, of course," he said. "Understand, sir, that our time in the Empire is limited; our mission lies elsewhere. When we have what we need, we will be leaving."

 

Flennic's eyes narrowed. "And you think Valc Seven would be an ideal fallback position for our fleet when we retreat from Yaga Minor?"

 

"Actually, that's the last thing you'd want to do. Valc Seven is on the edge of the Unknown Regions. Fall back that far, and you've already lost the Empire. No, my choice of fallbackthe place you would do best to lay a trap, if you preferwould be Borosk."

 

The Moff was silent for a long moment. Jacen knew what he was thinking. Borosk was one of several small, fortified worlds guarding the edge of the Empire. The Moff would be wondering if this was part of some convoluted plot on behalf of the Galactic Alliance to gain territory from an old enemy.

 

But Jacen hoped that even Flennic would see that that was just ridiculous. If the Imperial Remnant lost such a stand, Borosk would fall to the Yuuzhan Vong, not the

 

Galactic Alliance. And the Galactic Alliance had more important things to worry about than a small system on the edge of its territory.

 

The continuing silence suggested that Flennic was unable, for the moment at least, to fault the plan. Pressing home his advantage, Jacen went on

 

"Moff Flennic, if you move quickly enough, you might save Yaga Minor."

 

This got a reaction. Yaga Minor was the Moff's personal holding. When it fellas it surely would, if the fleet stayed where it wasFlennic would have nothing, regardless of what happened to the Empire as a whole.

 

"Explain," Flennic demanded.

 

"The Yuuzhan Vong are stretched to the limit right now. Thanks to our hit-and-run campaigns, the forces they've assembled to knock out the Empire are badly needed elsewhere. They can't afford to commit here for too long. Knocking out your fleet quickly is their priority. Wherever it is, they'll go. Once it's destroyed, they figure they can wipe out your shipyards at their leisure."

 

"So if we send them packing now," Flennic put in, "you're saying they won't come back?"

 

Jacen shook his head. "I can't guarantee that," he said. "But if they did come back, it certainly wouldn't be in such numbers."

 

Flennic was pacing again. "And what makes you so sure staging a counterattack at Borosk will work?" he asked, his attention directed to the floor ahead of him.

 

"Two reasons," Jacen replied. "One, the spies infiltrating your staff will make sure their warmasters know about the move. And two, we'll teach you how to fight the Yuuzhan Vong more effectively."

 

That pulled the Moff up to a complete halt, swinging his full attention around to Jacen. "In exchange for what?"

 

"Nothing, actually. My only interest is in saving lives and maintaining the stability of this region. We can haggle over information with Moff Crowal when this matter is resolved."

 

Moff Flennic grunted. " 'This matter'?" he echoed incredulously. "You make it sound like we're in the middle of a minor squabble over an asteroid!"

 

"Please don't take offense, sir, but from the point of view of the galaxy, that's more or less what this is. The Empire has dominion over a few thousand systems out of hundreds of thousands of millions. Yes, you have tactical significance, and no, I do not like to see lives wasted unnecessarily; but your failure to survive will make little difference in the greater scheme of things."

 

Flennic's face filled with blood. His jowls quivered from the rage building up inside him. Jacen had gotten the reaction he'd hoped for. Through the Force he could feel the pressure rising like stresses in a neutron star. Any moment now, something would give. The question was would he explode or implode?

 

The answer never came. The comm on Flennic's desk buzzed and the Moff vented his anger on it.

 

"I told you, no interruptions!" he bellowed into the comm unit.

 

"But, sir, there's an incoming call from"

 

"I don't care who it's from, you fool. Get rid of them now, or so help me I'll have you ejected into space without"

 

He stopped short when another voice issued from the comm unit. "That's hardly the way to speak to a subordinate officer," the voice said. "Especially when you're on my ship."

 

Flennic's features went from startlingly purple to deathly white in the time it would have taken light to cross the room.

 

"Grand Admiral?" he said unbelievingly. "You'realive?"

 

"Of course I'm alive," Pellaeon said, his voice oddly muffled but clear. "It will take more than a bunch of overeager Yuuzhan Vong to put me out of the picture."

 

"But"

 

"What's the matter, Kurlen? You don't sound as overjoyed to hear my voice as I'd thought you might."

 

"No, that's not it at all. It's justthat is, I'm" The man stammered awkwardly for a moment, then straightened and returned his glare to Jacen. "How do I know this isn't one of your mind tricks, Jedi?"

 

It was Pellaeon who answered. "Just take a look at him, Kurlen. He's as surprised about this as you are."

 

That was true. The last thing Jacen had expected was assistance from the man he had last seen unconscious in a bacta tank, looking as though death was but a few short breaths away. It also confirmed something he had been wondering that Pellaeon had access to more than just audio via his comlink, but was hiding his own visuals.

 

"It's nice to hear your voice, Grand Admiral Pellaeon," Jacen said with absolute honesty.

 

"Under better circumstances, Jacen Solo, I would say the same." There was the hint of a smile in the man's voice. "Thank you for your help at Bastion. I owe the Jedi my life, and I never forget my debts. You can safely assume I shall listen to your thoughts on the Yuuzhan Vong with far more interest than some of my colleagues."

 

"It would be my pleasure to discuss them with you, sir," Jacen said, mindful to keep any conceit from his tone. Even though he would be dealing with Grand Admiral Pellaeon, he still didn't want to get on Flennic's bad side. The future was full of unseen waters; it was important to leave as many means of crossing those waters open to him as possible.

 

"Another time, perhaps," the Grand Admiral said. "I've been a little out of touch these past couple of days, and right now I have a strategic withdrawal to discuss with Moff Flennic."

 

"We were just discussing that very thing," the Moff said, licking his lips nervously.

 

"Were you, indeed?" Pellaeon asked. "And have you issued directives to the surviving officers?"

 

"Well, no, but"

 

"Assessed possible locations for a more substantial regroup?"

 

"Borosk was one location that came to mind," Flennic said, shooting Jacen a warning look.

 

A good choice, Kurlen. I suggest you get onto it straight away. The longer we sit here, the more stupid we'll look when the next wave arrives. Capital ships should start moving within the hour, leaving a small defense force behind. I trust I can leave the arrangements in your hands? I have business elsewhere that needs attending."

 

"Uh, Grand Admiral"

 

"Yes, Kurlen?"

 

"Don't you think this deserves a little more discussion?"

 

There was a long silence. Jacen maintained an expression of serene patience while Moff Flennic looked increasingly nervous.

 

When Pellaeon spoke again, it was in a voice with all the cold clarity of a hydrogen bath.

 

"Understand this, Kurlen what I just gave you was an order, not an invitation. While I command the Imperial Navy, you will do as I say, regardless of whether or not you agree with those orders. Otherwiseand believe me when I say thisif I have to secede from the Empire in order to ensure this navy's survival, then I shall do so without hesitationand I guarantee that we won't be back to pick up the pieces of your shipyards-afterward." "I understand, Grand Admiral," the Moff stammered. "Good," Pellaeon returned crisply. "But I'm not finished. This is just the beginning. You will also issue orders to allow Jade Shadow free access to this system, and any system within the Empire. The Moff Council has gravely underestimated the threat of the Yuuzhan Vong against my advice one too many times, and it won't happen again. I won't let it happen again. The time has come to take what few assets we have left and ensure that nothing like this ever recurs. If we survive Borosk, the Galactic Alliance and the Jedi will be our best hope of long-term survival, and I intend to take advantage of them while the Empire still exists. Is that understood?"

 

The large but temporarily cowed man just nodded.

 

"The connection must be poor, Kurlen, because I didn't quite catch what you said."

 

"I understand perfectly, Grand Admiral Pellaeon."

 

"Excellent. Now, send our young friend back to Widow-maker. I want to pick his brain about the Yuuzhan Vong while I still have the opportunity to do so."

 

Flennic didn't look at Jacen as he pushed a button for the door to open. It did so with a faint hiss. Jacen bowed in farewell, but the Moff turned away as though he wasn't even there.

 

Hiding his relief to be out of the man's presence, Jacen walked rapidly down to the docks where the Lambda-class shuttle waited to take him back.

 

Jaina took her time prepping for launch, hoping to catch Jag when he arrived. But a suspicious-looking scuff mark on the Falcon held him up on the surface and she couldn't delay forever. As soon as she and her two wing-mates were kitted up and had clearance authorization from Pride of Selonia, she launched her X-wing and powered away from Galantos.

 

The sight of two clawcraft shadowing her was still a little unnerving. It wasn't all that long ago that craft with similar cockpitsTIE fightershad represented fear and hostility for those who had survived the Rebellion and the tumultuous years that had followed. She was too young herself to have any firsthand memories of that time, but Jaina had heard enough stories and seen sufficient footage to have had the same instinct instilled in her. She didn't know how many times the Empire had tried to kill her parents in all, but she was sure it was in double figures, at least.

 

At the same time, though, the clawcraft's four sweeping weapon arms resembled an X-wing's S-foils. Sometimes she wondered if the Chiss hadn't deliberately designed their fighters to unsettle and reassure both New Republic and Empire. It was like sitting on the fence, giving the impression that they might have allegiance to either power.

 

"Locking on to your navicomputer," Jocell said. A brisk, efficient woman from Csilla, homeworld of the Chiss, she was easy to work with. Miza was the better pilot of the two, but less reliable, as far as Jaina was concerned.

 

"Last one there's a flat-lined drebin," came Miza over the comm unit.

 

The decidedly non-Chiss phrase immediately caught Jaina's attention. "Jump laid in," she replied, figuring she knew where the pilot had picked it up. The frigate accompanying the mission was staffed by navy personnel from all across the galaxy; when Twin Suns Squadron wasn't on patrol, there was plenty of time for socializing in the mess and picking up on some of the native lingo.

 

"Be on your guard for when we arrive," she said. "I'm bringing us in at the edge of the system, but you never know what might be waiting for us. Even if the Yevetha have embraced the idea of peaceful coexistence with their neighbors, they're not likely to welcome someone barging in through their shipping lanes." "Understood," Jocell said. "Discretion is my middle name," Miza added. "Ready, Cappie?" Jaina asked. Her R2 unit whistled cheerfully as her forward view swung around to face the bright cloud of the Koornacht Cluster. "Then into the Multitude we go."

 

Stars suddenly extended into streaks of light as she and her wingmates blasted into hyperspace. From there on it I would be up to her navicomputer and R2 unit to ensure that the three vessels reached their destination safely, leaving her with nothing more to do in the cramped cockpit than sit and wait and think . . .

 

Tahiri's frailty worried her more than she was prepared to admitat least to others. Back on Mon Calamari, the girl had called her that one time before collapsing, but since then she'd barely said a word to her when Jaina had visited her in Master Cilghal's infirmary. Tahiri had been glad to see her, there was no question about that, but she had been uneasy and troubled at the same timeand maybe even a little embarrassed. Tahiri had always been so fiery and independent, defying conventional sensibilities in numerous ways, from insisting on bare feet to disobeying direct orders. Showing off for Anakin had been part of the latter, Jaina was sure, but if the impulse hadn't been there in the first place, then her little brother would never have had such a willing sidekick.

 

No, Jaina thought. Not sidekick. She really had to dispel the image of Anakin and Tahiri as perfectly matched pals getting into harmless scrapes. Those "scrapes" they'd been involved in could hardly be regarded as harmless. If anything, some of them, such as their adventure with Corran Horn at Yag'Dhul, had been outright dangerous. And their last one together had been fatal, culminating in Anakin's death . ..

 

No, Anakin and Tahiri had definitely been more than just kids, and their relationship had been advancing toward something more than just friends near the end, too. The grief that Tahiri had been suffering was not for the loss of a friend, but for the loss of a loved one. Even if that love never had a chance to fully blossom, it didn't diminish Tahiri's pain. The potential for a relationship had been there, and it was for this that Tahiri grieveda love not fully realized. Jaina imagined that the grief Tahiri suffered was on a par with her own, but at least she had the benefit of being able to focus her grief on what had been lost; Tahiri's grief was for something that could never be. It was, and might forever be, completely intangible.

 

Jaina wondered if her mother's decision to invite Tahiri along on the mission had been entirely sensible. Yes, the girl would do better kept busy rather than lying around in an infirmary, alone and dwelling on her grief. But was being surrounded by the Solo family the right thing for her? If Jag died, Jaina was certain she wouldn't want to be stuck in the company of General Baron Soontir Fel and Syal Antilles for too long. They would only serve as reminders of what she'd lost.

 

The image of Tahiri unconscious on Galantos, as pale and thin as she'd been on Mon Calamari, made Jaina's heart ache. After several awkward visits to the infirmary and a number of silences during the mission so far, Jaina still had no idea what it was Tahiri had wanted when she'd called her that day after Uncle Luke's meeting of the Jedi. To say she was sorry? To blame Jaina for letting Anakin die? She didn't know. The black tide of grief made people do crazy things. She knew that firsthand, and so did her parents. But if there was anything she

 

could do to make life easier for Tahiri, she would do it in an instant. The problem was that she doubted even Tahiri herself knew what that might be. All they could do was hope that they could work it out before something else happened . . .

 

Too many hours, two system checks, a detailed scan of her R2's files regarding the N'zoth system, and a halfhearted attempt to learn some words in the fiendishly difficult Chiss native tongue later, her navicomputer bleeped to warn her that they were about to emerge from

 

hyperspace.

 

"Heads up," she said to her wingmates. "We're there. And remember, this is just a surveillance sweep, so don't provoke anything unless you absolutely have to. Is that clear?"

 

"Understood, Colonel," Jocell said. "Preparing to disengage navigational lock."

 

"I don't know about you," Miza said, "but I'm becoming a little sluggish from all this rest we're supposed to be enjoying. I'll almost be glad if we could find something to shoot at."

 

"I know what you mean," Jaina said. "But I don't want you using so much as a hard stare without my direct authority, Miza. Clear?"

 

Miza chuckled. "I'll keep my hands safely in my lap."

 

"You do that." Her R2 unit bleeped again; Jaina glanced at the translator to learn they had five seconds before arrival. "Okay, guys, here we go."

 

The first thing that struck her as her X-wing rattled back into realspace was the brightness of the sky. She'd been in close clusters before, but it was easy to forget just how much of a difference it made when a large number of hot, young stars clustered so closely together especially after spending so much time at the edges of the galaxy, avoiding the Yuuzhan Vong. Because she had brought them in at the outskirts of the system, N'zoth's primary was hidden in the radiance from the many other suns, and it took her some moments to actually locate it. Bright and blue-tinged, it burned at her with an almost forbidding glare.

 

Her wingmates dropped out of hyperspace beside her, and immediately peeled away into formation. Sensors swept the space around them; astromech droids chattered via comlinks; intrasystem landmarks were confirmed. According to New Republic records, no one had been to N'zoth since the Yevethan crisis, twelve years earlier. Then, the Yevethan Black Fleet had been routed by New Republic forces after it attempted a genocidal cleansing of the area around the Koornacht Cluster. Jaina agreed with her father that the silence since was probably an indication of frantic retooling rather than peaceful reconsideration. This would be the first opportunity anyone had to find out one way or the other.

 

"I'm picking up extensive mass readings," Miza said. "Judging by the uneven distribution, I'd say we have at least three fleets massed in orbit around worlds two and five."

 

"Which one's N'zoth?" Jocell asked.

 

"Two," Jaina supplied. "I'm not picking up signatures consistent with old Imperial designs, but that's not unexpected. The Yevetha were quick to learn, and they would have had to start again from scratch. Why not redesign at the same time?"

 

"No capital ships that I can see," Miza said. "Just plenty of small ones, easy pickings."

 

Jaina didn't caution him again; she knew it was just his sense of humor. Still, she would have preferred it if he remained serious like Jocell.

 

"There are no thrustship exhaust traces, either," Jocell said. "Rad and IR readings areodd." After a brief pause, she added, "Jaina, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

 

Jaina studied her screen. The mass shadows were exactly where Miza had said clumped in broad orbital corridors around the rocky second planet and a bloated gas giant on the far side of the system. It made sense, she thought, to keep your fleets close to both home and a refueling base. You wouldn't put them all in one spot. That would be tactically unsound. Just because you weren't expecting trouble didn't mean it wouldn't come to find you.

 

The probing triangle of ships continued their surveillance of the system. From the Yevetha's point of view, she supposed, they were trouble, and she didn't doubt that the xenophobes would have monitoring stations all around the system, ready to spot just such an intrusion as theirs. But where were the flashes of engine exhausts as interceptors launched? Where were the echoes of hyper-space distortions as squadrons of updated thrustships rushed to confront them? Why was there nothing but diffuse mass and heat appearing on the scanners, nothing concentrated in any particular place?

 

N'zoth was radiating heat like a small sun. Not surprising for a desert world, perhaps, but why wasn't the heat concentrated around the cities?

 

Sithspawn, she silently cursed. If her father had been here, she knew just what he would have said.

 

"We're going in closer," she said. "And I have a feeling I know what we're going to find."

 

Neither of the Chiss pilots asked her to elaborate, suggesting that perhaps they had had the same feeling. Instead they silently slaved their clawcraft to her X-wing as she laid in a course for N'zoth.

 

The hyperspace jump was mercifully short. When they arrived where the two fleets had been in orbit around the Yevethan homeworld, Jaina found the reality of the situation much worse than she had imagined. There was nothing but wreckage. Thousands of thrustships, dozens of capital vessels, and one battle station capable of maintaining the entire lot floated in pieces around the planet below. The wreckage was still hotit could take months for excess heat to radiate through vacuumand it was this that had shown up on the scopes. Jaina took her small contingent on a wide parabola around the deathly silent wreckage, moving them in closer to the planet itself.

 

She didn't need to look, but she had to. N'zoth had been pounded from orbit, possibly by chunks torn from the wreckage of the fleet above. Lava and sulfuric clouds belched from the bottom of a score of new craters around the globe, and the atmosphere was filled with ash. Where there had once been cities, there were now only great holes in the crust. Every trace of the Yevethan civilization had been reduced to atoms.

 

For once, Miza didn't have any smart comments; he was as quiet as the others as they swung around N'zoth's equator. Jaina turned her sensors toward the distant gas giant, not doubting what she would find there. Someone had attacked the Yevetha, taking them unawares and totally decimating a fleet of considerable size. The Fia stood to benefit most from the destruction of the Yevethaand it would certainly explain why they no longer seemed to care about the xenophobes in their backyardbut there was no way they could have come by this sort of firepower. No, this could have only been the work of the Yuuzhan Vong.

 

A cold and uncomfortable feeling spread through Jaina's stomach as she thought of her parents and Jag back on Galantoslittle knowing what she'd found. She reached out with the Force to find her mother, but the distance was too great. And with communications down in the sector, there was no other way to warn them.

 

She was about to order their immediate return to Galantos when Miza messaged her. "Jaina, I'm picking up a transmission from that small moon we passed a moment ago."

 

"Put it on the air," she ordered.

 

There was a pause followed by some cold static. Jaina tried to boost the signal, but no amount of switches flicked would clean up the noise.

 

"Miza? Jocell? Either of you getting anything?"

 

"Nothing," Jocell replied.

 

"Likewise," Miza said. "It's like they're trying to open a line, but for some reason they're not saying anything."

 

"Maybe they can't," Jocell suggested. "They might be too badly injured."

 

Jaina nodded thoughtfully to herself. It was a possibility, she supposed. Flicking her own comm unit, she said, "Whoever you are, if you can hear this, click your mike twice."

 

There was a slight delay, followed by a distinct double click.

 

"Okay. Now, if you're injured, click twice again."

 

Another delay, followed by two clicks.

 

"I'm picking up a weak power reading from the bottom of a crater," Miza said. "It's consistent with that of a small vessel. I guess he's been hiding there in the ruins of his thrustship. He probably survived by laying low until whoever did this had passed on."

 

Jaina considered this, but quickly dismissed it. It didn't ring true, somehow. "No, that's not the Yevethan way. They don't hide from fights. My guess is he crashed there and was knocked unconscious, awakening only when the battle was over."

 

"That's if he is a Yevetha," Jocell said.

 

"What else would he be?" Jaina asked. "You're not suggesting he might be one of the Yuuzhan Vong, are you?"

 

"I don't know. But without a visual, we have no way of knowing."

 

"Miza? What do you think?"

 

"My gut instinct tells me it's a Yevethaand an injured one at that. Like you said, Jaina, it's not in their nature to hide, so why else would he be down there? And it makes no sense for it to be a Vong, either. Whatever caused this was a big fleet. They came in, hit hard, and moved on. What would it serve them to leave a single small ship behind?"

 

"I agree," Jaina said. "But I also agree with Jocell that we're going to need a visualespecially if we're to rescue the pilot." Miza's clawcraft was veering off before she could give the order. "Already on my way. This shouldn't take too long."

 

"Jocell, keep an eye out for anything unusual. If we have to get out of here in a hurry, then I want plenty of warning."

 

"Understood, Colonel."

 

Jaina watched Miza's ship shrink to a tiny speck of light shooting across the face of the moon. She felt uneasy having her wingmate so far away, even though there seemed to be no overt threat anywhere in the system right now. Or maybe she was nervous because there was no overt threat around. It was too quiet for her liking.

 

To take her mind off everything, she opened a line with the Yevethan pilot.

 

"We're going to try to get you out of there. Do you copy?" Two clicks.

 

"Hang in there. One of my pilots is on the way down now. He'll be passing over your head in a matter of seconds. Then we'll"

 

This time a low, malevolent chuckle came over the comm unit, followed by a raspy, fluidy cough.

 

"Your optimism is as shallow as your compassion," said the voicedefinitely Yevethan, and male. "You care no more for me than I do for you."

 

"Not quite the response I was expecting," Jocell muttered.

 

Jaina ignored her wingmate. "We do carewhy do you think we're trying to?"

 

"Soon I shall join my people," the Yevetha continued. "Soon the Yevetha shall be no more. But we shall not go down quietly."

 

"There is no reason to go down at all! Just let us "In the face of death's bright dawn," the Yevetha went on, "I shall offer one final act of defiance, so that when we are talked about in times to come, they will say that the Yevetha were warriors to the end!"

 

Jaina felt a cold discomfort pulse through her. "Miza, get out of there!"

 

"Way ahead of you, Jaina!"

 

"There is nowhere to run," the Yevetha said. "The galaxy belongs only to those who had the power to destroy our once-mighty race!" A faint and disturbing hiss issued from the comm unit. "Die with me, won't you?"

 

"Miza! Talk to me!"

 

"Almost"

 

A powerful flash of energy lashed out from the ball of rock. Miza's clawcraft vanished into it a split instant before reaching Jaina's X-wing, sending her tumbling end over end, shields down and cockpit dead.

 

"You did it!"

 

Jacen found himself enveloped in a hug the moment he stepped off the shuttle's boarding ramp. Taken by surprise, he automatically returned the hug before realizing who was giving it to him. The warm, petite body pressed against his; the hair; the delicate yet very female scent...

 

"I always knew you would," Danni said, pulling away slightly. "But I was still worried about you. You Solos have a knack for doing things the hard way."

 

"It was Admiral Pellaeon, really," Jacen protested. "If he hadn't woken up when he did, I doubt I could have convinced Flennic of anything."

 

"You're just being modest." Danni laughed, playfully punching his shoulder. "I bet Jacen Solo could convince a Selonian to lie if he really wanted it to."

 

Footsteps approaching from the docking bay's main entrance prevented him from responding to this. Danni stepped back, looking embarrassed, as Luke walked around the corner.

 

"I thought I felt you come aboard," said Jacen's uncle, dressed in his customary Jedi robes.

 

"How long have you been here?" Jacen asked both of them. He hadn't seen Jade Shadow anywhere near Widow-maker on his return flight.

 

"Captain Yage sent a shuttle when Gilad woke up," Luke explained. "By the time Danni and I arrived, they'd used his codes to patch into the Imperial security network without being noticed, and from there eavesdropped on your conversation with Flennic. He insisted on interrupting. I hope you don't mind us doing that. It wasn't that we thought you couldn't manage on your own, Jacen. It just seemed simpler this way, and a chance to prove to Flennic that the Empire's Supreme Commander is still alive."

 

"I'm just relieved that the admiral came out of this all right," Jacen said. "Can I talk to him?"

 

"That will be up to Tekli," Danni said. "He's still recuperating in the bacta tank. That talk with Moff Flennic tired him out, short though it was." Then, leaning in slightly toward Jacen, she added, "You know, for someone normally so quiet, she certainly has a lot to say when it comes to her patients."

 

Jacen smiled. He had developed a great deal of respect for Master Cilghal's apprentice. Although not strong in the Force, her knowledge of healing was extensive, and she had clearly demonstrated the ability to handle herself during recent emergencies.

 

The three of them walked unimpeded through the corridors of Widowmaker. Luke seemed perfectly at ease, explaining as they went that Mara and Saba had stayed behind to keep an eye on events from afar. Jacen had to admire his uncle's poise. Even surrounded as he was by Imperial trappings, the Jedi Master moved and talked with an air that suggested this ship could have been his own rather than one that belonged to a once-formidable enemy.

 

They reached the medical bay and were automatically waved through by the stormtrooper guards. Inside they found Tekli studying reports on her patient's progress while a weary-looking Captain Yage talked to him.

 

Gilad Pellaeon looked better than when Jacen had last seen him, but not as recovered from his injuries as Jacen would have liked. He was still immersed in the bacta tank, and looked just as terribly thin and pale as before. He was communicating solely via attachments to his breath mask, which gave his voice the faintly muffled tone Jacen had noticed while dealing with Flennic. "And what about Screed? Is he still alive?" " Admiral Screed was executed by Warlord Zsinj," Yage said.

 

"Really?" As if in thought, Pellaeon paused for the time it took a few handfuls of bubbles to float up past his body. "My memory must be going to have forgotten that. I always had a soft spot for that old hawk-bat."

 

Yage glanced at Luke and his companions, realizing for the first time they had company. "You have visitors, sir," she said.

 

Pellaeon opened his eyes to peer through the thick nutrient filling the tank, then closed them again. His face was distorted by the curved, transparent wall enclosing him, making it impossible to read his expression with any accuracy.

 

"Ah, yes," he said. "Skywalker." There followed a sound like a grunt, but it could just as easily have been a short bleat of amusement. "Come to view the relic have you?"

 

Jacen glanced at his uncle. The Jedi Master's face was calm and unruffled. He offered no response because clearly the comment didn't deserve one.

 

"How are things proceeding, then?" the Grand Admiral asked after a few seconds.

 

"Mara reports that ships are moving in ways consistent with the withdrawal you ordered," Luke replied. "The jump points are filling up fast."

 

"Good." He nodded slowly, the movement causing his body to swivel gently in the fluid. "It's nice to know that what Flennic is telling me is the truth. Nevertheless, I'll wager that he is skimming a percentage off the top to defend his holdings here."

 

"I wouldn't take that bet," Jacen said. "I don't think Flennic is going to like sitting here defenseless while the fleet abandons him."

 

"You're probably right," Pellaeon said. "He'll be snug and safe where the concentration of firepower is greatest. He wouldn't do anything that might risk his life. That won't stop him doing what he can to protect his investment, though." The Grand Admiral's eyes opened again, fixing directly upon Jacen. "You did well back there, young Solo, but reason and common sense were never going to bring Flennic around. He understands nothing but forceand I'm not talking about the one you Jedi regard so highly, either. I'm talking about the brute sort." His eyes closed once more, as if irritated by the solution. "Reminding him of his insignificance, unless he joined the greater scheme of things, might have done the trick, but in the end I'd rather have him angry with me than you. I'm used to it."

 

Jacen bowed slightly, even though he was aware that Pellaeon wouldn't see the gesture. "Moff Flennic is someone whose displeasure I wouldn't wish to cultivate,

 

Admiral," he said. "But I wouldn't lose any sleep over it, either."

 

Pellaeon laughed. "Well put, lad. As indeed was your argument back there. We really do find ourselves in a difficult place at the moment. I fear we won't have much time to practice the new maneuvers while relocating the fleetor afterward, for that matter. If what you say is true, then the Yuuzhan Vong will be sure to strike when we are least able to defend ourselves. They'll want to strike hard and fast like they did in Bastion and leave us too battered to be of any use to anyone. I doubt they'll be converting our worlds just yet; they'll come back for those when they have both the time and resources to do so."

 

"It could be resources they're after," Danni said, "as well as neutralizing a threat."

 

"They could get resources from anywhere," Pellaeon said. "There are millions of uninhabited chunks of rock out there just brimming with raw materials. And they wouldn't require an army to take them, either."

 

"They don't use them the way we do, Admiral," Danni explained. "They still need planets for their plantations. But that's not what I meant, anyway. I was thinking of armies. Coralskippers and yammosks they might need to grow from scratch, but cannon fodder is much easier to come by."

 

There was a small silence. "You're talking about combat slaves?" Pellaeon said. "That would explain why they hit Bastion first, not Yaga Minor. If it had been me ordering the attack, I would've done it the other way around. And it also explains something else. Arien, that holo you showed me earlier. Put it back up on the screen."

 

Captain Yage tapped at a keyboard and instantly one of the monitors displaying Pellaeon's vital signs was replaced by a patchy view of the Bastion system. The distributions of Imperial and Yuuzhan Vong forces were marked with sweeping schematics containing thousands of minute details. By scrolling the diagram forward through time, Yage could show how the battle had progressed on any number of fronts, as collated from information gleaned by sensors on all the Imperial vessels.

 

Jacen noted that the map became patchier as the battle progressed. Great empty spaces appeared in the intelligence as ship after ship was destroyed, along with observational satellites and beacons. Soon it was like trying to watch stars through storm clouds apart from the area around the gas giant where Pellaeon had made his last stand, the rest of the system was visible only through infrequent, incomplete glimpses.

 

When she reached the point in the analysis she was looking for, Yage froze the image and zoomed in close on one of Bastion's poles. There, designated by a ringed dot, was a single ship.

 

"We don't know where this came from," she said. "The last survivors only caught a glimpse of it. Its vector suggests that it came in late into the battle, when the planet was all but taken. That didn't seem to make sense, since it's so big."

 

She called up some sketchy schematics. The vessel was shaped like a flattened sphere with five trailing stalks of various lengths. It was large enough to hold several of the Yuuzhan Vong carrier analogs Jacen was all too familiar with.

 

"If it was a military vessel," Yage concluded, "then why did they wait until the end of the battle to utilize it? But if it wasn't a military vessel, then what's it doing there at all?"

 

"It has to be a slave carrier," Pellaeon said. "They wiped out the fleets in orbit around Bastion, and that gave them an entire population ripe for capture. Those who couldn't get away in time are probably already on their way to the nearest processing plant to be turned into mindless drones willing to sacrifice themselves for the warmaster. I saw creatures similar to them at work on Duro."

 

"They have been used in many other places since," Luke said. "In fact, I'm sure that this was the same kind of ship that Saba encountered a few months back at Barab One."

 

Pellaeon nodded grimly. "Citizens of the Empire- a// peopledeserve better than this. Had we known that this was what they were after ..." He trailed off, the thought as obviously disturbing for him as it was for everyone else in the room.

 

"You were outgunned, Admiral," Jacen offered. "There was nothing else you could have done."

 

"Outgunned and poorly organized," Pellaeon agreed. "Wherever that ship came from, the chances are it's probably hundreds of light-years away from us by now. The only thing we can think about now is how to stop it from happening again. At Borosk, or anywhere. To anyone."

 

As far as Jag Fel was concerned, very little was going right on Galantos. Councilor Jobath was still tied up somewhere on the other side of the planet, Tahiri remained unconscious, and he and C-3PO had yet to determine precisely why communications with Galantos had been disrupted. On top of that, Jaina, the one person he would have liked to have with him right now, was on her way to N'zoth, while he was still stuck on the planet. All in all, Jag felt he'd seen better daysand been on more successful missions.

 

Finally, after an hour pacing the common room of their diplomatic quarters, he decided that enough was enough. He had to do something. He couldn't delay rejoining Twin Suns Squadron any longer.

 

"I'm going for a walk," he said brusquely.

 

Thrum stood in alarm from the table at which he was showing Leia plans of recent additions to the planet's infrastructure. "I don't think that would"

 

"It's okay," he cut off the nervous Fia. "I won't be that long. And I don't mind if I'm shadowed, either."

 

A guard, recently assigned to their door, accompanied him as he strolled through the wide, luxurious corridors, trying to remember the way to where Tahiri had collapsed. There was something about the recording of that moment that had been bothering him. Just before she'd drawn her lightsaber she had looked down. At first he had thought she might have been dizzy and had brought up her hand in the typical response people had to such spells. But then he realized that she'd been holding something, and it was possibly this that had triggered her reaction. No one else had mentioned it, which surprised him, but he had to check for his own peace of mind.

 

There had been nothing on the holo to indicate what it might have been, though, which meant he had no real idea what he would even be looking for. He still had to try. He'd already checked the pockets of Tahiri's robes, which had been empty, and he certainly couldn't ask her directly; so the only chance of finding out just what it might have been was to examine where it had all happened.

 

He reached the right corridor and strode along it to roughly where he thought the incident had occurred. Sweeping his gaze along the ground, he began a methodical search of the area while his guard watched on curiously.

 

"My friend lost something," Jag explained when he saw the deep furrows in the Fia's brow press down upon his melancholy eyes. "I just wanted to see if she dropped it here when she fell. It could have been overlooked in all the excitement."

 

The guard nodded his understanding, but the expression of confusion remained.

 

After a couple more minutes scouring the corridor, Jag said, "I don't suppose you could help me look, could you? It might help things along a little." "What does it look like?" the guard asked. That stumped him for a second. The Fia would probably want a detailed description, and he didn't have the faintest idea what it was.

 

"You'll know when you see it," he said elusively, adding under his breath, "I hope."

 

Their search was hampered by the thick weave of the carpet, along with the fact that the ambient light of the corridor wasn't particularly bright. His back soon ached, and he found himself wondering if he might not have imagined the whole thing. If there was anything there, it was proving harder to find than a flea on a bantha.

 

"Is this it?" the guard asked after a while. He held out a small piece of transparent plastic for Jag to examine.

 

Jag climbed to his feet and stepped over to the guard. As he took the proffered object and examined it, he tried not to look as though he had no more of a clue than the guard himself. The object, it turned out, was nothing more than a scrap of packaging missed by the cleaning droids. He didn't see how it could have provoked such an extreme reaction from Tahiri.

 

"No, that's not it," he said, hoping he was right. Nevertheless, he slipped it into his pocket just in case. "Let's keep looking."

 

Even as he said this, already bending over again to continue his search, he caught a glint of something silver in the carpet farther along the corridor. Cautiously, so as not to lose sight of it, he walked toward it. There, at the edge of the corridor fully four meters from where they'd been looking, was a small object poking out of the carpet. If it was the thing that Tahiri had been holding, then she must have flung it when spinning around defensively with her lightsaber; then, he imagined, it had been pushed deeper into the pile by the large feet of one of the Fia. Otherwise it would have surely been spotted before now.

 

He reached down and plucked it from the carpet. It was small, about half the size of his thumb joint, and looked to him to be a pendant or charm of some kind. It was metallic in nature, but with a grown texture, rather than forged. There was a hole through which a chain or thong might have been threaded, and on the face were carvings in an unknown language. It was surprisingly heavy.

 

The creature it portrayed was hideous and completely unfamiliar, but that wasn't so surprising, Jag thought. There were many different types of creature in the Galactic Alliance, and most of them were unfamiliar to himjust as the various cultures of the Unknown Regions would be unfamiliar to them. One thing about the creature portrayed did trouble him, though It seemed to be covered in scars.

 

"Is that it?" the guard asked, peering over his shoulder.

 

"Yes," Jag said, quickly tucking the object into one of his flight suit's pockets. "I'm sure my friend will be glad to see it again. She thought she'd lost it."

 

Thanking the guard for his help, Jag let himself be led back to the diplomatic quarters. Nothing had changed Tahiri was still unconscious, and C-3PO couldn't give an estimate as to how long she might remain like this.

 

He sighed wearily. He really couldn't delay any longer. Jaina was long gone, and he had to get back to his squadron. Being accused of dereliction of duty was, at the moment, more of a concern to him than any of the uneasy feelings he had about the small, silvery object in his pocket and its relevance to the mission.

 

His clawcraft had been refueled by Al'solib'minet'ri City's landing field technicians. As he ran through the craft's maintenance records to double-check what exactly had been done in his absence, a brief note appeared on the computer screen

 

 

YOU MUST LEAVE HERE IMMEDIATELY.

 

 

Jag stared at it for a long moment, startled. He quickly surveyed the bay for signs of someone watching him, but saw no one suspicious lurking about. Then, when he looked back at the screen, the message had disappeared. He tried to access it again, but the maintenance logs showed no record of it ever having existed in the first place. Whoever had left the message for him had made sure it would be erased as soon it had been read.

 

But why? And if the sender had been so keen to have him leave, then why put the message in such an inaccessible spot? Placing it in the flight systems, where he wasn't likely to see it until he was already leaving anyway,

 

seemed redundant. Unless, maybe, the person responsible for the message had no choice but to use this means. Or perhaps the message was intended for him alone, and this was the only way to ensure that no one else saw or heard it.

 

He fought a growing sense of unease. Tahiri, the pendant, this message . . . There were too many questions without answers, and none of them sat easily with him. He fleetingly considered staying behind to help Leia and Han, but quickly dismissed the idea. There was no actual evidence that anything was up; there were just a couple of hints and warnings, as well as the workings of his suspicious mind. Besides, Han and Leia could look after themselves; they had had plenty of practice at it, after all.

 

"This is Twin Suns Leader, Al'solib'minet'ri Control," he said into the comm unit. "Preparing for ascent to orbit. Do you have a preferred corridor?"

 

"Not so fast, Twin Suns Leader," came the patient Fian voice from the other end. "There are still some questions we need to ask before"

 

Jag rolled his eyes and activated the clawcraft's engines. Confident he could avoid any Fian vessels that might get in his way, he ignored the squawking of Al'solib'minet'ri City Control and roared up into the atmosphere.

 

As he matched orbits with Pride of Selonia, he contacted the two pilots Jaina had left on patrol when she left.

 

"Nice move, Jag," Seven said. "Captain Mayn's been itching to thumb her nose at all of these Fian formalities since we arrived. They've been hailing her every time our orbit drifts by so much as a meter."

 

There was amusement in Seven's tone, but Jag remained serious.

 

"Has there been anything more than that?" he asked. "Anything unusual at all?"

 

"Are you kidding?" she shot back. "Apart from all the chatter, it's been quiet. No incoming; no outgoing; nothing. The communications blackout is still in place. Beats me what people do around here."

 

Jag focused on that problem instead of the many others batting at him. He had initially assumed that the communications fault would be easily fixed, so they could move on to their second port of call. But when he and C-3PO had analyzed the records automatically kept by the planetary transceiver serving Galantos' and the rest of the system, he had found that there was no fault at all. From there they had c ontacted the nearest intersector network and ascertained that communications between Galantos and the rest of the galaxy could be easily reestablished, once a small routing correction was made. The fact that it hadn't been made was suggestive, but Jag hadn't decided of exactly what, yet. It was almost as though the Fia had deliberately cut themselves off.

 

But why would they do that? With the Yevetha at their back door, along with a wealth of minerals the rest of the galaxy would surely be interested in, contact with the outside would be exactly what they'd want. Except, Jag thought, that the Fia claimed that the Yevetha were no longer a threat, and they seemed to be turning a tidy profit from someone, anyway.

 

There was something afoot on Galantos, and he'd work it out sooner or later. All he needed was another couple of those puzzle segments . ..

 

An urgent bleeping issued from his instrument panel. "Twin Suns," came the voice of Selonia's duty officer. "We're picking up hyperspace disturbances in sector twelve. It looks like we have company. Want to check them out?"

 

"Twin Seven, on my way."

 

"What sort of company?" Jag asked the duty officer as he watched Seven's X-wing sweep out of formation and accelerate away from the planet.

 

"It's hard to tell," the duty officer returned after a moment's consideration. "They're still a long way out. But there appears to be a number of smaller vessels accompanying two much larger ones."

 

"Can you at least determine the type of vessel they are?" Jag pressed.

 

"No can do, I'm afraid," came the reply. "They could be"

 

Another bleeping cut him off.

 

"Hang on, Twin Leader," the duty officer said. "More ships. Sector six this time, on the other side of the system. Two small vessels only, and one of them's an X-wing. The other could be a clawcraft, but its emissions are strange. It's almost as though"

 

"Emergency!" came Jaina's voice suddenly over the sub-space link. "I have an emergency situation. I've lost Twin Eight, and Nine isn't going to last much longer. I need immediate assistance. I repeat, immediate assistance!"

 

Jag's mind worked overtime. Eight was Miza, a Chiss Squadron pilot.

 

"What happened, Jaina? Did the Yevetha attack you?"

 

"Not quite," she said, sounding weary. "They were all dead when we arrived, bar one. He chose to blow his drive rather than talk to us, and that's what did all the damage. I only just managed to patch things together enough to get back here. But this will have to wait, Jag. You'd better watch your back to make sure what happened to N'zoth doesn't happen here, too."

 

"This is Seven," came the voice of the pilot scouting the far side of the system. "I have a positive ID on those incoming vessels. They're Yuuzhan Vongtwo squadrons of skips and a blastboat analog escorting two larger types I've never seen before. They've spotted me and have started in pursuit. I need help out here, guys!"

 

Jag urged his clawcraft up and away from Selonia. "All right, Twin Suns Squadron," he broadcast to the rest of his pilots. "Let's scramble!"

 

 

Part Three

 

Intervention

 

 

She stood on the rise of a dune staring into the swirling white dust, trying to make out the object in the distance. Behind her, not far away, the thing with her face continued to come after her. She knew she should keep moving, but she simply didn't have the energy to do so anymore. It felt hopeless. Sooner or later the thing would catch up with her. It was inevitable, so why even bother trying to run? She may as well just stop here and accept it.

 

She silently chided herself for the defeatist attitude. She knew she shouldn't be so fatalistic, but she couldn't help it. It was just that there was never going to be a time when this thing wasn't going to be after her; it would never rest until it had taken her. The only question was, would it get to her before the reptile got to it?

 

She peered again into the dust and found her eyes stinging from the effort. She blinked away some of the particles, straining to see the something in the distance, something that towered high above the ground. She was almost relieved when the dust cleared enough for her to see that the object was in fact an immobile AT-AT looming over the tops of the dunes.

 

Around the base of the vehicle she could make out several standing figures, their identities obscured by dust and distance. She knew them; that much she was sure of, even if she didn't know exactly who they were.

 

 

"Lowbacca?" she called. "Jacen?"

 

No one responded. It was as if they couldn't see her waving at them, and everything she yelled was carried away from their ears by the wind.

 

Suddenly she saw the head of the AT-AT swivel around to face her, the rusted metal groaning with the effort. It stopped with a resounding clank, its guns now trained upon her.

 

"No, wait!" she called. "It's me! Please!"

 

It fired once, loudly, but there was no resulting explosion. Instead, from the weapons emerged a black ball that came toward her with slow precision, its edges shimmering. She watched helplessly as it approached, wondering what it might be that her friends had fired at her. There was nothing to do she couldn't turn back, and she obviously couldn't go forward. This created in her a sense of hopelessness that made her cry. The tears fell from her cheeks into the dust, creating a sticky paste that collected about the soles of her feet.

 

"They think you are me," said a voice close to her ear.

 

She held her breath, afraid to look back to see who was standing behind her. But in her heart she knew it to be the thing with her own face. And it was close, too; she could feel its breath on her neck.

 

She lifted a hand to touch her forehead, feeling the scars there. Then she looked down to see the fresh ones on her arms. She pressed her fingertips into the suppurating wounds, and was surprised at how soft and wet they were. When she raised her hand to look at what came away from the deep cuts, she saw blood dripping from her fingers like tiny, perfect tears. In each one was a reflectionalthough whether the scarred face she saw in it belonged to herself or the thing behind her, she couldn't tell.

 

"You do remember me, don't you?" said the voice at her shoulder. "You can't have forgotten me so soon. You left me just as you did him, didn't you?"

 

A recently scarred arm reached past her face, pointing in the direction of the AT-AT. She forced back the tears to look, and saw the figures still standing around the vehicle, in exactly the same position as they had been before except now one of them was lying on the ground.

 

"I didn't leave him!" There was conflict in her thoughts, as memories clashed clumsily against one another. She was losing all hope of finding some purchase on reality. "Did I?"

 

"Remember me!" This time it wasn't a question, but a growled command, which effectively brought a name from the tangle of thoughts in her mind.

 

"Riina?" she said, still reluctant to look around.

 

But there was no reply, only the distant roar of the reptile calling her name from somewhere far behind.

 

The sound of the AT-AT firing again dragged her attention back to her friends. The black sphere had arrived, and she could now see that it was a swarm of flitnats come to engulf her. She stood firmly in the face of the incoming wave of insects, determined not to turn away, but nevertheless feeling the weight of futility tugging at her very soul.

 

"Why can't the Force be with me for once?" she said. The words were whispered, and yet their echo boomed around the dunes.

 

Deciding that there was really nowhere else to go but to her friends, she threw herself forward. The task was made difficult, however, by the paste caked to her feet. No matter how fast she tried to run, she didn't seem to be making any progress; no matter how many dunes she scaled, her friends stayed the same distance away from her; no matter how much she wanted to shake it, the

 

thing with her face remained at her shoulder, whispering words that nurtured the guilt and regret that she had kept buried deep inside.

 

She summoned what strength was left in her to move faster. The whining from the flitnats rose and fell in pitch as they continued to sweep past her ears .. .

 

Tahiri woke with a jerk to the sounds of shouting and sirens. Her head spun dizzily when she sat up, and her vision was hazy.

 

"What's going on?" she asked anxiously.

 

A golden blur appeared before her. "Oh, Mistress Tahiri. Thank goodness you've finally awoken!"

 

"Threepio?" The siren was joined by a voice booming for attention. She rubbed at her temples, wishing that everything would settle down long enough for her to at least get her bearings. "Is that you?"

 

"I wish it wasn't, Mistress Tahiri, given our circumstances," came the droid's fretful reply. "I'd much rather be anywhere else than"

 

"Don't panic, Threepio," Tahiri said, forcing herself to sit upright. "Everything's going to be fine, I'm sure."

 

It seemed strange to be offering reassurances when she herself was in need of them. An explanation as to what was happening wouldn't have hurt, either. But she knew that she was going to need the protocol droid's help right now, so it was a priority to calm him down before worrying about anything else. Besides which, his fretting would only exacerbate her confusion.

 

"Help me stand, Threepio."

 

The room swayed around her as the droid levered her upright, but she managed to remain on her feet with C-3PO's help. Outside the room she could hear voices arguing; focusing on these, she recognized Anakin's parents remonstrating with one of the Fia.

 

"I said, unlock this door!"

 

"I'm sorry, Captain Solo, but that won't be possible." There was no mistaking the wheedling tones of Assistant Primate Thrum. "We're in the middle of a state emergency and"

 

"What sort of emergency?" Han's voice was rising sharply with each syllable uttered.

 

"As I have already stated, I really don't know what"

 

"Then get s omeone down here who does know," Han bellowed. "Or so help me, I'm going to use your head as a batt"

 

"Assistant Primate," Princess Leia cut in quickly over her husband's threat. Her tone was soothing, but there was no mistaking the note of steel beneath. "We are very concerned that we have lost contact with the rest of our mission. It seems that all communications from ground to orbit are being jammed"

 

"That is part of the emergency!" the exasperated Fia said.

 

"We gathered that much," Han said. "But if you'll just let us get to the Falcon, we can"

 

"That is not possible!" Thrum shot back, his frustration causing his voice to come across louder than he had probably intended. "I am not authorized!"

 

The voices were coming from the common area, through the door to her right. Snatching her lightsaber from the cabinet beside her bed, Tahiri moved unsteadily toward the door.

 

"What's going on, Threepio?" she hissed.

 

"There was a terrible commotion," the droid said. "Mistress Jaina returned to inform us that the Yevetha have been destroyed! But at the same time as her return, a number of other ships also arrived in the system. And now it seems that our communications have been jammed and we can't"

 

"Ships?" she asked. "What sort of ships? Were they Yuuzhan Vong?"

 

"I believe so, Mistress," the droid said. "Although there was some uncertainty"

 

"It's them," Tahiri said. "I know it is."

 

A disconcerting feeling spread through her, like ice crystallizing. It had to be the Yuuzhan Vong. She was as sure of it as she was of her own name. They or their representatives had been on Galantos beforethe totem of Yun-Yammka proved that. They had probably struck a deal with the Fia protection from the Yevetha in exchange for resources. The Fia would have assumed that they meant the minerals brought to the surface of their planet by its restless crustbut Tahiri knew better. The Fia were going to learn the hard way that the resource the Yuuzhan Vong valued most was living tissue.

 

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then stepped through the doorway and into the common area. Thrum had positioned himself in front of the door leading from their suite. Leia gently restrained Han, who was towering angrily over the Fia. The Noghri guards stood nearby, silently overseeing the exchange.

 

"I'm sorry." The assistant primate was apologizing again to Anakin's parents. He seemed to be in a state of almost absolute panic. "But there are no regulations to cover such circumstances!"

 

"We don't need your regulations," Tahiri said, influencing her words with the Force as she took a couple of steps toward the Fia. Leia and Han were as surprised to see her as Thrum. "Open the door and let us through."

 

Something shifted behind Thrum's eyes, and for a moment it seemed as though he might concede to Tahiri's demand. But protocol, in this instance anyway, was stronger than Force suggestion.

 

"I cannot," he insisted, shaking his head violently as though to shake loose the unwanted thought. "I have already said that I don't have the authorization to"

 

He trailed off in midsentence as Tahiri's lightsaber hissed to life, its bright blue blade reflecting in his wide and frightened eyes.

 

"This is all the authorization you require," she said, brandishing the weapon close to his face. "Now, please, open this door."

 

"Why didn't you think of doing that, Leia?" she heard Han whisper to his wife.

 

"I would," Thrum said, flustered, "but"

 

Tahiri cocked her eyebrows. "But?"

 

The soft features of the Fia looked as though they were about to melt from the heat of Tahiri's saber. "But there are guards"

 

The crackle of blasterfire from the other side of the wall interrupted him. There was a click, followed by the door sliding open. Han stepped forward with his own blaster at the ready, past Thrum and into the hallway outside. Tahiri could see the two guards who had been stationed outside lying dead across the entrance, one with a hole smoking in his back, the other with one in their chest. Han took one look at them and turned to face Tahiri.

 

"How did you do that?" he asked her.

 

"Itit wasn't me," she stammered, too surprised by the sudden turn of events to realize that he was only joking.

 

She removed her thumb from the activation stud of her lightsaber, extinguishing the blade. Then she stepped over to the doorway to look outside. Apart from the bodies of the guards and Han standing over them, the corridor was empty. But there was a smell there that immediately caught her attentionand it wasn't just the tang of blasterfire, either. This was something else altogether. . .

 

"There's no one here," Leia said as she came up beside her husband, the two of them glancing up and down the passageway. "So who shot them?"

 

Han shrugged. "Maybe they fell on their own blaster bolts."

 

"It doesn't matter," Leia said. "We're out, and that's the main thing. We can worry about the hows and whys later. Let's just get off this planet before we become prisoners of Fian regulations again."

 

Everyone made to move, except for Thrum, who held back within the room. Leia stepped up to him and grabbed him by the arm.

 

"You're coming with us," she said, leading the quivering Fia firmly out of the room and into the corridor with the others.

 

"But..." he started, shuffling forward on his big, flat feet. He quickly dropped his protests, however, when he realized that nobody was bothering to listen to him anymore.

 

Han led the way through the diplomatic section, with Thrum close behind. Leia and her Noghri bodyguards followed him, while Tahiri brought up the rear. She was still a little dizzy, but could feel her old self quickly returning.

 

The voice booming over the intercom continued to warn people to stay indoors and remain calm. The disruption was temporary, the voice assured, and would soon be sorted out. The howling of the sirens, however, contradicted this, and Tahiri could feel a great hysteria and dread lifting around her in the Force.

 

"I don't think this was a trap," she whispered to Leia. "They're as surprised as we are."

 

"I agree," Leia responded. "The Fia didn't know in advance that we were coming, and no ships or transmissions have left the system since we arrived. But that doesn't mean they won't take advantage of us being here, now that something has happened. I'm sure that the life of a Jedi still has some currency with the Yuuzhan Vong." Tahiri nodded, firmly realizing that it was more likely her than Han and Leia that had resulted in them being locked up in their luxurious suites. The Fia wduld never downplay the roles Anakin's parents had in the liberation of the galaxy from the Empire, but as far as they knew, it was only the Jedi that the Yuuzhan Vong were interested in. If she hadn't been here, they might have been able to leave unobstructed.

 

As expected, when they reached the exit to the diplomatic quarters, they found a couple of guards stationed there. Han drew them all to a halt around a corner and turned his blaster on Thrum.

 

"Okay, flatfoot," he said, pushing the barrel of his weapon into the small of the Fia's back. "You're going to take us through here and to the landing field. Got it? We're your guests and they're just guards, so I'm sure regulations will cover it."

 

"Y-yes, of course," Thrum said as he was nudged forward.

 

Tahiri sent a command through the Force to give the nervous Fia the confidence he needed to pull off this simple task. She watched as in midstride the assistant primate seemed to summon a strength from within himself, straightening his clothes haughtily as he led the group forward.

 

Han holstered his blaster as they followed Thrum, while Tahiri hid the handgrip of her lightsaber in the folds of her clothes.

 

"I am taking the prisoners to interrogation!" Thrum announced loudly. Too loudly, Tahiri thought, realizing she might have overdone it with her Force command on the Fia.

 

"Interrogation?" one of the guards asked dubiously. He seemed a little taken back by Thrum's belligerence. "Where?"

 

"Section C," Thrum said curtly.

 

"For how long?" the other guard asked.

 

"Two hours."

 

"And will you accompany them on your return?"

 

"It doesn't matter" Thrum replied irritably. "It's not important. None of this is! All that matters is that I am authorized. I have jurisdiction here, and I will not have you questioning me like this!"

 

The guards, stunned by Thrum's uncustomary outburst, waved them through without further questioning.

 

"You know, that felt surprisingly good," Thrum said as they headed off down the corridor.

 

He seemed genuinely pleased with his performance, but Tahiri could tell that it had taken a lot out of him. His skin was moist and his hands were trembling almost uncontrollably.

 

"I'm proud of you," Han said, patting Thrum's sloping shoulder. "But you're not out of this yet."

 

Assistant Primate Thrum faced Han as they walked, detecting the unstated threat in the man's tone.

 

"Wh-what do you mean?" he asked, his nervous disposition returning to the fore.

 

"I mean that you'd better hope no one's touched the Falcon,'" Han said. "Because if they have, I'm going to take those long arms of yours and tie them in a bow around your head."

 

Thrum shuddered noticeably as he turned imploringly to Leia, who simply rolled her eyes and shook her head at her husband's lack of diplomatic skills.

 

They made it almost as far as the landing field without being obstructed. Whatever was going on above the planet seemed to have distracted the security forces on the surface to the point that the absence of their prisoners wasn't even noticed until they had almost escaped.

 

The slap of footfalls alerted Tahiri to the fact that they were being followed. As Thrum pointed excitedly to the exit to the landing field, a squad of Fian security guards rounded the corner behind them. Seeing the fugitives, they began firing immediately. Their blasters were set for stun, but that only delayed their ho stile intent. Tahiri ignited her lightsaber, effortlessly blocking the shots and sending them ricocheting back at the guards. Three fell immediately to the ground, causing the remaining guard to beat a hasty retreat around a corner. It was enough of a delay to allow everyone in her party to get safely through the exit.

 

Outside, the sky was uncannily blue. A tremor rocked the ground beneath her feet as they ran out onto the stressed ferrocretethe first she had noticed since arriving on the unsteady planet. Either her senses were more highly attuned than before, or the city's stabilizers weren't being properly tended. With death about to rain down on the planet from above, she supposed that the usual perils of life on Galantos weren't as important right now.

 

The others ducked and ran for cover as another wave of blasterfire came from a building across the landing field. Tahiri sent a telekinetic punch to bring down a wall in front of the new threat, and their path was temporarily clear again.

 

"This way!" Han shouted, leading them from cover across the flat field.

 

Tahiri noted that where it had been empty before, there were now several small spacefaring vessels in various stages of warming up. Ground crews watched nervously as they ran among the ships, fleeing new shouts from behind. The occasional bolt of energy bounced off armored hulls, sending innocent bystanders diving for cover.

 

"This is all too much," C-3PO complained, the sound of the servomotors that moved his limbs a constant whine as he hurried to keep up.

 

Amid the confusion on the landing field, Tahiri's attention was drawn to one man who appeared to be pursuing them. A lean, vaguely nonhuman figure dressed in a dark blue flight suit, with a breath mask obscuring his face, he tagged them closely as Tahiri and the others dodged between the other vessels. He kept up with them easily enough, too, unencumbered as he was by the need to avoid pursuit or ambushes. He simply followed along, with his easy, loping strides, casually monitoring their progress.

 

When they were within a sprinting dash of the Falcon, Tahiri peeled away from the others to intercept their pursuer. She had no idea if he meant them harm or not, but she had no intentions of leaving her back exposed to him.

 

"Tahiri!" Leia called out. Han had the boarding ramp already lowered and they were all about to run in.

 

Tahiri ignored the calls; she had only about three minutes before the Falcon would be ready to launch, so every second counted.

 

The mysterious figure didn't run away as she approached. Quite the opposite, in fact. Waving, he indicated for her to join him behind the curved hull of a small yacht. She did so, realizing as she did what it was about him that had drawn her to him.

 

"It was you," she muttered breathlessly as a tingle of recognition ran through her, courtesy of the Force, first, then via her nose his smell was strong and familiar. "You're the one who killed the guards and let us out!"

 

He nodded. "And one good turn deserves another, wouldn't you say?"

 

Tahiri's eyes narrowed, wondering what he was getting at. "You want our help?"

 

"I've been looking for a way off this rock ever since the Fia made their deal with the Brigaders."

 

"You want to come with us, is that it?"

 

"Not quite," he replied. He patted the hull of the yacht they were standing beside. "I want you to use your powers of persuasion to get the air lock of this thing open for me. After that, I can do the rest."

 

Tahiri was naturally wary of using her Force powers to help a complete stranger steal a ship. "Why should I do that?"

 

"You're just going to have to trust me," the masked being said. "I'm one of the ones who brought you here. That must count for something."

 

"Yeah, thanks a whole bunch." She glanced over her shoulder at where the Falcon was prepping up. Princess Leia called urgently to her from the ramp, an edge of something more than concern creeping into her voice.

 

"I can explain everything later," the stranger said, "if I survive. Right now there simply isn't any time."

 

Tahiri vacillated only for a moment, curiosity warring with caution. Then she reached out through the Force, feeling for the yacht's pilot. It was a Fian woman, and she was rushing through her preflight checks with terrified haste. A quick glance, however, told Tahiri that the

 

pilot had missed a crucial stage in her engine warm-ups; the first atmospheric punch would overload the yacht's repulsors and cripple them forever. With that in mind, she felt more reassured that intervening with the Force in this instance was acceptable. If it meant saving this pilot's life, then that had to be a positive thing, surely?

 

Tahiri implanted a thought in the pilot's mind; she had forgotten to secure the tail hatches and needed to do it manually, and the only way to do it was to unseal the air lock. Cursing, the pilot smacked her forehead and came through the yacht to fix the problem.

 

Tahiri faced her masked companion evenly. "The rest is up to you," she said.

 

Her mystery man bowed slightly. "My thanks, Tahiri Veila." He moved around to the air lock, waiting for it to open.

 

"When" she began.

 

"We will speak again when I reach orbit," he shouted, waving her away.

 

There was no time to argue with the stranger; she could already hear the rising wail of the Falcon's engines. Han would be cursing her if she held them up any longer. Taking a deep breath, she gathered the Force around her like an invisible shield and braved the empty space between her and the unlikely-looking freighter. She ignited her lightsaber to build a wall of energy between her and the Fian security forces, moving the lightsaber in graceful, confident arcs around her, easily deflecting the blaster bolts as she backed her way toward the ramp. The joy of the fight rose within her, as she reveled in her skill with the blade and the failure of her enemies.

 

I am a Jedi Knight, she thought. l am invincible!

 

Then a strong hand grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her onto the ramp just as the Falcon lifted from the ground. There was a rush of air around her as the ramp lifted.

 

She collapsed onto the metal decking, her lightsaber's energy beam retracting with a crackle.

 

"Tahiri," Leia said, edging aside her bodyguard and leaning over her. "Are you all right? What happened?"

 

"I had to help someone escape," Tahiri managed breathlessly, surprised just how quickly the feeling of invincibility gave way to exhaustion. "The person who helped us with the guards outside the room." Leia frowned dubiously. "Who was it?" "I'm not sure," she admitted with a shrug. "But you're sure it was the same person?" Leia asked. Tahiri nodded. Her confidence came more from gut instinct than anything else; she could feel that he was the one. And then there was the smell, although she still couldn't identify the source. "He said he would contact us from orbit."

 

"That's fine, if we make it to orbit." Leia looked forward, concerned. "I'm going back to the cockpit. Are you sure you're okay?"

 

"Never been better," Tahiri said, pulling herself up to a sitting position. And it wasn't a lie. She had helped Anakin's family escape capture on Galantos. Whatever her other failings were, she could be proud of that, at least.

 

Leia nodded uncertainly as she made to leave. "I am all right, too, Princess Leia," C-3PO chirped as Leia passed him, his photoreceptor eyes watching her back as she hurried off to the cockpit. "In case you were wondering."

 

The Noghri guards left to follow Leia, leaving Tahiri alone with C-3PO. The golden droid let her use him as a counterweight to help her get to her feet, then staggered

 

back as some sort of energy weapon discharged against the ship's shields.

 

"Goodness," he exclaimed. "Will this fighting never end?"

 

I hope not, part of her thought, but she was too frightened of what that meant to say it aloud.

 

Jaina brought her X-wing around in as tight a turn as it could manage. Although charred by the self-destruction of the Yevetha's ship near N'zoth, her X-wing still had enough maneuverability to run down the alien fighter she had clipped on her first pass. Stuttering her lasers, she trusted her instincts to tell her when its dovin basals were close to overload. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she issued a proton torpedo to dispatch the Yuuzhan Vong ship along with its pilot to oblivion.

 

Fighting off exhaustion, she targeted another skip, this one daring to come in too close behind Twin Eleven. A dozen warning shots were enough to change its mind, although her follow-up torpedo failed to reach its mark. She gladly gave up the chase when her R2 unit warned that her stabilizers were overheating again and advised that she pull back for a while. The brief respite gave her a chance to observe the battle from a distance, a luxury she couldn't afford when she was down in the thick of it.

 

Twin Suns Squadron was outnumbered three to one, but holding well against an enemy that hadn't expected such determinedif indeed anyresistance in the system. Although both sides had been taken by surprise, Jaina was pleased to see that it was the Galactic Alliance and Chiss pilots who were adjusting the quickest. That made sense; with the Yuuzhan Vong's yammosk suffering attempts to jam it while it dealt with the unexpected development, the individual pilots weren't trained to think independently, and therefore floundered.

 

The two larger, circular ships were not designed for war, but they weren't easy picking, either. Their yorik coral shells were tough, and the five long tentacles that dangled from their sterns were strongly muscled, lashing out with surprising speed at anything that came within reach. At the end of each serpentine arm was a toothless maw that opened and closed in the vacuum as though attempting to suck in passing ships.

 

Although Jaina had never seen anything quite like them before, the sucking tentacleseach several meters acrossput her in mind of something her father had described seeing at Ord Mantell. He and Droma, the Ryn who had served briefly as his copilot after Chewie's death, had almost been sucked into the mouth by just such a giant tentacle.

 

"Slaveships," she said, voicing her thoughts.

 

"Empty or full?" asked Todra Mayn on Selonia. The frigate was slowly breaking orbit to lend its twenty quad laser cannons to the task of knocking out the incoming coralskippers.

 

"They're heading in toward Galantos, so empty would be my bet," Jag said as he pulled his clawcraft out of a tight roll. "After all, you wouldn't send a household droid in to clean a place with its waste-storage bin already full, right?"

 

She had to agree that it made sense. There was a world full of Fia down on the planet that was barely in a position to defend itself. The entire planetary defense force consisted of five squadrons of old Y-wings, none of which had yet even managed to reach vacuum. But for Twin Suns Squadron and Selonia, the planet's major cities would already have been under attack. Once this line of defense was gone, the entire population would become easy targets for those slaveships.

 

"How many people do you think they'd fit in one of those things?" Twin Three asked, swooping around the back of the nearest slave freighter and peppering its trailing tentacles with laserfire.

 

"Hundreds of thousands, maybe more," Captain Mayn said grimly, "if they packed them in tight enough."

 

"Enough for a disposable army," Jaina said, revolted by the thought. "If this is what came for the Yevetha, it's hardly surprising they decided to fight to the very end."

 

Cappie bleeped to inform her that her stabilizers were back in working order. Ramping her inertial compensators down another notch, to give her flagging reflexes as much information as she could, she immediately powered to join Three, whose insistent pounding of the slaveship had resulted in one of its tentacles being completely severed. She was doing her best to cut through a second, all the while avoiding the sucking maws of the others. It was like attempting to dodge three amphistaffs all at once.

 

There was no time for talking, then, as she concentrated on helping maim the slaveship. It was a cumbersome vessel, clearly relying on its escort for defense and not intended for combat. Although it was equipped with dovin basals capable of absorbing enemy fire, she suspected that the primary function of these was to enable the large mass of the ship to hover over a city while it ingested its prey. When it was full, it could return to wherever the slaves were being processed, dump its load, and head out for another.

 

It was a typically revolting biological solution to a problem she knew the Yuuzhan Vong were suffering from. They were short of warriors, and they needed replacements. No one had imagined that they had been preparing for a wave of mass enslavement for so long. They should have, though. It was exactly the sort of fate

 

Tsavong Lah would have gleefully imposed on the infidels divide and conquer had always been his modus operandi, closely followed by enslave and murder. That Lah was no longer around to see the results of his vile plan was little consolation.

 

A voice crackled over the open subspace link. "Anyone looking for reinforcements?"

 

"Dad?" Jaina peeled away from a wildly flailing tentacle, too tired to concentrate on two things simultaneously "Is that you?"

 

"None other," he announced cockily. "Hey, I hope you've saved some of those Vong ships for us."

 

Jaina felt a wave of relief wash a heavy weight from her shoulders as she spotted the battered, black disk of the Millennium Falcon rising rapidly from Galantos. She was suddenly battle-ready again as a new energy rushed through her.

 

"I'm glad you made it out okay," she said. "How did you swing it?"

 

"We had a hand," he said simply. "Hang in there, kid. Help's on its way."

 

A quick scan of her telemetry confirmed that there was still no sign of the Galantos defense force. There were a few hot spots on the planet indicating isolated launches, but these were mainly from the major cities. Private craft, she assumed, probably taking the rich and the prestigious away from the Yuuzhan Vong attack.

 

Like mynocks fleeing a disintegrating asteroid, she thought ruefully.

 

There was one ship, however, that didn't immediately break orbit for the nearest hyperspace jump point. A small yacht of Corellian manufacture, it seemed to be hanging back as if waiting for something. The Falcon abruptly changed course to intercept it, and together they vanished around the back of the planet.

 

 

Odd, she thought. Jaina had no time to ponder it any further, though. The coralskippers were gradually getting themselves organized, and Selonia was still some distance away. Twin Suns Three was forced to withdraw from the slave freighter whose tentacles she was harassing, and Jaina found herself the target of a trio of determined skips. She ducked and wove through the wildly disorienting tangle of fighters, ion washes, and particu-late debris, hoping that the slightest distraction to the skips would afford her some breathing space until some help arrived. But no matter what she did, they doggedly stuck to her tail, until soon her stabilizers were beginning to overheat again. Frustration and anger welled within her and she fought them as grimly as she fought the Yuu-zhan Vong being tired and uncomfortable was no excuse to give in to the dark side.

 

Her R2 unit squealed as two plasma volleys reduced her shields to dangerous levels. Just as she was seriously beginning to worry, a flurry of laserfire arced from behind her, scattering her three pursuers. Only one clung on after that, and the pilot who had saved her life soon dispatched it.

 

"Thanks," she said over the comlink as the coral-skipper evaporated back to its component molecules. "I owe you one."

 

"I'll hold you to that, Sticks," Jag said.

 

She smiled to herself; she was so relieved to hear his voice that everything else assumed secondary importance. For a moment he came alongside her new XJ3, and she imagined that she could see him through the faceted visor of his clawcraft.

 

"Let me ask you a question," he said after a moment. "If you were the Fia and you'd done a deal with the Yuu-zhan Vong, but we showed up and started fighting your allies, whose side would you fight on?"

 

"I don't know, Jag." She wiped sweat from her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. "Why? Does it matter?"

 

He paused slightly before answering. "Take a look at your telemetry," he said.

 

She did so, and saw multiple launches from three locations across Galantos, followed by formations of ion engine signatures thrusting for space. She couldn't help it she felt fatigued all over again.

 

"Whichever side they're on," said Jag, "here they come..."

 

"Here they come!"

 

Gilad Pellaeon heard the words a split second before he felt a vibration run through Widowmaker as the frigate's ion engines engaged. Powerful enough to override inertial dampers and communicated via the hull to the fluid in his bacta tank, the vibration made him feel as though the whole world was shaking. He reached out to steady himself against the transparent shell containing the healing fluid, trying to concentrate on the good things about his situation. Yes, his injured body was confined to a bacta tank on an ageing frigate during what might possibly be the most important battle he would ever fight, but at least he still had his faculties about him. His mind was clear; he needed nothing more than that, really.

 

"Enemy fleet concentrated in sectors three through eight," said the voice of Widowmaker's duty officer in his ear. He didn't need the running commentary, but he kept it going when he wasn't using the communicator in his breath mask to make sure he wasn't missing anything locally. The mask's modified visor showed him crisp, three-dimensional views of the action as it unfolded in the system, while sensor pads attached to his hands and wrists enabled him to switch views at will.

 

"Changing course to adopt primary position." Widowmaker swung about to put the planet of Borosk between itself and the incoming Yuuzhan Vong fleet. A relatively small world, it would have been entirely unremarkable but for its role in the defense of the Empire. A symbolic retention after numerous retreats, it had been heavily armed to ensure it wasn't retaken by the New Republic, which had in turn armed its own neighboring worlds in case Borosk turned out to be the beginning of another invasion. As a result, the planet was heavily stocked with partially automated planetary turbolasers, ion cannons, and shields, and surrounded by extensive rings of space-based ion mines, all in a constant state of battle readiness. The planet was, in its own way, better defended than Bastion had beensince, in a sane universe, no one would have attacked there first.

 

The Imperial Navy Fleet now gathered around Borosk had had just enough time to organize into new task forces and squadrons. The losses in Bastion had been high, and the shock enormous, but discipline was still strong among the corps. Once Flennic had started issuing orders in Pellaeon's name, all thoughts of dissolution had temporarily vanished, and the command chain had been quickly reestablished. There were enough Star Destroyers left to consolidate the defense around four distinct battle groups, designated by their command vessel names Stalwart, which Pellaeon had not permitted Flennic to retain, had the vanguard of the defense; Relentless and Protector protected the flanks; and the rear was maintained by Right to Rule. There were five other Star Destroyers committed to the defense of Borosk, making nine altogether. The remainder of the navy had stayed with Flennic around Yaga Minor, just in case the Yuuzhan Vong attacked there anyway. Chimaera was there, too, undergoing repairs, having finally limped into Yaga Minor w ith a severely damaged hyperdrive and numerous other scarsbut at least intact.

 

Despite the absence of his command vessel, Pellaeon felt an old excitement rise in him as he watched the battle groups deploy. That moment immediately prior to battle was simultaneously the most wonderful and the most terrifying. Everything was in place ships were at the peak of their performance, while pilots were at their sharpest; he could almost tell who was going to win before a single shot had been fired, simply based on the disposition of forces. Sometimes he wished victories could be awarded so easily, without lives lost or resources wasted, or grudges formed ...

 

This was not such a time. In this instance he wanted nothing more than to fight, to quash the enemy's attack, reduce them to their basic component molecules. And, watching the incoming fleets, he knew they desired the same for their enemy. The Yuuzhan Vong would never share in Gilad Pellaeon's wish for victory without loss. For them, sacrificeglorious or otherwisewas fundamental to their belief system. Trying to imagine them without it was like trying to picture Coruscant without buildings.

 

Stalwart sent four TIE fighter squadrons to engage the lead ships while they were still recovering from the hyper-space jump. Pellaeon counted two enemy warships at the head of that particular attackgiant ovoids as long as a Star Destroyer with huge coral arms near the nose that sprouted coralskippers like pollen. There were three carrier analogs toward the rear, also branched and budded with coralskippers; these were accompanied by numerous gunships capable of spraying volleys of plasma at anything daring to come too close. There was one battleship analog at each of the two other attacking points, their ugly, misshapen appearance a blot against the stars. He counted five cruisers and destroyers holding back for the moment, waiting either to swing around the rear later or to provide reinforcements as needed.

 

Dozens of Yuuzhan Vong fighters launched to intercept the Imperial forces, spewing plasma. Led by Luke Skywalker in his XJ3 X-wing, the TIE squadrons were equipped only with lasers, so stutterfire was not possible. Instead they attacked two or three at a time, the multiple laserfire having a similar effect and overloading the dovin basals of the skips. Yammosk telemetry enabled them to target the central control ships.

 

Surprised, clearly expecting less efficient resistance, the Yuuzhan Vong warriors began to scatter, either destroyed outright or repulsed. It wasn't long, though, before the war coordinators in the capital ships reassessed the situation and increased the muscle behind the push into the system. Proton explosions blossomed like white flowers in the vacuum, while magma bolts cut red lines across the void.

 

"Fall back, Skywalker," Pellaeon ordered through the comlink in his breath mask. "I think you've made your point."

 

"I'm going to stay out here a while longer, Gilad," came the reply.

 

"Just you be careful, Luke," he heard Mara pipe up from the Jade Shadow, where she and Danni Quee waited on the sunward flank with Protector. The healer was on Widowmaker with the giant lizard and himself, a half-dead old man who was supposed to be running the show. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Pellaeon might have found the whole thing seriously amusing.

 

"How's Jacen coming along?" Luke asked.

 

"He's getting results," Mara said. Her grim tone I prompted Pellaeon to take a look.

 

Jacen Solo, the boy Jedi who had come so delightfully close to besting Moff Flennic, was on Right to Rule. In the hours since regrouping at Yaga Minor, thousands of MSE-6 mouse droids had been modified with the Yuuzhan Vong-detecting algorithms the Galactic Alliance had developed and sent scuttling from ship to ship throughout the fleet, identifying three Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators. In analyzing the communications these infiltrators had received from within the fleet, Jacen had been able to expose more than a dozen sympathizers. None had been confronted directly, but all had been posted to the Right to Rule and individually summoned to a "staffing meeting" with the intention of seeing their activities brought to an immediate end.

 

Jacen had set up the meeting in a conference room that looked perfectly innocent, but had in fact been heavily modified with some of the most sophisticated security device the Empire had to offer, via which Pellaeon was able to follow the proceedings over the monitors set up in his room. Also, nearby, a squad of stormtroopers stood ready to rush in to Jacen's aid, should he require it. It was a risk, perhaps, to have such a concentration of the enemy in one area, but Jacen felt it was less of a risk than having the same enemy scattered throughout various ships when they were exposed. It would have been harder to coordinate their rounding up, whereas having them all contained in one room presented a controlled situation, more easily contained if something went wrong.

 

The traitors arrived one by one, staggered at two-minute intervals to ensure that they wouldn't meet in the corridor outside and suspect the trap they were walking into. Jacen sat patiently at the front of the room, saying nothing as each one entered.

 

The disguised aliens were the last to enter. The first came into the room a full five minutes after all the traitors had been seated. She breezed easily in, noting those seated around the large table in a single glance. Her expression was unreadable, and so human that Pellaeon could scarcely credit that it wasn't in fact her real face, but rather an example of the biotechnological masks the Yuuzhan Vong called ooglith masquers. She was, to all appearances, a tall, plain woman with long, gray hair tied back in a severe bun, with nothing remarkable about her at all.

 

But there was something in the way she hesitated slightly when she caught sight of her human sympathizers that convinced Pellaeon she wasn't all she appeared to be.

 

"Greetings, Fiula Blay," Jacen said from the front. He continued to lean against the podium as he spoke, his casual demeanor oozing disrespect. "Won't you take a seat while we wait on the arrival of the others?"

 

The woman glared at him, but did as she was asked without comment. Pellaeon noticed the beginnings of fear in the eyes of four of the spies as they recognized the leader of their particular resistance cell.

 

"What's going on here?" one of them demanded. "You have no right to keep us here like this!"

 

"Keep you here?" Jacen repeated with an exaggerated frown. "You make it sound as though you were pris-oners. Why should you think that?"

 

The man swallowed but said nothing more.

 

"You've been called here so we can have a little chat," Jacen went on. "That's all."

 

"Fine," another said sharply. This one wore the uniform of an intelligence coordinator. "Then let's get on I with it, shall we?"

 

"When we're all here," Jacen said calmly. "We haven't got time for this," he went on angrily, making to stand. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on out there!"

 

Jacen stood up straight and took a step forward. "That's precisely why we're here," he said, his eyes leveled evenly at the traitor.

 

The man returned to his seat with a grunt of complaint and fell silent.

 

"You could at least tell us who you are," said a third, a female security officer. "Can't you guess?" Jacen said.

 

The door opened at this point, and the second of the Yuuzhan Vong entered, this time in the disguise of a portly corporal seconded from the Relentless. He, too, hesitated when he saw the group gathered before him, but like Fiula Blay he kept his expression tightly controlled.

 

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked. "What am I doing here? I should be out there, where I'm needed"

 

"All will be explained," Jacen said, pointing to an empty seat. "Please, sit."

 

The tension within the room mounted as everyone waited uncomfortably for the last of the infiltrators to arrive. Nothing was said, but the body language of those around the table spoke volumes. Pellaeon estimated that perhaps eight of the eleven sympathizers had already figured out what was happening, with the remaining three probably just having the beginnings of suspicion in their gut. It showed in their furtive eye movements, their flushed expressions, and the way they squirmed uneasily in their seats. The only ones who didn't flinch or show any concern were the two disguised Yuuzhan Vong. What was going on in their minds was anybody's guess.

 

Finally, the door hissed open and the third Yuuzhan Vong walked in. An enormous man with shoulders as wide as a Wookiee's, "Torvin Xyn" took in the scene instantly, his expression breaking into a snarl as soon as his eyes fell upon Jacen.

 

"Jeedai!" he hissed. "I can smell you!" A number of those seated started to stand as Torvin Xyn's skin peeled away from his face, revealing the scarred and snarling visage of the Yuuzhan Vong beneath. The skin covering his chest and arms rippled, and suddenly there was an amphistaff in his hands.

 

Jacen took a step back toward the podium. "There is no need for this," he said. "Nobody need be harmed!"

 

But even as he spoke, the Yuuzhan Vong let loose an unintelligible roar and launched himself at Jacen. Almost inaudible beneath the alien's deafening war cry was the distinctive snap-hiss of Jacen's green-bladed lightsaber extending. He brought it up between them in a bright blur, sweeping in an arc to deflect the intended blow to his neck from the amphistaff. Then, shifting his weight back onto his right leg, he moved to one side, just enough to miss the charge of the giant alien. The Yuuzhan Vong swept his amphistaff down and around to cut at Jacen's legs as he passed but the Jedi Knight was already off the ground by that point, kicking outward with his left leg to knock the alien off balance. Amphistaff and lightsaber clashed again as the two other spies burst out of their dis guises and joined the fray. Realizing they had been discovered, the human sympathizers fell about in a panic.

 

Any thought that the enemy still had the upper hand was soon dispelled when the door burst open and the squadron of stormtroopers filed in, the snouts of their blasters trained on the aliens. Security droids swooped in behind them. A quick succession of shots brought down two of the Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators. Exposed without their vonduun crab armor, they died with their hideously

 

scarred visages snarling. The final warrior fell when he raised his amphistaff high into the air in readiness to bring it down on Jacen's head, and the young Jedi proved to be too fast. Thrusting his own weapon up high, he managed to block the Yuuzhan Vong's strike when the warrior had barely started the downward swing, then seemingly effortlessly brought his lightsaber down onto the Yuuzhan Vong's torso. Such was the force of the blow that his weapon cut almost halfway through the alien's barrel chest before coming to a halt.

 

Jacen stepped back from the smoking corpse of "Torvin Xyn," wiping a forearm across his sweat-beaded face as he turned to the panic-stricken traitors clustered together away from all the fighting. A few were jabbering apologies and pleas for mercy, lost in the babble of so many people trying to speak at once.

 

"There's no point protesting your innocence," Jacen said loudly. When the noise settled he let his lightsaber fizz out, replacing the handgrip on his belt. There was a look on the young Jedi's face that surprised Pellaeon, as though the fighting he'd just been involved in dismayed him. And yet, at the same time, there was a rocksteady certainty there, as well. "Your quarters have been searched and your movements monitored. Your guilt is beyond question. The only question remaining is whether there are any more of you that we should know about."

 

The cold-eyed intelligence coordinator took a step forward. "Jedi scum," he said, spitting on the floor at Jacen's feet. "You've only delayed the inevitable."

 

"Permanently, I hope," Jacen said, unflustered. He looked around the room. "Anyone else have something to say?"

 

No one answered, but Pellaeon noted two who looked as though they might under different, more private circumstances. With a gesture from Jacen, stormtroopers took the prisoners away for interrogation.

 

The young Jedi sagged back into a chair when everyone had gone, pulling back the sleeve of his robe to speak into a wrist comlink.

 

"Mission accomplished," he announced tiredly.

 

His voice came over the private link at the same time as Pellaeon heard it via the microphones in the dummy interview room.

 

"Well done, Jacen," Mara Skywalker said from Jade Shadow. "Are you all right?"

 

Pellaeon watched on as the Solo boy examined the back of his hand. "Just a nick," he said. "I'll be fine." He glanced around at the Yuuzhan Vong corpses. "This wasn't necessary. They had a chance to come peacefully."

 

"Did you really think they would?"

 

"You never know." He half smiled. "Maybe sending their most dangerous and aggressive warriors in to be killed by us will eventually reduce the gene pool, breed a more temperate Yuuzhan Vong."

 

Pellaeon had never had occasion to laugh in a bacta tank before, but he couldn't help himself now. "Victory by natural selection? An interesting game plan, Solo."

 

"Requesting permission to fall back behind the mine rings, Grand Admiral," Captain Yage interrupted.

 

Pellaeon had been keeping half an eye on the disposition of the battle while watching Jacen's handling of the spy situation. The Yuuzhan Vong fleets had engaged on all four fronts, with the fighting fiercest where they'd first entered the system.

 

"Permission granted," he said. As the frigate began to drop to a lower orbit around Borosk, Pellaeon switched to a general command channel. To the numerous generals, captains, and commanders to whom he entrusted the details of the battle, he said "Commence fallback. Rule and Protector battle groups first, then Stalwart and Relentless. Orbital control, activate the mines as soon as the bulk of the enemy comes within range. Ground, make sure the targeting systems concentrate on the smaller ships, where possible; the shields and mines should keep the capital vessels at bay for us to deal with. And remember we're playing a waiting game. The more we can bleed them, the more they'll hurt."

 

A series of affirmatives returned over the line. With no Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators left among the Imperial forces, Pellaeon felt sure that the fallback of his fleet would appear as an unruly retreat to the rigid-minded warmaster behind the attack. He was confident that the fully charged turbolasers and cannons waiting for them down on Borosk below would convince the Yuuzhan Vong of their mistake.

 

Then, at last, the battle proper could truly begin.

 

Saba hissed as a slave carrier appeared on the edge of the scope, emerging from the planet's atmosphere. Her tail whacked agitatedly against the floor as the sight of it brought back the memory of the destruction of her own planet.

 

Captain Yage looked up. "What is it?"

 

The Barabel pointed at the screen. The carrier had come out of hyperspace well back from the front and was lightly protected. Its tentacles whipped at vacuum like hungry space slugs snapping for food. Where it had been a flattened sphere before, it was now fatter.

 

Fuller, Saba thought.

 

"They are confident of success," she said. A terrible hunger gnawed at her belly.

 

"Maybe they have cause to be confident," Yage said grimly. The solid woman turned aside for a moment to call instructions to the crew scattered throughout the ship. The bridge of Widowmaker was busy in a productive, controlled away, but still noisy to a Barabel's ears.

 

"This one can feel them," Saba said, closing her eyes and reaching out through the Force. Past the many nearby life-sources that comprised the planet of Borosk and the massed navy of the Empire, and beyond the empty gulf of the attacking Yuuzhan Vong, she felt a concentrated scar in the Forcea scar that itched from pain and fear. She sensed suffocation, imprisonment, claustrophobia, darknessall the things she had failed to notice when her own people had been taken because of the emotions of anger and rage she had been unable to control. The concentration of those feelings now was too intense to ignoreso intense, in fact, that her head reeled from it. But she would not turn away. She couldn't. She needed to embrace this pain, share in it, in the hope that doing so would somehow alleviate some of the guilt she carried.

 

Hunt the moment.. .

 

The people inside the carrier had been stuffed in like animals being taken away for slaughter. The chances were that many of them would die before they ever reached their destination. As appalling a thought as that was for Saba, she knew that from the Yuuzhan Vong's point of view it did make sense. To them, these beings were little more than animals, so what did it matter if a percentage of the stock was lost in transit, as long as enough survived to fill the armies at the front?

 

But Saba Sebatyne was a Jedi, and she could not stand by and allow it to happen. She had to do something something that could make up for the deaths of all those Barabels she had killed.

 

How better could they be remembered?

 

"This one would speak to Jade Shadow," she said to Yage. The captain frowned uncertainly, but made arrangements with her comm officer.

 

"Over there," she said, pointing to an empty comm station.

 

Conscious of the eyes of the crew upon herpossibly the most obvious nonhumanoid many had seen up close for yearsSaba moved to the station and spoke softly into the link "Mara, this one haz a plan."

 

There was a slight delay before Skywalker answered. "You have my attention, Hisser," she said. "Whatever you have in mind, it has to be belter than taking potshots and watching Luke's retrothrusters."

 

"Do you see the slave carrier? This iz the prize. If they lose this, the battle will be hollow for them."

 

"You're saying we should take it out? Saba, we can't do that. It's full of"

 

"We do not destroy it," Saba cut in, then paused as she considered the audacity of what she was about to suggest. Her stomach rumbled. "This one wishez to liberate it."

 

There was an even longer silence this time. "Wait a second," Mara eventually said. On the scope, Saba saw Jade Shadow disengage from the battle, closely followed by Master Skywalker's X-wing. "I'm going to patch you into the command ring."

 

The holoprojectors flickered into life, revealing the faces of Mara and Grand Admiral Pellaeon. Saba moved to allow Captain Yage to take the seat.

 

"Did I just hear right?" Pellaeon asked.

 

"Saba wants to free the people trapped in that slave-ship," Mara said.

 

"And what do you think of that?" the Grand Admiral asked.

 

"I think that's a worthy objective," Mara said.

 

"Which is not to say it's practical," Pellaeon countered.

 

"No, but Saba makes a valid point. Taking that carrier ship might save a lot of lives, Admiral."

 

The ageing Imperial nodded, sending wisps of thin white hair swaying in the fluid around him. His expression was mostly hidden behind the breath mask.

 

"So how would it be done?" he asked. "It's on the other side of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet."

 

"Exactly," Saba said. "Attention iz forward, on the attack. The rear will be vulnerable."

 

"We'd still have to get past their interdictors," Mara pointed out. "And it wouldn't stay vulnerable long. There are an awful lot of capital ships out there. An assault party would soon find itself surrounded, Saba, a long, long way from backup."

 

"And they won't bring it forward until they are certain we've lost," Luke said, inserting himself into the conversation via the comm unit.

 

"Could that be the way?" Pellaeon asked. "We're on the retreat, anyway."

 

"Too risky," Yage said. "We'd have to basically give them Borosk befo re they'd believe us, and there's no guarantee we'd ever get it back."

 

Pellaeon nodded again, and Saba received the distinct impression that he was treating the discussion more as a theoretical exercise than a serious proposalalthough she also sensed that he would like someone to make it work.

 

"We require a sacrifice," she said. "And we muzt deliver it directly to the target."

 

"I don't understand," Yage said, turning slightly to look up at the Barabel leaning over her. From so close, the woman's scent was pungent in Saba's nostrils, but not offensive.

 

"They will guess that we know what the slaveship iz. Perhapz that iz why they have produced it so early in the battle. They use it to enrage us, to challenge our honor. They are saying, You are slavez already. Jt'z only a matter of time." Saba's blunted claws unsheathed at the insult. Embarrassed by the reflexive action, she hid her hands behind her back. It seemed she could put the Jedi into the Barabel, but she couldn't always take the Barabel out of the Jedi. "We attack it, az they are daring us to."

 

"But if they're daring us, then that means they'll be expecting us to respond," Mara said. "Yez. And we will lose."

 

"I think I'm beginning to follow you," Yage said. "We send in some sort of assault ship to take on the slave carrier. It gets knocked out of the picture, but not before acting as a diversion for another attack, right?"

 

"No," Saba said. "It iz the attack. If the ship iz not utterly destroyed, itz crew will be bounty. They will not waste it."

 

Pellaeon chuckled through his breath mask. "Emperor's earsare you suggesting what I think you're suggesting? You don't mean 'sacrifice' you mean bait."

 

"From the inside," Saba said, nodding enthusiastically, "this one will be best placed to take over the ship. It iz not a warship, after all. It iz a glorified freighter. It will rely on otherz to defend it. At worst, disabling it will allow the cargo to be unloaded more easily."

 

"That's the next problem," Yage said. "Where does that happen?"

 

"Right there," Mara said. "When Saba has killed the ship's brain, it's just a matter of getting the captives somewhere safe."

 

"This one iz thinking of an old trick played on Barab One," Saba said. "The best way to poison a bonecrusher iz to feed it live hka'ka that has eaten poisoned vsst. The bonecrusher doez not taste the poison until itz meal iz overand then it iz already dead." She shrugged her heavy, scaled shoulders. "It iz not an honorable way to hunt, but sometimez it iz better than dying."

 

The Grand Admiral's expression sobered. "If you succeed, it'll be the wildest stunt I've ever seenand you'll seal the gratitude of the Empire forever. Turning my back on the people the Vong captured was one of the most soul-destroying things I've ever had to do. It's a burden I'll be happy to be rid of."

 

"Luke?"

 

"I presume you'll want to be involved, Mara," Master Skywalker said, ignoring the concerned whistle from R2-D2.

 

"Jade Shadow would make an ideal poisoned vsst," she said. "And it has a tractor beam that I know will come in handy."

 

"You can count me in, too," said Danni, her head appearing over Mara's shoulder.

 

"Are you sure?" Mara asked, frowning slightly.

 

"Saba and I have worked together before," she said, "and this'll be another great opportunity to see Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology at work up close."

 

"Too close for my liking," Yage muttered. "But it's your choice, I guess."

 

Pellaeon's eyes were dancing behind the translucent shell of his visor. He was clearly seeing 3-D views hidden from those watching his hologram. "If we're going to do this, then let's get moving," he said. "Every minute delayed is another minute my pilots are out there getting killed. We have a lot to put in place in a very short time, and I think I might've found ourwhat was it, Saba?"

 

"Hka'ka," she supplied.

 

"Yes," said Pellaeon. "You Jedi might be crazy, but those are Imperial lives you're saving. I don't want anything to go wrong. Is that understood?"

 

Remembering the recent massive and tragic losses of her own people, Saba could only nod solemnly.

 

Nom Anor woke to the sound of screams and the realization that, even in the depths of Yuuzhan'tar, he would never be safe.

 

Years of backstabbingsometimes literallyhis way toward the top had taught him to be a light sleeper. It was a habit that had served him well, saving his life more than once in the years before his exile. But even here, in the bowels of the planet, he slept with the coufee he had carved from a discarded flake of coral within reach at all times, and the socket containing his plaeryin bol always half open. If anyone was fool enough to attempt attacking him during the night, they would wind up dead within moments of intruding in his sleeping quarters.

 

This reflexive response had almost brought one of his new companions to an unfortunate end a week earlier. Quite unexpectedly, considering he had done nothing to curry her favor, he'd been visited in the dark hours by Nii-riit Esh. In his usual semiconscious state he had sensed her presence and leapt from his sleeping mat, limbs instinctively adopting an attacking stance and his coufee whipping out to slash his attacker across the throat.

 

He had barely reined in the attack in time. The faintest of lambent glows had revealed the shock in her eyesas well as the hurt. Silent in her mortification, she had hurried from the room, her simple shift swishing against the shell walls as she retreated to her chamber.

 

In the couple of heartbeats after she had fled, he realized with some embarrassment that she had almost certainly been unarmed, and that there had been no intentions of hostility in her actions. Far from it.

 

But that had been then; this awakening left nothing in doubt he and the other Shamed Ones were under attack.

 

From the commotion outside, Nom Anor knew that the scream that had awoken him had been the sentry, Yus Sh'roth, being killed. It was a shame, he thought idly; the former shaper had been a vital member of this community of Shamed Ones. Nevertheless, Nom Anor neither had the time or the desire to grieve. The fact was, Sh'roth's death scream could mean life for the others, because it gave them time to ready themselves for the invaderswhoever they were.

 

Maybe, he thought, it was nothing more than a loner that had inadvertently stumbled upon the camp and been surprised by Sh'roth; or perhaps even just another band of Shamed Ones hoping to make a silent raid while the camp slept, trying to steal some food

 

But, no. He was fooling himself. The sound of am-phistaffs cracking left no doubt in his mind that these attackers were warriors. Their camp was too deep to have been fallen upon by some passing patrol, which meant only one thing these warriors, these trained killers, had been deliberately sent to wipe it out.

 

The certainty was more than enough to spur Nom Anor into action. He quickly gathered his things and left his humble dwelling, knowing as he did that it was unlikely he would ever return. Outside he was almost bowled over by someone dashing past in a wild panic, heading down the long, spiraling corridor that ran the length of the disused ventilation shaft. Probably I'pan, he thought, given the wily thief's knack for getting out of difficult situations.

 

Waiting in the shadows a second longer, Nom Anor listened carefully for the sound of anyone pursuing I'pan. But there was none. All he heard were distant footfalls and muffled cries. He didn't know how many warriors there were, but it was clear they had the upper hand. The cavern was quickly filling with the sound of the Shamed Ones' massacre.

 

Not this Shamed One, Nom Anor swore to himself, turning to follow I'pan down the corridor into the depths of the shaft where the chuk'a hibernated, and wishing his former companions speedy passages to the afterlifeif one awaited them. The Shamed Ones had, without question, saved him from what had been a very difficult situation when he'd fled Shimrra's wrath. He had lasted longer than expected by eating granite slugs, but eventually he would have succumbed to this alien environment and diedat the hands of a predator, or from something as simple and stupid as drinking poisoned water. He owed them his life and, thanks to their stories about the Jedi, there was every chance he owed them his future, too.

 

But what future would he have, he asked himself, if he were to charge up the corridor now and throw himself at a squad of fully armed warriors? He was just one against an unknown number.

 

He had owed a few people his life before. He owed no one a death.

 

With that in mind, he pulled a lambent from the wall and headed off down the gentle, curving slope in the direction I'pan had taken. Before he'd even taken a dozen steps, though, a high-pitched shriek brought him to a halt. He stood still for a moment, looking back in the direction of the scream, and knowing in his heart that it had come from Niiriit Esh. He hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, his newfound sense of responsibility causing within him a tremendous conflict. Niiriit might have been Shamed, but she was still a warrior,

 

and she would never have run away from a battle. She would have fought to the death, for honor, for Yun-Yammka, for

 

He shook his head vigorously. This was all wrong, he told himself. He was still thinking of her in terms he knew from the world above. But she was no longer a warrior; she was a Shamed One. She wouldn't have given her life to Yun-Yammka, the Slayer; she would have sacrificed herself to save her friends, as the Jedi did. Her memory deserved the truth, even if it still felt wrong to him.

 

He turned and continued down the passage, practically smelling the blood lust of the killing squad chasing him into the darkness.

 

The hulking mass of an old Katana-dass Dreadnaught lumbered out of Borosk's lower orbits, where it had been lurking unnoticed since the beginning of the battle. Saba was familiar with its type; she knew her history well. It was a survivor of the Dark Force fleet that Admiral Thrawn had used so effectively against the New Republic. Reclaimed and refitted with centrally computerized slave-rigging units, it operated with a bare minimum of crew. Even so, its sluggish hyperdrive and weak shields had left such vessels sorely outclassed by more recent ships, and Saba was surprised to see one still operating. She wasn't the only one.

 

"That heap of junk isn't going to get us very far," Mara had said upon seeing it.

 

"That's exactly what you're supposed to think," Pel-laeon had replied over the comm. "And besides, it's not supposed to."

 

By then, Saba had changed ships and changed into one of the brown, lightly armored jumpsuits that had become standard for Jedi Knights going into close combat with the Yuuzhan Vong ever since the mission to the worldship orbiting Myrkr. Danni Quee had also slipped into one and was sitting nervously with Saba as they listened in on the discussion about the ship that would ferry them into position. Saba's claws twitched in readiness, filled with a primal need to strike back at the ones that had taken her people from her. How better could they be remembered? "I've been saving it for a suicide strike," the Grand Admiral had gone on to explain. "It's designed to die twice. The first time, what the enemy sees is selective field failures and shaped charges designed to make it look like the engines have failed. Then, when it looks like it's adrift in vacuum, it comes back to life and takes everyone by surprise." "You hope," Mara had put in wryly. Pellaeon had shrugged in his tank. "That's the plan, anyway. We've never had cause to use it before."

 

"The difference between a fake death and a real one is slim," Mara had commented.

 

"I am aware of that," he'd said soberly. "That's why the crew complement has been reduced to the bare minimum. We found some old combat droid brains moth-balled in storage. Emperor Palpatine recovered them when Governor Beltane's SD project fell in a heap, decades ago. Since there's never been an SD-Eleven and we needed every resource we've got, I figured we could combine the two and create something new. This ship is pretty much capable of flying itself to the target, maintaining a convincing semblance of attack, keeping its crew alive while the outer shell 'dies,' then commencing the second, covert operation in accordance with new instructions. There's plenty of room on the inside for stabilizers and inertial dampeners; it's basically just a hollow shell. Ordinarily we'd crew it with a squadron of TIE fighters and some troopers, blow the shell when surprise can be maximized, then retreat, if possible. But I'm sure we can make room for other cargo."

 

On the way in, Saba knew, "other cargo" meant Jade Shadow and a reduced TIE fighter contingent. If all went according to plan, the Dreadnaughtoriginally Braxant Brave, but hastily renamed Braxant Bonecrusher in honor of her planwould cram its empty heart with liberated slaves. A rapid repressurization unit had been installed at one end of the massive space; Jade Shadow's tractor beam would help capture the slave carrier and its contents; force fields would keep the air and cargo in long enough for the ship to jump to safety while Jade Shadow and the fighters covered its back.

 

That was the plan, anyway. It was, as Pellaeon had suggested, almost crazy enough to work. Saba kept her thoughts carefully away from what she would like to do to the Yuuzhan Vong if the chance arose. Instead she concentrated on the people in the slaveship. They were what mattered. Not her. Not what she had lost.

 

"All in place," came Jacen's voice over the secure corn-link. "Ready for you to dock, Aunt Mara."

 

Jade Shadow's thrusters fired to jockey it into the same orbit as Bonecrusher. "All systems go?" Mara asked.

 

"Initial jump locked in; the drives are hot. We're ready when you are."

 

Jacen had wanted to be involved in the mission as soon as he'd heard about it. Pellaeon, however, had advised against it.

 

"You should stay behind," the Grand Admiral had said. "That's where a responsible leader belongs."

 

Jacen had seemed mystified by this. "But I'm not leading anyone."

 

"One day you will," Pellaeon had said, "and you owe it to those who follow you to be there for them, both during and after a campaign."

 

The comments had been a compliment to Jacen's character, but it didn't seem to compensate for the idea of being left out of the mission. While he obviously appreciated the Grand Admiral's confidence in him, he still did not want to be left behind. In the end, he had eventually forced a compromise. He would be the human brain behind the droid minds during Bonecrusher's elaborate ruse, hidden away inside the Dreadnaught shell, where it was safe, and from where he was currently directing the operation. As sophisticated as the SD combat droids had been, they were no match for a Jedi, and Saba felt better knowing that she could trust the Dreadnaught to do what it was supposed to do with Jacen behind it. Once she and Danni were in the slaveship, she wanted to know that there would be somewhere to escape to on the way out.

 

Danni checked her pressure seals for what seemed like the thousandth time as Jade Shadow nudged its way into Bonecrusher's ordinary-looking flight deck. They had enough air for six hours. If they weren't out by then, they would need to locate pressurized areas on the slaveship, or find alternate ways to breathe.

 

"It'z okay," Saba told Danni, who had moved from nervously checking her suit seals to rummaging through her instrument pack, making sure she'd not left anything behind. "Remember yammosk hunting."

 

"That was easy compared to this." Danni looked much younger with her hair pulled back into the hood of the jumpsuit; at barely half Saba's mass, she wouldn't have even passed for a Barabel child. But Saba was under no illusion as to what the woman was capable of. She had survived the Yuuzhan Vong on numerous occasions. Some people had even joked that she was a good-luck charm. Saba didn't know about that, but she did know that the woman was Force-sensitive, and that had to work in their favor.

 

Her breaths came in long, deep waves, filling her with an energy she hadn't felt for months. The thought of the challenge was exciting and unnerving at the same time. She told herself that she was equal to it, but she knew that it didn't matter if she wasn't. She had to try. It was the only way she would ever be free.

 

A series of deep clangs announced that Jade Shadow had passed through the flight deck's fake inner hull and docked with the heavy grapnels designed to withstand the shaking the Dreadnaught would receive during the early stages of its mission. Over Mara's shoulder, Saba could see two rows of closely packed TIE fighters cradled in cushioning energy nets. The fake flight deck was filled with older TIE fighters piloted by less sophisticated droid brains, designed to act as decoys during the initial attack. "Breaking orbit," Jacen said. The ship might have been old, but its inertial dampeners were first-rate. Saba felt nothing at all as its drives engaged. "Heading for the jump point."

 

"Fly well, Braxant Bonecrusher," came Grand Admiral Pellaeon's voice over the comm. "We'll keep them as busy as we can for you down here."

 

"Thanks, Gilad," Mara said. "Just make sure you're still around to pick up our pieces afterward." "It will be my pleasure to return the favor." Saba felt a stirring through the Force as though Luke and his departing wife were communicating in private and then there was nothing but the silence of hyperspace. Her connection with the living universe was gone. They were on their way.

 

"First jump engaged," Jacen said.

 

"Trim optimal," interceded a droid voice, deep but with jarring, nasal overtonesthe voice of the droid brains doing the job normally done by thousands of crew. "Projection optimal. All systems optimal."

 

"ETA?"

 

"Seven point five-three standard minutes," the droid replied. "Perfectly optimal."

 

"I don't suppose above optimal is an option, is it?" Jacen asked.

 

"Good question," Mara said, pushing her hair back from her face as she leaned back into her molded flight seat. "If we could shave off a few seconds, that could only be a good thing."

 

"Anything other than optimal would be wasteful," the droid replied.

 

Saba sissed slightly at the droid's annoying pragmatism. "I can't help wishing we had a few of Lando Cal-rissian's YVH droids here to lend us a hand," Danni said as she looked up from adjusting the webbing of her pack. "You're not the only one," Mara said sourly. "They might show those SD brains that they've got more to worry about than being precisely on schedule. Obsolescence is a terrible thing for a droid, you know."

 

Jacen chuckled, but the droid remained silent. Saba hissed again and settled back to wait, her claws retracted and tail relaxed, to all appearances a perfect example of Jedi patience. Only another Barabel would have recognized the signs of nervousness she was actually displaying the slight stiffness to the scales down her back and the restless extension and retraction of her inner eyelids. Not even her Jedi training could completely remove her anxieties. Hunt the moment. . .

 

The tunnel extruded by the chuk'a ended in a complicated series of whorls and loops, all of them easily large enough to admit an adult. There were no rooms as such, just random chambers spawned like bubbles in blorash jelly where the chuk'a had meandered to a halt. The lambent Nom Anor held high in his hand sent strange colors and oily reflections dancing all around him. The going was difficult, and Nom Anor stepped carefully on the slippery surface, wary of sharp edges. He wasn't sure how far the torturous passages led; all he knew was that the top of the chuk'a itself was to be found at the very lowest point of the p assage. There its soft tissues would be exposed and sensitive; there lay his means of escape.

 

As he wove through the basement of the place he had briefly called home, he became aware of the sound of breathing. At first he thought it might have been his own echoing back, but the faint thudding noise that accompanied it suggested otherwise. He smothered the lambent in his fingers, turning the light it cast a dull red, and followed the sounds to their source.

 

Creeping around a jagged hairpin bend, he saw a huddled figure crouching on the floor of a dead end, dressed in the familiar rags of a Shamed One. Nom Anor felt his body sag in relief as he exhaled heavily. For a moment he had feared it might be a warrior sent to cut off escape. "I'pan, you fool," he said. "You almost" He stopped when the figure turned to face him. It wasn't I'pan at all. It was Kunra.

 

The disgraced warrior half rose to his feet, holding a chunk of yorik coral in his right hand. It was black-stained in the reddish light.

 

"What are you doing here?" Kunra asked, making no attempt to hide the bitterness he held for Nom Anor.

 

"I could ask you the same thing," Nom Anor said. "But I imagine we're both here for the same reason." The warrior looked down, then back up at Nom Anor.

 

"That is the chuk'a cap, isn't it?" Nom Anor added, indicating the bloody patch by the warrior's feet.

 

With its job done, the shell-excreting chuk'a now blocked the rest of the shaft and acted as plug, keeping any subterranean dwellers from coming up from below as well as preventing anyone from going down. Opening that plug would allow him, and Kunra, to get away before the warriors reached them, and with any luck they might not follow them down into the darkness.

 

But the creature's "cap" was anchored securely into the side of the shaft, and getting it to withdraw those anchors wasn't easy. There was a soft, spongy layer of flesh just below the hardened cap, and somewhere beneath that was the nerve connected to the creature's right ganglion network. Once that nerve was stimulated, the cap's multiple pincers that were thrust into the rock would retract defensively, causing the chuk'a to fall. From the blood on Kunra's hand and around his feet, Nom Anor guessed he hadn't had much success doing that.

 

Kunra nodded in response to Nom Anor's question. "But it's not responding. I can't reach it."

 

"Let me try." Nom Anor moved forward, handing the lambent to the warrior and pulling the homemade coufee from his belt. He did this slowly, making sure Kunra had a chance to see the blade before stooping over to examine the fleshy portion of the shell-making beast. Then he set about digging for the nerve with the point of his coufee. It wasn't easy; he was distracted the whole time, constantly wondering whether Kunra would vent his dislike of the ex-executor by bringing the piece of yorik coral down on the back of his head. "I can't see," he said. "Move the light over here." The light wobbled as Kunra shifted, then steadied at a more useful angle. Nom Anor breathed an internal sigh

 

of relief. We are allies again, he thought. For now, anyway. But there are still things I need to know.

 

"Did you lead them here?" he asked without turning to face Kunra. "The warriors?"

 

"No!" The shock in Kunra's voice that such a thing could even be suggested left no doubt in Nom Anor's mind that the ex-warrior was telling the truth. "What would make you think such a thing?"

 

Nom Anor shrugged. "You and I were the only ones who got away, and I know I didn't call them." He glanced up. The ex-warrior's face was a mess of half-finished scars and internal anguish.

 

"It wasn't me," Kunra reasserted. "I don't know why they're here. I escaped because" He hesitated for a second then forced out the words "I was with Sh'roth when they came. While they fought him, II ran."

 

Nom Anor studied Kunra a moment longer, then returned to his work with barely a nod of acknowledgment. I ran. That explained everything why Kunra had been the only one given enough time to escape, and why he was Shamed in the first place. Warriors didn't run, no matter what the circumstances; judging by the look on Kunra's face, this clearly wasn't the first time he had displayed cowardly tendencies. He was probably lucky to have escaped the first time with just a Shaming.

 

"Then what brought them here, do you think?" he asked. He couldn't help but wonder if someone else had betrayed him to the authorities. If Shimrra had learned of his existence, sending such a band of warriors to finish him off in the dead of night was exactly the kind of thing he'd do.

 

"What else?" Kunra said, more animated after the change of subject. "The one thing the high castes are afraid of, of course the heresy."

 

Nom Anor admitted to himself that the idea made sense. The priests would tolerate the Jedi sect as much as Shimrra would the Jedi themselves, perhaps even less. The Shamed Ones preaching it would be the enemy within, and rooting them out would be a priority. But if that was the case, then why had he never heard of such cleansing raids through the underworld of Yuuzhan'tar before his fall from grace? He assumed the answer to that lay in the nebulous way the message spread even if Shimrra captured a convert, that one would only lead him to two or three others, who would in turn lead him nowhere, or in circles. There was no clear trailas Nom Anor himself could attest. He had tried to find it, and failed.

 

Perhaps his own inquiries had, for the first time, established a clear trail to follow. He might have brought premature death down upon his fellow Shamed Ones by trying to find a way to use their beliefs to his own end. If so, the irony wasn't lost on him. Without themand without a way out of the bottom of the shafthe might very well find himself caught in a trap he had inadvertently laid for himself.

 

Frustration made him stab deep into the chuk'a cap over and over again, until his right arm was buried in it up to his elbow, black with gore. Finally he felt the creature respond with a spasm, and knew he had to be close to the nerve. He twisted the blade deeper, and for his effort felt a tremor ripple through the chuk'a. Another twist and the tissue around his hand tightened like muscle pulling taut. Fearing his fingers might be brokenor worse, that he might lose the only weapon he had lefthe hastily pulled the coufee from the cap. A spurt of dark blood followed it, and the shell around them shook even more.

 

Kunra looked relieved.

 

"You've done this before?" he asked, the beginnings of a smile on his scarred lips. Nom Anor was about to confess that in fact he had never done anything like this in his life, when the floor suddenly fell out from beneath them, consigning them both to the depths of the vent.

 

Not far from Jade Shadow, Jacen Solo's thoughts were very much focused on the present, not the future. In the minutes remaining till the end of jump, there was so much to do systems to familiarize himself with, droid brains to program, decoy strategies to scrutinize, along with innumerable other checks to be made on an unfamiliar system. It was time-consuming, but necessary. Once he gave the order to jump, then the mission would truly be under way, and there wouldn't be time to make sure everything was in order.

 

Sealed in the cockpit of a flightless TIE fighter that was in turn wrapped in an energy web dense enough to stop a cometall of it huddling inside the belly of Braxant Bonecrusher with Jade Shadow and numerous TIE fightershe was electronically patched into the mind of the Dreadnaught and able to oversee its every move. He felt like a Phindian puppeteer, using tricks of light to cast shadows many times larger than himself onto a screen. Jacen only hoped the Yuuzhan Vong would be fooled by the illusion. If they weren't, the Dread-naught wouldn't last long, and the mission would turn out to be very short indeed. It packed only the one surprise; once that was gone there would be nothing else. All they'd have to rely upon then was luck. And while good fortune was one of the things his family was famous for, it was not something he wanted to base the success of this mission upon. The death of Anakin had proven once and for all that luck did not stay in one's favor indefinitely.

 

The seconds ticked by as he continued his last-minute checks. The chores were complicated, but they only occupied the analytical part of his brain. Another part the more intuitive section that he usually assigned to the understanding of his place in the Forceturned to Danni and Saba in Jade Shadow. As he observed them and their own preparations from a distance, he suddenly realized just how little he was really adding to the mission itself he was there mainly just to double-check what the SD brains would be doing. Nevertheless, he still believed it was important for him to be around for at least part of the mission. And he believed it for reasons that, until now, he had kept hidden even from himself. . .

 

Danni's nervousness touched him deeply. She didn't have a lightsaber or a full Jedi's training in the Force; she would essentially rely on Saba throughout this mission into the belly of the slaveship; but she was still going, and her courage made him like her even more. He vividly remembered the moment they had shared while waiting for Captain Yage to board Jade Shadow. There had been something there, a connection of some kind. Had that been the result of boredom? he wondered. Or was it evidence of larger, genuine feelings? There was no denying he'd had a mild, juvenile crush on her shortly after rescuing her from the Yuuzhan Vong on Helska 4, but that had been a fleeting and insignificant thing. He had put it down to mere emotions affected by circumstances, nothing more, and so had effectively buried the impulses. But now those feelings were back, and what troubled him more than anything else was how it had taken so little to rouse t hem.

 

When the mission was over, he would have to examine the situation more closely. And delicately, of course. He had proven himself as a pilot, a warrior, andsome would saya Jedi, but when it came to matters of the heart, he was a definite novice.

 

"Jump complete," the droid brains announced, snapping him out of his reverie.

 

"Erhalfway there," Jacen said quickly to the others, worried that any hesitation might somehow reveal something of his thoughts. His fingers flew over the controls, calculating then laying in the second jump. The layout of the instruments in the TIE cockpit was different from what he was used to, but not radically dissimilar.

 

"That sounds just optimal," Mara said from the cockpit of Jade Shadow, not far from where he was sitting.

 

"Correct," the droid brain said. They hadn't been programmed to recognize sarcasm.

 

Jacen's course matched that of the droid brains. Unless the slaveship had radically altered position, they should come out practically on top of it.

 

He okayed the jump. According to the instruments, the drives surged back into life; thanks to the energy web, he felt as though they'd remained completely stationary.

 

"On our way," he informed the passengers of Jade Shadow. "We'll be there soon."

 

"In seven point four-seven standard minutes," the droid brain informed them. "Tactical circuits engaged. TIE decoys ready for launch. Shield generators programmed. Hull detonators primed."

 

The droid brains cycled through their precombat checklist once every minute with no variation. Jacen found himself half hypnotized by the steady mantra, and his mind began to wander again. His thoughts turned to Danni once more, and he called up a view of Jade Shadow's cockpit, where she and Saba waited with Mara for the mission to truly begin. Her breathing became heavier as her tension increased. But there was an edge of excitement to that tensionand it was infectious, too. He could feel his own heart beating a little faster, and his palms began to sweat. . .

 

He was thankful when the droid brain announced their imminent arrival. He busied himself with double and triple checks to Braxant Bonecrusher's systems, ensuring everything was locked down nice and tight including himself.

 

"Here we go," he said over the comlink. "Hang on. This is going to be rough."

 

"I'm sure you'll look after us, Jacen," his aunt said. He smiled uncomfortably at her confidence in him.

 

Not if I don't focus on what I'm doing, he thought to himself.

 

"Five seconds," the droid brain announced. "Status optimal. Three. Two. One."

 

The white of hyperspace streaked and became stars as the Dreadnaught barreled back into realspace with all the subtlety of an asteroid. Sensors swept the immediate area, searching for the slaveship. Once it was found almost exactly where predictedthe Dreadnaught's cannons and batteries locked on and began firing at the tentacles. At the same time, the squadron of decoy TIE fighters launched from the flight deck and swooped in to attack.

 

This was a crucial phase in the operation, and Jacen couldn't help but feel anxious. The attack had to be stiff enough to convince the Yuuzhan Vong that it was a serious threat, but not so stiff that it would seriously damage the slaveship. The last thing they wanted to do was burst it open and destroy its contents.

 

But there seemed to be little danger of doing that. The slave freighter was armored against attack, and its tentacles were tough. It wasn't equipped with plasma guns to defend itself, and its dovin basals weren't responding the same way as those on combat vessels, but coralskippers soon launched from nearby vessels and powered hard to intercept the attack. Jacen watched the views on the screens surrounding him with apprehension, fists clenching uneasily it was impossible not to be nervous so deep in enemy territory, with so little standing between success and destruction.

 

But then, that was the point. They were pretending to be a suicide mission, and the Yuuzhan Vong would instinctively accept it as such. It fit perfectly into their philosophy. The arrogance of the species didn't allow them to learn from their mistakes, it seemedor at least accept that others thought differently from them.

 

The droid brains were in their element here. Scattered throughout the ship but linked by a high-speed network, they fired turbolasers and bolstered shields while broadcasting objectives to the simpler TIE fighter brains. Their reports were uniformly flat-toned and perfectly objective. Even when a freak missile squeaked through the shields and took out one of their own, the pitch of reporting didn't vary. This was battle, Jacen thought, and losses were expected. The droids probably regarded the jolting and jarring of the Dreadnaught as an indication that they were doing their job properly.

 

Two TIE fighters were destroyed almost instantly when the skips arrived; another three fell within the following minute. The remainder of the fighters managed to cripple one of the slaveship's tentacles, while Bonecrusher dispatched three coralskippers using the random-stutter technique Jacen had programmed into the droid gunners. For a brief moment it looked like they might hold out longer than anticipated, but then fortune's tide turned and the TIE fighters were destroyed with deadly precision.

 

Within minutes, the last one had been picked out of the sky by two converging streams of plasma. Barely had the burning cloud of wreckage dissipated when the attack turned on the Dreadnaught itself, pounding it from every direction. The droid brains brought the craft about, as though intending to flee. Skips swooped around it, firing round after round into its shields. Explosions rocked the ship as one by one the shields were permitted to fail. Debris sprayed into space as one of the hyperdrive engines blew, rattling Jacen in his protected roost like he was nothing more than a die in a cup. Even through the hull of the Dreadnaught, the energy web, and the TIE cockpit shell, there was still enough leftover energy to give him a shake. The steady thrum of Bonecrusher's generators stuttered as the Dreadnaught's course began to twist back upon itself.

 

That was all the encouragement the Yuuzhan Vong needed. Sensing the kill, they sent streams of plasma fire into the weakened points along the hull. Quad batteries exploded; deflector shield projector bays burst into flames as air leaked out of decompressing decks; the Dread-naught's rounded, almost beaked nose burst open as though its command decks had been breached. Artificial gravity failed along with the remaining drives. Then the reserve power generators took a direct hit, blowing an enormous hole in the side of the ship, venting air and even more debris into the vacuum.

 

Then it was over. Generators shut down andsince Jacen was there to bring them back when requiredthe SD droid brains shut down with them. Something groaned deep and long as the Dreadnaught settled into a state of inactivity. The clanking and rattling of debris escaping through gashes in the outer hull sounded like garbage being ground and mangled in a compactor.

 

Eventually total silence fell in the secret heart of the ship. Jacen unconsciously held his breath, sensing the TIE fighter pilots and his crewmates in Jade Shadow doing the same. This was the moment that would determine whether the mission failed or succeeded. If the Yuu-zhan Vong didn't believe the ship to be truly dead, then they certainly soon would be.

 

To the rest of the universe, the Braxant Bonecrusher looked as though it had spent its fighters in a failed attack and been taken out itself. With everything powered down, there would be no reason to suspect that another squadron waited within for the word to launch, along with Jade Shadow, Jacen in his TIE cockpit, and the droid brains. Everything depended on this illusion remaining intact.

 

Jacen had only two holocams on the hull transmitting data back to him. He kept his eyes on the viewsone above the breach in the Dreadnaught's back, the other from the stern, looking along the ship. Stars rotated around the Dreadnaught; the last explosion had given it a convincing tumble.

 

It was Mara who finally broke the silence. "Anything, Jacen?" She spoke in barely a whisper.

 

"Nothing conclusive yet," he returned equally as quietly. "They're not firing, which is a good thing, but the slaveship isn't visible at the moment, either."

 

"This one iz convinced by the quiet," Saba said.

 

Jacen listened. It was impossible to hear through a vacuum, so what the Yuuzhan Vong were doing would be impossible to detect aurally. But there was a quality to the silence that suggested Saba was right the Yuuzhan Vong had called off the attack. What happened next was not yet known, but there was really only one possibility.

 

"Okay," he said. "Everyone take your positions. I'll click you when I have something definite."

 

Jacen reached out into the Force. Good luck, he sent to Danni and Saba. If they received the thought, they were too busy to respond.

 

He picked up a slight electromagnetic hum as the yacht's air lock cycled through, but he doubted anyone outside the ship would notice. And if they did, they were likely to put it down to the wreckage settling. Ships took time to die all the way through. There might be pockets of mechanical life still ticking futilely away. There might even be survivors .. .

 

A shadow moved across the screens in front of him. He stiffened, even though he knew what to expect. Braxant Bonecrusher's slow roll around its center of gravity brought the slaveship gradually back into view a minute laterand, sure enough, it was looming much larger than before.